Troy, Troy is gone!
And. Yea, and her treasure parted.
Hec. Gone, gone, mine own
Children, the noble-hearted!And. Sing sorrow. . . .
Hec. For me, for me!
And. Sing for the Great City,
That falleth, falleth to be
A shadow, a fire departed.
Andromache.
[Strophe 2.
Come to me, O my lover!
Hec. The dark shroudeth him over,
My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine!
And. Make of thine arms my cover!
Hecuba.
[Antistrophe 2.
O thou whose wound was deepest,
Thou that my children keepest,
Priam, Priam, O age-worn King,
Gather me where thou sleepest.
Andromache (her hands upon her heart).
[Strophe 3.
O here is the deep of desire,
Hec. (How? And is this not woe?)
And. For a city burned with fire;
Hec. (It beateth, blow on blow.)
And. God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago:
Who sold for his evil love
Troy and the towers thereof:
Therefore the dead men lie
Naked, beneath the eye Of Pallas, and vultures croak
And flap for joy:
So Love hath laid his yoke
On the neck of Troy!