Parodos
Chorus
I heard a sudden thud, one that might naturally come from a man worn by pain. From there it came, I think—or there.
It strikes, strikes hard on my ear, the sure sound of someone creeping along his way as if tortured. I cannot miss that grievous cry of a man hard-pressed, even from afar—its tone is too clear.
205
Neoptolemus
To what? Tell me.
Chorus
To my latest thoughts. For he is not far from his home, but nearby. And not with music of the flute, like a shepherd pasturing his flocks, does he come,—
no—but crying out a far-sounding howl as he stumbles, perhaps, from tortuous pain, or as he scans the haven unvisited by any ship. His cries are loud, and terrible.
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