seize thee, neither pity nor respect Hast thou to hope from him. Let us lament Our Hector in these halls. A cruel fate Spun, when I brought him forth, his thread of life— That far from us his corse should feed the hounds Near that fierce man, whose liver I could tear From out his bosom. Then the indignities Done to my son would be repaid, for he Was slain, not shunning combat, coward-like, But fighting to defend the men of Troy And the deep-bosomed Trojan dames. He fell Without a thought of flight or of retreat.”
And thus the aged, godlike king rejoined: “Keep me not back from going, nor be thou A bird of evil omen in these halls, For thou shalt not persuade me. This I say: If any of the dwellers of the earth, Soothsayer, seer, or priest, had said to me What I have heard, I well might deem the words A lie, and heed them not. But since I heard Myself the mandate from a deity, And saw her face to face, I certainly Will go, nor shall the message be in vain. And should it be my fate to perish there Beside the galleys of the mail-clad Greeks, So be it; for Achilles will forthwith Put me to death embracing my poor