Sophocles' PHILOCTETES Complete

Translated by Th. Francklin.

Sophocles Bilingual Anthology  Studies  Sophocles in Print

82 Pages

Page 21

Chorus: (singing) O Earth! thou mother of great Jove,
Embracing all with universal love,
Author benign of every good,
Through whom Pactolus rolls his golden flood!
To thee, whom in thy rapid car
Fierce lions draw, I rose and made my prayer-
To thee I made my sorrows known,
When from Achilles' injured son
Th' Atreidae gave the prize, that fatal day
When proud Ulysses bore his arms away.

Philoctetes: I wonder not, my friend, to see you here,
And I believe the tale; for well I know
The man who wronged you, know the base Ulysses
Falsehood and fraud dwell on his lips, and nought
That's just or good can be expected from him.
But strange it is to me that, Ajax present,
He dare attempt it.

Neoptolemus: Ajax is no more;
Had he been living, I had ne'er been spoiled
Thus of my right.

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