to
the well-wheeled chariot, plucked out their hair, touching his head; and
the crowd stood around, weeping. And they indeed would have wept the
whole day till sunset before the gates, lamenting Hector, had not the
old man addressed the people from his chariot:

"Give way to me, to pass through with the mules; but afterwards shall ye
be satiated with weeping, after I shall carry him home." Thus he spoke;
but they stood off. and made way for the chariot. But when they had
brought him into the illustrious palace, they laid him upon perforated
beds, and placed singers beside him, leaders of the dirges, who indeed
sang a mournful ditty, while the women also uttered responsive groans.
And amongst them white-armed Andromache began the lamentation, holding
the head of man-slaughtering Hector between her hands:

"O husband, young in years hast thou died, and hast left me a widow in
the palace. And besides, thy son is thus an infant, to whom thou and I,
ill-fated, gave birth; nor do I think he will attain to puberty; for
before that, this city will be overthrown from its summit. Certainly
thou, the protector, art dead, who didst defend its very self, and didst
protect its venerable wives and infant children; who will soon be
carried away in the hollow ships, and I indeed amongst them. But thou, O
my son, wilt either accompany me, where thou shalt labour unworthy
tasks, toiling for a merciless lord; or some one of the Greeks, enraged,
seizing thee by the hand, will hurl thee from a tower, to sad
destruction; to whom doubtless Hector has slain a brother, or a father,
or even a son; for by the hands of Hector very many Greeks have grasped
the immense earth with their teeth. For thy father was not gentle in the
sad conflict; wherefore indeed the people lament him throughout the
city. But thou hast caused unutterable grief and sorrow to thy parents,
O Hector, but chiefly to me are bitter sorrows left. For thou didst not
stretch out thy hands to me from the couch when dying; nor speak any
prudent word [of solace], which I might for ever remember, shedding
tears night and day."

Thus she spoke, bewailing; but the women also lamented; and to them in
turn Hecuba began her vehement lamentation:

"O Hector, far of all my sons dearest to my soul, certainly being alive
to me, thou wert beloved by the gods, who truly have had a care of thee,
even in the destiny of death. For swift-footed Achilles sold[799] all my
other sons, whomsoever h