He spake: the goddess of the silver feet,
Thetis, obeyed, and with precipitate flight
Descended from the mountain-peaks. She came
To her son's tent, and found him uttering moans
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Continually, while his beloved friends
Were busy round him; they prepared a feast,
And had just slain within the tent a ewe
Of ample size and fleece. She took her seat
Beside her son, and smoothed his brow, and said: -
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"How long, my son, wilt thou lament and grieve
And pine at heart, abstaining from the feast
And from thy couch? Yet well it is to seek
A woman's love. Thy life will not be spared
Long time to me, for death and cruel fate
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Stand near thee. Listen to me; I am come
A messenger from Jove, who bids me say
The immortals are offended, and himself
The most, that thou shouldst in thy spite detain
The corse of Hector at the beaked ships,
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Refusing its release. Comply thou then,
And take the ransom and restore the dead."
And thus Achilles, swift of foot, replied:
"Let him who brings the ransom come and take
The body, if it be the will of Jove."
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Thus did the mother and the son confer
Among the galleys, and between them passed
Full many a wingèd word, while Saturn's son
Bade Iris go with speed to sacred Troy: -
"Fleet Iris, haste thee. Leave the Olympian seats,
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And send magnanimous Priam to the fleet,
To ransom his dear son, and bear him back
To Ilium. Let him carry gifts to calm
The anger of Achilles. He should go
Alone, no Trojan with him, save a man
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In years, a herald, who may guide the mules
And strong-wheeled chariot, harnessed to bear back
Him whom the great Achilles has o'erthrown;
And let him fear not death nor other harm,
For we will send a guide to lead him safe,
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The Argus-queller, till he stand beside
Achilles; and when once he comes within
The warrior's tent, Achilles will not raise
His hand to slay, but will restrain the rest.
Nor mad, nor rash, nor criminal is he,
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And will humanely spare a suppliant man."
He spake, and Iris, the swift messenger,
Whose feet are like the wind, went forth with speed,
And came to Priam's palace, where she found
Sorrow and wailing. Round the father sat
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His sons within the hall, and steeped with tears
Their garments. In the midst the aged man
Sat with a cloak wrapped round him, and much dust
Strewn on his head and neck, which, when he rolled
Upon the earth, he gathered with his hands.
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His daughters and the consorts of his sons
Filled with their cries the mansion, sorrowing
For those, the many and brave, who now lay slain
By Grecian hands. The ambassadress of Jove
Stood beside Priam, and in soft, low tones,
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While his limbs shook with fear, addressed him thus:-
"Be comforted, and have no fear; for I
Am come, Dardanian Priam, not to bring
Mischief, but blessing. I am sent to thee
A messenger from Jove, who, though afar,
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Pities thee and will aid thee. He who rules
Olympus bids thee ransom thy slain son,
The noble Hector, carrying gifts to calm
The anger of Achilles. Thou shouldst go
Alone, no Trojan with thee, save a man
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In years, a herald, who shall guide the mules
And strong-wheeled chariot, harnessed to bring back
Him whom the great Achilles has o'erthrown.
And have no fear of death or other harm;
A guide shall go with thee to lead thee safe,
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The Argus-queller, till thou stand beside
Achilles, and when once thou art within
The warrior's tent, Achilles will not raise
His hand to slay, but will restrain the rest.
He is not mad, nor rash, nor prone to crime,
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And will humanely spare a suppliant man."