 | Troades ; or The Royal Captives |  |
213
Act I.
Scene I.
Enter HECUBA.
Who trust in Thrones, in proud Escurials reign,
Nor fear the Easie Gods, possest with vain
Credulity of a still prosperous State,
Me let him look on, and thee Troy! By Fate
A greater Document was never shown
On what a slippery Hight Pride stands! O'erthrown
Is Asia's strong Support, of God-like Hands
Th'egregious Labour; under whose Commands
He who cold seven-mouth'd Tanais drinks, once bore
Confederate Arms; and he who does adore
The Rising Sun, where Tigris warm Streams stain
Their Waters in the Erithræan Main;
And She, whose Realms the wandring Scythians bound,
Who beats with widowed Troops the Pontick Ground.
Nor fear the Easie Gods, possest with vain
Credulity of a still prosperous State,
Me let him look on, and thee Troy! By Fate
214
On what a slippery Hight Pride stands! O'erthrown
Is Asia's strong Support, of God-like Hands
Th'egregious Labour; under whose Commands
215
Confederate Arms; and he who does adore
The Rising Sun, where Tigris warm Streams stain
Their Waters in the Erithræan Main;
216
Who beats with widowed Troops the Pontick Ground.
By Steel mow'd down, now her own Ruins Weight
Bears Pergamus; her Tow'rs which glister'd late
With their fir'd Buildings fallen: All, All's o'erturn'd
In Flames; Assaracus his Palace burn'd.
Nor Flames the Victors greedy Hands prevent,
But while yet burning, Troy's for Pillage rent.
Smoak in Waves rising takes Heaven's Sight away,
And black-burnt Cinders smeer the Face of Day.
Measuring with greedy Eye Troy's long sought Spoil
The Victor stands, and now his Ten Years Toil
Forgives; astonish'd at her Ruins, he yet
Scarce thinks it vincible, though won he see it.
The Dardan Wealth Greek Souldiers bear away;
Nor can a thousand Ships contain the Prey.
Bears Pergamus; her Tow'rs which glister'd late
217
In Flames; Assaracus his Palace burn'd.
Nor Flames the Victors greedy Hands prevent,
But while yet burning, Troy's for Pillage rent.
Smoak in Waves rising takes Heaven's Sight away,
And black-burnt Cinders smeer the Face of Day.
Measuring with greedy Eye Troy's long sought Spoil
The Victor stands, and now his Ten Years Toil
Forgives; astonish'd at her Ruins, he yet
Scarce thinks it vincible, though won he see it.
The Dardan Wealth Greek Souldiers bear away;
Nor can a thousand Ships contain the Prey.
To witness here I call the adverse Pow'rs!
And thou, once Ruler of the Phrygian Tow'rs,
Beneath the Ruins of thy Empire laid
My Countries Ashes! and thy Dearer Shade,
Who standing, Ilium stood. Ye lesser Ghosts,
My Childrens numerous Souls! What ever Cross
Hath fall'n, what Ills th'inspired Maid foretold,
(The God belief forbidding) those of Old,
Saw pregnant Hecuba; nor held my Peace,
Before Cassandra, a vain Prophetess.
Not crafty Ithacus, nor Diomed,
Nor treacherous Sinon, through your Buildings spread
These Flames; These Fires are mine; and with my Brands
You burn. But why lamenting thus Troy's Ruins, stands
Too long-liv'd Age? Here Wretch! look here, on these
(Troy's an old Grief) more fresh Calamities.
I saw (O cruel Fact!) the old King slain;
And, a worse Crime, the sacred Altars stain
Than armed Ajax dar'd. When with Hands wreath'd
In's Hair, his Head reversing, Pyrrhus sheath'd
In a deep Wound his cursed Blade; which strook
Up to the Hilts; when the King willing took;
Drawn forth his aged Throat, scarce reek'd with Blood.
Whom not the sense of his extreme Age cou'd
From so abhorr'd a Murder once restrain,
Nor present Gods, nor yet Joves sacred Fane,
The Glory once of this now levell'd State.
He to so many Princes Father late,
Now wants a Sepulcher, and Funeral Fire,
His Troy in Flames. Nor can all this Heaven's Ire
Appease. To Lords, lo! Priam's Daughters by
The Urn are given, whom, a scorn'd Prize, shall I
Attend? Some one may his Wife Hector's make,
Some Helenus, some may Antenor's take:
Perhaps some one thy Bed, Cassandra, seeks;
I'm only a fear'd Lot to all the Greeks.
And thou, once Ruler of the Phrygian Tow'rs,
218
My Countries Ashes! and thy Dearer Shade,
Who standing, Ilium stood. Ye lesser Ghosts,
My Childrens numerous Souls! What ever Cross
Hath fall'n, what Ills th'inspired Maid foretold,
(The God belief forbidding) those of Old,
Saw pregnant Hecuba; nor held my Peace,
Before Cassandra, a vain Prophetess.
Not crafty Ithacus, nor Diomed,
Nor treacherous Sinon, through your Buildings spread
These Flames; These Fires are mine; and with my Brands
You burn. But why lamenting thus Troy's Ruins, stands
Too long-liv'd Age? Here Wretch! look here, on these
(Troy's an old Grief) more fresh Calamities.
219
And, a worse Crime, the sacred Altars stain
Than armed Ajax dar'd. When with Hands wreath'd
In's Hair, his Head reversing, Pyrrhus sheath'd
In a deep Wound his cursed Blade; which strook
Up to the Hilts; when the King willing took;
Drawn forth his aged Throat, scarce reek'd with Blood.
Whom not the sense of his extreme Age cou'd
From so abhorr'd a Murder once restrain,
Nor present Gods, nor yet Joves sacred Fane,
The Glory once of this now levell'd State.
He to so many Princes Father late,
220
His Troy in Flames. Nor can all this Heaven's Ire
Appease. To Lords, lo! Priam's Daughters by
The Urn are given, whom, a scorn'd Prize, shall I
221
Some Helenus, some may Antenor's take:
222
I'm only a fear'd Lot to all the Greeks.
Cease you my Captive Troops! Your Plaints forbear!
Beat with your Hands your Breasts, with Cries the Air,
And Troy's sad Obsequies perform: Now round
Ide, that dire Judge's Fatal Seat, resound.
Beat with your Hands your Breasts, with Cries the Air,
And Troy's sad Obsequies perform: Now round
Ide, that dire Judge's Fatal Seat, resound.
CHORUS
of Captive Trojan Ladies.
No rude Crew un-inur'd to Tears
Bid you to mourn: Successive Years
Can witness, this w'have never ceast
To do, since first the Phrygian Guest
Amyclæ reach'd, and Cybel's Pine
Did plow blew Neptune's foaming Brine.
Bid you to mourn: Successive Years
Can witness, this w'have never ceast
To do, since first the Phrygian Guest
Amyclæ reach'd, and Cybel's Pine
Did plow blew Neptune's foaming Brine.
223
On to our Plaints, and as we weep,
Do thou, O wretched Queen, Time keep
With thy advanced Hand: whilst we,
Skill'd in our Parts, do follow thee.
Do thou, O wretched Queen, Time keep
With thy advanced Hand: whilst we,
Skill'd in our Parts, do follow thee.
224
You faithful Consorts of our Woe
Unbind your Tresses: Let your Hair
About your sad Necks loosely flow,
Powder'd with Troy's warm Ashes: Bare
Your Arms; your Vestures, slackly ty'd
Beneath your naked Bosoms, slide
Down to your Wasts. For whose Bed drest
Vail'st thou, O Captive, Shame! thy Breast?
A looser Zone your Garments bind!
Your Cries with frequent Strokes be join'd!
Hands prest t'assail! Aye, now you please,
Thus habited! Now Troades
I know you all: Again renew
Your mournful Plaints, and strive t'outdo
Th'Expressions common Sorrows vent,
'Tis Hector whom we now lament!
CHORUS.
Our Locks oft torn to wail the Dead,
See! We have all unfilleted,
225
Upon our Heads warm Ashes strown.
Hecuba.
Fill then your Hands; From Troy this yet
We lawfully may take; and let
From your devested Shoulders slide,
Your Garments, down on either side.
Now bared Bosoms call for Blows.
Now, Sorrow, all thy Pow'rs disclose.
Rhætean Shores with Plaints resound,
And Eccho the sad Cries rebound:
Nor, as she's wont, ingeminate
The last of Words, but iterate
Troy's Plaints entire; that all the Main,
And all the Heav'ns may ring again.
We lawfully may take; and let
From your devested Shoulders slide,
Your Garments, down on either side.
Now bared Bosoms call for Blows.
Now, Sorrow, all thy Pow'rs disclose.
Rhætean Shores with Plaints resound,
And Eccho the sad Cries rebound:
Nor, as she's wont, ingeminate
The last of Words, but iterate
Troy's Plaints entire; that all the Main,
And all the Heav'ns may ring again.
226
Now let remorsless Hands infest
With sounding strokes each suff'ring Breast;
W' are not with usual Stripes content;
'Tis Hector whom we now lament,
With sounding strokes each suff'ring Breast;
W' are not with usual Stripes content;
'Tis Hector whom we now lament,
CHORUS.
For thee our Arms we beat, and Blows
On bleeding Shoulders thus impose.
For thee our Heads these Strokes do bear,
Our nursing Breasts for thee we tear.
The Wounds which since thy Death remain
Yet green, now freshly bleed again.
Thy Country's strength! Fates Remora!
The tired Phrygians only stay.
Troy's Rampart! who upheld'st her Tow'rs
Ten Years against assailing Pow'rs.
With thee she fell; one Day a Grave
To Hector and his Country gave.
227
Turn now your Plaints; Let Priam too
Be wept for: Hector hath his due.
CHORUS.
Receive our Tears, twice captiv'd King!
Thee Reigning, Fates no Cross did bring
Single on Troy; twice did she feel
Herculean Shafts, twice Grecian Steel.
When after all the Tragic Falls
Of Hecub's Race; and Funerals
Of Princely Sons; thy self, in fine,
Did'st close their Tragedies with thine.
And to great Jove, a Victim slain,
Troy's Shores thy headless Trunk sustain.
228
Your Tears on other Subjects spend,
Ye Ilian Dames, my Priam's End
Is not to be lamented. All
Deceased Priam Happy call.
He to th'infernal Shades went free,
Not thrall'd in Grecian Slavery.
He ne'er th'Atrides saw, he never
The false Ulysses knew, nor ever
Shall bow his captiv'd Neck, a Prize
In their triumphed Victories.
229
A Scepter, be behind him chain'd,
Nor in Gold Fetters manacled
Following the Victor's Car, be led
In pomp through proud Mycenæ.
CHORUS.
All
Deceased Priam happy call;
Attended at his latest Fate
With the whole Ruine of his State.
Who now in the Elizian Groves
Delightful Shades securely roves,
230
For Hector. Happy Priam! “Nor less blest
“Whoever in War's bloody strife
“Falling, sees all things perish with his Life.
| Troades ; or The Royal Captives | |