This one last word from Aias peals to you:
Henceforth my speech will be with souls unseen.
Chorus (re-entering severally).
Ch. a. Toil upon toil brings toil,
And what save trouble have I?
Which path have I not tried?
And never a place arrests me with its tale.
Hark! lo, again a sound!
Ch. b. ’Tis we, the comrades of your good ship’s crew.
Ch. a. Well, sirs?
Ch. b. We have trodden all the westward arm o’ the bay.
Ch. a. Well, have ye found?
Ch. b. Troubles enow, but nought to inform our sight.
Ch. a. Nor yet along the road that fronts the dawn
Is any sign of Aias to be seen.
Ch. Who then will tell me, who? What hard sea-liver, 1
What toiling fisher in his sleepless quest,
What Mysian nymph, what oozy Thracian river,
Hath seen our wanderer of the tameless breast?
Where? tell me where!
’Tis hard that I, far-toiling voyager,
Crossed by some evil wind,
Cannot the haven find,
Nor catch his form that flies me, where? ah! where?
Tec. (behind). Oh, woe is me! woe, woe!
Ch. a. Who cries there from the covert of the grove?
Tec. O boundless misery!
Ch. b. Steeped in this audible sorrow I behold
Tecmessa, poor fate-burdened bride of war.
Tec. Friends, I am spoiled, lost, ruined, overthrown!
Ch. a. What ails thee now?
Tec. See where our Aias lies, but newly slain,
Fallen on his sword concealed within the ground.
Ch. Woe for my hopes of home!
