For brave Achilles,[30] while they fed their herds
And snowy flocks together, slew them all. 
My mother, Queen of the well-wooded realm
Of Hypoplacian Thebes, her hither brought 520
Among his other spoils, he loosed again
At an inestimable ransom-price,
But by Diana pierced, she died at home. 
Yet Hector—­oh my husband!  I in thee
Find parents, brothers, all that I have lost. 525
Come! have compassion on us.  Go not hence,
But guard this turret, lest of me thou make
A widow, and an orphan of thy boy. 
The city walls are easiest of ascent
At yonder fig-tree; station there thy powers; 530
For whether by a prophet warn’d, or taught
By search and observation, in that part
Each Ajax with Idomeneus of Crete,
The sons of Atreus, and the valiant son
Of Tydeus, have now thrice assail’d the town. 535
To whom the leader of the host of Troy. 
These cares, Andromache, which thee engage,
All touch me also; but I dread to incur
The scorn of male and female tongues in Troy,
If, dastard-like, I should decline the fight. 540
Nor feel I such a wish.  No.  I have learn’d
To be courageous ever, in the van
Among the flower of Ilium to assert
My glorious father’s honor, and my own. 
For that the day shall come when sacred Troy, 545
When Priam, and the people of the old
Spear-practised King shall perish, well I know. 
But for no Trojan sorrows yet to come
So much I mourn, not e’en for Hecuba,
Nor yet for Priam, nor for all the brave 550
Of my own brothers who shall kiss the dust,
As for thyself, when some Achaian Chief
Shall have convey’d thee weeping hence, thy sun
Of peace and liberty for ever set. 
Then shalt thou toil in Argos at the loom 555
For a task-mistress, and constrain’d shalt draw
From Hypereia’s fount,[31] or from the fount
Messeis, water at her proud command. 
Some Grecian then, seeing thy tears, shall say—­
“This was the wife of Hector, who excell’d 560
All Troy in fight when Ilium was besieged.” 
Such he shall speak thee, and thy heart, the while,
Shall bleed afresh through want of such a friend
To stand between captivity and thee. 
But may I rest beneath my hill of earth 565
Or ere that day arrive!  I would not live
To hear thy cries, and see thee torn away. 
So saying, illustrious Hector stretch’d his arms
Forth to his son, but with a scream, the child
Fell back into the bosom of his nurse, 570
His father’s aspect dreading, whose bright arms
He had attentive mark’d and shaggy crest
Playing tremendous o’er his helmet’s height. 
His father and his gentle mother laugh’d,[32]
And noble Hector lifting from his head