{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_43993/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_43993","id":"gutenberg_43993","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43993","summary":null,"tags":["Achilles (Mythological character) -- Fiction","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Epic poetry, Greek -- Adaptations","Tales -- Greece","Trojan War -- Fiction"],"text":"[Frontispiece: \"Athene shot down from Olympus like a falling star\"\n(Patten Wilson)]\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES\n\nFROM THE ILIAD\n\n\nRETOLD BY\n\nH. L. HAVELL B.A.\n\n  AUTHOR OF \"STORIES FROM HERODOTUS\" \"STORIES FROM GREEK TRAGEDY\"\n  \"STORIES FROM THE \u00c6NEID\" \"STORIES FROM THE ODYSSEY\"\n  \"STORIES FROM DON QUIXOTE\" \"STORIES FROM\n  THUCYDIDES\" \"STORIES FROM XENOPHON\"\n\n\n\"_A nation without fancy, without some romance, never did never can,\nnever will, hold a great place under the sun....  What enchanted us in\nour childhood, and is captivating a million of young fancies now, has,\nat the same blessed time of life, enchanted vast hosts of men and women\nwho have done their long day's work and laid their grey heads down to\nrest._\"\n\nCHARLES DICKENS\n\n\n\n\n  GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD.\n  LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY\n\n\n\n\n  First published February 1908\n  by GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY\n  39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.2\n\n  Reprinted: August 1908; February 1909; May 1910; July 1913;\n  July 1916; July 1917; August 1919; April 1922; April 1924;\n  March 1926; April 1928; November 1929\n\n\n\n  Printed in Great Britain by The Riverside Press Limited\n  Edinburgh\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nIntroduction--\n\n  I.  The Story\n  II.  The Divine Characters\n  III.  The Human Characters\n  IV.  The Similes\n\nThe Quarrel\n\nThe Dream: The Muster of Greeks\n\nGreeks and Trojans Face to Face: The Duel\n\nThe Breaking of the Truce\n\nThe Exploits of Diomede\n\nThe Battle continued: Hector and Andromache\n\nSecond Battle: Repulse of the Greeks\n\nThe Embassy to Achilles\n\nThe Night Raid on the Trojan Camp\n\nThe Brave Deeds of Agamemnon: Reverses of the Greeks\n\nThe Attack on the Grecian Camp\n\nPoseidon aids the Greeks\n\nZeus is Beguiled by Hera\n\nThe Last Battle by the Ships\n\nAchilles sends Patroclus to Battle\n\nThe Fight for the Body of Patroclus\n\nThe News is brought to Achilles\n\nThe Shield of Achilles\n\nThe Reconciliation\n\nAchilles in the Battlefield\n\nThe Death of Hector\n\nThe Funeral Games of Patroclus\n\nPriam Ransoms the Body of Hector\n\nPronouncing List of Names\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n\"Athene shot down from Olympus\n    like a falling star\" (_Patten Wilson_) _Frontispiece_\n\nThe Leaders of the Greeks (_Christian G. Heyne_)\n\nParis (_Vatican, Rome_)\n\nHelen on the Walls of Troy (_Lord Leighton_)\n\nHector's Farewell (_Friedrich Preller, Jr._)\n\nMenelaus (_Vatican, Rome_)\n\nHomer Hymning the Fall of Troy (_Baron H. de Triqueti_)\n\nCaptive Andromache (_Lord Leighton_)\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nI. THE STORY\n\nIn order to understand the structure of the _Iliad_, we must keep fast\nhold of the guiding clue which is supplied by the author in the first\nline of his poem.  The subject, he tells us, is the _Wrath of\nAchilles_.  The motive of the greatest of epics is _wrath_--blind,\nunreasoning fury, which knows no law, and acknowledges no right.\nKeeping this in view, we are able to explain what seems at first sight\nto be a strange anomaly in the conduct of the story--the absence of the\nhero from the scene of action during three-fourths of the narrative.\nFor Achilles is not less the hero of the _Iliad_ than Odysseus is the\nhero of the _Odyssey_, and in both cases the character of the man\ndetermines the structure of the poem.  Odysseus is a man of middle age,\nin the maturity of his splendid powers, with his judgment refined by\nexperience, and his passions cooled by time.  From the moment when he\nsets sail from Troy he remains faithful to the fixed desire of his\nheart.  All the malice of Poseidon, all the spells of Circe, all the\nloveliness of Calypso, cannot shake him from his resolve to return to\nhis home in Ithaca, and live out his life in calm domestic happiness\nand peace.  Yet he is entirely free from the narrowness which commonly\nbelongs to a fixed idea.  He knows the uncertainty which attaches to\nall human hopes, and is as ready to enjoy the passing hour as the\nyoungest sailor of his crew.  He has the hungry intellect, which would\nfain take all knowledge into its compass, and the spirit of soaring\nenterprise, which delights in discovery and daring adventure.  But\nabove all he has the patient, constant human heart, faithful through\nall turns of fortune to one sober ideal.  It is this steadfastness of\npurpose and sweet reasonableness in the hero which gives to the\nnarrative of the _Odyssey_ its smooth and pellucid flow, and makes it\nthe most delightful of all story-books.\n\nAchilles, on the other hand, is the incarnation of the spirit of youth,\nwith its passionate pride, its acute sensibility, and its absorption in\nself.  He is like one of the great forces of nature--unreasoning,\nelemental, mighty to create or destroy.  His inaction is as tremendous\nas his action.  He is offended, and the Greeks, deprived of his aid,\nare brought to the brink of ruin--his friend is slain by Hector, and\nthe current of his fury, thus directed into a new channel, sweeps the\nwhole Trojan army before it in havoc and rout.\n\nThis, then, is the plan of the _Iliad_--to describe the effects of\nAchilles' anger, first on the Greeks, then on the Trojans.  A brief\nreview of the story will show how the plan is worked out.  In the ninth\nyear of the war, the Greeks have taken a small town in the\nneighbourhood of Troy, and Agamemnon has received a maiden named\nChryseis as his share of the spoil.  Chryses, the maiden's father,\ncomes to the Grecian camp to ransom his child, but he is rudely\nrepulsed by Agamemnon, and invokes the vengeance of Apollo, whose\npriest he is, on the Greeks.  Apollo sends a pestilence on the camp,\nand Agamemnon is compelled in consequence to restore Chryseis, but he\nrecompenses himself by seizing another maiden, named Briseis, awarded\nto Achilles as a prize at the capture of the same city.  Achilles vows\nvengeance on the whole Greek army for this outrage, and Thetis, his\nmother, obtains a promise from Zeus, the supreme god of Olympus, that\nher son's vow shall be fulfilled to the letter.  Accordingly Zeus sends\na false dream to Agamemnon, bidding him lead the whole army against\nTroy, with the assurance of a decisive victory.  Agamemnon obeys the\nsummons in all good faith, and the two armies meet on the plain before\nthe city.  But just as the general encounter is about to begin, Paris\noffers to meet Menelaus in single combat, and a truce is made in order\nthat the duel may take place.  They fight, and Menelaus is victorious,\nbut Paris is saved from death or capture by the intervention of\nAphrodite.\n\nMenelaus now claims the fulfilment of the conditions of the truce--the\nrestoration of Helen with all her wealth.  But before the point can be\ndebated, Pandarus, a Trojan, at the instigation of Athene, aims an\narrow at Menelaus, and wounds him in the side.  This treacherous act\nleads to an immediate renewal of hostilities, and in the battle which\nfollows the Trojans are reduced to such straits by the powers of\nDiomede that Hector goes on a mission to the city, to institute a\nsolemn supplication in the temple of Athene, in the vain hope of\ndiverting her anger from the Trojans.  Having accomplished his errand,\nhe returns to the field, bringing with him Paris, who, since his defeat\nby Menelaus, has been dallying in Helen's bower; and then follows a\nduel between Hector and Ajax, in which the Greek champion has the\nadvantage.  At the suggestion of Nestor, the Greeks fortify their camp\nwith a moat and rampart; and this brings us to the end of the seventh\nbook.\n\nHitherto the Greeks have had a decided advantage in battle with the\nTrojans, and nothing has been done to carry out the promise which Zeus\nmade to Thetis.  But now the father of gods and men begins to take\ndecisive measures to fulfil his pledge; the gods are forbidden to\ninterfere between the rival armies, and in the next day's battle the\nGreeks are driven back in panic to their camp, while the Trojans,\ncontrary to their custom, keep the field all night, intending to attack\nthe Greek stronghold in full force next day.  So despondent are the\nGreeks that an embassy is sent with an offer of magnificent gifts to\nAchilles, if he will lay aside his anger and come to the help of his\ndistressed countrymen.  Achilles refuses all compromise, and the rest\nof the night is occupied by the bold raid undertaken by Diomede and\nOdysseus on the Thracian camp.\n\nAt the opening of the eleventh book our attention is concentrated on\nthe valorous exploits of Agamemnon, who is at length compelled to\nretire by a severe wound in the arm; Diomede is pierced through the\nfoot by an arrow from the bow of Paris, and Odysseus, Machaon, and\nEurypylus are also disabled.  Patroclus is sent by Achilles to inquire\nof Nestor concerning the fortunes of the Greeks, and Nestor then makes\nthe suggestion which marks the turning-point in the first act of the\ngreat epic drama: if, he says, Achilles will not go to the field\nhimself, at least let him send Patroclus to lead the Myrmidons[1]\nagainst the Trojans.  Nothing comes of the proposal for the present,\nbut it is to bear fatal fruit both for Patroclus and Achilles in the\nnear future.  The Greeks are again driven behind their defences, and a\nfurious struggle ensues, at the end of which the gates of the camp are\ndemolished, and the Trojans, led by Hector, are on the point of setting\nfire to the ships.\n\n\n[1] The followers of Achilles\n\n\nAt this moment the attention of Zeus is withdrawn from the battle, and\nPoseidon seizes the opportunity to interfere in favour of the Greeks.\nBy his influence the scale is turned again, Hector receives fearful\ninjuries from a huge stone hurled by Ajax, and the Trojans are driven\nheadlong across the plain.  Zeus is lulled to sleep by the contrivance\nof Hera, and when he awakens it is to find his whole scheme of\nvengeance on the point of being frustrated.  In great anger he sends a\nperemptory message to Poseidon to withdraw from the battle, and lays\nhis commands on Apollo, who brings back Hector, healed and whole, to\nthe field, and leads the Trojans once more to the assault of the camp.\nIn spite of the desperate valour of Ajax, the Greeks are driven back to\ntheir ships, and the Trojans bring torches, with the intention of\nburning the whole fleet.\n\nThen at last Achilles, yielding to the earnest entreaty of Patroclus,\nsends him to the aid of the Greeks, equipped in his own armour, and\nleading the whole force of the Myrmidons.  Patroclus easily drives the\nTrojans back from the camp, and slays Sarpedon, one of the bravest\nwarriors among the allies of Troy; but he himself falls by Hector's\nhand, and the armour of Achilles passes into the possession of his\nslayer.  A tremendous struggle ensues over the body of Patroclus, which\nis only ended by the appearance of Achilles himself, who comes,\nattended by strange prodigies, to the wall, and, by the mere terror of\nhis presence, scares the Trojans from the field, and saves his friend's\nbody from outrage.\n\nThe rest of the story may be briefly told.  By the intercession of\nThetis, Heph\u00e6stus, the divine smith, makes a splendid suit of armour\nfor Achilles, and, after a solemn scene of reconciliation with\nAgamemnon, Achilles leads the Greeks to battle.  The whole torrent of\nhis fury is now turned upon the Trojans, and, after a wholesale\nmassacre of lesser victims, he meets Hector in single combat, slays\nhim, and drags his body behind his chariot to the camp.  The funeral\nobsequies of Patroclus are celebrated with great pomp, and then\nAchilles, who is possessed by a demon of rage and grief, continues for\na space of twelve days to wreak his vengeance on the lifeless body of\nHector, which he drags repeatedly behind his car round the tomb of\nPatroclus.  The gods interpose to make an end of this senseless fury,\nand Hector's body, which has been miraculously preserved from harm, is\nrestored to Priam, who comes in the night, under the conduct of Hermes,\nand redeems the corpse with a heavy ransom.  With the burial of Hector\nthe poem reaches its conclusion.\n\nSuch, in the briefest and baldest outline, is the story of the _Iliad_.\nSpace does not allow us to discuss the various objections which have\nbeen raised against some of the details of the narrative, still less to\nenumerate the reconstructions and mutilations to which the great epic\nhas been subjected in the dissecting-room of criticism.  Where opinion\nis still so much divided, we may be allowed to state our conviction\nthat the _Iliad_, though wanting the structural perfection of the\n_Odyssey_, is one poem, and the work of one master mind.\n\n\nII. THE DIVINE CHARACTERS\n\nThe gods in the _Iliad_ play a very active and human part, and indeed\nthey may be said in a sense to be more human than the men themselves.\nThey are passionate, sensual, vindictive; they have no sense of fair\nplay, but are always ready to help their favourites by all means, fair\nor foul.  When Patroclus is to die, he is stripped of his armour and\nbeaten half senseless by Apollo, and delivered over in this helpless\nstate to Euphorbus and Hector; and Hector, in his turn, is cheated and\nbeguiled to his death by Athene.  In the chariot race which is\ndescribed in the twenty-third book Athene wrecks the car of Eumelus to\nsecure the victory for Diomede; and the same goddess interferes in the\nfoot race on behalf of Odysseus, whom she loves like a mother.  We have\nalready remarked, in the Introduction to the _Odyssey_, that the only\nhumorous scenes in the _Iliad_ are those in which the gods play the\nchief or sole part.  And, in fact, the want of dignity and decorum\nwhich we find in these mighty beings is simply astonishing.  The battle\nof the gods, which is introduced with such pomp and parade, ends in the\nbroadest farce.  In the fifth book, Ares roars and bellows like a beast\nwhen he is wounded by the spear of Diomede, and Aphrodite, whose hand\nhas been scratched, goes whimpering and whining to her mother for\ncomfort.  Only in a few passages do we find a great and worthy\nconception of the divine nature--as in the famous lines in the first\nbook, when Zeus nods his immortal head confirming his oath to Thetis,\nand in the sublime description of Poseidon at the beginning of the\nthirteenth book.\n\nAt the head of the Olympian hierarchy stands Zeus the lord of the sky,\nwho divides with his brothers, Hades and Poseidon, the empire of the\nuniverse.  He is the highest in power and authority, and with him rests\nthe final decision in all the disputes of Olympus.  But this genial and\npatriarchal deity is not without his troubles: he rules over a\ndisorderly household, and his purposes are constantly thwarted by the\nlesser powers who reign under him.  In his heart of hearts he favours\nPriam and the Trojans, but he is a fond and indulgent father and\nhusband, and Hera, his wife, and Athene, his daughter, cherish an\nimplacable hatred against Troy and all things Trojan.  The reason for\nthis bitter animosity does not appear: for the judgment of Paris, which\nis the cause assigned by later legends, is only mentioned in one\npassage, of doubtful authenticity.  Hera is described as a lady of\nshrewish and vixenish temper; she will never be satisfied, says Zeus,\nuntil she has gone down into Troy and eaten Priam and all his people\nraw!  Her human counterpart is Hecuba, who would like, she says, to\ntear out the heart of Achilles, and devour it.  On the side of the\nTrojans are Apollo, Artemis, Heph\u00e6stus, the river-god Scamander, and\nLeto.\n\nSuch are the gods of Homer, and such the national divinities of Greece.\nFor the poems of Homer and Hesiod, as Herodotus informs us, are the\nchief sources of the popular theology.  Small wonder, then, that the\nmore earnest minds of a later age were much occupied by the endeavour\nto raise and purify the accepted mythology, or that Plato excludes\nHomer, \"the great magician,\" from his scheme of reformed education.\n\n\nIII. THE HUMAN CHARACTERS\n\nOf Achilles and Odysseus we have already spoken at some length, so that\nwe have only to notice briefly the other chief characters.  At the head\nof the Greek army stands Agamemnon, whose authority rests on his\npersonal prowess, his vast wealth, and the extent of his dominions.  In\nthe absence of Achilles he shares with Ajax and Diomede the highest\nplace among the warriors of Greece.  A certain strain of weakness runs\nthrough his character.  He is jealous of his authority, and somewhat\ncovetous, and at moments of crisis and peril he is always foremost in\nthe counsels of despair.  Next to him in rank comes Menelaus, his\nbrother, an amiable but somewhat feeble prince, to whom the poet shows\na certain playful tenderness, such as is felt by chivalrous natures\ntowards a woman or a child.\n\nThe most knightly figure on the Greek side is the young Diomede, whose\nwonderful exploits fill so large a space in the earlier part of the\npoem.  His gallant and buoyant spirit shines brightest when the\nfortunes of the Greeks are at their lowest ebb; and the beautiful\nepisode of his meeting with Glaucus on the battlefield is a rare\nexception to the savage ferocity of Homeric warfare.\n\nAfter Achilles, the mightiest champion of Greece is the great\nTelamonian Ajax.  He is a giant in stature and strength, and is the\nchief bulwark of the Greeks against the impetuous valour of Hector.  In\ncharacter, he is modest and unassuming; he lacks the brilliant\nqualities of Achilles, though equal to him in sheer physical force.  He\nis the type of the rugged soldier, such as we find among the Spartans\nof a later date, loyal to his prince, a faithful comrade, ever at the\npost of danger, ever prompt to help where the need is sorest.  His\nplain, frank nature views with contempt the fantastic pride of\nAchilles, whose frightful egoism, and indifference to the sufferings of\nhis countrymen, revolt and disgust him.\n\n[Illustration: The Leaders of the Greeks (Christian G. Heyne)]\n\nThis list may fitly be closed with the name of Nestor, \"the\nclear-voiced orator, from whose lips flowed eloquence sweeter than\nhoney.\"  As becomes his age, he assumes the office of peacemaker\nbetween Agamemnon and Achilles; in spite of his eighty years, he still\ntakes the field and fights in the van, though his arm is now of less\nvalue than his head.  With regard to his eloquence, it can hardly be\nsaid, judging by the specimen preserved, that he is quite worthy of his\nreputation.  He is, in fact, garrulous, rambling, and tedious--though\nin these qualities he is even surpassed by the aged Ph\u0153nix, who has\nplayed the part of male nurse to Achilles, and excels in a style of\noratory dear to the professional guardians of childhood.\n\nThe great champion of the Trojans is Hector, the son of Priam and\nHecuba.  His character is, in every respect, a contrast to that of\nAchilles.  With him the claims of king and country ever come first,\nthough he is not indifferent to personal distinction.  He falls very\nfar short of the ideal knight--without fear and without reproach.  In\nthese qualities he seems to be eclipsed by Glaucus and Sarpedon, the\nprinces of Lycia, whose beautiful friendship finds its most illustrious\nrecord in the immortal lines of the twelfth book,[2] the finest\nexposition in the world of the principle involved in the words\n_noblesse oblige_.  Hector, on the other hand, is full of weakness: at\none time he is faint-hearted, and has to be recalled to the duties of\nhis great position by the reproaches of those who serve under him; at\nanother time he is overbold, and his rashness brings upon the Trojans\noverwhelming disaster.  Yet with all this, his character is full of\ninterest.  In his greater moments he rises to sublime heights of\nheroism.  He does not shrink from the consequences of his actions, but\ngoes to certain death with the spirit of a patriot and martyr.  He is\nthe mirror of knightly courtesy, kind and gentle even to the guilty and\nthe fallen; and his last meeting with Andromache is hardly to be\nmatched for beauty and pathos in all literature.\n\n\n[2] See p. 107.\n\n\nA bare mention must suffice for Priam, the white-haired King, and the\nmost tragic figure in the poem; Paris, the curled darling of Aphrodite,\na mere beautiful animal, without soul or conscience, and the lovely\npassion-stricken Helen, whose strange story seems to have a closer\naffinity with medi\u00e6val romance than with classical antiquity.\n\n\nIV. THE SIMILES\n\nOne word must be added on the frequent comparisons, or similes, which\nform one of the most characteristic features of the poem.  At least\nhalf the _Iliad_ is occupied with descriptions of battle, and Homeric\nwarfare is exceedingly simple and uniform, consisting almost entirely\nof single combats between individual chieftains, or wholesale slaughter\nwrought by some puissant arm on the promiscuous herd of soldiers.  To\nrender so unpromising a theme interesting and attractive must have\ntaxed the skill and invention of the poet to their utmost limit; and\nhis principal resources for attaining this end is in the lavish use of\nthe simile.  In those parts of the poem where much is to be told in\nlittle space this ornament occurs rarely, or not at all.  In the first\nbook, which is crowded with incidents, not a single simile is used.\nBut where the action is to be delayed or elaborated, and especially in\nthe battle pieces, the similes are flung broadcast, shining like stars\namong the racing clouds of a stormy sky.  Every corner of nature, and\nevery province of human life, are ransacked to furnish illustrations of\nthe eternal drama of \"battle, and murder, and sudden death.\"  In a\nmoment we are rapt by the magic of the poet from the steam and squalor\nof slaughter to some busy scene of human industry, or some living\npicture, grand, lovely, or terrible, drawn from the great panorama of\nnature.  Nothing is too great, nothing too little, to furnish material\nfor this splendid treasury of poetry.  It would be easy to discourse\nfor pages on this fascinating subject; but we must content ourselves\nwith the above brief hint, and will conclude our remarks by declaring\nour full agreement with those who regard the similes in the _Iliad_ as\nthe chief glory and beauty in the first and greatest of epic poems.\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES FROM THE ILIAD\n\n\n\n\nThe Quarrel\n\nI\n\nThe scene of our story is laid in the north-western corner of Asia\nMinor, where the blue waters of the Hellespont mingle with the waves of\nthe \u00c6g\u00e6an.  The whole coast is lined with a multitude of war galleys,\ndrawn up, row behind row, for a space of several miles; and behind them\nare thousands and thousands of wooden huts, affording shelter to a\nwhole nation of warriors, with their slaves and followers.  For nine\nyears the Greeks have lain here encamped, striving in vain to sack the\nancient city of Troy, whose towers and battlements, some five miles\ndistant, can be seen from the elevated parts of the camp.  The whole\nsurrounding country has been laid waste, and town after town has been\nvisited by all the horrors of war; but the walls of Troy still stand\nfirm against all assault, and the end seems as far off as ever.\n\nThe chiefs are assembled in council, and in their midst sits Agamemnon,\nthe mightiest prince in Greece, whose nod a hundred thousand warriors\nobey.  Suddenly, a voice is heard on the outskirts of the crowd which\nsurrounds the circle of elders, and an aged man, clad in the long\nflowing robes of a priest, is led into the royal presence.  In his hand\nhe carries a rod, adorned with studs of gold, and wreathed with olive\nleaves.  \"A boon, great king, a boon!\" he cries, lifting the rod on\nhigh.  \"Speak,\" answers Agamemnon.  \"What wouldst thou have of me?\"\n\"Give me back my child, my daughter Chryseis,\" answers the priest.\n\"Thou hast sacked my city, thou hast burnt my home; restore unto me my\nchild, and leave me not altogether desolate in mine old age.\"\n\nDark was the brow of Agamemnon when he heard these words, and short and\nstern was his answer.  \"Let me not find thee,\" he said, \"lingering here\nin the camp, and come not hither again on such an errand.  Thy daughter\nthou shall not see again; she is mine, the captive of my bow and of my\nspear, and shall be my slave until the day of her death.\"  In vain the\nold man urged him with entreaty, and offered a rich ransom to redeem\nhis child from bondage.  \"Talk not to me of ransom,\" answered\nAgamemnon: \"not all the gold of thy temple shall purchase liberty for\nthe maiden, for she hath found favour in my sight.  Get thee gone at\nonce, and provoke me no further.\"\n\nThen the priest, whose name was Chryses, feared for his own life, and\nfled from the angry face of the King.  Down to the margin of the sea he\nwent, and gazing with tear-dimmed eyes over the heaving waters, thus he\nprayed to Apollo, his protector and lord: \"Hear me, god of the silver\nbow, whose altar steams day and night with offerings from the choicest\nof the flock.  Remember my faithful service, and let thine arrows\navenge my tears on the Greeks.\"\n\nSo he prayed, and Apollo heard him, and down from the peaks of Olympus\nhe sped.  In his hand he bare his mighty bow, and the arrows in his\nquiver made an angry rattling as he swooped down on the Grecian camp,\nswift and sudden as the southern night.  He took his stand on a hill,\nand loosed an arrow from the string; and dire was the twang of the\nsilver bow.  First, he sent his shafts among the dogs and mules; then\nhe changed his aim, and rained destruction among the men; and the whole\nplace was filled with the smoke of funeral pyres.\n\nFor nine days the deadly shower fell without ceasing; but on the tenth,\nAchilles summoned a general gathering of the host, to inquire into the\ncauses of the calamity which had fallen on his countrymen.  The chiefs\nmet in full conclave, and about them were gathered the meaner sort in\ntheir tens of thousands.  When the clamorous cries of the multitude\nwere stilled, Achilles rose in his place, and addressing himself\ndirectly to Agamemnon said: \"Son of Atreus, how long wilt thou suffer\nthy people to perish?  Is it not enough that our blood is poured forth\nevery day in battle with thy foes, but must pestilence also make havoc\namong our ranks?  This is Apollo's work, and it is time to ask some\npriest or soothsayer how we have offended the god, that we may appease\nhis anger with the fat of goats and lambs, and save ourselves from\nfurther harm.\"\n\nAmong the elders sat Calchas, the chief seer of the Greeks; who knew\nall things--what was, and had been, and was to come--and was the chosen\nleader of the army in matters of religion.  Seeing all eyes turned upon\nhim he stood up and answered the challenge of Achilles, though with\nmanifest reluctance and constraint.\n\n\"Illustrious chieftain,\" he said, \"thou hast asked the cause of\nApollo's anger, and I know that thou lookest to me for an answer.  But\nswear unto me first that thou wilt defend me in word and in deed; for I\nfear that, by revealing the counsels of the god whom I serve, I shall\noffend one who is the greatest and mightiest among us.\"\n\n\"Tell us what thou knowest, and fear nothing,\" answered Achilles;\n\"while I live no one shall lift his hand against thee, no, not\nAgamemnon himself.\"\n\nThus encouraged, Calchas spoke out, and declared that the only means of\nstaying the pestilence was by sending back Chryseis to her father,\nwithout price or ransom, and offering a costly sacrifice of atonement\nto Apollo in his temple at Chrysa.  It was not without reason that the\nprudent seer had appealed to Achilles for protection; for no sooner had\nhis words been uttered than Agamemnon sprang from his seat, with fury\nin his looks, and overwhelmed the prophet with a torrent of reproaches.\n\"Ill fare thy prophecies, thou prophet of ill!\" he cried.  \"Not one\ngood word have I ever heard from thy lips; but this is the worst that\never thou hast spoken.  Hard and bitter is the charge which thou hast\nlaid upon me, bidding me restore this maiden, fairer and dearer to me\nthan Clyt\u00e6mnestra, my wedded wife.  Nevertheless I will send her back,\nif I cannot save my people otherwise; but look ye to it, princes and\ncouncillors of Greece, that I find fit recompense for my loss; for she\nwas a choice prize of war, set apart for me as a gift of privilege and\nhonour.\"\n\n\"And thinkest thou,\" said Achilles, roused at once to opposition by\nthis unwarrantable claim, \"that it befits thine honour as a king to be\ncovetous of thy people's goods?  Be generous; let thy prize go, and\nwhen next we divide the spoil of a captured town we will repay thee\nthreefold and fourfold for thy loss.\"\n\n\"Payment I will have, and that right speedily,\" answered Agamemnon,\nwith darkening brow.  \"See that ye find means to fill the place of this\nmaiden, or one of you shall yield up his prize to me, whether it be\nAjax, or Odysseus, or thou Achilles, who art so bold of speech, that\nthou mayest learn that I am king indeed.  But concerning this we can\nspeak again hereafter; our present task is to restore Chryseis to her\nfather, and appease the god with sacrifice.\"\n\nAgamemnon thought perhaps by his last words to avert the anger of the\nfiery young prince, whose eyes flashed fire when he heard the King's\nthreat.  But if such was his purpose it failed altogether.  No sooner\nhad he ended than the full tempest of Achilles' wrath fell upon his\nhead.  \"Thou soul of avarice!\" he cried, \"clad in shamelessness as with\na garment, was it for thee that we crossed all those weary leagues of\nwater to make war on the men of Troy?  I have no quarrel with the\nTrojans; they have not lifted my cattle, or driven off my horses, for\nmy home is far beyond their reach, divided from Asia by shadowy\nmountains and sounding seas.  For thee, thou dog, and for thy brother\nhave I toiled, and in the division of the spoil 'tis but little that I\nwin as the price of my sweat and my blood; and thou seekest to rob me\nof that little, to add to thine own monstrous hoard.  I will go back\nforthwith to my native land of Phthia, for I have no mind to abide here\nin dishonour and heap up treasure for thee.\"\n\n\"Go when thou wilt,\" answered Agamemnon, in scornful tones.  \"Heaven\nforbid that I should hinder thee!  Most hateful to me art thou of all\nthe chivalry of Greece, for thou hast a heart full of hatred and\nmalice.  Go and lord it over thine own tribe; I am the master here, and\nas sure as I am a crowned and anointed king I will take thy prize, even\nthe maiden Briseis, and lead her to my tent, that thou mayest learn to\ncurb thy saucy tongue in the presence of thy lord.\"\n\nThus publicly insulted and defied, Achilles sat speechless with rage,\nfighting against the passion which shook his mighty frame.  At last it\nseemed that he had resolved to let his fury have full scope; slowly he\ndrew his sword from its scabbard, his mouth was opened for the battle\ncry, and in another moment the haughty King would have lain weltering\nin his blood; but in the very act of springing on his foe he felt\nhimself restrained from behind, and turning to confront this new\nassailant he stood face to face with the goddess Athene.  Unseen and\nunheard by the rest, the grey-eyed goddess spoke, bidding him to desist\nfrom his murderous purpose.  \"Put up thy sword,\" she said; \"speak\ndaggers to him, if thou wilt, but use none.  Thine honour is safe in\nthe hands of Zeus, and the day of reckoning shall come, when that proud\nhead shall be humbled to the very dust before thee.\"\n\nTo those who were looking on it seemed that Achilles had fallen into a\nsudden trance of thought, from which he started abruptly, and,\nthrusting back his sword into its sheath, resumed the war of words with\nAgamemnon.  \"Thou drunkard,\" he cried, \"with eye of dog and heart of\ndeer, foremost in the revel and last in the fray!  Thou of the itching\npalm, who lovest the chink of stolen gold, but turnest pale at the\nclash of steel!  False shepherd, that devourest thy flock!  Cowardly\nmaster of cowardly sheep!  Now by this sceptre I swear, by this symbol\nof justice which the elders hold in their hands when they give judgment\nbefore the people, the day is not far distant when all this host shall\nbe filled with longing for me, to save them from Hector's destroying\narm, when their bravest and their strongest are falling beneath his\nspear.  Then shalt thou learn thy folly too late, and drink to the\ndregs the bitter cup which thou hast filled for me.\"\n\nWith that he flung the sceptre at Agamemnon's feet, and sat down again\nin his place.  Then arose Nestor, the clear-voiced orator of Pylos,\nfrom whose lips flowed eloquence sweeter than honey.  Two generations\nof men had lived and died since his birth, and he still dwelt in kingly\nhonour among the third.  And thus he spake, striving to make peace\nbetween the two angry chieftains: \"Alas! what sorrow has come upon the\nsons of Greece!--sorrow to us, but joy unto Priam and the sons of\nPriam, when they hear of the feud which hath arisen between ye twain.\nBe guided by me; I am older than ye, and before ye were born I moved as\nan equal among heroes mightier than ye, and was second to none in\ncouncil and in fight.  Hearken therefore to me, even as they did.  Seek\nnot, Agamemnon, to take from Achilles his prize of honour; and thou,\nAchilles, provoke not the King to anger by thy bitter words, for as\nthou art our bulwark in war, so he sits higher than thou in sceptred\nmajesty.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" answered Agamemnon, \"but this man's insolence is\nnot to be borne.  Because he is a stout spearman he thinks that he can\nlord it over us all.  But there are some here who will not brook his\ntyranny.\"\n\n\"There is one here,\" retorted Achilles, \"who refuses to be thy slave.\nBut enough of this--I will waste no more words on thee.  Come and take\naway my prize, if those who stand here suffer thee to do this wrong;\nbut touch not aught else of my possessions, or thy blood shall pay the\nprice.\"\n\nWith these words the stormy debate, so fruitful in disaster to the\nGreeks, came to an end.\n\n\nII\n\nAgamemnon's first task, when he returned to his tent, was to send back\nChryseis, under the charge of Odysseus, to her father.  This done, he\nat once took steps to secure possession of Briseis, the captive maiden\nwho had been bestowed on Achilles as his prize of honour.  Talthybius\nand Eurybates, the royal heralds, were sent to the quarters of Achilles\nto demand the surrender of Briseis.  \"And if he will not give her up to\nyou,\" added the King, \"I will come myself and take her by force.\"  So\nthey went with slow and reluctant steps on their thankless errand; and\nthey found Achilles sitting alone by his ship, where it was drawn up on\nthe beach.  Awestruck and silent they stood in the presence of that\ngreat chief, unable to utter a sound; but he knew full well why they\nhad come, and greeted them with courtesy and kindness.  \"Draw near,\" he\nsaid, \"and fear nothing from me.  I respect your office, and impute not\nto you your master's guilt.  Patroclus my comrade shall deliver unto\nyou the maiden, and be ye my witnesses in this matter, when it is asked\nwhy I threw down my sword and refused to fight any longer in\nAgamemnon's cause.\"\n\nSo saying he summoned Patroclus, and bade him bring forth Briseis from\nthe tent; and Patroclus went, and presently returned, leading the\nweeping maiden by the hand, and gave her in charge of the heralds.\nWhen they were gone, Achilles wandered away by the margin of the sea,\nnursing his wounded spirit, and full of angry and bitter thoughts.\nPresently he came to a stand, and, stretching out his hands towards the\nsea, cried like a child in pain to Thetis, his mother: \"Short is the\nterm of years which Fate has vouchsafed to me, and therefore thou hast\npromised me honour from the hands of Zeus.  But now is mine honour\nturned to infamy, and I am become a very scorn of men, and an outcast\namong the people.\"  His words were broken by sobs and tears, for he was\nbut a boy in years, and was smarting with an agony of wounded pride.\nAnd his mother heard him where she sat in her crystal cave in the\ndepths of the sea; for she was a goddess, and daughter of the sea-god,\nNereus.  Swiftly she rose, \"like an exhalation,\" to the surface of the\nsea, and came and stood by her young hero's side.  \"Why weepest thou,\nmy child?\" she asked, with a tender caress.  \"Tell thy mother all thy\npain, that she may bear the burden with thee.\"\n\n\"Thou knowest full well,\" replied Achilles, with a groan; \"what boots\nit to repeat to thee the story of my shame?\"  Nevertheless he went on\nto pour out all the tale of injury and outrage; for sorrow grows\nlighter in the telling.  \"Thou alone,\" he added, when he had finished\nthe recital, \"canst heal this deadly hurt to mine honour.  I have often\nheard thee boast of an old service rendered to Zeus, when the other\nOlympians rose up in revolt against him, and he was in sore straits.\nGo, therefore, to Olympus, and remind him of the debt which he owes\nunto thee, and ask him in requital to lend aid to the Trojans, that the\nGreeks may be hurled back in rout upon their ships, and Agamemnon may\nlearn what it means to deal despitefully with the best warrior in his\ncamp.\"\n\n\"It shall be done as thou sayest,\" answered Thetis; \"Leave everything\nin my hands, and thou shalt have atonement in full measure.  Until\ntwelve days are passed I can do nothing, for Zeus has gone on a far\njourney, to partake of a banquet in the land of the Ethiopians.  When\nhe returns I will lay thy case before him; and meanwhile sit thou idle\nhere, and go not into battle, but leave me to champion thy cause.\"\nWith this promise she left him, and he sat down to digest his anger,\nand wait for the day of redress.\n\n\nIII\n\nOn the dawn of the twelfth day Thetis rose again from her cavern into\nmid-air, and was borne by the breezes unto Olympus.  She found the lord\nof heaven sitting apart on the topmost peak of the mountain, and\nkneeling before him she preferred her request.  When Zeus heard what\nshe desired he fell into a muse, and answered not a word; but Thetis\nremained kneeling at his feet, and, clinging to him with both hands,\nrepeated her prayer.  Being urged thus with importunity, at last the\nsire opened his mouth, and answered in heavy tones: \"Thou wilt put\nenmity between me and Hera, my wife; already she upbraids me for\nshowing favour to the Trojans, and thou askest me to take sides openly\nwith them against the Greeks.  But go to, what care I for the wrath of\nHera?  Nevertheless, get thee gone speedily, lest she find us together.\nHowbeit, thou shalt have thy wish; behold, I swear it, and confirm it\nwith my nod, and whatsoever I have thus confirmed cannot be annulled or\nunfulfilled.\"\n\nThereupon the monarch of the sky bowed his immortal head, with all its\ndark and waving locks, and shook the mountain to its base.\n\nHaving thus attained her purpose, Thetis departed, and as soon as she\nwas gone Zeus joined the assembly of the gods in the high palace of\nOlympus.  All the gods rose from their seats to pay him homage as he\nentered and took his place on the royal throne.  But the sharp eyes of\nHera had spied out his conference with Thetis, and forthwith she\nassailed her indulgent lord in mocking tones: \"What plot hast thou been\nhatching now, thou god of craft?  I know that thou art keeping some\nmischief from me, thy lawful wife.\"\n\n\"Daughter of Cronos,\" answered Zeus, avoiding her piercing glance,\n\"thou canst not expect that I should share all my counsels with thee.\nWhatever it is meet for thee to know thou shall learn; but I have some\nsecrets which are not for thy ear.\"\n\n\"Thou must keep thy secrets more carefully,\" said Hera, with a bitter\nsmile, \"if thou wouldst deceive me.  Listen, ye gods, while I tell you\nthis fine secret!  Zeus has promised Thetis that the Greeks shall\nsuffer defeat, to avenge the insult put upon her son.\"\n\n\"And if such be my will, who shall say me nay?\" replied Zeus, with a\nstern look.  \"I warn thee not to thwart my purpose, or all the gods who\nsit here shall not save thee from chastisement.\"\n\nThen fear fell upon Hera, and she sat biting her lips, venturing no\nreply.  And all the gods sat silent, glancing anxiously at one another,\nwhen they heard the angry tones of the Olympian sire.\n\nAt last Heph\u00e6stus, the lame god of fire, came to his mother's relief.\nRising from his seat, he took a goblet of nectar from the hands of\nHebe, who was serving drink to the gods, and went hobbling to the place\nwhere Hera sat.  \"Mother mine,\" said, he, as he offered her the cup, \"I\ncounsel thee to give way, and not provoke our father to anger.  Shall\nwe, the sons and daughters of heaven, brawl over our cups for the sake\nof miserable mortals?  Let Zeus have his way--for what can we do\nagainst him?  Hast thou forgotten how he served me when I presumed to\nstand between thee and his ire?--how he caught me by the foot, and\nflung me forth from the open portals of Olympus, as a boy slings a\nstone?  From morn till eve I fell, and at the setting of the sun I\nstruck on Lemnos, the \u00c6g\u00e6an isle.\"\n\nHera smiled at her ungainly son; and when she had drunk of the nectar\nhe took the cup, and went limping round the circle of the gods,\noffering them to drink.  And all the immortals laughed loud and long,\nto see the huge, hairy god engaged in the office of the lovely Hebe.\nThen music and song came to crown the banquet, as Apollo led the choir\nof the Muses on his golden harp.\n\n\n\n\nThe Dream: The Muster of Greeks\n\nI\n\nAgamemnon lay sleeping in his tent, and in a dream he saw Nestor, the\nson of Neleus, who addressed him in these words: \"Sleepest thou, son of\nAtreus?  It is not meet that thou, on whom lies the weight of a mighty\nmonarchy, shouldst slumber all night long.  Hearken now to my words: I\nam the bearer of a message from Zeus, who bids thee summon the whole\nhost of Greeks, and lead them against Troy.  Her hour is come at last,\nand the gods with one consent have decided that she shall fall.\"\n\nAgamemnon awoke, and behold it was a dream.  But the words had sunk\ndeep into his heart, and he deemed that the vision had spoken truth.\nIn that vain belief he arose from his couch, clothed himself in a fair\nlinen tunic and a woollen robe, and, taking his sceptre in his hand,\nwent to rouse Nestor and tell him his dream.  Then the whole body of\nthe chiefs met in council, and the heralds were sent round to proclaim\na general assembly of the army.  The people came flocking at the\nsummons, numberless as bees which hover round the flowers in spring;\nand nine heralds went about among the multitude, marshalling the\nclamorous commons in their places, and commanding silence, that the\ncounsel of the King might be heard.\n\nAs this was a great occasion, it had been resolved, in the private\nmeeting of the elders, to try the temper of the people before\ndisclosing to them the real purpose of their leaders.  Accordingly,\nwhen silence had been obtained, Agamemnon rose up in his place, holding\nin his hand his ancestral sceptre, the symbol of his great office,\nwhich had descended from father to son since the days of Pelops, the\nfounder of the royal house of Argos.  Planting the sceptre firmly\nbefore him, and leaning upon it, thus spake the King, to prove the\nheart of his people.\n\n\"Friends and comrades in war, I have heavy news to tell you.  Zeus\nbrought us hither under a solemn promise that in the end we should take\nthe sacred city of Priam.  But now he hath revoked his promise, and\nbids us sail back to Greece, for all our toil is vain.  Shame and\ndishonour must be our portion, now and hereafter, when our sons' sons\nshall hear how we, the embattled host of Greece, outnumbering the\ncitizens of Troy by ten to one, fought against them for nine long\nyears, and then departed, as beaten and broken men.  But such is the\nwill of Zeus, and none can gainsay it.  Therefore I bid you hoist sail\nand away, for we are not destined to take the town of Troy.\"\n\nAt these words of the King there arose a wild commotion among his\nhearers, and the vast multitude swayed to and fro like the waves of the\n\u00c6g\u00e6an driven this way and that by shifting gusts of wind.  Then, as a\nwide field of corn bends down before the strong breath of the west, the\nwhole host turned seaward, and with a mighty shout they rushed downward\nto the shore, and began to launch their ships.\n\nAgamemnon, and those who were in his confidence, were thunderstruck by\nthe tremendous effect of his speech, and stood helpless and amazed in\nthe midst of this scene of tumult.  The first to recover himself was\nOdysseus, the wisest and the firmest spirit among all the chieftains.\nFlinging off his mantle he went to Agamemnon, and took from his hand\nthe royal sceptre.  Armed with this symbol of authority he hurried\nhither and thither among the excited throng, urging each man by threats\nor entreaties to return to the place of assembly, and wait there for\nfurther instructions from the recognised leaders of the host.\n\nTo those of rank and character he spoke courteously, urging them to use\ntheir influence among their followers, and check the general flight;\nwhile with the baser sort he used rougher means of persuasion, striking\nthem with the sceptre and rebuking them fiercely.  Others among the\nchiefs followed his example, and at length the tumult was stayed, and\nthe fickle mob swept back into the camp with a roar like the billows\nbreaking on a long line of rocky shore.\n\n[Illustration: Paris.  Vatican, Rome.  Photo Anderson]\n\nAt length that vast audience was seated, and waiting attentively to\nhear the counsels of the King.  But one unruly knave remained standing,\nand poured out a torrent of abuse against Agamemnon and the other\nchiefs.  This fellow's name was Thersites, and of all the Greeks who\ncame up against Troy he was the foulest, both in aspect and in speech.\nHis huge misshapen head, sparsely covered with thin, downy hair, sat\nawry on his stooping shoulders.  He was bandy-legged, and lame of one\nfoot.  And he was the sworn enemy of the valiant, the noble, and the\nwise.  This low-born railer now began to shriek out insults in a\nhideous voice against Agamemnon, his sovereign lord.  \"Son of Atreus,\"\nhe bawled, \"what lackest thou yet?  Thy tents are full of gold, and\ncrowded with slaves, which we have won for thee with our swords and our\nspears.  Lustest thou yet after more gold, the ransom of Trojan\ncaptives?  Or dost thou want more Trojan dames to be thy handmaids?\nUp, sirs, let us be gone, lest we be called women, and not men, if we\nremain here to heap up riches for this greedy tyrant.  Have we not seen\nhim put public dishonour on our bravest warrior, taking from him his\nlawful prize?  Surely Achilles lacks gall to make oppression bitter,\nseeing that he has suffered this bitter wrong to go unavenged.  Were he\nof like mind with me, the ruffian king would not have survived to\ncommit further outrages.\"\n\nA stern voice here broke in upon the seditious harangue, and Thersites\nperceived with alarm that Odysseus was standing by him, staff in hand.\n\"Peace, saucy knave!\" said the Prince of Ithaca, in threatening tones.\n\"How darest thou, the very scum and refuse of the army, to hold such\nlanguage against our exalted leader?  If I find thee uttering thy mad\nfolly again, may my head be smitten from my shoulders, and may I never\nmore be called the father of Telemachus, if I do not strip thee naked\nand drive thee forth from among the people with blows like this.\"  And\nsuiting the action to the word he laid the heavy staff with no gentle\nhand across the deformed shoulders of Thersites.  The wretch shrank\nbeneath the blow with a cry of pain, and the golden staff left its\nprint in a crimson weal on his back.  So he sat huddled together, with\ndistorted face, wiping away his tears, and spoke not another word.\n\nHaving thus silenced that loose tongue, Odysseus mounted a platform,\nwhence he could be seen and heard of all the host, and lifting up his\nmighty voice he began to rebuke the people for their weakness and want\nof faith.  \"Must I speak to you,\" he said, \"as to homesick women and\nchildren, or as to veteran warriors bound by an oath to follow their\ngreat captain for weal or for woe?  Not that I blame you overmuch, for\nindeed your service has been both long and hard.  For nine long years\nwe have toiled in vain, and the cordage of our ships is rotten, and\ntheir timbers are warped.  Nevertheless, endure yet a little while,\nuntil we have learnt whether the son of Cronos is a true prophet or no.\nYe cannot have forgotten the day when our ships were assembled at\nAulis, or the portents vouchsafed us there at a solemn sacrifice to the\ngods.  The altar was raised in the shadow of a goodly plane-tree, near\na running water; and in the tree was a nest of sparrows, a mother with\neight young, cheeping and cowering beneath the leaves.  Just as we were\nkindling the altar fire, a great serpent, with blood-red back, darted\nup from the altar into the tree and pounced upon the sparrows' nest.\nThe mother-bird fluttered anxiously around, uttering piteous cries to\nsee the monster devouring her young; and the serpent, when he had\nswallowed up the nestlings, caught their mother by the wing as she\nhovered near, and swallowed her also.  Then we beheld a wonder: for the\nserpent, when he came down from the tree, was turned into a stone.  And\nwhile we stood amazed Calchas declared unto us the meaning of that\nomen: \"Why stand ye thus amazed, ye warriors of Greece?  That which ye\nhave seen is a sign from Zeus, and this is the interpretation thereof:\nthe nine birds are the nine years, during which we shall lay siege to\nTroy, and the serpent is the tenth year, in which Troy shall fall!\nTherefore abide steadfast, my comrades, for the nine years are passed,\nand we are nearing the end of our labours.\"\n\nOdysseus ended, and a great roar of acclamation went up from a hundred\nthousand throats, and rolled like thunder along the hollow shore.  The\nnext speaker was Nestor, who addressed Agamemnon, and bade him command\nan immediate muster of the whole army, and lead a general attack upon\nthe Trojans.  \"Let the people,\" said he, \"be ordered according to their\nseveral tribes and clans, that thou mayest distinguish the\nfaint-hearted from the loyal and valiant.  Thus shall thou learn, if\ndisaster befalleth thee, to whom it is due--whether to adverse heaven,\nor to the cowardice and weakness of thine allies.\"\n\n\"Thou speakest ever to the purpose,\" answered Agamemnon; \"and would\nthat I had ten such counsellers as thee!  Then would Priam's royal city\nsoon bow her head, sunk in the dust beneath our victorious hands.  But\nthe son of Cronos hath sown division among us, and put enmity between\nme and my bravest champion.  But to our task: let the people now get\ntheir morning meal, and then prepare for battle.  Let every man whet\nhis spear, and look to the fastenings of his shield; let every steed be\nfed, and every chariot set in order, that we may fight all day till the\ngoing down of the sun.  There shall be no rest or respite till darkness\nputs an end to the fray.  Many a shield strap shall drip with sweat,\nand many a hand ache with holding the spear, and the steeds shall droop\nwith weariness, ere the day be done.  And if I find any man skulking\namong the ships, I will give his flesh to feed the dogs and vultures.\"\n\nThen the people arose and scattered among their tents, and soon the\nsmoke of a thousand fires went eddying up into the still morning air.\nAnd every warrior lifted up his heart in prayer to heaven, that he\nmight return safe and sound from the great perils which lay before him.\n\nAgamemnon slaughtered an ox five years old, and summoned the noblest of\nthe chiefs, among whom were Nestor, Idomeneus, the two princes named\nAjax, Diomede, and Odysseus, to take their meal with him.  In those\ndays every meal was a sacrifice, and this was the manner in which it\nwas performed: the company stood round the ox, holding in their hands a\nportion of barleymeal.  Then the giver of the feast addressed a prayer\nto Zeus, the meal was sprinkled between the horns of the victim, and\nafter that the beast was slaughtered and flayed.  Portions of the meat\nwere then cut off from the carcass, wrapped in a double layer of fat,\nand burnt as an offering to the gods.  When all religious rites had\nbeen duly paid, the choicer parts of the meat were broiled in thin\nslices over the fire, and eaten with wheat or barley bread.  The flesh\nof beeves and swine, or less commonly of sheep and goats, with bread\nand wine, formed almost the sole diet of the Homeric heroes.\n\nWhen they had finished a copious repast, Nestor, who, despite his\neighty years, was as keen and alert as the youngest soldier, sprang\nfrom his seat, and cried: \"To arms, comrades, to arms!  Agamemnon, bid\nthe heralds summon the host to the field.\"\n\nThe King gave the order required, and forthwith the heralds, who were\nchosen for the power and reach of their voices, went about in the camp,\nand called the people to arms.  Then every captain called his company\ntogether, and led them to the place appointed for the general array.\nAnd by degrees a strange fire spread from rank to rank, kindling in\nevery breast a fierce longing for battle.  All softer emotions, all\nhomesick longings, were forgotten; for a mysterious influence was at\nwork, due to the unseen presence of Athene, who was there with her\nwondrous, immortal shield, with its fringe of golden tassels.  None\nbeheld her, but all felt her power, and the boldest grew bolder, and\nthe weakest were inspired with a valour not their own.\n\nLike a fire blazing among the thickets high up on a mountainside, so\nblazed the sunlight on shield and helmet, as those countless thousands\npoured forth into the plain of Scamander, and the earth shook beneath\nthe tramp of steeds and men.  On and still on streamed the tide of\nwarriors, unnumbered as the leaves in spring, or as flies that buzz\nround the milkpails on a sunny day, when the goats are milked by a\nhundred hands.\n\nAnd as the shepherd numbers his sheep, for he knoweth them every one,\nso moved the captains with mastery, each among his own people, and\nmarshalled them in their ranks.  Conspicuous among all was seen the\nmajestic form of Agamemnon, to whom it seemed that every god had on\nthat day bestowed some peculiar grace, to make him the observed of all\nobservers, and give the world assurance of a king.\n\nBut what tongue can count the myriads brought together by the word of\npower on Scamander's plain, or what memory can hold the names of the\nnations assembled there?  All the chivalry of Greece had obeyed the\nsummons of the monarch, sent forth nine years before, and they had come\nflocking in their thousands from the broad plains of Thessaly; from the\nmountain dells of Locris and of Phocis; from the fat fields of\nB\u0153otia; from Attica, with her thin soil and bright, pellucid air;\nfrom Salamis, the mother of heroes; from storied Argos and renowned\nSparta; from the western islands, and from Creta, the cradle of gods.\nIt would be a weary task to tell over all the heroic titles in that\nmuster-roll of fame, but a few must be mentioned, as being the prime in\nvalour and in worth.\n\nFrom Locris came the lesser Ajax, son of Oileus.  He was small of\nstature, but swift of foot, and the most skilful spearsman among all\nthe Greeks.  His greater namesake, Ajax, son of Telamon, and cousin to\nAchilles, came from Salamis; he was a giant in stature and in strength,\nand, next to Achilles, the greatest warrior in all the host.\n\nThe ancient city of Tiryns in Argos, with its massy walls, built by a\nmighty race in the very dawn of time, sent forth a goodly company in\neighty ships; and these were commanded by Diomede, son of Tydeus, a\ngallant and youthful prince, whose deeds fill many a page in the tale\nof Troy divine.  And from the neighbouring city of Mycen\u00e6, the royal\nseat of the line of Pelops, came Agamemnon himself, at whose imperial\nnod whole nations flew to arms.  His brother, Menelaus, the husband of\nHelen, on whose account the war had arisen, brought sixty ships, manned\nby the warriors of Sparta, of which city he was king.  He was a mild\nand gentle prince, and a zealous leader, though in valour and prowess\nnot of the first rank.\n\nNinety ships formed the contingent led by Nestor, the aged King of\nPylos, the most venerable figure, and the wisest head, among all those\nwho fought in the cause of Helen.\n\nOf those who came from the islands the most famous were Odysseus, King\nof Ithaca, the hero of another famous story, mighty in word and in\ndeed, and, after Nestor, the sagest counsellor in the Grecian camp; and\nIdomeneus of Crete, a grey-haired veteran who had proved his valour on\nmany a hard-fought field.\n\nAmong others singled out for special mention are Nireus, renowned for\nhis wonderful beauty, but otherwise a weakling; Philoctetes, now living\nin lonely exile on the island of Lemnos, where he had been left by the\nGreeks on account of a dreadful wound, which rendered his presence in\nthe camp unbearable, and Protesilaus, who had been the first to leap on\nto the Trojan shore, and had been struck down by a Trojan in the very\nact.\n\nThese two were missing in the grand review of the forces which was now\nheld in anticipation of a victorious march upon Troy, and their places\nwere supplied by others.  But there was one whose place none could\nfill, and whose absence was soon to make itself felt in dire and deadly\nfashion.  Achilles sat idle in his tent, brooding over the insult which\nhe had received two weeks before.  His ponderous spear, which none but\nhe could wield, was resting from slaughter, and his squires were\npolishing the armour which he was not to wear that day.  He started\nwhen he heard the great shout of the Greeks, as the word was given to\nmarch, and his heart burned with longing for battle; but remembering\nhis wrongs, he sank back in his seat, frowning darkly, and muttered the\nsingle word \"Revenge!\"\n\n\n\n\nGreeks and Trojans face to face: The Duel\n\nI\n\nPriam was sitting in council with all his elders before the doors of\nhis palace, when a messenger rushed breathless up with the tidings that\nthe Greeks were marching in full force against the city.  Instantly the\nmeeting broke up, and the Trojan leaders, with Hector at their head,\nset out with the whole body of native warriors and their allies to bar\nthe way of the invader.\n\nHalting before a solitary mound, the tomb of the Amazon Myrine, within\nsight of the walls of Troy, they drew up their forces in order of\nbattle.  The native Trojans, who fought under Hector, son of Priam,\nformed the flower of the army; but in numbers they were far exceeded by\nthe troops which had assembled, at the call of Priam, from the adjacent\nprovinces and coastlands of western Asia--from Lydia, Mysia,\nPaphlagonia, and far-off Lycia--from Sestos and Abydos and Thrace.\nAfter Hector, the most famous leaders were \u00c6neas, son of Anchises and\nAphrodite; Pandarus, unrivalled for his skill in archery; Paris, whose\ncrime had brought all these woes on his country, and above all the two\ncaptains of the Lycians--Sarpedon, the son of Zeus, and Glaucus, the\nmost knightly figure among all the heroes of Greece and Troy.\n\nWhen the various members of that motley host had taken their appointed\nstations, the defenders of Troy advanced with clamour and with tumult,\nlike flocks of cranes winging their way to the shores of the ocean\nstream to make war on the Pygmies.  Presently the van of the Greeks\ncame in sight, moving on in silence, like men with one mind and one\nheart.\n\nForemost among the Trojan champions was seen the gay and beautiful\nParis.  He was clad in a panther's skin, over which hung his bow and\narrows, and besides these weapons, in the use of which he excelled, he\nwas armed with two long spears and a sword.  Menelaus marked him as he\ncame on with long strides, and rejoiced in spirit, like a hungry lion\nwhen he catches sight of his prey; and leaping down from his car he\nadvanced with uplifted spear to take vengeance on his treacherous foe.\nBut when Paris saw him coming his guilty heart quailed within him, and\nhe shrank back among the ranks of his comrades, like one who has\ntrodden on a snake while walking in a mountain glen.\n\n\"Now curse on thy fair, false face!\" cried Hector to his cowardly\nbrother, \"thou carpet-knight, thou foul deceiver!  Better for thee to\nhave died childless and unwed than thus to bring shame on thy father\nand all thy kinsfolk and people.  Thou art a fit foe for women, whom\nthou beguilest with witchcraft of thy wit, and wicked gifts; but all\nthy gifts--thy curling locks, thy smooth, white brow, thy sweet voice,\nand cunning minstrelsy--avail thee naught when thou lookest upon the\nface of a man.  Verily the Trojans are as dastardly as thyself, or long\nere this thou wouldst have put on a doublet of stone[1] for all the\nills that thou hast wrought.\"\n\n\n[1] That is, \"Wouldst have been stoned to death.\"\n\n\n\"I have deserved thy rebuke,\" answered Paris.  \"Keen as the blade of an\naxe, which bites deep into the heart of an oak, when wielded by a\nsinewy arm, so is the keenness of thy spirit, and thou knowest not\nfear.  Nevertheless, mock me not for the lovely gifts of Aphrodite, for\nthe gifts of heaven are not to be despised.  And if thou desirest me to\ntake up this quarrel with Menelaus thou hast thy wish.  I will fight\nagainst him hand to hand, and he who is victor shall be lord of Helen\nand all her possessions.  So shall the long strife have an end, and\npeace shall dwell again within our borders.\"\n\nWhen Hector heard his brother's bold words he was glad, and gave the\nword to make the Trojans sit down in their ranks.  At first the Greeks\ndid not understand what was happening, and pressed onward to the attack\nwith a shower of stones and arrows; but Agamemnon soon perceived that\nHector had something to propose, and gave the signal for a general halt.\n\nThen Hector, standing midway between the two armies, made known the\noffer of Paris, and asked for an armistice, that the two champions\nmight try the issue between them.  All eyes were now turned on\nMenelaus, who responded boldly to the challenge.  \"I am well content,\"\nsaid he, \"that this quarrel should be decided by the hands of us twain;\nfor it grieves my heart that so many should suffer for the sake of my\nprivate wrong.  Let two lambs be brought--a white ram as an offering to\nthe sun, and a black ram as an offering to the earth; and go some of\nyou to fetch Priam, that he may preside at the treaty.  His sons we may\nnot trust, for they are hot-blooded and faithless; but an old man's\nhead is cool, and his eye looks before and after.\"\n\nRight pleased were both Greeks and Trojans when the order was sent\nround to dismount from their cars and pile their arms; for they thought\nthat the end of their bitter feud was near.  Two heralds were\ndespatched to bring down Priam from the city, and Agamemnon sent\nanother for a victim to be sacrificed on behalf of the Greeks.\n\n\nII\n\nHelen was sitting in her chamber, weaving a fair tapestry, on which\nwere wrought the famous deeds done in her cause by Greek and Trojan\nheroes, when her task was interrupted by the sudden entrance of her\nkinswoman, Laodice, a daughter of Priam.  \"Make haste, dear sister,\"\nsaid the lady, \"come with me, and see the wonderful thing which has\nbeen brought to pass.  Greeks and Trojans are sitting down in amity\ntogether, and Paris and Menelaus are to fight with long spears for the\nmastery; and he that prevaileth shall call thee his wife.\"\n\nWhen she heard that, a great longing came into the heart of Helen for\nher Spartan home and her former lord.  With one tearful glance at the\nspeaker she rose from her seat, veiled her face, and made her way to\nthe high tower above the gate where Priam was sitting with the elders\nof Troy.  The shrill, piping voices[2] of the old men struck upon her\nears as she stepped out upon the turret; and when they saw her they put\ntheir heads together, and whispered their admiration of her wondrous\nloveliness.  \"How fair, how very fair she is!\" murmured one\nwhite-bearded veteran.  \"Is she not worthy to be the arbitress of life\nand death to a whole generation of heroes!  Nevertheless let her\ndepart, and breed no further mischief to us and our children.\"\n\n\n[2] Compared by Homer to grasshoppers.\n\n\nThen Priam called to her, and beckoned her with a courteous gesture to\ntake her place by his side.  \"Come hither, dear daughter,\" he said,\n\"where thou canst see thy former husband, and thy kinsfolk and friends.\nI blame thee not at all because of this war which the gods have brought\nupon me in mine old age.  Now tell me,\" he continued, pointing with his\nfinger towards the Greek army, which lay in full view upon the plain,\n\"who is that stately man to whom all the other chieftains seem to pay\nhomage?  Ne'er saw I one of so kingly a mien.\"\n\n\"I dread thy presence, father,\" answered Helen, glancing in the\ndirection indicated, and then casting down her eyes.  \"I tremble before\nthee, kind as thou art, for I feel all the wrong which I have done unto\nthee and thine.  And as touching him of whom thou askest, that is\nAgamemnon, son of Atreus, lord of a wide empire, a righteous king, and\na valiant warrior.  Once I called him brother,\" she added, with a sigh.\n\n\"'Tis then as I thought,\" rejoined Priam, \"for there is sovereignty in\nhis look.  And who is he who stands next to Agamemnon, in stature less\nthan he, but broader of shoulder and deeper of chest?  Methinks he is\nlike a stately ram, who stalks majestic before the flock as they go to\npasture.\"\n\n\"That is Odysseus, son of Laertes,\" answered Helen, \"bred in the rugged\nisle of Ithaca.  All Greece cannot show his equal in wisdom and\neloquence.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Antenor, an elder of high rank.  \"herein thou hast spoken\nthe very truth.  I entertained him of whom thou speakest as my guest\nwhen he came hither on an embassy with Menelaus, and I heard them both\nspeaking before the assembly of the Trojans.  When they stood up\ntogether Menelaus was by far the taller; but when they were seated\nthere was greater dignity in Odysseus.  Then as to eloquence, Odysseus\nbore away the palm from all--though Menelaus spoke both fluently and to\nthe purpose.  At first, when Odysseus rose to speak, we wondered to see\nhow ungracefully he stood, leaning heavily on his sceptre, with eyes\nfixed upon the ground.  He seemed a very churl, unskilled in all\ncourtesy and the arts of civil life.  But when he lifted up his mighty\nvoice, and his words floated about us like the snowflakes of winter, we\nknew that we were listening to a divinely gifted man.\"\n\nAt Priam's request Helen named the other chieftains of the Greeks, Ajax\nand Idomeneus, and the rest; and when the recital was ended she\nremained gazing wistfully at the dense masses of fighting men who sat\nwaiting on the plain.  \"I cannot see them,\" she murmured sadly: \"they\nare not there.\"  \"Of whom speakest thou?\" asked Priam.  \"Of Castor and\nPolydeuces,\" she answered, \"the bold rider, and the stout boxer, my own\nbrothers, born of the same mother with me.  Perchance they sailed not\nin the fleet to Troy, or perchance they have remained behind in the\ncamp, in sorrow for their sister's shame.\"\n\n[Illustration: Helen on the Walls of Troy.  Lord Leighton.  By\npermission of Henry Graves & Co., Ltd.]\n\nAh!  Helen, thy brothers are lying where shame and sorrow can reach\nthem no more, sleeping in their quiet graves, in Laced\u00e6mon, their\nnative land.\n\n\nIII\n\nWhile Priam was still conversing with Helen, a herald entered with the\nstartling news that his presence was required in the field, to settle\nthe conditions of the single combat between Paris and Menelaus.  Some\nnatural pangs he felt, when he heard of the danger which threatened his\nson.  Nevertheless he set out at once, taking with him the victims\nrequired for the sacrifice.  When he came to the open space between the\ntwo armies he found all things ready for the solemn rite.  The chiefs\nstood waiting in a circle, and in their midst was Agamemnon, who acted\nas priest.  The heralds mingled two portions of pure[3] wine in a bowl,\nand poured water over the hands of the chieftains.  Then Agamemnon drew\na sharp knife, which hung at his girdle by his ponderous sword, and\ncutting off a few hairs from the foreheads of the victims gave them to\nthe heralds to distribute among the princes.  When this was done,\namidst a general hush he uttered this solemn prayer: \"Father Zeus, Lord\nof Ida, most glorious, most mighty, ye rivers, and thou earth, and ye\ndread powers beneath, who take vengeance after death on all those who\nswear a false oath, be ye all the witnesses and guardians of our\ntreaty.  If Paris slays Menelaus he shall keep Helen for his wife, with\nall her goods; but should Paris fall Helen shall go back to Menelaus,\nher lawful lord.  Let the war be decided by the issue of this combat,\nand Heaven defend the right!\"  Therewith he cut the throats of the\nvictims, and laid their quivering bodies on the ground.  Then the\ndrink-offering was poured, with this awful imprecation on those who\nshould break the treaty: \"If any man violate our sworn oath, may his\nbrains be poured out, even as this wine, and may his wife and children\nbe sold into bondage.\"\n\n\n[3] In sacrifices pure wine was used; wine for drinking was always\nmixed with water.\n\n\nPriam now took his departure from the field, for he could not bear to\nsee his son in deadly combat with Menelaus.  When he was gone, Hector\nand Odysseus measured out the ground for the duel, and shook the lots\nin a helmet, to see who should be the first to cast his spear; and the\nlot fell on Paris.  Meanwhile Paris was putting on his armour; for he\nhad come lightly equipped as an archer into the field.\n\nThe two rivals took their stand on either side, clad in their brazen\nharness, and armed with sword and spear.  And first Paris cast his\nspear, which struck upon the shield of Menelaus, and did him no harm.\nThen Menelaus lifted up his spear, and murmured a prayer to Zeus:\n\"Grant me, O King, to take vengeance on him who brought dishonour on my\nhome, where he dwelt as my honoured guest.\"  As he spoke, he flung his\ngood ashen spear, which clove its way through the shield of Paris, and\ntore his tunic close to his side; but Paris swerved aside and escaped a\nwound.  Before he could recover himself Menelaus was upon him, sword in\nhand, and struck him with all his force upon the helmet; but once more\nfortune favoured the Trojan, for the blade was shivered on the ridge of\nthe helmet, and Menelaus grasped a useless hilt.  \"Curse on thee,\ntreacherous steel!\" cried he, and, seizing Paris by the helmet, began\nto drag him towards the ranks of the Greeks.  This time he would have\nsucceeded, and taken his enemy captive, had not the strap which held\nthe helmet given way under the strain, so that the brazen headpiece\ncame away empty in his hand.\n\nMenelaus flung the helmet towards his friends, and picking up his spear\nturned again upon his cowardly foe, with purpose to slay him.  But\nParis was nowhere to be seen: an invisible hand had caught him up, and\ncarried him away from the righteous hand of the avenger.  For\nAphrodite, the soft goddess of love, had been hovering near to protect\nher favourite.  She it was who had caused the helmet strap to break,\nand now she saved him a second time, and bore him swiftly to his house\nin Troy.  There he was presently visited by the lovely Helen, who,\nthough she scorned him in her heart, was drawn thither by a fatal spell\nwhich she could not resist; and in the sunshine of her smiles he soon\nforgot dishonour and defeat.\n\nAll this time Menelaus was raging about the field, like a tiger robbed\nof his prey, and calling upon the Trojans to surrender the recreant to\nhis vengeance; and they would gladly have done so, if they had known\nwhere to find him, for they hated him worse than death.  And Agamemnon,\namid general applause, demanded the surrender of Helen, according to\nthe terms of the treaty.\n\n\n\n\nThe Breaking of the Truce\n\nI\n\nThe gods were met in full assembly in their golden palace, pledging one\nanother in full cups of nectar, and looking down upon the great drama\nwhich was being enacted on the plains of Troy.  Then Zeus began to\nspeak, casting a sly glance at his fair consort, Hera: \"Menelaus has\ntwo stout backers among the gods, Hera, Queen of Argos, and Athene,\nstrong to defend.  But they seem to have renounced his cause, for they\nhave suffered Aphrodite to steal away Paris when death stared him in\nthe face.  'Tis well, then, Menelaus has the victory, and naught\nremains but to give back Helen, and put an end to the war.\"\n\nAt this most unwelcome proposal Athene frowned angrily at her father,\nbut said nothing; Hera, however, could not contain her wrath, and\nraised her voice in indignant protest: \"Out upon thee, son of Cronos,\nwhat a word hast thou spoken!  Is this to be the end of all my toil and\nmy sweat, when I travelled without ceasing, until my steeds were\nwell-nigh foundered, to gather this host against Troy?  Do as thou\nwilt; but know this, that, if thou doest this thing, not one of us\nshall praise thee, no, not one.\"\n\n\"What strange passion possesses thee?\" answered Zeus, in tones of\ndispleasure, \"Why harbourest thou this deadly rancour against Priam and\nthe sons of Priam?  Methinks thou couldst find it in thy heart to go\ndown into the city, and feast on the raw flesh of the men of Troy,\nuntil thou hadst devoured them all.  Howbeit, let there be peace among\nus; I give thee leave to work thy will upon this king and his people;\nonly remember that I have yielded to thee in this, and when I am minded\nto destroy some city which is dear to thee stand not thou in my way.\nFor I love the towers of holy Ilios, and they that dwell therein, for\nthey have paid me faithful worship, with meat-offering and with\ndrink-offering, with reverence and with prayer.\"\n\n\"Take Argos,\" replied the impetuous Hera.  \"Take Sparta or Mycen\u00e6, the\nthree choicest jewels in my crown; burn, waste, and destroy them, if\nsuch be thy pleasure.  Only grant me this boon, and let me wreak my\nfury upon Troy.  If thou consentest to this, lay thy command upon thy\ndaughter, Athene, that she may go down among the Greeks and Trojans,\nand make an end of this detested truce.\"\n\nZeus nodded in token of approval, and Athene, who was only waiting for\nthe signal, shot down from Olympus like a falling star, and alighted in\nthe space between the two armies.  Arrived there, she put on the form\nof Laodocus, a noble Trojan youth, and went in search of Pandarus, a\nfamous bowman, and a favourite of the archer-god Apollo.  And when she\nhad found him, she spake unto him in this wise: \"Bold son of Lycaon,\nart thou man enough to do a great deed, and win praise and reward from\nall the Trojans, but especially from Paris?  If thou art, take thine\narrows and thy bow, and aim a shaft at Menelaus, having first vowed a\nvow to Apollo that when thou returnest to thy home among the rich\npastures of Ida, thou wilt offer him a sacrifice of lambs, the\nfirstlings of the flock.\"\n\nSo spake Athene, tempting him; and he hearkened unto her in his folly,\nand began to take the cover from his bow.  It was a powerful weapon,\nformed from the horns of a great ibex, which he himself had brought\ndown by a skilful shot long ago.  The horns, each sixteen palms in\nlength, were set firmly in a solid bridge, and tipped at each end with\ngold.  Resting the lower end of the bow against his foot, he leaned\nupon it, and strung it, and laying it down took off the lid of his\nquiver, and selected an arrow.  Then he took up the bow again, and set\nthe arrow on the string.  His companions, who had been covering him\nwith their shields while he was making his preparations, now stepped\naside, and he, having made his vow to Apollo, lifted up his bow, drew\nthe arrow to his ear, and shot.  The bow twanged loud and clear, and\nthe arrow leapt hissing towards the Grecian ranks.\n\nThen ill had it fared with thee, Menelaus, had not Athene been standing\nat thy side, to guard thee from fatal hurt.  And as a mother brushes a\nfly from the face of her babe, lying in sweet slumber on her lap, so\nAthene suffered not the arrow to reach any vital part, but guided it to\nthe place where the plates of his corslet met at his side.  Through the\ngirdle pierced the shaft, through the brazen corslet, and through the\ntaslet which covered his loins; the point just grazed the surface of\nhis flesh, and the red blood began to flow, staining his thighs, and\ntrickling down to his ankles.\n\nWhen Agamemnon saw his brother wounded and bleeding, he ran to his\nside, and taking him by the hand began to deplore the evil issue of\ntheir treaty.  \"Must thy life pay the forfeit for the perjured men of\nTroy, who have trampled our covenant underfoot?  I know indeed that\nvengeance will overtake them in the end from the hands of Zeus, whose\nname they have taken in vain; yea, well I know that the day shall come\nwhen holy Ilios shall fall, involved with all her people in one common\ndoom.  But what will that avail, if I lose thee, my brother?  My army\nwill desert me, for they cannot fight without a cause, and thou art the\ncause which brought them hither.  Troy's doom will be wrought by other\nhands, and I shall go back to Argos, a beaten man, leaving thy bones to\nrot in a foreign grave.\"\n\n\"Speak not so loud,\" said Menelaus, when Agamemnon paused at last;\n\"thou wilt cause a panic in the army.  There is no ground for alarm;\nthe wound is not deep.  Send for Machaon, the skilled leech, that he\nmay draw out the arrow, and stanch the flow of blood.\"\n\nThen Agamemnon was comforted, and sent Talthybius the herald to bring\nthe leech, who was a son of Asclepius, the most famous physician of\nthose times.  After some delay, Machaon came to the place where\nMenelaus was standing, leaning on his brother's arm, and surrounded by\nan anxious group of his friends.  With firm but gentle hand the leech\ndrew out the arrow, and, removing the prince's armour, exposed the\nwound to view.  Then he applied healing herbs, and bade the patient be\nof good cheer, for his hurt was but slight.\n\n\nII\n\nThe truce having been broken by the treacherous act of Pandarus, both\nsides prepared for an immediate assault.  Agamemnon, as soon as he was\nassured that his brother was in no danger, summoned his chariot, and,\nbidding the driver keep within call, went on foot up and down the ranks\nof the Greeks, encouraging those whom he saw pressing forward to the\nattack with promises of favour and reward, and upbraiding those who\nhung back with taunts and rebukes.  His heart rejoiced when he saw the\ntowering form of Ajax, who was hurrying to battle, followed close by a\nstout troop of spearsmen, with shield pressing on shield, and bristling\nspears.  Near him was Idomeneus, the grizzled captain of the Cretans,\nwith his comrade, Meriones, at the head of a numerous and\nwell-appointed troop.  And after these he came to the men of Nestor,\nwho were receiving instructions from their veteran leader how to bear\nthemselves in the battle.  \"Keep your ranks,\" he was saying, \"and fight\nshoulder to shoulder, the horsemen in the van, and the infantry ready\nto support them behind.  And let no one be carried away by his zeal to\nengage singlehanded with the enemy, for union is strength, and weakness\ncomes of division.\"\n\nThese were the foremost, but there were others, and among them some of\nthe most valiant leaders in the army, whose station was more remote,\nand who had not yet heard of the breaking of the truce.  One of these\nwas Diomede, and when Agamemnon found him standing inactive, he rebuked\nhim harshly, reminding him of his father's prowess, and calling him an\nunworthy son.  The young chieftain deigned no answer to the unmerited\nreproach, but at once put his men in motion to join the encounter.\n\nThe whole army was now advancing, rank pressing on rank, and column on\ncolumn, like the waves rushing landward along a wide-watered shore.\nThe Greeks came on in silence, broken only by the short, sharp words of\ncommand; but the Trojans, whose army was made up of a motley throng of\nmany nations, rushed to the onset with multitudinous cries, like ewes\nat milking-time in the folds of a wealthy sheep master, when they hear\nthe voices of their lambs.  On the Trojan side was Ares, and on the\nside of the Greeks stern-eyed Athene, with whom were seen Panic and\nFlight, and insatiable Strife, who is small of stature at the beginning\nof a fray, but grows and grows as the feud proceeds, until her head\npresses against the sky as she stalks along the earth.\n\nThen the air was rent with a deafening crash, as the two armies met,\nand shield was dashed against shield, and brazen armour was dinted by\nspear and axe and sword.  Shouts of triumph arose, and cries of\nanguish, as the wild _m\u00eal\u00e9e_ swayed to and fro, and the ground ran with\nblood.  As two torrents descending from copious springs high up in the\nmountains, and swollen high by winter rains, mingle their waters with a\nroar at a place where two glens meet--such was the roar which went up\nto heaven, at the conflict of those mailed hosts.\n\nAmong the many victims of that bloody day, some are singled out for\nespecial mention.  One of these was Simocisius, a tall and comely\nyouth, so named because he was born on the banks of the Simocis, when\nhis mother went to visit her parents on their farm.  Ajax marked him as\nhe came on, and smote him in the breast with his spear; and down he\nfell, like a tall poplar, which rears its stately height in a meadow by\nthe riverside, until it is hewn down by a wheelwright to make a felly\nfor a chariot; and there it lies seasoning on the banks of the stream.\nSo lay the young Simocisius, and Ajax stripped him of his armour.\nWhile he was thus engaged, Antiphus, a son of Priam, flung a javelin at\nhim, but, missing him, struck down Leucus, a comrade of Odysseus, who\nhad laid hold of the corpse to hale it away.  Odysseus was exceeding\nwroth at the fall of his comrade, and stepping forward he flung his\nspear, and smote Democoon, a natural son of Priam, in the temple.  The\nTrojan champions fell back before him, and the Greeks rushed forward\nand gained possession of the dead.  Apollo, who sat watching the battle\nfrom the citadel of Troy, was indignant when he saw the Trojans give\nground, and shouted to them in a loud voice, crying: \"Up, ye horsemen\nof Troy, and fly not from these Greeks, for their flesh is not of stone\nor of iron, to resist the thrust of your spears.  Now is your time,\nwhile Achilles is absent, chewing the cud of his ire among the ships.\"\n\nThe Trojans rallied at the cry of the god, and the battle was resumed\nwith fresh fury on both sides.  It was no child's play, no holiday\ntilting, which was seen that morning on the Trojan plain, but the dire\nand dreadful game of war, with Ares and Athene for players, and the\nblood of heroes for the stakes.\n\n\n\n\nThe Exploits of Diomede\n\nI\n\nAgamemnon's taunts had sunk deep into the heart of Diomede, and he went\ninto battle with a stern resolve to vindicate his manhood in the eyes\nof all Greece.  A fierce light blazed from his helm and shield as he\nrushed, like a living engine of destruction, into the thickest of the\nfight.  The first to feel the weight of his arm was a young Trojan\nnamed Phegeus, son of Dares, a priest of Heph\u00e6stus.  Mounted on the\nsame car with his brother Id\u00e6us, he drove furiously at Diomede, who was\nfighting on foot, and aimed a blow at him with his spear; but the\nweapon went wide of the mark, and the next moment he rolled from his\ncar, pierced through the breast by the spear of Diomede.  Id\u00e6us sprang\nto the ground and fled, leaving car and horses as a spoil to his\nbrother's slayer.\n\nWhile Diomede was disposing of his booty, the Greeks pursued their\nadvantage, and there was not a chieftain of name among them who failed\nto slay his man.  Then fell Scamandrius, a famous Trojan hunter, and\nthe favourite of Artemis, pierced in the back by the spear of Menelaus,\nand Phericlus, whose father, Tecton, had built the fatal ships which\nbore Paris and his retinue to Greece, and many more, of whose names\nthere is no record.\n\nBack to the field came Diomede, sweeping all before him like a river in\nflood, which breaks down dyke and dam, and covers the smiling fields\nwith ruin.  So impetuous were his movements as he darted to and fro in\npursuit of the flying Trojans, that it was hard to see on which side he\nfought; but, wherever he passed, his path was strewn with Trojan dead.\n\nAt last he received a check from Pandarus, the archer whose treacherous\nhand had broken the truce an hour or two before.  Watching him from a\nsafe distance, Pandarus shot an arrow, which pierced clean through\nDiomede's right shoulder, staining his corslet with blood.  Loud was\nthe joy of Pandarus when he saw the success of his archery: \"Turn\nagain,\" he shouted, \"ye horsemen of Troy!  Back to the fray, every one!\nThe bravest of the Greeks is wounded unto death.\"\n\nThe boast of Pandarus was premature, for the wound was not severe,\nthough sufficient to disable the hero's arm for the moment.  Diomede\ndrew back out of the press, and with the assistance of Sthenelus, his\ncharioteer, drew out the arrow which was galling his shoulder.  Then he\nstood apart and prayed to Athene, the patron goddess of his mighty\nfather, Tydeus.  And she heard him, and came and stood before him in\nall her divine majesty, and said: \"Take heart, son of Tydeus, for I am\never near thee, and I have put into thy heart all the valour of thy\nsire.  And I have taken from thine eyes the darkness which before lay\nupon them, that thou mayest look upon the gods and know them, face to\nface.[1]  If thou seest any of the other gods, avoid them, and presume\nnot to fight against the children of heaven; but if Aphrodite, Jove's\nfroward daughter, comes into the battle, have at her, and strike, and\nfear nothing.\"\n\n\n[1] Compare \"Stories from the \u00c6neid,\" p. 18.\n\n\nAthene vanished as she spoke, but Diomede felt her influence working\npowerfully within him, and in an instant the flow of his blood was\nstanched, and he felt no more pain from his wound.  Then like a lion\nwho has been grazed by the shepherd's spear as he leaps into a lonely\nsheepfold, and is but provoked to new rage by that slight wound, so\nthat he falls upon the helpless flock, and gluts himself with carnage,\nwhile the shepherd cowers away in terror--so Diomede returned with new\nfury to the slaughter, and drove the Trojans in rout before him.  Like\nhammer on anvil, so rained his strokes among the ranks of the foe.\nWith one blow he sent his spear through the breast of a tall Trojan;\nwith the next his keen falchion shore oft the arm and shoulder of\nanother.  Leaving these where they lay, he went in pursuit of Abas and\nPolyidus, the sons of Eurydamas, a famous seer and interpreter of\ndreams.  Often had they listened to their father's lore, and brought\ntheir dreams to him to expound unto them.  But the worst dream they\never had now came upon them; and when they awoke they were on the banks\nof the Styx.  Yet another Trojan father had cause to mourn that\nday--Ph\u00e6nops, a man of wealth, who sent two sons, the children of his\nold age, to the war.  But never again did his aged eyes brighten to\nbehold the face of his children, and all his wealth was divided among\nstrangers.\n\nWhen \u00c6neas observed the havoc which was wrought by the arm of Diomede\nhe went to Pandarus, and said to him: \"Where is thy boasted skill in\narchery, that thou sufferest this man to hew down our ranks, and never\nliftest thy bow against him?  Come, shoot me an arrow at the breast of\nDiomede, and first utter a prayer to Zeus, that we may know if the gods\nare indeed against us.\"\n\n\"If that be Diomede,\" answered Pandarus, \"there is something divine in\nthis frenzy of his; methinks he is some god, who has put on the\nlikeness of Diomede.  But now, I aimed an arrow at him, and struck him\nfairly in the right shoulder.  I thought that he was already a\npassenger to Hades, but, lo! he comes forth stronger and more terrible\nthan before.  In an evil hour I took my bow from the wall, when I came\nto fight on the side of Priam; and I hearkened not to my father's words\nwhen he bade me fight like the rest with chariot and with horses,\nwhereof he had goodly store.  Twice have I drawn my bow this day\nagainst the noblest of the Greeks, Menelaus, and Diomede, and struck\nthem fair, and made their blood to flow; but it hath naught availed.\nIf ever I get safely home again, I will offer my head to be severed\nfrom my shoulders by the meanest churl, if I do not break this accursed\nbow of mine in pieces, and burn it with fire.\"\n\n\"This is idle talk,\" answered \u00c6neas.  \"We must meet this man face to\nface and hand to hand if we would stay his fury.  Come, mount my car\nwith me, that thou mayest see of what mettle are these steeds of mine,\nunrivalled in flight or in pursuit.  If thou wilt, take the reins, and\nI will stand by thy side to wield the spear; or if thou preferrest it,\nI will drive and thou shalt fight.\"\n\n\"Drive thou,\" replied Pandarus, mounting by the side of \u00c6neas, \"so that\nif there be need of hasty flight, the steeds may not fail us, knowing\ntheir master's hand.\"  \"Thou sayest well,\" said \u00c6neas, and, lashing the\nhorses to a gallop, drove rapidly towards the place where Diomede was\nfighting.\n\n\"Back, Diomede!\" shouted Sthenelus, in alarm, when he saw them\napproaching.  \"I see two mighty men coming against us--Pandarus, son of\nLycaon, and \u00c6neas, whose mother is the goddess Aphrodite.  Mount the\ncar, and let us retreat.\"\n\n\"How darest thou name retreat to me,\" answered Diomede sternly, \"I\nscorn thy counsels, and will go to meet these champions even as I am,\non foot; both of them shall not return alive.  And now mark my words,\nand do as I shall bid thee: if these twain fall beneath my spear, leave\nthou the horses which thou art driving, and, having mounted the car of\n\u00c6neas, drive with all speed to the rear.  For these steeds are of blood\ndivine, descended from those which Zeus gave unto Tros as a recompense\nfor the loss of Ganymede his son.  If we can capture them it will be a\nsplendid prize.\"\n\nSo saying, he turned to meet the Trojan chieftains, who were now close\nat hand.  Pandarus held his weapon ready poised, and when he came\nwithin throwing distance he cast his lance, crying: \"Take that, bold\nson of Tydeus!  Perchance I shall have better luck with the spear.\"\nThe weighty spear, thrown by no feeble hand, pierced through the shield\nof Diomede, and struck against his breastplate, but there stopped\nshort, without inflicting a wound.  \"Thou hast no luck to-day, Sir\nPandarus,\" said Diomede, smiling grimly.  \"Now see how thou likest the\ntaste of Grecian steel,\" and as he spoke he hurled with all his force,\nright in the face of Pandarus.  The keen point struck him just beneath\nthe eye, and passing downwards clove through his tongue at the root,\nand came out under his chin; and the false Trojan fell with a crash on\nthe plain, and died as he fell.\n\n\u00c6neas had now but one thought--to save his comrade's body from outrage\nat the hands of the Greeks; for it was the cruel custom of those days\nto mutilate the bodies of slaughtered enemies.  Valiantly he took his\nstand, bestriding the fallen Pandarus, holding his shield before him,\nand armed with two spears.  But Diomede picked up a huge stone, and\nflung it at \u00c6neas; and the jagged missile struck him on the hip, just\nat the socket of the thigh, bruising the sinews and lacerating the\nflesh.  \u00c6neas sank down on one knee, sick and giddy with the pain of\nthat dreadful blow; and that would have been his last hour had not his\ngoddess mother perceived his evil plight, and come to her son's relief.\nSwiftly she flew to the place where he lay, and, throwing her white\narms about him, bore him from the field, covered by the folds of her\nrobe.\n\nSthenelus had not forgotten his friend's command, and as soon as he saw\nthe car of \u00c6neas deserted he made fast the reins of his own steeds to\nthe chariot rim, and mounting the Trojan car drove at a gallop towards\nthe rear.  Meeting a comrade he gave the captured chariot into his\ncharge, and returned with all speed to the support of Diomede, who was\nin hot pursuit of the tender goddess and her wounded son.  Presently he\ncaught her in the midst of the press, and, thrusting with his spear,\nwounded her on the hand, in the thick part of the thumb.  The ichor[2]\nflowed forth in a purple stream, and stained her immortal vestments,\nwrought for her by the Graces; and with a loud shriek she let fall her\nson, who was picked up and borne to a place of safety by Apollo.\n\n\n[2] The blood of the gods was so called.\n\n\n\"Hast thou had enough of war, daughter of Zeus?\" shouted Diomede as she\nfled; \"go and make war on cowardly women--they are thy proper prey.\"\n\n\nII\n\nThe beautiful, tender goddess of love, who was a stranger to wounds and\npain, was found by Iris wandering about the battlefield in a distracted\nstate, with livid face and shaking limbs.  Iris took her by the hand,\nand brought her to the place where Ares was sitting, outside the roar\nand tumult of battle.  When she saw her brother, Aphrodite fell on her\nknees before him, and begged him to lend her his car, and Ares having\nreadily consented, she mounted the golden chariot with Iris, and was\ndriven through the air till she came to Olympus.  There she sought her\nmother Dione, who received her with sweet words of comfort, and asked\nwho had handled her so roughly?  \"It was that unmannerly Greek, the son\nof Tydeus,\" answered Aphrodite pettishly, \"for the Greeks have left off\nbutchering the Trojans, and are making war on the gods.\"\n\n\"Take heart, my child,\" said Dione, \"and be not overmuch dismayed, for\nmany of us, the children of heaven, have suffered at the hands of\nmortals, for whose sake we afflict one another.  Ares was bound and\nheld captive by the giant sons of Aloeus, and would have perished in\nhis bonds, had not Hermes stolen him away.  Hera was wounded in the\nbreast with an arrow by Hercules; and Hades came groaning to Olympus,\nhurt in the shoulder by the same presumptuous hand.  And thou hast\nsuffered through the spite of Athene, who set on the son of Tydeus to\nassail thee.  Rash fool!  He knows not that he who fights with gods is\ndoomed to an early grave.  Let him take heed lest the young wife whom\nhe left at home in Argos be made a widow untimely, and rouse her\nhousehold at dead of night, weeping and wailing for her fallen lord.\"\n\nThen she laid a healing finger on her daughter's wound, and the hand\nwas made whole, and the bitter pangs were stilled.  Athene had been\nwatching the scene, and now she said mockingly to her father: \"Be not\nwroth, dread sire, at what I shall say!  Surely Aphrodite hath been\nseeking to beguile some Grecian dame on behalf of her darling Trojans,\nand amidst her soft caresses has scratched her slender hand on the pin\nof the lady's brooch.\"\n\nZeus smiled at his daughter's words, and calling Aphrodite to him he\ntook her in his fatherly arms and said: \"Not for thee, my child, are\nwars and fightings; leave these to Ares and Athene, and keep to thine\nown province of love and marriage.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nWhen Diomede saw his prey snatched from him a second time he was very\nwroth, and followed close on Apollo, who was bearing \u00c6neas towards the\ncity.  Three times he sprang upon the god, and three times Apollo\nhurled him back; and he was preparing to make a fourth assault, when\nApollo rebuked him sternly, and bade him stand off.  Remembering the\nwords of Athene, who had warned him not to meddle with any other god\nsave Aphrodite, Diomede drew back, and \u00c6neas was carried in safety to\nthe shelter of the citadel.\n\nApollo was highly incensed at the presumption of Diomede, and leaving\n\u00c6neas in good hands he hastened back to the battlefield, and roused\nAres to take up the cause of insulted heaven, and chastise the impious\nman who twice that day had pointed his weapon against the person of a\ngod.  Ares readily took up the challenge, and putting on the likeness\nof a Trojan he flung himself in the path of the panic-stricken\nfugitives, shouting: \"Where are the sons of Priam, and why suffer they\nthe people to be slaughtered like sheep?\"\n\n\"Hearest thou what he saith?\" cried Sarpedon, the giant leader of the\nLycians, to Hector, who had been dismayed, like the rest, by the\nprowess of Diomede.  \"What art thou doing, thou and thy brethren, that\nye leave the brunt of battle to be borne by your allies?  Have we not\nleft home and country, our wives and our little ones, to pour out our\nblood in defence of thy city?--and wilt thou not play thy part, when\nhonour and duty call thee--when the very stones of thy streets cry\naloud to thee to be the first in the onset, the last to retreat?\"\n\nStung by Sarpedon's reproaches, Hector leapt from his car, and exerted\nall his authority to rally the flying Trojans.  By his efforts the\nflight was checked, and the Trojans wheeled their chariots and returned\nto the charge.  The ranks of the Greeks grew white from the clouds of\ndust thrown up by their chariot wheels as they came on like a\nwhirlwind, with Ares in their van.  Presently, to the equal delight and\namazement of the Trojans, the princely form of \u00c6neas was seen\nglittering among the foremost champions; and his step was as light, and\nhis arm as firm, as when the fight began.  They would have learnt, if\nthey had asked, that this was the work of Apollo; but they had no time\nto question him, for by this time the storm of battle was raging with\nredoubled fury.\n\nLike clouds which lie heavy on the mountain-tops, when all the winds\nare sleeping, so steadfast stood the Greeks to abide the shock of that\ncharge.  And Agamemnon strode up and down the armed files, crying as he\npassed: \"Stand firm, and play the man!  Before you lies the path of\nhonour, but behind is shame and defeat.\"\n\nLong the contest swayed to and fro with doubtful issue, and many a\nGreek, and many a Trojan, named or unnamed, received the wages of the\nsword.  At last Diomede, whose vision had been purged by Athene,\nrecognised Ares under his disguise; then even he began to lose heart,\nand cried out to the Greeks: \"We must retreat!  Ares is fighting\nagainst us.  Fall back upon the ships, keeping your faces to the foe.\"\nAnd slowly, step by step, disputing every inch of ground, the Greeks\nbegan to retire.\n\nHitherto Hera and Athene had remained inactive spectators of the\nstruggle: but when they saw that the tide of battle had turned they\nresolved to make a vigorous stand against the victorious career of\nAres.  With her own hand Hera harnessed the steeds to her royal car,\nwhich was the work of no mortal artist, with its brazen wheels and axle\nof iron.  The body of the car was cunningly wrought with bands of gold\nand silver; the pole was a solid bar of silver, and the yoke was of\ngold.  Meanwhile Athene was arming herself for the conflict.  First she\nput on a coat of mail, not to be pierced by any mortal weapon; on her\nhead she placed a helmet, glittering with symbols of war and death;\nthen she grasped her shield, the immortal \u00e6gis, of \"ethereal temper,\nmassy, large, and round,\" on which were pictured Panic and Strife,\nDefence and Pursuit, and all the dread powers whose realm is the\nbattlefield; and in the midst glared the Gorgon's head, with its awful\neyes, which freeze the blood and paralyse the limbs.\n\nHaving asked and obtained permission of Zeus, they mounted the car,\nHera guiding the fiery coursers of heaven, and Athene standing, spear\nin hand, at her side.  In another moment they drew up before the cloudy\nportals of Olympus, which are given in charge of the mystic Daughters\nof Time, to open and to shut.  Wide flew the gates, with muttered roar,\nat the summons of the queen of heaven; and forth they leapt into the\nvoid and cavernous vault of air.  Far as a man can see into the dim\ndistance, when he stands on some skyey peak and gazes across the purple\nsea--so wide is the space traversed by the heavenly steeds at a single\nstride.\n\nWhen they came to the place where Simoeis and Scamander mingle their\nwaters in one stream, they drew up their car, and dismounted, leaving\nthe steeds in charge of the river-god Simoeis, whose banks put forth\nambrosial herbs for them to feed upon.  Then, walking delicately, like\na pair of doves,[3] but with no tender thoughts in their breasts, they\nwent and joined the ranks of the Greeks, where they stood at bay round\nDiomede, like boars or lions hard pressed by the hunters.  Standing in\ntheir midst, Hera took the form and the voice of Stentor, whose shout\nwas as the shout of fifty men.  \"Shame on you, ye Greeks!\" she\nthundered.  \"As long as Achilles fought among you, the Trojans never\nventured beyond their gates; but now they are fighting at the very\nconfines of your camp.\"\n\n\n[3] I have preserved the language of the original, which seems to have\na touch of irony.\n\n\nDiomede had drawn back from the fighting-line, for his arm was lamed by\nthe wound which he had received from Pandarus, which now began to\nstiffen and grow painful.  In this state he was found by Athene, just\nas he was lifting up his shield strap to wipe away the blood from his\nshoulder.  Laying her hand on the yoke of his car she said: \"The son of\nTydeus is most unlike his sire, who was little of stature, but mighty\nof heart.  With him I needed the curb to restrain his fiery spirit,\nwhich prompted him to fight against any odds.  But thy sluggish nature\never wants the goad.  Say, art thou weary, or art thou afraid?\"\n\n\"It is not fear that has made me shrink,\" answered Diomede.  \"I am but\nobeying thy behest, when thou forbadest me to resist any god, save only\nAphrodite.  And thou seest Ares is lending aid to the Greeks.\"\n\n\"Fear neither Ares, nor any other god,\" replied Athene.  \"Mount thou\nthy car with me, and thou shalt see whether this turncoat, this fickle,\nfurious, bloodthirsty god of war, will brook thy onset when I am by thy\nside.\n\nThereupon she thrust down Sthenelus from the chariot, and taking his\nplace beckoned to Diomede to mount with her.  Diomede obeyed, and the\nbeechen axle groaned beneath the weight of the hero and the goddess.\nAthene plied the lash, and drove straight at Ares, who was stooping to\nstrip off the armour of a Greek champion whom he had just slain with\nhis own hand.  The goddess had put on the helmet of Hades, which made\nher invisible to the eyes of Ares; and he, when he saw Diomede coming\nagainst him, left off stripping the corpse, and charged with levelled\nspear.  But Athene caught the weapon by the shaft, and turned the point\naside.  Then Diomede thrust at Ares with his spear, Athene aiding him,\nand wounded him in the side.  And as the roar of ten thousand men in\nthe full fury of battle, so was the roar of Ares when he felt that\nwound.\n\nLike a heavy thundercloud, which hangs black and threatening when\nheaven is overcast, and a storm is brewing on a sultry day, such\nappeared the giant form of Ares as he fled darkling across the sky to\nOlympus; and when he reached the seat of the gods he sat down near\nZeus, his father, and showed him the immortal blood flowing from his\nwound.  \"What thinkest thou,\" he said, speaking in a pitiful voice, \"of\nthese deeds of violence?  Thou art the author of this wound; for it is\nthy weak indulgence which makes thy daughter, Athene, so violent and\nunruly.  Nothing but the speed of my feet saved me from worse outrage.\"\n\nBut the injured Ares found scant sympathy from his father.  \"Come not\nto me,\" he said sternly, \"with thy whining complaints.  Blame thy\nmother for what thou hast suffered; for to her thou owest the froward\ntemper which makes thee the most hateful to me of all my children.\nNevertheless I will not leave thee in pain, for thou art my son, the\nchild of my wedded love.  Were it not so, I would have found thee a\nplace in the dungeons where the Titans groan.\"  Then he laid his\ncommands upon P\u00e6an, the god of healing, who sprinkled powerful remedies\non the wound, which gave instant relief.  Swift as is the action of the\nfig-juice when it falls with eager droppings[4] into milk, and turns it\nto curd, so quickly closed the wound under the skilful hands of P\u00e6an.\nAnd when he had bathed, Ares sat down, hale and whole, by his father's\nside.\n\n\n[4] Used as rennet.  \"Eager droppings\" is from Hamlet.\n\n\n\n\nThe Battle Continued: Hector and Andromache\n\nI\n\nHaving driven Ares from the field, Hera and Athene returned to Olympus,\nleaving the battle to be decided by human strength and valour.  Soon\nthe numbers and prowess of the Greeks began to prevail, and the Trojans\nwere gradually forced back towards their walls.  At this critical\nmoment Hector, who hitherto had played but a secondary part in the\nbattle, was suddenly inspired with almost superhuman courage and\nenergy, and by his example the Trojans were saved from a general rout.\nHaving allayed the panic, he left the other leaders to make head\nagainst the enemy, and went himself into the city, with the purpose of\nordering a general sacrifice and supplication, to avert the anger of\nAthene.\n\nBoth armies were growing weary of the long struggle, and during\nHector's absence the work of slaughter ceased for a time by mutual\nconsent.  Diomede alone kept the field, and stalked about in the space\nbetween the two armies, eyeing the ranks of the Trojans, and seeking\nfor a foeman worthy of his steel.  Glaucus, the Lycian captain, marked\nhis defiant attitude, and strode forward undaunted to the encounter.\nWhen they were met in the middle of the plain, Diomede accosted him\nwith haughty mien, and said: \"Who art thou, bold sir, that hast dared\nto match thyself with me?  Unhappy are the parents whose sons affront\nmy might.[1]  If thou be a god, I will not meddle with thee, for I fear\nto lift my hand again to fight with the sons of heaven.  But if thou\nart of the race of men, that live by bread, come on, and I will give\nthee to thy doom.  But first tell me thy name and thy race.\"\n\n\n[1] \"And with their darkness durst _affront_ his light.\"--Milton,\n_P.L._ i.\n\n\n\"Valiant son of Tydeus,\" answered Glaucus, \"why askest thou my race?\nAs the leaves which clothe the woods in spring, to be scattered by\nautumn winds, such are the generations of men: one riseth up, and\nanother is passing away.  Nevertheless, if thou desirest to know my\nrace, know that I am sprung from the line of Sisyphus, through my\ngrandsire Bellerophon, who came as an exile to Lycia, banished from his\nnative Corinth by a woman's spite.  For, while he was dwelling as a\nguest in the house of Pr\u0153tus, King of Corinth, the Queen Anteia\npoisoned her husband's ears against him, because he had refused to be\nher partner in crime, and Pr\u0153tus believed her lying tale, and sought\nopportunity to destroy Bellerophon.  So he sent him on an embassy to\nthe King of Lycia, the father of Anteia, and gave him a sealed packet\nto take with him.  Bellerophon set sail, and after a fair voyage he\nlanded in Lycia, and went up to the palace of the King.  Then for nine\ndays the King made good cheer, and invited the highest in the land to\nmeet his noble guest; and on the tenth day he asked concerning the\nbusiness which had brought him to Lycia.  Bellerophon gave him the\npacket, and he opened it privately, and found within it a folded\ntablet, whereon were written these words: _Bellerophon is a traitor,\nand hath sought to bring dishonour on our house: he must die_.\n\n\"When he had read the message from his son-in-law the King was wroth,\nand devised means to compass Bellerophon's death.  First, he bade him\nslay the Chim\u00e6ra, a dreadful monster, with the head of a lion, the body\nof a goat, and a long coiling tail like a vast serpent.  The gods\nhelped Bellerophon to slay this monster, and the King then sent him to\nfight against the Solymi, a fierce and warlike tribe.  But neither they\nnor the Amazons, with whom also the King bade him fight, could work any\nmischief on that valiant champion.  Yet a fourth time the King tried to\ntake his life, and sent an ambush of picked men to slay him by\ntreachery on his way back to Lycia; and Bellerophon killed them all.\n\n\"Being now assured that his guest was the favourite of heaven, the King\nretained him in his house as an honoured guest, and gave him his\ndaughter to wife; and he received a fair appanage of cornland and\nvineyard, and three children were born to him, one of whom,\nHippolochus, is my father.  Thus have I told thee my lineage and my\nrace.\"\n\nDiomede had listened with deep attention to the Lycian chieftain's\nstory, and when he had heard him to the end he came forward with\noutstretched hands and cordial words of greeting: \"Thou art a friend,\"\nhe said, \"of my father's house, for \u0152neus, my grandsire, long ago\nwelcomed Bellerophon as his guest, and entertained him for many days.\nI have still among my treasures a golden cup which Bellerophon gave to\nhis host as a parting gift.  Therefore let us remember the ancient tie\nwhich connects our families, and avoid each other's spears when we meet\nin the press of battle.  And let us now change armour, that all these\nmay know that we are friends, both we and our fathers.\"\n\nSo for a while that knightly pair stood with hand clasped in hand, and\ngazed into each other's faces with eyes of kindness, joined for a few\nbrief moments by an ancient tie of amity, but soon to be parted by\nnational feud.  Then Glaucus took off his golden armour, and gave it to\nDiomede, without grudging, though he received in exchange armour of\nbrass.\n\n\nII\n\nWe must now follow Hector on his errand of piety to the town.  As he\nentered the gates, an anxious crowd of Trojan women pressed round him,\nwith eager questions about brothers, husbands, or sons.  He put them\ngently aside, bidding them pray to the gods, and made his way through\nthe streets until he came to the vast pile of the royal palace, where\ndwelt Priam and his fifty sons and twelve daughters, with their wives\nand husbands.  Hecuba, his mother, saw him coming, and hastened to meet\nhim, taking with her Laodice, the fairest of her daughters.  \"What has\nbrought thee hither, my son?\" said she, holding his hand, \"is it that\nthe Trojans are hard pressed by the Greeks, and thy spirit moved thee\nto go up to Jove's holy temple and pray?  Wait awhile, till I bring\nthee a cup of wine, that thou mayest pour a drink-offering and then\ntake a comfortable draught, to refresh thee after thy sore toils.\"\n\n\"I will drink no wine, mother,\" answered Hector, \"lest I dull my\nspirit, and unnerve mine arm.  Neither may I pour a drink-offering with\nhands defiled by blood and the soil of battle.  But go thou to the\ntemple of Athene, thou and the venerable mothers of Troy, and take with\nthee a robe, the largest and the most precious which thou hast, that\nthou mayest lay it on the knees of the goddess, as an offering meet for\nher.  Do this, and vow a sacrifice of twelve yearling heifers that have\nnever felt the goad, if so be that she will take pity on us and our\nwives and little ones, and save us from the fury of Diomede.  As for\nme, I go to find Paris, and rouse him to play a man's part among the\ndefenders of Troy.\"\n\nHaving despatched his mother on that bootless errand, Hector went to\nvisit Paris in his luxurious home, which was built on the same hill\nwhere stood the palace of Priam.  Clad in all his brazen mail, and\ncarrying in his hand a spear eleven cubits long, he crossed the\nthreshold, and passed on to Helen's bower, where Paris was sitting,\nwith his armour strewn around him, fitting new feathers to his arrows.\nThe great warrior stood awhile, gazing in silence at his unworthy\nbrother; then smiling bitterly he said: \"I perceive that thou art wroth\nwith thy poor countrymen seeing that thou leavest them to perish, while\nthou art dallying here.  Rouse thee, Paris,\" he added, changing his\ntone; \"the flames of war, which thou hast kindled, are blazing round\nour walls.  Shake off this unmanly sloth, and play the man for once.\"\n\n\"Hector, I feel the justice of thy reproaches,\" answered Paris.  \"But\nit was sorrow, not anger, that kept me in my chamber.  But away with\nregrets!  My turn will come, and I am resolved to go back to the\nbattle, urged thereto both by Helen's entreaties and by thy biting\nwords.  Wait while I don my armour--or go thou first, and I will\novertake thee.\"\n\nHector turned to go, without answering a word; but Helen, who was\npresent with her handmaids, laid her hand upon his arm, and said:\n\"Leave me not thus, dear brother!  Kill me not by thine accusing\nsilence!  Unhappy that I am, the sport and victim of evil powers, given\nover to perdition from my birth!  And if I needs must sin, could I not\nat least have sinned for a man, and not have wrecked my life for a\ncaitiff like this, without conscience, without heart?  But sit thee\ndown, Hector, and rest awhile, for on thee lies heaviest the burden\nwhich has been laid upon thy city for my sake, and for the sake of\nParis, an ill-starred pair, whose evil fate shall be a theme of song in\ndays to come.\"\n\n\"Seek not to detain me, Helen,\" answered Hector gently; \"my duty calls\nme hence, and I must join my faithful comrades, whom I left in the toil\nand heat of the fray.  Thither am I bound, when I have taken one\nlook--it may be for the very last time--at my house, and my wife, and\nmy little child.  Look thou that Paris keeps his word, and joins me\nbefore I quit the town.\"\n\nWith hasty step Hector left the house, and went to his own home, which\nwas close by.  Learning there from a handmaid that Andromache had gone\nwith her child and his nurse to watch the battle from the tower of the\ncitadel, he went back to look for her there.  As he ascended the steep\npath which led to the tower, the quick ear of Andromache recognised his\nfootstep, and she ran to meet him, followed by the nurse, who carried\nthe little Astyanax, a lovely boy, fair as the morning star, the sweet\npledge of their wedded love.  She clasped her husband's hand, and said,\nwith a look of fond reproach in her tearful eyes: \"Rash man, it will be\nthine undoing, this hardy spirit of thine!  At thee every spear is\npointed, when thou goest into battle, and soon, very soon, the Greeks\nwill take thy life.  Then who shall be my defender, and who shall guard\nthy child, when thou art gone?  I shall be left alone in the world, for\nall my kith and kin have perished.  My father, E\u00ebtion, was slain by\nAchilles, when he sacked my native city, the stately town of Thebes;\nand his tomb lies in the shadow of a fair grove of elms, planted there\nby the nymphs to do him honour.  Seven brothers I had, who grew up with\nme in my home; and they were slain by Achilles in a cattle raid, and\none grave received them all.  My mother Achilles released for gold, and\nshe went back to her father's house; but she also is no more, slain by\nthe gentle shafts of Artemis.\n\n[Illustration: Hector's Farewell.  Friedrich Preller, Jr.  By\npermission of F. Bruckmann, Munich]\n\n\"Hector, thou art my father, my mother, my brother, my husband, my\nlife, my all!  Leave me not to perish in lonely widowhood with a\nfatherless child.  Call the people within the walls, and fight no more\nin the open plain.  Why wilt thou hazard thy life against such fearful\nodds?\"\n\n\"Dear love, it cannot be,\" answered Hector sadly; \"what would my\nbrethren say, if I bade them skulk like cowards behind their walls?\nNo; I must go where honour calls me, though I know that Troy is doomed\nwith all her sons.  Yea, the day shall dawn when temple and tower shall\ngo down, and these streets shall run with Trojan blood.  Then many a\nnoble dame shall be led away captive, and among them--bitter, bitter\nthought!--thou shalt go, to eat the hard bread of bondage, and do\nmenial service under a haughty mistress.  Methinks I see thee, stooping\nunder thy burden, as thou bearest water from some Grecian spring, while\nmen point the finger at thee, and cry in scorn: 'Hail, Andromache, wife\nof Hector, Troy's bravest champion!'  May death overtake me, and hide\nme deep in darkness and the grave, before ever I see thee dragged into\nslavery by ruffian hands.\"\n\nA long silence followed, broken only by the sobs of Andromache, who was\noverpowered by the dreadful picture conjured up by her husband's words.\nAt last Hector beckoned to the nurse, who had been standing a little\napart, to bring him the child, and stretched out his arms to receive\nhim; but the little one clung crying to his nurse's breast, affrighted\nby the brazen helmet and its nodding plume.  His father and mother\nexchanged a loving smile, and Hector removed his helmet, and, laying it\non the ground, took the boy in his arms, kissed him, and fondled him,\nand then put up this prayer to heaven: \"Father Zeus, and all ye gods,\ngrant that this, my child, may be strong and valiant in fight, even as\nI am, and win him honour among the Trojans; and may his mother's heart\nbe glad when he comes back from the war laden with the spoils of the\nfoe.\"\n\nThen he gave the child to his mother, who pressed him to her bosom with\na tearful smile.  \"Now I must leave thee,\" he said, with a tender\ngesture: \"and mourn not overmuch for me.  I shall not die before my\nday: every man has his appointed time, be he noble or base.  Thou hast\nthy tasks, I mine; let us both play our part bravely, and leave the\nrest to heaven.\"\n\nWith many a pause and many a backward glance Andromache left him, and\nwent back to her house, with her heart full of sad foreboding.  When\nshe was gone, Hector remained standing for awhile, lost in sorrowful\nthought.  He was about to turn away when he heard the clatter of\nhurrying feet, and Paris came running up, glittering in his\nnew-burnished armour, and tossing his plume, like some wanton,\nstall-fed steed.  For he was a stout fellow, though a coward at heart,\nand was full of vigour and animal spirits after his long rest.  \"Who is\nthe laggard now?\" cried the gay holiday soldier, with a loud laugh.\n\"Art thou ready to go, or shall I wait for thee awhile?\"\n\n\"Forget my harsh words,\" answered Hector mildly.  \"I was vexed on thy\naccount, when I saw thee hanging back, and heard the Trojans speak evil\nof thee.  Let us forget our quarrels, and fight side by side for hearth\nand home; perhaps we may yet live to see happier days.\"\n\n\n\n\nSecond Battle: Repulse of the Greeks\n\nI\n\nThe result of the first day's fighting had been all in favour of the\nGreeks, but, as many had fallen on both sides, a truce was made by\nmutual consent for the next day, to enable both armies to bury their\ndead.  By the advice of Nestor the Greeks dug a trench and threw up a\nrampart for the defence of their camp, and by the zealous labour of\nthat vast multitude the work was finished on the same night.\n\nZeus had not forgotten his promise to Thetis, and on the morning of the\nthird day he summoned all the gods to council, and thus declared his\nwill: \"Hear me, all ye gods and goddesses, and let none dare to cross\nmy purpose.  I forbid any among you to take part in the battle to-day,\nand if any disobey me I will take him and fling him into Tartarus, the\nblack and gloomy pit, as far beneath Hades as heaven is above the\nearth.  Then shall ye learn how much mightier am I than ye all\ntogether.\"\n\nWithout waiting for question or reply, the lord of Olympus mounted his\ncar, and swept along his airy road until he came to the mountain-range\nof Ida, overlooking the Trojan plain.  There he halted and took his\nstation on Mount Gargarus, the highest peak of Ida, from which he had a\ncomplete view of Troy and the Grecian camp.\n\nForth sallied the rival hosts, and soon the clash of arms rang through\nthe cool morning air, as Greek grappled with Trojan in deadly conflict.\nAll through the long hours, until noon, the issue remained doubtful;\nbut when the sun stood at the zenith Zeus lifted a pair of golden\nscales, and weighed the fates of Greeks and Trojans; and the scale\nwhich held the fate of the Greeks sank down, heavy with defeat and\ndisaster.  Then Zeus thundered with a mighty peal from Ida, and hurled\nhis bolt among the thronging ranks of the Greeks; and they were sore\namazed, and pale Fear gat hold of them.  Not one among them dared to\nstand his ground, neither Ajax, nor Idomeneus, nor Agamemnon himself.\nOnly Nestor lagged behind, for he was hindered by the fall of one of\nhis horses, which had been pierced through the brain by Paris with an\narrow.  Nestor sprang down, and began cutting through the traces with\nhis sword; and while he was thus engaged, Hector came thundering past\nin hot pursuit of the Greeks, and seeing Nestor's plight turned aside\nto slay him.  Diomede saw the old man's danger, and lashing his horses\nto a gallop drove instantly to his aid.  \"Mount, mount,\" he cried,\n\"with me, and leave to my squires these sorry steeds of thine.  Take\nthou the reins, and we will see if we can check the onset of the\nTrojans, and arrest Hector's destroying arm.\"\n\nNestor was not slow to obey the summons, and mounting by the side of\nDiomede he drove straight at Hector.  Then Diomede flung his spear, and\nstruck down Hector's charioteer, and, pursuing his advantage, he fell\nfiercely on the broken columns of the Trojans, scattered in wild\npursuit of the enemy.  Already the Greeks were beginning to rally, when\nZeus hurled a second bolt, which crashed down before the feet of the\nhorses of Diomede.  \"We must fly,\" said Nestor; \"heaven is against us,\"\nand wheeling the affrighted steeds he followed the main body of the\nGreeks, who were now in full retreat towards the ships.  That was a\nbitter moment for the gallant Diomede, when he heard the exulting voice\nof Hector, calling him coward, minion, woman.  But peal after peal came\nfrom the frowning peak of Ida, now wrapped in black clouds; and that\nproud spirit was forced to bow to a higher power.\n\n\"On, Trojans, on!\" shouted Hector, pushing on at full speed to head the\npursuit.  \"Zeus favours our cause, and the Greeks are doomed.  Neither\nwalls, nor moat, nor all their sorry devices, shall stay our fury, but\nwe will burn their ships and cut them off to a man.\"  So on they sped,\ndriving the Greeks before them across the plain, even to the very gates\nof the camp.  Here the leaders turned at bay, and Agamemnon succeeded\nby desperate efforts in restoring some order in the panic-stricken\nhost.  Foremost among the defenders of the camp were Ajax, the greater\nand the less, Idomeneus and his comrade, Meriones, Diomede, and Teucer\nthe half-brother of the greater Ajax.  Teucer especially, who was a\nfamous archer, did splendid service to the Greeks in that dreadful\nstrait.  Crouched behind the vast orb of his mighty kinsman's shield he\nwatched his opportunity, and shot down man after man as the Trojans\ncame rushing to the assault.\n\n\"Well done, brave bowman!\" cried Agamemnon, who was standing near, as\nthe eighth victim to Teucer's skill bit the dust.  \"Now aim an arrow at\nyonder mad dog\"; and he pointed at Hector, who was leading the attack.\nAgain the bow twanged, but this time he missed his mark, and instead of\nHector struck another son of Priam, who was fighting by his brother's\nside.  And as droops the poppyflower in a fair garden plot, heavy with\nits seed-pod, and drenched with the summer rains, so drooped that\ncomely head, oppressed by the weight of its helmet.\n\n\"Nine have I slain,\" cried Teucer, in triumph.  \"Now let me see if my\ntenth arrow will bring down this noble quarry\"; and once more he\npointed a shaft at Hector's breast.  But a second time the arrow went\namiss, and pierced through the heart of Hector's charioteer.\nCebriones, Hector's brother, succeeded to this dangerous office, thus\ntwice left vacant on one day; while Hector himself sprang to the\nground, and picking up a stone hurled it at Teucer, who was just\nfitting another arrow to his bowstring.  The stone struck Teucer on the\ncollar-bone, breaking the bowstring, and paralysing his arm.  Ajax\nsprang forward to cover his injured brother, who was carried, groaning\nwith pain, to the shelter of the ships.\n\nThe fall of Teucer struck fresh dismay into the Greeks, who now shrank\nback behind their defences, Hector following them close, and cutting\ndown the stragglers, like a hound hanging on the flanks of a wild boar.\nWhen the last man had passed the barriers the gates were shut, and\nHector was left outside, glaring with baffled rage.\n\n\nII\n\nDeep was the wrath of Hera when she saw her darling Greeks driven like\nsheep before the exultant Trojans, and huddled in wild disorder behind\ntheir ramparts.  As the voice of Hector rang out above the din, like a\ntrumpet sounding the charge, she rocked herself with fury in her seat,\nand at last, being able to contain herself no longer, she cried to\nAthene: \"I will not endure it!  Come what may, I will save my Greeks\nfrom perishing by the hands of that mad Trojan.\"\n\n\"It is the hand of Zeus,\" answered Athene, \"that hath brought these\nfoul deeds to pass, in fulfilment of the promise which he made to\nThetis, when she clasped his knees, and besought him to honour her son.\nGraceless, thankless god!  Did I not serve him day and night, when I\nwatched like a mother over Heracles, his favourite son, and saved him\nfrom a thousand perils?  And this is my reward, to be crossed in all my\ndesigns, and robbed of my just revenge, by him, my false father, who\nfools me with his caresses, and calls me his dear, grey-eyed maid!  But\ngo thou and harness our steeds, while I put on my armour, and we will\ntry whether Hector will blench or not when he sees my spear flashing\namong the dykes of war,[1] and the Trojans falling thick and fast, to\nglut the dogs and vultures with their fat and their flesh.\"\n\n\n[1] The armed columns, which keep back the _flood_ of battle.\n\n\nNot a minute elapsed before the rebellious goddesses were equipped for\nbattle, and ready to swoop like eagles on the heads of the hated\nTrojans.  But Zeus had been watching their movements, and summoning\nIris he sent her with a stern, imperious message to his mutinous wife\nand child.  Prompt at his command, Iris sped on her rainbow wings to\nOlympus, and met the angry pair as they were issuing from the gates.\n\"Are ye mad?\" she said, confronting them with warning looks.  \"Listen\nto my message, and get ye back the way ye came.  Thus saith the son of\nCronos, and his words shall surely come to pass: he will maim the swift\nsteeds which draw your car, and blast you with his lightnings, and\nshatter your chariot wheels, and for ten long years ye shall not be\nhealed of the wounds from those corrosive fires.  Then shall thou\nlearn, thou grey-eyed maid, what it means to fight with thy sire.\"\n\nBoth Hera and Athene knew full well how far they might presume on the\nindulgence of Zeus, and without another word they turned back to\nOlympus, unyoked their steeds, and with quaking hearts joined the\ncompany of the gods.  Soon after, the monarch of Olympus entered, and\ntook his seat on his exalted throne; for he had returned from Ida when\nhis business for the day was ended.  Not a word, not a look, did he\nreceive in greeting from his wife and daughter; but he knew their\nthoughts, and said: \"Why sit ye thus dismayed, Hera and Athene?  It\ncannot be that ye are wearied from doing battle with the Trojans,\nagainst whom ye have so dire a grudge, for ye were seized with\ntrembling before ever ye had looked into the face of war.  And well for\nyou that it was so!--or your warring should have had a fearful end.\"\n\nAthene remained cowed and silent, but the shrewish Hera, though she too\nwas scared by her husband's anger, could not hold her peace, but\nmuttered a few words of complaint and remonstrance, of which only the\nwords \"faithful Greeks\" and \"unmerited disaster\" were audible.  But\nZeus was in no mood for contradiction, and he cut her short with this\nperemptory announcement of his purpose: \"To-morrow, if thou wilt, thou\nshalt see thy 'faithful Greeks' plunged yet deeper in 'unmerited\ndisaster.'  They shall have no respite from slaughter and defeat until\nthe swift-footed son of Peleus shall once more be roused to arms.  Go\nthen, and fill heaven and earth with thy rage and thy fury--go down to\nTartarus, if thou choosest, and tell thy wrongs to the demons who dwell\nin that sunless den.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nNight fell at last, bringing relief to the sore-stricken Greeks, and\ncompelling the reluctant Trojans to suspend their attack on the camp.\nHector drew off his forces, and pitched his camp by the riverside.\nThis was a sign of great confidence on the part of the Trojans, who\nhitherto had rarely ventured outside their walls, and had always\nreturned to the city at nightfall.  But now the besiegers had become\nthe besieged, and active preparations were made for a campaign in the\nopen field.  Orders were sent to the city for supplies of corn and wine\nand cattle to victual the camp, and the elders of Troy were warned to\nkeep a vigilant watch during the night, to guard against surprise.\n\nWhen these measures of prudence were completed, Hector, who had been\nthe leading spirit through all this eventful day, summoned the Trojan\nchieftains to a council of war.  High and proud was his glance, as he\nstood leaning on his tall spear, with its point of tempered bronze and\nits socket of gold; for he dreamt of nothing less than the total rout\nand discomfiture of the Greeks.  And he found ready hearers in the\nleaders of the Trojans and their allies, who read in his looks an\naugury of triumph and victory.  \"This day,\" he said, \"I thought to have\ndestroyed the Grecian fleet and army, and to have offered thanks to the\ngods of our country in the Trojan citadel.  For this time night has\nsaved them from utter ruin; but the blow is only delayed, not averted,\nand to-morrow we will set the finish to this glorious work.  Let every\nman now get to his supper with good heart and hope, and look ye to it\nthat numerous fires be lighted in the camp, sufficient to illuminate\nall the country round, as far as to the fleet.  For I fear that these\nhounds will try to escape under cover of night, and I would not that\nthey should leave us without some token of our loving-kindness--some\ndeep mark in their flesh from Trojan arrow or spear to remember us by\nwhen they reach their homes in Greece.  If they abide here till\nto-morrow, the better for us, and the worse for them!  Then shall\nDiomede, the mighty son of Tydeus, pay the price of the lives which he\nhas taken, and to-morrow's sun shall behold him lying stiff and stark,\nwith all his comrades heaped in slaughter around him.\"\n\nHaving listened to the words of their great captain, the leaders\ndispersed to their several quarters to carry out his orders.  And the\nswift southern night came down, wrapping sea and land in shadow.  But\nsoon the realm of darkness was invaded by the flame of a thousand\nfires.  Thick as are the stars which cluster round the moon on a\nwindless summer night, gladdening the shepherd's heart as he keeps his\nlonely vigil among the hills, so thick shone the fires of the Trojans\nin the space between the river and the ships.  By every fire sat fifty\nmen, and their horses stood near at hand, tethered to the cars,\ncropping their barley and waiting for the dawn.\n\n\n\n\nThe Embassy to Achilles\n\nI\n\nSo the Trojans held their bivouac, and whiled away the time with\ndrinking, and music, and song.  Far other were the feelings of the\ncowed and beaten Greeks.  Many a warrior lay sleepless on his uneasy\ncouch, tossed on a troubled sea of anxiety and dread.  Among the\nleaders there was no thought of rest, and they soon received a hasty\nsummons to attend a council in Agamemnon's quarters.  Small comfort had\nthey to receive from the lips of their king, who was utterly broken and\ncast down, and had nothing to advise but instant flight.  A long\nsilence followed his despairing words, and the first to speak was\nDiomede, whose young and elastic spirit made him a bright exception\namid the general despondency of his comrades.  Indignantly rejecting\nthe cowardly counsels of Agamemnon, he avowed his intention of\nremaining and carrying on the war with his single troop, if all the\nrest of the Greeks deserted their posts.  His bold words rekindled the\ncourage of the rest, and they all joined their voices in a fixed\nresolution to remain and fight out their quarrel to the last.\n\n\"'Tis well,\" said Nestor, who was the next to speak.  \"Thou art a\nproper youth, young son of Tydeus, worthy to take the lead in council\nand in fight.  But now listen to an old man's advice.  The Trojans are\nholding their leaguer within sight of our gates, and may make an onfall\nat any moment; therefore let a watch be set by the moat outside the\ncamp, and let this charge be given to the young men.  We, the elders,\nhave a graver matter to consider--how we may end the lamentable feud\nwhich has brought division among us, and made us an easy prey to our\nenemies.\"\n\nThe matter thus obscurely hinted at by Nestor was, of course, the\nquarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon; and as soon as the watch was\nset, and left under the charge of Antilochus, Nestor's eldest son, the\nold King of Pylos reopened the debate with these words: \"To thee,\nmighty son of Atreus, I will address myself, for thou art the\nvicegerent of Zeus, and holdest the sceptre of righteousness which thou\nhast received from his hands.  Great is thy place, and high the trust\nimposed in thee--even the lives and fortunes of all this people.\nTherefore will I speak roundly with thee, concealing nothing which is\nin my heart.  Thou hast erred, great sovereign, thou hast erred\ngrievously, in putting public dishonour on the bravest and most\nillustrious champion in all thy host.  It is thine act which hath\nbrought us to this pass; and it is for thee to make restitution, that\nhe may cease from his sore anger, and incline his heart unto us again.\"\n\nFar from showing any resentment at Nestor's plain speaking, Agamemnon\nfreely confessed his fault.  \"I have sinned,\" he said, \"yea, I have\nsinned grievously, in the great blindness of my heart.  But, thanks be\nto heaven!  I am both able and willing to atone for the wrong which I\nhave done.  Attend, while I declare unto you the ransom which I will\npay unto Achilles to wipe out the stain upon his honour.  Vessels of\nsilver will I give him, and vessels of bronze, ten talents of gold, and\ntwelve steeds, all prizewinners, which have won me much wealth by the\nspeed of their feet.  Also I will give him seven women, my\nbondservants, skilled in all manner of needlework, whom I won at the\nsack of Lesbos; and with them shall go Briseis, who, since I took her\nfrom him, has lived in all honour with the ladies of my retinue.  And\nif ever the gods grant us to capture the city of Priam he shall have a\nshipload of treasure, and twenty Trojan ladies, the noblest and the\nfairest, as his share of the spoil.  Moreover, when we return home from\nthe war, he shall be as a son of my house, and I will give him one of\nmy daughters in marriage, without money and without price,[1] and will\nadd a rich dower besides.  And he shall be a prince of my land, and\nlord of seven fair cities, honoured and obeyed as a god by those that\ndwell therein.  Surely, if he hath a human heart, he cannot turn away\nfrom me, his monarch, and his elder, when I come to him with full\nhands, beseeching him to forgive.\"\n\n\n[1] In Homeric times wives were bought by their husbands.\n\n\nThe King's magnificent offer drew warm words of praise from the chiefs,\nand nothing now remained but to choose those who were to be entrusted\nwith this important embassy.  At the suggestion of Nestor it was\ndecided to send Ph\u0153nix, an aged noble, who was connected with\nAchilles by close ties of early affection, Odysseus, and the greater\nAjax.  After a few words of warning and counsel from Nestor, they were\ndespatched forthwith to the tent of Achilles, and with them went two\nheralds, to give greater solemnity to their mission.\n\n\nII\n\nSo together they passed along the level sand, with many a prayer to\nPoseidon, lord of the sea, that they might easily persuade the mighty\nheart of \u00c6acides.[2]  And when they came to the tents and ships of the\nMyrmidons, they found Achilles sitting at the door of his tent, and\nsoothing his troubled spirit with song, and the clear music of a harp,\nwhich he had taken among the spoil of E\u00ebtion's city.  Opposite to him\nsat Patroclus, the most beloved of his comrades, waiting until Achilles\nshould have finished his lay, whose theme was the deeds of famous men.\nAnd they came and stood before him, with Odysseus at their head.  When\nAchilles saw them he gave a cry of surprise, and sprang from his seat,\nharp in hand; and Patroclus rose up with him.  Then, greeting them with\na courteous gesture, he said: \"Welcome, dear friends!  Most welcome are\nye of all the Greeks, even in this hour of my displeasure.  Be seated.\nI know why ye have come hither--sore indeed is the need.\"  So saying,\nhe led the way into the tent, and as soon as they were seated he called\nto Patroclus, saying: \"Set forth the largest bowl, and open the oldest\ncask of wine, to do honour to the dear guests who have come under my\nroof.\"\n\n\n[2] Grandson of \u00c6acus, the father of Peleus.\n\n\nTherewith he placed a table, in the light of the fire, and on it he\nlaid the loin of a sheep and another of a fat goat, and the chine of a\nhog.  Automedon, his squire, held the meat, and Achilles with his own\nhands cut it into slices, spitted it, and roasted it over the glowing\nembers.  When all was ready, they feasted sumptuously, and drank of the\nrich wine which Achilles poured out without stint.  The banquet being\nended, Ajax made a sign to Ph\u0153nix; but Odysseus took the word from\nhim, and, rising with a full cup in his hand, pledged Achilles, and\nsaid: \"I drink to thee, son of Peleus, and thank thee for thy good\ncheer.  Never have I tasted choicer fare, not even in the tent of\nAgamemnon himself.  But, alas! my noble host, we have little heart for\nfeasting and making merry, for we stand on the very brink of ruin, and\nthou alone canst save us.  The Trojans have pitched their camp before\nour very gates, and it will not be long before they sweep us into the\nsea.  Zeus hath openly taken sides with our foes, and affrights us with\nthunders and with lightnings; and Hector, full of mad presumption, is\nbreathing out threatenings and slaughter against us.  I fear--yea, I\nfear exceedingly--that the god will accomplish his threats, and that we\nare indeed doomed to perish in the land of Troy, far from our native\nArgos.  Up, then, and gird thee to the fight, if thou art minded to\nsave the sons of Greece, even in the eleventh hour.  If thou wait\nlonger the mischief will be done, and thou wilt repent of thy\nstubbornness too late.  Remember the words of thy father, Peleus, when\nhe sent thee to the war: 'My son, thou art very strong, but this good\ngift thou owest to heaven.  Do thou curb thy haughty spirit, and turn\nthee to thoughts of kindness, if thou wouldst be honoured of old and\nyoung.'  Thou hast forgotten the good words of thy father, and given\nplace to malice and uncharitableness.  Quit this froward mood, and mark\nwhile I tell thee the brave gifts which Agamemnon offers as the price\nof thy good will.\"\n\nAccordingly Odysseus went on to recite the whole tale of the royal\nbounty, and when the list was complete he wound up his speech by\nappealing at once to the humanity, the pride, and the ambition of\nAchilles.  \"If thou despisest Agamemnon and his gifts, take pity on thy\npoor countrymen, who will honour thee as a god, and glorify thee as\ntheir preserver.  And now thou mayest slay Hector, for assuredly he\nwill not refrain from thee in the frenzy which possesseth him, boasting\nthat there is none to match him among all the Greeks who sailed to\nTroy.\"\n\nOdysseus resumed his seat, and amidst a breathless silence Achilles\nrose up and began to speak, calmly at first, but rising in passion as\nhe proceeded.  \"Most noble son of Laertes, I will answer thee bluntly\nand to the purpose, that ye may know my mind, and may not come hither\non this errand again.  For hateful to me, even as the gates of death,\nis the man who hides one thing in his heart, and speaks another.  Hear,\nthen, what I have to say.  Neither Agamemnon, nor all the Greeks\ntogether, shall turn me from my purpose.  I have fought--thou knowest\nhow I have fought--against the common foe; and what my reward hath been\nthou knowest also.  Like a mother bird, who flies to and fro, never\nweary, never resting, carrying morsels to her nestlings, while she\nremains empty herself, so have I passed my days in war and bloodshed,\nand my nights in sleepless watchings, putting my life in jeopardy, for\nthe sake of another man's wife.  Twelve cities have I sacked, sailing\nthe sea in my ships, and eleven on land, within the realm of Troy.\nFirst the toil, which was mine, and after that the spoil, which was\nhis.  I brought it all, and laid it at his feet, and he kept the\ngreater part by far, giving me back a little--a very little--for all my\npains.  And that little he hath taken away.  Let him keep it, and joy\ngo with it!  I loved the maid Briseis, yea, dearly I loved her!\nThinketh he that he alone and his brother love their wives?  She was my\nprize, my bride: he hath torn her from mine arms, and that foul deed I\nwill never forgive.\n\n\"And as to the gifts which he offers, let him know that I came here to\nfight for honour, not for pelf.  He hath denied mine honour, and now he\nwould bribe me to erase that dark record with a purse of gold.  But I\nwill not be bribed.  Away with his gifts!  I value them not a straw.\nNot though he offered me ten times and twenty times as much--all the\nwealth that he hath, or ever shall have--not for all the riches of\nEgyptian Thebes, which sends forth ten thousand warriors, with\nchariots, and with horses, from its hundred gates--no, not for\ntreasures unnumbered as the sands and dust of the earth--could he buy\npardon of me, until he hath suffered the full penalty of the outrage\nwhich devours my heart.\n\n\"Long ago my mother gave me the choice of two diverse fates--short life\nwith honour, or long life without a name.  Mine honour is\nlost--therefore I will cling to my life, and live it out to the end.\nThy miser king holds that men's lives are to be bought and sold, as the\nlives of sheep and oxen; but herein he is mistaken again.  Wealth may\nbe won, and lost, and won back again, seized by the strong hand, or\nheaped up slowly by plodding industry; but the breath of our life\ncannot be called back again, when once it hath passed the door of our\nlips.  Therefore I am determined to end my days in peace and quietness\namong my own people, and quit these brawls, which concern not me.  And\nI counsel all the rest to do the same, for it is clear that Troy's\noverthrow is not to be wrought by you.\n\n\"Ye have heard my answer; go tell it to the chiefs, and bid them be\nassured that they have naught to hope from me.\"\n\nDeep was the disappointment of the three envoys, as they followed the\nwild eloquence of that fierce and implacable man.  For a long time not\na word was spoken, for it seemed vain to argue against such passion and\npride.  At last the venerable Ph\u0153nix rose feebly from his place, and\nin a voice broken with sobs and tears began a discourse of immense\nlength, full of tender personal reminiscence and old-world legend.\nThis old man had a curious history.  Born to wealth and power, he\nbecame an exile in his youth, having been cursed by his father, whom he\nhad bitterly provoked in the course of a family feud.  In consequence\nof the curse he remained a childless man, and, finding a new home in\nthe land of Peleus, he lavished more than a father's tenderness on\nAchilles, Peleus' infant son.\n\nThese incidents from his own life, which he dwelt on with the fond\ngarrulity of an old nurse, furnished a copious theme to Ph\u0153nix in\nthe first part of his harangue.  \"I little thought,\" he said, \"when I\nset thee on my knee, a little, helpless babe, and fed thee with choice\nmorsels of meat, and held the cup to thy lips, and thou wouldst spill\nthe wine over my gown in thy childish weakness--I little thought to see\nthee grow up to be so pitiless and inflexible, more hard to move than\nthe gods themselves, whom we approach with prayer and sacrifice, and\nwith bended knees.  Beware of the vengeance which waits upon a stubborn\nand unforgiving heart.  Swift and strong is the dread goddess Ate, who\nprompts man to give and take offence; but Penitence is an old and\nwrinkled goddess, who goes halting behind her, to heal the mischief;\nand if he who is wronged will not listen to her voice he himself\nbecomes the offender, and the whole guilt of the quarrel rests on his\nhead.  Hearken thou, therefore, to her gentle pleading, and receive the\nbountiful gifts of Agamemnon, or the day will come when thou wilt take\nthy sword perforce, and fight the battles of the Greeks without reward.\"\n\nAchilles listened with manifest impatience to the rambling appeals of\nPh\u0153nix; and when at length the old man had finished, he replied\nbriefly: \"I seek no reward but the favour of Zeus, which I have, and\nshall not cease to have as long as the breath of life is in me.  Vex me\nno more with thy vain repinings; my purpose is fixed, and it is for\nthee to choose whether thou wilt be friends with Agamemnon or with me.\nIf thou art on my side remain here for the night, and to-morrow we will\nconsider whether we will go or stay.\"\n\nThe conference was brought to a close by a few words from Ajax, whose\nfrank and soldierly heart was hot with indignation at the vindictive\ntemper of Achilles.  Turning to Odysseus, he said: \"Noble son of\nLaertes, let us be going.  Words are wasted on this fierce and froward\nman.  Surely he has a heart of stone, which no kindly thought, no\ngentle memory of ancient comradeship, can soften.  All the homage of\nhis countrymen, all the loving-kindness of his friends, are as dirt\nbeneath his feet.  Many a man hath accepted a price for the blood of a\nson or brother slain, and suffered the slayer to remain unharmed in the\nland; but thou, Achilles, hast scorned the most princely offers for the\nsake of one captive maid.  O yet at last be moved!  Bring not scorn\nupon us, thy guests, thy friends, but give us a gentle answer to take\nback to our countrymen in their dire need.\"\n\nThese manly and moving words had some effect on Achilles, half maddened\nas he was by wounded pride.  Yet still he would not yield, though his\nanswer showed that he had not been in earnest when he spoke of\nabandoning the war.  \"Thou hast spoken well, Ajax,\" he said, \"and there\nis much reason in what thou sayest.  But my heart boils with rage when\nI think of the contumely which was heaped upon me before the eyes of\nall Greece, as though I were some beggared and nameless outcast; and I\nwill not put on mine armour again, until I see the smoke arising from\nthe Grecian ships, and Hector drawing near to my galleys with sword and\nfire.  Then, methinks, his career of victory will end.\"\n\nAfter this final declaration of his purpose by Achilles, Ajax and\nOdysseus took their leave, and returned to the assembled chieftains,\nwho still sat anxiously awaiting the result of the mission.  Ph\u0153nix\nremained behind, having resolved to cast in his lot with Achilles.\n\n\n\n\nThe Night Raid on the Trojan Camp\n\nI\n\nUneasy lay the head of Agamemnon the King that night, and, thick as\nlightnings which herald the storm, thronging cares shot through his\nbrain, forbidding all repose.  As often as he opened his eyes he saw\nthe red gleam of the Trojan watchfires; and the hum of the armed\nmultitude, mingled with the strains of flute and pipe, filled his ears.\nAfter an hour of weary tossing he left his couch, and wandered out into\nthe camp, until he came to the quarters of Menelaus, and, finding him\nalso afoot, he sent him to call up Ajax and Idomeneus, and went himself\nto summon Nestor, intending to hold a midnight council, and devise some\nplan of relief in this hour of general depression and dismay.\n\nOn the way he was joined by Diomede and Odysseus, and when they all met\nit was resolved to pay a visit to the sentinels and see if they were\nfaithful to their trust.  When they came to the place where the pickets\nwere stationed, outside the barriers, they found the whole troop\nkeeping watch and ward with sleepless vigilance, like dogs in charge of\na sheep-fold when they hear a lion prowling without.  Every man was on\nthe alert, with his face towards the Trojan leaguer, as if expecting an\ninstant attack.  Nestor's long experience of war now enabled him to\nmake a suggestion which led to one of the most famous adventures in the\nwhole course of the war.  \"Is there one among you bold enough,\" he\nsaid, \"to go and spy out the movements of the Trojans in their camp,\nand bring back a report of what they design against us?  'Twould be a\nnoble enterprise, and would bring both fame and profit to him who\nshould accomplish it.\"\n\nThere was a short pause, and then Diomede declared himself willing to\nundertake this perilous adventure, \"But will not one of you go with\nme?\" he asked.  \"Two heads are better than one, and I may find myself\nin a strait in which I should need a comrade's help and advice.\"\n\nSix of the leaders at once offered to accompany Diomede, and among\nthese were Menelaus, Odysseus, and Antilochus, the captain of the\noutpost, who was especially eager to go.  \"Choose him whom thou\nthinkest best fitted for the task, without respect to rank or birth,\"\nsaid Agamemnon, in fear lest he should name Menelaus for his companion.\n\"Well, then,\" answered Diomede, \"I choose Odysseus, the hardiest and\nthe shrewdest spirit among us all, and the darling of Athene.  With him\nat my side I will go through fire and water without scathe.\"\n\n\"A truce to thy praises,\" said Odysseus, \"and let us away, for the\nnight is far spent, and the day is at hand.\"\n\n\nII\n\nLightly armed and equipped, the stout-hearted pair passed out of the\nlight of the watchfires, and set their faces towards the Trojan camp.\nJust as they were starting they heard the cry of a heron flying on the\nright, and Odysseus was glad, for he knew it was a sign sent by Athene,\npromising success to their journey.  Murmuring a prayer, they stepped\nforward boldly, like two lions bound on a midnight foray, and crossed\nthe battlefield of yesterday, over corpses and broken armour and pools\nof blood.  Suddenly Odysseus came to a halt, and laying his hand on\nDiomede's arm whispered: \"I hear a footstep as of one coming this way,\nwhether to spy out our camp, or to plunder the dead, I know not.  Let\nus allow him to go by us, and then spring upon him as he passes.\"\n\nCrouching down among the heaps of slain, they waited until the man had\npassed in the direction of the ships, and then leapt from their ambush\nand gave chase.  When he heard them he hesitated a moment, doubting\nwhether they were friends or foes; then, recognising them as Greeks, he\nbounded away at full speed, Odysseus and Diomede following hard behind,\nlike two hounds on the track of a doe or hare.  But the fellow was a\nfleet runner, and would have been fairly driven into the hands of the\nGreek sentinels, if Diomede had not raised his spear, and sent it\nwhizzing close to the ear of the fugitive, crying as he did so: \"Halt!\nwhoever thou art, or my next cast shall bring thee down.\"\n\nThen the wretch was afraid, and stood still, in obedience to the\nsummons, with knees knocking together and chattering teeth; and the two\nGreeks ran up, panting for breath, and seized him by the arms.  Weeping\nwith terror he began to beg for his life.  \"Make me your prisoner,\" he\nfaltered, \"and I will pay you a heavy ransom, for my father's house is\nfull of silver and gold, and vessels of iron,[1] choicely wrought, and\nhe will pay you a heavy price when he hears that I am alive.\"\n\n\n[1] Iron was scarce and highly prized among the Homeric Greeks.\n\n\n\"Have no fears for thy life,\" said Odysseus; \"only answer me truly, and\nthou art safe.  Why art thou wandering here in the dead of night?  Art\nthou on an adventure of thine own, or did Hector send thee to spy out\nthe Grecian camp?\"\n\n\"It was Hector who beguiled me to commit this folly,\" answered the\ncaptive, whose name was Dolon; \"for he bribed me with a great bribe,\npromising to give me the steeds of Peleus' haughty son, if I would go\ndown to the fleet, and bring back information whether you were\npreparing to fly from our shores in the night.\"\n\n\"Thou art ambitious, I see,\" replied Odysseus, smiling.  \"Bold must be\nthy heart, and firm thy hand, if thou wouldst drive the steeds of\n\u00c6acides, which are of no mortal breed.  But tell me now, and answer me\ntruly, where is Hector stationed in the Trojan camp, and in what order\nhave the others pitched their tents?\"\n\n\"Hector and the chiefs,\" answered Dolon, still shaking with mortal\ndread, \"have their quarters by the tomb of Ilus, and round them lie the\nnative Trojans, keeping good watch.  The allies are encamped about\nthem, in no fixed order, and they are all asleep.  On the very\noutskirts of the camp lie the Thracians, and Rhesus their king; and if\nye are minded to make an onfall on their leaguer ye may do it in\nsafety, and win a rare prize.  For Rhesus hath a pair of milk-white\ncoursers, unmatched in strength and speed, and a car richly adorned\nwith silver and gold.  Likewise he hath a suit of golden armour, fit\nfor the gods to wear.  And all this ye may win without a blow.  Now\nleave me in the custody of your comrades, or bind me fast here, that ye\nmay know when ye return whether I have spoken the truth.\"\n\nBut that night was to afford a second instance of broken faith, hardly\nless infamous than the first.  Having tempted this poor caitiff to\nbetray his comrades by promising him his life, they now gave him the\ntraitor's wage.  \"Thou must die, Dolon,\" said Diomede coldly, \"for all\nthy good news.  Thou art a foe, delivered into our hands, and thou\nshalt never spy upon us or fight with us again.\"  Dolon clung to him\nwith cries of anguished entreaty, pleading for his life; but Diomede,\nwith one downward stroke of his sword, swept off his head, which\nrolled, with lips still moving, in the dust.  Then stripping off his\narmour, he hung it in a tamarisk tree, and, having marked the place,\nwent forward with Odysseus in the direction of the Thracian camp.\n\nWhen they came to the quarters of Rhesus, they found him lying in the\nmidst of his men, with his famous steeds standing near, tethered to\ntheir car.  All the troop was sleeping heavily, for they were newly\narrived at Troy, and had travelled far and fast the day before.  \"There\nhe is,\" whispered Odysseus, \"and these are his steeds, a glorious pair!\nNow to work!  Slay me a score of these sluggards while I loose the\nsteeds.\"\n\nThereupon Diomede drew his sword, and struck right and left like a\nheadsman, until he had slain some dozen of the sleeping Thracians; and,\nas he proceeded, Odysseus dragged the slaughtered men out of the way,\nto make a path for the horses, which were young, and unused to such\nsights.  Diomede's last victim was the giant Rhesus, who was breathing\nheavily, and dreaming of his home; but a Grecian blade cut short his\ndreams, and his fleet coursers now found a new master.  While Diomede\nwas thus busy, Odysseus untethered the steeds, and coupling them\ntogether by their harness drove them out of the camp, striking them\nwith a bow which he carried; for he had forgotten to take up the whip.\nDiomede still lingered, meditating some final act of daring, to crown\nthe night's adventure.  Beneath him lay the corpse of Rhesus, and his\ngolden armour, and he was hesitating whether to take these, or slay a\nfew more Thracians, when Odysseus gave a low whistle, warning him that\nit was time to be going.  The next moment he heard the sound of\nhurrying footsteps, and, perceiving that the alarm had been given, he\njoined Odysseus, and mounting one of the horses seized the other by the\nbridle, and rode at a rapid trot towards the sea.  Odysseus ran by his\nside, holding on by the harness, for he was no rider,[2] but a swift\nand enduring runner.\n\n\n[2] Riding was little practised among the Homeric heroes.\n\n\nThey had no sooner departed than a wild commotion arose behind them in\nthe awakened Thracian camp, but increasing their pace they soon reached\nthe spot where they had left the unhappy Dolon, and, having paused for\na moment to take up his armour, they hurried forward, and before long\nthey were within hail of the Grecian outposts, where the whole company\nof the leaders was still assembled, anxiously awaiting their return.\n\nNestor was the first to hear the sound of the horses' feet, and\nthinking that the Trojans were attacking he ran to raise the alarm.\nBut he was soon reassured when he heard the voice of Diomede, followed\na moment later by the arrival of the hardy adventurers with their\nsplendid booty.  Joyful were the greetings on both sides, and when the\nstory of that great exploit had been briefly told they all dispersed to\ntheir quarters, to snatch a few hours of sleep before the toils of the\ncoming day.\n\n\n\n\nThe Brave Deeds of Agamemnon: Reverses of the Greeks\n\nIn the still hours of the dawn the Greeks were startled from their\nslumbers by a loud and fearful cry, which came from no mortal lips, but\nfrom Eris, the dread goddess of strife, who had been sent down by Zeus\nto give the signal for battle.  The first to obey that awful summons\nwas Agamemnon; for this was to be his great day, and his heart was\naflame with the lust of slaughter.  Springing from his couch he began\nto don his armour.  First he put on his greaves, which were made of\npliant white metal, with ankle pieces of silver.  Then he took up his\ncorslet, with a glance of pride, for it was of choice and costly\nworkmanship, cunningly fashioned of thin strips or courses of metal.\nTen courses were of blue steel, and ten of gold, and twenty of tin; and\nround about the corslet wound three serpents, wrought in divers\ncolours, like the rainbow, with their heads meeting where the corslet\nnarrowed at the neck.  His sword glittered with golden ornaments, and\nthe scabbard was of silver, and the baldric of gold.  On his shield,\nwhich had ten circles of brass, were twenty bosses of white tin, and in\nthe centre a boss of blue steel; and it bore an image of the Gorgon's\nhead and the dreadful faces of Rout and Panic.  Attached to it was a\nsilver strap, bearing the device of a serpent with three heads.\n\nGlittering in this gorgeous panoply, brandishing two spears, and\nraising his battle cry, Agamemnon rushed to the gates of the camp, and\nplaced himself at the head of his bravest champions, who were mustering\nthere with the flower of the Greek army, prepared for the expected\nattack.  They had not long to wait; hardly had they set their ranks in\norder, when the Trojans appeared on the summit of the slope which ran\ndown to the shore.  And like a star which appears and disappears on a\nstormy night, when the sky is covered with scudding clouds, so\nglittered the mailed form of Hector, as he ranged in and out among the\nadvancing columns, marshalling his men to the fight.\n\nThen like two lines of reapers working together on opposite sides of a\ndeep field of wheat or barley, so met Greeks and Trojans on the plain\nbefore the camp, and war's dread harvest began.  None of the gods were\npresent, save only Eris, whose savage heart was glad when she smelt the\nsmell of blood.  And Zeus sat apart on a lonely peak, looking down upon\nTroy and the Grecian fleet and the two warring nations in the space\nbetween.\n\nThe Brave Deeds of Agamemnon: Reverses of the Greeks\n\nI\n\nIn the still hours of the dawn the Greeks were startled from their\nslumbers by a loud and fearful cry, which came from no mortal lips, but\nfrom Eris, the dread goddess of strife, who had been sent down by Zeus\nto give the signal for battle.  The first to obey that awful summons\nwas Agamemnon; for this was to be his great day, and his heart was\naflame with the lust of slaughter.  Springing from his couch he began\nto don his armour.  First he put on his greaves, which were made of\npliant white metal, with ankle pieces of silver.  Then he took up his\ncorslet, with a glance of pride, for it was of choice and costly\nworkmanship, cunningly fashioned of thin strips or courses of metal.\nTen courses were of blue steel, and ten of gold, and twenty of tin; and\nround about the corslet wound three serpents, wrought in divers\ncolours, like the rainbow, with their heads meeting where the corslet\nnarrowed at the neck.  His sword glittered with golden ornaments, and\nthe scabbard was of silver, and the baldric of gold.  On his shield,\nwhich had ten circles of brass, were twenty bosses of white tin, and in\nthe centre a boss of blue steel; and it bore an image of the Gorgon's\nhead and the dreadful faces of Rout and Panic.  Attached to it was a\nsilver strap, bearing the device of a serpent with three heads.\n\nGlittering in this gorgeous panoply, brandishing two spears, and\nraising his battle cry, Agamemnon rushed to the gates of the camp, and\nplaced himself at the head of his bravest champions, who were mustering\nthere with the flower of the Greek army, prepared for the expected\nattack.  They had not long to wait; hardly had they set their ranks in\norder, when the Trojans appeared on the summit of the slope which ran\ndown to the shore.  And like a star which appears and disappears on a\nstormy night, when the sky is covered with scudding clouds, so\nglittered the mailed form of Hector, as he ranged in and out among the\nadvancing columns, marshalling his men to the fight.\n\nThen like two lines of reapers working together on opposite sides of a\ndeep field of wheat or barley, so met Greeks and Trojans on the plain\nbefore the camp, and war's dread harvest began.  None of the gods were\npresent, save only Eris, whose savage heart was glad when she smelt the\nsmell of blood.  And Zeus sat apart on a lonely peak, looking down upon\nTroy and the Grecian fleet and the two warring nations in the space\nbetween.\n\nUntil the hour of noon the battle was waged with equal fortune on both\nsides.  But just at the time when a woodman in some mountain glen\nbreaks off his labour to prepare his midday meal, having wearied his\nhands with holding the axe, the Greeks made a vigorous charge, and\nbroke through the Trojan line.  Agamemnon fought in advance of all the\nrest, and recognising among the enemy two sons of Priam, who had\nformerly been taken captive by Achilles and let go for a ransom, he\nslew them both, and stripped off their armour.  And as a lion slays two\nhapless fawns, while their dam, who is feeding near, flies sweating\nwith terror from the onslaught of the mighty beast, so the Trojans saw\ntheir young princes slain, but were helpless to aid them, being\nthemselves hard pressed by the victorious Greeks.\n\nLike a famished lion who has broken into a sheep-fold, and ravages the\nflock, so fell Agamemnon on the huddled masses of the Trojans, striking\nabout him with sword and spear.  Presently he had an opportunity of\ngratifying his private revenge; for right before him, impeded by the\npress, he saw the two sons of Antimachus, a Trojan who was bribed with\ngold by Paris to oppose the restoration of Helen.  There they stood\nhelpless, both together in one car, holding out their hands in\nsupplication, and begging him to spare their lives.  \"There is no mercy\nfor such as you,\" cried Agamemnon fiercely.  \"Did not your father, in\nthe hearing of all the people, advise the murder of my brother,\nMenelaus, when he came on an embassy to Troy?  Die, and pay for your\nfather's treachery.\"  With that he thrust down one of them with his\nspear, and the other, who turned to fly, he slew with his sword,\nlopping off head and arms, and spurning the trunk with his foot, so\nthat it rolled like a log along the ground.  Then, raising his battle\ncry, he plunged into the thick of the fight, where the main body of the\nTrojans were flying before the Greeks, horse and foot mingled together\nin headlong rout.  And as a fire sweeps through the dry brushwood,\nborne onward by the wind, and leaving a black waste behind, so thick\nand fast fell the Trojans before Agamemnon; and many an empty car went\nrattling over the field, borne hither and thither by its affrighted\nsteeds, whose master was lying where he fell, until the vultures\nassembled to the banquet at eventide.\n\nAcross the plain they sped, past the tomb of Ilus and the wild\nfig-tree, making straight for the city, and as they came to the gates\nthey turned at bay, and waited for those who were still flying before\nAgamemnon and the Greeks.\n\n\"Now haste thee, swift Iris!\" said Zeus to the maiden messenger of\nheaven, \"and bear this message to Hector.  As long as he sees Agamemnon\nforemost in the slaughter, let him hold back, and leave the others to\nstem the tide of war; but when Agamemnon receives a wound, as he shall\ndo soon, then let Hector take the lead again, and drive the Greeks back\nupon their ships.\"\n\nHector duly received the message, as he was rallying his men to defend\ntheir gates; and in obedience to the command of Zeus he retired from\nthe front, and waited for the promised relief.  He had not long to\nwait.  Presently Agamemnon was assailed by Iphidamas, a son of Antenor,\none of the chief men of Troy, who charged at him, spear in hand, and\nthrusting with all his force struck him full on the breastplate.  But\nthe spear point was turned on the tempered metal, and Agamemnon,\nseizing the shaft, dragged the weapon from his hands, and smote down\nthe tall champion with a blow of his sword.  But as he was stooping to\nstrip the armour from the corpse, Co\u00f6n, the brother of Iphidamas, crept\nup to his side, and drove his spear clean through Agamemnon's forearm.\n\nThough grievously hurt Agamemnon turned on his assailant, and cut him\ndown; and having thus avenged himself he still fought on, dealing havoc\namong the Trojans with his spear and his sword, and with heavy stones.\nBut presently his blood ceased to flow, and his arm grew stiff, as the\nwound began to close.  Being now in dreadful pain, he could fight no\nlonger, and summoning his chariot he left the field, and drove at full\nspeed back to the camp.\n\n\nII\n\n\"Forward, men of Troy!\" shouted Hector, rushing to the front.\n\"Agamemnon is sorely wounded, and Zeus has promised us the victory.\"\nAnd as a hunter cheers on his hounds against a lion or wild boar, so\nHector encouraged his Trojans, by word and by action, to assail the\nGreeks; and like a black squall which leaps suddenly on the \u00c6g\u00e6an, he\nhimself led the assault, strong in the support of Zeus, and confident\nof victory.\n\nDiomede marked him as he moved his way through the Grecian ranks, and\nstood to oppose him, poising his spear.  The weapon flew, and struck\nhim on the helmet, but rebounded from the massive brazen ridge, and\ndropped on the ground.  Hector, though unwounded, was hurled back by\nthat ponderous stroke, and sank, half-stunned, on one knee, leaning on\nhis hand.  Following up his advantage, Diomede rushed forward to regain\nhis spear; but meanwhile Hector had recovered from his faintness, and\nescaped in his chariot to the rear.  \"Again thou hast avoided death at\nmy hands, thou dog!\" shouted Diomede after him.  \"But I will slay thee\nyet.\"  And he stooped to take the armour from a Trojan whom he had\nkilled.\n\nLeaning against a stone pillar, the monument of Ilus, an ancient King\nof Troy, stood the gay archer Paris; and when he saw Diomede kneeling\nby the fallen Trojan he took steady aim, and launched an arrow, which\npierced through Diomede's right foot, and pinned him to the ground.\n\"Thou art hit,\" he cried, springing from his ambush with a loud laugh.\n\"Would that my shaft had cloven thy very heart!  So should I have given\na breathing space to the Trojans, who cower before thee like bleating\ngoats before a lion.\"\n\n\"Out on thee, cowardly bowman!\" answered Diomede, with scorn.  \"Thou\nfightest thy battles from a safe distance, and shunnest the push of\nsword or spear.  And now thou art boasting aloud over this pinprick,\nwhich harms me not at all.  There is no force in the blow from a\ncoward's arm.  But the touch of my weapon means death, and they who\nfeel it need no second stroke.  Their last bed is the bare, cold\nground, and vultures perform their obsequies.\"\n\nNotwithstanding these bold words, the wound was severe, and as soon as\nOdysseus, who ran to aid his friend, had drawn out the shaft, Diomede\nwas obliged to retire from the battlefield.\n\nAs Odysseus was about to join the ranks of the retreating Greeks he\nfound himself hemmed in by a party of Trojan spearsmen, who surrounded\nhim with a circle of bristling points.  Then as a wild boar issues from\nhis shady lair, foaming and champing his teeth, and charges down upon\nthe hounds and hunters who have beset the covert, so sprang Odysseus on\nhis assailants, and in a moment four of them lay writhing at his feet.\nThe last of these, a young noble named Charops, found an avenger in\nSocus, his brother, who thrust so vigorously at Odysseus with his spear\nthat the point clave through shield and corslet, and made a long ragged\nwound in his side.  Socus, in his turn, who fled as soon as the blow\nwas struck, was gored in the back, between the shoulders, by the spear\nof Odysseus.  But that sage and valiant warrior was now in deadly\nperil; for when the Trojans saw his blood flowing, as he drew out the\nlance from his corslet and shield, they fell upon him like one man,\nwith wild cries of triumph.  Slowly he gave back before them, shouting\naloud to his friends to come to his rescue.  Three times he cried, and\nhis voice reached the ears of Menelaus, who hurried to his relief,\nbringing with him the mighty Ajax, son of Telamon.\n\nThey came not a moment too soon, for Odysseus was hard beset by his\nclamorous foes, who crowded round him, like jackals round a tall\nantlered stag which has been wounded with an arrow, and has fled to the\nshelter of the woods: but while the jackals are yelping about him, up\ncomes a great bearded lion, and scatters the jackals, and makes the\nstag his prey.  So when the towering form of Ajax appeared, as he\nadvanced with his huge orbed shield, the Trojans abandoned their\nintended victim, and fled in dismay.  Menelaus took the wounded man by\nthe hand, and led him to the place where his chariot was waiting,\nleaving Ajax occupied with a fresh column of Trojans, who came pouring\nto the attack when they saw their friends routed.  Then mightily raged\nthe sword of Ajax, falling like a flail on the heads of his foes, and\nman and horse went down before him.\n\nAll this time Hector had been fighting in another part of the field, at\nthe extreme left of the line of battle, where the Greeks were led by\nNestor and Idomeneus.  A lucky shot from the bow of Paris disabled\nMachaon, who, besides being a stout fighter, was the most skilful leech\nin the Greek army.  \"We must save him at any cost,\" said Idomeneus to\nNestor.  \"A skilful physician is worth a whole troop of spearsmen.\nMount thou thy car, and carry him with all speed to the camp.\"  Nestor\ndid as he was advised, and Idomeneus was thus left to bear the brunt\nalone.\n\nJust at this moment Cebriones, Hector's charioteer, came galloping up\nwith the news that the main body of the Trojans was suffering severely\nfrom the attack led by Ajax.  As the departure of Nestor and Machaon\nhad left him little to do in this part of the field, Hector at once\nmounted his chariot, and directed his course towards the spot where\nAjax was fighting.  Right between the warring lines he drove, trampling\nover corpses, helmets, and shields; and steeds and car were spattered\nwith blood.  Soon he was joined by a strong troop of Trojan warriors,\nand Ajax found himself assailed by a storm of missiles.  Then even that\nmighty man felt a touch of fear, and throwing his shield behind him he\nbegan slowly to retire, halting at every step, and striking down some\ntoo daring assailant.  Like a lion who has been driven off from a\nherdsman's steading with javelins, and with stones, and with burning\nbrands, yet will not leave the place, but prowls near all night,\nlusting after the flesh of the fat beeves--so Ajax, though hard beset,\ndrew back reluctantly, inch by inch, before the clamour and fury of his\nfoes.  Dogged he was, and hard to stir from his place, like some big\ngreedy ass who has found his way into a deep field of corn, and will\nnot budge till he has filled his belly, though assailed by a laughing\ncrowd of children, who rain blows on his back and ribs,--even so the\nblows rained upon Ajax, who was encumbered by the weight of the spears\nwhich had pierced his shield.  At last, the Greeks advanced to his\nsuccour in close array, and joining their ranks he wheeled once more\nand faced the thronging Trojans.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe tide of battle had thus turned again, and the Greeks were being\ndriven steadily back upon their camp.  The roar of the conflict reached\nthe ears of Achilles, who was standing near his ship, peering out\neagerly over the Trojan plain; and at the same moment he saw Nestor\ndriving past in his chariot, bringing with him the wounded Machaon.\nThen he called to Patroclus, and bade him go and inquire who the\ninjured man was.  \"I think,\" he added, \"that it was Machaon; but the\ncar passed me in a flash, and I saw not his face.  Methinks the hour of\nmy revenge is near, for the Greeks are in a sore strait.\"  Ah! son of\nPeleus, thy revenge is indeed near, but thou little dreamest how dearly\nthou wilt pay for that bitter morsel.\n\nWhen Patroclus reached the tent of Nestor he found the venerable King\nof Pylos sitting with Machaon, waiting while a handmaid prepared for\nthem a slight refection.  The woman drew a table before them, and on it\nshe placed a brazen dish, with onions, and honeycomb, and barley cakes.\nThen she took a massive cup, embossed with gold, resting on a double\nbase, and having four golden handles, each one of which was wrought in\nthe form of two doves, which seemed to be feeding from the cup.  In\nthis vessel she prepared a posset, pouring in a rich red wine, into\nwhich she sprinkled cheese of goats' milk and white barley meal.  And\nwhen the posset was ready she set it on the table, and bade them drink.\n\nThe cup was very weighty, and a strong hand was needed to lift it to\nthe lips; but Nestor raised it easily, old as he was, and was about to\ntake a draught, when, looking up, he saw Patroclus standing at the door\nof the tent.  Replacing the goblet on the table, Nestor rose to greet\nhim, and taking him by the hand invited him to enter.  But Patroclus\nhesitated, wishing to return at once with the required information to\nhis friend, whose impatient and exacting mood he knew and feared.  \"I\nwas sent,\" he said, \"to ask the name of the wounded man, and I see that\nit is Machaon.  Achilles waits for an answer, and I dare not keep him\nwaiting.\"  Nevertheless, he lingered awhile, and listened to the long\nharangue of that \"old man eloquent,\" who soon wandered, according to\nhis wont, into a long story of his youthful prowess, when he lived as\nthe sole survivor of twelve sons in the house of his father Neleus.\n\"But why,\" he asked, when that theme was exhausted--\"why should\nAchilles inquire about one wounded Greek?  He knows not the extent of\nour mischances, nor how much cause we have to mourn.  Diomede, the\nvaliant son of Tydeus, is stricken with an arrow, Agamemnon also is\nwounded, and likewise Odysseus.  Will Achilles now be satisfied, or is\nhe waiting until our ships are consumed with fire, and all of us put to\nthe sword?  Would that this arm of mine were as of yore, when I was the\nbulwark of my father's house, and of all my people.  But Achilles puts\nforth his might and his valour only for his own honour and glory, and\ncares not though his country perish.  Canst thou do nothing with him?\nRemember the charge which Men\u0153tius, thy father, gave thee, when we\nwere sojourning, I and Odysseus, in the house of Peleus.  We came\nthither to summon thee and Achilles to the war, and ye were both fain\nto go.  And these were the parting words of Men\u0153tius to thee: \"My\nson, Achilles, is far mightier than thou, but thou art the elder, and\nit is for thee to guide him, and counsel him for his good.  Be wise,\nand be kind, and he will obey thee.\"\n\n\"Ah! take those words to heart, and reason with that wilful youth.  If\nhe is obeying some oracle from Zeus, which forbids him to go into\nbattle, at least let him send thee to lead the Myrmidons in his stead,\nand let him lend thee his armour, that the Trojans may be affrighted\nwhen they see thee, thinking that Achilles has arisen.  Thus, at least,\nwe shall get a little respite, and gain time to breathe.\"\n\nPondering deeply on the last words of Nestor, which were to prove so\nfatal to himself, Patroclus hastened back on the way to his own\nquarters.  But he was to be delayed a second time: for as he was\npassing the tent of Odysseus he met Eurypylus, one of the bravest of\nthe Greeks, who came limping towards him, being wounded in the thigh by\nan arrow.  He was a pitiful sight, begrimed with dust and sweat, and\nbleeding copiously from his wound.  And Patroclus groaned in spirit\nwhen he saw him, for he was cut to the heart to find so many of his\ncomrades disabled.  \"Woe is me!\" he said, with a glance of pity, \"to\nsee thee thus.  But tell me, how goes the day?\"\n\n\"We can keep the field no longer,\" answered Eurypylus.  \"The Greeks\nmust retire behind their barriers.  But thou seest how grievously I am\nhurt; take me with thee to thy tent, and cut the arrow out of my thigh,\nand when thou hast washed my wound with warm water, lay thereon some of\nthe powerful simples which Achilles received from the wise centaur,\nChiron.  For of the two leeches of the army one, Machaon, is in need of\na physician himself, and Podalirius, the other, is fighting in the\nfront.\"\n\n\"I am in haste,\" said Patroclus, \"howbeit, I will not leave thee in\nthis state\"; and, supporting the wounded man in his arms, he guided him\nslowly to his tent, and seating him on a couch of bulls' hides played\nthe part of physician with such skill and success that the blood was\nstanched, and the sharp pain allayed.\n\n\n\n\nThe Attack on the Grecian Camp\n\nThe Greeks were now driven back upon their defences, and a furious\nstruggle ensued for the possession of the walls.  The battle was no\nlonger a succession of duels, such as we have witnessed hitherto, but a\ndesperate contest for life and death, in which high and low, nobles and\ncommons, had to take their share.  As before, Hector took the lead, and\ntried to force his way across the moat, and up the steep slope on the\nother side, which was topped by a wall of stone, and a stiff fence of\npalisades.  Again and again he rushed at the yawning moat in his car,\nbut each time his horses refused the leap, and stood neighing and\ntrembling, with their hoofs planted at the brink.\n\nAt last, perceiving that he was wasting his strength to no purpose, he\nchanged his method of attack, and leaving his car in charge of a squire\nprepared to lead the assault on foot.  Some time was lost while he was\ncollecting a picked body of men to follow him, and instructing them how\nto proceed; and while he was taking his measures, Asius, a captain of\nthe allies, made a bold attempt to carry the Greek position at a single\nblow.  Disregarding Hector's orders, he remained in his chariot, called\nto his troop to keep close behind him, and drove rapidly round the line\nof the wall, looking for a weak point where he might hope to force an\nentrance.  He succeeded beyond his hopes; for on the extreme left of\nthe camp he found a gate which was still open to admit any stragglers\nwho might have been left behind in the flight of the Greeks.  With a\nshout of triumph he drove straight at the open gateway, with all his\ncompany following pell-mell.  But just as he was about to cross the\nportals he found himself confronted by a pair of gigantic brothers, who\nstood like two mighty oaks deep-rooted on a mountain top, ready to\ndispute the way.  They were well supported by the defenders who lined\nthe walls, and a hail of stones and javelins rattled down on the\nshields of Asius and his men, who were driven back with loss and\ncompelled to retire out of range.  The gates were then closed and\nbarred, and for this time the camp was saved.\n\nMeanwhile the Trojans under Hector's command were still hesitating on\nthe brink of the moat.  For a strange portent had occurred, which gave\nthem pause, just as they were rushing to the assault.  On the left hand\nof the army they saw an eagle soaring high in the air, holding a huge\nserpent in his talons, which writhed and struggled to escape.  And\nindeed the eagle had met his match, for suddenly the serpent drew back\nhis head, and darting forward bit his captor in the breast.  The eagle\ngave a scream of pain, and dropping the serpent, which fell in the\nmidst of the Trojans, flew swiftly away.\n\nThe Attack on the Grecian Camp\n\nThe Greeks were now driven back upon their defences, and a furious\nstruggle ensued for the possession of the walls.  The battle was no\nlonger a succession of duels, such as we have witnessed hitherto, but a\ndesperate contest for life and death, in which high and low, nobles and\ncommons, had to take their share.  As before, Hector took the lead, and\ntried to force his way across the moat, and up the steep slope on the\nother side, which was topped by a wall of stone, and a stiff fence of\npalisades.  Again and again he rushed at the yawning moat in his car,\nbut each time his horses refused the leap, and stood neighing and\ntrembling, with their hoofs planted at the brink.\n\nAt last, perceiving that he was wasting his strength to no purpose, he\nchanged his method of attack, and leaving his car in charge of a squire\nprepared to lead the assault on foot.  Some time was lost while he was\ncollecting a picked body of men to follow him, and instructing them how\nto proceed; and while he was taking his measures, Asius, a captain of\nthe allies, made a bold attempt to carry the Greek position at a single\nblow.  Disregarding Hector's orders, he remained in his chariot, called\nto his troop to keep close behind him, and drove rapidly round the line\nof the wall, looking for a weak point where he might hope to force an\nentrance.  He succeeded beyond his hopes; for on the extreme left of\nthe camp he found a gate which was still open to admit any stragglers\nwho might have been left behind in the flight of the Greeks.  With a\nshout of triumph he drove straight at the open gateway, with all his\ncompany following pell-mell.  But just as he was about to cross the\nportals he found himself confronted by a pair of gigantic brothers, who\nstood like two mighty oaks deep-rooted on a mountain top, ready to\ndispute the way.  They were well supported by the defenders who lined\nthe walls, and a hail of stones and javelins rattled down on the\nshields of Asius and his men, who were driven back with loss and\ncompelled to retire out of range.  The gates were then closed and\nbarred, and for this time the camp was saved.\n\nMeanwhile the Trojans under Hector's command were still hesitating on\nthe brink of the moat.  For a strange portent had occurred, which gave\nthem pause, just as they were rushing to the assault.  On the left hand\nof the army they saw an eagle soaring high in the air, holding a huge\nserpent in his talons, which writhed and struggled to escape.  And\nindeed the eagle had met his match, for suddenly the serpent drew back\nhis head, and darting forward bit his captor in the breast.  The eagle\ngave a scream of pain, and dropping the serpent, which fell in the\nmidst of the Trojans, flew swiftly away.\n\nAll stood amazed, and doubt and fear crept into their hearts when they\nsaw the monster writhing at their feet.  At last Polydamas, a warrior\nwho was famed for his skill in augury, turned to Hector, and said: \"My\nprince, the sign is against us; and as the eagle was stricken, when he\nstrove to carry the dappled snake to his young, so shall we also be\nstricken, if we persist in our assault on the Grecian stronghold.  Let\nus draw off our men, lest we be found fighting against the gods, and\nbring upon ourselves rout and disaster.\"\n\n\"Polydamas,\" answered Hector, with bended brows, \"if thou hast no\nbetter counsel than this thou hadst better hold thy peace, for the gods\nhave marred thy wit.  Vain man! knowest thou not that we came hither\nunder a sure promise from Zeus?  Are we to obey his voice, or shall we\nbe cowed by the flapping of a wing?  What care I for any fowl that\nflies east or west, while I stand under the favour of heaven's high\nlord?  To the patriot all omens are good, when his country summons him\nto her defence.  A truce to thine idle prate!  Thou hast naught to\nfear, whether we fight or fly, for thou art never seen on the perilous\nedge of battle.  But keep thy cold counsels for thine own coward heart,\nor I will find means to lock thy lips for ever.\"\n\nThereupon he sprang forward towards the wall, and all his men followed,\nraising a deafening shout.  And from the glens of Ida there came a\nrushing mighty wind, which bore a blinding cloud of dust into the faces\nof the Greeks, and hindered them in the work of defence.  The Trojans\nhad now crossed the moat, and were striving with all their force to\nbreak down the wall.  Some tugged at the battlements, and tried to pull\nthem down, while others brought levers to overthrow the projecting\nbuttresses.  On the other side the Greeks fought stubbornly, making a\nfence with their shields along the line of the wall, and keeping up a\nshower of javelins and stones.\n\nForemost in the defence were the greater and lesser Ajax, who hurried\nup and down the battlements, encouraging, rebuking, and threatening.\n\"Stand fast!\" they cried.  \"This is no time for flinching.  Let every\nman do his part, whether he be weak or strong.  Your lives are in your\nown hands.\"\n\nAs on a winter day, when Zeus has lulled the winds to sleep, and all\nthe air is thick with flying snowflakes, until mountain top and jutting\npromontory, green field and black ploughland, level shore and rocky\nbay, are all hidden under the same dazzling mantle, whose fringe\ntouches the cold, grey sea--so thick flew the missiles on either side,\nrattling down uninterruptedly on battlement and helmet and shield.\n\nConspicuous among the allies of the Trojans were Glaucus and Sarpedon,\nthe leaders of the Lycians.  They were bosom friends, of one heart and\none mind; and the night before they had discoursed earnestly together\non the duties and privileges of their rank.  The words of Sarpedon on\nthis occasion are ever memorable.  \"I need not tell thee, Glaucus,\" he\nsaid, \"why we twain are honoured above all the rest with the highest\nseats, the costliest fare, and cups ever full, and why a fair domain of\ncorn-land and olive ground and vineyard was set apart for us on the\nbanks of Xanthus.  As we have received freely, so freely must we give,\nsparing not even our heart's blood in the service of those to whom we\nowe all we have.  Let us be no sluggard kings, first in the feast and\nlast in the fray, but, as we are foremost in privilege, so let us be\nforemost in peril.  Man walketh as a vain shadow, and all his steps are\nencompassed by death; die he must, ere many days are passed--herein he\nhath no choice--but, unless he hath the soul of a slave, he will choose\ndeath with honour.\"\n\nActing in the spirit of these noble words, Sarpedon, with Glaucus at\nhis side, and all the chivalry of Lycia at his back, now made a\ndetermined attack on the part of the wall where Menestheus, the captain\nof the Athenians, was directing the defence.  Menestheus, feeling that\nhe was ill provided to sustain the onset of these two famous captains,\nraised his voice to summon Ajax to his succour; but his cry was drowned\nby the tremendous din of the battle which was raging around him, and\nthe thundering blows which the Trojans were now raining upon the gates.\nSo he sent an urgent message by a herald, begging Ajax to come to his\nrelief.  Ajax responded promptly to the call, and joined the men under\nMenestheus, bringing with him Teucer, his half-brother, who was now\nsufficiently recovered from his wound to take part in the defence.\n\nOn came the storming party, with Sarpedon at their head, and they were\nalready beginning to swarm up the battlements, when the arrival of\nTeucer and Ajax gave them a check.  Lifting up a ponderous stone, which\nhe found lying loose by the wall, Ajax dashed out the brains of a stout\nLycian, whose knee was already on the rampart, and down he toppled,\nplunging headforemost, like a diver, into the moat; and at the same\nmoment a lucky shot from Teucer's bow struck Glaucus in the arm.\nIncensed to see his comrade wounded, Sarpedon redoubled his efforts,\nand grasping one of the battlements with both hands he wrenched it from\nits place, and sent it crashing to the ground.  But, being fiercely\nattacked by Ajax and Teucer together, he was compelled to draw back a\nlittle, and wait for support.  \"On, Lycians!\" he shouted.  \"Why loiter\nye behind?  I cannot win the wall alone.\"\n\nThe Lycians rallied to the voice of their prince, and the battle was\nrenewed with fresh fury on both sides.  Up the steep bank they swarmed\nagain, and strove with all their might to drive back the defenders from\ntheir battlements.  But the Greeks would not yield an inch, and\nbesiegers and besieged held their ground stubbornly in that grim\ncontroversy, like two farmers who stand, with measuring-lines in their\nhands, disputing hotly about a few inches of ground, on the boundaries\nof their fields--or like an honest labouring woman, who holds the scale\nin even balance, weighing the wool which she has spun to win a scanty\nwage wherewith to buy her children bread.[1]  So in even balance hung\nthe fray, and many were the wounds given and received in back or in\nbreast, until the battlements ran with blood.\n\n\n[1] The yarn is weighed to show that none of the raw wool has been\nstolen.\n\n\nBut the chief honour of the day was reserved for Hector, who was the\nfirst to set foot within the fortress of the Greeks.  While the battle\nwas still raging on the wall, he made his way to the main entrance of\nthe camp, which was defended by stout oaken gates, fast closed with\nmassy bolt and bar.  In front of the gates lay a huge stone, such as\ntwo men could hardly lift in these less heroic days.  Lifting the\nmighty boulder, he carried it, easily as a shepherd carries a fleece,\nclose up to the gates.  Then, planting his feet firmly, he heaved that\nponderous mass above his head, and flung.  Like a thunderbolt flew the\nenormous missile, dashing through panel and bolt and bar.  The gates,\ntorn from their hinges, fell inward, and over the ruins sprang Hector,\nwith brow black as night, and death in his glance.  Terribly gleamed\nhis brazen armour as he leapt upon the foe, with a lance in each hand.\nNone save the gods could have dared to face him in that hour of triumph\nand victory.  The Trojans poured in behind him, or leapt down from the\nwall, now deserted by the panic-stricken Greeks, who fled with one\naccord to the shelter of their ships.\n\n\n\n\nPoseidon aids the Greeks\n\nI\n\nThe promise which Zeus had made to Thetis seemed now on the point of\nbeing fulfilled, and accordingly Zeus, by whose direct interference\nalone the Trojans had been able to work such havoc among the Greeks,\nrelaxed his attention, and left the rival armies to fight out the issue\nbetween them, never dreaming that any of the gods would venture to act\nagainst his express command.\n\nBut Poseidon, his brother, and second only to Zeus himself in power,\nwas a staunch ally of the Greeks, and was bitterly indignant that they\nshould suffer defeat at the hands of the hated and despised Trojans.\nAs long as the eye of Zeus was on the battlefield he dared not\ninterfere; but as soon as he saw his great brother engaged elsewhere he\nleft his seat on the island of Samothrace, where he had been\noverlooking the battle, and sped on his way to \u00c6g\u00e6, his sacred city on\nthe shores of the Gulf of Corinth.  The mountains bowed their heads,\nand the trees vailed[1] their high tops, beneath the immortal feet of\nPoseidon, the King.  In three steps he reached his goal, and entered\nhis shining, golden palace, built in the cool depths of that glassy\nbay.  There he bade harness his brazen-footed steeds, and mounting the\ncar drove it across the waters.  The charmed billows parted to make him\na path, and round him played the dolphins, and other huge children of\nthe deep, as his wheels passed unwetted over that heaving, liquid\nfloor.  So on they bounded, until they reached the shores of Troy.\n\n\n[1] \"_Vailing_ [stooping] her high top lower than her\nribs.\"--Shakespeare: _Merchant of Venice_.\n\n\nThe Greeks were still flying before the victorious Trojans, who pressed\nthem hard, with furious uproar, when suddenly there appeared among them\none like unto Calchas, the prophet, in form and in voice.  \"Take heart,\ncomrades!\" said he, addressing himself to Ajax, who, with his namesake,\nwas still heading the defence; \"we shall beat them yet, if only we can\nquench the fury of that madman, Hector, who bears himself like a son of\nZeus.  Have at them, and thrust them back from the ships!\"\n\nHis words were common, but they were uttered by a god, and breathed a\nmysterious influence, which was aided by a light touch from the staff\nwhich he bore.  Instantly a strange lightness and vigour entered into\ntheir limbs, and when the pretended Calchas vanished as abruptly as he\ncame, they knew that the words which they had heard were spoken by no\nmortal lips.\n\nWithout pausing for a moment, Poseidon continued the work which he had\nbegun.  From rank to rank, from leader to leader, he flew, inspiring,\nencouraging, entreating; and wherever he passed a new fire was kindled\nin every breast, so that they who but a moment before had given up all\nfor lost now thought with shame of their faintheartedness, and rallied\nto the call of their leaders, resolved to conquer or die.\n\nWhere Ajax and his namesake fought were mustered the choicest troops in\nthe Greek army.  Shoulder to shoulder, and knee to knee, they stood,\nmaking a firm fence with shield overlapping shield, and bristling with\na forest of spears.  \"Stand fast!\" shouted Ajax, as Hector came on with\nheadlong rush, like some huge rock, which hangs threatening on a steep\nmountain-side, until it is undermined by a winter torrent, and thunders\ndown the slope until it has spent its force and lies motionless on the\nplain.  So Hector hurled himself with fury against the solid phalanx of\nthe Greeks, but spent his fury in vain on that hedge of iron, and could\nnot break through it, for all his rage.\n\n\nII\n\nIdomeneus, the leader of the Cretans, had been absent some time from\nthe battle, attending to a wounded comrade, and when he left him he\nwent to his tent, to replace part of his armour, which had been damaged\nin the fight.  On reaching his quarters he was met by Meriones, his\nsecond in command, who had gone to fetch a fresh spear, having broken\nhis own on a Trojan shield.  \"What doest thou here, Meriones?\" he\nasked.  \"Art thou wounded, or bringest thou some message to me?\"\n\n\"I came to fetch a spear,\" answered Meriones; \"my own was broken in the\nfight.\"  \"Spears there are in plenty in my tent,\" said Idomeneus, \"and\nhelmets, and shields, and burnished corslets--the spoils of many a\nvanquished Trojan.\"  \"And in mine too there is no lack of such,\"\nreplied Meriones.  \"But thy tent was nearer.  Thou knowest best whether\nI do my devoir on the field of honour or not.\"\n\n\"I have seen thee prove thy manly worth,\" said Idomeneus.  \"Thou needst\nnot remind me.  I have noted thy bearing in the long cold hours of the\nnight, when thou wast one of a picked company lying in ambush, and\nwaiting for the dawn.  This is the sternest, sharpest test of valour\nand endurance.  Mark then the coward, how he flushes, and then pales,\nshifting uneasily from one foot to another, as he cowers in his place,\nwith chattering teeth and wildly beating heart, and mark the hero,\ncrouched, like a good hound, motionless and silent, ready to spring at\nhis enemy's throat.  None ever passed through that sharp ordeal with\nmore honour than thou.  And in open battle thy face is ever to the foe,\nand thy scars are all in front.  But enough of this: here stand we\nbragging of our prowess, while our comrades are encompassed by the\nflames of war.  Let us away, and show our manhood by deeds, not words.\"\n\nLike murderous Ares when he arms him for battle in the savage land of\nThrace, and by his side goes Terror, his son, whose fierce eyes appal\nthe stoutest heart, so rushed Idomeneus back to the field, with\nMeriones, his trusty friend.  \"Let us make for the left of the fighting\nline,\" cried Idomeneus.  \"On the right the Trojans are weaker, and in\nthe centre fights Telamonian Ajax, a pillar of strength, the equal of\nAchilles in all save speed of foot.  On the left the need is sorest,\nwith most room for a leader of note.\"\n\nAs on a wild and gusty day, when two clouds of dust are whirled\ntogether by conflicting winds, so met the Greek and Trojan columns,\nwith clash of shield and glitter of spear, when Idomeneus and his\ncomrade returned to the field.  Not in vain had Idomeneus boasted of\nhis deeds of war.  Many a Trojan went down that day before his spear;\nand the first of them was Othryoneus, who was lately come to Troy, and\nwas a suitor for the hand of Cassandra, the fairest of Priam's\ndaughters.  Great was the price which he had promised to pay for his\nbride.  \"Give me thy daughter,\" he said, \"and I will drive these Greeks\nout of the land.\"  But the lance of Idomeneus cut short his wooing, and\ndown he fell with a sounding crash.  \"Is it thou, gallant bridegroom?\"\nshouted Idomeneus, as his helmet fell off, exposing his face.  \"How\nwilt thou keep thy bargain with Priam now?  That wager is lost, but\ncome with me, and we will find thee a fair partner yet.  Thou shalt\nhave the fairest of Agamemnon's daughters, if thou wilt aid us to sack\nthe stately city of Troy.  How likest thou the terms?\"\n\nThus insulting his fallen foe, Idomeneus began to drag him away by the\nfoot, intending to spoil him of his armour.  While thus employed, he\nwas confronted by Asius, who came on foot against him, his squire\nfollowing close with the chariot, so that he felt the hot breath of the\nhorses on his shoulders.  But Idomeneus was too quick for him, and\npierced him, as he stood with weapon poised, in the throat, driving the\npoint clean through his neck.  Like an oak, or poplar, or tall pine,\nhewn down on a mountainside to make a ship's timber, so fell that proud\nchampion, and lay in his blood at his horse's feet, moaning and\nclutching at the dust.  The charioteer was dumfoundered by his master's\nfall, and dropped the reins in his terror; and while he stood thus,\nwith staring eyes and gaping mouth, Antilochus thrust him through with\nhis spear, and leaping into the car drove off with his prize.\n\nIdomeneus was now fiercely assailed by a formidable antagonist, in the\nperson of Deiphobus, a brother of Hector, and one of the bravest of the\nTrojans.  Idomeneus crouched low as he saw him coming with brandished\nspear; and the weapon passed over him, just grazing the rim of his\nshield, but found a victim in another Greek, who was advancing to his\nsupport, and received the point in his breast.  Down he went, and\nDeiphobus cried exultingly: \"Not unavenged falls Asius, but I have\ngiven him a companion on his journey to the shades.\"\n\nThus saved from his peril, the stout old Cretan glared about him,\nlooking for another mark for his spear; and he found one in the young\nAlcathous, who was married to a daughter of Anchises, and was thus\nclosely related to \u00c6neas.  The youthful prince, being new to the work\nof war, was bewildered by the roar and tumult of the struggle which was\nraging around him, and stood, overpowered by sudden panic, within close\nrange of the Cretan captain's lance.  \"Sleepest thou, pretty lad!\"\nshouted the grim veteran, \"I will wake thee from thy slumber.\"  And he\nclove him through the breast with his spear, which stilled the last\nbeatings of his heart.\n\n\"Three Trojans for one Greek!\" shouted Idomeneus.  \"Art thou content,\nDeiphobus?  Come hither, and I will add a fourth.  It will be glory\nenough for thee to die by the hand of Idomeneus, whose grandsire was\nMinos, the very son of Zeus.\"\n\nDeiphobus deemed it prudent to decline the challenge, and he went in\nsearch of \u00c6neas, to inform him of his kinsman's fall.  \u00c6neas was\nloitering in the rear, for he had a grudge against Priam, which chilled\nhis ardour for the battle.  But when he heard that Alcathous was slain\nhis heart burned to avenge him, and he hurried to the front, where he\nwas joined by Paris and a strong band of Trojans.  Idomeneus, on his\npart, was reinforced by the arrival of Meriones, Antilochus, and\nAscalaphus, a son of Ares, with their followers; and so the fight raged\non, and many a stout warrior went down to swell the muster-roll of\ndeath.\n\nThere fought Helenus, the prophetic son of Priam, armed with bow and\narrows, and wielding a mighty falchion, tempered in a Thracian forge.\nWith one blow of that trenchant blade he shattered the helmet of a\nGreek warrior, a friend of Menelaus, and laid him at his feet, stunned\nand bleeding.  Menelaus sprang to his friend's relief, and flung his\nspear at Helenus; and at the same moment Helenus shot an arrow, which\nstruck the prince on the breastplate, but rebounded as beans or pulse\nrebound from the winnower's shovel, while the spear of Menelaus pierced\nhim through the left hand, pinning it to the bow.  Helenus retired,\ntrailing the spear after him, until a comrade drew it out, and bound up\nthe wounded hand with a woollen sling, which he took from his squire.\n\nMenelaus was now attacked by another Trojan chieftain, who, after\nmaking an abortive thrust with his spear, took in his hand an axe,\nwhich hung inside his shield, and, swinging the weapon over his head by\nits long shaft of olive-wood, leapt upon him with a fierce cry.  But\nbefore the blow could descend he received a fearful wound in the\nforehead, from the sword of the Spartan king, and fell backwards in the\ndust.  \"So may all the Trojans perish!\" cried Menelaus, setting his\nfoot on the breast of his prostrate foe.  \"Ye have robbed me of my\nwife; ye have plundered my treasure, after receiving generous welcome\nunder my roof.  And now ye come hither to burn our fleet, and butcher\nus in our camp.  Great sire of heaven, men praise thy righteousness,\nand call thee wise above all gods and men: how then canst thou lend thy\ncountenance to these bloodthirsty robbers, whose pastime is murder,\nwhose joy is to betray?\"\n\n[Illustration: Menelaus.  Vatican, Rome]\n\nCarried away by his eloquence, Menelaus failed to observe that he was\nthreatened by a new assailant.  This was Harpalion, son of the King of\nPaphlagonia, who charged at him, lance in hand.  Menelaus was just in\ntime to receive the blow on his shield, and before Harpalion could\nrecover his weapon he was transfixed by the spear of Meriones, and lay\nwrithing like a worm on the ground, until he was borne, groaning, from\nthe field by his attendants, followed by his weeping father.\n\nParis was wroth at the fall of the Paphlagonian prince, who was his\nfriend and guest, and he drew his bow at a venture, and slew Euchenor,\nthe son of a famous seer, who dwelt in Corinth.  Often his father had\nprophesied to him that he was destined to die either by a wasting\ndisease, or on the battlefield at Troy.  He chose a warrior's death,\nand found it on that day, by the hand of Paris.\n\n\nIII\n\nIn the other part of the camp, near the main gate, where Hector had\nfirst effected an entrance, the Greeks were still fighting with\nindomitable spirit under Telamonian Ajax, and his namesake, the son of\nOileus.  These two held together, and battled side by side, like two\nstout oxen yoked to the same plough, and toiling from dawn till sunset,\nwhile the sweat streams without ceasing from the roots of their horns:\nso stood they side by side, and bore the brunt, all through that long\nand bitter fray.  And behind them were arrayed the bowmen and slingers\nof Locris, whose captain was the lesser Ajax, and kept up such a shower\nof arrows and leaden bullets that the Trojans at length began to waver,\nand broke their ranks.\n\nWhen Polydamas, the wisest head among the Trojans, saw that the great\nassault, which had begun so boldly, was beginning to flag, he called\nHector aside, and said to him: \"Hector, thou art strong of hand, but\nweak of head.  Seest thou not that we are wasting our valour, by\nfighting thus in scattered parties, with no settled plan of attack?\nNow, hearken to me, and do as I shall say, if thou wouldst not have us\ndriven back in shameful rout upon the town.  Gather all our parties\ninto one strong phalanx, and charge with them all at once on one point\nin the Grecian line.  Thus, and thus only, may we hope to prevail,\noutnumbered as we are by two to one.\"\n\nHector saw that the advice was good, and, leaving Polydamas to hold the\nGreeks in check, he went in search of Asius, Deiphobus, and the rest,\nwho were fighting on the left.  Sore were the gaps which now appeared\nin that gallant company, and many a hero, whom he called by name, was\nlying cold in death.  Gathering such as remained, he formed them into\none body with those whom he had left in the charge of Deiphobus, and\nwith the powerful column thus formed made repeated charges, which were\nsustained with undaunted firmness by Ajax and his men.\n\n\n\n\nZeus is beguiled by Hera\n\nI\n\nWhile the battle swayed to and fro, and the Greeks were enabled by\nPoseidon's aid to hold their own against the Trojans, Zeus was sitting\non a lonely peak of Ida, wrapped in a high celestial reverie.  Hera saw\nthe uxorious king from her place of outlook on Olympus, and, noting his\nabstracted mood, she resolved to play him a trick.  So she went to her\nchamber, which her son Heph\u00e6stus had made for her, and opened the door\nwith a private key, which she always kept by her, so that none might\ninvade her apartment in her absence.  Having locked herself in, she\nbegan to make her toilet with peculiar care.  First, she washed her\nperson with ambrosia, and anointed herself with a fragrant oil, so rich\nand rare that, when she lifted the lid of the casket in which it was\nstored, a divine perfume filled earth and heaven with sweetness.  Then\nshe dressed her lustrous hair, and put on a wondrous robe, which\nAthene's own hands had wrought for her, clasping it to her bosom with\ngolden brooches.  A rich girdle confined her robe at the waist, and in\nher ears she hung earrings of costly pearl; and when she had put on her\nsandals, and thrown a glittering veil over her head, she went forth\nsmiling in triumphant beauty, like a bride adorned for her husband.\n\nHaving thus prepared the whole battery of her charms, she went in\nsearch of Aphrodite, and when she had found her she drew her apart from\nthe other gods, and said: \"Wilt thou grant me a boon, dear child, or\nwilt thou deny me in anger, because I favour thine enemies, the\nGreeks?\"  \"Name thy request, great queen of heaven,\" answered\nAphrodite, \"and I will grant it, if I can.\"\n\nConcealing her real purpose, the cunning Hera replied: \"I am bound on a\njourney to the ends of the earth, to visit the ancient deity Oceanus,\nand Tethys, his wife, who have long been parted by a bitter quarrel.\nIf I can bring them together in love and kindness I shall do a good\ndeed, and repay part of the great debt of gratitude which I owe them.\nTherefore, lend me, I pray thee, the mighty talisman which thou hast,\nwhereof neither man nor god can resist the powerful spell.\"\n\n\"It becomes me not,\" answered Aphrodite, \"to deny thee in this, for\nthou art the consort of high Jove.\"  And therewith she took from her\nbosom an amulet, in which there was a mysterious virtue, able to soften\nthe hardest heart, and turn it to thoughts of love and tenderness.\nThere dwelt persuasion and sweet endearment, the eloquence of silence\nand the witchery of sighs.  \"Take it,\" she said, \"and hide it in the\nfolds of thy robe.  Armed with this, thou wilt accomplish all thy\ndesire.\"\n\nHera smiled her thanks, and taking the amulet sped away on her errand,\nwhich carried her, not, as she had pretended, to the distant dwelling\nof Oceanus, but to Lemnos, the \u00c6g\u00e6an isle, the home of sleep.  Arrived\nthere, she sought out the drowsy god, and found him nodding in his\nshadowy cave.  \"Monarch of men and gods,\" she began, \"Immortal Sleep,\nthou hast done me good service in the past, and I think thou wilt not\nfail me now.  I would have thee lock fast the eyes of Zeus in slumber\ndeep and long.  Ask me not why, but do it, and I will give thee a\ngolden throne, wrought, with a footstool, by Heph\u00e6stus, my son, whereon\nthou mayest sit in state like the Olympian king himself.\"\n\n\"Ask me aught else,\" answered Sleep, lifting his heavy eyes with a look\nof fear, \"only ask me not to lay Zeus in slumber against his will.\nHast thou forgotten what wild work he made when, at thy entreaty, I\nshed my power upon him, and lulled his wits in a deep trance, that thou\nmightest wreak thy malice on his favourite, Heracles?  Then didst thou\nraise a storm, which drove Heracles far out of his course, when he was\non his voyage from Troy.  But when thy lord awoke, and saw what thou\nhadst done, he fell to buffeting all the gods in Olympus, who had\nhidden me from his sight.  And soon they must have delivered me to his\nvengeance, and I should have been undone, but an ancient and venerable\ndeity, even Night herself, came to my aid, and besought him to pardon\nme; and so he did, for he would not offend the august goddess, primeval\nNight.\"\n\n\"Go to,\" said Hera.  \"This is a far smaller thing than that of which\nthou speakest.  All I desire is an hour of respite for mine afflicted\nGreeks.  Come, do as I bid thee, and thou shalt have Pasipha\u00eb, one of\nthe Graces, for thy wife, and so fulfil the dearest of thy desires.\"\n\nThen Sleep was glad, and answering said: \"Swear to me, by the\ninviolable waters of Styx--placing one hand on the earth, and the other\non the sea, that all the nether gods may be our witnesses--swear that\nthou wilt give me Pasipha\u00eb for my bride.\"\n\nHera took the oath required, calling by name all the Titans that dwell\nin Tartarus.  Then together they flew across the sea to Troyland, and\npaused not till they reached the wooded hills of Ida.  Upwards then\nthey soared, over the forest-clad slopes, and there was the sound of a\ngoing in the tree tops as they passed.  And when they came to the peak\nwhere Zeus was sitting, Sleep disguised himself in the form of a swift,\nand hid himself in the branches of a tall fir-tree.  But Hera went and\nstood in the presence of her lord.\n\nAs soon as the god saw her he was struck with wonder at her surpassing\nbeauty, and his heart overflowed with tenderness, as in the old days\nwhen first he made her his bride.  And the little swift shot down from\nthe tree, and come flitting round the monarch's head.  \"Dear lady of my\nlove,\" said he, \"sit down by me awhile, and let us hold sweet converse\ntogether.\"  So down she sat by his side, and took his hand, and\nbeguiled him with her false blandishments.  Like two simple lovers they\nseemed, caught in sly Cupid's silver net--he the sovereign of earth and\nheaven, and she, his imperious queen.  And swiftly the subtle influence\nof Sleep came over him, and down he sank overpowered, couched on a soft\nbed of crocus and hyacinth and violet, which the earth put forth to\nbear up his sacred person; and on him rested a canopy of golden cloud,\nthat he might slumber unobserved.\n\n\nII\n\nSafe now from the observation of Zeus, Hera descended swiftly to bear\nthe news to Poseidon, and urge him to redouble his efforts on behalf of\nthe Greeks.  Having brought her message, she returned to Ida, and\nremained watching by the side of Zeus, ready to give warning when he\nawoke.\n\nPoseidon was not slow to seize the occasion thus offered.  Suddenly, as\nthe Greeks were preparing to receive a furious charge from the enemy,\nthere appeared in their van a gigantic warrior, clad from head to foot\nin mail of proof, and wielding a sword which flashed and burned with an\nawful light.  \"On, Greeks, on!\" he shouted; and his voice was as the\nsound of many waters.  \"Down with them, even unto the ground, that\nHector may know that there is more than one Achilles among us.\"  And\nthe two armies met, with a crash which was echoed by all the caverns of\nIda, and recoiled again, each solid phalanx reeling from that\ntremendous shock.\n\nInto the space thus left sprang Hector, and hurled his spear at Ajax,\nwho was stepping forth to meet him.  The weapon struck him on the\nbreast, just at the point where the shield strap, heavily studded with\nmetal, was crossed by the baldric of his sword; and this double\nbarrier, backed by the corslet, proved an effectual defence.  Hector\nfell back, vexed at his ill-fortune, and, as he was retiring, Ajax\npicked up one of the stones which were lying around, to serve as props\nfor the ships, and flinging it struck him on the back of the neck, just\nabove the rim of his shield.  It was no maiden's hand which had aimed\nthat blow, and Hector was sent spinning like a top.  And as an oak\nreels and staggers when struck by the bolt of Zeus, and topples\nheadlong to earth, a blackened and shattered trunk, so fell the mighty\nHector, crushed under the weight of his shield, which was pressed down\nupon him by the ponderous stone.\n\nWhen they saw him fall, the Greeks rushed forward, hoping to make him\ntheir prisoner.  But the bravest of the Trojans and their\nallies--Sarpedon, \u00c6neas, Glaucus, and Polydamas--interposed their\nshields, giving time for the others to lift him up and carry him to the\nplace where his car and horses were waiting.  Carefully they placed his\nsenseless body on the chariot, and drove him towards the city, until\nthey came to the ford of Scamander.  There they halted, and, laying him\non the bank, dashed water in his face.  Presently he looked up, and\nleaning forward on his hands began to vomit blood.  Then darkness came\nover his eyes, and he fell back again in a swoon.\n\nNow that Hector was down, the Trojans had no course left to them but to\nretreat.  They still fought valiantly, and the Greeks had to pay dear\nfor their success.  But slowly and surely they were being driven back\nfrom the camp.\n\n\n\n\nThe Last Battle by the Ships\n\nHera was watching the action with such eagerness that she had forgotten\nher charge, and was startled by the angry voice of Zeus, who had\nawakened suddenly, and was looking down upon her with lowering brows.\n\"This is thy work,\" he said sternly, pointing to the Trojan plain,\nwhere Hector lay senseless, and his comrades were beginning to fly.\n\"Wilt thou never be schooled to obedience, or what harder lesson\nlackest thou yet?  Dost thou remember the time when I hung thee in\nchains in the cold vault of ether, with two anvils at thy feet, and all\nthe gods together were powerless to relieve thee?  This was thy reward\nfor thy evil devices against my son, Heracles; but that shall be mirth\nand laughter compared with the rod which thou shall feel if thou cease\nnot from thy mutiny against my sovereign will.\"\n\nThen Hera was sore afraid, and she answered submissively: \"I swear by\nearth and heaven, and by the down-falling waters of Styx, the greatest\nand most awful thing by which a god may swear--yea, by thy sacred head\nI swear it, and by the holy bond which unites us--it was not by my\ndevices that Poseidon first began to aid the Greeks, but he was led\nthereto by the thoughts of his own heart.  And, by my advice, he will\ngive way to thee.\"\n\nSomewhat appeased by her humility, Zeus replied: \"If that be so, and\nthou art willing to heal the mischief thou hast done, go and send\nhither Iris and Apollo, that they may receive my commands.  And\nunderstand me once for all--I will not cease from my rage and my fury\nagainst the Greeks, nor suffer any of the gods to aid them, until the\nvengeance of Pelides is accomplished, and the oath fulfilled which I\nsware unto his mother, Thetis, when she touched my knees and besought\nme to honour her son.\"\n\nSwift as is the glance of the mind when some great traveller revolves\nall his wanderings in thought, and murmurs to himself: \"Would that I\nwere in this place or that!\" naming some distant scene which he hath\nvisited, so swiftly flew Hera with her lord's message.  When she\nreached Olympus she found all the gods seated together, drinking their\nnectar from golden cups.  Smiling with her lips, but bending her dark\nbrows in a gloomy frown, she said, as she eyed that festal gathering:\n\"Ye are making good cheer, I see!  And ye will be cheered the more when\nI tell you what Zeus intends.  Ay, drink deep!\" she continued, turning\nto Ares, who was just draining a full cup, \"thou hast need of comfort,\nfor thy son is slain.\"  And she named a Greek, Ascalaphus, son of Ares,\nwho had been slain by Deiphobus in the battle.\n\nWhen he heard that, the god of war groaned with grief and anger, and\ncrying: \"I will avenge him!\" rushed to seize his arms.  But Athene\nhastened after him, and finding him already equipped for battle she\nsnatched the spear from his hand, and took the helmet from his head,\nsaying: \"Madman, wilt thou undo us all?  Go back to thy place, lest the\nwrath of Zeus descend upon the whole company of the gods, and on thee\nthe first.  Better men have fallen than this son of thine, and we must\nlook to our own safety, and leave mortals to their fate.\"\n\nWhile Athene was occupied in restraining the frenzy of Ares, Hera\ndespatched Iris and Apollo to receive the commands of Zeus.  So they\nwent forthwith to Ida, and found Zeus sitting in the place where he had\nslept, with the golden cloud still hanging above his head.  Zeus was\nwell content that his wilful consort had been so prompt in his\nbusiness, and he commanded Iris to go down to the fleet, and warn\nPoseidon to leave the battlefield.  \"And thus and thus shalt thou say\nunto him,\" added Zeus, instructing her in the very words which she was\nto use.\n\nIris descended to earth, walking delicately along her rainbow bridge,\nand, having found Poseidon among the warring Greeks, she said to him:\n\"Thus saith Zeus, our sovereign lord and king: 'Let Poseidon leave the\nbattlefield, and depart to Olympus, or to his own watery realm.  And if\nhe will not obey me I will come myself, and fight against him, face to\nface.  Let him avoid my hands, for he knoweth that I am far mightier\nthan he, and higher in station and in dignity.'\"\n\n\"What!\" answered Poseidon, swelling with injured pride.  \"Am I my\nbrother's slave, that he sends me this haughty summons?  I am no\nsubject of his, but his peer, holding a third part in our divided\nempire.  For three sons were born unto Cronos--Zeus and Hades and\nmyself.  And when Cronos ceased to reign we cast lots between us, and\nZeus obtained the throne of heaven, I of the sea, and Hades of the\nunderworld; but the earth, and wide Olympus, were left common to us\nall.  Therefore I bid him keep to his own domain, and not meddle with\nme, for I will not live under his laws, nor bow to his rod, which he\nmay keep for his sons and daughters.\"\n\n\"Is this, then, the answer which I must carry back to Zeus?\" asked Iris\ngravely.  \"Oh, reflect a little!  Enter not into an unnatural feud with\nthine elder brother.\"\n\n\"'Tis wisely said,\" replied Poseidon.  \"Thou art a discreet messenger,\nand knowest how to season thy words with courtesy.  'Twere ill, as thou\nsayest, to stir up the demon of domestic strife among us.  Therefore I\nwill depart, and leave him to work his will.  But, since he has used\nthreats, let him hear this from me: if he seeks to avert the doom of\nTroy, he will find a cold welcome when he joins the circle of the gods\nin Olympus.\"\n\nIt was not without relief that Zeus heard of Poseidon's submission; for\nhe had feared that he would be obliged to engage in a fearful struggle,\nwhich would have confounded earth and heaven.  This danger being\nremoved, he sent Apollo, armed with his own shield--the awful \u00e6gis,\nclothed with attributes of terror--commanding him to heal Hector of his\nhurt, and bring him back to battle.  Like a falcon stooping on his\nquarry, Apollo shot down from Ida's peak, and alighted at the ford of\nScamander, where Hector was still lying.  By this time the stricken man\nhad recovered from his swoon, and was gazing in bewilderment around him.\n\nOne touch from that potent hand, one word from those immortal lips,\nsufficed to banish all the effects of the fearful blow which had left\nHector as weak as a child.  Bounding to his feet, he cried: \"Lead on,\nmighty god!  I fear no perils with thee at my side,\" and like a gallant\nwar horse, that smelleth the battle afar off, he ran at full speed to\nrejoin the Trojans, who were now flying tumultuously from the camp.\nAnd as when a troop of hunters with their hounds have started a royal\nstag, and chased him with wild halloo to the thick covert of a tangled\nwood; then suddenly they shrink back with cries of dismay, for they see\na lion standing in the path: so panic fell upon the Greeks in the midst\nof their triumph, when they saw Hector returning to battle, full of\nvigour and courage, though they had already counted him among the dead.\n\nOn poured the Trojans, Hector and Apollo leading the van, and the\nGreeks gave ground before them, scared by the dread \u00e6gis, which Apollo\nshook in their faces, crying his terrible cry.  At first they yielded\nslowly, keeping their ranks, and attempting some defence; but soon the\nretreat became a rout, and the moat was filled with a struggling\nmultitude, seeking the shelter of the wall and the ships.  \"Kill,\nkill!\" cried Hector fiercely.  \"Pause not to strip the dead, but slay\nthe men, and burn their ships.  Let me but see anyone skulking behind\nfor plunder and he dies by my hand.\"\n\nWith that he lashed his horses, and drove straight across the moat, the\nTrojans following him in dense column.  In front strode Apollo,\ntrampling down the sides of the moat as he went, and making a path\nbroad as the farthest cast of a spear.  Then he hurled himself on the\nwall, and overthrew it, as easily as a child destroys with his feet a\ncastle of sand which he has raised in sport on the margin of the sea.\n\nLike a towering billow, which topples down upon a ship, crushing her\nbulwarks and flooding her with brine, so rushed the Trojans in a\ntorrent over the wall, and fell upon the hindmost row of ships; and the\nGreeks on their side mounted the decks, and thrust at their assailants\nwith long boarding-pikes, which lay ready to hand.\n\nForemost among the defenders was seen the giant form of Telamonian\nAjax; and by his side fought Teucer, whose bow had already done such\ngood service to the Greeks.  But just as Teucer was aiming an arrow at\nHector his bowstring snapped, and the arrow dropped harmless to the\nground.  \"Fate is against us to-day,\" he cried; \"it was a new string,\nthe stoutest and the best I had, which I fitted to my bow this very\nmorning.\"\n\n\"Go quickly,\" answered Ajax.  \"And arm thyself with shield and spear;\nthere is no room here for thine archery to-day.\"  And Teucer went and\narmed himself, and returned with all speed to his mighty brother's side.\n\nHector was overjoyed when he saw Teucer's mishap, which he hailed as\nthe direct act of Zeus himself.  \"On, Trojans!\" he shouted; \"on, ye men\nof Lycia!  Zeus is fighting on our side.  Now is the great day of\nvengeance, after all the weary years when we were penned within our\nwalls like sheep.\"\n\n\"Why flinch ye?\" cried Ajax, in his turn, to the Greeks.  \"Know ye not\nthat we must conquer or die to-day?  Or will we reach home on foot, if\nye suffer your ships to be burned?  Come, join the wild dance to which\nHector summons us.  Fight, and we will drive out this rabble yet; but\nif ye falter we shall surely perish.\"\n\nAgain the Greeks rallied to the well-known voice of Ajax, and drew up\nin close order before the ships, barring Hector's way.  But the finger\nof Apollo had touched him, filling his breast with a divine frenzy.\nFoaming and glaring with rage, he flung himself on the solid phalanx,\nand cut down a tall champion of Mycen\u00e6, making a gap in the line.\nBefore the Greeks could close their ranks the Trojans were among them,\nhewing them down as a woodman hews a path through the forest.  Forward\nand still forward they pressed, driving the Greeks before them, and\ncompelling them to retire from the first line of ships.\n\nThen nothing but the tremendous valour of Ajax could have saved the\nGreek army from total rout and ruin.  Active as a panther, in spite of\nhis huge bulk, he sprang from deck to deck, wielding an enormous\nboarding-pike and striking down the Trojans, as they advanced with\nlighted torches to set fire to the ships.  Like a practised rider, who\nyokes together four horses, and drives them at a gallop along a level\nhighroad, leaping from one steed to another as he goes--so Ajax shifted\nhis ground from one ship to another, dashing down Trojan after Trojan,\nand shouting to the Greeks to come to his support.\n\nIt was a grim and desperate struggle.  There was no shooting of arrows,\nno casting of javelins now, but foot to foot, and hand to hand, they\nfought, with axe, and sword, and spear.  At last Hector forced his way\nto a beautiful galley, which had brought Protesilaus[1] to Troy, and\nlaying his hand on the high, fanlike ornament of the stern he shouted:\n\"Bring a torch, that I may be the first to kindle the fire which shall\nburn these accursed ships, which came here for our destruction, but\nshall now serve as a pyre for their crews.\"\n\n\n[1] P. 24.\n\n\n\n\nAchilles sends Patroclus to Battle\n\nI\n\nPatroclus had been long detained by Eurypylus, whose wound was severe,\nand demanded all his skill.  But when the roar of battle drew nearer\nand nearer, and he heard the voice of Hector calling for a torch, he\nwould delay no longer, but sprang up and ran in headlong haste to the\nquarters of the Myrmidons.  There he found Achilles still sitting\nbefore his tent, and listening to the mingled cries of triumph and\ndismay which came from the distant scene of conflict.  When Patroclus\nsaw him, he came and stood by his side, and lifted up his voice, and\nwept.\n\n\"Why weepest thou, Patroclus,\" asked Achilles, \"like a little maid, who\nruns by her mother's side, plucking her by the gown, and looking into\nher face with tearful eyes, begging to be carried?  What means this\nmelting mood?  Hast thou ill news of thy father, or of mine, or are\nthese tears for the Greeks, now perishing by their own transgression?\"\n\n\"Ah! son of Peleus,\" answered Patroclus, with a pitiful sigh, \"take not\nmy words amiss, but I am sore afflicted for the sake of my countrymen.\nTheir best and noblest are grievously wounded, and the leeches are busy\nabout them; and those that remain can no longer make head against the\nfoe.  Can nothing move thee?  What avails all thy splendid manhood, if\nthou wilt sit idle here, until thine arm is palsied with age?  Oh! yet\nat last relent, if thou art indeed the son of gentle Thetis, and not\nsome savage changeling, born of the rocks, and nourished by the sea!\nIf thou wilt not go to the field thyself, at least let me put on thine\narmour, and lead the Myrmidons to aid our friends in their dreadful\nstrait.\"\n\nFor some time Achilles answered nothing, and it was evident that a sore\nstruggle was passing in his breast.  At last he looked up, and said\nwith an effort: \"Thou hast prevailed, son of Men\u0153tius, though I\nvowed that I would never cease from mine anger until the fire had\nreached my own ships.  When I think of the foul outrage----  But\nenough!  Down, down, rebellious pride!\"  He paused, frowning, and\ngrinding his teeth; for the fierce fit had come on him again.  Then,\nmastering himself, he continued: \"Thou shalt have my armour, and lead\nthe Myrmidons to battle.  But take heed to what I shall say, and let\nnot thine ardour carry thee too far, but when thou hast driven the\nenemy out of the camp lead thy men back, and be not tempted to fight in\nthe open field, lest thou rob me of mine honour, and leave naught for\nme to do.  Remember this, and have a care for thyself, for they have a\nmighty ally on their side, even Apollo.\"\n\nWhile they were thus conversing, Ajax was still keeping up an unequal\nstruggle against an overpowering force.  The Trojans surrounded the\nship on which he was fighting, and plied him with a shower of missiles,\nwhich rattled on his helmet, and threatened every moment to bring him\ndown.  His left shoulder ached with holding his shield, which was\nthrust back upon him by a dozen spears at once.  Yet still he fought\non, with his breath coming in heavy gasps, and the sweat pouring from\nevery limb.  Then Hector aimed a blow with his sword, and cut off the\nhead of the pike which Ajax was wielding.  Thus left without a weapon,\nAjax was compelled at last to retreat, and the Trojans rushed forward,\nand set fire to the ship.\n\nAchilles saw the smoke rising, and cried: \"Arm thee, Patroclus.  Make\nhaste!  I will go and call up the Myrmidons.\"  Patroclus hurried to the\ntent, and put on the armour of Achilles--the greaves and starry\ncorslet, the helmet and vast orbed shield--and girded on his great\ncomrade's sword.  Only the spear of Achilles he took not, for no arm in\nall the host, save only the arm of Achilles, could wield that ponderous\nbeam of ash, toughened by many a storm on the windy slopes of Pelion,\nwhere it grew.\n\nMeanwhile Automedon, Achilles' charioteer, was yoking to the car the\ntwo immortal steeds--Xanthus and Balius--offspring of the West Wind,\nand nourished on the meadows by the shores of Oceanus.  And with them\nwent as a trace horse the mortal courser, Pedasus, which Achilles had\ntaken among the spoils when he sacked the city of E\u00ebtion.\n\nWhen the Myrmidons heard their leader's voice calling them to arms,\nthey rushed forth from their tents, like thirsty wolves which have\ngorged themselves with the flesh of a tall stag, and now hasten, with\nbloodstained chaps and lolling tongues, to slake their thirst in a deep\nmountain pool.  With like eagerness arose the hardy veterans, whose\nwarlike spirit had been fed high by their long repose; and proud was\nthe glance of Achilles, as he glanced down the armed files, marshalled\nunder five famous captains, five times five hundred men.  When all were\nstanding silent at their posts he addressed them briefly, and said:\n\"Now is the time to make good the threats which ye uttered against the\nTrojans, during all the long time of my wrath.  Remember how ye\nmurmured against me because I suffered you not to go unto battle.\n'Hard-hearted son of Peleus,' ye would say, 'surely thy mother\nnourished thee with gall, and therefore art thou so ruthless to thy\nloving comrades, keeping them here in inglorious ease.'  See that your\ndeeds are as valiant as your words, and let the Trojans feel the weight\nof your arm this day.\"\n\nFirm and close as blocks of stone, fitted together by a master-builder\nto be the wall of some great house, so stood the warriors in that\ninvincible column, shield leaning on shield, and man on man; and in the\nvan were seen the tall figures of Patroclus and Automedon, two leaders\nwith one heart.  Then Achilles went to his tent, and brought forth a\ngolden goblet, a gift from his mother, and sacred to the service of\nZeus.  Having purified it with sulphur, and washed it with fresh water,\nhe cleansed his own hands, and filling the bowl with wine returned to\nthe open space before the tent.  Then lifting up his eyes to heaven he\npoured the drink-offering, and prayed thus to the king and lord of\nOlympus: \"O thou, whose ancient dwelling is in wintry Dodona, where thy\nchosen priests serve thee day and night with fasting and prayer, as\nthou hast lent thine ear to my former petition, and grievously\nafflicted the Greeks for my sake, so grant me once more my heart's\ndesire.  Let thine eyes rest with favour on my noble comrade, and give\nhim honour in the battle.  And when he hath driven the Trojans from the\ncamp bring him back safe, with his armour, and all this company, to our\ntents.\"\n\nSo prayed he in his ignorance, having yet to learn that Zeus is a\njealous god, dispensing his gifts with unequal hand, two evil for one\ngood.\n\n\nII\n\nLike a swarm of wasps which have their nest by the roadside, and being\never provoked by wanton children wreak their vengeance on some harmless\nwayfarer; so flew the Myrmidons to join the fray, and soon the Trojans\nfelt their sting.  \"For Achilles and for honour!\" shouted Patroclus, as\nhe hurled his spear, and struck down Pyr\u00e6chmes, the savage leader of a\nwild mountain tribe from northern Greece.  The rude clansmen fled when\nthey saw their leader fall, and soon the panic spread to the whole\nTrojan army, and they too fled, leaving the burning ship, the flames of\nwhich were soon quenched by a score of eager hands.  Like a cloud which\nlies heavy on a mountain top, and is then suddenly rent and dispersed,\nrevealing all the long range of countless hills, peak beyond peak, far\naway to the distant sea, with green glades between, and above the\nboundless chasm of sky, up to the dazzling zenith: so was dispersed\nthat cloud of Trojans which had hung about the ships, and the Greeks\nsaw the fair face of Hope again.\n\nBut the end of that long and bloody day was still far off.  Outside the\nbarriers the Trojans rallied again, and a fearful slaughter ensued.\nThere the sword of Patroclus bit deep, making dire havoc among the\nranks of the Lycians, until Sarpedon, their leader, incensed by the\nslaughter of his men, sprang from his car, and threw himself in the\nway, to arrest that destroying hand.\n\nLike two vultures, which tear each other with beak and claw, fighting\nwith loud screams on a lofty crag, so leapt the two champions, the\nLycian and the Greek, upon each other, uttering loud their battle-cry.\n\nWhen Zeus saw his son Sarpedon about to engage in deadly combat with\nPatroclus he was filled with pity, for he knew that the Lycian\nchieftain was going to his doom.  \"How sayest thou, Hera,\" he began,\n\"shall I save him, and waft him away in a cloud to his fair domain in\nLycia, or shall I leave him to his fate?\"\n\n\"That must not be,\" answered Hera.  \"His thread is spun, and his life\nis forfeit; shouldst thou annul that decree it will be an evil example\nto the other gods, who will forthwith all seek to avert the stroke of\nfate from their sons, of whom many are fighting in the fields of Troy.\nIf thou wouldst do him honour, send Death and gentle Sleep to bear him\nsoftly, after he has fallen, from the battlefield, and bring him to his\nkinsfolk in Lycia, that they may pay him the rites which are due to the\nmighty dead.\"\n\n\"Thou hast persuaded me,\" answered Zeus, bowing his immortal head in\nsorrow.  And he caused a rain of blood to fall upon the earth, in sad\ntribute to the heroic spirit which was about to pass away.\n\nWhile this debate was proceeding, the struggle had already begun.  In\nthe first cast of their spears both warriors missed their aim.\nPatroclus slew the comrade of Sarpedon, while Sarpedon's lance struck\nPedasus, the mortal steed, in the shoulder, and he fell dead.  His\nimmortal companions plunged wildly, striving to break away from the\nyoke when they saw their comrade slain.  But Automedon cut the traces\nby which the slaughtered steed was attached to the car; and, being rid\nof their sad burden, Xanthus and Balius were once more obedient to the\nrein.\n\nAgain the heroes flung their spears, and the weapon of Sarpedon flew\nover his antagonist's left shoulder.  But the spear of Patroclus sank\ndeep into Sarpedon's breast, and he fell, writhing in his death agony,\nand sending forth loud groans, like a bull when he feels the lion's\nclaws tearing his flanks.  So raged Sarpedon in the pangs of death, and\nrolling his eyes he sought the familiar face of his beloved Glaucus.\n\"Friend of my heart!\" he cried, \"valiant Glaucus, companion of all my\ntoils, now must thou prove thy manly worth.  Rally round thee the\nstoutest of the Lycians, and let not thy foot go back, or thy hand\ncease from slaying, until thou hast saved my body from the Greeks.  To\nthee I shall be a reproach, and a hanging of the head, even unto thy\nlife's end, if thou leave me, a rifled and dishonoured corpse, in the\nhands of the foe.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, death stopped his breath and darkened his eyes.  And\nPatroclus set his foot on the corpse, and drew forth his spear, while\nthe Myrmidons took possession of the empty car with its affrighted\nsteeds.\n\nGlaucus was in dire distress when he heard his dying comrade's voice.\nBut he was disabled by the wound which he had received in scaling the\nwall.  Nursing his injured arm, he prayed aloud to Apollo: \"Hear me, O\nKing, whether thou art now in Lycia or in Troy; for thine ear is ever\nopen to the cry of need, however far away.  My hand is maimed, and my\narm is burning with sharp pains, so that I cannot wield my spear,\nthough Sarpedon is fallen, and his father hath forsaken him.  So\nforsake thou not me, but heal my wound, and give me back my strength,\nthat I may save his body from outrage.\"\n\nApollo heard, and granted his prayer, and straightway the flow of his\nblood was stopped, and he felt in his body that he was healed of his\nhurt.  Then Glaucus was glad, and he made all haste to do his comrade's\nbidding.  First he called to the men of Lycia to do battle for their\nslaughtered captain, and then he went to rouse the Trojan leaders to do\ntheir duty by their great ally.  Finding Hector engaged in another part\nof the field, he reproached him for his neglect.  \"Hast thou\nforgotten,\" he asked indignantly, \"what thou owest to us, who have come\non a far journey to shed our blood for thee and thy country?  Cold lies\nSarpedon, chief pillar of thine allies; come, friends, and help us to\nsave his corpse, or ye will be shamed for ever.\"\n\nThis was bitter news for the Trojans, who reverenced Sarpedon as the\nchief corner-stone of their defence; and they rushed with one accord to\navenge his death.  Patroclus on his side summoned the bravest of the\nGreeks to his aid, and the whole fury of the struggle was now centred\nin the place where the dead Sarpedon lay.\n\nThe first who fell in this new battle was a friend of Patroclus, who\nyears ago had found a new home in the house of Peleus, having been\nbanished from his own country for the murder of his cousin.  He was now\nstruck down by a stone from the hand of Hector; and Patroclus, in his\nanger at his comrade's death, made so furious an assault that the\nTrojans gave way before him about the length of a spear's cast.  Then\nGlaucus advanced again, and slew Bathycles, a man of high note among\nthe Myrmidons; and Meriones on the other side killed Laogonus, the\npriest of Id\u00e6an Zeus.  \u00c6neas, ever famed for his piety, hurled his\nspear at Meriones, hoping to avenge the fall of that sacred head; but\nMeriones stooped low, and the spear flew over his head, and sunk deep\nin the ground, with quivering shaft, just behind him.  \"The Cretan can\ndance, I see!\" shouted \u00c6neas; \"he comes from a land of dancers.\"  \"Thou\nshall dance to my piping, before thou hast done,\" answered Meriones\nderisively.  \"Thinkest thou that we owe thee a life for every cast of\nthy spear?\"  \"Peace!\" said Patroclus, rebuking him.  \"We must fight\nwith our swords, not with our tongues, if we would do aught worthy\nhere.\"\n\nThick and fast rained the blows, on shield and helmet and mailed\nbreast, as the two armies closed again, and the sound was as of an army\nof woodmen plying their axes together in a deep mountain glade.  In the\nmidst lay the lifeless Sarpedon, covered from head to foot with\njavelins, and blood, and dust, so that his dearest friend could not\nhave recognised his face.  Like flies buzzing round a milk pail, so\nthronged the Greeks and Trojans round the body.\n\nZeus sat watching the battle, pondering in his heart what measure of\nglory he should mete out to Patroclus before he laid him low by the arm\nof Hector.  At last, having taken his resolve, he caused a coward\nspirit to enter into Hector's heart, and the Trojan captain wheeled his\ncar, and fled towards the city.  The panic spread to the other Trojans,\nand the Lycians, and they retreated, leaving the body of Sarpedon in\nthe hands of the Greeks, who despoiled it of its armour, and were about\nto do it further dishonour when a higher power intervened.  In the very\nact of violating the dead, they saw their lifeless victim snatched from\nthem by an invisible hand; for Apollo had received the commands of\nZeus, and bore away the soiled and blackened body to the riverside,\nwhere he washed it clean, anointed it with ambrosia, and gave it, robed\nin immortal raiment, into the charge of Sleep and Death, for safe and\nspeedy conveyance to Lycia.\n\n\nIII\n\nHigh dreams of triumph arose in the heart of Patroclus when he saw the\nenemy flying, and, forgetting the earnest injunction of Achilles, he\nbade Automedon lay on the lash, and followed in hot pursuit.  Even to\nthe very walls he drove; but then he found awaiting him one mightier\nthan Hector, even Apollo himself, who shook the \u00e6gis in his face, and\nwarned him back.  Patroclus retired a little, and while he hesitated\nApollo went to the gates of the city, where Hector was lingering, in\ndoubt whether to continue the battle, or to withdraw behind the walls.\n\n\"What doest thou here, son of Priam?\" said the god; \"come with me, and\nI will show thee where the path of glory lies.\"  When he heard Apollo's\nvoice, Hector's courage returned, and he commanded Cebriones, his\ncharioteer, to drive back to the battlefield.  Avoiding the other\nGreeks, Hector made straight for the place where Patroclus had been\nleft standing by Apollo.  Patroclus came to meet him, holding his spear\nin his left hand, while in his right he grasped a jagged stone.  And as\nthe car approached, he flung the stone with all his force, and struck\nCebriones on the forehead, shattering the bones.  The reins dropped\nfrom his hands, and without a single cry he fell from the car, striking\nthe ground with his head.  \"How bravely the man tumbles!\" cried\nPatroclus.  \"He would make a rare diver, and earn a good wage by\nbringing up oysters from the sea.  I perceive that the Trojans can\ndance, as well as the Cretans.\"\n\nThereupon he leapt upon the prostrate charioteer, and Hector sprang\nforward to defend his comrade's body.  So there they met, like two\nhungry lions fighting for the carcass of a stag; and the Greeks and\nTrojans thronged on either side to their support, like two winds from\nopposite quarters, which shatter the boughs of beech and ash in a\nmountain forest.  All the ground about the corpse was set thick with\njavelins and arrows, and heaped with the stones which crashed upon\ncorslet and shield.  And there lay the giant Trojan, while the battle\nraged above him, mighty and mightily fallen, and all his horsemanship\nforgot.\n\nNever had the arm of Patroclus dealt such havoc among the foemen's\nranks as then; for his doom was near, and Zeus gave him honour in this,\nhis latest hour.  Thrice he made an onset, fierce as the god of war\nhimself, and thrice he slew nine men.  But when for the fourth time he\nsprang to the encounter, Ph\u0153bus made after him, and smote him on the\nback with his open hand.  Patroclus reeled and grew dizzy, like one who\nhas received a sunstroke.  Then Apollo struck the helmet from his head,\nand it rolled clattering among the horses' feet, that mighty brazen\nhelm, whose plumes, now soiled with dust and gore, had once waved above\nthe princely brow of Achilles.  The spear was shivered to pieces in his\nhand, and his shield slipped from his shoulder to the ground.  And as\nhe stood thus, defenceless and amazed, a Trojan, whose name was\nEuphorbus, wounded him between the shoulders with his spear.  The blow\nwas not mortal, and Patroclus drew back, to mingle with the press; but\nHector followed after him, and drove his spear deep into his side.  And\nas a lion overpowers a wild boar, fighting with him in the lone\nmountains for the possession of a little spring, and slays him by his\nmight, so slew Hector the valiant son of Men\u0153tius, and stayed the\nravage of the Trojan ranks.\n\n\"Ah!  Patroclus,\" said he, gazing in triumph on the dying hero, \"thou\nthoughtest this day to have taken our city by storm, and led captive\nthe women of Troy.  But they have in me a defender who is too strong\nfor thee.  Vain man!  Achilles, I doubt not, bade thee bring back to\nhim the bloody spoils of Hector, and now thou liest slain by Hector's\nhand.\"\n\n\"Boast not,\" answered Patroclus faintly.  \"It is small glory for thee\nto have slain the slain.  I received my death blow from Apollo and\nEuphorbus, not from thee.  And thine own fate shall overtake thee soon,\nwhen thou shalt die by the hands of \u00c6acides.\"\n\nEven as he spake the shadow of death fell upon him, and his soul took\nwing for the realm of Hades, bewailing her lot, leaving all that beauty\nand manly bloom.\n\n\n\n\nThe Fight for the Body of Patroclus\n\nI\n\nMenelaus was the first to mark the fall of Patroclus, and he came with\na rush and stood over his body to defend it, like a young mother of the\nherd when she stands lowing plaintively over her calf, the first that\nshe has borne.  Shield on shoulder and spear in hand he stood, glaring\ndefiance at the foe; and Euphorbus, the Trojan who had dealt the first\nblow at Patroclus, took up the challenge, addressing Menelaus with\nthese haughty words: \"Make way, son of Atreus, and leave me to take my\nlawful spoil.  'Twas I that wounded Patroclus first, and his armour\nbelongs by right to me.  Back, or thou shalt die the death.\"\n\n\"If big words could kill,\" answered Menelaus, with scorn, \"then wert\nthou and thy brethren the most dreaded warriors of all thy nation; for\nthere are no such windy braggarts in Priam's army.  Away with thee, if\nthou wouldst have breath left in thee to boast again.\"\n\nBut Euphorbus, though a boaster, and a mere novice in war, was no\ncoward.  He thrust manfully at Menelaus, who parried the blow with his\nshield, and then, striking in his turn, and throwing all his weight\ninto the stroke, drove his spear into Euphorbus' throat, so that the\npoint came out at the back of his neck.  Down he went, and his armour\nclattered upon him, and his love locks, curiously adorned with gold and\nsilver, were dabbled with blood.  As when a man tends carefully a green\nolive-shoot, in some sheltered spot, near a gushing fountain-head; and\nnow it is a comely tree, just bursting into blossom, and lightly rocked\nby all the airs of heaven: then comes a sudden tempest, and uproots it\nfrom the soil, and all its promise is marred: so stricken and cut off\nin the dawn of his manhood lay that gallant lad.  And as a lion comes\ndown from the mountains, trusting in his might, and strikes down a\nyoung heifer feeding in a meadow, the fairest of the herd, breaking her\nneck with his mighty teeth, and then glutting himself with her blood\nand her flesh; and the herdsmen with their hounds stand apart, making\ngreat uproar, but not one dares to interrupt him in his meal: so dared\nnot one of the Trojans to stand against Menelaus face to face.\n\nHector, who after slaying Patroclus had gone off in pursuit of the car\nof Achilles, was recalled from that fruitless chase by the tidings of\nEuphorbus' death.  With a loud cry of rage he turned back, and hastened\nto the place where the young Trojan lay, side by side with Patroclus.\nMenelaus stayed not to abide his coming, but fell back upon the ranks\nof his comrades, and there halted, and scanned the fighting line,\nlooking for the great Telamonian Ajax.  Observing him at last on the\nextreme left of the battle, he ran up to him, crying eagerly: \"Make\nhaste, Ajax, and aid me to recover the body of Patroclus, that we may\ncarry it back, naked as it is, to Achilles; for the armour Hector has\ntaken already.\"\n\nSo together they went, and stood side by side over the body of\nPatroclus; and Hector in his turn shrank back, when he was confronted\nby the towering form of Ajax, with his massive, sevenfold shield.  But\nhe took with him the armour, and gave it to two of his men to carry to\nthe city.\n\nGlaucus was full of anger when he saw Hector quail before Ajax, and he\nreproached him bitterly, calling him faint-hearted, and false to his\ngreat office.  \"It is a thankless task,\" he said, \"to fight under such\na leader.  Henceforth let the Trojans make shift to defend their city\nwithout our aid, for we of Lycia at least will fight their battles no\nmore.  Basely hast thou dealt with us, after all our good service,\nleaving our great captain Sarpedon in the hands of the Greeks.  If ye\nof Troy had the spirit of men, ye would aid us to capture the body of\nPatroclus, that we might keep it to exchange for Sarpedon's corpse.\nBut thou art a prudent warrior, and fearest the face of Ajax, knowing\nhim to be a far better man than thou art.\"\n\n\"O folly of the wise!\" answered Hector scornfully.  \"'Tis Glaucus can\ntalk thus, who hath the rarest wit, as we are told, among all the men\nof Lycia.  Come and stand by me, and thou shall see if I fear the face\nof Ajax, or any other Greek.  But first I will put on the armour of\nAchilles, which was given, men say, by the gods, as a wedding gift to\nhis father Peleus.\"  And with that he ran and overtook the men who were\ncarrying the spoils of Patroclus towards the city, and taking off his\nown armour began to put on that of Achilles.\n\n[Illustration: Homer hymning the Fall of Troy.  (Baron H. de Triqueti)]\n\nWhen Zeus beheld him thus gaily equipping himself in the spoils of the\nmighty, he shook his head, and spake thus to his own heart: \"Ah!\nwretch, thy triumph will be short lived, and the hand of doom is\nstretched out already to take thee.  But thou shall have thine hour,\nand Andromache shall hear of thy deeds, though never more shall she\nwelcome thee returning from battle.\"\n\nHe said it, and confirmed it with a nod, and forthwith the very demon\nof war entered into the heart of Hector, and with a fierce cry he ran\nback to the field, glittering in the armour of Pelides, which seemed to\nhave been wrought for himself, so well it fitted his limbs.\n\nEven the great Ajax felt a cold touch of fear as Hector bore down upon\nhim, with the most famous warriors of Troy and Lycia at his back.  \"We\nare lost,\" he said to Menelaus, \"unless we can get some other succour\nto beat back this tempest of war.\"  Then, raising his voice, he\nshouted: \"To the rescue, ye captains and princes of the Greeks!  Let\nnot Patroclus become a prey to dogs in the streets of Troy.\"  His cry\nwas heard, and soon he was joined by Idomeneus, and Meriones, and the\nlesser Ajax.\n\nLike the roar of the advancing tide, when it meets the torrent waters\nat the mouth of the mighty river, such was the shout of the Trojans as\nthey rushed to the onset.  And the Greeks stood firm to meet them,\nmaking a fence with their shields over the body of Patroclus.  At the\nfirst shock of that tremendous charge they were forced to give ground a\nlittle, and one of the Trojans fastened a thong to the ankle of the\ncorpse, and began to drag it away.  But he had not gone far when Ajax\nsprang upon him, and with one blow of his sword shivered his helmet,\nand clave him to the chin.  This gave time for the Greeks to rally, and\nthe battle was renewed in that narrow space round the body of\nPatroclus, where many a valiant deed was wrought, and many a hero bit\nthe dust, fighting for the possession of a helpless corpse.  Over this\nstruggling mass of warriors in the centre of the field was spread a\nthick curtain of darkness, for Zeus had ordered it so, while the rest\nof the Greeks and Trojans were fighting in the broad sunlight.  Far\naway on the border of the fight were Antilochus, the son of Nestor, and\nhis brother, who had not yet heard that Patroclus had been slain.\n\nBut in that dark kernel of the battle the ruthless tug of war went on.\nThere was no stay, no pause, while they hewed, and thrust, and strove,\ntill the blinding sweat poured down into their eyes, and their knees\nshook with weariness.  As when a master currier gives to his journeymen\na great bull's hide, well drenched with fat, to be stretched, and they\nstand in a circle, and tug with all their might, straining it equally\non all sides, until all moisture departs from it, and the fat\npenetrates to every pore; so they tugged the body between them, this\nway and that, the Trojans haling it towards the city, and the Greeks\ntowards their camp.  \"Die, ye Greeks!\" cried Ajax, who was fighting\nlike twenty men; \"die, rather than give up the body to the Trojans.\"\n\n\nII\n\nAfter the fall of Patroclus, Automedon had driven his car out of the\npress of battle, flying from the fury of Hector.  When Hector was\nrecalled from the pursuit, Automedon strove in vain to stir his horses\nfrom the spot where he had halted.  In vain he plied the lash, in vain\nhe coaxed and threatened; still as a monumental pillar on a tomb they\nstood, with their heads drooping to the earth, and their glossy manes\nstreaming over their eyes, while the hot tears dropped fast in the\ndust, as they wept for the gentle prince, whom they had borne so often\nto battle.\n\nZeus pitied them in their sorrow, and spake thus within himself: \"Ah!\nhapless pair, why did we give you to a mortal master, while ye know\nneither age nor death?  What part or lot have ye with human misery, or\nwith man, the most wretched thing that breathes and moves on earth?\nBut Hector shall never mount the car behind you, or put the bit in your\nmouths--I will not suffer that.  Be strong, and bear your driver safe,\nuntil the battle be done.\"\n\nTherewith, he breathed new vigour into the steeds, and they shook the\ndust from their manes, and galloped lightly with the car back to the\nfighting lines.  Singlehanded, Automedon could take no part in the\nhand-to-hand battle with the Trojans, and for some time he contented\nhimself with making rapid charges with his chariot, swooping down here\nand there, like an eagle pouncing on a flock of geese, and easily\navoiding every attack.  At last he found a helper in a comrade named\nAlcimedon, and handing the reins to him he dismounted himself to fight\non foot.\n\nWhen Hector saw the car of Achilles in charge of a strange driver he\ncalled to \u00c6neas, and said: \"See, there are the steeds of \u00c6acides,\nill-guided, and ill-defended; let us not miss the occasion to win so\nglorious a prize.\"  So together they went, \u00c6neas and Hector, and two\nother Trojans, in high hope to slay Automedon, and take the car.  But\nAutomedon, uttering a prayer to Zeus, flung his spear, and slew Aretus,\none of his assailants; and before Hector, who missed his cast at\nAutomedon, could come to close quarters with his sword, Ajax\ninterposed, and drove him back.\n\nThe arrival of Automedon had interrupted the struggle for the\npossession of the body of Patroclus; but it was resumed with new fury\non both sides, and the Greeks now received a new ally in the person of\nAthene, who obtained permission from Zeus to bring aid to her old\nallies.  Disguised in the form of the aged Ph\u0153nix, she went and\nstood by the side of Menelaus, and said to him: \"Courage, son of\nAtreus!  We shall win the battle yet, and save the noble comrade of\nAchilles from the foeman's hands.\"\n\n\"Ah!  Ph\u0153nix,\" answered Menelaus, \"I would that Athene would put\nstrength into my arm; then might I, as far as it is now possible,\nretrieve the bitter loss which we have suffered this day.\"\n\nAthene was glad that he had named her before any other god, and she\nfilled him with an indomitable spirit, and gave him the stubborn\ncourage of a fly, which returns again and again to the attack, in its\nfierce desire for blood.  And, seeing a good mark for his spear in the\nback of a flying Trojan, Menelaus flung, and pierced him in the waist.\nThe man whom he slew was Podes, a son of E\u00ebtion, and a friend and boon\ncompanion of Hector.  Provoked beyond measure by the death of his\ncomrade, Hector led such a determined charge against the Greek centre\nthat even the bravest began to flinch; and to affright them the more\nthere came a deafening peal of thunder from the heights of Ida, now\nwrapped in a pitchy cloud.\n\nThe first to fly was Peneleos, the bravest of the B\u0153otians, whose\nshoulder had been cut to the bone by the spear of Polydamas.  Then\nIdomeneus, coming to succour a wounded Greek, broke his spear on\nHector's breastplate, and it would have gone hard with him had not\nC\u0153ranus, a Cretan, driven up to the rescue in the car of Meriones;\nfor Idomeneus had come to the field on foot, leaving his own car in the\ncamp.  The brave C\u0153ranus paid for this good service with his life,\nsustaining a fearful thrust from Hector's spear, which struck him just\nat the angle of the jaw, and severed his tongue at the root.  He fell\nfrom the car, and dropped the reins on the ground; but Meriones picked\nthem up, and gave them to Idomeneus, who drove off at full speed\ntowards the ships.\n\nThus deprived of his bravest supporters, Ajax cast a glance of dismay\nat Menelaus, who was still fighting at his side, and said: \"Alas! even\na blind man might see that Zeus himself is aiding the Trojans.  Every\nweapon of theirs finds its mark, let it be hurled by ever so weak a\nhand; but our spears fall idle to the ground, one and all.  Yet,\nabandoned though we are, let us take thought how we may save the body\nof Patroclus, and ourselves return alive to gladden the eyes of our\nfaithful comrades, who methinks are in sore distress, thinking that the\nmight and the murderous hands of Hector shall no more be stayed until\nthey have hurled destruction on our fleet.  Also I would fain despatch\na messenger to bear the bitter tidings to Pelides, who dreams not that\nhis beloved Patroclus has perished.  But I cannot see anyone to whom I\nmight deliver this charge, for men and steeds alike are covered by\nthick darkness.  Dread sire of heaven, at least from darkness deliver\nthe sons of Greece!  Bring back the day, and give us the sight of our\neyes.  Slay us, if die we must--but slay us in the light!\"\n\nZeus had compassion on that brave man in his agony, and forthwith the\nthick cloud of darkness was removed, and the sun shone out, and all the\nfield of battle was disclosed to view.  \"Now haste, Menelaus,\" said\nAjax.  \"Go thou, and find Antilochus, who is very dear to Achilles, and\nbid him carry this message, which none other may dare to bring.\"\n\nMenelaus was very reluctant to leave his place among the defenders of\nPatroclus.  Slowly, and with many a backward glance, he turned to go,\nlike a lion who is driven off at dawn by a shower of javelins and\nburning brands, after he has prowled all night round the stalls where\nfat oxen are housed.  \"Ah! remember,\" he said earnestly, pausing once\nmore, \"remember how dear, how gentle he was to us all, this poor\nPatroclus, who now lies cold in death.  Forsake him not, but stand by\nhim till I come back.\"\n\nAfter this fervent appeal he made all haste, and ran along the fighting\nline, looking about him with a piercing glance, like an eagle soaring\nhigh in the heaven, who spies out a hare as she crouches in the shadow\nof a thicket.  So did the keen eye of Menelaus soon discern where\nAntilochus was fighting, on the extreme left of the field.  \"Dire is\nthe news I bring,\" said Menelaus, halting by his side: \"Patroclus is\nslain, Hector has his armour, and thou art chosen to tell Achilles of\nhis loss, that if it be possible he may yet save the body.\"\n\nWith parted lips, and eyes staring with horror, Antilochus stood gazing\nat the bringer of the message of woe.  Then dashing the tears from his\neyes, and drawing a deep sobbing breath, he flung down his shield and\nsped away on his mournful errand.\n\n\"I have sent him,\" said Menelaus, when he had returned with all speed\nto the defenders of the fallen Patroclus.  \"I know not what Achilles\nwill do--he cannot fight without armour.  But to our task.\"  \"The\nTrojans have drawn off a little,\" answered Ajax.  \"Now is the time: do\nthou and Meriones take the corpse on your shoulders, while I and my\nbrother-in-arms hold the foe in play.\"\n\nWithout a moment's delay Menelaus and Meriones hoisted the body on\ntheir shoulders and began to carry it towards the camp: which when the\nTrojans saw, they raised a great shout, and rushed after, like hounds\nattacking a wounded wild boar; but as the hounds are scattered when the\ngreat brute wheels to the charge, so fled the Trojans before the\ndetermined stand of Ajax and his comrade.\n\nBut only for a moment: on they came again, fierce as a mighty\nconflagration, which sweeps through the streets of a town, driven\nbefore the gale, while the houses melt away like wax in the flames:\nwith like furious uproar came horse and foot hard at their heels, as\nthey bore the body from the field.  But stoutly and stubbornly they\nplodded on with their burden, panting and sweating like a pair of mules\nwhich drag a heavy beam down a rugged mountain path: and behind them\nthose two doughty champions opposed an impassable barrier to the\nTrojans, like a long wooded mountain spur, which hurls back the fierce\nassault of a swollen stream, and cannot be broken.\n\nYet even now the issue seemed doubtful; for just as the bearers reached\nthe barriers of the camp Hector and \u00c6neas led a vigorous charge,\nscattering the Greeks as a hawk scatters a noisy mob of starlings or\ndaws.\n\n\n\n\nThe News is brought to Achilles\n\nI\n\n\"Why tarries Patroclus so long?\" asked Achilles of himself, as he sat\nwaiting by his tent.  \"Alas!  I fear that he hath disobeyed me, and\nlost his life by his rashness.  Did not my mother tell me that the\nnoblest of the Greeks should fall in battle with the Trojans while I\nlived?\"  His alarm increased when he saw straggling parties of the\nGreeks entering the camp, with every sign of panic and defeat.\nPresently the roar of the struggle drew nearer and nearer, and he had\njust determined to rush to the ramparts, and learn the worst, when\nAntilochus came running up, and in broken accents panted out his\ndreadful message.\n\nAs when a thunderbolt descends, laying low some giant of the forest, so\nfell the mighty Pelides, laid prostrate beneath that stunning blow.\nThen that proud head, which had never bowed to mortal man, was defiled\nwith dust, and those heroic limbs, the very mould of manly strength and\nbeauty, grovelled and writhed on the ground.  He tore his hair, cast\nashes on his head, and moaned like a wounded beast in his agony.  And\nall the handmaids whom he had taken in war gathered round him, wailing\nand beating their breasts; for sorrow was their portion, and their\ntears were ever ready to flow.  By his side knelt Antilochus, holding\nhis hands, in fear lest he should do violence to his life.\n\nThen Achilles shook off the grasp of Antilochus, and started to his\nfeet with a fearful cry, glaring wildly, like one about to do some\ndesperate act.  But just at this moment a sound of female voices came\nfloating over the placid sea, and Thetis glided into his presence, with\nall her band of Ocean nymphs attending.  Achilles flung himself down\nagain when he saw her, with a fresh burst of grief; and kneeling by him\nshe embraced him tenderly, and weeping cried: \"O child of my sorrow,\nwhat new cause of mourning hath reached thee now?  Hath not Zeus\nfulfilled his promise, and avenged thine honour?\"\n\n\"What avails his promise, or the fulfilment thereof?\" answered\nAchilles, groaning bitterly.  \"What care I for honour, if I must pay\nfor it with the life of my best beloved?  He lies in his blood, and\nHector, his slayer, has taken the glorious armour which the gods gave\nto Peleus when they made thee his unwilling bride.  'Twas a woeful\nmatch, for thee and for me, and soon thou shall reap the bitter fruit,\nfor Hector must die by my hand, to appease the ghost of Patroclus, and\nthou hast told me that, when Hector falls, my own end is not far off.\"\nA mournful silence followed, broken only by the sobs of Thetis, who\nknew her son had pronounced his own doom.  Then Achilles burst out\nagain, in louder and angrier tones: \"But let me die, when that task is\ndone!  What has life been to me?--a burden to myself, and a curse to\nothers!  Here have I lain, like a useless trunk, encumbering the sod,\nand left my comrades to perish, and given him, the very light of mine\neyes, to be a prey to the spoiler.  Accursed, and thrice accursed, be\nthe spirit of strife, which trickles, sweeter than honey, into the\nhearts of men, and rises up again, in words more bitter than\ngall!--even as Agamemnon provoked me to fierce anger, which now comes\nback upon me, with thrice envenomed sting.  But past is past--we will\nspeak no more of that.  My fate calls me to vengeance--and after that\nthe grave.  Then away, soft visitings of love and gentle sorrow!  And\nthou, fond heart, become a stone!  I will strew with havoc the path\nwhich leads me to mine enemy, and the streets of Troy shall be filled\nwith lamentation, and women wailing for their dead.\"\n\n\"I know that I cannot shake thy purpose,\" answered Thetis sadly, \"and\nit shall be as thou hast said.  But unarmed thou canst not go into\nbattle.  Remain here therefore until my return, and by to-morrow's dawn\nI will bring thee such armour as never mortal wore.\"\n\n\nII\n\nWhile these events were passing, the struggle over the slain Patroclus\nraged fiercer than ever.  Slowly the Greeks were driven back to the\nvery gates of their camp, and at the eleventh hour that pitiful prize\nwhich had cost so much blood would have fallen into the hands of the\nTrojans, had not Hera intervened and sent Iris to summon Achilles to\nthe rescue.\n\n\"Rouse thee, son of Peleus!\" said Iris, appearing at his side.  \"Hector\nhath sworn to set the head of Patroclus on the battlements of Troy, and\nhe will accomplish his threat if thou sittest idle here.\"\n\n\"How can I go unarmed to the field?\" answered Achilles.  \"I know of\nnone whose armour I might wear, save only Ajax, and he is fighting at\nthe front.\"\n\n\"No more words,\" replied Iris.  \"Do as thou art bidden, and heaven will\nfind a way.\"  Then Achilles arose, and went to the ramparts; and Athene\ndrew near him, and threw her tasselled \u00e6gis over his shoulders, and on\nhis head she caused a golden cloud to descend, which shot forth rays of\nangry light.  As in a beleaguered city, where a thousand watch-fires\nare lighted, and all day long the pillars of smoke ascend, but in the\ndarkness the red blaze is seen afar, a signal of distress to distant\nallies--so shone that unearthly fire on the head of Achilles, as he\nstood on the brink of the moat.  Then he lifted up his voice, and\nshouted; and the sound was as the sound of a trumpet summoning to arms.\n\nWhen they saw the dreadful light, and heard the brazen voice of\nPelides, the Trojans were astonished, and halted in the midst of their\nwild assault; and while they wavered the Greeks fell upon them, and\ndrove them back in disorder.  The tide had turned at last, and the long\nday of battle, so full of strange revolutions of fortune, came to an\nend.\n\nSlowly and reverently the body of Patroclus was laid upon a bier, and\ncarried to the tent of Achilles.  But a few short hours before he had\ngone forth, with horses and with chariots, to battle, in the pride of\nyouth and strength; and now he lay cold in death, gored with hideous\nwounds by Trojan spears.  And all night long Achilles and his comrades\nmourned for their slaughtered hero, the gentlest and the best of all\ntheir band.  Like a lion who leaves his whelps in their dark forest\nlair, and returns to find his bed empty, and his young ones gone;\nroaring with rage and grief he tracks the footsteps of the robber along\nmany a mountain path, and all the forest is filled with the sound of\nhis wrath: such was Pelides in his sorrow, and such the voice of his\nmourning.  \"Vain, alas! was the promise which I made to thy father\nMen\u0153tius, that I would bring thee back safe to thy home in Locris,\nloaded with the spoils of Troy.  Thy blood is red on the Trojan sod,\nwhere mine too shall flow before many days are passed.  Now hear my\nvow, Patroclus, and take comfort, even in death I will not pay the last\nrites to thy corpse until I have brought Hector's body hither, with the\narmour which he has taken, and slain twelve Trojan captives as a\nsacrifice to thy shade.  Till then thou shalt lie as thou art, and the\nwomen of Troy, whom we won with the might of our hands, shall mourn\nthee night and day.\"\n\nThen they washed the body, and anointed it with fragrant oil, and laid\nit, wrapped in fine linen, on a bed to wait for burial.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe Trojans still kept the field, though with far other feelings than\nwhen they lit their camp-fires, only the night before.  Before ever\nthey thought of supper the chiefs met in council, and stood about in\nanxious groups, waiting until some recognised leader should advise them\nin their present strait.  Then Polydamas, who was esteemed the wisest\nhead among them, came forward and commanded silence; and all listened\nattentive to hear what he should say.  \"Friends,\" he began, \"ye had\nbest take heed what ye do; as for me, I have but one thing to\nadvise--back to the city, and let not to-morrow's dawn find us here!\nWe have all had our hopes, and I among the rest; but all those hopes\nare fled now that Achilles has arisen again; and if we abide his coming\nwe shall learn too late what it means to face him in the open field.\nHere, where we stand, dogs and vultures will hold their foul revel, and\nbatten on our flesh, at the going-down of the sun.  Therefore, I say\nagain, back to the city, and put a stout bulwark of stone and oak\nbetween yourselves and this terrible man.  To-morrow we will man the\nwalls, and laugh at his fury if he seeks to assail us there.  Yea, his\nsteeds shall weary with drawing his car, and he himself shall sicken of\nthe vain attempt, for he knows well that Troy is not destined to fall\nby his hands.\"\n\nSo ran the counsels of prudence; but another spirit was there also--the\nspirit of rash confidence and unauthorised ambition--and it found\npassionate utterance in the voice of Hector, who was the next to speak.\n\"I like not thy words, Polydamas,\" said he, with an angry look; \"I like\nnot the cowardly counsel which bids us skulk behind our walls.  Who is\nnot sick of our long confinement in that pinfold there?  We have\ndrained our treasury, and scattered abroad the wealth for which Troy\nwas once famed throughout the world, wherever human speech is heard.\nBut now that we have been vouchsafed the glorious promise of carrying\nthe war into the enemy's camp, and driving these hounds of war out of\nour land--now, I say, unlock no more the thoughts of thy base soul, to\ndamp our courage, and quench the bright flame of hope which has been\nkindled in our breasts.  Now hear what I advise: to-night we will hold\nour camp here, and keep watch in turn; and to-morrow at first peep of\nday we will put on our armour and march against the Grecian stronghold.\nAchilles is arisen, sayest thou?  The worse for him: I will not fly\nbefore him, but will meet him face to face, and slay him, or be slain.\"\n\nThe fiery eloquence of Hector carried his hearers with him, and they\nresolved with one accord to remain where they were, and abide the issue.\n\n\n\n\nThe Shield of Achilles\n\nMindful of her promise, Thetis, when she left Achilles, went\nstraightway to Olympus and entered the dwelling of Heph\u00e6stus.  It was a\nwondrous structure, all of brass, which the lame god had planned and\nfashioned by his own skill and labour.  She found him in his forge,\nblowing up the fire with his bellows; for he was hard at work, setting\nthe finish to twenty brazen vessels, for use in his house.  Each vessel\nran on golden wheels, and moved to and fro of its own accord, coming\nand going at the master's bidding.  With him sat Charis, his wife,\nwatching her husband at his toil; and when she saw Thetis enter she\ncame forward to greet her, and placed a chair, inlaid with silver, for\nher to sit on.  Then she called to Heph\u00e6stus, who was stooping over his\nforge, and said: \"Leave thy work, and come and welcome this honoured\nguest.\"\n\n\"Welcome indeed she is, and honoured too,\" said the hospitable god,\nlimping across the stithy with outstretched hands.  \"Did she not save\nme from my shrewish mother, who was ashamed of her crippled son, and\nsought to put me out of the way, when I was but a child?  Then it would\nhave gone hard with me if Thetis had not received me into her home, the\ndeep cavern, round which Oceanus wraps his watery coils, foaming and\nthundering everlastingly.  There I dwelt in peace for nine long years,\nand many a pretty jewel I wrought for my preservers--brooches, and\nbracelets and necklaces.  And none of the gods knew where I was, save\nonly kind Thetis and Eurynome, daughter of Oceanus.  Therefore thrice\nwelcome, sweet lady of the sea!  I owe thee my life, and shall be\nrejoiced if I can pay part of the debt.  Take her, dear Charis, to the\nguest-chamber, while I put away the implements of my trade.\"\n\nThetis left the forge with her hostess, and when they were gone\nHeph\u00e6stus gathered up his tools, and turned the bellows away from the\nfire.  The tools he placed in a vast silver chest, and then taking a\nsponge he cleansed his face and hands, his brawny neck, and hairy\nchest.  Then he put on a clean tunic, and went to join Charis and her\nguest.  His huge heavy frame was ill supported on a pair of thin,\ncrooked legs; but his own inventive genius had enabled him to supply\nthis defect, for on either side of him walked a wonderful creature,\nwrought by himself in gold, with the form and face of a maiden, a human\nvoice, and human wit.  Leaning on these strange supporters, he entered\nthe guest-chamber, and sat down by the side of Thetis.  \"What need,\" he\nasked, \"has brought thee to my poor house--an angel's visit, indeed, to\nme, both rare and dear?\"\n\nEncouraged by the cordial tone of the good-natured god, Thetis poured\nout afresh all the tale of her woes, beginning from the time when,\nsorely against her will, she became the bride of Peleus.  He was now an\nold man, broken and infirm, and she a goddess, radiant in her immortal\nbloom, was still chained to the human wreck, and Achilles, her son,\nstill in the prime of his splendid manhood, was a perpetual source of\ntrouble and grief.  \"Few indeed,\" she went on, \"and evil, are the days\nof his life.  First foully insulted by his sovereign, and now\nbroken-hearted at the loss of his dearest friend!  Help me to do what I\ncan to comfort him in this bitter hour; lend me thy skill, and make him\na suit of armour such as never mortal man hath worn before.\"\n\n\"If that be all,\" answered Heph\u00e6stus cheerfully, \"thy prayer is granted\nas soon as uttered.  Arms he shall have, which shall make him the\nwonder of the world when he goes forth to battle.\"\n\nThen leaving Thetis in charge of his wife he went back to his forge,\nand having stripped to the waist addressed himself to his work.  Round\nthe furnace in the centre of the stithy were twenty pairs of bellows,\neach serving a separate smelting oven.  These he now turned to the\nfire, and commanded them to blow, for they were endowed with a\nconsciousness of their own, and obeyed the master's will, now sending\nforth a tremendous blast, which made the fire roar with fury, and the\nflames leap upward to the roof, now breathing low, like some huge\nmonster in his softer mood.  Into the smelting ovens he cast bronze and\ntin, silver and gold; and when his metal was ready he placed a\nponderous anvil on the anvil block, and took in one hand a mighty\nhammer, while in the other he grasped the tongs.\n\nAnd first a shield he fashioned, vast and strong,[1] with threefold\nrim, and baldric of silver.  The shield was of five folds; and on it he\nwrought many a pictured scene with wondrous skill.\n\n\n[1] This line is from Cowper's version.\n\n\nThere were imaged earth and sea, the unwearied sun, and the moon in her\nwaxing and her waning, and the heavens with all their starry\ncrown--Pleiades, and Hyades, and Orion's might, and the Bear, whom men\nlikewise call the Wain, who turns on the same spot, and watches Orion,\nand alone has no share in the baths of Ocean.\n\nAnd there was fashioned many a scene from human life, peace and war,\npastime and industry.  The first was a city, and along the streets a\nbridal procession was passing, with blazing torches, and the loud\nhymeneal song, and the whirl of dancers, and the music of flute and\nharp; and the women stood at their thresholds, admiring that gay\ncompany.  But in the market-place was heard the voice of loud dispute;\nfor the elders were met in their session, to decide a quarrel\nconcerning the blood-price of a murdered man.  The slayer brought\nwitnesses to prove that he had paid the whole amount; but the plaintiff\ndenied that he had received a doit.  Outside the circle stood the\nclamorous mob, eager partisans of either side, and held in check by the\nheralds with their rods of office, and in the midst sat the elders in\nsolemn conclave on their seats of polished stone, rising up in turn to\ngive sentence.  And he whose judgment was held wisest was to receive a\nreward of two talents of gold.\n\nA second city there was, hard beset by stress of war.  For about it lay\ntwo armies encamped, whose counsels were divided: in one the leaders\nwere for taking the city by storm, while in the other they would have\nmade a treaty, by which the citizens were to buy off the attack with\nhalf their goods.  But while the besiegers were disputing, the citizens\nleft their walls to be defended by the old men and the weaker sort, and\nsallied out in full force to lay an ambush for a convoy which was on\nits way to the enemy's camp.  So forth they marched, with Ares and\nAthene at their head, distinguished by their towering stature and\ngolden armour.  And when they came to the chosen place of ambush, by\nthe riverside, where was a watering-place for flocks and herds, they\ncrouched down among the bushes, leaving two scouts to warn them of the\nconvoy's approach.  Soon they heard the lowing of cattle, and the\nbleating of sheep, and the sound of the herdsmen's pipes, as they came\non, dreaming of no harm; then forth rushed the armed troop, and cut\ndown the herdsmen, and began to drive off the beasts.\n\nThe cries of the herdsmen, and the bellowing of the affrighted beasts,\nreached the ears of the besiegers, as they sat in council, and seizing\ntheir arms they mounted their horses, and hurried to the rescue.  Then\nbegan a furious struggle, in which all the demons of war--Strife, and\nConfusion, and deadly Fate--held high carnival, and drank deep of human\nblood.[2]\n\n\n[2] It should be observed that the poet gives the whole succession of\nincidents which are merely hinted at by the artist, who is confined to\none moment in the story.\n\n\nThen followed diverse scenes of happy toil.  The first was a fair\nfallow land of rich tilth, where ploughmen were driving their teams to\nand fro, drawing long furrows, straight and deep, and pausing now and\nthen to refresh themselves with a cup of wine, which was handed to them\nby a man who stood ready at the end of the field.  Dark rose the\ncurling furrow, as the ploughshare passed, and the sods seemed of rich\nblack soil, though wrought in gold; for therein was displayed the\nartist's skill.\n\nThe next was a harvest of yellow corn, and a row of busy reapers with\nsharp sickles in their hands.  Others stood ready to bind the sheaves,\nand these again were supplied by a willing troop of boys, who gathered\nup the swathe as fast as it fell, and handed the ripe bundles to the\nbinders.  Near at hand stood the master, rejoicing in his wealth; and\nunder a tree at the border of the field the henchmen were slaughtering\nan ox, to make savoury meat for him and his guests, while women were\npreparing a mess of pottage for the reapers.\n\nLikewise he fashioned a vineyard, heavy with great clusters of grapes,\nand along the rows moved a merry troop of boys and girls, with baskets\nin their hands, gathering the luscious fruit; and when their baskets\nwere full they brought their burdens home with dancing steps, led by a\nboy who played the harp and sang the sweet dirge of summer in his\nshrill, childish voice.\n\nThen came a herd of oxen going to pasture, and lowing as they went\nalong the waving rushes, along the murmuring stream.  Four herdsmen\nfollowed, and with them were nine dogs.  But lo! a noble bull, the\nleader of the herd, falls suddenly in his tracks, struck down by the\nclaws of two ravening lions.  They begin to drag him off, and the\nherdsmen follow at a distance, cheering on their dogs, which leap and\nbay wildly, but will not close with those terrible robbers.\n\nThe last scene of all was a dance of youths and maidens, the youths\nclad in close-fitting doublets, and wearing hangers at their sides, and\nthe maidens wearing light garments of linen, and circlets of gold on\ntheir heads.  Holding one another by the wrist, they first moved in a\ngiddy circle, swift and true as the wheel flies in the potter's hands,\nand then they parted in two rows, and met again, weaving and unweaving\nall the mazy figures of a Cretan dance, while two tumblers whirled\namong them, and a singer gave the time with his voice.\n\nFraming this rich succession of pictures ran the broad stream of\nOceanus, rolling his waters round the outer rim of the shield.\n\nCorslet, and greaves, and helmet with crest of gold, were fashioned\nnext, and when the great work was done, Heph\u00e6stus brought it and laid\nit at the feet of Thetis.  After due thanks, she took leave of her\ngenerous friends, and then sped on her way to the Grecian camp, bearing\nthe costly gift of Heph\u00e6stus to her son.\n\n\n\n\nThe Reconciliation\n\nI\n\nDawn was beginning to redden the waters of the Hellespont when Thetis\nreached the tent of Achilles.  She found him sitting, lost in a gloomy\nreverie, by the side of the bed on which the body of Patroclus lay.\n\"Come,\" said Thetis, touching him lightly on the shoulder, \"let the\ndead bury their dead, and behold the glorious armour which Heph\u00e6stus\nhas wrought for thee.\"\n\nWith that she set down the dazzling panoply, fresh from the forge of\nthe god; the ethereal metal rang with a dreadful sound, and from the\nburnished surface darted angry beams of light, blinding the eyes of the\nMyrmidons who had drawn near to gaze, so that they fled in terror from\nthe sight.  But the eyes of Achilles flashed with an answering fire,\nand his heart burned with fierce joy, as he handled the work of the\nimmortal armourer.  \"Mother,\" he said, when he had scrutinised every\npiece, \"the work is worthy of the artist--I can say no more.  And now\nto battle!  Yet one thing I fear--lest the body of my friend be marred\nby decay before my vow is accomplished and I am free to bury him.\"\n\n\"Let not that care disquiet thee,\" answered Thetis, \"I will find a\nmeans to keep off the destroying hordes of the air, that breathe\ncorruption in the limbs of fallen warriors.  Though he lie unburied for\nthe space of a whole year, his flesh shall remain pure and clean, as\nthe flesh of a little child.  Now go thou and summon the Greeks to the\nplace of assembly, that when thou hast renounced thy feud with\nAgamemnon, thou mayest gird thee with might and go forth to battle.\"\nThen she brought nectar and ambrosia, and embalmed therewith the body\nof Patroclus, that his flesh might remain sound and whole.\n\nBut Achilles strode rapidly along the strand, shouting as he went to\ncall the people to the assembly.  And forthwith from every tent the\nmultitude came flocking, and not one remained behind, no, not even\nthose who pursued peaceful crafts, and were not wont to take part in\nthe councils of the armed host.  For not one was willing to be absent\nfrom that memorable meeting.\n\nAs he passed on, he overtook Odysseus and Diomede, who were limping\npainfully along, leaning on their spears; for they were still sore with\ntheir wounds.  After a few words of greeting, he left them to follow,\nand went forward to the place where the chiefs were sitting round the\nthrone of Agamemnon, which was still vacant.  It was a level spot, in\nthe centre of a natural hollow, whose sides rose gently, until they\nwere closed by a background of waving woods.  And now all the slopes\nwere black with a swarming multitude, armed and unarmed, stout\nspearmen, and noisy rabble.  At last Agamemnon was seen approaching,\nmoving slowly and with pain.  He took his seat on the royal throne, and\nthen a dead hush fell on all that vast company, as Achilles rose in his\nplace, and began to speak.\n\n\"Great King,\" he said, \"we are met to end the lamentable feud which\narose out of our quarrel for the sake of the maid Briseis.  Would that\nshe had never been born, or had been stricken with sudden death by the\ngentle shafts of Artemis, before ever she had put enmity between me and\nthee!  So would many a brave man have been alive and well who now lies\nsleeping an iron sleep.  Yes, for many a year to come the Greeks will\nspeak of the wrath of Achilles, and of him who was the cause.  But here\nit ends: my wrath is now aimed at another mark, and once more I am thy\nfaithful friend and ally.  War, war without quarter or mercy--that is\nall I ask for now.  Let us see if the Trojans will hold their camp at\nour gates when they stand beneath the shadow of my destroying spear.\"\n\nRight glad were the Greeks to learn that the tremendous passions of\nAchilles were now enlisted on their side.  But their joyful cries were\nchanged to murmurs of resentment when Agamemnon rose to answer; for\nthey saw in him the author of all their disasters.  Signs of remorse\nand confusion appeared in his face; and the first words of his speech\nwere heard with difficulty amidst the tumult.  \"Friends and comrades in\narms,\" he began, \"I beseech you to hear me with patience, while I make\nconfession of my fault.  I have sinned, I cannot deny it, through the\ndread power of Ate,[1] who blinded my heart, and maimed my wits, on the\nday when I took from Achilles his prize.  Ah! she is a fearful goddess,\nthis Ate, a fiend to vex mankind.  Soft is her tread, and her path lies\non the heads of men: unseen, unheard, she approaches, and enters into\nthe soul of him whom she has marked for ruin.  Once she dwelt among the\ngods in Olympus, but she dared to lay her foul spells on Zeus himself,\nso that he fell into grievous error; and when he learnt how he had been\ndeceived, he swore a mighty oath that never again should that abhorred\nwitch set foot in the celestial abode.  So he caught her by the hair,\nand flung her down to earth, to plague the tribes of men.  And she it\nwas who made me her victim, whereby all this mischief befell.  But now\nI am ready to make all good, and heal the wrong which I have wrought.\nAnd all the gifts which I promised yesterday by the mouth of Odysseus\nare thine, Achilles, without abatement of one jot.  Wait awhile, before\nthou goest into battle, and my squires shall bring them to thy tent.\"\n\n\n[1] A personification of moral blindness.\n\n\n\"As for the gifts,\" replied Achilles, \"they are thine to give or to\nwithhold as thou choosest.  But of that hereafter; for the present, I\nhave work to do which admits of no delay.  No more of talk, but let us\naway to the field at once.\"\n\nBut here the voice of prudence intervened, checking the fiery\nimpetuosity of Achilles.  \"Hear me a moment, valiant prince,\" said\nOdysseus.  \"We must not lead the people fasting to battle, for an empty\nman hath little heart for the fight, which methinks will be neither\nshort nor easy to-day.  Let the people first eat their fill, for a man\ncannot face the foe from dawn till eve without tasting meat.  However\nwilling his spirit, his flesh is weak; his limbs are soon overtaken\nwith weariness, his mouth is parched with thirst, and his knees totter\nas he goes.  Therefore, I say, let us eat, and after that to battle.\nAnd thou, Achilles, shalt receive the gifts of Agamemnon, and partake\nof a banquet of honour with the other chieftains in his tent.  The King\nknows what is fitting, and he cannot do less.\"\n\nAgamemnon willingly assented, and was proceeding to give the order to\nbring the gifts when Achilles started up again, in eager protest\nagainst this delay.\n\n\"Illustrious King,\" he said, \"surely there will be time enough to speak\nof these lesser matters when we have humbled the pride of the Trojans,\nwho are waiting for us on the plain.  My friend lies slaughtered,\npierced by Hector's spear, and ye talk to me of meat and drink!  By my\nwill the whole army should keep a solemn fast, until we have washed out\nthe stain on our honour in a sea of blood, and then, after the great\nact of vengeance is complete, we will feast and make merry.  I at least\nwill suffer no morsel or drop to pass my lips as long as my comrade\nlies in my tent with his feet to the door, and the women mourning\nround.  No; far other thoughts fill my heart--blood and slaughter, and\nthe groans of dying men.\"\n\nBut these desperate counsels found no favour with the veteran heads of\nthe army, and a deep hum of approval greeted the more sober eloquence\nof Odysseus, who now rose again to reply.  \"Mighty son of Peleus,\" he\nsaid, \"thou art stronger far than I, and thy spear writes deadlier\nrecord on the foemen's ranks; but I have lived longer than thou, and\nseen more: bear with me, then, while I speak what reason and experience\nhath taught me.  Soon weary grows the hand which toils in war's barren\nharvest, where the swathe is so thick, and the yield so scanty when the\nday is done.  We cannot keep a fast for every Greek that falls--where\nwould be the end?  The warrior's dirge is short, and he is honoured\nenough if he is mourned for a day.  And those who are left must eat,\nthat they may have strength to fight on the morrow.  To your tents,\nthen, every one!  And when ye have eaten, come quickly, armed for the\nfight, and await no second summons.\"\n\nFor all his fierce impatience, Achilles was compelled to yield.  With\ngreat effort he controlled himself while the gifts were brought, and\nthe ceremonies performed, with no circumstance of solemnity omitted, to\nratify the covenant of forgiveness and reconciliation between him and\nAgamemnon.  And so the first act in the great drama of his wrath is\nconcluded.\n\n\nII\n\nSeven youths of princely rank, attended by a long train of bearers,\nwere despatched to the tent of Achilles, loaded with the costly gifts\nof atonement from the King.  With them went Briseis, thus returned to\nher former lord.  When she saw Patroclus on the bed where he lay, she\nbeat her breast, and, embracing the cold body, burst into a passion of\nweeping.  \"Friend of my sorrow!\" she cried, \"I left thee living, and I\nfind thee dead.  Woe, and more woe, is all my portion.  When I came\nhither, an orphaned captive, bereaved of all, thou didst comfort me in\nmy great affliction, promising, when the war was over, to make me\nAchilles' lawful wife.  Thy gentleness and thy knightly courtesy shed\nbalm upon my wounded spirit, and now thou art gone, and my last comfort\nis gone with thee.\"\n\nSo mourned Briseis, and all the captive ladies wept afresh when they\nheard her, having cause enough for tears, every one.  The sound of\ntheir lamentation reached the ears of Achilles where he sat, but he\nremained unmoved by the tragedy of these lesser spirits, being absorbed\nin the sense of his own great loss.  The tide of his passion had ebbed\nagain, leaving his heart cold and desolate.  His men brought him food\nand drink, but he repulsed them sternly, and would touch nothing.  He\nthought of the happy past--when he and Patroclus had partaken together\nof many a cheerful meal--and then of the bitter present, when the sight\nof bread and meat filled him with loathing.  He thought of his father\nPeleus, growing old in his solitary home, waiting in sad expectation to\nhear of his son's death, and of the young Neoptolemus, his own child,\ngrowing up among strangers in the island of Scyros.  \"Lost, lost, all\nlost!\" he murmured; \"I shall never see them again.\"\n\nBut the gods had not forgotten their favourite.  Zeus beheld him as he\nsat thus stricken and forlorn, and sent Athene to inspire him with new\ncomfort and strength.  Unseen, she alighted at his side, and fed him,\nthough he knew it not, with heavenly food, filling his heart with more\nthan mortal vigour and courage.  Meanwhile the clash of arms rang\nthrough the camp as the Greeks marched out, column after column, to\nbattle, thick as autumnal leaves, or hovering snowflakes in winter.\nThe air seemed on fire with the flash of myriads of spears, and the\nearth shook beneath the thunder of their tread.\n\nRoused by the sound, Achilles sprang to his feet, and buckled on his\ncorslet, and clasped the greaves to his ankles.  Then he flung the\nsword over his shoulder, and thrust his arm through the strap of his\nshield, which shone like the full-orbed moon, or a beaconlight blazing\nafar over a stormy sea.  Last of all, he lifted his mighty helmet, with\nits nodding, golden plume, and set it on his head.  And now, being\narrayed in his harness from head to foot, he raised himself to his\ntowering height, and stretched his fleet limbs, to prove the armour;\nand it became unto him as wings, making him lighter and nimbler than\never before.\n\nGrasping in his right hand his spear--the mighty Pelian ash, pointed\nwith death--he went forth before the tent, where Automedon stood\nwaiting with his car.  \"Now hear me, ye children of the wind!\" he\ncried, addressing his steeds, \"see that ye play me not false to-day, as\nwhen ye left Patroclus dead on the field, and came back with an empty\ncar.\"\n\nThen there befell a wondrous thing; for the good steed Xanthus,\ndrooping low his head, answered with a human voice, and spake thus unto\nhis master: \"Yea, we will carry thee safe back, most dread Achilles,\nwhen the fight is o'er.  It was by no sloth or tardiness of ours that\nthy brave comrade met his death; that deed was wrought by the hand of\nApollo, using Hector as his instrument--even as thou too shalt be cut\noff by a human weapon, but by no human power.\"\n\nSo spake the immortal courser, for the first and the last time; for\nfate suffered it not again.  And Achilles answered him, and said:\n\"Waste not thy prophecies on me, good steed!  I know my fate--death on\nthe battlefield, far from my home: but ere that hour comes I will send\nmany a Trojan to herald my coming among the dead.\"\n\nThen, shouting his dread battle-cry, he sprang into his car, and drove\nheadlong to the front.\n\n\n\n\nAchilles in the Battlefield\n\nI\n\nBy high permission of all-ruling Jove the gods were now free to take\npart in the war, and they all with one accord came down from Olympus to\nmingle with the fray.  Only Zeus remained behind, as supreme arbiter of\nthe final issue.  All the rest took sides with the Greeks or Trojans,\nand five rival pairs confronted each other in the field--Poseidon found\na match in Apollo, the great ally of the Trojans--Hera, who loved the\nGreeks like a mother, was confronted by the archer-goddess\nArtemis--against Athene stood Ares, whose fickle mind now inclined to\nthe Trojans--Hermes, who favoured the Greeks, was met on the other side\nby Leto, the mother of Artemis and Apollo--and lastly Heph\u00e6stus and\nScamander, the opposing powers of fire and water, took the field, the\nformer for the Greeks, the latter for the Trojans.\n\nAll nature was in uproar as these tremendous allies entered the scene\nof conflict.  Earth shook, and the mountains reeled to their\nfoundations, and the towers of Troy and the Grecian ships reeled as in\nan earthquake.  Then trembling came upon Hades, the monarch of the\ndead, and leaping from his throne he cried aloud in fear, lest the\nearth, rent by Poseidon's trident, should disclose to mortal and\nimmortal eyes the dank and dreary mansions of the dead, which even the\ngods abhor.\n\nFar in front of the Grecian line was seen the glittering form of\nAchilles, who scanned the Trojan ranks like a lion who seeks his prey,\nhaving but one thought, but one aim--to meet Hector, and slay him.  But\nHector's hour was not yet come, for Apollo stood near to shield him\nfrom his great enemy, and delay the fatal stroke which sooner or later\nmust lay him low.  And first the god put it into the heart of \u00c6neas to\ndefy Achilles to battle, and gave him unwonted courage and strength,\nthat he might not flinch in that fearful encounter.  Then \u00c6neas heard a\nvoice which whispered within him, and seemed to say: \"Art thou not the\nson of Aphrodite, who is the daughter of supreme Jove?  Why fearest\nthou then this upstart child of Thetis, of far meaner lineage than\nthine?  Go face him, and let him learn that neither are the Trojans\nforsaken of heaven.\"\n\nSo between the advancing lines they met, both sons of gods, but far\ndifferent in their fate.  At first Achilles had not observed his\napproach, but stalked, heedless of all lesser foes, before the\nembattled host of Troy, like a lion bent on ravage, against whom a\nwhole township is gathered, with purpose to slay him and at first he\ngoes on his way, disdaining the menaces of that rabble rout--but then,\nbeing pricked by the point of a random spear, he gathers himself,\nfoaming and gnashing his teeth, for the spring, and his mighty spirit\ngroans within him, and he lashes his flanks on both sides with his\ntail, goading himself to battle--then glaring and roaring he launches\nhis vast weight at the foe, resolved to kill or be killed--so sprang\nAchilles against \u00c6neas, in wrath at his presumption.\n\n\"What wouldst thou of me, \u00c6neas?\" he cried, in disdainful mood.  \"Have\nthe Trojans promised thee a fair estate, if thou take my life?  Or\nhopest thou, perchance, to sit in the seat of Priam, if thou accomplish\nthis great deed?  I thought thou hadst had enough of me and my spear.\nHast thou forgotten when I chased thee through the glades of Ida,\nhaving caught thee alone among the grazing herds?  Then didst thou\nnever turn thy head to look back, until thou hadst reached the shelter\nof a fenced city.  And I sacked the city, and led captive the women;\nbut thou didst escape me again, through the special mercy of Zeus.  Go\nback, vain man, and join the press of thy comrades or thou shalt not\nescape me now.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" answered \u00c6neas, undaunted, \"that thinkest to affright\nme with boastful words, as if I were a witless boy?  Know, proud man,\nthat I am of higher descent than thine, for in my veins flows the royal\nblood of Dardanus, mingled with the blood of gods.  Go to, let us\nwrangle no more like women in the market-place, but decide the quarrel\nwith our spears.\"\n\nAs he spoke, he cast his spear, which struck with strong impact against\nthe shield of Achilles; and he, when he felt the shock, held the shield\naway from his body, fearing that the point would pass through and reach\nhis flesh.  But immortal armour is not easy to be pierced by mortal\nweapons, and the spear dropped harmless to the earth.  Then Achilles\nflung in his turn, and the spear tore its way through the upper rim of\n\u00c6neas' shield: and he, stooping low, heard the rush of the mighty\nlance, as it flew over his head, and buried itself in the ground behind\nhim.  Having thus both missed their cast, they prepared to renew the\nstruggle hand to hand.  Achilles drew his sword, and rushed to the\nencounter with a fierce cry: while \u00c6neas lifted a heavy stone, and\nstood ready to hurl it as his antagonist drew near.\n\nBut that combat, which must have ended fatally for the Trojan, was not\ndestined to be fought out to its end.  \"Behold,\" said Poseidon, who was\nwatching the unequal duel, to Hera, who sat near him, \"my spirit is\ntroubled because of \u00c6neas, whom his own rashness, and the evil counsels\nof Apollo, are leading to his doom.  But this must not be: he is\nreserved for a better fate, which shall be accomplished after the\ntowers of Troy have been levelled with the dust.  In him shall the line\nof Dardanus be preserved, and from him shall be born a mighty race, to\nfound a new empire on the ruins of the old.\"[1]\n\n\n[1] These lines contain the germ of the _\u00c6neid_.\n\n\n\"Do as thou wilt,\" answered Hera.  \"As for me, I have sworn a great\noath that I will never save a Trojan from perishing, no, not in the\nlast fatal hour when Troy shall be consumed with fire.\"\n\nWhen Poseidon heard that, he went and stood between the fighting\nchampions; and on the eyes of Achilles he shed a thick darkness, that\nhe might not see what was done.  Then he drew the spear from the shield\nof \u00c6neas, and threw it at Achilles' feet; and catching up the Trojan\nprince in his hand he bore him aloft over the heads of the Greeks and\nTrojans, until he reached the utmost verge of the battlefield.  There\nhe set him down, and, becoming visible in all his divine majesty,\naddressed him in these solemn words of warning: \"\u00c6neas, what put this\nmad thought into thy heart, to fight against Achilles, who is both\nstronger than thou and dearer to the gods?  Tempt not thy fate again,\nbut when thou meetest him avoid his spear; and after he is slain, then\nmayest thou boldly encounter the bravest of the Greeks, for no other\nhath power to do thee hurt.\"\n\n\nII\n\nWhen the darkness fell from the eyes of Achilles he looked round about\nhim, and saw his spear lying at his feet, but sought in vain for \u00c6neas.\n\"What wonder is this?\" he said to himself; \"the spear is returned to\nme, but mine enemy is vanished.  Surely the gods love him also, though\nI deemed that he boasted idly.  Let him go!  It will be long before he\ndesires to face me again.\"\n\nThen, shouting to the Greeks to support him, he fell upon the main body\nof the Trojans, seeking everywhere for Hector; and finding him not (for\nApollo as yet withheld the Trojan patriot from his eyes) he began to\ndeal out indiscriminate slaughter wherever he went.  A brave Lycian,\nthe son of a mountain nymph, who rushed to attack him, was his first\nvictim; with one blow of that tremendous spear his head was shattered\nas with a battering-ram, and he fell beneath the feet of the horses,\nand the wheels of the car passed over his body.\n\nAmong the many who went to swell the list of the slain that day was\nPolydorus, a favourite son of Priam, who loved him as his youngest\nborn, and who had forbidden him to go into battle.  But he, trusting in\nthe speed of his feet, had come to the field the day before, and now\nappeared in the van of the Trojans, a graceful and agile youth, lovely\nand pleasant to behold.  But as he pursued his gay career a javelin\nfrom the hand of Achilles pierced his armour at the waist, and he fell,\ntorn in the midst by a hideous wound.\n\nHector saw his brother fall, and full of rage and grief sprang forward\nto avenge his death.  When Achilles saw his great enemy at last within\nhis reach he leapt towards him with a loud and exultant cry: \"Draw\nnear, and pay the price of my comrade, whom thou hast slain!\"  \"Proud\nman, I fear thee not,\" answered Hector, undismayed: \"I know that thou\nart far mightier than I, but nevertheless I defy thee, and trust that\nheaven will lend keenness to my spear.\"\n\nBut the end was not yet.  Apollo intervened to save the gallant Trojan,\nand bore him away wrapped in a cloud of darkness.  Three times Achilles\nstruck, and three times his spear smote idly on the empty air.  \"Thou\ndog!\" he cried at last, finding his efforts unavailing, \"Thou hast\navoided me now, but I will destroy thee yet, for I have friends among\nthe gods as well as thou.  Till then, let my vengeance fall upon thy\ncountrymen.\"\n\nAnd as a fire rages in a forest on a mountainside, licking up the\nunderwood, and thrusting out its red fangs to devour the tall trees, so\nraged Pelides in the fury of slaughter, and the earth ran red with\nblood.  And as two broad-browed steers move to and fro on a\nthreshing-floor, treading out the corn, so trampled the steeds of\nAchilles on corpses and shields and broken armour, as he passed on,\nraining wounds and death on every side.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe Trojan army was now split into two divisions, one of which was\nflying across the plain towards the city, while Achilles drove the\nother before him towards the banks of Scamander.  Into the stream they\nflocked, without pausing in their flight, like a cloud of locusts\ndriven by a fire to seek refuge in the nearest water; and Scamander's\nbed was choked by a huddled multitude of horses and men.\n\nLeaning his spear against a plane-tree, Achilles leapt into the river,\nsword in hand, and struck right and left, until the waters were\ncrimsoned with blood.  And as a shoal of fish flies before the onset of\na dolphin, seeking the shallow waters near the shore, so shrank the\nTrojans from the sword of Achilles, and hid themselves under the\narching banks.  Then he remembered his promise to Patroclus, and,\nchoosing twelve comely youths from that panic-stricken throng, he drove\nthem before him, and gave them, bound, to his men to be brought alive\nto the ships.  This done, he went back to continue the work of\nslaughter; and as he reached the river's brink he saw a Trojan, who had\njust left the water, and was preparing to fly towards the city.  \"Aha!\nare we met again?\" cried Achilles, recognising in the fugitive a\ncertain Lycaon, one of the numerous family of Priam, whom once before\nhe had taken prisoner, having caught him during a night foray, when the\nluckless youth was busy cutting the young shoots of the olive, to make\na rim for a chariot.  On that occasion he had spared his life, and sold\nhim into captivity to the King of Lemnos, from whom he had been\nransomed by a friend of Priam, and so found his way back to Troy.  For\neleven days since his return from Lemnos he had taken his pleasure\namong his friends, and on the twelfth his fate threw him into the hands\nof Achilles for the second and last time.\n\nLycaon had flung away shield and helmet and spear, that he might be\nlightened in the race for his life.  But Achilles was upon him before\nhe was aware, threatening him with uplifted spear.  \"So thou hast\nreturned from Lemnos?\" he said mockingly.  \"We will now send thee on a\nlonger journey, and we will see if thou come back again this time.\"\nThe wretched youth flung himself down, and avoiding the spear-point\ncrawled on his knees to Achilles, and clinging to him said: \"Have pity\non me, great warrior, and have respect for the sacred tie between host\nand guest; for I was thy guest, illustrious chieftain, and have broken\nbread under thy roof, on the day when thou madest me captive.  Thou\nhast no cause to hate me, for I was not born of the same mother as\nHector, who slew thy friend.\"\n\nBut there was no sign of relenting in the stern face which was bent\nover him, and he received a foretaste of the pangs of death as he heard\nthe answer of Achilles.  \"Talk not to me,\" said he, \"of ransom or\nredemption.  As long as Patroclus was alive I was well pleased to make\nprisoners and release them for a price, but now not one shall escape of\nall those who fall into my hands, and least of all the sons of Priam.\nThou must die, my friend!  Why seems it to thee so hard?  Patroclus met\nhis fate with the rest, and he was a far better man than thou art.\nLook upon me; am I not a tall and proper man?  Yet the shadow of death\nis creeping nearer and ever nearer to me, and soon the hour of my doom\nshall strike, whether at morn, or at noon, or at eventide.\"\n\nAt these words Lycaon's heart froze within him, and leaving hold of the\nspear he sank down on his knees, stretching out both his hands in mute\nentreaty.  Then Achilles lifted up his sword, and clove him to the\nwaist, and seizing his body by the foot flung it into the river.  \"Lie\nthere among the fishes!\" cried that ruthless man: \"They will tend thy\nwounds, until Scamander bears thee to the deep, where thou shalt find\nfit burial in some sea monster's maw.  Death, death to all your\naccursed race!  Naught shall avail you your silver-eddying stream, to\nwhose deity ye offer sacrifice of bulls and horses, but ye shall pay\nthreefold and fourfold the debt of blood which ye owe me for the lives\nof the Greeks whom ye have slain.\"\n\nThe river-god heard him, and, waxing exceeding wroth, began to consider\nhow he should stop the murderous career of Achilles.  And while he was\nstill debating within himself Achilles was confronted by Asterop\u00e6us, a\nbrave Thracian chieftain, and the son of the presiding deity of Axius,\na broad and noble stream.  This man now barred the way of Achilles,\nbrandishing a spear in each hand.  \"Whence and what art thou?\" cried\nAchilles, amazed that anyone should dare to oppose him; for he knew not\nthat Scamander had steeled the heart of Asterop\u00e6us to do this deed.\n\"Art thou weary of thy life?\" he asked again, as the Thracian still\ncame on.  \"I will tell thee what I am,\" answered Asterop\u00e6us boldly: \"I\nam the son of a deity, even as thou art, and my father was Axius, the\nfairest river on earth.  Now let us fight, great son of Thetis.\"\n\nWith that he flung both spears at once, for he was equally skilled with\nboth hands; and one of the spears struck against the shield of\nAchilles, but could not penetrate it, while the other grazed his right\narm, and drew blood.  Then Achilles hurled his spear, which missed\nAsterop\u00e6us, and buried itself to half its length in the river bank.\nAsterop\u00e6us grasped the shaft, and strove with all his might to tear the\nweapon from the ground.  Failing in this, he next tried to break it in\nthe middle, to use as a club; but by this time Achilles was upon him,\nand with one stroke of his sword clove him almost in twain.  \"Thou hast\nfound thy match, thou river's brood!\" he cried, stripping off the\nbloodstained armour.  \"Fool, that comparest thyself with me, whose\nfathers sprang in a direct line from Jove!  He, methinks, is mightier\nthan any river, yea, mightier than Oceanus, the great father of floods,\nwho trembles before the red lightning, and the voice of the thunder,\nwhen it crashes through the skies.\"\n\nSo saying he lightly plucked out the embedded spear, and went in\npursuit of the men of Asterop\u00e6us, who were crouching in terror along\nthe river's banks.  Seven of them he slew, and was about to continue\nthe work of carnage when he received a check.  From the depths of the\nstream a mysterious voice arose, in tones of protest and complaint:\n\"Achilles, thine arm is exceeding mighty, and thy prowess more than\nmortal; for the gods are ever near to aid thee.  If Zeus hath given\nthee leave to slaughter all the Trojans, at least drive them away from\nmy bed and butcher them on the plain.  My waters are choked with\ncorpses, and I cannot roll my current any longer towards the holy sea,\nbecause my channel is straitened by the multitude of thy miserable\nvictims.  Give place, great chieftain, and cumber me no more.\"\n\n\"It shall be as thou sayest, thou god revered,\" answered Achilles.\n\"But suffer me yet a little while until my task is done.\"  And without\nfurther parley he sprang down again into the river bed.  Then the god\nwas wroth, and prepared to expel that daring intruder from his domain.\nHe gathered all his waters, which rose up in surging billows, and\nwashed the corpses ashore; and to the living he gave shelter, hiding\nthem away in great hollow eddies.  Then, collecting himself in one\ntowering wave, he rushed upon Achilles, buffeting his shield, and\neating away the ground under his feet.  Achilles grasped an elm, a tall\nand stately tree, and clung to it for support; but the torrent had\nundermined its roots, and the next moment it fell, tearing a huge gap\nin the bank, and damming back the waters with its leafy boughs.  Then\nhe leaped from the yellow, swirling torrent, and darted across the\nplain in head-long flight; for he was sore afraid.  But Scamander\nfollowed hard at his heels, roaring and arching his crest.  In vain\nAchilles ran and doubled, and doubled and ran; the river pursued him\neverywhere, until his strength began to fail him; and if he stood still\nfor a moment the waves rose instantly as high as his shoulders,\nthreatening to swallow him up.  Then he gave himself up for lost, and\nwith a groan he gazed upward to the broad heaven, and uttered this\ndespairing cry for help: \"O all ye gods, is this then to be my end?  Am\nI to perish thus, drowned like some nameless churl, who is swept away\nwhile crossing a ford in winter?\"\n\nSome friendly power heard his wild appeal, and lent him new strength\nand courage to continue the struggle.  So on he panted across the\nplain, which by this time was covered with floating corpses, helmets,\nand shields.  But Scamander raged the more furiously when he saw his\nprey still eluding his clutch, and he called aloud to Simocis, his\nbrother stream, to join in the pursuit.  And Simocis answered to his\ncall, and mustered all his waters from every fountainhead and every\ntributary stream.  Then the twin rivers roared together in unison, and\ncame down upon him, battering him with uprooted trees and rolling\nrocks, which they swept along in their course, \"We will quell thee,\"\nthey shouted, \"thou godless man, for all thy beauty and thy strength,\nand thou and thy gleaming panoply shall be wrapped in a thick shroud of\nmud, at the bottom of our blackest and deepest pool.  Thy dirge shall\nbe sung by our rolling waters, and thy monument none shall behold.\"\n\nAchilles was now in extremity, and would surely have ended as ignobly\nas the river-god had said, if another power had not come to his aid.\n\"Where art thou, my son, Heph\u00e6stus?\" cried Hera, seeing that Achilles\ncould hold out no longer.  \"Thou art he who should save our champion in\nthis strait, for thou and Scamander are natural enemies.  Haste thee to\nthe rescue, armed with thy proper element; and I will summon the blasts\nof the West and the South to fan thy flames.  Let fire fight with\nwater, and spare not, nor cease thy fury until I give thee the signal\nto desist.\"\n\nHeph\u00e6stus made haste to obey his mother, and forthwith he caused a\nsheet of fire to sweep across the plain, burning the corpses, and\ndrying up the flood.  Then he turned his flames upon the river himself,\nand all the trees which fringed his banks--elms, and willows, and\nplane-trees--were soon ablaze.  Speedily the fire spread to the rushes\nand water plants, and at last the very waters began to grow hot, so\nthat the fishes leapt into the air in their agony, and Scamander\nhimself was in dire distress.\n\n\"It is enough,\" he cried, yielding to a superior power.  \"Torment me no\nmore, Heph\u00e6stus!  Let Achilles destroy the whole nation of Trojans, if\nhe will--I will not seek to prevent him.\"\n\nBy this time the waters were beginning to boil and bubble, and clouds\nof steam rose into the air.  Seeing that the river was thoroughly\nquelled, Hera gave the signal, and Heph\u00e6stus drew off his forces, and\nleft Scamander in peace.\n\n\nIV\n\nAfter his escape from the river, Achilles went in pursuit of the other\nTrojans, who had fallen back towards the town.  Then began a second\nrout, and a second slaughter, and Priam, who was watching the field\nfrom his citadel, soon beheld the whole remnant of the Trojan army\nflying before Achilles towards the city.  With a cry of alarm he\nhastened down to the gates, and gave directions to the warders to draw\nbolt and bar, and admit the flying multitude.  \"But stand ready,\" he\nsaid, \"to make all fast, as soon as the people are safe within, for\nfear lest this terrible man should enter the town.\"\n\nThe warders did as they were bidden, and held the gates ready; and\nbefore long the first of the fugitives came panting in, their lips\nparched with thirst, and their armour powdered with dust.\n\nStill unsated with slaughter, Achilles came on in hot pursuit, and\nPriam's fears might have been realised if Agenor, a young Trojan noble,\nhad not been inspired by Apollo with sudden courage, which prompted him\nto cross the destroyer's path.  \"I will face this man,\" he said,\nhalting from his flight.  \"He too is of mortal flesh, and has but one\nlife to lose.  I will face him, though Zeus fight on his side.\"\n\nAs a leopard comes forth from his thick covert to meet the hunter, when\nhe hears the baying of the hounds, and, even though sorely wounded,\nfights on till he is slain, so stood Agenor to meet Achilles, with\nshield on breast, and spear poised for the throw.  \"Thou thoughtest to\nhave taken Troy this day,\" he cried.  \"Thou fool!  This deed is not for\nthee; thou shall not read to the end the story of her woes, but here,\non this spot, I will end thy life of blood.\"\n\nWith that he cast his spear, which struck him on the greave above the\nknee, but rebounded from the tempered metal; but before Achilles could\nreturn the attack Apollo removed Agenor from his reach, and putting on\nthe likeness of Agenor fled away towards the river, luring Achilles\nafter him.  The Trojans were thus given time to make good their escape,\nand the city was soon filled with a frightened and disordered host,\nthankful to have escaped with bare life.  All along the battlements\nwere seen groups of exhausted men, who wiped the sweat from their\nbrows, and drank deep draughts of wine to quench their burning thirst.\nOnly one was left outside: This was Hector, who remained of his own\nfree will, resolved to decide the issue in single combat with Achilles.\n\n\n\n\nThe Death of Hector\n\nI\n\nHaving achieved his purpose, Apollo now resumed his own shape, and\nhalting before Achilles thus addressed him: \"Knowest thou not me,\nAchilles?  See, the Trojans are safe from thy fury, gathered within\ntheir gates.  What wouldst thou have?  Is it my life thou seekest?\nCease, presumptuous mortal, and remember what thou art!\"\n\n\"Thou hast foiled me, archer-god,\" answered Achilles, perceiving that\nhe had been tricked.  \"Thou hast robbed me of my prey, or many another\nTrojan would have bitten the dust.  I would make thee rue this wrong to\nmine honour had I but the power.\"  Then, like a fiery courser starting\nin the race, he sped away towards the city, bent on high designs.  Like\nthe red rays of that sultry star whose rising heralds in the fierce\nheat of summer, the season of drought and fever, such was the bright\nbut fearful gleam which flashed from his armour as he ran.\n\nPriam was the first who saw that ill-omened ray, from the place where\nhe stood, on the wall above the gate.  And when he marked the\ndestroyer's approach he groaned aloud, and beat his head, and then,\nstretching out his hands over the battlements, thus spake unto Hector,\nbeseeching him earnestly, and with tears: \"O Hector, my son, my son,\nremain not there, thus deserted and alone, to abide the coming of that\nfearful man, seeing that he is mightier far than thou.  He hath robbed\nme of many a noble son, whom he hath killed or sold into captivity in\ndistant isles.  Spare me this last and bitterest blow!  Fling not thy\nlife away, to bring glory on Pelides, and on us sorrow and loss\nunspeakable.  Alas! will it never cease, the storm of misery which\nrains without pause on this white, distracted head!  No, I see them\nflocking, the spectres of worse evils yet to come, sorrow on sorrow,\nand woe on woe--murdered sons and daughters dragged into bondage, a\nviolated home, and little children dashed to the ground in the fury of\nbattle.  Last scene of all--an old man slaughtered on his own\nhearthstone, and the dogs who fed at his table and guarded his door now\nmaddened by sights and sounds of horror, and lapping his blood!\"\n\nThe old man broke off, overpowered by the dark vision which his fancy\nhad conjured up; and the appeal was taken up by Hecuba, the venerable\nQueen of Troy.  \"By this breast which nourished thee,\" she cried, \"by\nthe sacred name of mother, I implore thee to abandon thy rash purpose.\nFly from this man, or he will slay thee, and dogs will devour thy flesh\nin the Grecian camp.\"\n\nBut all the anguished entreaties of his father and mother had no power\nto shake the resolution of Hector.  He could not go back now; he had\nrejected with scorn the prudent advice which Polydamas had given the\nnight before, and had thereby caused the death of a legion of Trojans.\nHow could he face the taunts of the women whom his rashness had made\nwidows, and the mute reproaches of the children now orphaned by his\nact?  He had openly defied Achilles, and it was too late to recall the\nchallenge.  A wild plan crossed his mind, only to be instantly\nrejected: should he lay aside shield, and helmet, and spear, and go\nunarmed to Achilles, offering to make an end of this lamentable war at\nthe cost of half the city's goods, and the free restitution of Helen\nwith all her wealth?  \"No,\" he said, convinced at once of the desperate\nfolly of such an enterprise: \"I should then be guilty of self-murder:\nhe would butcher me without mercy, before I had time to utter a word.\nThis is no time for gentle parley, as between maid and youth sitting in\nsoft dalliance under rock or tree: I must meet him with sword and\nspear, for victory or death.\"\n\nAchilles was now close at hand, with the mighty Pelian ash swaying on\nhis right shoulder, and his armour blazing like the light of the rising\nsun.  When Hector saw him advancing, like an incarnate spirit of\nvengeance, all his heroic resolves forsook him, and seized with sudden\nterror he turned and fled.  And as a falcon swoops down on a hare, and\npounces, and pounces again, as his victim leaps and doubles, to escape\nfrom the fatal clutch, so Achilles darted after Hector, following all\nthe turns and windings of his flight.  Past a low hill they went,\nwhence the Trojan scout had espied the advance of the Greeks not many\ndays before, and past the wild fig-tree, following a beaten road, which\nled to two fair springs, the double source of eddying Scamander.  One\nof the springs is of hot water, and a cloud of steam hangs over it,\nlike the smoke of a burning fire; but the other is cold as ice.  Here\nwere broad washing-pits, lined with stone, in which the wives and\ndaughters were wont to tread the clothes, in the old peaceful days,\nbefore ever the Greeks had landed on the shores of Troy.  Leaving these\nbehind them, they sped on, and still on, pursuer and pursued.  Noble\nwas the quarry, but the hunter was nobler far, and never before had he\nrun in so keen a chase.  Like mettled steeds, which strive for the\nmastery, where the prize is a vessel of gold or of silver, they flew;\nbut here they were running for a far higher stake, even the very life\nof Troy's bravest son.\n\nThree times they compassed the whole circuit of the walls, and again\nand again Hector tried to draw his pursuer within range of the spears\nof the Trojans who lined the battlements; but each time his effort was\ndefeated by Achilles, who barred his way to the city, and drove him\nback into the open plain.\n\nAs one who pursues his enemy in a dream, and cannot catch him, though\nhe seems ever within reach, so was Achilles ever baffled, when he\nstrove to overtake Hector, and Hector, when he strove to escape.  All\nthe Greeks stood near in their ranks, watching the chase--and many a\ntime a spear was levelled at Hector, to strike him down; but Achilles\nbeckoned with his hand, and forbade his comrades to come between him\nand his victim.\n\nFor the fourth time they came to the place of the washing-pits, and\nhere by mutual consent they paused to draw breath; for both were sore\nspent with running, and could not go a step farther.  As Achilles stood\npanting, and leaning on his spear, Athene drew near to him, unseen of\nall the rest, and said: \"He cannot escape us now, though Apollo should\ngrovel in the dust at the feet of Zeus, begging for his life.  Remain\nawhile and recover thy strength, and I will go and persuade him to\nfight thee face to face.\"\n\nAbout an arrow's flight distant, Hector had come to a standstill, and\ndrooped heavily, resting his hands on his knees, half strangled by his\nefforts to breathe.  Suddenly, to his amazement, he saw Deiphobus, his\nbrother, standing by his side, and heard the familiar tones of his\nvoice.  \"Dear brother,\" said Deiphobus, \"thou art hard beset, and\ndriven to bay by this fierce son of Peleus.  But lo!  I am here to aid\nthee, and I will not fail thee in this strait.\"\n\n\"Deiphobus,\" answered Hector, \"thou wert ever dearest to me of all the\nsons whom Hecuba bore to Priam: but now thou art dear and honoured too,\nsince alone of all my nation thou hast dared to leave the shelter of\nthe walls.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" answered the pretended Deiphobus, \"my mother and my father, and\nall my friends, strove to hold me back; but my heart yearned towards\nthee in thy mortal need.  But come with me, and together we will try\nthe fortune of war.  Go thou first, and I will follow.\"\n\nHector accordingly advanced to meet Achilles, who was already moving\ntowards him.  \"I will fly thee no more,\" he said, when they were within\na spear's cast of each other, \"I will either slay thee, or be slain.\nBut let us first make a covenant, and call the gods to witness it:\nswear thou that, if I fall, thou wilt restore my body and my armour to\nthe Trojans--and I will swear to do the like by thee.\"\n\n\"Talk not to me of covenants, thou villain!\" answered Achilles\nfiercely.  \"As there is no treaty possible between lions and men, no\nconcord between wolves and lambs, but only fear and hatred, so is there\nhate unending between me and thee, which naught but death may cancel or\nabate.  Summon up all thy manhood, and prepare to pay the price of my\ncomrades whom thou hast slain.\"\n\nThis said he poised and flung his spear; but Hector stooped low, and\nthe spear flew over his head, and sank deep into the earth.  Unobserved\nby Hector, Athene drew it out, and gave it back to Achilles.  \"Take now\nmy spear!\" shouted the Trojan, \"take it to thy heart, thou braggart,\nthat thinkest to dismay me with boastful words!\"  The weapon flew\nstraight to its mark, and, striking the centre of Achilles' shield,\nrebounded to a distance, and fell rattling on the ground.  Then Hector\ncalled anxiously to Deiphobus, bidding him bring another lance.  But no\nanswer came, for the real Deiphobus was safe behind the walls, and he\nwho had appeared to Hector was a false Deiphobus, concealing the person\nof Athene.\n\n\"Alas!  I have been deceived,\" said Hector.  \"My last bolt is shot, and\nmy fate summons me to death.  Let me not die inglorious and without a\nstruggle, but in such wise that I shall be named with honour by\ngenerations yet unborn.\"\n\nThen, drawing his sword, he rushed upon Achilles, who came on slowly,\ntowering above the rampart of his shield, nodding his golden plumes and\nbrandishing high his spear, whose point twinkled and flashed like the\nlight of the evening star.  Scanning every joint in Hector's armour, at\nlast Achilles spied a point, between the shoulder-blade and the neck,\nwhich was undefended; and at this mark he hurled his spear with all his\nforce and pierced him through the neck.  But the passage of his voice\nwas left untouched, so that he was still able to speak.\n\n\"Thou hast paid thy debt to Patroclus,\" said Achilles, standing over\nhis fallen enemy, \"and now thou shalt pay the usury.  Dogs and vultures\nshall give thee burial, but he shall lie in an honoured tomb.\"\n\n\"By thy life,\" answered Hector faintly, \"by thy father's name, I\nimplore thee, give not my body to be devoured by dogs, but restore it\nto my friends, who will pay thee a heavy ransom, that I may receive my\ndue in death.\"\n\n\"Thou dog!\" replied Achilles, with a furious look, \"talk not of thy\ndues, nor name my father to me!  Would that I could find it in my heart\nto carve and devour thy flesh, as surely as thou shalt not escape the\nhounds and vultures, no, not if Priam were to offer thy weight in gold,\nafter what thou hast done unto me and mine.\"\n\n\"I knew that I should not persuade thee,\" said Hector, with his dying\nbreath.  \"Thou hast a heart of iron.  But vengeance shall reach thee in\nthe day when Apollo and Paris shall subdue thee at the gates of Troy.\"\n\nAs he uttered this prophecy a shudder ran through his limbs, and the\ngallant spirit fled to the land of shadows.\n\n\"Die!\" said Achilles, as Hector uttered his last sigh.  \"As for me, I\nam prepared to meet my fate whensoever heaven wills its accomplishment.\"\n\nThen he drew out his spear, and laying it aside, began to strip off the\narmour which Hector had taken from Patroclus.  And the Greeks came\ncrowding round, to gaze on the beauty and stature of Hector, and stab\nthe helpless body with their spears.  Far other had he seemed to them\nwhen he came with fire and sword to burn their ships, and fill their\ncamp with slaughter!\n\nWhen Achilles had finished stripping the corpse, he stood up and spoke\nthus to the assembled host: \"Princes and counsellors of the Greeks, now\nthat the gods have granted us to slay this mighty champion, who hath\ndone us more harm than all the rest together, shall we not advance in\nfull force against the city, and end the war at one bold stroke?  But\nalas! what am I saying?  We have another and a sadder duty to perform.\nPatroclus lies among the ships, unburied, unwept, and shall I forget\nhim in this hour of triumph?  No; not in the hour of death, not in the\ngrave itself, which brings, they say, oblivion to all, shall my love\nfor him grow cold.  Therefore follow me, sirs, to the ships, and raise\nthe song of victory.  We have gained great glory, we have slain Troy's\nchief defender, to whom all the Trojans prayed as to a god.\"\n\nThen, in fulfilment of his horrible menaces, he prepared to take\nhideous vengeance on his slaughtered enemy.  Stooping down he pierced\nthe dead man's feet from heel to ankle, and passed a leathern thong\nthrough the holes; then he made fast the thong behind the chariot, and,\ntaking up the armour, he sprang into the driver's place, and lashed his\nhorses to a gallop.  So amid a swirling cloud of dust the fallen hero\nwas dragged along, with his dark locks streaming, and that comely head\nmarred and defiled; and Zeus delivered him to injury and outrage at the\nhands of his enemies in his own native land.\n\n\nII\n\nBut what were the feelings of the Trojans watching on the walls when\nthey saw their great champion fall, and with what eyes did the aged\nking and the fond mother behold their Hector, their joy and pride, and\nchief defence, butchered, mutilated, and dragged through the dust!\nThrough all the city arose a great cry of lamentation, and such horror\nwas written on every face as if the Greeks had carried Troy by storm,\nand were filling her streets with fire and slaughter.  Priam was hardly\nrestrained from going forth at once, with the purpose of entering the\nGrecian camp, and throwing himself at the feet of Achilles.\n\nBut there was another, bound by an even nearer and dearer tie to the\nslain, who was the last to learn the fearful news.  This was\nAndromache, Hector's wife, who was sitting at her loom in the\nretirement of her chamber, weaving a piece of flowered tapestry.\nPresently she left her task, and calling her handmaids bade them\nprepare the bath for their master against his return from battle.  Her\nface was cheerful and serene, and she smiled as she thought of the\nhappy meeting which seemed so near.  But in the midst of these pleasant\nhousehold cares a dreadful sound reached her ears--a shrill note, as of\nwomen shrieking, mingled with the deeper groans of men.  \"Hark!\" she\nsaid, turning deadly pale, and dropping the shuttle, which she had been\nholding in her hand: \"What mean these cries?\"  Then, as she paused\nagain to listen, she heard the voice of Hecuba, raised in loud anguish\nabove the rest.  With a woman's quick instinct she divined that the\nworst had befallen her, and shrieking: \"Hector, my Hector, is slain!\"\nshe hastened, with ashy cheeks, and tottering knees, to the walls.  The\ncrowd fell back at her approach, and every voice was hushed when they\nsaw her bending over the battlements, and gazing with wild eyes across\nthe plain.  Then she saw Achilles in full career towards the ships,\ndragging her husband's body behind his car.  At that sight she gave one\ngasping cry, and reeling back fell swooning into the arms of her\nkinswomen who were standing ready to aid.  Thus for awhile she lay,\nmotionless and lifeless, with her long hair, escaped from its bands,\nstreaming about her.  At last she drew a deep, sobbing breath, and\nopening her eyes looked into the anxious faces bent over her.  Then the\nfull consciousness of her loss rushed back upon her in a bitter flood,\nand breaking from the gentle hands which held her she made as if she\nwould fling herself down from the battlements.  She was prevented by\nkindly force, and led away, moaning and weeping, to her widowed home.\n\n[Illustration: Captive Andromache.  Lord Leighton.  By permission of\nthe B.P.C., London]\n\n\n\n\nThe Funeral Games of Patroclus\n\nI\n\nWhen Achilles reached the camp, he commanded his men to remain under\narms, and led the whole company, with horses and with chariots, in\nsolemn procession, three times round the couch on which the dead\nPatroclus lay.  When the strange rite was ended, the couch, which had\nbeen brought out for this purpose, was carried back with its burden to\nthe tent, and they unyoked their horses, and prepared to take their\nsupper.  Hector's body was flung into a corner, where it lay exposed to\nthe burning sun, and the cold dews of night.  Achilles feasted his men\nbountifully, and then went, attended by a special guard of honour, to\npartake of a banquet in the royal tent.  Being invited to refresh\nhimself with a bath, he stubbornly refused, and swore a great oath that\nhe would never wash the stains of battle from his person until\nPatroclus had been buried with all the pomp of woe.  At the banquet he\nseemed ill at ease, and as soon as it was ended he prayed his kingly\nhost to have him excused, and went back to the quarters of the\nMyrmidons.\n\nNight came down, and silence fell on the sleeping camp.  Achilles had\nnot sought his bed, but had laid himself down on the sand, in a clear\nspace, where the billows broke at his feet.  There sleep soon overtook\nhim, stilling the dull ache of sorrow; for his limbs were very weary,\nafter that tremendous fight, and still more tremendous race.  And as he\nslept the ghost of Patroclus came and stood by his side, like to the\nliving man in stature and in face and in voice, and in the very\ngarments he had on; and thus spake the spectre, in hollow and mournful\ntones: \"Ah! fickle heart, oblivious of the dead, canst thou sleep,\nAchilles?  Has death broken the bond which united us in life?  Bury me\nwith all speed, and let me wander no more, a homeless ghost, at the\ngates of Hades, disowned and rejected by the other spirits who have\ncrossed the dark river.  Give me thy hand, sweet friend, I entreat\nthee!  For never again shall I return to earth, when ye have given my\nbody to the flames--never more shall we sit retired from our comrades,\nas once in life, and take sweet counsel together.  My fate hath seized\nme, and cast me down into the pit which was prepared for me when I was\nborn; and for thee too the bolt is prepared, which shall lay thee low\nbeneath the walls of Troy.  And one more charge have I to lay upon\nthee: let not our bones lie apart, Achilles, but let us be joined in\ndeath, even as we were united in life.  One home, one love, we shared,\nand thy father was to me as mine own, from the day when I slew my\nplaymate in a childish brawl, and was brought by Men\u0153tius to the\nhouse of Peleus.  Therefore, when thy fate hath reached thee, let our\nashes be mingled in one urn.\"\n\n\"Wherefore, beloved,\" answered Achilles in his sleep, \"hast thou come\nhither to remind me of my duty, and seemest to doubt my love?  Come\nnearer, that I may embrace thee!  Yet a little while let my heart beat\nagainst thine, and ease its heavy burden of sorrow.\"\n\nWith these words he stretched out his eager arms to clasp Patroclus to\nhis breast; but the ghost eluded his grasp, and with one piercing wail\nmelted away like smoke into the darkness.  \"Alas!\" cried Achilles,\nspringing up in amaze, and summoning his comrades, \"I perceive that,\neven in the house of Hades, there is a spirit and a phantom of the\ndead--but understanding none at all--for all night long the ghost of\nthe hapless Patroclus stood by my side moaning and lamenting, and\nstraitly charging me concerning all that I must do.  And the phantom\nwas in aspect as the living man himself.\"\n\n\nII\n\nAt earliest dawn a long train of mules was seen ascending the lower\nslopes of Ida, attended by a numerous company of men, all carrying axes\nand ropes of withes.  The whole troop was under the command of\nMeriones, the squire of Idomeneus, on whom the task had been laid of\nproviding fuel for the funeral pyre of Patroclus.  A large grove of\npines was felled, the trunks were divided into logs, and these were\nbound into bundles and laid on the backs of the mules.  Then down the\nslope they were driven at a quick trot, the men running beside them;\nand when they reached the camp the mules were unloaded and the logs\npiled up in an open space pointed out by Achilles.  A thousand willing\nhands aided in the work, and soon a huge stack of pinewood towered in\nthe midst of the ships and tents.\n\nWhen the pyre was raised, Achilles gave the order to the Myrmidons to\ngird on their armour and harness the steeds to their cars.  The whole\narmy stood waiting, drawn up in silence on either side of the way by\nwhich the funeral train was to pass; and presently the procession was\nseen approaching.  First came the chariots, each carrying two men--the\ndriver, and the man-at-arms; behind these followed a numerous troop of\ninfantry, marching slowly in dense array; and in the space between the\ncorpse was borne, covered with locks of hair which the Myrmidons had\ncut off as a last tribute to the dead.\n\nAchilles walked behind the bier, supporting the head of Patroclus in\nhis hands, and moving heavily, as one that mourns for a brother; and so\nthey passed on, through the long lane of mailed warriors, until they\ncame to the place where the pyre was built.\n\nThen Achilles took a sharp knife, and cut off from his forehead a long\nlock of hair, and, placing the lock in the dead man's hand, turned\nround and gazed wistfully across the dark gulf of waters which divided\nhim from his home.  \"Alas for the hopes of men!\" he said, in a voice of\ndistress.  \"My father Peleus designed this lock for another purpose, as\nan offering to thee, Spercheus, my native stream, if ever I returned\nsafe from the war.  But now thine altar, which stands in thy grove near\nthy sacred source, shall never smoke for me again.  A foreign grave\nawaits me, far from my home and kindred, and Peleus is absolved from\nhis vow.  Therefore to thee, Patroclus, I dedicate this lock.\"\n\nThe Greeks now dispersed to their quarters leaving those who were\nnearest to the dead, by birth or by station, to perform the last rites.\nThe chief mourners approached the bier, and lifting it with the corpse\nplaced it on the top of the pyre.  Many sheep and oxen were slaughtered\nand flayed, and the body of Patroclus was wrapped from head to foot in\nthe fat taken from the carcasses.  Then the carcasses of the victims\nwere heaped up round the bier, with jars of honey and olive-oil.  Four\nhorses were next slaughtered, and two favourite hounds of Patroclus,\nand their bodies added to the rest.  Last of all the twelve Trojan\ncaptives whom he had taken in battle the day before were led in chains\nto the spot, butchered by Achilles with his own hands, and flung upon\nthe pyre.\n\n\"It is done!\" cried Achilles, when this last savage tribute was paid to\nhis friend, \"I have accomplished my vow, and the fire may now do its\nwork--but for thee, Hector, no fire shall be lighted, but dogs shall\ndevour thee.\"\n\nThat cruel threat at least was not to be fulfilled.  Unseen hands were\nbusy about the fallen Trojan hero, guarding him day and night from the\nprowling dogs of the camp.  Aphrodite embalmed his body with a heavenly\nessence, which closed all his wounds, and kept his flesh pure and\nunharmed; and Apollo covered all the place where he lay with a dark\ncloud, to shield him from the scorching rays of the sun.\n\nMeanwhile torches had been brought to kindle the pyre.  But the huge\nmass smouldered sullenly, and the victims remained unconsumed.  Then\nAchilles took a golden bowl, and pouring a libation to Boreas and\nZephyrus, the twin gods of the winds, prayed them to lend their blasts\nand blow the fire to a blaze.  Iris heard his prayer, and went swiftly\nto call the winds to his aid.  She found them seated at table with all\ntheir brethren in the house of Zephyrus; and thus spake Iris to that\nboisterous company: \"Why sit ye here feasting and making merry, when\nthere is work for you to do?  Hear ye not the prayers of Achilles, who\nneeds your help, that the pyre of Patroclus may burn freely, and\nconsume him to ashes, with all that lies about him.\"\n\nPrompt at the summons, the winds arose, with clamour and uproarious\ndin, and rushed down the mountainside, chasing the clouds before them.\nOver the complaining sea they swept, and flew whistling onward till\nthey reached the shores of Troy.  There they fell upon the smouldering\npyre, and the flames leaped and bellowed in response to the roaring\nblast.  So all night long they lashed the fire to fury, and all night\nlong Achilles paced to and fro before the pyre, pouring libations from\na golden bowl on the ground, and calling aloud to the ghost of his\nill-starred friend.  As mourns a father when he burns the bones of his\nson, a young bridegroom cut off by death on his wedding-day, so mourned\nAchilles as the fire devoured his comrade's body--so pitiful were his\ncries, so faltering his gait.\n\nTowards dawn the fire began to die out, and nothing was left but a vast\nheap of glowing ashes.  Then the winds went back to their home, and\nearth and ocean sank to rest, beneath the gentle light of the morning\nstar.  Soothed by the calm influence of the hour, Achilles fell into a\nfitful slumber, but was soon aroused by the sound of footsteps and the\nmurmur of voices.  Starting up, he saw a goodly company of nobles\napproaching, with Agamemnon at their head; and with their assistance\nthe ritual ceremonies due to the dead were completed.  First, they\npoured wine on the glowing mass of embers, till the last spark was\nextinguished; then they collected the ashes of Patroclus, which lay by\nthemselves, surrounded by the charred remains of beasts and men.  A\ncostly urn of gold received the few handfuls of dust which were all\nthat remained of him whom they had so cherished and honoured; and the\nurn was buried in a low mound of earth, which was one day to be raised\nto a commanding height, as a monument to the great Achilles.\n\n\nIII\n\nWhen the last tribute of sorrow had been paid, the rest of the day was\ndevoted to sport and festivity.  In heroic times funeral games were an\nimportant part of the honours assigned to a fallen warrior; and those\nof Patroclus were celebrated on a scale of unrivalled magnificence.\n\nThe great event of the day was to be the chariot race, and splendid\nprizes were offered by Achilles, who was the sole patron and prize\ngiver, for the winners.  When the gifts were set in order, Achilles\nrose and invited all who prided themselves in their horsemanship to\ntake part in the friendly contest.  \"If,\" he said, \"we were keeping\nthis festival in honour of any other Greek, I myself must needs carry\noff the first prize; for no steeds in all the army can vie with mine,\nthe immortal coursers which were a gift from Poseidon to my father.\nBut this is a day of mourning both to me and to them; for they have\nlost their gentle charioteer, and now stand, sorrow-stricken, with\nmanes drooping to the ground, in their stalls, deprived of his loving\ncare.  Therefore take your places, all ye who would prove the mettle of\nyour horses, and your own mastery of this gallant game.\"\n\nFour chieftains brought their cars to try their fortune in the race:\nEumelus, a prince of Thessaly, a land renowned for its breed of horses;\nDiomede, who drove the horses which he had taken from \u00c6neas; Menelaus,\nwith a mare of Agamemnon's, named Arthe, and his own horse Podargus;\nand Antilochus, whose car was drawn by a pair from his father's\nstables.  Nestor, who knew their quality, which was indeed but poor,\naccompanied his son to the starting-point, and as they were the first\nto arrive he improved the occasion by proffering a world of good\nadvice, reinforced by many a pithy saw, showing Antilochus how the want\nof speed may be remedied by cunning and skill.  \"Art,\" he said, \"is far\ngreater than force.  Art drives the axe, though aimed by a weaker arm,\ndeep into the heart of the oak; art controls the motions of tall ships,\nby means of a very small helm; and art may save thee from reaching the\ngoal last in this race.\"\n\nIn the ancient chariot races the starting-point and the winning-post\nwere always the same, as it was the custom to run a certain distance,\nand then wheel round a certain point, and return on the homeward track,\nwhich was parallel to the other.  The turning-point was marked by a\npillar, or some other conspicuous object, and here a desperate struggle\noften took place between the rival cars for the inside place, taxing\nthe skill and courage of the drivers to the utmost.  Nestor had been\nover the course, and gave his son minute directions as to the\nappearance and position of the turning-post, which was far off on the\nplain, and invisible from the starting-point.  \"You will see,\" he said,\n\"a withered stump of oak or fir, rising to about a fathom above the\nearth, with a white stone leaning against it on either side.  There you\nmust turn; and see that you lose no ground in wheeling round to the\nhomeward track.  Give your right horse the reins, and urge him to full\nspeed with voice and lash, but rein in the other, and hold him back;\nand let the nave of your left wheel just seem to graze the stump.  If\nyou can pass another car in turning, there is no fear that he will\ncatch you again.  Thou hast my counsel: go, and prosper--be wary, and\nbe wise.\"\n\nAt the last moment a fifth chariot appeared on the scene, driven by\nMeriones.  Lots were cast for the stations, and Antilochus was so\nfortunate as to obtain the inside place.  The cars drew up in a line,\nAchilles gave the word, and away they went in a cloud of dust, the\nhorses' manes streaming, the drivers shouting, and the cars gliding\nsmoothly, or leaping and plunging at the uneven places.\n\nSoon the cars began to separate by wider and wider intervals, and a\nkeen struggle ensued between the Thracian horses, driven by Eumelus,\nand the Trojans, driven by Diomede.  Eumelus took the lead, but Diomede\nfollowed him so close that he felt the hot breath of the pursuing\nhorses on his back.  So they ran for about a bowshot; then Diomede\ndropped his whip, and his horses, wanting the lash, began to fall back.\nThis accident befell him by the malice of Apollo, who owed him a grudge\nfor the havoc which he had wrought among the Trojans.  But Athene had\nnot forgotten her favourite, and she contrived that he should recover\nhis whip, and put fresh mettle into his steeds.  Nor did she stop\nthere, but, overtaking the car of Eumelus, she broke the yoke which\ncoupled his horses, so that they reared violently in opposite\ndirections, and the pole of the car was dashed to the ground.  Thus\nsuddenly arrested at the height of his speed, Eumelus rolled headlong\nfrom the car, and sustained woeful damage.  The skin was torn from his\nelbows and nose and mouth, his forehead was severely bruised, and he\nlay for a while senseless where he fell.  This mishap secured an easy\nvictory for Diomede.  Avoiding the wreck, he pressed onwards, leaving\nthe whole field far behind, turned the goal successfully, and drove at\nan easy gallop along the homeward track.\n\nHe was followed at a long distance by Menelaus, now second in the race;\nand the third place was held by Antilochus, whose ambition had been\nfired by the unlooked-for good fortune of Diomede, so that he hoped by\nsome similar accident to obtain at least the second prize.  Cheering on\nhis horses, he went hard in pursuit of Menelaus, who was just then\napproaching a difficult piece of ground, where the course had been\nhollowed out by the winter rains.  The place was too narrow to allow\ntwo cars to pass, and Antilochus determined to secure the lead before\nMenelaus had time to reach the broad course on the other side of the\nravine.  Accordingly he plied the lash unsparingly, and overtook\nMenelaus at the moment when he was about to enter the neck of the dry\nwatercourse.  \"Keep back!\" shouted Menelaus in alarm.  \"Do not try to\npass me here, or you will wreck both our cars.\"\n\nAntilochus pretended not to hear, and drove on harder than ever, so\nthat Menelaus, who was a timid driver, was compelled to rein in his\nhorses and let him go by.\n\nWhile the race was being thus run, with varying turns of fortune, the\nchieftains assembled round Achilles were sitting in their places,\nwaiting for the return of the cars, and discussing the chances of the\ndrivers.  Presently Idomeneus, who sat somewhat apart from the rest, in\na position which gave him a long view over the course, cried out\nexcitedly: \"Diomede is leading!  I can see the white mark on the face\nof one of the horses, which shows that he is one of the Trojan\nstallions--the red chestnut, with a mark like a half-moon on his\nforehead.  Look out, some of you who have younger eyes than mine, and\nsee if I am right.\"\n\n\"Hold thy peace, old prater!\" said Ajax, son of Oileus, roughly.  \"We\ncan see nothing yet--neither canst thou.  Eumelus was leading when we\nsaw him last, and doubtless he is leading still.\"\n\n\"Thou mannerless fellow!\" answered Idomeneus hotly.  \"Foremost in a\nbrawl, and in all else the least of the Greeks!  Come, let us lay a\nwager, and Agamemnon shall hold the stakes; or art thou afraid to back\nthy saucy tongue?\"\n\nAjax started up in a rage, hurling abuse at the Cretan veteran, and\nwords would have soon led to blows, had not Achilles interposed his\nauthority to put an end to the quarrel.  \"For shame!\" he said, rising\nfrom his seat, \"I wonder to hear you, two men of name and high station,\nwrangling like boors.  What avails this idle contention?  Wait but a\nmoment, and the winner will be here to answer for himself.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, a loud huzza was heard, and a moment after, the\nTrojan car, driven by Diomede, turned the last corner, and came racing\nlightly down the last straight stretch of the course, until it was\npulled up before the chair of Achilles.  Sthenelus was standing ready\nto welcome his comrade, and the first prize--a female slave, and a huge\ncauldron for heating water for the bath--was forthwith delivered to the\nvictor.\n\nAfter a long interval Antilochus came in, driving at a heavy gallop,\nand hotly pursued by Menelaus, who was gaining at every stride, and had\nby this time reduced the wide gap which had separated them to a mere\nhand's-breadth.  His horses were displaying splendid mettle, especially\nthe mare Arthe, who had been given to Agamemnon by a wealthy noble of\nSicyon, as the price of his exemption from serving in the war; and if\nthe course had been a bowshot longer he would have passed Antilochus,\nand taken the second prize.  As it was, he came in third, but those who\nstood near as he was dismounting could see that he was red with\nindignation, and big with some grievance, real or supposed.\n\nThe fourth was Meriones, who was a poor driver, and whose steeds were\nthe weakest; and last of all came Eumelus, with face sorely disfigured,\ndragging his wrecked car behind him, and driving before him his horses.\n\"The last man is the best!\" cried Achilles, moved to pity by his\nill-fortune.  \"How say you, sirs?  Shall we not give him the second\nprize?\"  The proposal found general approval, excepting, of course,\nwith Antilochus, who loudly protested against such an award.  \"Thou art\nno friend of mine, Achilles,\" he said angrily, \"if thou deprive me of\nthe gift which I have fairly earned.  Prizes are given to reward the\nwinners, not to console the unlucky.  If you wish to be generous, you\ncan make Eumelus happy by bestowing on him some other gift, of equal or\ngreater value, out of the rich store which is laid up in your tent.\nBut this prize is mine, and I will not give her up no, not if I have to\nfight for her.\"\n\nSo saying, he seized the halter of the mare, who was tethered near,\nwith her foal, to be given to him who won the second place.\n\nThe great Achilles smiled indulgently at the defiant attitude of\nAntilochus, who was very dear to him.  \"It shall be as you say,\" he\nreplied.  \"The prize is yours, and to Eumelus I will give the corslet\nof Asterop\u00e6us, which I won in the battle yesterday.\"  Automedon brought\nthe corslet--a curious piece of work, finely fashioned in brass, with a\ncasting of white metal--and Eumelus' eyes glistened with pleasure as he\nreceived it.\n\nBut the storm which had been lowering in the face of Menelaus ever\nsince Antilochus had passed him now burst.  Having caused the herald to\nproclaim silence he took the staff from his hands, as a sign that he\nhad an important statement to make, and standing up before the whole\nassembly proclaimed his wrongs to the ears of all.  \"I am astonished,\"\nhe said, \"at the conduct of Antilochus.  He has beaten me in the race\nby a trick, though his horses are far inferior to mine in any fair\ntrial of speed.  I appeal to all those present to say whether it is not\nso.  If he denies it, let him take his whip in his hand, and holding\nhis horses by the rein swear a solemn oath, in the name of Poseidon,\nthe god of horsemanship, that he did not hinder me by fraud in the\nrace.\"\n\nMenelaus was clearly in the wrong, indeed, his whole plea was absurd;\nfor nothing but his own faint-heartedness had lost him the second\nprize.  But out of respect to his high rank and amiable character\nAntilochus was willing to appease him.  Accordingly he brought the mare\nwith her foal to Menelaus, and placing the bridle in his hand said\nrespectfully: \"Spare me thy reproaches, gentle prince!  I yield to thee\nthe prize, and would sacrifice much more than this, rather than lose\nthy favour and incur the anger of heaven.\"\n\nAs falls the refreshing dew on the bristling ears of barley, when the\ncrops are ripening, so fell the soft answer of Antilochus on the\nSpartan prince's heart, and the sharp stings of resentment pricked him\nno more.  \"Thou shalt have the prize,\" he said mildly, \"though it is\nmine by right.  Thou art not wont to be so heedless of what is due to\nothers: but this time thy young blood didst get the mastery of thy\nbetter sense.  Take heed that thou art not so reckless again.  I have\nyielded to thee in this for thy father's sake, and for thine also; for\nye have both suffered many things in my cause.\"  And so the dispute,\nwhich threatened to disturb the harmony of the meeting, was happily\nended.\n\nFive prizes had been offered for the race, and as Eumelus had received\na special gift, the fifth prize, a drinking goblet, still remained\nunclaimed.  Observing this, Achilles seized the occasion of showing his\nesteem for the venerable King of Pylos.  So he took the cup, and going\nto the place where Nestor was sitting put it in his hands.  \"Take this,\nfather,\" he said, \"as a memorial of our lost Patroclus, in whose honour\nwe are met to-day.  Thou art full of years and honours, and deservest\nthe highest prize of all, though thou canst not strive with young men\nin boxing, or in wrestling, or in speed of foot.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest truly, my son,\" answered the old man, \"my feet are heavy\nwith age, and my arms dart not nimbly from the shoulder, as they did of\nyore.  Yet the day has been when none could vie with me in feats of\nstrength and skill.  Well do I remember the funeral games of a noble\nprince of Elis, where I won the prize in every contest, except only in\nthe chariot race, and then I was overmatched by numbers, for the\nwinning car had two drivers, one plying the lash, and the other\nmanaging the reins.  Alas for my youth!  Alas for my vanished strength!\nNow I must be content to see others excel, though once I was mighty\namong the mightiest.  Let then the games proceed, and receive an old\nman's blessing for thy kindly gift.\"\n\n\nIV\n\n\"Now let the boxers try their skill and hardihood,\" said Achilles, when\nhe had returned to his seat.  \"Here is a stout mule of six years old\nfor the winner, and for the loser there is a silver cup.\"\n\nIn answer to the challenge a huge champion named Epeus strode into the\nring, and, laying his hand on the mule, cried boastfully: \"Come on,\nwhoever wishes to win the cup!  The mule is surely mine, for there is\nno boxer here who can match me.  If there be anyone who would dispute\nthe prize with me, let him stand up, when he has made all ready for his\nfuneral--for I will pound his flesh, and batter his bones, until he is\nfit only for burial.\"\n\nEpeus, with his massive frame and brawny arms, seemed quite capable of\nperforming his threats, and it was some time before anyone was found\nwilling to face him.  At last Euryalus, an Argive, whose father had\nbeen a famous boxer, was encouraged by his friend Diomede to try his\nchances in this painful and dangerous sport; and having stripped to the\nwaist, and bound their hands with tough leathern thongs, the two\ncombatants confronted each other in the centre of the ring.  The\nstruggle was very short, for after they had fenced a little with their\nfists Euryalus received a crushing blow on the side of his jaw, and\ndropped in a heap where he stood, like a great fish flung by the waves\non the beach.  Spitting out blood, and rolling his head from side to\nside, he was led away by his friends, and Epeus carried off the mule in\ntriumph.\n\nThen followed a hard-contested match between Odysseus and Telamonian\nAjax, for the championship in wrestling.  Stripped, like the boxers, to\nthe waist, they clutched each other in a fierce embrace, and remained\nthus locked together, their strong arms crossed like the rafters in a\nroof, and their sides growing black under the iron pressure.  They\nseemed rooted to the ground, and neither could stir the other an inch.\nThen Ajax, suddenly exerting his enormous strength, lifted Odysseus\nbodily into the air; but Odysseus struck him with his heel behind the\nknee, and they fell together, Odysseus above, and Ajax below.  Rising\nagain to their feet they wrestled a second bout, and this time\nOdysseus, though foiled in his attempt to lift the huge bulk of his\nantagonist, succeeded in tripping him by a crook of the knee, and they\ncame down again, and lay side by side.  Once more they would have\nrenewed the struggle, but Achilles put an end to the contest, and\nawarded them an equal prize.\n\nA beautiful silver bowl, the work of Sidonian artists, which Achilles\nhad once received as the ransom of the unhappy Lycaon, was now offered\nas the first prize for the foot race.  The second prize was a fat ox,\nand the third one half of a talent of gold.  There were three\ncompetitors: the lesser Ajax, who was famed for his speed of foot,\nOdysseus, and Antilochus.  The distance was about a furlong, and Ajax\ntook the lead from the start, though Odysseus pressed him so hard that\nhe seemed glued to him; and so they ran, without changing their\npositions, over half the course, the Greeks shouting to encourage\nOdysseus, who was a popular favourite.  Still Ajax held the lead, and\nseemed about to win, when he slipped in a miry place, where the ground\nwas wet with the blood of the oxen slaughtered by Achilles at the\nfuneral of Patroclus, and pitched head foremost in the horrid mire,\nwhich filled his mouth and nostrils.  But he was on his feet again in a\nmoment, and though he could not overtake Odysseus he succeeded in\nobtaining the second prize.  \"It is an old story,\" he said, holding the\nox by the horn, and spitting out the slime which filled his mouth;\n\"Odysseus was helped by Athene, who watches over him as a mother over\nher child.\"\n\nThe Greeks laughed at his discomfiture, and found fresh matter for\nmirth in the humorous excuses of Antilochus, who had been left far\nbehind in the race.  \"You know,\" he said, \"that the gods are always on\nthe side of the elder men; Ajax is a little older than I, and Odysseus\nbelongs to another generation.  But he is in a green old age, and none\ncan vie with him in speed, except only Achilles.\"\n\n\"Thy praise shall not be spoken for nothing,\" said Achilles, smiling,\nand he gave him one half of a talent of gold as a reward for his good\nwords.\n\nContests in archery and throwing the weight succeeded, and an encounter\nwith sword and spear took place between Ajax and Diomede.  Then\nAchilles offered two prizes for throwing the javelin, and Agamemnon, in\nrecognition of his high rank and known skill in this exercise, was\nallowed to take the first prize without a trial.  With this incident\nthe games came to an end.\n\n\n\n\nPriam ransoms the Body of Hector\n\nI\n\nThe busy day was over, and night sank down on the Grecian camp,\nbringing to all, save one tormented spirit, the blessed gift of sleep.\nWith silence and solitude the pangs of sorrow awakened with new\nkeenness in the heart of Achilles, and he lay tossing and turning on\nhis uneasy pillow, seeking rest, and finding none.  A thousand memories\nof his friendship with Patroclus--gallant adventures, hairbreadth\nescapes, moving accidents by flood and field--coursed through his mind,\nbringing home to him the immensity of his loss.  After some hours of\nsleepless misery he sprang to his feet, and throwing on his clothes\nwent down to the sea, and roamed distracted along the sand.  With the\nfirst glimmer of daylight he yoked his horses to the car, and drove\nround and round the tomb of Patroclus, dragging after him the body of\nHector.  Having made the circuit of the tomb three times, he unyoked\nhis horses, and retired once more to his tent, leaving his lifeless\nvictim face downwards in the dust.\n\nTwelve days passed; and every day the same outrage was repeated.  All\nthe gods, except Poseidon, Hera, and Athene, whose hatred of all things\nTrojan was inveterate, were indignant at his senseless barbarity, and\nthey began to urge Hermes to steal Hector's body, and restore it to his\nfriends.  But nothing was done until, on the twelfth day, Apollo rose\nup and reproached the gods, who were met in full assembly, for their\ncruel indifference.  \"Is there no pity,\" he said, \"is there no justice,\nleft in heaven, that ye suffer this inhuman son of Peleus to wreak his\nbrutal fury on the body of a man of stainless life, constant all his\ndays in sacrifice and prayer?  All your favour is lavished on Achilles,\nwho has the heart of a ravening lion, nourished in havoc and carnage.\nDeath lies about the paths of mortals, taking their nearest and their\ndearest; yet sorrow must sleep at last, for patience is the best gift\nwhich the gods have given to men.  But this man is more cruel in his\nlove than in his hate, and because he has lost a friend his rancour\nburns on like an unquenchable fire.\"\n\n\"Thou forgettest,\" answered Hera, \"that Achilles is the son of a\ngoddess, and shares the privileges of divine descent.  His father also\nwas a favourite of heaven, and thou thyself, Ph\u0153bus, didst lend the\nmusic of thy harp to grace his nuptials; but now, it seemeth, thou\ntakest delight in baser company.\"\n\n\"Fair consort,\" said Zeus, \"be not thus implacable.  Granted that\nAchilles stands higher in honour, yet Hector hath also his claim on our\nregard, for none was ever more pious than he.  Therefore, that we may\nend this miserable coil at once, let Iris go and summon hither his\nmother Thetis, that we may contrive some way of restoring Hector to his\npeople.\"\n\nIris hastened to obey the command, and, stooping from Olympus to the\nsurface of the sea, dropped like a leaden plummet into the purple\ndepths, until she reached the grotto where Thetis dwelt.  She found her\nsitting among the Nereids, mourning the lot of her matchless son, whose\ndeath was near at hand.  \"What wants the monarch of heaven from me?\"\nshe asked, when she heard the summons from Zeus.  \"I am ill prepared to\nattend the happy session of the gods, for grief has clouded my mind and\nmarred my face.\"  Nevertheless she rose to go, and putting on a veil of\nfunereal blackness followed Iris, who brought her speedily to the\nassembly of the gods.\n\n\"We thank thee, Thetis,\" said Zeus, beckoning her to a seat next to his\nthrone, \"that thou hast answered so promptly to our call.  We know thy\nsorrows, and have respect for thee and thy son; and for this cause have\nwe sent for thee.  For nine days there has been strife among us,\nconcerning the body of Hector, which Achilles still keeps in his\npossession.  Some there were who would have had Hermes steal it away,\nbut this I would not suffer, out of regard to thy son's honour.  But go\nthou to the camp, and tell him that we are sore displeased with him,\nbecause in his madness he keeps the corpse of his enemy and will not\nransom it.  And I will send Iris with a charge to Priam, that he may go\nwith acceptable gifts to the tent of Achilles, and redeem the body for\nburial.\"\n\n\nII\n\nStill nursing his wound, still torn by the demons of rage and grief,\nAchilles sat moodily in his tent, while his comrades were busy about\nhim, preparing the morning meal.  Suddenly he felt a gentle touch on\nhis shoulder, and looking up he saw his mother's face bent over him,\nwith looks of sympathy and love.  \"My son,\" she said, in a low sweet\nvoice, \"how long wilt thou devour thy heart in bootless anguish,\nrefusing meat and drink, and spurning the tender offices of human\naffection?  O darken not the little remnant that remains to thee of\nlife, but take what good thou canst, and at least live as a man.  I\nhave come with a message to thee from Zeus, who bids thee to give up\nHector's body, and receive the ransom which his friends will offer\nthee.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" answered Achilles.  \"Let them bring the price, and I will\ngive back the body.\"  Overjoyed by his ready consent, Thetis bade him\nfarewell, and returned to her ocean home.\n\nMeanwhile the ever-active Iris was gone on another errand, carrying the\ncommands of Zeus to Priam.  Swiftly she passed through the streets of\nTroy, and entered the house of woe, where the voice of sorrow had never\nceased since the day when Hector had fallen by the hands of Achilles.\nPriam himself was lying prostrate on the ground in the courtyard, with\nhis white locks defied with dust and ashes.  Round him were gathered\nhis sons, trying in vain to rouse him from his stupor; and at the\nwindows were seen from time to time the white faces of women, when any\nof his daughters paused in their household tasks to glance at the\nsorrow-stricken group outside.\n\nLying thus, mute and motionless, Priam was startled to hear a still,\nsmall voice, which seemed to be speaking at a great distance,\naddressing him in these words: \"Take comfort, son of Dardanus, and be\nnot dismayed!  I who speak have not come to foretell thee harm, but\nonly good.  Thy cries and thy groanings have gone up to the ear of\nZeus, and he hath sent me to comfort and advise thee.  Hearken now, and\ndo as I shall tell thee: let them prepare thee a wain, loaded with\nprecious gifts, and go thou in thy car to the tent of Achilles, and let\nonly a herald go with thee, a man stricken in years like thyself, to\nguide the mules.  Fear nothing, for heaven is near thee, and the gods\nhave put it into the heart of Achilles to hear thy prayer.\"\n\nTo the amazement of those who stood near, and who knew nothing of the\ncause, new life and energy were seen to enter the palsied limbs of\nPriam, and starting to his feet he ordered his sons to prepare the mule\ncar, and make fast to it the great wicker basket which was used for the\ncarriage of goods.  Then, without staying for question or reply, he\nhastened into the house, and calling to Hecuba made known to her his\npurpose.  When she heard what he intended, Hecuba lifted up her hands,\nand answered in tones of astonishment and terror.  \"Is it Priam who\nspeaks--the monarch revered for his wisdom even in distant lands--or is\nit some madman who has taken upon him Priam's likeness?  What, wilt\nthou go into the presence of that butcher, whose savage hands have made\nthee all but childless?  Faithless and ruthless as he is, thinkest thou\nthat he will reverence thy grey hairs?  No, he will slaughter thee\nwithout pity, and give us new cause for tears.  Hector hath received\nthe portion appointed to him at his birth, and dogs shall eat his flesh\nwhere he lies in the tent of that man of blood.  May the curse of\nheaven light on his slayer!  Would that I could tear his heart with my\nteeth, and devour it!  Then would my noble son be avenged, who died\nbravely before the face of all his people, with no thought of flight or\nescape.\"\n\nBut Priam was not to be shaken in his resolve.  \"Seek not to hinder\nme,\" he answered, \"and vex me not with thy evil forebodings.  I go not\nat the bidding of any earthly prophet, but with direct assurance of the\naid and countenance of heaven.  If I have been deceived, I am prepared\nto die, so that the stroke but find me holding my son in my arms, and\nclinging to him in a last embrace.\"\n\nWith that he went to his treasure-chamber, and opening the chests of\ncedarwood took from them rich robes, choice tapestries, and costly\nraiment.  To these he added ten talents of gold and a bowl of silver,\nwhich he had received as a gift of honour when he went on an embassy to\nThrace.  And having set the gifts in order he went forth again into the\ncourtyard, to hasten the preparations for his journey.  Finding there a\ncrowd of Trojans, whom some rumour had drawn to the palace, he drove\nthem all out, beating them with his staff, and crying: \"What make ye\nhere, idle caitiffs?  Have ye not sorrow enough at home that ye come\nhither to chatter and pry into my grief?  Ye will soon learn what ye\nhave lost in my Hector, when ye fly like sheep without a shepherd\nbefore the wolves of Greece.\"  The Trojans fled before the old man's\nanger, and he looked about him, seeking his sons.  \"Where are ye,\" he\ncried, \"children of my shame?  Would that ye had all perished, and\nHector alone were left!  Alas! the best are ever taken first, and in\nthose that remain there is neither comfort nor strength, but only\ndishonour and reproach.  Liars, dancers, devourers of the people--these\nare my children now.\"\n\nRoused by the loud rebukes of their father, the young princes made\nhaste to bring forth the mule car and harness the mules.  Then they\nloaded the car with the gifts to Achilles, and yoked to the chariot the\nhorses which Priam himself was to drive.\n\nWhen all was ready, Hecuba came and stood by the chariot, bearing a\ngolden cup filled with wine.  \"Take this,\" she said to Priam, \"and pour\na drink-offering to Zeus, if so be that he will vouchsafe thee a sign,\nand show thee whether it be by his will or not that thou goest on this\njourney.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" answered Priam.  \"It is a good thing to hold up our\nhands to heaven in prayer.\"  Thereupon he washed his hands in water,\nwhich was brought by a handmaid, took the cup from his wife, and\nstanding by the altar in the middle of the courtyard lifted up his\nvoice and prayed: \"Lord of Ida, most glorious, most great, grant that\nthe heart of Achilles may incline in pity towards me, and send thy\nmessenger, the swift eagle whom thou lovest best of all fowls, that\nhaving seen him we may go with good heart and courage to the Grecian\ncamp.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, a mighty eagle was seen soaring over the city on the\nright hand, with his vast wings outspread, like the folding doors of a\nrich man's house.  Rejoicing in the omen, Priam mounted his chariot,\nand drove through the echoing porch, preceded by the herald Id\u00e6us, who\ndrove the mule car.  Along the streets they passed, making what speed\nthey could, through the multitudes who had flocked out to see them\ndepart, and who mourned them as already dead.\n\nNight had fallen, and all the sky was thick set with stars, as they\nleft the city gates, and turned their faces towards the sea.  When they\nreached the ford of the river they paused to let the animals drink: and\nwhile they halted Id\u00e6us suddenly cried out in tones of terror: \"My\nlord, we are undone!  I see a man approaching, and I fear he means us\nno good.\"  Priam peered out into the darkness, following with his eyes\nthe pointing finger of Id\u00e6us, and saw a tall figure moving with rapid\nsteps towards them.\n\n\"What doest thou here?\" said the stranger, who was a graceful and\ncomely youth, and whose voice sounded like the chiming of a silver\nbell.  \"Why art thou here unguarded, at the very gates of the foe?  But\nbe of good cheer--I will not harm thee, nor suffer others to do so.  I\nsee in thee a likeness to my dear father.\"\n\n\"Fair youth,\" answered Priam, whose alarm had vanished before the\ngentle mien and kind words of the young Greek, \"surely some god has\nsent thee in my way, in pity for my helpless state.  Tell me, who art\nthou, and who is the father who is blest with such a son?\"\n\n\"I am a follower of Achilles,\" was the startling reply, \"and came\nhither in the same ship.  My father is Polyctor, a wealthy man, and of\nlike age with thee.  I am the youngest of seven sons, and the lot fell\nupon me to follow the host to Troy.  And this night I came out to spy\nupon the movements of the Trojans.\"\n\n\"If thou art a comrade of Achilles,\" said Priam, \"thou canst tell me\nconcerning my son Hector.  Lies his body still by the ships, or has\nAchilles given it already to his dogs to devour?\"\n\n\"Neither dog,\" answered the other, \"nor unclean fowl hath approached\nhim, nor hath the worm had power over his flesh.  Unmarred by violence,\nuntouched by decay, he lieth, without soil or stain, and all his wounds\nare closed.  This miracle the gods have wrought, in the great love\nwhich they bear him.\"\n\n\"Glad news thou tellest me,\" said Priam, \"and now I know that piety\nhath its reward, even in death.\"  Then he took out a silver cup from\nthe mule car, and offering it to the stranger said: \"Take this for\nthyself, and conduct me safe to the ships of Achilles, that I may see\nthe face of my son.\"\n\n\"Tempt me not, old man,\" replied the Greek.  \"This cup belongs to\nAchilles, and if I should steal it from him what thinkest thou that he\nwould do unto me?  But come, give me the reins, and I will guide thee\nto thy goal--yea, though it were in distant Argos, thou shouldst reach\nit safe and sound, and none should molest thee.\"\n\nSo saying, he sprang to the side of Priam, and took the reins.  Under\nhis guidance the horses seemed to be endued with wings, and in a very\nshort time they reached the main entrance of the camp.  The gates flew\nopen, as if by magic, and all the sentries were sleeping at their\nposts.  On to the extreme verge of the camp they went, still\nunchallenged, and drew up at length before a high stockade, within\nwhich were the quarters of Achilles.  Once more the gates opened at a\ntouch, and they entered.  Here the mysterious stranger dismounted from\nthe car, and turning on Priam a countenance which shone with a\ncelestial radiance he said: \"I have brought thee to the place where\nthou wouldst go, and now I will leave thee, for the task is finished\nwhich Zeus my father gave me to do.  For know that I am Hermes, the\nherald of the gods, and the strong helper of those that are in need.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nThe dwelling of Achilles, which, for want of a better word, we have\ncalled a tent, was in reality a roomy building, constructed of solid\npine trunks, and thatched with moss and rushes.  On this memorable\nevening Achilles was sitting in the main apartment of the dwelling, and\ntwo of his squires were removing the vessels used at the evening meal.\nThe light of the fire gleamed fitfully on his face, and he seemed in a\ngentler and more placid mood than had been usual with him for many\ndays.  He had partaken freely of food and wine, and conversed\ncheerfully with his attendants.  He was now silent, and sat musing\nquietly by himself, when suddenly, to his amazement, an old man of tall\nstature and regal port entered the room, and throwing himself on the\nground before him clasped his knees and kissed his hands--those\nterrible murderous hands!--bathing them with his tears.  Like a man who\nhas slain a fellow-countryman, and enters the house of some wealthy\nnoble, where a great company is gathered, to implore shelter and\nprotection--for the avenger of blood is at his heels--so seemed that\naged man to Achilles and those that were with him, so trembling,\nhelpless, and forlorn.  And as they gazed in deep wonder, murmuring to\neach other the name of Priam, he began, in a voice broken with weeping,\nto urge his petition: \"Pity me, Achilles, for thy father's sake, an old\nman like me, standing on the brink of the grave.  Maybe he is in sole\nstraits, oppressed by those that dwell about him, for want of thy\nsuccouring arm.  Yet still he has hope, as long as thou livest, and\nlooks forward to the joyful day of thy return.  But what hope have I,\nwhat solace, what refuge from the blows which fate aims without ceasing\nat mine afflicted head?  Fifty sons I had, when the sons of Greece\nfirst came to these shores, and of these the greater part have paid\ntheir last tribute to the stern god of war.  And he, the bravest and\nthe best, the bulwark of my city, fell by thy hand not many days since.\nHim have I come to ransom at a great price.  In the name of thy father,\nin the name of the gods whom we both adore, have mercy on me,\nAchilles--on me, who have found it in my heart to do what mortal never\ndid before, to lift to my lips the hand that slew my son!\"\n\nThen at last that iron-hearted man was melted into compassion when he\nsaw the renowned King of Asia prostrate at his feet, humbled to the\ndust for the sake of one poor boon--permission to give his son's body\nto the grave.  And the sight of all that misery awakened anew the\nthought of his own sad lot, his recent loss, his brief and troubled\nlife, soon to be ended by a coward's hand, the desolation of his home,\nand his father pining in solitary old age.  Surely he also had cause\nenough for tears!\n\nSo the two great enemies were united for the time by the common bond of\nhuman sorrow.  Then Achilles rose, and, taking the old man by the hand,\nled him to a seat, and placing himself by his side said to him: \"O\nmarked by sorrow's seal before all the children of men, what a heart\nmust thou have, to meet me face to face, who have given to death so\nmany of thy valiant sons!  But thou knowest that it is the common lot:\nonly the gods know neither care nor grief, but mortal life is\nencompassed with ills.  Two caskets there are which stand by the throne\nof Zeus, one filled with good gifts, and the other with evil gifts.\nAnd for the more part Zeus mingles the gifts, and tempers much evil\nwith a little good; but now and then some wretch receives naught but\nevil, and wanders from land to land as misery's thrall, branded by the\nmalice of fate.  To Peleus, my father, good things were given at\nfirst--wealth, power, and prosperity, and a goddess for his bride.  But\nnow he is receiving his portion of ill.  And thou too, Priam, wast in\nold times renowned for the number of thy blessings, and men called thee\ngreat king, happy father, and envied thine abundance.  But in thy\nlatter years thou hast seen naught but wars and fightings, losses and\ndeaths.  So shifts the tide, so turns the scale, now up, now down, and\nnaught that we can do will avail to raise or diminish by one tittle the\nsum of our fate.\"\n\nUp to this point Priam had prospered in his mission beyond his hopes.\nBut now he obtained a glimpse of the fearful passions which were\nsmouldering in the breast of Achilles, and ready at any moment to leap\nup in devouring flames.  Being invited by Achilles to stay and rest\nawhile before resuming his journey, he would have refused, alleging\nthat he could not rest until he had the body of Hector safe in his\nkeeping.  But that fierce and imperious nature brooked not the\nslightest hint of opposition.  \"Provoke me no further, old man,\" said\nthe terrible chieftain, with a dark glance at his guest.  \"Hector's\nbody thou shalt have--but there must be no unseemly haste.  My heart is\nexceeding sore; touch not thou the galled spot, lest I should do thee\nmischief, and break the ordinances of heaven.\"\n\nThen, leaving Priam where he sat, Achilles went out with Automedon and\nanother of his squires, and, bidding Id\u00e6us attend his master, they\nunyoked the mules, and brought in the ransom.  \"Now, haste thee,\nAutomedon,\" said Achilles, in a low tone, \"go with the handmaids to the\nplace where Hector's body lies, and when they have washed and anointed\nit return with it hither.  Be silent, and be wary; for if Priam sees\nwhat ye are doing--if he catches sight of Hector's body, where now it\nlies--I fear that he will break out into anger against me, and becoming\noutrageous provoke me to slay him.\"\n\nHaving carried out their orders with all due caution, they brought the\nbody, wrapped in fine linen, and Achilles with his own hands placed it\nin the mule car.  But he groaned in spirit when he thought of his\npromise to Patroclus, and cried aloud, invoking his ghost: \"Take it not\namiss, my Patroclus, when the news reaches thee in the house of the\ndead, that I have restored the body of thy slayer.  His father hath\npaid me no mean ransom, whereof thou shalt have thy share.\"\n\nThe laws of hospitality required that Priam should not leave Achilles'\nroof without breaking bread.  Accordingly, on his return to the house,\nAchilles urged his guest to take some food.  \"Remember,\" he said, \"that\nNiobe herself, so constant in her sorrow that even now, though turned\nto a stone, she weeps and weeps for ever--even she tasted food when the\nfirst anguish of her grief was passed.  Thou knowest her sad story--how\nshe boasted that she had borne twelve fair children, six stalwart sons\nand six lovely daughters--and taunted Leto that she had only borne two.\nBut those two were Apollo and Artemis, a god and a goddess, and they\nslew all the children of Niobe, to avenge the insult to their mother.\nApollo slew the sons with his silver bow, and Artemis, the\narcher-goddess, slew the daughters.  For nine days they lay in their\nblood, with none to give them burial; but on the tenth day the gods\nburied them with their own hands.  And if she, that stricken mother,\ncould sit down to meat, so do thou also, Priam; after that, thou shall\ntake some sleep, and at dawn I will send thee back in safety to Troy.\"\n\nThe meal was prepared, and they sat down face to face at the same\ntable, joined as host and guest, after all that had passed between\nthem.  But Priam's eyes were exceeding heavy, for he had hardly closed\nthem in slumber since the awful day when he saw Hector stricken to\ndeath before his sight; and after tasting a morsel he begged Achilles\nto show him the place where he was to rest.\n\n\nIV\n\nPriam's bed was laid under the portico which ran round the outside of\nthe dwelling, for fear lest any chance visitor to Achilles should see\nhim if he lay within.  Overcome by weariness, he soon fell into a deep\nsleep.  But in the dead of night he was roused by the voice of Hermes,\nwhose watchful eye had never left him, and who now came to warn him of\nthe perils by which he was surrounded.  What if Agamemnon should hear\nthat the King of Troy was lying asleep in the midst of the Grecian\ncamp!  All the wealth of Troy would hardly suffice to ransom such a\nprisoner.\n\nPriam rose in haste, now fully alive to his danger, and found the\nhorses ready harnessed, and Id\u00e6us waiting with the mule car.  The same\npowerful hand which had brought them to the dwelling of Achilles now\nsmoothed the way for their return, and day was just breaking as they\ncrossed the ford of the river.\n\nThe first to observe their coming was Cassandra, a daughter of Priam,\nwho was watching from the highest tower of the citadel; and the report\nsoon spread throughout the city that Priam was returning, bringing with\nhim the body of Hector.  Then not a man nor a woman was left in the\ncity, but all with one accord streamed out through the gates to meet\nthe strange procession.  There was seen Hecuba, the mother of the\nslain, leaning on the shoulder of Andromache, his faithful wife; and\nfollowing them at a distance, with downcast eyes, avoiding the looks of\nhate which were cast at her, went the fatal Helen.  During all the\nyears that she had lived as an unwelcome guest in the house of Priam,\nHector had never reminded her by a look or a word of the miseries which\nshe had brought on his country.  He was all gentleness, all goodness,\neven to her, who had sinned so grievously against him and his people;\nand when hard words were aimed at her by any of his kinsfolk his\npatience and charity had ever been her shield.\n\nBy the authority of Achilles a truce of eleven days was granted to the\nTrojans to celebrate the obsequies of Hector.  For nine days he lay in\nthe chamber prepared for him in the palace, and all the city was given\nup to mourning.  On the tenth day they buried him, and on the eleventh\nthey raised his monument.\n\nAnd so, after long delay, that knightly spirit passed into its rest.\n\n\n\n\n  PRONOUNCING LIST OF NAMES\n\n\n  Abydos (ab\u012b'dos)\n  Abas (\u0103'-bas)\n  Achilles (akil'les)\n  \u00c6neas (eenee'as)\n  \u00c6acides (ee\u0103'cidees)\n  \u00c6g\u00e6 (ee'gee)\n  \u00c6the (ee'thee)\n  Agamemnon (agamem'non\n  Agenor (agee'nor)\n  Ajax (a'jax)\n  Al\u0153us (al\u014d'y\u016bs)\n  Alcathous (alc\u0103'th\u014d-\u016ds)\n  Alcimedon (alk\u012d'm\u012ddon)\n  Anchises (ank\u012b'sees)\n  Antenor (antee'nor)\n  Antiphus (an't\u012df\u016ds)\n  Antea (antee'\u0103)\n  Andromache (andr\u014d'm\u0103kee)\n  Antilochus (antil'\u014dk\u016ds)\n  Antimachus (anti'm\u0103k\u016ds)\n  Aphrodite (\u0103fr\u014dd\u012b'tee)\n  Ares (\u0101'rees)\n  Artemis (ar't\u0115m\u012ds)\n  Asclepius (asklee'p\u012d\u016ds)\n  Astyanax (asti'\u0103nax)\n  Asius (\u0101'sius)\n  Ascalaphus (asc\u0103l'\u0103f\u016ds)\n  Asterop\u00e6us (aster\u014dpee'\u016ds)\n  Athene (athee'nee)\n  Atreus (\u0101'tr\u016bs)\n  Ate (\u0101'tee)\n  Aulis (au'lis)\n  Automedon (aut\u014d'm\u0115don)\n  Axius (ax'\u012d\u016ds)\n\n\n  Balius (b\u0103l'\u012d\u016ds)\n  Bathycles (b\u0103th\u012d-clees)\n  B\u0153otia (bee\u014d't\u012d\u0103)\n  Bellerophon (bell\u0115'r\u014df\u014dn)\n  Boreas (b\u014dr'\u0115\u0101s)\n\n\n  Calchas (cal'kas)\n  Castor (cas't\u014dr)\n  Cebriones (k\u0115b'r\u012d\u014dnees)\n  Charops (k\u0101'rops)\n  Chiron (k\u012b'ron)\n  Chrysa (kr\u012b's\u0103)\n  Chryseis (kr\u012b'see'is)\n  Chryses (kr\u012b'sees)\n  Chim\u00e6ra (k\u012dmee'r\u0103)\n  Clyt\u00e6mnestra (cl\u012bteemnes'tr\u0103)\n  C\u0153ranus (kee'r\u0103n\u016ds)\n  Cronos (cr\u014dn'\u014ds)\n\n\n  Dares (d\u0103'rees)\n  Deiphobus (dee\u012df'\u014db\u016ds)\n  Democoon (deem\u014dk'\u014d\u014dn)\n  Diomede (d\u012b'\u014dmeed)\n  Dione (dio'nee)\n  Dolon (d\u014dl'\u014dn)\n  Dodona (d\u014dd\u014d'n\u0103)\n\n\n  E\u00ebtion (ee-\u0115t'\u012d\u014dn)\n  Epeus (\u0115pee'\u016ds)\n  Eris (\u0115'ris)\n  Euchenor (\u016bkee'n\u014dr)\n  Eumelus (\u016bmee'l\u016ds)\n  Euphorbus (\u016bfor'bus)\n  Euryalus (ur\u012b'\u0103l\u016ds)\n  Eurybates (\u016br\u012d'b\u0103tees)\n  Eurydamas (\u016br\u012d'd\u0103mas)\n  Eurypylus (\u016br\u012d'p\u012dl\u016ds)\n  Eurynome (\u016br\u012d'n\u014dmee)\n\n\n  Ganymede (g\u0103n\u012dmeed)\n  Gargarus (gar'g\u0103'r\u016ds)\n  Glaucus (glau'cus)\n\n\n  Hades (H\u0101'dees)\n  Harpalion (harp\u0103l'\u012d\u014dn)\n  Hecuba (h\u0115c'\u016db\u0103)\n  Hebe (heebee)\n  Helenus (h\u0113l'\u0113n\u016bs)\n  Heph\u00e6stus (heefees't\u016bs)\n  Hera (hee'r\u0101)\n  Hermes (her'mees)\n  Heracles (her'\u0101clees)\n  Hippolochus (hipp\u014dl'\u014d-kus)\n\n\n  Id\u00e6us (\u012bdee'\u016ds)\n  Idomeneus (\u012bd\u014dm'eny\u016ds)\n  Ilios (\u012b'l\u012d\u014ds)\n  Iphidamas (\u012bf\u012d'd\u0103m\u0101s)\n  Iris (\u012b'ris)\n  Ithaca (\u012d'th\u0103c\u0103)\n\n\n  Laertes (l\u0101\u0115r'tees)\n  Laodice (la\u014d'd\u012dkee)\n  Laodocus (l\u0101\u014d'd\u014dk\u016ds)\n  Laogonus (l\u0101\u014d'g\u014dnt\u012ds)\n  Lemnos (lem'nos)\n  Leucus (loo'k\u016ds)\n  Locris (l\u014d'cris)\n  Lycaon (l\u012bc\u0101'\u014dn)\n\n\n  Machaon (m\u0103k\u0101'\u014dn)\n  Men\u0153tius (m\u0115nee't\u012d\u016ds)\n  Menelaus (m\u0115n\u0115l\u0101'\u016ds)\n  Menestheus (m\u0115n\u0115s'thy\u016ds)\n  Meriones (mee'r\u012d\u016dnees)\n  Mycen\u00e6 (m\u012bsee'nee)\n  Myrine (m\u012dr\u012b'nee)\n\n\n  Neoptolemus (n\u0115-\u014dpt\u014dl'\u0115m\u016ds)\n  Nereus (nee'r\u016bs)\n  Nestor (nes't\u014dr)\n  Nireus (n\u012b'r\u016bs)\n\n\n  Oceanus (\u014dsee'\u0103n\u016ds)\n  Odysseus (odis'sy\u016ds)\n  \u0152neus (ee'ny\u016ds)\n  Oileus (\u014d\u012b'ly\u016ds)\n  Othryoneus (\u014dth'r\u012d\u014dny\u016ds)\n\n\n  P\u00e6an (pee'an)\n  Pandarus (pan'd\u0103r\u016ds)\n  Paphlagonia (p\u0103fl\u0103g\u014dn\u012da)\n  Patroclus (p\u0103tr\u014d'cl\u016ds)\n  Pedasus (pee'd\u0103s\u016ds)\n  Pelops (p\u0115l'ops)\n  Peneleos (peen\u0115l'\u0115\u014ds)\n  Ph\u00e6nops (fee'nops)\n  Phegeus (fee'gy\u016bs)\n  Phereclus (f\u0115r\u0115'cl\u016ds)\n  Philoctetes (f\u012dloctee'tees)\n  Phocis (f\u014d'kis)\n  Phthia (fth\u012b'\u0103)\n  Podalirius (p\u014dd\u0103l\u012b'r\u012d\u016ds)\n  Podargus (p\u014ddar'g\u016ds)\n  Podes (p\u014d'dees)\n  Polydeuces (p\u014dl\u012ddy\u016b'kees)\n  Polydamas (p\u014dl\u012d'd\u0103mas)\n  Polyctor (p\u014dlic'tor)\n  Polydorus (p\u014dl\u012dd\u014dr'\u016ds)\n  Polyidus (p\u014dl\u012d\u012b'd\u016ds)\n  Poseidon (p\u016ds\u012b'd\u014dn)\n  Priam (pr\u012b'am)\n  Protesilaus (pr\u014dt\u0115s\u012dl\u0101'\u016ds)\n  Pr\u0153tus (pree't\u016ds)\n  Pylos (p\u012b'los)\n  Pyr\u00e6chmes (p\u012dreek'mees)\n\n\n  Samothrace (s\u0103m\u014dthr\u0101'kee)\n  Sarpedon (sarpee'd\u014dn)\n  Scamander (sc\u0103man'd\u0115r)\n  Scamandrius (sc\u0103man'dr\u012dus)\n  Scyros (sk\u012b'ros)\n  Sicyon (s\u012dk'\u012d\u014dn)\n  Simoeis (s\u012dm'\u014deis)\n  Sim\u0153isius (s\u012dm\u014dei's\u012d\u016ds)\n  Sisyphus (s\u012d's\u012df\u016ds)\n  Solymi (s\u014dl'\u012dm\u012d)\n  Socus (s\u014d'c\u016ds)\n  Spercheus (sperkee'\u016ds)\n  Stentor (sten't\u014dr)\n  Sthenelus (sth\u0115n'\u0115l\u016ds)\n\n\n  Talthybius (talth\u012db'\u012d\u016ds)\n  Telamon (t\u0115l'\u0103m\u014dn)\n  Telemachus (t\u0113l\u0115'm\u0103k\u016ds)\n  Tethys (tee'th\u012ds)\n  Teucer (ty\u016b'ser)\n  Thetis (th\u0113't\u012ds)\n  Thersites (thers\u012b'tees)\n  Tiryns (t\u012b'rins)\n  Tydeus (t\u012b'dy\u016bs)\n\n\n  Zephyrus (z\u0115f'\u012dr\u016ds)\n  Zeus (zy\u016ds)","title":"Stories from the Iliad","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":70189}