out to us a quiet settlement; there Troy’s empire has 30
leave to rise again from its ashes. Bear up, and reserve
yourselves for brighter days.”
Such were the words his tongue uttered; heart-sick[60]
with overwhelming care, he wears the semblance of hope
in his face, but has grief deep buried in his heart. They 35
gird themselves to deal with the game, their forthcoming
meal; strip the hide from the ribs, and lay bare the flesh—some
cut it into pieces, and impale it yet quivering on
spits, others set up the caldrons on the beach, and supply