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Ithaca (Greece) (search for this): book 13, card 494
me dread.’ Yet even then he still was to be feared. For him I have been fertile! Mighty Troy now lies in ruin, and the public woe is ended in one vast calamity. For me alone the woe of Troy still lives. “But lately on the pinnacle of fame, surrounded by my powerful sons-in-law, daughters, and daughters-in-law, and strong in my great husband, I am exiled now, and destitute, and forced from the sad tombs of those I love, to wretched slavery, serving Penelope: who showing me to curious dames of Ithaca, will point and say, while I am bending to my task, ‘Look at that woman who was widely known, the mother of great Hector, once the wife of Priam!’ After so many have been lost, now you, last comfort of a mother's grief, must make atonement on the foeman's tomb. I bore a victim for my enemy. “Why do I live—an iron witted wretch? Why do I linger? Why does cruel age detain me? Why, pernicious deities, thus hold me to this earth, unless you will that I may weep at future funerals? After the
were safe from swords. But you, a woman, felt the deadly steel. That same Achilles, who has given to death so many of your brothers, caused your death, the bane of Troy and the serpent by my nest! When Paris and when Phoebus with their shafts had laid him low, ‘Ah, now at least,’ I said, ‘Achilles will no longer cause me dread.’ Yet even then he still was to be feared. For him I have been fertile! Mighty Troy now lies in ruin, and the public woe is ended in one vast calamity. For me alone the woe of Troy still lives. “But lately on the pinnacle of fame, surrounded by my powerful sons-in-law, daughters, and daughters-in-law, and strong in my great husband, I linger? Why does cruel age detain me? Why, pernicious deities, thus hold me to this earth, unless you will that I may weep at future funerals? After the fall of Troy, who would suppose King Priam could be happy? Blest in death, he has not seen my daughter's dreadful fate. He lost at once his kingdom and his life. “Can I im
“My daughter, what further sorrow can be mine? My daughter you lie dead, I see your wounds— they are indeed my own. Lest I should lose one child of mine without a cruel sword, you have your wound. I thought, because you were a woman, you were safe from swords. But you, a woman, felt the deadly steel. That same Achilles, who has given to death so many of your brothers, caused your death, the bane of Troy and the serpent by my nest! When Paris and when Phoebus with their shafts had laid him low, ‘Ah, now at least,’ I said, ‘Achilles will no longer cause me dread.’ Yet even then he still was to be feared. For him I have been fertile! Mighty Troy now lies in ruin, and the public woe is ended in one vast calamity. For me alone the woe of Troy still lives. “But lately on the pinnacle of fame, surrounded by my powerful sons-in-law, daughters, and daughters-in-law, and strong in my great husband, I am exiled now, and destitute, and forced from the sad tombs of those I love, to wretche