Thereafter was I nurtured mid bright hopes,
A bride for kings, for whose hand rivalry
Ran high, whose hall and hearth should hail me queen.
And I—ah me!—was Lady of the Dames
Of Ida, cynosure amidst the maidens,355
Peer of the Gods—except that man must die:—
And now a slave! The name alone constrains me
To long for death, so strange it is to me.
More—haply upon brutal-hearted lords
I might light, one that would for silver buy me,—360
Sister of Hector and of many a chief,—
Force me to grind the quern his halls within,
And make me sweep his dwelling, stand before
The loom, while days of bitterness drag on.
And, somewhere bought, some bondslave shall defile365
My couch, accounted once a prize for princes.
Never!—free light mine eyes shall last behold:
To Death my body will I dedicate.
Lead on, Odysseus, lead me to my doom;
For I see no assurance, nor in hope,370
No, nor in day-dreams, of good days to be.
Mother, do thou in no wise hinder me
By word or deed; but thou consent with me
Unto my death, ere shame unmeet befall.
For whoso is not wont to taste of ills375
Chafes, while he bears upon his neck the yoke,
And death for him were happier far than life;
For life ignoble is but crushing toil.
Chorus.
Strange is the impress, clear-stamped upon men,
Of gentle birth, and aye the noble name380
Higher aspires in them that worthily bear it.
