Which the trembling reaper has garnered in
From wide Sigean harvest-fields:75
But never a day was without its grief,
Never a night but renewed our woe.
Then on with the wailing and on with the blows;
And thou, poor fate-smitten queen, be our guide,80
Our mistress in mourning; we'll obey thy commands,
Well trained in the wild liturgy of despair.
Hecuba: Then, trusty comrades of our fate,
Unbind your tresses and let them flow