Author: Sophocles
Date: 2025-05-05T03:56:10+00:00
Keywords: Tragedies; Philoctetes (Mythological character) -- Drama; Trojan War -- Drama; Greek drama (Tragedy) -- Translations into English
Description: A wounded warrior, abandoned on a deserted island, is visited by former comrades who ask for his help in winning a war.
Publisher: Standard Ebooks

Philoctetes

By Sophocles.

Translated by Francis Storr.

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Argument

Nine years before the play begins Philoctetes, afflicted by a noisome wound, had been landed by the Greek chiefs on the desert island of Lemnos. He bore with him the famous bow and arrows of Heracles; and without these, as a seer afterwards declared to them, Troy could not be taken. So Odysseus was commissioned to bring back by force or fraud the hero and his arms, and he took with him, to aid him in his purpose, the son of Achilles, Philoctetes’ dearest friend.

When the play begins Odysseus has landed and is instructing Neoptolemus in his part. He is to find Philoctetes and reveal who he is, but pretend that he has come to take him back, not to Troy, but home to Greece. Neoptolemus at first indignantly declines the task and is hardly persuaded to play the traitor. He meets Philoctetes coming forth from his cave, makes himself known, and, to gain his confidence, relates fictitious wrongs that he, too, has suffered at the hands of the Greeks. He consents to take Philoctetes home, but as they are starting for the ship a merchant-captain appears (a sailor disguised by Odysseus) who tells them that the Greek captains have sent in pursuit of both. They hasten their departure, but first visit the cave that Philoctetes may fetch away the simples he needs to dress his wound. As he is leaving the cave Philoctetes is seized with a paroxysm of pain. Knowing that after such attacks deep slumber is wont to follow, he entrusts his bow and arrows to Neoptolemus who swears to keep them safe and restore them to their owner. On awakening he demands his bow, but Neoptolemus refuses to give it back and confesses the plot that Philoctetes now suspects. Stung by the denouncement of his treachery and the pathetic appeal to his better nature, Neoptolemus repents him and is in the act of restoring the bow, when Odysseus, who has been watching the scene in hiding, appears to prevent him. The bow Odysseus will have; Philoctetes may go or stay as he chooses. The pair depart together for the ships and Philoctetes is left behind with the chorus of sailors who endeavour to persuade him to return with them. But he is obdurate and they are about to leave him when Neoptolemus is seen hurrying back with the bow, closely followed by Odysseus who tries in vain to arrest him and threatens to denounce him as a traitor to the host. Philoctetes regains his bow and would have used it to let fly a mortal shaft at Odysseus, had not Neoptolemus stayed his hand. Again he is urged to go back to Troy and again he refuses. Neoptolemus true to his word, reluctantly agrees to convey him home. At this point an apparition is seen in the air above them, the divine form of Heracles, sent by Zeus from Olympus to bid Philoctetes go back to Troy with Neoptolemus and so fulfil the oracle. At last he bows to the will of Heaven.

Dramatis Personae

- Odysseus

- Neoptolemus

- Philoctetes

- Sailor (disguised as merchant captain)

- Heracles

- Chorus, Scyrian sailors of Neoptolemus’ crew

Scene: Rocky coast on the island of Lemnos.

Philoctetes

| Enter Odysseus, Neoptolemus; in the background, a Sailor.

Odysseus

Son of Achilles, Neoptolemus,
Sprung from the noblest of the Grecian host,
This is the beach of Lemnos, sea-girt isle,
A land untrod, untenanted, where once,
As bidden by the chiefs, I put ashore
The Malian, son of Poeas, grievously
Afflicted by his foot’s envenomed wound.
For us there was no peace at sacrifice
Or at libations, but the whole camp rang
With his discordant screams and savage yells,
Moaning and groaning. But what skills it now
To tell this tale? No time for large discourse
That might betray our presence and undo
The plot I’ve laid to catch him presently.
To work! it rests with thee to play thy part,
And help me to discover hereabouts
A cave with double mouth by nature made
To catch on either side the winter sun,
Or by the breeze that through the archway blows
Invite in summer’s heat to gentle sleep;
And lower down, a little to the left,
A spring, if still it flows, thou art like to find.
Go warily to work and bring me word,
Whether he still is there or further gone.
That done, thy part will be to listen, mine
To instruct, that both may gain our common end.

Neoptolemus

No distant quest, my lord Odysseus, this;
Here, if I err not, is the cave thou seek’st.

Odysseus

Above me or below? I see it not.

Neoptolemus

Up there; but not a footfall can I hear.

Odysseus

Look if he be not gone within to rest.

Neoptolemus

The chamber’s empty; no man is within.

Odysseus

And no provision for a man’s abode?

Neoptolemus

Litter of trodden leaves as for a couch.

Odysseus

And is that all—no other sign of life?

Neoptolemus

A cup of uncouth handiwork, rough hewn
From out a log; some tinder, too, I see.

Odysseus

These are his household treasures.

Neoptolemus

Faugh! and here
Spread in the sun to dry, are filthy rags
Dank with the ooze of some malignant sore.

Odysseus

This clearly is his dwelling-place, and he
Hard by, for how could any travel far
Thus maimed and hobbled by an ancient wound?
Either in quest of food, or else to find
Some simples known to him as anodynes,
He’s gone abroad, and shortly will return;
So post thy henchman there to watch the path,
Lest he surprise me. I of all the Greeks
Am the one foe he liefest here would catch.

Neoptolemus

Guard shall be kept; my man is on his way;
And now if thou hast more to say, say on. Exit Attendant.

Odysseus

Son of Achilles, not in thews alone
Or prowess must thou prove thy breed to-day.
If tasks be set thee that seem strange, no less
Thou must perform them; therefore wast thou sent.

Neoptolemus

What is thy hest?

Odysseus

Thou must cajole and cheat
The soul of Philoctetes by fair words,
And when he asks thee who and whence thou art,
“Achilles’ son,” make answer; hide not this.
But add, “I am sailing homewards and have left
The fleet in dudgeon, wroth against the chiefs
Who first prevailed on me to quit my home,
Because without me Troy could ne’er be taken,
And then upon my coming basely spurned
My righteous title to Achilles’ arms,
And gave them to Odysseus.” At my name
Heap on me every scoff and scorn and taunt;
It will not hurt me, but if thou should’st fail
’Twill sorely vex the Argives one and all.
This man’s artillery we needs must have;
No hope to capture Troy-town otherwise.
Why thou canst hold free converse with the man
Securely and I cannot, thou shalt learn.
Thou wast not bound by oath or pledge to sail
Nor wast thou with the fleet that first embarked;
But naught of this, if taxed, can I deny.
Therefore, if, bow in hand, he counters me,
I die, and shall involve thee in my death.
How to possess us of those matchless arms—
There is the puzzle; set thy wits to that.
I know, my son, thy honest nature shrinks
From glozing words and practice of deceit;
But (for ’tis sweet to snatch a victory)
Be bold to-day and honest afterwards.
For one brief hour of lying follow me;
All time to come shall prove thy probity.

Neoptolemus

Son of Laertes, what upon my ear
Grates in the telling, I should hate to do.
Such is my nature; any taint of guile
I loathe, and such, they tell me, was my sire.
But I am ready, not by fraud, but force,
To bring the man; for, crippled in one foot,
Against our numbers he can prove no match.
Nathless, since I was sent to aid thee, prince,
I fear to seem a laggard; yet prefer
To fail with honour than succeed by fraud.

Odysseus

Son of a gallant sire, I too in youth
Was slow of tongue and forward with my hand;
But I have learnt by trial of mankind
Mightier than deeds of puissance is the tongue.

Neoptolemus

It comes to this that thou would’st have me lie.

Odysseus

Entangle Philoctetes by deceit.

Neoptolemus

Why not persuade him rather than deceive?

Odysseus

Persuasion’s vain, and force of no avail.

Neoptolemus

What arms hath he of such miraculous might?

Odysseus

Unerring arrows, tipp’d with instant death.

Neoptolemus

Might not a bold man come to grips with him?

Odysseus

No, as I told thee, guile alone avails.

Neoptolemus

Thou deem’st it, then, no shame to tell a lie?

Odysseus

Not if success depends upon a lie.

Neoptolemus

With what face shall one dare to speak such words?

Odysseus

If thou wouldst profit thou must have no qualms.

Neoptolemus

What gain to me, should he be brought to Troy?

Odysseus

Without these arms Troy-town cannot be sacked.

Neoptolemus

Ye told me I should take it. Was that false?

Odysseus

Not thou apart from these nor these from thee.

Neoptolemus

The quarry’s worth the chase, if this be so.

Odysseus

Know that success a double meed shall win.

Neoptolemus

Make plain this twofold prize and I’ll essay,

Odysseus

Thou wilt be hailed as wise no less than brave.

Neoptolemus

I’ll do it—here’s my hand—and risk the shame.

Odysseus

Good. My instructions—thou rememberest them?

Neoptolemus

I have consented; trust me for the rest.

Odysseus

Stay here then and await his coming, whilst,
Lest I should be espied, I go away
And send back to the ship our sentinel;
But if ye seem to dally overmuch,
He shall return, the same man, but disguised
Past recognition, as a sailor clad.
When he accosts thee, mark each word, my son,
To catch the hid significance, for he
Will speak in riddles. This I leave to thee
And seek the vessel. Hermes aid us both,
Who sent us on our way, the God of cunning,
And she who never failed me yet, my queen,
Athenè Polias, queen of victory! Exit Odysseus.

| Enter Chorus of Scyrian Sailors.

Chorus

Strophe 1

What, O my master, what must I conceal
And what reveal,
In a strange land a stranger, by what wile
His shrewd suspects beguile?

Instruct me; for his art all art excels
With whom there dwells
The sovereignty of Zeus, the Kingly Crown
That hath to thee come down,

My son, by immemorial right divine;
Such skill is thine;
So teach me, master, how I best may speed
Thy present need.

Neoptolemus

First to find his lair, no doubt,
Ye are keen; so boldly scout.
When the wild man ye have spied
Who within this cave doth bide,
Watch the motions of my hand,
Prompt to act as I command.

Chorus

Antistrophe 1

Now, as at all times, Prince, I gladly heed,
And serve thy need.
But first to learn his common haunts ’twere well;
I pray thee tell,
Lest he should light upon me unaware,
His track, his lair.
Say, if within his den he will be found,
Or roaming round.

Neoptolemus

See you that two-mouthed cavern? There
His rocky dwelling-place.

Chorus

And where
Is the sad inmate of the grot?

Neoptolemus

I doubt not somewhere near the spot,
Gone forth in search of daily food,
Dragging his steps through wold or wood;
For so, ’tis said, by toilsome pains
A painful sustenance he gains,
Shooting whatever living thing
Comes within reach of his dread bow.
The years go by and never bring
A leach to heal his woe.

Chorus

Strophe 2

O how piteous thy lot,
Luckless man, by man forgot;
None thy solitude to share,
None to tend with loving care;
Plagued and stricken by disease,
Never knowing hour of ease,
Facing death each moment, how
Hast, poor wretch, endured till now?
O the crooked ways of heaven!
Hapless men to whom are given
Lots so changeful, so uneven.

Antistrophe 2

He who with the best might vie,
Of our Grecian chivalry.
On a desert island left,
Perishes, of all bereft;
With the savage beasts doth dwell
Of spotted hide or shaggy fell;
Pangs of hunger doth endure,
Racked with aches that know no cure.
Echo, too, with babbling tongue,
As she sits her hills among,
Iterates in undertones
His interminable groans.

Neoptolemus

Nothing strange I see in this
By heaven ordained (if not amiss
I augur) comes this punishment,
By the unpitying Chrysè1 sent;
And what he suffers now must be
Designed by some wise deity,
Lest too soon ’gainst Troy should go
The arrows of his wizard bow,
For when the fated hour has come
By them must Troy-town find its doom.

Chorus

Strophe 3

Hush, my son!

Neoptolemus

Wherefore?

Chorus

Back.

Hist! there comes a sound
As of one sore afflicted. Is it here
Or here? ’Tis nearer now, I look around,
The footfall of a laboured tread grows clear;
And now, though distant still, I catch a cry
Distinct, the voice of human agony.

Chorus

Antistrophe 3

Bethink thee, Prince.

Neoptolemus

Of what?

Chorus

Some fresh device;
For now the man approaches very near.
This is no shepherd-swain who homeward hies,
No melody of pastoral pipe I hear;
But as he stumbles ’mid the jagged stones
He rends the air with far resounding groans,
Or as he eyes the sea without a sail,
He utters (hear his voice!) a hideous wail.

| Enter Philoctetes.

Philoctetes

Sirs, who are ye and whence, who have landed here
Upon this harbourless and desolate shore?
What countrymen and of what race? If I
Might make conjecture by your garb and mien,
Ye are Greeks—a sight most welcome to my eyes;
But I would hear your voices. Shrink not back
In horror at my savage aspect; speak;
Pity a lonely, friendless, stricken man
Thus stranded; if indeed as friends ye come,
Make answer, I entreat ye; fair reply
I may expect from you, as you from me.

Neoptolemus

Well, I will answer first thy question, Sir;
Thou hast conjectured rightly, we are Greeks.

Philoctetes

O welcome utterance! Ah, how good to hear
Those accents, long unheard, from one like thee!
What quest, my son, what venture brought thee here,
What breeze compelled thy canvas? Happy breeze!
Speak, tell me all, that I may know my friend.

Neoptolemus

My home’s the wave-lapped Scyros, and I sail
Homewards; my name is Neoptolemus,
My sire Achilles. Now thou knowest all.

Philoctetes

Son of a sire most dear, and land most dear,
Old Lycomedes’ foster-child, what quest
Has brought thee hither, from what port didst sail?

Neoptolemus

Hither I sailed direct from Ilium.

Philoctetes

From Ilium? Surely thou wast not on board
When first our expedition sailed for Troy.

Neoptolemus

What, wert thou partner in that enterprise?

Philoctetes

Dost thou not know with whom thou speak’st, my son?

Neoptolemus

How should I know a man ne’er seen before?

Philoctetes

Know’st thou not e’en my name? hast never heard
How I was wasting inch by inch away?

Neoptolemus

Of all thou questionest I nothing know.

Philoctetes

O what a heaven-forsaken wretch am I,
Of whose disastrous plight no rumour yet
Hath reached my home or any Grecian land!
But they, the godless knaves who cast me forth,
Laugh and are mute. My malady the while
Rankles, and daily grows from bad to worse.
O boy, O son sprung from Achilles’ loins,
I am that man, of whom thou mayst have heard,
Heritor of the bow of Heracles,
The son of Poeas, Philoctetes, whom
The Atridae and the Cephallenian prince
Cast forth thus shamelessly, a derelict,
Plague-stricken, wasting slowly, marked for death
By a man-slaying serpent’s venomous fangs.
Thus plagued, my son, they left me here, what time
Their fleet from sea-girt Chrysè touched this shore.
Tired with long tossing I had fallen asleep
Beneath a rock upon the beach; they laughed
To see me witless, laughed and sailed away,
Flinging me, as they went, some cast-off rags,
A beggar’s alms, and scraps of food. God grant
That they may some day come to fare like me!
Picture, my son, when I awoke and found
All gone, what waking then was mine; what tears,
What lamentations, when I saw the ships
In which I sailed all vanished; not a soul
To share my solitude or tend my wound.
All ways I gazed and nothing found but pain,
Pain, and of pain, God wot, enow, my son.
So passed the crawling hours, day upon day,
Year after year. I shifted for myself
Beneath this homeless, solitary roof.
To sate my hunger with this bow I shot
The wingèd doves and ever when my bolt
Sped from the taut string to the mark, I crawled
Thither my lamed foot trailing painfully.
And if of water I had need, or when
In winter time the ground was hoar with frost,
And firewood must be fetched, forth would I creep
Somewise to compass this. I had no fire,
But from the hard rock striking flint on flint
Brought forth the hidden spark that keeps me alive.
For, look ye, a bare roof and fire withal
Serve all my needs, save healing of my sore.

Now let me tell thee of this isle, my son.
No mariner sails hither of his will,
For anchorage is none, nor mart whereat
He may find lodging and exchange his wares
For profit; prudent men sail not this way.
Yet a stray visitor—such accidents
Must happen in long years—puts in perforce.
From such, my son, when they do come, I get
Kind words of pity and perchance an alms
Of food or raiment, but at the first hint
Of passage home, they one and all refuse.
So here for ten long years I linger on,
Consumed with hunger, dying inch by inch;
Only the worm that gnaws me dieth not.
To the Atridae and Odysseus, boy,
I owe this misery. God in heaven requite
In kind the wrongs that they have done to me!

Chorus

O son of Poeas, I too pity thee
No less methinks than did those visitors.

Neoptolemus

And I myself am witness that thy tale
Is true; for I have proved the villainy
Of the Atridae, and Odysseus too.

Philoctetes

What have those cursed Atridae wrongèd thee?
Art thou too stirred to anger by some wrong?

Neoptolemus

O that my wrath might vent itself in deeds!
Mycenae then and Sparta both would learn
That Scyros too is mother of brave sons.

Philoctetes

Well said, my son! But I would know the grounds
Of thy resentment, what the charge thou bring’st,
Why thou art here.

Neoptolemus

I scarce know how, O son
Of Poeas, yet I’ll tell the tale of wrongs
I suffered on my coming at their hands.
When by the doom of Fate Achilles died—

Philoctetes

Woe’s me! No more; first tell me, is he dead,
The son of Peleus?

Neoptolemus

He is dead indeed,
Slain by no man but by a god; a shaft
Pierced him; by Phoebus sped, so runs the tale.

Philoctetes

Noble alike the slayer and the slain!
I know not whether first, my son, to make
Inquiry of thy woes or weep for him.

Neoptolemus

Thou hast enough of thine own pains, poor soul,
Without lamenting for another’s woe.

Philoctetes

True, true indeed! So tell me once again
From the beginning how they outraged thee.

Neoptolemus

To fetch me in a gay decked galley came
Odysseus and my father’s foster-sire.2
They told me (if the tale was true or feigned
I know not) that, my father having fallen,
No hand but mine could take the Citadel.
Thus urged I did not dally or delay.
Forthwith I sailed. Chiefly I longed to see
My father whom in life I had not seen,
Before his burial, and in part, I own,
The promise fair that I should take Troy-town
Flattered my pride. Well, on the second day,
With oars and breeze to speed us, we had reached
Sigeum (hateful name) and when I landed
The whole host pressed to greet me, and they swore
They saw Achilles come to life again.
There lay my sire in death, and I, poor fool,
When I had mourned for him a while, betook me
To the Atridae as my natural friends,
Claiming my sire’s arms and what else was his.
O ’twas a sorry answer that they made:
“Child of Achilles, all that was thy sire’s
Is thine and welcome—all except his arms;
These to Laertes’ son have been assigned.”
I wept, I started to my feet in wrath,
And bitterly I spake, “O tyrannous men,
How dare ye give these arms, my own by right,
My leave unasked, to any man but me?”
Then said Odysseus who was standing by,
“Yes, boy, and rightly are they given to me,
Who rescued both their master and his arms.”3
I boiled with rage, I hurled at him abuse
The bitterest tongue could frame, I cursed the man
Who would defraud me of my rightful arms.
He, though not choleric, challenged thus direct,
Stung to the quick by my retort, replied:
“Thou wast not with us, a malingerer thou!
Take this for answer to thy blustering boasts:
To Scyros with these arms thou ne’er shalt sail.”
Thus flouted and abused I left the host,
And now am sailing homewards, robbed by him,
Odysseus, the base villain, basely born.
Yet is he less to blame than those who rule;
For like a commonwealth each armèd host
Perforce is subject to authority,
And all the lawless doings in the world
Spring from ill teaching. All my tale is told.
But whoso hates the Atridae, as do I,
May he find Heaven, no less than me, his friend!

Chorus

Strophe

O mother Earth, enthronèd on the hills,
Mother of Zeus himself, who feedest all;
From thee Pactolus draws his brimming rills,
His golden sands; Mother, to thee I call,
As once I called when, flushed with upstart pride,
The fierce Atridae ’gainst my master raged,
(O lady who on yokèd lions doth ride,
Their bloody ravening by thee assuaged,)
What time the tyrants to Laertes’ son
The guerdon gave, those arms his sire had won.

Philoctetes

Good sirs, ye bring me as a talisman,
A common grief; a plaint attuned to mine.
Full well I recognise in this your tale
The Atridae and Odysseus. He, I warrant,
Would have a hand and lend his tongue to abet
Any conspiracy, any deep-laid plot,
If he could compass some dishonest end.
This is not wonderful; but was indeed
The greater Ajax by, to see and brook it?

Neoptolemus

Ajax, my friend, was dead; had he been living
They would not thus have robbed me and despoiled.

Philoctetes

What say’st thou, boy? is he too dead and gone?

Neoptolemus

Yea he hath left the light.

Philoctetes

Alas, alas!
But not the son of Tydeus, nor the son
Named of Laertes, bred of Sisyphus;
They die not who should never have been born.

Neoptolemus

Not they indeed, I warrant; they live on,
And in the Argive host are mighty men.

Philoctetes

And what of him, my good old friend and true,
The Pylian Nestor, lives he not? for he
Oft by his wisdom checked their ill designs.

Neoptolemus

He is not what he once was, since he lost
His best belovèd son, Antilochus.

Philoctetes

Alas! thou tell’st me of a double loss,
The two men whom of all I least could spare.
Ah me! What hope is there when two such men
Are taken and Odysseus lives, whose death
Instead of theirs thou hadst by rights announced?

Neoptolemus

A cunning gamester, but the cunningest,
O Philoctetes, are full often thrown.

Philoctetes

But tell me, prithee, where was he the while,
Patroclus, once thy father’s bosom friend?

Neoptolemus

Dead like the rest, for this in sooth is true:
War never slays an evil man by choice,
But still the good.

Philoctetes

In that I’ll bear thee out.
By the same token, I would ask of one,
A worthless wight, but shrewd and glib of tongue.

Neoptolemus

Thou mean’st Odysseus, surely?

Philoctetes

Not of him
I asked, but of Thersites, one whose tongue
Was ever wagging most when wanted least,
An empty babbler. Know’st thou if he lives?

Neoptolemus

I saw him not, but heard he was alive.

Philoctetes

I thought as much; for evil never dies,
Fostered too well by gods who take delight,
Methinks, to turn back from the gates of hell
All irredeemable rascality,
But speed the righteous on their downward way.
What should I deem of this, how justify
The ways of Heaven, finding Heaven unjust?

Neoptolemus

For my part, son of an Oetean sire,
I shall take heed henceforward to behold
Troy and the two Atridae from afar.
Where villainy to goodness is preferred,
And virtue withers, and the base hold sway,
Such company I never will frequent.
Enough for me henceforth my native rocks,
My island home in Scyros; there I’ll bide.
Now to the ships. Farewell, a fond farewell,
O son of Poeas; may the gods fulfil
Thy heart’s desire and heal thee of thy wound!
Now we must leave thee and prepare to sail
Whene’er the gods shall send a favouring breeze.

Philoctetes

So soon, my son, departing?

Neoptolemus

’Tis high time,
Not here, but from the strand to watch the tide.

Philoctetes

Oh! in thy father’s, in thy mother’s name,
By all the sanctities of home, my son,
Leave me not, I adjure thee, here alone,
Abandoned to such ills as thou hast seen
And others worse whereof thou hast been told.
Think of me as a stowaway! well I know
The irksomeness of such a passenger.
Bear it! to true nobility of soul
All shame is shameful, honour honourable.
And it would smirch thine honour to decline
This task, my son; to do it, bring thee fame
And glory, if ye carry me alive
To Oeta. Come, ’tis but a day’s annoy.
Take heart of courage; stow me where thou wilt—
The hold, the bows, the stern, no matter where—
Wherever I shall least offend my mates.
By Zeus, the god of suppliants, O consent,
O hearken! at thy knees I fall, albeit
A cripple maimed and helpless. Leave me not
An outeast in a land where no man dwells;
But either take me safe to thine own home,
Or to Euboea and Chalcodon’s realm,
Whence I may cross to Oeta (’tis not far)
And the Trachinian passes and the stream
Of broad Spercheius, and behold once more
My father. Ah! these weary years I’ve feared
He must be dead, for messages full oft
I sent by those who passed my way, entreating
That he would fetch me in his own ship home.
But either he is dead, or, like enough,
My envoys (’tis the way of envoys) recked
Little of my concerns and hastened home.
But now to thee, my messenger at once
And saviour, I appeal; save, pity me,
Seeing upon how slippery a place
Fortune for mortals and misfortune stand.
Therefore the man that lives at ease should look
For rocks ahead, and when he prospers most
Watch lest he suffer shipwreck unawares.

Chorus

Antistrophe

Pity, my chief!
Pity a tale of agonizing grief!
Pray God no friend
Of mine may ever come to such an end!
O pity him!
I know thou hatest, prince, the Atridae grim;
Turn to his gain
The villainy they plotted for his bane.
O take him home!
With him let our brave vessel cleave the foam;
There would he be;
Thus from the dread Avengers shall we flee.

Neoptolemus

See that your present kindliness be not
A passing mood, lest after, when ye come
In closer contact with his malady,
Ye falter and belie these promises.

Chorus

No, I shall ne’er be open to such charge.

Neoptolemus

’Twere shame indeed should I less zealous prove
Than thou to help a stranger in his need.
So, if you please, we’ll sail; let him aboard;
Our ship methinks will not refuse her aid.
Only may heaven convey us from this shore
Safe to the haven whither we would sail!

Philoctetes

O gladdest day, O dearest, dearest friend,
And ye, kind sailors, would that I could prove
By acts my heartfelt gratitude! My son,
Let us be going, but before I go
Salute this homeless home, that thou mayst learn
How hard my life, how great my hardihood.
I think scarce any other man than I,
Had he but seen it once, could have endured;
But I was schooled by hard necessity. Neoptolemus is about to enter the cave with him.

Chorus

Stay, for I see two men approach, the one
A sailor from thy ship, and one a stranger.
First let us learn their errand, then go in.

| Enter Two Sailors, one disguised as a Merchant Captain.

Sailor

Son of Achilles, finding I was moored
In the same roadstead as thyself (by chance
Not of intent), I asked thy shipmate here,
Who with two other hands was left aboard
On guard, to tell me where thou might’st be found.
For I, the captain of a single craft,
Was on my way from Ilium, homeward bound,
To Peparethus, for its vintage famed;
And learning that the crew I met ashore
Were all thy fellow-voyagers, I thought
It would be well, before I sailed away,
To have a word with thee and earn my dues.
I doubt thou knowest naught of thy concerns—
What new designs the Argives have upon thee:
Designs, say I? Nay rather, plots full hatched.

Neoptolemus

I shall remember, sir, thy zealous care
On my behalf; I am no graceless churl.
But tell me more precisely: let me learn
These strange designs against me of the Greeks.

Sailor

Old Phoenix has embarked with Theseus’ sons
On a war galley in pursuit of thee.

Neoptolemus

To bring me back by force or of my will?

Sailor

I know not; I report but what I heard.

Neoptolemus

Are Phoenix and his co-mates fired with zeal
To pleasure the Atridae? can this be?

Sailor

’Tis no surmise of mine; they are on the way.

Neoptolemus

How came it that Odysseus had no mind
To sail on his own business? Was he afraid?

Sailor

He and the son of Tydeus were engaged
In quest of yet another, when I sailed.

Neoptolemus

Another? Who this second man for whom
Odysseus sailed himself?

Sailor

A certain one …
Stay, who is this beside thee? tell me first
His name, and breathe it softly in my ear.

Neoptolemus

This, sir, is Philoctetes of world fame.

Sailor

Stop not for further questioning! Remove!
Fly with all speed thou mayest from this land.

Philoctetes

What says he, boy? What does he whisper thee,
As though I were a piece of merchandise.

Neoptolemus

I know not yet, but he shall tell his tale
Aloud, for thee and me and these to hear.

Sailor

Child of Achilles, charge me not to the host
For blabbing secrets. I’m a poor man and
Greatly beholden to the generals,
Who’ve paid me for my service handsomely.

Neoptolemus

The Atridae are my enemies, and this man
Because he hates them is my dearest friend.
And, if indeed thou comest as a friend,
Thou art bound to tell me all that thou hast learnt.

Sailor

Take heed, boy, what thou’rt asking.

Neoptolemus

I have heeded.

Sailor

Then thou must bear the consequence.

Neoptolemus

Say on.

Sailor

Hear then: the two I named, Odysseus and
The son of Tydeus now are hither bound
To fetch this man, and they have sworn an oath
To bring him by persuasion or by force.
This by Odysseus plainly was professed
In presence of the host; for he, more bold
Than his co-partner, staked his credit on it.

Neoptolemus

But wherefore now, after the lapse of years
Should the Atridae be concerned about
A man they had abandoned and forgot?
Was it compassion touched them, or the dread
Of retribution and the avenging gods?

Sailor

A matter that perchance to thee is strange
I will unfold. There was a high born seer,
A son of Priam, Helenus was his name.
Him that vile wretch—what epithet can match
His utter villainy?—that sly old fox,
Odysseus, on a nightly prowl waylaid,
Bound, and displayed him to the Argive host,
A goodly prize. Much else of grave import
The prophet uttered, and he spake this word:
“Ne’er can ye take the citadel of Troy
Till by persuasion ye have won him over
And brought him from the island where he bides.”
Hearing the prophet’s word, Odysseus straight
Engaged himself to bring the man away
And show him to the host. “Willing” (he said),
“I hope, but at the worst, against his will.”
He staked his head on the venture; any one
Who chose might be his headsman if he failed.
Thou hast heard all, my son; be warned in time;
Take heed for thine own safety and thy friend’s.

Philoctetes

Ah me! did that arch-felon swear indeed
To bring me by persuasion to the Greeks?
As soon by prayers shall I be brought again
From death, as was his father,4 to the light.

Sailor

That’s not for me to say, I must be going
To join my ship. Farewell, and may the gods
Be with you both and order all things well.

Philoctetes

What say’st thou, boy? That he, Laertes’ son,
Should think to wheedle me aboard his ship,
And make a show of me to the Greek host!
Is it not monstrous? Sooner would I heed
My mortal foe, the snake that crippled me.
But he—no word, no practice is too vile
For him to stick at. He will come for sure.
Haste thee, my son, and put a many leagues
Of ocean ’twixt Odysseus and our ship.
Bestir ye! Who in season labours best,
His labours ended, has the sweetest rest.

Neoptolemus

All in good time; soon as the headwind drops
We will weigh anchor; now ’tis in our teeth.

Philoctetes

To those who fly from ill all winds are fair.

Neoptolemus

But this wind’s contrary for them no less.

Philoctetes

For pirates no wind’s adverse, when there’s chance
Of pillaging or robbery under arms.

Neoptolemus

Well, as thou will’st, we’ll sail; but from the cave
Take anything thou needest or dost prize.

Philoctetes

My store is scant, but certain things I need.

Neoptolemus

What that thou wilt not find on board my ship?

Philoctetes

A herb of wondrous virtue wherewithal
I use to mollify and lull my wound.

Neoptolemus

Then bring it with thee. What else wouldst thou take?

Philoctetes

Some shafts, that may have dropped by accident,
Lest a chance-comer find them, I would fetch.

Neoptolemus

Is that then in thy hands the famous bow?

Philoctetes

This and none other is the famous bow.

Neoptolemus

May I have leave to gaze upon it close,
Handle it, aye adore it as a god?

Philoctetes

Right willingly, my son, and aught beside
That I can do to profit thee, command.

Neoptolemus

I have this longing, I confess, but if
My longing seem not lawful, let it be.

Philoctetes

A pious scruple; but this privilege,
My son, is thine by right, for thou alone
Hast given me to behold the light of day,
And Oeta, and my aged sire, and friends;
For when I lay beneath my enemies’ heel,
’Twas thou upliftedst me above their heads,
It shall be thine to handle and return;
Fear not, and thou shalt boast that thou alone
Of mortals, for thy worth, hast handled it.
’Twas for a service done it came to me.5

Neoptolemus

’Tis pleasant to have found and proved a friend;
For him who good for good returns I hold
A friend more precious than unnumbered gold.
Now go within.

Philoctetes

That will I, and entreat
Thine escort, for my ailment craves thine aid.

| They enter the cave.

Chorus

Strophe 1

I saw him not, yet fame affirms the tale
Of one who dared the bed of Zeus assail.
Him to the wheel that never stays its round
Of torture, the great son of Kronos bound.
But, save of him alone,
To me no sadder fate is known
Than of this saddest wight,
Or by report or sight:
Poor innocent who here to death art done!
He robbed or wrongèd none
I marvel how thus desolate, all forlorn,
These long long years of anguish he hath borne,
Hearing the breakers gride the cold grey stones,

Antistrophe 1

Himself for neighbour to himself he groans;
Limping with crippled feet,
He treads his weary beat;
No comrade by
To give him sigh for sigh,
No friend in whose responsive ear to pour
His woes—the anguish of his festering sore;
To quell the burning rage,
The throbs assuage
With simples gathered from the kindly soil;
But ’twixt the spasms he must crawl and moil
To find the herb, a spell to lay the curse,
Like some weak infant parted from its nurse.

Strophe 2

Not his to sow the seed
Or on the largesse feed
That boon earth showers on all the sons of men;
Happy, if now and then
The bolt from his unerring bow can wing
Some living thing.
Poor wretch, who ten long years athirst did pine,
Without one draught of soul-refreshing wine,
But sought some stagnant pool
His parchèd throat to cool.

Antistrophe 2

Now hath he found a champion good and true,
And by his woes ennobled shall renew
His pristine fame. The tale of months complete,
Home shall he journey with our homing fleet.
There on Spercheios’ marge, his ancient home,
The haunt of Malian naiads, he shall roam,
Where the famed hero of the brazen shield,
His full divinity in flames revealed
And in a fiery car ascending high
O’er Oeta was translated to the sky.

Neoptolemus

Be moving if it please thee … Why, what means
This sudden silence, this amazedness?

Philoctetes

Ah me! Ah me!

Neoptolemus

What is it?

Philoctetes

A mere nothing, boy; go on.

Neoptolemus

Thou feelest thine old malady again?

Philoctetes

No, a mere twinge; I think ’tis passing now—
O God!

Neoptolemus

Why groan aloud and call on God?

Philoctetes

To save me and deliver me. … Ah me!

Neoptolemus

What ails thee? Wilt not tell me? Wilt not speak?
That something troubles thee is very plain.

Philoctetes

My son, I am lost, undone! Impossible
To hide it longer from you; lost, undone!
It stabs me, stabs me through and through and through.
Ah me! ah me! ah me!
For heaven’s sake, if thou hast a sword at hand,
Draw it, my son, strike swiftly, at a stroke
Cut off this foot, no matter if it kill me;
Quick, quick, my son!

Neoptolemus

What is this sudden fit
That makes thee moan so and bewail thyself?

Philoctetes

Thou knowest, boy.

Neoptolemus

What is it?

Philoctetes

Thou knowest.

Neoptolemus

Nay,
What ails thee?

Philoctetes

Knowest thou not? Ah me! Ah me!

Neoptolemus

The burden of thy pain is terrible.

Philoctetes

Yea, terrible, past words. O pity me.

Neoptolemus

What shall I do?

Philoctetes

Fear me not, leave me not:
My ailment loves to play the truant, stray
Awhile, and then come home again, belike
Tired with its holiday.

Neoptolemus

Alas! poor wretch,
Wretched indeed in all thy suffering proved.
Wilt lean on me? Shall I take hold of thee?

Philoctetes

Nay touch me not, I beg, but take this bow
Which thou didst crave to handle, and until
The spasm that now disables me is gone,
Keep it and guard it well; for when the fit
Passes, a drowsiness comes over me;
And sleep’s the only medicine that gives ease.
So let me slumber undisturbed, and if
They come the while, I charge thee, boy, by heaven,
Let them not have it, yield not up the bow,
Willing or nilling, or by force or fraud;
Lest thou should’st prove a double murderer,
And slay thyself and me thy suppliant.

Neoptolemus

I will be vigilant, fear not; none shall have it
But thou and I alone; so give it to me.
Good luck attend it!

Philoctetes

Take it then, my son,
But first propitiate the Jealous God,
Lest it should prove to thee a bane, as erst
To me and to its former lord it proved.

Neoptolemus

Heaven grant this prayer to both of us, and grant
A fair and prosperous voyage whithersoe’er
Our destined course is set and heaven ordains!

Philoctetes

Alas, my son! I fear thy prayers are vain;
For once again upwelling from the wound
The black blood trickles auguring a relapse.
Out, out upon thee, damnèd foot! Alack!
What plague hast yet in store for me? Alack!
It prowls, it stalks amain, ready to spring.
Woe! Now ye know my torture, leave me not!
Ah me! Ah me!
Would God, O Cephallenian, through thy breast
This spasm might pass and hold thee in its grip!
Woe’s me and woe once more! Ye generals twain,
Menelaus, Agamemnon, might this worm
Devour your vitals no less time than mine!
O Death, Death, Death! how is it that invoked
Day after day, thou canst not heed my call?
Boy, noble boy, of thy nobility
Take me and in yon fires, as Lemnian famed,
Consume me: even as when myself I dared
To do like service for the son of Zeus,
And won for meed the bow thou bearest now.
Speak! answer! why thus absent, O my son?

Neoptolemus

My heart was heavy, musing on thy woes.

Philoctetes

Nay, be of better cheer, my son; this pain,
As in its onset sudden, so departs.
Only, I pray thee, leave me not alone.

Neoptolemus

Take heart; we’ll stay.

Philoctetes

Thou wilt?

Neoptolemus

In sooth I will.

Philoctetes

It were not meet to bind thee with an oath.

Neoptolemus

I am bound in honour not to leave thee here.

Philoctetes

Thy hand upon it.

Neoptolemus

Here’s my hand in pledge.

Philoctetes

Then yonder, let me yonder—

Neoptolemus

Whither then?

Philoctetes

Up higher—

Neoptolemus

Art thou wandering once again?
Why starest at the firmament on high?

Philoctetes

Let me go.

Neoptolemus

Whither?

Philoctetes

Let me go, I say.

Neoptolemus

Thou shalt not.

Philoctetes

Touch me not, ’twould be my death.

Neoptolemus

Well, I release thee. Thou art calmer now.

Philoctetes

Take me, O Earth, a dying man, so near
His end with sickness that he cannot stand.

Neoptolemus

Methinks in no long time he’ll be asleep;
For, see, his head sinks backward, and o’er all
His body, look you, trickle beads of sweat,
And from an artery in his wounded foot
The black blood spurts. So let us leave him, friends
In peace and quiet till he fall asleep.

Chorus

Strophe

Sleep immune of cares,
Sleep that knows not cumber,
Breathe thy softest airs,
Prince of painless slumber!
O’er his eyes alway
Let thy dream-light play;
Healer come, we pray.

My son, bethink thee how
Thou standest, and what next
Thou purposest; not now
The time to halt perplexed.
Why longer here remain?
Ever occasion ta’en
At the full flood brings gain.

Neoptolemus

We might escape and steal his bow indeed
(He hears us not); but little should we speed
Without the man. Himself he must be brought,
So the God bade; he is the prize we sought;
He crowns our triumph, and ’twere double shame
Falsely a fraud-won victory to claim.

Chorus

Antistrophe

Far things with Heaven lie,
Look thou to what is near,
And, when thou mak’st reply,
Low breathe it in my ear:
Sleepless the sick man’s sleep,
Quick-eared to catch each sound;
His eyes, though closed, yet keep
Sharp watch around.

Wherefore explore in stealth, my son,
How what thou dost may best be done.
If thy plan be still the same,
What it is I need not name,
Plain to one who looks before
Are his troubles vast and sore.

The breeze sets fair, sets fair, my son,
And there outstretched he lies
As one who hath nor ears nor eyes.
(How good to sleep i’ the sun!)
Of hand or foot, no motion has he, none
More than the dead who in Earth’s bosom rest.
Then look, my son, look that thou utterest
Sane counsels. If a plain man might advise
Thy wisdom, the discreetest way is best.

Neoptolemus

Silence, and keep your wits; his eyes begin
To open and he raises now his head.

Philoctetes

O sweet to wake to the broad day and find,
What least I hoped, my kindly guardians by.
For this, my son, I never had presumed
To hope, that thou would’st thus compassionately
Wait to attend my woes and minister.
The Atridae, those brave captains never showed
Courage to bear them patiently. But thou
By nature noble as by birth, my son,
Mad’st light of all the sores to eye and ear,
And nostrils, that my malady inflicts.
But now at last, ’twould seem, a lull has come,
A respite and oblivion of my ills;
Raise me thyself, boy, set me on my feet,
That, when the attack has wholly spent itself,
We may aboard and instantly set sail.

Neoptolemus

Right glad am I to see thee breathing still,
Alive, beyond all hope, and freed from pain;
For to appearance thou didst bear the seal
And signature of death. Now raise thyself,
Or if thou choosest, these shall carry thee;
Such service will they readily perform,
Since thou and I alike are thus resolved.

Philoctetes

I thank thee, son, and, if it pleaseth thee,
Raise me thyself and spare thy men this task,
Lest they be sickened with my fetidness
Before the time; they’ll have enough to bear
With me for messmate when we are aboard.

Neoptolemus

So be it; now, stand up, lay hold of me.

Philoctetes

Fear not, long use and wont has taught me how.

Neoptolemus

Ye Gods! What now remains for me to do?

Neoptolemus

What is it, my son, what mean these whirling words?

Neoptolemus

I speak perplextly, know not how to speak.

Philoctetes

What can perplex thee? say not so, my son.

Neoptolemus

Too deep involved, I cannot otherwise.

Philoctetes

What! the offensiveness of my complaint
Will stay thee now from taking me aboard?

Neoptolemus

All is offensive when a man is false
To his true self and, knowing right, does wrong.

Philoctetes

But thou dost naught in word or deed to shame
Thy birth in succouring a worthy man.

Neoptolemus

I shall be proved a rogue; this tortures me.

Philoctetes

Not in thy deeds—thy words do give me pause.

Neoptolemus

God help me now! Must I appear twice base,
Hide what I should not and my shame reveal?

Philoctetes

The youth, if I misjudge him not, intends
To play me false and leave me stranded here.

Neoptolemus

Leave thee? Not so, but what will irk thee more,
Convey thee hence. ’Tis this that tortures me.

Philoctetes

Thy words are dark, I cannot catch their drift.

Neoptolemus

I will be plain and round with thee. To Troy
Thou sailest, to the Atridae and the host.

Philoctetes

Alas! What say’st thou?

Neoptolemus

Murmur not but hear me.

Philoctetes

Hear me, quoth he! what wilt thou do with me?

Neoptolemus

First from this misery rescue thee, and then,
With thee to aid me, ravage Ilium.

Philoctetes

Wilt thou indeed do this?

Neoptolemus

Necessity
Leaves me no choice; so take it not amiss,

Philoctetes

Me miserable! I am undone, betrayed
How hast thou used me, sir! I charge thee straight
Give back my bow!

Neoptolemus

That cannot be, for I
By policy and duty both am bound
To obey my chiefs.

Philoctetes

Thou fire, thou utter monster,
Abhorrèd masterpiece of knavery,
How hast thou served me, cheated me, abused?
Art not ashamed to look on me, thou wretch,
Thy suppliant, thy bedesman? Robbing me
Of this my bow thou robbest me of life.
Restore it, I beseech thee, O my son,
Oh, an thou lov’st me, give me back my bow;
Rob me not, by thy gods I pray, of life!
Ah me! he turns away, he will not speak;
His silence says he will not give it back.

Ye creeks, ye promontories, dens and lairs
Of mountain beasts, ye cliffs precipitous,
To you—none else will heed me—I appeal,
On you, familiars of my woes, I call;
Hear what I suffer from Achilles’ son!
He swore to bring me home again, and now
To Troy he takes me; on his plighted troth
I gave, he keeps my bow, the sacred bow
That erst to Zeus-born Heracles belonged,
To flout it ’fore the Argive host as his;
He takes me hence his prisoner, as if
His arm had captured some great warrior,
And sees not he is slaying a dead man,
A shade, a wraith, an unsubstantial ghost;
For in my strength he had not ta’en me, no,
Nor as I am, disabled, save by guile.
But now, entrapped, ah whither shall I turn?

Have pity, give me, give me back my bow!
Be once again thy true self, even now.
What answer? None. O woe is me, I am lost!
O cave with double mouth, to thee I turn;
Stripped of my arms and lacking means of life,
Here shall I wither in this lonely cell.
No bird of air, no beast of the upland wold
Yon bow shall slay, but dying I shall make
A feast for those who fed me when alive,
A quarry for the creatures I pursued,
My blood for their blood shed. And this I owe
To one who seemed a child in innocence.
My curse upon thee—nay I will forbear,
Till first I hear whether thou wilt repent
Or not; if no, die blasted by my curse!

Chorus

What shall we do, prince? ’tis for thee to say
Whether we sail or hearken to his prayer.

Neoptolemus

My heart is strangely wrought, and from the first
I have been moved with pity for the man.

Philoctetes

In heaven’s name show mercy, let not men
Brand thee as my betrayer, O my son!

Neoptolemus

What shall I do? Would I had never left
Scyros, to fall into this desperate plight.

Philoctetes

Thou art not base, but coming here wast schooled
To play the rogue by villains; leave that part
To others framed by nature to be rogues.
Sail hence, but ere thou sail give back my arms.

Neoptolemus

What shall we do, friends?

| Odysseus appears suddenly from behind the cave.

Odysseus

Wretch, what art thou at?
Back with thee, sirrah! give the bow to me.

Philoctetes

Ah who is here? Is that Odysseus’ voice?

Odysseus

Odysseus, as thou seeest. Here am I.

Philoctetes

Oh I am sold, betrayed. So it was he
Who trapped me and bereft me of my arms.

Odysseus

I and no other. I avow ’twas I.

Philoctetes

Give back my bow, son, give it.

Odysseus

That he shall not,
E’en if he would; and what is more, thou with it
Must go, or these shall drag thee hence by force.

Philoctetes

Thou brazen-facèd villain, shall thy knaves
Drag me by force?

Odysseus

Yea, if thou’lt not consent.

Philoctetes

O Lemnian land, O all-subduing fires
Lit by Hephaestus,6 will ye suffer it,
That yonder man should hale me from your realm?

Odysseus

’Tis Zeus, I tell thee, Zeus who rules this land,
Zeus thus ordains; I am his minister.

Philoctetes

O monstrous fiend, what pleas thou canst invent!
Gods thou invokest and wouldst make them liars.

Odysseus

Nay, they are true. But thou must march with us.

Philoctetes

Never!

Odysseus

But I say yes; consent thou must.

Philoctetes

Oh I was born to sorrow, so it seems;
No free man but a slave my sire begot.

Odysseus

Nay, but a peer of paladins, ordained
To storm proud Troy and lay it in the dust.

Philoctetes

Never! not even in my utmost need,
Whilst under me I feel this steep of rock.

Odysseus

What would’st thou do?

Philoctetes

Leap from the crags above
And dash my brains out on the crags below.

Odysseus

Lay hold of him, seize either arm, prevent him!

Philoctetes

Oh hands, how ill ye fare, made prisoners
By that man, all for lack of my good bow.
Thou very churl, corrupt in heart and soul,
How hast thou circumvented me again,
Making this stranger boy thy stalking horse,
Fit mate for me, too good for thine ally,
Thy tool who merely did as he was bidden,
And even now is plainly penitent
Both for his error and the wrong to me.
But thou, like some vile prompter in the dark,
Wast ever by to give the cue, and though
Unapt and loth, he learnt thy villainy.
And now thou think’st to bind me hand and foot,
Monster, and take me from this shore whereon
Thou erst did’st cast me, friendless, homeless, lorn,
A living corpse.
I curse thee; when have I
Not cursed thee these long years? But since the Gods
Grant nothing sweet to me, thou livest on
Exultant; and to me, with endless woes
Encompassed, life itself is misery;
Mocked as I am by thee and the two sons
Of Atreus whose abettor now thou art.
Thou of constraint and by a stratagem
Wert forced to join their flag and sail with them;7
I with my seven ships volunteered, and yet
(O miserable me!) I was cast forth
In scorn—by them thou say’st, they say by thee.
And now why seize, why hale me to your ships,
Me who am naught, dead long ago to you?
How can I serve you? Heaven-abhorred wretch!
Am I not lame and noisome now as then?
How will ye render, if I sail with you,
Burnt sacrifices and drink-offerings?
That was the pretext when ye cast me forth.
My curse upon you for your wrongs to me,
And, if the gods are just, ye shall be cursed.
And they are just, I know it; never else
Would ye have sailed for such a wretch as I,
But that they pricked your heart to think of me.
My native land, ye ever-watchful gods,
Your vengeance, vengeance sure though it tarry long,
Fall on them all, if aught you pity me;
And I am piteous. Yet could I behold
Their ruin, I should half forget my plague.

Chorus

His mood is bitter, bitter his reply
To thee, Odysseus; suffering tames him not.

Odysseus

Much could I answer, did the time permit;
One word must now suffice. I am a man
Who can adapt his humour to the hour.
When justice and plain-dealing are required,
Ye will not find a man more scrupulous.
My one concern is ever to prevail—
Save in thy case; to thee right willingly
I will give way. To Sailors. Unhand him, let him go!
He may stay here. To Philoctetes. We have no need of thee,
Having thy bow, for Teucer will be there
A master archer, and myself who boast
That I can draw a bow with hand as firm
And point it with as true an eye as thine.
What use for thee then? Lemnos shall be thine.
Sole Monarch, hail! Go, pace thy bounds at peace;
We leave thee. This thy prize methinks will earn
For me the honour that were rightly thine.

Philoctetes

Unhappy wretch, what can I do? Shalt thou
Strut like a popinjay in arms of mine?

Odysseus

Bandy no more words; I am going now.

Philoctetes

Son of Achilles, wilt thou leave me thus,
Thou too in silence, deaf to my appeal?

Odysseus

To Neoptolemus.

Away! and look not on him lest thou mar
Our stroke of fortune by thy quixotry.

Philoctetes

To Chorus.

Ye also, friends, will ye abandon me
And show no pity for my sad estate?

Chorus

This stripling is our captain, and whate’er
He says, we say the same; his word is law.

Neoptolemus

I know I shall be twitted by my chief
As weak and tender-hearted; but what odds?
If our friend wills it, tarry here until
Our crew have made all tight and yare, and we
Have offered prayers, as fitting. He the while
Perchance may come to a better mind and melt.
So we will hasten forward, he and I,
And ye, make haste to follow when we call. Exeunt Odysseus and Neoptolemus.

Philoctetes

Strophe 1

O cavern’d rock, my cell
Now hot, now icy chill,
How long with thee it was my lot to dwell:
To thee till death I shall be constant still.
Tell me, sad lodging, haunted by my pain,
How shall I day by day my life sustain?
Ye timorous doves whose flight
Whirrs in the air o’erhead,
Now where ye will unharmed alight;
No shafts of mine henceforward need ye dread.

Chorus

’Tis thou hast willed it thus, infatuate,
Thou art the author of thy sad estate;
Nor to some higher force canst thou assign
Thy woes, but, when free choice was thine,
The good thou did’st reject,
The worse elect.

Philoctetes

Antistrophe 1

Ah wretched, wretched then am I,
Consumed with utter misery,
Doomed for all time to linger on.
Without one friend, one comrade, one,
To aid me till I die.
No more my arrows fleet
Shall win my daily meat;
Poor unsuspecting fool,
A base intriguer’s tool,
By his forged legend caught!
Wretch who my ruin wrought,
Would I might see him pine
Long years like me in agony like mine!

Chorus

By destiny, by destiny ’twas sent.
To treachery my hand was never lent;
Point not at me thy baleful curse, for fain
Thy friend, as heretofore, I would remain.

Philoctetes

Strophe 2

Ah me! he’s sitting now
Upon the grey sea sands,
And laughs at me, I trow;
My bow is in his hands,
The bow that was my life, the bow
That never lord save me did know.

My bow, my matchless bow of yew,
If thou canst feel, how must thou grieve,
Thus wrested from thy master true,
Constrained his loving hands to leave,
Thy master who, through Hellas famed,
The friend of Heracles was named.

Now art thou handled by a knave,
Past master in each cunning art,
Must do his bidding, as a slave,
In all his misdeeds take thy part.
And aid the unrelenting foe,
The source and spring of all my woe.

Chorus

A man should aye his rightful cause maintain,
But from malign and venomous taunts refrain;
And he but serves the common interest,
Speaks for the host, obeying their behest.

Philoctetes

Antistrophe 2

Ye feathered tribes, my prey,
Ye bright-eyed beasts who roam
The hills, start not away
Scared from the hunter’s home.
Stray where ye will, secure, unharmed;
Why shun a helpless man unarmed?

Gone is the mighty bow;
Flock hither without dread,
Why should ye fear a foe
So weak, so ill bestead.
Draw near ycur gluttonous mouths to fill,
Mangle my carrion flesh at will.

Here shall I waste away,
Soon will ye eye me dead;
Who can survive one day
By airs of heaven fed?
Of all that Earth affords each son,
Herb, root and fruit, possessing none.

Chorus

If thou regardest a well-wishing friend,
Draw near and to his kindly rule attend.
Think well; from this intolerable bane,
That thou dost feed, and aggravate thy pain,
With thee it rests deliverance to gain.

Philoctetes

O why recall my ancient grief once more,
Kindest of all who e’er have touched this shore?
Why twice undo a wretch undone before?

Chorus

What meanest thou?

Philoctetes

I mean that thou wast fain
To take me to the Troy I hate again.

Chorus

’Tis for thy good.

Philoctetes

O leave me then, begone!

Chorus

Thanks for that word. We will be off anon,
Back to the ship, and each man to his oar.

Philoctetes

O leave me not, for God’s sake, I implore.

Chorus

Calm thyself.

Philoctetes

Stay, O stay!

Chorus

Why should we wait?

Philoctetes

O woe is me! Out on my fate, my fate!
Accursed foot, what shall I make of thee?
Iam undone! O friends, come back to me.

Chorus

What would’st thou? First thou bid’st us go, and then
In the same breath thou biddest us remain.

Philoctetes

O be not wrath if one distraught with pain
Blurts out discordant words beside the mark.

Chorus

Come then, unhappy man, with us embark.

Philoctetes

Never, no never, though the King of Heaven
Should threat to blast me with his fiery leven.
No, perish rather Ilium, perish all
The Achaean host that batter at its wall;
Hard hearts who cast me forth as halt and maim.
From you, my friends, one parting boon I claim.

Chorus

What would’st thou ask?

Philoctetes

An axe, a spear, a brand,
No matter what—the weapon first to hand.

Chorus

Wherefore! What deed of violence wouldst thou do?

Philoctetes

Hack, mangle, limb by limb my body hew;
My thoughts are bloody.

Chorus

Wherefore?

Philoctetes

I would go
To seek my father.

Chorus

In what land?

Philoctetes

Below;
For I shall find him nowhere on this earth.
My native land, fair land that gave me birth,
Might I but see thee! Wherefore did I roam
And leave the sacred stream that guards my home?
To help the Greeks those stormy seas I crossed,
My mortal foes, by them undone, lost, lost!

Chorus

I should have left thee long ago and now
Be near my ship, but that I saw Odysseus
Advancing towards us and Achilles’ son.

| Enter Neoptolemus followed by Odysseus.

Odysseus

Wilt thou not tell me why thou hurriest back
In such hot haste and on what errand bound?

Neoptolemus

I come to expiate all former wrongs.

Odysseus

A strange reply. What wrong did’st thou commit?

Neoptolemus

When in obedience to the host and thee—

Odysseus

Prithee, what did’st thou that beseemed thee not?

Neoptolemus

I snared a man by base deceit and guile.

Odysseus

What man? Thou hast not something rash in hand?

Neoptolemus

Naught rash, but to the son of Poeas I—

Odysseus

What wilt thou do? My soul forbodes some ill.

Neoptolemus

From whom I took the bow, to him again—

Odysseus

Great Zeus! What meanest thou? Not give it back?

Neoptolemus

Yes, for I got it basely, shamefully.

Odysseus

In Heaven’s name, say’st thou this to mock at me?

Neoptolemus

If it be mockery to speak the truth.

Odysseus

What now? What meanest thou, Achilles’ son?

Neoptolemus

Must I repeat the same words twice and thrice?

Odysseus

Far better had I never heard them once.

Neoptolemus

Rest well assured I have nothing more to add.

Odysseus

There is, I tell thee, one to stay thy hand.

Neoptolemus

Who prithee? who to stay me or prevent?

Odysseus

The whole Achaean host, and I for one.

Neoptolemus

Thy words lack wisdom though thou lack’st not wits.

Odysseus

Unwisdom marks thy words and actions both.

Neoptolemus

If just, ’tis better than unjust and wise.

Odysseus

Can it be justice to give back the prize
Won by my policy?

Neoptolemus

Shameful was my fault,
And I will try to make amends for it.

Odysseus

Hast thou no terror of the Achaean host?

Neoptolemus

A bugbear this with justice on my side.

Odysseus

[Justice must yield if I resort to force.]

Neoptolemus

Not even thou canst force me ’gainst my will.

Odysseus

Then not with Trojans must we war, but thee.

Neoptolemus

So be it, if it must be.

Odysseus

See’st my hand
Upon my sword-hilt?

Neoptolemus

Me too shalt thou see
Ready to follow suit and keen to draw

Odysseus

Well, I will leave thee, but I shall report
To the whole army. They shall punish thee.

Neoptolemus

A wise discretion. Keep this prudent mind,
So mayest thou henceforth with a whole skin live. Exit Odysseus.
Ho! Philoctetes, son of Poeas, leave
The shelter of thy rocky home; come forth!

Philoctetes

What means this hubbub at my cave again?
Why summon me, what would ye with me, Sirs?

| Appears at mouth of cave and sees Neoptolemus.

Ha! I mislike the look of it. Are ye come
As heralds of new woes to crown the old?

Neoptolemus

Take heart and listen to the news I bring.

Philoctetes

I am afraid. ’Thou camest once before;
I trusted thy fair words and ill I sped.

Neoptolemus

May not a man repent him?

Philoctetes

Such thou wast,
No less fair-spoken, when thou wert about
To steal my bow, black treachery in thy heart.

Neoptolemus

But now another man, who fain would learn
Whether thou still persistest to stay here,
Or wilt embark with us.

Philoctetes

Stop, say no more!
All that thou sayest will be wasted breath.

Neoptolemus

Art resolute?

Philoctetes

More resolute than words can tell.

Neoptolemus

Well, I would gladly have persuaded thee
By argument, but if thou wilt not heed,
Why, I have done.

Philoctetes

Thou needs must speak in vain.
How canst thou win me o’er to friendliness,
Thou who didst rob me of my life by fraud,
And then dost come to counsel me? Base son
Of noblest sire! Perdition on you all;
The Atridae first, Odysseus then, and thee!

Neoptolemus

Forbear thy curses. Take from me thy bow.

Philoctetes

What say’st thou? Am I tricked a second time?

Neoptolemus

No, by the name of Zeus most high, I swear it.

Philoctetes

O comfortable words, if they be true.

Neoptolemus

The deed shall follow to attest this truth
Reach hither thy right hand and take thy bow.

| As he is handing the bow to Philoctetes, Odysseus appears.

Odysseus

Hold! I protest ’fore Heaven, and in the name
Of the Atridae and the host forbid it.

Philoctetes

Who spake, my son, was that Odysseus’ voice
I heard?

Odysseus

None other; and he’s hard at hand,
Ready to take thee back to Troy by force,
Whether it please Achilles’ son or no.

Philoctetes

But at thy peril, if this shaft fly straight.

Neoptolemus

Hold, hold! in heaven’s name let not fly thy shaft!

Philoctetes

Let go my hand in heaven’s name, dearest son!

Neoptolemus

I will not.

Philoctetes

Why, O why didst thou prevent me
From slaying with my bow the man I hate?

Neoptolemus

That were dishonourable for thee and me. Exit Odysseus.

Philoctetes

Well of one thing thou may’st be sure, the chiefs,
Those lying heralds of the Achaean host,
Are brave in words and cowards in the fight.

Neoptolemus

So be it. The bow is thine again, and now
Thou hast no grief or quarrel against me.

Philoctetes

None, my brave boy, for thou hast proved this day
Thy race and lineage, not of Sisyphus,
But of Achilles, noblest once of men
In life, and now the noblest of the dead,

Neoptolemus

Sweet to my ears the praises of my sire,
And of myself; but now I crave of thee
A boon. What fates the gods allot to men
They needs must bear, but whoso hug their griefs,
As thou dost—who can pity or condone
Such self-tormentors? Thou, inexorable,
Wilt tolerate no counsel, deemest him
Who would admonish thee in love a foe;
Yet will I speak the truth, so help me Zeus!
Write on the table of thy memory
These words: thy sore plague is a heaven-sent doom;
With foot profane, in Chrysè’s roofless shrine,
Thou didst insult her tutelary snake.
For this sin wast thou stricken, and no relief
Canst win from thy affliction, whilst the sun
Shall run from East to West his daily course,
Before of thy free will thou com’st to Troy.
There shalt thou find our famed Asclepidae,
And healed by them, with thy bow’s aid and mine,
Shalt take and sack the towers of Ilium.
Thou askest how I know all this. Attend:
We have a Trojan prisoner, Helenus,
Chiefest of seers, who plainly prophesied
All I have told thee, and revealed besides
That, ere this summer passes, Troy must fall;
His life the forfeit if his word proved false.
Now that thou know’st this, yield with a good grace.
How fair a vision—to be singled out
As bravest of the host, and, first made whole
By healing hands, as conqueror of Troy,
Woe-wearied city, win undying fame!

Philoctetes

O hateful life that keep’st me lingering on
In this vile world and wilt not let me join
The world of shades! Ah me! What can I do?
How turn a deaf ear to the kindly words
Of one who counsels well and seeks my good?
Shall I then yield? How, having yielded, face
The public gaze? Will not all turn from me?
Ye eyes, so long the witness of my wrongs,
How will ye brook to see me once again
Consorting with my torturers, the sons
Of Atreus and Odysseus, the arch-fiend?
’Tis not resentment for the past that stings,
But a prevision of the ills to come;
For when a mind is warped it takes the ply,
And evil-doers will be evil still.
Thee too, my son, I marvel much at thee;
Never should’st thou have gone thyself to Troy,
Nor sought to bring me thither. How could’st thou,
When they had robbed thee of thy father’s meed
And flouted thee?8 How can’st thou after that
Fight at their side thyself, or bid me fight?
Not so, my son, but do as thou hast sworn,
Convey me home; thyself in Scyros bide;
Leave those ill-doers to their evil doom.
Thus shalt thou win a double thanks from me
And from my sire; nor will men say of thee:
Abetting base men he himself is base.

Neoptolemus

Thy words are reasonable; natheless I
Would have thee trust my promise and the god’s,
And confidently sail with me, thy friend.

Philoctetes

What! to the plains of Troy, to him I loathe,
The son of Atreus, with this cursèd foot?

Neoptolemus

Nay, but to kind physicians who will treat
Thy ulcered limb and heal thee of thy hurt.

Philoctetes

O wondrous weird! What means this mystery?

Neoptolemus

One fraught with happy issue for us both.

Philoctetes

Hast thou no fear of heaven, thus to speak?

Neoptolemus

Why should a man feel fear who helps his friends?

Philoctetes

Help for the sons of Atreus, or for me?

Neoptolemus

For thee, as these my words attest, thy friend.

Philoctetes

A friend, when thou would’st hand me to my foes?

Neoptolemus

O let not suffering make thee truculent.

Philoctetes

I know thou would’st undo me pleading thus.

Neoptolemus

Not I, but thou thyself, who wilt not learn.

Philoctetes

Do I not know the Atridae cast me forth?

Neoptolemus

’Tis true, but now they would deliver thee.

Philoctetes

Not with my will, if first I must to Troy.

Neoptolemus

What must I do, if all persuasion fails
To make thee budge an inch? ’Twere easier
To cease from words and leave thee here to live,
As thou hast lived, a hopeless castaway.

Philoctetes

Well, let me dree my weird; but thou, my son,
Perform the promise made with clasp of hands,
Take me straight home, and talk no more of Troy.
My cup of lamentations I have drained.

Neoptolemus

As thou wilt then; let us forward.

Philoctetes

Nobly spoken, let us go.

Neoptolemus

Forward! plant thy footsteps firmly.

Philoctetes

To my utmost will I so.

Neoptolemus

But the wrath of the Achaeans will pursue me.

Philoctetes

Never care.

Neoptolemus

What if they lay waste my borders?

Philoctetes

Never fear, I shall be there.

Neoptolemus

What assistance canst thou render?

Philoctetes

Heracles, his mighty bow—

Neoptolemus

Say’st thou?

Philoctetes

Will prevent their landing.

Neoptolemus

Kiss the earth and let us go.

| Apparition of Heracles behind the stage.

Heracles

Go not yet till thou hast heard,
Son of Poeas, first my word:
Heracles to thee appears,
His the voice that thrills thine ears.
’Tis for thy sake I have come,
Leaving my Olympian home.
Mandate from high Zeus I bring
To forbid thy journeying:
Hear the will of heaven’s King.

But first I’ll mind thee of my own career,
How, having laboured hugely and endured,
I won immortal glory, as thou seest.
Know that thy fortune like to mine shall be,
Through suffering to glorify thy life.
Go with yon man to Ilium. There first
Thou shalt be healèd of thy grievous sore;
Then, chosen as the champion of the host,
With these my arrows thou shalt pierce to the heart
Paris, the guilty cause of all that woe.
Troy shalt thou sack, and, winning from the host
The meed of bravest, carry home rich spoils
To glad old Poeas and the Oetaean halls.
But of the spoils, whate’er the host assigns thee,
Bring to my pyre, as tribute to my bow,
A tithe.
I have a message too for thee,
Son of Achilles. Thou without his aid
Can’st not take Troy, nor he apart from thine;
But like two lions together on the prowl,
Either the other guards.
To cure thy wounds
Asclepius, the healer, will I send
To Troas; for a second time Troy towers
Must fall before my shafts. Only take heed,
In laying waste the land to reverence
Its gods; all else by Zeus my sire is less
Regarded. Piety can never die;
It lives on earth and blossoms in the grave.

Philoctetes

Voice for which I long have yearned,
Form, long visioned, now discerned!
Thee I cannot disobey.

Neoptolemus

I too obey.

Heracles

Then to work! No time to spare;
Seize the hour; the wind sets fair.

Philoctetes

Yet ere I part I fain would bid farewell.
Home of my vigils, rocky cell,
Nymphs of the streams and grass-fringed shore,
Caves where the deep-voiced breakers roar,
When through the cavern’s open mouth,
Borne on the wings of the wild South,
E’en to my dwelling’s inmost lair,
The rain and spray oft drenched my hair;
And oft responsive to my groan
Mount Hermaeum made his moan;
O Lycian fount, O limpid well,
I thought with you all time to dwell;
And now I take my last farewell.
Sea-girt Lemnos, hear my prayer,
Bid thy guest a voyage fair
Speed him to the land where he,
Borne by mighty Destiny,
And the god at whose decree
All was ordered, fain would be.

Chorus

Let us to the Sea Nymphs pray
To waft us on our Troy-ward way.
Mariners, attend my call;
Let us voyage, one and all.

Endnotes

1. The nymph by whose guardian serpent Philoctetes was bitten. See l. 1326.

2. Phoenix.

3. According to the tradition that Ovid followed (Met. 13 284) Odysseus rescued the body and arms of Achilles from the fray,

4. Sisyphus, the reputed father of Odysseus, ordered his wife to leave his body unburied and so obtained leave from Pluto to return to earth in order to punish her impiety.

5. For kindling the funeral-pyre of Heracles on Mount Oeta.

6. Lemnos was the island on which Hephaestus fell when hurled from heaven (Il. I 593) and Moschylus on the east coast seems to have been an active volcano in historic times.

7. The omitted lines are:

Who judged Odysseus of thy father’s arms
More worthy than the hapless Ajax.

8. Odysseus to escape service feigned madness but was detected by Palamedes, who laid the infant Telemachus in front of the plough which he was driving with a yoked ox and ass.

Colophon

Philoctetes
was written in 409 BCE by
Sophocles.
It was translated from Ancient Greek in 1913 by
Francis Storr.

This ebook was transcribed and produced for
Standard Ebooks
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Emma Sweeney,
and is based on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.

The cover page is adapted from
Ulysses,
a painting completed in 1827 by
Jean-Auguste Dominique Ingres.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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This edition was released on
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The first edition of this ebook was released on
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