The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 16

TEC. (_behind_). Oh, woe is me! woe, woe!

CH. A. Who cries there from the covert of the grove?

TEC. O boundless misery!

CH. B. Steeped in this audible sorrow I behold Tecmessa, poor fate-burdened bride of war.

TEC. Friends, I am spoiled, lost, ruined, overthrown!

CH. A. What ails thee now?

TEC. See where our Aias lies, but newly slain, Fallen on his sword concealed within the ground,

CH. Woe for my hopes of home!

Aias, my lord, thou hast slain Thy s.h.i.+p-companion on the salt sea foam.

Alas for us, and thee, Child of calamity!

TEC. So lies our fortune. Well may'st thou complain.

CH. A. Whose hand employed he for the deed of blood?

TEC. His own, 'tis manifest. This planted steel, Fixed by his hand, gives verdict from his breast.

CH. Woe for my fault, my loss!

Thou hast fallen in blood alone, And not a friend to cross Or guard thee. I, deaf, senseless as a stone, Left all undone. Oh, where, then, lies the stern Aias, of saddest name, whose purpose none might turn?

TEC. No eye shall see him. I will veil him round With this all covering mantle; since no heart That loved him could endure to view him there, With ghastly expiration spouting forth From mouth and nostrils, and the deadly wound, The gore of his self slaughter. Ah, my lord!

What shall I do? What friend will carry thee?

Oh, where is Teucer! Timely were his hand, Might he come now to smooth his brother's corse.

O thou most n.o.ble, here ign.o.bly laid, Even enemies methinks must mourn thy fate!

CH. Ah! 'twas too clear thy firm knit thoughts would fas.h.i.+on, 2 Early or late, an end of boundless woe!

Such heaving groans, such bursts of heart-bruised pa.s.sion, Midnight and morn, bewrayed the fire below.

'The Atridae might beware!'

A plenteous fount of pain was opened there, What time the strife was set, Wherein the n.o.blest met, Grappling the golden prize that kindled thy despair!

TEC. Woe, woe is me!

CH. Deep sorrow wrings thy soul, I know it well.

TEC. O woe, woe, woe!

CH. Thou may'st prolong thy moan, and be believed, Thou that hast lately lost so true a friend.

TEC. Thou may'st imagine; 'tis for me to know.

CH. Ay, ay, 'tis true.

TEC. Alas, my child! what slavish tasks and hard We are drifting to! What eyes control our will!

CH. Ay me! Through thy complaint I hear the wordless blow Of two high-throned, who rule without restraint Of Pity. Heaven forfend What evil they intend!

TEC. The work of Heaven hath brought our life thus low.

CH. 'Tis a sore burden to be laid on men.

TEC. Yet such the mischief Zeus' resistless maid, Pallas, hath planned to make Odysseus glad.

CH. O'er that dark-featured soul What waves of pride shall roll, What floods of laughter flow, Rudely to greet this madness-prompted woe, Alas! from him who all things dares endure, And from that lordly pair, who hear, and seat them sure!

TEC. Ay, let them laugh and revel o'er his fall!

Perchance, albeit in life they missed him not, Dead, they will cry for him in straits of war.

For dullards know not goodness in their hand, Nor prize the jewel till 'tis cast away.

To me more bitter than to them 'twas sweet, His death to him was gladsome, for he found The lot he longed for, his self-chosen doom.

What cause have they to laugh? Heaven, not their crew, Hath glory by his death. Then let Odysseus Insult with empty pride. To him and his Aias is nothing; but to me, to me, He leaves distress and sorrow in his room!

TEUCER (_within_). Alas, undone!

LEADER OF CH. Hus.h.!.+ that was Teucer's cry. Methought I heard His voice salute this object of dire woe.

_Enter_ TEUCER.

TEU. Aias, dear brother, comfort of mine eye, Hast thou then done even as the rumour holds?

CH. Be sure of that, Teucer. He lives no more.

TEU. Oh, then how heavy is the lot I bear!

CH. Yes, thou hast cause--

TEU. O rash a.s.sault of woe!--

CH. To mourn full loud.

TEU. Ay me! and where, oh where On Trojan earth, tell me, is this man's child?

CH. Beside the huts, untended.

TEU. (_to_ TEC). Oh, with haste Go bring him hither, lest some enemy's hand s.n.a.t.c.h him, as from the lion's widowed mate The lion-whelp is taken. Spare not speed.

All soon combine in mockery o'er the dead. [_Exit_ TECMESSA

CH. Even such commands he left thee ere he died.

As thou fulfillest by this timely care.

TEU. O sorest spectacle mine eyes e'er saw!

Woe for my journey hither, of all ways Most grievous to my heart, since I was ware, Dear Aias, of thy doom, and sadly tracked Thy footsteps. For there darted through the host, As from some G.o.d, a swift report of thee That thou wert lost in death. I, hapless, heard, And mourned even then for that whose presence kills me.

Ay me! But come, Unveil. Let me behold my misery. [_The corpse of_ AIAS _is uncovered_ O sight unbearable! Cruelly brave!

Dying, what store of griefs thou sow'st for me!

Where, amongst whom of mortals, can I go, That stood not near thee in thy troublous hour?