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Woe, woe is me! What words, [155] or cries, or lamentations can I utter? Ah me! for the sorrows of my closing years! for slavery too cruel to endure, to bear! Woe, woe is me! What champion do I have? Family, [160] and city—where are they? Aged Priam is no more; no more my children now. Which way am I to go, either this or that? Where shall I turn my steps? Where is any god or divine power to come to my aid? [165] Ah, Trojan maids! bringers of evil tidings! Messengers of woe! you have made an end, an utter end of me; life on earth has no more charm for me. Oh! luckless steps, lead on, [170] guide your aged mistress here to the tent. My child, daughter of a most wretched woman, come forth; listen to your mother's voice. [175] [so that you may know the hideous rumor I now hear about your life, my child.]

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