Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/386

368 A fitting time to talk of marriages! But who would dare refuse? When Helen bids, Who would not hasten to the wedding rites? Thou common curse of Greeks and Trojans too, Thou fatal scourge, thou wasting pestilence, Dost thou behold where buried heroes lie? And dost thou see these poor unburied bones That everywhere lie whitening on the plain? This desolation hath thy marriage wrought. For thee the blood of Asia flowed; for thee Did Europe's heroes bleed, whilst thou, well pleased, Didst look abroad upon the warring kings, Who perished in thy cause, thou faithless jade! There! get thee gone! prepare thy marriages! What need of torches for the solemn rites? What need of fire? Troy's self shall furnish forth The ruddy flames to light her latest bride. Then come, my sisters, come and celebrate Lord Pyrrhus' nuptial day in fitting wise: With groans and wailing let the scene resound. Helen: Though mighty grief is ne'er by reason swayed, And oft the very comrades of its woe, Unreasoning, hates; yet can I bear to stand And plead my cause before a hostile judge, For I have suffered heavier ills than these. Behold, Andromache doth Hector mourn, And Hecuba her Priam; each may claim The public sympathy; but Helena Alone must weep for Paris secretly. Is slavery's yoke so heavy and so hard To bear? This grievous yoke have I endured, Ten years a captive. Doth your Ilium lie In dust, your gods o'erthrown? I know 'tis hard To lose one's native land, but harder still To fear the land that gave you birth. Your woes Are lightened by community of grief; But friend and foe are foes alike to me. Long since, the fated lot has hung in doubt That sorts you to your lords; but I alone,