Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/356

338 That mighty city, though in ruins laid, He starts with fear; and though he plainly sees His foe o'ercome, he scarce can comprehend That she amid be o'ercome. The Dardan spoil Is heaped on high, a booty vast, which Greece, In all her thousand ships, can scarce bestow. Now witness, ye divinities whose face Was set against our state, my fatherland In ashes laid; and thou, proud king of Troy, Who in thy city's overthrow hast found A fitting tomb; thou shade of mighty Hector, In whose proud strength abiding, Ilium stood; Likewise ye thronging ghosts, my children all, But lesser shades: whatever ill has come; Whatever Phoebus' bride with frenzied speech, Though all discredited, hath prophesied; I, Hecuba, myself foresaw, what time, With unborn child o'erweighed, I dreamed a dream That I had borne a flaming brand. And though, Cassandra-like, I told my fears, my warnings, Like our Cassandra's words in after time, Were all in vain. 'Tis not the Ithacan, Nor yet his trusty comrade of the night, Nor that false traitor, Sinon, who has cast The flaming brands that wrought our overthrow: Mine is the fire—'tis by my brands ye burn. But why dost thou bewail the city's fall, With ancient gossip's prattle? Turn thy mind, Unhappy one, to nearer woes than these. Troy's fall, though sad, is ancient story now. I saw the horrid slaughter of the king, Defiling the holy altar with its stain, When bold Aeacides, with savage hand Entwined in helpless Priam's hoary locks, Drew back his sacred head, and thrust the sword Hilt-buried in his unresisting side. And when he plucked the deep-driven weapon back, So weak and bloodless was our aged king, The deadly blade came almost stainless forth.