ἸΛΙΆΣ 18

Ὣς οἱ μὲν μάρναντο δέμας πυρὸς αἰθομένοιο,
Ἀντίλοχος δ’ Ἀχιλῆϊ πόδας ταχὺς ἄγγελος ἦλθε.
τὸν δ’ εὗρε προπάροιθε νεῶν ὀρθοκραιράων
τὰ φρονέοντ’ ἀνὰ θυμὸν ἃ δὴ τετελεσμένα ἦεν·
ὀχθήσας δ’ ἄρα εἶπε πρὸς ὃν μεγαλήτορα θυμόν·
«ὤ μοι ἐγώ, τί τ’ ἄρ’ αὖτε κάρη κομόωντες Ἀχαιοὶ
νηυσὶν ἔπι κλονέονται ἀτυζόμενοι πεδίοιο;
μὴ δή μοι τελέσωσι θεοὶ κακὰ κήδεα θυμῷ,
ὥς ποτέ μοι μήτηρ διεπέφραδε καί μοι ἔειπε
Μυρμιδόνων τὸν ἄριστον ἔτι ζώοντος ἐμεῖο
χερσὶν ὕπο Τρώων λείψειν φάος ἠελίοιο.
ἦ μάλα δὴ τέθνηκε Μενοιτίου ἄλκιμος υἱός,
σχέτλιος· ἦ τ’ ἐκέλευον ἀπωσάμενον δήϊον πῦρ
ἂψ ἐπὶ νῆας ἴμεν, μηδ’ Ἕκτορι ἶφι μάχεσθαι.»
Ἧος ὁ ταῦθ’ ὥρμαινε κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν,
τόφρά οἱ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθεν ἀγαυοῦ Νέστορος υἱός,
δάκρυα θερμὰ χέων, φάτο δ’ ἀγγελίην ἀλεγεινήν·
«ὤ μοι, Πηλέος υἱὲ δαΐφρονος, ἦ μάλα λυγρῆς
πεύσεαι ἀγγελίης, ἣ μὴ ὤφελλε γενέσθαι.
κεῖται Πάτροκλος, νέκυος δὲ δὴ ἀμφιμάχονται
γυμνοῦ· ἀτὰρ τά γε τεύχε’ ἔχει κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ.»
Ὣς φάτο, τὸν δ’ ἄχεος νεφέλη ἐκάλυψε μέλαινα·

ἀμφοτέρῃσι δὲ χερσὶν ἑλὼν κόνιν αἰθαλόεσσαν
χεύατο κὰκ κεφαλῆς, χαρίεν δ’ ᾔσχυνε πρόσωπον·
νεκταρέῳ δὲ χιτῶνι μέλαιν’ ἀμφίζανε τέφρη.
αὐτὸς δ’ ἐν κονίῃσι μέγας μεγαλωστὶ τανυσθεὶς
κεῖτο, φίλῃσι δὲ χερσὶ κόμην ᾔσχυνε δαΐζων.
δμῳαὶ δ’ ἃς Ἀχιλεὺς ληΐσσατο Πάτροκλός τε
θυμὸν ἀκηχέμεναι μεγάλ’ ἴαχον, ἐκ δὲ θύραζε
ἔδραμον ἀμφ’ Ἀχιλῆα δαΐφρονα, χερσὶ δὲ πᾶσαι
στήθεα πεπλήγοντο, λύθεν δ’ ὑπὸ γυῖα ἑκάστης.
Ἀντίλοχος δ’ ἑτέρωθεν ὀδύρετο δάκρυα λείβων
χεῖρας ἔχων Ἀχιλῆος· ὁ δ’ ἔστενε κυδάλιμον κῆρ·
δείδιε γὰρ μὴ λαιμὸν ἀπαμήσειε σιδήρῳ.
σμερδαλέον δ’ ᾤμωξεν· ἄκουσε δὲ πότνια μήτηρ
ἡμένη ἐν βένθεσσιν ἁλὸς παρὰ πατρὶ γέροντι,
κώκυσέν τ’ ἄρ’ ἔπειτα· θεαὶ δέ μιν ἀμφαγέροντο,
πᾶσαι ὅσαι κατὰ βένθος ἁλὸς Νηρηΐδες ἦσαν.
ἔνθ’ ἄρ’ ἔην Γλαύκη τε Θάλειά τε Κυμοδόκη τε,
Νησαίη Σπειώ τε Θόη θ’ Ἁλίη τε βοῶπις,
Κυμοθόη τε καὶ Ἀκταίη καὶ Λιμνώρεια
καὶ Μελίτη καὶ Ἴαιρα καὶ Ἀμφιθόη καὶ Ἀγαύη,
Δωτώ τε Πρωτώ τε Φέρουσά τε Δυναμένη τε,
Δεξαμένη τε καὶ Ἀμφινόμη καὶ Καλλιάνειρα,
Δωρὶς καὶ Πανόπη καὶ ἀγακλειτὴ Γαλάτεια,
Νημερτής τε καὶ Ἀψευδὴς καὶ Καλλιάνασσα·
ἔνθα δ’ ἔην Κλυμένη Ἰάνειρά τε καὶ Ἰάνασσα,
Μαῖρα καὶ Ὠρείθυια ἐϋπλόκαμός τ’ Ἀμάθεια,
ἄλλαι θ’ αἳ κατὰ βένθος ἁλὸς Νηρηΐδες ἦσαν.
τῶν δὲ καὶ ἀργύφεον πλῆτο σπέος· αἱ δ’ ἅμα πᾶσαι
στήθεα πεπλήγοντο, Θέτις δ’ ἐξῆρχε γόοιο·
«κλῦτε, κασίγνηται Νηρηΐδες, ὄφρ’ ἐῢ πᾶσαι

εἴδετ’ ἀκούουσαι ὅσ’ ἐμῷ ἔνι κήδεα θυμῷ.
ὤ μοι ἐγὼ δειλή, ὤ μοι δυσαριστοτόκεια,
ἥ τ’ ἐπεὶ ἂρ τέκον υἱὸν ἀμύμονά τε κρατερόν τε,
ἔξοχον ἡρώων· ὁ δ’ ἀνέδραμεν ἔρνεϊ ἶσος·
τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ θρέψασα φυτὸν ὣς γουνῷ ἀλωῆς,
νηυσὶν ἐπιπροέηκα κορωνίσιν Ἴλιον εἴσω
Τρωσὶ μαχησόμενον· τὸν δ’ οὐχ ὑποδέξομαι αὖτις
οἴκαδε νοστήσαντα δόμον Πηλήϊον εἴσω.
ὄφρα δέ μοι ζώει καὶ ὁρᾷ φάος ἠελίοιο
ἄχνυται, οὐδέ τί οἱ δύναμαι χραισμῆσαι ἰοῦσα.
ἀλλ’ εἶμ’, ὄφρα ἴδωμι φίλον τέκος, ἠδ’ ἐπακούσω
ὅττί μιν ἵκετο πένθος ἀπὸ πτολέμοιο μένοντα.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασα λίπε σπέος· αἳ δὲ σὺν αὐτῇ
δακρυόεσσαι ἴσαν, περὶ δέ σφισι κῦμα θαλάσσης
ῥήγνυτο· ταὶ δ’ ὅτε δὴ Τροίην ἐρίβωλον ἵκοντο,
ἀκτὴν εἰσανέβαινον ἐπισχερώ, ἔνθα θαμειαὶ
Μυρμιδόνων εἴρυντο νέες ταχὺν ἀμφ’ Ἀχιλῆα.
τῷ δὲ βαρὺ στενάχοντι παρίστατο πότνια μήτηρ,
ὀξὺ δὲ κωκύσασα κάρη λάβε παιδὸς ἑοῖο,
καί ῥ’ ὀλοφυρομένη ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·
«τέκνον, τί κλαίεις; τί δέ σε φρένας ἵκετο πένθος;
ἐξαύδα, μὴ κεῦθε· τὰ μὲν δή τοι τετέλεσται
ἐκ Διός, ὡς ἄρα δὴ πρίν γ’ εὔχεο χεῖρας ἀνασχών,
πάντας ἐπὶ πρύμνῃσιν ἀλήμεναι υἷας Ἀχαιῶν
σεῦ ἐπιδευομένους, παθέειν τ’ ἀεκήλια ἔργα.»
Τὴν δὲ βαρὺ στενάχων προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«μῆτερ ἐμή, τὰ μὲν ἄρ μοι Ὀλύμπιος ἐξετέλεσσεν·
ἀλλὰ τί μοι τῶν ἦδος ἐπεὶ φίλος ὤλεθ’ ἑταῖρος
Πάτροκλος, τὸν ἐγὼ περὶ πάντων τῖον ἑταίρων,
ἶσον ἐμῇ κεφαλῇ· τὸν ἀπώλεσα, τεύχεα δ’ Ἕκτωρ
δῃώσας ἀπέδυσε πελώρια θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι,

καλά· τὰ μὲν Πηλῆϊ θεοὶ δόσαν ἀγλαὰ δῶρα
ἤματι τῷ ὅτε σε βροτοῦ ἀνέρος ἔμβαλον εὐνῇ.
αἴθ’ ὄφελες σὺ μὲν αὖθι μετ’ ἀθανάτῃς ἁλίῃσι
ναίειν, Πηλεὺς δὲ θνητὴν ἀγαγέσθαι ἄκοιτιν.
νῦν δ’ ἵνα καὶ σοὶ πένθος ἐνὶ φρεσὶ μυρίον εἴη
παιδὸς ἀποφθιμένοιο, τὸν οὐχ ὑποδέξεαι αὖτις
οἴκαδε νοστήσαντ’, ἐπεὶ οὐδ’ ἐμὲ θυμὸς ἄνωγε
ζώειν οὐδ’ ἄνδρεσσι μετέμμεναι, αἴ κε μὴ Ἕκτωρ
πρῶτος ἐμῷ ὑπὸ δουρὶ τυπεὶς ἀπὸ θυμὸν ὀλέσσῃ,
Πατρόκλοιο δ’ ἕλωρα Μενοιτιάδεω ἀποτείσῃ.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε Θέτις κατὰ δάκρυ χέουσα·
«ὠκύμορος δή μοι, τέκος ἔσσεαι, οἷ’ ἀγορεύεις·
αὐτίκα γάρ τοι ἔπειτα μεθ’ Ἕκτορα πότμος ἑτοῖμος.»
Τὴν δὲ μέγ’ ὀχθήσας προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«αὐτίκα τεθναίην, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἄρ’ ἔμελλον ἑταίρῳ
κτεινομένῳ ἐπαμῦναι· ὃ μὲν μάλα τηλόθι πάτρης
ἔφθιτ’, ἐμεῖο δὲ δῆσεν ἀρῆς ἀλκτῆρα γενέσθαι.
νῦν δ’ ἐπεὶ οὐ νέομαί γε φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν,
οὐδέ τι Πατρόκλῳ γενόμην φάος οὐδ’ ἑτάροισι
τοῖς ἄλλοις, οἳ δὴ πολέες δάμεν Ἕκτορι δίῳ,
ἀλλ’ ἧμαι παρὰ νηυσὶν ἐτώσιον ἄχθος ἀρούρης,
τοῖος ἐὼν οἷος οὔ τις Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων
ἐν πολέμῳ· ἀγορῇ δέ τ’ ἀμείνονές εἰσι καὶ ἄλλοι.
ὡς ἔρις ἔκ τε θεῶν ἔκ τ’ ἀνθρώπων ἀπόλοιτο
καὶ χόλος, ὅς τ’ ἐφέηκε πολύφρονά περ χαλεπῆναι,
ὅς τε πολὺ γλυκίων μέλιτος καταλειβομένοιο
ἀνδρῶν ἐν στήθεσσιν ἀέξεται ἠΰτε καπνός·
ὡς ἐμὲ νῦν ἐχόλωσεν ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων.
ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν προτετύχθαι ἐάσομεν ἀχνύμενοί περ,

θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσι φίλον δαμάσαντες ἀνάγκῃ·
νῦν δ’ εἶμ’, ὄφρα φίλης κεφαλῆς ὀλετῆρα κιχείω,
Ἕκτορα· κῆρα δ’ ἐγὼ τότε δέξομαι, ὁππότε κεν δὴ
Ζεὺς ἐθέλῃ τελέσαι ἠδ’ ἀθάνατοι θεοὶ ἄλλοι.
οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ βίη Ἡρακλῆος φύγε κῆρα,
ὅς περ φίλτατος ἔσκε Διὶ Κρονίωνι ἄνακτι·
ἀλλά ἑ μοῖρα δάμασσε καὶ ἀργαλέος χόλος Ἥρης.
ὣς καὶ ἐγών, εἰ δή μοι ὁμοίη μοῖρα τέτυκται,
κείσομ’ ἐπεί κε θάνω· νῦν δὲ κλέος ἐσθλὸν ἀροίμην,
καί τινα Τρωϊάδων καὶ Δαρδανίδων βαθυκόλπων
ἀμφοτέρῃσιν χερσὶ παρειάων ἁπαλάων
δάκρυ’ ὀμορξαμένην ἁδινὸν στοναχῆσαι ἐφείην,
γνοῖεν δ’ ὡς δὴ δηρὸν ἐγὼ πολέμοιο πέπαυμαι·
μὴ δέ μ’ ἔρυκε μάχης φιλέουσά περ· οὐδέ με πείσεις.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα·
«ναὶ δὴ ταῦτά γε, τέκνον, ἐτήτυμον οὐ κακόν ἐστι,
τειρομένοις ἑτάροισιν ἀμυνέμεν αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον.
ἀλλά τοι ἔντεα καλὰ μετὰ Τρώεσσιν ἔχονται,
χάλκεα μαρμαίροντα· τὰ μὲν κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ
αὐτὸς ἔχων ὤμοισιν ἀγάλλεται· οὐδέ ἕ φημι
δηρὸν ἐπαγλαϊεῖσθαι, ἐπεὶ φόνος ἐγγύθεν αὐτῷ.
ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν μή πω καταδύσεο μῶλον Ἄρηος,
πρίν γ’ ἐμὲ δεῦρ’ ἐλθοῦσαν ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἴδηαι·
ἠῶθεν γὰρ νεῦμαι ἅμ’ ἠελίῳ ἀνιόντι
τεύχεα καλὰ φέρουσα παρ’ Ἡφαίστοιο ἄνακτος.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασα πάλιν τράπεθ’ υἷος ἑοῖο,
καὶ στρεφθεῖσ’ ἁλίῃσι κασιγνήτῃσι μετηύδα·
«ὑμεῖς μὲν νῦν δῦτε θαλάσσης εὐρέα κόλπον,
ὀψόμεναί τε γέρονθ’ ἅλιον καὶ δώματα πατρός,
καί οἱ πάντ’ ἀγορεύσατ’· ἐγὼ δ’ ἐς μακρὸν Ὄλυμπον
εἶμι παρ’ Ἥφαιστον κλυτοτέχνην, αἴ κ’ ἐθέλῃσιν

υἱεῖ ἐμῷ δόμεναι κλυτὰ τεύχεα παμφανόωντα.»
Ὣς ἔφαθ’, αἱ δ’ ὑπὸ κῦμα θαλάσσης αὐτίκ’ ἔδυσαν·
ἡ δ’ αὖτ’ Οὔλυμπον δὲ θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα
ἤϊεν, ὄφρα φίλῳ παιδὶ κλυτὰ τεύχε’ ἐνείκαι.
Τὴν μὲν ἄρ’ Οὔλυμπόνδε πόδες φέρον· αὐτὰρ Ἀχαιοὶ
θεσπεσίῳ ἀλαλητῷ ὑφ’ Ἕκτορος ἀνδροφόνοιο
φεύγοντες νῆάς τε καὶ Ἑλλήσποντον ἵκοντο.
οὐδέ κε Πάτροκλόν περ ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοὶ
ἐκ βελέων ἐρύσαντο νέκυν, θεράποντ’ Ἀχιλῆος·
αὖτις γὰρ δὴ τόν γε κίχον λαός τε καὶ ἵπποι
Ἕκτωρ τε Πριάμοιο πάϊς, φλογὶ εἴκελος ἀλκήν.
τρὶς μέν μιν μετόπισθε ποδῶν λάβε φαίδιμος Ἕκτωρ
ἑλκέμεναι μεμαώς, μέγα δὲ Τρώεσσιν ὁμόκλα·
τρὶς δὲ δύ’ Αἴαντες, θοῦριν ἐπιειμένοι ἀλκήν,
νεκροῦ ἀπεστυφέλιξαν· ὁ δ’ ἔμπεδον ἀλκὶ πεποιθὼς
ἄλλοτ’ ἐπαΐξασκε κατὰ μόθον, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε
στάσκε μέγα ἰάχων· ὀπίσω δ’ οὐ χάζετο πάμπαν.
ὡς δ’ ἀπὸ σώματος οὔ τι λέοντ’ αἴθωνα δύνανται
ποιμένες ἄγραυλοι μέγα πεινάοντα δίεσθαι,
ὥς ῥα τὸν οὐκ ἐδύναντο δύω Αἴαντε κορυστὰ
Ἕκτορα Πριαμίδην ἀπὸ νεκροῦ δειδίξασθαι.
καί νύ κεν εἴρυσσέν τε καὶ ἄσπετον ἤρατο κῦδος,
εἰ μὴ Πηλεΐωνι ποδήνεμος ὠκέα Ἶρις
ἄγγελος ἦλθε θέουσ’ ἀπ’ Ὀλύμπου θωρήσσεσθαι,
κρύβδα Διὸς ἄλλων τε θεῶν· πρὸ γὰρ ἧκέ μιν Ἥρη.
ἀγχοῦ δ’ ἱσταμένη ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·
«ὄρσεο Πηλεΐδη, πάντων ἐκπαγλότατ’ ἀνδρῶν·
Πατρόκλῳ ἐπάμυνον, οὗ εἵνεκα φύλοπις αἰνὴ

ἕστηκε πρὸ νεῶν· οἱ δ’ ἀλλήλους ὀλέκουσιν
οἱ μὲν ἀμυνόμενοι νέκυος πέρι τεθνηῶτος,
οἱ δὲ ἐρύσσασθαι ποτὶ Ἴλιον ἠνεμόεσσαν
Τρῶες ἐπιθύουσι· μάλιστα δὲ φαίδιμος Ἕκτωρ
ἑλκέμεναι μέμονεν· κεφαλὴν δέ ἑ θυμὸς ἄνωγε
πῆξαι ἀνὰ σκολόπεσσι ταμόνθ’ ἁπαλῆς ἀπὸ δειρῆς.
ἀλλ’ ἄνα, μηδ’ ἔτι κεῖσο· σέβας δέ σε θυμὸν ἱκέσθω
Πάτροκλον Τρῳῇσι κυσὶν μέλπηθρα γενέσθαι·
σοὶ λώβη, αἴ κέν τι νέκυς ᾐσχυμμένος ἔλθῃ.»
Τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα ποδάρκης δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς·
«Ἶρι θεά, τίς γάρ σε θεῶν ἐμοὶ ἄγγελον ἧκε;»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε ποδήνεμος ὠκέα Ἶρις·
«Ἥρη με προέηκε, Διὸς κυδρὴ παράκοιτις·
οὐδ’ οἶδε Κρονίδης ὑψίζυγος οὐδέ τις ἄλλος
ἀθανάτων, οἳ Ὄλυμπον ἀγάννιφον ἀμφινέμονται.»
Τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·
«πῶς τὰρ ἴω μετὰ μῶλον; ἔχουσι δὲ τεύχε’ ἐκεῖνοι·
μήτηρ δ’ οὔ με φίλη πρίν γ’ εἴα θωρήσσεσθαι,
πρίν γ’ αὐτὴν ἐλθοῦσαν ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἴδωμαι·
στεῦτο γὰρ Ἡφαίστοιο πάρ’ οἰσέμεν ἔντεα καλά.
ἄλλου δ’ οὔ τευ οἶδα τεῦ ἂν κλυτὰ τεύχεα δύω,
εἰ μὴ Αἴαντός γε σάκος Τελαμωνιάδαο.
ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτὸς ὅ, ἔλπομ’, ἐνὶ πρώτοισιν ὁμιλεῖ,
ἔγχεϊ δηϊόων περὶ Πατρόκλοιο θανόντος.»
Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε ποδήνεμος ὠκέα Ἶρις·
«εὖ νυ καὶ ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ὅ τοι κλυτὰ τεύχε’ ἔχονται·
ἀλλ’ αὔτως ἐπὶ τάφρον ἰὼν Τρώεσσι φάνηθι,
αἴ κέ σ’ ὑποδείσαντες ἀπόσχωνται πολέμοιο
Τρῶες, ἀναπνεύσωσι δ’ ἀρήϊοι υἷες Ἀχαιῶν

τειρόμενοι· ὀλίγη δέ τ’ ἀνάπνευσις πολέμοιο.»
Ἡ μὲν ἄρ’ ὣς εἰποῦσ’ ἀπέβη πόδας ὠκέα Ἶρις,
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς ὦρτο Διῒ φίλος· ἀμφὶ δ’ Ἀθήνη
ὤμοις ἰφθίμοισι βάλ’ αἰγίδα θυσσανόεσσαν,
ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ κεφαλῇ νέφος ἔστεφε δῖα θεάων
χρύσεον, ἐκ δ’ αὐτοῦ δαῖε φλόγα παμφανόωσαν.
ὡς δ’ ὅτε καπνὸς ἰὼν ἐξ ἄστεος αἰθέρ’ ἵκηται
τηλόθεν ἐκ νήσου, τὴν δήϊοι ἀμφιμάχωνται,
οἵ τε πανημέριοι στυγερῷ κρίνονται Ἄρηϊ
ἄστεος ἐκ σφετέρου· ἅμα δ’ ἠελίῳ καταδύντι
πυρσοί τε φλεγέθουσιν ἐπήτριμοι, ὑψόσε δ’ αὐγὴ
γίγνεται ἀΐσσουσα περικτιόνεσσιν ἰδέσθαι,
αἴ κέν πως σὺν νηυσὶν ἄρεω ἀλκτῆρες ἵκωνται·
ὣς ἀπ’ Ἀχιλλῆος κεφαλῆς σέλας αἰθέρ’ ἵκανε·
στῆ δ’ ἐπὶ τάφρον ἰὼν ἀπὸ τείχεος, οὐδ’ ἐς Ἀχαιοὺς
μίσγετο· μητρὸς γὰρ πυκινὴν ὠπίζετ’ ἐφετμήν.
ἔνθα στὰς ἤϋσ’, ἀπάτερθε δὲ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη
φθέγξατ’· ἀτὰρ Τρώεσσιν ἐν ἄσπετον ὦρσε κυδοιμόν.
ὡς δ’ ὅτ’ ἀριζήλη φωνή, ὅτε τ’ ἴαχε σάλπιγξ
ἄστυ περιπλομένων δηΐων ὕπο θυμοραϊστέων,
ὣς τότ’ ἀριζήλη φωνὴ γένετ’ Αἰακίδαο.
οἱ δ’ ὡς οὖν ἄϊον ὄπα χάλκεον Αἰακίδαο,
πᾶσιν ὀρίνθη θυμός· ἀτὰρ καλλίτριχες ἵπποι
ἂψ ὄχεα τρόπεον· ὄσσοντο γὰρ ἄλγεα θυμῷ.
ἡνίοχοι δ’ ἔκπληγεν, ἐπεὶ ἴδον ἀκάματον πῦρ
δεινὸν ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς μεγαθύμου Πηλεΐωνος
δαιόμενον· τὸ δὲ δαῖε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη.
τρὶς μὲν ὑπὲρ τάφρου μεγάλ’ ἴαχε δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς,
τρὶς δὲ κυκήθησαν Τρῶες κλειτοί τ’ ἐπίκουροι.

ἔνθα δὲ καὶ τότ’ ὄλοντο δυώδεκα φῶτες ἄριστοι
ἀμφὶ σφοῖς ὀχέεσσι καὶ ἔγχεσιν. αὐτὰρ Ἀχαιοὶ
ἀσπασίως Πάτροκλον ὑπ’ ἐκ βελέων ἐρύσαντες
κάτθεσαν ἐν λεχέεσσι· φίλοι δ’ ἀμφέσταν ἑταῖροι
μυρόμενοι· μετὰ δέ σφι ποδώκης εἵπετ’ Ἀχιλλεὺς
δάκρυα θερμὰ χέων, ἐπεὶ εἴσιδε πιστὸν ἑταῖρον
κείμενον ἐν φέρτρῳ δεδαϊγμένον ὀξέϊ χαλκῷ,
τόν ῥ’ ἤτοι μὲν ἔπεμπε σὺν ἵπποισιν καὶ ὄχεσφιν
ἐς πόλεμον, οὐδ’ αὖτις ἐδέξατο νοστήσαντα.
Ἠέλιον δ’ ἀκάμαντα βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη
πέμψεν ἐπ’ Ὠκεανοῖο ῥοὰς ἀέκοντα νέεσθαι·
ἠέλιος μὲν ἔδυ, παύσαντο δὲ δῖοι Ἀχαιοὶ
φυλόπιδος κρατερῆς καὶ ὁμοιΐου πολέμοιο.
Τρῶες δ’ αὖθ’ ἑτέρωθεν ἀπὸ κρατερῆς ὑσμίνης
χωρήσαντες ἔλυσαν ὑφ’ ἅρμασιν ὠκέας ἵππους,
ἐς δ’ ἀγορὴν ἀγέροντο, πάρος δόρποιο μέδεσθαι.
ὀρθῶν δ’ ἑσταότων ἀγορὴ γένετ’, οὐδέ τις ἔτλη
ἕζεσθαι· πάντας γὰρ ἔχε τρόμος, οὕνεκ’ Ἀχιλλεὺς
ἐξεφάνη, δηρὸν δὲ μάχης ἐπέπαυτ’ ἀλεγεινῆς.
τοῖσι δὲ Πουλυδάμας πεπνυμένος ἦρχ’ ἀγορεύειν
Πανθοΐδης· ὃ γὰρ οἶος ὅρα πρόσσω καὶ ὀπίσσω·
Ἕκτορι δ’ ἦεν ἑταῖρος, ἰῇ δ’ ἐν νυκτὶ γένοντο,
ἀλλ’ ὁ μὲν ἂρ μύθοισιν, ὁ δ’ ἔγχεϊ πολλὸν ἐνίκα·
ὅ σφιν ἐϋφρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπεν·
«ἀμφὶ μάλα φράζεσθε, φίλοι· κέλομαι γὰρ ἔγωγε
ἄστυδε νῦν ἰέναι, μὴ μίμνειν ἠῶ δῖαν
ἐν πεδίῳ παρὰ νηυσίν· ἑκὰς δ’ ἀπὸ τείχεός εἰμεν.
ὄφρα μὲν οὗτος ἀνὴρ Ἀγαμέμνονι μήνιε δίῳ,
τόφρα δὲ ῥηΐτεροι πολεμίζειν ἦσαν Ἀχαιοί·

χαίρεσκον γὰρ ἔγωγε θοῇς ἐπὶ νηυσὶν ἰαύων
ἐλπόμενος νῆας αἱρησέμεν ἀμφιελίσσας.
νῦν δ’ αἰνῶς δείδοικα ποδώκεα Πηλεΐωνα·
οἷος κείνου θυμὸς ὑπέρβιος, οὐκ ἐθελήσει
μίμνειν ἐν πεδίῳ, ὅθι περ Τρῶες καὶ Ἀχαιοὶ
ἐν μέσῳ ἀμφότεροι μένος Ἄρηος δατέονται,
ἀλλὰ περὶ πτόλιός τε μαχήσεται ἠδὲ γυναικῶν.
ἀλλ’ ἴομεν προτὶ ἄστυ, πίθεσθέ μοι· ὧδε γὰρ ἔσται·
νῦν μὲν νὺξ ἀπέπαυσε ποδώκεα Πηλεΐωνα
ἀμβροσίη· εἰ δ’ ἄμμε κιχήσεται ἐνθάδ’ ἐόντας
αὔριον ὁρμηθεὶς σὺν τεύχεσιν, εὖ νύ τις αὐτὸν
γνώσεται· ἀσπασίως γὰρ ἀφίξεται Ἴλιον ἱρὴν
ὅς κε φύγῃ, πολλοὺς δὲ κύνες καὶ γῦπες ἔδονται
Τρώων· αἲ γὰρ δή μοι ἀπ’ οὔατος ὧδε γένοιτο.
εἰ δ’ ἂν ἐμοῖς ἐπέεσσι πιθώμεθα κηδόμενοί περ,
νύκτα μὲν εἰν ἀγορῇ σθένος ἕξομεν, ἄστυ δὲ πύργοι
ὑψηλαί τε πύλαι σανίδες τ’ ἐπὶ τῇς ἀραρυῖαι
μακραὶ ἐΰξεστοι ἐζευγμέναι εἰρύσσονται·
πρῶϊ δ’ ὑπηοῖοι σὺν τεύχεσι θωρηχθέντες
στησόμεθ’ ἂμ πύργους· τῷ δ’ ἄλγιον, αἴ κ’ ἐθέλῃσιν
ἐλθὼν ἐκ νηῶν περὶ τείχεος ἄμμι μάχεσθαι.
ἂψ πάλιν εἶσ’ ἐπὶ νῆας, ἐπεί κ’ ἐριαύχενας ἵππους
παντοίου δρόμου ἄσῃ ὑπὸ πτόλιν ἠλασκάζων·
εἴσω δ’ οὔ μιν θυμὸς ἐφορμηθῆναι ἐάσει,
οὐδέ ποτ’ ἐκπέρσει· πρίν μιν κύνες ἀργοὶ ἔδονται.»
Τὸν δ’ ἄρ’ ὑπόδρα ἰδὼν προσέφη κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ·
«Πουλυδάμα, σὺ μὲν οὐκέτ’ ἐμοὶ φίλα ταῦτ’ ἀγορεύεις,
ὃς κέλεαι κατὰ ἄστυ ἀλήμεναι αὖτις ἰόντας.
ἦ οὔ πω κεκόρησθε ἐελμένοι ἔνδοθι πύργων;
πρὶν μὲν γὰρ Πριάμοιο πόλιν μέροπες ἄνθρωποι
πάντες μυθέσκοντο πολύχρυσον πολύχαλκον·

νῦν δὲ δὴ ἐξαπόλωλε δόμων κειμήλια καλά,
πολλὰ δὲ δὴ Φρυγίην καὶ Μῃονίην ἐρατεινὴν
κτήματα περνάμεν’ ἵκει, ἐπεὶ μέγας ὠδύσατο Ζεύς.
νῦν δ’ ὅτε πέρ μοι ἔδωκε Κρόνου πάϊς ἀγκυλομήτεω
κῦδος ἀρέσθ’ ἐπὶ νηυσί, θαλάσσῃ τ’ ἔλσαι Ἀχαιούς,
νήπιε, μηκέτι ταῦτα νοήματα φαῖν’ ἐνὶ δήμῳ·
οὐ γάρ τις Τρώων ἐπιπείσεται· οὐ γὰρ ἐάσω.
ἀλλ’ ἄγεθ’ ὡς ἂν ἐγὼ εἴπω, πειθώμεθα πάντες.
νῦν μὲν δόρπον ἕλεσθε κατὰ στρατὸν ἐν τελέεσσι,
καὶ φυλακῆς μνήσασθε, καὶ ἐγρήγορθε ἕκαστος·
Τρώων δ’ ὃς κτεάτεσσιν ὑπερφιάλως ἀνιάζει,
συλλέξας λαοῖσι δότω καταδημοβορῆσαι·
τῶν τινὰ βέλτερόν ἐστιν ἐπαυρέμεν ἤ περ Ἀχαιούς.
πρῶϊ δ’ ὑπηοῖοι σὺν τεύχεσι θωρηχθέντες
νηυσὶν ἔπι γλαφυρῇσιν ἐγείρομεν ὀξὺν Ἄρηα.
εἰ δ’ ἐτεὸν παρὰ ναῦφιν ἀνέστη δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς,
ἄλγιον, αἴ κ’ ἐθέλῃσι, τῷ ἔσσεται· οὔ μιν ἔγωγε
φεύξομαι ἐκ πολέμοιο δυσηχέος, ἀλλὰ μάλ’ ἄντην
στήσομαι, ἤ κε φέρῃσι μέγα κράτος, ἦ κε φεροίμην.
ξυνὸς Ἐνυάλιος, καί τε κτανέοντα κατέκτα.»
Ὣς Ἕκτωρ ἀγόρευ’, ἐπὶ δὲ Τρῶες κελάδησαν,
νήπιοι· ἐκ γάρ σφεων φρένας εἵλετο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη.
Ἕκτορι μὲν γὰρ ἐπῄνησαν κακὰ μητιόωντι,
Πουλυδάμαντι δ’ ἄρ’ οὔ τις, ὃς ἐσθλὴν φράζετο βουλήν.
δόρπον ἔπειθ’ εἵλοντο κατὰ στρατόν· αὐτὰρ Ἀχαιοὶ
παννύχιοι Πάτροκλον ἀνεστενάχοντο γοῶντες.
τοῖσι δὲ Πηλεΐδης ἁδινοῦ ἐξῆρχε γόοιο,
χεῖρας ἐπ’ ἀνδροφόνους θέμενος στήθεσσιν ἑταίρου,
πυκνὰ μάλα στενάχων ὥς τε λὶς ἠϋγένειος,
ᾧ ῥά θ’ ὑπὸ σκύμνους ἐλαφηβόλος ἁρπάσῃ ἀνὴρ

ὕλης ἐκ πυκινῆς· ὁ δέ τ’ ἄχνυται ὕστερος ἐλθών,
πολλὰ δέ τ’ ἄγκε ἐπῆλθε μετ’ ἀνέρος ἴχνι’ ἐρευνῶν,
εἴ ποθεν ἐξεύροι· μάλα γὰρ δριμὺς χόλος αἱρεῖ·
ὣς ὁ βαρὺ στενάχων μετεφώνεε Μυρμιδόνεσσιν·
«ὢ πόποι, ἦ ῥ’ ἅλιον ἔπος ἔκβαλον ἤματι κείνῳ
θαρσύνων ἥρωα Μενοίτιον ἐν μεγάροισι·
φῆν δέ οἱ εἰς Ὀπόεντα περικλυτὸν υἱὸν ἀπάξειν
Ἴλιον ἐκπέρσαντα, λαχόντα τε ληΐδος αἶσαν.
ἀλλ’ οὐ Ζεὺς ἄνδρεσσι νοήματα πάντα τελευτᾷ·
ἄμφω γὰρ πέπρωται ὁμοίην γαῖαν ἐρεῦσαι
αὐτοῦ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ, ἐπεὶ οὐδ’ ἐμὲ νοστήσαντα
δέξεται ἐν μεγάροισι γέρων ἱππηλάτα Πηλεὺς
οὐδὲ Θέτις μήτηρ, ἀλλ’ αὐτοῦ γαῖα καθέξει.
νῦν δ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν, Πάτροκλε, σεῦ ὕστερος εἶμ’ ὑπὸ γαῖαν,
οὔ σε πρὶν κτεριῶ, πρίν γ’ Ἕκτορος ἐνθάδ’ ἐνεῖκαι
τεύχεα καὶ κεφαλήν, μεγαθύμου σοῖο φονῆος·
δώδεκα δὲ προπάροιθε πυρῆς ἀποδειροτομήσω
Τρώων ἀγλαὰ τέκνα, σέθεν κταμένοιο χολωθείς.
τόφρα δέ μοι παρὰ νηυσὶ κορωνίσι κείσεαι αὔτως,
ἀμφὶ δὲ σὲ Τρῳαὶ καὶ Δαρδανίδες βαθύκολποι
κλαύσονται νύκτάς τε καὶ ἤματα δάκρυ χέουσαι,
τὰς αὐτοὶ καμόμεσθα βίηφί τε δουρί τε μακρῷ,
πιείρας πέρθοντε πόλεις μερόπων ἀνθρώπων.»
Ὣς εἰπὼν ἑτάροισιν ἐκέκλετο δῖος Ἀχιλλεὺς
ἀμφὶ πυρὶ στῆσαι τρίποδα μέγαν, ὄφρα τάχιστα
Πάτροκλον λούσειαν ἄπο βρότον αἱματόεντα.
οἱ δὲ λοετροχόον τρίποδ’ ἵστασαν ἐν πυρὶ κηλέῳ,
ἐν δ’ ἄρ’ ὕδωρ ἔχεαν, ὑπὸ δὲ ξύλα δαῖον ἑλόντες.
γάστρην μὲν τρίποδος πῦρ ἄμφεπε, θέρμετο δ’ ὕδωρ·

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ ζέσσεν ὕδωρ ἐνὶ ἤνοπι χαλκῷ,
καὶ τότε δὴ λοῦσάν τε καὶ ἤλειψαν λίπ’ ἐλαίῳ,
ἐν δ’ ὠτειλὰς πλῆσαν ἀλείφατος ἐννεώροιο·
ἐν λεχέεσσι δὲ θέντες ἑανῷ λιτὶ κάλυψαν
ἐς πόδας ἐκ κεφαλῆς, καθύπερθε δὲ φάρεϊ λευκῷ.
παννύχιοι μὲν ἔπειτα πόδας ταχὺν ἀμφ’ Ἀχιλῆα
Μυρμιδόνες Πάτροκλον ἀνεστενάχοντο γοῶντες·
Ζεὺς δ’ Ἥρην προσέειπε κασιγνήτην ἄλοχόν τε·
«ἔπρηξας καὶ ἔπειτα, βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη,
ἀνστήσασ’ Ἀχιλῆα πόδας ταχύν· ἦ ῥά νυ σεῖο
ἐξ αὐτῆς ἐγένοντο κάρη κομόωντες Ἀχαιοί.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη·
«αἰνότατε Κρονίδη, ποῖον τὸν μῦθον ἔειπες.
καὶ μὲν δή πού τις μέλλει βροτὸς ἀνδρὶ τελέσσαι,
ὅς περ θνητός τ’ ἐστὶ καὶ οὐ τόσα μήδεα οἶδε·
πῶς δὴ ἔγωγ’, ἥ φημι θεάων ἔμμεν ἀρίστη,
ἀμφότερον, γενεῇ τε καὶ οὕνεκα σὴ παράκοιτις
κέκλημαι, σὺ δὲ πᾶσι μετ’ ἀθανάτοισιν ἀνάσσεις,
οὐκ ὄφελον Τρώεσσι κοτεσσαμένη κακὰ ῥάψαι;»
Ὣς οἳ μὲν τοιαῦτα πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀγόρευον·
Ἡφαίστου δ’ ἵκανε δόμον Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα
ἄφθιτον ἀστερόεντα, μεταπρεπέ’ ἀθανάτοισι
χάλκεον, ὅν ῥ’ αὐτὸς ποιήσατο κυλλοποδίων.
τὸν δ’ εὗρ’ ἱδρώοντα ἑλισσόμενον περὶ φύσας
σπεύδοντα· τρίποδας γὰρ ἐείκοσι πάντας ἔτευχεν
ἑστάμεναι περὶ τοῖχον ἐϋσταθέος μεγάροιο,
χρύσεα δέ σφ’ ὑπὸ κύκλα ἑκάστῳ πυθμένι θῆκεν,
ὄφρά οἱ αὐτόματοι θεῖον δυσαίατ’ ἀγῶνα
ἠδ’ αὖτις πρὸς δῶμα νεοίατο, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.

οἱ δ’ ἤτοι τόσσον μὲν ἔχον τέλος, οὔατα δ’ οὔ πω
δαιδάλεα προσέκειτο· τά ῥ’ ἤρτυε, κόπτε δὲ δεσμούς.
ὄφρ’ ὅ γε ταῦτ’ ἐπονεῖτο ἰδυίῃσι πραπίδεσσι,
τόφρά οἱ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθε θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα.
τὴν δὲ ἴδε προμολοῦσα Χάρις λιπαροκρήδεμνος
καλή, τὴν ὤπυιε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις·
ἔν τ’ ἄρα οἱ φῦ χειρὶ ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·
«τίπτε, Θέτι τανύπεπλε, ἱκάνεις ἡμέτερον δῶ
αἰδοίη τε φίλη τε; πάρος γε μὲν οὔ τι θαμίζεις.
ἀλλ’ ἕπεο προτέρω, ἵνα τοι πὰρ ξείνια θείω.»
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασα πρόσω ἄγε δῖα θεάων.
τὴν μὲν ἔπειτα καθεῖσεν ἐπὶ θρόνου ἀργυροήλου
καλοῦ δαιδαλέου· ὑπὸ δὲ θρῆνυς ποσὶν ἦεν·
κέκλετο δ’ Ἥφαιστον κλυτοτέχνην εἶπέ τε μῦθον·
«Ἥφαιστε, πρόμολ’ ὧδε· Θέτις νύ τι σεῖο χατίζει.»
τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις·
«ἦ ῥά νύ μοι δεινή τε καὶ αἰδοίη θεὸς ἔνδον,
ἥ μ’ ἐσάωσ’, ὅτε μ’ ἄλγος ἀφίκετο τῆλε πεσόντα
μητρὸς ἐμῆς ἰότητι κυνώπιδος, ἥ μ’ ἐθέλησε
κρύψαι χωλὸν ἐόντα· τότ’ ἂν πάθον ἄλγεα θυμῷ,
εἰ μή μ’ Εὐρυνόμη τε Θέτις θ’ ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ,
Εὐρυνόμη, θυγάτηρ ἀψοῤῥόου Ὠκεανοῖο.
τῇσι παρ’ εἰνάετες χάλκευον δαίδαλα πολλά,
πόρπας τε γναμπτάς θ’ ἕλικας κάλυκάς τε καὶ ὅρμους
ἐν σπῆϊ γλαφυρῷ· περὶ δὲ ῥόος Ὠκεανοῖο
ἀφρῷ μορμύρων ῥέεν ἄσπετος· οὐδέ τις ἄλλος
ᾔδεεν οὔτε θεῶν οὔτε θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων,
ἀλλὰ Θέτις τε καὶ Εὐρυνόμη ἴσαν, αἵ μ’ ἐσάωσαν.
ἣ νῦν ἡμέτερον δόμον ἵκει· τώ με μάλα χρεὼ

πάντα Θέτι καλλιπλοκάμῳ ζῳάγρια τίνειν.
ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν νῦν οἱ παράθες ξεινήϊα καλά,
ὄφρ’ ἂν ἐγὼ φύσας ἀποθείομαι ὅπλά τε πάντα.»
Ἦ, καὶ ἀπ’ ἀκμοθέτοιο πέλωρ αἴητον ἀνέστη
χωλεύων· ὑπὸ δὲ κνῆμαι ῥώοντο ἀραιαί.
φύσας μέν ῥ’ ἀπάνευθε τίθει πυρός, ὅπλά τε πάντα
λάρνακ’ ἐς ἀργυρέην συλλέξατο, τοῖς ἐπονεῖτο·
σπόγγῳ δ’ ἀμφὶ πρόσωπα καὶ ἄμφω χεῖρ’ ἀπομόργνυ
αὐχένα τε στιβαρὸν καὶ στήθεα λαχνήεντα,
δῦ δὲ χιτῶν’, ἕλε δὲ σκῆπτρον παχύ, βῆ δὲ θύραζε
χωλεύων· ὑπὸ δ’ ἀμφίπολοι ῥώοντο ἄνακτι
χρύσειαι ζωῇσι νεήνισιν εἰοικυῖαι.
τῇς ἐν μὲν νόος ἐστὶ μετὰ φρεσίν, ἐν δὲ καὶ αὐδὴ
καὶ σθένος, ἀθανάτων δὲ θεῶν ἄπο ἔργα ἴσασιν.
αἱ μὲν ὕπαιθα ἄνακτος ἐποίπνυον· αὐτὰρ ὁ ἔῤῥων
πλησίον, ἔνθα Θέτις περ, ἐπὶ θρόνου ἷζε φαεινοῦ,
ἔν τ’ ἄρα οἱ φῦ χειρὶ ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·
«τίπτε Θέτι τανύπεπλε ἱκάνεις ἡμέτερον δῶ
αἰδοίη τε φίλη τε; πάρος γε μὲν οὔ τι θαμίζεις.
αὔδα ὅ τι φρονέεις· τελέσαι δέ με θυμὸς ἄνωγεν,
εἰ δύναμαι τελέσαι γε καὶ εἰ τετελεσμένον ἐστίν.»
Τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα Θέτις κατὰ δάκρυ χέουσα·
«Ἥφαιστ’, ἦ ἄρα δή τις, ὅσαι θεαί εἰσ’ ἐν Ὀλύμπῳ,
τοσσάδ’ ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ᾗσιν ἀνέσχετο κήδεα λυγρά,
ὅσσ’ ἐμοὶ ἐκ πασέων Κρονίδης Ζεὺς ἄλγε’ ἔδωκεν;
ἐκ μέν μ’ ἀλλάων ἁλιάων ἀνδρὶ δάμασσεν,
Αἰακίδῃ Πηλῆϊ, καὶ ἔτλην ἀνέρος εὐνὴν
πολλὰ μάλ’ οὐκ ἐθέλουσα. ὃ μὲν δὴ γήραϊ λυγρῷ
κεῖται ἐνὶ μεγάροις ἀρημένος, ἄλλα δέ μοι νῦν,
υἱὸν ἐπεί μοι δῶκε γενέσθαί τε τραφέμεν τε,
ἔξοχον ἡρώων· ὁ δ’ ἀνέδραμεν ἔρνεϊ ἶσος·

τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ θρέψασα φυτὸν ὣς γουνῷ ἀλωῆς,
νηυσὶν ἐπιπροέηκα κορωνίσιν Ἴλιον εἴσω
Τρωσὶ μαχησόμενον· τὸν δ’ οὐχ ὑποδέξομαι αὖτις
οἴκαδε νοστήσαντα δόμον Πηλήϊον εἴσω.
ὄφρα δέ μοι ζώει καὶ ὁρᾷ φάος ἠελίοιο,
ἄχνυται, οὐδέ τί οἱ δύναμαι χραισμῆσαι ἰοῦσα.
κούρην ἣν ἄρα οἱ γέρας ἔξελον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν,
τὴν ἂψ ἐκ χειρῶν ἕλετο κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων.
ἤτοι ὁ τῆς ἀχέων φρένας ἔφθιεν· αὐτὰρ Ἀχαιοὺς
Τρῶες ἐπὶ πρύμνῃσιν ἐείλεον, οὐδὲ θύραζε
εἴων ἐξιέναι· τὸν δὲ λίσσοντο γέροντες
Ἀργείων, καὶ πολλὰ περικλυτὰ δῶρ’ ὀνόμαζον.
ἔνθ’ αὐτὸς μὲν ἔπειτ’ ἠναίνετο λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι,
αὐτὰρ ὃ Πάτροκλον περὶ μὲν τὰ ἃ τεύχεα ἕσσε,
πέμπε δέ μιν πόλεμόνδε, πολὺν δ’ ἅμα λαὸν ὄπασσε.
πᾶν δ’ ἦμαρ μάρναντο περὶ Σκαιῇσι πύλῃσι·
καί νύ κεν αὐτῆμαρ πόλιν ἔπραθον, εἰ μὴ Ἀπόλλων
πολλὰ κακὰ ῥέξαντα Μενοιτίου ἄλκιμον υἱὸν
ἔκταν’ ἐνὶ προμάχοισι καὶ Ἕκτορι κῦδος ἔδωκε.
τοὔνεκα νῦν τὰ σὰ γούναθ’ ἱκάνομαι, αἴ κ’ ἐθέλῃσθα
υἱεῖ ἐμῷ ὠκυμόρῳ δόμεν ἀσπίδα καὶ τρυφάλειαν
καὶ καλὰς κνημῖδας ἐπισφυρίοις ἀραρυίας,
καὶ θώρηχ’· ὃ γὰρ ἦν οἱ ἀπώλεσε πιστὸς ἑταῖρος
Τρωσὶ δαμείς· ὁ δὲ κεῖται ἐπὶ χθονὶ θυμὸν ἀχεύων.»
Τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις·
«θάρσει· μή τοι ταῦτα μετὰ φρεσὶ σῇσι μελόντων.
αἲ γάρ μιν θανάτοιο δυσηχέος ὧδε δυναίμην
νόσφιν ἀποκρύψαι, ὅτε μιν μόρος αἰνὸς ἱκάνοι,
ὥς οἱ τεύχεα καλὰ παρέσσεται, οἷά τις αὖτε

ἀνθρώπων πολέων θαυμάσσεται, ὅς κεν ἴδηται.»
Ὣς εἰπὼν τὴν μὲν λίπεν αὐτοῦ, βῆ δ’ ἐπὶ φύσας·
τὰς δ’ ἐς πῦρ ἔτρεψε κέλευσέ τε ἐργάζεσθαι.
φῦσαι δ’ ἐν χοάνοισιν ἐείκοσι πᾶσαι ἐφύσων,
παντοίην εὔπρηστον ἀϋτμὴν ἐξανιεῖσαι,
ἄλλοτε μὲν σπεύδοντι παρέμμεναι, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε,
ὅππως Ἥφαιστός τ’ ἐθέλοι καὶ ἔργον ἄνοιτο.
χαλκὸν δ’ ἐν πυρὶ βάλλεν ἀτειρέα κασσίτερόν τε
καὶ χρυσὸν τιμῆντα καὶ ἄργυρον· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
θῆκεν ἐν ἀκμοθέτῳ μέγαν ἄκμονα, γέντο δὲ χειρὶ
ῥαιστῆρα κρατερήν, ἑτέρηφι δὲ γέντο πυράγρην.
Ποίει δὲ πρώτιστα σάκος μέγα τε στιβαρόν τε
πάντοσε δαιδάλλων, περὶ δ’ ἄντυγα βάλλε φαεινὴν
τρίπλακα μαρμαρέην, ἐκ δ’ ἀργύρεον τελαμῶνα.
πέντε δ’ ἄρ’ αὐτοῦ ἔσαν σάκεος πτύχες· αὐτὰρ ἐν αὐτῷ
ποίει δαίδαλα πολλὰ ἰδυίῃσι πραπίδεσσιν.
Ἐν μὲν γαῖαν ἔτευξ’, ἐν δ’ οὐρανόν, ἐν δὲ θάλασσαν,
ἠέλιόν τ’ ἀκάμαντα σελήνην τε πλήθουσαν,
ἐν δὲ τὰ τείρεα πάντα, τά τ’ οὐρανὸς ἐστεφάνωται,
Πληϊάδας θ’ Ὑάδας τε τό τε σθένος Ὠρίωνος
Ἄρκτόν θ’, ἣν καὶ Ἄμαξαν ἐπίκλησιν καλέουσιν,
ἥ τ’ αὐτοῦ στρέφεται καί τ’ Ὠρίωνα δοκεύει,
οἴη δ’ ἄμμορός ἐστι λοετρῶν Ὠκεανοῖο.
Ἐν δὲ δύω ποίησε πόλεις μερόπων ἀνθρώπων
καλάς. ἐν τῇ μέν ῥα γάμοι τ’ ἔσαν εἰλαπίναι τε,
νύμφας δ’ ἐκ θαλάμων δαΐδων ὕπο λαμπομενάων
ἠγίνεον ἀνὰ ἄστυ, πολὺς δ’ ὑμέναιος ὀρώρει·
κοῦροι δ’ ὀρχηστῆρες ἐδίνεον, ἐν δ’ ἄρα τοῖσιν
αὐλοὶ φόρμιγγές τε βοὴν ἔχον· αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες

ἱστάμεναι θαύμαζον ἐπὶ προθύροισιν ἑκάστη.
λαοὶ δ’ εἰν ἀγορῇ ἔσαν ἀθρόοι· ἔνθα δὲ νεῖκος
ὠρώρει, δύο δ’ ἄνδρες ἐνείκεον εἵνεκα ποινῆς
ἀνδρὸς ἀποφθιμένου· ὁ μὲν εὔχετο πάντ’ ἀποδοῦναι
δήμῳ πιφαύσκων, ὁ δ’ ἀναίνετο μηδὲν ἑλέσθαι·
ἄμφω δ’ ἱέσθην ἐπὶ ἴστορι πεῖραρ ἑλέσθαι.
λαοὶ δ’ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἐπήπυον ἀμφὶς ἀρωγοί·
κήρυκες δ’ ἄρα λαὸν ἐρήτυον· οἱ δὲ γέροντες
εἵατ’ ἐπὶ ξεστοῖσι λίθοις ἱερῷ ἐνὶ κύκλῳ,
σκῆπτρα δὲ κηρύκων ἐν χέρσ’ ἔχον ἠεροφώνων·
τοῖσιν ἔπειτ’ ἤϊσσον, ἀμοιβηδὶς δὲ δίκαζον.
κεῖτο δ’ ἄρ’ ἐν μέσσοισι δύω χρυσοῖο τάλαντα,
τῷ δόμεν ὃς μετὰ τοῖσι δίκην ἰθύντατα εἴποι.
Τὴν δ’ ἑτέρην πόλιν ἀμφὶ δύω στρατοὶ ἥατο λαῶν
τεύχεσι λαμπόμενοι· δίχα δέ σφισιν ἥνδανε βουλή,
ἠὲ διαπραθέειν ἢ ἄνδιχα πάντα δάσασθαι,
κτῆσιν ὅσην πτολίεθρον ἐπήρατον ἐντὸς ἔεργεν·
οἱ δ’ οὔ πω πείθοντο, λόχῳ δ’ ὑπεθωρήσσοντο.
τεῖχος μέν ῥ’ ἄλοχοί τε φίλαι καὶ νήπια τέκνα
ῥύατ’ ἐφεσταότες, μετὰ δ’ ἀνέρες οὓς ἔχε γῆρας·
οἱ δ’ ἴσαν· ἦρχε δ’ ἄρά σφιν Ἄρης καὶ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη
ἄμφω χρυσείω, χρύσεια δὲ εἵματα ἕσθην,
καλὼ καὶ μεγάλω σὺν τεύχεσιν, ὥς τε θεώ περ
ἀμφὶς ἀριζήλω· λαοὶ δ’ ὑπολίζονες ἦσαν.
οἱ δ’ ὅτε δή ῥ’ ἵκανον ὅθι σφίσιν εἶκε λοχῆσαι,
ἐν ποταμῷ, ὅθι τ’ ἀρδμὸς ἔην πάντεσσι βοτοῖσιν,
ἔνθ’ ἄρα τοί γ’ ἵζοντ’ εἰλυμένοι αἴθοπι χαλκῷ.
τοῖσι δ’ ἔπειτ’ ἀπάνευθε δύω σκοποὶ εἵατο λαῶν,
δέγμενοι ὁππότε μῆλα ἰδοίατο καὶ ἕλικας βοῦς.

οἱ δὲ τάχα προγένοντο, δύω δ’ ἅμ’ ἕποντο νομῆες
τερπόμενοι σύριγξι· δόλον δ’ οὔ τι προνόησαν.
οἱ μὲν τὰ προϊδόντες ἐπέδραμον, ὦκα δ’ ἔπειτα
τάμνοντ’ ἀμφὶ βοῶν ἀγέλας καὶ πώεα καλὰ
ἀργεννέων οἰῶν, κτεῖνον δ’ ἐπὶ μηλοβοτῆρας.
οἱ δ’ ὡς οὖν ἐπύθοντο πολὺν κέλαδον παρὰ βουσὶν
εἰράων προπάροιθε καθήμενοι, αὐτίκ’ ἐφ’ ἵππων
βάντες ἀερσιπόδων μετεκίαθον, αἶψα δ’ ἵκοντο.
στησάμενοι δ’ ἐμάχοντο μάχην ποταμοῖο παρ’ ὄχθας,
βάλλον δ’ ἀλλήλους χαλκήρεσιν ἐγχείῃσιν.
ἐν δ’ Ἔρις ἐν δὲ Κυδοιμὸς ὁμίλεον, ἐν δ’ ὀλοὴ Κήρ,
ἄλλον ζωὸν ἔχουσα νεούτατον, ἄλλον ἄουτον,
ἄλλον τεθνηῶτα κατὰ μόθον ἕλκε ποδοῖιν·
εἷμα δ’ ἔχ’ ἀμφ’ ὤμοισι δαφοινεὸν αἵματι φωτῶν.
ὡμίλευν δ’ ὥς τε ζωοὶ βροτοὶ ἠδ’ ἐμάχοντο,
νεκρούς τ’ ἀλλήλων ἔρυον κατατεθνηῶτας.
Ἐν δ’ ἐτίθει νειὸν μαλακὴν πίειραν ἄρουραν,
εὐρεῖαν τρίπολον· πολλοὶ δ’ ἀροτῆρες ἐν αὐτῇ
ζεύγεα δινεύοντες ἐλάστρεον ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα.
οἱ δ’ ὁπότε στρέψαντες ἱκοίατο τέλσον ἀρούρης,
τοῖσι δ’ ἔπειτ’ ἐν χερσὶ δέπας μελιηδέος οἴνου
δόσκεν ἀνὴρ ἐπιών· τοὶ δὲ στρέψασκον ἀν’ ὄγμους,
ἱέμενοι νειοῖο βαθείης τέλσον ἱκέσθαι.
ἡ δὲ μελαίνετ’ ὄπισθεν, ἀρηρομένῃ δὲ ἐῴκει,
χρυσείη περ ἐοῦσα· τὸ δὴ περὶ θαῦμα τέτυκτο.
Ἐν δ’ ἐτίθει τέμενος βασιλήϊον· ἔνθα δ’ ἔριθοι
ἤμων ὀξείας δρεπάνας ἐν χερσὶν ἔχοντες.
δράγματα δ’ ἄλλα μετ’ ὄγμον ἐπήτριμα πῖπτον ἔραζε,
ἄλλα δ’ ἀμαλλοδετῆρες ἐν ἐλλεδανοῖσι δέοντο.

τρεῖς δ’ ἄρ’ ἀμαλλοδετῆρες ἐφέστασαν· αὐτὰρ ὄπισθε
παῖδες δραγμεύοντες, ἐν ἀγκαλίδεσσι φέροντες,
ἀσπερχὲς πάρεχον· βασιλεὺς δ’ ἐν τοῖσι σιωπῇ
σκῆπτρον ἔχων ἑστήκει ἐπ’ ὄγμου γηθόσυνος κῆρ.
κήρυκες δ’ ἀπάνευθεν ὑπὸ δρυῒ δαῖτα πένοντο,
βοῦν δ’ ἱερεύσαντες μέγαν ἄμφεπον· αἳ δὲ γυναῖκες
δεῖπνον ἐρίθοισιν λεύκ’ ἄλφιτα πολλὰ πάλυνον.
Ἐν δ’ ἐτίθει σταφυλῇσι μέγα βρίθουσαν ἀλωὴν
καλὴν χρυσείην· μέλανες δ’ ἀνὰ βότρυες ἦσαν,
ἑστήκει δὲ κάμαξι διαμπερὲς ἀργυρέῃσιν.
ἀμφὶ δὲ κυανέην κάπετον, περὶ δ’ ἕρκος ἔλασσε
κασσιτέρου· μία δ’ οἴη ἀταρπιτὸς ἦεν ἐπ’ αὐτήν,
τῇ νίσοντο φορῆες ὅτε τρυγόῳεν ἀλωήν.
παρθενικαὶ δὲ καὶ ἠΐθεοι ἀταλὰ φρονέοντες
πλεκτοῖς ἐν ταλάροισι φέρον μελιηδέα καρπόν.
τοῖσιν δ’ ἐν μέσσοισι πάϊς φόρμιγγι λιγείῃ
ἱμερόεν κιθάριζε, λίνον δ’ ὑπὸ καλὸν ἄειδε
λεπταλέῃ φωνῇ· τοὶ δὲ ῥήσσοντες ἁμαρτῇ
μολπῇ τ’ ἰυγμῷ τε ποσὶ σκαίροντες ἕποντο.
Ἐν δ’ ἀγέλην ποίησε βοῶν ὀρθοκραιράων·
αἱ δὲ βόες χρυσοῖο τετεύχατο κασσιτέρου τε,
μυκηθμῷ δ’ ἀπὸ κόπρου ἐπεσσεύοντο νομόνδε
πὰρ ποταμὸν κελάδοντα, παρὰ ῥοδανὸν δονακῆα.
χρύσειοι δὲ νομῆες ἅμ’ ἐστιχόωντο βόεσσι
τέσσαρες, ἐννέα δέ σφι κύνες πόδας ἀργοὶ ἕποντο.
σμερδαλέω δὲ λέοντε δύ’ ἐν πρώτῃσι βόεσσι
ταῦρον ἐρύγμηλον ἐχέτην· ὃ δὲ μακρὰ μεμυκὼς
ἕλκετο· τὸν δὲ κύνες μετεκίαθον ἠδ’ αἰζηοί.

τὼ μὲν ἀναῤῥήξαντε βοὸς μεγάλοιο βοείην
ἔγκατα καὶ μέλαν αἷμα λαφύσσετον· οἱ δὲ νομῆες
αὔτως ἐνδίεσαν ταχέας κύνας ὀτρύνοντες.
οἱ δ’ ἤτοι δακέειν μὲν ἀπετρωπῶντο λεόντων,
ἱστάμενοι δὲ μάλ’ ἐγγὺς ὑλάκτεον ἔκ τ’ ἀλέοντο.
Ἐν δὲ νομὸν ποίησε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις
ἐν καλῇ βήσσῃ μέγαν οἰῶν ἀργεννάων,
σταθμούς τε κλισίας τε κατηρεφέας ἰδὲ σηκούς.
Ἐν δὲ χορὸν ποίκιλλε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις,
τῷ ἴκελον οἷόν ποτ’ ἐνὶ Κνωσῷ εὐρείῃ
Δαίδαλος ἤσκησεν καλλιπλοκάμῳ Ἀριάδνῃ.
ἔνθα μὲν ἠΐθεοι καὶ παρθένοι ἀλφεσίβοιαι
ὀρχεῦντ’ ἀλλήλων ἐπὶ καρπῷ χεῖρας ἔχοντες.
τῶν δ’ αἳ μὲν λεπτὰς ὀθόνας ἔχον, οἱ δὲ χιτῶνας
εἵατ’ ἐϋννήτους, ἦκα στίλβοντας ἐλαίῳ·
καί ῥ’ αἳ μὲν καλὰς στεφάνας ἔχον, οἱ δὲ μαχαίρας
εἶχον χρυσείας ἐξ ἀργυρέων τελαμώνων.
οἱ δ’ ὁτὲ μὲν θρέξασκον ἐπισταμένοισι πόδεσσι
ῥεῖα μάλ’, ὡς ὅτε τις τροχὸν ἄρμενον ἐν παλάμῃσιν
ἑζόμενος κεραμεὺς πειρήσεται, αἴ κε θέῃσιν·
ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖ θρέξασκον ἐπὶ στίχας ἀλλήλοισι.
πολλὸς δ’ ἱμερόεντα χορὸν περιίσταθ’ ὅμιλος
τερπόμενοι·
δοιὼ δὲ κυβιστητῆρε κατ’ αὐτοὺς
μολπῆς ἐξάρχοντες ἐδίνευον κατὰ μέσσους.
Ἐν δὲ τίθει ποταμοῖο μέγα σθένος Ὠκεανοῖο
ἄντυγα πὰρ πυμάτην σάκεος πύκα ποιητοῖο.

Αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τεῦξε σάκος μέγα τε στιβαρόν τε,
τεῦξ’ ἄρα οἱ θώρηκα φαεινότερον πυρὸς αὐγῆς,
τεῦξε δέ οἱ κόρυθα βριαρὴν κροτάφοις ἀραρυῖαν,
καλὴν δαιδαλέην, ἐπὶ δὲ χρύσεον λόφον ἧκε,
τεῦξε δέ οἱ κνημῖδας ἑανοῦ κασσιτέροιο.
Αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πάνθ’ ὅπλα κάμε κλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις,
μητρὸς Ἀχιλλῆος θῆκε προπάροιθεν ἀείρας.
ἡ δ’ ἴρηξ ὣς ἆλτο κατ’ Οὐλύμπου νιφόεντος,
τεύχεα μαρμαίροντα παρ’ Ἡφαίστοιο φέρουσα.

THE ILIAD XVIII

So they fought on like a raging form of fire, while Antilochus, a swift-footed messenger, came to Achilles. He found him before the high-prowed ships, pondering in his heart all that had now come to pass. And deeply troubled, he spoke to his own great heart: “Ah, woe is me! How is it that the long-haired Achaeans are once more driven back in confusion upon the ships, routed from the plain? Let it not be that the gods have fulfilled the cruel sorrows in my heart, as my mother once foretold to me, who said that while I yet lived, the best of the Myrmidons would be made to leave the light of the sun by the hands of the Trojans. Surely, then, the valiant son of Menoetius is dead. Ah, reckless one! And yet I commanded him, once he had beaten back the consuming fire, to return to the ships and not to fight against the might of Hector.” While he turned these things over in his mind and in his heart, the son of noble Nestor drew near to him, shedding hot tears, and delivered his grievous message: “Alas, son of wise-hearted Peleus, you must hear a most sorrowful tiding, one that I wish had never come to pass. Patroclus is fallen, and they are fighting over his naked corpse; for Hector of the flashing helm now has his armor.” So he spoke, and a black cloud of grief enveloped Achilles. With both hands he took up the soot-stained dust and poured it over his head, defiling his handsome face, and the black ash settled upon his nectar-scented tunic. And he, in all his might, lay mightily outstretched in the dust, and with his own hands he tore at his hair and disfigured it. The serving women, whom Achilles and Patroclus had taken as spoils of war, cried out in anguish of heart and ran out of the tent to be with wise-hearted Achilles. They all beat their breasts with their hands, and the strength fled from the limbs of each. On the other side, Antilochus also lamented, shedding tears, as he held the hands of Achilles, who groaned from the depths of his noble heart; for he feared that he might take a blade of iron and shear it through his own throat. He let out a dreadful cry, and his lady mother heard him, sitting in the depths of the sea beside her ancient father. At this, she too cried out, and the goddesses gathered around her, all the Nereids who dwell in the deep sea. There were Glauce and Thaleia and Cymodoce, Nesaie and Speio and Thoë and ox-eyed Halie, Cymothoë and Actaea and Limnoreia, and Melite and Iaira and Amphithoë and Agave, Doto and Proto and Pherousa and Dynamene, Dexamene and Amphinome and Callianeira, Doris and Panope and glorious Galatea, Nemertes and Apseudes and Callianassa. And there too were Clymene and Ianeira and Ianassa, Maera and Oreithyia and fair-tressed Amatheia, and all the other Nereids who dwell in the salt deeps. The silvery cave was filled with them, and all together they beat their breasts, as Thetis led the lament: “Listen, sister Nereids, so that all of you may hear and know the sorrows that weigh upon my heart. Woe is me, wretched one! Woe is me, I, cursed in the noble son I bore, I who brought forth a son both flawless and mighty, pre-eminent among heroes! He shot up like a sapling, and I nurtured him as one tends a plant in a fertile orchard plot, and I sent him forth in the beaked ships to Ilion to fight against the Trojans. But I shall not welcome him again, returned to his home in the house of Peleus. And while he lives and sees the light of the sun, he is beset by sorrow, and I can do nothing to help him by going to him. But I shall go, so that I may see my beloved child and hear what grief has come upon him while he holds back from the war.” So speaking, she left the cave, and her sisters went with her, weeping, and the waves of the sea parted before them. When they reached the fertile land of Troy, they came ashore one after another, where the ships of the Myrmidons were drawn up in close ranks around swift Achilles. His lady mother came and stood by him as he groaned heavily, and with a shrill cry she took her son’s head in her hands and, weeping, spoke to him these winged words: “My child, why do you weep? What sorrow has come to your heart? Speak out, do not hide it. Those things have indeed been brought to pass for you by Zeus, just as you once prayed for with hands upraised: that all the sons of the Achaeans should be pinned against the sterns of their ships for want of you, and suffer unspeakable things.” Then, with a heavy groan, swift-footed Achilles answered her: “My mother, the Olympian has indeed brought these things to pass for me. But what pleasure is there for me in this, since my beloved companion has perished, Patroclus, whom I honored above all my companions, as dear to me as my own life? I have lost him. And Hector, after killing him, has stripped him of that tremendous armor, a wonder to behold, a treasure which the gods gave to Peleus as a glorious gift on that day they laid you in the bed of a mortal man. Would that you had remained here among the immortal sea-goddesses, and that Peleus had taken a mortal wife. But now it has come to this, so that you too might have measureless grief in your heart for a son who is slain, whom you will not welcome home again. For my own heart no longer commands me to live or to remain among men, unless Hector is first struck down by my spear and loses his life, and so pays the price for despoiling Patroclus, son of Menoetius.” Then Thetis, shedding tears, answered him in turn: “Then you are swift-doomed indeed, my child, by what you say; for your own fate is ready to follow straight after Hector’s.” Greatly troubled, swift-footed Achilles replied to her: “Let me die at once, since I was not to stand by my companion at his slaying. He has perished far from his homeland, and he needed me there to be a shield against his doom. But now, since I will not return to my dear native land, and since I was no saving light to Patroclus, nor to my other companions who in their numbers have been laid low by godlike Hector, but sit here by the ships, a useless burden on the earth—I, who am such as no other of the bronze-clad Achaeans in war, though in counsel others are my better. Oh, that strife might perish from among gods and men, and anger, which incites even the wisest to rage; which, sweeter by far than dripping honey, swells like smoke in the chests of men. So did Agamemnon, lord of men, enrage me now. But let us leave these things of the past to be, for all our pain, and subdue the heart in our breasts by necessity. Now I shall go, that I may find the destroyer of that dear life, Hector. As for my own doom, I will accept it then, whenever Zeus and the other immortal gods wish to bring it to pass. For not even the might of Heracles escaped his doom, though he was most dear to Lord Zeus, son of Cronos; but fate, and the cruel wrath of Hera, subdued him. So I too, if a like fate has been fashioned for me, shall lie in rest when I am dead. But for now, let me win noble glory, and let me set some of the deep-bosomed Trojan and Dardanian women to wiping the tears from their soft cheeks with both hands, and to groaning without end, so they may know how long I have held back from the war. Do not seek to keep me from the fight, though you love me; you will not persuade me.” Then the goddess, silver-footed Thetis, answered him: “Yes, my child, what you say is true; it is no evil thing to ward off sheer destruction from your weary comrades. But your fine armor is held among the Trojans, bronze and gleaming. Hector of the flashing helm wears it upon his own shoulders and glories in it. Yet I do not think he will glory in it for long, for his own death is near him. But you must not yet plunge into the turmoil of Ares until you see me with your own eyes returning here. For at dawn I shall come, with the rising of the sun, bearing beautiful armor from the lord Hephaestus.” Having spoken thus, she turned away from her son and, turning to her sea-sisters, she addressed them: “You may now sink into the broad gulf of the sea to see the Old Man of the Sea and the halls of our father, and tell him everything. I, for my part, will go to high Olympus, to Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, to see if he will consent to give my son a renowned and dazzling suit of armor.” So she spoke, and they at once sank beneath the waves of the sea. And she, the goddess silver-footed Thetis, set out for Olympus, to bring back glorious armor for her beloved son. So her feet carried her toward Olympus. Meanwhile, the Achaeans, with a heavenly cry, fled before man-slaying Hector until they reached the ships and the Hellespont. Nor could the well-greaved Achaeans drag the body of Patroclus, squire of Achilles, from the reach of the missiles, for now he had been overtaken once more by the Trojan host and their horses, and by Hector, son of Priam, who in his fighting fury was like a flame. Three times glorious Hector seized him from behind by the feet, eager to drag him away, and he roared a great cry to the Trojans. Three times the two Aiantes, clothed in furious valor, beat him back from the corpse. But he, steadfast and trusting in his own might, would one moment charge into the fray, and the next would stand his ground, shouting his great cry, but he would not give back one step. And just as shepherds in the field cannot drive a tawny lion from a carcass when he is in the grip of a great hunger, so the two Aiantes, masters of the war-helm, could not frighten Hector, son of Priam, away from the body. And now he would have dragged it away and won unspeakable glory, had not wind-footed, swift Iris come running from Olympus as a messenger to the son of Peleus, bidding him to arm himself. She came in secret from Zeus and the other gods, for Hera had sent her. Standing close beside him, she spoke winged words: “Arise, son of Peleus, most fearsome of all men! Go and defend Patroclus, for whose sake a dreadful strife now rages before the ships. They are slaughtering one another, the Achaeans fighting to defend the dead man’s body, while the Trojans surge forward to drag it away to windy Ilion. Glorious Hector is the most eager of all to drag it off; his heart commands him to sever the head from the tender neck and fix it upon the sharpened stakes. But rise up, and lie here no longer! Let reverence for Patroclus fill your heart, lest he become a plaything for the dogs of Troy. It will be your shame, if his body should come back to you defiled.” Then the godlike, swift-footed Achilles answered her: “Goddess Iris, which of the gods has sent you as a messenger to me?” And wind-footed, swift Iris spoke to him in turn: “Hera sent me, the glorious consort of Zeus. The high-throned son of Cronos does not know, nor does any other of the immortals who dwell on snow-capped Olympus.” Answering her, swift-footed Achilles said: “How can I go into the fray? They have my armor. And my dear mother forbade me to arm myself until I see her with my own eyes upon her return; for she promised to bring fine armor from Hephaestus. I know of no other man whose glorious armor I might wear, except for the shield of Aias, son of Telamon. But he himself, I expect, is in the front ranks, wielding his spear in the fight for the fallen Patroclus.” Then wind-footed, swift Iris answered him again: “We too know well that your glorious armor is held by them. But go as you are to the trench and show yourself to the Trojans, so that in fear of you they might hold back from the war, and the warrior sons of the Achaeans may find a moment’s breath in their exhaustion. For even a brief respite in war is precious.” Having spoken thus, swift-footed Iris departed. But Achilles, beloved of Zeus, arose. And Athena cast her tasseled aegis about his mighty shoulders, and the divine goddess crowned his head with a golden cloud, and from it she kindled a dazzling flame. As when smoke goes up from a city and reaches the upper air, rising from a distant island that its enemies besiege, who all day long contend in the hateful strife of Ares from their own city walls; but as the sun sets, beacons blaze forth in rows, and their light leaps high for those dwelling nearby to see, in the hope that they might come with their ships to be their shield against ruin—so from the head of Achilles the light rose up to the heavens. He went and stood by the trench, away from the wall, and did not mingle with the Achaeans, for he respected his mother’s stern command. There he stood and shouted, and from afar Pallas Athena added her voice, and she stirred a boundless panic among the Trojans. As clear as the call of a trumpet when it rings out as soul-devouring enemies press around a city, so clear then was the voice of the grandson of Aeacus. And when they heard the brazen voice of Achilles, the hearts of all were shaken; and the horses with their beautiful manes turned the chariots back, for they sensed sorrows in their hearts. The charioteers were struck with terror when they saw the unwearying fire blazing terribly above the head of the great-souled son of Peleus, kindled by the goddess, grey-eyed Athena. Three times the godlike Achilles shouted his great cry over the trench, and three times the Trojans and their renowned allies were thrown into confusion. And there and then twelve of their best men perished, entangled among their own chariots and spears. But the Achaeans, with joyful hearts, drew Patroclus out from under the hail of weapons and laid him upon a litter. His dear companions stood around him, weeping, and among them followed swift-footed Achilles, shedding hot tears as he saw his faithful comrade lying on the bier, torn by the sharp bronze. He was the one he had sent forth with his horses and chariot into the war, but he did not welcome him back upon his return. Then the lady Hera of the ox-eyes sent the unwearying sun, against his will, to journey down toward the streams of Ocean. So the sun set, and the godlike Achaeans ceased from the bitter strife and the evenly matched war. The Trojans, for their part, withdrew from the fierce combat and unyoked their swift horses from their chariots. They gathered in assembly before they thought of their evening meal. The assembly was held with all men standing, for no one dared to sit; fear held them all, because Achilles had appeared, after so long an absence from the grievous battle. The first to speak among them was the prudent Polydamas, son of Panthous, for he alone could see both what lay behind and what lay ahead. He was a companion to Hector, and they were born on the same night, but one excelled by far in speech, and the other with the spear. With wise intent, he addressed the assembly and spoke among them: “My friends, consider this matter carefully. For my part, I urge you to return now to the city, and not to await the divine dawn here on the plain beside the ships, for we are far from the wall. As long as this man was wroth with godlike Agamemnon, the Achaeans were easier to fight. Indeed, I rejoiced to pass the night by the swift ships, hoping we might yet capture the rolling vessels. But now I am terribly afraid of the swift-footed son of Peleus. Such is his imperious spirit; he will not be content to remain on the plain where Trojans and Achaeans in the middle ground share the fury of Ares. No, he will fight for our city and for our women. Let us go to the city; believe me, for so it will be. For now, the ambrosial night has checked the swift-footed son of Peleus. But if he should find us here tomorrow, when he rushes forth in his armor, then many a man will come to know him. Joyfully will he who escapes reach sacred Ilion, but many of the Trojans will be devoured by dogs and vultures. May such a tale never reach my ears! If we follow my counsel, though it may grieve us, we will keep our forces together in the assembly place through the night, and the city will be protected by its towers and its high gates with the long, well-planed timbers fitted upon them, bolted fast. Then, at first light of dawn, we will arm ourselves in our gear and take our stand upon the towers. It will be the worse for him if he wishes to come from the ships and fight us for the wall. He will have to turn back to his ships, once he has worn out his high-necked horses by driving them in every direction beneath the city. But his spirit will not suffer him to force his way within, nor will he ever sack it. Before that, the swift dogs will devour him.” Then Hector of the flashing helm looked at him with a dark frown and said: “Polydamas, what you say is no longer pleasing to me, you who urge us to go back and be cooped up again in the city. Have you not yet had your fill of being shut up behind towers? There was a time when all mortal men spoke of the city of Priam as rich in gold and rich in bronze. But now the fine treasures of our homes have vanished, and many of our possessions have been sold away to Phrygia and lovely Maeonia, ever since great Zeus grew angry. But now, when the son of crooked-counseling Cronos has granted me to win glory at the ships and to pin the Achaeans against the sea, do not, you fool, display such thoughts among the people. For no one among the Trojans will listen to you; I will not allow it. But come, let us all do as I say. For now, take your supper in your companies throughout the army. Remember to post sentries, and let each man stay alert. And any Trojan who is unduly anxious about his possessions, let him gather them and give them to the people for public consumption; it is better that one of them should have the benefit of them than the Achaeans. Then at first light of dawn, we will arm ourselves in our gear and stir up sharp Ares by the hollow ships. And if godlike Achilles has truly risen up by the ships, it will be the worse for him, if he wishes it so. I, for one, will not flee from him out of the lamentable war, but will stand and face him squarely, to see whether he wins the great victory or I win it. The war god is common to all, and the slayer is sometimes slain.” So Hector spoke, and the Trojans roared their approval—fools, for Pallas Athena had stolen away their wits. They praised Hector for his evil counsel, but not a single one praised Polydamas, who had offered them a sound plan. Then they took their supper throughout the army. But the Achaeans, for their part, mourned Patroclus all through the night with their laments. The son of Peleus led the ceaseless grieving, laying his man-slaying hands upon the chest of his companion, groaning again and again, like a bearded lion whose cubs have been snatched from his thicket by a deer-hunter. The lion returns too late and is filled with grief, and he ranges through many valleys, tracking the man’s footsteps, hoping to find him somewhere, for a very bitter rage possesses him. So did Achilles, groaning heavily, speak among the Myrmidons: “Ah, what a vain promise I let fall on that day when I sought to comfort the hero Menoetius in his halls. I told him I would bring his glorious son back to Opoeis, after he had sacked Ilion and taken his share of the spoils. But Zeus does not bring to pass all the designs of men. It is fated for us both to redden the same earth here in Troy, since neither the old horseman Peleus nor my mother Thetis will welcome me back on my return to their great halls; but this earth here will hold me. Yet now, Patroclus, since I will go beneath the earth after you, I will not give you funeral rites until I have brought here the armor and the head of Hector, your great-hearted slayer. And before your pyre, I will cut the throats of twelve glorious sons of the Trojans, in my wrath for your slaying. Until then, you shall lie as you are by my beaked ships, and around you the deep-bosomed Trojan and Dardanian women will weep and mourn for you night and day, women whom we won for ourselves by our own strength and with the long spear, when we laid waste to the rich cities of mortal men.” So speaking, godlike Achilles ordered his companions to place a great tripod over the fire, so they might quickly wash the clotted blood from Patroclus. They set the tripod for heating water upon the blazing fire, poured water into it, and taking up wood, they kindled a fire beneath it. The fire licked the belly of the tripod, and the water grew warm. But when the water boiled in the gleaming bronze, they washed him and anointed him with rich olive oil, and filled his wounds with an ointment that had been kept for nine years. Then they laid him on a bier and covered him with a soft linen sheet from head to foot, and over that they spread a white cloak. All night long, then, the Myrmidons, gathered around swift-footed Achilles, mourned and lamented for Patroclus. Then Zeus spoke to Hera, his sister and his wife: “So you have had your way after all, my lady Hera of the ox-eyes, by rousing swift-footed Achilles. Truly, it must be that the long-haired Achaeans are born of your own flesh.” Then the lady Hera of the ox-eyes answered him: “Most dreadful son of Cronos, what a thing to say! Surely even a mortal man is likely to accomplish his purpose for another man, one who is mortal himself and does not know so many wiles. How then should I, who declare myself the first of goddesses, both by birth and because I am called your consort, while you are lord over all the immortals—how should I not, in my anger against the Trojans, weave evils for them?” While they spoke such things to one another, silver-footed Thetis arrived at the house of Hephaestus, an indestructible, star-spangled dwelling, pre-eminent among the homes of the immortals, a house of bronze, which the lame god himself had built. She found him sweating, turning about his bellows, hard at work; for he was fashioning twenty tripods in all, to stand around the wall of his well-founded hall. He had placed golden wheels underneath the base of each one, so that they might enter the divine assembly of their own accord and return again to his house, a wonder to behold. They were so far finished, but the intricate handles were not yet attached; these he was making ready, and he was forging the rivets. While he labored at this with his cunning skill, the goddess silver-footed Thetis drew near. Fair Charis of the shining veil saw her as she approached, the lovely one whom the renowned lame god had married. She took her by the hand and spoke her name, saying: “Thetis of the long robes, why do you come to our house, you who are revered and dear to us? You have not been a frequent visitor before now. But follow me further inside, so I may offer you the gifts of hospitality.” So speaking, the divine goddess led her forward. Then she seated her on a throne of silver-studs, beautiful and artfully made, with a footstool beneath her feet. And she called to Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, and said: “Hephaestus, come here! Thetis has need of you for something.” Then the renowned lame god answered her: “Truly, then, there is a dreadful and revered goddess within my house, she who saved me when I was suffering from my great fall, which came about by the will of my own dog-faced mother, who wished to hide me away because I was lame. I would have suffered grievously in my heart then, had not Eurynome and Thetis received me into their bosom—Eurynome, daughter of the backward-flowing Ocean. For nine years I stayed with them and forged many intricate things—brooches, and coiling armbands, and rosettes, and necklaces—in a hollow cave, while around me the stream of Ocean flowed, murmuring with foam, an endless current. No one else knew of it, neither among gods nor among mortal men; only Thetis and Eurynome knew, they who had saved me. And now she has come to my house. Therefore, I must by all means repay Thetis of the lovely tresses for the saving of my life. But you, go and set fine offerings of hospitality before her, while I put away my bellows and all my tools.” He spoke, and the monstrous, panting bulk rose up from his anvil block, limping, and his slender legs moved nimbly beneath him. He set the bellows away from the fire and gathered all the tools he worked with into a silver chest. With a sponge he wiped his face and both his hands, his sturdy neck and his hairy chest. He put on a tunic, took up a stout staff, and went to the door, limping. And serving-maids of gold moved briskly to support their master, looking like living young women. In them is intelligence in their hearts, and in them are voice and strength, and they have learned their craft from the immortal gods. They busied themselves at their master’s side, while he, hobbling along, drew near to where Thetis was and sat down upon a shining throne. He took her by the hand, spoke her name, and said: “Thetis of the long robes, why do you come to our house, you who are revered and dear to us? You have not been a frequent visitor before now. Speak what is on your mind; my heart commands me to fulfill it, if I am able to fulfill it and if it is a thing that can be fulfilled.” Then Thetis, shedding tears, answered him: “Hephaestus, is there any goddess on Olympus who has had to endure in her heart so many bitter sorrows as Zeus, the son of Cronos, has given me, beyond all others? From among all the other sea-goddesses, he subjugated me to a mortal man, Peleus, son of Aeacus, and I had to endure a mortal’s bed, much against my will. He now lies in his halls, broken by grim old age, but I have other sorrows now. For after he granted me a son to be born and to be raised, pre-eminent among heroes, who shot up like a sapling; and after I nurtured him as one tends a plant in a fertile orchard plot and sent him forth in the beaked ships to Ilion to fight against the Trojans—I shall not welcome him again, returned to his home in the house of Peleus. And while he lives and sees the light of the sun, he is beset by sorrow, and I can do nothing to help him by going to him. The girl whom the sons of the Achaeans had chosen for him as his prize of honor, lord Agamemnon took her back from his hands. In his grief for her, Achilles wasted his own heart away. But the Trojans pinned the Achaeans against the sterns of their ships and would not let them venture forth. The elders of the Argives pleaded with him and named many glorious gifts. Then he himself refused to ward off destruction, but he let Patroclus put on his own armor and sent him into the war, giving him many men to go with him. All day long they fought by the Scaean Gates, and that very day they would have sacked the city, had not Apollo slain the valiant son of Menoetius in the front lines after he had wrought much destruction, and so given the glory to Hector. For this reason, I have come now to your knees, to see if you would be willing to give my swift-doomed son a shield and a helmet, and fine greaves fitted with ankle-guards, and a breastplate. For the armor he had was lost when his faithful companion was laid low by the Trojans; and my son lies on the ground, his heart consumed with grief.” Then the renowned lame god answered her: “Take heart. Let these things not trouble your mind. Would that I were as able to hide him away from the clamor of death when his dreadful fate comes upon him, as I am able to ensure that he will have fine armor, such as any man among the multitudes will marvel at, whoever may see it.” So speaking, he left her there and went to his bellows. He turned them toward the fire and commanded them to work. And the twenty bellows all blew upon the crucibles, sending out a well-regulated blast of every intensity, sometimes strong to aid him in his haste, and at other times gentle, just as Hephaestus wished and as the work required. He cast into the fire stubborn bronze and tin, and precious gold and silver. Then he set a great anvil on the anvil block, and in one hand he took a mighty hammer, and in the other he took the tongs. First, he fashioned a shield, great and sturdy, decorating it all over, and around it he set a gleaming rim, triple-layered and glittering, and from it he hung a silver strap. The shield itself was of five layers, and on it he fashioned many intricate designs with his cunning skill. On it he wrought the earth, and the sky, and the sea, the unwearying sun and the moon at its full, and on it all the constellations that crown the heavens: the Pleiades and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, which men also call the Wain, which turns in its place and watches Orion, and alone has no part in the baths of Ocean. And on it he made two beautiful cities of mortal men. In the one, there were weddings and feasts. They were leading brides from their chambers under the light of blazing torches through the city, and the loud wedding song arose. Young men were whirling in the dance, and among them the flutes and lyres kept up their call. And the women stood, each at her own doorway, and marveled. The people were gathered in the assembly place, where a dispute had arisen, and two men were arguing over the blood-price for a man who had been killed. The one claimed he had paid in full, declaring it to the people, but the other denied he had received anything. Both were eager to find a resolution before a judge. The people were shouting for both sides, each faction supporting its man. The heralds were keeping the people in check. And the elders sat on polished stones in a sacred circle, and they held in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. With these they would then rise up and give their judgments, each in his turn. And in their midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him who among them should plead his case most justly. But around the other city lay two armies of men, gleaming in their armor. And two plans found favor with them: either to storm the city and sack it, or to divide in two all the wealth that the lovely citadel held within. But the besieged were not yet persuaded, and were arming for an ambush. Their dear wives and their little children stood guard on the wall, and with them the men who were held back by old age. But the others went forth, and Ares and Pallas Athena led them, both fashioned of gold, with golden garments, beautiful and tall in their armor, like gods, conspicuous on both sides, while the people were smaller. And when they came to the place where they had decided to set their ambush, in a riverbed, where there was a watering place for all the herds, there they sat, wrapped in their gleaming bronze. Apart from them, two lookouts for the army were seated, waiting for the moment they might see the sheep and the curved-horned cattle. The herds soon came forth, with two shepherds following, delighting in their pipes, for they had no inkling of the trick. The men in ambush saw them and ran at them, and at once they began to cut off the herds of cattle and the fine flocks of white-fleeced sheep, and they killed the shepherds with them. But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of assembly and heard the great clamor arising from among the cattle, immediately mounted their high-stepping horses and gave chase, and they quickly arrived. They took their stand and fought a battle by the banks of the river, and they struck one another with their bronze-tipped spears. Among them mingled Strife and Tumult and deadly Fate, holding one man alive but newly wounded, another unwounded, and another she dragged, dead, by the feet through the turmoil. The cloak she wore on her shoulders was red with the blood of men. They moved and fought like living mortals, and they dragged away the bodies of their own who had been slain. And on it he set a soft fallow field, a rich plowland, wide and plowed for a third time. And in it many plowmen were driving their yoked teams back and forth. Whenever they turned and reached the end of the field, a man would come to them and place in their hands a cup of honey-sweet wine. Then they would turn back along their furrows, eager to reach the end of the deep fallow land. And the field behind them grew black and looked as if it had been plowed, though it was made of gold; this was indeed a marvel of the craft. And on it he set a king’s estate, where hired laborers were reaping, holding sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls of grain were falling in rows to the ground, while others the sheaf-binders were tying up with twisted straw. Three sheaf-binders stood by, and behind them, boys were gathering the cut grain, carrying it in their arms and tirelessly providing it. And among them, the king stood in silence by the furrow, holding his staff, his heart filled with joy. Heralds, at a distance, were preparing a feast under an oak tree; they had sacrificed a great ox and were dressing it, while the women were sprinkling much white barley for the laborers’ supper. And on it he set a vineyard, heavy with clusters of grapes, beautiful and golden; but the grapes upon it were black. It stood supported all through by silver poles. Around it he drove a trench of blue enamel, and about that a fence of tin. A single path led to it, by which the grape-gatherers came and went when they harvested the vineyard. Young girls and youths, with innocent thoughts, were carrying the honey-sweet fruit in woven baskets. And in their midst, a boy played a lovely tune on a clear-toned lyre and sang the beautiful Linos-song in a high, clear voice. And the others followed him, beating the ground together with skipping feet, with song and with shouts. And on it he made a herd of straight-horned cattle. The cows were fashioned of gold and of tin, and with a lowing sound they were hurrying from the dung-yard to a pasture beside a murmuring river, beside the swaying reeds. And herdsmen of gold were walking along with the cattle, four of them, and nine swift-footed dogs followed them. But two dreadful lions among the foremost cows had seized a bellowing bull, and he, moaning loudly, was being dragged away, while the dogs and the young men pursued him. The two lions, having torn open the great bull’s hide, were gorging on its entrails and its black blood, while the herdsmen in vain urged on their swift dogs to attack. But the dogs shied away from biting the lions, and instead they stood very near and barked, but kept out of harm’s way. And on it the renowned lame god fashioned a pasture in a beautiful glen, a great pasture for white-fleeced sheep, with stables and roofed huts and pens. And on it the renowned lame god wrought a dancing floor, like the one that Daedalus once fashioned in broad Knossos for Ariadne of the lovely tresses. There, youths and maidens, whose bride-price was many oxen, were dancing, holding each other’s hands at the wrist. The maidens wore robes of fine linen, and the youths wore well-spun tunics, faintly gleaming with oil. The maidens wore beautiful garlands, and the youths had golden daggers hanging from silver belts. At one moment they would run with skillful feet, very lightly, as when a potter sits and tries his wheel, fitted to his palms, to see if it will run. At another moment, they would run in lines toward each other. And a great crowd stood around the lovely dance, enjoying the sight. And two tumblers, leading the song, were whirling in their midst. And on it he set the great might of the River Ocean, along the outermost rim of the sturdily made shield. Then, when he had fashioned the shield, great and sturdy, he fashioned for him a breastplate brighter than the glare of fire. And he fashioned for him a heavy helmet, fitted to his temples, beautiful and artfully made, and on it he set a crest of gold. And he fashioned for him greaves of pliant tin. Then, when the renowned lame god had completed all the armor, he took it and set it before the mother of Achilles. And she, like a hawk, leaped down from snow-capped Olympus, bearing the gleaming armor from Hephaestus.

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