He said, and foully Hector’s corpse misus’d; Of either foot he pierc’d the tendon through, That from the ancle passes to the heel, And to his chariot bound with leathern thongs, Leaving the head to trail along the ground; Then mounted, with the captur’d arms, his car, And urg’d his horses; nothing loth, they flew. A cloud of dust the trailing body rais’d: Loose hung his glossy hair; and in the dust Was laid that noble head, so graceful once; Now to foul insult doom’d by Jove’s decree, In his own country, by a foeman’s hand. So lay the head of Hector; at the sight His aged mother tore her hair, and far From off her head the glitt’ring veil she threw, And with loud cries her slaughter’d son bewail’d. Piteous, his father groan’d; and all around Was heard the voice of wailing and of woe. Such was the cry, as if the beetling height Of Ilium all were smould’ring in the fire. Scarce in his anguish could the crowd restrain The old man from issuing through the Dardan gates; Low in the dust he roll’d, imploring all, Entreating by his name each sev’ral man: “Forbear, my friends; though sorrowing, stay me not; Leave me to reach alone the Grecian ships, And there implore this man of violence, This haughty chief, if haply he my years May rev’rence, and have pity on my age. For he too has a father, like to me; Peleus, by whom he was begot, and bred, The bane of Troy; and, most of all, to me The cause of endless grief, who by his hand Have been of many stalwart sons bereft. Yet all, though griev’d for all, I less lament, Than one, whose loss will sink me to the grave, Hector! oh would to Heav’n that in mine arms He could have died; with mourning then and tears We might have satisfied our grief, both she Who bore him, hapless mother, and myself.” Weeping, he spoke; and with him wept the crowd: Then, ’mid the women, Hecuba pour’d forth Her vehement grief: “My child, oh whither now, Heart-stricken, shall I go, of thee bereft, Of thee, who wast to me by night and day A glory and a boast; the strength of all The men of Troy, and women? as a God They worshipp’d thee: for in thy life thou wast The glory of all; but fate hath found thee now.”