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Chorus So then you have delivered into Achaea's hand, O Zeus, your shrine in Ilium and your fragrant altar, the offerings of burnt sacrifice with smoke of myrrh to heaven uprising, and holy Pergamos, and glens of Ida tangled with the ivy's growth, where rills of melting snow pour down their flood, a holy sun-lit land that bounds the world and takes the god's first rays!
Hecuba Woe! oh woe! Son of Cronos, prince of Phrygia, father of our race, do you behold our sufferings now, unworthy of the stock of Dardanus? Chorus He sees them, but our mighty city is a city no more, and Troy's day is done. Hecuba Woe! oh woe! Ilium is ablaze; the homes of Pergamos and its towering walls are now one sheet of flame. Chorus As the smoke soars on wings to heaven, so sinks our city to the ground before the spear. With furious haste both fire and enemy spear devour each house.