Sophocles, Philoctetes 300-316
Come, my boy, learn now, also, the ways of the island.
No sailor draws near here of his own accord,
For there is no harbor here, no place
Whither he may come to earn a profit
In his trade, or forge a new guest-friendship.
For prudent men, here’s no sailing to be found.
But maybe someone puts ashore unwillingly –
For many times such things could happen in
The lengthy time of humans. Well, these fellows,
When they arrive, my boy, will pity me –
In words, that is; and in their feeling sorry
They might, perhaps, give me a bit of raw meat
Or something to wear; but that, whenever I mention it,
Not one is willing to do – I mean to save me
And take me home. Instead, I have been perishing,
Wretch that I am, for nine years now amidst
Hunger and woes, feeding my glutton disease.
The sons of Atreus, boy, and Odysseus with his violence,
Did these things to me, and may the gods
Upon Olympus grant to them to suffer
Evils that can balance out my own!
φέρ᾽, ὦ τέκνον, νῦν καὶ τὸ τῆς νήσου μάθῃς.
ταύτῃ πελάζει ναυβάτης οὐδεὶς ἑκών:
οὐ γάρ τις ὅρμος ἔστιν οὐδ᾽ ὅποι πλέων
ἐξεμπολήσει κέρδος ἢ ξενώσεται.
οὐκ ἐνθάδ᾽ οἱ πλοῖ τοῖσι σώφροσιν βροτῶν.
τάχ᾽ οὖν τις ἄκων ἔσχε: πολλὰ γὰρ τάδε
ἐν τῷ μακρῷ γένοιτ᾽ ἂν ἀνθρώπων χρόνῳ:
οὗτοί μ᾽, ὅταν μόλωσιν, ὦ τέκνον, λόγοις
ἐλεοῦσι μέν, καί πού τι καὶ βορᾶς μέρος
προσέδοσαν οἰκτίραντες ἤ τινα στολήν:
ἐκεῖνο δ᾽ οὐδείς, ἡνίκ᾽ ἂν μνησθῶ, θέλει,
σῶσαί μ᾽ ἐς οἴκους, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπόλλυμαι τάλας
ἔτος τόδ᾽ ἤδη δέκατον ἐν λιμῷ τε καὶ
κακοῖσι βόσκων τὴν ἀδηφάγον νόσον.
τοιαῦτ᾽ Ἀτρεῖδαί μ᾽ ἥ τ᾽ Ὀδυσσέως βία,
ὦ παῖ, δεδράκασ᾽, οἷ᾽ Ὀλύμπιοι θεοὶ
δοῖέν ποτ᾽ αὐτοῖς ἀντίποιν᾽ ἐμοῦ παθεῖν.
