OD.  Thou, then, await him here.  I will retire,
For fear my hated presence should be known,
And take back our attendant to the ship. 
And then once more, should ye appear to waste
The time unduly, I will send again
This same man hither in disguise, transformed
To the strange semblance of a merchantman;
From dark suggestion of whose crafty tongue,
Thou, O my son, shalt gather timely counsel. 
  Now to my ship.  This charge I leave to thee. 
May secret Hermes guide us to our end,
And civic Pallas, named of victory,
The sure protectress of my devious way.

CHORUS (entering). 
      Strange in the stranger land, I 1
      What shall I speak?  What hide
      From a heart suspicious of ill? 
      Tell me, O master mine! 
      Wise above all is the man,
      Peerless in searching thought,
      Who with the Zeus-given wand
      Wieldeth a Heaven-sent power. 
      This unto thee, dear son,
      Fraught with ancestral might,
      This to thy life hath come. 
      Wherefore I bid thee declare,
      What must I do for thy need?

NEO.  Even now methinks thou longest to espy
Near ocean’s marge the place where he doth lie. 
Gaze without fear.  But when the traveller stern,
Who from this roof is parted, shall return,
Advancing still as I the signal give,
To serve each moment’s mission thou shalt strive.

CH.  That, O my son, from of old I 2
      Hath been my care, to take note
      What by thy beck’ning is told;
      Still thy success to promote. 
      But for our errand to-day
      Behoves thee, master, to say
      Where is the hearth of his home;
      Or where even now doth he roam? 
      O tell me, lest all unaware
      He spring like a wolf from his lair
      And I by surprise should be ta’en,
      Where doth he move or remain,
      Here lodging, or wandering away?

NEO.  Thou seest yon double doorway of his cell,
Poor habitation of the rock.

CH. 2.  But tell
Where is the pain-worn wight himself abroad?

NEO.  To me ’tis clear, that, in his quest for food,
Here, not far off, he trails yon furrowed path. 
For, so ’tis told, this mode the sufferer hath
Of sustenance, oh hardness! bringing low
Wild creatures with wing’d arrows from his bow;
Nor findeth healer for his troublous woe.

CH.  I feel his misery.  II 1
        With no companion eye,
        Far from all human care,
        He pines with fell disease;
        Each want he hourly sees
        Awakening new despair. 
        How can he bear it still? 
        O cruel Heavens!  O pain
        Of that afflicted mortal train
        Whose life sharp sorrows fill!