ἸΛΙΆΣ 24

Λῦτο δ’ ἀγών, λαοὶ δὲ θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας ἕκαστοι
ἐσκίδναντ’ ἰέναι. τοὶ μὲν δόρποιο μέδοντο
ὕπνου τε γλυκεροῦ ταρπήμεναι· αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς
κλαῖε φίλου ἑτάρου μεμνημένος, οὐδέ μιν ὕπνος
ᾕρει πανδαμάτωρ, ἀλλ’ ἐστρέφετ’ ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα,
Πατρόκλου ποθέων ἀνδροτῆτά τε καὶ μένος ἠΰ,
ἠδ’ ὁπόσα τολύπευσε σὺν αὐτῷ καὶ πάθεν ἄλγεα,
ἀνδρῶν τε πτολέμους ἀλεγεινά τε κύματα πείρων·
τῶν μιμνησκόμενος θαλερὸν κατὰ δάκρυον εἶβεν,
ἄλλοτ’ ἐπὶ πλευρὰς κατακείμενος, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε
ὕπτιος, ἄλλοτε δὲ πρηνής· τοτὲ δ’ ὀρθὸς ἀναστὰς
δινεύεσκ’ ἀλύων παρὰ θῖν’ ἁλός· οὐδέ μιν ἠὼς
φαινομένη λήθεσκεν ὑπεὶρ ἅλα τ’ ἠϊόνας τε.
ἀλλ’ ὅ γ’ ἐπεὶ ζεύξειεν ὑφ’ ἅρμασιν ὠκέας ἵππους,
Ἕκτορα δ’ ἕλκεσθαι δησάσκετο δίφρου ὄπισθεν,
τρὶς δ’ ἐρύσας περὶ σῆμα Μενοιτιάδαο θανόντος
αὖτις ἐνὶ κλισίῃ παυέσκετο, τὸν δέ τ’ ἔασκεν
ἐν κόνι ἐκτανύσας προπρηνέα· τοῖο δ’ Ἀπόλλων
πᾶσαν ἀεικείην ἄπεχε χροῒ φῶτ’ ἐλεαίρων

καὶ τεθνηότα περ· περὶ δ’ αἰγίδι πάντα κάλυπτε
χρυσείῃ, ἵνα μή μιν ἀποδρύφοι ἑλκυστάζων.
Ὣς ὁ μὲν Ἕκτορα δῖον ἀείκιζεν μενεαίνων·
τὸν δ’ ἐλεαίρεσκον μάκαρες θεοὶ εἰσορόωντες,
κλέψαι δ’ ὀτρύνεσκον ἐΰσκοπον Ἀργειφόντην.
ἔνθ’ ἄλλοις μὲν πᾶσιν ἑήνδανεν, οὐδέ ποθ’ Ἥρῃ
οὐδὲ Ποσειδάων’ οὐδὲ γλαυκώπιδι κούρῃ,
ἀλλ’ ἔχον ὥς σφιν πρῶτον ἀπήχθετο Ἴλιος ἱρὴ
καὶ Πρίαμος καὶ λαὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου ἕνεκ’ ἄτης,
ὃς νείκεσσε θεάς, ὅτε οἱ μέσσαυλον ἵκοντο,
τὴν δ’ ᾔνησ’ ἥ οἱ πόρε μαχλοσύνην ἀλεγεινήν.
ἀλλ’ ὅτε δή ῥ’ ἐκ τοῖο δυωδεκάτη γένετ’ ἠώς,
καὶ τότ’ ἄρ’ ἀθανάτοισι μετηύδα Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων·
«σχέτλιοί ἐστε, θεοί, δηλήμονες· οὔ νύ ποθ’ ὑμῖν
Ἕκτωρ μηρί’ ἔκηε βοῶν αἰγῶν τε τελείων;
τὸν νῦν οὐκ ἔτλητε νέκυν περ ἐόντα σαῶσαι,
ᾗ τ’ ἀλόχῳ ἰδέειν καὶ μητέρι καὶ τέκεϊ ᾧ
καὶ πατέρι Πριάμῳ λαοῖσί τε, τοί κέ μιν ὦκα
ἐν πυρὶ κήαιεν καὶ ἐπὶ κτέρεα κτερίσαιεν.
ἀλλ’ ὀλοῷ Ἀχιλῆϊ, θεοί, βούλεσθ’ ἐπαρήγειν,
ᾧ οὔτ’ ἂρ φρένες εἰσὶν ἐναίσιμοι οὔτε νόημα
γναμπτὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσι, λέων δ’ ὣς ἄγρια οἶδεν,
ὅς τ’ ἐπεὶ ἂρ μεγάλῃ τε βίῃ καὶ ἀγήνορι θυμῷ
εἴξας εἶσ’ ἐπὶ μῆλα βροτῶν, ἵνα δαῖτα λάβῃσιν·
ὣς Ἀχιλεὺς ἔλεον μὲν ἀπώλεσεν, οὐδέ οἱ αἰδὼς
γίγνεται, ἥ τ’ ἄνδρας μέγα σίνεται ἠδ’ ὀνίνησι.
μέλλει μέν πού τις καὶ φίλτερον ἄλλον ὀλέσσαι,

ἠὲ κασίγνητον ὁμογάστριον ἠὲ καὶ υἱόν·
ἀλλ’ ἤτοι κλαύσας καὶ ὀδυράμενος μεθέηκε·
τλητὸν γὰρ Μοῖραι θυμὸν θέσαν ἀνθρώποισιν.
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ Ἕκτορα δῖον, ἐπεὶ φίλον ἦτορ ἀπηύρα,
ἵππων ἐξάπτων περὶ σῆμ’ ἑτάροιο φίλοιο
ἕλκει· οὐ μήν οἱ τό γε κάλλιον οὐδέ τ’ ἄμεινον.
μὴ ἀγαθῷ περ ἐόντι νεμεσσηθέωμέν οἱ ἡμεῖς·
κωφὴν γὰρ δὴ γαῖαν ἀεικίζει μενεαίνων.»
Τὸν δὲ χολωσαμένη προσέφη λευκώλενος Ἥρη·
«εἴη κεν καὶ τοῦτο τεὸν ἔπος, ἀργυρότοξε,
εἰ δὴ ὁμὴν Ἀχιλῆϊ καὶ Ἕκτορι θήσετε τιμήν.
Ἕκτωρ μὲν θνητός τε γυναῖκά τε θήσατο μαζόν·
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεύς ἐστι θεᾶς γόνος, ἣν ἐγὼ αὐτὴ
θρέψά τε καὶ ἀτίτηλα καὶ ἀνδρὶ πόρον παράκοιτιν,
Πηλέϊ, ὃς περὶ κῆρι φίλος γένετ’ ἀθανάτοισι.
πάντες δ’ ἀντιάασθε, θεοί, γάμου· ἐν δὲ σὺ τοῖσι
δαίνυ’ ἔχων φόρμιγγα, κακῶν ἕταρ’, αἰὲν ἄπιστε.»
Τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη νεφεληγερέτα Ζεύς·
«Ἥρη, μὴ δὴ πάμπαν ἀποσκύδμαινε θεοῖσιν·
οὐ μὲν γὰρ τιμή γε μί’ ἔσσεται· ἀλλὰ καὶ Ἕκτωρ
φίλτατος ἔσκε θεοῖσι βροτῶν οἳ ἐν Ἰλίῳ εἰσίν·
ὣς γὰρ ἔμοιγ’, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι φίλων ἡμάρτανε δώρων.
οὐ γάρ μοί ποτε βωμὸς ἐδεύετο δαιτὸς ἐΐσης,
λοιβῆς τε κνίσης τε· τὸ γὰρ λάχομεν γέρας ἡμεῖς.
ἀλλ’ ἤτοι κλέψαι μὲν ἐάσομεν—οὐδέ πῃ ἔστι—
λάθρῃ Ἀχιλλῆος θρασὺν Ἕκτορα· ἦ γάρ οἱ αἰεὶ
μήτηρ παρμέμβλωκεν ὁμῶς νύκτάς τε καὶ ἦμαρ.
ἀλλ’ εἴ τις καλέσειε θεῶν Θέτιν ἆσσον ἐμεῖο,
ὄφρά τί οἱ εἴπω πυκινὸν ἔπος, ὥς κεν Ἀχιλλεὺς

δώρων ἐκ Πριάμοιο λάχῃ ἀπό θ’ Ἕκτορα λύσῃ.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, ὦρτο δὲ Ἶρις ἀελλόπος ἀγγελέουσα,
μεσσηγὺς δὲ Σάμου τε καὶ Ἴμβρου παιπαλοέσσης
ἔνθορε μείλανι πόντῳ· ἐπεστονάχησε δὲ λίμνη.
ἡ δὲ μολυβδαίνῃ ἰκέλη ἐς βυσσὸν ὄρουσεν,
ἡ τε κατ’ ἀγραύλοιο βοὸς κέρας ἐμβεβαυῖα
ἔρχεται ὠμηστῇσιν ἐπ’ ἰχθύσι κῆρα φέρουσα.
εὗρε δ’ ἐνὶ σπῆϊ γλαφυρῷ Θέτιν, ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρ’ ἄλλαι
εἵαθ’ ὁμηγερέες ἅλιαι θεαί· ἡ δ’ ἐνὶ μέσσῃς
κλαῖε μόρον οὗ παιδὸς ἀμύμονος, ὅς οἱ ἔμελλε
φθίσεσθ’ ἐν Τροίῃ ἐριβώλακι, τηλόθι πάτρης.
ἀγχοῦ δ’ ἱσταμένη προσέφη πόδας ὠκέα Ἶρις·
«ὄρσο, Θέτι· καλέει Ζεὺς ἄφθιτα μήδεα εἰδώς.»
τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα·
«τίπτέ με κεῖνος ἄνωγε μέγας θεός; αἰδέομαι δὲ
μίσγεσθ’ ἀθανάτοισιν, ἔχω δ’ ἄχε’ ἄκριτα θυμῷ.
εἶμι μέν, οὐδ’ ἅλιον ἔπος ἔσσεται, ὅττί κεν εἴπῃ.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασα κάλυμμ’ ἕλε δῖα θεάων
κυάνεον, τοῦ δ’ οὔ τι μελάντερον ἔπλετο ἔσθος.
βῆ δ’ ἰέναι, πρόσθεν δὲ ποδήνεμος ὠκέα Ἶρις
ἡγεῖτ’· ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρα σφι λιάζετο κῦμα θαλάσσης.
ἀκτὴν δ’ ἐξαναβᾶσαι ἐς οὐρανὸν ἀϊχθήτην,
εὗρον δ’ εὐρύοπα Κρονίδην, περὶ δ’ ἄλλοι ἅπαντες
ἥαθ’ ὁμηγερέες μάκαρες θεοὶ αἰὲν ἐόντες.
ἡ δ’ ἄρα πὰρ Διὶ πατρὶ καθέζετο, εἶξε δ’ Ἀθήνη.
Ἥρη δὲ χρύσεον καλὸν δέπας ἐν χερὶ θῆκε
καί ῥ’ εὔφρην’ ἐπέεσσι· Θέτις δ’ ὤρεξε πιοῦσα.
τοῖσι δὲ μύθων ἦρχε πατὴρ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε·
«ἤλυθες Οὔλυμπόνδε, θεὰ Θέτι, κηδομένη περ,

πένθος ἄλαστον ἔχουσα μετὰ φρεσίν· οἶδα καὶ αὐτός·
ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς ἐρέω τοῦ σ’ εἵνεκα δεῦρο κάλεσσα.
ἐννῆμαρ δὴ νεῖκος ἐν ἀθανάτοισιν ὄρωρεν
Ἕκτορος ἀμφὶ νέκυι καὶ Ἀχιλλῆϊ πτολιπόρθῳ·
κλέψαι δ’ ὀτρύνουσιν ἐΰσκοπον Ἀργειφόντην·
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ τόδε κῦδος Ἀχιλλῆϊ προτιάπτω,
αἰδῶ καὶ φιλότητα τεὴν μετόπισθε φυλάσσων.
αἶψα μάλ’ ἐς στρατὸν ἐλθὲ καὶ υἱέϊ σῷ ἐπίτειλον·
σκύζεσθαί οἱ εἰπὲ θεούς, ἐμὲ δ’ ἔξοχα πάντων
ἀθανάτων κεχολῶσθαι, ὅτι φρεσὶ μαινομένῃσιν
Ἕκτορ’ ἔχει παρὰ νηυσὶ κορωνίσιν οὐδ’ ἀπέλυσεν,
αἴ κέν πως ἐμέ τε δείσῃ ἀπό θ’ Ἕκτορα λύσῃ.
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ Πριάμῳ μεγαλήτορι Ἶριν ἐφήσω
λύσασθαι φίλον υἱόν, ἰόντ’ ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν,
δῶρα δ’ Ἀχιλλῆϊ φερέμεν, τά κε θυμὸν ἰήνῃ.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, οὐδ’ ἀπίθησε θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα,
βῆ δὲ κατ’ Οὐλύμποιο καρήνων ἀΐξασα,
ἷξεν δ’ ἐς κλισίην οὗ υἱέος· ἔνθ’ ἄρα τόν γε
εὗρ’ ἁδινὰ στενάχοντα· φίλοι δ’ ἀμφ’ αὐτὸν ἑταῖροι
ἐσσυμένως ἐπένοντο καὶ ἐντύνοντο ἄριστον·
τοῖσι δ’ ὄϊς λάσιος μέγας ἐν κλισίῃ ἱέρευτο.
ἣ δὲ μάλ’ ἄγχ’ αὐτοῖο καθέζετο πότνια μήτηρ,
χειρί τέ μιν κατέρεξεν ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·
«τέκνον ἐμόν, τέο μέχρις ὀδυρόμενος καὶ ἀχεύων
σὴν ἔδεαι κραδίην, μεμνημένος οὔτέ τι σίτου
οὔτ’ εὐνῆς; ἀγαθὸν δὲ γυναικί περ ἐν φιλότητι
μίσγεσθ’· οὐ γάρ μοι δηρὸν βέῃ, ἀλλά τοι ἤδη
ἄγχι παρέστηκεν θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κραταιή.
ἀλλ’ ἐμέθεν ξύνες ὦκα, Διὸς δέ τοι ἄγγελός εἰμι·
σκύζεσθαι σοί φησι θεούς, ἑὲ δ’ ἔξοχα πάντων
ἀθανάτων κεχολῶσθαι, ὅτι φρεσὶ μαινομένῃσιν

Ἕκτορ’ ἔχεις παρὰ νηυσὶ κορωνίσιν οὐδ’ ἀπέλυσας.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ λῦσον, νεκροῖο δὲ δέξαι ἄποινα.»
Τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«τῇδ’ εἴη· ὃς ἄποινα φέροι καὶ νεκρὸν ἄγοιτο,
εἰ δὴ πρόφρονι θυμῷ Ὀλύμπιος αὐτὸς ἀνώγει.»
Ὣς οἵ γ’ ἐν νηῶν ἀγύρει μήτηρ τε καὶ υἱὸς
πολλὰ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἔπεα πτερόεντ’ ἀγόρευον.
Ἶριν δ’ ὄτρυνε Κρονίδης εἰς Ἴλιον ἱρήν·
«βάσκ’ ἴθι, Ἶρι ταχεῖα, λιποῦσ’ ἕδος Οὐλύμποιο
ἄγγειλον Πριάμῳ μεγαλήτορι Ἴλιον εἴσω
λύσασθαι φίλον υἱὸν ἰόντ’ ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν,
δῶρα δ’ Ἀχιλλῆϊ φερέμεν, τά κε θυμὸν ἰήνῃ,
οἶον, μὴ δέ τις ἄλλος ἅμα Τρώων ἴτω ἀνήρ.
κῆρύξ τίς οἱ ἕποιτο γεραίτερος, ὅς κ’ ἰθύνοι
ἡμιόνους καὶ ἄμαξαν ἐΰτροχον, ἠδὲ καὶ αὖτις
νεκρὸν ἄγοι προτὶ ἄστυ, τὸν ἔκτανε δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.
μηδέ τί οἱ θάνατος μελέτω φρεσὶ μὴ δέ τι τάρβος·
τοῖον γάρ οἱ πομπὸν ὀπάσσομεν Ἀργειφόντην,
ὃς ἄξει εἷός κεν ἄγων Ἀχιλῆϊ πελάσσῃ.
αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν ἀγάγῃσιν ἔσω κλισίην Ἀχιλῆος,
οὔτ’ αὐτὸς κτενέει ἀπό τ’ ἄλλους πάντας ἐρύξει·
οὔτε γάρ ἐστ’ ἄφρων οὔτ’ ἄσκοπος οὔτ’ ἀλιτήμων,
ἀλλὰ μάλ’ ἐνδυκέως ἱκέτεω πεφιδήσεται ἀνδρός.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, ὦρτο δὲ Ἶρις ἀελλόπος ἀγγελέουσα.
ἷξεν δ’ ἐς Πριάμοιο, κίχεν δ’ ἐνοπήν τε γόον τε.
παῖδες μὲν πατέρ’ ἀμφὶ καθήμενοι ἔνδοθεν αὐλῆς
δάκρυσιν εἵματ’ ἔφυρον, ὁ δ’ ἐν μέσσοισι γεραιὸς
ἐντυπὰς ἐν χλαίνῃ κεκαλυμμένος· ἀμφὶ δὲ πολλὴ
κόπρος ἔην κεφαλῇ τε καὶ αὐχένι τοῖο γέροντος,
τήν ῥα κυλινδόμενος καταμήσατο χερσὶν ἑῇσι.

θυγατέρες δ’ ἀνὰ δώματ’ ἰδὲ νυοὶ ὠδύροντο,
τῶν μιμνησκόμεναι οἳ δὴ πολέες τε καὶ ἐσθλοὶ
χερσὶν ὑπ’ Ἀργείων κέατο ψυχὰς ὀλέσαντες.
στῆ δὲ παρὰ Πρίαμον Διὸς ἄγγελος, ἠδὲ προσηύδα
τυτθὸν φθεγξαμένη· τὸν δὲ τρόμος ἔλλαβε γυῖα·
«θάρσει, Δαρδανίδη Πρίαμε, φρεσί, μὴ δέ τι τάρβει·
οὐ μὲν γάρ τοι ἐγὼ κακὸν ὀσσομένη τόδ’ ἱκάνω,
ἀλλ’ ἀγαθὰ φρονέουσα· Διὸς δέ τοι ἄγγελός εἰμι,
ὅς σευ ἄνευθεν ἐὼν μέγα κήδεται ἠδ’ ἐλεαίρει.
λύσασθαί σ’ ἐκέλευσεν Ὀλύμπιος Ἕκτορα δῖον,
δῶρα δ’ Ἀχιλλῆϊ φερέμεν, τά κε θυμὸν ἰήνῃ,
οἶον, μὴ δέ τις ἄλλος ἅμα Τρώων ἴτω ἀνήρ.
κῆρύξ τίς τοι ἕποιτο γεραίτερος, ὅς κ’ ἰθύνοι
ἡμιόνους καὶ ἄμαξαν ἐΰτροχον, ἠδὲ καὶ αὖτις
νεκρὸν ἄγοι προτὶ ἄστυ, τὸν ἔκτανε δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.
μὴ δέ τί τοι θάνατος μελέτω φρεσὶ μηδέ τι τάρβος·
τοῖος γάρ τοι πομπὸς ἅμ’ ἕψεται Ἀργειφόντης,
ὅς σ’ ἄξει εἷός κεν ἄγων Ἀχιλῆϊ πελάσσῃ.
αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν ἀγάγῃσιν ἔσω κλισίην Ἀχιλῆος,
οὔτ’ αὐτὸς κτενέει ἀπό τ’ ἄλλους πάντας ἐρύξει·
οὔτε γάρ ἔστ’ ἄφρων οὔτ’ ἄσκοπος οὔτ’ ἀλιτήμων,
ἀλλὰ μάλ’ ἐνδυκέως ἱκέτεω πεφιδήσεται ἀνδρός.»
Ἣ μὲν ἄρ’ ὣς εἰποῦσ’ ἀπέβη πόδας ὠκέα Ἶρις,
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ υἷας ἄμαξαν ἐΰτροχον ἡμιονείην
ὁπλίσαι ἠνώγει, πείρινθα δὲ δῆσαι ἐπ’ αὐτῆς.
αὐτὸς δ’ ἐς θάλαμον κατεβήσετο κηώεντα
κέδρινον ὑψόροφον, ὃς γλήνεα πολλὰ κεχάνδει·
ἐς δ’ ἄλοχον Ἑκάβην ἐκαλέσσατο φώνησέν τε·
«δαιμονίη, Διόθεν μοι Ὀλύμπιος ἄγγελος ἦλθε
λύσασθαι φίλον υἱὸν ἰόντ’ ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν,
δῶρα δ’ Ἀχιλλῆϊ φερέμεν τά κε θυμὸν ἰήνῃ.

ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπέ, τί τοι φρεσὶν εἴδεται εἶναι;
αἰνῶς γάρ μ’ αὐτόν γε μένος καὶ θυμὸς ἄνωγε
κεῖσ’ ἰέναι ἐπὶ νῆας ἔσω στρατὸν εὐρὺν Ἀχαιῶν.»
Ὣς φάτο, κώκυσεν δὲ γυνὴ καὶ ἀμείβετο μύθῳ·
«ὤ μοι, πῇ δή τοι φρένες οἴχονθ’, ᾗς τὸ πάρος περ
ἔκλε’ ἐπ’ ἀνθρώπους ξείνους ἠδ’ οἷσιν ἀνάσσεις;
πῶς ἐθέλεις ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν ἐλθέμεν οἶος,
ἀνδρὸς ἐς ὀφθαλμοὺς ὅς τοι πολέας τε καὶ ἐσθλοὺς
υἱέας ἐξενάριξε· σιδήρειόν νύ τοι ἦτορ.
εἰ γάρ σ’ αἱρήσει καὶ ἐσόψεται ὀφθαλμοῖσιν,
ὠμηστὴς καὶ ἄπιστος ἀνὴρ ὅ γε, οὔ σ’ ἐλεήσει,
οὐδέ τί σ’ αἰδέσεται. νῦν δὲ κλαίωμεν ἄνευθεν
ἥμενοι ἐν μεγάρῳ· τῷ δ’ ὥς ποθι Μοῖρα κραταιὴ
γιγνομένῳ ἐπένησε λίνῳ, ὅτε μιν τέκον αὐτή,
ἀργίποδας κύνας ἆσαι ἑῶν ἀπάνευθε τοκήων,
ἀνδρὶ πάρα κρατερῷ, τοῦ ἐγὼ μέσον ἧπαρ ἔχοιμι
ἐσθέμεναι προσφῦσα· τότ’ ἄντιτα ἔργα γένοιτο
παιδὸς ἐμοῦ, ἐπεὶ οὔ ἑ κακιζόμενόν γε κατέκτα,
ἀλλὰ πρὸ Τρώων καὶ Τρωϊάδων βαθυκόλπων
ἑσταότ’, οὔτε φόβου μεμνημένον οὔτ’ ἀλεωρῆς.»
Τὴν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«μή μ’ ἐθέλοντ’ ἰέναι κατερύκανε, μὴ δέ μοι αὐτὴ
ὄρνις ἐνὶ μεγάροισι κακὸς πέλευ· οὐδέ με πείσεις.
εἰ μὲν γάρ τίς μ’ ἄλλος ἐπιχθονίων ἐκέλευεν,
ἢ οἳ μάντιές εἰσι θυοσκόοι ἢ ἱερῆες,
ψεῦδός κεν φαῖμεν καὶ νοσφιζοίμεθα μᾶλλον·
νῦν δ’, αὐτὸς γὰρ ἄκουσα θεοῦ καὶ ἐσέδρακον ἄντην,

εἶμι, καὶ οὐχ ἅλιον ἔπος ἔσσεται. εἰ δέ μοι αἶσα
τεθνάμεναι παρὰ νηυσὶν Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων,
βούλομαι· αὐτίκα γάρ με κατακτείνειεν Ἀχιλλεὺς
ἀγκὰς ἑλόντ’ ἐμὸν υἱόν, ἐπὴν γόου ἐξ ἔρον εἵην.»
Ἦ, καὶ φωριαμῶν ἐπιθήματα κάλ’ ἀνέῳγεν·
ἔνθεν δώδεκα μὲν περικαλλέας ἔξελε πέπλους,
δώδεκα δ’ ἁπλοΐδας χλαίνας, τόσσους δὲ τάπητας,
τόσσα δὲ φάρεα λευκά, τόσους δ’ ἐπὶ τοῖσι χιτῶνας.
χρυσοῦ δὲ στήσας ἔφερεν δέκα πάντα τάλαντα,
ἐκ δὲ δύ’ αἴθωνας τρίποδας, πίσυρας δὲ λέβητας,
ἐκ δὲ δέπας περικαλλές, ὅ οἱ Θρῇκες πόρον ἄνδρες
ἐξεσίην ἐλθόντι, μέγα κτέρας· οὐδέ νυ τοῦ περ
φείσατ’ ἐνὶ μεγάροις ὁ γέρων, περὶ δ’ ἤθελε θυμῷ
λύσασθαι φίλον υἱόν. ὁ δὲ Τρῶας μὲν ἅπαντας
αἰθούσης ἀπέεργεν ἔπεσσ’ αἰσχροῖσιν ἐνίσσων·
«ἔρρετε, λωβητῆρες ἐλεγχέες· οὔ νυ καὶ ὑμῖν
οἴκοι ἔνεστι γόος, ὅτι μ’ ἤλθετε κηδήσοντες;
ἦ ὀνόσασθ’ ὅτι μοι Κρονίδης Ζεὺς ἄλγε’ ἔδωκε,
παῖδ’ ὀλέσαι τὸν ἄριστον; ἀτὰρ γνώσεσθε καὶ ὔμμες·
ῥηΐτεροι γὰρ μᾶλλον Ἀχαιοῖσιν δὴ ἔσεσθε
κείνου τεθνηῶτος ἐναιρέμεν. αὐτὰρ ἔγωγε
πρὶν ἀλαπαζομένην τε πόλιν κεραϊζομένην τε
ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδεῖν, βαίην δόμον Ἄϊδος εἴσω.»
Ἦ καὶ σκηπανίῳ δίεπ’ ἀνέρας· οἱ δ’ ἴσαν ἔξω
σπερχομένοιο γέροντος· ὁ δ’ υἱάσιν οἷσιν ὁμόκλα,
νεικείων Ἕλενόν τε Πάριν τ’ Ἀγάθωνά τε δῖον
Πάμμονά τ’ Ἀντίφονόν τε βοὴν ἀγαθόν τε Πολίτην
Δηΐφοβόν τε καὶ Ἱππόθοον καὶ δῖον Ἀγαυόν·
ἐννέα τοῖς ὁ γεραιὸς ὁμοκλήσας ἐκέλευε·

«σπεύσατέ μοι, κακὰ τέκνα, κατηφόνες· αἴθ’ ἅμα πάντες
Ἕκτορος ὠφέλετ’ ἀντὶ θοῇς ἐπὶ νηυσὶ πεφάσθαι.
ὤ μοι ἐγὼ πανάποτμος, ἐπεὶ τέκον υἷας ἀρίστους
Τροίῃ ἐν εὐρείῃ, τῶν δ’ οὔ τινά φημι λελεῖφθαι,
Μήστορά τ’ ἀντίθεον καὶ Τρωΐλον ἱππιοχάρμην
Ἕκτορά θ’, ὃς θεὸς ἔσκε μετ’ ἀνδράσιν, οὐδὲ ἐῴκει
ἀνδρός γε θνητοῦ πάϊς ἔμμεναι ἀλλὰ θεοῖο.
τοὺς μὲν ἀπώλεσ’ Ἄρης, τὰ δ’ ἐλέγχεα πάντα λέλειπται,
ψεῦσταί τ’ ὀρχησταί τε, χοροιτυπίῃσιν ἄριστοι,
ἀρνῶν ἠδ’ ἐρίφων ἐπιδήμιοι ἁρπακτῆρες.
οὐκ ἂν δή μοι ἄμαξαν ἐφοπλίσσαιτε τάχιστα,
ταῦτά τε πάντ’ ἐπιθεῖτε, ἵνα πρήσσωμεν ὁδοῖο;»
Ὣς ἔφαθ’, οἱ δ’ ἄρα πατρὸς ὑποδείσαντες ὁμοκλὴν
ἐκ μὲν ἄμαξαν ἄειραν ἐΰτροχον ἡμιονείην
καλὴν πρωτοπαγέα, πείρινθα δὲ δῆσαν ἐπ’ αὐτῆς,
κὰδ δ’ ἀπὸ πασσαλόφι ζυγὸν ᾕρεον ἡμιόνειον
πύξινον ὀμφαλόεν, εὖ οἰήκεσσιν ἀρηρός·
ἐκ δ’ ἔφερον ζυγόδεσμον ἅμα ζυγῷ ἐννεάπηχυ.
καὶ τὸ μὲν εὖ κατέθηκαν ἐϋξέστῳ ἐπὶ ῥυμῷ,
πέζῃ ἔπι πρώτῃ, ἐπὶ δὲ κρίκον ἕστορι βάλλον,
τρὶς δ’ ἑκάτερθεν ἔδησαν ἐπ’ ὀμφαλόν, αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
ἑξείης κατέδησαν, ὑπὸ γλωχῖνα δ’ ἔκαμψαν.
ἐκ θαλάμου δὲ φέροντες ἐϋξέστης ἐπ’ ἀπήνης
νήεον Ἑκτορέης κεφαλῆς ἀπερείσι’ ἄποινα,
ζεῦξαν δ’ ἡμιόνους κρατερώνυχας ἐντεσιεργούς,
τούς ῥά ποτε Πριάμῳ Μυσοὶ δόσαν ἀγλαὰ δῶρα.
ἵππους δὲ Πριάμῳ ὕπαγον ζυγόν, οὓς ὃ γεραιὸς
αὐτὸς ἔχων ἀτίταλλεν ἐϋξέστῃ ἐπὶ φάτνῃ.
Τὼ μὲν ζευγνύσθην ἐν δώμασιν ὑψηλοῖσι

κῆρυξ καὶ Πρίαμος, πυκινὰ φρεσὶ μήδε’ ἔχοντες·
ἀγχίμολον δέ σφ’ ἦλθ’ Ἑκάβη τετιηότι θυμῷ,
οἶνον ἔχουσ’ ἐν χειρὶ μελίφρονα δεξιτερῆφι,
χρυσέῳ ἐν δέπαϊ, ὄφρα λείψαντε κιοίτην·
στῆ δ’ ἵππων προπάροιθεν ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·
«τῆ, σπεῖσον Διὶ πατρί, καὶ εὔχεο οἴκαδ’ ἱκέσθαι
ἂψ ἐκ δυσμενέων ἀνδρῶν, ἐπεὶ ἂρ σέ γε θυμὸς
ὀτρύνει ἐπὶ νῆας, ἐμεῖο μὲν οὐκ ἐθελούσης.
ἀλλ’ εὔχεο σύ γ’ ἔπειτα κελαινεφέϊ Κρονίωνι
Ἰδαίῳ, ὅς τε Τροίην κατὰ πᾶσαν ὁρᾶται,
αἴτει δ’ οἰωνόν, ταχὺν ἄγγελον, ὅς τέ οἱ αὐτῷ
φίλτατος οἰωνῶν, καί εὑ κράτος ἐστὶ μέγιστον,
δεξιόν, ὄφρά μιν αὐτὸς ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσι νοήσας
τῷ πίσυνος ἐπὶ νῆας ἴῃς Δαναῶν ταχυπώλων.
εἰ δέ τοι οὐ δώσει ἑὸν ἄγγελον εὐρύοπα Ζεύς,
οὐκ ἂν ἔγωγέ σ’ ἔπειτα ἐποτρύνουσα κελοίμην
νῆας ἐπ’ Ἀργείων ἰέναι μάλα περ μεμαῶτα.»
Τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«ὦ γύναι, οὐ μέν τοι τόδ’ ἐφιεμένῃ ἀπιθήσω.
ἐσθλὸν γὰρ Διὶ χεῖρας ἀνασχέμεν, αἴ κ’ ἐλεήσῃ.»
Ἦ ῥα καὶ ἀμφίπολον ταμίην ὄτρυν’ ὁ γεραιὸς
χερσὶν ὕδωρ ἐπιχεῦαι ἀκήρατον· ἡ δὲ παρέστη
χέρνιβον ἀμφίπολος πρόχοόν θ’ ἅμα χερσὶν ἔχουσα.
νιψάμενος δὲ κύπελλον ἐδέξατο ἧς ἀλόχοιο·
εὔχετ’ ἔπειτα στὰς μέσῳ ἕρκεϊ, λεῖβε δὲ οἶνον
οὐρανὸν εἰσανιδών, καὶ φωνήσας ἔπος ηὔδα·
«Ζεῦ πάτερ, Ἴδηθεν μεδέων, κύδιστε μέγιστε,
δός μ’ ἐς Ἀχιλλῆος φίλον ἐλθεῖν ἠδ’ ἐλεεινόν,
πέμψον δ’ οἰωνὸν ταχὺν ἄγγελον, ὅς τε σοὶ αὐτῷ

φίλτατος οἰωνῶν, καί εὑ κράτος ἐστὶ μέγιστον,
δεξιόν, ὄφρά μιν αὐτὸς ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσι νοήσας
τῷ πίσυνος ἐπὶ νῆας ἴω Δαναῶν ταχυπώλων.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’ εὐχόμενος, τοῦ δ’ ἔκλυε μητίετα Ζεύς,
αὐτίκα δ’ αἰετὸν ἧκε, τελειότατον πετεηνῶν,
μόρφνον θηρητῆρ’, ὃν καὶ περκνὸν καλέουσιν.
ὅσση δ’ ὑψορόφοιο θύρη θαλάμοιο τέτυκται
ἀνέρος ἀφνειοῖο, ἐῢ κληῗσ’ ἀραρυῖα,
τόσσ’ ἄρα τοῦ ἑκάτερθεν ἔσαν πτερά· εἴσατο δέ σφι
δεξιὸς ἀΐξας διὰ ἄστεος· οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες
γήθησαν, καὶ πᾶσιν ἐνὶ φρεσὶ θυμὸς ἰάνθη.
Σπερχόμενος δ’ ὁ γεραιὸς ἑοῦ ἐπεβήσετο δίφρου,
ἐκ δ’ ἔλασε προθύροιο καὶ αἰθούσης ἐριδούπου.
πρόσθε μὲν ἡμίονοι ἕλκον τετράκυκλον ἀπήνην,
τὰς Ἰδαῖος ἔλαυνε δαΐφρων· αὐτὰρ ὄπισθεν
ἵπποι, τοὺς ὁ γέρων ἐφέπων μάστιγι κέλευε
καρπαλίμως κατὰ ἄστυ· φίλοι δ’ ἅμα πάντες ἕποντο
πόλλ’ ὀλοφυρόμενοι ὡς εἰ θάνατον δὲ κιόντα.
οἱ δ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν πόλιος κατέβαν, πεδίον δ’ ἀφίκοντο,
οἱ μὲν ἄρ’ ἄψοῤῥοι προτὶ Ἴλιον ἀπονέοντο,
παῖδες καὶ γαμβροί, τὼ δ’ οὐ λάθον εὐρύοπα Ζῆν
ἐς πεδίον προφανέντε· ἰδὼν δ’ ἐλέησε γέροντα,
αἶψα δ’ ἄρ’ Ἑρμείαν, υἱὸν φίλον, ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«Ἑρμεία, σοὶ γάρ τε μάλιστά γε φίλτατόν ἐστιν
ἀνδρὶ ἑταιρίσσαι, καί τ’ ἔκλυες ᾧ κ’ ἐθέλῃσθα,
βάσκ’ ἴθι καὶ Πρίαμον κοίλας ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν
ὣς ἄγαγ’, ὡς μήτ’ ἄρ τις ἴδῃ μήτ’ ἄρ τε νοήσῃ
τῶν ἄλλων Δαναῶν, πρὶν Πηλεΐωνα δ’ ἱκέσθαι.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, οὐδ’ ἀπίθησε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης.

αὐτίκ’ ἔπειθ’ ὑπὸ ποσσὶν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα
ἀμβρόσια χρύσεια, τά μιν φέρον ἠμὲν ἐφ’ ὑγρὴν
ἠδ’ ἐπ’ ἀπείρονα γαῖαν ἅμα πνοιῇς ἀνέμοιο·
εἵλετο δὲ ῥάβδον, τῇ τ’ ἀνδρῶν ὄμματα θέλγει
ὧν ἐθέλει, τοὺς δ’ αὖτε καὶ ὑπνώοντας ἐγείρει·
τὴν μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχων πέτετο κρατὺς Ἀργειφόντης.
αἶψα δ’ ἄρα Τροίην τε καὶ Ἑλλήσποντον ἵκανε,
βῆ δ’ ἰέναι κούρῳ αἰσυμνητῆρι ἐοικώς,
πρῶτον ὑπηνήτῃ, τοῦ περ χαριεστάτη ἥβη.
Οἱ δ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν μέγα σῆμα παρὲξ Ἴλοιο ἔλασσαν,
στῆσαν ἄρ’ ἡμιόνους τε καὶ ἵππους, ὄφρα πίοιεν,
ἐν ποταμῷ· δὴ γὰρ καὶ ἐπὶ κνέφας ἤλυθε γαῖαν.
τὸν δ’ ἐξ ἀγχιμόλοιο ἰδὼν ἐφράσσατο κῆρυξ
Ἑρμείαν, ποτὶ δὲ Πρίαμον φάτο φώνησέν τε·
«φράζεο, Δαρδανίδη· φραδέος νόου ἔργα τέτυκται.
ἄνδρ’ ὁρόω, τάχα δ’ ἄμμε διαῤῥαίσεσθαι ὀΐω.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ φεύγωμεν ἐφ’ ἵππων, ἤ μιν ἔπειτα
γούνων ἁψάμενοι λιτανεύσομεν αἴ κ’ ἐλεήσῃ.»
Ὣς φάτο, σὺν δὲ γέροντι νόος χύτο, δείδιε δ’ αἰνῶς,
ὀρθαὶ δὲ τρίχες ἔσταν ἐνὶ γναμπτοῖσι μέλεσσι,
στῆ δὲ ταφών· αὐτὸς δ’ ἐριούνιος ἐγγύθεν ἐλθών,
χεῖρα γέροντος ἑλὼν ἐξείρετο καὶ προσέειπε·
«πῇ, πάτερ, ὧδ’ ἵππους τε καὶ ἡμιόνους ἰθύνεις
νύκτα δι’ ἀμβροσίην, ὅτε θ’ εὕδουσι βροτοὶ ἄλλοι;
οὐδὲ σύ γ’ ἔδεισας μένεα πνείοντας Ἀχαιούς,
οἵ τοι δυσμενέες καὶ ἀνάρσιοι ἐγγὺς ἔασι;
τῶν εἴ τίς σε ἴδοιτο θοὴν διὰ νύκτα μέλαιναν
τοσσάδ’ ὀνείατ’ ἄγοντα, τίς ἂν δή τοι νόος εἴη;
οὔτ’ αὐτὸς νέος ἐσσί, γέρων δέ τοι οὗτος ὀπηδεῖ,
ἄνδρ’ ἀπαμύνασθαι, ὅτε τις πρότερος χαλεπήνῃ.

ἀλλ’ ἐγὼ οὐδέν σε ῥέξω κακά, καὶ δέ κεν ἄλλον
σεῦ ἀπαλεξήσαιμι· φίλῳ δέ σε πατρὶ ἐΐσκω.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«οὕτω πῃ τάδε γ’ ἐστί, φίλον τέκος ὡς ἀγορεύεις.
ἀλλ’ ἔτι τις καὶ ἐμεῖο θεῶν ὑπερέσχεθε χεῖρα,
ὅς μοι τοιόνδ’ ἧκεν ὁδοιπόρον ἀντιβολῆσαι,
αἴσιον, οἷος δὴ σὺ δέμας καὶ εἶδος ἀγητός,
πέπνυσαί τε νόῳ, μακάρων δ’ ἔξεσσι τοκήων.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης·
«ναὶ δὴ ταῦτά γε πάντα, γέρον, κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπὲ καὶ ἀτρεκέως κατάλεξον,
ἠέ πῃ ἐκπέμπεις κειμήλια πολλὰ καὶ ἐσθλὰ
ἄνδρας ἐς ἀλλοδαποὺς ἵνα περ τάδε τοι σόα μίμνῃ,
ἦ ἤδη πάντες καταλείπετε Ἴλιον ἱρὴν
δειδιότες· τοῖος γὰρ ἀνὴρ ὤριστος ὄλωλε
σὸς πάϊς· οὐ μὲν γάρ τι μάχης ἐπιδεύετ’ Ἀχαιῶν.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«τίς δὲ σύ ἐσσι, φέριστε τέων δ’ ἔξεσσι τοκήων;
ὥς μοι καλὰ τὸν οἶτον ἀπότμου παιδὸς ἔνισπες.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης·
«πειρᾷ ἐμεῖο γεραιὲ καὶ εἴρεαι Ἕκτορα δῖον.
τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ μάλα πολλὰ μάχῃ ἔνι κυδιανείρῃ
ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ὄπωπα, καὶ εὖτ’ ἐπὶ νηυσὶν ἐλάσσας
Ἀργείους κτείνεσκε, δαΐζων ὀξέϊ χαλκῷ·
ἡμεῖς δ’ ἑσταότες θαυμάζομεν· οὐ γὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς
εἴα μάρνασθαι, κεχολωμένος Ἀτρεΐωνι.
τοῦ γὰρ ἐγὼ θεράπων, μία δ’ ἤγαγε νηῦς εὐεργής·
Μυρμιδόνων δ’ ἔξειμι, πατὴρ δέ μοί ἐστι Πολύκτωρ.

ἀφνειὸς μὲν ὅ γ’ ἐστί, γέρων δὲ δὴ ὡς σύ περ ὧδε,
ἓξ δέ οἱ υἷες ἔασιν, ἐγὼ δέ οἱ ἕβδομός εἰμι·
τῶν μέτα παλλόμενος κλήρῳ λάχον ἐνθάδ’ ἕπεσθαι.
νῦν δ’ ἦλθον πεδίονδ’ ἀπὸ νηῶν· ἠῶθεν γὰρ
θήσονται περὶ ἄστυ μάχην ἑλίκωπες Ἀχαιοί.
ἀσχαλόωσι γὰρ οἷδε καθήμενοι, οὐδὲ δύνανται
ἴσχειν ἐσσυμένους πολέμου βασιλῆες Ἀχαιῶν.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«εἰ μὲν δὴ θεράπων Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
εἴς, ἄγε δή μοι πᾶσαν ἀληθείην κατάλεξον,
ἢ ἔτι πὰρ νήεσσιν ἐμὸς πάϊς, ἦέ μιν ἤδη
ᾗσι κυσὶν μελεϊστὶ ταμὼν προὔθηκεν Ἀχιλλεύς.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης·
«ὦ γέρον, οὔ πω τόν γε κύνες φάγον οὐδ’ οἰωνοί,
ἀλλ’ ἔτι κεῖνος κεῖται Ἀχιλλῆος παρὰ νηῒ
αὔτως ἐν κλισίῃσι· δυωδεκάτη δέ οἱ ἠὼς
κειμένῳ, οὐδέ τί οἱ χρὼς σήπεται, οὐδέ μιν εὐλαὶ
ἔσθουσ’, αἵ ῥά τε φῶτας ἀρηϊφάτους κατέδουσιν.
ἦ μέν μιν περὶ σῆμα ἑοῦ ἑτάροιο φίλοιο
ἕλκει ἀκηδέστως, ἠὼς ὅτε δῖα φανήῃ,
οὐδέ μιν αἰσχύνει· θηοῖό κεν αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼν
οἷον ἐερσήεις κεῖται, περὶ δ’ αἷμα νένιπται,
οὐδέ ποθι μιαρός· σὺν δ’ ἕλκεα πάντα μέμυκεν,
ὅσσ’ ἐτύπη· πολέες γὰρ ἐν αὐτῷ χαλκὸν ἔλασσαν.
ὥς τοι κήδονται μάκαρες θεοὶ υἷος ἑῆος
καὶ νέκυός περ ἐόντος, ἐπεί σφι φίλος περὶ κῆρι.»
Ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν δ’ ὁ γέρων, καὶ ἀμείβετο μύθῳ·
«ὦ τέκος, ἦ ῥ’ ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἐναίσιμα δῶρα διδοῦναι
ἀθανάτοις, ἐπεὶ οὔ ποτ’ ἐμὸς πάϊς, εἴ ποτ’ ἔην γε,

λήθετ’ ἐνὶ μεγάροισι θεῶν, οἳ Ὄλυμπον ἔχουσι·
τώ οἱ ἀπεμνήσαντο καὶ ἐν θανάτοιό περ αἴσῃ.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ τόδε δέξαι ἐμεῦ πάρα καλὸν ἄλεισον,
αὐτόν τε ῥῦσαι, πέμψον δέ με σύν γε θεοῖσιν,
ὄφρά κεν ἐς κλισίην Πηληϊάδεω ἀφίκωμαι.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης·
«πειρᾷ ἐμεῖο, γεραιέ, νεωτέρου, οὐδέ με πείσεις,
ὅς με κέλῃ σέο δῶρα παρὲξ Ἀχιλῆα δέχεσθαι.
τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ δείδοικα καὶ αἰδέομαι περὶ κῆρι
συλεύειν, μή μοί τι κακὸν μετόπισθε γένηται.
σοὶ δ’ ἂν ἐγὼ πομπὸς καί κε κλυτὸν Ἄργος ἱκοίμην,
ἐνδυκέως ἐν νηῒ θοῇ ἢ πεζὸς ὁμαρτέων·
οὐκ ἄν τίς τοι πομπὸν ὀνοσσάμενος μαχέσαιτο.»
Ἦ καὶ ἀναΐξας ἐριούνιος ἅρμα καὶ ἵππους
καρπαλίμως μάστιγα καὶ ἡνία λάζετο χερσίν,
ἐν δ’ ἔπνευσ’ ἵπποισι καὶ ἡμιόνοις μένος ἠΰ.
ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ πύργους τε νεῶν καὶ τάφρον ἵκοντο,
οἱ δὲ νέον περὶ δόρπα φυλακτῆρες πονέοντο,
τοῖσι δ’ ἐφ’ ὕπνον ἔχευε διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης
πᾶσιν, ἄφαρ δ’ ὤϊξε πύλας καὶ ἀπῶσεν ὀχῆας,
ἐς δ’ ἄγαγε Πρίαμόν τε καὶ ἀγλαὰ δῶρ’ ἐπ’ ἀπήνης.
ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ κλισίην Πηληϊάδεω ἀφίκοντο
ὑψηλήν, τὴν Μυρμιδόνες ποίησαν ἄνακτι
δοῦρ’ ἐλάτης κέρσαντες· ἀτὰρ καθύπερθεν ἔρεψαν
λαχνήεντ’ ὄροφον λειμωνόθεν ἀμήσαντες·
ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ μεγάλην αὐλὴν ποίησαν ἄνακτι
σταυροῖσιν πυκινοῖσι· θύρην δ’ ἔχε μοῦνος ἐπιβλὴς
εἰλάτινος, τὸν τρεῖς μὲν ἐπιρρήσσεσκον Ἀχαιοί,
τρεῖς δ’ ἀναοίγεσκον μεγάλην κληῗδα θυράων,
τῶν ἄλλων· Ἀχιλεὺς δ’ ἄρ’ ἐπιρρήσσεσκε καὶ οἶος·

δή ῥα τόθ’ Ἑρμείας ἐριούνιος ᾦξε γέροντι,
ἐς δ’ ἄγαγε κλυτὰ δῶρα ποδώκεϊ Πηλεΐωνι,
ἐξ ἵππων δ’ ἀπέβαινεν ἐπὶ χθόνα φώνησέν τε·
«ὦ γέρον, ἤτοι ἐγὼ θεὸς ἄμβροτος εἰλήλουθα,
Ἑρμείας· σοὶ γάρ με πατὴρ ἅμα πομπὸν ὄπασσεν.
ἀλλ’ ἤτοι μὲν ἐγὼ πάλιν εἴσομαι, οὐδ’ Ἀχιλῆος
ὀφθαλμοὺς εἴσειμι· νεμεσσητὸν δέ κεν εἴη
ἀθάνατον θεὸν ὧδε βροτοὺς ἀγαπαζέμεν ἄντην·
τύνη δ’ εἰσελθὼν λαβὲ γούνατα Πηλεΐωνος,
καί μιν ὑπὲρ πατρὸς καὶ μητέρος ἠϋκόμοιο
λίσσεο καὶ τέκεος, ἵνα οἱ σὺν θυμὸν ὀρίνῃς.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἀπέβη πρὸς μακρὸν Ὄλυμπον
Ἑρμείας· Πρίαμος δ’ ἐξ ἵππων ἆλτο χαμᾶζε,
Ἰδαῖον δὲ κατ’ αὖθι λίπεν· ὁ δὲ μίμνεν ἐρύκων
ἵππους ἡμιόνους τε· γέρων δ’ ἰθὺς κίεν οἴκου,
τῇ ῥ’ Ἀχιλεὺς ἵζεσκε Διῒ φίλος· ἐν δέ μιν αὐτὸν
εὗρ’, ἕταροι δ’ ἀπάνευθε καθήατο· τὼ δὲ δύ’ οἴω,
ἥρως Αὐτομέδων τε καὶ Ἄλκιμος, ὄζος Ἄρηος,
ποίπνυον παρεόντε· νέον δ’ ἀπέληγεν ἐδωδῆς
ἔσθων καὶ πίνων· ἔτι καὶ παρέκειτο τράπεζα.
τοὺς δ’ ἔλαθ’ εἰσελθὼν Πρίαμος μέγας, ἄγχι δ’ ἄρα στὰς
χερσὶν Ἀχιλλῆος λάβε γούνατα καὶ κύσε χεῖρας
δεινὰς ἀνδροφόνους, αἵ οἱ πολέας κτάνον υἷας.
ὡς δ’ ὅτ’ ἂν ἄνδρ’ ἄτη πυκινὴ λάβῃ, ὅς τ’ ἐνὶ πάτρῃ
φῶτα κατακτείνας ἄλλων ἐξίκετο δῆμον,
ἀνδρὸς ἐς ἀφνειοῦ, θάμβος δ’ ἔχει εἰσορόωντας,
ὣς Ἀχιλεὺς θάμβησεν ἰδὼν Πρίαμον θεοειδέα·
θάμβησαν δὲ καὶ ἄλλοι, ἐς ἀλλήλους δὲ ἴδοντο.
τὸν καὶ λισσόμενος Πρίαμος πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπε·
«μνῆσαι πατρὸς σοῖο, θεοῖς ἐπιείκελ’ Ἀχιλλεῦ,

τηλίκου ὥς περ ἐγών, ὀλοῷ ἐπὶ γήραος οὐδῷ·
καὶ μέν που κεῖνον περιναιέται ἀμφὶς ἐόντες
τείρουσ’, οὐδέ τίς ἐστιν ἀρὴν καὶ λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι.
ἀλλ’ ἤτοι κεῖνός γε σέθεν ζώοντος ἀκούων
χαίρει τ’ ἐν θυμῷ, ἐπί τ’ ἔλπεται ἤματα πάντα
ὄψεσθαι φίλον υἱὸν ἀπὸ Τροίηθεν ἰόντα·
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ πανάποτμος, ἐπεὶ τέκον υἷας ἀρίστους
Τροίῃ ἐν εὐρείῃ, τῶν δ’ οὔ τινά φημι λελεῖφθαι.
πεντήκοντά μοι ἦσαν ὅτ’ ἤλυθον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν·
ἐννεακαίδεκα μέν μοι ἰῆς ἐκ νηδύος ἦσαν,
τοὺς δ’ ἄλλους μοι ἔτικτον ἐνὶ μεγάροισι γυναῖκες.
τῶν μὲν πολλῶν θοῦρος Ἄρης ὑπὸ γούνατ’ ἔλυσεν·
ὃς δέ μοι οἶος ἔην, εἴρυτο δὲ ἄστυ καὶ αὐτούς,
τὸν σὺ πρῴην κτεῖνας ἀμυνόμενον περὶ πάτρης,
Ἕκτορα· τοῦ νῦν εἵνεχ’ ἱκάνω νῆας Ἀχαιῶν
λυσόμενος παρὰ σεῖο, φέρω δ’ ἀπερείσι’ ἄποινα.
ἀλλ’ αἰδεῖο θεούς, Ἀχιλεῦ, αὐτόν τ’ ἐλέησον,
μνησάμενος σοῦ πατρός· ἐγὼ δ’ ἐλεεινότερός περ,
ἔτλην δ’ οἷ’ οὔ πώ τις ἐπιχθόνιος βροτὸς ἄλλος,
ἀνδρὸς παιδοφόνοιο ποτὶ στόμα χεῖρ’ ὀρέγεσθαι.»
Ὣς φάτο, τῷ δ’ ἄρα πατρὸς ὑφ’ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο·
ἁψάμενος δ’ ἄρα χειρὸς ἀπώσατο ἦκα γέροντα.
τὼ δὲ μνησαμένω, ὁ μὲν Ἕκτορος ἀνδροφόνοιο
κλαῖ’ ἁδινὰ προπάροιθε ποδῶν Ἀχιλῆος ἐλυσθείς,
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς κλαῖεν ἑὸν πατέρ’, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε
Πάτροκλον· τῶν δὲ στοναχὴ κατὰ δώματ’ ὀρώρει.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥα γόοιο τετάρπετο δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς,
καί οἱ ἀπὸ πραπίδων ἦλθ’ ἵμερος ἠδ’ ἀπὸ γυίων,
αὐτίκ’ ἀπὸ θρόνου ὦρτο, γέροντα δὲ χειρὸς ἀνίστη,

οἰκτίρων πολιόν τε κάρη πολιόν τε γένειον,
καί μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·
«ἆ δείλ’, ἦ δὴ πολλὰ κάκ’ ἄνσχεο σὸν κατὰ θυμόν.
πῶς ἔτλης ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν ἐλθέμεν οἶος,
ἀνδρὸς ἐς ὀφθαλμοὺς ὅς τοι πολέας τε καὶ ἐσθλοὺς
υἱέας ἐξενάριξα; σιδήρειόν νύ τοι ἦτορ.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ κατ’ ἄρ’ ἕζευ ἐπὶ θρόνου, ἄλγεα δ’ ἔμπης
ἐν θυμῷ κατακεῖσθαι ἐάσομεν ἀχνύμενοί περ·
οὐ γάρ τις πρῆξις πέλεται κρυεροῖο γόοιο·
ὡς γὰρ ἐπεκλώσαντο θεοὶ δειλοῖσι βροτοῖσι,
ζώειν ἀχνυμένοις· αὐτοὶ δέ τ’ ἀκηδέες εἰσί.
δοιοὶ γάρ τε πίθοι κατακείαται ἐν Διὸς οὔδει
δώρων οἷα δίδωσι κακῶν, ἕτερος δὲ ἑάων·
ᾧ μέν κ’ ἀμμίξας δώῃ Ζεὺς τερπικέραυνος,
ἄλλοτε μέν τε κακῷ ὅ γε κύρεται, ἄλλοτε δ’ ἐσθλῷ·
ᾧ δέ κε τῶν λυγρῶν δώῃ, λωβητὸν ἔθηκε,
καί ἑ κακὴ βούβρωστις ἐπὶ χθόνα δῖαν ἐλαύνει,
φοιτᾷ δ’ οὔτε θεοῖσι τετιμένος οὔτε βροτοῖσιν.
ὣς μὲν καὶ Πηλῆϊ θεοὶ δόσαν ἀγλαὰ δῶρα
ἐκ γενετῆς· πάντας γὰρ ἐπ’ ἀνθρώπους ἐκέκαστο
ὄλβῳ τε πλούτῳ τε, ἄνασσε δὲ Μυρμιδόνεσσι,
καί οἱ θνητῷ ἐόντι θεὰν ποίησαν ἄκοιτιν.
ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ καὶ τῷ θῆκε θεὸς κακόν, ὅττί οἱ οὔ τι
παίδων ἐν μεγάροισι γονὴ γένετο κρειόντων,
ἀλλ’ ἕνα παῖδα τέκεν παναώριον· οὐδέ νυ τόν γε
γηράσκοντα κομίζω, ἐπεὶ μάλα τηλόθι πάτρης
ἧμαι ἐνὶ Τροίῃ, σέ τε κήδων ἠδὲ σὰ τέκνα.
καὶ σὲ γέρον τὸ πρὶν μὲν ἀκούομεν ὄλβιον εἶναι·
ὅσσον Λέσβος, ἄνω Μάκαρος ἕδος, ἐντὸς ἐέργει

καὶ Φρυγίη καθύπερθε καὶ Ἑλλήσποντος ἀπείρων,
τῶν σε, γέρον, πλούτῳ τε καὶ υἱάσι φασὶ κεκάσθαι.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί τοι πῆμα τόδ’ ἤγαγον Οὐρανίωνες,
αἰεί τοι περὶ ἄστυ μάχαι τ’ ἀνδροκτασίαι τε.
ἄνσχεο, μὴ δ’ ἀλίαστον ὀδύρεο σὸν κατὰ θυμόν·
οὐ γάρ τι πρήξεις ἀκαχήμενος υἷος ἑῆος,
οὐδέ μιν ἀνστήσεις, πρὶν καὶ κακὸν ἄλλο πάθῃσθα.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«μή πω μ’ ἐς θρόνον ἵζε διοτρεφὲς ὄφρά κεν Ἕκτωρ
κεῖται ἐνὶ κλισίῃσιν ἀκηδής, ἀλλὰ τάχιστα
λῦσον ἵν’ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἴδω· σὺ δὲ δέξαι ἄποινα
πολλά, τά τοι φέρομεν· σὺ δὲ τῶνδ’ ἀπόναιο, καὶ ἔλθοις
σὴν ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν, ἐπεί με πρῶτον ἔασας
αὐτόν τε ζώειν καὶ ὁρᾶν φάος ἠελίοιο.»
Τὸν δ’ ἄρ’ ὑπόδρα ἰδὼν προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«μηκέτι νῦν μ’ ἐρέθιζε, γέρον· νοέω δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς
Ἕκτορά τοι λῦσαι, Διόθεν δέ μοι ἄγγελος ἦλθε
μήτηρ, ἥ μ’ ἔτεκεν, θυγάτηρ ἁλίοιο γέροντος.
καὶ δέ σε γιγνώσκω, Πρίαμε, φρεσίν, οὐδέ με λήθεις,
ὅττι θεῶν τίς σ’ ἦγε θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν.
οὐ γάρ κε τλαίη βροτὸς ἐλθέμεν, οὐδὲ μάλ’ ἡβῶν,
ἐς στρατόν· οὐδὲ γὰρ ἂν φυλάκους λάθοι, οὐδέ κ’ ὀχῆα
ῥεῖα μετοχλίσσειε θυράων ἡμετεράων.
τὼ νῦν μή μοι μᾶλλον ἐν ἄλγεσι θυμὸν ὀρίνῃς,
μή σε, γέρον, οὐδ’ αὐτὸν ἐνὶ κλισίῃσιν ἐάσω
καὶ ἱκέτην περ ἐόντα, Διὸς δ’ ἀλίτωμαι ἐφετμάς.»

Ὣς ἔφατ’, ἔδεισεν δ’ ὁ γέρων καὶ ἐπείθετο μύθῳ.
Πηλεΐδης δ’ οἴκοιο λέων ὣς ἆλτο θύραζε,
οὐκ οἶος, ἅμα τῷ γε δύω θεράποντες ἕποντο,
ἥρως Αὐτομέδων ἠδ’ Ἄλκιμος, οὕς ῥα μάλιστα
τῖ’ Ἀχιλεὺς ἑτάρων μετὰ Πάτροκλόν γε θανόντα,
οἳ τόθ’ ὑπὸ ζυγόφιν λύον ἵππους ἡμιόνους τε,
ἐς δ’ ἄγαγον κήρυκα καλήτορα τοῖο γέροντος,
κὰδ δ’ ἐπὶ δίφρου εἷσαν· ἐϋξέστου δ’ ἀπ’ ἀπήνης
ᾕρεον Ἑκτορέης κεφαλῆς ἀπερείσι’ ἄποινα.
κὰδ δ’ ἔλιπον δύο φάρε’ ἐΰννητόν τε χιτῶνα,
ὄφρα νέκυν πυκάσας δοίη οἶκον δὲ φέρεσθαι.
δμῳὰς δ’ ἐκκαλέσας λοῦσαι κέλετ’ ἀμφί τ’ ἀλεῖψαι,
νόσφιν ἀειράσας, ὡς μὴ Πρίαμος ἴδοι υἱόν,
μὴ ὁ μὲν ἀχνυμένῃ κραδίῃ χόλον οὐκ ἐρύσαιτο
παῖδα ἰδών, Ἀχιλῆϊ δ’ ὀρινθείη φίλον ἦτορ,
καί ἑ κατακτείνειε, Διὸς δ’ ἀλίτηται ἐφετμάς.
τὸν δ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν δμῳαὶ λοῦσαν καὶ χρῖσαν ἐλαίῳ,
ἀμφὶ δέ μιν φᾶρος καλὸν βάλον ἠδὲ χιτῶνα,
αὐτὸς τόν γ’ Ἀχιλεὺς λεχέων ἐπέθηκεν ἀείρας,
σὺν δ’ ἕταροι ἤειραν ἐϋξέστην ἐπ’ ἀπήνην.
ᾤμωξέν τ’ ἄρ’ ἔπειτα, φίλον δ’ ὀνόμηνεν ἑταῖρον·
«μή μοι, Πάτροκλε, σκυδμαινέμεν, αἴ κε πύθηαι
εἰν Ἄϊδός περ ἐὼν ὅτι Ἕκτορα δῖον ἔλυσα
πατρὶ φίλῳ, ἐπεὶ οὔ μοι ἀεικέα δῶκεν ἄποινα.
σοὶ δ’ αὖ ἐγὼ καὶ τῶνδ’ ἀποδάσσομαι ὅσσ’ ἐπέοικεν.»
Ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἐς κλισίην πάλιν ἤϊε δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς,
ἕζετο δ’ ἐν κλισμῷ πολυδαιδάλῳ, ἔνθεν ἀνέστη,
τοίχου τοῦ ἑτέρου, ποτὶ δὲ Πρίαμον φάτο μῦθον·

«υἱὸς μὲν δή τοι λέλυται, γέρον, ὡς ἐκέλευες,
κεῖται δ’ ἐν λεχέεσσ’· ἅμα δ’ ἠοῖ φαινομένηφιν
ὄψεαι αὐτὸς ἄγων· νῦν δὲ μνησώμεθα δόρπου.
καὶ γάρ τ’ ἠΰκομος Νιόβη ἐμνήσατο σίτου,
τῇ περ δώδεκα παῖδες ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ὄλοντο,
ἓξ μὲν θυγατέρες, ἓξ δ’ υἱέες ἡβώοντες.
τοὺς μὲν Ἀπόλλων πέφνεν ἀπ’ ἀργυρέοιο βιοῖο
χωόμενος Νιόβῃ, τὰς δ’ Ἄρτεμις ἰοχέαιρα,
οὕνεκ’ ἄρα Λητοῖ ἰσάσκετο καλλιπαρῄῳ·
φῆ δοιὼ τεκέειν, ἡ δ’ αὐτὴ γείνατο πολλούς·
τὼ δ’ ἄρα καὶ δοιώ περ ἐόντ’ ἀπὸ πάντας ὄλεσσαν.
οἱ μὲν ἄρ’ ἐννῆμαρ κέατ’ ἐν φόνῳ, οὐδέ τις ἦεν
κατθάψαι, λαοὺς δὲ λίθους ποίησε Κρονίων·
τοὺς δ’ ἄρα τῇ δεκάτῃ θάψαν θεοὶ Οὐρανίωνες.
ἡ δ’ ἄρα σίτου μνήσατ’, ἐπεὶ κάμε δάκρυ χέουσα.
νῦν δέ που ἐν πέτρῃσιν, ἐν οὔρεσιν οἰοπόλοισιν,
ἐν Σιπύλῳ, ὅθι φασὶ θεάων ἔμμεναι εὐνὰς
νυμφάων, αἵ τ’ ἀμφ’ Ἀχελώϊον ἐρρώσαντο,
ἔνθα λίθος περ ἐοῦσα θεῶν ἐκ κήδεα πέσσει.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ καὶ νῶϊ μεδώμεθα, δῖε γεραιέ,
σίτου· ἔπειτά κεν αὖτε φίλον παῖδα κλαίοισθα,
Ἴλιον εἰσαγαγών· πολυδάκρυτος δέ τοι ἔσται.»
Ἦ καὶ ἀναΐξας ὄϊν ἄργυφον ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεὺς
σφάξ’· ἕταροι δ’ ἔδερόν τε καὶ ἄμφεπον εὖ κατὰ κόσμον,
μίστυλλόν τ’ ἄρ’ ἐπισταμένως πεῖράν τ’ ὀβελοῖσιν,
ὤπτησάν τε περιφραδέως, ἐρύσαντό τε πάντα.
Αὐτομέδων δ’ ἄρα σῖτον ἑλὼν ἐπένειμε τραπέζῃ
καλοῖς ἐν κανέοισιν· ἀτὰρ κρέα νεῖμεν Ἀχιλλεύς.
οἱ δ’ ἐπ’ ὀνείαθ’ ἑτοῖμα προκείμενα χεῖρας ἴαλλον.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο,
ἤτοι Δαρδανίδης Πρίαμος θαύμαζ’ Ἀχιλῆα,

ὅσσος ἔην οἷός τε· θεοῖσι γὰρ ἄντα ἐῴκει·
αὐτὰρ ὁ Δαρδανίδην Πρίαμον θαύμαζεν Ἀχιλλεύς,
εἰσορόων ὄψίν τ’ ἀγαθὴν καὶ μῦθον ἀκούων.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ τάρπησαν ἐς ἀλλήλους ὁρόωντες,
τὸν πρότερος προσέειπε γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·
«λέξον νῦν με τάχιστα, διοτρεφές, ὄφρα καὶ ἤδη
ὕπνῳ ὕπο γλυκερῷ ταρπώμεθα κοιμηθέντες·
οὐ γάρ πω μύσαν ὄσσε ὑπὸ βλεφάροισιν ἐμοῖσιν
ἐξ οὗ σῇς ὑπὸ χερσὶν ἐμὸς πάϊς ὤλεσε θυμόν,
ἀλλ’ αἰεὶ στενάχω καὶ κήδεα μυρία πέσσω,
αὐλῆς ἐν χόρτοισι κυλινδόμενος κατὰ κόπρον.
νῦν δὴ καὶ σίτου πασάμην καὶ αἴθοπα οἶνον
λαυκανίης καθέηκα· πάρος γε μὲν οὔ τι πεπάσμην.»
Ἦ ῥ’, Ἀχιλεὺς δ’ ἑτάροισιν ἰδὲ δμῳῇσι κέλευσε
δέμνι’ ὑπ’ αἰθούσῃ θέμεναι καὶ ῥήγεα καλὰ
πορφύρε’ ἐμβαλέειν, στορέσαι τ’ ἐφύπερθε τάπητας,
χλαίνας τ’ ἐνθέμεναι οὔλας καθύπερθεν ἕσασθαι.
αἱ δ’ ἴσαν ἐκ μεγάροιο δάος μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχουσαι,
αἶψα δ’ ἄρα στόρεσαν δοιὼ λέχε’ ἐγκονέουσαι.
τὸν δ’ ἐπικερτομέων προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«ἐκτὸς μὲν δὴ λέξο, γέρον φίλε, μή τις Ἀχαιῶν
ἐνθάδ’ ἐπέλθῃσιν βουληφόρος, οἵ τέ μοι αἰεὶ
βουλὰς βουλεύουσι παρήμενοι, ἣ θέμις ἐστί·
τῶν εἴ τίς σε ἴδοιτο θοὴν διὰ νύκτα μέλαιναν,
αὐτίκ’ ἂν ἐξείποι Ἀγαμέμνονι ποιμένι λαῶν,
καί κεν ἀνάβλησις λύσιος νεκροῖο γένηται.
ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπὲ καὶ ἀτρεκέως κατάλεξον,
ποσσῆμαρ μέμονας κτερεϊζέμεν Ἕκτορα δῖον,
ὄφρα τέως αὐτός τε μένω καὶ λαὸν ἐρύκω.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·

«εἰ μὲν δή μ’ ἐθέλεις τελέσαι τάφον Ἕκτορι δίῳ,
ὧδέ κέ μοι ῥέζων, Ἀχιλεῦ, κεχαρισμένα θείης.
οἶσθα γὰρ ὡς κατὰ ἄστυ ἐέλμεθα, τηλόθι δ’ ὕλη
ἀξέμεν ἐξ ὄρεος, μάλα δὲ Τρῶες δεδίασιν.
ἐννῆμαρ μέν κ’ αὐτὸν ἐνὶ μεγάροις γοάοιμεν,
τῇ δεκάτῃ δέ κε θάπτοιμεν δαινῦτό τε λαός,
ἑνδεκάτῃ δέ κε τύμβον ἐπ’ αὐτῷ ποιήσαιμεν,
τῇ δὲ δυωδεκάτῃ πολεμίξομεν, εἴ περ ἀνάγκη.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε ποδάρκης δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς·
«ἔσται τοι καὶ ταῦτα, γέρον Πρίαμ’, ὡς σὺ κελεύεις·
σχήσω γὰρ πόλεμον τόσσον χρόνον ὅσσον ἄνωγας.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἐπὶ καρπῷ χεῖρα γέροντος
ἔλλαβε δεξιτερήν, μή πως δείσει’ ἐνὶ θυμῷ.
οἱ μὲν ἄρ’ ἐν προδόμῳ δόμου αὐτόθι κοιμήσαντο,
κῆρυξ καὶ Πρίαμος, πυκινὰ φρεσὶ μήδε’ ἔχοντες,
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς εὗδε μυχῷ κλισίης ἐϋπήκτου·
τῷ δὲ Βρισηῒς παρελέξατο καλλιπάρῃος.
Ἄλλοι μέν ῥα θεοί τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἱπποκορυσταὶ
εὗδον παννύχιοι, μαλακῷ δεδμημένοι ὕπνῳ·
ἀλλ’ οὐχ Ἑρμείαν ἐριούνιον ὕπνος ἔμαρπτεν,
ὁρμαίνοντ’ ἀνὰ θυμὸν ὅπως Πρίαμον βασιλῆα
νηῶν ἐκπέμψειε λαθὼν ἱεροὺς πυλαωρούς.
στῆ δ’ ἄρ’ ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς καί μιν πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπεν·
«ὦ γέρον, οὔ νύ τι σοί γε μέλει κακόν, οἷον ἔθ’ εὕδεις
ἀνδράσιν ἐν δηΐοισιν, ἐπεί σ’ εἴασεν Ἀχιλλεύς.
καὶ νῦν μὲν φίλον υἱὸν ἐλύσαο, πολλὰ δ’ ἔδωκας·
σεῖο δέ κε ζωοῦ καὶ τρὶς τόσα δοῖεν ἄποινα
παῖδες τοὶ μετόπισθε λελειμμένοι, αἴ κ’ Ἀγαμέμνων
γνώῃ σ’ Ἀτρεΐδης, γνώωσι δὲ πάντες Ἀχαιοί.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, ἔδεισεν δ’ ὁ γέρων, κήρυκα δ’ ἀνίστη.

τοῖσιν δ’ Ἑρμείας ζεῦξ’ ἵππους ἡμιόνους τε,
ῥίμφα δ’ ἄρ’ αὐτὸς ἔλαυνε κατὰ στρατόν, οὐδέ τις ἔγνω.
Ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ πόρον ἷξον ἐϋῤῥεῖος ποταμοῖο,
Ξάνθου δινήεντος, ὃν ἀθάνατος τέκετο Ζεύς,
Ἑρμείας μὲν ἔπειτ’ ἀπέβη πρὸς μακρὸν Ὄλυμπον,
Ἠὼς δὲ κροκόπεπλος ἐκίδνατο πᾶσαν ἐπ’ αἶαν,
οἱ δ’ εἰς ἄστυ ἔλων οἰμωγῇ τε στοναχῇ τε
ἵππους, ἡμίονοι δὲ νέκυν φέρον. οὐδέ τις ἄλλος
ἔγνω πρόσθ’ ἀνδρῶν καλλιζώνων τε γυναικῶν,
ἀλλ’ ἄρα Κασσάνδρη, ἰκέλη χρυσῇ Ἀφροδίτῃ,
Πέργαμον εἰσαναβᾶσα φίλον πατέρ’ εἰσενόησεν
ἑσταότ’ ἐν δίφρῳ, κήρυκά τε ἀστυβοώτην·
τὸν δ’ ἄρ’ ἐφ’ ἡμιόνων ἴδε κείμενον ἐν λεχέεσσι·
κώκυσέν τ’ ἄρ’ ἔπειτα γέγωνέ τε πᾶν κατὰ ἄστυ·
«ὄψεσθε Τρῶες καὶ Τρῳάδες, Ἕκτορ’ ἰόντες,
εἴ ποτε καὶ ζώοντι μάχης ἐκνοστήσαντι
χαίρετ’, ἐπεὶ μέγα χάρμα πόλει τ’ ἦν παντί τε δήμῳ.»
Ὣς ἔφατ’, οὐδέ τις αὐτόθ’ ἐνὶ πτόλεϊ λίπετ’ ἀνὴρ
οὐδὲ γυνή· πάντας γὰρ ἀάσχετον ἵκετο πένθος·
ἀγχοῦ δὲ ξύμβληντο πυλάων νεκρὸν ἄγοντι.
πρῶται τόν γ’ ἄλοχός τε φίλη καὶ πότνια μήτηρ
τιλλέσθην, ἐπ’ ἄμαξαν ἐΰτροχον ἀΐξασαι,
ἁπτόμεναι κεφαλῆς· κλαίων δ’ ἀμφίσταθ’ ὅμιλος.
καί νύ κε δὴ πρόπαν ἦμαρ ἐς ἠέλιον καταδύντα
Ἕκτορα δάκρυ χέοντες ὀδύροντο πρὸ πυλάων,
εἰ μὴ ἄρ’ ἐκ δίφροιο γέρων λαοῖσι μετηύδα·
«εἴξατέ μοι οὐρεῦσι διελθέμεν· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
ἄσεσθε κλαυθμοῖο, ἐπὴν ἀγάγωμι δόμονδε.»
Ὣς ἔφαθ’, οἱ δὲ διέστησαν καὶ εἶξαν ἀπήνῃ.
οἱ δ’ ἐπεὶ εἰσάγαγον κλυτὰ δώματα, τὸν μὲν ἔπειτα
τρητοῖς ἐν λεχέεσσι θέσαν, παρὰ δ’ εἷσαν ἀοιδοὺς

θρήνων ἐξάρχους, οἵ τε στονόεσσαν ἀοιδὴν
οἱ μὲν ἄρ’ ἐθρήνεον, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γυναῖκες.
τῇσιν δ’ Ἀνδρομάχη λευκώλενος ἦρχε γόοιο,
Ἕκτορος ἀνδροφόνοιο κάρη μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχουσα·
«ἆνερ, ἀπ’ αἰῶνος νέος ὤλεο, κὰδ δέ με χήρην
λείπεις ἐν μεγάροισι· πάϊς δ’ ἔτι νήπιος αὔτως,
ὃν τέκομεν σύ τ’ ἐγώ τε δυσάμμοροι, οὐδέ μιν οἴω
ἥβην ἵξεσθαι· πρὶν γὰρ πόλις ἧδε κατ’ ἄκρης
πέρσεται· ἦ γὰρ ὄλωλας ἐπίσκοπος, ὅς τέ μιν αὐτὴν
ῥύσκευ, ἔχες δ’ ἀλόχους κεδνὰς καὶ νήπια τέκνα,
αἳ δή τοι τάχα νηυσὶν ὀχήσονται γλαφυρῇσι,
καὶ μὲν ἐγὼ μετὰ τῇσι· σὺ δ’ αὖ τέκος ἢ ἐμοὶ αὐτῇ
ἕψεαι, ἔνθά κεν ἔργα ἀεικέα ἐργάζοιο,
ἀθλεύων πρὸ ἄνακτος ἀμειλίχου, ἤ τις Ἀχαιῶν
ῥίψει χειρὸς ἑλὼν ἀπὸ πύργου λυγρὸν ὄλεθρον,
χωόμενος, ᾧ δή που ἀδελφεὸν ἔκτανεν Ἕκτωρ
ἢ πατέρ’, ἠὲ καὶ υἱόν, ἐπεὶ μάλα πολλοὶ Ἀχαιῶν
Ἕκτορος ἐν παλάμῃσιν ὀδὰξ ἕλον ἄσπετον οὖδας.
οὐ γὰρ μείλιχος ἔσκε πατὴρ τεὸς ἐν δαῒ λυγρῇ·
τὼ καί μιν λαοὶ μὲν ὀδύρονται κατὰ ἄστυ,
ἀρητὸν δὲ τοκεῦσι γόον καὶ πένθος ἔθηκας,
Ἕκτορ· ἐμοὶ δὲ μάλιστα λελείψεται ἄλγεα λυγρά.
οὐ γάρ μοι θνῄσκων λεχέων ἐκ χεῖρας ὄρεξας,
οὐδέ τί μοι εἶπες πυκινὸν ἔπος, οὗ τέ κεν αἰεὶ
μεμνῄμην νύκτάς τε καὶ ἤματα δάκρυ χέουσα.»
Ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσ’, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γυναῖκες.
τῇσιν δ’ αὖθ’ Ἑκάβη ἁδινοῦ ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·
«Ἕκτορ, ἐμῷ θυμῷ πάντων πολὺ φίλτατε παίδων,
ἦ μέν μοι ζωός περ ἐὼν φίλος ἦσθα θεοῖσιν·
οἱ δ’ ἄρα σεῦ κήδοντο καὶ ἐν θανάτοιό περ αἴσῃ.

ἄλλους μὲν γὰρ παῖδας ἐμοὺς πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεὺς
πέρνασχ’, ὅν τιν’ ἕλεσκε, πέρην ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο,
ἐς Σάμον ἔς τ’ Ἴμβρον καὶ Λῆμνον ἀμιχθαλόεσσαν·
σεῦ δ’ ἐπεὶ ἐξέλετο ψυχὴν ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ,
πολλὰ ῥυστάζεσκεν ἑοῦ περὶ σῆμ’ ἑτάροιο,
Πατρόκλου, τὸν ἔπεφνες· ἀνέστησεν δέ μιν οὐδ’ ὧς.
νῦν δέ μοι ἑρσήεις καὶ πρόσφατος ἐν μεγάροισι
κεῖσαι, τῷ ἴκελος ὅν τ’ ἀργυρότοξος Ἀπόλλων
οἷς ἀγανοῖσι βέλεσσιν ἐποιχόμενος κατέπεφνεν.»
Ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσα, γόον δ’ ἀλίαστον ὄρινε.
τῇσι δ’ ἔπειθ’ Ἑλένη τριτάτη ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·
«Ἕκτορ, ἐμῷ θυμῷ δαέρων πολὺ φίλτατε πάντων,
ἦ μέν μοι πόσις ἐστὶν Ἀλέξανδρος θεοειδής,
ὅς μ’ ἄγαγε Τροίηνδ’· ὡς πρὶν ὤφελλον ὀλέσθαι.
ἤδη γὰρ νῦν μοι τόδε εἰκοστὸν ἔτος ἐστὶν
ἐξ οὗ κεῖθεν ἔβην καὶ ἐμῆς ἀπελήλυθα πάτρης·
ἀλλ’ οὔ πω σεῦ ἄκουσα κακὸν ἔπος οὐδ’ ἀσύφηλον·
ἀλλ’ εἴ τίς με καὶ ἄλλος ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἐνίπτοι
δαέρων ἢ γαλόων ἢ εἰνατέρων εὐπέπλων,
ἢ ἑκυρή—ἑκυρὸς δὲ πατὴρ ὣς ἤπιος αἰεί—,
ἀλλὰ σὺ τὸν ἐπέεσσι παραιφάμενος κατέρυκες,
σῇ τ’ ἀγανοφροσύνῃ καὶ σοῖς ἀγανοῖς ἐπέεσσι.
τὼ σέ θ’ ἅμα κλαίω καὶ ἔμ’ ἄμμορον ἀχνυμένη κῆρ·
οὐ γάρ τίς μοι ἔτ’ ἄλλος ἐνὶ Τροίῃ εὐρείῃ
ἤπιος οὐδὲ φίλος, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν.»
Ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσ’, ἐπὶ δ’ ἔστενε δῆμος ἀπείρων.
λαοῖσιν δ’ ὃ γέρων Πρίαμος μετὰ μῦθον ἔειπεν·

«ἄξετε νῦν, Τρῶες, ξύλα ἄστυδε, μὴ δέ τι θυμῷ
δείσητ’ Ἀργείων πυκινὸν λόχον· ἦ γὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς
πέμπων μ’ ὧδ’ ἐπέτελλε μελαινάων ἀπὸ νηῶν,
μὴ πρὶν πημανέειν, πρὶν δωδεκάτη μόλῃ ἠώς.»
Ὣς ἔφαθ’, οἱ δ’ ὑπ’ ἀμάξῃσιν βόας ἡμιόνους τε
ζεύγνυσαν, αἶψα δ’ ἔπειτα πρὸ ἄστεος ἠγερέθοντο.
ἐννῆμαρ μὲν τοί γε ἀγίνεον ἄσπετον ὕλην·
ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ δεκάτη ἐφάνη φαεσίμβροτος ἠώς,
καὶ τότ’ ἄρ’ ἐξέφερον θρασὺν Ἕκτορα δάκρυ χέοντες,
ἐν δὲ πυρῇ ὑπάτῃ νεκρὸν θέσαν, ἐν δ’ ἔβαλον πῦρ.
Ἦμος δ’ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,
τῆμος ἄρ’ ἀμφὶ πυρὴν κλυτοῦ Ἕκτορος ἔγρετο λαός.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ’ ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τ’ ἐγένοντο,
πρῶτον μὲν κατὰ πυρκαϊὴν σβέσαν αἴθοπι οἴνῳ
πᾶσαν, ὁπόσσον ἐπέσχε πυρὸς μένος· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
ὀστέα λευκὰ λέγοντο κασίγνητοί θ’ ἕταροί τε
μυρόμενοι, θαλερὸν δὲ κατείβετο δάκρυ παρειῶν.
καὶ τά γε χρυσείην ἐς λάρνακα θῆκαν ἑλόντες,
πορφυρέοις πέπλοισι καλύψαντες μαλακοῖσιν.
αἶψα δ’ ἄρ’ ἐς κοίλην κάπετον θέσαν, αὐτὰρ ὕπερθε
πυκνοῖσιν λάεσσι κατεστόρεσαν μεγάλοισι·
ῥίμφα δὲ σῆμ’ ἔχεαν, περὶ δὲ σκοποὶ ἥατο πάντῃ,
μὴ πρὶν ἐφορμηθεῖεν ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοί.
χεύαντες δὲ τὸ σῆμα πάλιν κίον· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
εὖ συναγειρόμενοι δαίνυντ’ ἐρικυδέα δαῖτα
δώμασιν ἐν Πριάμοιο διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος.
Ὣς οἵ γ’ ἀμφίεπον τάφον Ἕκτορος ἱπποδάμοιο.

THE ILIAD XXIV

The games were at an end, and the men scattered, each making for his own swift ship. They thought now of their supper, and of taking their fill of sweet sleep. But Achilles wept, remembering his dear companion, and sleep, the all-conquering, would not take him. Instead, he tossed this way and that, yearning for the manhood and noble valor of Patroclus, and for all they had accomplished and suffered together, enduring the wars of men and the grievous waves of the sea. Remembering these things, he let fall hot tears, lying now on his side, now on his back, and now on his face. Then he would rise to his feet and wander in a daze along the shore of the sea; nor did the dawn, as it broke over the water and the beaches, ever find him unaware. Instead, as soon as he had yoked his swift horses to the chariot, he would bind Hector behind the car to be dragged, and after pulling him three times around the tomb of the fallen son of Menoetius, he would rest again in his hut, leaving Hector’s body stretched face down in the dust. But Apollo, pitying the man even in death, kept all disfigurement from his flesh, and covered him wholly with the golden aegis, so that Achilles might not tear his skin while dragging him. Thus in his fury did Achilles dishonor noble Hector. The blessed gods looked upon this with pity, and they urged the keen-eyed Argus-slayer to steal the body away. This pleased all the others, but never Hera, nor Poseidon, nor the grey-eyed maiden. They remained as they were when sacred Ilium first became hateful to them, along with Priam and his people, on account of the folly of Alexander, who had insulted the goddesses when they came to his courtyard, and praised the one who offered him ruinous lust. But when the twelfth dawn since that day had arisen, Phoebus Apollo spoke among the immortals: “You are cruel, O gods, and bringers of ruin! Did Hector never burn for you the thighs of unblemished bulls and goats? Yet now you cannot bring yourselves to save him, even as a corpse, for his wife to look upon, and his mother and child, and his father Priam and his people, who would swiftly burn him on the pyre and perform the funeral rites. No, you gods wish only to aid destructive Achilles, a man who has no rightful thoughts in his heart, nor is the purpose in his breast to be swayed. His mind knows only savagery, like a lion that, giving way to its great strength and proud spirit, descends upon the flocks of men to seize its feast. So has Achilles lost all pity, and in him there is no shame, which both greatly harms and greatly helps mankind. Surely a man may lose another who is dearer still, a brother born of the same womb, or even a son; yet after weeping and lamenting, he lets his sorrow go, for the Fates have placed an enduring heart in men. But this man, after taking the life of noble Hector, lashes him to his chariot and drags him around the tomb of his dear companion. Truly, this brings him no honor, nor is it better for him. Let him beware our wrath, great though he may be, for in his fury he defiles the unfeeling earth.” Then, stirred to anger, the white-armed Hera answered him: “There might be some truth in your words, lord of the silver bow, if you were to grant the same honor to Achilles as to Hector. But Hector was a mortal who suckled at a woman’s breast; Achilles is the son of a goddess whom I myself nurtured and raised, and gave as a bride to a mortal man, to Peleus, who was dearest to the hearts of the immortals. You all attended the wedding, O gods; and you too were at the feast, lyre in hand, you friend of the wicked, ever untrustworthy.” To her, Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, replied: “Hera, do not be so utterly wroth with the gods. The honor of these two men will not be the same. Yet Hector too was the dearest to the gods of all mortals in Ilium, at least to me, for he never failed to give me pleasing gifts. My altar was never without its proper feast, its libations and the savor of sacrifice, for that is the honor that is our due. But as for stealing brave Hector away, let us put that thought aside, for it cannot be done without Achilles’ knowledge; his mother is always beside him, by night as by day. It would be better if one of the gods would summon Thetis to my presence, so that I might speak a prudent word to her, and that Achilles might accept gifts from Priam and give Hector back.” So he spoke, and wind-footed Iris rose to carry the message. Midway between Samos and rugged Imbros she plunged into the dark sea, and the waters groaned aloud. She sank into the depths like a lead weight which, fixed to a horn from a field-dwelling ox, descends to bring death to the ravenous fish. In a hollow cave she found Thetis, and around her sat the other sea goddesses gathered together. In their midst, she wept for the fate of her peerless son, who was destined to perish in the fertile land of Troy, far from his native soil. Standing close, swift-footed Iris addressed her: “Rise, Thetis. Zeus, whose counsels are eternal, summons you.” Then the goddess, silver-footed Thetis, answered her: “Why does that great god command my presence? I am ashamed to mingle with the immortals while I hold this boundless sorrow in my heart. But I shall go; no word he speaks will be in vain.” So saying, the divine goddess took up a dark veil, no blacker garment than which has ever been. She set out on her way, and before her swift, wind-footed Iris led the path. Around them the waves of the sea parted. Stepping out upon the shore, they soared up to heaven and found the far-seeing son of Cronos, and around him all the other blessed gods, who live forever, sat assembled. She went and sat beside Father Zeus, and Athena made a place for her. Hera placed a fine golden cup in her hands and spoke to comfort her, and Thetis drank from it and gave it back. Then the father of men and gods began to speak among them: “You have come to Olympus, goddess Thetis, though you are grieving, with a sorrow in your heart that I cannot forget; I know it well myself. Yet even so, I will tell you why I have called you here. For nine days a quarrel has stirred among the immortals over the corpse of Hector and the city-sacker Achilles. They urge the keen-eyed Argus-slayer to steal the body, but I mean to grant this glory to Achilles, so as to preserve your respect and your friendship in the time to come. Go now to the camp with all speed and give your son my command. Tell him the gods are incensed with him, and that I above all other immortals am wroth, because in the madness of his heart he keeps Hector by his curved ships and has not given him back. Perhaps in fear of me he will release him. And I, in turn, shall send Iris to great-hearted Priam, to bid him go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom his dear son, bearing gifts for Achilles that will soften his heart.” So he spoke, and the goddess, silver-footed Thetis, did not disobey. She sped down from the peaks of Olympus and came to the hut of her son. There she found him groaning without cease, and around him his dear comrades were busily preparing their morning meal; for them, a great, fleecy sheep had been sacrificed in the hut. His revered mother sat down very close to him, caressed him with her hand, and spoke his name, saying: “My child, how long will you devour your own heart with weeping and sorrow, thinking neither of food nor of your bed? It is a good thing to lie with a woman in love. You will not be with me for long; already death and your powerful fate stand close beside you. But listen to me now, for I am a messenger from Zeus. He says the gods are incensed with you, and that he above all other immortals is wroth, because in the madness of your heart you keep Hector by your curved ships and have not given him back. Come now, release him, and accept a ransom for the dead.” Then swift-footed Achilles answered her: “So be it. Let the one who brings the ransom take the body, if the Olympian himself so commands with a willing heart.” Thus, amid the gathering of the ships, mother and son spoke many winged words to one another. Meanwhile, the son of Cronos sent Iris to sacred Ilium: “Go now, swift Iris, leave your seat on Olympus and carry my message to great-hearted Priam within Ilium. Bid him go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom his dear son, bearing gifts for Achilles that will soften his heart. Let him go alone; let no other man of Troy go with him. Let only an older herald attend him, to guide the mules and the smooth-running wagon, and to bring back to the city the body of the man whom noble Achilles has slain. Let no thought of death or fear trouble his heart; such a guide we shall grant him in the Argus-slayer, who will lead him until he has brought him to Achilles. And once he has led him into Achilles’ hut, the man himself will not kill him, and he will hold back all the others. For he is not without sense, nor heedless, nor a sinner, but will spare a suppliant man with all due care.” So he spoke, and wind-footed Iris rose to carry the message. She came to the house of Priam and found there wailing and lamentation. His sons sat around their father in the courtyard, their robes drenched with tears, and in their midst the old man sat wrapped tightly in his cloak. A deep layer of dung was caked upon his head and neck, which he had gathered with his own hands as he groveled on the ground. Throughout the house his daughters and daughters-in-law were mourning, remembering all the many and noble men who lay dead, their lives taken at the hands of the Argives. The messenger of Zeus stood beside Priam and spoke, her voice low, but a trembling seized his limbs all the same: “Take heart in your mind, Priam, son of Dardanus, and have no fear. I have not come with any premonition of evil for you, but with good intent. I am a messenger to you from Zeus, who, though he is far away, cares for you greatly and pities you. The Olympian bids you ransom noble Hector, and bear gifts to Achilles that will soften his heart. Go alone; let no other man of Troy go with you. Let only an older herald attend you, to guide the mules and the smooth-running wagon, and to bring back to the city the body of the man whom noble Achilles has slain. Let no thought of death or fear trouble your heart; such a guide will go with you in the Argus-slayer, who will lead you until he has brought you to Achilles. And once he has led you into Achilles’ hut, the man himself will not kill him, and he will hold back all the others. For he is not without sense, nor heedless, nor a sinner, but will spare a suppliant man with all due care.” Having spoken these words, swift-footed Iris departed. But Priam commanded his sons to prepare the smooth-running mule-wagon and to bind the wicker carrier upon it. He himself went down to his storeroom, fragrant with cedar, high-roofed, which held a multitude of treasures. He called to his wife Hecuba and said: “My dear, an Olympian messenger has come to me from Zeus, bidding me go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom our dear son, bearing gifts to Achilles that will soften his heart. Come now, tell me, what does your own heart think of this? As for me, my spirit and my heart fiercely compel me to go there, to the ships, into the wide camp of the Achaeans.” So he spoke, and his wife cried out and answered him in turn: “Ah, woe is me, where have your wits gone, for which you were once famed among foreign men and among those you rule? How can you wish to go alone to the ships of the Achaeans, into the sight of the man who has slain your many noble sons? You must have a heart of iron. If he captures you and lays eyes on you, that savage and untrustworthy man, he will show you no pity, nor will he feel any respect. No, let us rather weep for Hector here, sitting apart in our hall. For him, powerful Fate spun this thread at his birth, when I myself brought him into the world: that he should glut the swift-footed dogs far from his parents, in the presence of a mighty man whose very liver I wish I could seize and devour. Then would deeds be done to avenge my son, for he did not kill him as he cowered, but as he stood firm for the men of Troy and the deep-bosomed Trojan women, with no thought of flight or escape.” Then the old man, godlike Priam, answered her: “Do not hold me back when I am eager to go, nor be a bird of ill omen for me in my own halls. You will not persuade me. If any other mortal on this earth had bidden me do this, whether a seer, a diviner of sacrifices, or a priest, we would have called it a lie and turned away from it all the more. But now, since I have heard the goddess myself and looked upon her face, I will go, and her word will not be in vain. And if it is my fate to die by the ships of the bronze-clad Achaeans, then so I wish it. Let Achilles kill me at once, as long as I have held my son in my arms and poured out my grief for him.” He spoke, and lifted the fine lids of the chests. From them he took twelve robes of great beauty, twelve single-folded cloaks, as many blankets, as many white mantles, and as many tunics. He brought out ten whole talents of gold, which he weighed, and two gleaming tripods, four cauldrons, and a cup of surpassing beauty, which the men of Thrace had given him when he went there as an envoy—a magnificent treasure. Not even this did the old man spare in his palace, so greatly did his heart desire to ransom his dear son. Then he drove all the Trojans from the portico, chiding them with words of reproach: “Be gone, you wretched disgraces! Have you no mourning to do in your own homes, that you must come here to vex me? Or do you count it as nothing that the son of Cronos, Zeus, has given me this sorrow, to lose my finest son? You will soon learn it for yourselves. For you will be far easier for the Achaeans to destroy now that he is dead. But as for me, before I see with my own eyes the city plundered and laid waste, may I go down into the house of Hades.” He spoke and drove the men away with his staff; and they went out before the old man’s fury. Then he cried out to his sons, berating Helenus and Paris, noble Agathon, Pammon and Antiphonus, and Polites, master of the war cry, Deiphobus, Hippothous, and noble Agavus. To these nine the old man shouted his commands: “Hurry, you wretched children, you disgraces! I wish all of you had been killed at the swift ships in Hector’s place. Ah, I am a man of utter misfortune! I fathered the best sons in the whole of wide Troy, yet I say not one of them is left— not godlike Mestor, nor Troilus the charioteer, nor Hector, who was a god among men, and seemed not the son of a mortal man, but of a god. Ares has destroyed them all, and only the disgraces are left to me— the liars and the dancers, the champions of the choral floor, the thieves of lambs and kids from their own people. Will you not ready the wagon for me at once, and place all these things upon it, so we may set out on our way?” So he spoke, and they, fearing their father’s rebuke, brought out the well-wheeled mule-wagon, a fine, newly made cart, and bound the wicker carrier upon it. They took down the mule-yoke from its peg, a yoke of boxwood with a central boss, well fitted with guiding rings. They brought out the yoke-band, nine cubits long, along with the yoke itself. They set this carefully upon the polished pole at its forward end, slipped the ring over the peg, and bound it fast with three turns of the strap on either side to the boss, before securing the end beneath the hook. Then, from the storeroom they brought the boundless ransom for Hector’s head and piled it upon the well-polished wagon. They yoked the strong-hoofed mules, trained for the harness, which the Mysians had once given to Priam as a splendid gift. Then for Priam they led up the horses which the old man kept and reared himself at his polished manger. Thus, in the high halls, the herald and Priam, their minds filled with prudent thoughts, prepared their yokes. And Hecuba, with sorrow in her heart, drew near to them, holding in her right hand honey-hearted wine in a golden cup, so they might pour a libation before they departed. She stood before the horses and spoke, calling out his name: “Take this, and pour a libation to Father Zeus, and pray that you may return home again from the enemy, since your heart urges you to the ships, though I am unwilling. Pray then to the dark-clouded son of Cronos, the god of Ida, who looks down upon all of Troy. Ask for a bird of omen, a swift messenger, the one which is dearest to him of all birds and whose strength is greatest. Let it appear on your right hand, so that, seeing it with your own eyes, you may go with trust in it to the ships of the swift-horsed Danaans. But if far-seeing Zeus will not grant you his messenger, then I, for my part, would not urge you on or bid you go to the ships of the Argives, no matter how eager you may be.” And Priam, the godlike, answered her, saying: “O my wife, I will not disobey you in this you ask. It is good to lift one’s hands to Zeus, in hope that he might show pity.” So the old man spoke, and he bade a handmaiden, the stewardess, to pour pure water over his hands. The maiden came forward, holding a basin and a pitcher in her hands. He washed his hands and took the cup from his wife. Then he stood in the middle of the courtyard and prayed, pouring out the wine as he looked up to heaven, and spoke aloud, saying: “Father Zeus, ruling from Ida, most glorious, most great! Grant that I may come to Achilles’ hut as a friend and one to be pitied. And send a bird of omen, a swift messenger, the one which is dearest to you of all birds and whose strength is greatest. Let it appear on my right hand, so that, seeing it with my own eyes, I may go with trust in it to the ships of the swift-horsed Danaans.” So he spoke in prayer, and Zeus, the counselor, heard him. At once he sent an eagle, most perfect of winged creatures, a dark hunter, which men also call the dusky eagle. As wide as the well-bolted, high-roofed door of a rich man’s chamber, so wide were its wings on either side. It appeared to them on the right, soaring over the city. And when they saw it, they rejoiced, and the hearts in all their breasts were gladdened. In haste the old man mounted his chariot and drove out from the gateway and the echoing portico. In front, the mules drew the four-wheeled wagon, driven by the wise Idaeus. Behind came the horses, which the old man urged on with his whip, driving them swiftly through the city. All his kinsmen followed, lamenting him greatly, as if he were going to his death. But when they had come down from the city and reached the plain, his sons and sons-in-law turned back to Ilium. Yet the two did not go unnoticed by far-seeing Zeus as they appeared upon the plain. He looked on the old man and felt pity for him, and at once spoke to Hermes, his dear son: “Hermes, since it is your greatest pleasure to be a companion to a man, and you listen to whomever you will, go forth and lead Priam to the hollow ships of the Achaeans in such a way that no one may see him, nor any of the other Danaans take notice of him, until he has come to the son of Peleus.” So he spoke, and the messenger, the Argus-slayer, did not disobey. At once he bound upon his feet his beautiful sandals, ambrosial and golden, which carried him over the waters and the boundless earth as swift as the blowing of the wind. He took up the wand with which he entrances the eyes of men, whomsoever he wishes, and awakens others from their sleep. With this in his hands, the powerful Argus-slayer flew. Swiftly he came to Troy and the Hellespont, and went on his way in the guise of a young prince, with the first down upon his lip, the age when youth is most graceful. Now, when they had driven past the great tomb of Ilus, they halted the mules and horses in the river to let them drink, for dusk had already fallen upon the earth. The herald looked up and saw Hermes nearby and took notice of him. He spoke to Priam, saying: “Take thought, son of Dardanus; this is a matter for a prudent mind. I see a man, and I think we shall soon be cut to pieces. Come, let us flee on our horses, or else let us clasp his knees and beseech him, in case he might take pity on us.” So he spoke, and the old man’s mind was thrown into confusion, and he was terribly afraid. The hair stood on end on his crooked limbs, and he stood there dumbfounded. But the Helper drew near of his own accord, took the old man’s hand, and questioned him, saying: “Where, father, are you driving your horses and mules thus through the ambrosial night, when other mortals are asleep? Do you not fear the fury-breathing Achaeans, who are your enemies and adversaries, and are close at hand? If one of them were to see you in the swift, dark night, carrying so many treasures, what would your plan be then? You are not young yourself, and this man who accompanies you is old, hardly able to defend you when another provokes a fight. But I will do you no harm, and I would even protect you from another, for you remind me of my own dear father.” Then the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: “It is just as you say, dear child. Yet still some god has held his hand over me, who sent such a traveler as you to meet me—a man of good omen, for you are so noble in form and appearance, and you are prudent in your thoughts, and born of blessed parents.” And the messenger, the Argus-slayer, answered him in turn: “Indeed, old man, all that you say is true. But come now, tell me this and speak plainly: are you sending these many fine treasures away to some foreign land, so that they might be kept safe for you? Or are you all now abandoning sacred Ilium in fear, since so great a man, the best among you, has perished—your son? For he never fell short in battle with the Achaeans.” Then the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: “Who are you, best of men, and who are your parents? How beautifully you speak of the fate of my ill-starred son.” The messenger, the Argus-slayer, answered him in turn: “You are testing me, old man, and asking about noble Hector. Many times have I seen him with my own eyes in the battle where men win glory, and when he drove the Argives back to the ships and slew them, cutting them down with his sharp bronze. We stood and marveled, for Achilles would not allow us to fight, being wroth with the son of Atreus. I am his attendant, and the same well-built ship brought us here. I am one of the Myrmidons, and my father is Polyctor. He is a wealthy man, and an old man, much like you. He has six other sons, and I am the seventh. I was chosen by lot from among them to follow Achilles here. I have just come to the plain from the ships, for at dawn the bright-eyed Achaeans will launch an attack upon the city. They grow restless sitting here, and the Achaean kings cannot hold them back in their eagerness for war.” Then the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: “If you are indeed an attendant of Achilles, son of Peleus, come now, tell me the whole truth: is my son still by the ships, or has Achilles already cut him limb from limb and thrown him to his dogs?” The messenger, the Argus-slayer, answered him again: “Old man, the dogs and birds have not yet devoured him. He still lies by the ship of Achilles, just as he was, in the hut. It is now the twelfth dawn he has lain there, yet his flesh does not decay, nor do the worms devour him that feed upon men slain in battle. It is true that Achilles drags him pitilessly around the tomb of his dear companion when the divine dawn appears, but he does him no injury. You would marvel if you went and saw for yourself how he lies there, fresh as the dew, the blood washed from him, and nowhere defiled. All the wounds he received have closed up, all the places where he was struck, for many drove their bronze into his body. This is how the blessed gods care for your son, even as a corpse, for he was very dear to their hearts.” So he spoke, and the old man rejoiced and answered him in turn: “My child, it is indeed a good thing to give the immortals their due gifts. For my son, if ever he was, never forgot in our halls the gods who hold Olympus. That is why they have remembered him, even in the fate of death. But come now, accept from me this beautiful cup, and protect me yourself, and with the help of the gods, guide me until I come to the hut of the son of Peleus.” Then the messenger, the Argus-slayer, answered him again: “You are testing me, old man, a younger man, but you will not persuade me to accept your gifts behind Achilles’ back. I fear him and would be deeply ashamed in my heart to defraud him, lest some evil befall me later. But I would be your guide even to glorious Argos, attending you with all care on a swift ship or on foot. No one would fight you out of contempt for your guide.” So spoke the Helper, and leaping onto the chariot behind the horses, he quickly took the whip and reins in his hands and breathed a noble strength into the horses and mules. When they came to the towers and the trench of the ships, the sentries were just beginning to prepare their meal. Upon them the messenger, the Argus-slayer, poured sleep, and at once he opened the gates, pushing back the bars, and brought in Priam and the splendid gifts upon the wagon. And so they came to the lofty hut of the son of Peleus, which the Myrmidons had built for their lord with planks of fir, and they had thatched the roof from above with shaggy reeds gathered from the meadows. Around it they had made a great courtyard for their lord with thick-set stakes. A single bar of fir held the door, which three Achaeans were needed to shoot home, and three to open the great bolt of the gates—three of the others, but Achilles could shoot it home by himself. At that moment the Helper, Hermes, opened it for the old man and brought in the glorious gifts for the swift-footed son of Peleus. Then he stepped down from the chariot to the earth and spoke, saying: “Old man, I who have come to you am an immortal god, Hermes. My father sent me to be your guide. Now I will go back and will not come into the sight of Achilles. It would be a matter for indignation if an immortal god were to so openly show favor to mortals. But you go in and clasp the knees of the son of Peleus, and beseech him by his father and his fair-haired mother and his child, so that you may stir his heart.” Having spoken these words, Hermes departed for high Olympus. Priam sprang from the chariot to the ground, leaving Idaeus where he was to hold the horses and mules. The old man went straight into the hut where Achilles, dear to Zeus, used to sit. He found him within, and his companions sat apart from him. Only two, the hero Automedon and Alcimus, a scion of Ares, were busy in his presence. He had just finished his meal, eating and drinking, and the table still stood beside him. Unseen by them, great Priam entered. He came close, clasped the knees of Achilles in his hands, and kissed those terrible, man-slaying hands that had killed so many of his sons. And as when a thick cloud of ruin envelops a man who has killed another in his own homeland and comes to a land of strangers, to the house of a wealthy man, and wonder seizes those who look upon him, so did Achilles wonder when he saw godlike Priam. The others wondered too, and they looked at one another. And Priam, in supplication, spoke this plea to him: “Remember your own father, Achilles, you who are like the gods— a man such as I am, standing on the terrible threshold of old age. And perhaps the people who dwell around him are oppressing him, and there is no one to ward off ruin and destruction. But he, at least, while he hears that you are still alive, rejoices in his heart and hopes all his days that he will see his dear son returning from Troy. But I am a man of utter misfortune, for I fathered the best sons in the whole of wide Troy, and I say not one of them is left. I had fifty sons when the sons of the Achaeans came; nineteen were from the womb of a single mother, and the others, women in my halls bore to me. Of most of these, furious Ares has unstrung their knees. And the one who was my only hope, who guarded the city and its people, him you killed just now as he fought for his homeland— Hector. It is for his sake that I have now come to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom him from you, and I bring a boundless ransom. But show reverence for the gods, Achilles, and take pity on me, remembering your own father. I am more to be pitied than he. I have endured what no other mortal on this earth has ever yet endured: I have lifted to my lips the hand of the man who slew my sons.” So he spoke, and he stirred in Achilles a longing to weep for his own father. Taking the old man’s hand, he gently pushed him away. And the two of them remembered: Priam, for man-slaying Hector, wept freely, huddled at Achilles’ feet, while Achilles wept for his own father, and then again for Patroclus. And the sound of their lamentation rose up through the house. But when noble Achilles had taken his fill of grief, and the longing for it had passed from his mind and his limbs, he rose at once from his chair and raised the old man by the hand, pitying his grey head and his grey beard, and he spoke to him with winged words, saying: “Ah, you poor man, you have truly endured many evils in your heart. How did you dare to come alone to the ships of the Achaeans, into the sight of the man who has slain your many noble sons? You must have a heart of iron. But come, sit down now upon this chair, and let us allow our sorrows to lie still in our hearts, for all our grieving. There is no gain to be had from chilling lamentation. For this is the fate the gods have spun for wretched mortals, that we should live in sorrow, while they themselves are free from care. “Two jars stand on the floor of Zeus’s hall, filled with the gifts he gives: one of evil, the other of blessings. To whomever Zeus, who delights in thunder, gives a mixture of both, that man will at one time encounter evil, and at another, good. But to whomever he gives only from the jar of sorrows, he makes him an outcast, and ravenous hunger drives him over the shining earth, and he wanders, honored neither by gods nor by mortals. So it was that the gods gave glorious gifts to Peleus from his very birth. He surpassed all other men in fortune and wealth, he was king over the Myrmidons, and though he was a mortal, they made a goddess his wife. But even upon him the gods laid an evil—that he had no lineage of kingly sons born in his halls, but fathered only a single, all-too-short-lived child. And now I do not care for him as he grows old, since I sit here in Troy, far from my native land, bringing sorrow to you and to your children. “And you too, old man, we hear were once prosperous. All that Lesbos, the seat of Macar, encloses to the north, and Phrygia to the east, and the boundless Hellespont— over all these, old man, they say you once excelled in wealth and in sons. But since the heavenly gods brought this calamity upon you, there have always been battles and slayings of men around your city. Endure it, and do not grieve endlessly in your heart. For you will achieve nothing by mourning for your son; you will not bring him back to life before you suffer some new evil.” Then the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: “Do not ask me to sit on a chair, O cherished of Zeus, so long as Hector lies untended in your hut. But release him to me quickly, so I may look upon him with my own eyes. And you, accept the great ransom we bring for you. May you have joy of it and return to your own native land, since you have allowed me, from the first, to live and to see the light of the sun.” Looking at him from under his brows, swift-footed Achilles spoke: “Provoke me no longer now, old man. I myself intend to release Hector to you. A messenger came to me from Zeus— my mother, she who bore me, the daughter of the Old Man of the Sea. And I know in my own heart, Priam, and it does not escape me, that some god has led you to the swift ships of the Achaeans. For no mortal would dare to come, not even a strong young man, into our camp. He could not slip past the sentries, nor could he easily push back the bar of our gates. So do not stir my heart any further in my grief, lest I do not spare even you, old man, here in my hut, suppliant though you are, and so transgress the commands of Zeus.” So he spoke, and the old man was afraid and obeyed his word. The son of Peleus sprang from the door of the house like a lion, not alone, but with his two attendants following, the hero Automedon and Alcimus, whom Achilles honored most of all his companions after the death of Patroclus. They then unyoked the horses and mules from the harness, led in the herald, the crier of the old man, and had him sit on a chair. From the well-polished wagon they took the boundless ransom for Hector’s head. But they left behind two mantles and a well-spun tunic, so that Achilles could wrap the body before giving it to be carried home. He called his serving-women out and ordered them to wash and anoint the body, but to take it aside first, so that Priam might not see his son and, in the anguish of his heart, be unable to contain his anger at the sight, and so stir the heart of Achilles to kill him and transgress the commands of Zeus. When the serving-women had washed the body and anointed it with oil, and had wrapped it in a fine mantle and a tunic, Achilles himself lifted it and placed it on a bier, and his companions together lifted it onto the well-polished wagon. Then he groaned aloud and called out to his dear companion by name: “Do not be wroth with me, Patroclus, if you should learn, even in the house of Hades, that I have released noble Hector to his dear father, since he has given me a not-unworthy ransom. To you I will give your proper share of this as well.” So spoke noble Achilles, and he went back into the hut. He sat down on the richly wrought chair from which he had risen, on the opposite wall, and spoke a word to Priam: “Your son has now been released to you, old man, as you asked. He lies upon a bier. At the breaking of dawn you will see him for yourself as you take him away. But for now, let us think of our supper. For even fair-haired Niobe remembered to eat, though her twelve children had perished in her halls— six daughters, and six sons in the bloom of their youth. The sons Apollo killed with his silver bow, wroth with Niobe, and the daughters Artemis, the archer goddess, because Niobe had compared herself to fair-cheeked Leto. She said Leto had borne but two, while she herself had borne many. So the two, though they were but two, destroyed them all. For nine days they lay in their own blood, and there was no one to bury them, for the son of Cronos had turned the people to stone. But on the tenth day the heavenly gods buried them. And she, in time, remembered to eat, when she had grown weary of shedding tears. Now somewhere among the rocks, in the lonely mountains of Sipylus, where they say are the beds of the goddess nymphs who dance by the Achelous, there, though she is but a stone, she broods on the sorrows sent by the gods. So come now, noble old man, let us too think of our food. Afterwards you may weep for your dear son again when you have brought him into Ilium. And he will be much wept for by you.” He spoke, and swift Achilles sprang up and slaughtered a white-fleeced sheep. His companions flayed it and prepared the carcass well and skillfully. They sliced the meat with care and pierced it with spits, roasted it to perfection, and drew all the pieces off. Automedon took bread and served it on the table in beautiful baskets, while Achilles served the meat. And they put forth their hands to the good food that lay ready before them. But when they had put aside their desire for food and drink, Priam, son of Dardanus, marveled at Achilles, how tall and how handsome he was; for he looked like the gods face to face. And Achilles marveled at Priam, son of Dardanus, gazing upon his noble countenance and listening to his words. When they had taken their fill of gazing at each other, the old man, godlike Priam, was the first to speak: “Let me lie down now, O cherished of Zeus, so that we may at last take our rest and enjoy sweet sleep. For my eyes have not yet closed beneath my lids since my son lost his life at your hands. I have only lamented and brooded on my countless sorrows, groveling in the dung in the enclosure of my courtyard. But now I have tasted food and let gleaming wine flow down my throat; before this, I had tasted nothing.” He spoke, and Achilles ordered his companions and the serving-women to place beds under the portico, and to lay upon them fine purple blankets, and to spread tapestries over them, and to place fleecy cloaks on top for covering. The women went out from the hall with torches in their hands, and in haste they prepared two beds. Then swift-footed Achilles spoke to Priam in a tone of gentle mockery: “You must lie outside, dear old man, in case some counselor of the Achaeans should come here, one of those who are always sitting with me and making plans, as is proper. If any of them were to see you in the swift, dark night, he would at once report it to Agamemnon, the shepherd of the people, and there might be a delay in the release of the body. But come, tell me this and speak plainly: how many days do you intend for the funeral of noble Hector, so that I myself may wait for that long and hold back the army?” And the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: “If you are truly willing for me to complete the funeral for noble Hector, this is the favor you would do for me, Achilles. You know how we are penned in the city, and it is a long way to bring wood from the mountains, and the Trojans are very afraid. For nine days we would mourn him in our halls, and on the tenth we would bury him, and the people would hold a feast. On the eleventh we would make a mound over him, and on the twelfth we will fight again, if we must.” Then swift-footed, noble Achilles answered him again: “All this shall be as you ask, old Priam. I will hold back the battle for as long a time as you command.” Having spoken these words, he clasped the old man’s right hand at the wrist, so he would have no fear in his heart. So they, in the forecourt of the house, lay down to sleep— the herald and Priam, their minds filled with prudent thoughts. But Achilles slept in a recess of the well-built hut, and beside him lay fair-cheeked Briseis. Now all the other gods and chariot-driving warriors slept the whole night through, overcome by soft sleep. But sleep did not seize the Helper, Hermes, as he pondered in his heart how he might guide King Priam from the ships, unseen by the sacred gatekeepers. He stood above Priam’s head and spoke a word to him: “Old man, you have no thought of any evil, sleeping thus among enemy men, just because Achilles has spared you. You have now ransomed your dear son, and you have paid a great price. But the sons you have left behind would have to pay three times as much as a ransom for you alive, if Agamemnon, son of Atreus, were to learn of you, and all the Achaeans were to learn of you.” So he spoke, and the old man was afraid and awoke the herald. Hermes yoked the horses and mules for them, and he himself drove them swiftly through the camp, and no one noticed. But when they came to the ford of the fair-flowing river, eddying Xanthus, which immortal Zeus had fathered, Hermes departed for high Olympus. And Dawn, in her saffron robe, spread her light over all the earth. With wailing and groaning they drove the horses toward the city, while the mules carried the dead. No one else, neither man nor fair-girdled woman, saw them first. But Cassandra, who was like golden Aphrodite, had gone up to the citadel of Pergamum, and from there she saw her dear father standing in the chariot, and the herald, the city’s crier. And she saw him who lay on the bier upon the mule-wagon. Then she cried out and her voice rang through all the city: “Come, men and women of Troy, and look upon Hector, if ever you rejoiced when he returned alive from battle, for he was a great joy to the city and to all the people.” So she spoke, and not a man or woman was left there in the city, for an unbearable grief had seized them all. They met him near the gates as he brought in the dead. First his dear wife and his revered mother, rushing to the well-wheeled wagon, tore their hair and touched his head. And the crowd stood around them, weeping. And they would have lamented there before the gates, shedding tears for Hector all day long until the setting of the sun, if the old man had not spoken from the chariot to the people: “Make way for me to pass with the mules. Afterwards you may have your fill of weeping, once I have brought him to our home.” So he spoke, and they parted and made way for the wagon. When they had brought him into the glorious house, they laid him upon a corded bed and set singers beside him to lead the dirges, who sang the mournful song, and the women lamented in response. Among them, white-armed Andromache led the lamentation, holding the head of man-slaying Hector in her hands: “My husband, you have perished young, cut off from life, and you leave me a widow in our halls. And the child is still a mere infant, the one we two ill-fated ones brought into the world. I do not think he will reach manhood. Before then this city will be utterly destroyed. For you are gone, its protector, you who guarded it and kept its honored wives and infant children safe. They will soon be carried off in the hollow ships, and I among them. And you, my child, will either follow me to a place where you will toil at shameful tasks, laboring for a merciless master, or some Achaean will seize you by the arm and hurl you from the tower—a dreadful death— in anger because Hector killed his brother, perhaps, or his father, or even his son, since very many of the Achaeans bit the dust of the vast earth at Hector’s hands. For your father was not gentle in the grim strife of battle. That is why the people mourn him throughout the city. You have brought unspeakable grief and sorrow upon your parents, Hector. But for me, above all, bitter pains will be left. For you did not stretch out your hands to me from your deathbed, nor did you speak to me some last, prudent word that I might have remembered forever, night and day, as I shed my tears.” So she spoke, weeping, and the women lamented in response. Among them, in turn, Hecuba took up the impassioned lament: “Hector, dearest to my heart by far of all my children! While you were alive you were dear to the gods, and so they have cared for you even in the fate of death. Other sons of mine swift Achilles would sell whenever he took them, across the barren sea, to Samos and Imbros and smoky Lemnos. But when he had taken your life with his long-bladed bronze, he dragged you again and again around the tomb of his companion, Patroclus, whom you killed—though not even so did he bring him back to life. But now you lie here in our halls, fresh as the dew and newly slain, like one whom Apollo of the silver bow has come upon and killed with his gentle arrows.” So she spoke, weeping, and stirred an unceasing lament. Then, third among them, Helen led the lamentation: “Hector, dearest to my heart by far of all my brothers-in-law! My husband is godlike Alexander, who brought me to Troy—I wish I had died before that day! For this is now the twentieth year since I went from there and left my native land. Yet I have never heard from you a single harsh or reproachful word. And if ever another in the palace reproached me— a brother-in-law or sister-in-law, or a brother-in-law’s fair-robed wife, or my mother-in-law, for my father-in-law was always as kind as a father— you would restrain them by reasoning with them, with your gentle nature and your gentle words. So I weep for you and for my own ill-fated self, grieving in my heart. For there is no one else for me in wide Troy who is kind or a friend; all others shudder at me.” So she spoke, weeping, and the boundless crowd lamented in response. And the old man Priam spoke a word among the people: “Now, men of Troy, bring wood to the city, and have no fear in your hearts of a cunning Argive ambush. For Achilles himself, when he sent me from the dark ships, promised me that he would do us no harm until the twelfth dawn comes.” So he spoke, and they yoked oxen and mules to their wagons, and soon they gathered before the city. For nine days they brought in a boundless supply of wood. But when the tenth dawn appeared, bringing light to mortals, they carried out brave Hector, shedding tears, and laid the body on the very top of the pyre, and set it alight. And when the early-born, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, the people gathered around the pyre of glorious Hector. When they were all assembled and had come together, first they quenched the entire pyre with gleaming wine, wherever the fury of the fire still held. Then his brothers and his companions gathered his white bones, mourning, and hot tears streamed down their cheeks. They took the bones and placed them in a golden urn, covering it with soft purple robes. They quickly set the urn in a hollow grave and covered it over with large, close-set stones. Swiftly they raised the mound, and lookouts were posted on every side, lest the well-greaved Achaeans attack them before the time was due. When they had raised the mound, they went back, and gathering together, they feasted on a glorious banquet in the palace of Priam, the king cherished by Zeus. Such were the funeral rites they held for Hector, tamer of horses.