I was among the dancers there To Artemis, and glorying sang Her of the Hills, the Maid most fair, Daughter of Zeus: and, lo, there rang A shout out of the dark, and fell Deathlike from street to street, and made A silence in the citadel: And a child cried, as if afraid, And hid him in his mother's veil. Then stalked the Slayer from his den, The hand of Pallas served her well! O blood, blood of Troy was deep About the streets and altars then: And in the wedded rooms of sleep, Lo, the desolate dark alone, And headless things, men stumbled on. And forth, lo, the women go, The crown of War, the crown of Woe, To bear the children of the foe And weep, weep, for Ilion! * * * * * [As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms.

A Maiden Monologue from The Trojan Women

Rehearse A Maiden's monologue