Άντιστροφή Β

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Άντιστροφή Β

Alas! our children’s sorrow, and their pain

In slavery.

Alas! our warrior sires nobly slain

For liberty.

Alas! our country’s glory, and the name

Of Troy’s fair town;

By the lances and the fighting and the flame

Tall Troy is down.

I shall pass with my soul over-laden,

To a land far away and unseen,

For Asia is slave and handmaiden,

Europa is Mistress and Queen.

Without love, or love’s holiest treasure,

I shall pass into Hades abhorred,

To the grave as my chamber of pleasure,

To death as my Lover and Lord.