Page:Trojan Women (Murray 1905).djvu/21

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To cry, ah, not the cry men heard

In Ilion, not the songs of old,

That echoed when my hand was true

On Priam's sceptre, and my feet

Touched on the stone one signal beat,

And out the Dardan music rolled;

And Troy's great Gods gave ear thereto.

How say'st thou? Whither moves thy cry,

Thy bitter cry? Behind our door

We heard thy heavy heart outpour

Its sorrow: and there shivered by

Fear and a quick sob shaken

From prisoned hearts that shall be free no more!

.

Child, 'tis the ships that stir upon the shore

.

The ships, the ships awaken!

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Dear God, what would they? Overseas

Bear me afar to strange cities?

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Nay, child, I know not. Dreams are these,

Fears of the hope-forsaken.

Awake, O daughters of affliction, wake

And learn your lots! Even now the Argives break

Their camp for sailing!