This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
Behold! the grief I bewailed
like a clear-toned nightingale, nears us.
These men who approach us are strangers.
How do they bring him? They move,
sorrowing as for a friend,
slowly, with noiseless tread.
Ah ah! he is carried in silence!
What must we think? Is he dead
970or is he only sleeping?
The Women of Trachis and Philoctetes. A new translation in verse by Robert Torrance. Houghton Mifflin. 1966.
Fund for the Improvement of Postsecondary Education provided support for entering this text.