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ὣς τοῦ μὲν κεκόνιτο κάρη ἅπαν· ἣ δέ νυ μήτηρ

405

τίλλε κόμην, ἀπὸ δὲ λιπαρὴν ἔρριψε καλύπτρην

τηλόσε, κώκυσεν δὲ μάλα μέγα παῖδʼ ἐσιδοῦσα·

ᾤμωξεν δʼ ἐλεεινὰ πατὴρ φίλος, ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοὶ

κωκυτῷ τʼ εἴχοντο καὶ οἰμωγῇ κατὰ ἄστυ.

τῷ δὲ μάλιστʼ ἄρʼ ἔην ἐναλίγκιον ὡς εἰ ἅπασα

410

Ἴλιος ὀφρυόεσσα πυρὶ σμύχοιτο κατʼ ἄκρης.

λαοὶ μέν ῥα γέροντα μόγις ἔχον ἀσχαλόωντα

ἐξελθεῖν μεμαῶτα πυλάων Δαρδανιάων.

πάντας δʼ ἐλλιτάνευε κυλινδόμενος κατὰ κόπρον,

ἐξονομακλήδην ὀνομάζων ἄνδρα ἕκαστον·

415

σχέσθε φίλοι, καί μʼ οἶον ἐάσατε κηδόμενοί περ

ἐξελθόντα πόληος ἱκέσθʼ ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν.

λίσσωμʼ ἀνέρα τοῦτον ἀτάσθαλον ὀβριμοεργόν,

ἤν πως ἡλικίην αἰδέσσεται ἠδʼ ἐλεήσῃ

γῆρας· καὶ δέ νυ τῷ γε πατὴρ τοιόσδε τέτυκται

420

Πηλεύς, ὅς μιν ἔτικτε καὶ ἔτρεφε πῆμα γενέσθαι

Τρωσί· μάλιστα δʼ ἐμοὶ περὶ πάντων ἄλγεʼ ἔθηκε.

τόσσους γάρ μοι παῖδας ἀπέκτανε τηλεθάοντας·

τῶν πάντων οὐ τόσσον ὀδύρομαι ἀχνύμενός περ

ὡς ἑνός, οὗ μʼ ἄχος ὀξὺ κατοίσεται Ἄϊδος εἴσω,

425

Ἕκτορος· ὡς ὄφελεν θανέειν ἐν χερσὶν ἐμῇσι·

τώ κε κορεσσάμεθα κλαίοντέ τε μυρομένω τε

μήτηρ θʼ, ἥ μιν ἔτικτε δυσάμμορος, ἠδʼ ἐγὼ αὐτός.

ὣς ἔφατο κλαίων, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο πολῖται·

Τρῳῇσιν δʼ Ἑκάβη ἁδινοῦ ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·

430

τέκνον ἐγὼ δειλή· τί νυ βείομαι αἰνὰ παθοῦσα

σεῦ ἀποτεθνηῶτος; ὅ μοι νύκτάς τε καὶ ἦμαρ

εὐχωλὴ κατὰ ἄστυ πελέσκεο, πᾶσί τʼ ὄνειαρ

Τρωσί τε καὶ Τρῳῇσι κατὰ πτόλιν, οἵ σε θεὸν ὣς

δειδέχατʼ· ἦ γὰρ καί σφι μάλα μέγα κῦδος ἔησθα

435

ζωὸς ἐών· νῦν αὖ θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κιχάνει.

Iliad. Homer. ed. David B. Monro, ed. Thomas W. Allen. Oxford. 1908-1920.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.

Current edition Perseus

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

Translations (9)

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.) — 22.405 focus

405 So was his head all befouled with dust; but his mother tore her hair and from her flung far her gleaming veil and uttered a cry exceeding loud at sight of her son. And a piteous groan did his father utter, and around them the folk was holden of wailing and groaning throughout the city. 410 Most like to this was it as though all beetling Ilios were utterly burning with fire. And the folk had much ado to hold back the old man in his frenzy, fain as he was to go forth from the Dardanian gates. To all he made prayer, grovelling the while in the filth, 415 and calling on each man by name:

Withhold, my friends, and suffer me for all your love to go forth from the city alone, and hie me to the ships of the Achaeans. I will make prayer to yon ruthless man, yon worker of violence, if so be he may have shame before his fellows and have pity on my old age. 420 He too, I ween, hath a father such as I am, even Peleus, that begat him and reared him to be a bane to Trojans; but above all others hath he brought woe upon me, so many sons of mine hath he slain in their prime. Yet for them all I mourn not so much, despite my grief, 425 as for one only, sharp grief for whom will bring me down to the house of Hades—even for Hector. Ah, would he had died in my arms; then had we taken our fill of weeping and wailing, the mother that bare him to her sorrow, and myself.

So spake he weeping, and thereto the townsfolk added their laments. 430 And among the women of Troy Hecabe led the vehement lamentation:

My child, ah woe is me! How shall I live in my sore anguish, now thou art dead?—thou that wast my boast night and day in the city, and a blessing to all, both to the men and women of Troy throughout the town, who ever greeted thee as a god; 435 for verily thou wast to them a glory exceeding great, while yet thou livedst; but now death and fate are come upon thee.

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.) — 22.416 focus

416 "Let be, my friends," he cried, "and for all your sorrow, suffer me to go single-handed to the ships of the Achaeans. Let me beseech this cruel and terrible man, if maybe he will respect the feeling of his fellow-men, and have compassion on my old age. His own father is even such another as myself - Peleus, who bred him and reared him to - be the bane of us Trojans, and of myself more than of all others. Many a son of mine has he slain in the flower of his youth, and yet, grieve for these as I may, I do so for one - Hektor - more than for them all, and the bitterness of my sorrow [ akhos] will bring me down to the house of Hades. Would that he had died in my arms, for so both his ill-starred mother who bore him, and myself, should have had the comfort of weeping and mourning over him."

429 Thus did he speak with many tears, and all the people of the city joined in his lament. Hecuba then raised the cry of wailing among the Trojans. "Alas, my son," she cried, "what have I left to live for now that you are no more? Night and day did I glory in. you throughout the city, for you were a tower of strength to all in Troy , and both men and women alike hailed you as a god. So long as you lived you were their pride, but now death and destruction have fallen upon you."

437 Hektor's wife had as yet heard nothing, for no one had come to tell her that her husband had remained without the gates. She was at her loom in an inner part of the house, weaving a double purple web, and embroidering it with many flowers. She told her maids to set a large tripod on the fire, so as to have a warm bath ready for Hektor when he came out of battle; poor woman, she knew not that he was now beyond the reach of baths, and that Athena had laid him low by the hands of Achilles. She heard the cry coming as from the wall, and trembled in every limb; the shuttle fell from her hands, and again she spoke to her waiting-women. "Two of you," she said, "come with me that I may learn what it is that has befallen; I heard the voice of my husband's honored mother;

451 my own heart beats as though it would come into my mouth and my limbs refuse to carry me; some great misfortune for Priam's children must be at hand. May I never live to hear it, but I greatly fear that Achilles has cut off the retreat of brave Hektor and has chased him on to the plain where he was singlehanded; I fear he may have put an end to the reckless daring which possessed my husband, who would never remain with the body of his men, but would dash on far in front, foremost of them all in valor."

460 Her heart beat fast, and as she spoke she flew from the house like a maniac, with her waiting-women following after. When she reached the battlements and the crowd of people, she stood looking out upon the wall, and saw Hektor being borne away in front of the city - the horses dragging him without heed or care over the ground towards the ships of the Achaeans. Her eyes were then shrouded as with the darkness of night and she fell fainting backwards, losing her life-breath [ psukhê]. She tore the tiring from her head and flung it from her, the frontlet and net with its plaited band, and the veil which golden Aphrodite had given her on the day when Hektor took her with him from the house of Eetion, after having given countless gifts of wooing for her sake. Her husband's sisters and the wives of his brothers crowded round her and supported her, for she was fain to die in her distraction; when she again presently breathed and came to herself, she sobbed and made lament among the Trojans saying, ‘Woe is me, O Hektor; woe, indeed, that to share a common lot we were born, you at Troy in the house of Priam, and I at Thebes under the wooded mountain of Plakos in the house of Eetion who brought me up when I was a child - ill-starred sire of an ill-starred daughter - would that he had never begotten me. You are now going into the house of Hades under the secret places of the earth, and you leave me a sorrowing widow in your house. The child, of whom you and I are the unhappy parents, is as yet a mere infant. Now that you are gone, O Hektor, you can do nothing for him nor he for you.

486 Even though he escape the horrors of this woeful war with the Achaeans, yet shall his life henceforth be one of labor [ ponos] and sorrow, for others will seize his lands. The day that robs a child of his parents severs him from his own kind; his head is bowed, his cheeks are wet with tears, and he will go about destitute among the friends of his father, plucking one by the cloak and another by the shirt. Some one or other of these may so far pity him as to hold the cup for a moment towards him and let him moisten his lips, but he must not drink enough to wet the roof of his mouth; then one whose parents are alive will drive him from the table with blows and angry words. ‘Out with you,’ he will say, ‘you have no father here,’ and the child will go crying back to his widowed mother - he, Astyanax, who erewhile would sit upon his father's knees, and have none but the daintiest and choicest morsels set before him. When he had played till he was tired and went to sleep, he would lie in a bed, in the arms of his nurse, on a soft couch, knowing neither want nor care, whereas now that he has lost his father his lot will be full of hardship - he, whom the Trojans name Astyanax, because you, O Hektor, were the only defense of their gates and battlements. The wriggling writhing worms will now eat you at the ships, far from your parents, when the dogs have glutted themselves upon you. You will lie naked, although in your house you have fine and goodly raiment made by hands of women. This will I now burn; it is of no use to you, for you can never again wear it, and thus you will have glory [ kleos] among the Trojans both men and women." In such wise did she cry aloud amid her tears, and the women joined in her lament.

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 22.405 focus

Thus was the head of Hector being dishonored in the dust. His mother tore her hair, and flung her veil from her with a loud cry as she looked upon her son. His father made piteous moan, and throughout the city the people fell to weeping and wailing. [410] It was as though the whole of frowning Ilion was being smirched with fire. Hardly could the people hold Priam back in his hot haste to rush without the gates of the city. He groveled in the mire and besought them, [415] calling each one of them by his name. “Let be, my friends,” he cried, “and for all your sorrow, suffer me to go single-handed to the ships of the Achaeans. Let me beseech this cruel and terrible man, if maybe he will respect the feeling of his fellow-men, and have compassion on my old age. [420] His own father is even such another as myself—Peleus, who bred him and reared him—to be the bane of us Trojans, and of myself more than of all others. Many a son of mine has he slain in the flower of his youth, and yet, grieve for these as I may, [425] I do so for one—Hector—more than for them all, and the bitterness of my sorrow [ akhos] will bring me down to the house of Hādēs. Would that he had died in my arms, for so both his ill-starred mother who bore him, and myself, should have had the comfort of weeping and mourning over him.”

Thus did he speak with many tears, and all the people of the city joined in his lament. [430] Hecuba then raised the cry of wailing among the Trojans. “Alas, my son,” she cried, “what have I left to live for now that you are no more? Night and day did I glory in you throughout the city, for you were a tower of strength to all in Troy, [435] and both men and women alike hailed you as a god. So long as you lived you were their pride, but now death and destruction have fallen upon you.”

437

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870)) — 22.405 focus

Around the dead, as he was dragged along,

The dust arose; his dark locks swept the ground.

495

That head, of late so noble in men's eyes,

Lay deep amid the dust, for Jove that day

Suffered the foes of Hector to insult

His corse in his own land. His mother saw,

And tore her hair, and flung her lustrous veil

500

Away, and uttered piercing shrieks. No less

His father, who so loved him, piteously

Bewailed him; and in all the streets of Troy

The people wept aloud, with such lament

As if the towery Ilium were in flames

505

Even to its loftiest roofs. They scarce could keep

The aged king within, who, wild with grief,

Struggled to rush through the Dardanian gates,

And, rolling in the dust, entreated all

Who stood around him, calling them by name :-

510

"Refrain, my friends, though kind be your intent.

Let me go forth alone, and at the fleet

Of Greece will I entreat this man of blood

And violence. He may perchance be moved

With reverence for my age, and pity me

515

In my gray hairs; for such a one as I

Is Peleus, his own father, by whose care

This Greek was reared to be a scourge to Troy,

And, more than all, a cause of grief to me,

So many sons of mine in life's fresh prime

520

Have fallen by his hand. I mourn for them,

But not with such keen anguish as I mourn

For Hector. Sorrow for his death will bring

My soul to Hades. Would that he had died

Here in my arms! this solace had been ours, —

525

His most unhappy mother and myself

Had stooped to shed these tears upon his bier."

He spake, and wept, and all the citizens

Wept with him. Hecuba among the dames

Took up the lamentation, and began :-

530

"Why do I live, my son, when thou art dead,

And I so wretched? - thou who wert my boast

Ever, by night and day, where'er I went,

And whom the Trojan men and matrons called

Their bulwark, honoring thee as if thou wert

535

A god. They glory in thy might no more,

Since Fate and Death have overtaken thee."

English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857)) — 22.405 focus

The mother first beheld with sad survey:

She rent her tresses, venerably grey,

And cast far off the regal veils away.

With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans,

While the sad father answers groans with groans;

515

Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow,

And the whole city wears one face of woe:

No less than if the rage of hostile fires,

From her foundations curling to her spires,

O'er the proud citadel at length should rise,

520

And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies.

The wretched monarch of the falling state,

Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate:

Scarce the whole people stop his desperate course,

While strong affliction gives the feeble force:

525

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,

In all the raging impotence of woe.

At length he roll'd in dust, and thus begun,

Imploring all, and naming one by one:

‘Ah! let me, let me go where sorrow calls;

530

‘I, only I, will issue from your walls,

‘(Guide or companion, friends! I ask ye none,)

‘And bow before the murderer of my son.

‘My grief perhaps his pity may engage;

‘Perhaps at least he may respect my age.

535

‘He has a father too; a man like me;

‘One, not exempt from age and misery:

‘(Vigorous no more, as when his young embrace

‘Begot this pest of me, and all my race.)

‘How many valiant sons, in early bloom,

540

‘Has that curs'd hand sent headlong to the tomb!

‘Thee, Hector! last; thy loss (divinely brave!)

‘Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.

‘Oh had thy gentle spirit pass'd in peace,

‘The son expiring in the sire's embrace,

545

‘While both thy parents wept thy fatal hour,

‘And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender shower!

‘Some comfort that had been, some sad relief,

‘To melt in full satiety of grief!’

Thus wail'd the father, groveling on the ground,

550

And all the eyes of Ilion stream'd around.

Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears:

(A mourning princess, and a train in tears:)

‘Ah! why has heaven prolong'd this hated breath,

‘Patient of horrors, to behold thy death?

555

‘O Hector! late thy parents' pride and joy,

‘The boast of nations! the defence of Troy!

‘To whom her safety and her fame she ow'd,

‘Her chief, her hero, and almost her god!

‘O fatal change! become in one sad day

560

‘A senseless corse! inanimated clay!’

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 22.405 focus

A cloud of dust ; and in it all the while,

Along the ground dragged was his comely head,

Once glorious, now by the Greeks made vile,

Since to them Jove had him delivered.

400

Which, when his mother from the wall beheld,

Enrag'd, she from her head pluck'd off her hood,

And threw it from her, tore her hair, and squeal'd.

And Priam lamentably sighing stood.

About him were the Trojans shedding tears,

405

Sighing, and sobbing, and in such affray,

As if all Troy had flam'd about their ears.

And much ado they Priam had to stay.

For down he lay, and spake to ev'ry one,

Forbear, said he ; I will go to this man

410

As fierce and cruel as he is, alone,

And move him to compassion, if I can ;

And what respect he hath to age I'll see.

For Pelius is old as well as I,

That got that mischief both to Troy and me,

415

To th' Trojans all, but me especially.

For he hath kill'd me many a goodly son,

Which all together make me not so smart,

Nor wounds so deep as Hector's death hath done,

Which is alone enough to break my heart.

420

Oh blessed Gods, that it had been your will

He in his mother's hands and mine had died,

That over hint we might have wept our fill!

This said, the Trojans wept again and sigh'd.

Then Hecuba amongst the wives of Troy

425

Began her plaint. Hector, my son, said she,

O my dear son, my glory and my joy,

Why should I 'mongst the living longer be,

Since you are dead and gone, that night and day

The Trojans, men and women, did defend,

430

And as a God was honoured in Troy,

And now are come to an untimely end ?

English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 22.405 focus

A whirlwind made of startled dust drave with them as they drew,

With which were all his black-brown curls knotted in heaps and fil'd.

345

And there lay Troy's late Gracious, by Jupiter exil'd

To all disgrace in his own land, and by his parents seen;

When, like her son's head, all with dust Troy's miserable queen

Distain'd her temples, plucking off her honour'd hair, and tore

Her royal garments, shrieking out. In like kind Priam bore

350

¹²

His sacred person, like a wretch that never saw good day,

Broken with outcries. About both the people prostrate lay,

Held down with clamour; all the town veil'd with a cloud of tears.

Ilion, with all his tops on fire, and all the massacres,

Left for the Greeks, could put on looks of no more overthrow

355

Than now fraid life. And yet the king did all their looks outshow.

The wretched people could not bear his sovereign wretchedness,

Plaguing himself so, thrusting out, and praying all the press

To open him the Dardan ports, that he alone might fetch

His dearest son in, and (all fil'd with tumbling) did beseech

360

Each man by name, thus: "Lov'd friends, be you content, let me,

Though much ye grieve, be that poor mean to our sad remedy

Now in our wishes; I will go and pray this impious man,

Author of horrors, making proof if age's reverence can

Excite his pity. His own sire is old like me; and he

365

That got him to our griefs, perhaps, may, for my likeness, be

Mean for our ruth to him. Alas, you have no cause of cares,

Compar'd with me! I many sons, grac'd with their freshest years,

Have lost by him, and all their deaths in slaughter of this one

(Afflicted man) are doubled. This will bitterly set gone

370

My soul to hell. O would to heaven I could but hold him dead

In these pin'd arms, then tears on tears might fall, till all were shed

In common fortune! Now amaze their natural course doth stop,

And pricks a mad vein." Thus he mourn'm'd, and with him all brake ope

Their store of sorrows. The poor Queen amongst the women wept,

375

Turn'm'd into anguish : "O my son," she cried out, " why still kept

Patient of horrors is my life, when thine is vanished?

My days thou glorifiedst, my nights rung of some honour'd deed

Done by thy virtues, joy to me, profit to all our care.

All made a God of thee, and thou mad'st them all that they are,

380

³⁴

Now under fate, now dead."

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 22.405 focus

Thus, whelm'd in dust, it went. The mother Queen

Her son beholding, pluck'd her hair away,

Cast far aside her lucid veil, and fill'd

470

With shrieks the air. His father wept aloud,

And, all around, long long complaints, were heard

And lamentations in the streets of Troy,

Not fewer or less piercing, than if flames

Had wrapt all Ilium to her topmost towers.

475

His people scarce detain'd the antient King

Grief-stung, and resolute to issue forth

Through the Dardanian gates; to all he kneel'd

In turn, then roll'd himself in dust, and each

By name solicited to give him way.

480

Stand off, my fellow mourners! I would pass

The gates, would seek, alone, the Greecian fleet.

I go to supplicate the bloody man,

Yon ravager; he may respect, perchance,

My years, may feel some pity of my age;

485

For, such as I am, his own father is,

Peleus, who rear'd him for a curse to Troy,

But chiefly rear'd him to myself a curse,

So numerous have my sons in prime of youth

Fall'n by his hand, all whom I less deplore

490

(Though mourning all) than one; my agonies

For Hector, soon shall send me to the shades.

Oh had he but within these arms expired,

The hapless Queen who bore him, and myself

Had wept him, then, till sorrow could no more!

495

So spake he weeping, and the citizens

All sigh'd around; next, Hecuba began

Amid the women, thus, her sad complaint.

Ah wherefore, oh my son! wretch that I am,

Breathe I forlorn of thee? Thou, night and day,

500

My glory wast in Ilium, thee her sons

And daughters, both, hail'd as their guardian God,

Conscious of benefits from thee received,

Whose life prolong'd should have advanced them all

To high renown. Vain boast! thou art no more.

505

So mourn'd the Queen. But fair Andromache

English (F. W. Newman, 1856) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (F. W. Newman, 1856)) — 22 focus

BOOK XXII

THUS scar'd and routed from the plain, as fawns, within the city

They cool'd themselves from sweat, and drank, and heal'd the thirst of water,

Against the noble buttresses reclining: but the Achaians

Nearer unto the wall advanc'd, with shields aslant on shoulder.

Hector alone by deadly doom from Jupiter was fetter'd,

In front of Ilium, beside the Skæan gates, to tarry.

But bright Apollo, speaking clear, address'd the son of Peleus:

"Why, Peleus' son! with speedy foot, thyself a mortal, chasest

Me, an immortal son of Jove? nor yet dost thou beknow me;

But hankerest unflinching. Troth! the Troians are escaped,

Whom thou didst late affray: all these into the town are crowded,

Enjoying thy neglect; and thou art hither gone aroaming.

But me thou wilt not slay; for I to Destiny am scatheless."

To him Achilles, fleet of foot, responded, sore indignant:

"Thou, deadliest of all the gods, hast foil'd me, Far-averter!

Who from the rampart me hast turn'd: else many an armed Troian,

Ere they might reach to Ilium, yonder the earth had bitten.

But me of glory great thou now hast cheated, them reserving

Right easily; for free art thou from fear of after-vengeance.

Troth, would I vengeance take on thee, if but I had the power."

Thus saying, he with haughty soul toward the city hied him,

Speeding, as with the chariot may a prizebearing courser,

Who spanking broad along the lea full easily careereth:

So Achileus his feet and knees did ply, untir'd and supple.

But him did aged Priam's eyes first ken, as o'er the champaign

Swift rush'd he, flashing like the star, which forth in autumn cometh,

Whose rays in gloom of night appear mid many stars resplendent;

Which was alsó by ancient men Orion's Dog entitled;

For he by far most brilliant is, and sign of woe is counted,

And beareth fever plentiful to miserable mortals:

So brilliant was the brass upon the running hero's bosom.

Then groan'd the aged man, and struck his head with hands uplifted,

And call'd, imploring his dear son, who, match'd against Achilles,

Before the gates for battle stood, immeasurably eager.

Him the old man, with arms outstretch'd, right pious accosted:

"Hector! dear child! with single might await not thou this hero

Apart from others, lest that thou do quickly fate encounter,

Vanquish'd by Peleus' son: for he than thee by far is stronger.

Ah cruel! would that from the gods such tenderness might greet him,

Such as from me: then quickly should vultures and dogs devour him

Prostrate: so would my inmost heart of sorrow grim be lighten'd:

A man, who hath bereaved me of children brave and many,

Slaying, or selling in the mart of some far-distant island.

Now too, my eyes Lycaon miss, nor Polydorus see I,

Two children, whom Laothoë, a royal woman, bare me,

Who stand not with the fugitives, into our city crowded.

Now if amid the foeman's host they live, we might redeem them

For brass and gold is still within: for old illustrious Altes

Sent many a costly purtenance, an honour to his daughter.

But if already they be dead and in the house of Pluto,

This to their parents grief will be, to me and to their mother;

Yet to the other folk nathless more shortliv'd were the sorrow,

Unless thou, Hector! fall alsó, by Achileus o'ermaster'd.

Nay, but within the city-wall be screen'd, my child! to rescue

The Troian dames and men of Troy, nor yield a mighty glory

To Peleus' son and be thyself of tender life bereaved.

Pity thou eke unhappy me, who still have thought and feeling,

Ill-fated; whom on steps of Eld Saturnius the father

By noisome doom shall waste, when I on many a woe have gazed,—

Sons slaughter'd, daughters torn away, and bridal chambers ravag'd,

And infants hurl'd upon the ground in grim embrace of foemen,

And my sons' partners rudely dragg'd by deadly hands of Argives.

Me last of all before my gates raw-eating dogs shall mangle,

When stab or shot of dart shall take the life from out my members.

Those dogs, whom in my palace halls I feed from off my table,

The guardians of my doors, shall lie raving upon my threshold,

Swilling my lifeblood. Naught for youth unseemly 'tis, in battle

By savage Ares slain,—to lie, by the sharp weapon mangled.

For to the warriour, in death happen what may, 'tis comely.

But when an aged man is slain, and with immodest outrage,

Despite of hoary head and chin, the dogs his corpse dishonour,

This do I deem most piteous to miserable mortals."

He spake; and many a hoary hair pluck'd from his head: but Hector

Abode unyielding: thereupon on other side his mother

With loosen'd robe and open breast and wailing voice implor'd him.

So she with tear-beflooded cheeks did winged accents utter:

"Hector, my child! revere my breast, and pity thy own mother.

If e'er the soothing teat to thee I held; dear child! obey me.

Ward from within the wall the foe, nor stand in front against him,

Cruel! for if he vanquish thee, never shall I bewail thee

Upon thy pallet, darling bud! nor thy rich-dowed consort;

But far from us the nimble dogs by Argive ships shall eat thee."

Thus weeping did the parents twain address their dearest offspring

With much entreaty; nor avail'd to move the mind of Hector:

But still he waited the approach of terrible Achilles.

As at his den a mountain-snake, which evil bane hath eaten,

With direful anger in his heart a man's assault awaiteth;

And horrid is his glance of eye, as round his den he twineth:

So Hector stirr'd not from his post, possest by quenchless valour,

But on the tower's shelving ledge his shining buckler propped.

Then he with indignation spake to his own haughty spirit:

"Ha, wretched! if I enter now within the gates and rampart,

Polydamas will earliest reproaches lay upon me,

100

Who plainly counsell'd, to conduct the Troians to the city,

During the deadly night, which first arous'd divine Achilles.

But I his counsel follow'd not, which verily was better.

Now, sith infatuate I was, and many lives have wasted,

I blush before the men of Troy and trailing-robed women,

105

Lest haply some one, than myself far worser, say hereafter:—

'Hector the Troian folk destroy'd, on his own might reliant.'

So will they say: thereat to me the odds were vastly better,

Confronted with Achilles' force, to come away his victor,

Or else before the city-gate myself to die with glory.

110

Now, if aside my bossy shield I lay, and sturdy helmet,

And prop against the wall my spear, and venture thus, confronting

Spotless Achilles; and behight, that I will Helen render,

And with her all the gear, whatso within his hollow galleys

115

Did Alexander bring to Troy;— which was the strife's beginning;—

That I both this to Atreus' sons will yield, and give beside it,

All of the city's hidden store, as payment to the Achaians;

And take upon the Troïans a solemn oath of elders,

Naught to conceal, but forward bring for common distribution

120

The gear, whatever may be coop'd within our lovely fortress:—

But oh fond heart! why holdest thou within me such discourses?

Should I draw near and supplicate, yet will he know no pity,

Nor will revere my coming; but will slaughter me, tho' naked,

Thus helpless as a woman, when I shall of armour strip me.

125

Nowise from oak or rock may we, as bachelour to maiden,

Converse; as bachelour and maid hold, each with other, converse.

Better it is, in instant strife to grapple; so we quickly

May learn, to which the Olympian vouchsafeth higher glory."

130

So heaving in his heart, he stood; but near him came Achilles,

A peer to Enyalius, that warriour helm-shaking,

And pois'd the ash of Pelion over his better shoulder,

Dreadful; and brass upon his frame from head to ankle glitter'd,

In semblance as a blazing fire or rising sun in splendour.

135

But Hector, when he saw, was seiz'd with trembling; nor endur'd he

There to abide; but left the gates behind, and fled in terror.

But after him Pelides rush'd, on speedy feet reliant.

As o'er the mountain-side a kite, of feather'd wights the nimblest,

Glideth along his easy path after a trembler pigeon;

140

Which flees beneath him; he behind with shrilly scream approaching

Souseth right oft upon the game, with heart intent to gripe it:

So he, all eager for revenge, flew straight; but Hector hurried

Plying his supple knees, to course beneath the Troian rampart.

¹²

And they, within the watchman's highth, within the windy figtree,

145

Ever beside the chariot-road under the fortress sped them.

Then to the dainty streaming wells they came, whereat two sources

Gush forth, that feed the silver depths of eddying Scamander.

The one with water alway warm rilleth, and smoke around it,

As tho' from blazing fire, aloft from off the surface riseth:

150

The other hurrieth abroad like unto hail in summer,

Or as the cold of melting snow, or ice from out the water.

Here stand beside them washing-seats, broad slabs of dainty marble,

Where wives and daughters fair of Troy did wash their shining garments

In former days, while peace was yet, ere came Achaia's children.

155

Hereby ran they, in flight the one, the other close pursuing.

Brave was in sooth the man who fled, but braver the pursuer,

And fierce their hurry; sith, I wis, to them the prize of running

No victim was nor hide of ox, which prizes are of swiftness;

160

Nay, but they scudded for the life of courser-taming Hector.

As fleetly round the goal may race the single-hoofed horses

Prize-bearers; when a costly prize, a tripod or a woman,

Is offer'd, at the burial of some deceased hero;

So round and round three times the twain did Priam's city compass

165

In rapid running. All the gods look'd down to see the contest.

Thereat the Sire of gods and men to them began discourses:

"Ye Spirits! lo! beneath my eyes I view a loved hero

Chas'd round his rampart; and my heart hath pity upon Hector,

Who never fail'd to burn to me the costly thighs of oxen,

170

One while upon the pinnacles of dell-abounding Ida,

Elsewhile upon the city's highth: but now divine Achilles

With speedy feet pursueth him around the walls of Priam.

But come, bethink you, all ye gods! and enter into counsel,

Whether we now from coming death shall save him, or shall quickly

175

Beneath Achiles, Peleus' son. slay him, albeit noble."

Hereon responsive spake to him Athene, grey-ey'd goddess:

"Sire of the shining Thunderbolt! what sayest thou, Dark-clouded!

A man, who mortal is of birth, long syne by doom predestin'd,

Him from sad-wailing Aïdes dost ponder to deliver?

180

Do it: but we, the other gods, not all shall praise thy doing."

Then cloud-collecting Jupiter reciprocal address'd her :

"Cheer thee, beloved, Trito-born! not with a soul so earnest

Have I harangu'd: and fain would I to thee, my child! be gentle.

Do, as thy bosom prompteth thee, and start not from thy purpose."

185

He by such charge Athene spurr'd, herself already eager,

And, speedy darting, down she came from summits of Olympus.

But swift Achilles Hector chas'd with unremitting scuffle.

As o'er the mountains may a hound pursue thro' glen and thicket

190

A fawn, awaken'd from its lair; and tho', in bushes crouching,

It hide, yet tracking, on he scuds, until he overhend it:

So Hector vainly would elude the race of swift Pelides.

Oft as toward the Dardan gates and the well-builded towers

195

He sped, in hope they might by darts scare from above his foeman;

So oft by intercepting rush toward the plain he turn'd him.

As one who dreaming tries to run, can neither flee nor follow,

So nor could Hector flee away, nor could Achilles catch him.

200

Nor troth! had Hector then so long the fates of Death evaded,

But that Apollo first and last did faithful stand beside him,

And breathed vigour in his heart and supple made his members.

Then to the peoples with his head divine Achilles nodded,

205

Forbidding others at the foe their stinging darts to shower;

Lest any, hitting, glory win, and he but follow second.

But when the combatants arriv'd the fourth time at the fountains,

The general Father thereupon his golden balance poised,

And, charg'd with death slow-lingering, two fates he cast within it,

210

That for the son of Peleus; for courser-taming Hector this.

He rais'd the scales; and tilting fell the auspicious hour of Hector.

To Pluto fleeted then his years, and bright Apollo left him.

But to Achilles' aid arriv'd Athene, grey-ey'd goddess,

And standing near beside him, she did winged accents utter:

215

"Gallant Achilles, dear to Jove! now shall we twain, I reckon,

Unto the galleys bear away great glory for the Achaians

By Hector's slaughter; tho' he be insatiate of battle.

Sith as no longer now from us escape to him is open,

Not tho' Apollo Far-averter strive with much entreaty,

220

Falling around the knees of Jove the ægisholding Father.

But stand thou now and breath regain; and I, to him proceeding,

By counsel will persuade his heart with adverse might to front thee."

So spake Athene: he obey'd, and in his soul was joyful,

And leaning on the ashen shaft barbed with brass, he halted.

225

Him then she quitted, and was found at side of godlike Hector,

With semblance of Deïphobus, in shape and voice unwearied.

There, near before his face, she stood, and winged accents utter'd :

"My gracious sir! swift Achileus too hard doth press upon thee,

Chasing with fleet-careering foot around the walls of Priam:

230

But let us stand and hold our ground, and sturdily repel him."

To him with word responsive spake great motley-helmed Hector:

"Deïphobus! eke heretofore wast thou to me far dearest

Of all my kin, whom Hecuba to Priam gave as offspring.

Now, more than ever, in my heart I purpose, thee to honour,

235

Who, when thy eyes took note of me, hast for my sake adventur'd

Out of the rampart; but the rest abide within securely."

Then him reciprocal address'd Athene, grey-ey'd goddess:

"O gracious brother! truly me my sire and queenly mother,

By turns embracing, much implor'd, and after them my comrades, —

240

There to abide: so great a dread hath overmaster'd all men :

But still my heart was inwardly by mournful sorrow wasted.

And now with onward eagerness fight we: no stint is needed

Of javelins: so shall we know, if of our lives Achilles

Havoc shall make, and bear away a prize of gory trophies

245

Unto the smoothly-hollow ships, or by thy spear be vanquish'd."

Thro' such pretences of the lip, with guile Athene led him.

When they to nearer distance came advancing each on other,

Unto Achilles 'gan to speak great motley-helmed Hector:

"No longer, Peleus' son! will I, as heretofore, avoid thee.

250

Thrice fled I round the mighty wall of Priam, nor adventur'd

Thy coming to await: but now in turn my spirit prompteth

To stand against thee: so will I or vanquish or be vanquish'd.

But come, and gart we by the gods: these, who of all are highest,

Are eke the best of witnesses and overseers of treaties.

255

No éxtreme outrage I on thee will lay, if Jove may haply

Grant me enduring hardiment, and if I rieve thy spirit:

But soon as I have stript away thy noble arms, Achilles!

I to thy friends thy corpse will yield:" to this be thou too plighted."

To him Achilles, fleet of foot, with scowling glance responded:

260

"Of no agreements talk to me, inexpiable Hector!

As not to lions and to men is oath of faithful treaty,

And as thro' heart of wolf and lamb no spirit breatheth common,

But each to other constantly hath naught but evil hatred:

So no affection may arise 'twixt thee and me, nor treaties

265

Will I engage; but first, I ween, shall one or other falling

Glut with his gore the warriour, unweariable Ares.

Call to remembrance all thy skill and valour: now, if ever,

A thorough spearman prove thyself and warriour intrepid.

No more evasion hast thou here: straightway doth maid Athene

270

Cast thee beneath my spear, and thou shalt in one sum repay me

The sorrows of my comrades, whom thy frantic spear hath slaughter'd."

He spake, and poising forward threw the spear with lengthy shadow:

But Hector saw it opposite, and stoop'd to shun its fury;

So o'er him flew the brazen point, and in the earth was fasten'd.

275

But maid Athene caught it up, and instant to Achilles

Restor'd it: thus deluded she Hector, the people's shepherd.

Then Hector confident address'd the spotless son of Peleus:

"Achilles, image of the gods! not yet my fate thou knewest

From Jupiter; but me thy spear has miss'd, despite thy menace.

280

Thou art, methinketh, apt of speech, and crafty in haranguing,

In hope, so might I thro' alarm forget intrepid valour.

Not in my fleeing back shalt thou (If so the god have granted thee)

thy dart implant; but drive it straight thro' my eager bosom.

Shun now my brazen spear in turn. O might thy flesh receive it

285

Entire! so should the war become far lighter to the Troians

By thy destruction; sith to them art thou the direst noyance."

He spake, and poising forward threw the spear with lengthy shadow,

Nor miss'd; but in the middle hit the buckler of Pelides.

290

But from the buckler glanc'd the dart afar: then shudder'd Hector,

Indignant, that the pointed spear he fruitlessly had urged.

No other ashen shaft had he; so stood he there, desponding,

And loudly summon'd to his aid Deïphobus white-shielded,

Asking of him a lengthy spear: but nowhere near he saw him.

295

Then Hector in his inward heart discern'd, and spake foreboding:

"Ye Spirits! verily, I wis, the gods to death have call'd me.

Right sure was I,—Deïphobus the hero stood beside me;

But him the wall doth hide, and me Athene hath beguiled.

And now an evil death to me is near, nor longer distant:

300

Escape is none: for thus of old, methinketh, was it pleasing

To Jove and Jove's far-darting son, who heretofore were alway

Zealous to rescue me; but now in turn doth Fate o'erhend me.

Yet would I not inglorious without a struggle perish,

But after some achievement high for future age to talk of."

305

He spake, and drew his shining sword, which sharp and great and stalwart

Hung at his hip, then on he rush'd collected, as an eagle

High-flying thro' the murky clouds upon the plain descendeth,

Pouncing upon a tender lamb or trembling hare; so Hector

310

Rush'd, brandishing his whetted sword. Against him sped Achilles,

With savage rancour full-possest, and held before his bosom

His buckler fair and curious, and nodded with the helmet

Four-crested, all-irradiant; for hairs of gold around it

315

Wav'd plenteous along the ridge by handicraft of Vulcan.

As in the sky at dusk of night the Even-star appeareth,

The fairest stud in heaven's host; such radiance was kindled

From off the polish'd spear-point, which in his right hand Achilles

Brandish'd, with thoughts of deadly bale for godlike Hector heaving,

320

And Iraqi ponder'd, where the tender skin might best admit his weapon.

The brazen armour beauteous, which he from slain Patroclus

Had stript, did elsewhere screen his flesh: save twixt the neck and shoulder,

Beside the collar-bone and throat, where life hath quickest exit;

325

Therein did godlike Achileus with eager weapon pierce him,

And thro' the tender neck its point outright behind him issued.

Nor did the brazen-weighted ash his weazand cut asunder;

So should his throat avail to speak responsive to Achilles.

Then dropt he in the dust; whereat divine Achilles boasted:

330

"Hector! thy thought it was, I ween, in stripping slain Patroclus,

Secure to be, nor heldest count of me apart remaining.

O simpleton! but I behind, far mightier avenger,

Was left, beside the hollow ships; who have thy sinews loosen'd.

335

Now thee foul dogs and birds shall rend, and him the Achaians bury."

To him, with puny vigour left spake motley-helmed Hector:

"I by thy life and by thy knees implore, and by thy parents,

Give me not up, to dogs a prey, beside the Achaian galleys;

But from my father's hands accept, and from my queenly mother,

340

Copper in many kinds, and gold, and other presents costly;

And give my lifeless body back unto my home, that honour

From Troian men and wives of Troy in rightful flames may shrive me."

To him Achilles fleet of foot with scowling glance responded:

"Seek not, O dog, my knees to touch, and plead not by my parents.

345

Oh that, for all thy outrages, my heart and soul permitted

To slice raw pieces of thy flesh and down my throat devour them!

So is there none, who from thy head may fray the dogs and vultures:

Not if tenfold and twenty-fold they carry ransom hither,

Of perfect weight presenting it, and more engage hereafter;

350

Nor if Dardanid Priam claim thy flesh and bones to balance

In gifts of gold, yet even so shall not thy queenly mother

Place on the pallet and bewail Hector, her proper offspring;

But dogs and birds foul-ravining shall all thy members mangle."

Then spake with dying breath to him great motley-helmed Hector:

355

"Right true were my forebodings then, nor mightest thou be soften'd

By prayer: verily thy soul is iron in thy bosom.

But ponder, lest from wrath of gods I bring thee woe hereafter,

What time, before the Skæan gates, by aid of bright Apollo,

The archer Paris thee shall slay, tho' peerless be thy valour."

360

While thus he spake, the end of death his mouth and voice foreclosed.

Out of his members flew his soul and reach'd the house of Pluto,

Mourning its own sad destiny, from youth and manhood parting.

Divine Achilles to the corpse a word then utter'd further:

"Die thou: but I shall then to Doom submit me, whensoever

365

Such is the will of Jupiter and other gods immortal."

He spake; and from his prostrate foe pull'd out the brazen weapon:

But, placing it aside, he stript the armour from his shoulders,

All bloody. Then around him ran Achaia's other children,

Who, gazing fearfully, admir'd the form and comely stature

370

Of Hector; nor came any near, but left some stab upon him.

And thus spake one, with eye that glanc'd upon some other near him:

"Ye Spirits! softer now in sooth for touch of man to handle

Is Hector, than when late he wrapt in wasting fire our galleys."

Thus each man spake, and standing near one after other stabb'd him.

375

But when Achilles, fleet of foot, had stript the noble armour,

With winged accents he harangu'd, among the Achaians standing:

"O friends, who of the Argive folk are governours and leaders,

Sithence the gods have granted us this champion to vanquish,

Who hath more evils wrought alone, than all his gather'd army;

380

Trial behoveth it to make with arms around the city

And learn what temper doth the foe within his bosom cherish;

Whether, on such a loss, they think to quit their lofty fortress,

Or obstinate abide, altho' no Hector have they longer.

But, O fond heart! why holdest thou within me such discourses?

385

Alas! for still Patroclus' corpse beside the galleys lieth,

Unwept, unburied: ne'er will I forget him, while my spirit

Amongst the living doth abide, and while my knees support me.

Ay, if in house of Aïdes each dead forgetteth other,

Yet even yonder still will I my comrade dear remember.

390

But now, the Pæan shouting high, youths of Achaia! wend we

Unto the smoothly hollow ships, and bear this carcase with us.

Great glory have we earn'd; for we have godlike Hector vanquish'd,

To whom the Troians in their town, as to a god, made prayer."

So spake he, and unseemly deeds on godlike Hector plotted.

395

He bor'd the gristle of his feet betwixt the heel and ankle,

And thongs of bullhide thro' them strung: so to the car he bound him,

Leaving his head to drag: aloft he plac'd the beauteous armour,

And mounting, flogg'd the steeds, not loth in flying course to speed them.

400

As on they dragg'd him, clouds of dust arose; his locks of purple

Abroad were scatter'd; all his head was in the dust betossed,

Reft of its former gracefulness: but then for extreme outrage

Jove unto foemen yielded him, in his own native country.

Thus in the dust was all his head defil'd: meanwhile his mother,

405

Her child beholding, rent her hair, and toss'd her dainty turban

Afar, and wail'd aloud: so eke groan'd piteous his father,

And all around, the city-folk was fill'd with shriek and moaning:

Such was the general face of woe, as tho' from foot to summit

410

Brow-rearing Ilium itself did all in ashes smoulder.

And hardly might the people then withhold the aged mourner,

Their king, who thro' the Dardan gates would hurry to the foeman;

And vilely rolling in the dirt, entreated his own people,

And singly call'd on every man, his proper name pronouncing:

415

"O friends, refrain: and from the walls permit me in my sorrow

Alone to issue, and to seek the galleys of Achaia.

With prayer let me meet this man atrocious, direful worker,

If haply he my hoary hair, and age, revere and pity.

For he too such a father hath,— Peleus, who gat and rear'd him,

420

A woe to Troians, and to me in chief a mighty mischief:

So many children flourishing his force from me hath rieved.

But tho' I grieve, yet not so great for all of them my anguish,

As is for one, sharp grief for whom shall drag me down to Pluto,—

Hector!—Oh would that in my hands his spirit he had yielded!

425

Then we twain parents,—I myself, and his illfated mother,—

With tears and wailing o'er his corpse would take our fill of sorrow."

So spake he weeping: after him the citizens moan'd also:

But to the women Hecuba led off the dirge incessant:

"My child! and wherefore live I still, with direful anguish smitten

430

By thy destruction? thou that wast to Troian men and women

Within the city, day and night, a mighty boast and profit!

Who, as a god, did welcome thee; for thou to them great glory

435

Wast, while alive; but now, alas! do Death and Fate o'erhend thee."

So spake she weeping: but his wife not yet had heard the tiding

Of Hector; for no messenger to her had brought announcement,

Too true; how that without the gates her lord to stay persisted:

But she, withdrawn in a recess of the tall house, was working

440

A purple tissue, double web, with motley flowers broider'd;

And to her dainty-braided maids she call'd within the chambers,

An ample tripod on the fire to set, whereby should Hector

Returning from the battle find water for warm ablution,

O simple! nor discern'd, that far in sooth from all ablution

445

Grey-ey'd Athene him had slain, beneath Achilles' onset.

Then heard she shrieks re-echoing and wailings from the tower,

And dropt upon the ground her mesh; for fear convuls'd her members;

Then did she once again address her dainty-braided handmaids:

"Come! follow, two of you, behind: I go to learn this matter:

450

The voice of our revered queen I heard, and in my bosom

My heart upleapeth to my mouth; my knees beneath are palsied

With terror: troth, a mighty woe is near for Priam's children.

Far from my ear be such a tale! but grim alarm doth seize me,

Lest-that divine Achilles now have haply from the city

455

Cut off bold Hector all alone, and o'er the plain do chase him;

So to the noisome bravery, which alway did possess him,

Might direful end be set: for ne'er in the thick troop abode he,

But far in front was wont to rush, peerless his might esteeming."

Thus saying, from the chamber forth she rac'd, in frantic fashion,

460

With beating heart, and after her did eke the handmaids follow.

But when unto the troop of men she reach'd, and to the tower,

Upon the rampart there she stood forth gazing; and beheld him

Before the city dragg'd around, behind the speedy coursers,

Who to Achaia's hollow ships all-unconcern'd did drag him.

465

A swoon of horror then her eyes in murky night enshrouded:

Gasping she fell to earth, and dropt afar her shining headdress,

The braids and ribbons of her tire, and woven net and turban,

Which golden Aphrodite gave, when motley-helmed Hector

470

Her from Eëtion receiv'd and countless dower paid him.

But round, her female kindred throng'd, and minist'ring beside her,

Withheld her shatter'd spirit's flight. With breath and mind returning,

She deeply heav'd a moan, and spake among the Troian women:

475

"Hector! alas! unhappy me! one destiny, methinketh,

Forth brought us both; thee here in Troy, within the halls of Priam,

And me in sacred Thebe's wall, beneath the woody Placus,

In chambers of Eëtion; who nurtur'd me when little,

480

Unhappy father, hapless child: would never had he got me!

But now to Aïdes' abode, in Earth's profound recesses,

Thou goest, and desertest me a widow in thy chambers

To hateful mourning: and thy child is still a helpless infant,

To whom, my Hector! birth we gave, ill-fated! for no profit

485

Mayest thou be to him, nor he to thee; sith Death hath riev'd thee.

For even if his life escape Achaia's tearful battles,

Yet toil and sorrow afterward never will fail to hunt him;

For, all thy acres broad and fair will others from him ravish.

Upon the day of orphanhood a boy his equals loseth:

490

His eyes dejected close their lids; his cheeks with tears are flooded;

And indigent returneth he unto his father's comrades.

One then he pulleth by the cloak, another by the tunic.

Then one, from those who pity him, awhile a cup forth holdeth,

Which barely moisteneth his lips, but wetteth not his palate.

495

The boy with double parent blest him from the banquet driveth,

With blows of fist bemauling him, and chiding with reproaches:

'Off to ill luck with this! for not with us thy father feasteth.'

Then weeping, back the boy doth wend unto his widow'd mother.—

Astyanax, who heretofore on knees of his own father

500

Did only upon marrow feed and tender fat of wethers;

And when thro' weariness of sport slumber might steal across him,

Then he upon a couch would sleep, within his nurse's bosom,

Or downy pillows, when his heart with daintiness was filled :—

But henceforth will he suffer much, bereft of his dear father,

505

He, whom the Troïans have call'd Astyanax by surname,

For-that thou only diddest guard our gates and long defences.

Now from thy parents far apart, beside the crested galleys,

When that the dogs have ta'en their fill, the crooked worms shall eat thee,

All-naked. Yet are garments here within thy chambers stored,

510

Fine-spun alike and graceful, wrought by women's handy cunning.

But verily in wasting fire I throughly will destroy them:

For, sav'd, they useless are to thee, sith not in them thou liest;

But, burn'd, they honour thee, in sight of Troian men and women."

So spake she weeping: after her with moans the women answer'd.

515

New Alexandria Commentaries

Douglas Frame

in a list of passages where mortals are compared to gods (in the context of analyzing Arete’s comparison to a god/Athena Polias)

source

Gregory Nagy

The time has come for Hector to die at the hands of Achilles, and his final moments of life are singularly grim. Achilles shows him no mercy, expressing the most brutal thoughts even before he vengefully finishes off the killer of Patroklos. Hector is forced to know in advance, before he loses consciousness to the death blow from Achilles, that his executioner intends to mutilate his corpse instead of allowing for a proper funeral. And the form of this mutilation is particularly horrific and morally shocking: attaching the body of Hector to the back of his chariot, Achilles will drag it around the walls of Troy for all to see the humiliation of his hated enemy. Is there any hope, then, for transcending such degradation? Only divine intervention, in the story yet to be told, could prevent the disfigurement of a heroic body’s beauty in death. But the story of transcendence must wait. For now, the focus is on the horror and the sorrow of a heroic death as seen through the eyes of Hector’s lamenting widow Andromache.

draft js image error Copperplate etching (1795) by Tommaso Piroli, after a drawing (1793) by John Flaxman. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

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Further degradation awaits the naked corpse of Hector. Here at I.22.395–405, Achilles proceeds to subject the body of Hector to an act that is meant to disfigure it, and the Master Narrator hints at his own moral disapproval by referring to this act as aeikea . . . erga ‘things unseemly’, I.22.395. The generalized idea of ugliness as conveyed by aeikea ‘unseemly’ and other such words in Homeric diction is reciprocal: when you do something ugly to someone, making that someone look ugly, you are thereby making yourself look ugly as well. To be specific, I describe here in detail the ugly things that Achilles will now do to Hector. First, he pierces a hole between the ankle and the heel of Hector’s two feet, and then he threads through these two holes a leather strip that he attaches to the back of his chariot, I.22.396–398. Then he will drag the corpse through the dust and grime of the battleground as he mounts the chariot and drives off at top speed, with Hector in tow. At this horrific moment in the Homeric narrative, feelings of pity are prompted by the narrative itself at I.22.401–403. The Master Narrator prompts his listeners by focusing here on Hector’s hair, once so beautifully groomed but now all disheveled, and then on his head, with a face that was once so charming to look at—but now you expect this beautiful head to be mutilated beyond recognition, once it gets dragged over the harsh and scraping surface of the battleground. The Master Narrator concludes ruefully: the god Zeus himself is allowing all this to happen, I.22.403–404. But what is the god really allowing to happen? So far, there has been a mistreatment and even degradation of Hector’s body, yes. But, at least so far, there has been no disfigurement to be seen. As the Master Narrator takes one last look here at the corpse of Hector, the hero’s head is shrouded in a swirl of dust, I.22.405, and so his face is not visible. The next time the Master Narrator looks at the corpse of Hector, Achilles is displaying the body lying face down in the dust, I.23.024–026, near the stand where the dead body of Patroklos is lying in state, obviously face up. For a preview of this later moment, see the comment on 1.23.1–64. Even there at 1.23.1–64, though, it cannot be known whether the body that Achilles is intending to degrade has in fact already been disfigured. Once again, the face is not visible. At a later point, however, at I.23.184–191, it will become clear that the face and the head and in fact the whole body of Hector cannot be disfigured. The body is saved. In the anchor comment at I.23.184–191, there will be an analysis of this vision of salvation for Hector’s body.

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Leonard Muellner

in a list of parallels to the opening of formula (A) hōs ephat’ eukhomenos… occurring in the last 9 books of the Iliad (with participles after phanai categorizing the speech, here as lament), in the context of analyzing formula (A) and the meaning of eukhesthai

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Homer Iliad 22.405

ed. David B. Monro, ed. Thomas W. Allen

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