shrieks? What mean thy words? For I heard thy piteous wail echo through the building, and a pang of terror shoots through each captive Trojan's breast, as pent within these walls they mourn their slavish lot.
Hec. My child, e'en now the hands of Argive rowers are busy at their ships.
1st Half-Cho. Ah, woe is me! what is their intent? Will they really bear me hence in sorrow from my country in their fleet?
Hec. I know not, though I guess our doom.
1st Half-Cho. O misery! woe to us Trojan dames, soon to hear the order given, "Come forth from the house; the Argives are preparing to return."
Hec. Oh! do not bid the wild Cassandra leave her chamber, the frantic prophetess, for Argives to insult, nor to my griefs add yet another. Woe to thee, ill-fated Troy, thy sun is set; and woe to thy unhappy children, quick and dead alike, who are leaving thee behind!
2nd Half-Cho. With trembling step, alas! I leave this tent of Agamemnon to learn of thee, my royal mistress, whether the Argives have resolved to take my wretched life, whether the sailors at the prow are making ready to ply their oars.
Hec. My child, a fearful dread[1] seized on my wakeful heart and sent me hither.
2nd Half-Cho. Hath a herald from the Danai already come? To whom am I, poor captive, given as a slave?
Hec. Thou art not far from being allotted now.
2nd Half-Cho. Woe worth the day! What Argive or Phthiotian chief will bear me far from Troy, alas! unto his home, or haply to some island fastness?
Hec. Ah me! ah me! Whose slave shall I become in my old age? in what far clime? a poor old drone, the
- ↑ Hartung after the Schol. reads as follows, ὀρθρεύου σὰν ψυχάν᾽ ἐκπληχθεῖσ᾽ ἦλθες φρίκᾳ.
