The Fall of Troy [32]
the West-wind clarion-voiced Yea, and they had accomplished their desire, But the Gods' purpose held them back, until From Scyros' isle Achilles' fleetfoot son Should come. Him waited they to welcome, when He came unto the war-host; for the Fates, Daughters of holy Chaos, at their birth Had spun the life-threads of those deathless foals, Even to serve Poseidon first, and next Peleus the dauntless king, Achilles then The invincible, and, after these, the fourth, The mighty-hearted Neoptolemus, Whom after death to the Elysian Plain They were to bear, unto the Blessed Land, By Zeus' decree. For which cause, though their hearts Were pierced with bitter anguish, they abode Still by the ships, with spirits sorrowing For their old lord, and yearning for the new.
Then from the surge of heavy-plunging seas Rose the Earth-shaker. No man saw his feet Pace up the strand, but suddenly he stood Beside the Nereid Goddesses, and spake To Thetis, yet for Achilles bowed with grief: "Refrain from endless mourning for thy son. Not with the dead shall he abide, but dwell With Gods, as doth the might of Herakles, And Dionysus ever fair. Not him Dread doom shall prison in darkness evermore, Nor Hades keep him. To the light of Zeus Soon shall he rise; and I will give to him A holy island for my gift: it lies Within the Euxine Sea: there evermore A God thy son shall be. The tribes that dwell Around shall as mine own self honour him With incense and with steam of sacrifice. Hush thy laments, vex not thine heart with grief."
Then like a wind-breath had he passed away Over the sea, when that consoling word Was spoken; and a little in her breast Revived the spirit of Thetis: and the God Brought this to pass thereafter. All the host Moved moaning thence, and came unto the ships That brought them o'er from Hellas. Then returned To Helicon the Muses: 'neath the sea, Wailing the dear dead, Nereus' Daughters sank,
BOOK IV
How in the Funeral Games of Achilles heroes contended.
Nor did the hapless Trojans leave unwept The warrior-king Hippolochus' hero-son, But laid, in front of the Dardanian gate, Upon the pyre that captain war-renowned. But him Apollo's self caught swiftly up Out of the blazing fire, and to the winds Gave him, to bear away to Lycia-land; And fast and far they bare him, 'neath the glens Of high Telandrus, to a lovely glade; And for a monument above his grave Upheaved a granite rock. The Nymphs therefrom Made gush the hallowed water of a stream For ever flowing, which the tribes of men Still call fair-fleeting Glaucus. This the gods Wrought for an honour to the Lycian king.
But for Achilles still the Argives mourned Beside the swift ships: heart-sick were they all With dolorous pain and grief. Each yearned for him As for a son; no eye in that wide host Was tearless. But the Trojans with great joy Exulted, seeing their sorrow from afar, And the great fire that spake their foe consumed. And thus a vaunting voice amidst them cried: "Now hath Cronion from his heaven vouchsafed A joy past hope unto our longing eyes, To see Achilles fallen before Troy. Now he is smitten down, the glorious hosts Of Troy, I trow, shall win a breathing-space From blood of death and from the murderous fray. Ever his heart devised the Trojans' bane; In his hands maddened aye the spear of doom With gore besprent, and none of us that faced Him in the fight beheld another dawn. But now, I wot, Achaea's valorous sons Shall flee unto their galleys shapely-prowed, Since slain Achilles lies. Ah that the might Of Hector still were here, that he might slay The Argives one and all amidst their tents!"
So in unbridled joy a Trojan cried; But one more wise and prudent answered him: "Thou deemest that yon murderous Danaan host Will straightway get them to the ships, to flee Over the misty sea. Nay, still their lust Is hot for fight: us will they nowise fear, Still are there left strong battle-eager men, As Aias, as Tydeides, Atreus' sons: Though dead Achilles be, I still fear these. Oh that Apollo Silverbow would end them! Then in that day were
Then from the surge of heavy-plunging seas Rose the Earth-shaker. No man saw his feet Pace up the strand, but suddenly he stood Beside the Nereid Goddesses, and spake To Thetis, yet for Achilles bowed with grief: "Refrain from endless mourning for thy son. Not with the dead shall he abide, but dwell With Gods, as doth the might of Herakles, And Dionysus ever fair. Not him Dread doom shall prison in darkness evermore, Nor Hades keep him. To the light of Zeus Soon shall he rise; and I will give to him A holy island for my gift: it lies Within the Euxine Sea: there evermore A God thy son shall be. The tribes that dwell Around shall as mine own self honour him With incense and with steam of sacrifice. Hush thy laments, vex not thine heart with grief."
Then like a wind-breath had he passed away Over the sea, when that consoling word Was spoken; and a little in her breast Revived the spirit of Thetis: and the God Brought this to pass thereafter. All the host Moved moaning thence, and came unto the ships That brought them o'er from Hellas. Then returned To Helicon the Muses: 'neath the sea, Wailing the dear dead, Nereus' Daughters sank,
BOOK IV
How in the Funeral Games of Achilles heroes contended.
Nor did the hapless Trojans leave unwept The warrior-king Hippolochus' hero-son, But laid, in front of the Dardanian gate, Upon the pyre that captain war-renowned. But him Apollo's self caught swiftly up Out of the blazing fire, and to the winds Gave him, to bear away to Lycia-land; And fast and far they bare him, 'neath the glens Of high Telandrus, to a lovely glade; And for a monument above his grave Upheaved a granite rock. The Nymphs therefrom Made gush the hallowed water of a stream For ever flowing, which the tribes of men Still call fair-fleeting Glaucus. This the gods Wrought for an honour to the Lycian king.
But for Achilles still the Argives mourned Beside the swift ships: heart-sick were they all With dolorous pain and grief. Each yearned for him As for a son; no eye in that wide host Was tearless. But the Trojans with great joy Exulted, seeing their sorrow from afar, And the great fire that spake their foe consumed. And thus a vaunting voice amidst them cried: "Now hath Cronion from his heaven vouchsafed A joy past hope unto our longing eyes, To see Achilles fallen before Troy. Now he is smitten down, the glorious hosts Of Troy, I trow, shall win a breathing-space From blood of death and from the murderous fray. Ever his heart devised the Trojans' bane; In his hands maddened aye the spear of doom With gore besprent, and none of us that faced Him in the fight beheld another dawn. But now, I wot, Achaea's valorous sons Shall flee unto their galleys shapely-prowed, Since slain Achilles lies. Ah that the might Of Hector still were here, that he might slay The Argives one and all amidst their tents!"
So in unbridled joy a Trojan cried; But one more wise and prudent answered him: "Thou deemest that yon murderous Danaan host Will straightway get them to the ships, to flee Over the misty sea. Nay, still their lust Is hot for fight: us will they nowise fear, Still are there left strong battle-eager men, As Aias, as Tydeides, Atreus' sons: Though dead Achilles be, I still fear these. Oh that Apollo Silverbow would end them! Then in that day were