HKB
CHORUS[28]. [Strophe.
O Muse, be near me now, and make A strange song for Ilion's sake, Till a tone of tears be about mine ears And out of my lips a music break For Troy, Troy, and the end of the years: When the wheels of the Greek above me pressed, And the mighty horse-hoofs beat my breast; And all around were the Argive spears A towering Steed of golden rein-- O gold without, dark steel within!-- Ramped in our gates; and all the plain Lay silent where the Greeks had been. And a cry broke from all the folk Gathered above on Ilion's rock: "Up, up, O fear is over now! To Pallas, who hath saved us living, To Pallas bear this victory-vow!" Then rose the old man from his room, The merry damsel left her loom, And each bound death about his brow With minstrelsy and high thanksgiving!
[Antistrophe.
O, swift were all in Troy that day, And girt them to the portal-way, Marvelling at that mountain Thing Smooth-carven, where the Argives lay, And wrath, and Ilion's vanquishing: Meet gift for her that spareth not[29], Heaven's yokeless Rider. Up they brought Through the steep gates her offering: Like some dark ship that climbs the shore On straining cables, up, where stood Her marble throne, her hallowed floor, Who lusted for her people's blood.
A very weariness of joy Fell with the evening over Troy: And lutes of Afric mingled there With Phrygian songs: and many a maiden, With white feet glancing light as air, Made happy music through the gloom: And fires on many an inward room All night broad-flashing, flung their glare On laughing eyes and slumber-laden.
A MAIDEN.
I was among the dancers there To Artemis[30], and glorying sang Her of the Hills, the Maid most fair, Daughter of Zeus: and, lo, there rang A shout out of the dark, and fell Deathlike from street to street, and made A silence in the citadel: And a child cried, as if afraid, And hid him in his mother's veil. Then stalked the Slayer from his den, The hand of Pallas served her well! O blood, blood of Troy was deep About the streets and altars then: And in the wedded rooms of sleep, Lo, the desolate dark alone, And headless things, men stumbled on.
And forth, lo, the women go, The crown of War, the crown of Woe, To bear the children of the foe And weep, weep, for Ilion!
[As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms.
LEADER.
Lo, yonder on the heapèd crest Of a Greek wain, Andromachê[31], As one that o'er an unknown sea Tosseth; and on her wave-borne breast Her loved one clingeth, Hector's child, Astyanax.... O most forlorn Of women, whither go'st thou, borne 'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piled Spoils of the dead, and pageantry Of them that hunted Ilion down? Aye, richly thy new lord shall crown The mountain shrines of Thessaly!
ANDROMACHE [Strophe I.
Forth to the Greek I go, Driven as a beast is driven.
HEC. Woe, woe!
AND. Nay, mine is woe: Woe to none other given, And the song and the crown therefor!
HEC. O Zeus!
AND. He hates thee sore!
HEC. Children!
AND. No more, no more To aid thee: their strife is striven!
HECUBA. [Antistrophe I.
Troy, Troy is gone!
AND. Yea, and her treasure parted.
HEC. Gone, gone, mine own Children, the noble-hearted!
AND. Sing sorrow....
HEC. For me, for me!
AND. Sing for the Great City, That falleth, falleth to be A shadow, a fire departed.
ANDROMACHE.
[Strophe 2.
Come to me, O my lover!
HEC. The dark shroudeth him over, My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine!
AND. Make of thine arms my cover!
HECUBA.
[Antistrophe 2.
O thou whose wound was deepest, Thou that my children keepest, Priam, Priam, O age-worn King, Gather me where thou sleepest.