The Trojan Women, By Euripides

and garlands as best thou canst with thy present means; for she is far away and her master's haste prevented her from burying the child herself. So we, when thou the corpse hast decked, will heap the earth above and set thereon a spear; but do thou with thy best speed perform thy allotted task; one toil however have I already spared thee, for I crossed Scamander's stream and bathed the corpse and cleansed its wounds. But now will I go to dig a grave for him, that our united efforts shortening our task may speed our ship towards home. (Exit TALTHYBIUS.) HECUBA Place the shield upon the ground, Hector's shield so deftly rounded, a piteous sight, a bitter grief for me to see. O ye Achaeans, more reason have ye to boast of your prowess than your wisdom I Why have ye in terror of this child been guilty of murder never matched before? Did ye fear that some day he would rear again the fallen walls of Troy? it seems then ye were nothing after all, when, though Hector's fortunes in the war were prosperous and he had ten thousand other arms to back him, we still were daily overmatched; and yet, now that our city is taken and every Phrygian slain, ye fear a tender babe like this! Out upon his fear! say I, who fears, but never yet hath reasoned out the cause. Ah! my beloved, thine is a piteous death indeed! Hadst thou died for thy city, when thou hadst tasted of the sweets of manhood, of marriage, and of godlike power o'er others, then wert

of manhood, of marriage, and of godlike power o'er others, then wert thou blest, if aught herein is blest. But now after one glimpse, one dream thereof thou knowest them no more, my child, and hast no joy of them, though heir to all. Ah, poor babe! how sadly have thy own father's walls, those towers that Loxias reared, shorn from thy head the locks thy mother fondled, and so oft caressed, from which through fractured bones the face of murder grins-briefly to dismiss my shocking theme. O hands, how sweet the likeness ye retain of his father, and yet ye lie limp in your sockets before me! Dear mouth, so often full of words of pride, death hath closed thee, and thou hast not kept the promise thou didst make, when nestling in my robe, "Ah, mother mine, many a lock of my hair will I cut off for thee, and to thy tomb will lead my troops of friends, taking a fond farewell of thee." But now 'tis not thy hand that buries me, but I, on whom is come old age with loss of home and children, am burying thee, a tender child untimely slain. Ah me! those kisses numberless, the nurture that I gave to thee, those sleepless nights-they all are lost! What shall the bard inscribe-upon thy tomb about thee? "Argives once for fear of him slew this child!" Foul shame should that inscription be to Hellas. O child, though thou hast no part in all thy father's wealth, yet shalt thou have his brazen shield wherein to find a tomb. Ah! shield that didst

have his brazen shield wherein to find a tomb. Ah! shield that didst keep safe the comely arm of Hector, now hast thou lost thy valiant keeper! How fair upon thy handle lies his imprint, and on the rim, that circles round the targe, are marks of sweat, that trickled oft from Hector's brow as he pressed it 'gainst his beard in battle's stress. Come, bring forth, from such store as we have, adornment for the hapless dead, for fortune gives no chance now for offerings fair; yet of such as I possess, shalt thou receive these gifts. Foolish mortal he! who thinks his luck secure and so rejoices; for fortune, like a madman in her moods, springs towards this man, then towards that; and none ever experiences the same unchanging luck. CHORUS Lo! all is ready and they are bringing at thy bidding from the spoils of Troy garniture to put upon the dead. HECUBA Ah! my child, 'tis not as victor o'er thy comrades with horse or bow-customs Troy esteems, without pursuing them to excess-that Hector's mother decks thee now with ornaments from the store that once was thine, though now hath Helen, whom the gods abhor, reft thee of thine own, yea, and robbed thee of thy life and caused thy house to perish root and branch. CHORUS Woe! thrice woe! my heart is touched, and thou the cause, my mighty prince in days now passed! HECUBA About thy body now I swathe this Phrygian robe of honour, which should have clad thee on thy marriage-day, wedded to the noblest

which should have clad thee on thy marriage-day, wedded to the noblest of Asia's daughters. Thou too, dear shield of Hector, victorious parent of countless triumphs past, accept thy crown, for though thou share the dead child's tomb, death cannot touch thee; for thou dost merit honours far beyond those arms' that the crafty knave Odysseus won. CHORUS Alas! ah me! thee, O child, shall earth take to her breast, a cause for bitter weeping. Mourn, thou mother! HECUBA Ah me! CHORUS Wail for the dead. HECUBA Woe is me! CHORUS Alas! for thy unending sorrow! HECUBA Thy wounds in part will I bind up with bandages, a wretched leech in name alone, without reality; but for the rest, thy sire must look to that amongst the dead. CHORUS Smite, oh smite upon thy head with frequent blow of hand. Woe is me! HECUBA My kind, good friends! CHORUS Speak out, good the word that was on thy lips. HECUBA It seems the only things that heaven concerns itself about are my troubles and Troy hateful in their eyes above all other cities. In vain did we sacrifice to them. Had not the god caught us in his grip and plunged us headlong 'neath the earth, we should have been unheard of, nor ever sung in Muses' songs, furnishing to bards of after-days a subject for their minstrelsy. Go, bury now in his poor tomb the dead, wreathed all duly as befits a corpse. And yet I deem it makes but little difference to the dead, although they get a gorgeous

it makes but little difference to the dead, although they get a gorgeous funeral; for this is but a cause of idle pride to the living. The corpse is carried off to burial CHORUS Alas! for thy unhappy mother, who o'er thy corpse hath closed the high hopes of her life! Born of a noble stock, counted most happy in thy lot, ah! what a tragic death is thine! Ha! who are those I see on yonder pinnacles darting to and fro with flaming torches in their hands? Some new calamity will soon on Troy alight. (Enter TALTHYBIUS above. Soldiers are seen on the battlements of Troy, torch in hand.) TALTHYBIUS Ye captains, whose allotted task it is to fire this town of Priam, to you I speak. No longer keep the firebrand idle in your hands, but launch the flame, that when we have destroyed the city of Ilium we may set forth in gladness on our homeward voyage from Troy. And you, ye sons of Troy-to let my orders take at once a double form-start for the Achaean ships for your departure hence, soon as ever the leaders of the host blow loud and clear upon the trumpet. And thou, unhappy grey haired dame, follow; for yonder come servants from Odysseus to fetch thee, for to him thou art assigned by lot to be a slave far from thy country. HECUBA Ah, woe is me! This surely is the last, the utmost limit this, of all my sorrows; forth from my land I go; my city is ablaze with flame. Yet, thou aged foot, make one painful struggle to hasten, that

flame. Yet, thou aged foot, make one painful struggle to hasten, that I may say a farewell to this wretched town. O Troy, that erst hadst such a grand career amongst barbarian towns, soon wilt thou be reft of that splendid name. Lo! they are burning thee, and leading us e'en now from our land to slavery. Great gods! Yet why call on the gods? They did not hearken e'en aforetime to our call. Come, let us rush into the flames, for to die with my country in its blazing ruin were a noble death for me. TALTHYBIUS Thy sorrows drive thee frantic, poor lady. Go, lead her hence, make no delay, for ye must deliver her into the hand of Odysseus, conveying to him his prize. HECUBA O son of Cronos, prince of Phrygia, father of our race, dost thou behold our sufferings now, unworthy of the stock of Dardanus? CHORUS He sees them, but our mighty city is a city no more, and Troy's day is done. HECUBA Woe! thrice woe upon me! Ilium is ablaze; the homes of Pergamos and its towering walls are now one sheet of flame. CHORUS As the smoke soars on wings to heaven, so sinks our city to the 'ground before the spear. With furious haste both fire and foeman's spear devour each house. HECUBA Hearken, my children, hear your mother's voice. CHORUS Thou art calling on the dead with voice of lamentation. HECUBA Yea, as I stretch my aged limbs upon the ground, and beat upon the earth with both my hands. CHORUS I follow thee and kneel, invoking from the nether world my

hapless husband. HECUBA I am being dragged and hurried away. CHORUS O the sorrow of that cry! HECUBA From my own dear country, to dwell beneath a master's roof. Woe is me! O Priam, Priam, unburied, left without a friend, naught dost thou know of my cruel fate. CHORUS No, for o'er his eyes black death hath drawn his pall-a holy man by sinners slain! HECUBA Woe for the temples of the gods! Woe for our dear city! CHORUS Woe! HECUBA Murderous flame and foeman's spear are now your lot. CHORUS Soon will ye tumble to your own loved soil, and be forgotten. HECUBA And the dust, mounting to heaven on wings like smoke, will rob me of the sight of my home. CHORUS The name of my country will pass into obscurity; all is scattered far and wide, and hapless Troy has ceased to be. HECUBA Did ye hear that and know its purport? CHORUS Aye, 'twas the crash of the citadel. HECUBA The shock will whelm our city utterly. O woe is me! trembling, quaking limbs, support my footsteps! away! to face the day that begins thy slavery. CHORUS Woe for our unhappy town! And yet to the Achaean fleet advance. HECUBA Woe for thee, O land that nursed my little babes! CHORUS Ah! woe! (Exeunt OMNES.) THE END