laying many of them. But not the
less did others press forward, casting the while stones and javelins and
all that came to their hands.

Meanwhile others sought to break down the gates of the palace, Pyrrhus,
son of Achilles, being foremost among them, clad in shining armor of
bronze. Like to a serpent was he, which sleeps indeed during the winter,
but in the spring comes forth into the light, full-fed on evil herbs,
and, having cast his skin and renewed his youth, lifts his head into the
light of the sun and hisses with forked tongue. And with Pyrrhus were
tall Periphas, and Automedon, who had been armor-bearer to his father
Achilles, and following them the youth of Scyros, which was the kingdom
of his grandfather Lycomedes. With a great battle-axe he hewed through
the doors, breaking down also the door-posts, though they were plated
with bronze, making, as it were, a great window, through which a man
might see the palace within, the hall of King Priam and of the kings who
had reigned aforetime in Troy. But when they that were within perceived
it, there arose a great cry of women wailing aloud and clinging to the
doors and kissing them. But ever Pyrrhus pressed on, fierce and strong
as ever was his father Achilles, nor could aught stand against him,
either the doors or they that guarded them. Then, as a river bursts its
banks and overflows the plain, so did the sons of Greece rush into the
palace.

But old Priam, when he saw the enemy in his hall, girded on him his
armor, which now by reason of old age he had long laid aside, and took a
spear in his hand and would have gone against the adversary, only Queen
Hecuba called to him from where she sat. For she and her daughters had
fled to the great altar of the household gods and sat crowded about it
like unto doves that are driven by a storm. Now the altar stood in an
open court that was in the midst of the palace, with a great bay-tree
above it. So when she saw Priam, how he had girded himself with armor as
a youth, she cried to him and said, "What hath bewitched thee, that thou
girdest thyself with armor? It is not the sword that shall help us this
day; no, not though my own Hector were here, but rather the gods and
their altars. Come hither to us, for here thou wilt be safe, or at the
least wilt die with us."

So she made the old man sit down in the midst. But lo! there came flying
through the palace, Polites, his son, wounded to death by the spear of
Pyrrhus, and P