Its mother's side; but that remorseless beast,
Thrusting away the mother's timid form,
With ravenous jaws doth grasp the lesser prey,
And, crushing, drag it hence: so shalt thou, too,
Be snatched away from me by heartless foes.
Then take my tears and kisses, O my son,
Take these poor locks, and, full of mother love, 800
Go speed thee to thy sire; and in his ear
Speak these, thy grieving mother's parting words:
"If still thy manes feel their former cares,
And on the pyre thy love was not consumed,
Why dost thou suffer thy Andromache
To serve a Grecian lord, O cruel Hector?
Why dost thou lie in careless indolence? 805
Achilles has returned."
Take once again
These hairs, these flowing tears, which still remain
From Hector's piteous death; this fond caress
And rain of parting kisses take for him.
But leave this cloak to comfort my distress,
For it, within his tomb and near his shade,
Hath lain enwrapping thee. If to its folds 810
One tiny mote of his dear ashes clings,
My eager lips shall seek it till they find.
Ulysses: Thy grief is limitless. Come, break away,
And end our Grecian fleet's too long delay.
[He leads the boy away with him.]
Chorus: Where lies the home of our captivity?
On Thessaly's famed mountain heights?
Where Tempe's dusky shade invites? 815
Or Phthia, sturdy warriors' home,
Or where rough Trachin's cattle roam?
Iolchos, mistress of the main,
Or Crete, whose cities crowd the plain? 820
Where frequent flow Mothone's rills,
Beneath the shade of Oete's hills,
Whence came Alcides' fatal bow
Twice destined for our overthrow? 825
