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Woe is me! Ho! my Thracian spearmen, armed,  a race of knights whom Ares inspires! Ho! Achaeans! sons of Atreus! To you I loudly call; come here, by the gods! Does any one hearken, or will no one help me? Why do you delay? Women, captive women have destroyed me.  A fearful fate is mine; ah me! my hideous outrage! Where can I turn or go?  Shall I take wings and soar aloft to the mansions of the sky, where Orion and Sirius dart from their eyes  a flash as of fire, or shall I, in my misery, plunge to Hades' murky flood?