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Yonder tented the son of Aeacus yonder, Ulysses here, in wild course went the frightened steeds with Hector’s mutilated corpse.” And someone about the board shows thereon the fierce combat, and with scant tracing of wine pictures forth all Pergamum: “Here flowed the Simois this is the Sigeian land here stood the lofty palace of Priam the ancient. Righteous elder and trembling girl admire the wife hangs on the tale that falls from her husband’s lips. The young wife comes bearing thank-offering for her husband saved the husband sings of the fates of Troy that have yielded to his own.

The Argolic chieftains have returned, our altars are a-smoke 4 before the gods of our fathers is laid the barbarian spoil. Turned to ashes is Troy, and my lord is safe. But good regard for me had the god who looks with favour upon chaste love. In short, whoever it was in the Argive camp that was pierced and fell, colder than ice grew the heart of her who loves you. Had Tlepolemus’ with his blood made warm the Lycian spear, 3 in Tlepolemus’ fate was all my care renewed. Did someone begin the tale of Antilochus laid low by the enemy, Antilochus was cause of my alarm or, did he tell of how the son of Menoetius fell in armour not his own, 2 I wept that wiles could lack success. It was upon you that my fancy ever told me the furious Trojans would rush at mention of the name of Hector my pallor ever came. When have I not feared dangers graver than the real? Love is a thing ever filled with anxious fear. 1 O would that then, when his ship was on the way to Lacedaemon, the adulterous lover had been overwhelmed by raging waters! Then had I not lain cold in my deserted bed, nor would now be left alone complaining of slowly passing days nor would the hanging web be wearying now my widowed hands as I seek to beguile the hours of spacious night. This missive your Penelope sends to you, O Ulysses, slow of return that you are – yet write nothing back to me yourself come! Troy, to be sure, is fallen, hated of the daughters of Greece but scarcely were Priam and all Troy worth the price to me. Cydippe to Acontius HEROIDES EPISTLES 1 - 5, TRANSLATED BY GRANT SHOWERMAN I.