Parodos
[Choral 1]
woe to us Trojan women, soon to hear of our troubles: Come out of the house, the Argives are preparing to return.
165
Hecuba
Oh! please do not bid the
wild Cassandra leave her chamber, the frantic prophetess, for Argives to insult, nor to my griefs add yet another. Woe to you, ill-fated Troy, Troy, your sun is set; and woe to your unhappy children, living and dead alike,
170
who are leaving you behind!
175
Second Semi-Chorus
With trembling step, alas! I leave this tent of Agamemnon to learn of you, my royal mistress, whether the Argives have resolved to take my wretched life, or
whether the sailors at the prow are making ready to ply their oars.
180
Hecuba
My child, your wakeful heart!
Second Semi-Chorus
I have come, stricken with terror. Has a herald from the Danaids already arrived?
To whom am I, poor captive, given as a slave?
185
Hecuba
You are not far from being allotted now.
Second Semi-Chorus
Alas! What man of Argos or Phthia will bear me in sorrow far from Troy, to his home, or to some island fastness?
Hecuba
Ah! ah! Whose slave shall I become in my old age? in what land? a poor old drone, the wretched copy of a corpse, alas! set to keep the gate
190
or tend their children, I who once held royal rank in Troy.
195
[Choral 2]
Alas, alas! What piteous dirge will you devise to mourn the outrage done you? No more through Ida’s looms
Chorus
shall I ply the shuttle to and fro. I look my last on my children’s bodies, my last; I shall endure surpassing misery, it may be as the unwilling bride of some Hellene (perish the night and fortune that brings me to this!);
200
it may be as a wretched slave from Peirene’s sacred fount I shall draw their store of water. Oh! may it be ours to come to Theseus’ famous realm, a land of joy.
205
Never, never let me see Eurotas’ swirling tide, hateful home of Helen, there to meet and be the slave of Menelaus, whose hand laid Troy waste!
210
That holy land by Peneus fed,
nestling in all its beauty at Olympus’ foot, is said, so have I heard, to be a very granary of wealth and teeming fruitfulness; next to the sacred soil of Theseus, I could wish to reach that land.
215
They tell me too Hephaestus’ home, beneath the shadow of Aetna, fronting Phoenicia, the mother of Sicilian hills, is famous for the crowns it gives to valor. Or may I find a home on that shore which lies very near
220
