Time in its long, immeasurable course,
Turns ever dark to light, and light to dark,
And nothing is past hope; the solemn oath
Is broken, and the stubborn heart gives way.
I, that was hard as tempered steel erewhile,
Am softened now by yonder woman's plaint.
I cannot bear to leave her desolate,
Or my boy fatherless among his foes.
I'll go to the fresh baths which lie beside
Yon cliff, that, having washed pollution off,
I may the goddess' heavy wrath avert.
I'll seek me out a solitary spot,
And there I'll hide this sword, this hateful sword,
Burying it where it shall be seen no more;
Let night and Hades be its armoury,
For ever since I took it as a gift
From Hector, our most mortal enemy,
Our Argive hearts have ne'er been kind to me.
True is the word, the gifts of enemies
Are no gifts, and they bring more loss than gain.
So for the future we shall learn to bow
To heaven's good will, and reverence the Kings;
Theirs is the power, submission is our part.
Whatever is most dread and masterful
Yields to authority: the winter's snow
In time makes way for summer crowned with fruits;
In time the weary round of night gives place
To the white steeds that bring returning day;
In time the blustering tempest leaves at rest
The roaring sea; in time profoundest sleep