These on the mountains once Achilles found,

And captive led, with pliant osiers bound;

Then to their sire for ample sums restored;

But now to perish by Atrides' sword:

Pierced in the breast the base-born Isus bleeds:

Cleft through the head his brother's fate succeeds,

Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls,

And, stript, their features to his mind recalls.

The Trojans see the youths untimely die,

But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly.

So when a lion ranging o'er the lawns.

Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns,

Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws,

And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws;

The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay,

But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way;

All drown'd in sweat, the panting mother flies,

And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes.

Amidst the tumult of the routed train,

The sons of false Antimachus were slain;

He who for bribes his faithless counsels sold,

And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold.

Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought,

And slew the children for the father's fault;

Their headstrong horse unable to restrain,

410

The Iliad of Homer