The day that robs a child of his parents severs him from his own kind; his head is bowed, his cheeks are wet with tears, and he will go about destitute among the friends of his father, plucking one by the cloak and another by the shirt.

Some one or other of these may so far pity him as to hold the cup for a moment towards him and let him moisten his lips, but he must not drink enough to wet the roof of his mouth; then one whose parents are alive will drive him from the table with blows and angry words.
'Out with you,' he will say, 'you have no father here,' and the child will go crying back to his widowed mother--he, Astyanax, who erewhile would sit upon his father's knees, and have none but the daintiest and choicest morsels set before him.

When he had played till he was tired and went to sleep, he would lie in a bed, in the arms of his nurse, on a soft couch, knowing neither want nor care, whereas now that he has lost his father his lot will be full of hardship--he, whom the Trojans name Astyanax, because you, O Hector, were the only defence of their gates and battlements.

The wriggling writhing worms will now eat you at the ships, far from your parents, when the dogs have glutted themselves upon you.

You will lie naked, although in your house you have fine and goodly raiment made by hands of women.