care. The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire, Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire! His fate compassion in the victor bred; Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead, His radiant arms preserved from hostile spoil, And laid him decent on the funeral pile; Then raised a mountain where his bones were burn'd, The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd, Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow A barren shade, and in his honour grow. "By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell; In one sad day beheld the gates of hell; While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! My mother lived to wear the victor's bands, The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands: Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again Her pleasing empire and her native plain, When ah! oppress'd by life-consuming woe, She fell a victim to Diana's bow. "Yet while my Hector still survives, I see My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall, Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care! That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy; Thou, from this tower defend the important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. Let others in the field their arms employ, But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy." The chief replied: "That post shall be my care, Not that alone, but all the works of war. How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground Attaint the lustre of my former name, Should Hector basely quit the field of fame? My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul im