THE RISING OF ACHILLES.
From the Iliad.
Straightway Achilles arose, the belov’d of Jove, round his shoulders
Brawny her Ægis spread, fair fring’d, his guardian Athena,
And his head with a cloud of golden hue and transparent
She has encircled about, whence darted fire resplendent.
As when fire from the town ascending clambers the ether
Out of the island afar, around which enemies gather—
Fierce the defenders all day engage in desperate warfare,
Forth from the town advanc’d; but soon as the sun has descended
Flame with beacons the dense, huge turrets; upwards the blazes
Flaring, struggling ascend to be seen by friends and by neighbours,
If with assistance in war o’er the sea in ships they are coming—
So from Achilles’s head uptower’d the blazes to heaven;
Striding from out the wall, he stood o’er the trench, but he mingled
Not with the Greeks, for he heeded his mother’s solemn injunction;
Standing, he shouted there, conjointly Pallas Athena
Scream’d, and trouble immense was caus’d thereby to the Trojans;
Like to the clamorous sound that’s heard, when pealing the trumpet
Thrills through the city, besieg’d by bands of turbulent foemen,
E’en was the clamorous sound sent forth by Eacus’ grandson—
Soon as the dreadful voice was heard of Eacus’ grandson,
All their minds were amaz’d—the fair-man’d beautiful horses
Back’d with the chariots amain, such fear was awak’d in their bosoms;
Ghasted the charioteers survey’d the untameable blazes
Horribly round the brow of high, heroic Peleides
Burning, ignited by her the blue-eyed Goddess Athena
Thrice then o’er the deep trench loud shouted god-like Achilles,
Thrice were the Trojans confus’d and all their illustrious aiders;
Already round that trench had twice six champions fallen,
Spoil’d of their chariots and arms, so that gladly now the Achaians
Out of the tempest of darts the slain Patroclus dragging
Plac’d on the sorrowful couch; his comrades round it arrang’d them
Loudly lamenting, and thither there came swift-footed Achilles
Shedding the hottest of tears, when he saw his comrade so faithful
Stretch’d on that sorrowful couch, transfixt with the sharp pointed iron—
Him he had lately despatch’d with chariot and steeds to the war-field
Never, alas, to receive from that red war-field returning.
THE MEETING OF ODYSSES AND ACHILLES.
In Hades.
From the Odyssey.
Tow’rds me came the Shade of Peleidean Achilles,
And of Patroclus belov’d, and Antilochus daring and blameless,
And of Aias—of Him, who in bulk and beauty of figure
Far excell’d every Greek, to Peleides only inferior.
Me on the instant knew the Shade of Eacus’ grandson,
And in sorrowful mood with words swift flowing address’d me.
Tell me Laertes’ son, Odysses matchless in wisdom,
What fresh wondrous deed within thy brain thou art brooding,
That to the vasty deep of Hades down thou descendest,
Where the poor dead abide, mere idle shapes of the living.
Soon as the Hero ceas’d, in answer thus I address’d him:
Know, O Peleus’ son, Achilles bravest of Grecians,
Seeking Tiresias hither I’ve come, to beg of him counsel
How I may Ithaca reach with its high-ridg’d, cloud-cover’d mountains;
Nor to Achaia I’ve been, nor my foot on the shore of my country
Wretch have I plac’d, whom ever misfortunes pursue; but no mortal
E’er was so blest, as Thou, or ever will be, O Achilles,
For when alive, as a God, we Argives held thee in honor;
Now e’en here, how high above the mighty departed
Thou dost in majesty rise; grieve not though dead, O Achilles.
Soon as these words I’d said, the Shade in answer address’d me:
Talk not of death to me, in mercy, glorious Odysses,
For on the Earth’s green sod I’d rather toil as the hireling
Of some inglorious wight, and of one as poor as inglorious,
Than over all the dead in Hades reign as a Monarch;
But of my noble boy some tiding give me, I pray thee,
Whether or not he’s fam’d as a gallant leader in battle;
And if aught thou hast heard of good old Peleus, tell me;
Still is he held in dread in Myrmidonian cities,
Or has he lost respect in Hellas-land and in Pthia,
Now old age has robb’d his hands and feet of their vigour?
Think not an aid so good I’m now in the light of the sun-beam,
As of old time I prov’d on the broad domain of the Trojans,
When, in the Argives aid, I slew the best of their army;
Were I to enter now, as I am, the hall of my father,
Full little dread these hands would wake in the bosoms of any,
Who in that hall do serve, and are kept by fear in obeisance.
Soon as the Hero ceas’d, in answer thus I address’d him:
Nothing, alas, which regards the good, old Peleus know I;
But the whole tale of thy boy, thy Neoptolemus cherish’d,
I will with truth relate, by thee, great Shade, as commanded:
I myself had the luck in my own hollow ship to convey him
Forth from Scyros afar with a band of well-greav’d Achaians.
Ever when round Troy’s town in council grave we assembled
He was the first to rise with a flow of eloquence faultless,
So that Nestor divine and myself confess’d him our master;
But when on Troy’s champain we strove with spear and with buckler
Never amid the crowd you’d have found him or in the phalanx—
Far in front he advanc’d, in courage shining the foremost,
And full many a man he slew in the rage of the combat;
There’s no need to recount and to name in endless succession
All the renown’d he slew, whilst assisting strongly the Argives;
Let it suffice that with steel he stretch’d Eurypilus lifeless,
Telephos’ hero-son, and around that hero were slaughter’d
All his Ceteian friends, ensnar’d by the smiles of the damsels.