follow; for here come servants from Odysseus to fetch you, for to him you are assigned by lot to be a slave far from your country. Hecuba Ah, woe is me! This surely is the last, the utmost limit, of all my sorrows; I go forth from my land; my city is ablaze with flame. Yet, you aged foot, make one painful struggle to haste, that I may say a farewell to this wretched town. O Troy , that before had such a grand career among barbarian towns, soon will you be bereft of that splendid name. They are burning you, and leading us even now from our land to slavery. O gods! Yet why do I call on the gods? They did not hearken ever before to our call. Come, let us rush into the flames, for to die with my country in its blazing ruin would be a noble death for me. Talthybius Your sorrows drive you frantic, poor lady. Go, lead her away, make no delay, for you must deliver her into the hand of Odysseus, conveying to him his prize. Hecuba Woe! oh woe! Son of Cronos, prince of Phrygia , father of our race, do you behold our sufferings now, unworthy of the stock of Dardanus? Chorus He sees them, but our mighty city is a city no more, and Troy ’s day is done. Hecuba Woe! oh woe! Ilium is ablaze; the homes of Pergamos and its towering walls are now one sheet of flame. Chorus As the smoke soars on wings to heaven, so sinks our city to the ground before the spear. With furious haste both fire and enemy spear devour each house. Hecuba Oh, earth, nourisher of my children! Chorus Ah, ah! Hecuba Hearken, my children, hear your mother’s voice. Chorus You are calling on the dead with voice of lamentation. Hecuba Yes, as I stretch my aged limbs upon the ground, and beat upon the earth with both my hands. Chorus I follow you and kneel, invoking from the nether world my hapless husband. Hecuba I am being dragged and hurried away— Chorus The sorrow, the sorrow of that cry! Hecuba To dwell beneath a master’s roof! Chorus From my own country! This part of the line is assigned to Hecuba in the translation and has been moved to align with the Greek. Hecuba Woe is me! O Priam, Priam, slain, unburied, left without a friend, nothing do you know of my cruel fate. Chorus No, for over his eyes black death has drawn his pall, a pure man slain by the impure. Hecuba Woe for the temples of the gods and for our dear city! Chorus Ah, ah! Hecuba Murderous flame and enemy spear are now your lot. Chorus Soon will you tumble to your own loved soil, and be forgotten. Hecuba And the dust, mounting to heaven on wings like smoke, will rob me of the sight of my home.