him in his hands, thus spoke, praying to Jove and to
the other gods:

"Jove, and ye other gods, grant that this my son also may become, even
as I am, distinguished amongst the Trojans, so powerful in might, and
bravely to rule over Ilium. And may some one hereafter say [concerning
him], returning from the fight, 'He indeed is much braver than his
sire.' And let him bear away the bloody spoils, having slain the foe,
and let his mother rejoice in her soul."

Thus having said, he placed the boy in the hands of his beloved spouse;
but she smiling tearfully received him in her fragrant bosom. Her
husband regarding her, pitied her, and soothed her with his hand, and
addressed her, and said:

"Beloved, be not at all too sad in thine heart on my account. For no man
shall send me prematurely to the shades. But I think there is no one of
men who has escaped fate, neither the coward nor the brave man, after he
has once been born. But do thou, going home, take care of thy own works,
thy web and distaff, and command thy maids to perform their task; but
war shall be a care to all the men who are born in Ilium, and
particularly to me."

Thus having spoken, illustrious Hector took up the horse-haired helmet,
and his beloved wife departed home, looking back from time to time, and
shedding copious tears. Then immediately she reached the very commodious
palace of man-slaying Hector, and within she found many maids, and in
all of them she excited grief. They, indeed, bewailed in his own palace
Hector still alive, for they thought that he would never return back
again from battle, escaping the might and the hands of the Greeks.

Nor did Paris delay in his lofty halls; but he, after he had put on his
famous arms, variegated with brass, then hastened through the city,
relying on his swift feet. And as[250] when a stabled courser, fed with
barley at the stall, having broken his cord, runs prancing over the
plain, elate with joy, being accustomed to bathe in some fair-flowing
river. He bears aloft his head, and his mane is tossed about on his
shoulders: but he, relying on his beauty,[251] his knees easily bear him
to the accustomed pastures[252] of the mares. Thus Paris, the son of
Priam, shining in arms like the sun, exulting descended down from the
citadel of Pergamus, but his swift feet bore him, and immediately after
he found his noble brother Hector, when he was now about to depart from
the place where he was conversing with his spou