Eksodos
The burden of the wrath of fate!
GUARDS.
Ha, listen! Wait.
Crouch on the ground; it may be yet
730
Our man is drawing to the net.
730
The burden of the hills of Thrace!
LEADER.
An ally? None of Hellene race.
Yea, woe to me and woe to thee,
My master! Once to set thine eye
On Ilion the accurst, and die!
735
LEADER
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim night
Blurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
VOICE.
Ho, some one of the Trojan name!
Where sleeps your king beneath his shield,
Hector? What marshal of the field
740
Will hear our tale . . . the men who came
And struck us and were gone; and we,
We woke and there was nought to see,
LEADER.
I cannot hear him right; it sounds as if
745
The Thracians were surprised or in some grief.
THRACIAN.
The army lost and the king slain,
Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain!
This deep raw wound . . . Oh, let me die
By thy side, Master, by thy side!
750
In shame together let us lie
Who came to save, and failed and died.
LEADER.
This needs no surmise: ’tis disaster plain
