"Think, O Achilles, semblance of the gods,
On thine own father, full of days like me.
And trembling on the gloomy verge of life.
Some neighbor chief, it may be, even now
Oppresses him, and there is none at hand,
No friend to succor him in his distress.
Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives,
He still rejoices, hoping day by day,
That one day he shall see the face again
Of his own son, from distant Troy returned.
But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons,
So late the flowers of Ilium, are all slain.
When Greece came hither, I had fifty sons;
But fiery Mars hath thinn'd them. One I had,
One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy,
Whom, standing for his country, thou hast slain—
[717] Hector. His body to redeem I come
Into Achaia's fleet, bringing myself,
Ransom inestimable to thy tent.
Rev'rence the gods, Achilles! recollect
Thy father; for his sake compassion show
To me, more pitiable still, who draw
Home to my lips (humiliation yet
Unseen on earth) his hand who slew my son!"
So saying, he waken'd in his soul regret
Of his own sire; softly he placed his hand
On Priam's hand, and pushed him gently away,
Remembrance melted both. Rolling before
Achilles' feet, Priam his son deplored,
Wide-slaughtering Hector, and Achilles wept
By turns his father, and by turns his friend
Patroclus: sounds of sorrow fill'd the tent.
Cowper, Iliad, xxiv.
HELEN'S LAMENTATION OVER HECTOR.
(By Homer.)
Grief fell on all around;
Then Helen thus breathed forth her plaintive sound:—
"Hector, to Helen's soul more lov'd than all
Whom I in Ilion's walls dare brother call,
Since Paris here to Troy his consort led,
Who in the grave had found a happier bed.
'Tis now, since here I came, the twentieth year,
Since left my land, and all I once held dear:
But never from that hour has Helen heard
From thee a harsh reproach or painful word;
But if thy kindred blam'd me, if unkind
The queen e'er glanc'd at Helen's fickle mind—
(For Priam, still benevolently mild,
Look'd on me as a father views his child)—
Thy gentle speech, thy gentleness of soul,
Would by thine own, their harsher minds control.
[718] Hence, with a heart by torturing misery rent,
Thee and my hapless self I thus lament;
For no kind eye in Troy on Helen rests,
But who beholds me shudders and detests."
Sotheby, Iliad, xxi.
We will here give a few pages of the history of the Trojan war, giving some of the characters, subjects, etc., referred to in the preceding poems in a prose story.
PARIS.
There was sorrow, instead of gladness, in the halls of Priam, because a son was born unto him, and because the lady Hecuba had dreamed a dream, from which the seers knew that the child should bring ruin on the Ilion land. So his mother looked with cold, unloving eyes on the babe as he lay weak and helpless in his cradle, and Priam bade them take the child and leave him on rugged Ida, for the fountain of his love was closed against him.
For five days the dew fell on the babe by night, and the sun shone fiercely on him by day, as he lay on the desolate hill-side, and the shepherd who placed him there to sleep the sleep of death looked upon the child and said, "He sleeps as babes may slumber on silken couches; the gods will it not that he should die." So he took him to his home, and the child grew up with ruddy cheek and nimble feet, brave and hardy, so that none might be matched with him for strength and beauty. The fierce wolves came not near the flocks while Paris kept guard near the fold, the robber lurked not near the homestead when Paris sat by the hearth. So all sang of his strength and his great deeds, and they called him Alexandros, the helper of men.