Threnodia

ΘΡΗΝΩΙΔΙΑ

(Eur. Hec., 444-483)

Song sung by captive women of Troy on the sea beach at Aulia, while the Achæans were there storm-bound through the wrath of dishonoured Achilles, and waiting for a fair wind to bring them home.

ΣΤΡΟΦΗ

O fair wind blowing from the sea!

      Who through the dark and mist dost guide

The ships that on the billows ride,

      Unto what land, ah, misery!

Shall I be borne, across what stormy wave,

Or to whose house a purchased slave?

O sea-wind blowing fair and fast

      Is it unto the Dorian strand,

            Or to those far and fable shores,

            Where great Apidanus outpours

      His streams upon the fertile land,

      Or shall I tread the Phthian sand,

Borne by the swift breath of the blast?

ΑΝΤΙΣΤΡΟΦΗ

O blowing wind! you bring my sorrow near,

      For surely borne with splashing of the oar,

And hidden in some galley-prison drear

      I shall be led unto that distant shore

            Where the tall palm-tree first took root, and made,

            With clustering laurel leaves, a pleasant shade

      For Leto when with travail great she bore

            A god and goddess in Love's bitter fight,

            Her body's anguish, and her soul's delight.

It may be in Delos,

      Encircled of seas,

I shall sing with some maids

      From the Cyclades,

Of Artemis goddess

      And queen and maiden,

Sing of the gold

      In her hair heavy-laden.

Sing of her hunting,

      Her arrows and bow,

And in singing find solace

      From weeping and woe.

ΣΤΡΟΦΗ Β

Or it may be my bitter doom

            To stand a handmaid at the loom,

      In distant Athens of supreme renown;

            And weave some wondrous tapestry,

            Or work in bright embroidery,

Upon the crocus-flowered robe and saffron-coloured gown,

            The flying horses wrought in gold,

            The silver chariot onward rolled

That bears Athena through the Town;

      Or the warring giants that strove to climb

            From earth to heaven to reign as kings,

      And Zeus the conquering son of Time

            Borne on the hurricane's eagle wings;

And the lightning flame and the bolts that fell

      From the risen cloud at the god's behest,

And hurled the rebels to darkness of hell,

      To a sleep without slumber or waking or rest.

ΑΝΤΙΣΤΡΟΦΗ Β

Alas! our children's sorrow, and their pain

                                                      In slavery.

Alas! our warrior sires nobly slain

                                                      For liberty.

Alas! our country's glory, and the name

                                          Of Troy's fair town;

By the lances and the fighting and the flame

                                          Tall Troy is down.

I shall pass with my soul over-laden,

      To a land far away and unseen,

For Asia is slave and handmaiden,

      Europa is Mistress and Queen.

Without love, or love's holiest treasure,

      I shall pass into Hades abhorred,

To the grave as my chamber of pleasure,

      To death as my Lover and Lord.