's last afflicting grief
"(For who is spar'd me?) low, my child, thou ly'st;
"And in thy wound, I all my wounds behold.
"Yes, lest a single remnant of my race
"Unslaughter'd should expire, thou too must bleed.
"A female, thee, safe from the sword I thought:
"A female, thee the sword has stretch'd in death.
"The same Achilles, ruiner of Troy,
"Bereaver of my offspring, all destroy'd,--
"Yes, all thy brethren, he, now murders thee!
"Yet when by Paris' and Apollo's darts
"He fell,--now, surely,--said I,--now no more
"Pelides need be dreaded! Yet ev'n now,
"Dreadful to me he proves. Inurned, rage
"His ashes 'gainst our hapless race; we feel
"Ev'n in his grave the anger of this foe.
"I fruitful only for Pelides prov'd.
"Low lies proud Iliuem, and the public woe,
"The heavy ruin ends: if ended yet:
"For Troy to me still stands; my sufferings still
"Roll endless on. I, late in power so high,
"Great in my children, in my husband great,
"Am now dragg'd forth in poverty; exil'd
"From all my children's tombs; a gift to please
"Penelope; who, while my daily task
"She gives to Ithaca's proud dames, will taunt,
"And cry;--of Hector, the fam'd mother see!
"Lo! Priam's spouse!--And thou who sole wast spar'd
"To soothe maternal pangs, so many lost,
"Now bleed'st, atonement to an hostile shade:
"And funeral victims has my womb produc'd
"T' appease a foe. Why holds this stubborn heart?
"Why still delay I? What to me avails
"This loath'd, this long-protracted life? Why spin,
"O, cruel deities! the lengthen'd thread
"Of an old wretch, save that she yet may see
"More deaths? Who e'er could Priam happy deem,
"Iliuem o'erthrown? Yet happy was his death,
"Thy sacrifice, my daughter! not to see;
"At once of life and realm bereft. Yet sure
"O, royal maid! funereal rites await
"Thy last remains; thy corse will be inhum'd
"In ancestorial sepulchres. Ah, no!
"Such fortune smiles not on our house; the tears
"A mother can bestow, are all thy gifts;
"Sprinkled with foreign dust. All have I lost.
"Of the whole stock I could as parent boast,
"To tempt me now still longer to sustain
"This life, my Polydore alone is left;
"Once least of all my manly sons, erst given
"To Thracia's monarch's care, upon these shores.
"But why delay to cleanse that ghastly wound
"With water, and that face, with spouting blood
"Besmear'd."--She ceas'd, and b