First Episode
LEADER.But lo, who cometh: and his lipsGrave with the weight of dooms unknown:A Herald from the Grecian ships.Swift comes he, hot-foot to be doneAnd finished. Ah, what bringeth heOf news or judgment? Slaves are we,Spoils that the Greek hath won!
(TALTHYBIUS, followed by some Soldiers, enters from the left.)
TALTHYBIUS.Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossedThy plain with tidings from the Hellene host.'Tis I, Talthybius. . . . Nay, of ancient useThou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news.
HECUBA.Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here,Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear!
TALTHYBIUS.The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared.
HECUBA.What lord, what land. . . . Ah me,Phthia or Thebes, or sea-worn Thessaly?
TALTHYBIUS.Each hath her own. Ye go not in one herd.
HECUBA.Say then what lot hath any? What of joyFalls, or can fall on any child of Troy?
TALTHYBIUS.I know: but make thy questions severally.
HECUBA.My stricken one must beStill first. Say how Cassandra's portion lies.
TALTHYBIUS.Chosen from all for Agamemnon's prize!
HECUBA.How, for his Spartan brideA tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride?
TALTHYBIUS.Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed.
HECUBA.The sainted of Apollo? And her ownPrize that God promisedOut of the golden clouds, her virgin crown? . . .
TALTHYBIUS.He loved her for that same strange holiness.
HECUBA.Daughter, away, away,Cast all away,The haunted Keys, the lonely stole's arrayThat kept thy body like a sacred place!
TALTHYBIUS.Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiledOn such a maid?
HECUBA.What of that other childYe reft from me but now?
TALTHYBIUS (speaking with some constraint).Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou?
HECUBA.The same. What man now hath her, or what doom?
TALTHYBIUS.She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb.
HECUBA.To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this? . . .Speak, Friend? What fashion of the laws of Greece?
TALTHYBIUS.Count thy maid happy! She hath naught of illTo fear . . .
HECUBA.What meanest thou? She liveth still?
TALTHYBIUS.I mean, she hath one toil that holds her freeFrom all toil else.
HECUBA.What of Andromache,Wife of mine iron-hearted Hector, whereJourneyeth she?
TALTHYBIUS.Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, hath taken her.
HECUBA.And I, whose slave am I,The shaken head, the arm that creepeth by,Staff-crutched, like to fall?
TALTHYBIUS.Odysseus, Ithaca's king, hath thee for thrall.
HECUBA.Beat, beat the crownless head:Rend the cheek till the tears run red!A lying man and a pitilessShall be lord of me, a heart full-flownWith scorn of righteousness:O heart of a beast where law is none,Where all things change so that lust be fed,The oath and the deed, the right and the wrong,Even the hate of the forked tongue:Even the hate turns and is cold,False as the love that was false of old!
O Women of Troy, weep for me!Yea, I am gone: I am gone my ways.Mine is the crown of misery,The bitterest day of all our days.
LEADER.Thy fate thou knowest, Queen: but I know notWhat lord of South or North has won my lot.
TALTHYBIUS.Go, seek Cassandra, men! Make your best speed,That I may leave her with the King, and leadThese others to their divers lords. . . . Ha, there!What means that sudden light? Is it the flareOf torches?
(Light is seen shining through the crevices of the second hut on the right. He moves towards it.)
Would they fire their prison rooms,Or how, these dames of Troy?--'Fore God, the doomsAre known, and now they burn themselves and dieRather than sail with us! How savagelyIn days like these a free neck chafes beneathIts burden! . . . Open! Open quick! Such deathWere bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bringMuch wrath, and leave me shamed before the King!
HECUBA.There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child,Cassandra, by the breath of God made wild.
(The door opens from within and CASSANDRA enters, white-robed and wreathed like a Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She is singing softly to herself and does not see the Herald or the scene before her.)
CASSANDRA.Lift, lift it high:Give it to mine hand!Lo, I bear a flameUnto God! I praise his name.I light with a burning brandThis sanctuary.Blessed is he that shall wed,And blessed, blessed am IIn Argos: a bride to lieWith a king in a king's bed.
Hail, O Hymen red,O Torch that makest one!Weepest thou, Mother mine own?Surely thy cheek is paleWith tears, tears that wailFor a land and a father dead.But I go garlanded:I am the Bride of Desire:Therefore my torch is borne--Lo, the lifting of morn,Lo, the leaping of fire!--
For thee, O Hymen bright,For thee, O Moon of the Deep,So Law hath charged, for the lightOf a maid's last sleep.
Awake, O my feet, awake:Our father's hope is won!Dance as the dancing skiesOver him, where he liesHappy beneath the sun! . . .Lo, the Ring that I make . . .
(She makes a circle round her with the torch, and visions appear to her.)
Apollo! . . . Ah, is it thou?O shrine in the laurels cold,I bear thee still, as of old,Mine incense! Be near to me now.
(She waves the torch as though bearing incense.)
O Hymen, Hymen fleet:Quick torch that makest one! . . .How? Am I still alone?Laugh as I laugh, and twineIn the dance, O Mother mine:Dear feet, be near my feet!
Come, greet ye Hymen, greetHymen with songs of pride:Sing to him loud and long,Cry, cry, when the songFaileth, for joy of the bride!
O Damsels girt in the goldOf Ilion, cry, cry ye,For him that is doomed of oldTo be lord of me!
LEADER.O hold the damsel, lest her tranced feetLift her afar, Queen, toward the Hellene fleet!
HECUBA.O Fire, Fire, where men make marriagesSurely thou hast thy lot; but what are theseThou bringest flashing? Torches savage-wildAnd far from mine old dreams.--Alas, my child,How little dreamed I then of wars or redSpears of the Greek to lay thy bridal bed!Give me thy brand; it hath no holy blazeThus in thy frenzy flung. Nor all thy daysNor all thy griefs have changed them yet, nor learnedWisdom.--Ye women, bear the pine half burnedTo the chamber back; and let your drowned eyesAnswer the music of these bridal cries!
(She takes the torch and gives it to one of the women.)
CASSANDRA.O Mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers,And speed me forth. Yea, if my spirit cowers,Drive me with wrath! So liveth Loxias,A bloodier bride than ever Helen wasGo I to Agamemnon, Lord most highOf Hellas! . . . I shall kill him, mother; IShall kill him, and lay waste his house with fireAs he laid ours. My brethren and my sireShall win again . . .(Checking herself)But part I must let be,And speak not. Not the axe that craveth me,And more than me; not the dark wanderingsOf mother-murder that my bridal brings,And all the House of Atreus down, down, down . .
Nay, I will show thee. Even now this townIs happier than the Greeks. I know the powerOf God is on me: but this little hour,Wilt thou but listen, I will hold him back!One love, one woman's beauty, o'er the trackOf hunted Helen, made their myriads fall.And this their King so wise, who ruleth all,What wrought he? Cast out Love that Hate might feed:Gave to his brother his own child, his seedOf gladness, that a woman fled, and fainTo fly for ever, should be turned again!So the days waned, and armies on the shoreOf Simois stood and strove and died. Wherefore?No man had moved their landmarks; none had shookTheir walled towns.--And they whom Ares took,Had never seen their children: no wife cameWith gentle arms to shroud the limbs of themFor burial, in a strange and angry earthLaid dead. And there at home, the same long dearth:Women that lonely died, and aged menWaiting for sons that ne'er should turn again,Nor know their graves, nor pour drink-offerings,To still the unslaked dust. These be the thingsThe conquering Greek hath won!But we--what pride,What praise of men were sweeter?--fighting diedTo save our people. And when war was redAround us, friends upbore the gentle deadHome, and dear women's hands about them woundWhite shrouds, and here they sleep in the old groundBeloved. And the rest long days fought on,Dwelling with wives and children, not aloneAnd joyless, like these Greeks.And Hector's woe,What is it? He is gone, and all men knowHis glory, and how true a heart he bore.It is the gift the Greek hath brought! Of yoreMen saw him not, nor knew him. Yea, and evenParis hath loved withal a child of heaven:Else had his love but been as others are.Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war!Yet if war come, there is a crown in deathFor her that striveth well and perishethUnstained: to die in evil were the stain!Therefore, O Mother, pity not thy slain,Nor Troy, nor me, the bride. Thy direst foeAnd mine by this my wooing is brought low.
TALTHYBIUS (at last breaking through the spell that has held him).I swear, had not Apollo made thee mad,Not lightly hadst thou flung this shower of badBodings, to speed my General o'er the seas!'Fore God, the wisdoms and the greatnessesOf seeming, are they hollow all, as thingsOf naught? This son of Atreus, of all kingsMost mighty, hath so bowed him to the loveOf this mad maid, and chooseth her aboveAll women! By the Gods, rude though I be,I would not touch her hand!Look thou; I seeThy lips are blind, and whatso words they speak,Praises of Troy or shamings of the Greek,I cast to the four winds! Walk at my sideIn peace! . . . And heaven content him of his bride!
(He moves as though to go, but turns to HECUBA, and speaks more gently.)
And thou shalt follow to Odysseus' hostWhen the word comes. 'Tis a wise queen thou go'stTo serve, and gentle: so the Ithacans say.
CASSANDRA (seeing for the first time the Herald and all the scene).How fierce a slave! . . . O Heralds, Heralds! Yea,Voices of Death; and mists are over themOf dead men's anguish, like a diadem,These weak abhorred things that serve the hateOf kings and peoples! . . .To Odysseus' gateMy mother goeth, say'st thou? Is God's wordAs naught, to me in silence ministered,That in this place she dies? . . .(To herself)No more; no more!Why should I speak the shame of them, beforeThey come? . . . Little he knows, that hard-besetSpirit, what deeps of woe await him yet;Till all these tears of ours and harrowingsOf Troy, by his, shall be as golden things.Ten years behind ten years athwart his wayWaiting: and home, lost and unfriended . . .Nay:Why should Odysseus' labours vex my breath?On; hasten; guide me to the house of Death,To lie beside my bridegroom! . . .Thou Greek King,Who deem'st thy fortune now so high a thing,Thou dust of the earth, a lowlier bed I see,In darkness, not in light, awaiting thee:And with thee, with thee . . . there, where yawneth plainA rift of the hills, raging with winter rain,Dead . . . and out-cast . . . and naked . . . It is IBeside my bridegroom: and the wild beasts cry,And ravin on God's chosen!
(She clasps her hands to her brow and feels the wreaths.)
O, ye wreaths!Ye garlands of my God, whose love yet breathesAbout me; shapes of joyance mystical;Begone! I have forgot the festival,Forgot the joy. Begone! I tear ye, so,From off me! . . . Out on the swift winds they go.With flesh still clean I give them back to thee,Still white, O God, O light that leadest me!(Turning upon the Herald.)Where lies the galley? Whither shall I tread?See that your watch be set, your sail be spread.The wind comes quick! . . . Three Powers--mark me, thou!--There be in Hell, and one walks with thee now!Mother, farewell, and weep not! O my sweetCity, my earth-clad brethren, and thou greatSire that begat us; but a space, ye Dead,And I am with you: yea, with crowned headI come, and shining from the fires that feedOn these that slay us now, and all their seed!
(She goes out, followed by TALTHYBIUS and the Soldiers: HECUBA, after waiting for an instant motionless, falls to the ground.)
LEADER OF CHORUS.The Queen, ye Watchers! See, she falls, she falls,Rigid without a word! O sorry thralls,Too late! And will ye leave her downstricken,A woman, and so old? Raise her again!
(Some women go to HECUBA, but she refuses their aid and speaks without rising.)
HECUBA.Let lie . . . the love we seek not is no love . . .This ruined body! Is the fall thereofToo deep for all that now is over meOf anguish, and hath been, and yet shall be?Ye Gods . . . Alas! Why call on things so weakFor aid? Yet there is something that doth seek,Crying, for God, when one of us hath woe.O, I will think of things gone long agoAnd weave them to a song, like one more tearIn the heart of misery. . . . All kings we were;And I must wed a king. And sons I broughtMy lord King, many sons . . . nay, that were naught;But high strong princes, of all Troy the best.Hellas nor Troaes nor the garnered EastHeld such a mother! And all these things beneathThe Argive spear I saw cast down in death,And shore these tresses at the dead men's feet.Yea, and the gardener of my garden great,It was not any noise of him nor taleI wept for; these eyes saw him, when the paleWas broke, and there at the altar Priam fellMurdered, and round him all his citadelSacked. And my daughters, virgins of the fold,Meet to be brides of mighty kings, behold,'Twas for the Greek I bred them! All are gone;And no hope left, that I shall look uponTheir faces any more, nor they on mine.And now my feet tread on the utmost line:An old, old slave-woman, I pass belowMine enemies' gates; and whatso task they knowFor this age basest, shall be mine; the door,Bowing, to shut and open. . . . I that boreHector! . . . and meal to grind, and this racked headBend to the stones after a royal bed;Torn rags about me, aye, and under themTorn flesh; 'twill make a woman sick for shame!Woe's me; and all that one man's arms might holdOne woman, what long seas have o'er me rolledAnd roll for ever! . . . O my child, whose whiteSoul laughed amid the laughter of God's light,Cassandra, what hands and how strange a dayHave loosed thy zone! And thou, Polyxena,Where art thou? And my sons? Not any seedOf man nor woman now shall help my need.Why raise me any more? What hope have ITo hold me? Take this slave that once trod highIn Ilion; cast her on her bed of clayRock-pillowed, to lie down, and pass awayWasted with tears. And whatso man they callHappy, believe not ere the last day fall!
Words in this poem 42
- hellene n.
- A native of either ancient or modern Greece; a Greek. Brewer.
- stricken p. p.
- Struck; smitten; wounded; as, the stricken deer.
- sainted a.
- Consecrated; sacred; holy; pious.
- haunted a.
- Inhabited by, or subject to the visits of, apparitions; frequented by a ghost.
- reft n.
- A chink; a rift. See Rift. Rom. of R.
- crownless a.
- Without a crown.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- righteousness n.
- The quality or state of being righteous; holiness; purity; uprightness; rectitude. [AS. rihtwisnes.]
- lust v. i.
- To list; to like. [AS. lystan. See Lust, n., and cf. List to choose.]
- divers a.
- Different in kind or species; diverse. [F. divers, L. diversus turned in different directions, different, p. p. of divertere. See Divert, and cf. Diverse.]
- flare v. i.
- To burn with an unsteady or waving flame; as, the candle flares. [Cf. Norw. flara to blaze, flame, adorn with tinsel, dial. Sw. flasa upp, and E. flash, or flacker.]
- savagely adv.
- In a savage manner.
- priestess n.
- A woman who officiated in sacred rites among pagans. Abp.
- hymen n.
- A fold of muscous membrane often found at the orifice of the vagina; the vaginal membrane.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- girt v. t.
- To gird; to encircle; to invest by means of a girdle; to measure the girth of; as, to girt a tree. [From Girt, n., cf. Girth, v.]
- damsel n.
- A young person, either male or female, of noble or gentle extraction; as, Damsel Pepin; Damsel Richard, Prince of Wales. [OE. damosel, damesel, damisel, damsel, fr. OF. damoisele, damisele, gentlewoman, F. demoiselle young lady; cf. OF. damoisel young nobleman, F. damoiseau; fr. LL]
- afar adv.
- At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- sire n.
- A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
- fain v. t.
- To be glad ; to wish or desire.
- wherefore adv.
- For which reason; so; -- used relatively. [Where + for.]
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- burial n.
- A grave; a tomb; a place of sepulture. [OE. buriel, buriels, grave, tomb, AS. byrgels, fr. byrgan to bury, and akin to OS. burgisli sepulcher.]
- angry a.
- Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
- dearth n.
- Scarcity which renders dear; want; lack; specifically, lack of food on account of failure of crops; famine. [OE. derthe, fr. dere. See Dear.]
- unslaked a.
- Not slaked; unslacked; as, an unslaked thirst; unslaked lime.
- joyless a.
- Not having joy; not causing joy; unenjoyable.
- yore adv.
- In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
- withal adv.
- With this; with that. [With + all.]
- whatso pron.
- Whatsoever; whosoever; whatever; anything that.
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- await v. t.
- To watch for; to look out for. [OF. awaitier, agaitier; (L. ad) + waitier, gaitier to watch, F. guetter. See Wait.]
- unfriended a.
- Wanting friends; not befriended; not countenanced or supported.
- bridegroom n.
- A man newly married, or just about to be married. [OE. bridegome, brudgume, AS. br (akin to OS. br, D. bruidegom, bruigom, OHG. pr, MHG. briutegome, G. bräutigam); AS. br bride + guma man, akin to Goth. guma, Ic]
- ravin n.
- Food obtained by violence; plunder; prey; raven. [See 2d Raven.]
- joyance n.
- Enjoyment; gayety; festivity; joyfulness. [OF. joiance.]
- whither adv.
- To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
- argive a.
- Of or performance to Argos, the capital of Argolis in Greece. [L. Argivus, fr. Argos, Argi.]
- gardener n.
- One who makes and tends a garden; a horticulturist.
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
First Episode is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Trojan Women of Euripides, translated into English rhyming verse by Gilbert Murray, Project Gutenberg ebook #35171, the Gilbert Murray translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Euripides, First Episode, in The Trojan Women (1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #35171, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/euripides-trojan-women/first-episode.html, id L28778.
Form and metre
First Episode is 386 lines in 62 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-ABCCB leader · lipsA · unknown · shipsA · doneB · heC · weC · wonB
- 3 ---AA talthybius · crossed · host · useA · newsA
- 4 -AA hecuba · hereA · fearA
- 8 -AA hecuba · joyA · troyA
- 12 -AA hecuba · brideA · prideA
- 16 -AAA- hecuba · awayA · awayA · arrayA · place
- 28 -AA- hecuba · iA · byA · fall
- 30 -AA----A--BB hecuba · headA · redA · pitiless · flown · righteousness · none · fedA · wrong · tongue · coldB · oldB
- 31 -A-A me · waysA · misery · daysA
- 32 -AA leader · notA · lotA
- 33 -AABB- talthybius · speedA · leadA · thereB · flareB · torches
- 35 AA----BB roomsA · doomsA · die · savagely · beneath · death · bringB · kingB
- 36 -AA hecuba · childA · wildA
- 38 -ABCCB-DAAD cassandra · highA · handB · flameC · nameC · brandB · sanctuary · wedD · iA · lieA · bedD
- 39 A--BBAACDDC redA · one · own · paleB · wailB · deadA · garlandedA · desireC · borneD · mornD · fireC
- 40 ABAB brightA · deepB · lightA · sleepB
- 41 ABCCBA awakeA · wonB · skiesC · liesC · sunB · makeA
- 43 ABBA thouA · coldB · oldB · nowA
- 45 A--BBA fleetA · one · alone · twineB · mineB · feetA
- 46 -ABBA greet · prideA · longB · songB · brideA
- 47 ABAB goldA · yeB · oldA · meB
- 48 -AA leader · feetA · fleetA
- 49 -AABBCCDDEEFF hecuba · marriagesA · theseA · wildB · childB · redC · bedC · blazeD · daysD · learnedE · burnedE · eyesF · criesF
- 51 -AA-ABBCC--DDEE- cassandra · flowersA · cowersA · loxias · wasA · highB · iB · fireC · sireC · again · herself · beD · meD · wanderingsE · bringsE · down
- 52 -AABBCCDD--EEFF--GGHHII-JJKKLL---MMNN---NOOPPQQ town · powerA · hourA · backB · trackB · fallC · allC · feedD · seedD · fain · again · shoreE · whereforeE · shookF · tookF · came · them · earthG · dearthG · menH · againH · offeringsI · thingsI · won · prideJ · diedJ · redK · deadK · woundL · groundL · on · alone · greeks · woeM · knowM · boreN · yoreN · even · heaven · are · warN · deathO · perishethO · stainP · slainP · foeQ · lowQ
- 53 -AABBCCDDE-EFFGG him · madA · badA · seasB · greatnessesB · thingsC · kingsC · loveD · aboveD · beE · hand · seeE · speakF · greekF · sideG · brideG
- 55 AA- hostA · go'stA · say
- 56 --AAB-BCC--DDEEFFG-GHH-IIJJKKJJK scene · yea · themA · diademA · hateB · peoples · gateB · wordC · ministeredC · dies · herself · moreD · beforeD · besetE · yetE · harrowingsF · thingsF · wayG · unfriended · nayG · breathH · deathH · bridegroom · kingI · thingI · seeJ · theeJ · plainK · rainK · iJ · cryJ · chosenK
- 58 AA--BBCC-DDEE--DDFF wreathsA · breathesA · mystical · festival · soB · goB · theeC · meC · herald · treadD · spreadD · thouE · nowE · sweet · great · deadD · headD · feedF · seedF
- 60 -AA-- chorus · fallsA · thrallsA · downstricken · again
- 62 -AABBCCDD--EE------FFGGHH--IIJJKKLL--MMNN--OOPPQQRR hecuba · loveA · thereofA · meB · beB · weakC · seekC · woeD · agoD · tear · were · broughtE · naughtE · best · east · beneath · death · feet · great · taleF · paleF · fellG · citadelG · foldH · beholdH · gone · upon · mineI · lineI · belowJ · knowJ · doorK · boreK · headL · bedL · them · shame · holdM · rolledM · whiteN · lightN · day · polyxena · seedO · needO · iP · highP · clayQ · awayQ · callR · fallR
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| But lo, who cometh: and his lips | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Grave with the weight of dooms unknown: | 8 | ······˘/ |
| A Herald from the Grecian ships. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Swift comes he, hot-foot to be done | 8 | ········ |
| And finished. Ah, what bringeth he | 9 | ·/˘˘··/˘· |
| Of news or judgment? Slaves are we, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Spoils that the Greek hath won! | 6 | ······ |
| (TALTHYBIUS, followed by some Soldiers, enters from the left.) | 14 | ···/˘··/˘/˘··· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossed | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Thy plain with tidings from the Hellene host. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| 'Tis I, Talthybius. . . . Nay, of ancient use | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Thou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news. | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here, | 6 | ······ |
| Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear! | 10 | /˘··/····· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared. | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| What lord, what land. . . . Ah me, | 6 | ······ |
| Phthia or Thebes, or sea-worn Thessaly? | 9 | ········· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Each hath her own. Ye go not in one herd. | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Say then what lot hath any? What of joy | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Falls, or can fall on any child of Troy? | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| I know: but make thy questions severally. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| My stricken one must be | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Still first. Say how Cassandra's portion lies. | 10 | ····˘/˘/˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Chosen from all for Agamemnon's prize! | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| How, for his Spartan bride | 6 | ···/˘· |
| A tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride? | 9 | ·/˘·/˘/˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed. | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| The sainted of Apollo? And her own | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘··· |
| Prize that God promised | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown? . . . | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| He loved her for that same strange holiness. | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Daughter, away, away, | 6 | /˘˘/˘/ |
| Cast all away, | 4 | ··˘/ |
| The haunted Keys, the lonely stole's array | 10 | ·/˘··/˘·˘/ |
| That kept thy body like a sacred place! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiled | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| On such a maid? | 4 | ···· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| What of that other child | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Ye reft from me but now? | 6 | ······ |
| TALTHYBIUS (speaking with some constraint). | 9 | ···/˘··˘/ |
| Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| The same. What man now hath her, or what doom? | 10 | ·········· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb. | 10 | ··˘/··˘/˘· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this? . . . | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Speak, Friend? What fashion of the laws of Greece? | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Count thy maid happy! She hath naught of ill | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| To fear . . . | 2 | ·· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| What meanest thou? She liveth still? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| I mean, she hath one toil that holds her free | 10 | ·········· |
| From all toil else. | 4 | ···· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| What of Andromache, | 5 | ····· |
| Wife of mine iron-hearted Hector, where | 10 | ···/˘/˘/˘· |
| Journeyeth she? | 4 | /˘˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, hath taken her. | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| And I, whose slave am I, | 6 | ······ |
| The shaken head, the arm that creepeth by, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Staff-crutched, like to fall? | 5 | ····· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Odysseus, Ithaca's king, hath thee for thrall. | 10 | ˘/˘/˘····· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Beat, beat the crownless head: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Rend the cheek till the tears run red! | 8 | ········ |
| A lying man and a pitiless | 9 | ·/˘···/˘˘ |
| Shall be lord of me, a heart full-flown | 9 | ········· |
| With scorn of righteousness: | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| O heart of a beast where law is none, | 9 | ········· |
| Where all things change so that lust be fed, | 9 | ········· |
| The oath and the deed, the right and the wrong, | 10 | ·········· |
| Even the hate of the forked tongue: | 9 | /˘·····˘· |
| Even the hate turns and is cold, | 8 | /˘······ |
| False as the love that was false of old! | 9 | ········· |
| O Women of Troy, weep for me! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Yea, I am gone: I am gone my ways. | 9 | ········· |
| Mine is the crown of misery, | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| The bitterest day of all our days. | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Thy fate thou knowest, Queen: but I know not | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| What lord of South or North has won my lot. | 10 | ·········· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Go, seek Cassandra, men! Make your best speed, | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| That I may leave her with the King, and lead | 10 | ·········· |
| These others to their divers lords. . . . Ha, there! | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| What means that sudden light? Is it the flare | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Of torches? | 3 | ·/˘ |
| (Light is seen shining through the crevices of the second hut on the right. He moves towards it.) | 21 | ···/˘··/˘··/˘········ |
| Would they fire their prison rooms, | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Or how, these dames of Troy?--'Fore God, the dooms | 10 | ·········· |
| Are known, and now they burn themselves and die | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| Rather than sail with us! How savagely | 10 | /˘·····/˘˘ |
| In days like these a free neck chafes beneath | 10 | ·········· |
| Its burden! . . . Open! Open quick! Such death | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘··· |
| Were bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bring | 10 | ·········· |
| Much wrath, and leave me shamed before the King! | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child, | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| Cassandra, by the breath of God made wild. | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| (The door opens from within and CASSANDRA enters, white-robed and wreathed like a Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She is singing softly to herself and does not see the Herald or the scene before her.) | 49 | ··/˘····˘/˘/˘······/˘········/˘/˘·˘/·····/˘······ |
| CASSANDRA. | 3 | ˘/˘ |
| Lift, lift it high: | 4 | ···· |
| Give it to mine hand! | 5 | ····· |
| Lo, I bear a flame | 5 | ····· |
| Unto God! I praise his name. | 7 | ······· |
| I light with a burning brand | 7 | ····/˘· |
| This sanctuary. | 5 | ·/˘·˘ |
| Blessed is he that shall wed, | 6 | ······ |
| And blessed, blessed am I | 5 | ····· |
| In Argos: a bride to lie | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| With a king in a king's bed. | 7 | ······· |
| Hail, O Hymen red, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| O Torch that makest one! | 6 | ······ |
| Weepest thou, Mother mine own? | 7 | /˘·/˘·· |
| Surely thy cheek is pale | 6 | /˘···· |
| With tears, tears that wail | 5 | ····· |
| For a land and a father dead. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But I go garlanded: | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| I am the Bride of Desire: | 8 | ·····˘/˘ |
| Therefore my torch is borne-- | 6 | ······ |
| Lo, the lifting of morn, | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| Lo, the leaping of fire!-- | 7 | ··/˘·/˘ |
| For thee, O Hymen bright, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| For thee, O Moon of the Deep, | 7 | ······· |
| So Law hath charged, for the light | 7 | ······· |
| Of a maid's last sleep. | 5 | ····· |
| Awake, O my feet, awake: | 7 | ˘/···˘/ |
| Our father's hope is won! | 7 | /˘/˘··· |
| Dance as the dancing skies | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Over him, where he lies | 6 | ······ |
| Happy beneath the sun! . . . | 6 | /˘···· |
| Lo, the Ring that I make . . . | 6 | ······ |
| (She makes a circle round her with the torch, and visions appear to her.) | 17 | ···/˘······/˘˘/·· |
| Apollo! . . . Ah, is it thou? | 7 | ˘/˘···· |
| O shrine in the laurels cold, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| I bear thee still, as of old, | 7 | ······· |
| Mine incense! Be near to me now. | 8 | ·˘/····· |
| (She waves the torch as though bearing incense.) | 10 | ······/˘/· |
| O Hymen, Hymen fleet: | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Quick torch that makest one! . . . | 6 | ······ |
| How? Am I still alone? | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Laugh as I laugh, and twine | 6 | ······ |
| In the dance, O Mother mine: | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Dear feet, be near my feet! | 6 | ······ |
| Come, greet ye Hymen, greet | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Hymen with songs of pride: | 6 | /˘···· |
| Sing to him loud and long, | 6 | ······ |
| Cry, cry, when the song | 5 | ····· |
| Faileth, for joy of the bride! | 7 | /˘····· |
| O Damsels girt in the gold | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Of Ilion, cry, cry ye, | 6 | ······ |
| For him that is doomed of old | 7 | ······· |
| To be lord of me! | 5 | ····· |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| O hold the damsel, lest her tranced feet | 10 | ···/˘···˘· |
| Lift her afar, Queen, toward the Hellene fleet! | 11 | ··˘/····/˘· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| O Fire, Fire, where men make marriages | 11 | ·/˘/˘···/˘˘ |
| Surely thou hast thy lot; but what are these | 10 | /˘········ |
| Thou bringest flashing? Torches savage-wild | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| And far from mine old dreams.--Alas, my child, | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| How little dreamed I then of wars or red | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Spears of the Greek to lay thy bridal bed! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Give me thy brand; it hath no holy blaze | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Thus in thy frenzy flung. Nor all thy days | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Nor all thy griefs have changed them yet, nor learned | 10 | ·········· |
| Wisdom.--Ye women, bear the pine half burned | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| To the chamber back; and let your drowned eyes | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| Answer the music of these bridal cries! | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| (She takes the torch and gives it to one of the women.) | 13 | ···········/˘ |
| CASSANDRA. | 3 | ˘/˘ |
| O Mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers, | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| And speed me forth. Yea, if my spirit cowers, | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Drive me with wrath! So liveth Loxias, | 9 | ········· |
| A bloodier bride than ever Helen was | 10 | ·/˘˘··//˘· |
| Go I to Agamemnon, Lord most high | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| Of Hellas! . . . I shall kill him, mother; I | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Shall kill him, and lay waste his house with fire | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| As he laid ours. My brethren and my sire | 11 | ···/·/˘··/˘ |
| Shall win again . . . | 4 | ··˘/ |
| (Checking herself) | 4 | /˘˘/ |
| But part I must let be, | 6 | ······ |
| And speak not. Not the axe that craveth me, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And more than me; not the dark wanderings | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| Of mother-murder that my bridal brings, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| And all the House of Atreus down, down, down . . | 10 | ·········· |
| Nay, I will show thee. Even now this town | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Is happier than the Greeks. I know the power | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Of God is on me: but this little hour, | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Wilt thou but listen, I will hold him back! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| One love, one woman's beauty, o'er the track | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Of hunted Helen, made their myriads fall. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| And this their King so wise, who ruleth all, | 10 | ·········· |
| What wrought he? Cast out Love that Hate might feed: | 10 | ·········· |
| Gave to his brother his own child, his seed | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Of gladness, that a woman fled, and fain | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| To fly for ever, should be turned again! | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| So the days waned, and armies on the shore | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of Simois stood and strove and died. Wherefore? | 10 | ········/˘ |
| No man had moved their landmarks; none had shook | 10 | ·····/···· |
| Their walled towns.--And they whom Ares took, | 9 | ··˘······ |
| Had never seen their children: no wife came | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| With gentle arms to shroud the limbs of them | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| For burial, in a strange and angry earth | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Laid dead. And there at home, the same long dearth: | 10 | ·········· |
| Women that lonely died, and aged men | 9 | /˘·/˘···· |
| Waiting for sons that ne'er should turn again, | 10 | /˘······˘/ |
| Nor know their graves, nor pour drink-offerings, | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| To still the unslaked dust. These be the things | 10 | ···˘/····· |
| The conquering Greek hath won! | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| But we--what pride, | 4 | ···· |
| What praise of men were sweeter?--fighting died | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| To save our people. And when war was red | 10 | ··//˘····· |
| Around us, friends upbore the gentle dead | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Home, and dear women's hands about them wound | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| White shrouds, and here they sleep in the old ground | 10 | ·········· |
| Beloved. And the rest long days fought on, | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| Dwelling with wives and children, not alone | 10 | /˘···/˘·˘/ |
| And joyless, like these Greeks. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And Hector's woe, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| What is it? He is gone, and all men know | 10 | ·········· |
| His glory, and how true a heart he bore. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| It is the gift the Greek hath brought! Of yore | 10 | ·········· |
| Men saw him not, nor knew him. Yea, and even | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Paris hath loved withal a child of heaven: | 11 | /˘··˘/···/˘ |
| Else had his love but been as others are. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Yet if war come, there is a crown in death | 10 | ·········· |
| For her that striveth well and perisheth | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| Unstained: to die in evil were the stain! | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| Therefore, O Mother, pity not thy slain, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Nor Troy, nor me, the bride. Thy direst foe | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And mine by this my wooing is brought low. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| TALTHYBIUS (at last breaking through the spell that has held him). | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| I swear, had not Apollo made thee mad, | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| Not lightly hadst thou flung this shower of bad | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| Bodings, to speed my General o'er the seas! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| 'Fore God, the wisdoms and the greatnesses | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| Of seeming, are they hollow all, as things | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Of naught? This son of Atreus, of all kings | 10 | ·········· |
| Most mighty, hath so bowed him to the love | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Of this mad maid, and chooseth her above | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| All women! By the Gods, rude though I be, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| I would not touch her hand! | 6 | ······ |
| Look thou; I see | 4 | ···· |
| Thy lips are blind, and whatso words they speak, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Praises of Troy or shamings of the Greek, | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| I cast to the four winds! Walk at my side | 10 | ·········· |
| In peace! . . . And heaven content him of his bride! | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| (He moves as though to go, but turns to HECUBA, and speaks more gently.) | 16 | ·········/˘···/˘ |
| And thou shalt follow to Odysseus' host | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| When the word comes. 'Tis a wise queen thou go'st | 10 | ·········· |
| To serve, and gentle: so the Ithacans say. | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| CASSANDRA (seeing for the first time the Herald and all the scene). | 15 | ˘/˘/·····/˘···· |
| How fierce a slave! . . . O Heralds, Heralds! Yea, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Voices of Death; and mists are over them | 10 | /˘········ |
| Of dead men's anguish, like a diadem, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| These weak abhorred things that serve the hate | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Of kings and peoples! . . . | 5 | ···/˘ |
| To Odysseus' gate | 6 | ·˘/˘˘· |
| My mother goeth, say'st thou? Is God's word | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| As naught, to me in silence ministered, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| That in this place she dies? . . . | 6 | ······ |
| (To herself) | 3 | ·˘/ |
| No more; no more! | 4 | ···· |
| Why should I speak the shame of them, before | 10 | ·········· |
| They come? . . . Little he knows, that hard-beset | 10 | ··/˘····˘/ |
| Spirit, what deeps of woe await him yet; | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| Till all these tears of ours and harrowings | 11 | ·····/˘·/˘˘ |
| Of Troy, by his, shall be as golden things. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Ten years behind ten years athwart his way | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| Waiting: and home, lost and unfriended . . . | 9 | /˘····˘/˘ |
| Nay: | 1 | · |
| Why should Odysseus' labours vex my breath? | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| On; hasten; guide me to the house of Death, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| To lie beside my bridegroom! . . . | 7 | ··˘/·/· |
| Thou Greek King, | 3 | ··· |
| Who deem'st thy fortune now so high a thing, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Thou dust of the earth, a lowlier bed I see, | 11 | ··········· |
| In darkness, not in light, awaiting thee: | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| And with thee, with thee . . . there, where yawneth plain | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| A rift of the hills, raging with winter rain, | 11 | ·····/˘·/˘· |
| Dead . . . and out-cast . . . and naked . . . It is I | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Beside my bridegroom: and the wild beasts cry, | 10 | ˘/·/······ |
| And ravin on God's chosen! | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| (She clasps her hands to her brow and feels the wreaths.) | 11 | ··········· |
| O, ye wreaths! | 3 | ··· |
| Ye garlands of my God, whose love yet breathes | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| About me; shapes of joyance mystical; | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| Begone! I have forgot the festival, | 10 | ˘/··˘/·/˘˘ |
| Forgot the joy. Begone! I tear ye, so, | 10 | ˘/··˘/···· |
| From off me! . . . Out on the swift winds they go. | 10 | ·········· |
| With flesh still clean I give them back to thee, | 10 | ·········· |
| Still white, O God, O light that leadest me! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| (Turning upon the Herald.) | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| Where lies the galley? Whither shall I tread? | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| See that your watch be set, your sail be spread. | 10 | ·········· |
| The wind comes quick! . . . Three Powers--mark me, thou!-- | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| There be in Hell, and one walks with thee now! | 10 | ·········· |
| Mother, farewell, and weep not! O my sweet | 10 | /˘·/······ |
| City, my earth-clad brethren, and thou great | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| Sire that begat us; but a space, ye Dead, | 10 | /·˘/······ |
| And I am with you: yea, with crowned head | 10 | ········˘· |
| I come, and shining from the fires that feed | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| On these that slay us now, and all their seed! | 10 | ·········· |
| (She goes out, followed by TALTHYBIUS and the Soldiers: HECUBA, after waiting for an instant motionless, falls to the ground.) | 29 | ···/˘······/˘/˘··/˘··/˘/˘···· |
| LEADER OF CHORUS. | 5 | /˘·/˘ |
| The Queen, ye Watchers! See, she falls, she falls, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Rigid without a word! O sorry thralls, | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Too late! And will ye leave her downstricken, | 10 | ·········· |
| A woman, and so old? Raise her again! | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| (Some women go to HECUBA, but she refuses their aid and speaks without rising.) | 20 | ·/˘··/˘··˘/˘······/˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Let lie . . . the love we seek not is no love . . . | 10 | ·········· |
| This ruined body! Is the fall thereof | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Too deep for all that now is over me | 10 | ·········· |
| Of anguish, and hath been, and yet shall be? | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Ye Gods . . . Alas! Why call on things so weak | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| For aid? Yet there is something that doth seek, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Crying, for God, when one of us hath woe. | 10 | /˘········ |
| O, I will think of things gone long ago | 10 | ········˘/ |
| And weave them to a song, like one more tear | 10 | ·········· |
| In the heart of misery. . . . All kings we were; | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| And I must wed a king. And sons I brought | 10 | ·········· |
| My lord King, many sons . . . nay, that were naught; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But high strong princes, of all Troy the best. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Hellas nor Troaes nor the garnered East | 10 | ······/˘˘· |
| Held such a mother! And all these things beneath | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| The Argive spear I saw cast down in death, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And shore these tresses at the dead men's feet. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Yea, and the gardener of my garden great, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| It was not any noise of him nor tale | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| I wept for; these eyes saw him, when the pale | 10 | ·········· |
| Was broke, and there at the altar Priam fell | 11 | ······/˘/·· |
| Murdered, and round him all his citadel | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Sacked. And my daughters, virgins of the fold, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Meet to be brides of mighty kings, behold, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| 'Twas for the Greek I bred them! All are gone; | 10 | ·········· |
| And no hope left, that I shall look upon | 10 | ·········· |
| Their faces any more, nor they on mine. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| And now my feet tread on the utmost line: | 10 | ·······/·· |
| An old, old slave-woman, I pass below | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| Mine enemies' gates; and whatso task they know | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| For this age basest, shall be mine; the door, | 10 | ·········· |
| Bowing, to shut and open. . . . I that bore | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| Hector! . . . and meal to grind, and this racked head | 10 | /˘········ |
| Bend to the stones after a royal bed; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Torn rags about me, aye, and under them | 10 | ·········· |
| Torn flesh; 'twill make a woman sick for shame! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Woe's me; and all that one man's arms might hold | 10 | ·········· |
| One woman, what long seas have o'er me rolled | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And roll for ever! . . . O my child, whose white | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Soul laughed amid the laughter of God's light, | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| Cassandra, what hands and how strange a day | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| Have loosed thy zone! And thou, Polyxena, | 10 | ·········· |
| Where art thou? And my sons? Not any seed | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of man nor woman now shall help my need. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Why raise me any more? What hope have I | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| To hold me? Take this slave that once trod high | 10 | ·········· |
| In Ilion; cast her on her bed of clay | 10 | ·········· |
| Rock-pillowed, to lie down, and pass away | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Wasted with tears. And whatso man they call | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| Happy, believe not ere the last day fall! | 10 | /˘˘/······ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.