PHI.  No head-wind hinders pirates on their way,
When violence and rapine lead them on.

NEO.  Well, then, let us be going, if you will;
When you have taken from within the cave
What most you need and value.

PHI.  Though my all
Be little, there is that I may not lose.

NEO.  What can there be that we have not on board?

PHI.  A leaf I have found, wherewith I still the rage
Of my sore plague, and lull it quite to rest.

NEO.  Well, bring it forth.—­What?  Is there something more?

PHI.  If any of these arrows here are fallen,
I would not leave them for a casual prey.

NEO.  How?  Do I see thee with the marvellous bow?

PHI.  Here in my hand.  The world hath only one.

NEO.  And may one touch and handle it, and gaze
With reverence, as on a thing from Heaven?

PHI.  Thou mayest, my son.  This and whate’er of mine
May stead thee, ’tis thy privilege to enjoy.

NEO.  In very truth I long for it, but so,
That longing waits on leave.  Am I permitted?

PHI.  Thou art, my son,—­and well thou speakest,—­thou art. 
Thou, that hast given me light and life, the joy
Of seeing Mount Oeta and my father’s home,
With all I love there, and his aged head,—­
Thou that hast raised me far above my foes
Who triumphed!  Thou may’st take it in thine hand,
And,—­when thou hast given it back to me,—­may’st vaunt
Alone of mortals for thine excellence
To have held this in thy touch.  I, too, at first,
Received it as a boon for kindness done.

NEO.  Well, go within.

PHI.  Nay, I must take thee too. 
My sickness craves thee for its comforter.
                               [PHILOCTETES and NEOPTOLEMUS go into
          
                                                   the cave

CHORUS. 
    In fable I have heard, I 1
    Though sight hath ne’er confirmed the word,
    How he who attempted once the couch supreme,
    To a whirling wheel by Zeus the all-ruler bound,
    Tied head and heel, careering ever round,
    Atones his impious unsubstantial dream. 
    Of no man else, through eye or ear,
    Have I discerned a fate more full of fear
    Than yonder sufferer’s of the cureless wound: 
    Who did no violence, defrauded none:—­
    A just man, had he dwelt among the just
    Unworthily behold him thrust
    Alone to hear the billows roar
    That break around a rugged shore! 
How could he live, whose life was thus consumed with moan?

    Where neighbour there was none:  I 2
    No arm to stay him wandering lone,
    Unevenly, with stumbling steps and sore;
    No friend in need, no kind inhabitant,
    To minister to his importunate