The Iliad

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Book by Homer - The Iliad, page 64

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vultures shall work their will upon yourself."

Then Hector said, as the life ebbed out of him, "I pray you by
your life and knees, and by your parents, let not dogs devour me
at the ships of the Achaeans, but accept the rich treasure of
gold and bronze which my father and mother will offer you, and
send my body home, that the Trojans and their wives may give me
my dues of fire when I am dead."

Achilles glared at him and answered, "Dog, talk not to me neither
of knees nor parents; would that I could be as sure of being able
to cut your flesh into pieces and eat it raw, for the ill you
have done me, as I am that nothing shall save you from the
dogs--it shall not be, though they bring ten or twenty-fold
ransom and weigh it out for me on the spot, with promise of yet
more hereafter. Though Priam son of Dardanus should bid them
offer me your weight in gold, even so your mother shall never lay
you out and make lament over the son she bore, but dogs and
vultures shall eat you utterly up."

Hector with his dying breath then said, "I know you what you are,
and was sure that I should not move you, for your heart is hard
as iron; look to it that I bring not heaven's anger upon you on
the day when Paris and Phoebus Apollo, valiant though you be,
shall slay you at the Scaean gates."

When he had thus said the shrouds of death enfolded him, whereon
his soul went out of him and flew down to the house of Hades,
lamenting its sad fate that it should enjoy youth and strength no
longer. But Achilles said, speaking to the dead body, "Die; for
my part I will accept my fate whensoever Jove and the other gods
see fit to send it."

As he spoke he drew his spear from the body and set it on one
side; then he stripped the blood-stained armour from Hector's
shoulders while the other Achaeans came running up to view his
wondrous strength and beauty; and no one came near him without
giving him a fresh wound. Then would one turn to his neighbour
and say, "It is easier to handle Hector now than when he was
flinging fire on to our ships" and as he spoke he would thrust
his spear into him anew.

When Achilles had done spoiling Hector of his armour, he stood
among the Argives and said, "My friends, princes and counsellors
of the Argives, now that heaven has vouchsafed us to overcome
this man, who has done us more hurt than all the others together,
consider whether we should not attack the city in force, and
discover in what mind the Trojans may be. We should thus learn
whether they will desert their city now that Hector has fallen,
or will still hold out even though he is no longer living. But
why argue with myself in this way, while Patroclus is still lying
at the ships unburied, and unmourned--he whom I can never forget
so long as I am alive and my strength fails not? Though men
forget their dead when once they are within the house of Hades,
yet not even there will I forget the comrade whom I have lost.
Now, therefore, Achaean youths, let us raise the song of victory
and go back to the ships taking this man along with us; for we
have achieved a mighty triumph and have slain noble Hector to
whom the Trojans prayed throughout their city as though he were a
god."

On this he treated the body of Hector with contumely: he pierced
the sinews at the back of both his feet from heel to ancle and
passed thongs of ox-hide through the slits he had made: thus he
made the body fast to his chariot, letting the head trail upon
the ground. Then when he had put the goodly armour on the chariot
and had himself mounted, he lashed his horses on and they flew
forward nothing loth. The dust rose from Hector as he was being
dragged along, his dark hair flew all abroad, and his head once
so comely was laid low on earth, for Jove had now delivered him
into the hands of his foes to do him outrage in his own land.

Thus was the head of Hector being dishonoured 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. It
was as though the whole of frowning Ilius 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 grovelled in the mire and
besought them, 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. 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--
Hector--more than for them all, and the bitterness of my sorrow
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."

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."

Hector'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 Hector when he came out of battle; poor woman, she
knew not that he was now beyond the reach of baths, and that
Minerva 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 honoured mother; 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 Hector 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 valour."

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 Hector 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. She tore the attiring from her head and flung it from
her, the frontlet and net with its plaited band, and the veil
which golden Venus had given her on the day when Hector 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 Hector; 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 Placus 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 Hector, you can do nothing
for him nor he for you. Even though he escape the horrors of this
woeful war with the Achaeans, yet shall his life henceforth be
one of labour 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 Hector, were the only defence 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 respect shown you by the Trojans
both men and women."

In such wise did she cry aloud amid her tears, and the women
joined in her lament.



BOOK XXIII

THUS did they make their moan throughout the city, while the
Achaeans when they reached the Hellespont went back every man to
his own ship. But Achilles would not let the Myrmidons go, and
spoke to his brave comrades saying, "Myrmidons, famed horsemen
and my own trusted friends, not yet, forsooth, let us unyoke, but
with horse and chariot draw near to the body and mourn Patroclus,
in due honour to the dead. When we have had full comfort of
lamentation we will unyoke our horses and take supper all of us
here."

On this they all joined in a cry of wailing and Achilles led them
in their lament. Thrice did they drive their chariots all
sorrowing round the body, and Thetis stirred within them a still
deeper yearning. The sands of the seashore and the men's armour
were wet with their weeping, so great a minister of fear was he
whom they had lost. Chief in all their mourning was the son of

BAXI AB - Szetrt - NORDIC BITUMEN AB - Kreditrechner - Alveo

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