§ 1.1  Tell, O goddess, of great-hearted Aeacides [Achilles] and of the progeny that the Thunderer feared and forbade to inherit his father’s heaven. Highly renowned are the warrior’s deeds in Maeonian song, but more remains untold: suffer me – for such is my desire – to recount the whole story of the hero, to summon him forth from his hiding-place in Scyros with the Dulichian trumpet, and not to stop short at the dragging of Hector, but to lead the youth through the whole tale of Troy. Only do thou, O Phoebus, if with a worthy draught I drained the former fount, vouchsafe new springs and weave my hair with propitious chaplets; for not as a newcomer do I seek entrance to the Aonian grove, nor are these the first fillets that magnify my brow. The fields of Dirce know it, and Thebes counts my name among her forefathers of old time and with her own Amphion.

§ 1.14  But thou whom far before all others the pride of Italy and Greece regards with reverent awe, for whom the laurels twain of poet and warrior-chief flourish in mutual rivalry – already one of them grieves to be surpassed– grant pardon, and allow me anxiously to toil in this dust awhile. Thine is the theme whereat with long nor yet confident preparation I am labouring, and great Achilles plays the prelude unto thee.

§ 1.20  The Dardan shepherd had set sail from the Oebalian shore, having wrought sweet havoc in thoughtless Amyclae, and fulfilling the presage of his mother’s dream was retracing his guilty way, where Helle deep sunk below the sea and now a Nereid holds sway over the detested waves: when Thetis – ah! never vain are a parent’s auguries! – started with terror beneath the glassy flood at the Idaean oars. Without delay she sprang forth from her watery bower, accompanied by her train of sisters: the narrowing shores of Phrixus swam, and the straitened sea had not room for its mistresses.

§ 1.30  As soon as she had shaken the brine from off her, and entered the air of heaven: “There is danger to me,” said she, “in yonder fleet, and threat of deadly harm; I recognize the truth of Proteus’ warnings. Lo! Bellona brings from the vessel amid uplifted torches a new daughter-in-law to Priam; already I see the Ionian and Aegean seas pressed by a thousand keels; nor does it suffice that all the country of the Grecians conspires with the proud sons of Atreus, soon will my Achilles be sought for by land and sea, ay, and himself will wish to follow them. Why indeed did I suffer Pelion and the stern master’s cave to cradle his infant years? There, if I mistake not, he plays, the rogue, at the battle of the Lapiths, and already takes his measure with his father’s spear. O sorrow! O fears that came to late to a mother’s heart! Could I not, unhappy that I am, when first the timber of Rhoeteum was launched upon my flood, have raised a mighty sea and pursued with a tempest on the deep the adulterous robber’s sails and led on all my sisters against him? Even now – but ‘tis too late, the outrage hath been wrought in full. Yet will I go, and clinging to the gods of ocean and the right hand of second Jove – nought else remains – entreat him in piteous supplication by the years of Tethys and his aged sire for one single storm.”

§ 1.51  She spoke, and opportunely beheld the mighty monarch; he was coming from Oceanus his host, gladdened by the banquet, and his countenance suffused with the nectar of the deep: wherefore the winds and tempests are silent and with tranquil song proceed the Tritons who bear his armour and the rock-like sea-monsters and the Tyrrhenian herds, and gambol around and below him, saluting their king; he towers on high above the peaceful waves, urging on his team with his three-pronged spear: frontwise they run at furious speed amid showers of foam, behind they swim and blot out their footprints with their tails:– when Thetis: “O sire and ruler of the mighty deep, seest thou to what uses thou hast made a way o’er the hapless ocean? The crimes of the nations pass by with unmolested sails, since the Pagasaean bark broke through the sanctions of the waters and profaned their hallowed majesty on Jason’s quest of plunder. Lo! freighted with another wicked theft, the spoils of hospitality, sails the daring arbiter of unjust Ida, destined to cause what sorrow alas! to heaven and earth, and what to me! Is it thus we requite the joy of the Phrygian triumph, is this the way of Venus, is this her gift to her dear ward? These ships at least – no demigods nor our own Theseus do they carry home – o’erwhelm, if thou still hast any regard for the waters, or give the sea into my power; no cruelty do I purpose; suffer me to fear for my own son. Grant me to drive away my sorrow, nor let it be thy pleasure that out of all the seas I find a home in but a single coast and the rocks of an Ilian tomb.”

§ 1.77  With torn cheeks she made her prayer, and with bare bosom would fain hinder the cerulean steeds. But the ruler of the seas invites her into his chariot, and soothes her thus with friendly words: “Seek not in vain, Thetis, to sink the Dardanian fleet: the fates forbid it, ‘tis the sure ordinance of heaven that Europe and Asia should join in bloody conflict, and Jupiter hath issued his decree of war and appointed years of dreary carnage. What prowess of thy son in the Sigean dust, what vast funeral trains of Phrygian matrons shalt thou victoriously behold, when thy Aeacides shall flood the Trojan fields with streaming blood, and anon forbid the choked rivers to flow and check his chariot’s speed with Hector’s corpse and mightily o’erthrow my walls, my useless toil! Cease now to complain of Peleus and thy inferior wedlock: thy child shall be deemed begotten of Jove; nor shalt thou suffer unavenged, but shalt use thy kindred seas: I will grant thee to raise the billows, when the Danaans return and Caphareus shows forth his nightly signals and we search together for the terrible Ulesses.”

§ 1.95  He spoke; but she, downcast at the stern refusal, for but now she was preparing to stir up the waters and make war upon the Ilian craft, devised in her mind another plan, and sadly turned her strokes toward the Haemonian land. Thrice strove she with her arms, thrice spurned the clear water with her feet, and the Thessalian waves are washing her snow-white ankles. The mountains rejoice, the marriage-bowers fling open their recesses, and Spercheus in wide, abundant streams flows to meet the goddess and laps her footsteps with his fresh water. She delights not in the scene, but wearies her mind with schemes essayed, and taught cunning by her devoted love seeks out the aged Chiron. His lofty home bores deep into the mountain, beneath the long, overarching vault of Pelion; part had been hollowed out by toil, part worn away by its own age. Yet the images and couches of the gods are shown, and the places that each had sanctified by his reclining and his sacred presence; within are the Centaur’s wide and lofty stalls, far different from those of his wicked brethren. Here are no spears that have tasted human blood, nor ashen clubs broken in festal conflict, nor mixing-bowls shattered upon kindred foemen, but innocent quivers and mighty hides of beasts. These did he take while yet in the prime of age; but now, a warrior no more, his only toil was to learn herbs that bring health to creatures doubting of their lives, or to describe to his pupil upon his lyre the heroes of old time.

§ 1.119  On the threshold’s edge he awaited his return from hunting, and was urging the laying of the feast and brightening his abode with lavish fire: when far off the Nereid was seen climbing upward from the shore; he burst forth from the forests – joy speeds his going – and the well-known hoof-beat of the sage rang on the now unwonted plain. Then bowing down to his horse’s shoulders he leads her with courtly hand within his humble dwelling and warns her of the cave.

§ 1.126  Long time has Thetis been scanning every corner with silent glance: then, impatient of delay, she cries: “Tell me, Chiron, where is my darling? Why spends the boy any time apart from thee? Is it not with reason that my sleep is troubled, and terrible portents from the gods and fearful panics – would they were false! – afflict his mother’s heart? For now I behold swords that threaten to pierce my womb, now my arms are bruised with lamentation, now savage beasts assail my breasts; often – ah, horror! – I seem to take my son down to the void of Tartarus, and dip him a second time in the springs of Styx. The Carpathian seer bids me banish these terrors by the ordinance of a magic rite, and purify the lad in secret waters beyond the bound of heaven’s vault, where is the farthest shore of Ocean and father Pontus is warmed by the ingliding stars. There awful sacrifices and gifts to gods unknown – but ‘tis long to recount all, and I am forbidden; give him to me rather.”

§ 1.141  Thus spoke his mother in lying speech – nor would he have given him up, had she dared to confess to the old man the soft raiment and dishonourable garb. Then he replies: “Take him, I pray, O best of parents, take him, and assuage the gods with humble entreaty. For thy hopes are pitched too high, and envy needs much appeasing. I add not to thy fears, but will confess the truth: some swift and violent deed – the forebodings of a sire deceive me not – is preparing, far beyond his tender years. Formerly he was wont to endure my anger, and listen eagerly to my commands nor wander far from my cave: now Ossa cannot contain him, nor mighty Pelion and all the snows of Thessaly. Even the Centaurs often complain to me of plundered homes and herds stolen before their eyes, and that they themselves are driven from field and river; they devise violence and fraud, and utter angry threats. Once when the Thessalian pine bore hither the princes of Argos, I saw the young Alcides and Theseus – but I say no more.”

§ 1.158  Cold pallor seized the daughter of Nereus: lo! he was come, made larger by much dust and sweat, and yet for all his weapons and hastened labours still pleasant to the sight; a radiant glow shimmers on his snow-white countenance, and his locks shine more comely than tawny gold. The bloom of youth is not yet changed by new-springing down, a tranquil flame burns in his glance, and there is much of his mother in his look: even as when the hunter Apollo returns from Lycia and exchanges his fierce quiver for the quill. By chance too he is in joyful mood – ah, how joy enhances beauty! – ; beneath Pholoë’s cliff he had stricken a lioness lately delivered and had left her in the empty lair, but had brought the cubs and was making them show their claws. Yet when he sees his mother on the well-known threshold, away he throws them, catches her up and binds her in his longing arms, already violent in his embrace and equal to her in height. Patroclus follows him, bound to him even then by a strong affection, and strains to rival all his mighty doings, well-matched in the pursuits and ways of youth, but far behind in strength, and yet to pass to Pergamos with equal fate.

§ 1.178  Straightway with rapid bound he hies him to the nearest river, and freshens in its waters his steaming face and hair: just as Castor enters the shallows of Eurotas on his panting steed, and tricks out anew the weary splendours of his star. The old man marvels as he adorns him, caressing now his breast, now his strong shoulders: her very joy pierces his mother’s heart. Then Chiron prays her to taste the banquet and the gifts of Bacchus, and contriving various amusements for her beguiling at last brings forth the lyre and moves the care-consoling strings, and trying the chords lightly with his finger gives them to the boy. Gladly he sings of the mighty causes of noble deeds: how many behests of his haughty stepmother the son of Amphitryon performed, how Pollux with his glove smote down the cruel Bebryx, with what a grip the son of Aegeus enfolded and crushed the limbs of the Minoan bull, lastly his own mother’s marriage-feast and Pelion trodden by the gods. Then Thetis relaxed her anxious countenance and smiled. Night draws them on to slumber: the huge Centaur lays him down on a stony couch, and Achilles lovingly twines his arms about his shoulders – though his faithful parent is there – and prefers the wonted breast.

§ 1.198  But Thetis, standing by night upon the sea-echoing rocks, this way and that divides her purpose, and ponders in what hiding-place she will set her son, in what country she shall choose to conceal him. Nearest is Thrace, but steeped in the passionate love of war; nor does the hardy folk of Macedon please her, nor the sons of Cecrops, sure to excite to noble deeds, nor Sestos and the bay of Abydos, too opportune for ships; she decides to roam the lofty Cyclades. Of these she spurns Myconos and humble Seriphos, and Lemnos cruel to its men, and Delos, that gives all the world a welcome. Of late from the unwarlike palace of Lycomedes had she heard the sound of maiden bands and the echo of their sport along the shore, what time she was sent to follow Aegaeon freed from his stubborn bonds and to count the hundred fetters of the god. This land finds favour, and seems safest to the timid mother. Even so a bird already taking anxious thought, as her deliver draws nigh, on what branch to hang her empty home, here foresees winds, there bethinks her fearfully of snakes, and there of men; at last in her doubt a shady spot finds favour; scarce ahs she alighted on the boughs, and straightway loves the tree.

§ 1.217  One more care abides in her mind and troubles the sad goddess, whether she shall carry her son in her own bosom o’er the waves, or use great Triton’s aid, whether she shall summon the swift winds to help her, or the Thaumantian that is wont to drink the main. Then she calls out from the waves and bridles with a sharp-edged shell her team of dolphins twain, which Tethys, mighty queen, had nourished for her in an echoing vale beneath the sea; – none throughout all Neptune’s watery realm had such renown for their sea-green beauty, nor greater speed of swimming, nor more of human sense; – these she halts in the deep shore-water, lest they take harm from the touch of naked earth. Then in her own arms she carries Achilles, his body utterly relaxed in a boy’s slumber, from the rocks of the Haemonian cave down to the placid waters and the beach that she had bidden be silent; Cynthia lights her way and shines out with full orb. Chiron escorts the goddess, and careless of the sea entreats her speedy return, and hides his moistened eyes and high upon his horse’s body gazes out towards them as suddenly they are whirled away, and now – and now are lost to view, where for a short while the foamy marks of their going gleam white and the wake dies away into the watery main. Him destined never more to return to Thessalian Tempe now mournful Pholoë bewails, now cloudy Othrys, and Spercheos with diminished flood and the silent grotto of the sage; the Fauns listen for his boyish songs in vain, and the Nymphs bemoan their long-hoped-for nuptials.

§ 1.242  Now day o’erwhelms the stars, and from the low and level main Titan wheels heavenward his dripping steeds, and down from the expanse of air falls the sea that the chariot bore up; but long since had the mother traversed the waves and gained the Scyrian shores, and the weary dolphins had been loosed from their mistress’ yoke: when the boy’s sleep was stirred, and his opening eyes grew conscious of the inpouring day. In amaze at the light that greets him he asks, where is he, what are these waves, where is Pelion? All he beholds is different and unknown, and he hesitates to recognize his mother. Quickly she caresses him and soothes his fear: “If, dear lad, a kindly lot had brought me the wedlock that it offered, in the fields of heaven should I be holding thee, a glorious star, in my embrace, nor a celestial mother should I fear the lowly Fates or the destinies of earth. But now unequal is they birth, my son, and only on thy mother’s side is the way of death barred for thee; moreover, times of terror draw nigh, and peril hovers about the utmost goal. Retire we then, relax awhile they mighty spirit, and scorn not this raiment of mine. If the Tirynthian took in his rough hand Lydian wool and women’s wands, if it becomes Bacchus to trail a gold-embroidered robe behind him, if Jupiter put on a woman’s form, and doubtful sex weakened not the mighty Caeneus, this way, I entreat thee, suffer me to escape the threatening, baleful cloud. Soon will I restore the plains and the fields where the Centaurs roam: by this beauty of thine and the coming joys of youth I pray thee, if for thy sake I endured the earth and an inglorious mate, if at they birth I fortified thee with the stern waters of Styx – ay, would I had wholly! – take these safe robes awhile, they will in no wise harm thy valour. Why doest thou turn away? What means that glance? Art thou ashamed to soften thee in this garb? Dear lad, I swear it by my kindred waters, Chiron shall know nought of this.”

§ 1.274  So doth she work on his rough heart, vainly cajoling; the thought of his sire and his great teacher oppose her prayer and the rude beginnings of his mighty spirit. Even so, should one try to subdue with earliest rein a horse full of the mettlesome fire of ungoverned youth, he having long delighted in stream and meadow and his own proud beauty, gives not his neck to the yoke, nor his fierce mouth to the bridle, and snorts with rage at passing beneath a master’s sway and marvels that he learns another gait.

§ 1.283  What god endued the despairing mother with fraud and cunning? What device drew Achilles from his stubborn purpose? It chanced that Scyros was keeping festal day in honour of Pallas, guardian of the shore, and that the sisters, offspring of peace-loving Lycomedes, had on this sacred morn gone forth from their native town – a licence rarely given – to pay tribute of the spring, and bind their grave tresses with the leaf of the goddess and scatter flowers upon her spear. All were of rarest beauty, all clad alike and all in lusty youth, their years of girlish modesty now ended, and maidenhood ripe for the marriage-couch. But as far as Venus by comparison doth surpass the green Nymphs of the sea, or as Diana rises taller by head and shoulders than the Naiads, so doth Deidamia, queen of the lovely choir, outshine and dazzle her fair sisters. The bright colour flames upon her rosy countenance, a more brilliant light is in her jewels, the gold has a more alluring gleam; as beauteous were the goddess herself, would she but lay aside the serpents on her breast, and doff her helm and pacify her brow. When he beheld her far in advance of her attendant train, the lad, ungentle as he was and heart-whole from any touch of passion, stood spellbound and drank in strange fire through all his frame. Nor does the love he has imbibed lie hidden, but the flame pulsating in his inmost being returns to his face and colours the glow upon his cheeks, and as he feels its power runs o’er his body with a light sweat. As when the Massagetae darken milk-white bowls with blood-red dye, or ivory is stained with purple, so by varying signs of blush and pallor does the sudden fire betray its presence. He would rush forward and unprovoked fiercely break up the ceremonies of his hosts, reckless of the crowd and forgetful of his years, did not shame restrain him and awe of the mother by his side. As when a bullock, soon to be the sire and leader of a herd, though his horns have not yet come full circle, perceives a heifer of snowy whiteness, the comrade of his pasture, his spirit takes fire, and he foams at the mouth with his first passion; glad at heart the herdsmen watch him and check his fury.

§ 1.318  Seizing the moment his mother purposely accosts him: “Is it too hard a thing, my son, to make pretence of dancing and join hands in sport among these maidens? Hast thou aught such ‘neath Ossa and the crags of Pelion? O, if it were my lot to match two loving hearts, and to bear another Achilles in my arms!”

§ 1.323  He is softened, and blushes for joy, and with sly and sidelong glance repels the robes less certainly. His mother sees him in doubt and willing to be compelled, and casts the raiment o’er him; then she softens his stalwart neck and bows his strong shoulders, and relaxes the muscles of his arms, and tames and orders duly his uncombed tresses, and sets her own necklace about the neck she loves; then keeping his step within the embroidered skirt she teaches him gait and motion and modesty of speech. Even as the waxen images that the artist’s thumb will make to live take form and follow the fire and the hand that carves them, such was the picture of the goddess as she transformed her son. Nor did she struggle long; for plenteous charm remains to him though his manhood brook it not, and he baffles beholders by the puzzle of his sex that by a narrow margin hides its secret.

§ 1.338  They go forward, and Thetis unsparingly plies her counsels and persuasive words: “Thus then, my son, must thou manage thy gait, thus thy features and thy hands, and imitate thy comrades and counterfeit their ways, lest the king suspect thee and admit thee not to the women’s chambers, and the crafty cunning of our enterprise be lost.” So speaking she delays not to put correcting touches to his attire. Thus when Hecate returns wearied to her sire and brother from Therapnae, haunt of maidens, her mother bears her company as she goes, and with her own hand covers her shoulders and bared arms, herself arranges the bow and quiver, and pulls down the girt-up robe, and is proud to trim the disordered tresses.

§ 1.349  Straightway she accosts the monarch, and there in the presence of the altars: “Here, O king, “ she says, “I present to thee the sister of my Achilles – seest thou not how proud her glance and like her brother’s? – so high her spirit, she begged for arms and a bow to carry on her shoulders, and like an Amazon to spurn the thought of wedlock. But my son is enough care for me; let her carry the baskets at the sacrifice, do thou control and tame her wilfulness, and keep her to her sex, till the time for marriage come and the end of her maiden modesty; nor suffer her to engage in wanton wrestling-matches, nor to frequent the woodland haunts. Bring her up indoors, in seclusion among girls of her own age; above all remember to keep her from the harbour and the shore. Lately thou sawest the Phrygian sails: already ships that have crossed the sea have learnt treason to mutual loyalties.”

§ 1.363  The sire accedes to her words, and receives the disguised Achilles by his mother’s ruse – who can resist when gods deceive? Nay more, he venerates her with a suppliant’s hand, and gives thanks that he was chosen; nor is the band of duteous Scyrian maidens slow to dart keen glances at the face of their new comrade, how she o’ertops them by head and neck, how broad her expanse of breast and shoulders; then they invite her to join the dance and approach the holy rites, and make room for her in their ranks and rejoice to be near her. Just as Idalian birds, cleaving the soft clouds and long since gathered in the sky or in their homes, if a strange bird from some distant region has joined them wing to wing, are at first all filled with amaze and fear; then nearer and nearer they fly, and while yet in the air have made him one of them and hover joyfully around with favouring beat of pinions and lead him to their lofty resting-places.

§ 1.379  Long, ere she departs, lingers the mother at the gate, while she repeats advice and implants whispered secrets in his ear and in hushed tones gives her last counsels. Then she plunges into the main, and gazing back swims far away, and entreats with flattering prayers the island-shore: “O land that I love, to whom by timid cunning I have committed the pledge of my anxious care, a trust that is great indeed, mayst thou prosper and be silent, I beg, as Crete was silent for Rhea; enduring honour and everlasting shrines shall gird thee, nor shalt thou be surpassed by unstable Delos; sacred alike to wind and wave shalt thou be, and clam abode of Nereïds among the shallows of the Cyclades, where the rocks are shattered by Aegean storms, an isle that sailors swear by – only admit no Danaan keels, I beg! `Here are only the wands of Bacchus, nought that avails for war;’ that tale bid rumour spread, and while the Dorian armaments make ready and Mavors rages from world to world – he may, for aught I care – let Achilles be the maiden daughter of good Lycomedes.”

§ 1.397  Meanwhile avenging Europe, inflamed by war’s sweet frenzy and the monarchs’ complaining entreaties, excites her righteous ire; more earnestly pleads that son of Atreus whose spouse abides at home, and by his telling makes the Ilian crime more grievous: how without aid of Mars or force of arms the daughter of heaven and child of mighty Sparta was taken, and justice, good faith and the gods spurned by one deed of rapine. Is this then Phrygian honour? Is this the intercourse of land with land? What awaits the common folk, when wrong so deadly attacks the foremost chieftains? All races, all ages flock together: nor are they only aroused whom the Isthmian barrier with its rampart fronting on two seas encloses and Malea’s wave-resounding promontory, but where afar the strait of Phrixus sunders Europe and Asia; and the peoples that fringe Abydos’ shore, bound fast by the waters of the upper sea.

§ 1.413  The war-fever rises high, thrilling the agitated cities. Temese tames her bronze, the Euboean coast shakes with its dockyards, Mycenae echoes with innumerable forges, Pisa makes new chariots, Nemea gives the skins of wild beasts, Cirrha vies in packing tight the arrow-bearing quivers, Lerna in covering heavey shields with the hides of slaughtered bullocks. Aetolia and fierce Acarnania send infantry to war, Argos collects her squadrons, the pasture-lands of rich Arcadia are emptied, Epiros bridles her swift-footed nurslings, ye shades of Phocis and Aonia grow scant by reason of the javelins, Pylos and Messene strain their fortress-engines. No land but bears its burden; ancestral weapons long renounced are torn from lofty portals, gifts to the gods melt in the flame; gold reft from divine keeping Mars turns to fiercer use. Nowhere are the shady haunts of old: Othrys is lesser grown, lofty Taygetus sinks low, the shorn hills see the light of day. Now the whole forest is afloat: oaks are hewn to make a fleet, the woods are diminished for oars. Iron is forced into countless uses, for riveting prows, for armour of defence, for bridling chargers, for knitting rough coats of mail by a thousand links, to smoke with blood, to drink deep of wounds, to drive death home in conspiracy with poison; they make the dripping whetstones thin with grinding, and add wrath to sluggish sword-points. No limit is there to the shaping of bows or heaping up of bullets or the charring of stakes or the heightening of helms with crests. Amid such commotion Thessaly alone bewails her indolent repose, and brings a twofold complaint against the Fates, that Peleus is too old and Achilles not yet ripe of age.

§ 1.441  Already the lord of war had drained the land of Pelops and the Grecian world, madly flinging aboard both men and horses. All aswarm are the harbours and the bays invisible for shipping, and the moving fleet stirs its own storms and billows; the sea itself fails the vessels, and their canvas swallows up every breath of wind.

§ 1.447  Aulis, sacred to Hecate, first gathers together the Danaan fleet, Aulis, whose exposed cliff and long-projecting ridge climb the Euboean sea, coast beloved by the mountain-wandering goddess, and Caphereus, that raises his head hard by against the barking waves. He, when he beheld the Pelasgian ships sail by, thrice thundered from peak to wave, and gave presage of a night of fury. There assembles the armament for Troy’s undoing, there the vast array is sworn, while the sun completes an annual course. Then first did Greece behold her own might; then a scattered, dissonant mass took form and feature, and was marshalled under one single lord. Even so does the round hunting-net confine the hidden beasts, and gradually hem them in as the toils are drawn close. They in panic of the torches and the shouting leave their wide pathless haunts, and marvel that their own mountain is shrinking, till from every side they pour into the narrow vale; the herds startle each other, and are tamed by mutual fear; bristly boar and bear and wolf are driven together, and the hind despises the captured lions.

§ 1.467  But although the twain Atridae make war in their own cause together, though Sthenelus and Tydeus’ son surpass in eager valour their fathers’ fame, and Antilochus heeds not his years, and Ajax shakes upon his arm the seven leaders of the herd and the circle vast as a city-wall, though Ulysses, sleepless in counsel and deeds of arms, joins in the quarrel, yet all the host yearns ardently for the absent Achilles, lovingly they dwell upon Achilles’ name, Achilles alone is called for against Hector, him and none other do they speak of as the doom of Priam and of Troy. For who else grew up from infancy crawling on fresh-dug snow in the Haemonian valleys? Whom else did the Centaur take in hand and shape his rude beginnings and tender years? Whose line of ancestry runs nearer heaven? Whom else did a Nereid take by stealth through the Stygian waters and make his fair limbs impenetrable to steel? Such talk do the Grecian cohorts repeat and interchange. The band of chieftains yields before him and gladly owns defeat. So when the pale denizens of heaven flocked into the Phlegraean camp, and already Gradivus was towering to the height of his Odrysian spear and Tritonia raised her Libyan snakes and the Delian strongly bent his mighty bow, Nature in breathless terror stood looking to the Thunderer alone – when would he summon the lightnings and the tempests from the clouds, how many thunderbolts would he ask of fiery Aetna?

§ 1.491  There, while the princes, surrounded by the mingled multitudes of their folk, hold counsel of times for sailing and for war, Protesilaus amid great tumult rebukes the prophet Calchas and cries – for to him was given the keenest desire to fight, and the glory even then of suffering death the first: “O son of Thestor, forgetful of Phoebus and thy own tripods, when wilt thou open thy god-possessed lips more surely, or why dost thou hide the secret things of Fate? Seest thou how all are amazed at the unknown Aeacides and clamour for him? The Calydonian hero seems nought in the people’s eyes, and so too Ajax born of mighty Telamon and lesser Ajax, so do we also: but Mars and the capture of Troy will prove the truth. Slighting their leaders – for shame! – they all love him as a deity of war. Quickly speak, or why are thy locks enwreathed and held in honour? In what coasts lies he hidden? In what land must we seek him? For report has it that he is living neither in Chiron’s cave nor in the halls of Peleus his sire. Come, break in upon the gods, harry the fates that lie concealed! Quaff greedily, if ever thou dost, thy draughts of laurelled fire! We have relieved thee of dread arms and cruel swords, and never shall a helm profane thy unwarlike locks, yet blest shalt thou be and foremost of our chiefs, if of thyself thou doest find great Achilles for the Danaans.”

§ 1.514  Long since has the son of Thestor been glancing round about him with excited movements, and by his first pallor betrayed the incoming of the god; soon he rolls fiery, bloodshot eyes, seeing neither his comrades nor the camp, but blind and absent from the scene he now overhears the mighty councils of gods in the upper air, now accosts the prescient birds, now the stern sisters’ threads, now anxiously consults the incense-laden altars, and quickly scans the shooting flames and feeds upon the sacred vapours. His hair streams out, and the fillet totters on his stiffened locks, his head rolls and he staggers in his gait. At last trembling he looses his weary lips from their long bellowings, and his voice has struggled free from the resisting frenzy: “Whither bearest thou, O Nereid, by thy woman’s guile great Chiron’s mighty pupil? Send him hither: why dost thou carry him away? I will not suffer it: mine is he, mine! Thou art a goddess of the deep, but I too am inspired by Phoebus. In what hiding-places triest thou to conceal the destroyer of Asia? I see her all bewildered among the Cyclades, in base stealth seeking out the coast. We are ruined! The accomplice land of Lycomedes finds favour. Ah! horrid deed! see, flowing garments drape his breast. Rend them, boy, rend them, and yield not to thy timid mother. Woe, woe! he is rapt away and is gone! Who is that wicked maiden yonder?”

§ 1.536  Here tottering he ceased, the madness lost its force, and with a shudder he collapsed and fell before the altar. Then the Calydonian hero accosts the hesitating Ithacan: “’Tis us that task summons; for I could not refuse to bear thee company, should thy thought so lead thee. Though he be sunk in the echoing caves of Tethys far removed and in the bosom of watery Nereus, thou wilt find him. Do thou but keep alert the cunning and foresight of thy watchful mind, and arouse thy fertile craft: no prophet, methinks, would make bold in perplexity to see the truth before thee.”

§ 1.545  Ulysses in joy makes answer: “So may almighty God bring it to pass, and the virgin guardian of thy sire grant to thee! But fickle hope gives me pause; a great enterprise is it indeed to bring Achilles and his arms to our camp, but should the fates say nay, how woeful a disgrace were it to return! Yet will I not leave unventured the fulfilment of the Danaans’ desire. Ay, verily, either the Pelean hero shall accompany me hither, or the truth lies deep indeed and Calchas hath not spoken by Apollo.”

§ 1.553  The Danai shout applause, and Agamemnon urges on the willing pair; the gathering breaks up, and the dispersing ranks depart with joyful murmurs, even as at nightfall the birds wing their way homeward from the pastures, or kindly Hybla sees the swarms returning laden with fresh honey to their cells. Without delay the canvas of the Ithacan is already calling for a favouring breeze, and the merry crew are seated at the oars.

§ 1.560  But far away Deidamia – and she alone – had learnt in stolen secrecy the manhood of Aeacides, that lay hid beneath the show of a feigned sex; conscious of guilt concealed there is nought she does not fear, and thinks that her sisters know, but hold their peace. For when Achilles, rough as he was, stood amid the maiden company, and the departure of his mother rid him of his artless bashfulness, straightway although the whole band gathers round him, he chose her as his comrade and assails with new and winning wiles her unsuspecting innocence; her he follows, and persistently besets, toward her he ever and again directs his gaze. Now too zealously he clings to her side, nor does she avoid him, now he pelts her with light garlands, now with baskets that let their burden fall, now with the thyrsus that harms her not, or again he shows her the sweet strings of the lyre he knows so well, and the gentle measures and songs of Chiron’s teaching, and guides her hand and makes her fingers strike the sounding harp, now as she sings he makes a conquest of her lips, and binds her in his embrace, and praises her amid a thousand kisses. With pleasure does she learn of Pelion’s summit and of Aeacides, and hearing the name and exploits of the youth is spellbound in constant wonder, and sings of Achilles in his very presence.

§ 1.580  She in her turn teaches him to move his strong limbs with more modest grace and to spin out the unwrought wool by rubbing with his thumb, and repairs the distaff and the skeins that his rough hand has damaged; she marvels at the deep tones of his voice, how he shuns all her fellows and pierces her with too-attentive gaze and at all times hangs breathless on her words; and now he prepares to reveal the fraud, but she like a fickle girl avoids him, and will not allow him to confess. Even so beneath his mother Rhea’s rule the young prince of Olympus gave treacherous kisses to his sister; he was still her brother and she thought no harm, until the reverence for their common blood gave way, and the sister feared a lover’s passion.

§ 1.592  At length the timorous Nereid’s cunning was laid bare. There stood a lofty grove, scene of the rites of Agenorean Bacchus, a grove that reached to heaven; within its shade the pious matrons were wont to renew the recurrent three-yearly festival, and to bring torn animals of the herd and uprooted saplings, and to offer to the god the frenzy wherein he took delight. The law bade males keep far away; the reverend monarch repeats the command, and makes proclamation that no man may draw nigh the sacred haunt. Nor is that enough; a venerable priestess stands at the appointed limit and scans the approaches, lest any defiler come near in the train of women; Achilles laughed silently to himself. His comrades wonder at him as he leads the band of virgins and moves his mighty arms with awkward motion – his own sex and his mother’s counterfeit alike become him. No more is Deidamia the fairest of her company, and as she surpasses her own sisters, so does she herself own defeat compared with proud Aeacides. But when he let the fawn-skin hang from his shapely neck, and with ivy gathered up its flowing folds, and bound the purple fillet high upon his flaxen temples, and with powerful hand made the enwreathed missile quiver, the crowd stood awestruck, and leaving the sacred rites are fain to throng about him, uplifting their bowed heads to gaze. Even so Euhius, what time he has relaxed at Thebes his martial spirit and frowning brow, and sated his soul with the luxury of his native land, takes chaplet and mitre from his locks, and arms the green thyrsus for the fray, and in more martial guise sets out to meet his Indian foes.

§ 1.619  The Moon in her rosy chariot was climging to the height of mid-heaven, when drowsy Sleep glided down with full sweep of his pinions to earth and gathered a silent world to his embrace: the choirs reposed, the stricken bronze awhile was mute, when Achilles, parted in solitude from the virgin train, thus spoke with himself: “How long wilt thou endure the precepts of thy anxious mother, and waste the first flower of thy manhood in this soft imprisonment? No weapons of war mayst thou brandish, no beasts mayst thou pursue. Oh! for the plains and valleys of Haemonia! Lookest thou in vain, Spercheus, for my swimming, and for my promised tresses? Or hast thou no regard for the foster-child that has deserted thee? Am I already spoken of as borne to the Stygian shades afar, and does Chiron in solitude bewail my death? Thou, O Patroclus, now does aim my darts, dost bend my bow and mount the team that was nourished for me; but I have learnt to fling wide my arms as I grasp the vine-wands, and to spin the distaff-thread – ah! shame and vexation to confess it! Nay more, night and day thou dost dissemble the love that holds thee, and thy passion for the maid of equal years. How long wilt thou conceal the wound that galls thy heart, nor even in love – for shame! – prove thy own manhood?”

§ 1.640  So he speaks; and in the thick darkness of the night, rejoicing that the unstirring silence gives timely aid to his secret deeds, he gains by force his desire, and with all his vigour strains her in a real embrace; the whole choir of stars beheld from on high, and the horns of the young moon blushed red. She indeed filled the grove and mountain with her cries, but the train of Bacchus, dispelling slumber’s cloud, deemed it the signal for the dance; on every side the familiar shout arises, and Achilles once more brandishes the thyrsus; yet first with friendly speech he solaces the anxious maid: “I am he – why fearest thou? – whom my cerulean mother bore wellnigh to Jove, and sent to find my nurture in the woods and snows of Thessaly. Nor had I endured this dress and shameful garb, had I not seen thee on the seashore; ‘twas for thee I did submit, for thee I carry skeins and bear the womanly timbrel. Why dost thou weep who art made daughter-in-law of mighty ocean? Why does thou moan who shalt bear valiant grandsons to Olympus? But thy father – Scyros shall be destroyed by fire and sword and these walls shall be in ruins and the sport of wanton winds, ere thou pay by cruel death for my embraces: not so utterly am I subject to my mother.”

§ 1.662  Horror-struck was the princess at such dark happenings, albeit long since she had suspected his good faith, and shuddered at his presence, and his countenance was changed as he made confession. What is she to do? Shall she bear the tale of her misfortune to her father, and ruin both herself and her lover, who perchance would suffer untimely death? And still there abode within her breast the love so long deceived. Silent is she in her grief, and dissembles the crime that both now share alike; her nurse alone she resolves to make a partner in deceit, and she, yielding to the prayers of both, assents. With secret cunning she conceals the rape and the swelling womb and the burden of the months of ailing, till Lucina brought round by token the appointed season, her course now fully run, and gave deliverance of her child.

§ 1.675  And now the Laertian bark was threading the winding ways of the Aegean, while the breezes changed one for another the countless Cyclades; already Paros and Olearos are hid, now they skirt lofty Lemnos and behind them Bacchic Naxos is lost to view, while Samos grows before them; now Delos darkens the deep, and there from the tall stern they pour cups of libation, and pray that he oracle be true and Calchas undeceived. The Wielder of the Bow heard them, and from the top of Cynthus sent a zephyr flying and gave the doubting ones the good omen of a bellying sail. The ship sails o’er the sea untroubled; for the Thunderer’s high commands suffered not Thetis to overturn the sure decrees of Fate, faint as he was with tears, and foreboding much because she could not excite the main and straightway pursue the hated Ulysses with all her winds and waves.

§ 1.689  Already Phoebus, stooping low upon the verge of Olympus, was sending forth broken rays, and promising to his panting steeds the yielding shore of Ocean, when rocky Scyros rose aloft; the Laertian chieftain from the stern let out all sail to make it, and bade his crew resume the deep and with their oars supply the failing zephyrs. Nearer they draw, and more undoubtedly, more surely was it Scyros, and Tritonia above, the guardian of the tranquil shore. They disembark, and venerate the power of the friendly goddess, Aetolian and Ithacan alike. Then the prudent hero, lest they should frighten the hospitable walls with sudden throng, bids his crew remain upon the ship; he himself with trusty Diomedes ascends the heights. But already Abas, keeper of the coastal tower, had gone before them and given tidings to the king, that unknown sails, though Greek, were drawing nigh to land. Forward they go, like two wolves leagued together on a winter’s night: though their cubs’ hunger and their own assails them, yet do they utterly dissemble ravening rage, and go slinking on their way, lest the alertness of dogs announce a foe and warn the anxious herdsmen to keep vigil.

§ 1.709  So with slow pace the heroes move, and with mutual converse tread the open plain that lies between the harbour and the high citadel; first keen Tydides speaks: “By what means now are we preparing to search out the truth? For in perplexity of mind have I long been pondering why thou didst buy those unwarlike wands and cymbals in the city marts, and didst bring hither Bacchic hides and turbans, and fawn-skins decked with patterns of gold. Is it with these thou wilt arm Achilles to be the doom of Priam and the Phrygians?”

§ 1.718  To him with a smile and somewhat less stern of look the Ithacan replied: “These things, I tell thee, if only he be lurking among the maidens in Lycomedes’ palace, shall draw the son of Peleus to the fight, ay, self-confessed! Remember thou to bring them all quickly from the ship, when it is time, and to join to these gifts a shield that is beautiful with carving and rough with work of gold; this spear will suffice; let the good trumpeter Agyrtes be with thee, and let him bring a hidden bugle for a secret purpose.”

§ 1.726  He spoke and spied the king in the very threshold of the gate, and displaying the olive first announced his peaceful purpose: “Loud report, I ween, hath long since reached thy ears, O gentle monarch, of that fierce war which now is shaking both Europe and Asia. If perchance the chieftains’ names have been borne hither, in whom the avenging son of Atreus trusts, here beholdest thou him whom great-hearted Tydeus begot, mightier even than so great a sire, and I am Ulysses the Ithacan chief. The cause of our voyage – for why should I fear to confess all to thee, who art a Greek and of all men most renowned by sure report? – is to spy out the approaches to Troy and her hated shores, and what their schemes may be.”

§ 1.737  Ere he had finished the other broke in upon him: “May Fortune assist thee, I pray, and propitious gods prosper that enterprise! Now honour my roof and pious home by being my guests.” Therewith he leads them within the gate. Straightway numerous attendants prepare the couches and the tables. Meanwhile Ulysses scans and searches the palace with his gaze, if anywhere he can find trace of a tall maiden or a face suspect for its doubtful features; uncertainly he wanders idly in the galleries and, as though in wonder, roams the whole house through; just as yon hunter, having come upon his prey’s undoubted haunts, scours the fields with his silent Molossian hound, till he behold his foe stretched out in slumber ‘neath the leaves and his jaws resting on the turf.

§ 1.750  Long since has a rumour been noised throughout the secret chamber where the maidens had their safe abode, that Pelasgian chiefs are come, and a Grecian ship and its mariners have been made welcome. With good reason are the rest affrighted; but Pelides scarce conceals his sudden joy, and eagerly desires even as he is to see the newly-arrived heroes and their arms. Already the noise of princely trains fills the palace, and the guests are reclining on gold-embroidered couches, when at their sire’s command his daughters and their chaste companions join the banquet; they approach, like unto Amazons on the Maeotid shore, when, having made plunder of Scythian homesteads and captured strongholds of the Getae, they lay aside their arms and feast. Then indeed does Ulysses with intent gaze ponder carefully both forms and features, but night and the lamps that are brought in deceive him, and their stature is hidden as soon as they recline. One nevertheless with head erect and wandering gaze, one who preserves no sign of virgin modesty, he marks, and with sidelong glance points out to his companion. But if Deidamia, to warn the hasty youth, had not clasped him to her soft bosom, and ever covered with her own robe his bare breast and naked arms and shoulders, and many a time forbidden him to start up from the couch and ask for wine, and replaced the golden hair-band on his brow, Achilles had even then been revealed to the Argive chieftains.

§ 1.773  When hunger was assuaged and the banquet had twice and three times been renewed, the monarch first addresses the Achaeans, and pledges them with the wine-cup: “Ye famous heroes of the Argolic race, I envy, I confess, your enterprise; would that I too were of more valiant years, as when I utterly subdued the Dolopes who attacked the shores of Scyros, and shattered on the sea those keels that ye beheld on the forefront of my lofty walls, tokens of my triumph! At least if I had offspring that I would send to war, - but now ye see for yourselves my feeble strength and my dear children: ah, when will these numerous daughters give me grandsons?”

§ 1.784  He spoke, and seizing the moment crafty Ulysses made reply: “Worthy indeed is the object of thy desire; for who would not burn to see the countless peoples of the world and various chieftains and princes with their trains? All the might and glory of powerful Europe hath sworn together willing allegiance to our righteous arms. Cities and fields alike are empty, we have spoiled the lofty mountains, the whole sea lies hidden beneath the far-spread shadow of our sails; fathers give weapons, youths snatch them and are gone beyond recall. Never was offered to the brave such an opportunity for high renown, never had valour so wide a field of exercise.”

§ 1.794  He sees him all attentive and drinking in his words with vigilant ear, though the rest are alarmed and turn aside their downcast eyes, and he repeats: “Whoever hath pride of race and ancestry, whoever hath sure javelin and valiant steed, or skill of bow, all honour there awaits him, there is the strife of mighty names: scarce do timorous mothers hold back or troops of maids; ah! doomed to barren years and hated of the gods is he whom this new chance of glory passes by in idle sloth.”

§ 1.802  Up from the couches had he sprung, had not Deidamia, watchfully giving the sign to summon all her sisters, left the banquet clasping him in her arms; yet still he lingers looking back at the Ithacan, and goes out from the company the last of all. Ulysses indeed leaves unsaid somewhat of his purposed speech, yet adds a few words: “But do thou abide in deep and tranquil peace, and find husbands for thy beloved daughters, whom fortune has given thee, goddess-like in their starry countenances. What awe touched me anon and holds me silent? Such charm and beauty joined to manliness of form!”

§ 1.812  The sire replies: “What if thou couldst see them performing the rites of Bacchus, or about the altars of Pallas? Ay, and thou shalt, if perchance the rising south wind prove a laggard.” They eagerly accept his promise, and hope inspires their silent prayers. All else in Lycomedes’ palace are at rest in peaceful quiet, their troubles laid aside, but to the cunning Ithacan the night is long; he yearns for the day and brooks not slumber.

§ 1.819  Scarce had day dawned, and already the son of Tydeus accompanied by Agyrtes was present bringing the appointed gifts. The maids of Scyros too went forth from their chamber and advanced to display their dances and promised rites to the honoured strangers. Brilliant before the rest is the princess with Pelides her companion: even as beneath the rocks of Aetna in Sicily Diana and bold Pallas and the consort of the Elysian monarch shine forth among the nymphs of Enna. Already they begin to move, and the Ismenian pipe gives signal to the dancers; four times they beat the cymbals of Rhea, four times the maddening drums, four times they trace their manifold windings. Then together they raise and lower their wands, and complicate their steps, now in such fashion as the Curetes and devout Samothracians use, now turning to face each other in the Amazonian comb, now in the ring wherein the Delian sets the Laconian girls a-dancing, and whirls them shouting her praises into her own Amyclae. Then indeed, then above all is Achilles manifest, caring neither to keep his turn nor to join arms; then more than ever does he scorn the delicate step, the womanly attire, and breaks the dance and mightily disturbs the scene. Even so did Thebes already sorrowing behold Pentheus spurning the wands and the timbrels that his mother welcomed.

§ 1.841  The troop disperses amid applause, and they seek again their father’s threshold, where in the central chamber of the palace the son of Tydeus hd long since set out gifts that should attract maidens’ eyes, the mark of kindly welcome and the guerdon of their toil; he bids them choose, nor does the peaceful monarch say them nay. Alas! how simple and untaught, who knew not the cunning of the gifts nor Grecian fraud nor Ulysses’ many wiles! Thereupon the others, prompted by nature and their ease-loving sex, try the shapely wands or the timbrels that answer to the blow, and fasten jewelled band around their temples; the weapons they behold, but think them a gift to their mighty sire. But the bold son of Aeacus no sooner saw before him the gleaming shield enchased with battle-scenes – by chance too it shone red with the fierce stains of war – and leaning against he spear, than he shouted loud and rolled his eyes, and his hair rose up form his brow; forgotten were his mother’s words, forgotten his secret love, and Troy fills all his breast. As a lion, torn from his mother’s dugs, submits to be tamed and lets his mane be combed, and learns to have awe of man and not to fly into a rage save when bidden, yet if but once the steel has glittered in his sight, his fealty is forsworn, and his tamer becomes his foe: against him he first ravens, and feels shame to have served a timid lord. But when he came nearer, and the emulous brightness gave back his features and he saw himself mirrored in the reflecting gold, he thrilled and blushed together.

§ 1.866  Then quickly went Ulysses to his side and whispered: “Why dost thou hesitate? We know thee, thou art the pupil of the half-beast Chiron, thou art the grandson of the sky and sea; thee the Dorian fleet, thee thy own Greece awaits with standards uplifted for the march, and the very walls of Pergamos totter and sway for thee to overturn. Up! delay no more! Let perfidious Ida grow pale, let they father delight to hear these tidings, and guileful Thetis feel shame to have so feared for thee.”

§ 1.874  Already was he stripping his body of the robes, when Agyrtes, so commanded, blew a great blast upon the trumpet: the gifts are scattered, and they flee and fall with prayers before their sire and believe that battle is joined. But from his breast the raiment fell without his touching, already the shield and puny spear are lost in the grasp of his hand – marvellous to believe! – and he seemed to surpass by head and shoulders the Ithacan and the Aetolian chief: with a sheen so awful does the sudden blaze of arms and the martial fire dazzle the palace-hall. Mighty of limb, as though forthwith summoning Hector to the fray, he stand in the midst of the panic-stricken house: and the daughter of Peleus is sought in vain.

§ 1.885  But Deidamia in another chamber bewailed the discovery of the fraud, and as soon as he heard her loud lament and recognized the voice that he knew so well, he quailed and his spirit was broken by his hidden passion. He dropped the shield, and turning to the monarch’s face, while Lycomedes is dazed by the scene and distraught by the strange portent, just as he was, in naked panoply of arms, he thus bespeaks him: “’Twas I, dear father, I whom bounteous Thetis gave thee – dismiss thy anxious fears! – long since did this high renown await thee; ‘tis thou who wilt send Achilles, long sought for, to the Greeks, more welcome to me than my might sire – if it is right so to speak – and than beloved Chiron. But, if thou wilt, give me thy mind awhile, and of thy favour hear these words: Peleus and Thetis thy guest make thee the father-in-law of their son, and recount their kindred deities on either side; they demand one of thy train of virgin daughters: doest thou give her? or seem we a mean and coward race? Thou dost not refuse. Join then our hands, and make the treaty, and pardon thy own kin. Already hath Deidamia been known to me in stolen secrecy; for how could she have resisted these arms of mine, how once in my embrace repel my might? Bid me atone that deed: I lay down these weapons and restore them to the Pelasgians, and I remain here. Why these angry cries? Why is thy aspect changed? Already art thou my father-in-law” – he placed the child before his feet, and added: “and already a grandsire! How often shall the pitiless sword be plied! We are a multitude!”

§ 1.910  Then the Greeks too and Ulysses with his persuasive prayer entreat by the holy rites and the sworn word of hospitality. He, though moved by the discovery of his dear daughter’s wrong and the command of Thetis, though seeming to betray the goddess and so grave a trust, yet fears to oppose so many destinies and delay the Argive war – even were he fain, Achilles had spurned even his mother then. Nor is he unwilling to take unto himself so great a son-in-law: he is won. Deidamia comes shamefast from her dark privacy, nor in her despair believes at first his pardon, and puts forward Achilles to appease her sire.

§ 1.921  A messenger is sent to Haemonia to give Peleus full tidings of these great events, and to demand ships and comrades for the war. Moreover, the Scyrian prince launches two vessels for his son-in-law, and makes excuse to the Achaeans for so poor a show of strength. Then the day was brought to its end with feasting, and at last the bond was made known to all, and conscious night joined the now fearless lovers.

§ 1.927  Before her eyes new wars and Xanthus and Ida pass, and the Argolis fleet, and she imagines the very waves and fears the coming of the dawn; she flings herself about her new lord’s beloved neck, and at last clasping his limbs gives way to tears: “Shall I see thee again, and lay myself on this breast of thine, O son of Aeacus? Wilt thou deign once more to look upon thy offspring? Or wilt thou proudly bring back spoils of captured Pergamos and Teucrian homes and wish to forget where thou didst hide thee as a maid? What should I entreat, or alas! what rather fear? How can I in my anxiety lay a behest on thee, who have scarce time to weep? One single night has given and grudged thee to me! Is this the season for our espousals? Is this free wedlock? Ah! those stolen sweets! that cunning fraud! Ah! how I fear! Achilles is given to me only to be torn away. Go! for I would not dare to stay such mighty preparations; go, and be cautious, and remember that the fears of Thetis were not vain; go, and good luck be with thee, and come back mine!

§ 1.944  “Yes too bold is my request: soon the fair Trojan dames will sigh for thee with tears and beat their breasts, and pray that they may offer their necks to thy fetters, and weigh thy couch against their homes, or Tyndaris herself will please thee, too much belauded for her incestuous rape. But I shall be a story to thy henchmen, the tale of a lad’s first fault, or I shall be disowned and forgotten. Nay, come, take me as thy comrade; why should I not carry the standards of Mars with thee? Thou dist carry with me the wands and holy things of Bacchus, though ill-fated Troy believe it not. Yet this babe, whom thou dost leave as my sad solace – keep him at least within thy heart, and grant this one request, that no foreign wife bear thee a child, that no captive woman give unworthy grandsons to Thetis.”

§ 1.956  As thus she speaks, Achilles, moved to compassion himself, comforts her, and gives her his sworn oath, and pledges it with tears, and promises her on his return tall handmaidens and spoils of Ilium and gifts of Phrygian treasure. The fickle breezes swept his words unfulfilled away.

§ 2.1  BOOK 2
Day arising from Ocean set free the world from dank enfolding shades, and the father of the flashing light upraised his torch still dimmed by the neighbouring gloom and moist with sea-water not yet shaken off. And now all behold Aeacides, his shoulders stripped of the scarlet robe, and glorious in those very arms he first had seized – for the wind is calling and his kindred seas are urging him – and quake before the youthful chieftain, not daring to remember aught; so wholly changed to the sight hath he come back, as though he had ne’er experiences the shores of Scyros, but were embarking from the Pelian cave. Then duly – for so Ulysses counselled – he does sacrifice to the gods and the waters and south winds, and venerates with a bull the cerulean king below the waves and Nereus his grandsire: his mother is appeased with garlanded heifer. Thereupon casting the swollen entrails on the salt foam he addresses her: “Mother, I have obeyed thee, though thy commands were hard to bear; too obedient have I been: now they demand me, and I go to the Trojan War and the Argolic fleet.” So speaking he leapt into the bark, and was swept away far from the neighbourhood of land by the whistling south wind; already lofty Scyros beings to gather mist about her, and to fade from sight over the long expanse of sea.

§ 2.23  Far away on the summit of a tower with weeping sisters round her his wife leaned forth, holding her precious charge, who bore the name of Pyrrhus, and with her eyes fixed on the canvas sailed herself upon the sea, and all alone still saw the vessel. He too turned his gaze aside to the walls he held dear, he thinks upon the widowed home and the sobs of her he had left: the hidden passion glows again within his heart, and martial ire gives place. The Laertian hero perceives him sorrowing, and draws nigh to influence him with gentle words: “Was it thou, O destined destroyer of great Troy, whom Danaan fleets and divine oracles are demanding, and War aroused is awaiting with unbarred portals – was it thou whom a crafty mother profaned with feminine robes, and trusted yonder hiding-place with so great a secret, and hoped the trust was sure? O too anxious, O too true a mother! Could such valour lie inert and hidden, that scarce hearing the trumpet-blast fled from Thetis and companions and the heart’s unspoken passion? Nor is it due to us that thou comest to the war, and compliest with our prayers; thou wouldst have come – ,”

§ 2.42  He spoke, and thus the Aeacian hero takes up the word: “’Twere long to set forth the causes of my tarrying and my mother’s crime; this sword shall make excuse for Scyros and my dishonourable garb, the reproach of destiny. Do thou rather, while the sea is peaceful and the sails enjoy the zephyr, tell how the Danaans began so great a war: I would fain draw straightway from thy words a righteous anger.”

§ 2.49  Then the Ithacan, tracing far back the beginning of the tale: “A shepherd, they say – if we believe such things – was chosen in Hector’s domain of Ida to end a strife of beauty, and while he kept the goddesses anxious doubt looked not with friendly eye upon Minerva’s frowning countenance nor on the consort of the heavenly ruler, but gazed overmuch on Dione alone. And verily that quarrel arose in thy own glades, at a gathering of the gods, when pleasant Pelion made marriage-feast for Peleus, and thou even then wert promised to our armament. Wrath thrills the vanquished ones: the judge demands his fateful reward, and compliant Amyclae is shown to the ravisher. He cuts down the Phrygian groves, the secret haunts of the turret-crowned mother, and flings down pines that fear to fall to earth, and borne o’er the sea to Achaean lands he plunders the marriage-chamber of his host the son of Atreus – ah! shame and pity on proud Europe! – and exulting in Helen puts to sea and brings home to Pergamos the spoils of Argos. Then, as the rumours spread far and wide through the cities, of our own will, none urging us, we gather, who could endure the unlawful, crafty breaking of the marriage-bond, or a consort carried off in unresisted rape, as though a beast of the flock or herd, would shake even a valiant heart. Masterful Agenor endured not the treachery of the gods, but went in quest of sacred lowings and Europa riding on a mighty god, and scorned the Thunderer as a son-in-law; Aeëtes endured not the rape of his daughter from the Scythian shore, but with ships and steel pursued the princes and the vessel fated to join the stars: shall we endure a Phrygian eunuch hovering about the coasts and harbours of Argos with his incestuous bark? Are our horses and men so utterly vanished? Are the seas so impassable to Greeks? What if someone now were to carry of Deidamia from her native shores, and tear her from her lonely chamber in dire dismay and crying on the name of great Achilles?”

§ 2.84  His hand flew to the sword-hilt, and a dark flush surged over his face: Ulysses was silent and content.

§ 2.86  Then spoke Oenides: “Nay, O thou worthiest progeny of heaven, tell us, thy admiring friends, of the ways in which thy spirit first was trained, and as the vigour of thy youth increased what stirring themes of glory Chiron was wont to recount to thee, and how thy valour grew, by what arts he made strong thy limbs or fired thy courage; let it be worthy while to have sought Scyros over long leagues of sea, and to have first shown weapons to those arms of thine.”

§ 2.94  Who would find it hard to tell of his own deeds? Yet he begins modestly, somewhat uncertain and more like one compelled: “Even in my years of crawling infancy, when the Thessalian sage received me on his stark mountain-side, I am said to have devoured no wonted food, nor to have sated my hunger at the nourishing breast, but to have gnawed the tough entrails of lions and the bowels of a half-slain she-wolf. That was my first bread, that the bounty of joyous Bacchus, in such wise did that father of mine feed me. Then he taught me to go with him through pathless deserts, dragging me on with mighty stride, and to laugh at sight of the wild beasts, nor tremble at the shattering rocks by rushing torrents or at the silence of the lonely forest. Already at that time weapons were in my hand and quivers on my shoulders, the love of steel grew apace within me, and my skin was hardened by much sun and frost; nor were my limbs weakened by soft couches, but I shared the hard rock with my master’s mighty frame.

§ 2.94  [110]”Scarce had my raw youth turned the wheel of twice six years, when already he made me outpace swift hinds and Lapith steeds and running overtake the flung dart; often Chiron himself, while yet he was swift of foot, chased me at full gallop with headlong speed o’er all the plains, and when I was exhausted by roaming over the meads he praised my joyously and hoisted me upon his back. Often too in the first freezing of the streams he would bid me go upon them with light step nor break the ice. These were my boyhood glories. Why now should I tell thee of the woodland battles and of the glades that know my fierce shout no more? Never would he suffer me to follow unwarlike does through the pathless glens of Ossa, or lay low timid lynxes with my spear, but only to drive angry bears from their resting-places, and boars with lightning thrust; or if anywhere a mighty tiger lurked or a lioness with her cubs in some secret lair upon the mountain-side, he himself, seated in his vast cave, awaited my exploits, if perchance I should return bespattered with dark blood; nor did he admit me to his embrace before he had scanned my weapons.

§ 2.129  “And already I was being prepared for the armed tumults of the neighbouring folk, and no fashion of savage warfare passed me by. I learnt how the Paeonians whirl and fling their darts and the Macetae their javelins, with how fierce a rush the Sarmatian plies his pike and the Getan his falchion, how the Gelonian draws his bow, and how the Balearic wielder of the pliant thong keeps the missile swinging round with balanced motion, and as he swings it marks out a circle in the air. Scarce could I recount all my doings, successful though they were; now he instructs me to span huge dykes by leaping, now to climb and grasp the airy mountain-peak, with what stride to run upon the level, how to catch flung stones in mimic battle on my shielded arm, to pass through burning houses, and to check flying four-horse teams on foot.

§ 2.145  “Spercheus, I remember was flowing with rapid current, fed full with constant rains and melted snows and carrying on its flood boulders and living trees, when he sent me in, there were the waves rolled fiercest, and bade me stand against them and hurl back the swelling billows that he himself could scarce have borne, though he stood to face them with so many a limb. I strove to stand, but the violence of the stream and the dizzy panic of the broad spate forced me to give ground; he loomed o’er me from above and fiercely threatened, and flung taunts to shame me. Nor did I depart till he gave me word, so far did the lofty love of fame constrain me, and my toils were not too hard with such a witness. For to fling the Oebalian quoit far out of sight into the clouds, or to practise the holds of the sleek wrestling-bout, and to scatter blows with the boxing-gloves were sport and rest to me: nor laboured I more therein that when I struck with my quill the sounding strings, or told the wondrous fame of heroes of old.

§ 2.159  “Also did he teach me of juices and the grasses that succour disease, what remedy will staunch too fast a flow of blood, what will lull to sleep, what will close gaping wounds; what plague should be checked by the knife, what will yield to herbs; and he implanted deep within my heart the precepts of divine justice, whereby he was wont to give revered laws to the tribes that dwelt on Pelion, and tame his own twy-formed folk. So much do I remember, friends, of the training of my earliest years, and sweet is their remembrance; the rest my mother knows.”

§ 2.E  THE END (work cut short by Statius' death)