son, And satisfying my desire to weep.”
He spake, and, raising the fair coffer-lids, Took out twelve robes of state most beautiful, Twelve single cloaks, as many tapestried mats, And tunics next and mantles twelve of each, And ten whole talents of pure gold, which first He weighed. Two burnished tripods from his store He added, and four goblets and a cup Of eminent beauty, which the men of Thrace Gave him when, as an envoy to their coast, He came from Troy—a sumptuous gift, and yet The aged king reserved not even this To deck his palace, such was his desire To ransom his dear son. And then he drave Away the Trojans hovering round his porch, Rebuking them with sharp and bitter words:—
“Hence with you, worthless wretches! Have ye not Sorrow enough at home, that ye are come To vex me thus? Or doth it seem to you Of little moment, that Saturnian Jove Hath sent such grief upon me in the loss Of my most valiant son? Ye yet will know How great that loss has been; for it will be A lighter task for the beleaguering Greeks To work our ruin, now that he is dead. But I shall sink to Hades ere mine eyes Behold the city sacked and made a spoil.”