Enter TECMESSA.

TECMESSA.  Helpers of Aias’ vessel’s speed,
Erechtheus’ earth-derived seed,
Sorrows are ours who truly care
For the house of Telamon afar. 
The dread, the grand, the rugged form
      Of him we know,
Is stricken with a troublous storm;
    Our Aias’ glory droopeth low.

CHORUS.  What burden through the darkness fell
Where still at eventide ’twas well? 
Phrygian Teleutas’ daughter, say;
Since Aias, foremost in the fray,
Disdaining not the spear-won bride,
Still holds thee nearest at his side,
And thou may’st solve our doubts aright.

TEC.  How shall I speak the dreadful word? 
How shall ye live when ye have heard? 
Madness hath seized our lord by night
And blasted him with hopeless blight. 
Such horrid victims mightst thou see
Huddled beneath yon canopy,
Torn by red hands and dyed in blood,
Dread offerings to his direful mood.

CH.  What news of our fierce lord thy story showeth, 1
    Sharp to endure, impossible to fly! 
News that on tongues of Danaaens hourly groweth,
    Which Rumour’s myriad voices multiply! 
Alas! the approaching doom awakes my terror. 
    The man will die, disgraced in open day,
Whose dark dyed steel hath dared through mad brained error
    The mounted herdmen with their herds to slay.

TEC.  O horror!  Then ’twas there he found
      The flock he brought as captives tied,
    And some he slew upon the ground,
      And some, side smiting, sundered wide
    Two white foot rams he backward drew,
    And bound.  Of one he shore and threw
    The tipmost tongue and head away,
    The other to an upright stay
    He tied, and with a harness thong
      Doubled in hand, gave whizzing blows,
    Echoing his lashes with a song
      More dire than mortal fury knows.

CH.  Ah! then ’tis time, our heads in mantles hiding, 2
    Our feet on some stol’n pathway now to ply,
Or with swift oarage o’er the billows gliding,
    With ordered stroke to make the good ship fly
Such threats the Atridae, armed with two fold power,
    Launch to assail us.  Oh, I sadly fear
Stones from fierce hands on us and him will shower,
    Whose heavy plight no comfort may come near.

TEC.  ’Tis changed, his rage, like sudden blast,
    Without the lightning gleam is past
    And now that Reason’s light returns,
    New sorrow in his spirit burns. 
    For when we look on self made woe,
      In which no hand but ours had part,
    Thought of such griefs and whence they flow
      Brings aching misery to the heart.

CH.  If he hath ceased to rave, he should do well
The account of evil lessens when ’tis past.

TEC.  If choice were given you, would you rather choose
Hurting your friends, yourself to feel delight,
Or share with them in one commingled pain?