Hecuba (1070-1107)

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.