or yourself when the day shall
come on which some one of the Achaeans shall rob you for ever of your
freedom, and bear you weeping away. It may be that you will have to ply
the loom in Argos at the bidding of a mistress, or to fetch water from
the springs Messeis or Hypereia, treated brutally by some cruel
task-master; then will one say who sees you weeping, 'She was wife to
Hector, the bravest warrior among the Trojans during the war before
Ilius.' On this your tears will break forth anew for him who would have
put away the day of captivity from you. May I lie dead under the barrow
that is heaped over my body ere I hear your cry as they carry you into
bondage."

He stretched his arms towards his child, but the boy cried and nestled
in his nurse's bosom, scared at the sight of his father's armour, and
at the horse-hair plume that nodded fiercely from his helmet. His
father and mother laughed to see him, but Hector took the helmet from
his head and laid it all gleaming upon the ground. Then he took his
darling child, kissed him, and dandled him in his arms, praying over
him the while to Jove and to all the gods. "Jove," he cried, "grant
that this my child may be even as myself, chief among the Trojans; let
him be not less excellent in strength, and let him rule Ilius with his
might. Then may one say of him as he comes from battle, 'The son is far
better than the father.' May he bring back the blood-stained spoils of
him whom he has laid low, and let his mother's heart be glad."

With this he laid the child again in the arms of his wife, who took him
to her own soft bosom, smiling through her tears. As her husband
watched her his heart yearned towards her and he caressed her fondly,
saying, "My own wife, do not take these things too bitterly to heart.
No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man's hour
is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when
he has once been born. Go, then, within the house, and busy yourself
with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of
your servants; for war is man's matter, and mine above all others of
them that have been born in Ilius."

He took his plumed helmet from the ground, and his wife went back again
to her house, weeping bitterly and often looking back towards him. When
she reached her home she found her maidens within, and bade them all
join in her lament; so they mourned Hector in his own house though he
was yet alive