are
benumbed. Surely some evil is now near the sons of Priam. O that the
word may be [far] from my ear! I dread lest brave Achilles, having
already cut off noble Hector alone from the city, may drive him towards
the plain, and even now have made him desist from the fatal valour which
possessed him; for he never remained among the throng of warriors, but
leaped out far before, yielding in his valour to none."

Thus having spoken, she rushed through the palace like unto one
deranged, greatly palpitating in heart; and her attendants went along
with her. But when she reached the tower and the crowd of men, she stood
looking round over the wall, and beheld him dragged before the city; but
the fleet steeds drew him ruthlessly towards the ships of the Greeks.
Then gloomy night veiled her over her eyes, and she fell backwards, and
breathed out her soul in a swoon. But from her head fell the beautiful
head-gear, the garland, the net, and the twisted fillet, and the veil
which golden Venus had given to her on that day when crest-tossing
Hector led her from the palace of Eetion, after he had presented many
marriage-gifts. Around her in great numbers stood her sisters-in-law and
sisters, who supported her amongst them, seized with stupor unto
death.[717] But when she again revived, and her soul was collected in
her breast, sobbing at intervals, she spoke among the Trojan dames:

[Footnote 717: See Kennedy: [Greek: oste] is to be understood before
[Greek: apolesthai].]

"Hector, O wretched me! then we were both born to a like fate, thou
indeed in Troy, in the mansion of Priam, but I in Thebe, beneath woody
Placus, in the palace of Eetion; who, himself ill-fated, reared me,
ill-fated, being yet a little child;--would that he had not begotten me!
Now, however, thou goest to the mansions of Hades beneath the recesses
of the earth, but leavest me, in hateful grief, a widow in the dwelling;
and thy boy, yet such an infant, to whom thou and I unfortunate gave
birth; nor wilt thou be an advantage to him, O Hector, for thou art
dead; nor he to thee. For even if he shall escape the mournful war of
the Greeks, still will labour and hardship ever be to him hereafter;
for others will deprive him of his fields by changing the landmarks. But
the bereaving day renders a boy destitute of his contemporaries; he is
ever dejected, and his cheeks are bedewed with tears. The boy in want
shall go to the companions of his father, pulling one by t