Ye only faithful found,
Ye see how o'er me waves of deadly ill
Go surging round and round.
Chorus.
Ah me! Too well thou speakest all the truth.
[Aside.] Yet his acts show how frenzied is his soul.
Aias.
Antistroph. I.
Ο race of men who with my good ship sailed,
Who came and plied the oar,
Ye only have in trouble never failed;
Now slay me, I implore.
Chorus.
Hush, hush! nor seek fresh ill on ill to pour,
Nor make the weight of sorrow more and more.
Aias.
Stroph. II.
Thou see'st the brave and bold,
(Fearless in fight was he,)
His prowess show on brute beasts of the field:
Ah me! What scorn and outrage fall on me!
Tecmessa.
Dear lord! I pray thee, Aias, speak not thus.
Aias.
Away! Wilt thou not go?
Away with thee! . . . Woe, woe!
Tecmessa.
Nay, by the Gods, be calm and yield to us.
