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NEO.
I feel unhoped-for gladness when I see
Thy painless gaze, and hear thy living breath,
For thine appearance and surroundings both
Were deathlike. But arise! Or, if thou wilt,
These men shall raise thee. For they will not shrink
From toil which thou and I at once enjoin.

PHI.
Right, right, my son! But lift me thine own self,
As I am sure thou meanest. Let these be,
Lest they be burdened with the noisome smell
Before the time. Enough for them to bear
The trouble on board.

NEO.
I will; stand up, endure!

PHI.
Fear not. Old habit will enable me.

NEO.
O me!
What shall I do? Now ’tis my turn to exclaim!

PHI.
What canst thou mean? What change is here, my son?

NEO.
I know not how to shift the troublous word.
‘Tis hopeless.

PHI.
What is hopeless? Speak not so,
Dear child!

NEO.
But so my wretched lot hath fallen.

PHI.
Ah! Can it be, the offence of my disease
Hath moved thee not to take me now on board?

NEO.
All is offence to one who hath forced himself
From the true bent to an unbecoming deed.

PHI.
Nought misbecoming to thyself or sire
Doest thou or speak’st, befriending a good man.

NEO.
My baseness will appear. That wrings my soul.

PHI.
Not in thy deeds. But for thy words, I fear me!

NEO.
O Heaven! Must double vileness then be mine
Both shameful silence and most shameful speech?

PHI.
Or my discernment is at fault, or thou
Mean’st to betray me and make voyage without me.

NEO.
Nay, not without thee, there is my distress!
Lest I convey thee to thy bitter grief.

PHI.
How? How, dear youth? I do not understand.

NEO.
Here I unveil it. Thou art to sail to Troy,
To join the chieftains and the Achaean host.

PHI.
What do I hear? Ah!

NEO.
Grieve not till you learn.

PHI.
Learn what? What wilt thou make of me? What mean’st thou?

NEO.
First to release thee from this plague, and then
With thee to go and take the realm of Troy.

PHI.
And is this thine intent?

NEO.
‘Tis so ordained
Unchangeably. Be not dismayed! ‘Tis so.

PHI.
Me miserable! I am betrayed, undone!
What guile is here? My bow! give back my bow!

NEO.
I may not. Interest, and duty too,
Force me to obey commandment.

PHI.
O thou fire,
Thou terror of the world! Dark instrument
Of ever-hateful guile!–What hast thou done?
How thou hast cheated me! Art not ashamed
To look on him that sued to thee for shelter?
O heart of stone, thou hast stolen my life away
With yonder bow!–Ah, yet I beg of thee,
Give it me back, my son, I entreat thee, give!
By all thy father worshipped, rob me not
Of life!–Ah me! Now he will speak no more,
But turns away, obdurate to retain it.
O ye, my comrades in this wilderness,
Rude creatures of the rocks, O promontories,
Creeks, precipices of the hills, to you
And your familiar presence I complain
Of this foul trespass of Achilles’ son.
Sworn to convey me home, to Troy he bears me.
And under pledge of his right hand hath ta’en
And holds from me perforce my wondrous bow,
The sacred gift of Zeus-born HERACLES,
Thinking to wave it midst the Achaean host
Triumphantly for his. In conquering me
He vaunts as of some valorous feat, and knows not
He is spoiling a mere corse, an empty dream,
The shadow of a vapour. In my strength
He ne’er had vanquished me. Even as I am,
He could not, but by guile. Now, all forlorn,
I am abused, deceived. What must I do?
Nay, give it me. Nay, yet be thy true self!
Thou art silent. I am lost. O misery!
Rude face of rock, back I return to thee
And thy twin gateway, robbed of arms and food,
To wither in thy cave companionless:–
No more with these mine arrows to destroy
Or flying bird or mountain-roving beast.
But, all unhappy! I myself must be
The feast of those on whom I fed, the chase
Of that I hunted, and shall dearly pay
In bloody quittance for their death, through one
Who seemed all ignorant of sinful guile.
Perish,–not till I am certain if thy heart
Will change once more,–if not, my curse on thee!