RHESUS.
493
More lightly now the grief of that Sea-queen
Shall fall on me: for her son too must die. 975
Thee first we Sisters will with dirges hymn,
Achilles then, in Thetis' hour of grief.[1]
Not him shall Pallas save, who murdered thee,
Such shaft doth Loxias' quiver keep for him.
Ah, woes of mothers! Miseries of men! 980
Yea, whoso taketh true account of you
Childless will live, nor bear sons for the grave. [Exit.
Chorus.
Now are the King's death-rites his mother's care.
But if thou wilt do work that lies to hand,
Hector, 'tis time; for yonder dawns the day. 985
Hector.
Depart ye: bid our comrades straightway arm,
And lay the yokes upon the car-steeds' necks.
Then torch in hand must ye await the blast
Of Tuscan clarion; for I trust to press
- ↑
"And thy mother came up from the waves with the deathless Maids of the Sea;
And the sound of the cry of them rang o'er the sea-flood awfully . . . .
And the hoar Sea-ancient's daughters gathered around thee then
Mourning with wails heart-piercing, and wrapped thee in raiment divine;
And there moaned an answering dirge from the sweet-voiced Muses nine;
And there hadst thou seen no face of an Argive but streamed with tears,
So enthralling the clear-ringing voice of the Muses thrilled through our ears."
Odyssey, xxiv, 47–8, 58–62.
