O high houses of Gods, belovèd streets of my birth,
Ye have found the way of the sword, the fiery and blood-red river!
Leader.
Fall, and men shall forget you! Ye shall lie in the gentle earth.
Hecuba.
The dust as smoke riseth; it spreadeth wide its wing;
It maketh me as a shadow, and my City a vanished thing!
Leader.
Out on the smoke she goeth,
And her name no man knoweth;
And the cloud is northward, southward; Troy is gone for ever!
[A great crash is heard, and the Wall is lost in smoke and darkness.
Hecuba.