Original
Modern English
Most putrefied core, so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day’s work done; I’ll take good breath: Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death.
Most rotten core, so pretty on the outside, Your beautiful armor has cost you your life. Now my day’s work is done; I’ll catch my breath: Rest, sword; you’ve had your fill of blood and death.
Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the vail and darking of the sun, To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.
Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night is creeping up behind him: Just as the sun is about to disappear, Hector’s life will end.
I am unarm’d; forego this vantage, Greek.
I’m unarmed; give up this advantage, Greek.
Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.
Hit him, guys, hit him; this is the man I’m looking for.
So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down! Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, ’Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.’
So, Troy, you fall next! Now, let Troy sink down! Here lies your heart, your muscles, and your bones. Come on, Myrmidons, and shout loudly, ‘Achilles has killed the mighty Hector.’
Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.
Listen! The Greeks are retreating.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
The Trojan trumpets are sounding the same, my lord.
The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth, And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supp’d sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.
The dark wings of night are covering the earth, And like a referee, the armies are separating. My half-drawn sword, that would have eagerly fought, Now rests, satisfied with this small victory.
Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail; I’ll drag the Trojan’s body across the field.