ora had to mourn
(Though strong their cause she favor'd) the sad fall,
And mournful fate of Hecuba, and Troy.
A nearer case, a more domestic woe,
The loss of Memnon, wrung the goddess' breast:
Whom on the Phrygian plains the mother saw
Beneath the weapon of Achilles sink.
She saw--that color which the blushing morn
Displays, grew pale, and heaven with clouds was hid.
Still could the parent not support the sight,
Plac'd on the funeral pyre his limbs, but straight
With locks dishevell'd, not disdain'd to sue
Prostrate before the knees of mighty Jove.
These words her tears assisting.--"Meanest I,
"Of those the golden heaven supports; to me
"The fewest temples through earth's space are rais'd:
"Yet still a goddess sues. Not to demand
"Temples, nor festal days, nor altars warm'd
"With blazing fires; yet if you but behold
"What I, a female, for you all atchieve,
"Bounding night's confines with new-springing light,
"Such boons you might consider but my due.
"But these are not my care. Aurora's mind
"Not now e'en honors merited demands.
"I come, my Memnon lost, who bravely fought,
"But vainly, in his uncle Priam's cause:
"And in his prime of youth (so will'd your fates)
"Fell by the stout Achilles. Lord supreme!
"Of all the deities, grant, I beseech
"To him some honor, solace of his death;
"Allay the smarting of a mother's wounds."

Jove nodded, round the lofty funeral pile
Of Memnon, rose th' aspiring flames; black clouds
Of smoke the day obscur'd. So streams exhale
The rising mists which Phoebus' rays conceal.
Mount the black ashes, and conglob'd in one
They thicken in a body, and a shape
That body takes, and heat and light receives
From the bright flames. Its lightness gave it wings:
Much like a bird at first, and soon indeed
A bird, its pinions sounded. And a crowd
Of sister birds, their pinions sounded too;
Their origin the same. Thrice they surround
The pile, and thrice with noisy clang the air
Resounds; the fourth time all the troop divide:
Then two and two, they furious wage the war
On either side; fierce with their crooked claws
And beaks, they pounce their adversary's breast,
And tire his wings. Each kindred body falls
An offering to the ashes of the dead,
And prove their offspring from a valiant man.
These birds of sudden origin receive
Their name, Memnonides, from him whose limbs
Produc'd them