Sophocles, Women of Trachis 947–1042: Exodos: Heracles is carried in

Which disaster shall I bewail first? Which is more to be pitied? In my grief I cannot decide.

One sorrow may be seen in the house; for one we wait with apprehension. To have and to await are one and the same. oh, that some strong breeze, a fair wind, might arise at our hearth to bear me far from this land, so that I might not die of terror when I look but once upon the mighty seed of Zeus!

For they say that he is approaching the house in torments from which there is no deliverance, a wonder of unutterable woe.

Chorus Ah, he was not far off, but close to us, he for whom I cried in advance, like the shrill nightingale! Here is a foreign procession of strange men. And in what manner, then, do they bring him? In sorrow, as for some loved one, they tread their mournful, noiseless tread. Ah, he is carried on in silence! Should I think that he is dead, or just asleep?

Hyllus O my father! O my misery! What is to become of me? What is my best plan? Ah!

Old Man Hush, young man! Do not rouse the cruel pain that infuriates your father! He lives, though on the very edge. Bite your tongue and hold it!

Hyllus What do you say, old man—is he alive?

Old Man You must not awake the slumberer! You must not rouse and revive his fierce, recurrent infection, my son!

Hyllus But the immense weight of this misery crushes me. My heart craves release!

Heracles O Zeus, in what land am I? Among what people do I lie, tortured with unending agonies? O me, what pain! Oh, that accursed pest gnaws me once more!

Old Man Did I not know how much better it was that you should keep silent, instead of scattering sleep from his brain and eyes?

Hyllus No, I know no way to be patient when I witness this misery.

Heracles O Cenaean rock, foundation of my altars, what cruel reward you have earned me for those fair offerings, O Zeus! Ah, in what ruin you have deposited me, in what ruin! Would that I had never looked on you to my sorrow with my eyes, never come face to face with this blooming madness, which no spell can soothe! Where is the enchanter, where the practiced healer, save Zeus alone, who will charm this catastrophe away? I would be amazed if I saw him from even a great distance!

Ah! Leave me! Leave me in my misfortune! Leave me to sleep my last. Where, where do you touch me? Where do you lay me? You will kill me, you will kill me! If there was any pain that slumbered, you have aroused it! It has seized me,—oh, the pest comes again!—What is your homeland, you men most ungrateful of all the Greeks? I wore out my wretched days in ridding the Greeks of pests both on the deep and throughout every forest. And now, when I am afflicted, will no man turn merciful fire or sword on me? Oh! Oh! Will no one come and strike the head from this accursed body with one fierce stroke? Ah, me!

Old Man You are the man’s son, and this task exceeds my strength. Help him, for the strength to save him is at your command, more than mine.

Hyllus My hands reach out to him, but no resource in myself or from another can help me make his life forget its agonies. So strong is the destiny appointed by Zeus!

O my son, where are you? Raise me, take hold of me here, here! Oh, oh, my god! Again, again the cruel pest leaps, leaps up to rend me, the wild, uncombatable plague! O Pallas, Pallas, it tortures me again! oh, please, my son, pity your sire! Draw a sword—you will not be blamed for it—strike me beneath my collarbone. Heal this pain with which your godless mother has enraged me! So may I see her fall to ruin, exactly, just exactly, as she has destroyed me! Sweet Hades, brother of Zeus, give me sleep, give me sleep. Kill me in my misery by a swift-flying doom!