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Chorus Leader Avenge yourself, Menelaus, on your wife, as is worthy of your home and ancestors, clear yourself from the reproach of effeminacy at the lips of Hellas, and let your foes see your spirit. Menelaus Your thoughts coincide with mine, that she, without constraint, left my palace, and sought a stranger's bed, and now Cypris is introduced for mere bluster. Away to those who shall stone you, and by your speedy death requite the weary toils of the Achaeans, so that you may learn not to bring shame on me! Helen Oh, by your knees, I implore you, do not impute that heaven-sent affliction to me, or slay me; forgive me! Hecuba Do not betray your allies, whose death this woman caused; on their behalf, and for my children's sake, I entreat you. Menelaus Peace, revered lady; to her I pay no heed. I bid my servants take her away, aboard the ship, in which she is to sail. Hecuba Oh never let her set foot within the same ship as you. Menelaus Why is that? is she heavier than befo
Chorus Oh may the sacred blazing thunderbolt of the Aegean, hurled in might, smite the ship of Menelaus full in the middle, on its way in mid-sea, since he is carrying me away in bitter sorrow from the shores of Ilium to be a slave in Hellas, while the daughter of Zeus still keeps her golden mirrors, delight of maidens' hearts. Never may he reach his home in Laconia or his father's hearth and home, nor come to the town of Pitane Part of Sparta was so called. or the temple of the goddess Athve in Hellas, while the daughter of Zeus still keeps her golden mirrors, delight of maidens' hearts. Never may he reach his home in Laconia or his father's hearth and home, nor come to the town of Pitane Part of Sparta was so called. or the temple of the goddess Athena of “the Brazen House,” a temple on the acropolis. with the gates of bronze, having taken as his captive the one whose marriage brought disgrace on Hellas through its length and breadth and woful anguish on the streams of Sim
You swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium over the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, to the bays of Troy, alas! where you tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; who murdered Priam, the father of fifty children; the cause why I, the unhappy Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this disastrous strand. Oh that I should sit here, over against the tent of Agamemnon! As a slave I am led away from my home, an old woman, while from my head the hair is piteously shorn for grief. Ah! unhappy wives of those armored sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now a smouldering ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that over her fledgelings screams, will begin the strain; not the same as that I once sang to the gods, as I leaned on Priam's staff and beat with my foot in Phrygia
Chorus In that hour around the house I was singing as I danced to that maiden of the hills, the child of Zeus; when there rang along the town a cry of death which filled the homes of Troy, and babies in terror clung about their mothers' skirts, as forth from their ambush came the warrior-band, the handiwork of maiden Pallas. Soon the altars ran with Phrygian blood, and desolation reigned over every bed where young men lay beheaded, a glorious crown for Hellas won, for her, the nurse of youth, but for our Phrygian fatherland a bitter grief.
O my dear Hector, in you I found a husband amply dowered with wisdom, noble birth and fortune, a brave man and a mighty; while you took from my father's house a spotless bride, yourself the first to make this maiden wife. But now death has claimed you, and I am soon to sail to Hellas, a captive doomed to wear the yoke of slavery. Has not then the dead Polyxena, for whom you wail, less evil to bear than I? I have not so much as hope, the last resource of every human heart, nor do I beguile myself with dreams of future bliss, the very thought of which is sweet. Chorus Leader You are in the same plight as I; your lamentations for yourself remind me of my own sad case. Hecuba I never yet have set foot on a ship's deck, though I have seen such things in pictures and know of them from hearsay. Now sailors, if there comes a storm of moderate force, are all eagerness to save themselves by toil; one stands at the tiller, another sets himself to work the sheets, a third meanwhile is balin
Chorus O Telamon, King of Salamis, the feeding-ground of bees, who have your home in a seagirt isle that lies near the holy hills where first Athena made the grey olive branch to appear, a crown for heavenly heads and a glory to happy Athens, you came, you came in knightly brotherhood with that great archer, Alcmena's son, to sack our city Ilium, in days gone by, [on your advent from Hellas];