Hecuba (1041-1127)

Hark! how he launches a bolt with weighty hand! Shall we force an entry? The crisis calls on us to aid Hecuba and the Trojan women.

Strike on, spare not, burst the doors!

you shall never replace bright vision in your eyes or see your children, whom I have slain, alive again.

What! have you foiled the Thracian stranger and is he in your power, mistress? Is all your threat now brought to pass?

A moment, and you shall see him before the tent,

blind, advancing with blind random step; and the bodies of his two children whom I with my brave women of Troy killed; he has paid me the penalty; here he comes from the tent, as you see. I will withdraw out of his path and stand aside

from the hot fury of the Thracian, my deadly foe.

Woe is me! where can I go, where halt, or turn? shall I crawl like a wild four-footed beast on their track, as my reward? Which path shall I take first,

this or that, eager as I am to clutch those Trojan murderesses that have destroyed me? You wretched, cursed daughters

of Phrygia! to what corner have you fled cowering before me? O sun-god, would you could heal, could heal my bleeding eyes, ridding me of my blindness!

Ha! hush! I catch the stealthy footsteps of the women here. Where can I dart on them and gorge on their flesh and bones, making for myself a wild beasts’ meal, inflicting mutilation

in requital of their outrage on me? Ah, woe is me! where am I rushing, leaving my children unguarded for maenads of hell to mangle, to be murdered and ruthlessly cast forth upon the hills, a feast of blood for dogs?

Where shall I stay or turn my steps, like a ship that lies anchored at sea, gathering close my linen robe and rushing to that chamber of death, to guard my children?

Woe to you! what grievous outrage has been done to you! a fearful penalty for your foul deed has the deity imposed, whoever he is whose hand is heavy upon you.

Woe is me! Ho! my Thracian spearmen, armed,

a race of knights whom Ares inspires! Ho! Achaeans! sons of Atreus! To you I loudly call; come here, by the gods! Does any one hearken, or will no one help me? Why do you delay? Women, captive women have destroyed me.

A fearful fate is mine; ah me! my hideous outrage! Where can I turn or go?

Shall I take wings and soar aloft to the mansions of the sky, where Orion and Sirius dart from their eyes

a flash as of fire, or shall I, in my misery, plunge to Hades’ murky flood?

It is pardonable, for a man suffering from evils too heavy to bear, to rid himself of a wretched existence.

Hearing a cry I have come here; for Echo,

child of the mountain-rock, has sent her voice loud-ringing through the army, causing a tumult. If we had not known that Troy’s towers were levelled by the might of Hellas, this uproar would have caused no slight panic.

Best of friends! for by your voice I know you,

Agamemnon; do you see my piteous state?

What! hapless Polymestor, who has stricken you? who has blinded your eyes, staining the pupils with blood? who has slain these children? whoever he was, fierce must have been his wrath against you and your children.

Hecuba, helped by the captive women, has destroyed me—not destroyed, far worse than that.

What do you say? Was it you that did this deed, as he says? You, Hecuba, that have ventured on this inconceivable daring?

Ha! what is that? is she somewhere near?

Show me, tell me where, that I may grip her in my hands and rend her limb from limb, bespattering her with gore.

You creature, what are you about?