for want of a servant-maid’s sacrifice, nor have it said by any of the dead that stand beside Persephone that the Danaids have left the plains of Troy without gratitude for their companions who died for Hellas . Odysseus will be here in an instant, to drag the tender maiden from your breast and tear her from your aged arms. Go to the temples, go to the altars, at Agamemnon’s knees sit as a suppliant! Invoke the gods, both those in heaven and those beneath the earth. For either your prayers will avail to spare you the loss of your unhappy child, or you must see your daughter fall before the tomb, her crimson blood spurting in deep dark jets from her neck encircled with gold.
 Hecuba Woe, woe is me! What words, or cries, or lamentations can I utter? Ah me! for the sorrows of my closing years! for slavery too cruel to endure, to bear! Woe, woe is me! What champion do I have? Family, and city—where are they? Aged Priam is no more; no more my children now. Which way am I to go, either this or that? Where shall I turn my steps? Where is any god or divine power to come to my aid? Ah, Trojan maids! bringers of evil tidings! Messengers of woe! you have made an end, an utter end of me; life on earth has no more charm for me. Oh! luckless steps, lead on, guide your aged mistress here to the tent. My child, daughter of a most wretched woman, come forth; listen to your mother’s voice. so that you may know the hideous rumor I now hear about your life, my child. Polyxena enters from the tent. Polyxena Oh! mother, mother, why do you call so loud? what news is it you have proclaimed, scaring me, like a cowering bird, from my chamber by this alarm? Hecuba Alas, my daughter! Polyxena Why this ominous address? it means sorrow for me. Hecuba Woe for your life! Polyxena Tell it, hide it no longer. Ah mother! how I dread, I dread the import of your loud laments. Hecuba Ah my daughter! a luckless mother’s child! Polyxena Why do you tell me this? Hecuba The Argives with one consent are eager for your sacrifice to the son of Peleus at his tomb. Polyxena Ah! my mother! how can you speak of such a dire mischance? Tell me all, mother, yes all! Hecuba It is an ill-boding rumor I tell, my child; they bring me word that sentence is passed upon your life by the Argives’ vote. Polyxena Alas, for your cruel sufferings, my persecuted mother! woe for your life of grief! What grievous outrage has some fiend sent on you, hateful, horrible? No more shall I your daughter share your bondage, hapless youth on hapless age attending. For you, alas! will see me, your hapless child, torn from your arms like a calf of the hills, and sent beneath the darkness of the earth with severed throat for Hades, where with the dead shall I be laid, ah me! For your unhappiness I weep with plaintive wail, mother; but for my own life, its ruin and its outrage, never a tear I shed; no, death has become to me a happier lot than life. Chorus Leader See where Odysseus comes in haste, to announce some fresh command to you, Hecuba. Odysseus enters with his attendants. Odysseus Lady, I think you know already the intention of the army, and the vote that has been passed; still I will declare it.