Philoctetes
Sophocles
Sophocles the plays and fragments, Part 4: The Philoctetes. Jebb, Richard Claverhouse, Sir, translator. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1898.
- manage it. Then fire would be lacking; but by rubbing stone hard on stone I would at last reveal the hidden spark which preserves me from day to day. Indeed, a roof over my head and a fire inside provides all that I want—except release from my disease.
- Come now, son, you must understand what sort of island this is. No mariner approaches it by choice, since there is no anchorage or port where he can find a gainful market or a kindly host. This is not a place to which prudent men voyage. But suppose that some one has put in against his will, for such things may often
- happen in the long course of a man’s life. These visitors, then, when they come, son, have compassionate words for me, and, perhaps moved by pity, they give me a little food or some clothing.
- But there is one thing that no one will do, whenever I mention it: take me home in safety. No, this is already the tenth year that I am wasted by misery from hunger and suffering, by feeding this gluttonous plague. This is what the Atreids and the forceful Odysseus have done to me, boy.
- May the gods on Olympus someday give them agonies as strong in requital for mine!
- I believe that I, too, pity you, son of Poeas, as much as your former visitors.
- And I myself attest your accusations,
- for I know their truth through my own experience with the wickedness of the Atreids and the force of Odysseus.
- What, do you also have a grievance against the accursed sons of Atreus, a cause for anger at some mistreatment?
- If only I might one day be allowed to fulfill my heart’s rage by the deeds of my hand,
- so that Mycenae might learn, and Sparta, that Scyros also is a mother of brave men!