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But more solicitous for him alone,
Than all their safety, to the tow'r was gonë;
There to survey the labours of the field,
Where the Grecks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly the pafs’d, with fear and fury wild,
The nurse went lagging after with the child.

This heard, the noble Hector made no ftay;
Th’admiring throng divide, to give him way;
He pass'd thrở every street, by which he ĉames
And at the gate he met the mournful dame:

His wife beheld him, and with eager pace
Flew to his arms, to meet a dear embrace :
His wife, who brought in dow'r Cilicia's crown,
And, in herself; a greater dow'r alone":
Aetion's heir, who on the woody plain
Of Hippoplacus did in Thebe reign.
Breathless the few, with joy and passion wild;'
The nurse came lagging after with her child.

The royal babe upon her brea fe was láid ;
Who, like the morning far, his beams display di
Scamandrius was his name, which Hector gavêz
From that fair flood which Ilion's wall did laves
But him Aftyanax the Trojans calls
From his great father, who defends the wall:

Hector beheld him witk a filent smile ;
His tender wife stood weeping by the while:
Pressid in her own,' his warlike hand the took,
Then figh'd; and thus prophetically fpoke.

Thy dauntless heart (which I foresee too late)
Too daring man, wil urge thee to thy fate :'
Nor doft thou pity, with a parent's mind,
This helpless orphan, whom thou leav'A behind s
Nor me, th' unhappy partner of thy bed ;
Who mult in triumph by the Greeks be led 9
They seek thy life, and, in unequal fight
With many, will oppress thy single might;

Perfect

Better it were for miserable me
To die, before the fate which I foresee.
For ah! what comfort can the world bequeath
To Hector's widow, after Hector's death?

Eternal forrow and perpetual tears
Began my youth, and will conclude my years :
I have no parents, friends, nor brothers left;
By stern Achilles all of life bereft.
Then when the walls of Thebes he overthrews
His fatal hand my royal father flew;
He flew Aetion, but despoil'd him not ;
Nor in his hate the funeral rites forgot;
Arm’d as he was he sent him whole below,
And reverenc'd thus the manes of his foe :
A tomb he rais'd; the mountain nymphs around
Inclos'd with planted elms the holy ground.

My seven brave brothers in one fàtal day
To death's dark manfions took the mournful-way
şlain by the fame Achilles, while they keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep.
My mother, who the royal scepter sway'd,
Was captive to the cruel victor made,
And hịther led; but, hence redeem'd with gold,
Her native country did again behold,
And büt beheld : for foon Diana's dart
In an unhappy chace transfix'd her heart.

But thou, my Hector, art thyself alone
My parents, brothers, and my lord' in one :
O kill not all my kindred o'er again,
Nor tempt the dangers of the dusty plain;
But in this cow'r, for our defence, remain,
Thy wife and son are in thy rdin loft :
This is a husband's and a father's post.
The Scæan gate commands the plains below;
Here marshal all thy soldiers as they go;
And hence with other hands repel the foe.

By

By yon wild fig-tree lies their chief aleent;
And thither all their pow'rs are daily bent i
The two Ajaces have I often fèen,
And the wrong'd hufband of the Spartan queen :
With him his greater brotheť; and with these
Fierce Diomede and bold Meriones :
Uncertain if by augury; or chance,
But by this easy rise they all advance ;
Guard well that pafs, secure of all besides
To whom the noble Hector thus reply'di

That and the rest are in my daily care į
But should I fun the dangers of the wary
With scorn the Trojans would reward my pains,
And their prou'd ladies with their sweeping trains
The Grecan swords and lances I can bear :
But loss of honour is my only fear:
Shall Hector, born to war, his birth-right yield,
Belye his courage, and forsake the field?
Early in fugged arms I took delight,
And ftill have been the foremost in the fight :
With dangers dearly have I bought renown;
And and the champion of my father's crown.
And yet my mind forebodes, with sure presage,
That Troy shall perish by the Grecian rage.
The fatal day draws on, when I mütt' falls
And universal rain cover all.
Not Troy itself, tho' built by hands divine,
Nor Priam, not his people, nor his line,
My mother, nor my brothers of renown,
Whose valour yet defends th' unhappy towns
Not these, nor all their fates which I forefee,
Are half of that concern I have for thee,
I see, I see thee, in that fatal hour,
Subjected to the victor's cruel pow'r ;
Łed hence a slave to some insulting sword,
Forlorn, and trembling at a foreign lord;

А

A spectacle in Argos, at the loom,
Gracing with Trojan fights a Grecian room;
Or from deep wells the living stream to take,
And on thy weary shoulders bring it back.
While, groaning under this laborious life,
They insòfently call thee Hector's wife;
Upbraid thy bondage with thy husband's name;
And from my glory propagate thy shame,
This when they say, thy sorrows will increase
With anxious thoughts of former happiness;
That he is dead who could thy wrongs redress.
But I, oppress’d with iron sleep before,
Shall hear thy unavailing cries no more.

He faida
Then, holding forth his arms, he took his boy,
The pledge of love and other hope of Troy.
The fearful infant turn'd his head away,
And on his nurse's neck reclining lay,
His unknown father sunning with affright,
And looking back on so uncowth a fight';
Daunted to see a face with sfeel o’er-Spread,
And his high plume that nodded o'er his head.
His fire and mother smild with filent joyi
And Hector hasten'd to relieve his boy ;
Dismiss'd his burnish'd helm, that thone afar,
The pride of warriors, and the pomp of war:
Th’illuftrious babe, thus reconcil'd, he took:
Hugg'd in his arms, and kiss'd, and thus he spoke,

Parent of Gods and Men, propitiou's Jove,
And you bright fynod of the Pow'rs above;
On this my son your gracious gifts bestow;
Grant him to live, and great in arms to grow,
To reign in Troy, to govern with renown,
To field the people, and assert the crown:
That, when hereafter he from war fhall come,
And bring his Trojans peace and triumph home,

Soms

T E T B

B

Some aged man, who lives this act to see,
And who in former times remember'd me,
May say, the son in fortitude and fame
Dutgoes the mark, and drowns his father's name:
That at these words his mother may rejoice,
And add her suffrage to the public voice.

Thus having said,
He first with suppliant hands the Gods ador'd:
Then to the mother's arms the child restor’d:
With tears and smiles she took her son, and press’d
Th'illustrious infant to her fragrant breaft.
He, wiping her fair eyes, indulg'd her grief,
And eas'd her sorrows with this last relief,

My wife and mistress, drive thy fears away,
Nor give so bad an omen to the day;
Think not it lies in any Grecian's power,
To take my life before the fatal hour,
When that arrives, nor good nor bad can iy
Th'irrevocable doom of destiny.
Return, and, to divert thy thoughts at home,
There talk thy maids, and exercise the loom,,
Employ'd in works that womankind become!
The toils of war, and feats of chivalry
Belong to men, and most of all to me.

At this, for new replies he did not stay,
But lac'd his crested helm, and strode away.
His lovely confort to her house return'd,
And looking often back in silence mourn'd:
Home when she came, her secret woe ihe vents,
And fills the palace with her loud laments;
Those loud laments her echoing maids restore,
And Hector, yet alive, as dead deplore,

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