Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/136

134 He said, and passed with sad presaging heart

To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;

At home he sought her, but he sought in vain;

She, with one maid of all her menial train,

Had thence retired, and with her second joy,

The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.

Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,

Beheld the war, and sickened at the sight;

There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,

Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.

But he, who found not what his soul desired,

Whose virtue charmed him, as her beauty fired,

Stood in the gates, and asked what way she bent

Her parting step; if to the fane she went,

Where late the mourning matrons made resort,

Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court.

"Not to the court," replied the attendant train,

"Nor mixed with matrons to Minerva's fane;

To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her way,

To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day.

Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian sword;

She heard, and trembled for her absent lord;

Distracted with surprise, she seemed to fly,

Fear on her cheek, and sorrow in her eye.

The nurse attended with her infant boy,

The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy."

Hector, this heard, returned without delay;

Swift through the town he trod his former way,

Through streets of palaces and walks of state,

And met the mourner at the Scæan gate.

With haste to meet him sprang the joyful fair,

His blameless wife, Aëtion's wealthy heir—

Cilician Thebè great Aëtion swayed,

And Hypoplacus' wide-extended shade—

The nurse stood near, in whose embraces pressed,

His only hope hung smiling at her breast,

Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn,

Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.

To this loved infant Hector gave the name

Scamandrius, from Scamander's honoured stream;

Astyanax the Trojans called the boy,

From his great father, the defence of Troy.

Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resigned

To tender passions all his mighty mind.

His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,

Hung on his hand, and thus dejected spoke:

Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh,

And the big tear stood trembling in her eye:

"Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run?