Whom Hector nam'd Scamandrius; they of Troy, Astyanax; since Hector was alone

Their city's safeguard. He, on their approach, Casting a look upon his infant boy,

Silently smiled. Andromache, all bathed

In tears, stood by; and, clinging to his hand,
Address'd him: "Noble husband! thy great heart
Will sure destroy thee. Thou no pity hast
For this thy infant son and wretched me,
Whom thou wilt leave a widow. For the Greeks
Will slay thee soon with overpowering charge
Of numbers. It were better far that I,
Once reft of thee, should sink within the grave.
I have no other comfort when thy life
Has yielded to its destiny; but grief

Must be my portion. Father have I none,
Nor mother. The high-born Achilles slew
My father when he laid the city waste
Of the Cilicians, Thebes with lofty gates.

He slew Æetion, but despoiled him not;
For he was bound by secret vows; and burn'd
His body with its variegated mail,

And heap'd a mount upon him; and the nymphs

That haunt the hills, Jove's daughters, planted it With circle of tall elms. Seven brothers, too, Were mine within the mansion where we dwelt; These in one day were hurried to the grave. The fleet of foot, Achilles highly born,

Destroy'd them all, surpris'd among their herds
And flocks. My mother, who the woody tracts
Of Hypoplacia sway'd, he hither led

With all her treasures; yet a ransom took
And sent her free. But in her father's house
She was death-stricken by Diana's darts.
Thou, Hector, art my father! thou to me
Art mother, brother, all my joy of life,
My husband! Come, be merciful, remain
Here in this turret; make not of this child
An orphan, nor a widow of thy wife.
Command the Trojan army to a halt
At the wild fig-tree, where the city lies
Most easy of ascent, and most exposed
The rampart to assault. Already thrice
The bravest of their warriors have essay'd
To force the wall; the fam'd Idomeneus,
And either Ajax, and brave Diomed,

And Atreus' sons: whether some skilful seer
Have prophesied before them, or their minds
Have prompted them spontaneous to the act."
At these her words the lofty Hector shook
His party-colour'd horse-hair plume, and spoke:
"Believe it, oh my wife! these same sad thoughts
Have touch'd me nearly; but I also fear
The Trojans and the women fair of Troy,
If like a dastard I should skulk apart
From battle. Nor to this my own free mind
Prompts me; for I was train'd from earliest years
To a brave spirit; and have learn'd to fight
Still in the Trojan van, and still maintain
My country's mighty honour and my own.
I know too well, and in my heart and soul
I feel the deep conviction, that a time

Will come when sacred Troy shall be no more,
But Priam and his people be destroy'd

From off the face of earth. The after-woe
Of these my countrymen afflicts me not;
No, nor the grief of Hecuba's despair,
Nor kingly Priam's, nor the woeful lot
Of brethren, brave and many, who shall fall

Beneath their foes, as thine, Andromache!

When some stern Grecian with his mail of brass
Shall lead thee in thy tears away, and snatch
The light of freedom from thee: when, detain'd
At Argos, thou shalt weave the colour'd web
Task'd by another, or shalt waters bear
From fountains of Hyperia, sore averse
And faint, yet yielding to the hard control
That lays the burthen on thee. Haply then
Some passer, looking on thy tears, may cry:

This was the wife of Hector, who was once
Chief warrior of the Trojans when they fought
With their fam'd horses round the walls of Troy.'
So will he say: and thou wilt grieve afresh
At loss of him who might have warded off
Thy day of slavery. But may earth have heap'd
The hill upon my corse ere of thy cries
My ear be conscious, or my soul perceive
The leading of thy sad captivity."

So spake the noble Hector; and with hands Outstretch'd bent forward to embrace his child. The babe against the damsel's broad-zoned breast Lean'd backward, clinging with a cry, disturb'd

At his loved father's aspect, and in fear
Of the keen brass that glared upon his gaze,
And horse-hair sweeping crest that nodded fierce
Upon the helmet's cone. The father dear
And honour'd mother to each other laugh'd:
Instant the noble Hector from his head

Lifted the casque, and plac'd it on the ground,
Far-beaming where it stood; then kiss'd his boy,
And dandled in his arms; imploring thus
Jove, and the other Deities of heaven:
“Hear, Jupiter! and every God on high!
Grant this may come to pass! that he, my son,
May shine among the Trojans in renown
And strength as I myself, and reign o'er Troy
In valour: that of him it may be said

By one who sees him coming from the field,
Truly the son transcends the father's deeds!'
Grant him to slay his enemy, and bear
The bloody trophy back and glad the heart
Of this his mother!" So he said, and placed
The babe within his own beloved's arms:
She softly laid him on her balmy breast,
Smiling through tears. The husband at that sight