Second Semi-Chorus
With trembling step, alas! I leave this tent of Agamemnon to learn of you, my royal mistress, whether the Argives have resolved to take my wretched life, or [180] whether the sailors at the prow are making ready to ply their oars. Hecuba
My child, your wakeful heart! Second Semi-Chorus
I have come, stricken with terror. Has a herald from the Danaids already arrived? [185] To whom am I, poor captive, given as a slave? Hecuba
You are not far from being allotted now. Second Semi-Chorus
Alas! What man of Argos or Phthia will bear me in sorrow far from Troy, to his home, or to some island fastness? Hecuba
[190] Ah! ah! Whose slave shall I become in my old age? in what land? a poor old drone, the wretched copy of a corpse, alas! set to keep the gate [195] or tend their children, I who once held royal rank in Troy.
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