And all the palace totters with the shock, And seems to hesitate in conscious doubt Where it shall throw its ponderous masses down.
High on the left a star with darkling train Shoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred wine Poured at the altar fires, with horrid change, 700 Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crown Fell twice and yet again from Atreus' head, And the ivory statues in the temple wept.
These monstrous portents moved all others sore; But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved, And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.
And now delay is at an end. He stands 705 Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.
As in the jungle by the Ganges stream A hungry tigress stands between two bulls, Eager for both, but yet in doubtful mood Which first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns 710 With gaping jaws, then back to that again, And holds her raging hunger in suspense): So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomed To sate his curséd wrath; and hesitates Who first shall feel the knife, and who shall die The next in order. 'Tis of no concern, But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile 715 In planning how to do the horrid deed.
_Chorus:_ Who then is first to die?
_Messenger:_ First place he gives (Lest you should think him lacking in respect) Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.
_Chorus:_ What spirit, what demeanor showed the youth?
_Messenger:_ He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead, 720 Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neck That savage butcher plunged his gleaming sword Clear to the hilt and drew it forth again.
Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long, As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall, 725 At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.
Then he, his rancor unabated still, Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine, And quickly meted him his brother's fate.
With one keen blow he smote him on the neck, Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth; While with a murmur inarticulate, His head with look complaining rolled away.
_Chorus:_ What did he then, this twofold murder done? 730 The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?
_Messenger:_ As when some manéd lion in the woods Victorious attacks the Armenian herds-- (His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone; And yet he does not lay aside his wrath; 735 Now here, now there he charges on the bulls, And now the calves he worries, though his teeth Are weary with their work)--so Atreus raves; He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his hand The sword with double slaughter dripping yet, By fury blinded but with deadly stroke, He drives clean through the body of the boy. 740 And so, from breast to back transfixed, he falls By double wound, and with his streaming blood Extinguishes the baleful altar fires.
_Chorus:_ Oh, horrid deed!
_Messenger:_ What! horrid call ye that?
If only there the course of crime had stopped, 'Twould pious seem. 745 _Chorus:_ What more atrocious crime, What greater sin could human heart conceive?
_Messenger:_ And do ye think his crime was ended here?
'Twas just begun.
_Chorus:_ What further could there be?
Perchance he threw the corpses to be torn By raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?
_Messenger:_ Would that he had! I do not pray for this, That friendly earth may give them burial, Or funeral fires consume; but only this, 750 That as a ghastly meal they may be thrown To birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer, Which otherwise were direful punishment.
Oh, that the father might their corpses see Denied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes, Incredible in any age; a crime Which coming generations will refuse To hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life, 755 The exta, plucked away, lie quivering, The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.
But he the organs with a practiced hand Turns deftly over, and inquires the fates, Observing carefully the viscera.
With this inspection satisfied at length, With mind at ease, he now is free to plan 760 His brother's awful feast. With his own hand The bodies he dismembers, carving off The arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones, And all with savage joy. He only saves The heads and hands, those hands which he himself Had clasped in friendly faith. Some of the flesh Is placed on spits and by the roasting fires 765 Hangs dripping; other parts into a pot Are thrown, where on the water's seething stream They leap about. The fire in horror shrinks From the polluting touch of such a feast, Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearth Twice and again, until at last constrained, Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.
The liver sputters strangely on the spits; 770 Nor could I say whether the flesh or flames Groan more. The fitful flames die out in smoke Of pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself, A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloft In upward-shooting columns, straight and high, But settles down like a disfiguring shroud Upon the very statues of the gods. 775 O all-enduring sun, though thou didst flee In horror from the sight, and the radiant noon Didst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.
The father tears his sons, and impiously feasts On his own flesh. See, there in state he sits, His hair anointed with the dripping nard, 780 His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food, As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.
In this thine evil hour one good remains, One only, O Thyestes: that to know Thy depth of suffering is spared to thee.
But even this will perish. Though the sun Should turn his chariot backward on its course, 785 And night, at noon arising from the earth, Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crime With shades unknown, it could not be concealed; For every evil deed shall be revealed.
* * * * * [_Unnatural darkness has come over the world at midday._] _Chorus:_ O father of the earth and sky, Before whose rising beams the night 790 With all her glories flees away; Oh, whither dost thou turn thy course, And why, midway of heaven, does day To darkness turn? O Phoebus, why Dost turn away thy shining face?
Not yet has evening's messenger Called forth the nightly stars; not yet 795 The rounding of thy western goal Bids loose thy horses from their toil; Not yet, as day fades into night, Sounds forth the trumpets' evening call.
The plowman stands in dumb amaze, 800 With oxen still unspent with toil, To see the welcome supper hour So quickly come. But what, O sun, Has driven thee from thy heavenly course?
What cause from their accustomed way Has turned thy steeds? Is war essayed Once more by giants, bursting forth From out the riven gates of Dis? 805 Does Tityos, though wounded sore, Renew his ancient, deadly wrath?
Perchance Typhoeus has thrown off His mountain, and is free once more; Perchance once more a way to heaven 810 Those giants, felled in Phlegra's vale, Are building, and on Pelion's top Are piling Thracian Ossa high.
The accustomed changes of the heavens Are gone to come no more. No more The rising and the setting sun Shall we behold. Aurora bright, 815 The herald of the dewy morn, Whose wont it is to speed the sun Upon his way, now stands amazed To see her kingdom overturned.
She is not skilled to bathe his steeds, A-weary with their rapid course, Nor in the cooling sea to plunge 820 Their reeking manes. The sun himself, In setting, sees the place of dawn, And bids the darkness fill the sky Without the aid of night. No stars Come out, nor do the heavens gleam With any fires; no moon dispels 825 The darkness' black and heavy pall.
Oh, that the night itself were here, Whatever this portends! Our hearts Are trembling, yea, are trembling sore, And smitten with a boding fear Lest all the world in ruins fall, 830 And formless chaos as of yore O'erwhelm us, gods and men; lest land, And all-encircling sea, and stars That wander in the spangled heavens, Be buried in the general doom.
No more with gleaming, deathless torch, 835 Shall Phoebus, lord of all the stars, Lead the procession of the years And mark the seasons; nevermore Shall Luna, flashing back his rays, Dispel the fears of night; and pass In shorter course her brother's car. 840 The throng of heavenly beings soon Shall in one vast abyss be heaped.
That shining path of sacred stars, Which cuts obliquely 'thwart the zones, 845 The standard-bearer of the years, Shall see the stars in ruin fall, Itself in ruin falling. He, The Ram, who, in the early spring, Restores the sails to the warming breeze, Shall headlong plunge into those waves 850 Through which the trembling maid of Greece He bore of old. And Taurus, who Upon his horns like a garland wears The Hyades, shall drag with him The sacred Twins, and the stretched-out claws Of the curving Crab. With heat inflamed, Alcides' Lion once again 855 Shall fall from heaven; the Virgin, too, Back to the earth she left shall fall; And the righteous Scales with their mighty weights, Shall drag in their fall the Scorpion.
And he, old Chiron, skilled to hold 860 Upon his bow of Thessaly The feathered dart, shall lose his shafts And break his bow. Cold Capricorn, Who ushers sluggish winter in, Shall fall from heaven, and break thy urn, Whoe'er thou art, O Waterman. 865 And with thee shall the Fish depart Remotest of the stars of heaven; And those monsters[48] huge which never yet Were in the ocean plunged, shall soon Within the all-engulfing sea Be swallowed up. And that huge Snake, Which like a winding river glides 870 Between the Bears, shall fall from heaven;[49] United with that serpent huge, The Lesser Bear, congealed with cold, And that slow driver of the Wain No longer stable in its course, Shall all in common ruin fall.
Have we, of all the race of men, 875 Been worthy deemed to be o'erwhelmed And buried 'neath a riven earth?
Is this our age the end of all?
Alas, in evil hour of fate Were we begotten, wretched still, Whether the sun is lost to us 880 Or banished by our impious sins!
But away with vain complaints and fear: Eager for life is he who would not die, Though all the world in death around him lie.
FOOTNOTES: [49] Reading, with a semicolon after _Anguis_.
ACT V _Atreus_ [_entering exultingly_]: The peer of stars I move, high over all, 885 And with exalted head attain the heavens!
Now are the reins of power within my hands, And I am master of my father's throne.
I here renounce the gods, for I have gained The height of my desires. It is enough, And even I am satisfied. But why?
Nay, rather, will I finish my revenge, And glut the father with his feast of death. 890 The day has fled, lest shame should hold me back; Act then, while yet the darkness veils the sky.
Oh, that I might restrain the fleeing gods, And force them to behold the avenging feast!
But 'tis enough, if but the father sees. 895 Though daylight aid me not, yet will I snatch The shrouding darkness from thy miseries.
Too long with care-free, cheerful countenance Thou liest at the feast. Now food enough, And wine enough. For so great ills as these, 900 Thyestes must his sober senses keep.
[_To the slaves._] Ye menial throng, spread wide the temple doors, The festal hall reveal. 'Tis sweet to note The father's frantic grief when first he sees His children's gory heads; to catch his words, To watch his color change; to see him sit, All breathless with the shock, in dumb amaze, In frozen horror at the gruesome sight. 905 This is the sweet reward of all my toil-- To see his misery, e'en as it grows Upon his soul.
[_The doors are thrown open, showing_ Thyestes _at the banquet table_.]
Now gleams with many a torch The spacious banquet hall. See, there he lies Upon his golden couch all richly decked With tapestry, his wine-befuddled head Upstayed upon his hand. Oh, happy me! 910 The mightiest of the heavenly gods am I, And king of kings! The fondest of my hopes Is more than realized. His meal is done; Now raises he his silver cup to drink.
Spare not the wine; there still remains the blood Of thy three sons, and 'twill be well disguised 915 With old red wine. Now be the revel done.
Now let the father drink the mingled blood Of his own offspring; mine he would have drunk.
But see, he starts to sing a festal song, With mind uncertain and with senses dim.
_Thyestes_ [_sits alone at the banquet table, half overcome with wine; he tries to sing and be gay, but in spite of this, some vague premonition of evil weighs upon his spirit_]: O heart, long dulled with wretchedness, 920 Put by at last thine anxious cares.
Oh, now let grief and fear depart; Let haunting hunger flee away, The grim companion of the lot Of trembling exiles; and disgrace, A heavy load for mourning souls. 925 More boots it from what height thou fall'st, Than to what depth. How noble is't, When fallen from the pinnacle, With dauntless step and firm, to tread The lowly plain; and noble too, Though by a mass of cares o'erwhelmed, To bolster up the shattered throne 930 With neck unbending; and with soul Heroic, undismayed by ills, To stand erect beneath the weight Of ruined fortunes.
But away, Ye gloomy clouds of fate; ye marks Of former misery, depart. 935 Thy happy fortune greet with face Of joy, and utterly forget The old Thyestes. But alas!
This fault is linked with wretchedness, That never can the woeful soul Accept returned prosperity.
Though kindly fortune smile again, 940 He who has suffered finds it hard To give himself to joy. But why Dost thou restrain me? Why forbid To celebrate this festal day?
Why wouldst thou have me weep, O grief, For no cause rising? Why with flowers, 945 Dost thou forbid to wreathe my hair?
It does, it does forbid! For see, Upon my head the flowers of spring Have withered; and my festal locks, Though dripping with the precious nard, Stand up in sudden dread; my cheeks, That have no cause to weep, are wet 950 With tears; and in the midst of speech I groan aloud. No doubt 'tis true, That grief, well trained in weeping, loves To melt away in tears; and oft The wretched feel a strong desire To weep their fill. E'en so I long To cry aloud my wretchedness, To rend these gorgeous Tyrian robes, 955 And shriek my misery to heaven.
My mind gives intimation dark Of coming grief, its own distress Foreboding. So the sailor fears The raging tempest's near approach, When tranquil waters heave and swell, 960 Without a breath of wind. Thou fool, What grief, what rising storm of fate Dost thou imagine nigh? Nay, nay, Believe thy brother; for thy fear-- 'Tis groundless, whatsoe'er it be, Or thou dost fear too late. Ah me, I would not be unhappy now; 965 But in my soul dim terror stalks, Nor can my eyes withhold their tears; And all for naught. What can it be?
Am I possessed by grief or fear?
Or can this some great rapture be, That weeps for joy?
_Atreus_ [_greeting his brother with effusive affection_]: With one consent, my brother, let us keep 970 This festal day. For this the happy day Which shall the scepter 'stablish in thy hand, And link our family in the bonds of peace.
_Thyestes_ [_pushing the remains of the feast from him_]: Enough of food and wine! One thing alone Can swell my generous sum of happiness-- If with my children I may share my joy. 975 _Atreus:_ Believe that in the father's bosom rest The sons; both now and ever shall they be With thee. No single part of these thy sons Shall e'er be taken from thee. Make request: What thou desirest will I freely give, And fill thee with thy loving family.
Thou shalt be satisfied; be not afraid. 980 E'en now thy children, mingled with my own, Enjoy alone their youthful festival.
They shall be summoned hither. Now behold This ancient cup, an heirloom of our house.
Take thou and drink the wine which it contains.
[_He hands_ Thyestes _the cup filled with mingled blood and wine_.]
_Thyestes:_ I take my brother's proffered gift. But first Unto our father's gods we'll pour a share, And then will drink the cup. 985 But what is this?
My hands will not obey my will; the cup-- How heavy it has grown, how it resists My grasp! And see how now the wine itself, Though lifted to my mouth, avoids the touch, And flees my disappointed lips. Behold, The table totters on the trembling floor; The lights burn dim; the very air is thick, 990 And, by the natural fires deserted, stands All dull and lifeless 'twixt the day and night.
What can it all portend? Now more and more The shattered heavens seem tottering to their fall; The darkness deepens, and the gloomy night In blacker night is plunged. And all the stars Have disappeared. Whatever this may mean, 995 Oh, spare my children, brother, spare, I pray; And let this gathering storm of evil burst Upon my head. Oh, give me back my sons!
_Atreus:_ Yes, I will give them back, and never more Shall they be taken from thy fond embrace.
[_Exit._] _Thyestes:_ What is this tumult rising in my breast?
Why do my vitals quake? I feel a load 1000 Unbearable, and from my inmost heart Come groans of agony that are not mine.
My children, come! your wretched father calls.
Oh come! For when mine eyes behold you here, Perchance this care will pass away.--But whence Those answering calls?
_Atreus_ [_returning, with a covered platter in his hands_]: Now spread thy loving arms.
See, here they are.
[_He uncovers the platter revealing the severed heads of_ Thyestes' _sons_.]
Dost recognize thy sons? 1005 _Thyestes:_ I recognize my brother! How, O Earth, Canst thou endure such monstrous crime as this?
Why dost thou not to everlasting shade And Styx infernal cleave a yawning gulf, And sweep away to empty nothingness This guilty king with all his realm? And why Dost thou not raze, and utterly destroy 1010 The city of Mycenae? Both of us Should stand with Tantalus in punishment.
If, far below the depths of Tartarus, There is a deeper hell, O Mother Earth, Thy strong foundations rend asunder wide, And send us thither to that lowest pit. 1015 There let us hide beneath all Acheron; Let damnéd shades above our guilty heads Go wandering; let fiery Phlegethon In raging torrent pour his burning sands Above our place of exile.
But the earth Insensate lies, and utterly unmoved. 1020 The gods have fled.
_Atreus:_ Nay, come with thankful heart Receive thy sons whom thou hast long desired.
Enjoy them, kiss them, share among the three Thy fond embraces.
_Thyestes:_ And is this thy bond?
Is this thy grace, thy fond fraternal faith?
So dost thou cease to hate? I do not ask 1025 That I may have my sons again unharmed; But what in crime and hatred may be given, This I, a brother, from a brother ask: That I may bury them. Restore my sons, And thou shalt see their corpses burned at once.
The father begs for naught that he may keep, But utterly destroy. 1030 _Atreus:_ Thou hast thy sons, Whate'er of them remains; thou also hast Whate'er does not remain.
_Thyestes:_ What hast thou done?
Hast fed them to the savage, greedy birds?
Have beasts of prey devoured their tender flesh?
_Atreus:_ _Thou hast thyself that impious banquet made._ _Thyestes:_ Oh, then, 'twas this that shamed the gods of heaven, 1035 And drove the day in horror back to dawn!
Ah me, what cries shall voice, what plaints express My wretchedness? Where can I find the words That can describe my woe? The severed heads And hands and mangled feet are there; for these Their sire, for all his greed, could not devour. 1040 But Oh, I feel within my vitals now That horrid thing which struggles to be free, But can no exit find. Give me the sword, Which even now is reeking with my blood, That it may set my children free from me.
Thou wilt not give it me? Then let my breast 1045 Resound with crushing blows--but hold thy hand, Unhappy one, and spare the imprisoned shades.
Oh, who has ever seen such crime as this?
What dweller on the rough and hostile crags Of Caucasus, or what Procrustes dire, The terror of the land of Attica?
Lo I, the father, overwhelm my sons, 1050 And by those very sons am overwhelmed.
Is there no limit to this crime of thine?
_Atreus:_ When one for its own sake commits a crime, There is a proper limit; but no end Is possible when vengeance through the crime Is sought. E'en as it is, this deed of mine Is all too mild. I should have poured their blood Straight from their gaping wounds into thy mouth, 1055 That thou mightst drink their very streams of life.
But there my wrath was cheated of its due By overhaste.
I smote them with the sword, I slaughtered them before the sacred shrine, And with their blood appeased our household gods; I hewed their lifeless bodies limb from limb; I carved them into bits, and part I seethed 1060 In brazen kettles, part before the fire On spits I roasted. From their living limbs I carved the tender flesh, and saw it hiss And sputter on the slender spit, the while With my own hands I kept the fire a-blaze. 1065 But all these things the father should have done.
In this my vengeful grief has fallen short.
With impious teeth he tore his slaughtered sons; But still in merciful unconsciousness The deed was done and suffered.
_Thyestes:_ O ye seas, Hemmed round by curving shores, give ear to this!
Hear too, ye gods, wherever ye have fled. 1070 Ye lords of hades, hear; hear, O ye lands; And Night, all black and heavy with the pall Of Tartarus, attend unto my cry; For I am left to thee, and thou alone Doth look in pity on my wretchedness, Thou, too, forsaken of the friendly stars; For I will raise no wicked prayers to thee, Naught for myself implore--what could I ask? 1075 For you, ye heavenly gods, be all my prayers.
O thou, almighty ruler of the sky, Who sitt'st as lord upon the throne of heaven, Enwrap the universe in dismal clouds, Incite the winds to war on every side, And let thy thunders crash from pole to pole; 1080 Not with such lesser bolts as thou dost use Against the guiltless homes of common men, But those which overthrew the triple mass Of heaped-up mountains, and those giant forms, Themselves like mountains huge: such arms employ; Hurl down such fires. Avenge the banished day; 1085 With thy consuming flames supply the light Which has been snatched from out the darkened heaven.
Select us both as objects of thy wrath; Or if not both, then me; aim thou at me.
With that three-forkéd bolt of thine transfix 1090 My guilty breast. If I would give my sons To burning and to fitting burial, I must myself be burned. But if my prayers Do not with heaven prevail, and if no god Aims at the impious his fatal shaft; Then may eternal night brood o'er the earth, And hide these boundless crimes in endless shade.
If thou, O sun, dost to thy purpose hold, 1095 And cease to shine, I supplicate no more.
_Atreus:_ Now do I praise my handiwork indeed; Now have I gained the palm of victory.
My deed had failed entirely of its aim, Didst thou not suffer thus. Now may I trust That those I call my sons are truly so, And faith that once my marriage bed was pure Has come again.
_Thyestes:_ What was my children's sin? 1100 _Atreus:_ Because they were thy children.
_Thyestes:_ But to think That children to the father-- _Atreus:_ That indeed, I do confess it, gives me greatest joy: That thou art well assured they were thy sons.
_Thyestes:_ I call upon the gods of innocence-- _Atreus:_ Why not upon the gods of marriage call?
_Thyestes:_ Why dost thou seek to punish crime with crime?
_Atreus:_ Well do I know the cause of thy complaint: Because I have forestalled thee in the deed.
Thou grievest, not because thou hast consumed 1105 This horrid feast, but that thou wast not first To set it forth. This was thy fell intent, To arrange a feast like this unknown to me, And with their mother's aid attack my sons, And with a like destruction lay them low.
But this one thing opposed--thou thought'st them thine.
_Thyestes:_ The gods will grant me vengeance. Unto them 1110 Do I intrust thy fitting penalty.
_Atreus:_ And to thy sons do I deliver thee.
TROADES TROADES DRAMATIS PERSONAE _Agamemnon_ King of the Greek forces in the war against Troy.
_Pyrrhus_ Son of Achilles, one of the active leaders in the final events of the war.
_Ulysses_ King of Ithaca, one of the most powerful and crafty of the Greek chiefs before Troy.
_Calchas_ A priest and prophet among the Greeks.
_Talthybius_ A Greek messenger.
_An Old Man_ Faithful to Andromache.
_Astyanax_ Little son of Hector and Andromache.
_Hecuba_ Widow of Priam, one of the Trojan captives.
_Andromache_ Widow of Hector, a Trojan captive.
_Helena_ Wife of Menelaüs, king of Sparta, and afterward of Paris, a prince of Troy; the exciting cause of the Trojan war.
_Polyxena_ Daughter of Hecuba and Priam (_persona muta_).
_Chorus_ Of captive Trojan women.
THE SCENE is laid on the seashore, with the smouldering ruins of Troy in the background. The time is the day before the embarkation of the Greeks on their homeward journey.
_The long and toilsome siege of Troy is done. Her stately palaces and massive walls have been overthrown and lie darkening the sky with their still smouldering ruins. Her heroic defenders are either slain or scattered seeking other homes in distant lands. The victorious Greeks have gathered the rich spoils of Troy upon the shore, among these, the Trojan women who have suffered the usual fate of women when a city is sacked. They await the lot which shall assign them to their Grecian lords and scatter them among the cities of their foes. All things are ready for the start._ _But now the ghost of Achilles has risen from the tomb, and demanded that Polyxena be sacrificed to him before the Greeks shall be allowed to sail away. And Calchas, also, bids that Astyanax be slain, for only thus can Greece be safe from any future Trojan war. And thus the Trojan captives who have so long endured the pains of war, must suffer still this double tragedy._ ACT I _Hecuba:_ Whoe'er in royal power has put his trust, And proudly lords it in his princely halls; Who fears no shifting of the winds of fate, But fondly gives his soul to present joys: Let him my lot and thine, O Troy, behold.
For of a truth did fortune never show In plainer wise the frailty of the prop 5 That doth support a king; since by her hand Brought low, behold, proud Asia's capitol, The work of heavenly hands, lies desolate.
From many lands the warring princes came To aid her cause: from where the Tanaïs His frigid waves in seven-fold channel pours; And that far land which greets the newborn day, 10 Where Tigris mingles with the ruddy sea His tepid waves; and where the Amazon, Within the view of wandering Scythia Arrays her virgin ranks by Pontus' shores.
Yet here, o'erthrown, our ancient city lies, Herself upon herself in ruins laid; Her once proud walls in smouldering heaps recline, 15 Mingling their ashes with our fallen homes.
The palace flames on high, while far and near The stately city of Assaracus Is wrapped in gloomy smoke. Yet e'en the flames Keep not the victor's greedy hands from spoil; And Troy, though in the grasp of fiery death, Is pillaged still. The face of heaven is hid By that dense, wreathing smoke; the shining day, As if o'erspread by some thick, lowering cloud, 20 Grows black and foul beneath the ashy storm.
The victor stands with still unsated wrath, Eyeing that stubborn town of Ilium, And scarce at last forgives those ten long years Of bloody strife. Anon, as he beholds That mighty city, though in ruins laid, He starts with fear; and though he plainly sees His foe o'ercome, he scarce can comprehend 25 That she could be o'ercome. The Dardan spoil Is heaped on high, a booty vast, which Greece, In all her thousand ships, can scarce bestow.
Now witness, ye divinities whose face Was set against our state, my fatherland In ashes laid; and thou, proud king of Troy, Who in thy city's overthrow hast found A fitting tomb; thou shade of mighty Hector, In whose proud strength abiding, Ilium stood; 30 Likewise ye thronging ghosts, my children all, But lesser shades: whatever ill has come; Whatever Phoebus' bride with frenzied speech, Though all discredited, hath prophesied; 35 I, Hecuba, myself foresaw, what time, With unborn child o'erweighed, I dreamed a dream That I had borne a flaming brand. And though, Cassandra-like, I told my fears, my warnings, Like our Cassandra's words in after time, Were all in vain. 'Tis not the Ithacan, Nor yet his trusty comrade of the night, Nor that false traitor, Sinon, who has cast The flaming brands that wrought our overthrow: Mine is the fire--'tis by my brands ye burn. 40 But why dost thou bewail the city's fall, With ancient gossip's prattle? Turn thy mind, Unhappy one, to nearer woes than these.
Troy's fall, though sad, is ancient story now.
I saw the horrid slaughter of the king, Defiling the holy altar with its stain, 45 When bold Aeacides, with savage hand Entwined in helpless Priam's hoary locks, Drew back his sacred head, and thrust the sword Hilt-buried in his unresisting side.
And when he plucked the deep-driven weapon back, So weak and bloodless was our agéd king, The deadly blade came almost stainless forth. 50 Whose thirst for blood had not been satisfied By that old man just slipping o'er the verge Of life? Whom would not heavenly witnesses Restrain from crime? Who would not stay his hand Before the sacred altar, last resort Of fallen thrones? Yet he, our noble Priam, The king, and father of so many kings, Lies like the merest peasant unentombed; 55 And, though all Troy's aflame, there's not a brand To light his pyre and give him sepulture.
And still the heavenly powers are not appeased.
Behold the urn; and, subject to its lot, The maids and matrons of our princely line, Who wait their future lords. To whom shall I, An agéd and unprized allotment, fall?
One Grecian lord has fixed his longing eyes On Hector's queen; another prays the lot To grant to him the bride of Helenus; 60 Antenor's spouse is object of desire, And e'en thy hand, Cassandra, hath its suitor: My lot alone they deprecate and fear.
And can ye cease your plaints? O captive throng, Come beat upon your breasts, and let the sound Of your loud lamentations rise anew, The while we celebrate in fitting wise Troy's funeral; let fatal Ida, seat 65 Of that ill-omened judgment, straight resound With echoes of our pitiful refrain.
_Chorus:_ Not an untrained band, to tears unknown, Thou callest to grief, for our tears have rained In streams unending through the years, Since the time when the Phrygian guest arrived At the friendly court of Tyndarus, 70 Sailing the sea in his vessel framed From the sacred pines of Cybele.
Ten winters have whitened Ida's slopes, So often stripped for our funeral pyres; Ten years have ripened the waving grain Which the trembling reaper has garnered in From wide Sigean harvest-fields: 75 But never a day was without its grief, Never a night but renewed our woe.
Then on with the wailing and on with the blows; And thou, poor fate-smitten queen, be our guide, 80