Homer, Iliad, 24.746

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So spake the weeping wife: the women all

Mingled their wail with hers, and Hecuba

Took up the passionate lamentation next:-

"O Hector, thou who wert most fondly loved

950

Of all my sons! While yet thou wert alive,

Dear wert thou to the gods, who even now,

When death has overtaken thee, bestow

Such care upon thee. All my other sons

Whom swift Achilles took in war he sold

955

At Samos, Imbrus, by the barren sea,

And Lemnos harborless. But as for thee,

When he had taken with his cruel spear

Thy life, he dragged thee round and round the tomb

Of his young friend, Patroclus, whom thy hand

960

Had slain, yet raised he not by this the dead;

And now thou liest in the palace here,

Fresh and besprinkled as with early dew,

Like one just slain with silent arrows aimed

By Phœbus, bearer of the silver bow."

965

Weeping she spake, and woke in all who heard

Grief without measure. Helen, last of all,

Took up the lamentation, and began: -

"O Hector, who wert dearest to my heart

Of all my husband's brothers, - for the wife

970

Am I of godlike Paris, him whose fleet

Brought me to Troy, - would I had sooner died!

And now the twentieth year is past since first

I came a stranger from my native shore,

Yet have I never heard from thee a word

975

Of anger or reproach. And when the sons

Of Priam, and his daughters, and the wives

Of Priam's sons, in all their fair array,

Taunted me grievously, or Hecuba

Herself, - for Priam ever was to me

980

A gracious father, - thou didst take my part

With kindly admonitions, and restrain

Their tongues with soft address and gentle words.

Therefore my heart is grieved, and I bewail

Thee and myself at once, - unhappy me!

985

For now I have no friend in all wide Troy, —

None to be kind to me: they hate me all."

Iliad. Homer. Boston. 1870.

Current edition Experimental

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870) (OCR draft) (English) (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (1)

Ἰλιάς Perseus (Homer. Homeri Opera, Volumes 1-2. Monro, D. B. (David Binning), editor; Allen, Thomas W. (Thomas William), editor. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908-1920.) — 24.746 focus

ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσʼ, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γυναῖκες.

τῇσιν δʼ αὖθʼ Ἑκάβη ἁδινοῦ ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·

Ἕκτορ ἐμῷ θυμῷ πάντων πολὺ φίλτατε παίδων,

ἦ μέν μοι ζωός περ ἐὼν φίλος ἦσθα θεοῖσιν·

οἳ δʼ ἄρα σεῦ κήδοντο καὶ ἐν θανάτοιό περ αἴσῃ.

750

ἄλλους μὲν γὰρ παῖδας ἐμοὺς πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεὺς

πέρνασχʼ ὅν τινʼ ἕλεσκε πέρην ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο,

ἐς Σάμον ἔς τʼ Ἴμβρον καὶ Λῆμνον ἀμιχθαλόεσσαν·

σεῦ δʼ ἐπεὶ ἐξέλετο ψυχὴν ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ,

πολλὰ ῥυστάζεσκεν ἑοῦ περὶ σῆμʼ ἑτάροιο

755

Πατρόκλου, τὸν ἔπεφνες· ἀνέστησεν δέ μιν οὐδʼ ὧς.

νῦν δέ μοι ἑρσήεις καὶ πρόσφατος ἐν μεγάροισι

κεῖσαι, τῷ ἴκελος ὅν τʼ ἀργυρότοξος Ἀπόλλων

οἷς ἀγανοῖσι βέλεσσιν ἐποιχόμενος κατέπεφνεν.

ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσα, γόον δʼ ἀλίαστον ὄρινε.

760

τῇσι δʼ ἔπειθʼ Ἑλένη τριτάτη ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·

Ἕκτορ ἐμῷ θυμῷ δαέρων πολὺ φίλτατε πάντων,

ἦ μέν μοι πόσις ἐστὶν Ἀλέξανδρος θεοειδής,

ὅς μʼ ἄγαγε Τροίηνδʼ· ὡς πρὶν ὤφελλον ὀλέσθαι.

ἤδη γὰρ νῦν μοι τόδε εἰκοστὸν ἔτος ἐστὶν

765

ἐξ οὗ κεῖθεν ἔβην καὶ ἐμῆς ἀπελήλυθα πάτρης·

ἀλλʼ οὔ πω σεῦ ἄκουσα κακὸν ἔπος οὐδʼ ἀσύφηλον·

ἀλλʼ εἴ τίς με καὶ ἄλλος ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἐνίπτοι

δαέρων ἢ γαλόων ἢ εἰνατέρων εὐπέπλων,

ἢ ἑκυρή, ἑκυρὸς δὲ πατὴρ ὣς ἤπιος αἰεί,

770

ἀλλὰ σὺ τὸν ἐπέεσσι παραιφάμενος κατέρυκες

σῇ τʼ ἀγανοφροσύνῃ καὶ σοῖς ἀγανοῖς ἐπέεσσι.

τὼ σέ θʼ ἅμα κλαίω καὶ ἔμʼ ἄμμορον ἀχνυμένη κῆρ·

οὐ γάρ τίς μοι ἔτʼ ἄλλος ἐνὶ Τροίῃ εὐρείῃ

ἤπιος οὐδὲ φίλος, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν.

775

Translations (7)

Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1924-1925.) — 24.746 focus

So spake she wailing, and thereat the women made lament. And among them Hecabe in turns led the vehement wailing:

Hector, far dearest to my heart of all my children, lo, when thou livedst thou wast dear to the gods, 750 and therefore have they had care of thee for all thou art in the doom of death. For of other sons of mine whomsoever he took would swift-footed Achilles sell beyond the unresting sea, unto Samos and Imbros and Lemnos, shrouded in smoke, but, when from thee he had taken away thy life with the long-edged bronze 755 oft would he drag thee about the barrow of his comrade, Patroclus, whom thou didst slay; howbeit even so might he not raise him up. But now all dewy-fresh thou liest in my halls as wert thou newly slain, like as one whom Apollo of the silver bow assaileth with his gentle shafts and slayeth.

760 So spake she wailing, and roused unabating lament. And thereafter Helen was the third to lead the wailing:

Hector, far dearest to my heart of all my husband's brethren! In sooth my husband is godlike Alexander, that brought me to Troy-land —would I died ere then! 765 For this is now the twentieth year from the time when I went from thence and am gone from my native land, but never yet heard I evil or despiteful word from thee; nay, if so be any other spake reproachfully of me in the halls, a brother of thine or a sister, or brother's fair-robed wife, 770 or thy mother—but thy father was ever gentle as he had been mine own—yet wouldst thou turn them with speech and restrain them by the gentleness of thy spirit and thy gentle words. Wherefore I wail alike for thee and for my hapless self with grief at heart; for no longer have I anyone beside in broad Troy 775 that is gentle to me or kind; but all men shudder at me.

Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad of Homer, rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Butler, Samuel, 1835-1902, translator. London: Longmans, Green, and Co, 1898.) — 24.782 focus

782 Forthwith they yoked their oxen and mules and gathered together before the city. Nine days long did they bring in great heaps wood, and on the morning of the tenth day with many tears they took brave Hektor forth, laid his dead body upon the summit of the pile, and set the fire thereto. Then when the child of morning rosy-fingered dawn appeared on the eleventh day, the people again assembled, round the pyre of mighty Hektor. When they were got together, they first quenched the fire with wine wherever it was burning, and then his brothers and comrades with many a bitter tear gathered his white bones, wrapped them in soft robes of purple, and laid them in a golden urn, which they placed in a grave [ sêma] and covered over with large stones set close together. Then they built a tomb [ sêma] hurriedly over it keeping guard on every side lest the Achaeans should attack them before they had finished. When they had heaped up the barrow they went back again into the city, and being well assembled they held high feast in the house of Priam their king.

804 Thus, then, did they celebrate the funeral of Hektor tamer of horses.

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 24.746 focus

Bitterly did she weep the while, and the women joined in her lament. Hecuba in her turn took up the strains of woe. “Hector,” she cried, “dearest to me of all my children. So long as you were alive the gods loved you well, [750] and even in death they have not been utterly unmindful of you; for when swift-footed Achilles took any other of my sons, he would sell him beyond the seas, to Samos, Imbros, or rugged Lemnos; and when he had taken away with his sword your life-breath [ psūkhē] as well, [755] many a time did he drag you round the tomb [ sēma] of his comrade—though this could not give him life—yet here you lie all fresh as dew, and comely as one whom Apollo has slain with his painless shafts.”

[760] Thus did she too speak through her tears with bitter moan, and then Helen for a third time took up the strain of lamentation. “Hector,” said she, “dearest of all my brothers-in-law—for I am wife to Alexandros who brought me here to Troy—would that I had died before he did so— [765] twenty years are come and gone since I left my home and came from over the sea, but I have never heard one word of insult or unkindness from you. When another would chide with me, as it might be one of your brothers or sisters or of your brothers’ wives, [770] or my mother-in-law—for Priam was as kind to me as though he were my own father—you would rebuke and check them with words of gentleness and goodwill. Therefore my tears flow both for you and for my unhappy self, for there is no one else in Troy [775] who is kind to me, but all shrink and shudder as they go by me.”

English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857)) — 24.746 focus

The mournful mother next sustains her part:

‘O thou, the best, the dearest to my heart!

‘Of all my race thou most by heaven approv'd,

‘And by th' immortals ev'n in death belov'd!

945

‘While all my other sons in barbarous bands

‘Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands,

‘This felt no chains, but went, a glorious ghost,

‘Free, and a hero, to the Stygian coast.

‘Sentenc'd, 'tis true, by his inhuman doom,

950

‘Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb;

‘(The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain;)

‘Ungenerous insult, impotent and vain!

‘Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace,

‘No mark of pain, or violence of face;

955

‘Rosy and fair! as Phoebus' silver bow

‘Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below!’

Thus spoke the dame, and melted into tears.

Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears:

Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes

960

Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she cries:

‘Ah, dearest friend! in whom the gods had join'd

‘The mildest manners with the bravest mind!

‘Now twice ten years (unhappy years) are o'er¹

‘Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore;

965

‘(Oh had I perish'd, ere that form divine

‘Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine!)

‘Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find

‘A deed ungentle, or a word unkind:

‘When others curs'd the authoress of their woe,

970

‘Thy pity check'd my sorrows in their flow:

‘If some proud brother ey'd me with disdain,

‘Or scornful sister with her sweeping train,

‘Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain.

‘For thee I mourn; and mourn myself in thee,

975

‘The wretched source of all this misery!

‘The fate I caus'd, for ever I bemoan;

‘Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone!

‘Through Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I roam,

‘In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home!’

980

So spoke the fair, with sorrow-streaming eye:

Distressful beauty melts each stander-by;

On all around th' infectious sorrow grows;

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 24.746 focus

And Hecuba began. Hector, said she,

Of all my sons to me you were most dear.

And when arrived was your destiny,

715

You by the Gods, though dead, beloved were.

My other sons, when any taken by

Achilles were, beyond sea carried were

And sold, and made to suffer slavery

At Samos, Imbros, Lemnos, or elsewhere ;

720

But when of life he had deprived you,

Because his friend, Patroclus, you had slain,

About his monument he oft you drew,

Though that could not bring him to life again.

But now he sent it to me has again,

725

As fresh and as well coloured as if by

Apollo's gentle shafts he had been slain.

This said, again the people sob and sigh.

Then Helen took her turn, Hector, said she,

Whom best I lov'd of all my brother-laws,

730

For you were so, since Paris married me,

Though when I married him accurs'd I was,

Now twenty years 'tis since I came to Troy,

And never did an ill word from you hear ;

And when your kindred of me ill did say,

735

You took my part, and made them to forbear.

Since you are gone my joy is at an end,

And in your death I moan my own estate,

That now amongst the Trojans have no friend,

Who hate me as the author of their fate.

740

English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 24.746 focus

Then Hecuba dispos'd

Her thoughts in like words : "O my son, of all mine much most dear,

Dear while thou liv'st too even to Gods, and after death they were

Careful to save thee. Being best, thou most wert envied;

My other sons Achilles sold; but thee he left not dead.

665

Imber and Samos, the false ports of Lemnos entertain'd

Their persons; thine, no port but death. Nor there in rest remain'd

Thy violated corse, the tomb of his great friend was spher'd

With thy dragg'd person; yet from death he was not therefore rear'd.

But, all his rage us'd, so the Gods have tender'd thy dead state,

670

Thou liest as living, sweet and fresh, as he that felt the fate

Of Phœbus' holy shafts." These words the queen us'd for her moan,

And, next her, Helen held that state of speech and passion :

"O Hector, all my brothers more were not so lov'd of me

As thy most virtues. Not my lord I held so dear, as thee,

675

That brought me hither; before which I would I had been brought

To ruin, for what breeds that wish, which is the mischief wrought

By my access, yet never found one harsh taunt, one word's ill,

From thy sweet carriage. Twenty years do now their circles fill

Since my arrival; all which time thou didst not only bear

680

Tholf without check, but all else, that my lord's brothers were,

Their sisters' lords, sisters themselves, the queen my mother-in-law,

The king being never but most mild) when thy man's spirit saw

Sour and reproachful, it would still reprove their bitterness

With sweet words, and thy gentle soul. And therefore thy decease

685

I truly mourn for, and myself curse as the wretched cause,

All broad Troy yielding me not one that any human laws

Of pity or forgiveness mov'd t' entreat me humanly,

But only thee, all else abhorr'd me for my destiny."

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 24.746 focus

So spake she weeping, whom her maidens all

With sighs accompanied, and her complaint

940

Mingled with sobs Hecuba next began.

Ah Hector! dearest to thy mother's heart

Of all her sons, much must the Gods have loved

Thee living, whom, though dead, they thus preserve.

What son soever of our house beside

945

Achilles took, over the barren Deep

To Samos, Imbrus, or to Lemnos girt

With rocks inhospitable, him he sold;

But thee, by his dreadful spear of life deprived,

He dragg'd and dragg'd around Patroclus' tomb,

950

As if to raise again his friend to life

Whom thou hadst vanquish'd; yet he raised him not.

But as for thee, thou liest here with dew

Besprinkled, fresh as a young plant , and more

Resemblest some fair youth by gentle shafts

955

Of Phœbus pierced, than one in battle slain.

So spake the Queen, exciting in all hearts

Sorrow immeasurable, after whom

Thus Helen, third, her lamentation pour'd.

Ah, dearer far than all my brothers else

960

Of Priam's house! for being Paris' spouse,

Who brought me (would I had first died!) to Troy,

I call thy brothers mine; since forth I came

From Sparta, it is now the twentieth year,

Yet never heard I once hard speech from thee,

965

Or taunt morose, but if it ever chanced,

That of thy father's house female or male

Blamed me, and even if herself the Queen,

(For in the King, whate'er befell, I found

Always a father,) thou hast interposed

970

Thy gentle temper and thy gentle speech

To soothe them; therefore, with the same sad drops

Thy fate, oh Hector! and my own I weep;

For other friend within the ample bounds

Of Ilium have I none, nor hope to hear

975

Kind word again, with horror view'd by all.

Homer Iliad 24.746

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