Epeisodion 2
HECTOR.
In Ilion’s labours, not have left us here,
For all thy help, to sink beneath the spear.
Why didst thou—not for lack of need made plain!—
Not come, not send, not think of us again?
400
What grave ambassadors prayed not before
Thy throne, what herald knelt not at thy door?
What pride of gifts did Troy not send to thee?
And thou, a lord of Barbary even as we,
Thou, brother of our blood, like one at sup
405
Who quaffs his fill and flings away the cup,
405
Hast flung to the Greeks my city! Yet, long since,
405
’Twas I that found thee but a little prince
And made thee mighty, I and this right hand;
When round Pangaion and the Paiôn’s land,
Front against front, I burst upon the brood
Of Thrace and broke their targes, and subdued
410
Their power to thine. The grace whereof, not small,
Thou hast spurned, and when thy kinsmen, drowning, call,
Comest too late. Thou! Others there have been
These long years, not by nature of our kin . .
