The Trojan Women of Euripides

by Euripides

[She springs toward the flames, but is seized and held by the Soldiers.

Talthybius.

Back! Thou art drunken with thy miseries,
Poor woman!—Hold her fast, men, till it pleaseOdysseus that she come. She was his lot
Chosen from all and portioned. Lose her not!

[He goes to watch over the burning of the City. The dusk deepens.

Chorus.

Divers Women.

Woe, woe, woe!
Thou of the Ages, O wherefore fleëst thou,
Lord of the Phrygian, Father that made us?
'Tis we, thy children; shall no man aid us?
'Tis we, thy children! Seëst thou, seëst thou?

Others.

He seëth, only his heart is pitiless;
And the land dies: yea, she,
She of the Mighty Cities perisheth citiless!
Troy shall no more be!

Others.