“‘Sorrow not thus, beloved one, for me.
No living man can send me to the shades
Before my time; no man of woman born,
Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.
But go thou home, and tend thy labors there,—
The web, the distaff,—and command thy maids
To speed the work. The cares of war pertain
To all men born in Troy, and most to me.’”
Homer (Bryant’s tr.).
Greeks repelled.
Paris, ashamed now of his former flight, soon joined his brother upon the battlefield, and together they performed many deeds of valor. The time had now come when Jupiter was about to redeem the promise given to Thetis, for little by little the Greeks were forced to yield before the might of the Trojans, who, stimulated by their partial success, and fired by Hector’s example, performed miracles of valor, and finally drove their assailants into their intrenchments.
Death and defeat now dogged the very footsteps of the Greek forces, who were driven, inch by inch, away from the walls, ever nearer the place where their vessels rode at anchor. They now ardently longed for the assistance of Achilles, whose mere presence, in days gone by, had filled the Trojan hearts with terror; but the hero, although Briseis had been returned unmolested, paid no heed to their entreaties for aid, and remained a sullen and indifferent spectator of their flight, while the Trojans began to set fire to some of the vessels of their fleet.
“The goddess-born Achilles, swift of foot,
Beside his ships still brooded o’er his wrath,
Nor came to counsel with the illustrious chiefs,
Nor to the war, but suffered idleness
To eat his heart away; for well he loved
Clamor and combat.”
Homer (Bryant’s tr.).
Discouraged by all these reverses, in spite of their brave resistance, the Greeks, in despair, concluded that the gods had entirely forsaken them, and beat a hasty and ignominious retreat to the shore, closely followed by the enemy, who uttered loud cries of triumph.
Patroclus dons Achilles’ armor.
Patroclus, Achilles’ intimate friend, then hastened to the hero’s side to inform him of his comrades’ flight, and implore him once more to rescue them from inevitable death. But Achilles, summoning all his pride to his assistance, did not waver in his resolve. Suddenly Patroclus remembered that the mere sight of Achilles’ armor might suffice to arrest the enemy’s advance and produce a diversion in favor of the Greeks: so he asked permission to wear it and lead the Myrmidons, Achilles’ trusty followers, into the fray.
“Send me at least into the war,
And let me lead thy Myrmidons, that thus
The Greeks may have some gleam of hope. And give
The armor from thy shoulders. I will wear
Thy mail, and then the Trojans, at the sight,
May think I am Achilles, and may pause
From fighting, and the warlike sons of Greece,
Tired as they are, may breathe once more, and gain
A respite from the conflict.”
Homer (Bryant’s tr.).
Achilles had sworn, it is true, not to return to the scene of strife, but was quite willing to lend men and arms, if they might be of any use, and immediately placed them at his friend’s disposal. Hastily Patroclus donned the glittering armor, called aloud to the Myrmidons to follow his lead, and rushed forth to encounter the enemy.