The rage sing, goddess! of Achilles son of Peleus, the all-destroying rage; which countless griefs to the Achaeans brought, and many brave souls down to Hades hurled,—souls of heroes. It made them prey to dogs, and birds of every kind; but the will of Zeus was being fulfilled. Sing from the time when those two stood at variance in their strife: I mean the son of Atreus, king of men, and godlike Achilles.
Who, then, from among the gods, sent them to fight together in their strife? Leto and Zeus’s son. For that god, at the king enraged, a sickness raised among the army of a terrible nature, and destruction lay upon the people; because he showed Chryses dishonour, though he was a priest! Yes, the king did this, the son of Atreus. For Chryses came to the swift ships of the Achaeans, intending to free his daughter, and bringing with him countless gifts of ransom; and garlands he had in his hands of far-darting Apollo, wreathed around a golden sceptre. And he made his entreaties to all the Achaeans; but especially to the two sons of Atreus, directors of the people:
“Sons of Atreus, and you other well-greaved Greeks! My first wish is for you; may the gods, whose halls are in Olympus, grant for you the destruction of Priam’s city, and a safe return to your homes. But now for my daughter; I beg you, release her to me, for she is dear to me, and these ransoms accept; honouring with a holy fear Zeus’s son, far-darting Apollo.”
At this, the other Greeks all shouted their applause, meaning to revere the priest, and accept his glorious ransoms. But as for the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, it was not pleasing to his heart; but abusively he dismissed the man, and a harsh command he gave:
“I warn you, old man! Do not let me find you by the hollow ships; whether you overstay your welcome now, or return at a later hour. Otherwise, I fear, the sceptre and garland of the god will not protect you. I will not free her. No, not before old age has overtaken her; at my house in Argos, far from her native country, when she is going to her loom, and paying visits to my bed. But go, do not provoke me, and you will leave the more safely for it.”
Thus he spoke; and the old man was filled with fear, and obeyed his command. He went silently by the shore of the harshly-sounding sea. But once he had gone far away, intensely did that old man pray to king Apollo, whom lovely-haired Leto bore:
“Hear me, god of the silver bow! protector of Chryse and divine Cilla, and mighty ruler over Tenedos! Smintheus! If ever I have built for you the roof of a lovely temple; or if ever I have burned for you the fat thighs of bulls and goats, fulfil for me this desire: let the Danaans pay for my tears with your arrows.”
Thus he spoke, praying; and Phoebus Apollo heard him. He came down from the peaks of Olympus, enraged in his heart; and he had on his shoulders a bow, and a quiver that was covered round about. Clanged the arrows on his shoulders as he raged, as he moved; and he moved like the night. He then sat far apart from the ships—and let an arrow fly. A terrible clang came from the silver bow. The mules he first of all attacked, and swift hounds; but next at the men themselves, with a bitter dart he shot; and constantly would the fires of the dead burn thick.
For the space of nine days, through all the camp, the arrows of the god were flying. But on the tenth, to an assembly, the people were summoned by Achilles. For in his mind the idea was planted by the goddess, white-elbowed Hera. For she cared deeply for the Danaans; especially when she saw them dying. When, therefore, they were gathered and assembled, then rose up and spoke amongst them swift-footed Achilles:
“Son of Atreus! Now, I think, driven backwards as we are, we shall be going home again, assuming we can escape our death; since not only war, but plague, also, is conquering the Achaeans. But come; let us question some prophet, priest, or even dream-interpreter—for a dream, also, has its source from Zeus—and they may tell us why Phoebus Apollo was angered so deeply—whether he blames us for a prayer, or hecatomb—in the hope that he, accepting the scent of lambs and perfect goats, might please to defend us against this plague.”
Well, he, thus having spoken, then sat down; and to them rose up Calchas, son of Thestor, of those who are busied with birds by far the best, who knew things that are, things that are to be, and things that were; he guided the ships of the Achaeans into Ilios by his prophetic art, which to him was given by Phoebus Apollo. He, bearing good intentions towards them, addressed the assembly and spoke amongst them:
“Achilles: you call upon me, O beloved of Zeus, to explain the rage of Apollo, the far-darting king. Then I, for my part, will declare it; but as for you, take heed and swear, that, with an earnest mind, in word and deed you will assist me. For I suppose that a man will soon grow angry, who rules in power over all the Argives; and him the Achaeans obey. For mightier is a king, when he is angry with a man of inferior station. For even if his anger, on the day it rises, should be swallowed down, yet afterwards he cherishes his grudge—intending to fulfil it—within his breast. Say, then, whether you will rescue me.”
And making answer, then addressed him swift-footed Achilles:
“With all good courage, speak the oracle, whatever it is you know. For by Apollo, who is dear to Zeus, and to whom you pray, Calchas, and reveal oracles to the Danaans, nobody, while I am living, and have sight upon the earth, will lay heavy hands upon you by the hollow ships; no one from among all the Danaans, no, not even if you name Agamemnon, who now boasts himself to be by far the best of the Achaeans.”
And so then took courage and spoke aloud the blameless prophet:
“He does not, then, for a prayer find fault, or hecatomb, but on account of the priest whom Agamemnon dishonoured: he did not release his daughter, nor did he receive his ransoms. For this reason, therefore, has the far-darter given pains, and still shall give them. Nor will he, for the Danaans’ benefit, the shameful plague repel, until to her dear father they return the rolling-eyed maiden,—unbought, unransomed,—and lead a holy hecatomb to Chryse; then we, having appeased him, may persuade him.”
He, thus having spoken, then sat down; and to them rose up the hero son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, distressed at heart. With fury was his darkened breast filled up, and his two eyes were like radiant fire. To Calchas first of all, and with an evil look, he made address:
“Prophet of ills! never yet have you spoken good to me. Ever are evils dear to your heart to prophesy; but any good word, you have neither yet spoken nor fulfilled. And now among the Danaans, in prophecy you declare, that it is for this reason that the far-darter brings them pains: namely that I, in exchange for the girl Chryseis, the glorious ransoms would not take, since I much prefer to have her at home. For even before Clytemnestra I prefer her, my wedded wife, since to her she is not inferior, not in form or stature, neither in mind nor accomplishments. But even so, I am willing to give her back, if that is better; I prefer, for my part, for the people to be safe than to be destroyed. But let all of you immediately prepare a prize for me, that I alone among the Argives may not be prizeless, since that does not accord even with propriety; for you see, all of you, the fact that my prize is going to another.”
To him made answer then swift-footed, godlike Achilles:
“Son of Atreus, most glorious—and greediest of all; why, how will the great-souled Achaeans give you a prize! We do not, I think, have any indication that common treasures lie in abundance; but what from cities we have plundered, that has been distributed, and it is not proper for the people to gather it in the collection again. But do you now return this girl to the god, and we Achaeans threefold and fourfold will repay you, if at long last Zeus shall give the city of Troy, well-walled as it is, for us to destroy.”
And making his reply, then addressed him lord Agamemnon:
“Do not thus, worthy though you are, godlike Achilles, disguise your intentions, since you will not get by me, nor will you persuade me. Are you really willing, in order that you may keep your prize, for me to sit destitute, just as I am, and do you command me to return her? But if the great-minded Achaeans will give me a prize, after fitting it to my own mind, so it will be of equal worth… But if they will not give it, I will myself take, either yours, or Ajax’s prize, when I come for it, or that of Odysseus will I seize away; and he will be angered whom I approach. But come, these things we shall reconsider at another time; for now, a black ship let us drag to the sky-bright sea, fit rowers gather for our purpose, a hecatomb place within, and the maid, bright-cheeked Chryseis, bring aboard; and let a man of counsel be its commander, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or godlike Odysseus—or you, son of Peleus, most vehement of men, so that on our behalf the far-darter you may appease, after doing sacrifice.”
And to him then, glaring from beneath his eyebrows, made address swift-footed Achilles:
“Ah me; clothed in shamelessness, obsessed with gain! How can any Achaean earnestly obey your words, either to undergo a journey, or fight mightily with men? For it was not, I can say, because of the Trojan spearmen that I came here to fight, since they are not in any way guilty of wrong-doing to me. For never did they drive away my oxen, nor indeed my horses, and never in Phthia, large-clodded, feeder of men, did they lay waste the harvest, since there are, to be sure, many things in-between, shady mountains and roaring sea; but it was you, O utterly shameless, that we followed, that you may rejoice, and we win honour for Menelaus and you, dog’s eyes! from the Trojans; and all this you do not consider, nor care for. And now you, of all people, threaten to take away my prize from me, for which I toiled so much, and it was given me by the sons of the Achaeans. I never have a prize that with your own is equal, when the Achaeans sack a well-peopled citadel of the Trojans; and yet the greater part of the much-rushing war, my hands undertake. But whenever a division of spoil arrives, your own prize is far greater, while I go to the ships with one that is small but dear, when I am wearied out with fighting. But now I will go to Phthia, since it is far better, I am sure, to go home with my crook-beaked ships; and I do not suppose that for your sake, I will drag off wealth and riches, while I am dishonoured here.”
And him answered then the king of men, Agamemnon:
“Run by all means, if your heart has stirred you to it, nor do I entreat you to stay for my sake. With me there are still others who will honour me, and above all, counsel-giving Zeus. But most hateful to me are you of the Zeus-kept kings; for ever is strife dear to you, and wars and battles. If you are especially strong, it was a god, I suppose, who gave you that gift. Go home with your ships and companions, and lord it over your Myrmidons; for you I have no care, nor do I take notice of your grudge. But I will make this threat to you: as I am deprived of Chryseis by Phoebus Apollo, her I will, with my ship and companions, send home. But I will seize——bright-cheeked Briseis, and come personally to your hut—seize your own prize—that you may know well how far mighter I am than you, and that another, also, may fear to call himself my equal, and be likened to me in my presence.”
Thus he spoke; and in the son of Peleus there arose distress, and his heart within his shaggy breast was in two ways divided,—whether, after drawing his sharp sword from his thigh, the assembly he should scatter, and the son of Atreus slay, or whether he should stop his anger and restrain his spirit. While he was revolving these things in his mind and spirit, and was tugging the great sword out of its sheath, then came Athena, down from heaven; for she was sent forth by the goddess, white-elbowed Hera, who in her heart loved and cared equally for both. She stood behind, and grasped the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, to him alone appearing; but from among the others, nobody else saw her; and astonished was Achilles, and he turned around, and immediately knew Pallas Athena; and terribly her eyes shone. And speaking aloud, with wingéd words he addressed her:
“Why again, child of aegis-bearing Zeus, have you come? Is it that you may witness the insolence of Agamemnon, the son of Atreus? But I will declare to you, and this, I think, will be fulfilled: for his proud trust in the force of arms, he shall immediately lose his life.”
And him addressed in turn the goddess, bright-eyed Athena:
“I came rather to stop your intention, in the hope you would obey me, on my way from heaven; I was sent forth by the goddess, white-elbowed Hera, who in her heart loves and cares equally for both of you. But come, cease from strife, nor draw your sword into your hand; but by all means with words reproach him, as to how it will be; for thus I will declare, and this also shall be fulfilled: at a future time, three times as many shall be your glorious gifts, on account of this man’s insolence; but as for you, restrain yourself, and obey us.”
And making his reply, then addressed her swift-footed Achilles:
“A man must surely hold dear the word of you two, goddess, even when angered greatly in his heart; for thus it is better. He who obeys the gods, him they especially hear.”
He spoke, and on his silver hilt kept his heavy hand, and again into its scabbard thrust the great sword, nor disobeyed the speech of Athena; and she mounted Olympus, towards the halls of aegis-bearing Zeus, to join the other divinities.
And the son of Peleus, once again, with dreadful words, addressed the son of Atreus, and did not at all cease from his wrath:
“Heavy with wine! with the eyes of a dog, but the heart of a deer. Never has your heart dared either to arm for battle with your people, or go to ambush with the best of the Achaeans; that seems to be death to you. Yes, it is far more pleasant, among the broad host of the Achaeans, to snatch gifts for yourself from whoever speaks against you. People-devouring king! since you rule worthless men; for otherwise, son of Atreus, this outrage would have been your last. But I will declare to you, and will swear a great oath to confirm it: by this sceptre, which never again will grow leaves and branches, since now it has left its stump on the mountains, nor will it bloom again, for bronze has peeled it completely of its leaves and bark—and now, in turn, the sons of the Achaeans bear it in their palms as judges, and protect the laws from Zeus; and so this, I assure you, will be a mighty oath:—at a future hour, a yearning for Achilles will surely come on the Achaeans, every one of them; and then you will be utterly unable, for all your grief, to assist them, when many will die and fall at the hands of man-slaying Hector; but you shall tear your heart within you, in anger that the best of the Achaeans, you did not at all repay.”
Thus spoke the son of Peleus, and cast the sceptre to the ground, with golden nails pierced, and himself sat down. And Atreus’ son, on the other side, was raging; but to them Nestor, sweet of speech, leapt up, the clear-voiced Pylian orator, from whose very tongue flowed speech that was sweeter than honey. Already in his life-time, two whole generations of mortal men had passed away, who had once been brought up and flourished with him in sacred Pylos; and among the third he ruled. He, with good intentions in his heart, addressed the assembly and spoke amongst them:
“Oh shame, shame; great grief to the Achaean land has come! Joy would surely lift the heart of Priam and the sons of Priam, and the other Trojans would be greatly glad, were they to hear all this of you two quarrelling, who are first of the Danaans in counsel, and first in war. But listen to me; both of you are younger than I am; for already have I been in the company of men who were even more excellent than you, and never did they despise me. For not to this day have I seen such men, nor shall I see them, as Peirithous was and Dryas, shepherd of the people, and Caeneus and Exadius and godlike Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, a man resembling the immortals. Mightiest they grew among men upon the earth; mightiest they were, and with the mightiest they fought, with monsters dwelling on the mountains, and terribly they destroyed them. And with these men I associated when I came from Pylos, from far away out of a distant land; for it was they that called me. And I would fight on my own; yet against those men no one, of those who now are mortals upon the whole face of the earth, could hope to fight; and my counsels they heeded, and would obey my word. But do you also obey me, since to obey is better. For your part, Agamemnon, excellent though you are, do not take away this girl, but leave her as his prize, just as she first was given by the sons of the Achaeans; nor should you, son of Peleus, desire to quarrel with a king, opposing force to force, since it is no common share of honour that falls to a sceptre-bearing king, to whom Zeus gave glory. If you are stronger, and a goddess bore you as your mother, yet he is mightier, since he rules many. But son of Atreus, stop your rage; it is I who am entreating you, let go your anger towards Achilles, who is for all the Achaeans a great bulwark in evil war.”
And making answer, then addressed him lord Agamemnon:
“Doubtless, old man, these things are all properly spoken. But what this man truly desires is to be above all others, all to master, all to rule, all to command; in this, I think, there is one who will not obey him. If he was indeed made a spearman by the ever-living gods, do they therefore also permit him to reproach me?”
But interrupting him, then answered godlike Achilles:
“Cowardly and worthless would be my name, if I yielded to you in everything, whatever you dictate; to others give such orders, do not make demands of me, for here I think is one who will no longer obey you. And another thing I will tell you, and do you take it to heart: with hands, at least, I will not fight you for the sake of a girl, neither you nor any other man,—since it is every one of you that has deprived me of what you gave; but as for what else is mine by the swift, black ship, of that you may take nothing, if I do not consent; or come, try, that the rest also may know: immediately your black blood will rush upon my spear.”
Thus the two of them, after fighting with violent words, rose up, and dismissed the assembly by the ships of the Achaeans. The son of Peleus to his huts and balanced ships went, with the son of Menoetius and with his comrades; while the son of Atreus drew a swift ship down to the sea, chose for it twenty rowers, placed on it a hecatomb for the god, and seated in it bright-cheeked Chryseis, after leading her there; and as its commander came much-counselling Odysseus.
So these men, once they were on board, began to sail the watery ways; while the rest of the people, the son of Atreus bade purify themselves. And they were purifying themselves, and casting the filthy water into the sea, and sacrificing to Apollo perfect hecatombs of bulls and goats, by the shore of the unfruitful sea; and the scent reached up to heaven, whirling around the smoke.
Thus were they engaged in these labours throughout the camp; nor did Agamemnon cease from the strife with which he first had threatened Achilles, but Talthybius and Eurybates he addressed, who were his two heralds and ready attendants:
“Go, both of you, to the hut of Peleus’ son Achilles; take by the hand and lead away bright-cheeked Briseis. If he will not give her, I will myself take her, when I have come with many; and that, for him, will be far more terrible.”
Thus having spoken, he sent them forth, and a harsh command he gave. The two unwillingly went by the shore of the unfruitful sea, and at the Myrmidon huts and ships arrived. Him they found by his hut and black ship, sitting; nor, to be sure, when he saw those two, did joy fill the heart of Achilles. And they, filled with dread and awe of the king, stood, and not a word to him did they speak, nor made question; yet he knew it in his heart, and spoke aloud:
“Hail heralds, messengers of Zeus and also of men! come closer; it is not you who are guilty of any wrong to me, but Agamemnon, who sent you both on account of Briseis, the girl. But come, Zeus-born Patroclus, bring out the girl, and give her to these two to lead away. And let them be witnesses before the gods who are blissful and mortal men, and before the king, unfeeling as he is, in case ever again need of me shall arise, a shameful plague to ward off for the others; for surely he, in his destructive mind, is raging, and is utterly unable to consider, at the same time, both past and future, or how for his own benefit by the ships, the Achaeans may fight safely.”
Thus he spoke; and Patroclus obeyed his dear companion, and brought out from the hut bright-cheeked Briseis, and gave her to be led away; and the two heralds again went by the ships of the Achaeans. And she, the woman, against her will went with them; but Achilles, who had fallen into tears apart from his companions, was sitting, after withdrawing far away, on the shore of the grey sea, as he looked upon the boundless ocean. And vehemently to his dear mother did he pray, his hands uplifting:
“Mother! since you were the one who gave me birth, though to so short a life, honour, at least, ought the Olympian to have put into my palm, high-thundering Zeus; but now he has not even requited me with little. For without question the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, has dishonoured me; for he has taken and keeps my prize, after himself robbing me of it.”
Thus he spoke, shedding tears; and his queenly mother heard him, as she sat in the depths of the sea beside her elderly father. And swiftly she rose up from the grey sea like a mist; and she sat down before him as he wept, and stroked him with her hand, and spoke to him and called him by name:
“Child, why do you cry? What grief has come to your heart? Speak out, do not hide it in your mind, that both of us may know.”
And with heavy groaning, her addressed swift-footed Achilles:
“You do know; why then, since you know this, shall I declaim it all to you? We came to Thebes, the holy city of Eetion, and destroyed it utterly and brought here everything. And this was well distributed among the sons of the Achaeans; but they selected for the son of Atreus bright-cheeked Chryseis. And Chryses, in turn, a priest of far-darting Apollo, came to the swift ships of the Achaeans who are clad in bronze, intending to release his daughter, and bringing with him countless gifts of ransom; and garlands he had in his hands of far-darting Apollo, wreathed around a golden sceptre. And he made his entreaties to all the Achaeans; but especially to the two sons of Atreus, directors of the people. At this, the other Greeks all shouted their applause, meaning to revere the priest, and accept his glorious ransoms. But as for the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, it was not pleasing to his heart; but abusively he dismissed the man, and a harsh command he gave. Filling with anger, the old man went away; but once he prayed to Apollo, him Apollo heard, since he was most dear to him, and he shot at the Argives a bitter dart; and the people were now dying quickly and more quickly, and the darts of the god flew everywhere throughout the broad camp of the Achaeans. But for our good a prophet, who had reliable knowledge, declared the oracles of the far-darter. At once I was the first to urge that the god should be appeased; but the son of Atreus was thereupon by anger seized, and instantly rising up, he made a threatening speech that now has been fulfilled. For the girl in question, along with a swift ship, the quick-glancing Achaeans are to Chryse sending, and are bringing gifts for lord Apollo; but just now another girl, the heralds came and captured from my tent, the maid Briseis, who was given me by the sons of the Achaeans. But as for your part in all this; if you can, protect your noble son: go to Olympus and make an entreaty to Zeus, if ever you have, in the smallest way, gratified the heart of Zeus in word or action. For many times, in the halls of my father, have I heard you glory, when you claimed that the black-clouded son of Cronus, you alone, of all the immortals, had defended from shameful ruin, at a time when the other Olympians wished to bind him, Hera and Poseidon and even Pallas Athena. But when you came, goddess, you released him from his bonds, for swiftly had you called to tall Olympus the hundred-handed one, whom Briareus call the gods, but all men Aegaeon; for in point of strength, he is greater than his father. So next to the son of Cronus, he sat down, rejoicing in his glory: before him actually cowered the blessed gods, and did not any longer bind Zeus. These things now bringing to his remembrance, sit beside him and clasp his knees, in the hope that he might be willing the Trojans to assist; but as for those others, the Achaeans, to hem them in among their sterns and around the sea as they are slain; that all may have enjoyment of their king, and that even the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, may know his blindness: that the best of the Achaeans, he did not at all repay.”
And him answered then Thetis, shedding tears:
“Ah my child; why now have I brought you up, since I bore you unto trouble! If only you had been destined to sit by the ships without tears and without suffering, since your fate is now so short-lived, not very long at all. As it is, you have turned out to be swift-fated and miserable above all men; therefore to an evil fate I bore you in our halls. But in order to speak this case for you to Zeus, who delights in thunder, I will go personally to Olympus, capped with snow, in the hope he may be persuaded. As for you, for the moment, sit by the swift ships and rage against the Achaeans; but from battle cease entirely. For Zeus to Oceanus, to the blameless Ethiopians, went yesterday for a feast, and the gods all followed with him; but on the twelfth day, he will, I assure you, return to Olympus, and then I will surely go to Zeus’s bronze-floored palace, and him I will clasp by the knees and him, I think, I will persuade.”
Thus then having spoken, she went away, and him left there, angered in his heart on behalf of the well-girdled woman; whom they were by force, and against his will, now carrying away. But as for Odysseus, at Chryse he was now beginning to arrive, bringing a holy hecatomb. And when the men had arrived within the harbour, which was extremely deep, they furled the sails, and placed them in the black ship, the mast to the mast-crutch brought, after lowering it by the forestays swiftly, and rowed her with oars into the place of anchorage. Out they cast mooring-stones, and to the cables secured them; out they also stepped, upon the shore of the sea; out the hecatomb they brought, for far-darting Apollo; and out Chryseis from the ship came, that journeys over the sea. Her, therefore, led to the altar much-counselling Odysseus, and into her beloved father’s hands he gave her, and to him he made address:
“O Chryses, here I was sent by the king of men, Agamemnon, your child to return, and up to Phoebus to offer a holy hecatomb on behalf of the Danaans, that we may appease the lord, who just now upon the Argives, mournful troubles has imposed.”
Thus having spoken, into his hands he gave her, and he received with rejoicing the child whom he loved. But the men swiftly, for the god, a holy hecatomb set up about the well-built altar, washed their hands accordingly, and the sacrificial barley took up. And for them Chryses prayed loudly, his hands uplifting:
“Hear me, god of the silver bow! protector of Chryse and divine Cilla, and mighty ruler over Tenedos! As once before you heard me when I prayed—you honoured me, and greatly did you inflict the people of the Achaeans—so again even now, fulfil for me this desire: now at once, for the Danaans, the shameful plague repel.”
Thus he spoke, praying; and Phoebus Apollo heard him. But when the others had prayed, and the barley sprinkled on, they drew back the heads of the victims, first of all, and cut their throats and flayed them; then cut out the thighs, and utterly with fat them covered, doing so twice over, and on them placed raw meat. The old man, meanwhile, would burn them on pieces of wood, and dark-faced wine pour on; and the young men, by his side, were holding five-pronged forks in their hands. But when the two thighs intended for the god, had been utterly consumed in fire, and the entrails they had tasted, they then cut into pieces everything else, and on spits transfixed it, roasted it very carefully, and drew off all. But when they had rested from their labour, and prepared the feast, they feasted, nor did their heart lack anything of a feast that equalled it. But when drink and meat’s desire had been cast out, the youths then crowned the mixing-bowls with drink, and so distributed to all, beginning with libations for the cups. And all that day, in song was the god appeased—by the youths of the Achaeans, a paean singing that was beautiful, and celebrating the far-darter; and his heart was delighted as he heard.
And when the sun sunk down, and dusk approached, then they lay down to sleep by the stern-cables of the ship. But when the early-born appeared, rosy-fingered Dawn, even at that time did they launch her, sailing for the broad camp of the Achaeans. And assisting them, a favouring wind sent far-darting Apollo; and they the mast set up, and the white sails spread wide, and the wind swelled in the middle of the sail, and a wave about the cutwater, dark-gleaming, was shrieking out as the ship went on; and she was running over the wave, accomplishing her way. But when they had arrived at the broad camp of the Achaeans, they drew to land the black ship, high upon the sands, stretched long props underneath her, and were themselves scattered amongst their huts and ships.
But he was raging, as by the ships he sat that fare quickly—the one born of Zeus, Peleus’ son, swift-footed Achilles. Never to the public assembly would he come and go, where men win glory, nor to the war; but he wasted away his heart, there to remain, and longed for the war-cry and the war.
But when, after all this, the twelfth dawn had come, then it was that to Olympus went the gods that exist for ever; all of them collectively, but Zeus as their leader. And Thetis was not forgetful of the urgent wishes of her son, but she rose up from the wave of the sea, and early ascended great heaven and Olympus. And she found the far-seeing son of Cronus, sitting apart from the others, upon the topmost peak of many-ridged Olympus. And so before him she sat down, and clasped his knees with her left hand; and then with her right one having taken his chin, she entreated and addressed Zeus, the Cronian lord:
“Father Zeus; if ever I have, in the midst of the immortals, done any benefit for you, either in word or action, fulfil for me this desire: honour my son, who is swiftly-fated above all others. And yet he has, just now, by the lord of men, Agamemnon, been dishonoured; for he has taken and keeps his prize, after himself robbing him of it. But do you repay him, Olympian, counsellor Zeus: for such a time to the Trojans give power, until the Achaeans to my son give recompense, and they magnify him with honour.”
Thus she spoke; and to her did not make any address cloud-gathering Zeus, but in a state of silence, for a long while he sat. But Thetis so fastened herself to his knees, as if she was growing into them, and asked him again a second time:
“With infallibility, I beg you, either promise me and nod your assent, or speak your refusal plainly, since, surely, when it comes to you, there can be no fear; that I may have certain knowledge how far I, among all the gods, am dishonoured.”
And to her, troubled in his spirit, made address cloud-gathering Zeus:
“Without question, deadly works, since you will set me on to hostility with Hera, when she will provoke me with reproachful words. She even now is constantly, in the midst of the immortal gods, disputing me, and claims that in battle, the Trojans have my assistance. But play your part, and for the moment, go back again, lest anything should be perceived by Hera; as for me, all this matter will be my care, until I shall fulfil it. Come now, I will bow for you my head, that you may place your trust in me; for this, when it comes from me, is, among the immortals, the greatest sign; for nothing of mine may be recalled, or is deceitful, or unfulfilled—whatever I bow to with my head!”
He spoke, and with his dark-blue brow, then bowed the son of Cronus; and the ambrosial locks of the lord flowed down, from his head that was immortal; and he made great Olympus shake.
The two of them, after thus holding counsel, were separated; she, for her part, of the sea leapt down to the depths, from radiant Olympus; Zeus, to his own dwelling; and the gods collectively all rose up, out of their seats, their father to attend; nor did any one dare to await his coming, but before him rose every one of them. So he there sat down upon his throne; but Hera, who had seen him, did not fail to perceive, that with him had taken counsel silver-footed Thetis, daughter of the old man of the sea. Immediately with heart-cutting words, Zeus, the son of Cronus, she addressed:
“Who yet again, crafty of counsel, from among the gods has taken counsel with you? Ever dear to you it is, when you are far apart from me, to pass judgement on what you consider in secret; but when it comes to me, never, willingly, have you remotely dared to speak any notion that you think.”
And her answered then the father of men and gods:
“Hera, do not all my words expect to know; hard will they be for you, bedfellow though you are. Whatever is fitting for you to hear, nobody, in that case, either from among the gods shall know it first, nor men; but whatever I, when I am apart from the gods, may wish to consider, do not overly question these things every one, nor make your investigations.”
And him answered then the ox-eyed lady, Hera:
“Most dreadful son of Cronus, what a word have you spoken! Not very closely, at least before now, have I questioned or investigated you; but very much at your ease, you plan whatever you may wish. But now a terrible fear has come to my mind, that she has persuaded you—silver-footed Thetis, daughter of the old man of the sea! For early she sat by you, and clasped your knees; and for her, I suppose, you bowed your head, in certain promise, that Achilles you would honour, but destroy many by the ships of the Achaeans.”
And making his reply, her addressed cloud-gathering Zeus:
“Daimon-possessed! You are constantly suspecting, nor can I escape your notice; though as for accomplishing anything by it, you can do nothing; but from my heart, even farther will you be, and that, for you, will be far more terrible. Even if this matter is as you say, to me it must be pleasing; but be silent and sit down, and obey my word; otherwise, I fear, as many gods as are in Olympus will not protect you—from one coming closer—when upon you, I lay resistless hands!”
Thus he spoke; and fear overcame the ox-eyed, queenly Hera, and so she silently sat down, bending to his will her own dear heart. And troubled through all the house of Zeus were the gods of heaven; but to them Hephaestus, famous for his art, began to make address, to his dear mother showing kindness, white-elbowed Hera:
“Without question, deadly works will these be, and no longer bearable, if you two, for the sake of mortals, will contend like this, and among the gods a noisy wrangling stir; nor from the good feast will there be pleasure, since worse things tend to prevail. But to my mother I give counsel, even though she already knows it, that to our dear father Zeus, she should show kindness; that she may not, for a second time, be reproved by the father, who would throw our feast into utter confusion. For just suppose that he should will—the Olympian, the lord of lightning—to thrust us from our seats! for he is by far the best. But do you in words address him that are soft; immediately thereafter, gracious will the Olympian be to us.”
Thus then he spoke; and leaping to his feet, a cup, with two handles, into his beloved mother’s hand he gave, and to her he made address:
“Be patient, my dear mother, and bear up even though you are troubled; otherwise, I fear, though dear to me you are, before my very eyes I shall see you——beaten; and then I shall be utterly unable, for all my grief, to assist you; for painful is the Olympian to oppose. For already even at another time, when I have yearned to protect you, he threw me, with my foot in his grasp, from the threshold of heaven; all day I was carried headlong, and together with the setting of the sun fell at Lemnos, and little was the life yet in me. There the Sintian people immediately took me to their care, after I fell.”
Thus he spoke; and a smile came over the goddess, white-elbowed Hera, and having so smiled, from her son received into her hand the cup. But he, for the other gods, from left to right, for every one of them, poured wine of sweet nectar, as from the mixing-bowl he drew; and unquenchable then was the laughter that rose among the blessed gods, when they saw Hephaestus huffing and puffing throughout the house.
Thus therefore all day long, until the sun sunk down, they feasted, nor did their heart lack anything of a feast that equalled it; certainly not of the lyre, so consummately beautiful, held by the hands of Apollo, nor yet of the Muses, who were singing; and as they did so, answered one another in one voice of beauty.
But when had sunk down the radiant light of the sun, the rest of the gods went to lie down, each one to their own home; where for each of them there was a house, that the famous, the lame-footed Hephaestus had built, with his skilful intellect. But Zeus to his own bed went, the Olympian, lord of lightning, where formerly he would take his rest when sweet sleep came upon him; where he slept after ascending, and beside him, golden-throned Hera.