Online Read Free Novel
  • Home
  • Romance & Love
  • Fantasy
  • Science Fiction
  • Mystery & Detective
  • Thrillers & Crime
  • Actions & Adventure
  • History & Fiction
  • Horror
  • Western
  • Humor

    Delphi Complete Works of Sophocles

    Page 36
    Prev Next

    CYLLENE

      No, that’s not it; try something else.

      CHORUS

      Is it like one of the horned beetles that live on Aetna?

      CYLLENE

      Now you’re getting closer to the beast

      CHORUS

      And which part makes the sound, the inside or the outside?

      CYLLENE

      first cousin to a potsherd.

      CHORUS

      What name do you call it? Tell me, if you know any more.

      CYLLENE

      The boy calls the animal a “tortoise” and the instrument a “lyre.”

      CHORUS

      property

      CYLLENE

      and this is his only consolation or cure for sorrow. He enjoys idly singing along; he coaxes Aeolian tunes from the lyre. Thus the boy made himself a voice from a dead animal.

      CHORUS

      Singing; this strophe has an antistrophe at .

      A loud voice extends over the place, flitting around like a bee over the flowers. As for the other matter, I am getting closer. Know this, goddess: whoever contrived this is none other than the thief. But don’t be angry or upset that I say this.

      CYLLENE

      What delusion has come over you? Who are you blaming as a thief?

      CHORUS

      Not you, by Zeus; I don’t want to upset you, my lady.

      CYLLENE

      Surely you’re not calling the son of Zeus a thief?

      CHORUS

      this very theft.

      CYLLENE

      if what you say is true.

      CHORUS

      I speak truth. stolen the cattle it fits cut

      CYLLENE

      I understand finally laughing at my foolishness nothing, delight for the child. You can be reassured about me from now on, and laugh at me if you get some joy or profit from it. But do not mock the son of Zeus, making childish remarks about the child. For he did not inherit a thief’s nature from his father, nor does thievery hold sway in his mother’s family. If there is any theft here, look for a poor man as your thief; but this boy’s house is hardly poor. Consider his family, and fit bad deeds to bad men; it’s hardly appropriate to him. But you are always a child, even though you’re a young man and your beard grows on your face like a goat’s. Stop stretching up your smooth bald head for caresses. I tell you this: if you think the gods are foolish or laughable, you will soon be crying.

      CHORUS

      Singing; this is the antistrophe corresponding to the strophe at .

      Turn and twist the words however you want, to find a clever story. You won’t convince me that the sewn-together hides are any others than the ones from the stolen cows of Loxias . Don’t try to turn me aside.

      CHORUS

      Because Zeus

      CYLLENE

      The child is no thief.

      CHORUS

      If he does bad things, then he is bad.

      CYLLENE

      I don’t like to hear bad things about Zeus’ son.

      CHORUS

      But if it’s the truth, then I have to say it.

      CYLLENE

      Don’t say

      CYLLENE

      Where are the cattle pastured?

      CHORUS

      Most of them now

      CYLLENE

      Who has them, wretch? Who

      CHORUS

      The boy has closed them up inside.

      CYLLENE

      Stop saying bad things about Zeus’ son!

      CHORUS

      I would stop, if someone would bring out the cattle.

      CYLLENE

      You’re choking me, you and those cows of yours.

      CHORUS

      left drive them out

      CHORUS

      Hey! Oh! what she said he didn’t

      SILENUS

      Silenus has come back, and Cyllene has presumably left.

      Hey!

      CHORUS

      Oh Loxias, of the cows

      Apollo probably enters in response to the chorus’ calls.

      APOLLO

      Cows are rewarded free. [?] Uncertain meaning.

      THE PROGENY

      Since being unearthed more than a century ago, the hoard of Oxyrhynchus Papyri has fascinated and frustrated classical scholars. There are 400,000 fragments, many containing text from the great writers of antiquity, and yet only a small amount have been read so far, due to most being unreadable.

      However, scientists are now using multi-spectral imaging techniques, developed from satellite technology, to decode the papyri. The fragments, preserved between sheets of glass, respond to the infra-red spectrum, becoming at last readable.

      The short extract below is the only known fragment we have of one of Sophocles’ lost plays The Progeny. The fragment was only discovered in 2005, with the help of Oxford University and has sparked new interest in the forgotten work, which was based on the second siege of Thebes. According to myth, Polynices and six allies attacked Thebes when his brother Eteocles had refused to give up the throne as agreed. All but one of the seven invaders were killed and their children swore vengeance and attacked Thebes several years later, when the action of this play takes place. These Epigonoi (descendents) defeated and killed Laodamas, the son of Eteocles, conquering Thebes and installing Thersander on the throne.

      FRAGMENT

      Speaker 1: . . . eating the whole and sharpening the shining iron.

      Speaker 2: And the helmets shake their purple-tinged crests. For the wearers of breastplates, the weavers strike up the wise shuttle’s songs, waking up those who sleep.

      Speaker 1: And he fastens as one the chariot’s rail.

      MINOR FRAGMENTS

      Translated by E. H Plumptre

      11

      HAST thou done fearful evil? Thou must bear

      Evil as fearful; and the holy light

      Of righteousness shines clearly.

      12

      Kings wisdom gain, consorting with the wise.

      13

      Man is but breath and shadow, nothing more.

      14

      The mightiest and the wisest in their minds

      Thou may’st see like to him who standeth here,

      Giving good counsel to a man distressed;

      But when God’s will shall send the scourge on one

      Who lived till then as fortune’s favourite,

      All his fine phrases vanish utterly.

      35

      ‘Neath every stone there lies a scorpion hid.

      58

      Hark! some one cries — Or do I vainly call?

      The man who fears hears noise on every side.

      59

      Be sure, no lie can ever reach old age.

      61

      A maiden too, and one of Argive race,

      Whose glory lies in fewest words or none.

      62

      Short speech becomes the wise of heart and good

      To parents who begat and bore and bred.

      63

      Be of good cheer, O lady: dangers oft,

      Though blowing dreams by night, are lulled by day.

      64

      None cleave to life so fondly as the old.

      65

      Life, O my son, is sweetest boon of all:

      It is not given to men to taste death twice.

      66

      The living should not glory o’er the dead,

      As knowing well that he himself must die.

      67

      How all men seek to shun the tyrant’s face!

      88

      A soul with good intent and purpose just

      Discerns far more than lecturer can teach.

      89

      Much wisdom often goes with fewest words.

      90

      A man whose whole delight is still to talk

      Knows not how much he vexes all his friends.

      91

      If thou art noble, as thou say’st thyself,

      Tell me from whence thou’rt sprung. No speech stain

      What comes of noble nature, nobly born.

      92

      Thy spee
    ch is worthy, not too harshly said;

      A noble stock that bears the test of proof,

      Will still gain fair repute beyond all blame.

      93

      Who can count man’s prosperity as great,

      Or small and lowly, or of no account?

      None of all this continues in one stay.

      94

      Strange is it that the godless, who have sprung

      From evil-doers, should fare prosperously,

      While good men, born of noble stock, should be

      By adverse fortune vexed. It was ill done

      For the Gods thus to order lives of men.

      What ought to be is this, that godly souls

      Should from the Gods gain some clear recompense,

      And the unjust pay some clear penalty;

      So none would prosper who are base of soul.

      98

      Then does men’s life become one vast disease,

      When once they seek their ills by ills to cure.

      99

      Not easy is it to resist the just.

      100

      Deceit is base, unfit for noble souls,

      101

      A righteous tongue has with it mightiest strength.

      102

      Hush, boy! for silence brings a thousand gains.

      103

      Why tellest thou thy tale of many words?

      Superfluous speech is irksome everywhere.

      104

      In some things be not anxious to inquire:

      Far better is it oft to leave them hid.

      105

      I know not how to answer to these things.

      When good men by the base

      Are overcome in strife,

      What city could endure such deeds as this?

      106

      No one, I trow; yet take good heed to this,

      Lest it be better, e’en by godless deeds,

      To triumph over foes than as a slave

      To yield obedience.

      107

      Cease thou. Enough for me the name of son

      Of such a father, if indeed I ‘m his:

      And if I be not, small the injury;

      Repute oft triumphs o’er the truth itself.

      108

      The bastard is as strong as lawful sons;

      Goodness still claims a rank legitimate.

      109

      Riches gain friends, gain honours, — further still,

      Gain highest sovereignty for those who sit

      In low estate. The rich have no men foes;

      And if they have, these still conceal their hate.

      A wondrous power has wealth to wind its way

      Or on plain ground, or heights that none may tread,

      Where one that’s poor, although ‘twere close at hand

      Would fail to gain the thing his heart desires.

      The form unsightly and of no esteem

      It makes both wise of speech and fair to see:

      It only has the power of joy or grief,

      It only knows the art of hiding ill.

      162

      A pleasant ill is this disease of love,

      And ‘twere not ill to sketch its likeness thus:

      When sharp cold spreads through all the aether clear,

      And children seize a crystal icicle,

      At first they firmly hold their new-found joy;

      But in the end the melting mass nor cares

      To slip away, nor is it good to keep:

      So those that love, the self-same strong desire

      Now leads to action, now to idleness.

      202

      What virtue gains alone abides with us.

      203

      The hearts of good men are not quickly bowed.

      204

      Still where the right of free, true speech is gone,

      And the worse counsel in a state prevails,

      Blunders make shipwreck of security.

      205

      And how can I, a mortal, fight with fate

      That comes from heaven, when danger presses hard,

      And hope helps not?

      206

      Since age is on thee, keep its fair repute from evil speech

      209

      The tongue is held in honour by such men

      As reckon words of more account than deeds.

      235

      Come, let us quickly go: it cannot be

      That any blame should fall on righteous haste.

      236

      It brings some pain, I know, but one must try,

      As best one may, to bear the ills of life.

      Needs must we find some healing from these things.

      237

      Some pleasure is there found even in words,

      When with them comes forgetfulness of ills.

      238

      Though I be old, yet with advance of age

      Comes reason’s growth, and skill to counsel well.

      239

      There stretcheth by the sea

      A fair Eubœan shore, and o’er it creeps

      The vine of Bacchos, each day’s growth complete.

      In morning brightness all the land is green

      With tendrils fair and spreading. Noontide comes,

      And then the unripe cluster forms apace:

      The day declines, and purple grow the grapes;

      At eve the whole bright vintage is brought in,

      And the mixed wine poured out.

      255

      I own it true. Right well the proverb runs,

      That smallest things make known a man’s true bent.

      284

      Wherefore conceal thou nothing. Time that sees

      And heareth all things bringeth all to light.

      288

      No good e’er comes of leisure purposeless;

      And Heaven ne’er helps the men who will not act.

      298

      ’Tis only in God’s garden men may reap

      True joy and blessing.

      302

      Chance never helps the men who do not work.

      304

      He who neglects the Muses in his youth

      Has wasted all the past, and lost true life

      For all the future.

      311

      A mortal man should think things fit for men.

      321

      This is most grievous, when it might be ours

      To set things straight, and we by our own act

      Will bring fresh woe and trouble on our heads.

      322

      But he who dares to look at danger straight,

      His speech is clear, his spirit falters not.

      323

      It is not good to lie; but when the truth

      Brings on a man destruction terrible,

      He may be pardoned though not good his speech.

      325

      And wonder not, O prince, that thus I cling

      So close to gain; for they whose life is long

      Still cleave to profit with their might and main,

      And men count all things else as less than wealth;

      And though there be that praise a life kept free

      From all disease, to me no poor man seems

      In that blest state, but sick continually.

      326

      The noblest life is that of righteousness;

      The best, one free from sickness; sweetest far

      To have each day the fill of all we wish.

      342

      Now in the gates Æneas, Goddess-born,

      Is seen, and on his shoulders bears his sire,

      Who lets his byssine mantle fall in folds

      On back where smote the fiery levin-flash,

      And gathers round him all his band of slaves;

      Beyond all hope, the multitude draws near

      Of Phrygians who would fain be emigrants.

      343

      But little count we make of toil gone by.

      358

      For those who fare but ill ’tis very sweet

      E’en for a moment to forget their ills.

     
    359

      None has no sorrow; happiest who has least.

      379

      He ’twas that taught the Argive army first

      To build their walls, and found inventions strange

      Of measures, weights, and numbers; he the first

      To plan the ten that upward rise from one,

      And from the tens to fifties pass, and so

      From thence to thousands. He alone devised

      The army’s beacon-lights and nightly watch,

      And signals of the morning, and made clear

      What he did not devise. He brought to sight

      The measures and the motions of the stars,

      And all their order, and the heavenly signs,

      And for the men who guide their ships on sea,

      The Great Bear’s circle, and the Dog’s cold setting.

      380

      Did he not drive away the famine from them;

      And, with God’s help, discover pastimes wise,

      As they sat down, after long toil at sea —

      Draughts, and dice too, sweet help for idleness?

      419

      But when an oath is added, then the soul

      Is made more careful, having then to shun

      Both blame of friends and sin against the Gods.

      434

      The aged man becomes a child again.

      436

      ’Tis better not to be than vilely live.

      498

      War ever takes our young men in its net.

      499

      A weary life is that the sailors lead,

      To whom no gift from Heaven or Fortune sent

      Could offer worthy recompense. Poor souls,

      Adventuring traffic far on slender chance,

      They save, or gain, or lose all utterly.

      500

      All evil things are found in length of years;

      Sense gone, work useless, thoughts and counsels vain.

      501

      If men by tears could heal their several ills,

      And by their weeping bring the dead to life,

      Then gold would be of far less price than tears.

      512

      Greedy of gain is every barbarous tribe.

      513

      Be not afraid: speak thou the truth, and then

      Thou shalt not fail.

      514

      What man soe’er, in troubles waxing wroth,

      Will use a cure that’s worse than the disease,

      Is no physician skilled to deal with grief.

      517

      I by myself am nought; yea, oftentimes

      So look I upon all our womankind,

      That we are nothing. Young, we lead a life

      Of all most joyous, in our father’s house,

      For want of knowledge is our kindly nurse;

      But when we come to marriageable years,

      Then are we pushed and bartered for away

      From household gods and from our parents dear —

      Some unto alien husbands, some to men

      Of stranger race, and some to homes full strange,

     


    Prev Next
Online Read Free Novel Copyright 2016 - 2026