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
Nought yet had heard, nor knew by sure report
Hector’s delay without the city gates.
She in a closet of her palace sat,
A twofold web weaving magnificent,510
With sprinkled flowers inwrought of various hues,
And to her maidens had commandment given
Through all her house, that compassing with fire
An ample tripod, they should warm a bath
For noble Hector from the fight return’d.515
Tenderness ill-inform’d! she little knew
That in the field, from such refreshments far,
Pallas had slain him by Achilles’ hand.
She heard a cry of sorrow from the tower;
Her limbs shook under her, her shuttle fell,520
And to her bright-hair’d train, alarm’d, she cried.
Attend me two of you, that I may learn
What hath befallen. I have heard the voice
Of the Queen-mother; my rebounding heart
Chokes me, and I seem fetter’d by a frost.525
Some mischief sure o’er Priam’s sons impends.
Far be such tidings from me! but I fear
Horribly, lest Achilles, cutting off
My dauntless Hector from the gates alone,
Enforce him to the field, and quell perhaps530
The might, this moment, of that dreadful arm
His hinderance long; for Hector ne’er was wont
To seek his safety in the ranks, but flew
First into battle, yielding place to none.
So saying, she rush’d with palpitating heart535
And frantic air abroad, by her two maids
Attended; soon arriving at the tower,
And at the throng of men, awhile she stood
Down-looking wistful from the city-wall,
And, seeing him in front of Ilium, dragg’d540
So cruelly toward the fleet of Greece,
O’erwhelm’d with sudden darkness at the view
Fell backward, with a sigh heard all around.
Far distant flew dispersed her head-attire,
Twist, frontlet, diadem, and even the veil545
By golden Venus given her on the day
When Hector led her from Eëtion’s house
Enrich’d with nuptial presents to his home.
Around her throng’d her sisters of the house
Of Priam, numerous, who within their arms550
Fast held her[16] loathing life; but she, her breath
At length and sense recovering, her complaint
Broken with sighs amid them thus began.
Hector! I am undone; we both were born
To misery, thou in Priam’s house in Troy,555
And I in Hypoplacian Thebes wood-crown’d
Beneath Eëtion’s roof. He, doom’d himself
To sorrow, me more sorrowfully doom’d,
Sustain’d in helpless infancy, whom oh
That he had ne’er begotten! thou descend’st560
To Pluto’s subterraneous dwelling drear,
Leaving myself destitute, and thy boy,
Fruit of our hapless loves, an infant yet,
Never to be hereafter thy delight,
Nor love of thine to share or kindness more.565
For should he safe survive this cruel war,
With the Achaians penury and toil
Must be his lot, since strangers will remove
At will his landmarks, and possess his fields.
Thee lost, he loses all, of father, both,570
And equal playmate in one day deprived,
To sad looks doom’d, and never-ceasing-tears.
He seeks, necessitous his father’s friends,
One by his mantle pulls, one by his vest,
Whose utmost pity yields to his parch’d lips575
A thirst-provoking drop, and grudges more;
Some happier child, as yet untaught to mourn
A parent’s loss, shoves rudely from the board
My son, and, smiting him, reproachful cries—
Away—thy father is no guest of ours—580
Then, weeping, to his widow’d mother comes
Astyanax, who on his father’s lap
Ate marrow only, once, and fat of lambs,[17]
And when sleep took him, and his crying fit
Had ceased, slept ever on the softest bed,585
Warm in his nurse’s arms, fed to his fill
With delicacies, and his heart at rest.
But now, Astyanax (so named in Troy
For thy sake, guardian of her gates and towers)
His father lost, must many a pang endure.590
And as for thee, cast naked forth among
Yon galleys, where no parent’s eye of thine
Shall find thee, when the dogs have torn thee once
Till they are sated, worms shall eat thee next.
Meantime, thy graceful raiment rich, prepared595
By our own maidens, in thy palace lies;
But I will burn it, burn it all, because
Useless to thee, who never, so adorn’d,
Shalt slumber more; yet every eye in Troy
Shall see, how glorious once was thy attire.[18]600
So, weeping, she; to whom the multitude
Of Trojan dames responsive sigh’d around.