§254ὦ πόλλʼ ἐγὼ μοχθηρός, ὦ πικρὸς θεοῖς, §255οὗ μηδὲ κληδὼν ὧδʼ ἔχοντος οἴκαδε §256μηδʼ Ἑλλάδος γῆς μηδαμοῦ διῆλθέ που.
Oh, how wretched I am, how hated by the gods, of whom not even a rumor, being in this state, to my home nor anywhere to the land of Greece has ever passed.
§257ἀλλʼ οἱ μὲν ἐκβαλόντες ἀνοσίως ἐμὲ §258γελῶσι σῖγʼ ἔχοντες, ἡ δʼ ἐμὴ νόσος §259ἀεὶ τέθηλε κἀπὶ μεῖζον ἔρχεται.
But those who cast me out impiously laugh in silence, while my disease always flourishes and grows greater.
§260ὦ τέκνον, ὦ παῖ πατρὸς ἐξ Ἀχιλλέως, §261ὅδʼ εἴμʼ ἐγώ σοι κεῖνος, ὃν κλύεις ἴσως §262τῶν Ἡρακλείων ὄντα δεσπότην ὅπλων, §263ὁ τοῦ Ποίαντος παῖς Φιλοκτήτης, ὃν οἱ §264δισσοὶ στρατηγοὶ χὠ Κεφαλλήνων ἄναξ §265ἔρριψαν αἰσχρῶς ὧδʼ ἔρημον, ἀγρίᾳ §266νόσῳ καταφθίνοντα, τῆς ἀνδροφθόρου §267πληγέντʼ ἐχίδνης ἀγρίῳ χαράγματι·
Oh, child, oh, son of your father Achilles, I am that man before you, whom perhaps you hear of as being the master of the weapons of Heracles, Philoctetes, the son of Poeas, whom the two generals and the lord of the Cephallenians cast out shamefully thus desolate, with a wild disease wasting away, smitten by the wild bite of the man-slaying viper.
§268ξὺν ᾗ μʼ ἐκεῖνοι, παῖ, προθέντες ἐνθάδε §269ᾤχοντʼ ἔρημον, ἡνίκʼ ἐκ τῆς ποντίας §270Χρύσης κατέσχον δεῦρο ναυβάτῃ στόλῳ.
With this disease, child, they exposed me here and went away, leaving me desolate, when from sea-girt Chryse they put in hither with their naval fleet.
§271τότʼ ἄσμενοί μʼ ὡς εἶδον ἐκ πολλοῦ σάλου §272εὕδοντʼ ἐπʼ ἀκτῆς ἐν κατηρεφεῖ πέτρᾳ, §273λιπόντες ᾤχονθʼ, οἷα φωτὶ δυσμόρῳ §274ῥάκη προθέντες βαιὰ καί τι καὶ βορᾶς §275ἐπωφέλημα σμικρόν, οἷʼ αὐτοῖς τύχοι.
Then, how gladly, when they saw me after the long tossing of the sea sleeping on the shore in a sheltered cave, they left me and went, having exposed, as for a miserable man, a few rags and also some small help of food, such as might they themselves receive!
You indeed, child, what kind of waking from sleep do you think I had then, when they were gone?
§278ποῖʼ ἐκδακρῦσαι, ποῖʼ ἀποιμῶξαι κακά;
What tears I wept, what miseries I lamented!
§279ὁρῶντα μὲν ναῦς, ἃς ἔχων ἐναυστόλουν, §280πάσας βεβώσας, ἄνδρα δʼ οὐδένʼ ἔντοπον, §281οὐχ ὅστις ἀρκέσειεν οὐδʼ ὅστις νόσου §282κάμνοντι συλλάβοιτο· πάντα δὲ σκοπῶν §283ηὕρισκον οὐδὲν πλὴν ἀνιᾶσθαι παρόν, §284τούτου δὲ πολλὴν εὐμάρειαν, ὦ τέκνον.
When I saw the ships, with which I used to sail, all gone, and no man in the place, none to help me, nor any to assist me in my sickness; looking at everything, I found nothing present except suffering, and of this a great abundance, oh, child.
§285ὁ μὲν χρόνος δὴ διὰ χρόνου προύβαινέ μοι, §286κἄδει τι βαιᾷ τῇδʼ ὑπὸ στέγῃ μόνον §287διακονεῖσθαι.
So time indeed went on for me, step by step, and I had, under this small shelter, alone to serve myself.
γαστρὶ μὲν τὰ σύμφορα §288τόξον τόδʼ ἐξηύρισκε, τὰς ὑποπτέρους §289βάλλον πελείας· πρὸς δὲ τοῦθʼ, ὅ μοι βάλοι §290νευροσπαδὴς ἄτρακτος, αὐτὸς ἂν τάλας §291εἰλυόμην, δύστηνον ἐξέλκων πόδα, §292πρὸς τοῦτʼ ἄν· εἴ τʼ ἔδει τι καὶ ποτὸν λαβεῖν, §293καί που πάγου χυθέντος, οἷα χείματι, §294ξύλον τι θραῦσαι, ταῦτʼ ἂν ἐξέρπων τάλας §295ἐμηχανώμην· εἶτα πῦρ ἂν οὐ παρῆν, §296ἀλλʼ ἐν πέτροισι πέτρον ἐκτρίβων μόλις §297ἔφηνʼ ἄφαντον φῶς, ὃ καὶ σῴζει μʼ ἀεί.
For my belly's needs, this bow found out, shooting the winged doves; and besides, whatever my bowstring-drawn arrow might strike, I myself, wretched, would crawl to, dragging my wretched foot, towards it; and if I had to get some drink, and perhaps when frost was spilt, as in winter, to break some firewood, I would creep out, wretched, and manage these things; then, if there was no fire, but rubbing stone against stone with difficulty, I brought to light the hidden spark, which indeed always preserves me.
For indeed, a dwelling inhabited with fire provides everything, except that I should not be sick.
§300φέρʼ, ὦ τέκνον, νῦν καὶ τὸ τῆς νήσου μάθῃς.
Come, child, now learn also the truth about this island.
§301ταύτῃ πελάζει ναυβάτης οὐδεὶς ἑκών· §302οὐ γάρ τις ὅρμος ἔστιν οὐδʼ ὅποι πλέων §303ἐξεμπολήσει κέρδος ἢ ξενώσεται.
To this island no sailor approaches willingly; for there is no harbor, nor any place where sailing one can trade for gain or find hospitality.
§304οὐκ ἐνθάδʼ οἱ πλοῖ τοῖσι σώφροσιν βροτῶν.
Voyages hither are not for wise mortals.
Perhaps indeed someone put in unwillingly; for many such things might happen in the long span of human time.
§307οὗτοί μʼ, ὅταν μόλωσιν, ὦ τέκνον, λόγοις §308ἐλεοῦσι μέν, καί πού τι καὶ βορᾶς μέρος §309προσέδοσαν οἰκτίραντες ἤ τινα στολήν·
These people, when they come, child, in words pity me indeed, and perhaps even some portion of food they give in pity, or some clothing.
§310ἐκεῖνο δʼ οὐδείς, ἡνίκʼ ἂν μνησθῶ, θέλει, §311σῶσαί μʼ ἐς οἴκους, ἀλλʼ ἀπόλλυμαι τάλας §312ἔτος τόδʼ ἤδη δέκατον ἐν λιμῷ τε καὶ §313κακοῖσι βόσκων τὴν ἀδηφάγον νόσον.
But that other thing, when I mention it, no one wishes, to save me to my home, but I perish, wretched, already this tenth year, in hunger and evils, feeding my insatiable disease.
§314τοιαῦτʼ Ἀτρεῖδαί μʼ ἥ τʼ Ὀδυσσέως βία, §315ὦ παῖ, δεδράκασʼ, οἷʼ Ὀλύμπιοι θεοὶ §316δοῖέν ποτʼ αὐτοῖς ἀντίποινʼ ἐμοῦ παθεῖν.
Such things have the sons of Atreus and the mighty Odysseus done to me, and may the Olympian gods grant that they themselves one day suffer the like in requital for me.
Chorus: I too seem, like those strangers who have arrived, to pity you, son of Poeas.
§319ἐγὼ δὲ καὐτὸς τοῖσδε μάρτυς ἐν λόγοις, §320ὡς εἴσʼ ἀληθεῖς οἶδα, συντυχὼν κακῶν §321ἀνδρῶν Ἀτρειδῶν τῆς τʼ Ὀδυσσέως βίας.
Neoptolemus: And I myself am a witness to these words, knowing that they are true, having met with evil men, the sons of Atreus, and the mighty Odysseus.
Philoctetes: What, do you also have some grievance against the utterly ruinous sons of Atreus, so that you are angered by what you suffered?
§324θυμὸν γένοιτο χειρὶ πληρῶσαί ποτε, §325ἵνʼ αἱ Μυκῆναι γνοῖεν ἡ Σπάρτη θʼ ὅτι §326χἠ Σκῦρος ἀνδρῶν ἀλκίμων μήτηρ ἔφυ.
Neoptolemus: May it be mine to satisfy my anger with my hand one day, so that Mycenae and Sparta may know that Scyros also is a mother of brave men.
§327εὖ γʼ, ὦ τέκνον·
Philoctetes: Well said, child!
τίνος γὰρ ὧδε τὸν μέγαν §328χόλον κατʼ αὐτῶν ἐγκαλῶν ἐλήλυθας;
For what cause have you come accusing them, with such great anger?
Neoptolemus: Oh, son of Poeas, I will tell you, and yet it is with difficulty that I will tell, what outrages I suffered at their hands when I came.
§331ἐπεὶ γὰρ ἔσχε μοῖρʼ Ἀχιλλέα θανεῖν,
For when the fate of death overtook Achilles,