His mother tore her hair, and flung her veil from her with a loud cry as she looked upon her son.

His father made piteous moan, and throughout the city the people fell to weeping and wailing.

It was as though the whole of frowning Ilius was being smirched with fire.

Hardly could the people hold Priam back in his hot haste to rush without the gates of the city.
He grovelled in the mire and besought them, calling each one of them by his name.

"Let be, my friends," he cried, "and for all your sorrow, suffer me to go single-handed to the ships of the Achaeans.