Hecuba.
Woe!—what wouldst say? Not as to one death-doomed
Cam'st thou to us, but all to publish ills?
Child, thou hast perished, from thy mother torn!
Childless, as touching thee, am I—ah wretch!—
How did ye slay her?—how?—with reverence meet,515
Or with brute outrage, as men slay a foe,
Ancient? Tell on, though all unsweet thy tale.
Talthybius.
Twofold tear-tribute wouldst thou win from me
In pity for thy child. Mine eyes shall weep
The tale, as by the grave when she was dying.520
There met was all Achaia's warrior-host
Thronged at the grave to see thy daughter slain.
Then took Achilles' son Polyxena's hand,
And on the mound's height set her: I stood by.
And followed of the Achaians chosen youths525
Whose hands should curb the strugglings of thy lamb.
Then taking 'twixt his hands a chalice brimmed,
Pure gold, Achilles' son to his dead sire
Drink-offerings poured, and signed me to proclaim
Siience unto the whole Achaian host.530
By him I stood, and in the midst thus cried:
"Silence, Achaians! Hushed be all the host!
Peace!—not a word!"—so breathless stilled the folk.
Then spake the son of Peleus: "Father mine,[errata 1]
Accept from me these drops propitiatory,535
Ghost-raising. Draw thou nigh to drink pure blood
Dark-welling from a maid. We give it thee,
The host and I. Gracious to us be thou:
