body of her daughter, she espies the corpse of her son Polydorus.
In her exasperations she repairs to the court of Polymnestor; and
having torn out his eyes, is transformed into a bitch. Memnon, who
has been slain by Achilles, is honoured with a magnificent funeral,
and, at the prayer of Aurora, his ashes are transformed by Jupiter
into birds, since called Memnonides.

On the Thracian shore the son of Atreus had moored his fleet, until the
sea was calm, {and} until the wind was more propitious. Here, on a
sudden, Achilles, as great as he was wont to be when alive, rises from
the ground, bursting far and wide, and, like to one threatening, revives
the countenance of that time when he fiercely attacked Agamemnon with
his lawless sword. "And are you departing, unmindful of me, ye Greeks?"
he says; "and is all grateful remembrance of my valour buried together
with me? Do not so. And that my sepulchre may not be without honour, let
Polyxena slain appease the ghost of Achilles." {Thus} he said; and his
companions obeying the implacable shade, the noble and unfortunate maid,
and more than {an ordinary} woman, torn from the bosom of her mother,
which she now cherished almost alone, was led to the tomb, and became a
sacrifice at his ruthless pile.

She, mindful of herself, after she was brought to the cruel altar, and
had perceived that the savage rites were preparing for her; and when she
saw Neoptolemus standing {by}, and wielding his sword, and fixing his
eyes upon her countenance, said-- "Quickly make use of this noble blood:
{in me} there is no resistance: and do thou bury thy weapons either in
my throat or in my breast!" and, at the same time she laid bare her
throat and her breast; "should I, Polyxena, forsooth,[52] either endure
to be the slave of any person, or will any sacred Deity be appeased by
such a sacrifice. I only wish that my death could be concealed from my
mother. My mother is the impediment; and she lessens my joys at death.
Yet it is not my death, but her own life, that should be lamented by
her. Only, stand ye off, lest I should go to the Stygian shades not a
free woman: if {in this} I demand what is just; and withhold the hands
of males from the contact of a virgin. My blood will be the more
acceptable to him, whoever it is that you are preparing to appease by my
slaughter. Yet, if the last prayers of my lips move any of you,--'tis
the daughter of king Priam, {and} not a captive that entreats-