Such was the warrior’s prayer; and in the arms Of his dear wife he placed the little child. She clasped the treasure to her fragrant breast, Tearfully smiling. And her husband’s soul Was touched with pity, and he nursed her hand, And called her by her name: “Andromache, My love, fret not thyself too much for me! No man descends to Hades ere his time, And none whoe’er is born escapes his fate, Whether his heart be cowardly or brave. But, love, returning home, apply thyself To household duties, and thy handmaidens Despatch to theirs, the distaff and the loom. For war must be the business of men, And of all men that have been born in Troy, This war has need of none so much as me.” Thus having spoken, noble Hector placed The waving helmet on his head again. And, silently, Andromache returned (Oft looking back through her fast-gushing tears) To the fair mansion of her warrior spouse. And there, amid her handmaidens, she wept; And they wept, too, mourning their lord as dead, While yet he lived: for, though he lived, they said They knew that he would never more return, Exulting in his prowess, from the war. THE LAMENT OF ANDROMACHE FOR HECTOR. (_Homer’s Iliad_ xxii. 437-515.) But she whom he had loved, Andromache, Knew not of Hector’s death, for none had come To tell her of his stay without the walls. She in the lofty palace sat retired Within her chamber, working at the loom,-- Weaving a purple vest, with varied flowers Embroidered. But, as she her fair-haired maids Enjoined to place upon the blazing fire The spacious caldron, that the soothing bath Might be for Hector ready when he came Home from the battle, knowing not that he, Betrayed by blue-eyed Pallas, bleeding lay Beneath Achilles’ hand, she heard the sound Of weeping and of wailing on the walls; And her limbs trembled, and the shuttle fell Upon the ground. Then cried she to her maids: “Come, quickly, follow me, that we may see What thing has happened, for I surely heard My mother’s voice. My heart within my breast Bounds to my lips,--my knees are stiff with fear,-- And--oh! I dread some ill to Priam’s house. Ah, me! I fear me much, great Peleus’ son Has severed my brave Hector from the town, And drives him to the plain; and soon his life Will be the forfeit of his manly rage. Never would he abide amid the crowd, But must be ever foremost in the war,-- In valour without peer.” She said, and flew Forth from the palace, like a frenzied one, With throbbing heart; and her maids followed her. But when she reached the tower, amid the throng, She stood upon the wall, and gazed around, Until she saw her Hector dragged along With foul dishonour by the prancing steeds