iron heart! 
  For should that savage man and faithless once
  Seize and discover thee, no pity expect
  Or reverence at his hands.  Come—­let us weep 265
  Together, here sequester’d; for the thread
  Spun for him by his destiny severe
  When he was born, ordain’d our son remote
  From us his parents to be food for hounds
  In that chief’s tent.  Oh! clinging to his side, 270
  How I could tear him with my teeth!  His deeds,
  Disgraceful to my son, then should not want
  Retaliation; for he slew not him
  Skulking, but standing boldly for the wives,
  The daughters fair, and citizens of Troy, 275
  Guiltless of flight,[6] and of the wish to fly. 
    Whom godlike Priam answer’d, ancient King. 
  Impede me not who willing am to go,
  Nor be, thyself, a bird of ominous note
  To terrify me under my own roof, 280
  For thou shalt not prevail.  Had mortal man
  Enjoin’d me this attempt, prophet, or priest,
  Or soothsayer, I had pronounced him false
  And fear’d it but the more.  But, since I saw
  The Goddess with these eyes, and heard, myself, 285
  The voice divine, I go; that word shall stand;
  And, if my doom be in the fleet of Greece
  To perish, be it so; Achilles’ arm
  Shall give me speedy death, and I shall die
  Folding my son, and satisfied with tears. 290
    So saying, he open’d wide the elegant lids
  Of numerous chests, whence mantles twelve he took
  Of texture beautiful; twelve single cloaks;
  As many carpets, with as many robes,
  To which he added vests, an equal store. 295
  He also took ten talents forth of gold,
  All weigh’d, two splendid tripods, caldrons four,
  And after these a cup of matchless worth
  Given to him when ambassador in Thrace;
  A noble gift, which yet the hoary King 300
  Spared not, such fervor of desire he felt
  To loose his son.  Then from his portico,
  With angry taunts he drove the gather’d crowds. 
    Away! away! ye dregs of earth, away! 
  Ye shame of human kind!  Have ye no griefs 305
  At home, that ye come hither troubling me? 
  Deem ye it little that Saturnian Jove
  Afflicts me thus, and of my very best,
  Best boy deprives me?  Ah! ye shall be taught
  Yourselves that loss, far easier to be slain 310
  By the Achaians now, since he is dead. 
  But I, ere yet the city I behold
  Taken and pillaged, with these aged eyes,
  Shall find safe hiding in the shades below. 
    He said, and chased them with his staff; they left 315
  In haste the doors, by the old King expell’d. 
  Then, chiding them aloud, his sons he call’d,
  Helenus, Paris, noble Agathon,