Astyanax

Far hurled the head of Carolingian Kings
Tossed wantonly o’er ill fated Troy!
Anointed in thy name-sake springs,
The Ilian heir, the godlike boy.

Ungrievéd thou, thy houndfeed corpse,
So like thy father’s trailing brawn.
Bewailed, he ‘neath Phthian horse,
But none to thee are tearing drawn.

Silent now, the battlement seems,
Silent now, the Apollonian hall.
Hushéd of Odysseian schemes
And hushéd by Neoptolum’ fall.

No singing muse to bone-broke babe,
Nor cradle, save the bullhide shield.
Hector’s son in a carrion grave,
Astyanax, of Andromoche’s yield.

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