Or how the miserable Priam, grovelling on the floor of his palace, besought his weeping friends to suffer him to rush out of the gates, and implore the mercy of the merciless Achilles? Less horrible, if not less piteous, is the picture of Andromache:—
"To her no messenger
Had brought the tidings, that without the walls
Remained her husband; in her house withdrawn,
A web she wove, all purple, double woof,
With varied flowers in rich embroidery,
And to her neat-haired maids she gave command
To place the largest caldrons on the fires,
That with warm baths, returning from the fight,
Hector might be refreshed; unconscious she,
That by Achilles' hand, with Pallas' aid,
Far from the bath, was godlike Hector slain.
The sounds of wailing reached her from the tower.
******
Then from the house she rushed, like one distract,
With beating heart; and with her went her maids.
But when the tower she reached, where stood the crowd,
And mounted on the wall, and looked around,
And saw the body trailing in the dust,
Which the fleet steeds were dragging to the ships,
A sudden darkness overspread her eyes;
Backward she fell, and gasped her spirit away.
Far off were flung th' adornments of her head,
The net, the fillet, and the woven bands;
The nuptial veil by golden Venus given,
That day when Hector of the glancing helm
Led from Eëtion's house his wealthy bride.
The sisters of her husband round her pressed,
And held, as in the deadly swoon she lay." (D.)
The body is dragged off to the ships, and flung in the dust in front of the bier on which Patroclus lies. And now, at last, when he has been fully avenged, the due honours shall be paid to his beloved remains, while the dogs and vultures feast on those of Hector. Thrice in slow procession, with a mournful chant, the Myrmi-
