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;

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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,—

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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,

weep,

And from the fountain of Messeis draw
Water, or from the Hypereian spring,
Constrained unwilling by thy cruel lot.
And then shall some one say who sees thee
'This was the wife of Hector, most renowned
Of the horse-taming Trojans, when they fought
Around their city.' So shall some one 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!"

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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:

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:—

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"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

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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 man-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

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In some smooth-flowing river, breaks his cord,

And

prances o'er the plain in joy of heart,

And in the pride of beauty bears aloft

His head, and gives his tossing mane to stream

Upon his shoulders, while his flying feet

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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.

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