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Lift your head, unhappy one, from the ground; raise up your neck; this is Troy no more, [100] no longer am I queen in Ilium. Though fortune change, endure your lot; sail with the stream, and follow fortune's tack, do not steer your ship of life against the tide, since chance must guide your course. [105] Ah me! ah me! What else but tears is now my hapless lot, whose country, children, husband, all are lost? Ah! the high-blown pride of ancestors, humbled! how brought to nothing after all! [110] What woe must I suppress, or what declare? [What plaintive dirge shall I awake?] Ah, woe is me! the anguish I suffer lying here stretched upon this hard pallet! [115] O my head, my temples, my side! How I long to turn over, and lie now on this, now on that, to rest my back and spine, while ceaselessly my tearful wail ascends. [120] For even this is music to the wretched, to chant their cheerless dirge of sorrow.

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    • Raphael Kühner, Bernhard Gerth, Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache, KG 1.3.2
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