The Trojan women of Euripides | Page 6

nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed.
HECUBA.

The sainted of Apollo? And her own Prize that God promised Out of
the golden clouds, her virgin crown?...
TALTHYBIUS.
He loved her for that same strange holiness.
HECUBA.
Daughter, away, away, Cast all away, The haunted Keys[15], the lonely
stole's array That kept thy body like a sacred place!
TALTHYBIUS.
Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiled On such a maid?
HECUBA.
What of that other child Ye reft from me but now?
TALTHYBIUS (speaking with some constraint).
Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou?
HECUBA.
The same. What man now hath her, or what doom?
TALTHYBIUS.
She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb.
HECUBA.
To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this?... Speak, Friend? What
fashion of the laws of Greece?
TALTHYBIUS.

Count thy maid happy! She hath naught of ill To fear....
HECUBA.
What meanest thou? She liveth still?
TALTHYBIUS.
I mean, she hath one toil[16] that holds her free From all toil else.
HECUBA.
What of Andromache, Wife of mine iron-hearted Hector, where
Journeyeth she?
TALTHYBIUS.
Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, hath taken her.
HECUBA.
And I, whose slave am I, The shaken head, the arm that creepeth by,
Staff-crutchèd, like to fall?
TALTHYBIUS.
Odysseus[17], Ithaca's king, hath thee for thrall.
HECUBA.
Beat, beat the crownless head: Rend the cheek till the tears run red! A
lying man and a pitiless Shall be lord of me, a heart full-flown With
scorn of righteousness: O heart of a beast where law is none, Where all
things change so that lust be fed, The oath and the deed, the right and
the wrong, Even the hate of the forked tongue: Even the hate turns and
is cold, False as the love that was false of old!
O Women of Troy, weep for me! Yea, I am gone: I am gone my ways.
Mine is the crown of misery, The bitterest day of all our days.

LEADER.
Thy fate thou knowest, Queen: but I know not What lord of South or
North has won my lot.
TALTHYBIUS.
Go, seek Cassandra, men! Make your best speed, That I may leave her
with the King, and lead These others to their divers lords.... Ha, there!
What means that sudden light? Is it the flare Of torches?
[Light is seen shining through the crevices of the second hut on the
right. He moves towards it.
Would they fire their prison rooms, Or how, these dames of
Troy?--'Fore God, the dooms Are known, and now they burn
themselves and die[18] Rather than sail with us! How savagely In days
like these a free neck chafes beneath Its burden!... Open! Open quick!
Such death Were bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bring Much wrath,
and leave me shamed before the King!
HECUBA.
There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child, Cassandra, by the breath of God
made wild.
[The door opens from within and CASSANDRA enters, white-robed
and wreathed like a Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She is singing
softly to herself and does not see the Herald or the scene before her.
CASSANDRA.
Lift, lift it high: [Strophe. Give it to mine hand! Lo, I bear a flame Unto
God! I praise his name. I light with a burning brand This sanctuary.
Blessèd is he that shall wed, And blessèd, blessèd am I In Argos: a
bride to lie With a king in a king's bed.
Hail, O Hymen[19] red, O Torch that makest one! Weepest thou,
Mother mine own? Surely thy cheek is pale With tears, tears that wail

For a land and a father dead. But I go garlanded: I am the Bride of
Desire: Therefore my torch is borne-- Lo, the lifting of morn, Lo, the
leaping of fire!--
For thee, O Hymen bright, For thee, O Moon of the Deep, So Law hath
charged, for the light Of a maid's last sleep.
Awake, O my feet, awake: [Antistrophe. Our father's hope is won!
Dance as the dancing skies Over him, where he lies Happy beneath the
sun!... Lo, the Ring that I make....
[She makes a circle round her with a torch, and visions appear to her.
Apollo!... Ah, is it thou? O shrine in the laurels cold, I bear thee still, as
of old, Mine incense! Be near to me now.
[She waves the torch as though bearing incense.
O Hymen, Hymen fleet: Quick torch that makest one!... How? Am I
still alone? Laugh as I laugh, and twine In the dance, O Mother mine:
Dear feet, be near my feet!
Come, greet ye Hymen, greet Hymen with songs of pride: Sing to him
loud and long, Cry, cry, when the song Faileth, for joy of the bride!
O Damsels girt in the gold Of Ilion, cry, cry