Or share with them in one commingled pain?
Ch. The two-fold trouble is more terrible.
Tec. Then comes our torment now the fit is o’er.
Ch. How mean’st thou by that word? I fail to see.
Tec. He in his rage had rapture of delight
And knew not how he grieved us who stood near
And saw the madding tempest ruining him.
But now ’tis over and he breathes anew,
The counterblast of sorrow shakes his soul,
Whilst our affliction vexeth as before,
Have we not double for our single woe?
Ch. I feel thy reasoning move me, and I fear
Some heavenly stroke hath fallen. How else, when the end
Of stormy sickness brings no cheering ray?
Tec. Our state is certain. Dream not but ’tis so.
Ch. How first began the assault of misery?
Tell us the trouble, for we share the pain.
Tec. It toucheth you indeed, and ye shall hear
All from the first. ’Twas midnight, and the lamp
Of eve had died, when, seizing his sharp blade,
He sought on some vain errand to creep forth.
I broke in with my word: ‘Aias, what now?
Why thus uncalled for salliest thou? No voice
Of herald summoned thee. No trumpet blew.
What wouldst thou when the camp is hushed in sleep?’
He with few words well known to women’s ears
Checked me: ‘The silent partner is the best.’
I saw how ’twas and ceased. Forth then he fared
Alone.—What horror passed upon the plain
This night, I know not. But he drags within,
Tied in a throng, bulls, shepherd-dogs, and spoil
Of cattle and sheep. Anon he butchers them,
Felling or piercing, hacking or tearing wide,
Ribs from breast, limb from limb. Others in rage
He seized and bound and tortured, brutes for men.
Last, out he rushed before the doors, and there
Whirled forth wild language to some shadowy form,
