Chorus.

All feeding Mother Earth,
On whom the lofty [12]Mountains stand,
From thee great Jove derives his [13]Birth,
Supported by thy bounteous Hand.
Thou who dost dwell where rich [14]Pactolus shines
With Wealth exhausted from the Golden Mines,
Shall I invoke thy Name
Within that Stream?
And tell what Injuries are done
To Neoptolemus, the Son
Of great Pelides, that great Man of Fame?
His Armour to Ulysses given,
And he the Son from his own native Right is driven.
Thee, mighty Goddess, we invoke,
Who dost Bull-slaught’ring [15]Lyons Yoke,
And drawn by them in Car-triumphant ride,
Humble th’ Atridæ and pull down their Pride.

1. Lemnian Coast. Lemnos is an Island in the Ægean Sea, South of Thrace, in the Latitude of 41 Deg. now called Stalimene by the Turks: The Form of it is Quadrangular, it is 25 Miles over, which makes it 100 Miles about.

2. Melian Son of Pæan. Philoctetes the Thessalian Son of Pæan, and Companion of Hercules.

3. Pelides. Achilles the Son of Peleus.]

4. Son of Laertes. Ulysses.

5. Lycomedes King of Scyros, (one of the Cyclades) to whom the Goddess Thetis gave her Son Achilles in Charge, having stoln him from his Master Chiron, as he was asleep; because she foresaw that he would never return alive from the Siege of Troy. For this Reason he was kept at the Court of Lycomedes, in a Woman’s Dress, among his Daughters, the better to conceal him. He was at last discover’d by a Stratagem of Ulysses.

6. Cephalenian Prince. Ulysses. So call’d from the Island Cephalenia, of which he was King.

7. Chrysa, an Island near Lemnos.

8. Atridæ. Agamemnon and Menelaus, the two Sons of Atreus. One was King of Mycenæ, and the other of Sparta. They were the chief Commanders of the Greeks who went upon the Trojan Expedition.

9. Sparta and Mycenæ. Both Towns of the Peleponnesus in Greece.

10. Son of Peleus. Achilles. Peleus was King of Thessaly.

11. Sigeum, a Promontory near Troy.

12. Orea, or Mountains according to Mythologists were said to be Daughters of the Goddess Terra, or Earth.

13. Jupiter was born in Crete.

14. Pactolus, a River in Lydia, which has its Rise from the Mountain Tmolus famous for Golden Sands.

15. Cybele, who was the same with Terra, or the Earth, had her Chariot drawn by Lyons.


SCENE II.

Phil. Strangers, ye seem to bear the Marks of Sorrow,
And I perceive your Sentiments and mine
Concerning the Atridæ, and Ulysses,
Are both the same: As for his Part, I know
His artful, false, disguis’d, deluding Tongue,
To Truth and Justice is a perfect Stranger:
At which I wonder not, but much admire
How braver [16]Ajax cou’d allow such Wrongs.
Neop. Ajax, my Friend, is dead, or had he Life,
I shou’d not thus be made a shameful Prey.
Phil. And is the great, the valiant Ajax dead?
Neop. He now no longer breathes in Heav’ns fair Light.
Phil. Wretched am I—There’s [17]Diomede alive
And curs’d Ulysses, sprung from [18]Sisyphus,
And both unworthy of the Breath they draw.
Neop. Both live and flourish, both in Pomp appear,
Peculiar Fav’rites of the Grecian Host.
Phil. Where is my good, my old, my faithful Friend,
[19]Nestor of Pylos? for he well foresaw
Their dark Designs, their base, their treach’rous Deeds.
Neop. Loaded with Woes, his only Son is dead,
Antilochus; the Comfort of his Age.
Phil. Two dismal Evils you have told, I hear
Them both with much Affliction; O my Heart!
What shall I think? The brave are dead and gone;
Ulysses lives! who well deserv’d to die.
Neop. He wisely fights; but even the wise sometimes
Perceive their deepest Counsels overthrown.
Phil. Tell me, I pray thee by the Gods, where was
Thy Father’s dearest Friend [20]Patroclus then.
Neop. Slain with the rest. Observe this one Remark,
Mars ever singles out the brave to die;
Cowards are safe; he scorns their panting Breast.
Phil. I grant it’s true; and for this Cause I shall
Enquiry make for one unworthy Wretch,
Whose Tongue had Words and Cunning at command,
In what Condition’s he?——
Neop. ———Ulysses sure
You mean; this Character suits none but him.
Phil. No. One [21]Thersites clamorous and loud,
In spight of Opposition; does he live?
Neop. I saw him not, but heard he was alive.
Phil. ’Tis like, because no Evil yet is dead.
The Gods to me seem Guardians to the base,
And take a Pleasure to preserve from Death
The false and fraudulent; the just and good
They snatch away from hence. What shall we think
Of this? or how give Praise to them? who shew
So much Regard to wicked Men their Fav’rites.
Neop. As for myself, I’ll freely speak my Thoughts,
Thou Son of Pæan, I resolve to live
Remote from Troy, and the Atridæ both;
Where wicked Men with Pow’r oppress the Good,
Where Virtue is destroy’d, and Vice commands.
As for my self, I cannot love such Men;
And rocky Scyros shall hereafter be
My best Content—There shall I joy to live.
Now to my Ship I go, dear Son of Pæan,
Farewel; with all my Soul farewel; and may
The Gods remove thy Pain ev’n as thou wilt;
For go we must, whenever Heav’n is pleas’d
To send a fair and favourable Wind.
Phil. And do ye now prepare?——
Neop. ———No Time we lose;
The moment that the Winds invite, we go.
Phil. O! for thy Father’s, and thy Mother’s sake,
For all that can be dear to thee at home,
I beg, beseech, and pray you not to leave
A poor, forsaken, solitary Man,
In all the dire Calamities you see;
And such as I already have related;
But place me any where, in any manner.
I know a wretched Burthen that I am,
However bear me to the generous Soul;
What’s base is hateful; Goodness is his Glory.
If I be left behind, it brings Disgrace;
But if you take me off, it brings you Honour.
If I shall get alive to Oeta’s Land,
’Tis but the trouble of one single Day;
Then dare to take me, throw me where you please;
Or by the Pump, or Stern, or Prow, my Friend,
Or any part, where I shall give no Pain.
By Jove, who over suppliant Men presides,
I beg you to consent, my Son; I fall
Down prostrate, and in Tears embrace your Knees;
A poor, lame, helpless, miserable Man.
Ah! leave me not alone, where not a Print
Of human Foot is seen; but save me hence;
Whether you take me to your native home,
Or land me on [22]Eubea’s Coast; from thence
To [23]Oeta I’ve not far to go; not far
To the Trachinian Hills, where [24]Spercheus winds
It’s lovely Stream; there let my Father see me.
Tho’ long since much I fear he’s dead; for oft
By many Passengers I sent, to beg
He’d send a Ship to take me safely home;
But he is either dead, or they perhaps
Slighted my Message; or they pass’d him by.
Now is my last Resort, be thou at once
Conductor both and Messenger; O save,
And have Compassion, and consider well
How frail are human Things; how much expos’d
To Change! This day the happy Man may be
Cast down from all his Joy; then he who stands
Without the Storm, shou’d cast a tender Eye
On the poor shipwreck’d Man, and bring Relief;
’Tis in the midst of Happiness we shou’d
Live on our Guard, for fear of a Surprize.

Chorus.

O Prince, for once be kind,
Let him Compassion find.
He told you all his dreadful Woes,
Which Heaven avert from any Friend of mine.
Then let the Joy be thine,
To make th’ Atridæ know
He shall obtain
Release from Pain,
And ev’ry haughty Foe.
Then haste away and hoist your Sails,
Make haste to catch the flying Gales,
And waft him o’er
Unto his native Shore,
Lest Heav’n pursues you if my Counsel fails.

16. Ajax, the Son of Telamon and Hesione, accounted the next Hero to Achilles among the Greeks.

17. Diomede, Son of Tydeus, next in Prowess to Ajax. Homer makes him wound Mars and Venus.

18. Sisyphus, a great Robber in Attica, the Grandfather of Ulysses.

19. Nestor. An experienc’d General and Orator, Son of Neleus; So excellent in Wisdom, that Agamemnon said, if he had ten such in his Army, Troy would soon be conquer’d.

20. Patroclus, Son of Menætius. When he was young having kill’d one of his Playfellows by accident, was forc’d to fly his Country, and go to Pthia in Thessaly, where he was receiv’d by Tydeus, and bred up with his Son Achilles under Chiron: This made him and Achilles such inseparable Companions and Friends.

21. Thersites. The most deformed of all the Greeks. He is painted by Homer in a most ridiculous Manner.

22. Eubea, an Island in the Ægean Sea, now called Negrepont.

23. Oeta, a Mountain on the Borders of Thessaly. Trachin a Town near it, whence the Hills are called Trachinian.

24. Spercheus. A River which runs with a rapid Course from a Mountain in Thessaly.


SCENE III.

Neop. Take care you do not now disguise your Thoughts,
And soon again with Violence exclaim,
When he no longer can suppress his Anguish.
Chorus. Falshood be far from me, such foul Disgrace
You shall not justly have to charge me with.
Neop. It wou’d be scandalous and base in me,
To be less willing to assist this Stranger;
Then sail we must away, let him prepare
With Expedition; for I shan’t deny
To take him in my Ship, and may the Gods
Propitious prove, and safely fill our Sails.
Phil. O friendly Day to me! O best of Men!
Ye dearest Mariners, how shall I make
Acknowledgments? or how can I express
What Obligations bind me to you all?
But let us go, my Son, to visit now
My little homeless Home, and there you’ll see
What Life I led; how strong my Heart to bear
Such Hardships; that the Place wherein I lay
Wou’d give your Eyes offence; yet I, alas!
Was by Necessity inur’d to this.
Chorus. Hold, let us see; two Men advance this Way,
The one belongs to thee, t’other I know
Him not, but hither they approach. Before
We go, ’tis fit we shou’d enquire their Business.
Enter the Merchant.
Mer. Son of Achilles, here by Chance I came;
And unexpected find thee, by this Man
Inform’d; for he, it seems, with two Men more,
Guarded thy Vessel. Sailing right from Troy
And homewards bound to [25]Peparethos fam’d
For Vines, I heard these Men, prepar’d to sail,
Were thine; I straightway then resolv’d to hail
The Crew, and not to pass before I shou’d
Acquaint you, what you little think; The Greeks
Have form’d Designs against you, which not long
Will so be call’d, for soon you’ll find them Facts.
Neop. My Friend, I thank thee for thy Care; I shou’d
Be base indeed, were you not dear to me
For this Intelligence. What new Designs
Concerning me? What have the Greeks resolv’d?
Mer. Old Phœnix and the Sons of Theseus in
Pursuit of thee set sail—
Mer. ——I know not which they mean;
But this Intelligence I thought was proper.
Neop. Will Phœnix and his Men, to gratify
The base Atridæ, turn their Force on me?
Mer. They have resolv’d so far, they won’t delay.
Neop. Why not Ulysses, Was it Fear detain’d him?
Mer. He and the Son of Diomede are bent
Upon another Prey, they hoist their Sails
The very day I launch’d my Ship from thence.
Neop. Against what Man is this Ulysses sent?
Mer. A certain Man—But whisper me who’s this?
Neop. This is the famous Philoctetes, Friend.
Mer. Say not a Word—But hence—begone in Haste;—
Fly from this Island with your utmost Speed.
Phil. What does he say, my Son? what private Gain
Does he propose by whisp’ring thus of me?
Neop. I know not what he means. He must himself
Explain it, in the Presence of us all.
Mer. Son of Achilles, do not you betray me,
For thus disclosing what I shou’d conceal;
Because I’m much indebted to the Greeks,
Bound by the strongest Ties of Gratitude;
For I was poor, and they reliev’d my Want’s.
Phil. To the Atridæ I’m an Enemy—
But here’s my greatest Friend, because his Hate
For them with mine agrees; and now you’re come,
Sincerely act, and do not ought conceal
That may be grateful for my Soul to know.
Mer. See what you do, my Friend—
Neop. ———I’ve thought on’t well.
Mer. The Blame shall all be thine——
Neop. ——On what Account?
Mer. Once more, my Friend, I must acquaint you, That
The Son of Tydeus and Ulysses come
Against this Person, sworn by Force to take him,
Or by Perswasion sooth him back again;
This from Ulysses all the Grecians heard;
For none beside had so much Confidence.
Neop. What mov’d th’ Atridæ, after so long Time,
To have a Thought of banish’d Philoctetes?
Whence this Desire for him? was it because
They fear’d the Vengeance of th’ offended Gods?
Mer. I’ll tell thee all; (perhaps you heard it not)
A Royal Prophet, Son of aged Priam,
Call’d Helenus, in dead of Night betray’d
By false Ulysses, (that detested Man!)
Was led in Chains, and brought a glorious Prey
By him presented to the Greeks; he told
All his Prophetick Soul cou’d then foresee
Concerning Troy; That it wou’d ne’er be conquer’d,
Except they brought this Person, whom you see
Upon this Island; which Laertes’ Son
No sooner hear’d, but he straight undertook
The Task, and said he’d bring him to the Greeks
With free Consent, or else against his Will;
If not, he wou’d engage to lose his Head.
Now you have heard it all, I urge your Haste,
And his, and any else whom you regard.
Phil. Alas for me! did he, who’s stain’d all thro’
With Crimes, engage to bring me back again?
He might as well perswade me back from Death
To Life, as basely as his Father came.
Mer. These Things I know not, but I must from hence
On Board; may some good God conduct you both.
Phil. Is not this harden’d Impudence, that he
Shou’d hope by flatt’ring Speeches to prevail,
And take me to the Greeks? I’d sooner hear
The Viper which depriv’d me of my Foot.
But he will say and dare do ev’ry Thing;
And now I know for certain he will come.
But let us go, my Son, that we may be
Divided by a distant Sea from him.
Let us be gone—a seasonable Haste,
When Labour’s over, brings a pleasing Rest.
Neop. How can we go when Heav’n’s against our Sails,
Adverse the Wind, commanding us to stay?
Phil. No Wind’s against us when we fly from Evils.
Neop. It blows against their Sails as much as ours.
Phil. By adverse Winds a Pyrate ne’er is hindred,
When forth he sallies for his lawless Plunder.
Neop. Since you request it, let us go, and take
Whatever Things are needful for your Voyage.
Phil. Some I shall want, but they are very few.
Neop. What can you need which I cannot supply?
Phil. Some Herbs, whose Virtues mitigate my Pain,
And often put my restless Wounds to sleep.
Neop. Well—bring them out—what other Things beside?
Phil. My Bow—Alas I had almost forgot!
And left it here behind a Prey to him.
Neop. Is this the celebrated Bow you bear?
Phil. The very same; my Hand no other holds.
Neop. Give me a nearer View, and let me take
It in my Hands, and pay it Adoration.
Phil. This, and whatever else I have, my Son,
Whatever pleases you, you may command.
Neop. I love thee well, and thus I shew my Love;
If Heav’n permits to touch thy Bow, I will;
If not, refuse me; if a wrong Request.
Phil. You speak religiously, my Son, you may—
You who have brought me to the Sun’s fair Light,
To see the sweet Oetean Fields again,
My aged Father, and my dearest Friends;
Who rais’d me up, o’erwhelm’d by envious Foes;
You shall, and welcome, take it in your Hands;
But then return it safely to it’s Owner.
Then may you boast that you’re the only Man,
Whom for your Virtue, and for that alone,
So much I’ve honour’d, as to touch this Bow;
’Twas giv’n to me for human Acts; for which
I’m pleas’d to see so good a Friend enjoy it.
Whoever knows for Benefits receiv’d
To make a just Return, that Man I deem
A Friend beyond the Value of all Treasure.
Neop. ——’Tis Time to enter in thy Cave.
Phil. ————And thee
I must entreat to go; for I shall want thy Help.
ANTISTROPHICA
STROPHE I.

Chorus.

I heard of those eternal Pains,
Fast bound by Adamantine Chains
To ever-turning Wheels.
Doom’d to this Fate by angry Jove,
For tempting to embrace
The Queen of Heav’n with impious Love;
His Torments never cease.
But never did I hear or see
A Man so rack’d before,
As Philoctetes seems to me,
What Suff’rings can be more?
He never did an Act was wrong,
But Justice still maintain’d;
I wonder much that he so long,
Such Torments has sustain’d.
Tell me the Cause, ye angry Pow’rs,
In Fortune’s stormy Seas,
He’s tost so many tedious Hours,
Without one Moment’s Ease.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Expos’d to all the Storms that blow,
From whence he cannot fly;
And not a Friend to feel his Woe
Returning Sigh for Sigh.
Not one the healing Herb applies
To sooth his angry Wound;
But torn with Anguish, there he lies
Extended on the Ground.
The Instant that his Pains abate,
He like an Infant creeps,
To find a Plant to quell that Heat,
And thus the Venom sleeps.
STROPHE II.
Not from the sacred Earth his Foods
Nor from the Tiller’s Care,
Does he recruit his streaming Blood,
But from the Bird-flown Air.
When soaring Fowls advance this Way
He lets his Arrows fly;
To certain Death the feather’d Prey
Falls flutt’ring from the Sky.
Ah! wretched Soul, thy Fate was hard,
To live ten Years in Pain,
To be from joyful Wine debarr’d
To drink the tastless Rain.
ANTISTROPHE II.
His Fortune’s now revers’d we see,
A gen’rous Youth’s inclin’d
To waft him Home; to set him free;
And ease his tortur’d Mind.
Lo! to the Melian Nymphs he’s gone,
To Sperchius’ vagrant Streams,
To Oeta’s Mount where Jove’s great Son
To Heav’n aspir’d in Flames.
Neop. Come, gently move along; what means this Silence?
Why stand you thus confounded in amaze?
Phil. Alas! alas! alas!———
Neop. ———What mean these Sounds?
Phil. Nothing that’s worth Complaint; my Friend proceed.
Neop. Perhaps our walking may increase your Pains.
Phil. Not in the least, I rather feel my Wound
Much lighter since our Walk. Ye heav’nly Powers! (aside)
Neop. Why do you then invoke the heav’nly Powers?
Phil. To be propitious, and attend our Voyage.
O Heav’ns, what Pains I feel!——
Neop. ———What Suff’rings now?
Why are you silent? For you seem to me
By Starts and Groans your Torture to confess.
Phil. My Son, I’m lost; no longer I conceal
The Malady; it wounds my very Soul;
It pierces thro’ and thro’; O wretched me!
Murther’d! undone! and lost beyond Redress.
O dismal, racking, burning, poison’d Pains!
Reach me a Sword, my Son, an Ax, a Dagger;
Cut off my Foot this instant; spare it not.
Neop. What new Addition do you feel, that makes
You roar with hideous Exclamation loud.
Phil. You know, my Son——
Neop. —Not I—
Phil. You know indeed.
Neop. What do you mean?
Phil. —I know not what I mean.
Neop. Why know you not?
Phil. ———I cannot speak for Pain.
Neop. Dreadful the shooting of thy Wound indeed!
Phil. Dreadful beyond Expression; O! my Friend,
Have some Compassion on the Woes I feel.
Neop. What shall I do to give thee Ease?—
Phil. ————Ah! don’t
Forsake me for the piteous Moans I make.
By Fits and Starts, my Torments come and go
Like Vagabonds, to feed; and then they vanish.
Neop. Unhappy Mortal, I lament thy Fate,
And all the lamentable Shocks thou bearest—
Shall I support you as you walk along?
Phil. Support me not, but hold my Bow a-while,
Until the present Torment which I feel
Abates, and keep it safe; for when my Pains
Are at the full, I sink to sleep; no means
Beside can give me Ease; then sleep I must,
And let me lie from all Disturbance free;
If in that Interval my Foes shou’d come,
By all the Gods I must conjure thee, not
To part it from thy Hands, by Will, or Force,
Or any Stratagem may be contriv’d
To get it from thee; for on this depends
Thy Safety, and thy humble Suppliant’s Life.
Neop. Fear not, thy Caution I’ll observe—No Man
Alive shall touch this Bow, except thy self,
And me—Give it—May Fortune guard us both.
Phil. Take it—Good luck attend thee—But adore
The Goddess Envy first, lest the same Fate
Pursues thee which annoy’d its former Masters.
Neop. Ye Gods! grant my Request; may happy Winds,
When ye think fit, convey us home with Safety.
Phil. I fear your Pray’rs are all in vain, my Son;
The boiling Blood ’stills from my burning Sole.
Some Change much worse I dread, alas! alas!
O wretched Foot, what Evils do you feed!
Now, now it tears, now to my Soul it comes,
Attacks with greatest Force. O wretched me!
Bear with my loud Complaints, and fly not hence,
My Friends, O fly not from my dismal Groans.
My Cephalenian Friend, I wish thy Breast
Felt all my Grief at once. O Agamemnon,
And you his Brother-Leader Menelaus,
How would you bear these Wounds I feel, so long?
Ah me what num’rous Evils I endure!
O Death! Death! Death! whom ev’ry Day I call;
Will you not come and end my loathsome Life?
Thou generous Youth in whom true Pity dwells,
Take me and throw me in the Lemnian Flames;
There burn me all, do me that friendly Office,
Which I did for the Son of Jove, when he
Bequeath’d these Arrows, which to thee I’ve given.
What do you say? ah! speak, and be not silent;
Where’s thy Attention? where’s thy wand’ring Mind.
Neop. I grieve long since and all thy Pains deplore.
Phil. But, O my Son, bear; bear my Griefs a-while;
They’re short, and violent, and quickly gone;
Therefore I beg you leave me not alone.
Neop. I shall not leave thee.
Phil. No?
Neop. For certain not.
Phil. I shall not by an Oath engage thy Faith.
Neop. It is not fit I leave thee behind.
Phil. Pledge me your Hand you’ll stay.
Neop. I do.
Phil. O place me there, there place me.
Neop. In what Place?
Phil. Above.
Neop. What makes you wildly look around.
Phil. O let me go from hence.
Neop. Where let thee go?
Phil. Let me, I say.
Neop. I will not let thee go.
Phil. One Touch is Murder.
Neop. Then I let thee go.
Hast thou recover’d yet thy perfect Senses?
Phil. O Earth receive me sinking to thy Bosom.
I can’t sustain myself one Moment longer.
Neop. Poor Man! a sudden Slumber seals his Eyes!
His drooping Head upon his Breast is fallen!
The dewy Sweat distils from all his Pores;
And bursting Gore streams from his tortur’d Foot.
O let us leave him now to Rest and Quiet;
Let him forget himself in Sleep a while.