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Then he sent the other princes away, [310] save only the two sons of Atreus and radiant Odysseus, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the old charioteer Phoenix, who stayed behind and tried to comfort him in the bitterness of his sorrow [ akhos]: 312 nor was he gladdened in his thūmos 313 until he entered the jaws of bloody war, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking ever of Patroklos. Then he said,

[315] “Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get a good dinner ready for me at once and without delay when the Achaeans were hastening to fight the Trojans. 319 But now there you are, lying there, all cut up, while my heart [320] is wanting, though I have drink and food [in my shelter], 321 because of my longing [ pothē] for you. There is nothing I could possibly suffer that would be worse than this, 322 not even if I were to hear news that my father died 323 —who is now in Phthia weeping gently 324 about losing the kind of son that he has, and here I am, this son that I am, in a foreign country [ dēmos], [325] and I am waging war here for the sake of that dreadful Helen 326 —or if I heard news that my dear son died, the one who is being brought up in Skyros— 327 if in fact godlike Neoptolemos is still living. Till now I was sure that I alone was to fall here at Troy away from Argos, [330] while you were to return to Phthia, bring back my son with you in your own ship, and show him all my property, my bondsmen, and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be either [335] dead, or what little life remains to him is oppressed alike with the infirmities of age and ever present fear lest he should hear the sad tidings of my death.”

He wept as he spoke, and the elders sighed in concert as each thought on what he had left at home behind him. [340] The son of Kronos looked down with pity upon them, and said presently to Athena, “My child, you have quite deserted your hero; is he then gone so clean out of your recollection? There [345] he sits by the ships all desolate for the loss of his dear comrade, and though the others are gone to their dinner he will neither eat nor drink. Go then and drop nectar and ambrosia into his breast, that he may know no hunger.”

Iliad. Homer. Samuel Butler (Translator). London. 1898.

Current edition Experimental

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) (English) (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (1)

Ἰλιάς Perseus (Homer. Homeri Opera, Volumes 1-2. Monro, D. B. (David Binning), editor; Allen, Thomas W. (Thomas William), editor. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908-1920.) — 19.309 focus

ὣς εἰπὼν ἄλλους μὲν ἀπεσκέδασεν βασιλῆας,

δοιὼ δʼ Ἀτρεΐδα μενέτην καὶ δῖος Ὀδυσσεὺς

310

Νέστωρ Ἰδομενεύς τε γέρων θʼ ἱππηλάτα Φοῖνιξ

τέρποντες πυκινῶς ἀκαχήμενον· οὐδέ τι θυμῷ

τέρπετο, πρὶν πολέμου στόμα δύμεναι αἱματόεντος.

μνησάμενος δʼ ἁδινῶς ἀνενείκατο φώνησέν τε·

ἦ ῥά νύ μοί ποτε καὶ σὺ δυσάμμορε φίλταθʼ ἑταίρων

315

αὐτὸς ἐνὶ κλισίῃ λαρὸν παρὰ δεῖπνον ἔθηκας

αἶψα καὶ ὀτραλέως, ὁπότε σπερχοίατʼ Ἀχαιοὶ

Τρωσὶν ἐφʼ ἱπποδάμοισι φέρειν πολύδακρυν Ἄρηα.

νῦν δὲ σὺ μὲν κεῖσαι δεδαϊγμένος, αὐτὰρ ἐμὸν κῆρ

ἄκμηνον πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος, ἔνδον ἐόντων,

320

σῇ ποθῇ· οὐ μὲν γάρ τι κακώτερον ἄλλο πάθοιμι,

οὐδʼ εἴ κεν τοῦ πατρὸς ἀποφθιμένοιο πυθοίμην,

ὅς που νῦν Φθίηφι τέρεν κατὰ δάκρυον εἴβει

χήτεϊ τοιοῦδʼ υἷος· ὃ δʼ ἀλλοδαπῷ ἐνὶ δήμῳ

εἵνεκα ῥιγεδανῆς Ἑλένης Τρωσὶν πολεμίζω·

325

ἠὲ τὸν ὃς Σκύρῳ μοι ἔνι τρέφεται φίλος υἱός,

εἴ που ἔτι ζώει γε Νεοπτόλεμος θεοειδής.

πρὶν μὲν γάρ μοι θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἐώλπει

οἶον ἐμὲ φθίσεσθαι ἀπʼ Ἄργεος ἱπποβότοιο

αὐτοῦ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ, σὲ δέ τε Φθίην δὲ νέεσθαι,

330

ὡς ἄν μοι τὸν παῖδα θοῇ ἐνὶ νηῒ μελαίνῃ

Σκυρόθεν ἐξαγάγοις καί οἱ δείξειας ἕκαστα

κτῆσιν ἐμὴν δμῶάς τε καὶ ὑψερεφὲς μέγα δῶμα.

ἤδη γὰρ Πηλῆά γʼ ὀΐομαι ἢ κατὰ πάμπαν

τεθνάμεν, ἤ που τυτθὸν ἔτι ζώοντʼ ἀκάχησθαι

335

γήραΐ τε στυγερῷ καὶ ἐμὴν ποτιδέγμενον αἰεὶ

λυγρὴν ἀγγελίην, ὅτʼ ἀποφθιμένοιο πύθηται.

ὣς ἔφατο κλαίων, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γέροντες,

μνησάμενοι τὰ ἕκαστος ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἔλειπον·

μυρομένους δʼ ἄρα τούς γε ἰδὼν ἐλέησε Κρονίων,

340

αἶψα δʼ Ἀθηναίην ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

τέκνον ἐμόν, δὴ πάμπαν ἀποίχεαι ἀνδρὸς ἑῆος.

ἦ νύ τοι οὐκέτι πάγχυ μετὰ φρεσὶ μέμβλετʼ Ἀχιλλεύς;

κεῖνος ὅ γε προπάροιθε νεῶν ὀρθοκραιράων

ἧσται ὀδυρόμενος ἕταρον φίλον· οἳ δὲ δὴ ἄλλοι

345

οἴχονται μετὰ δεῖπνον, ὃ δʼ ἄκμηνος καὶ ἄπαστος.

ἀλλʼ ἴθι οἱ νέκτάρ τε καὶ ἀμβροσίην ἐρατεινὴν

στάξον ἐνὶ στήθεσσʼ, ἵνα μή μιν λιμὸς ἵκηται.

Translations (8)

Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1924-1925.) — 19.309 focus

So spake he, and sent from him the other chieftains, 310 but the two sons of Atreus abode, and goodly Odysseus, and Nestor and Idomeneus and the old man Phoenix, driver of chariots, seeking to comfort him in his exceeding sorrow; but no whit would his heart be comforted until he entered the mouth of bloody war. And as he thought thereon he heaved a heavy sigh and spake, saying: 315

Ah verily of old, thou too, O hapless one, dearest of my comrades, thyself wast wont to set forth in our hut with nimble haste a savoury meal, whenso the Achaeans made haste to bring tearful war against the horse-taming Trojans. But now thou liest here mangled, and my heart 320 will have naught of meat and drink, though they be here at hand, through yearning for thee. Naught more grievous than this could I suffer, not though I should hear of the death of mine own father, who now haply in Phthia is shedding round tears for lack of a son like me, while I in a land of alien folk 325 for the sake of abhorred Helen am warring with the men of Troy; nay, nor though it were he that in Scyrus is reared for me, my son¹ well-beloved —if so be godlike Neoptolemus still liveth. For until now the heart in my breast had hope that I alone should perish far from horse-pasturing Argos, 330 here in the land of Troy, but that thou shouldest return to Phthia, that so thou mightest take my child in thy swift, black ship from Scyrus, and show him all things—my possessions, my slaves, and my great high-roofed house. For by now I ween is Peleus either 335 dead and gone, or else, though haply he still liveth feebly, is sore distressed with hateful old age, and with waiting ever for woeful tidings of me, when he shall hear that I am dead.

So spake he weeping, and thereto the elders added their laments, bethinking them each one of what he had left at home. 340 And as they mourned the son of Cronos had sight of them, and was touched with pity; and forthwith he spake winged words unto Athene:

My child, lo thou forsakest utterly thine own warrior. Is there then no place in thy thought any more for Achilles? Yonder 345 he sitteth in front of his ships with upright horns, mourning for his dear comrade; the others verily are gone to their meal but he fasteth and will have naught of food. Nay go, shed thou into his breast nectar and pleasant ambrosia, that hunger-pangs come not upon him.

Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad of Homer, rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Butler, Samuel, 1835-1902, translator. London: Longmans, Green, and Co, 1898.) — 19.349 focus

349 With these words he urged Athena, who was already of the same mind. She darted down from heaven into the air like some falcon sailing on his broad wings and screaming. Meanwhile the Achaeans were arming throughout the host, and when Athena had dropped nectar and ambrosia into Achilles so that no cruel hunger should cause his limbs to fail him, she went back to the house of her mighty father. Thick as the chill snow-flakes shed from the hand of Zeus and borne on the keen blasts of the north wind, even so thick did the gleaming helmets, the bossed shields, the strongly plated breastplates, and the ashen spears stream from the ships. The sheen pierced the sky, the whole land was radiant with their flashing armor, and the sound of the tramp of their treading rose from under their feet. In the midst of them all Achilles put on his armor; he gnashed his teeth, his eyes gleamed like fire, for his grief [ akhos] was greater than he could bear. Thus, then, full of fury against the Trojans, did he don the gift of the god, the armor that Hephaistos had made him.

369 First he put on the goodly greaves fitted with ankle-clasps, and next he did on the breastplate about his chest. He slung the silver-studded sword of bronze about his shoulders, and then took up the shield so great and strong that shone afar with a splendor as of the moon. As the light seen by sailors from out at sea [ pontos], when men have lit a fire in their homestead high up among the mountains, but the sailors are carried out to sea [ pontos] by wind and storm far from the haven where they would be - even so did the gleam of Achilles' wondrous shield strike up into the heavens. He lifted the redoubtable helmet, and set it upon his head, from whence it shone like a star, and the golden plumes which Hephaistos had set thick about the ridge of the helmet, waved all around it. Then Achilles made trial of himself in his armor to see whether it fitted him, so that his limbs could play freely under it, and it seemed to buoy him up as though it had been wings.

387 He also drew his father's spear out of the spear-stand, a spear so great and heavy and strong that none of the Achaeans save only Achilles had strength to wield it; this was the spear of Pelian ash from the topmost ridges of Mount Pelion, which Chiron had once given to Peleus, fraught with the death of heroes. Automedon and Alkimos busied themselves with the harnessing of his horses; they made the bands fast about them, and put the bit in their mouths, drawing the reins back towards the chariot. Automedon, whip in hand, sprang up behind the horses, and after him Achilles mounted in full armor, resplendent as the sun-god Hyperion. Then with a loud voice he chided with his father's horses saying, " Xanthos and Balios, famed offspring of Podarge - this time when we have done fighting be sure and bring your driver safely back to the host of the Achaeans, and do not leave him dead on the plain as you did Patroklos."

404 Then fleet Xanthos answered under the yoke - for white-armed Hera had endowed him with human speech - and he bowed his head till his mane touched the ground as it hung down from under the yoke-band. "Dread Achilles," said he, "we will indeed save you now, but the day of your death is near, and we will not be responsible [ aitioi], for it will be heaven and stern fate that will destroy you. Neither was it through any sloth or slackness on our part that the Trojans stripped Patroklos of his armor; it was the mighty god whom lovely Leto bore that slew him as he fought among the foremost, and granted a triumph to Hektor. We two can fly as swiftly as Zephyros who they say is fleetest of all winds; nevertheless it is your doom to fall by the hand of a man and of a god."

418 When he had thus spoken, the Erinyes stayed his speech, and Achilles answered him in great sadness, saying, "Why, O Xanthos , do you thus foretell my death? You need not do so, for I well know that I am to fall here, far from my dear father and mother; none the more, however, shall I stay my hand till I have given the Trojans their fill of fighting."

424 So saying, with a loud cry he drove his horses to the front.

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870)) — 19.309 focus

So saying, he dismissed the other kings.

375

The sons of Atreus, and the high-born chief

Ulysses, Nestor, and Idomeneus,

And Phœnix, aged knight, alone remained,

And anxiously they sought to comfort him

In his great grief; but comfort would he none

380

Ere entering the red jaws of war. He drew

Deep sighs, and, thinking on Patroclus, spake:-

"The time has been when thou too, hapless one,

Dearest of all my comrades, wouldst have spread

With diligent speed before me in my tent

385

A genial banquet, while the Greeks prepared

For desperate battle with the knights of Troy.

Thou liest now a mangled corse, and I,

Through grief for thee, refrain from food and drink,

Though they are near. No worse calamity

390

Could light on me, not even should I hear

News of my father's death, who haply now

Tenderly mourns with tears his absent son

In Phthia, while upon a foreign coast

I wage for hated Helen's sake the war

395

Against the Trojans; or were I to hear

Tidings that my beloved son had died,

The noble Neoptolemus, who now,

If living, is in Scyros, growing up

To manhood. Once the hope was in my heart

400

That I alone should perish here at Troy,

Far from the Argive pastures full of steeds,

And thou return to Phthia and bring home

My son from Scyros in thy ship, and show

The youth my wealth, my servants, and my halls,

405

High-roofed and spacious. For my mind misgives

That Peleus either lives not, or endures

A painful age, and hardly lives, yet waits

To hear the sorrowful news that I am slain."

So spake he weeping, and the elders sighed

410

To see his tears, as each recalled to mind

Those whom he left at home, while Saturn's son

Beheld their grief with pity, and bespake

His daughter Pallas thus with winged words:-

"My child, wilt thou desert that valiant man?

415

And shall Achilles be no more thy care?

Lo, by his ships, before their lofty prows,

He sits, lamenting his beloved friend.

The rest are at the banquet; he remains

Apart from them, and fasting. Hasten thou;

420

With nectar and ambrosial sweets refresh

His frame, that hunger overtake him not."

English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857)) — 19.309 focus

He spoke, and from the warriors turn'd his face:

Yet still the brother-kings of Atreus' race,

330

Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage,

And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and rage:

His rage they calm not, nor his grief control:

He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his soul.

‘Thou too, Patroclus!’ (thus his heart he vents,)

335

‘Hast spread th' inviting banquet in our tents;

‘Thy sweet society, thy winning care,

‘Oft stay'd Achilles, rushing to the war.

‘But now, alas! to death's cold arms resign'd,

‘What banquet but revenge can glad my mind?

340

‘What greater sorrow could afflict my breast,

‘What more, if hoary Peleus were deceas'd?

‘Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to hear

‘His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear.

‘What more, should Neoptolemus the brave

345

‘(My only offspring) sink into the grave?

‘If yet that offspring lives: (I distant far,

‘Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war.)

‘I could not this, this cruel stroke attend;

‘Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his friend.

350

‘I hop'd Patroclus might survive to rear

‘My tender orphan with a parent's care,

‘From Scyros' isle¹ conduct him o'er the main,

‘And glad his eyes with his paternal reign,

‘The lofty palace, and the large domain.

355

‘For Peleus breathes no more the vital air;

‘Or drags a wretched life of age and care,

‘But till the news of my sad fate invades

‘His hastening soul, and sinks him to the shades.’

Sighing he said: his grief the heroes join'd,

360

Each stole a tear, for what he left behind.

Their mingled grief the sire of heaven survey'd,

And thus, with pity, to his blue-ey'd maid:

‘Is then Achilles now no more thy care,

‘And dost thou thus desert the great in war?

365

‘Lo, where yon sails their canvas wings extend,

‘All-comfortless he sits, and wails his friend:

‘Ere thirst and want his forces have oppress'd,

‘Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast.’

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 19.309 focus

This said, the other princes from him went.

The two Atrides and Ulysses stay,

290

And Phoenix and old Nestor at his tent,

And King Idomeneus, his grief t' allay,

But nothing they could say did any good,

So fiercely he was set upon the fight.

And looking on Patroclus' body stood,

295

And then afresh lamented at the sight.

Sweet friend, said he, you wont were to provide

Good breakfast for me when I was to fight,

But since that comfort now I am denied,

In meat and drink I take no more delight.

300

For greater hurt cannot upon me fall,

Although for want of me my father die,

While absent from him at the Trojan wall,

For this accursed Helen's sake I lie;

Nor though my son Neptolemus should die,

305

Whom I in Scyros isle left to be bred,

Nor thinking then that here both you and I

Should lose our lives ; but that when I was dead

He should by you be to my house convey'd,

And made to know my servants and estate.

310

For Peleus now is very much decay'd,

If quite he have not finished his fate.

When this Achilles, weeping, spoken had,

The good old men, that also had their fears

For those they left at home, were very sad.

315

And Jove had pity on Achilles' tears,

And speaking to Athena, Child, said he,

Your love to valiant men, I see, is gone.

Achilles must no more remeinber'd be.

Behold how for his friend he maketh moan,

320

And takes no food, though th' other princes feast,

Let not his strength by hunger be decay'd;

Distil ambrosia into his breast,

And nectar. Straight Athena him obey'd.

And swift as any harpy came away,

325

And arming of themselves she found the rest;

But that Achilles' strength might not decay,

She dropt ambrosia into his breast,

And nectar sweet, and out the Argives went.

As when from Jove descendeth a thick snow,

330

Which Boreas blowcth through the element;

Such of the armed Arrives was the show;

So bright their burnish’d arms and helmets were,

The lustre up to heaven did rebound,

And smiling all about the fields appear,

335

And at the moving of their feet resound.

Achilles then his mighty arms puts on,

And grinds his teeth, and fire was in his eyes,

And hasted to the battle to be gone;

So much his heart did at the Trojans rise.

340

First to his legs the leg pieces he tied

With buckles of fine silver all along.

And next his breast-plate to his breast applied,

And on his shoulder then his sword he hung;

Then up into his hands his shield he took,

345

Large, strong, and mighty; radiant was the same,

And from afar it like the moon did look,

Or, as to seamen, on the wolds a flame,

That sure are of a storm when that they see,

And from their friends to scattered be by wind

350

To places where they not desire to be;

So then the buckler of Achilles' shin'd.

And next be puts his helmet on his head,

Which shined like a comet in the air,

So finely Vulcan had it polished,

355

And made it seem to blaze with golden hair.

And then to try his arms if fit they were,

He walked about, and thought he wings had worn.

English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 19.309 focus

Thus all the kings, in resolute grief and fasting, he dismiss'd;

305

But both th' Atrides, Ithacus, and war's old Martialist,

Idomeneus and his friend, and Phœnix, these remain'm'd

Endeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow'd woe restrain'm'd.

Nor could, till that day's bloody fight had calm'm'd his blood, he still

Remember'd something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.

310

Their urging meat the diligent fashion of his friend renew'd

In that excitement: "Thou," said he, "when this speed was pursued

Against the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent

A pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,

Thou mad'st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe,

315

But now to me; thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow;

For which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.

Nothing could more afflict me; Fame relating the foul deed

Of my dear father's slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son's heart,

No more could wound me. Cursed man, that in this foreign part

320

(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire, and son,

I thus should part with. Scyros now gives education,

O Neoptolemus, to thee, if living yet, from whence

I hop'd, dear friend, thy longer life safely return'd from hence,

And my life quitting thine, had pow'r to ship him home, and show

325

His young eyes Phthia, subjects, court; my father being now

Dead, or most short-liv'd, troublous age oppressing him, and fear

Still of my death's news." These sad words he blew into the ear

Of every visitant with sighs, all echo'd by the peers,

Rememb'ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears

330

Jove pitied; and, since they all would in the good of one

Be much reviv'd, he thus bespake Minerva: "Thetis' son

Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles' care

Extinguish'd in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare

He lies before his high-sail'd fleet for his dead friend; the rest

335

Are strength'ning them with meat, but he lies desperately oppress'd

With heartless fasting. Go thy ways, and to his breast instill

Red nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill

To his near enterprise."

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 19.309 focus

So saying, the other princes he dismiss'd

Impatient, but the sons of Atreus both,

Ulysses, Nestor, and Idomeneus,

With Phoenix, hoary warrior, in his tent

380

Abiding still, with cheerful converse kind

Essay'd to soothe him, whose afflicted soul

All soothing scorn'd till he should once again

Rush on the ravening edge of bloody war.

Then, mindful of his friend, groaning he said.

385

Time was, unhappiest, dearest of my friends!

When even thou, with diligent dispatch,

Thyself, hast spread a table in my tent,

The hour of battle drawing nigh between

The Greeks and warlike Trojans. But there lies

390

Thy body now, gored by the ruthless steel,

And for thy sake I neither eat nor drink,

Though dearth be none, conscious that other woe

Surpassing this I can have none to fear.

No, not if tidings of my father's death

395

Should reach me, who, this moment, weeps, perhaps,

In Phthia tears of tenderest regret

For such a son; while I, remote from home,

Fight for detested Helen under Troy.

Nor even were He dead, whom, if he live,

400

I rear in Scyros, my own darling son,

My Neoptolemus of form divine.

For still this hope I cherish'd in my breast

Till now, that, of us two, myself alone

Should fall at Ilium, and that thou, restored

405

To Phthia, should'st have wafted o'er the waves

My son from Scyros to his native home,

That thou might'st show him all his heritage,

My train of menials, and my fair abode.

For either dead already I account

410

Peleus, or doubt not that his residue

Of miserable life shall soon be spent,

Through stress of age and expectation sad

That tidings of my death shall, next, arrive.

So spake Achilles weeping, around whom

415

The Chiefs all sigh'd, each with remembrance pain'd

Of some loved object left at home. Meantime

Jove, with compassion moved, their sorrow saw,

And in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake.

Daughter! thou hast abandon'd, as it seems,

420

Yon virtuous Chief for ever; shall no care

Thy mind engage of brave Achilles more?

Before his gallant fleet mourning he sits

His friend, disconsolate; the other Greeks

Eat and are satisfied; he only fasts.

425

Go, then—instil nectar into his breast,

And sweets ambrosial, that he hunger not.

English (F. W. Newman, 1856) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (F. W. Newman, 1856)) — 19 focus

BOOK XIX

Just then the saffron-vested Dawn rose from the streams of Ocean,

To carry unto mortals light and eke to gods immortal,

When Thetis to the galleys came, bearing her heav'nly present,

And found her own beloved son around Patroclus lying,

Wailing aloud; and at his side a troop of gather'd comrades

Were weeping. Then amidst them stood the goddess, pride of heaven;

And closely did she press his hand, and spake, his name pronouncing:

"My child! him let us now endure, albeit keen our sorrow,

So as he is, to lie; sith he by will of God is fallen.

But thou, out of my hands receive these noble arms from Vulcan,

Right beauteous: such never yet man on his shoulders carried."

After such word, before her son the goddess laid the armour.

Aloud the crafty fabric clang'd: the Myrmidons in terror

Shrank from its dazzling radiance, nor dar'd to eye the goddess.

But Achileus, the more he look'd, the more did rage possess him,

And, neath his eyelids, direful shot, like flame, his glance of eyen:

Yet joy'd he in his hands to hold the brilliant gifts of heaven.

But when the wondrous handicraft his eyes with joy had sated,

He to his mother instantly did winged accents utter:

"My mother! arms, the god hath sent, such as from work immortal

Befitteth: vainly mortal man would vie in such achievement.

Gird me for fight forthwith will I, in sooth: yet direly dread I,

Lest flies, the meanwhile, entering the brass-imprinted gashes,

Breed worms within my valiant friend, and do his corpse dishonour:

(For all the life is gone from it:) so would his flesh be rotted."

Then Thetis of the silver foot reciprocal address'd him:

"My child! let not such things as this be burden on thy spirit.

The flies, these savage tribes, that eat heroes in battle fallen,

My care it be, aloof to keep. If, the full year, Patroclus

Here lie, his flesh shall alway be still firm, or even better.

But unto public mote do thou the Achaian heroes summon,

And there to Atreus' royal son renounce thy mood of anger:

Then instant for emprize of war accoutred, don thy valour."

Thus having spoken, thro' his frame she breath'd intrepid vigour;

Then to Patroclus, stooping low, distill'd she thro' the nostrils

Ambrosia and nectar red, to keep his flesh in firmness.

Meanwhile along the shingly strand divine Achilles hied him,

With shout of horrible upróar, and rous'd the Achaian heroes.

Yea, those who formerly would stay within the naval precinct,

Who pilots only were, and kept the rudders of the galleys,

Or held the public bread in store, — distributors and stewards;

Now even these to mote came forth, enhearten'd; sith Achilles,

Long absent from distressful fight, did now appear among them.

Amid the Achaians, limping came two ministers of Ares,

The war-abiding Tydeus' son and lofty-soul'd Ulysses,

Leaning upon the spear; for still the bitter wounds distress'd them:

These mid the foremost of the mote did hie, and soon were seated.

But Agamemnon, prince of men, was latest of arriving,

He too disabled by a wound; for in the hardy struggle

Koön, Antenor's son, his arm with brazen spear had pierced.

When therefore in full gathering the Achaians were assembled,

Thus did Achilles, fleet of foot, uprising, speak among them:

"Atrides! troth, for thee and me far earlier was better

This present work to do; when we, with grief of bosom pierced,

Did for a damsel's sake flame out in soul-devouring quarrel.

Would that the shaft of Artemis had slain her in the galleys,

Upon the selfsame day, when I Lyrnessus took and ravag'd.

Then of Achaians fewer far beneath the hands of foemen

Had strown the immeasurable field thro' my relentless anger.

To Hector and the Troians that was gainful; but the Achaians

Will long remembrance hold, I deem, of mine and thy contention.

But leave we these things, past and gone, — albeit keen our sorrow,

And the fond fancies of the heart by stern constraint subdue we.

Here then an end I make of wrath: nor verily behov'd it

Me alway obstinate in heart to boil; but come! and quickly

Enhearten to emprize of war the streaming-hair'd Achaians;

So I, with Troians once again confronted, shall assure me,

Whether beside the ships to sleep delight them: but I reckon

That of their army more than one his limbs will rest full gladly,

If safely from our spear he scape in shock of foes' encounter."

So spake he, and with gladness fill'd the dappergreav'd Achaians,

That mighty-hearted Peleus' son renounc'd his mood of anger.

Then Agamemnon, prince of men, responsive to Achilles,

Address'd them, seated as he was, not rising in the middle:

"Friends, heroes of the Danaï, and ministers of Ares,

When any riseth for harangue, to him 'tis well to listen,

Nor interrupt; — which worrieth even a skilful speaker.

For in the hurly of a crowd what ears avail for hearing?

What voice for speaking? fluent tongues and ready hearts are crippled.

Now I to Peleus' son reply straight open: but the others,—

Ye Argives! ponder well my word, and each of you discern it.

Oft time the Achaians spake to me advice, and oft revil'd me,

Who am not guilty. Jove, and Fate, and the dusk-roaming Fury,—

'Tis these, who in assembly fir'd my breast with savage frenzy,

Upon the selfsame day, when I Achilles' prize invaded.

What else to do avail'd I? God doth throughly all accomplish.

Jove's eldest child is Frenesy, who all men doth enfrenzy,

Accursed. Tender are her feet, nor toucheth she the pavement,

But trampeth heads of men, with bale; and one or other tangleth.

Yea, once she frenzied Jupiter, whom amid gods and mortals

Chiefest they call; yet him with guile Juno, a female, cheated;

What time Alcmena's hour was ripe in turret-fretted Thebe

For birth of Héracles: then he before all heaven vaunted:

100

'Oh all ye gods and goddesses! to my announcement hearken,

That I the counsel may declare which in my bosom swayeth.

A hero from my breed and blood outsprung, — him Eileithuia,

Who painful travail softeneth, shall show to light of heaven

This day, for lordship far and wide o'er all surrounding peoples.'

105

Then guileful-heartedly to him spake venerable Juno:

'Thou wilt the liar play, nor crown thy saying with fulfilment.

Or else, come now, Olympian! a hardy oath I tender.

Swear thou, that he shall lordship hold o'er all surrounding peoples,

Who, from thy breed and blood, this day shall drop of woman's travail.'

110

When thus she challeng'd, Jupiter her guilefulness discern'd not,

But sware the dreadful oath: therefrom a mighty mischief reap'd he:

But Juno, hasting on her path, Olympus' margin quitted

And to Achaian Argos reach'd right quickly, where did habit

115

The valiant wife of Sthenelus, son unto Joveborn Perseus,

Who counted seven months (she knew) in hope of tender offspring.

Her did the goddess forward bring, tho' in her months untoward,

And stopt Alcmena's travailing, and held the Eileithuias.

Then she, on errand self-despatch'd, Saturnius accosted:

120

'Sire of the shining thunderbolt! a word, O Jove! I bring thee.

Now is a noble hero born, for lordship o'er the Argives,

Eurystheus, child of Sthenelus, son unto Joveborn Perseus,

Thy issue: not unfitly he will o'er the Argives lord it.'

So spake she; but his soul profound was smit with piercing anguish.

125

Quick by her dainty-braided head on Frenesy he seized,

And raging sware a hardy oath, that never to Olympus

And starry heaven back should wend she, who doth all enfrenzy.

He, after such avowal stern, from starry heav'n toss'd her,

130

Whirling her with his hand; and quick she reach'd the works of mortals.

And her he alway curs'd, whene'er he saw his own dear offspring

By contumely of toil distraught beneath Eurystheus' taskings.

Nor yet the more was I, what time great motley-helmed Hector

Dire ravage of the Argives made beside their outmost galleys,—

135

Able from Frenesy to part, who once had wrought me mischief.

But tho' enfrenzied I have been, and Jove my wits hath emptied,

Again to win thee fain am I, and pay thee countless ransom.

But up! for enterprize of war, and rouse the other peoples.

And pledg'd I hold myself to pay, whate'er divine Ulysses

140

Before thy presence yester-eve, as gifts from me, behighted.

Or come! an so will please thee, stay, albeit press'd to battle;

And hither shall forthwith my squires, out of my galley taking,

Bring thee the gifts; so mayest thou see my heart-soothing presents."

But him Achilles, fleet of foot, reciprocal accosted:

145

"O Agamemnon, prince of men, most glorious Atrides!

The gifts (an so thou wilt,) to give, as seemly is, or keep them,—

With thee it resteth. Instant now let battle-glee concern us,

Nor toy, nor shuffle: still is left a mighty work to compass.

150

As each may Peleus' son behold again among the foremost

Wide wasting with the brazen spear the Troïan battalions,

So eke let every man give heed to quit himself in combat."

Thereat responsive spake to him Ulysses much-devising:

"Achilles! image of the gods! do not, howe'er intrepid,

155

Hurry to drive on Ilium Achaia's children fasting,

For combat with the Troians; sith no short-enduring warcry

Shall greet us, when for bargain once the companies encounter

Of armed heroes, both alive with heaven-breathed fierceness.

But bid the Achaians food to taste, at the sharp-pointed galleys,

160

Of pleasant bread and wine: for this to weary men is vigour.

— For, man may nowise all the day until the shades of sunset

From gifts of Ceres abstinent confront the work of Ares.

For tho' his spirit eager be for enterprize of battle,

Yet heaviness by stealth his limbs o'erhend him, and his knees beneath

165

Are palsied in his goings. But whoso with the foe may fight,

Even the livelong day, his soul is hearty in his bosom,

Nor faint his limbs, ere every man retireth him from battle.

170

But come! disperse the people; bid, that they to dinner gird them;

And Agamemnon, prince of men, shall bring his gifts before us:

So with their eyes the Achaians all shall see, and thou be gladden'd.

And let him swear the mighty oath, among the Argives rising,

175

That never did he touch her bed with tenderness and passion,

As is the ordinance, O prince! to man and woman sacred:

So be thy spirit satisfied and sooth'd within thy bosom!

Thereafter shall the prince of men within his tents delight thee

By a rich banquet, leaving naught unfinish'd of thy honour.

180

Thou, son of Atreus! wilt alsó hereafter be more rightful

In other men's esteem: for none can blame it, that a monarch,

Who did in anger take the lead, again beseecheth friendship."

Him Agamemnon, prince of men, reciprocal accosted:

"Son of Laërtes! much I joy to hear the word thou sayest;

185

For duly hast thou every thing distinguish'd and recounted.

The oath thou namest, this I wish to swear by mighty power;

Nor shall I perjur'd be: my soul doth urge me: but Achilles

Must here that little while await, albeit press'd to battle;

And stay, assembled, ye the rest, until the presents hither

190

May from my tent arrive, and I by faithful oaths may bind me.

But to thyself this deed in charge entrust I: — youths selecting,

Chieftains of Panachaia, bear the gifts from out my galley,

Whate'er we yester-eve behote; and lead with them the women.

And, for the Sun and Jove, amid Achaia's ample army,

195

Talthybius a boar shall bring to consecrate our treaties."

But him Achilles, fleet of foot, address'd in words responsive:

"O Agamemnon, prince of men, most glorious Atrides!

Rather at otherwhile on this be busy, if the battle

Shall after flag, when in my breast the fire may burn less fiercely.

200

But now our comrades prostrate lie and mangled, who were vanquish'd

By Hector, son of Priamus, when Jove to glory rais'd him.

But ye to feeding urge us. Troth! all abstinent and fasting

205

Achaia's children spur would I to war, and then with sunset

To meet in solemn supper, when we had the outrage punish'd.

But neither food nor drink to me may earlier be pleasant

Adown my tender throat to pass, now as my friend is perish'd,

210

Who prostrate lieth in my tent, by the sharp weapon mangled,

Turn'd to the threshold. Round him weep my comrades. Hence I ponder

Not food, but carnage now and gore and noisome groans of heroes."

To him then spake reciprocal Ulysses much devising:

215

"Mighty Achilles! Peleus' son! exalted of the Achaians!

Thou with the spear (I wis) than me art better, not a little,

And stronger; yet in intellect might I in turn surpass thee

By far; sith I am elderborn, and wider is my knowledge.

Therefore command thy heart to bear the pressure of my counsel.

220

Satiety of battle-cry to mortals speedy cometh,

Wherein the sickle reapeth crop too small, but straw in plenty,

When Jove, high arbiter of war, the scale of prowess tilteth.

But nowise may the Achaians mourn the dead man with their belly;

225

For, every day, successive fall too many. When may respite

Of sorrow be? Whoso is slain, him ever must we bury

Steeling our hearts, but weeping still; and whoso yet surviveth

From hateful warfare, him the care of drink and food behoveth:

230

So may we more incessant fight against the foeman alway,

In brass unweariable clad. Let none among the peoples

Stop, waiting fresh commandment; (thence would evil come;) while any

Be at the Argive galleys left. But, sallying together

235

Against the courser-taming Troians rouse we eager Ares."

So spake he, and beside him took the sons of famous Nestor,

And Thoas and Meriones and Meges son of Phyleus,

And Lycomedes, Creion's son, and lastly Melanippus;

240

Who hied to speed them to the tent of royal Agamemnon.

There, scarcely spoken was the word, and lo! the deed was ended.

They from the tent the tripods brought, — the seven which he promis'd, —

The coursers twelve for racing fam'd, and twenty shining cauldrons.

Then women quickly led they forth, with blameless work acquainted,

245

Seven; but after them the eighth, — the dainty-cheek'd Briseïs.

Thereat Ulysses, weighing-out of gold ten perfect talents,

Led forward: other youths behind in train the presents bearing

In mid assembly ranged them: and up rose Agamemnon.

Then by the people's shepherd stood Talthybius the herald, —

250

Whose voice with voice of god might vie, and brought the boar before them.

But Atreus' son with ready hand his hunting-knife unfasten'd,

Which by his sword's great scabbard hung, companion never absent, —

Clipt the first bristles of the boar, his hands to Jove uplifted,

And prayed. All the Argives sat in silence at their places,

255

Duly to reverence compos'd, attentive to the monarch.

So he invoking spake his pray'r, to vasty heaven looking:

"Of this let Jove be witness first, of gods the Best and Highest,

And Earth, and Sun, and Furies all, who in the world beneath us

Do punish men deceas'd — whoe'er a perjur'd oath has utter'd; —

260

That never did I lay my hand upon the maid Briseïs,

Neither with purpose of the couch, nor otherwise accosting,

But in my tents she aye abode inviolate, unsullied.

If aught hereof be falsely sworn, then may the gods bestray me

With whatsoe'er of woe they send, when man in oath offendeth."

265

He spake, and thro' the victim's throat deep drove the heartless weapon.

The corpse, as fodder to the fish, Talthybius flung whirling

Into the vasty hoary sheet of ocean. But Achilles

Uprising spake his word among the battle-loving Argives:

"O Father Jove! great frenesies to men thou truly sendest.

270

Never in sooth would Atreus' son so throughly have bestirred

The spirit in my bosom, nor have ta'en away the damsel

Despite my will, intractable; but Jupiter, methinketh,

Was minded, bale and death to send to many of Achaia.

But now to dinner hasten ye; so may we mingle battle."

275

Such words he utter'd, and at once brake up the hasty meeting.

Thereat asunder wended they, each to his proper galley;

But the high-hearted Myrmidons were with the presents busied,

And hied to set them on the ship of Achileus their leader:

Meanwhile, some in the tents they plac'd, and seated there the women;

280

The racers, these his stately squires into the herd had driven.

Thereat Briseïs, like in mien to golden Aphrodite,

When she Patroclus' corpse beheld by the sharp weapon mangled,

Pouring herself around him, wail'd right shrill, and rent with gashes

Her bosom and her tender neck and eke her dainty visage.

285

Then, brilliant as the goddesses, forth spake the woman wailing:

"Alas, Patroclus, thou who wast to wretched me most pleasing!

Thee verily alive I left, when from the tent they led me:

But now, returning, here I find, O captain of the peoples!

Thy corpse unburied. How doth aye woe after woe receive me!

290

The man, into whose arms my sire and queenly mother gave me,

Before our city him I saw by the sharp weapon mangled.

And eke three warriours belov'd, own children of my mother,

My tender kinsmen, all of them their deadly day encounter'd.

And when swift Achileus had slain my husband, and had ravag'd

295

The town of godlike Mynes, thou forbaddest me to sorrow,

Trusting to make me wife of youth to Achileus, and bear me

To Phthia, and with all the folk to celebrate my wedding.

Then measureless thy death I wail, O thou who aye wast gentle!"

300

So spake she weeping; after her with moans the women answer'd:

Patroclus gave them but pretext to mourn their proper sorrows.

But round Achilles gather'd now the councillors of Argos

Imploring, that he dinner taste; but he with moans refus'd them:

"If any of my comrades dear will listen, I implore him, —

305

With food and drinking bid me not my inner heart to surfeit:

Grim sorrows pierce me: any gait I stay and dure till sunset."

When he refusal spake outright, the other kings departed;

But still the two Atridæ stay'd, — old charioteering Phenix,

310

And Nestor and Idomeneus and the divine Ulysses,

Sagely beguiling him from grief. Yet nowise would his spirit

Beguiled be, ere that he face the jaws of gory battle.

But he incessant heav'd, and spake, in piteous remembrance:

"Dearest ill-fated friend! of old how quick and earnest wast thou

315

A dainty dinner in my tent to range, whene'er the Achaians

Hurried to tearful war, against the courser-taming Troians!

Now, thus thou liest mangled; but, albeit here be plenty,

In emptiness of thee, my heart from food and drink abstaineth.

320

Naught can I suffer worse; not if my father's death afflict me,

Who, as I ween, in Phthia now a tender tear distilleth,

Widow'd of such a son; (who here for horror-striking Helen,

Upon a soil of foreigners against the Troians warreth;)

325

Or, if I heard the death of him, my offspring, rear'd in Skyros, —

If haply Neoptolemus the godlike yet be living.

For formerly my heart this hope did cherish in my bosom,

That only I should perish, far from courser-feeding Argos,

Here on the spot, in Troy; but thou shouldest to Phthia wend thee,

330

That thou from Skyros mightest lead on the sharp dusky galley

My child unto his father's home, and shouldest all things show him,

My servants and my wide estate and lofty-roofed palace.

For, as to Peleus, he, I bode, outright is either perish'd,

Or, with a little life mayhap, by hateful Eld is worried,

335

Aye waiting for my mournful tale, — the tiding of my slaughter."

Wailing he spake, and to his moans the councillors responded,

Each one remembering all, that he in his own chambers quitted.

But lofty-thron'd Saturnius with pity saw their weeping,

340

And instantly with winged words address'd him to Athene:

"My child! but hast thou utterly thy bonny hero jilted?

No longer hath Achilles then a share within thy bosom?

Lo! there he sitteth, fixt before his lofty crested galleys,

Beweeping his companion dear. The others are departed

345

For care of dinner: he alone is abstinent, untasting.

But come! lest famine him distress, distil thou thro' his bosom

The sweetness of ambrosia and drops of ruddy nectar."

He by such charge Athene spurr'd, herself already eager;

Who plung'd in semblance of a bird, the lengthy-feather'd osprey,

350

Shrill-screaming, down from upper sky, thro' heaven: but the Achaians

Forthwith were arming in the host. The goddess to Achilles

Dropt sweetness of ambrosia and nectar thro' his bosom,

Lest-that unlovely famine loose the toughness of his sinews;

Then she herself departing sought the tightly-builded mansion

355

Of her much-mighty sire: but they far from the ships were pouring.

Thick as from Jupiter may fly the drops of sleety shower,

Chill'd by the gust of Boreas, whom sky serene doth gender;

So from the galleys thickly pour'd the helmets brightly joyous,

With bossy bucklers, ashen spears, and stoutly-jointed corslets.

360

The blaze to heaven reach'd; the earth by brazen flashes stricken

Laugh'd all around, and underneath from feet of men was rising

Dire rumble; and in midst of them divine Achilles arm'd him.

His teeth did gnash; his eyen shone, as though with fiery sparkle:

365

His heart in grief unbearable was clad; but he, enfrenzied

Against the Troians, donn'd the gifts, which toilsome Vulcan fashion'd.

First on his shins the dapper greaves, with silver anklets clever,

He fasten'd; then, to guard his chest, enwrapt him in the corslet:

370

About his shoulders next he slung the sword with silver studded,

Brazen; but after it he took the buckler great and stubborn,

From which a moony radiance shot forth to far beholders.

As when to sailors out at sea a burning fire appeareth

375

Flaring afar; and it aloft on solitary station

Is kindled by the mountaineer: but them tornadoes carry

Far from their friends, despite their will, over the fishful ocean:

So, from Achilles' buckler, then, all gorgeous and artful,

²³

The flare to heaven shot: and he, his triplecrested helmet

380

Upraising, plac'd upon his head its load. With starry splendour

From the thick horsetail shone the casque; for, hairs of gold around it

Wav'd plenteous along the ridge by handicraft of Vulcan.

Divine Achilles thereupon would prove him in the armour,

Whether his glossy limbs had ease for movement sharp and nimble;

385

But it, as wings, did lift from earth the shepherd of the people.

Then from the flutings in his tent his father's spear he plucked,

Huge, weighty, sturdy; which not one of all Achaian chieftains

Beside might brandish: he alone, Achilles, knew to wield it:

An ash of Pelion the shaft, which, from the mountain's summit,

390

For his dear father Cheiron cut, to be the death of heroes.

Around the steeds Automedon and Alkimus were busy:

Already round their breasts was plac'd the harness; then, the bridles

Thro' their compliant jaws they pass'd, and strung the reins behind them

Unto the well-glued chariot. Automedon, assuming

395

The shining hand-adapted scourge, above the horses mounted,

And, full accoutred, Achileus came leaping up behind him,

All-radiant in panoply, like to the amber day-god.

Terrific then he shouted loud to his own father's horses:

" Chesnut and Spotted, noble pair! far-famous brood of Spry-foot!

400

In other guise now ponder ye your charioteer to rescue

Back to the troop of Danaï, when we have done with battle:

Nor leave him dead upon the field, as late ye left Patroclus."

But him the dapplefooted steed under the yoke accosted,

And droop'd his auburn head aside straightway; and thro' the yoke-strap

405

His full mane falling by the yoke unto the ground was streaming:

(Him Juno, whitearm'd goddess, now with voice of man endowed:)

"Now and again we verily will save, and more than save thee,

Dreadful Achilles! yet on thee the deadly day o'erhangeth.

Not ours the guilt; but mighty God and stubborn Fate are guilty.

410

Not by the slowness of our feet or dulness of our spirit

The Troians did thy armour strip from shoulders of Patroclus;

But the exalted god, for whom brighthair'd Latona travail'd,

Slew him amid the foremost ranks, and glory gave to Hector.

Now we, in scudding, pace would keep even with breeze of Zephyr,

415

Which speediest they say to be: but for thyself 'tis fated

By hand of hero and of god in mighty strife to perish."

So much he said: thereon, his voice was by the Furies stopped.

To him Achilles fleet of foot, responded, sore disdainful:

" Chesnut! why bodest death to me? from thee this was not needed.

420

Myself right surely know alsó, that 'tis my doom to perish,

Apart from mother and from father dear, in Troy; but never

Pause will I make of war, until the Troïans be glutted."

He spake, and yelling, held afront the singlehoofed horses.

⁴

New Alexandria Commentaries

Gregory Nagy

The time has come for Achilles to re-enter the war against the Trojans. For this to happen, Agamemnon must first settle with Achilles. But the over-king feels the need to say more than simply to formulate his proposed terms of settlement. His aim is to excuse himself from responsibility for dishonoring Achilles, and the story that he tells in order to achieve this aim is a retelling of a cosmic atē ‘aberration’ that resulted in the Labors of Hēraklēs. Such a retelling, however, is destined to backfire: it will result in further damage to Agamemnon’s own royal status and in further advancement for the heroic prestige of Achilles, for whom Hēraklēs now becomes a perfect model.

draft js image error Herakles at the tree of the Hesperides, holding three of the golden apples in his left hand. Behind him is the apple tree with the guardian serpent clinging around it. Bronze, 104.5cm (Roman, 1st century C.E.). Image via The British Museum.

source

Homer Iliad 19.309

Samuel Butler (Translator)

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