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Nor wanted tuneful harp, 'nor vocal quire ; The Muses sung; Apollo touch'd the lyre. Drunken at last, and drowfy they depart, Each to his house; adorn'd with labour'd art Of the lame architect: the thund'ring God Ev'n he withdrew to'rest, and had his load, His swimming head to needful leep apply'd ; And Juno lay unheeded by his fide.

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Hector, returning from the field of battle, to visit

Helen his fister-in-law, and bis brother Paris, who had fought unsuccessfully hand to hand with Menelaus, from thence goes to his own palace to Jee bis wife Andromache, and bis infant fon Astyanax. The description of that interview is the subject of this translation.

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HUS having said, brave Hector went to see

His virtuous wife, the fair Andromache.
He found her not at home; for she was gone,
Attended by her maid and infant son,
To climb the steepy tow'r of Ilion:
From whence, with heavy heart, she might survey
The bloody business of the dreadful day.
Her mournful


The cast around the plain,
And fought the lord of her desires in vain.

But he, who thought his peopled palace bare,
When she, his only comfort, was not there,
Stood in the gate, and ask'd of ev'ry one,


The took, and whither she was gone ; Vol. IV.



If to the court, or, with his mother's train,
In long procession to Minerva's fane?
The servants answer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's sons and daughters did resort,
Nor to the temple was she gone, to move

the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;
But more solicitous for him alone,
Than all their safety, to the tow'r was gone,
There to survey the labours of the field,
Where the Greeks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly she pass’d, with fear' and fury wild ;
The nurse went lagging after with the child.

This heard, the noble Hector made no stay;
Th' admiring throng divide, to give him way;
He pass'd thro every street, by which he came,
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 she flew, with joy and passion wild ;
The nurse came lagging after with her child.
The royal babe

her breast was laid ;
Who, like the morning star, his beams display'd.


Scamandrius was his name, which Hector gave,
From that fair flood which Ilion's wall did lave:
But him Aftyanax the Trojans call,
From his great father, who defends the wall.

Hector beheld him with a silent smile ;
His tender wife stood weeping by the while:
Press'd in her own, his warlike hand she took,
Then figh’d, and thus prophetically spoke.

Thy dauntless heart (which I foresee too late)
Too daring man, will urge thee to thy fate :
Nor dost thou pity, with a parent's mind,
This helpless orphan, whom thou leav'st behind;
Nor me, th' unhappy partner of thy bed ;
Who must in triumph by the Greeks be led :
They seek thy life, and, in unequal fight
With many, will oppress thy single might:
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 overthrew,
His fatal hand my royal father dlew;

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He flew Aetion, but despoild 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 fatal day
To death's dark manfions took the mournful way;
Slain by the same Achilles, while they keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep.
My mother, who the royal sceptre sway'd,
Was captive to the cruel victor made,
And hither led; but, hence redeem'd with gold,
Her native country did again behold,
And but 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 tow'r, for our defence, remain.
Thy wife and son are in thy ruin lost;
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.

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