What is thy news, man? Say, are we undone?

I know not of thy fortunes, only this⁠—

If Ajax is abroad, I augur ill.

Alas! he is. How thy words chill my soul!

Teucer’s injunction is to keep him close

Indoors, nor let him go abroad alone.

And where is Teucer? Wherefore speaks he thus?

He hath returned but lately and forbodes

Grave jeopardy, if Ajax goes abroad.

Ah woe is me! Who warned him of this peril?

The prophet, son of Thestor, but to-day,

When in the scales for him hang life and death.

Help, friends, protect me from the impending doom!

Speed, some to hasten Teucer on his way,

Some to the western creeks and some to those

That front the morn; pursue his ill-starred track.

I see too well my lord hath cheated me,

Withdrawn the favour that long time was mine.

Ah me! What shall I do, my child? No time