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—
Hecuba Unhappy one, bitter these woes to bear.
Andromache Our city ruined—
Hecuba And sorrow to sorrow added.
Andromache Through the will of angry heaven, since the day that son of yours escaped death, he that for a hated bride brought destruction on the Trojan citadel. There lie the gory corpses of the slain by the shrine of Pallas for vultures to carry off; and Troy has come to slavery’s yoke.
Hecuba O my country, O unhappy land—
Andromache I weep for you now left behind.
Hecuba Now do you behold your piteous end.
Andromache And you, my house, where I gave birth.