SPY
I can inform you; for perhaps from Greece
Of late you have not heard. There was a prophet,
Son of old Priam, Helenus by name,
Hlim, in his midnight walks, the wily chief
Ulysses, curse of every tongue, espied;
Took him. and led him captive. to the Creeks
A welcome spoil. Much he foretold to all,
And added last that Troy should never fall
Till Philoctetes from this isle returned.
Ulysses heard, and instant promise gave
To fetch him hence; he hoped by gentle means
To gain him; those successless, force at last
Could but compel him. He would go, he cried,
And if he failed his head should pay th' forfeit.
I've told thee all, and warn thee to be gone,
Thou and thy friend, if thou wouldst wish to save him.
PHILOCTETES
And does the traitor think he can persuade me?
As well might he persuade me to return
From death to life, as his base father did.
SPY
Of that know not: I must to my ship.
Farewell, and may the gods protect you both!
(The Spy departs.)
PHILOCTETES
Lead me- expose me to the Grecian host!
And could the insolent Ulysses hope
With his soft flatteries e'er to conquer me?
No! Sooner would I listen to the voice
Of that fell serpent, whose envenomed tongue
Hath lamed me thus. But what is there he dare not
Or say or do? I know he will be here
E'en now, depend on't. Therefore, let's away!
Quick let the sea divide us from Ulysses.
Let us be gone; for well-timed expedition,
The task performed, brings safety and repose.
NEOPTOLEMUS
Soon as the wind permits us we embark,
But now 'tis adverse.
PHILOCTETES
Every wind is fair
When we are flying from misfortune.
NEOPTOLEMUS
True;
And 'tis against them too.
PHILOCTETES
Alas! no storms
Can drive back fraud and rapine from their prey.
NEOPTOLEMUS
I'm ready. Take what may be necessary,
And follow me.
PHILOCTETES
I want not much.
NEOPTOLEMUS
Perhaps
My ship will furnish you.
PHILOCTETES
There is a plant
Which to my wound gives some relief; I must
Have that.
NEOPTOLEMUS
Is there aught else?
PHILOCTETES
Alas! my bow
I had forgot. I must not lose that treasure.
(PHILOCTETES steps into the cave,
and brings out his bow and arrows.)
NEOPTOLEMUS
Are these the famous arrows then?
PHILOCTETES
They are.
NEOPTOLEMUS
And may I be permitted to behold,
To touch, to pay my adoration to them?
PHILOCTETES
In these, my son, in everything that's mine
Thou hast a right,
NEOPTOLEMUS
But if it be a crime,
I would not; otherwise-
PHILOCTETES
Oh! thou art full
Of piety; in thee it is no crime;
In thee, my friend, by whom alone I look
Once more with pleasure on the radiant sun-
By whom I live- who giv'st me to return
To my dear father, to my friends, my country:
Sunk as I was beneath my foes, once more
I rise to triumph o'er them by thy aid:
Behold them, touch them, but return them to me,
And boast that virtue which on thee alone
Bestowed such honour. Virtue made them mine.
I can deny thee nothing: he, whose heart
Is grateful can alone deserve the name
Of friend, to every treasure far superior.
NEOPTOLEMUS
Go in.
PHILOCTETES
Come with me; for my painful wound
Requires thy friendly hand to help me onward.
(They go into the cave.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1
Since proud Ixion, doomed to feel
The tortures of th' eternal wheel,
Bound by the hand of angry Jove,
Received the due rewards of impious love;
Ne'er was distress so deep or woe so great
As on the wretched Philoctetes wait;
Who ever with the just and good,
Guiltless of fraud and rapine, stood,
And the fair paths of virtue still pursued;
Alone on this inhospitable shore,
Where waves for ever beat and tempests roar,
How could he e'er or hope or comfort know,
Or painful life support beneath such weight of woe?
antistrophe 1
Exposed to the inclement skies,
Deserted and forlorn he lies,
No friend or fellow-mourner there
To soothe his sorrows and divide his care,
Or seek the healing plant of power to 'suage
His aching wound and mitigate its rage;
But if perchance, awhile released
From torturing pain, he sinks to rest,
Awakened soon, and by sharp hunger prest,
Compelled to wander forth in search of food,
He crawls in anguish to the neighbouring wood;
Even as the tottering infant in despair
Who mourns an absent mother's kind supporting care.
strophe 2
The teeming earth, who mortals still supplies
With every good, to him her seed denies;
A stranger to the joy that flows
From the kind aid which man on man bestows;
Nor food, alas! to him was given,
Save when his arrows pierced the birds of heaven;
Nor e'er did Bacchus' heart-expanding bow!
For ten long years relieve his cheerless soul;
But glad was he his eager thirst to slake
In the unwholesome pool, or ever-stagnant lake.
antistrophe 2
But now, behold the joyful captive freed;
A fairer fate, and brighter days succeed:
For he at last hath found a friend
Of noblest race, to save and to defend,
To guide him with protecting hand,
And safe restore him to his native land;
On Spercheius' flowery banks to join the throng
Of Malian nymphs, and lead the choral song
On Oeta's top, which saw Alcides rise,
And from the flaming pile ascend his native skies.
(NEOPTOLEMUS and PHILOCTETES enter from the cave.
PHILOCTETES is suddenly seized with spasms of pain.
He still holds in his hand the bow and arrows.)
NEOPTOLEMUS
Come, Philoctetes; why thus silent? Wherefore
This sudden terror on thee?
PHILOCTETES
Oh!
NEOPTOLEMUS
Whence is it?
PHILOCTETES
Nothing, my son; go on!
NEOPTOLEMUS
Is it thy wound
That pains thee thus?
PHILOCTETES
No; I am better now.
O gods!
NEOPTOLEMUS
Why dost thou call thus on the gods?
PHILOCTETES
To smile propitious, and preserve us- Oh!
NEOPTOLEMUS
Thou art in misery. Tell me- wilt thou not?
What is it?
PHILOCTETES
O my son! I can no longer
Conceal it from thee. Oh! I die, I perish;
By the great gods let me implore thee, now
This moment, if thou hast a sword. oh! strike,
Cut off this painful limb, and end my being!
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