Stasimon 4
[Episode]
Come, bring forth, from such store as you have, adornment for the hapless dead, for fortune gives no chance now for lovely offerings; yet of such as I possess, you shall receive these gifts. He is a foolish mortal who thinks his luck secure and so rejoices; for fortune, like a madman in her moods,
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Hecuba
springs towards this man, then towards that; and no one ever experiences the same unchanging luck.
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Chorus Leader
Look! all is ready and they are bringing at your bidding from the spoils of Troy adornment to put upon the dead.
Hecuba
Ah! my child, it is not as victor over your comrades
with horse or bow—customs Troy esteems, without pursuing them to excess—that Hector’s mother decks you now with ornaments from the store that once was yours, though now Helen, whom the gods abhor, has bereft you of your own, yes, and robbed you
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of your life and caused your house to perish root and branch.
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Chorus
Woe! thrice woe! my heart is touched, and you the cause, my mighty prince in days now passed!
Hecuba
About your body now I swathe this Phrygian robe of honor, which should have clad you on your marriage-day,
wedded to the noblest of Asia’s daughters. You too, dear shield of Hector, victorious parent of countless triumphs past, accept your crown, for though you share the dead child’s tomb, death cannot touch you; for you merit honors far beyond those arms the arms of Achilles, which were set up as a prize, and won by Odysseus from Aias.
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that the crafty villain Odysseus won.
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Chorus
Alas! alas! you, O child, shall earth take to her breast, a cause for bitter weeping. Mourn, you mother!
Chorus
Wail for the dead.
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Chorus
Woe indeed for your unending sorrow!
Hecuba
Your wounds in part I will bind up with bandages, a wretched healer in name alone, without reality; but for the rest your father must look to that among the dead.
Chorus
Smite, oh smite upon your head with frequent blow of hand. Woe is me!
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Hecuba
My kind, good friends—
Chorus
Speak out, Hecuba, the word that was on your lips.
Hecuba
It seems the only things that heaven concerns itself about are my troubles and Troy hateful in their eyes above all other cities. In vain did we sacrifice to them. But if the god had not caught us in his grip and plunged us headlong beneath the earth, we should have been unheard of, and not ever sung in Muses’ songs,
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