Ο Salamis, where stands my father's hearth,860
Thou glorious Athens, with thy kindred race;
Ye streams and rivers here, and Troïa's plains,
To you that fed my life I bid farewell;
This last, last word does Aias speak to you;
All else I speak in Hades to the dead.
Enter Chorus, in two companies, searching for Aias.
Semi-Chor. A. Toil upon toil brings toil;
Whither, ah, whither,
Whither have I not gone?
And no place knoweth to help.870
Lo! lo! again I hear a sound of fall.
Semi-Chor. B. 'Tis but our mates, the sailors of our ship.
Semi-Chor. A. What say ye then?
Semi-Chor. B. The whole flank has been tracked
West of the ships.
Semi-Chor. A. And is there aught discerned?
Semi-Chor. B. Labour enough, but nothing more to see.
Semi-Chor. A. And yet upon the eastern region's path
Our chief is clearly nowhere to be found.
Chor. Who, then, will tell me, who
Of fishers loving toil,880
Plying his sleepless task,
Or who of Nymphs divine,
That haunt Olympos' height,[1]
Or which of all the streams
Where Bosporos flows fast,
Will tell if they have seen him anywhere,
Wandering, the vexed in soul?
Hard destiny is mine,
- ↑ The Mysian Olympos which the Greek dramatists identified with Ida.
