The defence of Rome [by E. J. Myers] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
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| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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THE ARMOUR OF ACHILLES.
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 | The defence of Rome |  |
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THE ARMOUR OF ACHILLES.
(Iliad XVIII) .
So in the battle they strove with rage as a raging flame;
But Nestor's son to Achilles a fleet-footed messenger came.
Him by his high-beaked ships he found on the shore apart
Boding that thing which was; and in trouble he spake to his heart:
But Nestor's son to Achilles a fleet-footed messenger came.
Him by his high-beaked ships he found on the shore apart
Boding that thing which was; and in trouble he spake to his heart:
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‘Ay me, wherefore now do the long-haired Achaians again
Throng in flight to their ships and yield their place in the plain?
Now I pray that the Gods have not wrought that evil I inly dread,
Whereof hath my mother spoken, and told me that ere I be dead
The best of my Myrmidons leaves me and leaves the light of the day.
Now must Patroclus surely have died in his strength in the fray,
Slain by his reckless zeal: yet I bade him turn from the fight
When the ships had been saved from the fire, nor match him with Hector's might.’
Throng in flight to their ships and yield their place in the plain?
Now I pray that the Gods have not wrought that evil I inly dread,
Whereof hath my mother spoken, and told me that ere I be dead
The best of my Myrmidons leaves me and leaves the light of the day.
Now must Patroclus surely have died in his strength in the fray,
Slain by his reckless zeal: yet I bade him turn from the fight
When the ships had been saved from the fire, nor match him with Hector's might.’
Thus while he mused in his mind of Nestor's son was he ware:
Hot tears weeping he came, and grievous tidings he bare:
Hot tears weeping he came, and grievous tidings he bare:
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‘Woe is me, Peleus' son, for the news thou must hearken from me,
Bitter news—ah would that the ill thing might not be.
Fall'n is Patroclus in fight: for his body they battle amain,
Stript, for the armour he wore bright-helmeted Hector hath ta'en.’
Bitter news—ah would that the ill thing might not be.
Fall'n is Patroclus in fight: for his body they battle amain,
Stript, for the armour he wore bright-helmeted Hector hath ta'en.’
Thus he spake, but Achilles a cloud of grief covered o'er,
Dust on his goodly head and dust on his clothes did he pour,
And himself in the dust full-length, as a wreck of his mightiness, lay,
Tearing his hair with his hands; and the bondmaids beholding, the prey
Of his own and Patroclus' spear, ran forth with a cry from the tent
And beat on their breasts with their hands, and the strength of their knees was spent.
And Antilochus wept and moaned as he held the hands of his chief
Lest he smite through his throat with a sword; so bitterly groaned he in grief.
Then Achilles wailed aloud, and the sound of his agony
Came down to his lady mother, far down in the deep of the sea,
As she sat by her ancient sire; and she wailed in answer again,
And the sea-nymphs, Nereus' daughters, flocked round at the voice of her pain.
Beating their breasts they came from their homes in the ocean below,
And thronged thro' the silvery cavern, till Thetis spake in her woe:
Dust on his goodly head and dust on his clothes did he pour,
And himself in the dust full-length, as a wreck of his mightiness, lay,
Tearing his hair with his hands; and the bondmaids beholding, the prey
Of his own and Patroclus' spear, ran forth with a cry from the tent
And beat on their breasts with their hands, and the strength of their knees was spent.
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Lest he smite through his throat with a sword; so bitterly groaned he in grief.
Then Achilles wailed aloud, and the sound of his agony
Came down to his lady mother, far down in the deep of the sea,
As she sat by her ancient sire; and she wailed in answer again,
And the sea-nymphs, Nereus' daughters, flocked round at the voice of her pain.
Beating their breasts they came from their homes in the ocean below,
And thronged thro' the silvery cavern, till Thetis spake in her woe:
‘Listen, sister nymphs, that ye know why my heart is sore:
Woe for my fate, ah woe that the best of men's children I bore;
Best among heroes I bore him in beauty of body and might,
And upward to manhood he shot as a young tree shoots to the light.
Like a plant in a fruitful field I reared him, and sent him afar
To sail in the high-beaked ships and to fight in the Ilian war.
Him shall I never again in his sire's Peleïan hall
Welcome back to his home; and now, even now, ere he fall,
Grief is his portion in life, and help hath he none from me.
Yet now will I go to him hence, that my dear son's face I may see,
And hear of the woe that hath found him tho' far from the battle he bide.’
Woe for my fate, ah woe that the best of men's children I bore;
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And upward to manhood he shot as a young tree shoots to the light.
Like a plant in a fruitful field I reared him, and sent him afar
To sail in the high-beaked ships and to fight in the Ilian war.
Him shall I never again in his sire's Peleïan hall
Welcome back to his home; and now, even now, ere he fall,
Grief is his portion in life, and help hath he none from me.
Yet now will I go to him hence, that my dear son's face I may see,
And hear of the woe that hath found him tho' far from the battle he bide.’
She said, and she left the cavern, and all the nymphs at her side
Weeping arose, and around them was sundered the surge of the brine:
And they came to the Trojan shore, and each after each in a line
Rose to the beach where Achilles was set mid the Myrmidons' ships;
And his mother stood by his side while the deep groans came from his lips;
In her hands with a bitter cry the head of her son she took,
And a wingëd word of question in pity and anguish spoke:
‘Child, why weepest thou sore? what sorrow hath come to my son?
Hide it not; tell it me forth; one thing at least has been done,
One thing thou pray'dst for to Zeus, that sometime in need of thy arm
The Achaians be hurled on their ships and suffer dishonour and harm.’
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And they came to the Trojan shore, and each after each in a line
Rose to the beach where Achilles was set mid the Myrmidons' ships;
And his mother stood by his side while the deep groans came from his lips;
In her hands with a bitter cry the head of her son she took,
And a wingëd word of question in pity and anguish spoke:
‘Child, why weepest thou sore? what sorrow hath come to my son?
Hide it not; tell it me forth; one thing at least has been done,
One thing thou pray'dst for to Zeus, that sometime in need of thy arm
The Achaians be hurled on their ships and suffer dishonour and harm.’
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Then swift-foot Achilles made answer, and spake to her, groaning in woe:
‘That prayer, mother mine, hath Zeus fulfilled even so;
But how shall that glad me at all, since my own dear comrade is gone,
Best of my comrades, Patroclus, whose life was dear as my own?
Him have I lost, and Hector hath seized on the armour he wore,
Wonderful, beautiful armour, that Gods to my father bore
In the day when they drave thee forth to lie by a mortal's side—
Would thou hadst stayed with thy nymphs and he had a mortal bride.
And now, that a thousandfold sorrow be thine for the sake of thy son,
Ne'er shalt thou welcome him home: for of life among men will I none
But and if by my spear and none other shall Hector perish, and pay
His life for the life of my friend whom he gave to dishonour a prey.’
‘That prayer, mother mine, hath Zeus fulfilled even so;
But how shall that glad me at all, since my own dear comrade is gone,
Best of my comrades, Patroclus, whose life was dear as my own?
Him have I lost, and Hector hath seized on the armour he wore,
Wonderful, beautiful armour, that Gods to my father bore
In the day when they drave thee forth to lie by a mortal's side—
Would thou hadst stayed with thy nymphs and he had a mortal bride.
And now, that a thousandfold sorrow be thine for the sake of thy son,
Ne'er shalt thou welcome him home: for of life among men will I none
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His life for the life of my friend whom he gave to dishonour a prey.’
Then weeping, Thetis made answer: ‘Full soon, O my son, must be sped
Thy life, if this word thou achieve, for thou diest when Hector is dead.’
Thy life, if this word thou achieve, for thou diest when Hector is dead.’
Then mightily moved, to his mother made swift-foot Achilles reply:
‘Nay, but at once with all speed, since I saved not my friend, let me die.
Far from his country he fell, and lacked my help in his death.
And now, since I go not back to the land that gave me my breath,
Nor light to Patroclus brought, nor to any of all that have died
By the terrible hand of Hector, but here by the ships I abide
As a profitless burden of earth—yet of all the chiefs in their mail
There is none my peer in the fight, though in counsel some better avail—
Therefore may wrangling and wrath among gods and men be accurst,
Wrath that makes wrongful and mad the man that was wise at the first,
Wrath that within man's breast far sweeter than honey can glide,
Waxing like smoke, such wrath as I felt at Atrides' pride.
But bygones will we let be, and be silent, for all our pain,
Curbing the heart in our breast with the curb of necessity's chain.
Now go I forth; let me find him who blasted the life of my friend,
Hector; then let me die as Zeus and the gods shall intend.
Not e'en the belovëd of Zeus, not Heracles, fled from his fate,
But his destined doom overcame him, and Hera's merciless hate.
Even so also shall I, if my fate hath been fashioned the same,
Lie full low, being dead: but now let me stablish my fame:
Let me set some Trojan women, some deep-bosomed Dardanid wives,
Staunching their tears with their hands and bewailing their desolate lives;
Let them know the long respite is over, that I am come back to the fray:
Hold me not then in thy love, for not for thy holding I stay.’
‘Nay, but at once with all speed, since I saved not my friend, let me die.
Far from his country he fell, and lacked my help in his death.
And now, since I go not back to the land that gave me my breath,
Nor light to Patroclus brought, nor to any of all that have died
By the terrible hand of Hector, but here by the ships I abide
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There is none my peer in the fight, though in counsel some better avail—
Therefore may wrangling and wrath among gods and men be accurst,
Wrath that makes wrongful and mad the man that was wise at the first,
Wrath that within man's breast far sweeter than honey can glide,
Waxing like smoke, such wrath as I felt at Atrides' pride.
But bygones will we let be, and be silent, for all our pain,
Curbing the heart in our breast with the curb of necessity's chain.
Now go I forth; let me find him who blasted the life of my friend,
Hector; then let me die as Zeus and the gods shall intend.
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But his destined doom overcame him, and Hera's merciless hate.
Even so also shall I, if my fate hath been fashioned the same,
Lie full low, being dead: but now let me stablish my fame:
Let me set some Trojan women, some deep-bosomed Dardanid wives,
Staunching their tears with their hands and bewailing their desolate lives;
Let them know the long respite is over, that I am come back to the fray:
Hold me not then in thy love, for not for thy holding I stay.’
Then to her son made answer the silver-foot queen of the sea:
‘True are the words thou hast spoken, my child; no blame can it be
That thou ward sheer doom from thy comrades, sore spent with labour and pain.
But thy beautiful arms of bronze in the hands of the Trojans remain;
Bright-helmed Hector bears them himself on his shoulders in pride,
Short though I ween is his triumph, for death hovers hard at his side.
But thou go not down to the battle nor mix in the mellay of fight
Till thine eyes shall again behold me returned with the dawning light:
With the dawning light will I come, when the dayspring breaks on the land,
Bearing thee beautiful armour, the work of Hephaestus' hand.’
‘True are the words thou hast spoken, my child; no blame can it be
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But thy beautiful arms of bronze in the hands of the Trojans remain;
Bright-helmed Hector bears them himself on his shoulders in pride,
Short though I ween is his triumph, for death hovers hard at his side.
But thou go not down to the battle nor mix in the mellay of fight
Till thine eyes shall again behold me returned with the dawning light:
With the dawning light will I come, when the dayspring breaks on the land,
Bearing thee beautiful armour, the work of Hephaestus' hand.’
Thus as she ended her speech she turned from Achilles away,
And spake to her sea-born sisters that compassed her round on her way:
And spake to her sea-born sisters that compassed her round on her way:
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‘Ye thro' the ample recess of the ocean far under the foam
Hie to the old sea-father, and there in his deep sea-home
Tell him your tale, while I to Olympus' heavenly hill,
To Hephaestus cunning of hand will betake me, if haply his will
Be moved for my sake on my son all-glorious arms to bestow.’
Hie to the old sea-father, and there in his deep sea-home
Tell him your tale, while I to Olympus' heavenly hill,
To Hephaestus cunning of hand will betake me, if haply his will
Be moved for my sake on my son all-glorious arms to bestow.’
She spake, and the nymphs at her word sank down to the depths below.
But silver-foot Thetis sped upward, and on to Olympus above,
To entreat for the glorious armour, a gift for the son of her love.
But silver-foot Thetis sped upward, and on to Olympus above,
To entreat for the glorious armour, a gift for the son of her love.
So to Olympus she fared; but with terrible tumult of flight
The Achaians fled to their ships before Hector's slaughterous might.
Nor longer now, as it seemed, might their warriors' striving avail
To drag forth the corpse of Patroclus from out of the javelins' hail.
For the host and the horses of Troy all around him and over him came,
Led by the son of Priam, in strength as the strength of the flame.
Thrice by the feet he seized him and mightily called to his men,
Thrice the Aiantes charged, and backward hurled him again:
Yet he swerved not in pride of his strength, but now on the foe he would bound,
Now crying his cry stand firm, and he gave no inch of the ground.
As a hungry and fiery lion may plant his foot on his prey,
And the shepherds at watch in the open avail not to chase him away,
So availed not the two Aiantes for all their valour to beat
Hector, Priam's son, from the body that lay by their feet.
And now would he surely have ta'en it, and won him boundless renown,
But behold, to the son of Peleus came wind-footed Iris down:
Down from Olympus she sped, and the message she brought was the hest
Hera had sent her to bear, unknown unto Zeus and the rest.
And she stood by Achilles' side and her wingëd message began:
The Achaians fled to their ships before Hector's slaughterous might.
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To drag forth the corpse of Patroclus from out of the javelins' hail.
For the host and the horses of Troy all around him and over him came,
Led by the son of Priam, in strength as the strength of the flame.
Thrice by the feet he seized him and mightily called to his men,
Thrice the Aiantes charged, and backward hurled him again:
Yet he swerved not in pride of his strength, but now on the foe he would bound,
Now crying his cry stand firm, and he gave no inch of the ground.
As a hungry and fiery lion may plant his foot on his prey,
And the shepherds at watch in the open avail not to chase him away,
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Hector, Priam's son, from the body that lay by their feet.
And now would he surely have ta'en it, and won him boundless renown,
But behold, to the son of Peleus came wind-footed Iris down:
Down from Olympus she sped, and the message she brought was the hest
Hera had sent her to bear, unknown unto Zeus and the rest.
And she stood by Achilles' side and her wingëd message began:
‘Rouse thee, Peleus' son, most glorious preeminent man!
Bear to Patroclus thine aid, for whose body the din of the fray
Goes up in the front of the ships. There each one the other they slay;
These on the side of the dead strive sore to defend him from wrong,
Those toward wind-swept Ilios are furious to force him along.
Most fierce of them all is Hector, for fain would he set on a stake
The head of him that is slain, smitten off from the tender neck.
But come, lie thus no longer, let pity and holy dread
Forbid that the dogs of Troy should feast on Patroclus dead.
Thine the reproach, if to him such evil entreatment shall be.’
Bear to Patroclus thine aid, for whose body the din of the fray
Goes up in the front of the ships. There each one the other they slay;
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Those toward wind-swept Ilios are furious to force him along.
Most fierce of them all is Hector, for fain would he set on a stake
The head of him that is slain, smitten off from the tender neck.
But come, lie thus no longer, let pity and holy dread
Forbid that the dogs of Troy should feast on Patroclus dead.
Thine the reproach, if to him such evil entreatment shall be.’
‘Goddess Iris,’ he said, ‘what God sends thy message to me?’
Then she: ‘It was Hera that sent me, Kronion's royal bride,
Nor knoweth it high-throned Zeus nor any immortal beside
Of all that have dwellings on high on Olympus' snow-wreathed head.’
Then she: ‘It was Hera that sent me, Kronion's royal bride,
Nor knoweth it high-throned Zeus nor any immortal beside
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And to her again in answer swift-footed Achilles said:
‘And how shall I mix in the mellay? my armour the Trojans have ta'en,
And my mother bade me abide nor arm for the battle again
Till she come as she vowed to my sight and arms from Hephaestus bear.
Other man know I none whose armour my body might wear,
Save Telamon's son, great Aias; I haply might carry his shield;
But methinks in the front of the battle himself he is busied afield
Smiting the foe with his spear and defending Patroclus dead.’
‘And how shall I mix in the mellay? my armour the Trojans have ta'en,
And my mother bade me abide nor arm for the battle again
Till she come as she vowed to my sight and arms from Hephaestus bear.
Other man know I none whose armour my body might wear,
Save Telamon's son, great Aias; I haply might carry his shield;
But methinks in the front of the battle himself he is busied afield
Smiting the foe with his spear and defending Patroclus dead.’
And to him once more in answer the wind-footed Iris said:
‘Well are we also aware that thy armour is seized even so;
But go up on the mound as thou art and show thyself plain to the foe,
If haply the Trojans in terror may pause and give back at the sight,
And the sons of Achaians have respite one moment from toiling in fight,
For respite, tho' but for a moment, is precious in pain of the fray.’
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But go up on the mound as thou art and show thyself plain to the foe,
If haply the Trojans in terror may pause and give back at the sight,
And the sons of Achaians have respite one moment from toiling in fight,
For respite, tho' but for a moment, is precious in pain of the fray.’
Thus as she ended her speech sped swift-footed Iris away.
But Achilles rose from the ground; and over his shoulders strong
Pallas her aegis cast, and his head as he moved along
She crowned with a golden cloud, and the flame of a fire therein:
And as from an island town that a folk of foemen would win,
Battling all day around it, and smoke goes up to the sky,
But at sunset the signals flame, and the blaze of them flashes on high
For the dwellers around to behold, that their ships may bring help to the war,
So from Achilles' head blazed forth that splendour afar.
And he stood on the outer mound, nor mingled yet in the crowd,
Minding his Mother's behest; but he stood and shouted aloud;
And the voice of Pallas Athene redoubling the voice of his shout
Sounded afar, and the Trojans she vext with terror and rout.
For clear as the voice of a clarion that rings from a leaguered wall
Rang out as from metal sonorous the voice of Aeacides' call.
And they heard Aeacides' voice, and their hearts were clouded with gloom;
And the horses reared in the chariots with boding prophetic of doom;
And amazed were the charioteers when they saw that terrible light
On the head of great-hearted Achilles blaze fierce by Athene's might.
Thrice did Achilles his cry send forth from his place on the mound,
Thrice were Troy's host and their helpers amazed with dread at the sound.
And even at that moment were smitten, their spears and their chariots among,
Twelve of the best of their men. Then forth from the darts of the throng
With gladness drew the Achaeans the corpse of Patroclus dead,
And laid it apart on a litter; and all his friends by the bed
Stood and lamented aloud; and Achilles himself came near;
Hot tears weeping he came, for his true friend borne on the bier,
Slain of his wounds, he beheld, whom with chariot and steeds to the war
Forth had he sent that day, but must welcome him home no more.
But Achilles rose from the ground; and over his shoulders strong
Pallas her aegis cast, and his head as he moved along
She crowned with a golden cloud, and the flame of a fire therein:
And as from an island town that a folk of foemen would win,
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But at sunset the signals flame, and the blaze of them flashes on high
For the dwellers around to behold, that their ships may bring help to the war,
So from Achilles' head blazed forth that splendour afar.
And he stood on the outer mound, nor mingled yet in the crowd,
Minding his Mother's behest; but he stood and shouted aloud;
And the voice of Pallas Athene redoubling the voice of his shout
Sounded afar, and the Trojans she vext with terror and rout.
For clear as the voice of a clarion that rings from a leaguered wall
Rang out as from metal sonorous the voice of Aeacides' call.
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And the horses reared in the chariots with boding prophetic of doom;
And amazed were the charioteers when they saw that terrible light
On the head of great-hearted Achilles blaze fierce by Athene's might.
Thrice did Achilles his cry send forth from his place on the mound,
Thrice were Troy's host and their helpers amazed with dread at the sound.
And even at that moment were smitten, their spears and their chariots among,
Twelve of the best of their men. Then forth from the darts of the throng
With gladness drew the Achaeans the corpse of Patroclus dead,
And laid it apart on a litter; and all his friends by the bed
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Hot tears weeping he came, for his true friend borne on the bier,
Slain of his wounds, he beheld, whom with chariot and steeds to the war
Forth had he sent that day, but must welcome him home no more.
Then Hera the large-eyed queen sent down the unwearying Sun
To depart to the Ocean-stream, though he willed not his course should be done:
So the Sun to his setting went, and the host with the end of day
Had rest from the noise of the war-cry, the shattering shock of the fray.
To depart to the Ocean-stream, though he willed not his course should be done:
So the Sun to his setting went, and the host with the end of day
Had rest from the noise of the war-cry, the shattering shock of the fray.
But the Trojans loosed from their chariots the hard-driven horses fleet,
And gathered their host in assembly or ever they went to their meat.
Upright they stood; none sat, for on all was a grievous fear,
For they knew the long respite was over, had seen Achilles appear.
Then Polydamas, Panthus' son, spake first of the company,
For the things before and after he only of all could see.
Comrade of Hector was he, and the night of their birth was the same,
But the one in the battle of spears and the other in speech overcame.
He in their midst stood up and spake with intent benign:
And gathered their host in assembly or ever they went to their meat.
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For they knew the long respite was over, had seen Achilles appear.
Then Polydamas, Panthus' son, spake first of the company,
For the things before and after he only of all could see.
Comrade of Hector was he, and the night of their birth was the same,
But the one in the battle of spears and the other in speech overcame.
He in their midst stood up and spake with intent benign:
‘Friends, take ye all good heed; this counsel at least is mine;
Wait not here for the morning beside the ships on the plain
Far from our sheltering wall, but return to the city again.
So long as against Agamemnon this one man his anger nurst
So long was the army Achaian far easier to fight than at first.
Ay, and I too exulted to think that the ships should be won.
But now have I dread exceeding of Peleus' swift-footed son:
For his soul is exceeding fierce, nor now will he longer be fain
To abide any more where the armies have battled till now in the plain,
But the battle his hand shall wage, for our wives and our city shall be.
Then back let us go to our walls: it is truth that ye hearken from me.
For now by the night he is holden, but if with the morn he appear
From his tents full-armed for the onset, and find us tarrying here,
Well shall we know it is he, and glad shall they be in that hour
Whom the Ilian walls may receive nor vultures and dogs devour.
Such evil be far from my hearing! But if to my word ye give heed,
Then the night shall give strength to our counsel, for safe is our city indeed,
Fenced round with its gates and bolts and towers lofty and strong.
So then with the first of the morning the walls and the towers along
Our stand will we take. Woe to him if to fight by the wall he be fain:
With his steeds in vain overspent, to his ships shall he get him again.
Not even his wrath shall avail through the ring of our rampart to burst
And the strength of our city to storm; but the dogs shall devour him first.’
Wait not here for the morning beside the ships on the plain
Far from our sheltering wall, but return to the city again.
So long as against Agamemnon this one man his anger nurst
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Ay, and I too exulted to think that the ships should be won.
But now have I dread exceeding of Peleus' swift-footed son:
For his soul is exceeding fierce, nor now will he longer be fain
To abide any more where the armies have battled till now in the plain,
But the battle his hand shall wage, for our wives and our city shall be.
Then back let us go to our walls: it is truth that ye hearken from me.
For now by the night he is holden, but if with the morn he appear
From his tents full-armed for the onset, and find us tarrying here,
Well shall we know it is he, and glad shall they be in that hour
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Such evil be far from my hearing! But if to my word ye give heed,
Then the night shall give strength to our counsel, for safe is our city indeed,
Fenced round with its gates and bolts and towers lofty and strong.
So then with the first of the morning the walls and the towers along
Our stand will we take. Woe to him if to fight by the wall he be fain:
With his steeds in vain overspent, to his ships shall he get him again.
Not even his wrath shall avail through the ring of our rampart to burst
And the strength of our city to storm; but the dogs shall devour him first.’
He ended, but bright-helmed Hector arose and spake with a frown:
‘No friend I to thy speech, since it biddeth us back to the town
To be cooped there again: of such cooping ye surely were sated before.
For of old in the speech of mankind was told the tale of the store
That lay in the city of Priam, the treasure of bronze and of gold:
But now is the treasure perished, the chief of the substance is sold
Through Maeonia and Phrygia abroad, since Zeus to afflict us was fain.
But now that the son of Kronos hath given me glory to gain
In the fight at the enemy's ships, and to hurl their host to the sea,
Let the people hearken, fond man, to no more of these fancies from thee.
There shall none of the Trojans obey thee; who would, myself will I stay.
But come, let us all be advised and do even now as I say.
Get ye now to your meat in your order throughout the host,
And let each in the line keep ward, and wake to watch at his post.
And whoever is grieved for his goods, let him give of them freely away
To the Trojan folk: better thus than they fall to Achaians a prey.
So then full-armed for the battle once more with the dawning light
At the hollow ships of the foe will we rouse the fury of fight.
And what if the great Achilles indeed have bestirred him anew
To come forth from his ships to the war? It may be that the deed he shall rue.
I at least will stand up against him nor yield till the issue decide
If for him or for me in the battle the conqueror's glory abide.
Free are the chances of war, and lightly the slayer is slain.’
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To be cooped there again: of such cooping ye surely were sated before.
For of old in the speech of mankind was told the tale of the store
That lay in the city of Priam, the treasure of bronze and of gold:
But now is the treasure perished, the chief of the substance is sold
Through Maeonia and Phrygia abroad, since Zeus to afflict us was fain.
But now that the son of Kronos hath given me glory to gain
In the fight at the enemy's ships, and to hurl their host to the sea,
Let the people hearken, fond man, to no more of these fancies from thee.
There shall none of the Trojans obey thee; who would, myself will I stay.
109
Get ye now to your meat in your order throughout the host,
And let each in the line keep ward, and wake to watch at his post.
And whoever is grieved for his goods, let him give of them freely away
To the Trojan folk: better thus than they fall to Achaians a prey.
So then full-armed for the battle once more with the dawning light
At the hollow ships of the foe will we rouse the fury of fight.
And what if the great Achilles indeed have bestirred him anew
To come forth from his ships to the war? It may be that the deed he shall rue.
I at least will stand up against him nor yield till the issue decide
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Free are the chances of war, and lightly the slayer is slain.’
He said, and the Trojans applauded, and knew not his counsel was vain;
For Pallas bereft them of wisdom, that all might Hector obey,
And none to Polydamas hearken who counselled the wiser way.
So to their meal they gat them: but through the Achaians there went
All night for Patroclus fallen the noise of a loud lament.
And first in the long lamentation his moan Pelides made,
As broad on the breast of his comrade his manslaying hands he laid.
Groaning aloud he mourned, as a deep-maned lion may mourn
Whose whelps from their lair in the thicket some stag-shooting hunter hath torn;
And the lion returning grieves, and afar thro' the wilds of the wood
He speeds on the track of the spoiler; for anger is fierce in his blood.
So groaned in his grieving Achilles, and thus mid the Myrmidons said:
For Pallas bereft them of wisdom, that all might Hector obey,
And none to Polydamas hearken who counselled the wiser way.
So to their meal they gat them: but through the Achaians there went
All night for Patroclus fallen the noise of a loud lament.
And first in the long lamentation his moan Pelides made,
As broad on the breast of his comrade his manslaying hands he laid.
Groaning aloud he mourned, as a deep-maned lion may mourn
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And the lion returning grieves, and afar thro' the wilds of the wood
He speeds on the track of the spoiler; for anger is fierce in his blood.
So groaned in his grieving Achilles, and thus mid the Myrmidons said:
‘Vain, ay me, was the promise that once to his father I made,
Cheering Menoitios with words as we stood in the halls of his home,
For I said I would bring him again, with his share of the spoil should he come
From the taking of Ilios city, a glorious son to his sire.
But lo, Zeus bringeth to nought the counsels of men's desire.
For my blood and the blood of Patroclus alike must redden the plain
Here in the Trojan land: for me too never again
Shall the old knight Peleus welcome who waits for me there in his hall,
Nor Thetis my mother: this earth shall possess my bones when I fall.
But now since thou, O Patroclus, must first under earth be laid,
Bury thee will I not yet till sacrifice here have I made
Of the head and the armour of Hector the proud-hearted slayer of thee;
And in front of thy funeral pile shall a bloody sacrifice be,
Twelve fair sons of the Trojans whose throats mine anger shall cleave.
Till then shalt thou lie as thou art by the ships, and around thee shall grieve
Deep-bosomed Trojan damsels with daily and nightly tears,
Whom we seized in the cities of men that we sacked by the might of our spears.’
Cheering Menoitios with words as we stood in the halls of his home,
For I said I would bring him again, with his share of the spoil should he come
From the taking of Ilios city, a glorious son to his sire.
But lo, Zeus bringeth to nought the counsels of men's desire.
For my blood and the blood of Patroclus alike must redden the plain
Here in the Trojan land: for me too never again
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Nor Thetis my mother: this earth shall possess my bones when I fall.
But now since thou, O Patroclus, must first under earth be laid,
Bury thee will I not yet till sacrifice here have I made
Of the head and the armour of Hector the proud-hearted slayer of thee;
And in front of thy funeral pile shall a bloody sacrifice be,
Twelve fair sons of the Trojans whose throats mine anger shall cleave.
Till then shalt thou lie as thou art by the ships, and around thee shall grieve
Deep-bosomed Trojan damsels with daily and nightly tears,
Whom we seized in the cities of men that we sacked by the might of our spears.’
113
He said, and a mighty tripod he bade them set on the fire,
That the blood should be washed from the dead, and they brought it at his desire.
Water they poured within it, and wood they kindled below,
And the fire flamed up round the tripod, the water warmed at its glow.
So then when the water bubbled they washed the wounds from the gore,
And filled them with oil of the olive and unguents of nine years' store;
And they laid on a bed the body, and wrapped it in linen from sight
From the head even down to the feet, and around it a robe of white.
That the blood should be washed from the dead, and they brought it at his desire.
Water they poured within it, and wood they kindled below,
And the fire flamed up round the tripod, the water warmed at its glow.
So then when the water bubbled they washed the wounds from the gore,
And filled them with oil of the olive and unguents of nine years' store;
And they laid on a bed the body, and wrapped it in linen from sight
From the head even down to the feet, and around it a robe of white.
So all night with Achilles the Myrmidons moaned for the dead.
But Zeus meanwhile unto Hera, his wife and his sister, said:
But Zeus meanwhile unto Hera, his wife and his sister, said:
114
‘This thing next hast thou done, O Hera the large-eyed queen,
Thou hast stirred up Achilles to battle: nay, surely thyself then, I ween,
To the long-haired Achaians art mother, their race must be sprung of thy line.’
Then to him queen Hera made answer: ‘What word, son of Kronos, is thine?’
Even a man would do what he might to a man in his hour,
Though far less craft can he know, and hath only a mortal's pow'r.
Shall not I then much more, who of goddesses boast me the best,
First both by right of my birth and because I am wife of thy breast,
And thou among all the immortals art lord and ruler divine—
Shall I not work on the Trojans some ill for the wrath that is mine?’
Thou hast stirred up Achilles to battle: nay, surely thyself then, I ween,
To the long-haired Achaians art mother, their race must be sprung of thy line.’
Then to him queen Hera made answer: ‘What word, son of Kronos, is thine?’
Even a man would do what he might to a man in his hour,
Though far less craft can he know, and hath only a mortal's pow'r.
Shall not I then much more, who of goddesses boast me the best,
First both by right of my birth and because I am wife of thy breast,
And thou among all the immortals art lord and ruler divine—
Shall I not work on the Trojans some ill for the wrath that is mine?’
115
Thus to each other they spake. But Thetis the silver-foot queen
Came up to Hephaestus' house, amid dwellings of Gods far-seen,
Bronze-wrought, starry, eternal, the work of the Lame God's skill.
Him at his bellows she found, and toiling in haste to fulfil
His work in the sweat of his brow; for twenty tripods he wrought
To stand round the walls of the chamber; with golden wheels they were fraught
That themselves they might move from their place to the gods' assembly when he
Should bid them, or back to the chamber should travel, a wonder to see.
Only the handles were lacking; these joined he, and hammered the chains.
So while thereon he laboured with inborn cunning and pains,
Came silver-foot Thetis anigh him; and her fair Charis espied,
She of the shining fillet, the Lame Artificer's bride,
And she came to meet the Goddess, and clasped her hand as she said:
Came up to Hephaestus' house, amid dwellings of Gods far-seen,
Bronze-wrought, starry, eternal, the work of the Lame God's skill.
Him at his bellows she found, and toiling in haste to fulfil
His work in the sweat of his brow; for twenty tripods he wrought
To stand round the walls of the chamber; with golden wheels they were fraught
That themselves they might move from their place to the gods' assembly when he
Should bid them, or back to the chamber should travel, a wonder to see.
Only the handles were lacking; these joined he, and hammered the chains.
So while thereon he laboured with inborn cunning and pains,
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She of the shining fillet, the Lame Artificer's bride,
And she came to meet the Goddess, and clasped her hand as she said:
‘Wherefore, long-robed Thetis, to this our house art thou sped,
Noble and dear in our sight? Not oft art thou wont to be here.
But come with me first in the house, that I make thee some guest-like cheer.’
She said, and she led her within and set her there on a seat
Rich-wrought, studded with silver, and gave her a stool for her feet.
And she went to the wise Hephaestus and called him to come with speed:
‘Come thou hither, Hephaestus, of thee here is Thetis hath need.’
Noble and dear in our sight? Not oft art thou wont to be here.
But come with me first in the house, that I make thee some guest-like cheer.’
She said, and she led her within and set her there on a seat
Rich-wrought, studded with silver, and gave her a stool for her feet.
And she went to the wise Hephaestus and called him to come with speed:
‘Come thou hither, Hephaestus, of thee here is Thetis hath need.’
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‘Noble and great,’ he answered, ‘the Goddess who enters my hall.
She saved me from evil once, when I fell with a terrible fall
By the act of my shameless mother; to hide her lame child she was fain;
But Thetis and Ocean's daughter Eurynome saved me from pain:
For they took the child to their bosoms, and so with them nine full years
Goblets and pins and chains and twisted rings for the ears,
All manner of cunning device, I forged in the hollow cave,
While around me the infinite Ocean flowed on with his murmuring wave.
None other of gods or men that place of my hiding might know;
Only Eurynome knew it, and Thetis, who saved me from woe.
Now Thetis is come to our house; it behoves that I pay her my debt
As to one that hath rescued my life; and do thou guest-gifts for her set,
While I all my gear put away and the bellows that kindle the flame.’
She saved me from evil once, when I fell with a terrible fall
By the act of my shameless mother; to hide her lame child she was fain;
But Thetis and Ocean's daughter Eurynome saved me from pain:
For they took the child to their bosoms, and so with them nine full years
Goblets and pins and chains and twisted rings for the ears,
All manner of cunning device, I forged in the hollow cave,
While around me the infinite Ocean flowed on with his murmuring wave.
None other of gods or men that place of my hiding might know;
Only Eurynome knew it, and Thetis, who saved me from woe.
118
As to one that hath rescued my life; and do thou guest-gifts for her set,
While I all my gear put away and the bellows that kindle the flame.’
He ended, and up from the anvil in uncouth mightiness came.
Limping his gait, but his legs misshapen moved stoutly along.
And his bellows he set on a side, and all the tools that belong
To the work of the fire and the forge he stored in a silver chest;
And he sponged his face and his hands, strong neck and shaggy-haired breast.
Then his tunic he donned, took his staff, and limping moved to the door.
Handmaids of gold, that the semblance of living damsels wore,
Bare up the steps of the King: unto them by the powers of heaven
Knowledge and strength and skill and articulate voice had been given.
So they bare up his going; and he with a halting gait
Came to the presence of Thetis, and hard by her seat he sate;
And he clasped her hand within his, and called her by name, and said:
Limping his gait, but his legs misshapen moved stoutly along.
And his bellows he set on a side, and all the tools that belong
To the work of the fire and the forge he stored in a silver chest;
And he sponged his face and his hands, strong neck and shaggy-haired breast.
Then his tunic he donned, took his staff, and limping moved to the door.
Handmaids of gold, that the semblance of living damsels wore,
119
Knowledge and strength and skill and articulate voice had been given.
So they bare up his going; and he with a halting gait
Came to the presence of Thetis, and hard by her seat he sate;
And he clasped her hand within his, and called her by name, and said:
‘Wherefore, long-robed Thetis, to this our house art thou sped
Noble and dear in our sight? Not oft art thou wont to be here.
Speak what thou hast in thy thought; to my spirit to serve thee were dear,
If fate may the service allow and my craft may avail to achieve.’
Noble and dear in our sight? Not oft art thou wont to be here.
Speak what thou hast in thy thought; to my spirit to serve thee were dear,
If fate may the service allow and my craft may avail to achieve.’
Then Thetis spake with a tear: ‘Hast thou known any goddess to grieve’
Among all that inhabit Olympus, with griefs so many and sore
As these that the son of Kronos hath singled me forth to deplore?
First for a mortal's yoke, out of all the nymphs of the sea,
He chose me, and gave me to Peleus his bride unwilling to be:
And now in the hall of his home lies Peleus, Aiakos' son,
Spent with malign old age: but to me is new sorrow begun.
For he gave me a son to rear to be first among heroes in might,
And upward to manhood he shot as a young tree shoots to the light.
Like a plant in a fruitful field I reared him, and sent him afar
To sail in the high-beaked ships and to fight in the Ilian war
Him shall I never again in his sire's Peleïan hall
Welcome back to his home; and now, even now ere he fall,
Grief is his portion in life, and help hath he none from me.
For the girl the Achaians chose him, the prize of his valour to be,
Her from his hands for himself did the king Agamemnon tear.
So with grief he wasted his heart: but the Trojans backward bare
The Achaian folk to their ships, nor suffered them forth in the field.
Then went forth the Argive elders and prayed Achilles to yield,
Promising gifts. Himself he refused their affliction to stay,
But Patroclus he clad in his armour, and sent him forth to the fray,
And a band of the Myrmidons with him. They fought till the sun went down
There by the Skaian gates, and that day would have taken the town,
But lo in the midst of his slaying, Menoitios' valiant son
Phoebus felled in the front, and glory for Hector won.
So to thy knees am I come for my short-lived son to entreat
Shield and helmet and greaves, close-fitting his ankles and feet,
And a breastplate, wrought of thy hand: for the arms that he had, to the foe
Were lost by his friend that is slain: and he lies on the earth in his woe.’
120
As these that the son of Kronos hath singled me forth to deplore?
First for a mortal's yoke, out of all the nymphs of the sea,
He chose me, and gave me to Peleus his bride unwilling to be:
And now in the hall of his home lies Peleus, Aiakos' son,
Spent with malign old age: but to me is new sorrow begun.
For he gave me a son to rear to be first among heroes in might,
And upward to manhood he shot as a young tree shoots to the light.
Like a plant in a fruitful field I reared him, and sent him afar
To sail in the high-beaked ships and to fight in the Ilian war
121
Welcome back to his home; and now, even now ere he fall,
Grief is his portion in life, and help hath he none from me.
For the girl the Achaians chose him, the prize of his valour to be,
Her from his hands for himself did the king Agamemnon tear.
So with grief he wasted his heart: but the Trojans backward bare
The Achaian folk to their ships, nor suffered them forth in the field.
Then went forth the Argive elders and prayed Achilles to yield,
Promising gifts. Himself he refused their affliction to stay,
But Patroclus he clad in his armour, and sent him forth to the fray,
122
There by the Skaian gates, and that day would have taken the town,
But lo in the midst of his slaying, Menoitios' valiant son
Phoebus felled in the front, and glory for Hector won.
So to thy knees am I come for my short-lived son to entreat
Shield and helmet and greaves, close-fitting his ankles and feet,
And a breastplate, wrought of thy hand: for the arms that he had, to the foe
Were lost by his friend that is slain: and he lies on the earth in his woe.’
‘Cheer thee,’ the Lame God answered, ‘for this no care do thou feel;
For would that so surely from death I had power thy son to steal
In the hour of his fate, as surely his hands shall presently hold
Arms that shall afterward ever be wondrous to all that behold.’
For would that so surely from death I had power thy son to steal
In the hour of his fate, as surely his hands shall presently hold
123
He said, and he left her there, and his way to the bellows he made,
And turned their blast on the furnace and bade them lend him their aid.
Twenty bellows in all on the place of the melting blew
Now here and now there their blast, as the Master would they should do.
At their breath grew the furnace hot, and Hephaestus cast therein
Silver and precious gold and the strength of the bronze and tin.
On the anvil-block set he the anvil, and then for his sturdy stroke
In the one hand wielded the hammer, the tongs in the other he took.
And turned their blast on the furnace and bade them lend him their aid.
Twenty bellows in all on the place of the melting blew
Now here and now there their blast, as the Master would they should do.
At their breath grew the furnace hot, and Hephaestus cast therein
Silver and precious gold and the strength of the bronze and tin.
On the anvil-block set he the anvil, and then for his sturdy stroke
In the one hand wielded the hammer, the tongs in the other he took.
First a stout shield he made, and wrought thereon o'er and o'er:
Triple its shining rim, and silver the handle it bore.
Five were the folds of the shield, and over its surface he wrought
Many and marvellous things from the cunning store of his thought.
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Five were the folds of the shield, and over its surface he wrought
Many and marvellous things from the cunning store of his thought.
There in the shield did he fashion the earth and the sea and the sky,
And the sun that wearieth never, the moon with her full-orbed eye;
Also the constellations that crown the sky with their light,
Pleiads and Hyads he wrought, and Orion's starry might;
And the Bear, whom some call the Wain, that his watch on Orion keeps,
Turned in his place, and alone is unbathed in the Ocean deeps.
And the sun that wearieth never, the moon with her full-orbed eye;
Also the constellations that crown the sky with their light,
Pleiads and Hyads he wrought, and Orion's starry might;
And the Bear, whom some call the Wain, that his watch on Orion keeps,
Turned in his place, and alone is unbathed in the Ocean deeps.
Also two fair cities of men on the shield he portrayed:
In the one of a bridal feast and of banquets the image he made,
And the brides through the streets of the city the people were leading along
By the light of blazing torches, and loud was the bridal song:
And the young men whirled in the dance to the pipes' and the viols' sound,
And the women each at her threshold were gazing in wonder around.
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And the brides through the streets of the city the people were leading along
By the light of blazing torches, and loud was the bridal song:
And the young men whirled in the dance to the pipes' and the viols' sound,
And the women each at her threshold were gazing in wonder around.
But the folk in the place of assembly thronged thick where a quarrel was tried
Between two that debated the price of the blood of a man that had died.
One claimed to have paid it in full, and pledged to the people his word,
But the other his saying denied; so both were afoot to be heard
By a judge who should settle their strife, and the people on this side and that
Cheered; but the heralds within kept them back from the place where there sat
Old men in the sacred circle on seats of well-polished stone:
In their hands were the staves of heralds; these raised they, and one by one
Judged on the cause: in the midst two talents of gold were laid,
To be given to him who among them his word should most justly have said.
Between two that debated the price of the blood of a man that had died.
One claimed to have paid it in full, and pledged to the people his word,
But the other his saying denied; so both were afoot to be heard
By a judge who should settle their strife, and the people on this side and that
126
Old men in the sacred circle on seats of well-polished stone:
In their hands were the staves of heralds; these raised they, and one by one
Judged on the cause: in the midst two talents of gold were laid,
To be given to him who among them his word should most justly have said.
But the walls of the other city two armies had girded about,
Bright in the sheen of their arms. And their counsel was sundered in doubt,
Whether to utterly waste it or whether divide for a prey
All the spoil they should seize in the fastness. But those not yet would obey,
But armed them anon for an ambush: their wives and their children small
They left within with the aged to stand and defend the wall:
Then they went forth, and Athene and Ares led them to war.
Golden the Gods were wrought and golden the raiment they bore:
Goodly and great with their arms, clear-seen like Gods in the shield
Showed they, while smaller behind them the men followed on to the field.
And they came to the place of the ambush, where cattle to drink were wont,
And sat down in the bed of a river: two scouts apart in the front
Kept watch till the flocks of the sheep and the crook-horned oxen they spied.
Then the herds came anon to the water, and herdsmen twain by their side
Playing their pipes as they went, and they took no thought of the snare.
But the others saw them and sallied, the herds and the white flocks fair
They cut off round about from their keepers, and slaughtered the men thereby.
But the rest in their place of assembly could hear from the water a cry,
And drave forth their high-stepping horses, and swiftly were come to the bank,
And there by the side of the river each stood and fought in his rank,
Hurling his bronze-tipped spear; and among them mingling were seen
Furies of Strife and of Onset, and Death with remorseless mien.
One wounded, another unwounded, he grasped yet alive for his prey,
And another fallen and dead he dragged by his feet thro' the fray.
And the robe that he wore on his shoulders was red with the blood of the slain.
So there in the shield like men living the warriors battled amain,
And the corpses of them that had fallen each dragged from the foe for a spoil.
Bright in the sheen of their arms. And their counsel was sundered in doubt,
Whether to utterly waste it or whether divide for a prey
All the spoil they should seize in the fastness. But those not yet would obey,
But armed them anon for an ambush: their wives and their children small
127
Then they went forth, and Athene and Ares led them to war.
Golden the Gods were wrought and golden the raiment they bore:
Goodly and great with their arms, clear-seen like Gods in the shield
Showed they, while smaller behind them the men followed on to the field.
And they came to the place of the ambush, where cattle to drink were wont,
And sat down in the bed of a river: two scouts apart in the front
Kept watch till the flocks of the sheep and the crook-horned oxen they spied.
Then the herds came anon to the water, and herdsmen twain by their side
Playing their pipes as they went, and they took no thought of the snare.
128
They cut off round about from their keepers, and slaughtered the men thereby.
But the rest in their place of assembly could hear from the water a cry,
And drave forth their high-stepping horses, and swiftly were come to the bank,
And there by the side of the river each stood and fought in his rank,
Hurling his bronze-tipped spear; and among them mingling were seen
Furies of Strife and of Onset, and Death with remorseless mien.
One wounded, another unwounded, he grasped yet alive for his prey,
And another fallen and dead he dragged by his feet thro' the fray.
And the robe that he wore on his shoulders was red with the blood of the slain.
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And the corpses of them that had fallen each dragged from the foe for a spoil.
Then wrought he a soft fallow-field, a plot of exuberant soil
Wide-spreading, thrice upturned; and ploughmen ploughed in the track
Of the oxen driven before them and turning forward and back.
And whenever they finished the furrow and turned at the end of the line,
Then came there a man to the ploughers and gave them a goblet of wine:
So they turned them about in their labour to journey once more thro' the field.
And behold, the ground behind them, tho' wrought in the gold of the shield,
Blackened like new-cleft furrows, a marvel of craft to be seen.
Wide-spreading, thrice upturned; and ploughmen ploughed in the track
Of the oxen driven before them and turning forward and back.
And whenever they finished the furrow and turned at the end of the line,
Then came there a man to the ploughers and gave them a goblet of wine:
So they turned them about in their labour to journey once more thro' the field.
And behold, the ground behind them, tho' wrought in the gold of the shield,
Blackened like new-cleft furrows, a marvel of craft to be seen.
130
Then wrought he a fruitful close where wielding their sickles keen
Reapers reaped; and the handfuls were falling thick to the ground,
Or were gathered by binders of sheaves in ropes of straw to be bound.
Three were the binders of sheaves, which behind them boys gave to their hand
Gathering them ever in armfuls. And near them the lord of the land
Stood with his staff by the swathe and silently joyed in his heart.
And heralds under an oak made ready a banquet apart,
For an ox had been slain for the reapers, and women the white meal strewed.
Reapers reaped; and the handfuls were falling thick to the ground,
Or were gathered by binders of sheaves in ropes of straw to be bound.
Three were the binders of sheaves, which behind them boys gave to their hand
Gathering them ever in armfuls. And near them the lord of the land
Stood with his staff by the swathe and silently joyed in his heart.
And heralds under an oak made ready a banquet apart,
For an ox had been slain for the reapers, and women the white meal strewed.
Also he wrought in the shield a vineyard wealthy and good:
Dark were the grapes of the vines and the vine-poles of silver therein,
With a trench of the blue steel round, and along it a fence of tin.
One path only it had whereon might the vintagers fare,
And the fruit in baskets of wicker blithe striplings and maidens bare:
And a boy in their midst with a viol made music sweet to the ear,
As he sang them the song of Linus with delicate voice and clear:
And they to his song and his music together kept time with their tread.
Dark were the grapes of the vines and the vine-poles of silver therein,
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One path only it had whereon might the vintagers fare,
And the fruit in baskets of wicker blithe striplings and maidens bare:
And a boy in their midst with a viol made music sweet to the ear,
As he sang them the song of Linus with delicate voice and clear:
And they to his song and his music together kept time with their tread.
Then he wrought there a herd of cattle with straight horns each on its head:
Of gold and tin were the kine, and they went from their sheds to feed
By the bank of a murmuring river, a home of the waving reed.
Four herdsmen in gold came with them, and nine dogs followed their way.
But in front two terrible lions had seized on a bull for their prey.
Loudly bellowed the bull as they dragged him in terror and pain,
And the young men behind with their dogs on the track came speeding amain.
Now the lions were tearing his hide and devoured his flesh thro' his wounds,
But the herdsmen in chase were upon them, and tarred on their swift-footed hounds,
As they shrank from biting the lions and stood and barked from anigh.
Of gold and tin were the kine, and they went from their sheds to feed
By the bank of a murmuring river, a home of the waving reed.
Four herdsmen in gold came with them, and nine dogs followed their way.
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Loudly bellowed the bull as they dragged him in terror and pain,
And the young men behind with their dogs on the track came speeding amain.
Now the lions were tearing his hide and devoured his flesh thro' his wounds,
But the herdsmen in chase were upon them, and tarred on their swift-footed hounds,
As they shrank from biting the lions and stood and barked from anigh.
Then a pasture of white-fleeced sheep in a glade had he fashioned thereby,
And folds for the sheep, and sheds, and huts with roofs covered o'er.
And folds for the sheep, and sheds, and huts with roofs covered o'er.
Then a dance the Artificer fashioned, and such it seemed as of yore
Daedalus' cunning devised for bright-haired Ariadne in Crete.
Young men and much-wooed maidens he fashioned in dance of their feet,
Each clasping each by the wrist; fair linen the maidens had on,
And the young men well woven-tunics that softly with olive-oil shone.
Gold swords girded with silver each young man bare by his side,
Fair wreaths on their heads had the maidens; their deft feet nimbly they plied,
Smoothly and swift as a wheel that a potter whirls thro' his hands
Proving it whether it run; and now again in their bands
Each to the other advanced. Two tumblers whirled thro' the throng
Of the gazers glad at the dancing; and all these moved to the song
Of a minstrel divine in the midst, while his viol in unison pealed.
Daedalus' cunning devised for bright-haired Ariadne in Crete.
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Each clasping each by the wrist; fair linen the maidens had on,
And the young men well woven-tunics that softly with olive-oil shone.
Gold swords girded with silver each young man bare by his side,
Fair wreaths on their heads had the maidens; their deft feet nimbly they plied,
Smoothly and swift as a wheel that a potter whirls thro' his hands
Proving it whether it run; and now again in their bands
Each to the other advanced. Two tumblers whirled thro' the throng
Of the gazers glad at the dancing; and all these moved to the song
Of a minstrel divine in the midst, while his viol in unison pealed.
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Then lastly to compass the rest, at the rim of the marvellous shield,
The strength of the River of Ocean about and around it he rolled.
The strength of the River of Ocean about and around it he rolled.
And when the strong shield was finished, a breast-plate more bright to behold
Than the flame of a fire he fashioned, and greaves of the shining tin,
And a fair-wrought helm for the head, with a golden crest therein.
Than the flame of a fire he fashioned, and greaves of the shining tin,
And a fair-wrought helm for the head, with a golden crest therein.
So when the Artificer ended, and all the armour was done,
At the feet of Achilles' mother he laid it, to bear to her son.
Then forth like a falcon she flew from Olympus' snow-girt floor,
And the gift of the glittering arms to her child from Hephaestus bore.
At the feet of Achilles' mother he laid it, to bear to her son.
Then forth like a falcon she flew from Olympus' snow-girt floor,
And the gift of the glittering arms to her child from Hephaestus bore.
It occurred to me while writing The Defence of Rome that the metre there used might possibly convey, more approximately than any hitherto employed in a modern language, some image of the peculiar qualities of the Homeric hexameter, especially its unequalled combination of rapidity with dignity of movement. Should this experimental specimen of a translation of the Iliad attract readers to whom the original is unknown (and acceptability to readers of this kind is a needful justification of translations in verse), I shall hope not improbably to continue the attempt. E. M.
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