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                         At last,
When young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more,
The people massed around illustrious Hector's pyre. . .
And once they'd gathered, crowding the meeting grounds,
They first put out the fires with glistening wine,
Wherever the flames still burned in all their fury.
Then they collected the white bones of Hector-
All his brothers, his friends-in-arms, mourning,
And warm tears came streaming down their cheeks.
They placed the bones they found in a golden chest,
Shrouding them round and round in soft purple cloths.
They quickly lowered the chest in a deep, hollow grave
And over it piled a cope of huge stones closely set,
Then hastily heaped a barrow, posted lookouts all around
For fear the Achaean combat troops would launch their attack
Before the time agreed. And once they'd heaped the mound
They turned back home to Troy and gathering once again
they shared a splendid funeral feast in Hector's honor,
held in the house of Priam, king by will of Zeus.

And so the Trojans buried Hector breaker of horses.

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