With anguished hearts the captive maids looked back On Ilium, and with sobs and moans they wailed, Striving to hide their grief from Argive eyes. Clasping their knees some sat; in misery some Veiled with their hands their faces; others nursed Young children in their arms: those innocents Not yet bewailed their day of bondage, nor Their country's ruin; all their thoughts were set On comfort of the breast, for the babe's heart Hath none affinity with sorrow. All Sat with unbraided hair and pitiful breasts Scored with their fingers. On their cheeks there lay Stains of dried tears, and streamed thereover now Fresh tears full fast, as still they gazed aback On the lost hapless home, wherefrom yet rose The flames, and o'er it writhed the rolling smoke. Now on Cassandra marvelling they gazed, Calling to mind her prophecy of doom; But at their tears she laughed in bitter scorn, In anguish for the ruin of her land. Such Trojans as had scaped from pitiless war Gathered to render now the burial-dues Unto their city's slain. Antenor led To that sad work: one pyre for all they raised. But laughed with triumphing hearts the Argive men, As now with oars they swept o'er dark sea-ways, Now hastily hoised the sails high o'er the ships, And fleeted fast astern Dardania-land, And Hero Achilles' tomb. But now their hearts, How blithe soe'er, remembered comrades slain, And sorely grieved, and wistfully they looked Back to the alien's land; it seemed to them Aye sliding farther from their ships. Full soon By Tenedos' beaches slipt they: now they ran By Chrysa, Sminthian Phoebus' holy place, And hallowed Cilla. Far away were glimpsed The windy heights of Lesbos. Rounded now Was Lecton's foreland, where is the last peak Of Ida. In the sails loud hummed the wind, Crashed round the prows the dark surge: the long waves Showed shadowy hollows, far the white wake gleamed.