The other gods and the horse-helmed warriors slept soundly through the night, but sweet sleep did not hold Zeus, for he pondered in his mind how he might honour Achilles and destroy many of the Achaeans by their ships. And this seemed to him the best counsel: to send a baleful Dream to Agamemnon, son of Atreus. Calling the Dream to him, he spoke these winged words: “Go now, baleful Dream, to the swift ships of the Achaeans. Make your way to the hut of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, and report to him precisely all that I command you. Bid him arm the long-haired Achaeans with all their host, for now he might take the broad-wayed city of the Trojans. The immortals who dwell on Olympus are no longer divided in their counsel, for Hera has bent them all to her will with her entreaties, and sorrows are poised to fall upon the Trojans.” So he spoke, and the Dream departed upon hearing his word. Swiftly it came to the fast ships of the Achaeans,
and sought out Agamemnon, son of Atreus. It found him sleeping in his hut, an ambrosial slumber poured all about him. The Dream stood above his head in the likeness of Nestor, son of Neleus, the elder whom Agamemnon honoured above all others. In his guise, the divine Dream addressed him: “You are sleeping, son of Atreus, the wise tamer of horses? A man of counsel, to whom armies are entrusted and so many cares belong, should not sleep the whole night through. Now, listen to me quickly, for I come as a messenger from Zeus, who, though far away, cares greatly for you and pities you. He bids you arm the long-haired Achaeans with all their host, for now you might take the broad-wayed city of the Trojans. The immortals who dwell on Olympus are no longer divided in their counsel, for Hera has bent them all to her will with her entreaties, and sorrows for the Trojans are ordained by Zeus. Hold this fast in your mind, and do not let forgetfulness seize you when honey-sweet sleep releases you.” Having spoken thus, the Dream departed, leaving him there to ponder in his heart things that were not destined to be. For he thought that on that very day he would capture Priam’s city, the fool, knowing nothing of the deeds Zeus was planning. For the god was yet to lay more grief and groaning upon both Trojans and Danaans through the ordeal of mighty battles. He awoke from his slumber, the divine voice echoing around him. He sat upright and put on his soft tunic, freshly woven and fair, and threw his great cloak about his shoulders. Under his shining feet he bound his handsome sandals, and slung his silver-studded sword from his shoulder. Then he took up the imperishable sceptre of his fathers and with it went down to the ships of the bronze-clad Achaeans. The goddess Dawn was ascending to high Olympus,
bringing light to Zeus and the other immortals, when Agamemnon ordered the clear-voiced heralds to summon the long-haired Achaeans to assembly. The heralds made their cry, and the men gathered with great speed. But first, Agamemnon convened a council of the great-hearted elders by the ship of Nestor, the Pylos-born king. Having called them together, he laid before them his shrewd plan: “Listen, my friends. A divine dream came to me in my sleep, through the ambrosial night. It was wonderfully like noble Nestor in form and stature and bearing. It stood above my head and spoke a word to me: ‘You are sleeping, son of Atreus, the wise tamer of horses? A man of counsel, to whom armies are entrusted and so many cares belong, should not sleep the whole night through. Now, listen to me quickly, for I come as a messenger from Zeus, who, though far away, cares greatly for you and pities you. He bids you arm the long-haired Achaeans with all their host, for now you might take the broad-wayed city of the Trojans. The immortals who dwell on Olympus are no longer divided in their counsel, for Hera has bent them all to her will with her entreaties, and sorrows for the Trojans are ordained by Zeus. Hold this fast in your mind.’ Having said this, it flew away, and sweet sleep left me. “Come now, let us see how we might arm the sons of the Achaeans. But first, as is the custom, I will test them with words, and bid them flee with their many-benched ships. It will be your part, from all sides, to restrain them with your speeches.” When he had spoken, he sat down, and among them rose Nestor, who was king of sandy Pylos. With wise intent, he addressed them and said: “My friends, leaders and rulers of the Argives, if any other of the Achaeans had told us this dream, we might have called it false and turned away from it. But now he who declares himself the greatest of the Achaeans has seen it. Come, then, let us see how we might arm the sons of the Achaeans.” So he spoke, and was the first to leave the council. The other sceptred kings rose up and obeyed the shepherd of the people and the men rushed after them. Like swarms of densely packed bees that pour forth from a hollow rock, ever in a fresh stream, and fly in clusters over the spring flowers; some thronging here, some there; so the many tribes of men streamed from the ships and huts, filing in companies along the deep shore to the place of assembly. And among them blazed Rumour, messenger of Zeus, urging them on. They gathered. And the assembly was in turmoil. The earth groaned beneath them as the men took their seats, and there was a great din. Nine heralds shouted aloud to restrain them, to see if they would cease their clamour and listen to the kings, the cherished of Zeus. With difficulty the host was seated, held to their benches, their shouting silenced. Then lord Agamemnon stood up, holding the sceptre which Hephaestus had laboured to forge. Hephaestus gave it to the lord Zeus, son of Cronos, and Zeus in turn gave it to the messenger, the slayer of Argus. Lord Hermes gave it to Pelops, the driver of horses, and Pelops gave it to Atreus, shepherd of the people. Atreus, at his death, left it to Thyestes, rich in flocks, and Thyestes in his turn left it for Agamemnon to carry, that he might be lord of all Argos and the many islands.
Leaning upon this sceptre, he spoke to the Argives: “My friends, Danaan heroes, squires of Ares! Zeus, son of Cronos, has snared me in a cruel delusion. The merciless god, who once promised me and nodded his assent that I should return home only after sacking the well-walled city of Ilium, has now devised a wicked deceit. He bids me return to Argos in disgrace, having lost so many of my people. Such, it seems, is the pleasure of almighty Zeus, who has toppled the crests of many cities and will yet topple more, for his power is greatest of all. “What a shameful thing this is, for even future generations to hear: that such a great and mighty host of Achaeans waged a war to no effect, fighting a pointless battle against fewer men, with no end yet in sight. For if we and the Trojans were to swear a faithful truce and be counted, the Trojans numbering all who have their homes in the city, while we Achaeans arranged ourselves in companies of ten, and each company chose one Trojan to pour its wine, many a ten would lack a wine-pourer. By so many, I say, are the sons of the Achaeans more numerous than the Trojans who dwell in the town. But they have allies from many cities, men who wield the spear, who thwart me greatly and will not let me, for all my desire, sack the well-peopled citadel of Ilium. “Nine years of great Zeus have already passed, the timbers of our ships have rotted and the ropes are undone. Our wives, I imagine, and our young children
sit in our halls and wait for us, while the task for which we came here remains utterly unfulfilled. But come now, let us all do as I say: let us flee with our ships to our own dear native land, for we shall never now take the wide-wayed city of Troy.” So he spoke, and stirred the hearts in the breasts of all the multitude, all those who had not been party to the council. And the assembly was moved like the great waves of the Icarian Sea, when the East Wind and the South Wind rush down from the clouds of father Zeus and lash them into fury. And as when the West Wind comes and stirs a deep field of corn, attacking it with violent gusts so that the ears of grain bow down, so was their whole assembly moved. With a great cry they surged towards the ships, and the dust rose in a cloud from beneath their feet. They called to one another to lay hands upon the ships and drag them into the bright sea, and they began to clear the slipways. A clamour reached to the heavens of men eager for home, and they started to pull the props from under the vessels. Then a homecoming beyond their fate would have come to pass for the Argives, had not Hera spoken a word to Athene: “Alas, Atrytone, child of aegis-bearing Zeus! Is this how the Argives will flee to their own dear native land, over the broad back of the sea? And would they leave to Priam and the Trojans their prize of glory, Argive Helen, for whose sake many Achaeans have perished in Troy, far from their beloved country? Go now among the host of the bronze-clad Achaeans. With your gentle words restrain each man,
and do not let them haul their curved ships down to the sea.” So she spoke, and the grey-eyed goddess Athene did not disobey. She sped down from the peaks of Olympus and came swiftly to the fast ships of the Achaeans. There she found Odysseus, a man equal to Zeus in counsel, standing still. He had not laid a hand on his well-benched black ship, for sorrow had struck his heart and soul. Standing near him, grey-eyed Athene said: “Son of Laertes, seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices! Is this how you will flee to your own dear native land, flinging yourselves into your many-benched ships? And would you leave to Priam and the Trojans their prize of glory, Argive Helen, for whose sake many Achaeans have perished in Troy, far from their beloved country? Go now among the Achaean host and hesitate no longer. With your gentle words restrain each man, and do not let them haul their curved ships down to the sea.” So she spoke, and he knew the voice of the goddess. He set off at a run, casting his cloak aside, which was gathered up by his herald, Eurybates of Ithaca, who attended him. Going to meet Agamemnon, son of Atreus, he received from him the imperishable sceptre of his fathers. and with it went down among the ships of the bronze-clad Achaeans. Whenever he came upon a king or a man of note, he would stand beside him and restrain him with gentle words: “My good sir, it does not become you to be terrified like a coward. Sit down yourself and make the rest of the army sit. For you do not yet know clearly the mind of the son of Atreus. He is only testing us now, but soon he will strike the sons of the Achaeans. Did we not all hear what he said in the council?
Let him not in his anger do some harm to the sons of the Achaeans; great is the wrath of kings, cherished of Zeus; their honour comes from Zeus, and Zeus the counsellor loves them.” But whenever he saw a man of the common people and found him shouting, he would drive him with the sceptre and rebuke him with sharp words: “You there! Sit still and listen to the words of others who are your betters. You are unwarlarlike and weak, of no account in battle or in council. Surely we cannot all be kings here, we Achaeans. A multitude of masters is no good thing. Let there be one commander, one king, to whom the son of crooked-counselling Cronos has given the sceptre and the laws, that he may rule over them.” Thus he moved through the army, imposing his authority. And they surged back to the place of assembly from the ships and huts with a great roar, as when a wave of the resounding sea crashes upon a vast shore, and the ocean thunders. The others now sat down and were kept to their places. Only Thersites still babbled on, the loose-tongued man, whose mind was full of a store of disorderly words, with which he would rail against the kings at random, not with any decency, but saying whatever he thought might raise a laugh among the Argives. He was the ugliest man who came to Ilium. He was bandy-legged and lame in one foot, and his shoulders were hunched and drawn in over his chest. Above, his head was pointed, and a sparse stubble grew upon it. He was most hateful to Achilles and Odysseus, for it was they he would always revile. But now, with shrill cries, he heaped insults on noble Agamemnon. The Achaeans were terribly angry with him, and their hearts were full of indignation. But he, shouting loudly, continued to abuse Agamemnon:
“Son of Atreus, what is it now you complain of or desire? Your huts are full of bronze, and many choice women are in your quarters, whom we Achaeans give to you first of all whenever we take a city. Or do you still lack gold, which some horse-taming Trojan might bring from Ilium as a ransom for his son, whom I or another of the Achaeans have bound and led away? Or a young woman, to mix with in love, whom you will keep for yourself apart from the others? It is not right that a leader should bring the sons of the Achaeans into such trouble. Oh you soft things, you disgraces! You Achaean women, no longer Achaean men! Let us go home with our ships, and leave this man here in Troy to digest his prizes of honour, so he may see whether we are any help to him or not. He who has now dishonoured Achilles, a man far better than he, for he has taken his prize and keeps it, having seized it for himself. But truly, there is no anger in Achilles’ heart; he is too forgiving. Otherwise, son of Atreus, this would be your last outrage.” Thus spoke Thersites, reviling Agamemnon, shepherd of the people, But noble Odysseus quickly came and stood by him, and looking at him with a dark frown, he rebuked him with a harsh word: “Thersites, you reckless-tongued man, shrill orator though you may be, hold your peace, and do not presume to strive alone against kings. For I say there is no mortal more base than you among all those who came with the sons of Atreus to Ilium. Therefore, you should not have the names of kings on your lips as you speak, casting reproaches upon them and watching for a chance of homecoming.< We do not yet know for certain how these things will end, whether we, the sons of the Achaeans, will return in fortune or in ruin. And so you now sit here reviling Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the people,
because the Danaan heroes give him very many gifts, while you speak with mockery. “But I will tell you this, and it shall be accomplished: if I find you playing the fool again as you have done now, may the head of Odysseus no longer rest upon his shoulders, and may I no longer be called the father of Telemachus, if I do not take you and strip you of your own garments, the cloak and the tunic that cover your shame, and send you yourself weeping to the swift ships, driven from the assembly with ignominious blows.” So he spoke, and with the sceptre struck him on the back and shoulders. Thersites doubled over, and a hot tear fell from his eye. A bloody welt rose up on his back under the golden sceptre’s blow. He sat down, terrified, and in his pain, with a helpless look, he wiped away a tear. The others, though they were vexed, laughed heartily at him, and one would say to his neighbour, looking at him: “Indeed! Odysseus has done countless good things, leading in wise counsel and marshalling for war, but this is by far the best thing he has done among the Argives, to have stopped this reviler, this blustering fool, from his harangues. Surely his proud spirit will not move him again to taunt the kings with words of reproach.” So the multitude spoke. Then Odysseus, sacker of cities, stood up holding the sceptre, and beside him grey-eyed Athene, in the likeness of a herald, commanded the host to be silent, so that the foremost and the hindmost of the sons of the Achaeans might hear his word and consider his counsel. With wise intent, he addressed them and said: “Son of Atreus, now indeed, O king, the Achaeans wish
to make you the most dishonoured of all mortal men. They will not fulfill the promise they made to you when they set out from horse-pasturing Argos, that you would return only after sacking the well-walled city of Ilium. Like young children or widowed women they lament to one another of returning home. And truly, it is a hardship to be worn out and have to return. For a man who stays away from his wife for even a single month grows restless in his benched ship when winter storms and a surging sea confine him. But for us, this is the ninth circling year that we have remained here. So I do not blame the Achaeans for growing restless beside their curved ships. But still, it is shameful to remain so long and to return with empty hands. “Be patient, my friends, and wait a while longer, so that we may know whether Calchas prophesies truly or not. For we know this well in our hearts, and you are all witnesses, all whom the fates of death have not yet carried away. It was but yesterday or the day before, when the ships of the Achaeans were gathered at Aulis, bringing woe to Priam and the Trojans, and we were making sacrifices of perfect hecatombs to the immortals around a spring, at the holy altars, beneath a beautiful plane tree from which sparkling water flowed. There a great portent appeared: a serpent with a blood-red back, a fearsome thing, which the Olympian himself had sent into the light, darted from beneath the altar and rushed to the plane tree. “On the tree were the young of a sparrow, helpless fledglings, cowering under the leaves on the topmost branch, eight of them, and the mother who bore them was the ninth. The serpent devoured the cheeping young, to our pity,
while the mother flew about, lamenting her dear children. But as she circled, crying out, he coiled and seized her by the wing. Then, after he had eaten the sparrow’s children and the mother herself, the god who had sent him made him a sign to be wondered at; for the son of crooked-counselling Cronos turned him to stone. And we stood there, marvelling at what had happened. “So when this dreadful portent interrupted the holy rites, Calchas at once spoke, prophesying in the name of the gods: ‘Why are you silent, you long-haired Achaeans? To us Zeus the counsellor has shown this great sign, late to come, late to be fulfilled, but its glory will never die. As this serpent devoured the sparrow’s young and the mother herself, eight young and the mother making the ninth, so we shall wage war here for that many years, but in the tenth we shall take the wide-wayed city.’ So he prophesied, and now all these things are coming to pass. Come, then, remain here, all of you well-greaved Achaeans, until we take the great city of Priam.” So he spoke, and the Argives shouted aloud, and the ships around them echoed terribly with the cries of the Achaeans, as they praised the speech of godlike Odysseus. And among them spoke Nestor, the Gerenian horseman: “For shame! You hold assembly like children, mere infants, who have no concern for the deeds of war. Where then will our covenants and our oaths go? Let the counsels and plans of men be cast into the fire, the unmixed libations and the right hands in which we trusted. For we strive with words in vain, and can find no remedy, though we have been here a long time. Son of Atreus, as before, hold to your unwavering resolve
and lead the Argives into the heart of the mighty battle. Let them perish, those one or two, who scheme apart from the other Achaeans — though their plans will come to nothing — to return to Argos before we even know if the promise of aegis-bearing Zeus is false or true. “For I say that the all-powerful son of Cronos gave his assent on that day when the Argives embarked on their swift-faring ships, bringing slaughter and doom to the Trojans, for he flashed his lightning on our right, showing favourable signs. Therefore let no man be in a hurry to go home until he has slept beside the wife of some Trojan, and so avenged the struggles and sorrows of Helen. But if any man is so desperately set on returning home, let him but lay his hand on his well-benched black ship, that he may meet his death and his fate before the others. But you, my king, take good counsel yourself and listen to another. The word I speak will not be one to cast aside. Arrange your men by tribes and by clans, Agamemnon, so that clan may aid clan, and tribe may aid tribe. If you do this, and the Achaeans obey you, you will know then which of the leaders and which of the men is a coward and which is brave; for they will fight as their own kin. And you will also know whether it is by divine will that you do not sack the city, or by the cowardice of men and their ignorance of war.” And in answer to him spoke lord Agamemnon: “Truly, old man, you surpass the sons of the Achaeans in debate once more. O father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, if only I had ten such counsellors among the Achaeans! Then the city of king Priam would soon bow its head, taken and sacked by our hands. But the aegis-bearing son of Cronos, Zeus, has given me sorrows,
casting me into fruitless quarrels and strife. For I and Achilles fought over a girl with furious words, and I was the one who began the quarrel. But if we can ever be of one mind in counsel, there will be no more delay of disaster for the Trojans, not for a moment. “But for now, go to your meal, so that we may join battle. Let each man sharpen his spear well, and set his shield well; let each man give his swift-footed horses their feed, and each man, looking to his chariot, prepare for war, so that all day long we may be tested in grim combat. For there will be no respite, not for a moment, until the coming of night parts the fury of men. The strap of the man-covering shield will be soaked with sweat on many a chest, and the hand will grow weary on the spear-shaft. Many a horse will sweat, straining at the polished chariot. And any man whom I see deliberately shirking the fight, lingering by the curved ships, for him there will be no certain escape from the dogs and the birds of prey.” So he spoke, and the Argives roared like a wave on a high cliff when the South Wind comes and dashes it against a jutting rock, which the waves never leave in peace, from whichever direction the winds may blow. They rose up and scattered, rushing among the ships. They made fires in their huts and took their meal. And one by one they sacrificed to the gods who are forever, praying to escape death and the turmoil of war. But Agamemnon, king of men, sacrificed a fat bull of five years to the all-powerful son of Cronos, and he summoned the elders, the chief men of the Panachaeans, Nestor first of all, and king Idomeneus,
and then the two Aiantes and the son of Tydeus, and sixth, Odysseus, a man equal to Zeus in counsel.< Menelaus, good at the war-cry, came of his own accord, for he knew in his heart how his brother was occupied. They stood around the bull and took up the barley grains for sprinkling; and lord Agamemnon prayed among them, saying: “Zeus, most glorious, most great, god of the dark clouds, who dwells in the heavens, let not the sun set nor darkness fall before I have cast down Priam’s palace, blackened with smoke, and burned its gates with consuming fire, and rent with bronze the tunic of Hector upon his chest, so that many of his comrades, face down in the dust around him, may bite the earth.” So he spoke, but the son of Cronos did not yet grant his prayer. He accepted the sacrifice, but he increased the endless toil. Then, after they had prayed and sprinkled the barley grains, they first drew back the victim’s head, slit its throat, and flayed it. They cut out the thigh-bones and covered them in a double layer of fat, and placed the raw flesh upon them. These they burned on spits of leafless wood, and piercing the entrails, they held them over the fire of Hephaestus. When the thigh-bones were burned and they had tasted the entrails, they carved up the rest, pierced it with spits, roasted it carefully, and drew it all off. Then, when they had ceased from their labour and had prepared the feast, they feasted, and no man’s heart lacked its equal share of the meal. When they had put aside their desire for food and drink, the Gerenian horseman Nestor was the first to speak among them: “Most glorious son of Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men, let us no longer talk here at length, nor for long
delay the work which the god now puts in our hands. Come, let the heralds of the bronze-clad Achaeans go about the ships and gather the army, and let us go together in this way through the wide Achaean host, so that we may the sooner stir up sharp Ares.” So he spoke, and the king of men, Agamemnon, did not disobey. At once he ordered the clear-voiced heralds to summon the long-haired Achaeans to war. The heralds made their cry, and the men gathered with great speed. The kings cherished of Zeus, followers of the son of Atreus, moved swiftly to arrange the ranks, and with them was grey-eyed Athene, holding the precious aegis, ageless and immortal, from which a hundred tassels of pure gold hang, all finely woven, each worth a hundred oxen. With this flashing in her hands, she darted through the Achaean host, urging them to advance, and in the heart of each man she stirred the strength to fight and to battle without cease. And to them, at once, war became sweeter than returning in their hollow ships to their own dear native land. As a consuming fire burns over a vast forest on the peaks of a mountain, and its gleam is seen from afar, so from the marvellous bronze of the advancing host the dazzling radiance flashed through the air to the heavens. And as the many tribes of winged birds— geese or cranes or long-necked swans— in the Asian meadow by the streams of the Cayster, fly here and there, exulting in their wings, and with loud cries settle ever onward, and the meadow resounds;
so the many tribes of men poured forth from the ships and huts into the plain of Scamander, and the earth beneath them thundered terribly under the tread of the men and their horses. They stood in the flowering meadow of Scamander, thousands upon thousands, as many as the leaves and flowers that come in the springtime. As the many tribes of swarming flies that buzz about a herdsman’s farmstead in the season of spring when milk wets the pails, so many were the long-haired Achaeans who stood in the plain against the Trojans, eager to shatter them. And as goat-herds easily separate their wide-ranging flocks of goats when they have become mixed in the pasture, so the leaders marshalled their men on this side and that to enter the fray, and among them was lord Agamemnon,< his eyes and his head like Zeus who delights in thunder, his waist like Ares, and his chest like Poseidon. As a bull in a herd is by far the most outstanding of all, a bull pre-eminent among the gathered cattle, so on that day Zeus made the son of Atreus conspicuous among many and pre-eminent among heroes. Tell me now, Muses, you who have your dwellings on Olympus— for you are goddesses, you are present and know all things, while we hear only a rumour and know nothing— who were the leaders and lords of the Danaans. The multitude I could not tell nor name, not if I had ten tongues and ten mouths, a voice that never broke and a heart of bronze within me, unless the Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, were to recount all those who came to Ilium. Now I will tell the commanders of the ships, and all the ships. Of the Boeotians, Peneleos and Leitus were the leaders,
with Arcesilaus, Prothoenor, and Clonius. These were they who dwelt in Hyria and rocky Aulis, in Schoenus and Scolus and the many-ridged Eteonus, Thespeia, Graea, and the wide dancing-grounds of Mycalessus; who lived about Harma and Eilesion and Erythrae; who held Eleon and Hyle and Peteon, Ocalea and Medeon, a well-built citadel, Copae, Eutresis, and Thisbe of the many doves; who held Coronea and the grassy meadows of Haliartus, and who held Plataea or dwelt in Glisas; who held Hypothebae, a well-built citadel, and Onchestus, the sacred grove of Poseidon’s splendour; and who held Arne, rich in vines, and Midea, and sacred Nisa and farthest Anthedon. With these went fifty ships, and in each embarked one hundred and twenty young men of the Boeotians. Those who dwelt in Aspledon and Orchomenus of the Minyans, were led by Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Ares, whom Astyoche bore in the house of Actor, son of Azeus, a modest maiden who went up to her chamber and lay secretly with mighty Ares. With them, thirty hollow ships were drawn up in lines. Of the Phocians, Schedius and Epistrophus were the leaders, sons of great-hearted Iphitus, son of Naubolus. These held Cyparissus and rocky Pytho, sacred Crisa, and Daulis, and Panopeus; who lived around Anemorea and Hyampolis; who dwelt by the stream of the divine Cephisus, and who held Lilaea at the springs of the Cephisus.
With them followed forty black ships. These leaders marshalled the ranks of the Phocians, and they armed themselves for battle next to the Boeotians on the left. Of the Locrians, the leader was swift Aias, son of Oileus, a lesser man, not nearly so great as Telamonian Aias, but much smaller. He was of slight build and wore a linen corselet, but with the spear he surpassed all the Hellenes and Achaeans. These were they who dwelt in Cynus and Opus and Calliarus, Bessa and Scarphe and lovely Augeiae, Tarphne and Thronium about the streams of Boagrius. With him followed forty black ships of the Locrians who dwell opposite sacred Euboea. Those who held Euboea, the Abantes breathing fury, of Chalcis and Eretria and Histiaea rich in grapes, of Cerinthus by the sea and the steep citadel of Dion; and those who held Carystus and those who dwelt in Styra— of these the leader was Elephenor, a scion of Ares, son of Chalcodon, chief of the great-hearted Abantes. With him followed the swift Abantes, with their hair grown long at the back, warriors eager with outstretched ashen spears to break the corselets on the chests of their enemies. With him followed forty black ships. Those who held Athens, the well-built citadel, the land of great-hearted Erechtheus, whom once Athene, daughter of Zeus, nourished, though the grain-giving earth bore him, and she settled him in Athens in her own rich temple; where the young men of Athens propitiate him with bulls and rams as the years circle by— of these the leader was Menestheus, son of Peteos.
No man on earth was his equal in marshalling horses and shield-bearing men; Only Nestor rivalled him, for he was the elder. With him followed fifty black ships. From Salamis Aias brought twelve ships, and he placed them where the phalanxes of the Athenians were drawn up. Those who held Argos and Tiryns of the great walls, Hermione and Asine, which command a deep gulf, Troezen and Eionae and vine-rich Epidaurus, and the young men of the Achaeans who held Aegina and Mases— of these the leader was Diomedes, good at the war-cry, and Sthenelus, dear son of famous Capaneus. With them as a third went Euryalus, a godlike man, son of king Mecisteus, son of Talaus. But Diomedes, good at the war-cry, was leader of them all. With these followed eighty black ships. Those who held Mycenae, the well-built citadel, and wealthy Corinth and well-built Cleonae, and dwelt in Orneiae and lovely Araethyrea and Sicyon, where Adrastus first was king; and who held Hyperesia and steep Gonoessa and Pellene, and who dwelt about Aegium and all along the coast and about wide Helice— of these a hundred ships were led by lord Agamemnon, son of Atreus. With him followed the most numerous and the best men. Among them he himself donned his shining bronze, exulting, and he stood pre-eminent among all the heroes because he was the greatest and led the most people. Those who held hollow Lacedaemon with its deep valleys, Pharis and Sparta and Messa of the many doves, and dwelt in Bryseiae and lovely Augeiae; who held Amyclae and Helos, a citadel by the sea; and who held Laas and dwelt about Oetylus— of these his brother Menelaus, good at the war-cry, was leader of sixty ships, and they armed themselves apart. He went among them, confident in his own zeal, urging them to war, and his heart yearned above all to avenge the struggles and sorrows of Helen. Those who dwelt in Pylos and lovely Arene and Thryon, the ford of the Alpheius, and well-built Aepy, and who lived in Cyparisseis and Amphigeneia and Pteleum and Helos and Dorion, where the Muses met Thamyris the Thracian and put an end to his singing as he came from Oechalia, from the house of Eurytus of Oechalia; for he boasted and vowed that he would be victorious even if the Muses themselves, the daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, should sing against him. But they, in their anger, struck him blind, and took away his divine song, and made him forget his harping— of these the leader was Nestor, the Gerenian horseman. With him, ninety hollow ships were drawn up in lines. Those who held Arcadia under the steep mountain of Cyllene, by the tomb of Aepytus, where men fight hand to hand; who dwelt in Pheneus and Orchomenus, rich in flocks, in Rhipe and Stratia and windy Enispe and who held Tegea and lovely Mantinea; who held Stymphalus and dwelt in Parrhasia—
of these the leader was Agapenor, son of Ancaeus, lord of sixty ships. On each ship embarked many Arcadian men skilled in warfare. For the king of men himself, Agamemnon, son of Atreus, had given them the well-benched ships to cross the wine-dark sea, since they had no concern for the works of the sea. Those who dwelt in Buprasion and noble Elis, as much as is enclosed by Hyrmine and Myrsinus at the border, and the Olenian rock and Alesion— of these there were four leaders, and to each man followed ten swift ships, and many Epeians embarked on them. Of two contingents Amphimachus and Thalpius were the leaders, the one son of Cteatus, the other of Eurytus, both of the line of Actor. Of the third, the leader was mighty Diores, son of Amarynceus, and of the fourth, the leader was godlike Polyxenus, son of Agasthenes, the king, son of Augeias. Those from Dulichium and the sacred Echinades islands, which lie across the sea, opposite Elis— of these the leader was Meges, the equal of Ares, son of Phyleus, the horseman dear to Zeus, who once settled in Dulichium in anger at his father. With him followed forty black ships. And Odysseus led the great-hearted Cephallenians, who held Ithaca and Neriton of the rustling leaves and dwelt in Crocyleia and rugged Aegilips; who held Zacynthus and who dwelt in Samos, and who held the mainland and lived on the shores opposite. Of these Odysseus was leader, a man equal to Zeus in counsel. With him followed twelve ships with prows of scarlet. Of the Aetolians, the leader was Thoas, son of Andraemon.
They dwelt in Pleuron and Olenus and Pylene, and Chalcis by the sea and rocky Calydon. For the sons of great-hearted Oeneus were no more, nor was he himself, and fair-haired Meleager was dead. So it had fallen to Thoas to be king of all the Aetolians. With him followed forty black ships. Of the Cretans, Idomeneus, famed with the spear, was leader. They held Cnossos and Gortyn of the great walls, Lyctus, Miletus, and white Lycastus, Phaestus and Rhytion, well-peopled cities, and others who dwelt in Crete of the hundred cities. Of all these, Idomeneus, famed with the spear, was leader and Meriones, the equal of Enyalius, the slayer of men. With these followed eighty black ships. Tlepolemus, son of Heracles, valiant and tall, brought nine ships from Rhodes with proud Rhodians, who dwelt in Rhodes, organized in three divisions, in Lindos and Ialysus and white Camirus. Of these Tlepolemus, famed with the spear, was leader, whom Astyocheia bore to the might of Heracles; she whom he had brought from Ephyra, from the river Selleis, after sacking many cities of warriors cherished of Zeus. When Tlepolemus was raised in the well-built palace, he at once killed his father’s dear uncle, Licymnius, a scion of Ares, who was already growing old. Straightway he built ships, and gathering a great host, he fled over the sea, for the other sons and grandsons of the mighty Heracles had threatened him. In his wanderings and sufferings, he came to Rhodes. There his people settled in three tribes, and were loved
by Zeus, who is king among gods and men, and the son of Cronos poured wondrous wealth down upon them. Nireus from Syme brought three balanced ships, Nireus son of Aglaia and of king Charopus, Nireus, who was the most beautiful man who came to Ilium of all the other Danaans, after the flawless son of Peleus. But he was a man of no strength, and few people followed him. Those who held Nisyrus and Crapathus and Casus and Cos, the city of Eurypylus, and the Calydnian islands— of these Pheidippus and Antiphus were the leaders, the two sons of Thessalus the king, son of Heracles. With them, thirty hollow ships were drawn up in lines. Now for those who dwelt in Pelasgian Argos, who lived in Alos and Alope and Trachis, and who held Phthia and Hellas of the fair women, who were called Myrmidons and Hellenes and Achaeans,— of their fifty ships, the commander was Achilles. But they were not thinking of the clamour of war; for there was no one to lead them into their ranks. For he lay among his ships, swift-footed, noble Achilles, raging for the sake of the fair-haired girl Briseis, whom he had taken from Lyrnessus at great labour, after he had sacked Lyrnessus and the walls of Thebe, and had struck down Mynes and Epistrophus, skilled with the spear, sons of Evenus, king, son of Selepius. Grieving for her, he lay idle, but he was soon to rise again. Those who held Phylace and flowery Pyrasus, the precinct of Demeter, and Iton, mother of sheep,
and Antron by the sea, and Pteleos of the deep grass— of these the warlike Protesilaus had been leader while he lived; but now the black earth already held him. His wife was left in Phylace with her cheeks torn in grief, and his house was half-finished. A Dardanian man had killed him as he leapt from his ship, by far the first of the Achaeans. Yet his men were not without a leader, though they longed for their commander. Podarces, a scion of Ares, marshalled them, the son of Iphiclus, rich in sheep, son of Phylacus, and full brother of great-hearted Protesilaus, though younger by birth. The hero Protesilaus, the warlike, was both older and braver. So the host did not lack a leader, but they longed for the brave man they had lost. With him followed forty black ships. Those who dwelt in Pherae by the Boebeian lake, in Boebe and Glaphyrae and well-built Iolcus— of their eleven ships the leader was Eumelus, dear son of Admetus, whom Alcestis, noblest of women in form, the fairest of the daughters of Pelias, bore to Admetus. Those who held Methone and Thaumacia and held Meliboea and rugged Olizon— of their seven ships Philoctetes was commander, a man well-skilled with the bow. In each ship fifty oarsmen were embarked, well-skilled with the bow, to fight with might. But he lay on an island, suffering terrible pains, in sacred Lemnos, where the sons of the Achaeans had left him, tormented by the cruel wound of a venomous water-snake. There he lay in agony, but soon the Argives by their ships were to remember their king Philoctetes. Yet his men were not without a leader, though they longed for their commander. Medon, the bastard son of Oileus, marshalled them,
he whom Rhene bore to Oileus, sacker of cities. Those who held Tricca and Ithome of the rugged hills, and who held Oechalia, the city of Eurytus of Oechalia— of these the two sons of Asclepius were leaders, the good physicians Podaleirius and Machaon. With them, thirty hollow ships were drawn up in lines. Those who held Ormenion and the spring of Hypereia, and who held Asterion and the white crests of Titanus— of these the leader was Eurypylus, the glorious son of Euaemon. With him followed forty black ships. Those who held Argissa and dwelt in Gyrtone, Orthe, Elone, and the white city of Oloosson— of these the leader was the steadfast warrior Polypoetes, son of Peirithous, whom immortal Zeus begot. Famed Hippodameia bore him to Peirithous on the day he took his vengeance on the shaggy Centaurs, and drove them from Pelion and forced them towards the Aethices. He was not alone; with him was Leonteus, a scion of Ares, son of Coronus the mighty, son of Caeneus. With them followed forty black ships. Gouneus from Cyphus led twenty-two ships. With him followed the Enienes and the steadfast Peraebi, who had made their homes about wintry Dodona, and who tilled the fields about the lovely Titaressus, which sends its fair-flowing waters into the Peneius, but does not mingle with the silver-eddying Peneius, but flows over its surface like oil; for it is an offshoot of the water of the dread oath, the Styx. Of the Magnetes, the leader was Prothous, son of Tenthredon. They dwelt about the Peneius and Pelion of the rustling leaves.
Of these swift Prothous was leader. With him followed forty black ships. These were the leaders and lords of the Danaans. Now tell me, Muse, who was the very best of them, of the men and their horses, who followed the sons of Atreus. The horses of the son of Pheres were by far the best, those which Eumelus drove, swift as birds, of the same coat, the same age, their backs as level as a plumb-line. Apollo of the silver bow had bred them in Pereia, both of them mares, carrying the terror of Ares. Of the men, Telamonian Aias was by far the best, as long as Achilles nursed his wrath. For Achilles was much the mightiest, as were the horses that carried the flawless son of Peleus. But he lay among his curved, sea-faring ships, in a rage against Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the people. And his men, along the shore of the sea, amused themselves with discuses and with throwing javelins and with their bows. Their horses, each by its own chariot, stood champing on lotus and parsley grown in the marshland. The well-fastened chariots of their masters lay in the huts, while the men, longing for their warlike leader, wandered here and there through the camp and did not fight. But the army advanced as if the whole land were being consumed by fire. The earth groaned beneath them as it does under Zeus who delights in thunder when he is angry and lashes the land about Typhoeus in the country of the Arimi, where they say the bed of Typhoeus is. So the earth groaned loudly under the feet of the advancing men, and they crossed the plain very swiftly. To the Trojans came a messenger, swift-footed Iris of the winds, from aegis-bearing Zeus with a grievous message.
They were holding an assembly at the gates of Priam, all gathered together, the young men and the old. Standing near, swift-footed Iris spoke. She took on the voice of Polites, son of Priam, who, trusting in his fleetness of foot, sat as a lookout for the Trojans on the very top of the tomb of old Aesyetes, waiting for the moment when the Achaeans would sally forth from their ships. In his likeness, swift-footed Iris spoke to them: “Old man, rambling speeches are always dear to you, as once in time of peace; but an implacable war has arisen. I have already entered many battles of men, but never have I seen such a great and mighty host. For like the leaves or the sands they are coming across the plain to fight against the city. Hector, to you above all I give this charge, and do as I say. Since there are many allies throughout the great city of Priam, and the speech of the far-scattered men is diverse, let each man give the command to those he leads, and let him lead them forth, having marshalled his countrymen.” So she spoke, and Hector did not fail to understand the goddess’s word. He at once dismissed the assembly, and they rushed to their arms. All the gates were opened, and the army poured forth, both footmen and horsemen, and a great din arose. There is a steep hill in front of the city, standing alone in the plain, accessible from all sides, which men call Batieia, but the immortals call it the tomb of the much-bounding Myrine. There the Trojans and their allies were then marshalled. Of the Trojans, the leader was great Hector of the flashing helm,
son of Priam. With him were armed the most numerous and the best men, eager with their spears. Of the Dardanians, the leader was the goodly son of Anchises, Aeneas, whom divine Aphrodite bore to Anchises, a goddess lying with a mortal in the glens of Ida. He was not alone; with him were the two sons of Antenor, Archelochus and Acamas, both well-skilled in all manner of fighting. Those who dwelt in Zeleia under the lowest foot of Ida, men of wealth who drink the black water of the Aesepus, Trojans—of these the leader was the glorious son of Lycaon, Pandarus, to whom Apollo himself gave the bow. Those who held Adrasteia and the land of Apaisos and held Pityeia and the steep mountain of Tereia— of these the leaders were Adrastus and Amphius of the linen corselet, the two sons of Merops of Percote, who knew the art of prophecy beyond all men, and would not let his own sons go to the man-destroying war. But they did not obey him, for the fates of black death were leading them on. Those who lived about Percote and Practius, and held Sestos and Abydos and noble Arisbe— of these the leader was Asius, son of Hyrtacus, a commander of men, Asius, son of Hyrtacus, whom his tall, fiery horses brought from Arisbe, from the river Selleis. Hippothous led the tribes of the Pelasgians, skilled with the spear, those who dwelt in fertile Larissa. Of these Hippothous was leader, and Pylaeus, a scion of Ares, the two sons of Lethus the Pelasgian, son of Teutamus. Of the Thracians, the leaders were Acamas and the hero Peirous, all those whom the strong-flowing Hellespont encloses. Euphemus was commander of the Ciconian spearmen, son of Troezenus, son of Ceas, cherished of Zeus. Pyraechmes led the Paeonians of the curved bows,
from far-off Amydon, from the wide-flowing Axius, the Axius whose water, the fairest on earth, is spread over the land. Of the Paphlagonians, the leader was Pylaemenes of the shaggy heart, from the land of the Eneti, whence comes the breed of wild mules. They held Cytorus and dwelt about Sesamus, and had their famed homes by the river Parthenius, and Cromna and Aegialus and the lofty Erythini. Of the Halizones, Odius and Epistrophus were leaders, from far away Alybe, where silver has its birth. Of the Mysians, Chromis was leader, and Ennomus the augur. But he did not, by his augury, ward off black death, but was overcome by the hands of the swift-footed son of Aeacus in the river, where he slaughtered other Trojans as well. Phorcys and godlike Ascanius led the Phrygians from far-off Ascania; and they were eager to fight in the fray. Of the Maeonians, Mesthles and Antiphus were the leaders, the two sons of Talaemenes, whom the Gygaean lake bore. They also led the Maeonians who were born under Mount Tmolus. Nastes led the Carians of the barbarous speech, who held Miletus and the leafy mountain of Phthires and the streams of the Maeander and the steep peaks of Mycale. Of these Amphimachus and Nastes were leaders, Nastes and Amphimachus, the glorious children of Nomion.
He who went to war wearing gold like a girl, the fool; it did not avail him to ward off a sorrowful death, but he was overcome by the hands of the swift-footed son of Aeacus in the river, and the warrior Achilles carried off his gold. Sarpedon was leader of the Lycians, and flawless Glaucus, from far-off Lycia, from the eddying Xanthus.