He said; and on his errand sped in haste The storm-swift Iris; when to Priam’s house She came, the sounds of wailing met her ear. Within the court, around their father, sat His sons, their raiment all bedew’d with tears; And in the midst, close cover’d with his robe, Their sire, his head and neck with dirt defil’d, Which, wallowing on the earth, himself had heap’d, With his own hands, upon his hoary head. Throughout the house his daughters loudly wail’d In mem’ry of the many and the brave Who lay in death, by Grecian warriors slain. Beside him stood the messenger of Jove, And whisper’d, while his limbs with terror shook: “Fear nothing, Priam, son of Dardanus, Nor let thy mind be troubled; not for ill, But here on kindly errand am I sent: To thee I come, a messenger from Jove, Who from on high looks down on thee with eyes Of pitying love; he bids thee ransom home The godlike Hector’s corpse; and with thee take Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart. Alone, no Trojan with thee, must thou go; Yet may a herald on thy steps attend, Some aged man, thy smoothly-rolling car And mules to drive, and to the city back To bring thy dead, whom great Achilles slew. Nor let the fear of death disturb thy mind: Hermes shall with thee, as thine escort, go, And to Achilles’ presence safely bring. Arriv’d within the tent, nor he himself Will slay thee, but from others will protect; Not ignorant is he, nor void of sense, Nor disobedient to the Gods’ behest, But will with pitying eyes his suppliant view.” Swift-footed Iris said, and vanish’d straight: He to his sons commandment gave, the mules To yoke beneath the smoothly-rolling car, And on the axle fix the wicker seat. Himself the lofty cedar chamber sought, Fragrant, high-roof’d, with countless treasures stor’d; And call’d to Hecuba his wife, and said, “Good wife, a messenger from Jove hath come, Who bids me seek the Grecian ships, and there Obtain my son’s release; and with me take Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart. Say then, what think’st thou? for my mind inclines To seek the ships within the Grecian camp.” So he; but Hecuba lamenting cried, “Alas, alas! where are thy senses gone? And where the wisdom, once of high repute ’Mid strangers, and ’mid those o’er whom thou reign’st? How canst thou think alone to seek the ships, Ent’ring his presence, who thy sons hath slain, Many and brave? an iron heart is thine! Of that bloodthirsty and perfidious man, If thou within the sight and reach shalt come, No pity will he feel, no rev’rence show: Rather remain we here apart and mourn; For him, when at his birth his thread of life Was spun by fate, ’twas destin’d that afar From home and parents, he should glut the maw Of rav’ning dogs, by that stern warrior’s tent, Whose inmost heart I would I could devour: Such for my son were adequate revenge, Whom not in ignominious flight he slew; But standing, thoughtless of escape or flight, For Trojan men and Troy’s deep-bosom’d dames.”