"No parent now remains my griefs to share, No father's aid, no mother's tender care. The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire, Laid The'be waste, and slew my warlike sire! By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell; In one sad day beheld the gates of hell. My mother lived to bear the victor's bands, The queen of Hippopla'cia's sylvan lands. "Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee: Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care! That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, Where yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy; Thou from this tower defend the important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, That pass Tydi'des, Ajax, strive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. Let others in the field their arms employ, But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy." The chief replied: "That post shall be my care, Nor that alone, but all the works of war. How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground, Attaint the lustre of my former name, Should Hector basely quit the field of fame! My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to the embattled plains: Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father's glories and my own. "Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, Not all my brothel's gasping on the shore, As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread. "I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led! In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes, of which so large a part was thine! To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring The weight of waters from Hype'ria's spring. There, while you groan beneath the load of life, They cry: 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!' Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, Embitters all thy woes by naming me. The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Pressed with a load of monumental clay! Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep."