Gives all I need, save healing for my sore. Now learn, my son, the nature of this isle. No mariner puts in here willingly. For it hath neither moorage, nor sea-port, For traffic or kind shelter or good cheer. Not hitherward do prudent men make voyage. Perchance one may have touched against his will. Many strange things may happen in long time. These, when they come, in words have pitied me, And given me food, or raiment, in compassion. But none is willing, when I speak thereof, To take me safely home. Wherefore I pine Now this tenth year, in famine and distress, Feeding the hunger of my ravenous plague. Such deeds, my son, the Atridae, and the might Of sage Odysseus, have performed on me. Wherefore may all the Olympian gods, one day, Plague them with stern requital for my wrong! CH. Methinks my feeling for thee, Poeas' child, Is like that of thy former visitants. NEO. I, too, a witness to confirm his words, Know them for verities, since I have found The Atridae and Odysseus evil men. PHI. Art thou, too, wroth with the all-pestilent sons Of Atreus? Have they given thee cause to grieve? NEO. Would that my hand might ease the wrath I feel! Then Sparta and Mycenae should be ware That Scyros too breeds valiant sons for war. PHI. Brave youth! I love thee. Tell me the great cause Why thou inveighest against them with such heat? NEO. O son of Poeas, hardly shall I tell What outrage I endured when I had come; Yet I will speak it. When the fate of death O'ertook Achilles-- PHI. Out, alas! no more! Hold, till thou first hast made me clearly know, Is Peleus' offspring dead? NEO. Alas! he is, Slain by no mortal, felled by Phoebus' shaft: So men reported-- PHI. Well, right princely was he! And princely is he who slew him. Shall I mourn Him first, or wait till I have heard thy tale? NEO. Methinks thou hast thyself enough to mourn, Without the burden of another's woe. PHI. Well spoken. Then renew thine own complaint, And tell once more wherein they insulted thee.