|
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of
Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the
Achæans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying
down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a
prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels
of Jove (Zeus) fulfilled from the day on which the
son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first
fell out with one another.
And which of the gods was it that set them on to
quarrel? It was the son of Jove (Zeus) and Leto; for
he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achæans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant's wreath and he besought the Achæans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs.
“Sons of Atreus,” he cried, “and all other Achæans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove (Zeus).”
On this the rest of the Achæans with one voice were for respecting
the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon,
who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away.
“Old man,” said he, “let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you.”
The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke, but went
by the shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart to King Apollo whom lovely
Leto had borne. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that protectest
Chryse and holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh thou
of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands, or burned
your thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your
arrows avenge these my tears upon the Danaans.”
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came down furious
from the summits of Olympus, with his bow and his quiver upon his shoulder,
and the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within him.
 àudio —
 àudio
He sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night, and
his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them. First
he smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his shafts
at the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead were
burning.
For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people, but upon
the tenth day Achilles called them in assembly- moved thereto by Hera, who saw the Achæans in their death-throes and had compassion upon them. Then, when they were got together, he rose and spoke among them.
“Son of Atreus,” said he, “I deem that we should now turn roving home if we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by war and pestilence at once. Let us ask some priest or prophet, or some reader of
dreams (for dreams, too, are of Zeus) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so angry, and say whether it is for some vow that we have broken, or
hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he will accept the savour
of lambs and goats without blemish, so as to take away the plague from
us.”
With these words he sat down, and Calchas son of Thestor, wisest
of augurs, who knew things past present and to come, rose to speak. He
it was who had guided the Achæans with their fleet to Ilius, through the
prophesyings with which Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity
and goodwill he addressed them thus:-
“Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid* me tell you about the anger of King Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall offend one who rules the Argives with might, to whom all the Achæans are
in subjection. A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a king, who
if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked
it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect
me.”
And Achilles answered, “Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you from heaven, for by Apollo, Calchas, to whom you pray, and whose oracles you reveal to us, not a Danaan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth- no, not though you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Achæans.”
Thereon the seer* spoke boldly. “The god,” he said, “is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb, but for his priest's sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him.”
With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His
heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled* on Calchas and said,
“Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping
her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra,
whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhither.”
And Achilles answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, covetous beyond all mankind, how shall the Achæans find you another prize? We have no common store from which to take one. Those we took from the cities have
been awarded; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already.
Give this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Zeus grants us to sack the city of Troy we will requite you three and fourfold.”
Then Agamemnon said, “Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus outwit me. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the girl at your bidding? Let the Achæans find me a prize in fair
exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax
or of Odysseus (Ulysses); and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming. But of this we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us draw a
ship into the sea, and find a crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb
on board, and let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among
us be in command, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, son of Peleus,
mighty warrior that you are, that we may offer sacrifice and appease the
the anger of the god.”
Achilles scowled at him and answered,
“You are steeped in insolence and lust of gain. With what heart can any of the Achæans do your bidding, either on foray or in open fighting? I came not warring here for any ill the Trojans had done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided my cattle nor my horses, nor cut down my harvests on the rich plains of Phthia; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not ours- to gain satisfaction from the Trojans for your shameless self and for Menelaus. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the prize for which I have toiled, and which the sons of the Achæans have given me. Never when the Achæans sack any rich city of the Trojans do I receive
so good a prize as you do, though it is my hands that do the better part
of the fighting. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest,
and I, forsooth, must go back to my ships, take what I can get and be thankful,
when my labour of fighting is done. Now, therefore, I shall go back to
Phthia; it will be much better for me to return home with my ships, for
I will not stay here dishonoured to gather gold and substance for
you.”
And Agamemnon answered,
“Fly if you will, I shall make you no prayers
to stay you. I have others here who will do me honour, and above all Zeus,
the lord of counsel. There is no king here so hateful to me as you are,
for you are ever quarrelsome and ill affected. What though you be brave?
Was it not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your ships and
comrades to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care neither for you nor for
your anger; and thus will I do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis
from me, I shall send her with my ship and my followers, but I shall come
to your tent and take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how much
stronger I am than you are, and that another may fear to set himself up
as equal or comparable with me.”
The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his shaggy
breast was divided whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and
kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While
he was thus in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard,
Athena came down from heaven (for Hera had sent her in the love she bore
to them both), and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible
to him alone, for of the others no man could see her. Achilles turned in
amaze, and by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she
was Athena. “Why are you here,” said he, “daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus?
To see the pride of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you- and it shall
surely be- he shall pay for this insolence with his life.”
And Athena said, “I come from heaven, if you will hear me, to
bid you stay your anger. Hera has sent me, who cares for both of you alike.
Cease, then, this brawling, and do not draw your sword; rail at him if
you will, and your railing will not be vain, for I tell you- and it shall
surely be- that you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as splendid
by reason of this present insult. Hold, therefore, and
obey.”
“Goddess,” answered Achilles, “however angry a man may be, he must
do as you two command him. This will be best, for the gods ever hear the
prayers of him who has obeyed them.”
He stayed his hand on the silver hilt of his sword, and thrust
it back into the scabbard as Athena bade him. Then she went back to Olympus
among the other gods, and to the house of aegis-bearing
Zeus.
But the son of Peleus again began railing at the son of Atreus,
for he was still in a rage. “Wine-bibber,” he cried, “with the face of
a dog and the heart of a hind, you never dare to go out with the host in
fight, nor yet with our chosen men in ambuscade. You shun this as you do
death itself. You had rather go round and rob his prizes from any man who
contradicts you. You devour your people, for you are king over a feeble
folk; otherwise, son of Atreus, henceforward you would insult no man. Therefore
I say, and swear it with a great oath- nay, by this my sceptre which shalt
sprout neither leaf nor shoot, nor bud anew from the day on which it left
its parent stem upon the mountains- for the axe stripped it of leaf and
bark, and now the sons of the Achæans bear it as judges and guardians
of the decrees of heaven- so surely and solemnly do I swear that hereafter
they shall look fondly for Achilles and shall not find him. In the day
of your distress, when your men fall dying by the murderous hand of Hector,
you shall not know how to help them, and shall rend your heart with rage
for the hour when you offered insult to the bravest of the
Achæans.”
With this the son of Peleus dashed his gold-bestudded sceptre on
the ground and took his seat, while the son of Atreus was beginning fiercely
from his place upon the other side. Then uprose smooth-tongued Nestor,
the facile speaker of the Pylians, and the words fell from his lips sweeter
than honey. Two generations of men born and bred in Pylos had passed away
under his rule, and he was now reigning over the third. With all sincerity
and goodwill, therefore, he addressed them thus:-
“Of a truth,” he said, “a great sorrow has befallen the Achæan land. Surely Priam with his sons would rejoice, and the Trojans be glad at heart if they could hear this quarrel between you two, who are so excellent in fight and counsel. I am older than either of you; therefore be guided by me. Moreover I have been the familiar friend of men even greater than you are, and they did not disregard my counsels. Never again can I behold such men as Pirithous and Dryas shepherd of his people, or as Caeneus, Exadius, godlike Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, peer of the immortals. These were the mightiest men ever born upon this earth: mightiest were they, and when they fought the fiercest tribes of mountain savages they utterly overthrew them. I came from distant Pylos, and went about among them, for they would have me come, and I fought as it was in me to do. Not a man now living could withstand them, but they heard my words, and were persuaded by them. So be it also with yourselves, for this is the more excellent way. Therefore, Agamemnon, though you be strong, take not
this girl away, for the sons of the Achæans have already given her to
Achilles; and you, Achilles, strive not further with the king, for no man
who by the grace of Zeus wields a sceptre has like honour with Agamemnon.
You are strong, and have a goddess for your mother; but Agamemnon is stronger
than you, for he has more people under him. Son of Atreus, check your anger,
I implore you; end this quarrel with Achilles, who in the day of battle
is a tower of strength to the Achæans.”
And Agamemnon answered, “Sir, all that you have said is true, but
this fellow must needs become our lord and master: he must be lord of all,
king of all, and captain of all, and this shall hardly be. Granted that
the gods have made him a great warrior, have they also given him the right
to speak with railing?”
Achilles interrupted him. “I should be a mean coward,” he cried,
“were I to give in to you in all things. Order other people about, not
me, for I shall obey no longer. Furthermore I say- and lay my saying to
your heart- I shall fight neither you nor any man about this girl, for
those that take were those also that gave. But of all else that is at my
ship you shall carry away nothing by force. Try, that others may see; if
you do, my spear shall be reddened with your blood.”
When they had quarrelled thus angrily, they rose, and broke up
the assembly at the ships of the Achæans. The son of Peleus went back
to his tents and ships with the son of Menoetius and his company, while
Agamemnon drew a vessel into the water and chose a crew of twenty oarsmen.
He escorted Chryseis on board and sent moreover a hecatomb for the god.
And Ulysses went as captain.
These, then, went on board and sailed their ways over the sea.
But the son of Atreus bade the people purify themselves; so they purified
themselves and cast their filth into the sea. Then they offered hecatombs
of bulls and goats without blemish on the sea-shore, and the smoke with
the savour of their sacrifice rose curling up towards
heaven.
Thus did they busy themselves throughout the host. But Agamemnon
did not forget the threat that he had made Achilles, and called his trusty
messengers and squires Talthybius and Eurybates. “Go,” said he, “to the
tent of Achilles, son of Peleus; take Briseis by the hand and bring her
hither; if he will not give her I shall come with others and take her-
which will press him harder.”
He charged them straightly further and dismissed them, whereon
they went their way sorrowfully by the seaside, till they came to the tents
and ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles sitting by his tent and
his ships, and ill-pleased he was when he beheld them. They stood fearfully
and reverently before him, and never a word did they speak, but he knew
them and said, “Welcome, heralds, messengers of gods and men; draw near;
my quarrel is not with you but with Agamemnon who has sent you for the
girl Briseis. Therefore, Patroclus, bring her and give her to them, but
let them be witnesses by the blessed gods, by mortal men, and by the fierceness
of Agamemnon's anger, that if ever again there be need of me to save the
people from ruin, they shall seek and they shall not find. Agamemnon is
mad with rage and knows not how to look before and after that the Achæans
may fight by their ships in safety.”
Patroclus did as his dear comrade had bidden him. He brought Briseis
from the tent and gave her over to the heralds, who took her with them
to the ships of the Achæans- and the woman was loth to go. Then Achilles
went all alone by the side of the hoar sea, weeping and looking out upon
the boundless waste of waters. He raised his hands in prayer to his immortal
mother, “Mother,” he cried, “you bore me doomed to live but for a little
season; surely Zeus, who thunders from Olympus, might have made that little
glorious. It is not so. Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has done me dishonour,
and has robbed me of my prize by force.”
As he spoke he wept aloud, and his mother heard him where she was
sitting in the depths of the sea hard by the old man her father. Forthwith
she rose as it were a grey mist out of the waves, sat down before him as
he stood weeping, caressed him with her hand, and said, “My son, why are
you weeping? What is it that grieves you? Keep it not from me, but tell
me, that we may know it together.”
Achilles drew a deep sigh and said, “You know it; why tell you
what you know well already? We went to Thebe the strong city of Eetion,
sacked it, and brought hither the spoil. The sons of the Achæans shared
it duly among themselves, and chose lovely Chryseis as the meed of Agamemnon;
but Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the ships of the Achæans to free
his daughter, and brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in
his hand the sceptre of Apollo, wreathed with a suppliant's wreath, and
he besought the Achæans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus who were
their chiefs.
“On this the rest of the Achæans with one voice were for respecting
the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon,
who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. So he went back in
anger, and Apollo, who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god
sent a deadly dart upon the Argives, and the people died thick on one another,
for the arrows went everywhither among the wide host of the Achæans. At
last a seer in the fulness of his knowledge declared to us the oracles
of Apollo, and I was myself first to say that we should appease him. Whereon
the son of Atreus rose in anger, and threatened that which he has since
done. The Achæans are now taking the girl in a ship to Chryse, and sending
gifts of sacrifice to the god; but the heralds have just taken from my
tent the daughter of Briseus, whom the Achæans had awarded to
myself.
“Help your brave son, therefore, if you are able. Go to Olympus,
and if you have ever done him service in word or deed, implore the aid
of Zeus. Ofttimes in my father's house have I heard you glory in that you
alone of the immortals saved the son of Saturn from ruin, when the others,
with Hera, Neptune, and Pallas Athena would have put him in bonds. It
was you, goddess, who delivered him by calling to Olympus the hundred-handed
monster whom gods call Briareus, but men Aegaeon, for he is stronger even
than his father; when therefore he took his seat all-glorious beside the
son of Saturn, the other gods were afraid, and did not bind him. Go, then,
to him, remind him of all this, clasp his knees, and bid him give succour
to the Trojans. Let the Achæans be hemmed in at the sterns of their ships,
and perish on the sea-shore, that they may reap what joy they may of their
king, and that Agamemnon may rue his blindness in offering insult to the
foremost of the Achæans.”
Thetis wept and answered, “My son, woe is me that I should have
borne or suckled you. Would indeed that you had lived your span free from
all sorrow at your ships, for it is all too brief; alas, that you should
be at once short of life and long of sorrow above your peers: woe, therefore,
was the hour in which I bore you; nevertheless I will go to the snowy heights
of Olympus, and tell this tale to Zeus, if he will hear our prayer: meanwhile
stay where you are with your ships, nurse your anger against the Achæans,
and hold aloof from fight. For Zeus went yesterday to Oceanus, to a feast
among the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with him. He will return
to Olympus twelve days hence; I will then go to his mansion paved with
bronze and will beseech him; nor do I doubt that I shall be able to persuade
him.”
On this she left him, still furious at the loss of her that had
been taken from him. Meanwhile Ulysses reached Chryse with the hecatomb.
When they had come inside the harbour they furled the sails and laid them
in the ship's hold; they slackened the forestays, lowered the mast into
its place, and rowed the ship to the place where they would have her lie;
there they cast out their mooring-stones and made fast the hawsers. They
then got out upon the sea-shore and landed the hecatomb for Apollo; Chryseis
also left the ship, and Ulysses led her to the altar to deliver her into
the hands of her father. “Chryses,” said he, “King Agamemnon has sent me
to bring you back your child, and to offer sacrifice to Apollo on behalf
of the Danaans, that we may propitiate the god, who has now brought sorrow
upon the Argives.”
So saying he gave the girl over to her father, who received her
gladly, and they ranged the holy hecatomb all orderly round the altar of
the god. They washed their hands and took up the barley-meal to sprinkle
over the victims, while Chryses lifted up his hands and prayed aloud on
their behalf. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that protectest
Chryse and holy Cilla, and rulest Tenedos with thy might. Even as thou
didst hear me aforetime when I prayed, and didst press hardly upon the
Achæans, so hear me yet again, and stay this fearful pestilence from the
Danaans.”
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. When they had done
praying and sprinkling the barley-meal, they drew back the heads of the
victims and killed and flayed them. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped
them round in two layers of fat, set some pieces of raw meat on the top
of them, and then Chryses laid them on the wood fire and poured wine over
them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits in their
hands. When the thigh-bones were burned and they had tasted the inward
meats, they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon the spits, roasted
them till they were done, and drew them off: then, when they had finished
their work and the feast was ready, they ate it, and every man had his
full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough
to eat and drink, pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine and water and
handed it round, after giving every man his drink-offering.
Thus all day long the young men worshipped the god with song, hymning
him and chaunting the joyous paean, and the god took pleasure in their
voices; but when the sun went down, and it came on dark, they laid themselves
down to sleep by the stern cables of the ship, and when the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they again set sail for the host of the Achæans.
Apollo sent them a fair wind, so they raised their mast and hoisted their
white sails aloft. As the sail bellied with the wind the ship flew through
the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward.
When they reached the wide-stretching host of the Achæans, they drew the
vessel ashore, high and dry upon the sands, set her strong props beneath
her, and went their ways to their own tents and ships.
But Achilles abode* at his ships and nursed his anger. He went not to the honourable assembly, and sallied not forth to fight, but gnawed* at his own heart, pining for battle and the war-cry.
Now after twelve days the immortal gods came back in a body to
Olympus, and Zeus led the way. Thetis was not unmindful of the charge her
son had laid upon her, so she rose from under the sea and went through
great heaven with early morning to Olympus, where she found the mighty
son of Saturn sitting all alone upon its topmost ridges. She sat herself
down before him, and with her left hand seized his knees, while with her
right she caught him under the chin, and besought him,
saying-
“Father Zeus, if I ever did you service in word or deed among the
immortals, hear my prayer, and do honour to my son, whose life is to be
cut short so early. King Agamemnon has dishonoured him by taking his prize
and keeping her. Honour him then yourself, Olympian lord of counsel, and
grant victory to the Trojans, till the Achæans give my son his due and
load him with riches in requital.”
Zeus sat for a while silent, and without a word, but Thetis still
kept firm hold of his knees, and besought him a second time. “Incline your
head,” said she, “and promise me surely, or else deny me- for you have
nothing to fear- that I may learn how greatly you disdain
me.”
At this Zeus was much troubled and answered, “I shall have trouble
if you set me quarrelling with Hera, for she will provoke me with her taunting
speeches; even now she is always railing at me before the other gods and
accusing me of giving aid to the Trojans. Go back now, lest she should
find out. I will consider the matter, and will bring it about as wish.
See, I incline my head that you believe me. This is the most solemn that
I can give to any god. I never recall my word, or deceive, or fail to do
what I say, when I have nodded my head.”
As he spoke the son of Saturn bowed his dark brows, and the ambrosial
locks swayed on his immortal head, till vast Olympus reeled.
When the pair had thus laid their plans, they parted- Zeus to his
house, while the goddess quitted the splendour of Olympus, and plunged
into the depths of the sea. The gods rose from their seats, before the
coming of their sire. Not one of them dared to remain sitting, but all
stood up as he came among them. There, then, he took his seat. But Hera,
when she saw him, knew that he and the old merman's daughter, silver-footed
Thetis, had been hatching mischief, so she at once began to upbraid him.
“Trickster,” she cried, “which of the gods have you been taking into your
counsels now? You are always settling matters in secret behind my back,
and have never yet told me, if you could help it, one word of your
intentions.”
“Hera,” replied the sire of gods and men, “you must not expect
to be informed of all my counsels. You are my wife, but you would find
it hard to understand them. When it is proper for you to hear, there is
no one, god or man, who will be told sooner, but when I mean to keep a
matter to myself, you must not pry nor ask questions.”
“Dread son of Saturn,” answered Hera, “what are you talking about?
I? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have your own way in everything.
Still, I have a strong misgiving that the old merman's daughter Thetis
has been talking you over, for she was with you and had hold of your knees
this self-same morning. I believe, therefore, that you have been promising
her to give glory to Achilles, and to kill much people at the ships of
the Achæans.”
“Wife,” said Zeus, “I can do nothing but you suspect me and find
it out. You will take nothing by it, for I shall only dislike you the more,
and it will go harder with you. Granted that it is as you say; I mean to
have it so; sit down and hold your tongue as I bid you for if I once begin
to lay my hands about you, though all heaven were on your side it would
profit you nothing.”
On this Hera was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn will and
sat down in silence. But the heavenly beings were disquieted throughout
the house of Zeus, till the cunning workman Vulcan began to try and pacify
his mother Hera. “It will be intolerable,” said he, “if you two fall to
wrangling and setting heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If such
ill counsels are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at our banquet.
Let me then advise my mother- and she must herself know that it will be
better- to make friends with my dear father Zeus, lest he again scold her
and disturb our feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants to hurl us all from
our seats, he can do so, for he is far the strongest, so give him fair
words, and he will then soon be in a good humour with
us.”
As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar, and placed it in his
mother's hand. “Cheer up, my dear mother,” said he, “and make the best
of it. I love you dearly, and should be very sorry to see you get a thrashing;
however grieved I might be, I could not help for there is no standing against
Zeus. Once before when I was trying to help you, he caught me by the foot
and flung me from the heavenly threshold. All day long from morn till eve,
was I falling, till at sunset I came to ground in the island of Lemnos,
and there I lay, with very little life left in me, till the Sintians came
and tended me.”
Hera smiled at this, and as she smiled she took the cup from her
son's hands. Then Vulcan drew sweet nectar from the mixing-bowl, and served
it round among the gods, going from left to right; and the blessed gods
laughed out a loud applause as they saw him ing bustling about the heavenly
mansion.
Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun they
feasted, and every one had his full share, so that all were satisfied.
Apollo struck his lyre, and the Muses lifted up their sweet voices, calling
and answering one another. But when the sun's glorious light had faded,
they went home to bed, each in his own abode, which lame Vulcan with his
consummate skill had fashioned for them. So Zeus, the Olympian Lord of
Thunder, hied him to the bed in which he always slept; and when he had
got on to it he went to sleep, with Hera of the golden throne by his
side.
[ start ]
|
literatura
La Ilíada
fragment
mail
Homer