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This mov'd tears, his father's name did stand,
Mention'd by Priam, in much help to his compassion,
And mov'd Aeacides so much he could not look upon
The weeping father. With his hand he gently put away
His grave face. Calm remission now did mutually display
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Her pow'r in either's heaviness. Old Priam, to record
His son's death and his deathsman see, his tears and bosom pour'd
Before Achilles; at his feet he laid his reverend head.
Achilles' thoughts, now with his sire, now with his friend, were fed.
Betwixt both sorrow fill'd the tent. But now Aeacides
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(Satiate at all parts with the ruth of their calamities)
Start up, and up he rais'd the king. His milk-white head and beard
With pity he beheld, and said: "Poor man, thy mind is scar'd
With much affliction. How durst thy person thus alone
Venture on his sight that hath slain so many a worthy son,
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And so dear to thee? Thy old heart is made of iron. Sit,
And settle we our woes, though huge, for nothing profits it.
Cold mourning wastes but our lives' heats. The Gods have destinate
That wretched mortals must live sad; 'tis the Immortal State
Of Deity that lives secure. Two tuns of gifts there lie
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In Jove's gate, one of good, one ill, that our mortality
Maintain, spoil, order; which when Jove doth mix to any man,
One while he frolics, one while mourns. If of his mournful can
A man drinks only, only wrongs he doth expose him to,
Sad hunger in th' abundant earth doth toss him to and fro,
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Respected nor of Gods nor men. The mix'd cup Peleus drank
Even from his birth; Heaven blest his life; he liv'd not that could thank
The Gods for such rare benefits as set forth his estate.
He reign'd among his Myrmidons most rich, most fortunate,
And, though a mortal, had his bed deck'd with a deathless dame.
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And yet, with all this good, one ill God mix'd, that takes all name
From all that goodness; his name now, whose preservation here
Men count the crown of their most good, not bless'd with pow'r to bear
One blossom but myself, and I shaken as soon as blown;
Nor shall I live to cheer his age, and give nutrition
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To him that nourish'd me. Far off my rest is set in Troy
To leave thee restless and thy seed; thyself that did enjoy,
As we have heard, a happy life, what Lesbos doth contain,
In times past being a bless'd man's seat, what the unmeasur'd main
Of Hellespontus, Phrygia, holds, are all said to adorn
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Thy empire, wealth and sons enow, but, when the Gods did turn
Thy blest state to partake with bane, war and the bloods of men
Circled thy city, never clear. Sit down and suffer then,
Mourn not inevitable things; thy tears can spring no deeds
To help thee, nor recall thy son; impatience ever breeds
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Ill upon ill, makes worst things worse, and therefore sit." He said :
Iliad. Homer. ed. George Chapman. London. 1887.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Mourners lament as Hector’s corpse is laid out in preparation for the funeral that closes Iliad Rhapsody 24. Copperplate etching (1795) by Tommaso Piroli, after a drawing (1793) by John Flaxman.
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