Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/258

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Woe!—what wouldst say? Not as to one death-doomed

Cam'st thou to us, but all to publish ills?

Child, thou hast perished, from thy mother torn!

Childless, as touching thee, am I—ah wretch!—

How did ye slay her?—how?—with reverence meet,

Or with brute outrage, as men slay a foe,

Ancient? Tell on, though all unsweet thy tale.

Twofold tear-tribute wouldst thou win from me

In pity for thy child. Mine eyes shall weep

The tale, as by the grave when she was dying.

There met was all Achaia's warrior-host

Thronged at the grave to see thy daughter slain.

Then took Achilles' son Polyxena's hand,

And on the mound's height set her: I stood by.

And followed of the Achaians chosen youths

Whose hands should curb the strugglings of thy lamb.

Then taking 'twixt his hands a chalice brimmed,

Pure gold, Achilles' son to his dead sire

Drink-offerings poured, and signed me to proclaim

Siience unto the whole Achaian host.

By him I stood, and in the midst thus cried:

"Silence, Achaians! Hushed be all the host!

Peace!—not a word!"—so breathless stilled the folk.

Accept from me these drops propitiatory,

Ghost-raising. Draw thou nigh to drink pure blood

Dark-welling from a maid. We give it thee,

The host and I. Gracious to us be thou: