Book XVIII

SO fought they on with the ravening fury of blazing flame;
But Antilochus unto Achilles, a fleetfoot messenger, came.
And he found him, and lo, in front of the tall-horned galleys he was,
Foreboding within his soul even that which had come to pass;
For sorely disquieted unto his high-souled spirit he spoke:
“Ah me! now wherefore again do Achaia’s long-haired folk
Stream back to the galleys in panic and huddled confusion of rout?
Dark broodeth a fear on my soul—have the Gods now brought it about
As my mother revealed in the days overpast?—for she told me then
That, while I yet was alive, the best of the Myrmidon men
By the hands of the Trojans down from the light of the sun should be sped.
Surely, ah surely, Menoitius’ stalwart son is dead!
Ah headstrong!—I bade him, when back he had thrust the fire of our foes,
To return to the galleys, and nowise in battle with Hector to close.”
Even as thus in his heart and his spirit he pondered thereon,
Came to the hero’s presence lordly Nestor’s son,
And the tidings of anguish he told, fast shedding the scalding tear:
“Ah me, thou scion of Peleus the war-wise, a tale must thou hear
Most woeful: would God it had never befallen, this bitter bane!
Low lieth Patroclus, and now are they battling around the slain
For the naked corse; for his armour hath Hector the bright-helmed ta’en.”
Then a black cloud sorrow-fraught enshrouded Achilles round,
And with both his hands upcaught he the hearth-grimed dust from the ground;
And he showered it adown on his head, that his goodly visage was marred,
And his nectar-breathing tunic was flecked with the ash black-charred:
And the mighty grovelled in dust, as a Titan were stretched out there.
Yea, and himself with his own hands rent and marred his hair.
And the handmaids, the thralls that Achilles erewhile and Patroclus had won,
Shrieked loudly in anguish of spirit, and forth of the tent did they run,
And they flocked round war-wise Achilles, and smote with her hands each one
On her breast, and beneath her the limbs of each one fainted and failed.
And overagainst them with shedding of tears Antilochus wailed,
Grasping Achilles’ hands, for his noble heart in its pain
So groaned, that he feared lest with steel he should shear his throat in twain.
And he cried with an awful cry, and his mother the Sea-queen heard
‘As she sat by the Ancient her sire in the sea-depths: anguish-stirred
Shrieked she thereat, and gathered around her the nymphs divine,
Even all the daughters of Nereus that dwelt in abysses of brine.
Came Glauké, Thaleia, and hasted Kymodoké therebeside;
Nesaia, and Speio, and Thoé, and Halié lovely-eyed,
Aktaia, Kymothoé, Limnércia the maid of the mere,
Iaira, and Melité, Amphithoé, and Agavé were there:
Doto, Pherusa, and Proto, Dynamené came at her call;
Dexamené, Amphinomé, and Kallianeira withal:
And with Doris and Panopé came Galateia the song-renowned;
And there were Nemertes, Apseudes, and Kallianassa found:
Ianeira, and Oreithyia, and Klymené thitherward pressed;
Ianassa, and Maira withal, Amatheia the lovely-tressed,
And other the daughters of Nereus in depths of the brine that abide.
Thronged was the shimmering cavern, and echoed from side to side
As they smote on their bosoms; and Thetis began the lamenting, and cried:
“List, Nereid sisters mine, to the end that ye all may know,
When ye hear of the sorrows that fill mine heart, and the burden of woe.
Ah me! ah hapless me, who bare to my sorrow the best,
Who brought forth a son so noble, and nursed the strong at my breast,
The peerless mid heroes, whose stature up like a sapling shot,
And I nurtured him even as a plant in a fruitful garden-plot,
Till in beaked galleys I sent him forth to the Ilian shore
To fight with the Trojans: but him shall I welcome home never more
In Peleus’ palace-halls, when the home-return is won.
Nay, yet while he liveth before me, and seeth the light of the sun,
He hath sorrow, and naught may I help, what though for his aid I draw near.
Yet will I go to behold my belovéd son, and to hear
What grief hath o’ertaken him, though from the battle aloof he abide.”
So spake she, and forth of the cavern she went, and the nymphs at her side
Went weeping, and round them was cloven asunder the surge of the sea.
So when they were come unto Troy, the land of the fruitful lea,
One after one stepped forth on the beach, where the thronged array
Of the Myrmidon galleys to right and to left of Achilles lay.
And, as deeply he groaned, the Lady his mother stood by his side,
And clasping her brave son’s head with a shriek far-ringing she cried:
And she mourned over him, and lamented, and spake the wingéd word:
“Son, why dost thou weep?—with what manner of grief is thy spirit stirred?
Speak, hide it not from me:—in sooth, one thing is accomplished to-day
Of Zeus, even all thy desire, when with lifting of hands thou didst pray
That all Achaia’s sons by the sterns of the ships should be pent
For lack of thine help, and with anguish and shame to the earth should be bent.”
Then heavily groaned fleet-footed Achilles, and answered he:
“My mother, this the Olympian King hath accomplished for me.
But wherein is my comfort thereof, since dead is the friend of my love,
Even Patroclus, the man that I honoured all others above,
Yea, as myself. I have lost him. ’Twas Hector that slew him, and tare
From his body mine armour, a marvel to look on, unearthly-fair,
The mail that the Gods upon Peleus bestowed, a gift of pride,
On the day whereon they constrained thee to couch by a mortal’s side.
‘Would God that then with the deathless Nymphs of the Sea thou hadst stayed
Far off, and that Peleus had taken to wife a mortal maid!
But now was it done, that on thy soul also measureless pain
Should fall for thy perished child, whom thou never shalt welcome again
As home I return; for my spirit commandeth in vengeance-thirst
That I live not, nor tarry midst men, except this Hector first,
Stricken to death by my spear, his soul amid blood outshed,
And requite me for blood of Menoitius’ son, for Patroclus dead.”
Then Thetis with tears fast-flowing answered her son, and she said:
“Ah, swift shall thy doom be, my son, by this that thou sayest to me,
For that straightway after Hector is death ready-dight for thee.”
Then sorely disquieted fleetfoot Achilles made reply:
“May I die straightway, forasmuch as it was not to be that I
Should defend at his slaying my friend: far, far from his fatherland-home
He perished, and me he lacked to shield his life from doom!
But now—for I shall not return to the dear home-land again,
And was not to Patroclus a light of life, nor to those true men,
My comrades, the multitudes slain by Hector like to a God,
But I sit by the galleys a load on the earth, a cumbering clod,
Though like unto me is there none the brass-clad Achaians among
In battle, albeit in council be others more cunning of tongue:—
O that contention might perish from men and the Dwellers in Heaven,
And anger, whereby into fury even the wise is driven,
Which, sweeter by far than the trickling gold from the honeycomb shed,
In the breasts of men like smoke doth subtly gather and spread,
As the wrath that the King of Men, Agamemnon, hath kindled in me.
Yet the past will I leave to be past, how anguished soever I be,
Curbing the soul in my breast by the might of Necessity:—
But now will I go, that on him who destroyed my beloved I may light,
Hector, and death will I welcome, whenso it seemeth right
Unto Zeus and the rest of the deathless Gods that mine hour shall come.
For I ween not even the might of Hérakles ’scaped his doom,
Albeit the dearest of all men to Zeus Kronion he was;
But his weird and the malice of Héré brought his destruction to pass.
Thus also shall I, if a weird is ordained for me like unto his,
Lie low, when I perish. But glorious fame let me win ere this,
And on some deep-bosomed daughter of Troy and of Dardanus lay
A burden of ceaseless lamenting, to moan and to wipe away
With both her trembling hands from her dainty cheeks the tear,
And cause her to know that from war o’erlong have I tarried here.
Then hinder me not of thy love from the fight, for I may not obey.”
Unto him did the Goddess Thetis the Silver-footed say:
“Yea, sooth is the word thou hast said, my child, it were no ill deed
To shield from swift destruction thy friends in the hour of their need.
Yet amidst of the Trojans lieth thy fair-wrought battle-gear;
Thy flashing armour of brass doth Hector rejoicing wear
On his shoulders—Hector the stormy-crested: but this say I,
Not long shall he vaunt him therein, for his death is now hard by.
But thou from the toil of the War-god yet for a little refrain
Until-with thine eyes thou behold me hitherward faring again.
For at dawn will I come, yea, even as riseth the sun o’er the land
With fair-fashioned harness of fight from Hephaistus the King in mine hand.”
So spake she, and backward she turned from her son, the valiant and stout;
And she spake to her sisters, the Maids of the Sea, as she turned her about:
“Into the sea’s broad-heaving bosom now plunge ye,
To behold the halls of your father, the Ancient of the Sea,
And to tell to him all these things: but to high Olympus I fare,
To Hephaistus the craft-renowned, if perchance he will grant my prayer
To give to my son war-harness, a glory of flashing light.”
She spake, and beneath the surge of the sea did they plunge forthright.
But the Goddess Thetis of silver feet to Olympus is gone
With purpose to bear that glorious mail to her dear-loved son.
So her to Olympus her feet bare on. But Achaia’s rout
From Hector the manslayer’s face with yell and unearthly shout
Fleeing, were come to the galleys and Hellespont’s rushing wave.
Yea, the Achaians goodly-greaved had availed not to save
From the javelins Achilles’ henchman, the corpse of Patroclus slain
For the host of the foe and the charging steeds overtook him again,
And Hector the son of Priam, in prowess as blazing fire.
Thrice Hector the glorious grasped his feet, in his fierce desire
To hale him away, and with great voice cried to the Trojan folk:
And thrice the Aiantes twain, with fierce might clad as a cloak,
Dashed him aback from the corpse, but in pride of his strength pressing on
Now through the battle-turmoil upon them he leapt, and anon
Stood firm, nor shrank one whit, while rang his mighty yell.
And as wold-abiders can drive not a lion of tawny fell
From his quarry, a slaughtered sheep, when he hungereth sore for the prey;
Even so these warriors twain, the Aiantes, could scare not away
Hector, nor cause to flee from the body Priam’s son.
And now had he haled it thence, and renown beyond words had he won,
Except unto Peleus’ child there had come from Olympus’ height
Swift Iris the wind-foot messenger rushing to rouse him to fight,
Unwares unto Zeus and the rest of the Gods, but of Héré sped.
And she came to his side, and she uttered the winged word-flight, and she said:
“Up, scion of Peleus, thou of the sons of men most dread!
Up for Patroclus’ defending, for whose sake terrible strife
Is afoot by the galleys, and foeman is spilling foeman’s life,
These, round the corpse of the slain man ranged for a battle-fence,
And those, the children of Troy on-storming to drag him thence
Unto Ilium the windy: and Hector the glorious more than they all
Lusteth to hale him: his spirit hath bidden him set on the wall,
On the stakes thereof, that head by his sword from the smooth neck shorn.
Up then! lie still no more: let thy soul think shame and scorn
That Patroclus to hounds of Troy should be made a ravin-delight,
And to thee a reproach, if his corse shall suffer foul despite.”
But fleetfoot Achilles the godlike answered her doubtfully:
“O Goddess Iris, now which of the Gods hath sent thee to me?”
Then unto him spake Iris the swift, and the Wind-foot replied:
“It was Héré that sped my flight, even Zeus’s glorious bride:
And. Kronos’ son high-throned naught knoweth, nor any beside
Of the Deathless that high on Olympus the snow-overmantled abide.”
Then unto her did Achilles the fleetfoot answering say:
“But how shall I enter the fight?—my battle-gear have they;
And my mother hath given command that I go not forth to the fray
Until such time as mine eyes shall behold her again stand here.
For she pledged her to bring from Hephaistus beautiful battle-gear.
And I know not any beside whose glorious arms I could don,
Except it were haply the buckler of Aias Telamon’s son.
Howbeit himself, I ween, in the forefront of battle is found,
And for dead Patroclus’ sake doth his spear deal death around.”
But wind-foot Iris the swift made answer, and thus spake she:
“Well know we too that thy glorious arms be withheld from thee.
Yet go as thou art to the trench, and appear in the Trojans’ sight,
If perchance they will quail before thee, and backward shrink from the fight;
And the warrior sons of Achaia shall gain, when sore distressed,
A breathing-space, though scant be the battle’s respite or rest.”
So answered him fleetfoot Iris, and out of his sight she passed.
But Achilles the Zeus-beloved sprang up, and Athéné cast
About his mighty shoulders her aegis tassel-hung,
And around his head that Goddess divine a cloud-wreath flung
Golden, and kindled a flame therefrom far-flashing its light.
And as when from a city a smoke goeth up to the welkin’s height
From afar, from an island, when round it the leaguer of battle doth close,
And her folk all day in the terrible strife contend with their foes
From the wall of their city, until at the last with the sun’s down-going
Blaze forth the beacons arow; uprusheth the glare red-glowing,
High-soaring over the dark, that the dwellers around may espy,
If they haply will sail in their galleys to save them from doom drawn nigh:
Even so from the head of Achilles the glare went up to the sky.
And he strode from the wall to the trench, and he stood, yet not to the rest
Of the host of Achaia he joined him, but heeded his mother’s behest.
There stood he and shouted, and Pallas Athéné from far away
Uttered her voice, and she thrilled the Trojans with sore dismay.
And even as pealeth the clear-ringing cry, when the war-horns sound
Of the life-devouring foes that beleaguer a city round,
Even so did the voice of Aiakus’ son peal loud and clear;
And the brazen voice of Aiakus’ son did the foemen hear,
And shaken was each man’s soul: and the horses of beautiful mane
Backward swerved with the cars, for their spirit boded bane.
And scared were the charioteers that tireless flame to behold
That dread blaze over the head of Peleides the mighty-souled
Glaring; for kindled it was of Athéné the flashing-eyed.
Thrice mightily over the trench Achilles the godlike cried,
And the Trojans thrice, and their war-aid, reeled in disarray.
Then in that hour twelve mightiest men did the terror slay,
By their own cars crushed, by their own spears pierced. But exceeding fain
From beneath the darts the Achaians drew Patroclus slain.
On a litter they laid him, and round him his loving comrades pressed
Mourning, and fleetfoot Achilles followed the dead with the rest,
Shedding the hot-gushing tears, beholding his comrade true,
As there on the bier he lay, with the keen-whetted brass pierced through.
Ah surely forth had he sent him with steeds and battle-car,
But he welcomed him never again returning aback from the war.
And the tireless sun did the Lady Héré the lovely-eyed
Send to return full loth to the Ocean-stream’s swift tide.
So the sun went down to his rest, and the godlike Achaians refrained
From the mighty labour of strife and the battle equal-strained.
And overagainst them the children of Troy from the mighty fray
Drew back, and the fleetfoot steeds from the chariot-yoke loosed they.
And in council they met, ere any his meat of the even prepared.
And behold, all stood on their feet in the council, was none that dared
Sit down, for that trembling gat hold on them all for that dread sight
Of Achilles’ appearing, when long he had ceased from the bitter fight.
And Polydamas, Panthoüs’ wise-heart son, first uttered his rede,
Who alone to the deed overpast and the deed unborn gave heed.
Companion of Hector he was, and was born in the selfsame night,
But better in speechcraft was this, and that in the spearman’s might;
And with kindly intent he harangued them, and thus to their host ’gan cry:
“Bethink ye of both ways well, O friends:—thus counsel I,
That back to the city we wend, neither tarry the dawn of day
In the plain by the galleys: behold, the wall is far away.
So long as against Agamemnon the anger of this man glowed,
More lightly the onset then of Achaia’s host we abode:
For I too then through the night with joy by the galleys lay
Flushed with the hope of winning the sea-swayed ships for a prey.
But at fleetfoot Achilles now do I tremble exceedingly,
So dauntless, so fierce is the spirit of him: he will deign not, he,
To abide in the plain where Achaian and Trojan heretofore
Foeman with foe in the midspace shared the fury of war:
Nay, but to win our town and our wives will Achilles contend.
But hearken to me: go we to the city; for thus shall it end:—
Now naught save the night hath held back Peleus’ fleetfoot son,
The balmy night: but if here he shall find us lingering on,
When tomorn in his armour he rusheth forth, I ween there be some
Shall know him full well; for with joy unto Ilium the holy shall come
Whosoe’er shall escape; and many a Trojan shall vultures devour
And dogs—ah, far from mine ear be the tale of such terrible hour!
But and if ye will hearken and heed my words, howsoever we chafe,
Through the night in assembly our strength shall we keep, and our town shall be safe:
By her towers and her high-built gates with the massy planks overlaid,
Long, polished, and morticed close, shall triumphant resistance be made.
And tomorn, in the twilight of dawn, sheathed all in our war-array
Will we stand on the towers: he shall fare full ill, if he then shall essay
From the galleys to come, yon fenced keep from our hands to wrest.
To the galleys aback shall he flee, when his steeds of the stately crest
Shall be weary of charging in vain ‘neath her ramparts everywhere.
But his fierceness of fury shall nowise win him an entrance there:
He shall never destroy it: ere then even him shall the swift hounds tear.’
‘But Hector the stormy-crested answered with lowering brow:
“Polydamas, hateful to me is this thy counsel now,
‘Who biddest us fare to the city again, therein to be penned.
What, man, hath our hunger for prisoning walls of towers no end?
Time was when the children of men of the city of Priam told,
Of the store of her hoarded brass, of the wealth of her garnered gold:
But now all lost from our homes those goodly treasures are;
For many to Phrygia and fair Maeonia-land afar
Have been sold; they are gone: for great Zeus hated us then, I trow.
But the Son of the Lord of Unsearchable Counsels hath granted me now
To win me renown at the ships, and to pen our foes on the shore;
Then, fool, speak thou thine imaginings forth mid the people no more,
For thee no Trojan shall heed; I will suffer not this to befall.
But come now, as I shall speak, even so be it done of us all:
Your supper throughout the host, as ranged be the ranks, shall ye take,
And set ye the watch of the night, and let each take heed that he wake.
And if any Trojan is troubled lest haply his wealth should be lost,
Let him gather and part mid the people, and set forth a feast for the host.
It were better to gladden these than to glut the Achaians’ greed.
And to-morrow, when breaketh the dawn, sheathed all in battle-weed
By the hollow ships will we rouse up Arés to slaughter to speed.
But and if by the galleys Achilles the godlike is risen indeed,
With him shall it go full hard, if he will: I will flee not, I,
Before him from war death-echoing: stoutly and steadfastly
Will I face him: or he or I shall bear thence high renown.
The War-god favoureth not, but he smiteth the slayer down.”
So Hector harangued them, and shouted thereto the Trojan array
In their folly, for Pallas Athéné had stolen their wits away,
That they praised the counsel of Hector, the giver of evil advice,
But Polydamas no man praised, albeit his rede was wise.
Then took they their supper throughout the host. But with groan on groan
All night for Patroclus dead did Achaia’s sons make moan,
And Peleus’ child in their midst the vehement wail upraised,
The while on his comrade’s breast his manslaying hands he placed,
Uttering many a groan, as a lion of shaggy mane
Whose whelps some hunter of stags hath snatched from his lair, and hath ta’en
From the deep thick wood, and the lion in grief o’erlate cometh back,
And through many a mountain-glen doth he prowl on the spoiler’s track,
If he haply may find him; for fury hath seized him exceeding grim:
So he mid the Myrmidons groaned for his comrade, and cried upon him:
“Ah me, ’twas a vain, vain word that my lips that day let fall,
When I cheered the ancient hero Menoitius’ heart in his hall.
I said that with glory to Opus again I would bring his son
From the smiting of Troy, with a goodly share of the rich prey won.
But Zeus fulfilleth not every thought that in man hath birth:
For fated it was that we both should redden the selfsame earth
In Troyland here; for Peleus the chariot-champion hoar
Shall welcome me to his halls returning home no more,
Neither Thetis my mother, but here shall the earth close over me.
But seeing, Patroclus, now I must pass to the grave after thee,
I will bury thee not, or ever I hitherward bring the head
And the armour of Hector, the proud-souled man that hath laid thee dead.
Yea, and in front of thy pyre the throats will I sever in twain
Of twelve fair children of Troy, in my wrath for my comrade slain.
Till then even thus, as thou art shalt thou lie by the beaked ships here,
And deep-girt daughters of Troy and of Dardanus round thy bier
Through the nights and the days shall weep with shedding of many a tear,
Even they which ourselves with the long spear won, and by warrior-toil,
When we smote rich cities of earth-born men, and gathered the spoil.”
So spake Achilles the godlike, and gave to his comrades command
To set a mighty tripod over the fire to stand,
That with speed they should cleanse from Patroclus the clotted gore away.
And the tripod of washing above the devouring fire set they:
And they poured the water therein, and they kindled the billets below,
And the flame coiled round it, the water grew warm in the fervent glow.
So when in the glittering brass the water for heat ’gan boil,
Then did they wash the corpse, and anointed it over with oil;
And the wounds of the dead did they fill with ointment fresh and sweet,
And laid on a bier, and swathed him in linen soft, to the feet
Even from the head, and thereover a fair white pall have they thrown.
Then all night long round fleetfoot Achilles with groan on groan
Over Patroclus the mourning Myrmidon men made moan.
Then Zeus unto Héré spake, which was sister to him and bride:
“Lo, now hast thou wrought thy will, Queen Héré the lovely-eyed,
In uprousing Achilles the swift of foot: sooth, true must it be
That the long-haired Achaians were born of the very body of thee!”
But to him Queen Héré the lovely-eyed made answer and said:
“What hast thou to do saying this, O Kronos’ son most dread?
Even a mortal may help his fellow at need, I trow,
A man that is born but to die, nor the wealth of our wisdom doth know.
How then should I, who boast me chief of the daughters of Heaven, —
Chief, by my birthright, and chief, because that to me it is given
To be called thy Queen, who art King over all the Deathless Ones,—
How should I not in my wrath work woe unto Troytown’s sons?”
So each unto other spake these twain in the heavenly home.
But Thetis Silverfoot to Hephaistus’ mansion was come,
Unperishing, star-overroofed, a peerless immortal abode,
All-brazen, the which himself had fashioned, the haltfoot God.
At his bellows with sweat of labour toiling was he that she sought,
Speeding the work: for in fashioning tripods twenty he wrought,
In his stately hall to stand ranged round about the wall,
And wheels of gold had he set beneath the bases of all,
That so of themselves to the high Gods’ gathering-place they should pass,
And return to his dwelling: a marvel to see the device of them was.
And so far were they wrought, that not yet were the handles of curious mould
Set on them; but these was he fitting, and forging him rivets of gold.
Even while thus in the spirit of wisdom laboured the God,
Drew nigh unto him the Goddess Thetis the silver-shod.
And the Goddess’s coming Charis the gleaming-veiled espied,
The fair Nymph won by the glorious Twin-right-armed for his bride,
Then clasped she her hand in her own, and she spake, and thus did she say:
“Why, Thetis the royally-robed, art thou come to our halls this day,
O worship-worthy and dear?—not oft hast thou come hitherto.
Nay, follow, that so I may set before thee the guest-fare due.”
So when she had spoken thus, that Goddess divine led on,
And thereafter she caused her to sit on a silver-studded throne,
Fair, cunningly wrought, and beneath for her feet was a footstool laid.
And she cried to her lord Hephaistus the craft-renowned, and she said:
“Come hither, Hephaistus, for Thetis hath somewhat to ask of thee.”
Then answered the glorious Twin-right-armed, and thus spake he:
‘Dread Goddess and worship-worthy is this within mine hall,
Who saved me when anguish o’ertook me from that my measureless fall,
Through the spite of my shameless mother, who longed for my lameness’ sake
To hide me from sight. Ah, then had I suffered with sore heart-ache,
But Eurynomé raised me, and Thetis, in sheltering arms to enfold,
Eurynomé, daughter of Ocean, the stream ever backward rolled.
Nine years did I forge much curious work their beauty to deck,
Brooches, and arm-bands serpent-coiled, bowls, chains for the neck,
In their hollow cave; and around me the River of Ocean aye
Murmured with foam in his infinite flow; and none save they
Knew; neither to Gods in Heaven nor mortal men was it known,
But Thetis was ware, and Eurynomé, they which had saved me, alone.
Even she to our mansion is come this day:—how shall I forbear
To render the price of my life unto Thetis of beautiful hair?
But thou before this guest spread now of thy choicest cheer,
Till I set my bellows aside, and all my forging gear.”
He spake, and he rose from the anvil, a monster ungainly and grim,
Halting; yet swiftly bestirred them the slender legs of him.
And the bellows aloof from the furnace he set, and the tools wherewith
He wrought, in a coffer of silver he laid them, the wizard smith.
And from brow and from hands with a sponge did he wipe the sweat of his toil,
And his neck and his shaggy breast he cleansed from the stithy’s soil;
And his tunic he donned, and he grasped his massy sceptre, and hied
Forth halting thence; and handmaids upbare him on either side,
Golden, like unto living damsels fair and young:
Yea, in their hearts there is wit, and they fashion speech with the tongue;
They have strength, and the works of the deathless Gods can they skill to do.
Upbearing their king they hasted, and nigh Hephaistus drew
Unto Thetis, and sat him adown on a bright throne’s glittering pride,
And he clasped her hand in his own, and he uttered the word, and he cried:
“Why, Thetis royally-robed, hast thou fared unto this our abode,
O worship-worthy and dear? ’Tis a way thou hast seldom trod.
Utter thy thought, for my spirit doth bid me perform the same,
If perform it I may, if the deed be a deed that hands can frame.”
Answered him Thetis, the while the tears of her sorrow fell:
“Is there ever a Goddess, Hephaistus, of all in Olympus that dwell,
Which hath borne such manifold troubles and bitter within her breast
As Zeus Kronion hath given to me above all the rest?
Me only of all the Queens of the Sea to a man did he wed,
Unto Peleus, Aiakus’ son, and I stooped to a mortal’s bed
Albeit exceeding loth. With pitiful eld bowed low
In his halls he lieth outworn; but for me is there yet more woe.
‘A son did he give me to bear and to rear: he was peerless, I trow,
Amid heroes, and like to a sapling his stature upward shot.
And I nurtured him even as a plant in a fruitful garden-plot;
And in beakéd galleys I sent him forth to the Ilian shore
To fight with the Trojans; but him shall I welcome back nevermore
In Peleus’ palace-halls, when the home-return is won.
Yea, while he liveth before me, and seeth the light of the sun,
He hath anguish, and nothing availeth mine help, if I come to his aid.
The sons of Achaia chose for his guerdon a captive maid:
Yet she from his hands was torn by King Agamemnon again.
And with anguish for her was his spirit distraught: but the Trojan men
Pent in by the sterns of the ships the Achaians, and suffered them not
To break forth thence; and the Argive elders his help besought,
And of glorious gifts they spake, exceeding many and brave.
Then he refused that day that his own right arm should save;
Yet in his own war-gear he arrayed Patroclus his friend,
And battleward sped him; a mighty host therewithal did he send.
And all through the livelong day they fought by the Skaian gate.
That day had they sacked the town, but when havoc exceeding great
Had been wrought of Menoitius’ son, Apollo smote him down,
And slew him in forefront of fight, and on Hector bestowed the renown.
But now, if thou haply wilt hear, at thy knees beseeching I fall
That thou give to my swift-doomed child a shield and a helmet withal,
And beautiful greaves with the ankle-rings fitted deftly thereto,
And a corslet; for lost was his own when slain was his comrade true
By the foe. On the earth is he lying with anguish stricken through.”
Made answer the Twin-right-armed, the Lord of Craft-renown:
“Fear not, let trouble for this not bow thy spirit down.
O that from death dread-sounding my cunning could hide him away
In the hour when his terrible doom draweth nigh to lay hold on the prey,
As lightly as beautiful arms shall be his, which in days to be
Full many a man shall behold with amaze, whosoever shall see.”
So spake he, and left her there, and passed to his bellows again,
And he turned them unto the fire, and he bade them toil amain.
And they mid the melting-pots blew all with mouths a score;
All manner of breath, full deftly breathing, forth did they pour.
With their furious blast now kept they pace with his eager speed,
And anon in such wise as Hephaistus willed, and the work had need.
And into the furnace he casteth the stubborn brass and the tin,
And the precious gold and the silver: and now shall the forging begin;
For he layeth the anvil huge on the block, and his right hand sought
The mighty forging-sledge, and the tongs in his left hath he caught.
And first he fashioned the shield most huge and massy of mould,
With cunning work all o’er, and the bright rim’s compassing fold
With its glittering circles three, and the silver baldric-band.
Of the buckler’s self five folds there were, and therein was there wrought
Full many a cunning device of the God-smith’s wondrous thought.
Therein did he fashion the Earth, and the Heaven therein, and the Sea;
And the tireless Sun, and the Moon in her full-orbed majesty;
And therein was the host of the Stars wherewithal the heaven is crowned,
‘And the Pleiads and Hyads therein, and the might of Orion were found,
And the Bear—men wont to call it moreover the Wain and the Team,—
And it turneth at bay, ever watching Orion’s falchion-gleam,
And alone it hath no share in the baths of the Ocean-stream.
And therein two beautiful cities of earth-born men he made.
In the one were espousals, therein withal was the banquet arrayed.
And the brides from their bowers by the shining of torches they brought on their way
Through the city, and rose the multitudinous marriage-lay.
And boys in the dance went whirling round, and the sweet loud cry
Of the flutes and the harps went up from the midst, and wonderingly
The women each from her porch looked forth as the train swept by.
And yonder the people in folkmote were gathered, and lo, there was strife:
For there two men were contending concerning the price of the life
Of a slain man: this set forth to the people his cause, and sware
“I have paid all:” that one denied, saying, “Naught have I had of the slayer.”
And each by the witness’s mouth would fain make proof of his cause.
And the multitude cheered on both, for divided their favour was.
And the heralds were stilling the people the while; and hearkening
The elders sat on the polished stones in the hallowed ring.
And the wands of the clear-voiced heralds into their hands did they take,
As they sprang to their feet, and to these in turn for his right each spake.
And the blood-price lay in the midst, two talents of gold: and the same
Should be given to him that in pleading by righteousness overcame.
And around that other town two armies in leaguer lay,
Flashing in harness of war, but in council divided were they,
Or to sack it mid riot and wrack, or to part full orderly all
What treasure soever the fair town warded within her wall.
But her folk not yet would yield, but for ambush their arms did they don.
And their dear-loved wives kept watch on the rampart, ranged thereon,
Yea, and their little children and old men hoary-grey.
Forth marched they, and Arés and Pallas Athéné led on to the fray,
Both fashioned of gold, and golden withal was the vesture they bare,
And even as Gods in their harness stately they were and fair,
And they towered o’er the throng, for lesser of stature the war-folk were.
So when they were come to the place where the ambush seemed them good,
In the bed of the river, wherein all cattle drank of the flood,
There crouched they, sheathed in the brass flame-flashing, to wait for the prey.
And for these two scouts of the war-host sat down far away,
And keenly for sight of the sheep and the wreath-horned kine watched they.
And these full speedily came: two shepherds behind them the while
Went merrily playing the pipe, and they had no thought of the guile.
Then spied them the liers in wait, and they rushed, and with swift sword-sweep
Slew they to right and to left the kine, and the goodly sheep
Of the fair flock silver-white, and they slaughtered the shepherds withal.
But now did the noise of the tumult amidst of the cattle fall
On the ears of the foe, as in council they sat, and in haste they bestrode
Their battle-steeds high-prancing, and fast to the rescue they rode.:
And there by the banks of the river they set in array the fight,
And against each other they sped the brazen lances’ flight.
And with these men mingling Strife and Confusion and. fell Death met,
One man fresh-wounded and living she grasped, one woundless yet.
Through the midst of the fray by the feet was she haling a third wretch dead.
And a garment she bare on her shoulders with men’s blood crimson-red.
And as living men those images charged, and they fought amain,
And foeman was dragging away the corpse of foeman slain,
And therein did he fashion a thrice-eared field, fat glebe and fair,
Smooth-levelled and broad, and ploughers therein full many there were
Driving the yokes of oxen, and to and fro they wheeled.
And whenso they won at the turning the boundary-dyke of the field,
‘Lo, there was waiting a man, and a cup to their hands he gave
Of honey-sweet wine: then turned they, and fast through the furrows they clave,
Full eager again at the boundary-dyke of the field to stand.
And darkened the mould behind them: yea, it was like ploughed land,
Albeit of gold; and herein was the marvel wrought by his hand.
And he set in the shield a demesne deep-loamed, and the hinds therein
Were reaping, and each man held in his hand a sickle keen.
And here by the furrows the handfuls were falling in rows to the ground,
And others the binders of sheaves with the twisted straw-bands bound;
Sheaf-binders three on the reapers waited: behind them still
Did boys, as they gathered the handfuls up, their bosoms fill,
And unceasingly bear to the binders: in silence amidst of them stood
By a furrow their lord with his staff in his hand, full blithe of mood.
And under the shade of an oak-tree the henchmen a feast for them spread,
For a mighty ox had they slain, and the dressing merrily sped;
And much white barley the handmaids mixed for the reapers’ bread.
And a great wide vineyard with clusters teeming he fashioned there,
Beautiful, all of gold; yet black the grapes of it were.
And propped upon silver poles were the vines in ordered rows.
And on either hand was a cyanus-trench: and the vineyard-close
With a fence of tin was encompassed; and one path led to the same
Whereby, when they gathered the fruit of the vine, the vintagers came.
There maidens and striplings were gathered, and mirthful-innocent
In plaited baskets bearing the honied fruit they went.
And a boy on a harp high-ringing was playing amidst of the throng
Sweet music, and sang thereto the beautiful Linus-song
With silvery voice, and his fellows, all as they toiled, to the chime
Of the strings of the harp and the chant with bounding feet kept time.
And a herd of tall-horned kine that craftsman wrought thereon,
And fashioned of gold and of tin those stately oxen shone.
And with lowing forth from the byre to the pasture-lea did they speed
Beside the murmuring river, beside the waving reed.
And shepherds golden-moulded were pacing beside the kine,
Four men, and behind their masters were following fleet hounds nine.
But lo, two terrible lions in front of the herd laid hold
On a bull loud-roaring: his bellowings’ thunder-echoes rolled
Afar, as they dragged him; and hounds and men to the rescue went.
But the hide of the stately beast by this had the lions rent,
And were gorging the inwards and dark-hued blood: but the herdmen were
On the spoilers to speed the fleetfoot hounds with chiding vain.
For they shrank from gripping the lion with desperate-daring fang,
But they stood full nigh, and they bayed, and anon aside they sprang.
And the glorious Twin-right-armed there wrought in a lovely glen
A pasture thronged with the white-fleeced sheep: roofed huts of men
Were there, and the cattle-steadings, and many a folding pen.
And the glorious Twin-right-armed there fashioned a dancing floor:
It was like unto that which in Knossus the wide on the Cretan shore
For beautiful-haired Ariadné Daidalus fashioned of yore.
There youths and maidens of costly bride-price in dance arrayed
Their fingers each on the other’s wrist all lightly laid.
And clothed were the maidens in vesture of linen white and clean,
And the boys in tunics woven fair with an oil-gleam sheen.
And a beautiful wreath each damsel bare, each stripling a brand
In a golden sheath that hung by a silver baldric-band.
And now with feet all cunningly gliding around whirled they
Full lightly, as when some potter sitteth and maketh assay
Of the wheel to his hands well-fitted, to know if it runneth true.
And in ranks swift-speeding anon to meet each other they flew.
And around that lovely dance a great throng stood in a ring
Drinking delight: in their midst did a godlike minstrel sing
Harping; and tumblers twain were whirling in time to the sound,
For still as uprose the strain did the lithe limbs lightly bound.
And therein did he set the mighty strength of the Ocean-stream,
Round the uttermost rim of the curious-carven shield did it gleam.
So when he had fashioned the buckler’s strong-wrought massy frame,
He made him a corslet then more bright than the shining of flame.
And he fashioned a helmet strong that should lap his temples close,
Fair, curious-wrought, and above it a crest all-golden rose.
And he made for him greaves of the tin that lightly doth clasp and bend.
So the glorious Twin-right-armed wrought all, and the work had end.
And he raised them, and unto Achilles’ mother the arms did he bring.
Then darted she down from Olympus’ snows, as a hawk on the wing,
Bearing the gift of Hephaistus, the arms fair-glittering.