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Symtorical Analysis : Andromache To Hektor

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Andromache to Hektor

In symbols unbeknown to men I come to you, heed the wife of great Hektor’s cry and return, not to thine own glory, but to the glory of a strong kingdom wherein Danaans and Achaeans alike may praise the strength of a man who holds a strong household.
Unto him, Zeus, lord over all, bestows his power and favors his generation.

If truly you be father, mother, brother, and husband to me, let I also be to you.
Stay within Ilion’s walls and win this war through Zeus’s power, saving me from the loss of joy and name.
Establish your household within me, making the name of Hektor rich with descendants.

Cease your pride and leave the fighting to lesser men, whose absence will not destroy me.
Fighting under your name, they will bring glory to the house of Troy.

Yet I know you as I know myself.
My cries wash over you and you depart from me for the last time, out from between the gates of Ilion.
The sun glints across your helmet and I see fire surrounding great Troy.
It burns with the flames of Achilles’ wrath, bringing death and raising hidden life.

You go to claim the glory for Pergamus, but alone, I, a widow, and Astyanax, fatherless, must await the day of slavery, when those who look upon us might say
‘Behold, it is the wife of great Hektor and his son, ruined by the hands of the one who has ruined them before’.

Fate has run wickedly upon the Trojans, looking kindly only onto Paris and Helen in their love, but has left us, whose homecoming praises likened the gods, distraught as Aphrodite and her lover, Adonis.

Your stubbornness caused you to forget my warnings and tarry your own way, while I am left behind to watch your blood fall, like the leaves on the dying fig tree grown weak and scattered across the land.
Only if truly likened to the Goddess could I restore you to glory by my hands, yet your glory must reside in hidden life.

What is to become of our son?
A child raised in slavery, under the son of the man who has killed you.
In hearing your name, he will know only the words of enemy men, and picture the bronze encircling your head, shielding your image from his sight.

And I, no more, the wife of Hektor, but the slave of another.
Traveling strained seas under a loose

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