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THE TROJAN WOMEN
21
Fourth Woman.
Argos, belike, or Phthia shall it be,
Or some lone island of the tossing sea,
Far, far from Troy?
Hecuba.
And I the aged, where go I,
A winter-frozen bee, a slave
Death-shapen, as the stones that lie
Hewn on a dead man's grave:
The children of mine enemy
To foster, or keep watch before
The threshold of a master's door,
I that was Queen in Troy!
A Woman to Another.
[Strophe 2.
And thou, what tears can tell thy doom?
The Other.
The shuttle still shall flit and change
Beneath my fingers, but the loom,
Sister, be strange.
Another (wildly).
Look, my dead child! My child, my love,
The last look. . . .
Another. Oh, there cometh worse.
A Greek's bed in the dark. . . .
Another. God curse
That night and all the powers thereof!
