To live a life half dead, a living death, And buried; but O, yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave; Buried, yet not exempt, By privilege of death and burial, From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs; To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes. But who are these? for with joint pace I hear The tread of many feet steering this way; Their daily practice to afflict me more. CHORUS This, this is he; softly a while, Let us not break in upon him. O change beyond report, thoughts or belief! κάτι κάκιον, θήκην παρέχων αὐτὸς ἐμαυτῷ σωματοειδή, βίον ἐκτρίβων ἀβίωτον· τῶν δὲ θανόντων, οἷά τε νεκρὸς, γέρας οὐκ ἔλαβον, τῶν πικροτάτης λύμης ἄτης τε λυθέντων· ὅν γ ̓ ἔτι μᾶλλον τῶν πρὶν κατέχει πάντα τὰ θνητοῖς ἀλγεινότατα, στεῤῥαί τε πέδαι, παρά τ ̓ ἐχθροῖς θυμὸν ἀθέλκτοις. â, â, ča, ča, τίνων τοῦτο κοίνῳ πελάζει βαδισμῷ τὸ πλῆθος, ὡς κλύοντά γ ̓ ἔστ' ἐπεικάσαι; ἆρ ̓ ἐχθρῶν στόλος ἀκμήτων, σκοπουμένων με, καὶ γέλωτος οἵνεκα, τὸ σφὶν ξύνηθες, τῶνδ ̓ ἐπ ̓ αὐξήσει κακῶν; ΧΟΡΟΣ. δ ̓ ἔσθ ̓ ἁνήρ· ἴχνος δὲ λεπτὸν τιθῶμεν, ἦκα προσμολόντες· φεῦ τᾶς παρ ̓ ἐλπίδα φθορᾶς ἀπείρου· IIO 120 See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, With languished head unpropt, As one past hope, abandoned, And by himself given over, In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds O'erworn and soiled. Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he? That heroic, that renowned, Irresistible Samson, whom unarmed 120 No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast could withstand; Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid; Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, And, weaponless himself, Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, Chalybean tempered steel, and frock of mail Adamantean proof; But safest he who stood aloof, When insupportably his foot advanced, 130 ὁρᾶτε δ ̓ εἰκὴ χύδην κείμενον, κάρα τε νεῦον ἀμένη νον, ἄφιλον ἄλλως δυσέλ πιδ ̓ αὐτόγνωτον ὄντ ̓· στολᾷ τ ̓ ἀλλοτρία δυσείδης ἐμοῖς γοῦν ὄμμασιν πέφανται· ὅδ ̓ οὖν ὁ Σάμψων, ὁ δὴ παγκρατὴς, ἀντίτιμος ἡρώων, ὅς θ ̓ ὑπερέσχ ̓ ἄοπλος ἀνδρῶν τῶν ὑπεράλλων θηρῶν τ ̓ ἀγριοθύμων, ὃς λέοντ ̓ ἔκαν ̓, ὡς λέων ἁβρὸν ἔκτανε μόσχον στρατῶν γυμνὸς σιδηροχαρμῶν ἄμαχος ἐπέσσυτο στίχοισι, ἔθετο παρ ̓ οὐδὲν ὅπλα χαλκότευκτα, θώρηκα, ῥαιστῆρος ἔργον, σάκη, χαλυβδίκ ̓ ἐγχέων στόματ ̓, ἀδαμαντίνοις θ ̓ ἅμμασι χιτῶνας συμπαγείς. ἀπελθὼν δ ̓ ἀσφαλὴς, τοῦδ ̓ ἐλαδὸν ἐχθρὰ δυσπαλαίστου 130 140 In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, Spurned them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his lion ramp-old warriors turned Their plated backs under his heel, Or grovelling soiled their crested helmets in the dust. 140 Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day. Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore, The gates of Azza, post and massy bar, Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so; Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heaven. 150 Which shall I first bewail, Thy bondage or lost sight? Prison within prison Inseparably dark. Thou art become-O worst imprisonment ! The dungeon of thyself; thy soul -Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain |