In that hour around the house I was singing as I danced to that maiden of the hills, the child of Zeus; when there rang along the town a cry of death which filled the homes of Troy , and babies in terror clung about their mothers’ skirts, as forth from their ambush came the warrior-band, the handiwork of maiden Pallas. Soon the altars ran with Phrygian blood, and desolation reigned over every bed where young men lay beheaded, a glorious crown for Hellas won, for her, the nurse of youth, but for our Phrygian fatherland a bitter grief. Chorus Leader Hecuba, do you see Andromache advancing here on a foreign chariot? and with her, clasped to her throbbing breast, is her dear Astyanax, Hector’s child. Where are you being carried, unhappy wife, mounted on that chariot, side by side with Hector’s brazen arms and Phrygian spoils of war, with which Achilles’ son will deck the shrines of Phthia on his return from Troy ? Andromache My Achaean masters are leading me away. Hecuba Ah me! Andromache Why do you in note of woe utter the dirge that is mine? Hecuba Alas— Andromache For these sorrows— Hecuba O Zeus— Andromache And for this calamity. Hecuba O my children! Andromache Our day is past. Hecuba Joy is gone, Troy is gone. Andromache Unhappy! Hecuba For my gallant sons Andromache Alas! Hecuba Alas indeed, for my Andromache Misery! Hecuba Piteous the fate Andromache Of our city, Hecuba Smouldering in the smoke. Andromache Come to me, my husband, come to me! Hecuba Ah, hapless wife! you call on my son who lies in the tomb. Andromache Your wife’s defender! Hecuba Oh, you, who before made the Achaeans grieve, eldest of the sons I bore to Priam, take me to your rest in Hades’ halls! Andromache These great griefs—