Stroph. II.
Never from out the lap of sacred earth710
The seed-corn gathering,
Nor aught that we, who live by work, enjoy,
But only what perchance
He gained, the pangs of hunger to appease,
With those swift-wingèd darts
That travelled straight and far.
Ο soul deep plunged in woe,
Who never, in the space of ten long years,
Did know the wine-cup's joy,
But still did go, where eager glance might guide,
To drink of standing pool;
Antistroph. II.
But now, thou, meeting one from heroes sprung,
Shalt end in being great,720
And prosper well after those woes of thine;
Who now, the long months passed,
Art borne in ship that travels o'er the waves
To that thy father's home,
Where wander Malia's nymphs,
And by Spercheios' banks,
Where he who bore the brazen shield, though man,[1]
Draws near, a God, to Gods,
Bright with the fire that flashes from the sky,
High above Œta's slopes.
Enter Philoctetes and Neoptolemos from the cavern.
Neop. Come, if thou wilt. But why, without a cause,730
Stand'st thou so silent and astonishèd?
- ↑ The man who bore the brazen shield is, of course, Heracles, the friend of Philoctetes, from whom, though as yet neither he nor the Chorus dream of it, his deliverance is at last to come.
