Iliad 22.395-474.

So proclaiming he presently purposed and planned
Dastardly deeds for that divine Hector.
Abrasively boring the backs of both feet
He tore out the tendons and tied them round tightly,
Stripped straight up the heel, to a strap of hide.
This he chained to his chariot and mounted the chair.
He left the lofty head lying there low,
laid out to drag, and lifted up the lordly arms.
Next he whipped up his horses, which willingly raced.
The whole head, once handsome, with waving dark hair,
Now dragged in the dirt, dredging up dust.
Unmade
In his own fatherland,
Zeus had him laid
In his enemy's hand
To abuse and degrade.

All of his head was ashy with dust;
His grand head was gruesomely covered with grime.
Tugging her tresses and tearing her veil
His mother cried much to see her mighty son;
His dear papa pitifully poured out laments;
The people, perceiving these plaints through the polis,
Were overwhelmed with weeping and wailing.
There would have been similar sorrow in the city
Were the whole of high Ilion, from her head on down,
Burned with blazing fire and buried in ash.
The whole host was hardly able to hold Priam--
To restrain the stricken old man as he strove
To go out the Dardanian gates and go down to
The beach.
They tightened their hold.
He called out to them each.
Struggling, he rolled
In the dust and beseeched:

"Free me, my friends, to go forth from the polis:
Although you love me, let me leave alone
And go to the camp by the Achaians' curved ships
To pray of that proud man who practices violence
To honor old age and pity an elder--
For his father, too, has finished many full years.
He ought to have pity, remembering his parent Peleus,
who sired and succored him, born to be suffering
For us Trojans. Truly my troubles are terrible!
How many dead sons of mine he has mauled!
Yet I grieve more gravely for just this one
than I groan for the whole great group of sons:
 From the piercing pain of this one I will perish
in Hell!
All because of my pain
For Hector. Oh to fell
Achilles and gain
That victory to tell!

"Then with weeping and wailing we would have been sated
Both I myself and his miserable mother
Who bore him, a baby, and brought him to life."
Thus he wailed. The men and women wept with him.
Among them his mother emitted a mournful moan:
"My son, I'm scared. How will I survive suffering
dreadful things, deserted by you, now dead?
You were my ever-present pride and prayer,
All day, all night, through all the town,
You were a kind comfort to your countrymen and kin
Who welcomed and worshipped you, in a way worthy of a god!
Alive,
Your glory was so great--
Until dark Death arrived
And brought relentless fate!
Oh, how will I now survive?"

Thus she wailed. Meanwhile the wife
Had heard no news of Hector, for to her
No crier had come and carried the word
That he was standing fast outside the city gates.
But she, weaving a wondrous web,
Purple, and patterned with painted flowers
Strewn and stitched on the outstretched cloth
At the loom in the room of her lofty house,
Summoned her servants with saffron hair
To stand by the fire a sturdy tripod
And boil a bath for Hector, back from battle.
Child:
Already he was nude
Not for a bath, so mild,
But by Athena subdued,
And by Achilles defiled.

 From the wall she heard weeping and wailing.
Her limbs shook; the shuttle dropped.
Then she spoke to her servants with saffron hair:
"Two of you, follow. I would see what befell-
I heard his hallowed mother, Hecabe, howl-
 From my breast my heart bounds to my mouth, below me
My knees are set: some evil is near for Priam's sons.
Would that these words were far from my ears!
Yet, full of dread I fear that my fierce Hector
Is alone, that Achilles cut him off and caused him to flee
Away from the polis and to the plain
And put down that power that-alas!-possessed him;
Since he never remained with the multitude of men
But rushed past the ranks, in his wrath yielding to
No one."
With her heart in a jitter,
she started to run;
Her servants went with her:
A frenzied woman undone.

Then she reached the tower and throng
Of women, and from the wall she watched.
There standing, scanning and searching, she saw him
Dragged by swift horses which drew him down
Carelessly from the city to the Achaian's curved ships.
Her gaze was glazed over by gloomy night;
Staggering back, with a soul-wrenching sigh,
Raging she ripped off her radiant crown:
Her cap, the plaited cord, and that veil
Which golden Aphrodite gave as a gift
On that dazzling day when the daring and dashing,
bright-helmeted Hector led her home from Eetion's house
and graciously granted great gifts as a dowry.
A swarm of her sisters support and surround her
Now, crazed.
And from her broken breath
She seems to be one dazed
Unto the point of death-
Hidden in a hellish haze.