Leader.
Lo, yonder on the heapèd crest
Of a Greek wain, Andromachê,
As one that o'er an unknown sea
Tosseth; and on her wave-borne breast
Her loved one clingeth, Hector's child,
Astyanax . . . O most forlorn
Of women, whither go'st thou, borne
'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piled
Spoils of the dead, and pageantry
Of them that hunted Ilion down?
Aye, richly thy new lord shall crown
The mountain shrines of Thessaly!
Andromache.
[Strophe 1.
Forth to the Greek I go,
Driven as a beast is driven.
Hec.Woe, woe!
And.Nay, mine is woe:
Woe to none other given,
And the song and the crown therefor!
Hec.O Zeus!
And.He hates thee sore!
Hec.Children!
And.No more, no more
To aid thee: their strife is striven!
Hecuba.
[Antistrophe 1.
Troy, Troy is gone!
And.Yea, and her treasure parted.
Hec.Gone, gone, mine own
