But Priam’s city has learned, in her old age, an altered strain, and now, I trust, wails a loud song, full of lamentation, calling Paris evil-wed; for she has born the burden of a life in which everything was destroyed, a life full of lamentation because ofthe wretched slaughter of her sons Chorus Even so a man reared in his house a lion’s whelp, robbed of its mother’s milk yet still desiring the breast. Gentle it was