Second Episode
(As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms.)
LEADER.Lo, yonder on the heaped crestOf a Greek wain, Andromache,As one that o'er an unknown seaTosseth; and on her wave-borne breastHer loved one clingeth, Hector's child,Astyanax . . . O most forlornOf women, whither go'st thou, borne'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piledSpoils of the dead, and pageantryOf them that hunted Ilion down?Aye, richly thy new lord shall crownThe mountain shrines of Thessaly!
ANDROMACHE.Forth to the Greek I go,Driven as a beast is driven.HEC. Woe, woe!AND. Nay, mine is woe:Woe to none other given,And the song and the crown therefor!HEC. O Zeus!AND. He hates thee sore!HEC. Children!AND. No more, no moreTo aid thee: their strife is striven!
HECUBA.Troy, Troy is gone!AND. Yea, and her treasure parted.HEC. Gone, gone, mine ownChildren, the noble-hearted!AND. Sing sorrow. . . .HEC. For me, for me!AND. Sing for the Great City,That falleth, falleth to beA shadow, a fire departed.
ANDROMACHE.Come to me, O my lover!HEC. The dark shroudeth him over,My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine!AND. Make of thine arms my cover!
HECUBA.O thou whose wound was deepest,Thou that my children keepest,Priam, Priam, O age-worn King,Gather me where thou sleepest.
ANDROMACHE (her hands upon her heart).O here is the deep of desire,HEC. (How? And is this not woe?)AND. For a city burned with fire;HEC. (It beateth, blow on blow.)AND. God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago:
Who sold for his evil loveTroy and the towers thereof:Therefore the dead men lieNaked, beneath the eyeOf Pallas, and vultures croakAnd flap for joy:So Love hath laid his yokeOn the neck of Troy!
HECUBA.O mine own land, my home,AND. (I weep for thee, left forlorn,)HEC. See'st thou what end is come?AND. (And the house where my babes were born.)HEC. A desolate Mother we leave, O children, a City of scorn:
Even as the sound of a songLeft by the way, but longRemembered, a tune of tearsFalling where no man hears,In the old house, as rain,For things loved of yore:But the dead hath lost his painAnd weeps no more.
LEADER.How sweet are tears to them in bitter stress,And sorrow, and all the songs of heaviness.
ANDROMACHE.Mother of him of old, whose mighty spearSmote Greeks like chaff, see'st thou what things are here?
HECUBA.I see God's hand, that buildeth a great crownFor littleness, and hath cast the mighty down.
ANDROMACHE.I and my babe are driven among the drovesOf plundered cattle. O, when fortune movesSo swift, the high heart like a slave beats low.
HECUBA.'Tis fearful to be helpless. Men but nowHave taken Cassandra, and I strove in vain.
ANDROMACHE.Ah, woe is me; hath Ajax come again?But other evil yet is at thy gate.
HECUBA.Nay, Daughter, beyond number, beyond weightMy evils are! Doom raceth against doom.
ANDROMACHE.Polyxena across Achilles' tombLies slain, a gift flung to the dreamless dead.
HECUBA.My sorrow! . . . 'Tis but what Talthybius said:So plain a riddle, and I read it not.
ANDROMACHE.I saw her lie, and stayed this chariot;And raiment wrapt on her dead limbs, and beatMy breast for her.
HECUBA (to herself).O the foul sin of it!The wickedness! My child. My child! AgainI cry to thee. How cruelly art thou slain!
ANDROMACHE.She hath died her death, and howso dark it be,Her death is sweeter than my misery.
HECUBA.Death cannot be what Life is, Child; the cupOf Death is empty, and Life hath always hope.
ANDROMACHE.O Mother, having ears, hear thou this wordFear-conquering, till thy heart as mine be stirredWith joy. To die is only not to be;And better to be dead than grievouslyLiving. They have no pain, they ponder notTheir own wrong. But the living that is broughtFrom joy to heaviness, his soul doth roam,As in a desert, lost, from its old home.Thy daughter lieth now as one unborn,Dead, and naught knowing of the lust and scornThat slew her. And I . . . long since I drew my bowStraight at the heart of good fame; and I knowMy shaft hit; and for that am I the moreFallen from peace. All that men praise us for,I loved for Hector's sake, and sought to win.I knew that alway, be there hurt thereinOr utter innocence, to roam abroadHath ill report for women; so I trodDown the desire thereof, and walked my wayIn mine own garden. And light words and gayParley of women never passed my door.The thoughts of mine own heart . . . I craved no more . . .Spoke with me, and I was happy. ConstantlyI brought fair silence and a tranquil eyeFor Hector's greeting, and watched well the wayOf living, where to guide and where obey.And, lo! some rumour of this peace, being goneForth to the Greek, hath cursed me. Achilles' son,So soon as I was taken, for his thrallChose me. I shall do service in the hallOf them that slew . . . How? Shall I thrust asideHector's beloved face, and open wideMy heart to this new lord? Oh, I should standA traitor to the dead! And if my handAnd flesh shrink from him . . . lo, wrath and despiteO'er all the house, and I a slave!One night,One night . . . aye, men have said it . . . maketh tameA woman in a man's arms. . . . O shame, shame!What woman's lips can so forswear her dead,And give strange kisses in another's bed?Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will runIn the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone--A thing not in God's image, dull, unmovedOf reason. O my Hector! best beloved,That, being mine, wast all in all to me,My prince, my wise one, O my majestyOf valiance! No man's touch had ever comeNear me, when thou from out my father's homeDidst lead me and make me thine. . . . And thou art dead,And I war-flung to slavery and the breadOf shame in Hellas, over bitter seas!What knoweth she of evils like to these,That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for?There liveth not in my life any moreThe hope that others have. Nor will I tellThe lie to mine own heart, that aught is wellOr shall be well. . . . Yet, O, to dream were sweet!
LEADER.Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet,And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own.
HECUBA.Lo, yonder ships: I ne'er set foot on one,But tales and pictures tell, when over themBreaketh a storm not all too strong to stem,Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mastManned, the hull baled, to face it: till at lastToo strong breaks the o'erwhelming sea: lo, thenThey cease, and yield them up as broken menTo fate and the wild waters. Even soI in my many sorrows bear me low,Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be.The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me.But, O, let Hector and the fates that fellOn Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne'er so well,Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thouThe new lord that is set above thee now,And make of thine own gentle pietyA prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou beA strength to them that love us, and--God knows,It may be--rear this babe among his foes,My Hector's child, to manhood and great aidFor Ilion. So her stones may yet be laidOne on another, if God will, and wroughtAgain to a city! Ah, how thought to thoughtStill beckons! . . . But what minion of the GreekIs this that cometh, with new words to speak?
(Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.)
TALTHYBIUS.Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy,Andromache, hate me not! 'Tis not in joyI tell thee. But the people and the KingsHave with one voice . . .
ANDROMACHE.What is it? Evil thingsAre on thy lips!
TALTHYBIUS.'Tis ordered, this child . . . Oh,How can I tell her of it?
ANDROMACHE.Doth he not goWith me, to the same master?
TALTHYBIUS.There is noneIn Greece, shall e'er be master of thy son.
ANDROMACHE.How? Will they leave him here to build againThe wreck? . . .
TALTHYBIUS.I know not how to tell thee plain!
ANDROMACHE.Thou hast a gentle heart . . . if it be ill,And not good, news thou hidest!
TALTHYBIUS.'Tis their willThy son shall die. . . . The whole vile thing is saidNow!
ANDROMACHE.Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed!
TALTHYBIUS.And speaking in the council of the hostOdysseus hath prevailed--
ANDROMACHE.O lost! lost! lost! . . .Forgive me! It is not easy . . .
TALTHYBIUS.. . . That the sonOf one so perilous be not fostered onTo manhood--
ANDROMACHE.God; may his own counsel fallOn his own sons!
TALTHYBIUS.. . . But from this crested wallOf Troy be dashed, and die. . . . Nay, let the thingBe done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor clingSo fiercely to him. Suffer as a braveWoman in bitter pain; nor think to haveStrength which thou hast not. Look about thee here!Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere?Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thouA prisoner and alone, one woman; howCanst battle against us? For thine own goodI would not have thee strive, nor make ill bloodAnd shame about thee. . . . Ah, nor move thy lipsIn silence there, to cast upon the shipsThy curse! One word of evil to the host,This babe shall have no burial, but be tossedNaked. . . . Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may,War's fortune. So thou shalt not go thy wayLeaving this child unburied; nor the GreekBe stern against thee, if thy heart be meek!
ANDROMACHE (to the child).Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one,In fierce men's hands, leaving me here alone.Thy father was too valiant; that is whyThey slay thee! Other children, like to die,Might have been spared for that. But on thy headHis good is turned to evil.O thou bedAnd bridal; O the joining of the hand,That led me long ago to Hector's landTo bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swordsTo slaughter, but a Prince o'er all the hordesEnthroned of wide-flung Asia. . . . Weepest thou?Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know.And Father will not come; he will not come;Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tombRiven to set thee free! Not one of allHis brethren, nor the might of Ilion's wall.How shall it be? One horrible spring . . . deep, deepDown. And thy neck . . . Ah God, so cometh sleep! . . .And none to pity thee! . . . Thou little thingThat curlest in my arms, what sweet scents clingAll round thy neck! Beloved; can it beAll nothing, that this bosom cradled theeAnd fostered; all the weary nights, wherethroughI watched upon thy sickness, till I grewWasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time;Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climbAbout my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips. . . .O, ye have found an anguish that outstripsAll tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks!Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeksNo wrong? . . . O Helen, Helen, thou ill treeThat Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of theeAs child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breathFrom many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death,And every rotting poison of the sky!Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dryGreece and the world! God hate thee and destroy,That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy,And made the far-famed plains a waste withal.Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall,If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift!God hath undone me, and I cannot liftOne hand, one hand, to save my child from death . . .O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneathYour galleys' benches! . . .(She swoons: then half-rising.)Quick: I must begoneTo the bridal. . . . I have lost my child, my own!(The soldiers close round her.)
LEADER.O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, oneAbhorred kiss, how are thine hosts undone!
TALTHYBIUS (bending over ANDROMACHE and gradually taking the Child from her).Come, Child: let be that clasp of loveOutwearied! Walk thy ways with me,Up to the crested tower, aboveThy father's wall . . . where they decreeThy soul shall perish.--Hold him: hold!--Would God some other man might plyThese charges, one of duller mould,And nearer to the iron than I!
HECUBA.O Child, they rob us of our own,Child of my Mighty One outworn:Ours, ours thou art!--Can aught be doneOf deeds, can aught of pain be borne,To aid thee?--Lo, this beaten head,This bleeding bosom! These I spreadAs gifts to thee. I can thus much.Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee!What fall yet lacketh, ere we touchThe last dead deep of misery?
(The Child, who has started back from TALTHYBIUS, is taken up by one of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while ANDROMACHE is set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships. TALTHYBIUS goes with the Child.)
Words in this poem 40
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
- wain n.
- A four-wheeled vehicle for the transportation of goods, produce, etc.; a wagon. [OE. wain, AS. wægn; akin to D. & G. wagen, OHG. wagan, Icel. & Sw. vagn, Dan. vogn, and E. way. Way, Weigh, and cf. Wagon.]
- forlorn a.
- Deserted abandoned; lost. [OE., p.p. of forlesen to lose utterly, AS. forleósan (p.p. forloren); pref. for- + leósan (in comp.) to lose; cf. D. verliezen to lose, G. verlieren, Sw. förlor]
- 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.]
- piled a.
- Having a pile or point; pointed. [From 2d Pile.]
- pageantry n.
- Scenic shows or spectacles, taken collectivelly; spectacular guality; splendor.
- 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,]
- therefor adv.
- For that, or this; for it. [There + for. Cf. Therefore.]
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- pallas n.
- Pallas Athene, the Grecian goddess of wisdom, called also Athene, and identified, at a later period, with the Roman Minerva.
- croak v. i.
- To make a low, hoarse noise in the throat, as a frog, a raven, or a crow; hence, to make any hoarse, dismal sound. [From the primitive of AS. cracettan to croak as a raven; akin to G. kr to croak, and to E. creak, crake.]
- yore adv.
- In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
- heaviness n.
- The state or quality of being heavy in its various senses; weight; sadness; sluggishness; oppression; thickness.
- babe n.
- An infant; a young child of either sex; a baby. [Cf. Ir. bab, baban, W. baban, maban.]
- dreamless a.
- Free from, or without, dreams. Camden.
- stayed a.
- Staid; fixed; settled; sober; -- now written staid. See Staid.
- unborn a.
- Not born; no yet brought into life; being still to appear; future.
- lust v. i.
- To list; to like. [AS. lystan. See Lust, n., and cf. List to choose.]
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- rumour n.
- A flying or popular report; the common talk; hence, public fame; notoriety. [F. rumeur, L. rumor; cf. rumificare, rumitare to rumor, Skr. ru to cry.]
- cursed a.
- Deserving a curse; execrable; hateful; detestable; abominable.
- forswear v. t.
- To reject or renounce upon oath; hence, to renounce earnestly, determinedly, or with protestations. [OE. forsweren, forswerien, AS. forswerian; pref. for- + swerian to swear. See For-, and Swear, v. i.]
- unmoved a.
- Not moved; fixed; firm; unshaken; calm; apathetic.
- wast
- The second person singular of the verb be, in the indicative mood, imperfect tense; -- now used only in solemn or poetical style.
- valiance n.
- The quality or state of being valiant; bravery; valor. [Cf. F. vaillance. See Valiant.]
- didst
- , the 2d pers. sing. imp. of Do.
- aught n.
- Property; possession. [AS. , fr. agan to own, p. p. ahte.]
- pathway n.
- A footpath; a beaten track; any path or course. Also used figuratively.
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- spouse v. t.
- To wed; to espouse. [See Espouse, and Spouse, n.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- 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.]
- valiant a.
- Vigorous in body; strong; powerful; as, a valiant fencer. [OE. valiant, F. vaillant, OF. vaillant, valant, originally p. pr. of OF. & F. valoir to be worth, L. valere to be strong. See Wield, and cf. Avail, Convalesce, ]
- deem v. t.
- To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
- blasted a.
- Blighted; withered.
- withal adv.
- With this; with that. [With + all.]
- undone a.
- Not done or performed; neglected. [Pref. un- not + done.]
- duller n.
- One who, or that which, dulls.
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Second 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, Second Episode, in The Trojan Women (1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #35171, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/euripides-trojan-women/second-episode.html, id L28780.
Form and metre
Second Episode is 344 lines in 47 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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.
- 2 -A--ABCCB-DD- leader · crestA · andromache · sea · breastA · childB · forlornC · borneC · piledB · pageantry · downD · crownD · thessaly
- 3 -ABAABC-C-CB andromache · goA · drivenB · woeA · woeA · givenB · thereforC · zeus · soreC · children · moreC · strivenB
- 4 --A-A-B-BA hecuba · gone · partedA · own · heartedA · sorrow · meB · city · beB · departedA
- 5 -A--A andromache · loverA · over · thine · coverA
- 6 --A-A hecuba · deepest · keepestA · king · sleepestA
- 7 -ABABB heart · desireA · woeB · fireA · blowB · agoB
- 8 AABBCDCD loveA · thereofA · lieB · eyeB · croakC · joyD · yokeC · troyD
- 9 -ABABB hecuba · homeA · forlornB · comeA · bornB · scornB
- 10 AABBCDCD songA · longA · tearsB · hearsB · rainC · yoreD · painC · moreD
- 11 -AA leader · stressA · heavinessA
- 12 -AA andromache · spearA · hereA
- 13 -AA hecuba · crownA · downA
- 20 -AA- andromache · chariotA · beatA · her
- 21 --AA herself · it · againA · slainA
- 24 -AA----BBCC--DDEE--FFGG--HH--IIJJKKL-LMMNN------OOPPQQRRSS- andromache · wordA · stirredA · be · grievously · not · brought · roamB · homeB · unbornC · scornC · bow · know · moreD · forD · winE · thereinE · abroad · trod · wayF · gayF · doorG · moreG · constantly · eye · wayH · obeyH · gone · son · thrallI · hallI · asideJ · wideJ · standK · handK · despiteL · slave · nightL · tameM · shameM · deadN · bedN · run · gone · unmoved · beloved · me · majesty · comeO · homeO · deadP · breadP · seasQ · theseQ · forR · moreR · tellS · wellS · sweet
- 26 --AABBCCDDEEFFGG-EHHIIJJKK hecuba · one · themA · stemA · mastB · lastB · thenC · menC · soD · lowD · beE · meE · fellF · wellF · thouG · nowG · piety · beE · knowsH · foesH · aidI · laidI · wroughtJ · thoughtJ · greekK · speakK
- 28 -AA-- talthybius · troyA · joyA · kings · voice
- 32 -AA talthybius · noneA · sonA
- 42 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ talthybiusA · wallA · thingB · clingB · braveC · haveC · hereD · anywhereD · thouE · howE · goodF · bloodF · lipsG · shipsG · hostH · tossedH · mayI · wayI · greekJ · meekJ
- 43 ---AAB-BCCDD----EEFFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNMMOOPPQQ------- child · one · alone · whyA · dieA · headB · evil · bedB · handC · landC · swordsD · hordesD · thou · know · come · tomb · allE · wallE · deepF · sleepF · thingG · clingG · beH · theeH · wherethroughI · grewI · timeJ · climbJ · lipsK · outstripsK · greeksL · seeksL · treeM · theeM · breathN · deathN · skyM · dryM · destroyO · troyO · withalP · wallP · swiftQ · liftQ · death · beneath · benches · rising · begone · own · her
- 44 -AA leader · oneA · undoneA
- 45 -ABABCDCD her · loveA · meB · aboveA · decreeB · holdC · plyD · mouldC · iD
- 46 --A-ABBC-C- hecuba · own · outwornA · done · borneA · headB · spreadB · muchC · thee · touchC · misery
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| (As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms.) | 34 | ···/˘·/˘··˘/˘···/˘······/˘/˘······ |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Lo, yonder on the heaped crest | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Of a Greek wain, Andromache, | 7 | ······· |
| As one that o'er an unknown sea | 8 | ·····˘/· |
| Tosseth; and on her wave-borne breast | 8 | /˘······ |
| Her loved one clingeth, Hector's child, | 9 | ··˘·/˘/˘· |
| Astyanax . . . O most forlorn | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Of women, whither go'st thou, borne | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| 'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piled | 9 | ·/˘/˘···˘ |
| Spoils of the dead, and pageantry | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Of them that hunted Ilion down? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Aye, richly thy new lord shall crown | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The mountain shrines of Thessaly! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Forth to the Greek I go, | 6 | ······ |
| Driven as a beast is driven. | 8 | /˘····/˘ |
| HEC. Woe, woe! | 3 | ··· |
| AND. Nay, mine is woe: | 5 | ····· |
| Woe to none other given, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And the song and the crown therefor! | 8 | ······˘/ |
| HEC. O Zeus! | 3 | ··· |
| AND. He hates thee sore! | 5 | ····· |
| HEC. Children! | 3 | ·/˘ |
| AND. No more, no more | 5 | ····· |
| To aid thee: their strife is striven! | 8 | ······/˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Troy, Troy is gone! | 4 | ···· |
| AND. Yea, and her treasure parted. | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| HEC. Gone, gone, mine own | 5 | ····· |
| Children, the noble-hearted! | 7 | /˘·/˘/˘ |
| AND. Sing sorrow. . . . | 4 | ··/˘ |
| HEC. For me, for me! | 5 | ····· |
| AND. Sing for the Great City, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| That falleth, falleth to be | 7 | ·/˘/˘·· |
| A shadow, a fire departed. | 9 | ·/··/˘˘/˘ |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Come to me, O my lover! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| HEC. The dark shroudeth him over, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine! | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| AND. Make of thine arms my cover! | 8 | ······/˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| O thou whose wound was deepest, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Thou that my children keepest, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Priam, Priam, O age-worn King, | 8 | /·/····· |
| Gather me where thou sleepest. | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| ANDROMACHE (her hands upon her heart). | 9 | ········· |
| O here is the deep of desire, | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| HEC. (How? And is this not woe?) | 7 | ······· |
| AND. For a city burned with fire; | 10 | ···/˘·˘·/˘ |
| HEC. (It beateth, blow on blow.) | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| AND. God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago: | 15 | ····/˘·······˘/ |
| Who sold for his evil love | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Troy and the towers thereof: | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| Therefore the dead men lie | 6 | ······ |
| Naked, beneath the eye | 6 | /˘···· |
| Of Pallas, and vultures croak | 7 | ····/˘· |
| And flap for joy: | 4 | ···· |
| So Love hath laid his yoke | 6 | ······ |
| On the neck of Troy! | 5 | ····· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| O mine own land, my home, | 6 | ······ |
| AND. (I weep for thee, left forlorn,) | 8 | ······˘/ |
| HEC. See'st thou what end is come? | 7 | ······· |
| AND. (And the house where my babes were born.) | 9 | ········· |
| HEC. A desolate Mother we leave, O children, a City of scorn: | 16 | ··/˘/˘···/˘·/˘·· |
| Even as the sound of a song | 8 | /˘······ |
| Left by the way, but long | 6 | ······ |
| Remembered, a tune of tears | 7 | ˘/˘···· |
| Falling where no man hears, | 6 | /˘···· |
| In the old house, as rain, | 6 | ······ |
| For things loved of yore: | 5 | ····· |
| But the dead hath lost his pain | 7 | ······· |
| And weeps no more. | 4 | ···· |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| How sweet are tears to them in bitter stress, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And sorrow, and all the songs of heaviness. | 11 | ·/˘·····/˘˘ |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Mother of him of old, whose mighty spear | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Smote Greeks like chaff, see'st thou what things are here? | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| I see God's hand, that buildeth a great crown | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| For littleness, and hath cast the mighty down. | 11 | ·/˘˘····/˘· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| I and my babe are driven among the droves | 10 | ·····/···· |
| Of plundered cattle. O, when fortune moves | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| So swift, the high heart like a slave beats low. | 10 | ·········· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| 'Tis fearful to be helpless. Men but now | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Have taken Cassandra, and I strove in vain. | 11 | ·/˘˘/˘····· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Ah, woe is me; hath Ajax come again? | 10 | ·····/··˘/ |
| But other evil yet is at thy gate. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Nay, Daughter, beyond number, beyond weight | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| My evils are! Doom raceth against doom. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Polyxena across Achilles' tomb | 10 | ····˘/˘/˘· |
| Lies slain, a gift flung to the dreamless dead. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| My sorrow! . . . 'Tis but what Talthybius said: | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| So plain a riddle, and I read it not. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| I saw her lie, and stayed this chariot; | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| And raiment wrapt on her dead limbs, and beat | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| My breast for her. | 4 | ···· |
| HECUBA (to herself). | 6 | /˘˘·˘/ |
| O the foul sin of it! | 6 | ······ |
| The wickedness! My child. My child! Again | 10 | ·/˘˘····˘/ |
| I cry to thee. How cruelly art thou slain! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| She hath died her death, and howso dark it be, | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| Her death is sweeter than my misery. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Death cannot be what Life is, Child; the cup | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Of Death is empty, and Life hath always hope. | 11 | ···/˘···/·· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| O Mother, having ears, hear thou this word | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Fear-conquering, till thy heart as mine be stirred | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| With joy. To die is only not to be; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And better to be dead than grievously | 10 | ·/˘····/˘˘ |
| Living. They have no pain, they ponder not | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Their own wrong. But the living that is brought | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| From joy to heaviness, his soul doth roam, | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| As in a desert, lost, from its old home. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Thy daughter lieth now as one unborn, | 9 | ·/˘····// |
| Dead, and naught knowing of the lust and scorn | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| That slew her. And I . . . long since I drew my bow | 11 | ··········· |
| Straight at the heart of good fame; and I know | 10 | ·········· |
| My shaft hit; and for that am I the more | 10 | ·········· |
| Fallen from peace. All that men praise us for, | 10 | /˘········ |
| I loved for Hector's sake, and sought to win. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| I knew that alway, be there hurt therein | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Or utter innocence, to roam abroad | 10 | ·/˘/˘˘··˘/ |
| Hath ill report for women; so I trod | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| Down the desire thereof, and walked my way | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| In mine own garden. And light words and gay | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Parley of women never passed my door. | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘··· |
| The thoughts of mine own heart . . . I craved no more . . . | 10 | ·········· |
| Spoke with me, and I was happy. Constantly | 11 | ······/˘/˘˘ |
| I brought fair silence and a tranquil eye | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| For Hector's greeting, and watched well the way | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Of living, where to guide and where obey. | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| And, lo! some rumour of this peace, being gone | 10 | ····˘···/· |
| Forth to the Greek, hath cursed me. Achilles' son, | 11 | ·······˘/˘· |
| So soon as I was taken, for his thrall | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Chose me. I shall do service in the hall | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of them that slew . . . How? Shall I thrust aside | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Hector's beloved face, and open wide | 10 | /˘˘/˘··/˘· |
| My heart to this new lord? Oh, I should stand | 10 | ·········· |
| A traitor to the dead! And if my hand | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And flesh shrink from him . . . lo, wrath and despite | 10 | ········˘/ |
| O'er all the house, and I a slave! | 8 | ········ |
| One night, | 2 | ·· |
| One night . . . aye, men have said it . . . maketh tame | 10 | ·········· |
| A woman in a man's arms. . . . O shame, shame! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| What woman's lips can so forswear her dead, | 10 | ·/˘···˘/·· |
| And give strange kisses in another's bed? | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will run | 10 | ·········· |
| In the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone-- | 11 | ···˘/˘····· |
| A thing not in God's image, dull, unmoved | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Of reason. O my Hector! best beloved, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘·˘/ |
| That, being mine, wast all in all to me, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| My prince, my wise one, O my majesty | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| Of valiance! No man's touch had ever come | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Near me, when thou from out my father's home | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Didst lead me and make me thine. . . . And thou art dead, | 11 | ··········· |
| And I war-flung to slavery and the bread | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| What knoweth she of evils like to these, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| There liveth not in my life any more | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| The hope that others have. Nor will I tell | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The lie to mine own heart, that aught is well | 10 | ·········· |
| Or shall be well. . . . Yet, O, to dream were sweet! | 10 | ·········· |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Lo, yonder ships: I ne'er set foot on one, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| But tales and pictures tell, when over them | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem, | 10 | /˘········ |
| Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Manned, the hull baled, to face it: till at last | 10 | ·········· |
| Too strong breaks the o'erwhelming sea: lo, then | 10 | ·········· |
| They cease, and yield them up as broken men | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| To fate and the wild waters. Even so | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| I in my many sorrows bear me low, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| But, O, let Hector and the fates that fell | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| On Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne'er so well, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thou | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| The new lord that is set above thee now, | 10 | ·········· |
| And make of thine own gentle piety | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| A prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou be | 10 | ·········· |
| A strength to them that love us, and--God knows, | 10 | ·········· |
| It may be--rear this babe among his foes, | 10 | ·········· |
| My Hector's child, to manhood and great aid | 10 | ·/˘··/···· |
| For Ilion. So her stones may yet be laid | 10 | ·········· |
| One on another, if God will, and wrought | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Again to a city! Ah, how thought to thought | 11 | ˘/··/˘····· |
| Still beckons! . . . But what minion of the Greek | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Is this that cometh, with new words to speak? | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| (Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.) | 24 | /˘·······/˘··/˘/˘··/˘˘/˘ |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Andromache, hate me not! 'Tis not in joy | 10 | ·········· |
| I tell thee. But the people and the Kings | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Have with one voice . . . | 4 | ···· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| What is it? Evil things | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Are on thy lips! | 4 | ···· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| 'Tis ordered, this child . . . Oh, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| How can I tell her of it? | 7 | ······· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Doth he not go | 4 | ···· |
| With me, to the same master? | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| There is none | 3 | ··· |
| In Greece, shall e'er be master of thy son. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| How? Will they leave him here to build again | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The wreck? . . . | 2 | ·· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| I know not how to tell thee plain! | 8 | ········ |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Thou hast a gentle heart . . . if it be ill, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And not good, news thou hidest! | 7 | ······· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| 'Tis their will | 3 | ··· |
| Thy son shall die. . . . The whole vile thing is said | 10 | ·········· |
| Now! | 1 | · |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed! | 10 | ······/˘˘· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| And speaking in the council of the host | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Odysseus hath prevailed-- | 7 | ˘/˘˘·˘/ |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| O lost! lost! lost! . . . | 4 | ···· |
| Forgive me! It is not easy . . . | 8 | ˘/····/˘ |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| . . . That the son | 3 | ··· |
| Of one so perilous be not fostered on | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| To manhood-- | 3 | ·/· |
| ANDROMACHE. | 3 | ··· |
| God; may his own counsel fall | 7 | ····/˘· |
| On his own sons! | 4 | ···· |
| TALTHYBIUS. | 3 | ··· |
| . . . But from this crested wall | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Of Troy be dashed, and die. . . . Nay, let the thing | 10 | ·········· |
| Be done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor cling | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| So fiercely to him. Suffer as a brave | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Woman in bitter pain; nor think to have | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Strength which thou hast not. Look about thee here! | 10 | ·········· |
| Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere? | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thou | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| A prisoner and alone, one woman; how | 10 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| Canst battle against us? For thine own good | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| I would not have thee strive, nor make ill blood | 10 | ·········· |
| And shame about thee. . . . Ah, nor move thy lips | 10 | ·········· |
| In silence there, to cast upon the ships | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Thy curse! One word of evil to the host, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| This babe shall have no burial, but be tossed | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Naked. . . . Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may, | 10 | /˘········ |
| War's fortune. So thou shalt not go thy way | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Leaving this child unburied; nor the Greek | 9 | /˘······· |
| Be stern against thee, if thy heart be meek! | 10 | ·········· |
| ANDROMACHE (to the child). | 6 | ······ |
| Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one, | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| In fierce men's hands, leaving me here alone. | 10 | ····/˘··˘/ |
| Thy father was too valiant; that is why | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| They slay thee! Other children, like to die, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Might have been spared for that. But on thy head | 10 | ·········· |
| His good is turned to evil. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| O thou bed | 3 | ··· |
| And bridal; O the joining of the hand, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| That led me long ago to Hector's land | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| To bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swords | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| To slaughter, but a Prince o'er all the hordes | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Enthroned of wide-flung Asia. . . . Weepest thou? | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And Father will not come; he will not come; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tomb | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Riven to set thee free! Not one of all | 10 | /˘········ |
| His brethren, nor the might of Ilion's wall. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| How shall it be? One horrible spring . . . deep, deep | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Down. And thy neck . . . Ah God, so cometh sleep! . . . | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And none to pity thee! . . . Thou little thing | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| That curlest in my arms, what sweet scents cling | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| All round thy neck! Beloved; can it be | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| All nothing, that this bosom cradled thee | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| And fostered; all the weary nights, wherethrough | 10 | ·/˘··/˘·˘/ |
| I watched upon thy sickness, till I grew | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Wasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time; | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climb | 10 | ·/˘/······ |
| About my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips. . . . | 10 | ·········· |
| O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks! | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| No wrong? . . . O Helen, Helen, thou ill tree | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| That Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of thee | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| As child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breath | 10 | ·········· |
| From many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death, | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘··· |
| And every rotting poison of the sky! | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘··· |
| Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dry | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Greece and the world! God hate thee and destroy, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And made the far-famed plains a waste withal. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall, | 10 | ·········· |
| If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift! | 10 | ·········· |
| God hath undone me, and I cannot lift | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| One hand, one hand, to save my child from death . . . | 10 | ·········· |
| O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneath | 10 | ·········· |
| Your galleys' benches! . . . | 5 | ·/˘/˘ |
| (She swoons: then half-rising.) | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Quick: I must begone | 5 | ···˘/ |
| To the bridal. . . . I have lost my child, my own! | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| (The soldiers close round her.) | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| LEADER. | 2 | /˘ |
| O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, one | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Abhorred kiss, how are thine hosts undone! | 10 | ˘/˘·····˘/ |
| TALTHYBIUS (bending over ANDROMACHE and gradually taking the Child from her). | 18 | ···/˘·····/˘/˘···· |
| Come, Child: let be that clasp of love | 8 | ········ |
| Outwearied! Walk thy ways with me, | 7 | ······· |
| Up to the crested tower, above | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| Thy father's wall . . . where they decree | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Thy soul shall perish.--Hold him: hold!-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Would God some other man might ply | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| These charges, one of duller mould, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And nearer to the iron than I! | 9 | ·/˘··/˘·· |
| HECUBA. | 3 | /˘˘ |
| O Child, they rob us of our own, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Child of my Mighty One outworn: | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Ours, ours thou art!--Can aught be done | 10 | /˘/˘······ |
| Of deeds, can aught of pain be borne, | 8 | ········ |
| To aid thee?--Lo, this beaten head, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| This bleeding bosom! These I spread | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| As gifts to thee. I can thus much. | 8 | ········ |
| Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee! | 8 | ········ |
| What fall yet lacketh, ere we touch | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The last dead deep of misery? | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| (The Child, who has started back from TALTHYBIUS, is taken up by one of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while ANDROMACHE is set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships. TALTHYBIUS goes with the Child.) | 53 | ····/˘······/˘·····/˘·····/˘······˘/··/˘·/··········· |
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