is not this a sight to fill you with wonder, and upset your hopes? Hecuba Ah me! it is the corpse of my son Polydorus I behold, whom the Thracian man was keeping safe for me in his halls. Alas! this is the end of all; my life is over. chanting O my son, my son, alas! I now begin the laments, a frantic strain I learned just now from some avenging fiend. Maid-servant What! so you knew your son’s fate, poor lady? Hecuba I cannot, cannot credit this fresh sight I see. chanting One woe succeeds to another; no day will ever pass without groans and tears. Chorus Leader Alas! poor lady, our sufferings are cruel indeed. Hecuba chanting O my son, child of a luckless mother, what was the manner of your death? by what fate do you lie here? by whose hands? Maid-servant I do not know. I found him on the sea-shore.