The Trojan Women [1]
and to the shrine I love? POSEIDON Surely, in the hour that Aias tore Cassandra thence. ATHENA Yea, and the Achaeans did naught, said naught to him. POSEIDON And yet 'twas by thy mighty aid they sacked Ilium. ATHENA For which cause I would join with thee to work their bane. POSEIDON My powers are ready at thy will. What is thy intent? ATHENA A returning fraught with woe will I impose on them. POSEIDON While yet they stay on shore, or as they cross the briny deep? ATHENA When they have set sail from Ilium for their homes. On them will Zeus also send his rain and fearful hail, and inky tempests from the sky; yea, and he promises to grant me his levin-bolts to hurl on the Achaeans and fire their ships. And do thou, for thy part, make the Aegean strait to roar with mighty billows and whirlpools, and fill Euboea's hollow bay with corpses, that Achaeans may learn henceforth to reverence my temples and regard all other deities. POSEIDON So shall it be, for the boon thou cravest needs but few words. I will vex the broad Aegean sea; and the beach of Myconus and the reefs round Delos, Scyros and Lemnos too, and the cliffs of Caphareus shall be strown with many a corpse. Mount thou to Olympus, and taking from thy father's hand his lightning bolts, keep careful watch against the hour when Argos' host lets slip its cables. A fool is he who sacks the towns of men, with shrines and tombs, the dead man's hallowed home, for at the last he makes a desert round himself, and dies. Exeunt. HECUBA (Awakening) Lift thy head, unhappy lady, from the ground; thy neck upraise; this is Troy no more, no longer am I queen in Ilium. Though fortune change, endure thy lot; sail with the stream, and follow fortune's tack, steer not thy barque of life against the tide, since chance must guide thy course. Ah me! ah me! What else but tears is now my hapless lot, whose country, children, husband, all are lost? Ah! the high-blown pride of ancestors! how cabined now how brought to nothing after all What woe must I suppress, or what declare? What plaintive dirge shall I awake? Ah, woe is me! the anguish I suffer lying here stretched upon this pallet hard! O my head, my temples, my side! Ah! could I but turn over, and he now on this, now on that, to rest my back and spine, while ceaselessly my tearful wail ascends. Fore 'en this is music to the wretched, to chant their cheerless dirge of sorrow. Ye swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium o'er the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, even to the bays of Troyland (alack the day!), wherein ye tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; murderess she of Priam, sire of fifty children, the cause why I, the hapless Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this troublous strand. Oh that I should sit here o'er against the tent of Agamemnon Forth from my home to slavery they hale my aged frame, while from my head in piteous wise the hair is shorn for grief. Ah! hapless wives of those mail-clad sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now but a ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that o're her fledglings screams, will begin the strain; how different from that song I sang to the gods in days long past, as I leaned on Priam's staff, and beat with my foot in Phrygian time to lead the dance!
Enter CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN.
SEMI-CHORUS I O Hecuba why these cries, these piercing shrieks? What mean thy words? For I heard thy piteous wail echo through the building, and a pang terror shoots through each captive Trojan's breast, as pent within these walls they mourn their slavish lot. HECUBA My child, e'en now the hands of Argive rowers are busy at their ships. SEMI-CHORUS I Ah, woe is me! what is their intent? Will they really bear me hence in sorrow from my country in their fleet? HECUBA I know not, though I guess
Enter CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN.
SEMI-CHORUS I O Hecuba why these cries, these piercing shrieks? What mean thy words? For I heard thy piteous wail echo through the building, and a pang terror shoots through each captive Trojan's breast, as pent within these walls they mourn their slavish lot. HECUBA My child, e'en now the hands of Argive rowers are busy at their ships. SEMI-CHORUS I Ah, woe is me! what is their intent? Will they really bear me hence in sorrow from my country in their fleet? HECUBA I know not, though I guess