nor afford great glory to the son of Peleus, and thou thyself be deprived of thy dear life. Moreover, pity me, wretched yet still preserving my senses,[1] unhappy, whom the Saturnian sire will destroy by grievous fate, upon the threshold of old age, having seen many evils,[2] my sons slain, my daughters dragged captives, their chambers plundered, and my infant children dashed upon the earth in dire hostility, and my daughters-in-law torn away by the pernicious hands of the Greeks. And myself perhaps the last—the raw-devouring dogs, whom I have nourished in my palaces, the attendants of my table, the guards of my portals, will tear at the entrance of the gates,[3] after some one, having stricken or wounded me with the sharp brass, shall take away my soul from my limbs; and who, drinking my blood, will lie in the porch, infuriated in mind. To a young man, indeed, slain in battle, lacerated with the sharp brass, it is altogether becoming to lie, for all things are honorable to him dead, whatever may appear; but when dogs dishonor the gray head, the hoary beard, and privy members of an old man slain, that is indeed most pitiable among wretched mortals."
The old man spoke, and tore out the hoary locks with his hands, plucking them from his head; nor did he persuade the mind of Hector. But his mother, then on the other side, wailing, shed tears, laying bare her bosom, while with the other hand she laid forth her breast; and shedding tears, addressed to him winged words: "O Hector, my son, reverence these things, and pity me myself. If ever I afforded thee the grief-lulling breast, remember these things, O dear son; and being within the wall, repel [this] hostile man; nor stand a foremost adversary to him. Wretched one! for if he shall slay thee, neither shall I mourn thee on the couch, my dear offspring, whom I myself brought forth, nor will thy rich-dowered wife; but far away from us both, the swift dogs will devour thee at the ships of the Greeks."
Thus weeping, they twain addressed their dear son, suppli-
