Went near to those Atridae, as to friends,
To obtain my father’s armour and all else
That had been his.  And then,—­alas the while,
That men should be so hard!—­they spake this word: 
’Seed of Achilles, thou may’st freely take
All else thy father owned, but for those arms,
Another wields them now, Laertes’ son.’ 
Tears rushed into mine eyes, and in hot wrath
I straightway rose, and bitterly outspake: 
’O miscreant!  What?  And have ye dared to give
Mine arms to some man else, unknown to me?’
Then said Odysseus, for he chanced to be near,
’Yea, child, and justly have they given me these. 
I saved them and their master in the field.’ 
Then in fierce anger all at once I launched
All terms of execration at his head,
Bating no word, being maddened by the thought
That I should lose this heirloom,—­and to him! 
He, at this pass, though not of wrathful mood,
Stung by such utterance, made rejoinder thus: 
’Thou wast not with us here, but wrongfully
Didst bide afar.  And, since thou mak’st so bold,
I tell thee, never shalt thou, as thou sayest,
Sail with these arms to Scyros.’—­Thus reviled,
With such an evil echo in mine ear,
I voyage homeward, robbed of mine own right
By that vile offset of an evil tree[4]. 
Yet less I blame him than the men in power. 
For every multitude, be it army or state,
Takes tone from those who rule it, and all taint
Of disobedience from bad counsel springs. 
I have spoken.  May the Atridae’s enemy
Be dear to Heaven, as he is loved by me!

CH.  Mother of mightiest Zeus, 1
            Feeder of all that live,
            Who from thy mountainous breast
            Rivers of gold dost give! 
      To thee, O Earth, I cried that shameful day,
      When insolence from Atreus’ sons went forth
      Full on our lord:  when they bestowed away
      His father’s arms to crown Odysseus’ worth;
      Thou, whom bull-slaughtering lions yoked bear,
            O mighty mother, hear!

PHI.  Your coming is commended by a grief
That makes you kindly welcome.  For I feel
A chord that vibrates to your voice, and tells,
Thus have Odysseus and the Atridae wrought. 
Full well I know, Odysseus’ poisoned tongue
Shrinks from no mischief nor no guileful word
That leads to bad achievement in the end. 
This moves not my main marvel, but if one
Saw this and bore it,—­Aias of the shield.

NEO.  Ah, friend, he was no more.  Had he but lived,
This robbery had ne’er been wrought on me.

PHI.  What?  Is he too departed?

NEO.  He is dead. 
The light no more beholds him.

PHI.  Oh! alas! 
But Tydeus’ offspring, and the rascal birth
Laertes bought of Sisyphus, they live: 
I know it.  For their death were to be wished.