Never hath house closed yet o'er loves so blissful uniting,
335 Never love so well his children in harmony knitten,
So as Thetis agrees, as Peleus bendeth according.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
You shall a son see born that knows not terror, Achilles,
One whose back no foe, whose front each knoweth in onset;
340 Often a conqueror, he, where feet course swiftly together,
Steps of a fire-fleet doe shall leave in his hurry behind him.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Him to resist in war, no champion hero ariseth,
Then on Phrygian earth when carnage Trojan is utter'd;
345 Then when a long sad strife shall Troy's crown'd city beleaguer,
Waste her a third false heir from Pelops wary descending.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
His unmatchable acts, his deeds of glorious honour,
Oft shall mothers speak o'er sons untimely departed;
350 While from crowns earth-bow'd fall loosen'd silvery tresses,
Beat on shrivell'd breasts weak palms their dusky defacing.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
As some labourer ears close-cluster'd lustily lopping,
Under a flaming sun, mows fields ripe-yellow in harvest,
So, in fury of heart, shall death's stern reaper, Achilles,
355 Charge Troy's children afield and fell them grimly with iron.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Deeds of such high glory Scamander's river avoucheth,
Hurried in eddies afar thro' boisterous Hellespontus;
Then when a slaughter'd heap his pathway watery choking,
360 Brimmeth a warm red tide and blood with water allieth.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Voucher of him last riseth a prey untimely devoted
E'en to the tomb, which mounded in heaps, high, spherical, earthen,
Grants to the snow-white limbs, to the stricken maiden a welcome.
365 Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Scarcely the war-worn Greeks shall win such favour of heaven,
Neptune's bonds of stone from Dardan city to loosen,
Dankly that high-heav'd grave shall gory Polyxena crimson.
She as a lamb falls smitten a twin-edg'd falchion under,
370 Boweth on earth weak knees, her limbs down flingeth unheeding.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Up then, fair paramours, in fond love happily mingle.
Now in blessed treaty the bridegroom welcome a goddess;
Now give a bride long-veil'd to her husband's passionate yearning.
375 Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.
Her when duly the nurse with day-light early revisits,
Necklace of yester-night—she shall not clasp it about her.
Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.