He spake, and with his staff he chased away The loiterers; forth before the aged man They went. With like harsh words he chid his sons. Helenus, Paris, noble Agathon, Pammon, Antiphonus, Deïphobus, Polites, great in war, Hippothoüs, And gallant Dios, nine in all he called, And thus bespake them with reproachful words:—
“Make haste, ye idle fellows, my disgrace! Would ye had all been slain beside the fleet Instead of Hector! Woe is me! The most Unhappy of mankind am I, who had The bravest sons in all the town of Troy, And none of them, I think, are left to me. Mestor, divine in presence, Troilus, The gallant knight, and Hector, he who looked A god among his countrymen—no son Of man he seemed, but of immortal birth— Those Mars has slain, but these who are my shame Remain—these liars, dancers, excellent In choirs, whose trade is public robbery Of lambs and kids. Why haste ye not to get My chariot ready, and bestow these things Within it, that my journey may begin?”
He spake, and they, in fear of his rebuke, Lifted from out its place the strong-wheeled car, Framed to be drawn by mules, and beautiful, And newly built, and on it they made fast The coffer. From its pin they next took down The boxwood mule-yoke, fitted well with rings, And carved with a smooth boss. With this they brought A yoke-band nine ells long, which carefully Adjusting to the polished pole’s far end, They cast the ring upon the bolt, and thrice Wound the long band on each side of the bolt Around the yoke, and made it fast, and turned The loose ends under. Then they carried forth The treasures that should ransom Hector’s corse; And having piled them in the polished car, They yoked the hardy, strong-hoofed mules which once The Mysians gave to Priam, princely gifts. To bear the yoke of Priam they led forth The horses which