Ulysses. Since by happier fate
Snatched hence, the lad forestalls the sacrifice,
The lustral offering from the walls of Troy
And may not now obey the seer's command,
Thus saith the prophet: this may be atoned, 655
And Grecian ships at last may find return,
If Hector's tomb be leveled with the ground,
His ashes scattered on the sea; the tomb
Must feel my hand, since Hector's child escapes
His destined death.
Andromache [aside]. Alas, what shall I do? 660
A double fear distracts me; here my son,
And there my husband's sacred sepulcher,
Which conquers? O inexorable gods,
O manes of my husband—my true god,
Bear witness; in my son 'tis thee I love, 665
My Hector, and my son shall live to bear
His father's image! Shall the sacred dust
Be cast upon the waves? Nay, better death.
Canst thou a mother bear to see him die,—
To see him from Troy's tower downward hurled? 670
I can and will, that Hector, after death,
Be not the victor's sport. The boy may feel
The pain, where death has made the father safe.
Decide, which one shall pay the penalty.
Ungrateful, why in doubt? Thy Hector's here! 675
'Tis false, each one is Hector; this one lives,
Perchance th' avenger of his father's death.
I cannot save them both, what shall I do?
Oh, save the one whom most the Grecians fear!
Ulysses. I will fulfill the oracle, will raze 680
The tomb to its foundations.
Andromache. Which ye sold?
Ulysses. I'll do it, I will level with the dust
The sepulcher.
Andromache. I call the faith of heaven,
Achilles' faith, to aid; come, Pyrrhus, save
Thy father's gift. 685
Ulysses. The tomb shall instantly
Be leveled with the plain.
Andromache. This crime alone
The Greeks had shunned; ye've sacked the holy fanes
Even of favoring gods, ye've spared the tomb.
I will not suffer it, unarmed I'll stand
Against your armored host; rage gives me strength, 690
And as the savage Amazon opposed
The Grecian army, or the Mænad wild,
Armed with the thyrsus, by the god possessed,
Wounding herself spreads terror through the grove,
Herself unpained, I'll rush into your midst, 695
And in defending the dear ashes die. [She places herself before the grave.
Ulysses [angrily to the shrinking soldiers.
Why pause? A woman's wrath and feeble noise
Alarms you so? Do quickly my command.
[The soldiers go toward the grave, Andromache throws herself upon them.