Dear mouth, so often full of words of pride, death has closed you, and you have not kept the promise you made, when nestling in my robe, Ah, mother, many a lock of my hair I will cut off for you, and to your tomb will lead my troops of friends, taking a fond farewell of you. But now I am not to be buried by you, but you, the younger one, a wretched corpse, are buried by me, on whom old age has come with loss of home and children. Ah me, those kisses numberless, the nurture that I gave to you, those sleepless nights—they all are lost! What shall the bard inscribe upon your tomb about you? Argives once for fear of him slew this child? Foul shame should that inscription be to Hellas. O child, though you have no part in all your father’s wealth, yet shall you have his brazen shield in which to find a tomb. Ah! shield that kept safe the comely arm of Hector, now have you lost your valiant keeper! How fair upon your handle lies his imprint, and on the rim that circles around are marks of sweat, that trickled often from Hector’s brow as he pressed it against his beard in battle’s stress. Come, bring forth, from such store as you have, adornment for the hapless dead, for fortune gives no chance now for lovely offerings; yet of such as I possess, you shall receive these gifts. He is a foolish mortal who thinks his luck secure and so rejoices; for fortune, like a madman in her moods, springs towards this man, then towards that; and no one ever experiences the same unchanging luck.Chorus LeaderLook! all is ready and they are bringing at your bidding from the spoils of Troy adornment to put upon the dead.HecubaAh! my child, it is not as victor over your comrades with horse or bow—customs Troy esteems, without pursuing them to excess—that Hector’s mother decks you now with ornaments from the store that once was yours, though now Helen, whom the gods abhor, has bereft you of your own, yes, and robbed you of your life and caused your house to perish root and branch.

ChorusWoe! thrice woe! my heart is touched, and you the cause, my mighty prince in days now passed!HecubaAbout your body now I swathe this Phrygian robe of honor, which should have clad you on your marriage-day, wedded to the noblest of Asia’s daughters. You too, dear shield of Hector, victorious parent of countless triumphs past, accept your crown, for though you share the dead child’s tomb, death cannot touch you; for you merit honors far beyond those arms the arms of Achilles, which were set up as a prize, and won by Odysseus from Aias.that the crafty villain Odysseus won.

ChorusAlas! alas! you, O child, shall earth take to her breast, a cause for bitter weeping. Mourn, you mother!HecubaAlas!ChorusWail for the dead.HecubaWoe is me!ChorusWoe indeed for your unending sorrow!HecubaYour wounds in part I will bind up with bandages, a wretched healer in name alone, without reality; but for the rest your father must look to that among the dead.ChorusSmite, oh smite upon your head with frequent blow of hand. Woe is me!HecubaMy kind, good friends—ChorusSpeak out, Hecuba, the word that was on your lips.

HecubaIt seems the only things that heaven concerns itself about are my troubles and Troy hateful in their eyes above all other cities. In vain did we sacrifice to them. But if the god had not caught us in his grip and plunged us headlong beneath the earth, we should have been unheard of, and not ever sung in Muses’ songs, furnishing to bards of after-days a subject for their minstrelsy. Go, bury now in his poor tomb the dead, wreathed all duly as befits a corpse. And yet I think it makes little difference to the dead, if they get a gorgeous funeral; but this is a cause of idle pride to the living. The corpse is carried off to burial.

Chorus LeaderAlas! for your unhappy mother, who over your corpse has closed the high hopes of her life! Born of a noble stock, counted most happy in your lot, ah! what a tragic death is yours! Ha! who are those I see on yonder pinnacles darting to and fro with flaming torches in their hands? Some new calamity wiII soon alight on Troy.Soldiers are seen on the battlements of Troy, torch in hand.TalthybiusYou captains whose allotted task it is to fire this town of Priam, to you I speak. No longer keep the fire-brand idle in your hands, but launch the flame, that when we have destroyed the city of Ilium we may set forth in gladness on our homeward voyage from Troy. And you, you sons of Troy, to let my orders take at once a double form—start for the Achaean ships for your departure from the land, as soon as the leaders of the army blow loud and clear upon the trumpet. And you, unhappy grey-haired lady,