SOPHOCLES. [PLUMPTRE'S TRANSLATION.]
SCENE. The shore of Lemnos.
Odysseus. Here, then, we reach this shore of sea-girt isle,
Of Lemnos, by the foot of man untrod,
Without inhabitant, where, long ago,
I set on shore the Meljan, Pœas' son,
His foot all ulcerous with an eating sore,
Sent on this errand by the chiefs that rule;
For never were we able tranquilly
To join in incense-offerings, nor to pour
Libations, but with clamor fierce and wild
He harassed all the encampment, shouting loud,
And groaning low. What need to speak of this?
It is no time for any length of speech,
Lest he should hear of my approach, and I
Upset the whole contrivance wherewithal
I think to take him. But thy task it is
To do thine office now, and search out well
Where lies a cavern here with double mouth,
Where in the winter twofold sunny side
Is found to sit in, while in summer heat
The breeze sends slumber through the tunnelled vault.
And just below, a little to the left,
Thou may'st, perchance, a stream of water see,
If it still flow there. Go, and show in silence
If he is dwelling in this self-same spot,
Or wanders elsewhere, that in all that comes
Thou may'st give heed to me, and I may speak,
And common counsels work for good from both.
Neoptolemos. O King Odysseus, no far task thou giv'st,
For such a cave, methinks, I see hard by.
Odys. Clearly the man is dwelling in this spot,
And is not distant. How could one so worn
With that old evil in his foot go far?
But either he is gone in search of food,
Or knows, perchance, some herb medicinal;
And therefore send this man to act the scout,
Lest he should come upon me unawares,
For he would rather seize on me than take
All other Argives.
Neop. He is gone to watch
The path. If aught thou needest, speak again.
Odys. Now should'st thou prove thyself Achilles' son, Stout-hearted for the task for which thou cam'st,
Not in thy body only, but if thou
Should'st hear strange things, by thee unknown till now,
Still give thy help as subaltern to me.
Neop. What dost thou bid me?
Odys. Thou must cheat and trick
The heart of Philoctetes with thy words;
And when he asks thee who and what thou art,
Say thou'rt Achilles' son (that hide thou not),
And that thou sailest homeward, leaving there
The Achæans' armament; with bitter hate
Hating them all, who having sent to beg
Thy coming with their prayers, as having this
Their only way to capture Ilion's towers,
Then did not deign to grant thee, seeking them
With special claims, our great Achilles' arms,
But gave them to Odysseus. What thou wilt,
Say thou against me to the utmost ill;
In this thou wilt not grieve me; but if thou
Wilt not do this, on all the Argive host
Thou wilt bring sorrow; for, unless we get
His bow and arrows, it will not be thine
To sack the plain of Dardanos. And how
I cannot have, and thou may'st have access
To him both safe and trustworthy, learn this;
For thou hast sailed as bound by oath to none,
Not by constraint, nor with the earlier host,
But none of all these things can I deny;
So, if he sees me while he holds his bow,
I perish, and shall cause thy death as well.
But this one piece of craft thou needs must work,
That thou may'st steal those arms invincible.
I know, O boy, thy nature is not apt
To speak such things, nor evil guile devise ;
But sweet it is to gain the conqueror's prize;
Therefore be bold. Hereafter once again,
We will appear in sight of all as just.
But now for one short day give me thyself,
And cast off shame, and then in time to come,
Be honored, as of all men most devout.
Neop. The things, O son of Lartios, which I grieve
To hear in words, those same I hate to do.
I was not born to act with evil arts,
Nor I myself, nor, as they say, my sire.
Prepared I am to take the man by force,
And not by fraud; for he with one weak foot
Will fail in strength to master force like ours;
And yet, being sent thy colleague, I am loth
To get the name of traitor; but I wish,
O King, to miss my mark in acting well,
Rather than conquer, acting evilly.
Odys. O son of noble sire, I, too, when young,
Had a slow tongue and ready-working hand;
But now, by long experience, I have found
Not deeds, but words prevail at last with men.
Neop. But what is all thou bid'st me say but lies?
Odys. I bid thee Philoctetes take with guile.
Odysseus finally persuades Neoptolemos that though he is destined to take Troy, he cannot do it without the bow and arrows of Philoctetes. When Neoptolemos realizes this he says:
"Come then, I'll do it, casting off all shame."
The chorus then advances, and in the strophe and antistrophe that follow, Neoptolemos learns all about the habits of Philoctetes and the wretched life he leads in this desolate place.
[Enter PHILOCTETES, in worn and tattered raiment.]
Who are ye that have come to this, our shore,
And by what chance! for neither is it safe
To anchor in, nor yet inhabited.
What may I guess your country and your race?
Your outward guise and dress of Hellas speak,
To me most dear, and yet I fain would hear
Your speech; and draw not back from me indeed,
As fearing this my wild and savage look,
But pity one unhappy, left alone,
Thus helpless, friendless, worn with many ills.
Speak, if it be ye come to me as friends:
Nay, answer me, it is not meet that I
Should fail of this from you, nor ye from me.
Neop. Know this then first, O stranger, that we come,
Of Hellas all; for this thou seek'st to know.
Phil. O dear-loved sound! Ah me! what joy it is
After long years to hear a voice like thine!
What led thee hither, what need brought thee here?
Whither thy voyage, what blest wind bore thee on?
Tell all, that I may know thee who thou art.
Neop. By birth I come from sea-girt Skyros' isle, And I sail homeward, I, Achilles' son,
Named Neoptolemos. Now know'st thou all.
Phil. O son of dearest father, much-loved land,
Thou darling boy of Lycomedes old,
Whence sailing, whither bound, hast thou steered hither?
Neop. At present I from Ilion make my voyage.
Phil. What say'st thou? Thou wast surely not with us
A sailor when the fleet to Ilion came?
Neop. What? Did'st thou, too, share that great enterprise?
Phil. And know'st thou not, O boy, whom thou dost see?
Neop. How can I know a man I ne'er beheld?
Phil. And did'st thou never hear my name, nor fame
Of these my ills, in which I pined away?
Neop. Know that I nothing know of what thou ask'st.
Phil. O crushed with many woes and of the gods
Hated am I, of whom in this my woe,
No rumor travelled homeward, nor went forth
Through any clime of Hellas!
Who cast me out in scorn of holiest laws
Laugh in their sleeve, and this my sore disease
Still grows apace, and passes into worse.
My son, O boy that call'st Achilles sire,
Lo! I am he of whom perchance thou heard'st,
That I possess the arms of Heracles,
The son of Poeas, Philoctetes, whom
Our generals twain and Kephallene's king
Basely cast forth, thus desolate, worn out
Through fierce disease, with bite of murderous snake,
Fierce bite, sore smitten; and with that, O boy,
Thus desolate they left me, when they touched
From sea-girt Chryse in their armament;
And when they saw me, tired and tempest-worn,
Asleep in vaulted cave upon the shore,
Gladly they went, and left me, giving me
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