Woe, woe, woe!
Ilion shineth afar!
Fire in the deeps thereof,
Fire in the heights above,
And crested walls of War!
Others.
As smoke on the wing of heaven
Climbeth and scattereth,
Torn of the spear and driven,
The land crieth for death:
O stormy battlements that red fire hath riven,
And the sword's angry breath!
[A new thought comes to Hecuba; she kneels and beats the earth with her hands.
Hecuba.
[Strophe.
O Earth, Earth of my children; hearken! and O mine own,
Ye have hearts and forget not, ye in the darkness lying!
Leader.
Now hast thou found thy prayer, crying to them that are gone.