The Trojan women of Euripides Part 3

FOURTH WOMAN.

Argos, belike, or Phthia shall it be, Or some lone island of the tossing sea, Far, far from Troy?

HECUBA.

And I the aged, where go I, A winter-frozen bee, a slave Death-shapen, as the stones that lie Hewn on a dead man's grave: The children of mine enemy To foster, or keep watch before The threshold of a master's door, I that was Queen in Troy!

A WOMAN TO ANOTHER.

[_Strophe 2_.

And thou, what tears can tell thy doom?

THE OTHER.

The shuttle still shall flit and change Beneath my fingers, but the loom, Sister, be strange.

ANOTHER (_wildly_).

Look, my dead child! My child, my love, The last look....

ANOTHER.

Oh, there cometh worse.

A Greek's bed in the dark....

ANOTHER.

G.o.d curse That night and all the powers thereof!

ANOTHER.

Or pitchers to and fro to bear To some Pirene[12] on the hill, Where the proud water craveth still Its broken-hearted minister.

ANOTHER.

G.o.d guide me yet to Theseus' land[13], The gentle land, the famed afar....

ANOTHER.

But not the hungry foam--Ah, never!-- Of fierce Eurotas, Helen's river, To bow to Menelaus' hand, That wasted Troy with war!

A WOMAN.

[_Antistrophe 2_.

They told us of a land high-born, Where glimmers round Olympus' roots A lordly river, red with corn And burdened fruits.

ANOTHER.

Aye, that were next in my desire To Athens, where good spirits dwell....

ANOTHER.

Or Aetna's breast, the deeps of fire That front the Tyrian's Citadel: First mother, she, of Sicily And mighty mountains: fame hath told Their crowns of goodness manifold....

ANOTHER.

And, close beyond the narrowing sea, A sister land, where float enchanted Ionian summits, wave on wave, And Crathis of the burning tresses Makes red the happy vale, and blesses With gold of fountains spirit-haunted Homes of true men and brave!

LEADER.

But lo, who cometh: and his lips Grave with the weight of dooms unknown: A Herald from the Grecian ships.

Swift comes he, hot-foot to be done And finished. Ah, what bringeth he Of news or judgment? Slaves are we, Spoils that the Greek hath won!

[TALTHYBIUS[14], _followed by some Soldiers, enters from the left_.

TALTHYBIUS.

Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossed Thy plain with tidings from the h.e.l.lene host.

'Tis I, Talthybius.... Nay, of ancient use Thou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news.

HECUBA.

Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here, Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear!

TALTHYBIUS.

The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared.

HECUBA.

What lord, what land.... Ah me, Phthia or Thebes, or sea-worn Thessaly?

TALTHYBIUS.

Each hath her own. Ye go not in one herd.

HECUBA.

Say then what lot hath any? What of joy Falls, or can fall on any child of Troy?

TALTHYBIUS.

I know: but make thy questions severally.

HECUBA.