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Chorus
O Phoebus! who didst fence the hill of Ilium with a fair coronal of towers,
and thou, ocean-god! coursing o’er the main with thy dark steeds, wherefore did ye hand over in dishonour
1010
your own handiwork to the war-god, master of the spear, abandoning Troy to wretchedness?
1015
O Phoebus! who didst fence the hill of Ilium with a fair coronal of towers,
and thou, ocean-god! coursing o’er the main with thy dark steeds, wherefore did ye hand over in dishonour
1010
your own handiwork to the war-god, master of the spear, abandoning Troy to wretchedness?
1015
Chorus
Many a well-horsed car ye yoked on the banks of Simois,
and many a bloody tournament did ye ordain with never a prize to win; and Ilium’s princes are dead and gone; no longer in Troy
1020
is seen the blaze of fire on altars of the gods with the smoke of incense.
1025
Many a well-horsed car ye yoked on the banks of Simois,
and many a bloody tournament did ye ordain with never a prize to win; and Ilium’s princes are dead and gone; no longer in Troy
1020
is seen the blaze of fire on altars of the gods with the smoke of incense.
1025
Chorus
The son of Atreus is no more, slain by the hand of his wife, and she herself hath paid the debt of blood by death,
and from her children’s hands received her doom. The god’s own bidding from his oracle was levelled against her, in the day that Agamemnon’s son set forth from Argos and visited his shrine;
1030
so he slew
1
her, aye, spilt his own mother’s blood. O Phoebus, O thou power divine, how can I believe the story?
1035
The son of Atreus is no more, slain by the hand of his wife, and she herself hath paid the debt of blood by death,
and from her children’s hands received her doom. The god’s own bidding from his oracle was levelled against her, in the day that Agamemnon’s son set forth from Argos and visited his shrine;
1030
so he slew
1
her, aye, spilt his own mother’s blood. O Phoebus, O thou power divine, how can I believe the story?
1035
Chorus
Anon wherever Hellenes gather, was heard the voice of lamentation, mothers weeping o’er their children’s fate,
as they left their homes to mate with strangers. Ah! thou art not the only one, nor thy dear ones either, on whom the cloud of grief hath fallen. Hellas had to bear the visitation, and thence the scourge crossed to Phrygia’s
1040
fruitful fields, raining the bloody drops the; death-god loves.
2
1045
Anon wherever Hellenes gather, was heard the voice of lamentation, mothers weeping o’er their children’s fate,
as they left their homes to mate with strangers. Ah! thou art not the only one, nor thy dear ones either, on whom the cloud of grief hath fallen. Hellas had to bear the visitation, and thence the scourge crossed to Phrygia’s
1040
fruitful fields, raining the bloody drops the; death-god loves.
2
1045
Andromache. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
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