You have found nought?
SEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting)
A deal of toil, but nothing more to see.
SEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting)
Neither has he been found along the path
That leads from the eastern glances of the sun.
From whom, oh from whom? what hard son of the waves,
Plying his weary task without thought of sleep,
Or what Olympian nymph of hill or stream that flows
Down to the Bosporus' shore,
Might I have tidings of my lord
Wandering somewhere seen
Fierce of mood? Grievous it is
When I have toiled so long, and ranged far and wide
Thus to fail, thus to have sought in vain.
Still the afflicted hero nowhere may I find.
(TECMESSA enters and discovers the body.)
Alas, woe, woe!
Whose cry was it that broke from yonder copse?
Alas, woe is me!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
It is the hapless spear-won bride I see,
Tecmessa, steeped in that wail's agony.
I am lost, destroyed, made desolate, my friends.
What is it? Speak.
Ajax, our master, newly slaughtered lies
Yonder, a hidden sword sheathed in his body.
Woe for my lost hopes of home!
Woe's me, thou hast slain me, my king,
Me thy shipmate, hapless man!
Woful-souled woman too!
Since thus it is with him, 'tis mine to wail.
By whose hand has he wrought this luckless deed?
By his own hand, 'tis evident. This sword
Whereon he fell, planted in earth, convicts him.
Woe for my blind folly! Lone in thy blood thou liest, from
And I the wholly witless, the all unwary,
Forbore to watch thee. Where, where
Lieth the fatally named, intractable Ajax?
None must behold him. I will shroud him wholly
In this enfolding mantle; for no man
Who loved him could endure to see him thus
Through nostrils and through red gash spouting up
The darkened blood from his self-stricken wound.
Ah me, what shall I do? What friend shall lift thee?
Where is Teucer? Timely indeed would he now come,