Ph. Alas, alas! My doom, my doom! Hapless, I am undone! O foot, foot, what shall I do with thee, wretched that I am,1190 in the days to come?—O friends, return!
Ch. What would'st thou have us do, different from the purport of thy former bidding?
Ph. 'Tis no just cause for anger if one who is distraught with stormy pain speaks frantic words.
Ch. Come, then, unhappy man, as we exhort thee.
Ph. Never, never,—of that be assured—no, though the lord of the fiery lightning threaten to wrap me in the blaze of his thunderbolts!1200 Perish Ilium, and the men before its walls, who had the heart to spurn me from them, thus crippled! But oh, my friends, grant me one boon!
Ch. What would'st thou ask?
Ph. A sword, if ye can find one, or an axe, or any weapon,—oh, bring it to me!
Ch. What rash deed would'st thou do?
Ph. Mangle this body utterly,—hew limb from limb with mine own hand! Death, death is my thought now—
Ch. What means this?1210 Ph. I would seek my sire—
Ch. In what land? Ph. In the realm of the dead; he is in the sunlight no more. Ah, my home, city of my fathers! Would I might behold thee,—misguided, indeed, that I was, who left thy sacred stream, and went forth to help the Danai, mine enemies!—Undone—undone!
