Scamandrius was his name, which Hector
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 filent smile;
His tender wife ftood weeping by the while:
Prefs'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 doft 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 opprefs thy fingle 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 ftern Achilles all of life bereft.
Then when the walls of Thebes he overthrew, His fatal hand my royal father flew ;
He flew Aetion, but defpoil'd him not;
Nor in his hate the funeral rites forgot;
Arm'd as he was he fent 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 feven brave brothers in one fatal day
To death's dark manfions took the mournful way;
Slain by the fame Achilles, while they keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep.
My mother, who the royal fceptre 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 alon
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 fon are in thy ruin lost:
This is a husband's and a father's post.
The Scæan gate commands the plains below;
Here marfhal all thy foldiers as they go;
And hence with other hands repel the foe.
By yon wild fig-tree lies their chief afcent,
And thither all their pow'rs are daily bent:
The two Ajaces have I often feen,
And the wrong'd husband of the Spartan queen:
With him his greater brother; 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, fecure of all befide.
To whom the noble Hector thus reply'd.
That and the reft are in my daily care;
But fhould I fhun the dangers of the war,
With fcorn the Trojans would reward my pains,
And their proud ladies with their fweeping trains.
The Grecian fwords and lances I can bear:
But lofs of honour is my only fear.
Shall Hector, born to war, his birth-right yield,
Belye his courage, and forfake the field?
Early in rugged arms I took delight,
And still have been the foremost in the fight:
With dangers dearly have I bought renown,
And am the champion of my father's crown.
And yet my
mind forebodes, with fure prefage,
That Troy fhall perith by the Grecian rage.
The fatal day draws on, when I must fall;
And univerfal ruin cover all.
Not Troy itfelf, tho built by hands divine,
Nor Priam, nor his people, nor his line,
My mother, nor my brothers of renown,
Whose valour yet defends th' unhappy town;
Not thefe, nor all their fates which I foresee,
Are half of that concern I have for thee.
I fee, I fee thee, in that fatal hour,
Subjected to the victor's cruel pow'r;
Led hence a flave to fome infulting fword,
Forlorn, and trembling at a foreign lord;
A spectacle in Argos, at the loom,
Gracing with Trojan fights a Grecian room;
Or from deep wells the living ftream to take,
And on thy weary shoulders bring it back.
While, groaning under this laborious life,
They infolently call thee Hector's wife;
Upbraid thy bondage with thy husband's name;
And from my glory propagate thy fhame.
This when they fay, thy forrows will increase
With anxious thoughts of former happiness ;
That he is dead who could thy wrongs redress.
But I, opprefs'd with iron fleep before,
Shall hear thy unavailing cries no more.
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 fhunning with affright,
And looking back on so uncouth a fight;
Daunted to fee a face with fteel o'er-fpread,
And his high plume that nodded o'er his head.
His fire and mother fmil'd with filent joy;
And Hector haften'd to relieve his boy;
Difmifs'd his burnish'd helm, that fhone 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, propitious Jove,
And you bright fynod of the Pow'rs above;
On this my fon your gracious gifts bestow;
Grant him to live, and great in arms to grow,
To reign in Troy, to govern with renown,
To shield the people, and affert the crown:
That, when hereafter he from war fhall come,
And bring his Trojans peace and triumph home,
Some aged man, who lives this act to fee,
And who in former times remember'd me,
May fay, the fon in fortitude and fame
Outgoes the mark, and drowns his father's name:
That at these words his mother may rejoice,
And add her fuffrage to the public voice.
He first with suppliant hands the Gods ador❜d:
Then to the mother's arms the child reftor'd:
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