BOOK XXIV.
ARGUMENT OF THE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK.
Priam, by command of Jupiter, and under conduct of Mercury, seeks Achilles in his tent, who admonished previously by Thetis, consents to accept ransom for the body of Hector. Hector is mourned, and the manner of his funeral, circumstantially described, concludes the poem.
BOOK XXIV.
The games all closed, the people went dispersed
Each to his ship; they, mindful of repast,
And to enjoy repose; but other thoughts
Achilles’ mind employ’d: he still deplored
With tears his loved Patroclus, nor the force5
Felt of all-conquering sleep, but turn’d and turn’d
Restless from side to side, mourning the loss
Of such a friend, so manly, and so brave.
Their fellowship in toil; their hardships oft
Sustain’d in fight laborious, or o’ercome10
With difficulty on the perilous deep—
Remembrance busily retracing themes
Like these, drew down his cheeks continual tears.
Now on his side he lay, now lay supine,
Now prone, then starting from his couch he roam’d15
Forlorn the beach, nor did the rising morn
On seas and shores escape his watchful eye,
But joining to his chariot his swift steeds,
He fasten’d Hector to be dragg’d behind.
Around the tomb of Menœtiades20
Him thrice he dragg’d; then rested in his tent,
Leaving him at his length stretch’d in the dust.
Meantime Apollo with compassion touch’d
Even of the lifeless Hector, from all taint
Saved him, and with the golden ægis broad25
Covering, preserved him, although dragg’d, untorn.
While he, indulging thus his wrath, disgraced
Brave Hector, the immortals at that sight
With pity moved, exhorted Mercury
The watchful Argicide, to steal him thence.30
That counsel pleased the rest, but neither pleased
Juno, nor Neptune, nor the blue-eyed maid.
They still, as at the first, held fast their hate
Of sacred Troy, detested Priam still,
And still his people, mindful of the crime35
Of Paris, who when to his rural hut
They came, those Goddesses affronting,[1] praise
And admiration gave to her alone
Who with vile lusts his preference repaid.
But when the twelfth ensuing morn arose,40
Apollo, then, the immortals thus address’d.
Ye Gods, your dealings now injurious seem
And cruel. Was not Hector wont to burn
Thighs of fat goats and bullocks at your shrines?
Whom now, though dead, ye cannot yet endure45
To rescue, that Andromache once more
Might view him, his own mother, his own son,
His father and the people, who would soon
Yield him his just demand, a funeral fire.
But, oh ye Gods! your pleasure is alone50
To please Achilles, that pernicious chief,
Who neither right regards, nor owns a mind
That can relent, but as the lion, urged
By his own dauntless heart and savage force,
Invades without remorse the rights of man,55
That he may banquet on his herds and flocks,
So Peleus’ son all pity from his breast
Hath driven, and shame, man’s blessing or his curse.[2]
For whosoever hath a loss sustain’d
Still dearer, whether of his brother born60
From the same womb, or even of his son,
When he hath once bewail’d him, weeps no more,
For fate itself gives man a patient mind.
Yet Peleus’ son, not so contented, slays
Illustrious Hector first, then drags his corse65
In cruel triumph at his chariot-wheels
Around Patroclus’ tomb; but neither well
He acts, nor honorably to himself,
Who may, perchance, brave though he be, incur
Our anger, while to gratify revenge70
He pours dishonor thus on senseless clay.
To whom, incensed, Juno white-arm’d replied.
And be it so; stand fast this word of thine,
God of the silver bow! if ye account
Only such honor to Achilles due75
As Hector claims; but Hector was by birth
Mere man, and suckled at a woman’s breast.
Not such Achilles; him a Goddess bore,
Whom I myself nourish’d, and on my lap
Fondled, and in due time to Peleus gave80
In marriage, to a chief beloved in heaven
Peculiarly; ye were yourselves, ye Gods!
Partakers of the nuptial feast, and thou
Wast present also with thine harp in hand,
Thou comrade of the vile! thou faithless ever!85