Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/405

656—663 Whose hand in vain, directed by her love,

The martial scarf and robe of triumph wove.

Now to devouring flames be these a prey,

Useless to thee, from this accursed day!

Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid,

And honour to the living, not the dead!"

So spake the mournful dame; her matrons hear,

Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear.