Page:Trojan Women (Murray 1905).djvu/16

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For this Ilion's sake,

Whereon we tread, I seek thee, and would make

My hand as thine.

Hath that old hate and deep

Failed, where she lieth in her ashen sleep?

Thou pitiest her?

Speak first; wilt thou be one

In heart with me and hand till all be done?

Yea; but lay bare thy heart. For this land's sake

Thou comest, not for Hellas?

I would make

Mine ancient enemies laugh for joy, and bring

On these Greek ships a bitter homecoming.

Swift is thy spirit's path, and strange withal,

And hot thy love and hate, where'er they fall.

A deadly wrong they did me, yea within

Mine holy place: thou knowest?