Philoctetes

1Chorus I am a stranger in a strange land, Master. What must I hide, what must I reveal to a man who will be swift to suspicion? Show me the way! His skill excels all other skill, his wisdom has no equal, whose hands govern the godlike scepter given by Zeus. To you, my son, that sovereign power has descended from the dawn of time. Therefore tell me how I must serve you.

1Chorus Long have I been careful of this care, my prince: that my eyes should be watchful for your good above all else. And now tell me, in what manner of shelter does he keep his dwelling? In what region is he now? It is not inopportune for me to learn so that he may not come upon me unawares from somewhere. In what place does he wander, or rest? Does he plant his steps within his shelter, or abroad?

2Chorus For my part, I pity him when I think how, with no one to care for him, and seeing no companion’s face, but suffering eternally alone, he is plagued by fierce disease and bewildered by each need as it arises. How, how does he endure his bitter fate? Ah, contrivances of the gods! Ah, unhappy tribes of mortals, whose life-portion exceeds due measure!

2Chorus That man—inferior in no way, probably, to any man belonging to the oldest families—lies alone without companions and stripped of all life’s gifts among the dappled or shaggy beasts. He is a man to be pitied for his torments and his hunger alike, enduring anguish that has no cure. But to his bitter cries the mountain nymph, babbling Echo, coming from afar, gives answer.

3Chorus Hush,boy! Neoptolemus What is it? Chorus I heard a sudden thud, one that might naturally come from a man worn by pain. From there it came, I think—or there. It strikes, strikes hard on my ear, the sure sound of someone creeping along his way as if tortured. I cannot miss that grievous cry of a man hard-pressed, even from afar—its tone is too clear.

3Chorus But listen, son— Neoptolemus To what? Tell me. Chorus To my latest thoughts. For he is not far from his home, but nearby. And not with music of the flute, like a shepherd pasturing his flocks, does he come,— no—but crying out a far-sounding howl as he stumbles, perhaps, from tortuous pain, or as he scans the haven unvisited by any ship. His cries are loud, and terrible.

1Chorus Goddess of the hills, Earth all-nourishing, mother of Zeus himself, you through whose realm the great Pactolus rolls golden sands! There, there also, dread Mother, I called upon your name, when all the insults of the Atreids landed upon this man, when they handed over his father’s armor, that sublime marvel, to the son of Laertes. Hear it, blessed queen, who rides on bull-slaughtering lions!

1Chorus Have pity, my king! He has told of a struggle with sufferings manifold and oppressive—may the like befall no friend of mine! And if, my king, you hate the hateful Atreids, then, turning their wrongdoing to this man’s gain, I would take him in your swift, well-rigged ship to the home for which he longs, and so escape the god’s just wrath.

1Chorus I have heard a rumor, but never seen with my eyes, how the man who once approached the bed of Zeus was bound upon a swift wheel by the almighty son of Cronus. But of no other mortal do I know, either by hearsay or by sight, that has encountered a doom so repugnant as this of Philoctetes. For though he had wronged no one by force or thievery, but conducted himself fairly towards the fair, he was left to perish so undeservedly. I truly marvel how—how in the world—as he listened in solitude to the breakers rushing around him, he kept his hold upon a life so full of grief.

1Chorus Here, he alone was his own neighbor, powerless to walk, with no one in the land to be his companion while he suffered—no one to whom he could cry out a lament that would be answered for the plague that gnawed his flesh and drained his blood—no one to lull with healing herbs gathered from the nourishing earth the burning blood which oozed from the ulcers of his envenomed foot, whenever the torment attacked him. Instead he would then creep this way or that, stumbling like a child without his kind nurse, to any place from where his needs might be supplied, whenever the devouring anguish withdrew.

2Chorus For food he did not gather the fruit of holy Earth, nor anything else that we mortals feed on by our labor, except when on occasion he obtained food to ease his hunger by means of feathered shafts from his swift-striking bow. Ah, joyless was his life, who for ten years never knew the delight of wine, but ever directed his path towards any stagnant pool that he could find as he gazed around him.

2Chorus But now, after those troubles, he will attain happiness and heartiness in the end because of his meeting with this son of a noble race, who after the fullness of many months carries him aboard our sea-crossing hull to his ancestral home, the haunt of Malian nymphs, and to the banks of the Spercheius in that very land where, above Oeta’s heights, the hero of the brazen shield approached the gods, illuminated by his father’s divine fire.

1Chorus Divine Sleep, god who knows no pain, Sleep, stranger to anguish, come in favor to us, come happy, and giving happiness, great King! Keep before his eyes such light as is spread before them now. Come to him, I pray you, come with power to heal! Son, consider what position you will take, and to what strategy you will next direct our course. You see his condition now! Why should we hesitate to act? Opportunity, the umpire of all contests, often wins a great victory by one swift stroke. Neoptolemus No, even though he hears nothing, I see that we have made this bow our quarry to no end, if we sail without him. His must be the victor’s crown. It is he that the god commanded we bring. It would be a foul disgrace upon us to boast of deeds in which failure and fraud had equal parts.

1Chorus Well, the god must look to that, son. But when you answer me again, softly, please, softly whisper your words. For sick men’s restless sleep is quick to vision. But, please, use your utmost care to win that prize, that great prize, by stealth. For if you maintain your present purpose towards this man—you know what purpose I mean—then truly there are irremediable troubles in store, which a shrewd mind can foresee.

1Philoctetes Hollow in the caverned rock, now hot, now frosty, how true it seems, then, that I was sadly fated never to leave you! No, you will witness my death, too. Ah, ah, me! Sad dwelling, so long filled with the pain welling from my flesh, what will be my daily portion hereafter? Where, from what provision, shall I, unhappy, find any hope of sustenance? Above my head the tremulous doves will go on their way through the whistling wind. I can stop their flight no more. Chorus It was you, you, I say, doomed one, that chose this fate; and this fortune to which you are captive comes from no other source, nor from a stronger man’s compulsion. For when in fact it was in your power to show sense, you chose to reject the better fate, and to accept the worse.

1Philoctetes Ah, miserable, miserable, then, am I, and shamed by hardship, who next must hereafter dwell in my misery here, with no man for companion in the days to come, and waste away. I can no longer bring food to my home, no longer gain it by the winged weapons held in my strong hands. But the unsuspected and stealthy fictions of a treacherous mind deceived me. If only I could watch him, the contriver of this plot, doomed to endure my anguish for as long a time! Chorus Doom, god-sent doom constrained you to suffer this, not, I tell you, any treachery to which my hand was lent. Aim your hate-filled, baneful curse elsewhere, since I prefer that you not reject my friendship.

2Philoctetes Alas! No doubt sitting on the white ocean shore he mocks me, brandishing the weapon that nourished my unhappy life, the weapon which no one else had carried! Cherished bow, ah, friend forced from my loving hands, if you have the power to feel, surely you see with pity that the comrade of Heracles will now no longer use you anymore! Now you are handled by another, a man of craftiness; you see the shameless deceptions and the face of that hated enemy by whom countless wrongs, springing from shameless designs, have been contrived against me. O Zeus! Chorus A man must always assert what is right. But, when he has done so, he must not let loose malignant, stinging taunts. The man was the sole representative of the whole army, and at their mandate he achieved a universal benefit for his friends.

2Philoctetes Ah, my winged prey, and you tribes of bright-eyed creatures held by this place in its upland pastures, leap no more in flight from your lairs, for I do not grasp in my hands those shafts which were once my strength—but now, gone, are my undoing! Roam at will now; the place has no more terrors—for you! The time is ripe for you to take blood for blood, to sate yourselves to your heart’s desire on my discolored flesh! Soon I will leave life, for from what source can I find the means to live? Who can feed, as I will have to, on the winds, when he no longer owns any of the bounty that the life-giving earth supplies? Chorus In the name of the gods, if you have any reverence for a friend who approaches you in all kindness, approach him! But know this, and know it well: it is in your power to escape this plague. Cruel is it that you feed it with your own flesh, and that there is no way for you to learn to endure the countless torments that dwell with it.