Declare all this, that I may know thee well.
Neo. The sea-girt Scyros is my native home.
Thitherward I make voyage:—Achillesf son,
Named Neoptolemus.—I have told thee all.
Phi. Dear is that shore to me, dear is thy father.
O ancient Lycomedes’ foster-child,
Whence cam’st thou hither? How didst thou set forth?
Neo. From Troy we made our course in sailing hither.
Phi. How? Sure thou wast not with us, when at first
We launched our vessels on the Troyward way?
Neo. Hadst thou a share in that adventurous toil?
Phi. And know’st thou not whom thou behold’st in me,
Young boy?
Neo. How should I know him whom I ne’er
Set eye on?
Phi. Hast not even heard my name,
Nor echoing rumour of my ruinous woe?
Neo. Nay, I know nought of all thy questioning.
Phi. How full of griefs am I, how Heaven-abhorred,
When of my piteous state no faintest sound
Hath reached my home, or any Grecian land!
But they, who pitilessly cast me forth,
Keep silence and are glad, while this my plague
Blooms ever, and is strengthened more and more.
Boy, great Achilles’ offspring, in this form
Thou seest the man, of whom, methinks, erewhile
Thou hast been told, to whom the Hercúlean bow
Descended, Philoctetes, Poeas’ son;
Whom the two generals and the Ithacan king
Cast out thus shamefully forlorn, afflicted
With the fierce malady and desperate wound
Made by the cruel basilisk’s murderous tooth.
With this for company they left me, child!
Exposed upon this shore, deserted, lone.
From seaward Chrysa came they with their fleet
And touched at Lemnos. I had fallen to rest
From the long tossing, in a shadowy cave
On yonder cliff by the shore. Gladly they saw,
And left me, having set forth for my need,
