Then, prince! you should have fear'd, what now you feel;

Achilles absent was Achilles still:

Yet a short space the great avenger stayed,

Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid.

Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd,

For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd:

While cast to all the rage of hostile power,

Thee birds shall mangle, and the gods devour."

Then Hector, fainting at the approach of death:

"By thy own soul! by those who gave thee breath!

By all the sacred prevalence of prayer;

Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear!

The common rites of sepulture bestow,

To soothe a father's and a mother's woe:

Let their large gifts procure an urn at least,

And Hector's ashes in his country rest."

"No, wretch accursed! relentless he replies;

(

Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes;)

Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare,

Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer.

Could I myself the bloody banquet join!

No--to the dogs that carcase I resign.

Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store,

And giving thousands, offer thousands more;

788

The Iliad of Homer