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Till just before his parents' eyes,
All bathed in blood, he falls and dies.
With death in view, the unchilded sire
Checked not the utterance of his ire:
'May Heaven, if Heaven be just to heed
Such horrors, render worthy meed'
He cries 'for this atrocious deed,
Which makes me see my darling die,
And stains with blood a father's eye.
But he to whom you feign you owe
Your birth, Achilles—'twas not so
He dealt with Priam, though his foe:
He feared the laws of right and truth;
He heard the suppliant's prayer with ruth;
Gave Hector's body to the tomb,
And sent me back in safety home.'
So spoke the sire, and speaking threw
A feeble dart, no blood that drew:
The ringing metal turned it back,
And left it dangling, weak and slack.
Then Pyrrhus: 'Take the news below,
And to my sire Achilles go:
Tell him of his degenerate seed,
And that and this my bloody deed.
Now die:' and to the altar-stone
Along the marble floor
He dragged the father, sliddering on
E'en in his child's own gore:
His left hand in his hair he wreathed,
While with the right he plied
His flashing sword, and hilt-deep sheathed
Within the old man's side.
So Priam's fortunes closed at last:
So passed he, seeing as he passed
His Troy in flames, his royal tower
Laid low in dust by hostile power,