"'Alas! what lot is thine?
What worthy fate Hath caught thee, fallen from a spouse so high?
Hector's Andromache, art thou the mate Of Pyrrhus ?' Then with lowly downcast eye She dropped her voice, and softly made reply.
'Ah! happy maid of Priam, doomed instead At Troy upon a foeman's tomb to die! Not drawn by lot for servitude, nor led A captive thrall, like me, to grace a conqueror's bed.
XLIII.

"'I, torn from burning Troy o'er many a wave, Endured the lust of Pyrrhus and his pride, And knew a mother's travail as his slave.
Fired with Hermione, a Spartan bride, Me, joined in bed and bondage, he allied To Helenus.

But mad with love's despair, And stung with Furies for his spouse denied, At length Orestes caught the wretch unware, E'en by his father's shrine, and smote him then and there.
XLIV.

"'The tyrant dead, a portion of his reign Devolves on Helenus, who Chaonia calls From Trojan Chaon the Chaonian plain, And on these heights rebuilds the Trojan walls.
But thou--what chance, or god, or stormy squalls Have driven thee here unweeting ?--and the boy Ascanius--lives he, or what hap befalls His parents' darling, and their only joy?
Breathes he the vital air, whom unto thee now Troy-- XLV.

"'Still grieves he for his mother?
Doth the name Of sire or uncle make his young heart glow For deeds of valour and ancestral fame ?' Weeping she spake, with unavailing woe, And poured her sorrow to the winds, when lo, In sight comes Helenus, with fair array, And hails his friends, and hastening to bestow Glad welcome, toward his palace leads the way; But tears and broken words his mingled thoughts betray.
XLVI.