Book VI

Interviews Between Glaucus and Diomed, and Hector and Andromache

Successes of the Greeks⁠—Hector recalled to Troy by Helenus, to appoint a procession of the Trojan matrons to the temple of Minerva⁠—Meeting of Glaucus and Diomed, who recognize each other as old friends⁠—Their exchange of weapons⁠—Meeting of Hector and Andromache, and return of Hector and Paris to the field.

Now from that stubborn conflict of the Greeks

And Trojans had the gods withdrawn. The fight

Of men encountering men with brazen spears

Still raged from place to place upon the plain

Between the Xanthus and the Simoïs.

And first of all did Ajax Telamon,

The bulwark of the Achaians, break the ranks

Of Troy and raise the hopes of those who fought

Beside him; for he smote the bravest man

Of all the Thracian warriors⁠—Acamas,

Son of Eussorus, strong and large of limb.

His spear-head, through the plumèd helmet’s cone

Entering the forehead of the Thracian, pierced

The bone, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.

The valiant Diomed slew Axylus,

The son of Teuthras. To the war he came

From nobly-built Arisba; great his wealth,

And greatly was he loved, for courteously

He welcomed to his house beside the way

All comers. None of these could interpose

Between him and his death, for Diomed

Slew him and his attendant charioteer,

Calysius; both went down below the earth.

And then Euryalus struck Dresus down,

And smote Opheltius, and went on to slay

Aesepus and his brother Pedasus;⁠—

A river-nymph, Abarbareia, bore

Both children to Bucolion the renowned.

Bucolion was the eldest of the sons

Of great Laomedon. His mother reared

The boy in secret. While he fed his sheep,

He with the river-nymph was joined in love

And marriage, and she bore him twins; and these,

Brave and of shapely limb, Mecisteus’ son

Struck down, and from their shoulders tore the mail.

The warlike Polypoetes overthrew

Astyalus; Ulysses smote to earth

Pidytes the Percosian with the spear,

And Teucer Aretaon, nobly born.

The glittering javelin of Antilochus,

The son of Nestor, laid Ablerus low;

And Agamemnon, king of men, struck down

Elatus, who on lofty Pedasus

Dwelt, by the smoothly flowing Satnio’s stream.

Brave Leitus slew Phylacus in flight,

And by Eurypylus Melanthius fell.

Then valiant Menelaus took alive

Adrastus, whose two coursers, as they scoured

The plain in terror, struck against a branch

Of tamarisk, and, there entangled, snapped

The chariot pole, and, breaking from it, fled

Whither were others fleeing. From the car

Adrastus to the dust beside the wheel

Fell, on his face. There, lifting his huge spear,

Atrides Menelaus o’er him stood.

Adrastus clasped the warrior’s knees and said:⁠—

“O son of Atreus, take me prisoner,

And thou shalt have large ransom. In the house

Of my rich father ample treasures lie⁠—

Brass, gold, and tempered steel⁠—and he shall send

Gifts without end when he shall hear that I

Am spared alive and in the Grecian fleet.”

He spake, and moved the conqueror, who now

Was minded to give charge that one among

His comrades to the Grecian fleet should lead

The captive. Agamemnon came in haste,

And, lifting up his voice, rebuked him thus:⁠—

“O Menelaus, soft of heart, why thus

Art thou concerned for men like these? In sooth,

Great are the benefits thy household owes

The Trojans. Nay, let none of them escape

The doom of swift destruction by our hands.

The very babe within his mother’s womb,

Even that must die, and all of Ilium born

Perish unburied, utterly cut off.”

He spake; the timely admonition changed

The purpose of his brother, who thrust back

The suppliant hero with his hand; and then

King Agamemnon smote him through the loins,

And prone on earth he fell. Upon the breast

Of the slain man Atrides placed his heel,

And from the body drew the ashen spear.

Then Nestor to the Argives called aloud:⁠—

“Friends, Grecian heroes, ministers of Mars!

Let no man here through eagerness for spoil

Linger behind the rest, that he may bear

Much plunder to the ships; but let us first

Strike down our enemies, and afterward

At leisure strip the bodies of the dead.”

Thus speaking, he revived in every breast

Courage and zeal. Then had the men of Troy

Sought refuge from the Greeks within their walls,

O’ercome by abject fear, if Helenus,

The son of Priam, and of highest note

Among the augurs, had not made his way

To Hector and Aeneas, speaking thus:⁠—

“O Hector and Aeneas, since on you

Is laid the mighty labor to command

The Trojans and the Lycians⁠—for the first

Are ye in battle, and in council first⁠—

Here make your stand, and haste from side to side,

Rallying your scattered ranks, lest they betake

Themselves to flight, and, rushing to their wives,

Become the scorn and laughter of the foe.

And then, so soon as ye shall have revived

The courage of your men, we here will bide

The conflict with the Greeks, though closely pressed;

For so we must. But, Hector, thou depart

To Troy and seek the mother of us both,

And bid her call the honored Trojan dames

To where the blue-eyed Pallas has her fane,

In the high citadel, and with a key

Open the hallowed doors, and let her bring

What she shall deem the fairest of the robes,

And amplest, in her palace, and the one

She prizes most, and lay it on the knees

Of the bright-haired Minerva. Let her make

A vow to offer to the goddess there

Twelve yearling heifers that have never borne

The yoke, if she in mercy will regard

The city, and the wives and little ones

Of its defenders; if she will protect

Our sacred Ilium from the ruthless son

Of Tydeus, from whose valor armies flee,

And whom I deem the bravest of the Greeks.

For not so greatly have we held in dread

Achilles, the great leader, whom they call

The goddess-born; but terrible in wrath

Is Diomed, nor hath his peer in might.”

He spake, and Hector of his brother’s words

Was not unmindful. Instantly he leaped,

Armed, from his chariot, shaking his sharp spears;

And everywhere among the host he went,

Exhorting them to combat manfully;

And thus he kindled the fierce fight anew.

They, turning from the flight, withstood the Greeks.

The Greeks fell back and ceased to slay; they thought

That one of the immortals had come down

From out the starry heaven to help the men

Of Troy, so suddenly they turned and fought.

Then Hector to the Trojans called aloud:⁠—

“O valiant sons of Troy, and ye allies

Summoned from far! Be men, my friends; call back

Your wonted valor, while I go to Troy

To ask the aged men, our counsellors,

And all our wives, to come before the gods

And pray and offer vows of sacrifice.”

So the plumed Hector spake, and then withdrew,

While the black fell that edged his bossy shield

Struck on his neck and ankles as he went.

Now came into the midst between the hosts

Glaucus, the offspring of Hippolochus,

And met the son of Tydeus⁠—both intent

On combat. But when now the twain were near,

And ready to engage, brave Diomed

Spake first, and thus addressed his enemy:⁠—

“Who mayst thou be, of mortal men? Most brave

Art thou, yet never in the glorious fight

Have I beheld thee. Thou surpassest now

All others in thy daring, since thou com’st

Within the reach of my long spear. The sons

Of most unhappy men are they who meet

My arm; but⁠—if thou comest from above,

A god⁠—I war not with the gods of heaven;

For even brave Lycurgus lived not long,

The son of Dryas, who engaged in strife

With the celestial gods. He once pursued

The nurses of the frantic Bacchus through

The hallowed ground of Nyssa. All at once

They flung to earth their sacred implements,

Lycurgus the man-slayer beating them

With an ox-driver’s goad. Then Bacchus fled

And plunged into the sea, where Thetis hid

The trembler in her bosom, for he shook

With panic at the hero’s angry threats.

Thenceforward were the blessed deities

Wroth with Lycurgus. Him did Saturn’s son

Strike blind, and after that he lived not long,

For he was held in hate by all the gods.

So will I never with the gods contend.

But if thou be indeed of mortal race,

And nourished by the fruits of earth, draw near;

And quickly shalt thou pass the gates of death.”

Hippolochus’s son, the far-renowned,

Made answer thus: “O large-souled Diomed,

Why ask my lineage? Like the race of leaves

Is that of humankind. Upon the ground

The winds strew one year’s leaves; the sprouting grove

Puts forth another brood, that shoot and grow

In the spring season. So it is with man:

One generation grows while one decays.

Yet since thou takest heed of things like these,

And askest whence I sprang⁠—although to most

My birth is not unknown⁠—there is a town

Lapped in the pasture-grounds where graze the steeds

Of Argos, Ephyra by name, and there

Dwelt Sisyphus Aeolides, most shrewd

Of men; his son was Glaucus, and the son

Of Glaucus was the good Bellerophon,

To whom the gods gave beauty and the grace

Of winning manners. Proetus sought his death

And banished him, for Proetus was the chief

Among the Argives; Jupiter had made

That people subject to his rule. The wife

Of Proetus, nobly-born Anteia, sought

With passionate desire his secret love,

But failed to entice, with all her blandishments,

The virtuous and discreet Bellerophon.

Therefore went she to Proetus with a lie⁠—

“ ‘Die, Proetus, thou, or put Bellerophon

To death, for he has offered force to me.’

“The monarch hearkened, and was moved to wrath;

And then he would not slay him, for his soul

Revolted at the deed; he sent him thence

To Lycia, with a fatal tablet, sealed,

With things of deadly import writ therein,

Meant for Anteia’s father, in whose hand

Bellerophon must place it, and be made

To perish. So at Lycia he arrived

Under the favoring guidance of the gods;

And when he came where Lycian Xanthus flows,

The king of that broad realm received his guest

With hospitable welcome, feasting him

Nine days, and offering up in sacrifice

Nine oxen. But when rosy-fingered Morn

Appeared for the tenth time, he questioned him

And bade him show the token he had brought

From Proetus. When the monarch had beheld

The fatal tablet from his son-in-law,

The first command he gave him was, to slay

Heaven-born Chimaera, the invincible.

No human form was hers: a lion she

In front, a dragon in the hinder parts,

And in the midst a goat, and terribly

Her nostrils breathed a fierce, consuming flame;

Yet, trusting in the portents of the gods,

He slew her. Then it was his second task

To combat with the illustrious Solymi⁠—

The hardest battle he had ever fought⁠—

So he declared⁠—with men; and then he slew⁠—

His third exploit⁠—the man-like Amazons.

Then he returned to Lycia; on his way

The monarch laid a treacherous snare. He chose

From his wide Lycian realm the bravest men

To lie in ambush for him. Never one

Of these came home again⁠—Bellerophon

The matchless slew them all. And when the king

Saw that he was the offspring of a god,

He kept him near him, giving him to wife

His daughter, and dividing with him all

His kingly honors, while the Lycians set

Their richest fields apart⁠—a goodly spot,

Ploughlands and vineyards⁠—for the prince to till.

And she who now became his wife brought forth

Three children to the sage Bellerophon⁠—

Isandrus and Hippolochus; and, last,

Laodameia, who in secret bore

To all-providing Jupiter a son⁠—

Godlike Sarpedon, eminent in arms.

But when Bellerophon upon himself

Had drawn the anger of the gods, he roamed

The Alcian fields alone, a prey to thoughts

That wasted him, and shunning every haunt

Of humankind. The god whose lust of strife

Is never sated, Mars, cut off his son

Isandrus, warring with the illustrious race

Of Solymi; and Dian, she who guides

Her car with golden reins, in anger slew

His daughter. I am of Hippolochus;

From him I claim my birth. He sent me forth

To Troy with many counsels and commands,

Ever to bear myself like a brave man,

And labor to excel, and never bring

Dishonor on the stock from which I sprang⁠—

The bravest stock by far in Ephyra

And the wide realm of Lycia. ’Tis my boast

To be of such a race and such a blood.”

He spake. The warlike Diomed was glad,

And, planting in the foodful earth his spear,

Addressed the people’s shepherd blandly thus:⁠—

“Most surely thou art my ancestral guest;

For noble Oeneus once within his halls

Received the blameless chief Bellerophon,

And kept him twenty days, and they bestowed

Gifts on each other, such as host and guest

Exchange; a purple baldric Oeneus gave

Of dazzling color, and Bellerophon

A double golden goblet; this I left

Within my palace when I came to Troy.

Of Tydeus I remember nothing, since

He left me, yet a little child, and went

To Thebes, where perished such a host of Greeks.

Henceforward I will be thy host and friend

In Argos; thou shalt be the same to me

In Lycia when I visit Lycia’s towns;

And let us in the tumult of the fray

Avoid each other’s spears, for there will be

Of Trojans and of their renowned allies

Enough for me to slay whene’er a god

Shall bring them in my way. In turn for thee

Are many Greeks to smite whomever thou

Canst overcome. Let us exchange our arms,

That even these may see that thou and I

Regard each other as ancestral guests.”

Thus having said, and leaping from their cars,

They clasped each other’s hands and pledged their faith.

Then did the son of Saturn take away

The judging mind of Glaucus, when he gave

His arms of gold away for arms of brass

Worn by Tydides Diomed⁠—the worth

Of fivescore oxen for the worth of nine.

And now had Hector reached the Scaean gates

And beechen tree. Around him flocked the wives

And daughters of the Trojans eagerly;

Tidings of sons and brothers they required,

And friends and husbands. He admonished all

Duly to importune the gods in prayer,

For woe, he said, was near to many a one.

And then he came to Priam’s noble hall⁠—

A palace built with graceful porticos,

And fifty chambers near each other, walled

With polished stone, the rooms of Priam’s sons

And of their wives; and opposite to these

Twelve chambers for his daughters, also near

Each other; and, with polished marble walls,

The sleeping-rooms of Priam’s sons-in-law

And their unblemished consorts. There he met

His gentle mother on her way to seek

Her fairest child, Laodice. She took

His hand and held it fast, while thus she spake:⁠—

“Why art thou come, my child, and why hast left

The raging fight? Full hard these hateful Greeks

Press us, in fighting round the city-walls.

Thy heart, I know, hath moved thee to repair

To our high citadel, and lift thy hands

In prayer to Jupiter. But stay thou here

Till I bring pleasant wine, that thou mayst pour

A part to Jove and to the other gods,

And drink and be refreshed; for wine restores

Strength to the weary, and I know that thou

Art weary, fighting for thy countrymen.”

Great Hector of the crested helm replied:⁠—

“My honored mother, bring not pleasant wine,

Lest that unman me, and my wonted might

And valor leave me. I should fear to pour

Dark wine to Jupiter with hands unwashed.

Nor is it fitting that a man like me,

Defiled with blood and battle-dust, should make

Vows to the cloud-compeller, Saturn’s son.

But thou, with incense, seek the temple reared

To Pallas the despoiler⁠—calling first

Our honored dames together. Take with thee

What thou shalt deem the fairest of the robes,

And amplest, in thy palace, and the one

Thou prizest most, and lay it on the knees

Of the bright-haired Minerva. Make a vow

To offer to the goddess in her fane

Twelve yearling heifers that have never borne

The yoke, if she in mercy will regard

The city, and the wives and little ones

Of its defenders; if she will protect

Our sacred Ilium from the ruthless son

Of Tydeus, from whose valor armies flee.

So to the shrine of Pallas, warrior-queen,

Do thou repair, while I depart to seek

Paris, if he will listen to my voice.

Would that the earth might open where he stands,

And swallow him! Olympian Jupiter

Reared him to be the bane of all who dwell

In Troy, to large-souled Priam and his sons.

Could I behold him sinking to the shades,

My heart would lose its sense of bitter woe.”

He spake. His mother, turning homeward, gave

Charge to her handmaids, who through all the town

Passed, summoning the matrons, while the queen

Descended to her chamber, where the air

Was sweet with perfumes, and in which were laid

Her rich embroidered robes, the handiwork

Of Sidon’s damsels, whom her son had brought⁠—

The godlike Alexander⁠—from the coast

Of Sidon, when across the mighty deep

He sailed and brought the high born Helen thence.

One robe, most beautiful of all, she chose,

To bring to Pallas, ampler than the rest,

And many-hued; it glistened like a star,

And lay beneath them all. Then hastily

She left the chamber with the matron train.

They reached Minerva’s temple, and its gates

Were opened by Theano, rosy-cheeked,

The knight Antenor’s wife and Cisseus’ child,

Made priestess to the goddess by the sons

Of Troy. Then all the matrons lifted up

Their voices and stretched forth their suppliant hands

To Pallas, while the fair Theano took

The robe and spread its folds upon the lap

Of fair-haired Pallas, and with solemn vows

Prayed to the daughter of imperial Jove:⁠—

“O venerated Pallas, Guardian-Power

Of Troy, great goddess! Shatter thou the lance

Of Diomed, and let him fall in death

Before the Scaean gates, that we forthwith

May offer to thee in thy temple here

Twelve yearling heifers that have never worn

The yoke, if thou wilt pity us and spare

The wives of Trojans and their little ones.”

So spake she, supplicating; but her prayer

Minerva answered not; and while they made

Vows to the daughter of Almighty Jove,

Hector was hastening to the sumptuous home

Of Alexander, which that prince had built

With aid of the most cunning architects

In Troy the fruitful, by whose hands were made

The bed-chamber and hall and ante-room.

There entered Hector, dear to Jove; he bore

In hand a spear eleven cubits long:

The brazen spear-head glittered brightly, bound

With a gold circle. In his room he there

Found Paris, busied with his shining arms⁠—

Corselet and shield; he tried his curved bow;

While Argive Helen with the attendant maids

Was sitting, and appointed each a task.

Hector beheld, and chid him sharply thus:⁠—

“Strange man! A fitting time indeed is this,

To indulge thy sullen humor, while in fight

Around our lofty walls the men of Troy

Are perishing, and for thy sake the war

Is fiercely blazing all around our town.

Thou wouldst thyself reprove him, shouldst thou see

Another warrior as remiss as thou

In time of battle. Rouse thee, then, and act,

Lest we behold our city all in flames.”

Then answered Paris of the godlike form:⁠—

“Hector! Although thou justly chidest me,

And not beyond my due, yet let me speak.

Attend and hearken. Not in sullenness,

Nor angry with the Trojans, sat I here

Within my chamber, but that I might give

A loose to sorrow. Even now my wife

With gentle speeches has besought of me

That I return to battle; and to me

That seems the best, for oft doth victory

Change sides in war. Remain thou yet awhile,

Till I put on my armor; or go thou,

And I shall follow and rejoin thee soon.”

He ended. Hector of the beamy helm

Heard him, and answered not; but Helen spake,

And thus with soothing words addressed the chief:⁠—

“Brother-in-law⁠—for such thou art, though I

Am lost to shame, and cause of many ills⁠—

Would that some violent blast when I was born

Had whirled me to the mountain wilds, or waves

Of the hoarse sea, that they might swallow me,

Ere deeds like these were done! But since the gods

Have thus decreed, why was I not the wife

Of one who bears a braver heart and feels

Keenly the anger and reproach of men?

For Paris hath not, and will never have,

A resolute mind, and must abide the effect

Of his own folly. Enter thou meanwhile,

My brother; seat thee here, for heavily

Must press on thee the labors thou dost bear

For one so vile as I, and for the sake

Of guilty Paris. An unhappy lot,

By Jupiter’s appointment, waits us both⁠—

A theme of song for men in time to come.”

Great Hector of the beamy helm replied:⁠—

“Nay, Helen, ask me not to sit; thy speech

Is courteous, but persuades me not. My mind

Is troubled for the Trojans, to whose aid

I hasten, for they miss me even now.

But thou exhort this man, and bid him haste

To overtake me ere I leave the town.

I go to my own mansion first, to meet

My household⁠—my dear wife and little child;

Nor know I whether I may come once more

To them, or whether the great gods ordain

That I must perish by the hands of Greeks.”

So spake the plumèd Hector, and withdrew,

And reached his pleasant palace, but found not

White-armed Andromache within, for she

Was in the tower, beside her little son

And well-robed nurse, and sorrowed, shedding tears.

And Hector, seeing that his blameless wife

Was not within, came forth again, and stood

Upon the threshold questioning the maids.

“I pray you, damsels, tell me whither went

White-armed Andromache? Has she gone forth

To seek my sisters, or those stately dames,

My brothers’ wives? Or haply has she sought

The temple of Minerva, where are met

The other bright-haired matrons of the town

To supplicate the dreaded deity?”

Then said the diligent housewife in reply:⁠—

“Since thou wilt have the truth⁠—thy wife is gone

Not to thy sisters, nor those stately dames,

Thy brothers’ wives; nor went she forth to join

The other bright-haired matrons of the town,

Where in Minerva’s temple they are met

To supplicate the dreaded deity

But to the lofty tower of Troy she went

When it was told her that the Trojan troops

Lost heart, and that the valor of the Greeks

Prevailed. She now is hurrying toward the walls,

Like one distracted, with her son and nurse.”

So spake the matron. Hector left in haste

The mansion, and retraced his way between

The rows of stately dwellings, traversing

The mighty city. When at length he reached

The Scaean gates, that issue on the field,

His spouse, the nobly-dowered Andromache,

Came forth to meet him⁠—daughter of the prince

Eëtion, who, among the woody slopes

Of Placos, in the Hypoplacian town

Of Thebé, ruled Cilicia and her sons,

And gave his child to Hector great in arms.

She came attended by a maid, who bore

A tender child⁠—a babe too young to speak⁠—

Upon her bosom⁠—Hector’s only son,

Beautiful as a star, whom Hector called

Scamandrius, but all else Astyanax⁠—

The city’s lord⁠—since Hector stood the sole

Defence of Troy. The father on his child

Looked with a silent smile. Andromache

Pressed to his side meanwhile, and, all in tears,

Clung to his hand, and, thus beginning, said:⁠—

“Too brave! Thy valor yet will cause thy death.

Thou hast no pity on thy tender child,

Nor me, unhappy one, who soon must be

Thy widow. All the Greeks will rush on thee

To take thy life. A happier lot were mine,

If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,

For I shall have no hope when thou art gone⁠—

Nothing but sorrow. Father have I none,

And no dear mother. Great Achilles slew

My father when he sacked the populous town

Of the Cilicians⁠—Thebé with high gates.

’Twas there he smote Eëtion, yet forbore

To make his arms a spoil; he dared not that,

But burned the dead with his bright armor on,

And raised a mound above him. Mountain-nymphs,

Daughters of aegis-bearing Jupiter,

Came to the spot and planted it with elms.

Seven brothers had I in my father’s house,

And all went down to Hades in one day.

Achilles the swift-footed slew them all

Among their slow-paced bullocks and white sheep.

My mother, princess on the woody slopes

Of Placos, with his spoils he bore away,

And only for large ransom gave her back.

But her Diana, archer-queen, struck down

Within her father’s palace. Hector, thou

Art father and dear mother now to me,

And brother and my youthful spouse besides.

In pity keep within the fortress here,

Nor make thy child an orphan nor thy wife

A widow. Post thine army near the place

Of the wild fig-tree, where the city-walls

Are low and may be scaled. Thrice in the war

The boldest of the foe have tried the spot⁠—

The Ajaces and the famed Idomeneus,

The two chiefs born to Atreus, and the brave

Tydides, whether counselled by some seer

Or prompted to the attempt by their own minds.”

Then answered Hector, great in war: “All this

I bear in mind, dear wife; but I should stand

Ashamed before the men and long-robed dames

Of Troy, were I to keep aloof and shun

The conflict, coward-like. Not thus my heart

Prompts me, for greatly have I learned to dare

And strike among the foremost sons of Troy,

Upholding my great father’s fame and mine;

Yet well in my undoubting mind I know

The day shall come in which our sacred Troy,

And Priam, and the people over whom

Spear-bearing Priam rules, shall perish all.

But not the sorrows of the Trojan race,

Nor those of Hecuba herself, nor those

Of royal Priam, nor the woes that wait

My brothers many and brave⁠—who all at last,

Slain by the pitiless foe, shall lie in dust⁠—

Grieve me so much as thine, when some mailed Greek

Shall lead thee weeping hence, and take from thee

Thy day of freedom. Thou in Argos then

Shalt, at another’s bidding, ply the loom,

And from the fountain of Messeis draw

Water, or from the Hypereian spring,

Constrained unwilling by thy cruel lot.

And then shall someone say who sees thee weep,

‘This was the wife of Hector, most renowned

Of the horse-taming Trojans, when they fought

Around their city.’ So shall someone say,

And thou shalt grieve the more, lamenting him

Who haply might have kept afar the day

Of thy captivity. O, let the earth

Be heaped above my head in death before

I hear thy cries as thou art borne away!”

So speaking, mighty Hector stretched his arms

To take the boy; the boy shrank crying back

To his fair nurse’s bosom, scared to see

His father helmeted in glittering brass,

And eying with affright the horse-hair plume

That grimly nodded from the lofty crest.

At this both parents in their fondness laughed;

And hastily the mighty Hector took

The helmet from his brow and laid it down

Gleaming upon the ground, and, having kissed

His darling son and tossed him up in play,

Prayed thus to Jove and all the gods of heaven:

“O Jupiter and all ye deities,

Vouchsafe that this my son may yet become

Among the Trojans eminent like me,

And nobly rule in Ilium. May they say,

‘This man is greater than his father was!’

When they behold him from the battle-field

Bring back the bloody spoil of the slain foe⁠—

That so his mother may be glad at heart.”

So speaking, to the arms of his dear spouse

He gave the boy; she on her fragrant breast

Received him, weeping as she smiled. The chief

Beheld, and, moved with tender pity, smoothed

Her forehead gently with his hand and said:⁠—

“Sorrow not thus, beloved one, for me.

No living man can send me to the shades

Before my time; no man of woman born,

Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

But go thou home, and tend thy labors there⁠—

The web, the distaff⁠—and command thy maids

To speed the work: The cares of war pertain

To all men born in Troy, and most to me.”

Thus speaking, mighty Hector took again

His helmet, shadowed with the horse-hair plume,

While homeward his beloved consort went,

Oft looking back, and shedding many tears.

Soon was she in the spacious palace-halls

Of the min-queller Hector. There she found

A troop of maidens⁠—with them all she shared

Her grief; and all in his own house bewailed

The living Hector, whom they thought no more

To see returning from the battle-field,

Safe from the rage and weapons of the Greeks,

Nor waited Paris in his lofty halls,

But when he had put on his glorious arms,

Glittering with brass, he traversed with quick steps

The city; and as when some courser, fed

With barley in the stall, and wont to bathe

In some smooth-flowing river, having snapped

His halter, gayly scampers o’er the plain,

And in the pride of beauty bears aloft

His head, and gives his tossing mane to stream

Upon his shoulders, while his flying feet

Bear him to where the mares are wont to graze⁠—

So came the son of Priam⁠—Paris⁠—down

From lofty Pergamus in glittering arms,

And, glorious as the sun, held on his way

Exulting and with rapid feet. He found

His noble brother Hector as he turned

To leave the place in which his wife and he

Had talked together. Alexander then⁠—

Of godlike form⁠—addressed his brother thus:⁠—

“My elder brother! I have kept thee here

Waiting, I fear, for me, though much in haste,

And came less quickly than thou didst desire.”

And Hector of the plumèd helm replied:⁠—

“Strange being, no man justly can dispraise

Thy martial deeds, for thou art truly brave.

But oft art thou remiss and wilt not join

The combat. I am sad at heart to hear

The Trojans⁠—they who suffer for thy sake

A thousand hardships⁠—speak so ill of thee.

Yet let us go: we will confer of this

Another time, if Jove should e’er vouchsafe

That to the immortal gods of heaven we pour

In our own halls the cup of liberty

When we have chased the well-armed Greeks from Troy.”