No More Learning

Frugal compassion! Heedless, they who boast
Both parents still, nor feel what he has lost,
Shall cry, 'Begone! thy father feasts not here:'
The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear.
Thus wretched, thus retiring all in tears,
To my sad soul Astyanax appears!
Forced by repeated insults to return,
And to his widow'd mother vainly mourn:
He, who, with tender delicacy bred,
With princes sported, and on dainties fed,
And when still evening gave him up to rest,
Sunk soft in down upon the nurse's breast,
Must--ah what must he not? Whom Ilion calls
Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls,(279)
Is now that name no more, unhappy boy!
Since now no more thy father guards his Troy.
But thou, my Hector, liest exposed in air,
Far from thy parents' and thy consort's care;
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,
An honour to the living, not the dead! "

So spake the mournful dame: her matrons hear,
Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear.





BOOK XXIII.


ARGUMENT.

FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOUR OF PATROCLUS. (280)

Achilles and the Myrmidons do honours to the body of Patroclus.
After the
funeral feast he retires to the sea-shore, where, falling asleep, the
ghost of his friend appears to him, and demands the rites of burial; the
next morning the soldiers are sent with mules and waggons to fetch wood
for the pyre. The funeral procession, and the offering their hair to the
dead. Achilles sacrifices several animals, and lastly twelve Trojan
captives, at the pile; then sets fire to it. He pays libations to the
Winds, which (at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the flames. When
the pile has burned all night, they gather the bones, place them in an urn
of gold, and raise the tomb. Achilles institutes the funeral games: the
chariot-race, the fight of the caestus, the wrestling, the foot-race, the
single combat, the discus, the shooting with arrows, the darting the
javelin: the various descriptions of which, and the various success of the
several antagonists, make the greatest part of the book.

In this book ends the thirtieth day. The night following, the ghost of
Patroclus appears to Achilles: the one-and-thirtieth day is employed in
felling the timber for the pile: the two-and-thirtieth in burning it; and
the three-and-thirtieth in the games. The scene is generally on the
sea-shore.

Thus humbled in the dust, the pensive train
Through the sad city mourn'd her hero slain.
The body soil'd with dust, and black with gore,
Lies on broad Hellespont's resounding shore.
The Grecians seek their ships, and clear the strand,
All, but the martial Myrmidonian band:
These yet assembled great Achilles holds,
And the stern purpose of his mind unfolds:

"Not yet, my brave companions of the war,
Release your smoking coursers from the car;
But, with his chariot each in order led,
Perform due honours to Patroclus dead.
Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief,
Some rites remain, to glut our rage of grief. "

The troops obey'd; and thrice in order led(281)
(Achilles first) their coursers round the dead;
And thrice their sorrows and laments renew;
Tears bathe their arms, and tears the sands bedew.
For such a warrior Thetis aids their woe,
Melts their strong hearts, and bids their eyes to flow.
But chief, Pelides: thick-succeeding sighs
Burst from his heart, and torrents from his eyes:
His slaughtering hands, yet red with blood, he laid
On his dead friend's cold breast, and thus he said:

"All hail, Patroclus!