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The Tragedies of Seneca

The ghost doth bid that thou be sacrificed,
And that thy blood be spilt upon his tomb;
That thus thy parting soul may mate with his.
Within the borders of Elysium.
Andromache [observing the joy with which Polyxena receives these
tidings]: Behold, her soul leaps up with mighty joy 945

At thought of death; she seeks the festal robes
Wherewith to deck her for the bridal rites,
And yields her golden locks to Helen's hands.
Who late accounted wedlock worse than death,
Now hails her death with more than bridal joy.
[Observing Hecuba.]
But see, her mother stands amazed with woe,
Her spirit staggers 'neath the stroke of fate. 950
[To Hecuba.]
Arise, O wretched queen, stand firm in soul,
And gird thy fainting spirit up.
[Hecuba falls fainting.]
Behold,
By what a slender thread her feeble life
Is held to earth. How slight the barrier now
That doth remove our Hecuba from joy.
But no, she breathes, alas! she lives again,
For from the wretched, death is first to flee.
Hecuba [reviving]: Still dost thou live, Achilles, for our bane? 955
Dost still prolong the bitter strife? O Paris,
Thine arrow should have dealt a deadlier wound.
For see, the very ashes and the tomb
Of that insatiate chieftain still do thirst
For Trojan blood. But lately did a throng
Of happy children press me round; and I,
With fond endearment and the sweet caress
That mother love would shower upon them all,
Was oft forespent. But now this child alone 960
Is left, my comrade, comfort of my woes,
For whom to pray, in whom to rest my soul.
Hers are the only lips still left to me
To call me mother. Poor, unhappy soul,
Why dost thou cling so stubbornly to life?