Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/282

246 It shall mock thee, thy wayfaring's hope; to the Unseen Land,

To the place of the dead hath it drawn thee, O wretch undone!

By the hand not of warriors, thou hero, shalt thou be slain.

Ah, I am blinded of mine eyes' light—wretch!

Heard ye the yell of yonder Thracian, friends?

Ah me, my children!—ah the awful murder!

Friends, strange grim work is wrought in yonder tent.

Surely by swift feet shall ye not escape!

My blows shall rive this dwelling's inmost parts!

Lo, crasheth there swift bolt of giant hand.

Shall we burst in?—the peril summoneth us

To help of Hecuba and the Trojan dames.

Enter Hecuba.

Smite on—spare not—ay, batter down the doors!

Ne'er shalt thou set bright vision in thine orbs,

Nor living see thy sons whom I have slain.