THE DEATH OF HECTOR. (From the "Iliad": translated by W. E. Aytoun.) [WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN, Scotch poet, man of letters, and humorist, was born in 1813 and died in 1865. He was son-in-law of John Wilson; one of the editors of Blackwood's, and professor of rhetoric and belles-lettres in the University of Edinburgh. He is best remembered by the "Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers" and the "Bon Gaultier Ballads."] PRONE he fell, and thus Achilles triumphed o'er his fallen foe: "So thou thoughtest, haughty Hector, when thou didst Patroclus slay, That no vengeance should o'ertake thee, and that I was far away! Fool! a stronger far was lying at the hollow ships that day An avenger who hath made thee his dear blood with thine repay; I was left, and I have smote thee. To the ravenous hounds and kites Art thou destined, whilst thy victim shall receive the funeral rites!" Him thus answered helmèd Hector, and his words were faint and slow: "By thy soul, thy knees, thy parents- let them not entreat me so! For I would my rage and hatred could so far transport me on, away, Not although thy wretched parents ten and twenty ransoms pay, Then the helmèd Hector, dying, once again essayed to speak:- Its hard fate lamenting sorely, from so fair a mansion fled; ... "Meanwhile, die thou! I am ready, when 'tis Jove's eternal will, And the other heavenly deities, their appointment to fulfil." This he said, and tore the weapon from the body where it lay, Flung it down, and stooping o'er him, rent the bloody spoils away: And the other Grecian warriors crowded round the fatal place, Hector's noble form admiring, and his bold and manly face; Yet so bitter was their hatred, that they gashed the senseless dead; And each soldier that beheld him, turning to his neighbor, said: "By the gods! 'tis easier matter now to handle Hector's frame, Than when we beheld him flinging on the ships devouring flame." The wife of Hector knew Nothing of this great disaster-none had brought her tidings true, How her spouse had rashly tarried all without the city gate. Weaving of a costly garment, in an inner room she sate, With a varied wreath of blossoms broidering the double border; And unto the fair-haired maidens of her household gave she order On the fire to place a tripod, and to make the fuel burn, For a welcome bath for Hector, when from fight he should return. Hapless woman! and she knew not that from all these comforts far, Blue-eyed Pallas had subdued him, by Achilles, first in war; But she heard the voice of weeping from the turrets, and the wail And the cry of lamentation; then her limbs began to fail, And she shook with dread all over, dropped the shuttle on the ground, And bespoke her fair-haired maidens, as they stood in order round: "Two of ye make haste and follow — what may all this tumult mean? Sure that cry of bitter anguish came from Hecuba the queen. [ing, Wildly beat her heart within her and her maidens followed too. aside, How she gazed! and oh, how dreadful was the sight she there espied! Hector dragged before the city; and the steeds with hasty tramp, All the ornamental tissue dropped from her wild streaming hair, "Oh, my Hector! me unhappy! equal destinies were ours; Born, alas! to equal fortunes thou in Priam's ancient towers, I in Thebes, Aëtion's dwelling in the woody Poplacus. Hapless father! hapless daughter! better had it been for us And thy son an orphan infant- better had he ne'er been born! Thou wilt never help him, Hector - thou canst never cheer thy boy, Nor can he unto his father be a comfort and a joy! Even though this war that wastes us pass away and harm him not, all; Then shall some one, blessed with parents, thrust him rudely from the hall, Loading him with blows and scorning, which perforce the boy must Saying, 'Get thee gone, thou beggar! lo, thy father feasts not here!' Weeping at this harsh denial, back shall he return to me He, Astyanax, the infant, who upon his father's knee Feasted on the richest marrow, and the daintiest meats that be; Who, when slumber fell upon him, and his childish crying ceased, Went to sleep in ease and plenty, cradled on his nurse's breast. Many a wrong shall feel and suffer, since his father is no more. -- fill. Naked!- and thy graceful garments lie within thy palace still; These, the skillful work of women, all to ashes I will burn, For thou never more shalt wear them, and thou never canst return; Yet the Trojans will revere them, relics of their chief so true!" Thus she spoke in tears, and round her all the women sorrowed too. PRIAM RECLAIMS HECTOR'S BODY. (From the "Iliad": translated by John Gibson Lockhart.) [JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART, Scotch poet and man of letters, was born 1794, died 1854. He became the son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott. He joined the staff of Blackwood's in 1818, and was editor of the Quarterly Review, 1826-53.] ON did the old man pass; and he entered, and found the Peleides Seated apart from his train: two only of Myrmidons trustful, Hero Automedon only, and Alkimus, sapling of Ares, Near to him minist'ring stood; he reposed him but now from the meal-time, Sated with food and with wine, nor removed from him yet was the table. All unobserved of them entered the old man stately, and forthwith Grasped with his fingers the knees and was kissing the hands of Achilles Terrible, murderous hands, by which son upon son had been slaughtered. As when a man who has fled from his home with the curse of the blood-guilt, Kneels in a far-off land, at the hearth of some opulent stranger, Begging to shelter his head, there is stupor on them that behold him; So was Achilles dumb at the sight of majestical Priam- Round him in arms, nor a champion at hand to avert the disaster: Stood by my side; but the rest were of handmaids born in my dwelling. Soon were the limbs of the many unstrung in the fury of Ares: Dies by thy hand. For his sake have I come to the ships of Achaia, Hereon Achilles, awaked to a yearning remembrance of Peleus, Rose up, took by the hand, and removed from him gently the old man. Sadness possessing the twain-one, mindful of valorous Hector, "Ah unhappy! thy spirit in truth has been burdened with evils. How could the daring be thine to come forth to the ships of Achaia Singly, to stand in the eyes of the man by whose weapon thy children, Many and gallant, have died? full surely thy heart is of iron. |