Her husband's sisters and the wives of his brothers crowded round her and supported her, for she was fain to die in her distraction; when she again presently breathed and came to herself, she sobbed and made lament among the Trojans saying, "Woe is me, O Hector; woe, indeed, that to share a common lot we were born, you at Troy in the house of Priam, and I at Thebes under the wooded mountain of Placus in the house of Eetion who brought me up when I was a child--ill-starred sire of an ill-starred daughter--would that he had never begotten me.

You are now going into the house of Hades under the secret places of the earth, and you leave me a sorrowing widow in your house.

The child, of whom you and I are the unhappy parents, is as yet a mere infant.

Now that you are gone, O Hector, you can do nothing for him nor he for you.

Even though he escape the horrors of this woeful war with the Achaeans, yet shall his life henceforth be one of labour and sorrow, for others will seize his lands.