Chorus A trial of this great discord will soon come about. But you, Teucer, with all the speed you can muster, be quick to seek a hollow grave for Ajax, where he shall establish his dank tomb, a constant memorial for mortals.
Teucer And now just in time his son and his wife approach to arrange the burial of the pitiable corpse. Come here, nephew. Take your place near him, and grasp in supplication your father, your begetter. Kneel and pray for help, with locks of hair in your hand from me, her, and thirdly you; they are the suppliant’s only resource. But if any soldier from the army should tear you by violence from this body, then for his wickedness may he be wickedly cast out of his country and get no burial, but be severed at the root with all his race, just as I shear this lock. Take it, Nephew, and keep it safe. Let no one move you, but kneel there and cling to the dead. And you there, do not stand idly by like women, not men. Help defend us until I return, when I have seen to a grave for him, though all the world forbids it.
Chorus
Which will be the last year? When will the sum of the years of our many wanderings stop bringing upon me the unending doom of toilful spear-battles throughout broad Troy, the cause of sorrow and of shame for Greece?
Chorus
If only that man had first passed into the depths of the sky or into Hades, the common home of all, before he taught the Greeks the shared plague of Ares’ detested arms! Ah, those toils of his invention, which produced so many more toils! Look how that man has ravaged humanity!
Chorus
No delight in garlands or deep wine-cups did that man provide me, no sweet din of flutes, that miserable man, or pleasing rest in the night. And from love—god!—from love he has totally barred me. Here I lie uncared for, while heavy dews constantly wet my hair, damp reminders of joyless Troy.
Chorus
In the past bold Ajax was always my bulwark against night’s terrors and flying missiles. But now he has become an offering consecrated to a malignant divinity. What joy, then, what delight awaits me anymore? O to be where the wooded wave-washed cape fences off the deep sea, to be beneath Sunium’s jutting plateau, so that we might salute sacred Athens!
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