Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/359

Rh Hecuba: Our hero, for thee the blows are descending, On arms and shoulders that stream with our blood; For thee our brows endure rough strokes, And our breasts are mangled with pitiless hands. Now flow the old wounds, reopened anew, That bled at thy death, the chief cause of our sorrow. O prop of our country, delayer of fate, Our Ilium's bulwark, our mighty defender, Our strong tower wast thou; secure on thy shoulders, Our city stood leaning through ten weary years. By thy power supported, with thee has she fallen, Our country and Hector united in doom. Now turn to another the tide of your mourning; Let Priam receive his due meed of your tears. Chorus: Receive our lamentings, O Phrygia's ruler; We weep for thy death, who wast twice overcome. Naught once did Troy suffer while thou didst rule o'er her: Twice fell her proud walls from the blows of the Grecians, And twice was she pierced by great Hercules' darts. Now all of our Hecuba's offspring have perished, And the proud band of kings who came to our aid; Thy death is the last—our father, our ruler— Struck down as a victim to Jove the Almighty, All helpless and lone, a mute corpse on the ground. Hecuba: Nay, give to another your tears and your mourning, And weep not the death of Priam our king. But call ye him blessed the rather; for free, To the deep world of shadows he travels, and never Upon his bowed neck the base yoke shall he bear. No proud sons of Atreus shall call him their captive, No crafty Ulysses his eyes shall behold; As boast of their triumphs he shall not bear onward In humble submission their prizes of war. Those free, royal hands to the scepter accustomed, Shall never be bound at his back like a slave, As he follows the car of the triumphing chieftain, A king led in fetters, the gaze of the town.