Note (return) — BOOK THE TWENTY-FOURTH.

“Remember thy own father, O Achilles, like unto the gods, of equal age with me, upon the sad threshold of old age. And perhaps indeed his neighbours around are perplexing him, nor is there any one to ward off war and destruction. Yet he indeed, hearing of thee being alive, both rejoices in his mind, and every day expects to see his dear son returned from Troy. But I [am] every way unhappy, for I begat the bravest sons in wide Troy, of whom I say that none are left. Fifty there were to me, when the sons of the Greeks arrived; nineteen indeed from one womb, but the others women bore to me in my palaces. And of the greater number fierce Mars indeed has relaxed the knees under them; but Hector, who was my favourite, 793 and defended the city and ourselves, thou hast lately slain, fighting for his country; on account of whom I now come to the ships of the Greeks, and bring countless ransoms, in order to redeem him from thee. But revere the gods, O Achilles, and have pity on myself, remembering thy father; for I am even more miserable, for I have endured what no other earthly mortal [has], to put to my mouth the hand of a man, the slayer of my son.”