The gates, would seek, alone, the Grecian fleet. 
  I go to supplicate the bloody man,
  Yon ravager; he may respect, perchance,
  My years, may feel some pity of my age; 485
  For, such as I am, his own father is,
  Peleus, who rear’d him for a curse to Troy,
  But chiefly rear’d him to myself a curse,
  So numerous have my sons in prime of youth
  Fall’n by his hand, all whom I less deplore 490
  (Though mourning all) than one; my agonies
  For Hector soon shall send me to the shades. 
  Oh had he but within these arms expired,
  The hapless Queen who bore him, and myself
  Had wept him, then, till sorrow could no more! 495
    So spake he weeping, and the citizens
  All sigh’d around; next, Hecuba began
  Amid the women, thus, her sad complaint. 
    Ah wherefore, oh my son! wretch that I am,
  Breathe I forlorn of thee?  Thou, night and day, 500
  My glory wast in Ilium, thee her sons
  And daughters, both, hail’d as their guardian God,
  Conscious of benefits from thee received,
  Whose life prolong’d should have advanced them all
  To high renown.  Vain boast! thou art no more. 505
    So mourn’d the Queen.  But fair Andromache
  Nought yet had heard, nor knew by sure report
  Hector’s delay without the city gates. 
  She in a closet of her palace sat,
  A twofold web weaving magnificent, 510
  With sprinkled flowers inwrought of various hues,
  And to her maidens had commandment given
  Through all her house, that compassing with fire
  An ample tripod, they should warm a bath
  For noble Hector from the fight return’d. 515
  Tenderness ill-inform’d! she little knew
  That in the field, from such refreshments far,
  Pallas had slain him by Achilles’ hand. 
  She heard a cry of sorrow from the tower;
  Her limbs shook under her, her shuttle fell, 520
  And to her bright-hair’d train, alarm’d, she cried. 
    Attend me two of you, that I may learn
  What hath befallen.  I have heard the voice
  Of the Queen-mother; my rebounding heart
  Chokes me, and I seem fetter’d by a frost. 525
  Some mischief sure o’er Priam’s sons impends. 
  Far be such tidings from me! but I fear
  Horribly, lest Achilles, cutting off
  My dauntless Hector from the gates alone,
  Enforce him to the field, and quell perhaps 530
  The might, this moment, of that dreadful arm
  His hinderance long; for Hector ne’er was wont
  To seek his safety in the ranks, but flew
  First into battle, yielding place to none. 
    So saying, she rush’d with palpitating heart 535
  And frantic air abroad, by her two maids
  Attended; soon arriving at the tower,