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ANOTHER
Aye, that were next in my desire
To Athens, where good spirits dwell . . .
ANOTHER
Or Aetna's breast, the deeps of fire
That front the Tyrian's Citadel:
First mother, she, of Sicily
And mighty mountains: fame hath told
Their crowns of goodness manifold. . . .
ANOTHER
And, close beyond the narrowing sea,
A sister land, where float enchanted
Ionian summits, wave on wave,
And Crathis of the burning tresses
Makes red the happy vale, and blesses
With gold of fountains spirit-haunted
Homes of true men and brave!
LEADER
But lo, who cometh: and his lips
Grave with the weight of dooms unknown:
A Herald from the Grecian ships.
Swift comes he, hot-foot to be done
And finished. Ah, what bringeth he
Of news or judgment? Slaves are we,
Spoils that the Greek hath won!
(TALTHYBIUS, followed by some Soldiers, enters from the
left.)
TALTHYBIUS
Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossed
Thy plain with tidings from the Hellene host.
'Tis I, Talthybius. . . . Nay, of ancient use
Thou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news.
HECUBA
Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here,
Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear!
TALTHYBIUS
The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared.