Drops once again, and I await a change.
Ah! ah! ah me!
Fie on thee, foot, what evil wilt thou work?
It creeps, it comes again on me. Ah me!
Ο miserable me! Ye know it now:
Flee ye not from me—flee ye not, I pray!
Ο Kephallenian friend, would God this pain790
Might fasten on thy breast, and pierce thee through!
Ah me! Once more, ah me! Ye generals twain,—
Thou, Agamemnon, Menelaos, thou,—
Would God ye both might bear this fell disease,
As long a time as I! Woe, woe is me!
Ο Death! Ο Death! why com'st thou not to me,
Thus summoned day by day continually?
And thou my son, brave boy, come, cast me in,
Consume me in this Lemnian fire,[1] dear boy,800
By me so oft invoked. I too of old,
For these his arms which now thou cherishest,
Thought meet to do this for the son of Zeus.
What say'st thou, boy? what say'st thou? Why not speak?
Where go thy thoughts now?
Neop. Troubled sore long since,
Lamenting thy misfortunes.
Phil. Nay, Ο boy,
Be of good cheer. It comes upon me sharply,
And quickly goes away. Nay, leave me not,
I pray thee, here alone.
Neop. Fear not; we'll stay.
Phil. And wilt thou stay?
