The Illiad

The Iliad
By Homer
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BOOK I
S ing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that

brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave
soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero
did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the
counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of
Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with
one another.
And which of the gods was it that set them on to quar-
rel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with
the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the
people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chry-
ses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the
Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a
great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of
Apollo wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath, and he besought
the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who
were their chiefs.
‘Sons of Atreus,’ he cried, ‘and all other Achaeans, may
the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city
of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my
daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apol-
lo, son of Jove.’
On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for
respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered;
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but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent
him roughly away. ‘Old man,’ said he, ‘let me not find you
tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your
sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing.
I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos
far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and
visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall
be the worse for you.’
The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke,
but went by the shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart
to King Apollo whom lovely Leto had borne. ‘Hear me,’ he
cried, ‘O god of the silver bow, that protectest Chryse and
holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh
thou of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with gar-
lands, or burned your thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats,
grant my prayer, and let your arrows avenge these my tears
upon the Danaans.’
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came
down furious from the summits of Olympus, with his bow
and his quiver upon his shoulder, and the arrows rattled on
his back with the rage that trembled within him. He sat him-
self down away from the ships with a face as dark as night,
and his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the
midst of them. First he smote their mules and their hounds,
but presently he aimed his shafts at the people themselves,
and all day long the pyres of the dead were burning.
For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people,
but upon the tenth day Achilles called them in assembly—
moved thereto by Juno, who saw the Achaeans in their
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death-throes and had compassion upon them. Then, when
they were got together, he rose and spoke among them.
‘Son of Atreus,’ said he, ‘I deem that we should now turn
roving home if we would escape destruction, for we are be-
ing cut down by war and pestilence at once. Let us ask some
priest or prophet, or some reader of dreams (for dreams,
too, are of Jove) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so
angry, and say whether it is for some vow that we have bro-
ken, or hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he
will accept the savour of lambs and goats without blemish,
so as to take away the plague from us.’
With these words he sat down, and Calchas son of Thestor,
wisest of augurs, who knew things past present and to come,
rose to speak. He it was who had guided the Achaeans with
their fleet to Ilius, through the prophesyings with which
Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity and
goodwill he addressed them thus:—
‘Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid me tell you about the
anger of King Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider
first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word
and deed, for I know that I shall offend one who rules the
Argives with might, to whom all the Achaeans are in sub-
jection. A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a
king, who if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse
revenge till he has wreaked it. Consider, therefore, whether
or no you will protect me.’
And Achilles answered, ‘Fear not, but speak as it is borne
in upon you from heaven, for by Apollo, Calchas, to whom
you pray, and whose oracles you reveal to us, not a Dan-
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aan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you, while I yet
live to look upon the face of the earth—no, not though you
name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of
the Achaeans.’
Thereon the seer spoke boldly. ‘The god,’ he said, ‘is an-
gry neither about vow nor hecatomb, but for his priest’s sake,
whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not
free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has
he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will
not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamem-
non has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father,
and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may per-
haps appease him.’
With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in
anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed
fire as he scowled on Calchas and said, ‘Seer of evil, you
never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but
have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have
brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now
you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo
has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this
girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keep-
ing her in my own house, for I love her better even than my
own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and
feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will
give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not
die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among
the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you be-
hold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhither.’

And Achilles answered, ‘Most noble son of Atreus, covet-
ous beyond all mankind, how shall the Achaeans find you
another prize? We have no common store from which to
take one. Those we took from the cities have been awarded;
we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already.
Give this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Jove grants
us to sack the city of Troy we will requite you three and
fourfold.’
Then Agamemnon said, ‘Achilles, valiant though you be,
you shall not thus outwit me. You shall not overreach and
you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize,
while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the girl at your
bidding? Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange
to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of
Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall
rue my coming. But of this we will take thought hereafter;
for the present, let us draw a ship into the sea, and find a
crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb on board, and
let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among
us be in command, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself,
son of Peleus, mighty warrior that you are, that we may of-
fer sacrifice and appease the the anger of the god.’
Achilles scowled at him and answered, ‘You are steeped
in insolence and lust of gain. With what heart can any of
the Achaeans do your bidding, either on foray or in open
fighting? I came not warring here for any ill the Trojans had
done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raid-
ed my cattle nor my horses, nor cut down my harvests on
the rich plains of Phthia; for between me and them there is
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a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have
followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not ours—to
gain satisfaction from the Trojans for your shameless self
and for Menelaus. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of
the prize for which I have toiled, and which the sons of the
Achaeans have given me. Never when the Achaeans sack any
rich city of the Trojans do I receive so good a prize as you do,
though it is my hands that do the better part of the fighting.
When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and
I, forsooth, must go back to my ships, take what I can get
and be thankful, when my labour of fighting is done. Now,
therefore, I shall go back to Phthia; it will be much better
for me to return home with my ships, for I will not stay here
dishonoured to gather gold and substance for you.’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘Fly if you will, I shall make
you no prayers to stay you. I have others here who will do me
honour, and above all Jove, the lord of counsel. There is no
king here so hateful to me as you are, for you are ever quar-
relsome and illaffected. What though you be brave? Was it
not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your
ships and comrades to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care
neither for you nor for your anger; and thus will I do: since
Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I shall send her
with my ship and my followers, but I shall come to your tent
and take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how
much stronger I am than you are, and that another may fear
to set himself up as equal or comparable with me.’
The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his
shaggy breast was divided whether to draw his sword, push

the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain
himself and check his anger. While he was thus in two
minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scab-
bard, Minerva came down from heaven (for Juno had sent
her in the love she bore to them both), and seized the son
of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible to him alone, for of the
others no man could see her. Achilles turned in amaze, and
by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she
was Minerva. ‘Why are you here,’ said he, ‘daughter of ae-
gis-bearing Jove? To see the pride of Agamemnon, son of
Atreus? Let me tell you—and it shall surely be—he shall pay
for this insolence with his life.’
And Minerva said, ‘I come from heaven, if you will hear
me, to bid you stay your anger. Juno has sent me, who cares
for both of you alike. Cease, then, this brawling, and do not
draw your sword; rail at him if you will, and your railing
will not be vain, for I tell you—and it shall surely be—that
you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as splendid by
reason of this present insult. Hold, therefore, and obey.’
‘Goddess,’ answered Achilles, ‘however angry a man may
be, he must do as you two command him. This will be best,
for the gods ever hear the prayers of him who has obeyed
them.’
He stayed his hand on the silver hilt of his sword, and
thrust it back into the scabbard as Minerva bade him. Then
she went back to Olympus among the other gods, and to the
house of aegis-bearing Jove.
But the son of Peleus again began railing at the son of
Atreus, for he was still in a rage. ‘Wine-bibber,’ he cried,
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‘with the face of a dog and the heart of a hind, you never
dare to go out with the host in fight, nor yet with our cho-
sen men in ambuscade. You shun this as you do death itself.
You had rather go round and rob his prizes from any man
who contradicts you. You devour your people, for you are
king over a feeble folk; otherwise, son of Atreus, hencefor-
ward you would insult no man. Therefore I say, and swear
it with a great oath—nay, by this my sceptre which shalt
sprout neither leaf nor shoot, nor bud anew from the day
on which it left its parent stem upon the mountains—for
the axe stripped it of leaf and bark, and now the sons of the
Achaeans bear it as judges and guardians of the decrees of
heaven—so surely and solemnly do I swear that hereafter
they shall look fondly for Achilles and shall not find him.
In the day of your distress, when your men fall dying by the
murderous hand of Hector, you shall not know how to help
them, and shall rend your heart with rage for the hour when
you offered insult to the bravest of the Achaeans.’
With this the son of Peleus dashed his gold-bestudded
sceptre on the ground and took his seat, while the son of
Atreus was beginning fiercely from his place upon the other
side. Then uprose smooth-tongued Nestor, the facile speak-
er of the Pylians, and the words fell from his lips sweeter
than honey. Two generations of men born and bred in Pylos
had passed away under his rule, and he was now reigning
over the third. With all sincerity and goodwill, therefore, he
addressed them thus:—
‘Of a truth,’ he said, ‘a great sorrow has befallen the
Achaean land. Surely Priam with his sons would rejoice, and

the Trojans be glad at heart if they could hear this quarrel
between you two, who are so excellent in fight and coun-
sel. I am older than either of you; therefore be guided by
me. Moreover I have been the familiar friend of men even
greater than you are, and they did not disregard my coun-
sels. Never again can I behold such men as Pirithous and
Dryas shepherd of his people, or as Caeneus, Exadius, god-
like Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, peer of the
immortals. These were the mightiest men ever born upon
this earth: mightiest were they, and when they fought the
fiercest tribes of mountain savages they utterly overthrew
them. I came from distant Pylos, and went about among
them, for they would have me come, and I fought as it was
in me to do. Not a man now living could withstand them,
but they heard my words, and were persuaded by them.
So be it also with yourselves, for this is the more excellent
way. Therefore, Agamemnon, though you be strong, take
not this girl away, for the sons of the Achaeans have already
given her to Achilles; and you, Achilles, strive not further
with the king, for no man who by the grace of Jove wields a
sceptre has like honour with Agamemnon. You are strong,
and have a goddess for your mother; but Agamemnon is
stronger than you, for he has more people under him. Son
of Atreus, check your anger, I implore you; end this quarrel
with Achilles, who in the day of battle is a tower of strength
to the Achaeans.’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘Sir, all that you have said is
true, but this fellow must needs become our lord and mas-
ter: he must be lord of all, king of all, and captain of all, and
10 The Iliad
this shall hardly be. Granted that the gods have made him
a great warrior, have they also given him the right to speak
with railing?’
Achilles interrupted him. ‘I should be a mean coward,’
he cried, ‘were I to give in to you in all things. Order other
people about, not me, for I shall obey no longer. Further-
more I say—and lay my saying to your heart—I shall fight
neither you nor any man about this girl, for those that take
were those also that gave. But of all else that is at my ship
you shall carry away nothing by force. Try, that others may
see; if you do, my spear shall be reddened with your blood.’
When they had quarrelled thus angrily, they rose, and
broke up the assembly at the ships of the Achaeans. The
son of Peleus went back to his tents and ships with the son
of Menoetius and his company, while Agamemnon drew a
vessel into the water and chose a crew of twenty oarsmen.
He escorted Chryseis on board and sent moreover a heca-
tomb for the god. And Ulysses went as captain.
These, then, went on board and sailed their ways over
the sea. But the son of Atreus bade the people purify them-
selves; so they purified themselves and cast their filth into
the sea. Then they offered hecatombs of bulls and goats
without blemish on the sea-shore, and the smoke with the
savour of their sacrifice rose curling up towards heaven.
Thus did they busy themselves throughout the host. But
Agamemnon did not forget the threat that he had made
Achilles, and called his trusty messengers and squires
Talthybius and Eurybates. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘to the tent of Achil-
les, son of Peleus; take Briseis by the hand and bring her
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hither; if he will not give her I shall come with others and
take her—which will press him harder.’
He charged them straightly further and dismissed them,
whereon they went their way sorrowfully by the seaside, till
they came to the tents and ships of the Myrmidons. They
found Achilles sitting by his tent and his ships, and ill-
pleased he was when he beheld them. They stood fearfully
and reverently before him, and never a word did they speak,
but he knew them and said, ‘Welcome, heralds, messengers
of gods and men; draw near; my quarrel is not with you
but with Agamemnon who has sent you for the girl Briseis.
Therefore, Patroclus, bring her and give her to them, but let
them be witnesses by the blessed gods, by mortal men, and
by the fierceness of Agamemnon’s anger, that if ever again
there be need of me to save the people from ruin, they shall
seek and they shall not find. Agamemnon is mad with rage
and knows not how to look before and after that the Achae-
ans may fight by their ships in safety.’
Patroclus did as his dear comrade had bidden him. He
brought Briseis from the tent and gave her over to the
heralds, who took her with them to the ships of the Achae-
ans—and the woman was loth to go. Then Achilles went all
alone by the side of the hoar sea, weeping and looking out
upon the boundless waste of waters. He raised his hands in
prayer to his immortal mother, ‘Mother,’ he cried, ‘you bore
me doomed to live but for a little season; surely Jove, who
thunders from Olympus, might have made that little glori-
ous. It is not so. Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has done me
dishonour, and has robbed me of my prize by force.’
12 The Iliad
As he spoke he wept aloud, and his mother heard him
where she was sitting in the depths of the sea hard by the
old man her father. Forthwith she rose as it were a grey mist
out of the waves, sat down before him as he stood weeping,
caressed him with her hand, and said, ‘My son, why are you
weeping? What is it that grieves you? Keep it not from me,
but tell me, that we may know it together.’
Achilles drew a deep sigh and said, ‘You know it; why
tell you what you know well already? We went to Thebe the
strong city of Eetion, sacked it, and brought hither the spoil.
The sons of the Achaeans shared it duly among themselves,
and chose lovely Chryseis as the meed of Agamemnon; but
Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the ships of the Achae-
ans to free his daughter, and brought with him a great
ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apol-
lo, wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath, and he besought the
Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus who were
their chiefs.
‘On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for
respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered;
but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent
him roughly away. So he went back in anger, and Apollo,
who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god sent a
deadly dart upon the Argives, and the people died thick on
one another, for the arrows went everywhither among the
wide host of the Achaeans. At last a seer in the fulness of his
knowledge declared to us the oracles of Apollo, and I was
myself first to say that we should appease him. Whereon
the son of Atreus rose in anger, and threatened that which

he has since done. The Achaeans are now taking the girl in
a ship to Chryse, and sending gifts of sacrifice to the god;
but the heralds have just taken from my tent the daughter of
Briseus, whom the Achaeans had awarded to myself.
‘Help your brave son, therefore, if you are able. Go to
Olympus, and if you have ever done him service in word or
deed, implore the aid of Jove. Ofttimes in my father’s house
have I heard you glory in that you alone of the immortals
saved the son of Saturn from ruin, when the others, with
Juno, Neptune, and Pallas Minerva would have put him in
bonds. It was you, goddess, who delivered him by calling
to Olympus the hundred-handed monster whom gods call
Briareus, but men Aegaeon, for he is stronger even than his
father; when therefore he took his seat all-glorious beside
the son of Saturn, the other gods were afraid, and did not
bind him. Go, then, to him, remind him of all this, clasp
his knees, and bid him give succour to the Trojans. Let the
Achaeans be hemmed in at the sterns of their ships, and
perish on the sea-shore, that they may reap what joy they
may of their king, and that Agamemnon may rue his blind-
ness in offering insult to the foremost of the Achaeans.’
Thetis wept and answered, ‘My son, woe is me that I
should have borne or suckled you. Would indeed that you
had lived your span free from all sorrow at your ships, for it
is all too brief; alas, that you should be at once short of life
and long of sorrow above your peers: woe, therefore, was the
hour in which I bore you; nevertheless I will go to the snowy
heights of Olympus, and tell this tale to Jove, if he will hear
our prayer: meanwhile stay where you are with your ships,
14 The Iliad
nurse your anger against the Achaeans, and hold aloof from
fight. For Jove went yesterday to Oceanus, to a feast among
the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with him. He will
return to Olympus twelve days hence; I will then go to his
mansion paved with bronze and will beseech him; nor do I
doubt that I shall be able to persuade him.’
On this she left him, still furious at the loss of her that had
been taken from him. Meanwhile Ulysses reached Chryse
with the hecatomb. When they had come inside the harbour
they furled the sails and laid them in the ship’s hold; they
slackened the forestays, lowered the mast into its place, and
rowed the ship to the place where they would have her lie;
there they cast out their mooring-stones and made fast the
hawsers. They then got out upon the sea-shore and landed
the hecatomb for Apollo; Chryseis also left the ship, and
Ulysses led her to the altar to deliver her into the hands of
her father. ‘Chryses,’ said he, ‘King Agamemnon has sent
me to bring you back your child, and to offer sacrifice to
Apollo on behalf of the Danaans, that we may propitiate the
god, who has now brought sorrow upon the Argives.’
So saying he gave the girl over to her father, who received
her gladly, and they ranged the holy hecatomb all orderly
round the altar of the god. They washed their hands and
took up the barley-meal to sprinkle over the victims, while
Chryses lifted up his hands and prayed aloud on their behalf.
‘Hear me,’ he cried, ‘O god of the silver bow, that protectest
Chryse and holy Cilla, and rulest Tenedos with thy might.
Even as thou didst hear me aforetime when I prayed, and
didst press hardly upon the Achaeans, so hear me yet again,

and stay this fearful pestilence from the Danaans.’
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. When
they had done praying and sprinkling the barley-meal, they
drew back the heads of the victims and killed and flayed
them. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them round
in two layers of fat, set some pieces of raw meat on the top
of them, and then Chryses laid them on the wood fire and
poured wine over them, while the young men stood near
him with five-pronged spits in their hands. When the thigh-
bones were burned and they had tasted the inward meats,
they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon the spits,
roasted them till they were done, and drew them off: then,
when they had finished their work and the feast was ready,
they ate it, and every man had his full share, so that all were
satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink,
pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine and water and hand-
ed it round, after giving every man his drink-offering.
Thus all day long the young men worshipped the god
with song, hymning him and chaunting the joyous paean,
and the god took pleasure in their voices; but when the sun
went down, and it came on dark, they laid themselves down
to sleep by the stern cables of the ship, and when the child of
morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they again set sail
for the host of the Achaeans. Apollo sent them a fair wind,
so they raised their mast and hoisted their white sails aloft.
As the sail bellied with the wind the ship flew through the
deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as
she sped onward. When they reached the wide-stretching
host of the Achaeans, they drew the vessel ashore, high and
16 The Iliad
dry upon the sands, set her strong props beneath her, and
went their ways to their own tents and ships.
But Achilles abode at his ships and nursed his anger. He
went not to the honourable assembly, and sallied not forth
to fight, but gnawed at his own heart, pining for battle and
the war-cry.
Now after twelve days the immortal gods came back in a
body to Olympus, and Jove led the way. Thetis was not un-
mindful of the charge her son had laid upon her, so she rose
from under the sea and went through great heaven with
early morning to Olympus, where she found the mighty son
of Saturn sitting all alone upon its topmost ridges. She sat
herself down before him, and with her left hand seized his
knees, while with her right she caught him under the chin,
and besought him, saying:—
‘Father Jove, if I ever did you service in word or deed
among the immortals, hear my prayer, and do honour to
my son, whose life is to be cut short so early. King Agamem-
non has dishonoured him by taking his prize and keeping
her. Honour him then yourself, Olympian lord of counsel,
and grant victory to the Trojans, till the Achaeans give my
son his due and load him with riches in requital.’
Jove sat for a while silent, and without a word, but Thetis
still kept firm hold of his knees, and besought him a second
time. ‘Incline your head,’ said she, ‘and promise me surely,
or else deny me—for you have nothing to fear—that I may
learn how greatly you disdain me.’
At this Jove was much troubled and answered, ‘I shall
have trouble if you set me quarrelling with Juno, for she will

provoke me with her taunting speeches; even now she is al-
ways railing at me before the other gods and accusing me of
giving aid to the Trojans. Go back now, lest she should find
out. I will consider the matter, and will bring it about as you
wish. See, I incline my head that you may believe me. This is
the most solemn promise that I can give to any god. I never
recall my word, or deceive, or fail to do what I say, when I
have nodded my head.’
As he spoke the son of Saturn bowed his dark brows, and
the ambrosial locks swayed on his immortal head, till vast
Olympus reeled.
When the pair had thus laid their plans, they parted—
Jove to his house, while the goddess quitted the splendour
of Olympus, and plunged into the depths of the sea. The
gods rose from their seats, before the coming of their sire.
Not one of them dared to remain sitting, but all stood up
as he came among them. There, then, he took his seat. But
Juno, when she saw him, knew that he and the old merman’s
daughter, silver-footed Thetis, had been hatching mischief,
so she at once began to upbraid him. ‘Trickster,’ she cried,
‘which of the gods have you been taking into your counsels
now? You are always settling matters in secret behind my
back, and have never yet told me, if you could help it, one
word of your intentions.’
‘Juno,’ replied the sire of gods and men, ‘you must not
expect to be informed of all my counsels. You are my wife,
but you would find it hard to understand them. When it is
proper for you to hear, there is no one, god or man, who will
be told sooner, but when I mean to keep a matter to myself,
18 The Iliad
you must not pry nor ask questions.’
‘Dread son of Saturn,’ answered Juno, ‘what are you talk-
ing about? I? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have
your own way in everything. Still, I have a strong misgiving
that the old merman’s daughter Thetis has been talking you
over, for she was with you and had hold of your knees this
self-same morning. I believe, therefore, that you have been
promising her to give glory to Achilles, and to kill much
people at the ships of the Achaeans.’
‘Wife,’ said Jove, ‘I can do nothing but you suspect me
and find it out. You will take nothing by it, for I shall only
dislike you the more, and it will go harder with you. Grant-
ed that it is as you say; I mean to have it so; sit down and
hold your tongue as I bid you for if I once begin to lay my
hands about you, though all heaven were on your side it
would profit you nothing.’
On this Juno was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn
will and sat down in silence. But the heavenly beings were
disquieted throughout the house of Jove, till the cunning
workman Vulcan began to try and pacify his mother Juno.
‘It will be intolerable,’ said he, ‘if you two fall to wrangling
and setting heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If
such ill counsels are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at
our banquet. Let me then advise my mother—and she must
herself know that it will be better—to make friends with
my dear father Jove, lest he again scold her and disturb our
feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants to hurl us all from
our seats, he can do so, for he is far the strongest, so give
him fair words, and he will then soon be in a good humour

with us.’
As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar, and placed
it in his mother’s hand. ‘Cheer up, my dear mother,’ said he,
‘and make the best of it. I love you dearly, and should be very
sorry to see you get a thrashing; however grieved I might
be, I could not help, for there is no standing against Jove.
Once before when I was trying to help you, he caught me by
the foot and flung me from the heavenly threshold. All day
long from morn till eve, was I falling, till at sunset I came
to ground in the island of Lemnos, and there I lay, with very
little life left in me, till the Sintians came and tended me.’
Juno smiled at this, and as she smiled she took the cup
from her son’s hands. Then Vulcan drew sweet nectar from
the mixing-bowl, and served it round among the gods, go-
ing from left to right; and the blessed gods laughed out a
loud applause as they saw him bustling about the heavenly
mansion.
Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the
sun they feasted, and every one had his full share, so that all
were satisfied. Apollo struck his lyre, and the Muses lifted
up their sweet voices, calling and answering one another.
But when the sun’s glorious light had faded, they went home
to bed, each in his own abode, which lame Vulcan with his
consummate skill had fashioned for them. So Jove, the
Olympian Lord of Thunder, hied him to the bed in which
he always slept; and when he had got on to it he went to
sleep, with Juno of the golden throne by his side.
20 The Iliad
BOOK II
N ow the other gods and the armed warriors on the plain

slept soundly, but Jove was wakeful, for he was think-
ing how to do honour to Achilles, and destroyed much
people at the ships of the Achaeans. In the end he deemed it
would be best to send a lying dream to King Agamemnon;
so he called one to him and said to it, ‘Lying Dream, go to
the ships of the Achaeans, into the tent of Agamemnon, and
say to him word for word as I now bid you. Tell him to get
the Achaeans instantly under arms, for he shall take Troy.
There are no longer divided counsels among the gods; Juno
has brought them to her own mind, and woe betides the
Trojans.’
The dream went when it had heard its message, and soon
reached the ships of the Achaeans. It sought Agamemnon
son of Atreus and found him in his tent, wrapped in a pro-
found slumber. It hovered over his head in the likeness of
Nestor, son of Neleus, whom Agamemnon honoured above
all his councillors, and said:—
‘You are sleeping, son of Atreus; one who has the wel-
fare of his host and so much other care upon his shoulders
should dock his sleep. Hear me at once, for I come as a mes-
senger from Jove, who, though he be not near, yet takes
thought for you and pities you. He bids you get the Achae-
ans instantly under arms, for you shall take Troy. There

are no longer divided counsels among the gods; Juno has
brought them over to her own mind, and woe betides the
Trojans at the hands of Jove. Remember this, and when you
wake see that it does not escape you.’
The dream then left him, and he thought of things that
were, surely not to be accomplished. He thought that on
that same day he was to take the city of Priam, but he little
knew what was in the mind of Jove, who had many another
hard-fought fight in store alike for Danaans and Trojans.
Then presently he woke, with the divine message still ring-
ing in his ears; so he sat upright, and put on his soft shirt so
fair and new, and over this his heavy cloak. He bound his
sandals on to his comely feet, and slung his silver-studded
sword about his shoulders; then he took the imperish-
able staff of his father, and sallied forth to the ships of the
Achaeans.
The goddess Dawn now wended her way to vast Olympus
that she might herald day to Jove and to the other immortals,
and Agamemnon sent the criers round to call the people
in assembly; so they called them and the people gathered
thereon. But first he summoned a meeting of the elders at
the ship of Nestor king of Pylos, and when they were as-
sembled he laid a cunning counsel before them.
‘My friends,’ said he, ‘I have had a dream from heaven in
the dead of night, and its face and figure resembled none
but Nestor’s. It hovered over my head and said, ‘You are
sleeping, son of Atreus; one who has the welfare of his host
and so much other care upon his shoulders should dock his
sleep. Hear me at once, for I am a messenger from Jove, who,
22 The Iliad
though he be not near, yet takes thought for you and pities
you. He bids you get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for
you shall take Troy. There are no longer divided counsels
among the gods; Juno has brought them over to her own
mind, and woe betides the Trojans at the hands of Jove. Re-
member this.’ The dream then vanished and I awoke. Let
us now, therefore, arm the sons of the Achaeans. But it will
be well that I should first sound them, and to this end I will
tell them to fly with their ships; but do you others go about
among the host and prevent their doing so.’
He then sat down, and Nestor the prince of Pylos with all
sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: ‘My friends,’
said he, ‘princes and councillors of the Argives, if any other
man of the Achaeans had told us of this dream we should
have declared it false, and would have had nothing to do
with it. But he who has seen it is the foremost man among
us; we must therefore set about getting the people under
arms.’
With this he led the way from the assembly, and the oth-
er sceptred kings rose with him in obedience to the word of
Agamemnon; but the people pressed forward to hear. They
swarmed like bees that sally from some hollow cave and flit
in countless throng among the spring flowers, bunched in
knots and clusters; even so did the mighty multitude pour
from ships and tents to the assembly, and range themselves
upon the wide-watered shore, while among them ran Wild-
fire Rumour, messenger of Jove, urging them ever to the fore.
Thus they gathered in a pell-mell of mad confusion, and the
earth groaned under the tramp of men as the people sought

their places. Nine heralds went crying about among them
to stay their tumult and bid them listen to the kings, till at
last they were got into their several places and ceased their
clamour. Then King Agamemnon rose, holding his sceptre.
This was the work of Vulcan, who gave it to Jove the son of
Saturn. Jove gave it to Mercury, slayer of Argus, guide and
guardian. King Mercury gave it to Pelops, the mighty chari-
oteer, and Pelops to Atreus, shepherd of his people. Atreus,
when he died, left it to Thyestes, rich in flocks, and Thyestes
in his turn left it to be borne by Agamemnon, that he might
be lord of all Argos and of the isles. Leaning, then, on his
sceptre, he addressed the Argives.
‘My friends,’ he said, ‘heroes, servants of Mars, the hand
of heaven has been laid heavily upon me. Cruel Jove gave
me his solemn promise that I should sack the city of Priam
before returning, but he has played me false, and is now bid-
ding me go ingloriously back to Argos with the loss of much
people. Such is the will of Jove, who has laid many a proud
city in the dust, as he will yet lay others, for his power is
above all. It will be a sorry tale hereafter that an Achaean
host, at once so great and valiant, battled in vain against
men fewer in number than themselves; but as yet the end
is not in sight. Think that the Achaeans and Trojans have
sworn to a solemn covenant, and that they have each been
numbered—the Trojans by the roll of their householders,
and we by companies of ten; think further that each of our
companies desired to have a Trojan householder to pour
out their wine; we are so greatly more in number that full
many a company would have to go without its cup-bearer.
24 The Iliad
But they have in the town allies from other places, and it is
these that hinder me from being able to sack the rich city of
Ilius. Nine of Jove’s years are gone; the timbers of our ships
have rotted; their tackling is sound no longer. Our wives
and little ones at home look anxiously for our coming, but
the work that we came hither to do has not been done. Now,
therefore, let us all do as I say: let us sail back to our own
land, for we shall not take Troy.’
With these words he moved the hearts of the multi-
tude, so many of them as knew not the cunning counsel
of Agamemnon. They surged to and fro like the waves of
the Icarian Sea, when the east and south winds break from
heaven’s clouds to lash them; or as when the west wind
sweeps over a field of corn and the ears bow beneath the
blast, even so were they swayed as they flew with loud cries
towards the ships, and the dust from under their feet rose
heavenward. They cheered each other on to draw the ships
into the sea; they cleared the channels in front of them; they
began taking away the stays from underneath them, and
the welkin rang with their glad cries, so eager were they to
return.
Then surely the Argives would have returned after a
fashion that was not fated. But Juno said to Minerva, ‘Alas,
daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable, shall the Ar-
gives fly home to their own land over the broad sea, and
leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keeping Hel-
en, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have died at
Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among the
host, and speak fairly to them, man by man, that they draw

not their ships into the sea.’
Minerva was not slack to do her bidding. Down she
darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, and in a
moment she was at the ships of the Achaeans. There she
found Ulysses, peer of Jove in counsel, standing alone. He
had not as yet laid a hand upon his ship, for he was grieved
and sorry; so she went close up to him and said, ‘Ulysses,
noble son of Laertes, are you going to fling yourselves into
your ships and be off home to your own land in this way?
Will you leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keep-
ing Helen, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have
died at Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among
the host, and speak fairly to them, man by man, that they
draw not their ships into the sea.’
Ulysses knew the voice as that of the goddess: he flung
his cloak from him and set off to run. His servant Eury-
bates, a man of Ithaca, who waited on him, took charge of
the cloak, whereon Ulysses went straight up to Agamem-
non and received from him his ancestral, imperishable staff.
With this he went about among the ships of the Achaeans.
Whenever he met a king or chieftain, he stood by him
and spoke him fairly. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘this flight is coward-
ly and unworthy. Stand to your post, and bid your people
also keep their places. You do not yet know the full mind of
Agamemnon; he was sounding us, and ere long will visit the
Achaeans with his displeasure. We were not all of us at the
council to hear what he then said; see to it lest he be angry
and do us a mischief; for the pride of kings is great, and the
hand of Jove is with them.’
26 The Iliad
But when he came across any common man who was
making a noise, he struck him with his staff and rebuked
him, saying, ‘Sirrah, hold your peace, and listen to better
men than yourself. You are a coward and no soldier; you
are nobody either in fight or council; we cannot all be kings;
it is not well that there should be many masters; one man
must be supreme—one king to whom the son of scheming
Saturn has given the sceptre of sovereignty over you all.’
Thus masterfully did he go about among the host, and
the people hurried back to the council from their tents and
ships with a sound as the thunder of surf when it comes
crashing down upon the shore, and all the sea is in an up-
roar.
The rest now took their seats and kept to their own sever-
al places, but Thersites still went on wagging his unbridled
tongue—a man of many words, and those unseemly; a
monger of sedition, a railer against all who were in author-
ity, who cared not what he said, so that he might set the
Achaeans in a laugh. He was the ugliest man of all those that
came before Troy—bandy-legged, lame of one foot, with
his two shoulders rounded and hunched over his chest. His
head ran up to a point, but there was little hair on the top
of it. Achilles and Ulysses hated him worst of all, for it was
with them that he was most wont to wrangle; now, however,
with a shrill squeaky voice he began heaping his abuse on
Agamemnon. The Achaeans were angry and disgusted, yet
none the less he kept on brawling and bawling at the son of
Atreus.
‘Agamemnon,’ he cried, ‘what ails you now, and what

more do you want? Your tents are filled with bronze and
with fair women, for whenever we take a town we give you
the pick of them. Would you have yet more gold, which
some Trojan is to give you as a ransom for his son, when I
or another Achaean has taken him prisoner? or is it some
young girl to hide and lie with? It is not well that you, the
ruler of the Achaeans, should bring them into such mis-
ery. Weakling cowards, women rather than men, let us sail
home, and leave this fellow here at Troy to stew in his own
meeds of honour, and discover whether we were of any ser-
vice to him or no. Achilles is a much better man than he is,
and see how he has treated him—robbing him of his prize
and keeping it himself. Achilles takes it meekly and shows
no fight; if he did, son of Atreus, you would never again in-
sult him.’
Thus railed Thersites, but Ulysses at once went up to him
and rebuked him sternly. ‘Check your glib tongue, Ther-
sites,’ said be, ‘and babble not a word further. Chide not with
princes when you have none to back you. There is no viler
creature come before Troy with the sons of Atreus. Drop
this chatter about kings, and neither revile them nor keep
harping about going home. We do not yet know how things
are going to be, nor whether the Achaeans are to return with
good success or evil. How dare you gibe at Agamemnon be-
cause the Danaans have awarded him so many prizes? I tell
you, therefore—and it shall surely be—that if I again catch
you talking such nonsense, I will either forfeit my own head
and be no more called father of Telemachus, or I will take
you, strip you stark naked, and whip you out of the assem-
28 The Iliad
bly till you go blubbering back to the ships.’
On this he beat him with his staff about the back and
shoulders till he dropped and fell a-weeping. The golden
sceptre raised a bloody weal on his back, so he sat down
frightened and in pain, looking foolish as he wiped the
tears from his eyes. The people were sorry for him, yet they
laughed heartily, and one would turn to his neighbour say-
ing, ‘Ulysses has done many a good thing ere now in fight
and council, but he never did the Argives a better turn than
when he stopped this fellow’s mouth from prating further.
He will give the kings no more of his insolence.’
Thus said the people. Then Ulysses rose, sceptre in hand,
and Minerva in the likeness of a herald bade the people be
still, that those who were far off might hear him and consid-
er his council. He therefore with all sincerity and goodwill
addressed them thus:—
‘King Agamemnon, the Achaeans are for making you a
by-word among all mankind. They forget the promise they
made you when they set out from Argos, that you should
not return till you had sacked the town of Troy, and, like
children or widowed women, they murmur and would set
off homeward. True it is that they have had toil enough to
be disheartened. A man chafes at having to stay away from
his wife even for a single month, when he is on shipboard,
at the mercy of wind and sea, but it is now nine long years
that we have been kept here; I cannot, therefore, blame the
Achaeans if they turn restive; still we shall be shamed if we
go home empty after so long a stay—therefore, my friends,
be patient yet a little longer that we may learn whether the

prophesyings of Calchas were false or true.
‘All who have not since perished must remember as
though it were yesterday or the day before, how the ships of
the Achaeans were detained in Aulis when we were on our
way hither to make war on Priam and the Trojans. We were
ranged round about a fountain offering hecatombs to the
gods upon their holy altars, and there was a fine plane-tree
from beneath which there welled a stream of pure water.
Then we saw a prodigy; for Jove sent a fearful serpent out of
the ground, with blood-red stains upon its back, and it dart-
ed from under the altar on to the plane-tree. Now there was
a brood of young sparrows, quite small, upon the topmost
bough, peeping out from under the leaves, eight in all, and
their mother that hatched them made nine. The serpent ate
the poor cheeping things, while the old bird flew about la-
menting her little ones; but the serpent threw his coils about
her and caught her by the wing as she was screaming. Then,
when he had eaten both the sparrow and her young, the
god who had sent him made him become a sign; for the son
of scheming Saturn turned him into stone, and we stood
there wondering at that which had come to pass. Seeing,
then, that such a fearful portent had broken in upon our
hecatombs, Calchas forthwith declared to us the oracles of
heaven. ‘Why, Achaeans,’ said he, ‘are you thus speechless?
Jove has sent us this sign, long in coming, and long ere it be
fulfilled, though its fame shall last for ever. As the serpent
ate the eight fledglings and the sparrow that hatched them,
which makes nine, so shall we fight nine years at Troy, but
in the tenth shall take the town.’ This was what he said, and
30 The Iliad
now it is all coming true. Stay here, therefore, all of you, till
we take the city of Priam.’
On this the Argives raised a shout, till the ships rang
again with the uproar. Nestor, knight of Gerene, then ad-
dressed them. ‘Shame on you,’ he cried, ‘to stay talking here
like children, when you should fight like men. Where are
our covenants now, and where the oaths that we have taken?
Shall our counsels be flung into the fire, with our drink-of-
ferings and the right hands of fellowship wherein we have
put our trust? We waste our time in words, and for all our
talking here shall be no further forward. Stand, therefore,
son of Atreus, by your own steadfast purpose; lead the Ar-
gives on to battle, and leave this handful of men to rot, who
scheme, and scheme in vain, to get back to Argos ere they
have learned whether Jove be true or a liar. For the mighty
son of Saturn surely promised that we should succeed, when
we Argives set sail to bring death and destruction upon
the Trojans. He showed us favourable signs by flashing his
lightning on our right hands; therefore let none make haste
to go till he has first lain with the wife of some Trojan, and
avenged the toil and sorrow that he has suffered for the sake
of Helen. Nevertheless, if any man is in such haste to be at
home again, let him lay his hand to his ship that he may
meet his doom in the sight of all. But, O king, consider and
give ear to my counsel, for the word that I say may not be
neglected lightly. Divide your men, Agamemnon, into their
several tribes and clans, that clans and tribes may stand by
and help one another. If you do this, and if the Achaeans
obey you, you will find out who, both chiefs and peoples,

are brave, and who are cowards; for they will vie against the
other. Thus you shall also learn whether it is through the
counsel of heaven or the cowardice of man that you shall
fail to take the town.’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘Nestor, you have again
outdone the sons of the Achaeans in counsel. Would, by
Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, that I had among them
ten more such councillors, for the city of King Priam would
then soon fall beneath our hands, and we should sack it. But
the son of Saturn afflicts me with bootless wranglings and
strife. Achilles and I are quarrelling about this girl, in which
matter I was the first to offend; if we can be of one mind
again, the Trojans will not stave off destruction for a day.
Now, therefore, get your morning meal, that our hosts join
in fight. Whet well your spears; see well to the ordering of
your shields; give good feeds to your horses, and look your
chariots carefully over, that we may do battle the livelong
day; for we shall have no rest, not for a moment, till night
falls to part us. The bands that bear your shields shall be wet
with the sweat upon your shoulders, your hands shall weary
upon your spears, your horses shall steam in front of your
chariots, and if I see any man shirking the fight, or trying
to keep out of it at the ships, there shall be no help for him,
but he shall be a prey to dogs and vultures.’
Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans roared applause. As
when the waves run high before the blast of the south wind
and break on some lofty headland, dashing against it and
buffeting it without ceasing, as the storms from every quar-
ter drive them, even so did the Achaeans rise and hurry in
32 The Iliad
all directions to their ships. There they lighted their fires at
their tents and got dinner, offering sacrifice every man to
one or other of the gods, and praying each one of them that
he might live to come out of the fight. Agamemnon, king of
men, sacrificed a fat five-year-old bull to the mighty son of
Saturn, and invited the princes and elders of his host. First
he asked Nestor and King Idomeneus, then the two Ajaxes
and the son of Tydeus, and sixthly Ulysses, peer of gods
in counsel; but Menelaus came of his own accord, for he
knew how busy his brother then was. They stood round the
bull with the barley-meal in their hands, and Agamemnon
prayed, saying, ‘Jove, most glorious, supreme, that dwell-
est in heaven, and ridest upon the storm-cloud, grant that
the sun may not go down, nor the night fall, till the palace
of Priam is laid low, and its gates are consumed with fire.
Grant that my sword may pierce the shirt of Hector about
his heart, and that full many of his comrades may bite the
dust as they fall dying round him.’
Thus he prayed, but the son of Saturn would not ful-
fil his prayer. He accepted the sacrifice, yet none the less
increased their toil continually. When they had done pray-
ing and sprinkling the barley-meal upon the victim, they
drew back its head, killed it, and then flayed it. They cut out
the thigh-bones, wrapped them round in two layers of fat,
and set pieces of raw meat on the top of them. These they
burned upon the split logs of firewood, but they spitted the
inward meats, and held them in the flames to cook. When
the thigh-bones were burned, and they had tasted the in-
ward meats, they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon

spits, roasted them till they were done, and drew them off;
then, when they had finished their work and the feast was
ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share, so that
all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat
and drink, Nestor, knight of Gerene, began to speak. ‘King
Agamemnon,’ said he, ‘let us not stay talking here, nor be
slack in the work that heaven has put into our hands. Let
the heralds summon the people to gather at their several
ships; we will then go about among the host, that we may
begin fighting at once.’
Thus did he speak, and Agamemnon heeded his words.
He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assem-
bly. So they called them, and the people gathered thereon.
The chiefs about the son of Atreus chose their men and mar-
shalled them, while Minerva went among them holding her
priceless aegis that knows neither age nor death. From it
there waved a hundred tassels of pure gold, all deftly woven,
and each one of them worth a hundred oxen. With this she
darted furiously everywhere among the hosts of the Achae-
ans, urging them forward, and putting courage into the
heart of each, so that he might fight and do battle without
ceasing. Thus war became sweeter in their eyes even than
returning home in their ships. As when some great forest
fire is raging upon a mountain top and its light is seen afar,
even so as they marched the gleam of their armour flashed
up into the firmament of heaven.
They were like great flocks of geese, or cranes, or swans
on the plain about the waters of Cayster, that wing their way
hither and thither, glorying in the pride of flight, and crying
34 The Iliad
as they settle till the fen is alive with their screaming. Even
thus did their tribes pour from ships and tents on to the
plain of the Scamander, and the ground rang as brass under
the feet of men and horses. They stood as thick upon the
flower-bespangled field as leaves that bloom in summer.
As countless swarms of flies buzz around a herdsman’s
homestead in the time of spring when the pails are drenched
with milk, even so did the Achaeans swarm on to the plain
to charge the Trojans and destroy them.
The chiefs disposed their men this way and that before
the fight began, drafting them out as easily as goatherds
draft their flocks when they have got mixed while feeding;
and among them went King Agamemnon, with a head and
face like Jove the lord of thunder, a waist like Mars, and a
chest like that of Neptune. As some great bull that lords it
over the herds upon the plain, even so did Jove make the son
of Atreus stand peerless among the multitude of heroes.
And now, O Muses, dwellers in the mansions of Olympus,
tell me— for you are goddesses and are in all places so that
you see all things, while we know nothing but by report—
who were the chiefs and princes of the Danaans? As for the
common soldiers, they were so that I could not name every
single one of them though I had ten tongues, and though
my voice failed not and my heart were of bronze within me,
unless you, O Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing
Jove, were to recount them to me. Nevertheless, I will tell
the captains of the ships and all the fleet together.
Peneleos, Leitus, Arcesilaus, Prothoenor, and Clonius
were captains of the Boeotians. These were they that dwelt

in Hyria and rocky Aulis, and who held Schoenus, Scolus,
and the highlands of Eteonus, with Thespeia, Graia, and the
fair city of Mycalessus. They also held Harma, Eilesium, and
Erythrae; and they had Eleon, Hyle, and Peteon; Ocalea and
the strong fortress of Medeon; Copae, Eutresis, and Thisbe
the haunt of doves; Coronea, and the pastures of Haliar-
tus; Plataea and Glisas; the fortress of Thebes the less; holy
Onchestus with its famous grove of Neptune; Arne rich in
vineyards; Midea, sacred Nisa, and Anthedon upon the sea.
From these there came fifty ships, and in each there were a
hundred and twenty young men of the Boeotians.
Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Mars, led the people
that dwelt in Aspledon and Orchomenus the realm of Min-
yas. Astyoche a noble maiden bore them in the house of
Actor son of Azeus; for she had gone with Mars secretly into
an upper chamber, and he had lain with her. With these
there came thirty ships.
The Phoceans were led by Schedius and Epistrophus,
sons of mighty Iphitus the son of Naubolus. These were they
that held Cyparissus, rocky Pytho, holy Crisa, Daulis, and
Panopeus; they also that dwelt in Anemorea and Hyampo-
lis, and about the waters of the river Cephissus, and Lilaea
by the springs of the Cephissus; with their chieftains came
forty ships, and they marshalled the forces of the Phoceans,
which were stationed next to the Boeotians, on their left.
Ajax, the fleet son of Oileus, commanded the Locrians.
He was not so great, nor nearly so great, as Ajax the son of
Telamon. He was a little man, and his breastplate was made
of linen, but in use of the spear he excelled all the Hellenes
36 The Iliad
and the Achaeans. These dwelt in Cynus, Opous, Calliarus,
Bessa, Scarphe, fair Augeae, Tarphe, and Thronium about
the river Boagrius. With him there came forty ships of the
Locrians who dwell beyond Euboea.
The fierce Abantes held Euboea with its cities, Chalcis,
Eretria, Histiaea rich in vines, Cerinthus upon the sea, and
the rock-perched town of Dium; with them were also the
men of Carystus and Styra; Elephenor of the race of Mars
was in command of these; he was son of Chalcodon, and
chief over all the Abantes. With him they came, fleet of foot
and wearing their hair long behind, brave warriors, who
would ever strive to tear open the corslets of their foes with
their long ashen spears. Of these there came fifty ships.
And they that held the strong city of Athens, the peo-
ple of great Erechtheus, who was born of the soil itself, but
Jove’s daughter, Minerva, fostered him, and established him
at Athens in her own rich sanctuary. There, year by year, the
Athenian youths worship him with sacrifices of bulls and
rams. These were commanded by Menestheus, son of Pe-
teos. No man living could equal him in the marshalling of
chariots and foot soldiers. Nestor could alone rival him, for
he was older. With him there came fifty ships.
Ajax brought twelve ships from Salamis, and stationed
them alongside those of the Athenians.
The men of Argos, again, and those who held the walls of
Tiryns, with Hermione, and Asine upon the gulf; Troezene,
Eionae, and the vineyard lands of Epidaurus; the Achaean
youths, moreover, who came from Aegina and Mases; these
were led by Diomed of the loud battle-cry, and Sthenelus

son of famed Capaneus. With them in command was Eury-
alus, son of king Mecisteus, son of Talaus; but Diomed was
chief over them all. With these there came eighty ships.
Those who held the strong city of Mycenae, rich Corinth
and Cleonae; Orneae, Araethyrea, and Licyon, where Adras-
tus reigned of old; Hyperesia, high Gonoessa, and Pellene;
Aegium and all the coast-land round about Helice; these
sent a hundred ships under the command of King Agamem-
non, son of Atreus. His force was far both finest and most
numerous, and in their midst was the king himself, all glo-
rious in his armour of gleaming bronze—foremost among
the heroes, for he was the greatest king, and had most men
under him.
And those that dwelt in Lacedaemon, lying low among
the hills, Pharis, Sparta, with Messe the haunt of doves;
Bryseae, Augeae, Amyclae, and Helos upon the sea; Laas,
moreover, and Oetylus; these were led by Menelaus of the
loud battle-cry, brother to Agamemnon, and of them there
were sixty ships, drawn up apart from the others. Among
them went Menelaus himself, strong in zeal, urging his men
to fight; for he longed to avenge the toil and sorrow that he
had suffered for the sake of Helen.
The men of Pylos and Arene, and Thryum where is the
ford of the river Alpheus; strong Aipy, Cyparisseis, and
Amphigenea; Pteleum, Helos, and Dorium, where the Mus-
es met Thamyris, and stilled his minstrelsy for ever. He was
returning from Oechalia, where Eurytus lived and reigned,
and boasted that he would surpass even the Muses, daugh-
ters of aegis-bearing Jove, if they should sing against him;
38 The Iliad
whereon they were angry, and maimed him. They robbed
him of his divine power of song, and thenceforth he could
strike the lyre no more. These were commanded by Nestor,
knight of Gerene, and with him there came ninety ships.
And those that held Arcadia, under the high mountain
of Cyllene, near the tomb of Aepytus, where the people fight
hand to hand; the men of Pheneus also, and Orchomenus
rich in flocks; of Rhipae, Stratie, and bleak Enispe; of Tegea
and fair Mantinea; of Stymphelus and Parrhasia; of these
King Agapenor son of Ancaeus was commander, and they
had sixty ships. Many Arcadians, good soldiers, came in
each one of them, but Agamemnon found them the ships
in which to cross the sea, for they were not a people that oc-
cupied their business upon the waters.
The men, moreover, of Buprasium and of Elis, so much of
it as is enclosed between Hyrmine, Myrsinus upon the sea-
shore, the rock Olene and Alesium. These had four leaders,
and each of them had ten ships, with many Epeans on board.
Their captains were Amphimachus and Thalpius—the one,
son of Cteatus, and the other, of Eurytus—both of the race
of Actor. The two others were Diores, son of Amarynces,
and Polyxenus, son of King Agasthenes, son of Augeas.
And those of Dulichium with the sacred Echinean is-
lands, who dwelt beyond the sea off Elis; these were led by
Meges, peer of Mars, and the son of valiant Phyleus, dear to
Jove, who quarrelled with his father, and went to settle in
Dulichium. With him there came forty ships.
Ulysses led the brave Cephallenians, who held Ithaca,
Neritum with its forests, Crocylea, rugged Aegilips, Sa-

mos and Zacynthus, with the mainland also that was over
against the islands. These were led by Ulysses, peer of Jove
in counsel, and with him there came twelve ships.
Thoas, son of Andraemon, commanded the Aetolians,
who dwelt in Pleuron, Olenus, Pylene, Chalcis by the sea,
and rocky Calydon, for the great king Oeneus had now
no sons living, and was himself dead, as was also golden-
haired Meleager, who had been set over the Aetolians to be
their king. And with Thoas there came forty ships.
The famous spearsman Idomeneus led the Cretans, who
held Cnossus, and the well-walled city of Gortys; Lyctus
also, Miletus and Lycastus that lies upon the chalk; the
populous towns of Phaestus and Rhytium, with the other
peoples that dwelt in the hundred cities of Crete. All these
were led by Idomeneus, and by Meriones, peer of murder-
ous Mars. And with these there came eighty ships.
Tlepolemus, son of Hercules, a man both brave and
large of stature, brought nine ships of lordly warriors from
Rhodes. These dwelt in Rhodes which is divided among the
three cities of Lindus, Ielysus, and Cameirus, that lies upon
the chalk. These were commanded by Tlepolemus, son
of Hercules by Astyochea, whom he had carried off from
Ephyra, on the river Selleis, after sacking many cities of
valiant warriors. When Tlepolemus grew up, he killed his
father’s uncle Licymnius, who had been a famous warrior
in his time, but was then grown old. On this he built him-
self a fleet, gathered a great following, and fled beyond the
sea, for he was menaced by the other sons and grandsons
of Hercules. After a voyage, during which he suffered great
40 The Iliad
hardship, he came to Rhodes, where the people divided
into three communities, according to their tribes, and were
dearly loved by Jove, the lord of gods and men; wherefore
the son of Saturn showered down great riches upon them.
And Nireus brought three ships from Syme—Nireus,
who was the handsomest man that came up under Ilius of
all the Danaans after the son of Peleus—but he was a man
of no substance, and had but a small following.
And those that held Nisyrus, Crapathus, and Casus, with
Cos, the city of Eurypylus, and the Calydnian islands, these
were commanded by Pheidippus and Antiphus, two sons of
King Thessalus the son of Hercules. And with them there
came thirty ships.
Those again who held Pelasgic Argos, Alos, Alope, and
Trachis; and those of Phthia and Hellas the land of fair wom-
en, who were called Myrmidons, Hellenes, and Achaeans;
these had fifty ships, over which Achilles was in command.
But they now took no part in the war, inasmuch as there
was no one to marshal them; for Achilles stayed by his ships,
furious about the loss of the girl Briseis, whom he had taken
from Lyrnessus at his own great peril, when he had sacked
Lyrnessus and Thebe, and had overthrown Mynes and Epi-
strophus, sons of king Evenor, son of Selepus. For her sake
Achilles was still grieving, but ere long he was again to join
them.
And those that held Phylace and the flowery meadows
of Pyrasus, sanctuary of Ceres; Iton, the mother of sheep;
Antrum upon the sea, and Pteleum that lies upon the grass
lands. Of these brave Protesilaus had been captain while he

was yet alive, but he was now lying under the earth. He had
left a wife behind him in Phylace to tear her cheeks in sor-
row, and his house was only half finished, for he was slain by
a Dardanian warrior while leaping foremost of the Achae-
ans upon the soil of Troy. Still, though his people mourned
their chieftain, they were not without a leader, for Podarces,
of the race of Mars, marshalled them; he was son of Iphic-
lus, rich in sheep, who was the son of Phylacus, and he was
own brother to Protesilaus, only younger, Protesilaus being
at once the elder and the more valiant. So the people were
not without a leader, though they mourned him whom they
had lost. With him there came forty ships.
And those that held Pherae by the Boebean lake, with
Boebe, Glaphyrae, and the populous city of Iolcus, these
with their eleven ships were led by Eumelus, son of Adme-
tus, whom Alcestis bore to him, loveliest of the daughters
of Pelias.
And those that held Methone and Thaumacia, with Meli-
boea and rugged Olizon, these were led by the skilful archer
Philoctetes, and they had seven ships, each with fifty oars-
men all of them good archers; but Philoctetes was lying in
great pain in the Island of Lemnos, where the sons of the
Achaeans left him, for he had been bitten by a poisonous
water snake. There he lay sick and sorry, and full soon did
the Argives come to miss him. But his people, though they
felt his loss were not leaderless, for Medon, the bastard son
of Oileus by Rhene, set them in array.
Those, again, of Tricca and the stony region of Ithome,
and they that held Oechalia, the city of Oechalian Eury-
42 The Iliad
tus, these were commanded by the two sons of Aesculapius,
skilled in the art of healing, Podalirius and Machaon. And
with them there came thirty ships.
The men, moreover, of Ormenius, and by the fountain
of Hypereia, with those that held Asterius, and the white
crests of Titanus, these were led by Eurypylus, the son of
Euaemon, and with them there came forty ships.
Those that held Argissa and Gyrtone, Orthe, Elone, and
the white city of Oloosson, of these brave Polypoetes was
leader. He was son of Pirithous, who was son of Jove himself,
for Hippodameia bore him to Pirithous on the day when he
took his revenge on the shaggy mountain savages and drove
them from Mt. Pelion to the Aithices. But Polypoetes was
not sole in command, for with him was Leonteus, of the
race of Mars, who was son of Coronus, the son of Caeneus.
And with these there came forty ships.
Guneus brought two and twenty ships from Cyphus, and
he was followed by the Enienes and the valiant Peraebi, who
dwelt about wintry Dodona, and held the lands round the
lovely river Titaresius, which sends its waters into the Pene-
us. They do not mingle with the silver eddies of the Peneus,
but flow on the top of them like oil; for the Titaresius is a
branch of dread Orcus and of the river Styx.
Of the Magnetes, Prothous son of Tenthredon was com-
mander. They were they that dwelt about the river Peneus
and Mt. Pelion. Prothous, fleet of foot, was their leader, and
with him there came forty ships.
Such were the chiefs and princes of the Danaans. Who,
then, O Muse, was the foremost, whether man or horse,

among those that followed after the sons of Atreus?
Of the horses, those of the son of Pheres were by far the
finest. They were driven by Eumelus, and were as fleet as
birds. They were of the same age and colour, and perfect-
ly matched in height. Apollo, of the silver bow, had bred
them in Perea—both of them mares, and terrible as Mars
in battle. Of the men, Ajax, son of Telamon, was much
the foremost so long as Achilles’ anger lasted, for Achil-
les excelled him greatly and he had also better horses; but
Achilles was now holding aloof at his ships by reason of his
quarrel with Agamemnon, and his people passed their time
upon the sea shore, throwing discs or aiming with spears at
a mark, and in archery. Their horses stood each by his own
chariot, champing lotus and wild celery. The chariots were
housed under cover, but their owners, for lack of leadership,
wandered hither and thither about the host and went not
forth to fight.
Thus marched the host like a consuming fire, and the
earth groaned beneath them when the lord of thunder is
angry and lashes the land about Typhoeus among the Ari-
mi, where they say Typhoeus lies. Even so did the earth
groan beneath them as they sped over the plain.
And now Iris, fleet as the wind, was sent by Jove to tell
the bad news among the Trojans. They were gathered in as-
sembly, old and young, at Priam’s gates, and Iris came close
up to Priam, speaking with the voice of Priam’s son Polites,
who, being fleet of foot, was stationed as watchman for the
Trojans on the tomb of old Aesyetes, to look out for any sal-
ly of the Achaeans. In his likeness Iris spoke, saying, ‘Old
44 The Iliad
man, you talk idly, as in time of peace, while war is at hand.
I have been in many a battle, but never yet saw such a host
as is now advancing. They are crossing the plain to attack
the city as thick as leaves or as the sands of the sea. Hector,
I charge you above all others, do as I say. There are many
allies dispersed about the city of Priam from distant places
and speaking divers tongues. Therefore, let each chief give
orders to his own people, setting them severally in array
and leading them forth to battle.’
Thus she spoke, but Hector knew that it was the goddess,
and at once broke up the assembly. The men flew to arms;
all the gates were opened, and the people thronged through
them, horse and foot, with the tramp as of a great multi-
tude.
Now there is a high mound before the city, rising by itself
upon the plain. Men call it Batieia, but the gods know that
it is the tomb of lithe Myrine. Here the Trojans and their al-
lies divided their forces.
Priam’s son, great Hector of the gleaming helmet, com-
manded the Trojans, and with him were arrayed by far the
greater number and most valiant of those who were longing
for the fray.
The Dardanians were led by brave Aeneas, whom Venus
bore to Anchises, when she, goddess though she was, had
lain with him upon the mountain slopes of Ida. He was not
alone, for with him were the two sons of Antenor, Archilo-
chus and Acamas, both skilled in all the arts of war.
They that dwelt in Telea under the lowest spurs of Mt. Ida,
men of substance, who drink the limpid waters of the Aese-

pus, and are of Trojan blood—these were led by Pandarus
son of Lycaon, whom Apollo had taught to use the bow.
They that held Adresteia and the land of Apaesus, with
Pityeia, and the high mountain of Tereia—these were led
by Adrestus and Amphius, whose breastplate was of linen.
These were the sons of Merops of Percote, who excelled in
all kinds of divination. He told them not to take part in the
war, but they gave him no heed, for fate lured them to de-
struction.
They that dwelt about Percote and Practius, with Ses-
tos, Abydos, and Arisbe—these were led by Asius, son of
Hyrtacus, a brave commander—Asius, the son of Hyrtacus,
whom his powerful dark bay steeds, of the breed that comes
from the river Selleis, had brought from Arisbe.
Hippothous led the tribes of Pelasgian spearsmen, who
dwelt in fertile Larissa—Hippothous, and Pylaeus of the
race of Mars, two sons of the Pelasgian Lethus, son of Teu-
tamus.
Acamas and the warrior Peirous commanded the Thra-
cians and those that came from beyond the mighty stream
of the Hellespont.
Euphemus, son of Troezenus, the son of Ceos, was cap-
tain of the Ciconian spearsmen.
Pyraechmes led the Paeonian archers from distant
Amydon, by the broad waters of the river Axius, the fairest
that flow upon the earth.
The Paphlagonians were commanded by stout-heart-
ed Pylaemanes from Enetae, where the mules run wild in
herds. These were they that held Cytorus and the coun-
46 The Iliad
try round Sesamus, with the cities by the river Parthenius,
Cromna, Aegialus, and lofty Erithini.
Odius and Epistrophus were captains over the Halizoni
from distant Alybe, where there are mines of silver.
Chromis, and Ennomus the augur, led the Mysians, but
his skill in augury availed not to save him from destruction,
for he fell by the hand of the fleet descendant of Aeacus in
the river, where he slew others also of the Trojans.
Phorcys, again, and noble Ascanius led the Phrygians
from the far country of Ascania, and both were eager for
the fray.
Mesthles and Antiphus commanded the Meonians, sons
of Talaemenes, born to him of the Gygaean lake. These led
the Meonians, who dwelt under Mt. Tmolus.
Nastes led the Carians, men of a strange speech. These
held Miletus and the wooded mountain of Phthires, with
the water of the river Maeander and the lofty crests of Mt.
Mycale. These were commanded by Nastes and Amphima-
chus, the brave sons of Nomion. He came into the fight with
gold about him, like a girl; fool that he was, his gold was of
no avail to save him, for he fell in the river by the hand of
the fleet descendant of Aeacus, and Achilles bore away his
gold.
Sarpedon and Glaucus led the Lycians from their distant
land, by the eddying waters of the Xanthus.

BOOK III
W hen the companies were thus arrayed, each under its

own captain, the Trojans advanced as a flight of wild
fowl or cranes that scream overhead when rain and win-
ter drive them over the flowing waters of Oceanus to bring
death and destruction on the Pygmies, and they wrangle
in the air as they fly; but the Achaeans marched silently, in
high heart, and minded to stand by one another.
As when the south wind spreads a curtain of mist upon
the mountain tops, bad for shepherds but better than night
for thieves, and a man can see no further than he can throw
a stone, even so rose the dust from under their feet as they
made all speed over the plain.
When they were close up with one another, Alexan-
drus came forward as champion on the Trojan side. On his
shoulders he bore the skin of a panther, his bow, and his
sword, and he brandished two spears shod with bronze as
a challenge to the bravest of the Achaeans to meet him in
single fight. Menelaus saw him thus stride out before the
ranks, and was glad as a hungry lion that lights on the car-
case of some goat or horned stag, and devours it there and
then, though dogs and youths set upon him. Even thus was
Menelaus glad when his eyes caught sight of Alexandrus,
for he deemed that now he should be revenged. He sprang,
therefore, from his chariot, clad in his suit of armour.
48 The Iliad
Alexandrus quailed as he saw Menelaus come forward,
and shrank in fear of his life under cover of his men. As
one who starts back affrighted, trembling and pale, when
he comes suddenly upon a serpent in some mountain glade,
even so did Alexandrus plunge into the throng of Trojan
warriors, terror-stricken at the sight of the son of Atreus.
Then Hector upbraided him. ‘Paris,’ said he, ‘evil-heart-
ed Paris, fair to see, but woman-mad, and false of tongue,
would that you had never been born, or that you had died
unwed. Better so, than live to be disgraced and looked
askance at. Will not the Achaeans mock at us and say that
we have sent one to champion us who is fair to see but who
has neither wit nor courage? Did you not, such as you are,
get your following together and sail beyond the seas? Did
you not from your a far country carry off a lovely woman
wedded among a people of warriors—to bring sorrow upon
your father, your city, and your whole country, but joy to
your enemies, and hang-dog shamefacedness to yourself?
And now can you not dare face Menelaus and learn what
manner of man he is whose wife you have stolen? Where in-
deed would be your lyre and your love-tricks, your comely
locks and your fair favour, when you were lying in the dust
before him? The Trojans are a weak-kneed people, or ere
this you would have had a shirt of stones for the wrongs you
have done them.’
And Alexandrus answered, ‘Hector, your rebuke is just.
You are hard as the axe which a shipwright wields at his
work, and cleaves the timber to his liking. As the axe in his
hand, so keen is the edge of your scorn. Still, taunt me not

with the gifts that golden Venus has given me; they are pre-
cious; let not a man disdain them, for the gods give them
where they are minded, and none can have them for the
asking. If you would have me do battle with Menelaus, bid
the Trojans and Achaeans take their seats, while he and I
fight in their midst for Helen and all her wealth. Let him
who shall be victorious and prove to be the better man take
the woman and all she has, to bear them to his home, but let
the rest swear to a solemn covenant of peace whereby you
Trojans shall stay here in Troy, while the others go home to
Argos and the land of the Achaeans.’
When Hector heard this he was glad, and went about
among the Trojan ranks holding his spear by the middle
to keep them back, and they all sat down at his bidding: but
the Achaeans still aimed at him with stones and arrows, till
Agamemnon shouted to them saying, ‘Hold, Argives, shoot
not, sons of the Achaeans; Hector desires to speak.’
They ceased taking aim and were still, whereon Hector
spoke. ‘Hear from my mouth,’ said he, ‘Trojans and Achae-
ans, the saying of Alexandrus, through whom this quarrel
has come about. He bids the Trojans and Achaeans lay their
armour upon the ground, while he and Menelaus fight in
the midst of you for Helen and all her wealth. Let him who
shall be victorious and prove to be the better man take the
woman and all she has, to bear them to his own home, but
let the rest swear to a solemn covenant of peace.’
Thus he spoke, and they all held their peace, till Mene-
laus of the loud battle-cry addressed them. ‘And now,’ he
said, ‘hear me too, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I
50 The Iliad
deem that the parting of Achaeans and Trojans is at hand,
as well it may be, seeing how much have suffered for my
quarrel with Alexandrus and the wrong he did me. Let him
who shall die, die, and let the others fight no more. Bring,
then, two lambs, a white ram and a black ewe, for Earth and
Sun, and we will bring a third for Jove. Moreover, you shall
bid Priam come, that he may swear to the covenant himself;
for his sons are high-handed and ill to trust, and the oaths
of Jove must not be transgressed or taken in vain. Young
men’s minds are light as air, but when an old man comes he
looks before and after, deeming that which shall be fairest
upon both sides.’
The Trojans and Achaeans were glad when they heard
this, for they thought that they should now have rest. They
backed their chariots toward the ranks, got out of them,
and put off their armour, laying it down upon the ground;
and the hosts were near to one another with a little space
between them. Hector sent two messengers to the city to
bring the lambs and to bid Priam come, while Agamemnon
told Talthybius to fetch the other lamb from the ships, and
he did as Agamemnon had said.
Meanwhile Iris went to Helen in the form of her sister-in-
law, wife of the son of Antenor, for Helicaon, son of Antenor,
had married Laodice, the fairest of Priam’s daughters. She
found her in her own room, working at a great web of purple
linen, on which she was embroidering the battles between
Trojans and Achaeans, that Mars had made them fight for
her sake. Iris then came close up to her and said, ‘Come
hither, child, and see the strange doings of the Trojans and

Achaeans. Till now they have been warring upon the plain,
mad with lust of battle, but now they have left off fighting,
and are leaning upon their shields, sitting still with their
spears planted beside them. Alexandrus and Menelaus are
going to fight about yourself, and you are to be the wife of
him who is the victor.’
Thus spoke the goddess, and Helen’s heart yearned after
her former husband, her city, and her parents. She threw
a white mantle over her head, and hurried from her room,
weeping as she went, not alone, but attended by two of her
handmaids, Aethrae, daughter of Pittheus, and Clymene.
And straightway they were at the Scaean gates.
The two sages, Ucalegon and Antenor, elders of the peo-
ple, were seated by the Scaean gates, with Priam, Panthous,
Thymoetes, Lampus, Clytius, and Hiketaon of the race of
Mars. These were too old to fight, but they were fluent ora-
tors, and sat on the tower like cicales that chirrup delicately
from the boughs of some high tree in a wood. When they
saw Helen coming towards the tower, they said softly to one
another, ‘Small wonder that Trojans and Achaeans should
endure so much and so long, for the sake of a woman so
marvellously and divinely lovely. Still, fair though she be,
let them take her and go, or she will breed sorrow for us and
for our children after us.’
But Priam bade her draw nigh. ‘My child,’ said he, ‘take
your seat in front of me that you may see your former hus-
band, your kinsmen and your friends. I lay no blame upon
you, it is the gods, not you who are to blame. It is they that
have brought about this terrible war with the Achaeans. Tell
52 The Iliad
me, then, who is yonder huge hero so great and goodly? I
have seen men taller by a head, but none so comely and so
royal. Surely he must be a king.’
‘Sir,’ answered Helen, ‘father of my husband, dear and
reverend in my eyes, would that I had chosen death rather
than to have come here with your son, far from my bridal
chamber, my friends, my darling daughter, and all the com-
panions of my girlhood. But it was not to be, and my lot is
one of tears and sorrow. As for your question, the hero of
whom you ask is Agamemnon, son of Atreus, a good king
and a brave soldier, brother-in-law as surely as that he lives,
to my abhorred and miserable self.’
The old man marvelled at him and said, ‘Happy son of
Atreus, child of good fortune. I see that the Achaeans are
subject to you in great multitudes. When I was in Phrygia I
saw much horsemen, the people of Otreus and of Mygdon,
who were camping upon the banks of the river Sangarius; I
was their ally, and with them when the Amazons, peers of
men, came up against them, but even they were not so many
as the Achaeans.’
The old man next looked upon Ulysses; ‘Tell me,’ he said,
‘who is that other, shorter by a head than Agamemnon, but
broader across the chest and shoulders? His armour is laid
upon the ground, and he stalks in front of the ranks as it
were some great woolly ram ordering his ewes.’
And Helen answered, ‘He is Ulysses, a man of great craft,
son of Laertes. He was born in rugged Ithaca, and excels in
all manner of stratagems and subtle cunning.’
On this Antenor said, ‘Madam, you have spoken tru-

ly. Ulysses once came here as envoy about yourself, and
Menelaus with him. I received them in my own house, and
therefore know both of them by sight and conversation.
When they stood up in presence of the assembled Trojans,
Menelaus was the broader shouldered, but when both were
seated Ulysses had the more royal presence. After a time
they delivered their message, and the speech of Menel-
aus ran trippingly on the tongue; he did not say much, for
he was a man of few words, but he spoke very clearly and
to the point, though he was the younger man of the two;
Ulysses, on the other hand, when he rose to speak, was at
first silent and kept his eyes fixed upon the ground. There
was no play nor graceful movement of his sceptre; he kept
it straight and stiff like a man unpractised in oratory—one
might have taken him for a mere churl or simpleton; but
when he raised his voice, and the words came driving from
his deep chest like winter snow before the wind, then there
was none to touch him, and no man thought further of what
he looked like.’
Priam then caught sight of Ajax and asked, ‘Who is that
great and goodly warrior whose head and broad shoulders
tower above the rest of the Argives?’
‘That,’ answered Helen, ‘is huge Ajax, bulwark of the
Achaeans, and on the other side of him, among the Cretans,
stands Idomeneus looking like a god, and with the captains
of the Cretans round him. Often did Menelaus receive him
as a guest in our house when he came visiting us from Crete.
I see, moreover, many other Achaeans whose names I could
tell you, but there are two whom I can nowhere find, Cas-
54 The Iliad
tor, breaker of horses, and Pollux the mighty boxer; they are
children of my mother, and own brothers to myself. Either
they have not left Lacedaemon, or else, though they have
brought their ships, they will not show themselves in battle
for the shame and disgrace that I have brought upon them.’
She knew not that both these heroes were already lying
under the earth in their own land of Lacedaemon.
Meanwhile the heralds were bringing the holy oath-of-
ferings through the city—two lambs and a goatskin of wine,
the gift of earth; and Idaeus brought the mixing bowl and
the cups of gold. He went up to Priam and said, ‘Son of
Laomedon, the princes of the Trojans and Achaeans bid
you come down on to the plain and swear to a solemn cov-
enant. Alexandrus and Menelaus are to fight for Helen in
single combat, that she and all her wealth may go with him
who is the victor. We are to swear to a solemn covenant of
peace whereby we others shall dwell here in Troy, while the
Achaeans return to Argos and the land of the Achaeans.’
The old man trembled as he heard, but bade his follow-
ers yoke the horses, and they made all haste to do so. He
mounted the chariot, gathered the reins in his hand, and
Antenor took his seat beside him; they then drove through
the Scaean gates on to the plain. When they reached the
ranks of the Trojans and Achaeans they left the chariot, and
with measured pace advanced into the space between the
hosts.
Agamemnon and Ulysses both rose to meet them. The at-
tendants brought on the oath-offerings and mixed the wine
in the mixing-bowls; they poured water over the hands of

the chieftains, and the son of Atreus drew the dagger that
hung by his sword, and cut wool from the lambs’ heads;
this the men-servants gave about among the Trojan and
Achaean princes, and the son of Atreus lifted up his hands
in prayer. ‘Father Jove,’ he cried, ‘that rulest in Ida, most
glorious in power, and thou oh Sun, that seest and givest
ear to all things, Earth and Rivers, and ye who in the realms
below chastise the soul of him that has broken his oath, wit-
ness these rites and guard them, that they be not vain. If
Alexandrus kills Menelaus, let him keep Helen and all her
wealth, while we sail home with our ships; but if Menelaus
kills Alexandrus, let the Trojans give back Helen and all
that she has; let them moreover pay such fine to the Achae-
ans as shall be agreed upon, in testimony among those that
shall be born hereafter. And if Priam and his sons refuse
such fine when Alexandrus has fallen, then will I stay here
and fight on till I have got satisfaction.’
As he spoke he drew his knife across the throats of the
victims, and laid them down gasping and dying upon the
ground, for the knife had reft them of their strength. Then
they poured wine from the mixing-bowl into the cups, and
prayed to the everlasting gods, saying, Trojans and Achae-
ans among one another, ‘Jove, most great and glorious, and
ye other everlasting gods, grant that the brains of them who
shall first sin against their oaths—of them and their chil-
dren—may be shed upon the ground even as this wine, and
let their wives become the slaves of strangers.’
Thus they prayed, but not as yet would Jove grant them
their prayer. Then Priam, descendant of Dardanus, spoke,
56 The Iliad
saying, ‘Hear me, Trojans and Achaeans, I will now go back
to the wind-beaten city of Ilius: I dare not with my own eyes
witness this fight between my son and Menelaus, for Jove
and the other immortals alone know which shall fall.’
On this he laid the two lambs on his chariot and took
his seat. He gathered the reins in his hand, and Antenor
sat beside him; the two then went back to Ilius. Hector and
Ulysses measured the ground, and cast lots from a helmet
of bronze to see which should take aim first. Meanwhile the
two hosts lifted up their hands and prayed saying, ‘Father
Jove, that rulest from Ida, most glorious in power, grant
that he who first brought about this war between us may
die, and enter the house of Hades, while we others remain
at peace and abide by our oaths.’
Great Hector now turned his head aside while he shook
the helmet, and the lot of Paris flew out first. The others
took their several stations, each by his horses and the place
where his arms were lying, while Alexandrus, husband of
lovely Helen, put on his goodly armour. First he greaved his
legs with greaves of good make and fitted with ancle-clasps
of silver; after this he donned the cuirass of his brother Lyc-
aon, and fitted it to his own body; he hung his silver-studded
sword of bronze about his shoulders, and then his mighty
shield. On his comely head he set his helmet, well-wrought,
with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it,
and he grasped a redoubtable spear that suited his hands. In
like fashion Menelaus also put on his armour.
When they had thus armed, each amid his own people,
they strode fierce of aspect into the open space, and both

Trojans and Achaeans were struck with awe as they beheld
them. They stood near one another on the measured ground,
brandishing their spears, and each furious against the other.
Alexandrus aimed first, and struck the round shield of the
son of Atreus, but the spear did not pierce it, for the shield
turned its point. Menelaus next took aim, praying to Father
Jove as he did so. ‘King Jove,’ he said, ‘grant me revenge on
Alexandrus who has wronged me; subdue him under my
hand that in ages yet to come a man may shrink from doing
ill deeds in the house of his host.’
He poised his spear as he spoke, and hurled it at the
shield of Alexandrus. Through shield and cuirass it went,
and tore the shirt by his flank, but Alexandrus swerved
aside, and thus saved his life. Then the son of Atreus drew
his sword, and drove at the projecting part of his helmet,
but the sword fell shivered in three or four pieces from his
hand, and he cried, looking towards Heaven, ‘Father Jove,
of all gods thou art the most despiteful; I made sure of my
revenge, but the sword has broken in my hand, my spear
has been hurled in vain, and I have not killed him.’
With this he flew at Alexandrus, caught him by the horse-
hair plume of his helmet, and began dragging him towards
the Achaeans. The strap of the helmet that went under his
chin was choking him, and Menelaus would have dragged
him off to his own great glory had not Jove’s daughter Venus
been quick to mark and to break the strap of oxhide, so that
the empty helmet came away in his hand. This he flung to
his comrades among the Achaeans, and was again spring-
ing upon Alexandrus to run him through with a spear, but
58 The Iliad
Venus snatched him up in a moment (as a god can do), hid
him under a cloud of darkness, and conveyed him to his
own bedchamber.
Then she went to call Helen, and found her on a high
tower with the Trojan women crowding round her. She took
the form of an old woman who used to dress wool for her
when she was still in Lacedaemon, and of whom she was
very fond. Thus disguised she plucked her by perfumed robe
and said, ‘Come hither; Alexandrus says you are to go to the
house; he is on his bed in his own room, radiant with beauty
and dressed in gorgeous apparel. No one would think he
had just come from fighting, but rather that he was going to
a dance, or had done dancing and was sitting down.’
With these words she moved the heart of Helen to an-
ger. When she marked the beautiful neck of the goddess,
her lovely bosom, and sparkling eyes, she marvelled at her
and said, ‘Goddess, why do you thus beguile me? Are you
going to send me afield still further to some man whom you
have taken up in Phrygia or fair Meonia? Menelaus has just
vanquished Alexandrus, and is to take my hateful self back
with him. You are come here to betray me. Go sit with Alex-
andrus yourself; henceforth be goddess no longer; never let
your feet carry you back to Olympus; worry about him and
look after him till he make you his wife, or, for the matter
of that, his slave—but me? I shall not go; I can garnish his
bed no longer; I should be a by-word among all the women
of Troy. Besides, I have trouble on my mind.’
Venus was very angry, and said, ‘Bold hussy, do not pro-
voke me; if you do, I shall leave you to your fate and hate

you as much as I have loved you. I will stir up fierce hatred
between Trojans and Achaeans, and you shall come to a bad
end.’
At this Helen was frightened. She wrapped her mantle
about her and went in silence, following the goddess and
unnoticed by the Trojan women.
When they came to the house of Alexandrus the maid-
servants set about their work, but Helen went into her own
room, and the laughter-loving goddess took a seat and set
it for her facing Alexandrus. On this Helen, daughter of ae-
gis-bearing Jove, sat down, and with eyes askance began to
upbraid her husband.
‘So you are come from the fight,’ said she; ‘would that you
had fallen rather by the hand of that brave man who was my
husband. You used to brag that you were a better man with
hands and spear than Menelaus. Go, then, and challenge
him again—but I should advise you not to do so, for if you
are foolish enough to meet him in single combat, you will
soon fall by his spear.’
And Paris answered, ‘Wife, do not vex me with your re-
proaches. This time, with the help of Minerva, Menelaus
has vanquished me; another time I may myself be victor,
for I too have gods that will stand by me. Come, let us lie
down together and make friends. Never yet was I so pas-
sionately enamoured of you as at this moment—not even
when I first carried you off from Lacedaemon and sailed
away with you—not even when I had converse with you
upon the couch of love in the island of Cranae was I so en-
thralled by desire of you as now.’ On this he led her towards
60 The Iliad
the bed, and his wife went with him.
Thus they laid themselves on the bed together; but the son
of Atreus strode among the throng, looking everywhere for
Alexandrus, and no man, neither of the Trojans nor of the
allies, could find him. If they had seen him they were in no
mind to hide him, for they all of them hated him as they did
death itself. Then Agamemnon, king of men, spoke, saying,
‘Hear me, Trojans, Dardanians, and allies. The victory has
been with Menelaus; therefore give back Helen with all her
wealth, and pay such fine as shall be agreed upon, in testi-
mony among them that shall be born hereafter.’
Thus spoke the son of Atreus, and the Achaeans shouted
in applause.

BOOK IV
N ow the gods were sitting with Jove in council upon

the golden floor while Hebe went round pouring out
nectar for them to drink, and as they pledged one another
in their cups of gold they looked down upon the town of
Troy. The son of Saturn then began to tease Juno, talking at
her so as to provoke her. ‘Menelaus,’ said he, ‘has two good
friends among the goddesses, Juno of Argos, and Minerva
of Alalcomene, but they only sit still and look on, while Ve-
nus keeps ever by Alexandrus’ side to defend him in any
danger; indeed she has just rescued him when he made sure
that it was all over with him—for the victory really did lie
with Menelaus. We must consider what we shall do about
all this; shall we set them fighting anew or make peace be-
tween them? If you will agree to this last Menelaus can take
back Helen and the city of Priam may remain still inhab-
ited.’
Minerva and Juno muttered their discontent as they sat
side by side hatching mischief for the Trojans. Minerva
scowled at her father, for she was in a furious passion with
him, and said nothing, but Juno could not contain herself.
‘Dread son of Saturn,’ said she, ‘what, pray, is the meaning of
all this? Is my trouble, then, to go for nothing, and the sweat
that I have sweated, to say nothing of my horses, while get-
ting the people together against Priam and his children? Do
62 The Iliad
as you will, but we other gods shall not all of us approve
your counsel.’
Jove was angry and answered, ‘My dear, what harm have
Priam and his sons done you that you are so hotly bent on
sacking the city of Ilius? Will nothing do for you but you
must within their walls and eat Priam raw, with his sons
and all the other Trojans to boot? Have it your own way
then; for I would not have this matter become a bone of con-
tention between us. I say further, and lay my saying to your
heart, if ever I want to sack a city belonging to friends of
yours, you must not try to stop me; you will have to let me
do it, for I am giving in to you sorely against my will. Of
all inhabited cities under the sun and stars of heaven, there
was none that I so much respected as Ilius with Priam and
his whole people. Equitable feasts were never wanting about
my altar, nor the savour of burning fat, which is honour due
to ourselves.’
‘My own three favourite cities,’ answered Juno, ‘are Ar-
gos, Sparta, and Mycenae. Sack them whenever you may be
displeased with them. I shall not defend them and I shall
not care. Even if I did, and tried to stay you, I should take
nothing by it, for you are much stronger than I am, but I
will not have my own work wasted. I too am a god and of
the same race with yourself. I am Saturn’s eldest daughter,
and am honourable not on this ground only, but also be-
cause I am your wife, and you are king over the gods. Let it
be a case, then, of give-and-take between us, and the rest of
the gods will follow our lead. Tell Minerva to go and take
part in the fight at once, and let her contrive that the Tro-

jans shall be the first to break their oaths and set upon the
Achaeans.’
The sire of gods and men heeded her words, and said to
Minerva, ‘Go at once into the Trojan and Achaean hosts,
and contrive that the Trojans shall be the first to break their
oaths and set upon the Achaeans.’
This was what Minerva was already eager to do, so down
she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus. She shot
through the sky as some brilliant meteor which the son of
scheming Saturn has sent as a sign to mariners or to some
great army, and a fiery train of light follows in its wake. The
Trojans and Achaeans were struck with awe as they beheld,
and one would turn to his neighbour, saying, ‘Either we
shall again have war and din of combat, or Jove the lord of
battle will now make peace between us.’
Thus did they converse. Then Minerva took the form of
Laodocus, son of Antenor, and went through the ranks of
the Trojans to find Pandarus, the redoubtable son of Lyca-
on. She found him standing among the stalwart heroes who
had followed him from the banks of the Aesopus, so she
went close up to him and said, ‘Brave son of Lycaon, will
you do as I tell you? If you dare send an arrow at Menelaus
you will win honour and thanks from all the Trojans, and
especially from prince Alexandrus—he would be the first
to requite you very handsomely if he could see Menelaus
mount his funeral pyre, slain by an arrow from your hand.
Take your home aim then, and pray to Lycian Apollo, the
famous archer; vow that when you get home to your strong
city of Zelea you will offer a hecatomb of firstling lambs in
64 The Iliad
his honour.’
His fool’s heart was persuaded, and he took his bow
from its case. This bow was made from the horns of a wild
ibex which he had killed as it was bounding from a rock;
he had stalked it, and it had fallen as the arrow struck it to
the heart. Its horns were sixteen palms long, and a worker
in horn had made them into a bow, smoothing them well
down, and giving them tips of gold. When Pandarus had
strung his bow he laid it carefully on the ground, and his
brave followers held their shields before him lest the Achae-
ans should set upon him before he had shot Menelaus. Then
he opened the lid of his quiver and took out a winged ar-
row that had not yet been shot, fraught with the pangs of
death. He laid the arrow on the string and prayed to Lycian
Apollo, the famous archer, vowing that when he got home
to his strong city of Zelea he would offer a hecatomb of first-
ling lambs in his honour. He laid the notch of the arrow on
the oxhide bowstring, and drew both notch and string to
his breast till the arrow-head was near the bow; then when
the bow was arched into a half-circle he let fly, and the bow
twanged, and the string sang as the arrow flew gladly on
over the heads of the throng.
But the blessed gods did not forget thee, O Menelaus,
and Jove’s daughter, driver of the spoil, was the first to stand
before thee and ward off the piercing arrow. She turned it
from his skin as a mother whisks a fly from off her child
when it is sleeping sweetly; she guided it to the part where
the golden buckles of the belt that passed over his double
cuirass were fastened, so the arrow struck the belt that went

tightly round him. It went right through this and through
the cuirass of cunning workmanship; it also pierced the belt
beneath it, which he wore next his skin to keep out darts or
arrows; it was this that served him in the best stead, never-
theless the arrow went through it and grazed the top of the
skin, so that blood began flowing from the wound.
As when some woman of Meonia or Caria strains purple
dye on to a piece of ivory that is to be the cheek-piece of
a horse, and is to be laid up in a treasure house—many a
knight is fain to bear it, but the king keeps it as an ornament
of which both horse and driver may be proud—even so, O
Menelaus, were your shapely thighs and your legs down to
your fair ancles stained with blood.
When King Agamemnon saw the blood flowing from
the wound he was afraid, and so was brave Menelaus him-
self till he saw that the barbs of the arrow and the thread
that bound the arrow-head to the shaft were still outside the
wound. Then he took heart, but Agamemnon heaved a deep
sigh as he held Menelaus’s hand in his own, and his com-
rades made moan in concert. ‘Dear brother,’ he cried, ‘I have
been the death of you in pledging this covenant and letting
you come forward as our champion. The Trojans have tram-
pled on their oaths and have wounded you; nevertheless the
oath, the blood of lambs, the drink-offerings and the right
hands of fellowship in which we have put our trust shall not
be vain. If he that rules Olympus fulfil it not here and now,
he will yet fulfil it hereafter, and they shall pay dearly with
their lives and with their wives and children. The day will
surely come when mighty Ilius shall be laid low, with Priam
66 The Iliad
and Priam’s people, when the son of Saturn from his high
throne shall overshadow them with his awful aegis in pun-
ishment of their present treachery. This shall surely be; but
how, Menelaus, shall I mourn you, if it be your lot now to
die? I should return to Argos as a by-word, for the Achaeans
will at once go home. We shall leave Priam and the Trojans
the glory of still keeping Helen, and the earth will rot your
bones as you lie here at Troy with your purpose not fulfilled.
Then shall some braggart Trojan leap upon your tomb and
say, ‘Ever thus may Agamemnon wreak his vengeance; he
brought his army in vain; he is gone home to his own land
with empty ships, and has left Menelaus behind him.’ Thus
will one of them say, and may the earth then swallow me.’
But Menelaus reassured him and said, ‘Take heart, and
do not alarm the people; the arrow has not struck me in
a mortal part, for my outer belt of burnished metal first
stayed it, and under this my cuirass and the belt of mail
which the bronze-smiths made me.’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘I trust, dear Menelaus,
that it may be even so, but the surgeon shall examine your
wound and lay herbs upon it to relieve your pain.’
He then said to Talthybius, ‘Talthybius, tell Machaon,
son to the great physician, Aesculapius, to come and see
Menelaus immediately. Some Trojan or Lycian archer has
wounded him with an arrow to our dismay, and to his own
great glory.’
Talthybius did as he was told, and went about the host
trying to find Machaon. Presently he found standing amid
the brave warriors who had followed him from Tricca;

thereon he went up to him and said, ‘Son of Aesculapius,
King Agamemnon says you are to come and see Menelaus
immediately. Some Trojan or Lycian archer has wounded
him with an arrow to our dismay and to his own great glo-
ry.’
Thus did he speak, and Machaon was moved to go. They
passed through the spreading host of the Achaeans and
went on till they came to the place where Menelaus had
been wounded and was lying with the chieftains gathered
in a circle round him. Machaon passed into the middle of
the ring and at once drew the arrow from the belt, bend-
ing its barbs back through the force with which he pulled
it out. He undid the burnished belt, and beneath this the
cuirass and the belt of mail which the bronze-smiths had
made; then, when he had seen the wound, he wiped away
the blood and applied some soothing drugs which Chiron
had given to Aesculapius out of the good will he bore him.
While they were thus busy about Menelaus, the Trojans
came forward against them, for they had put on their ar-
mour, and now renewed the fight.
You would not have then found Agamemnon asleep nor
cowardly and unwilling to fight, but eager rather for the
fray. He left his chariot rich with bronze and his panting
steeds in charge of Eurymedon, son of Ptolemaeus the son
of Peiraeus, and bade him hold them in readiness against
the time his limbs should weary of going about and giv-
ing orders to so many, for he went among the ranks on foot.
When he saw men hasting to the front he stood by them
and cheered them on. ‘Argives,’ said he, ‘slacken not one
68 The Iliad
whit in your onset; father Jove will be no helper of liars; the
Trojans have been the first to break their oaths and to attack
us; therefore they shall be devoured of vultures; we shall
take their city and carry off their wives and children in our
ships.’
But he angrily rebuked those whom he saw shirking and
disinclined to fight. ‘Argives,’ he cried, ‘cowardly miserable
creatures, have you no shame to stand here like frightened
fawns who, when they can no longer scud over the plain,
huddle together, but show no fight? You are as dazed and
spiritless as deer. Would you wait till the Trojans reach the
sterns of our ships as they lie on the shore, to see wheth-
er the son of Saturn will hold his hand over you to protect
you?’
Thus did he go about giving his orders among the ranks.
Passing through the crowd, he came presently on the Cre-
tans, arming round Idomeneus, who was at their head,
fierce as a wild boar, while Meriones was bringing up the
battalions that were in the rear. Agamemnon was glad
when he saw him, and spoke him fairly. ‘Idomeneus,’ said
he, ‘I treat you with greater distinction than I do any oth-
ers of the Achaeans, whether in war or in other things, or
at table. When the princes are mixing my choicest wines in
the mixing-bowls, they have each of them a fixed allowance,
but your cup is kept always full like my own, that you may
drink whenever you are minded. Go, therefore, into battle,
and show yourself the man you have been always proud to
be.’
Idomeneus answered, ‘I will be a trusty comrade, as I

promised you from the first I would be. Urge on the other
Achaeans, that we may join battle at once, for the Trojans
have trampled upon their covenants. Death and destruc-
tion shall be theirs, seeing they have been the first to break
their oaths and to attack us.’
The son of Atreus went on, glad at heart, till he came
upon the two Ajaxes arming themselves amid a host of foot-
soldiers. As when a goat-herd from some high post watches
a storm drive over the deep before the west wind—black as
pitch is the offing and a mighty whirlwind draws towards
him, so that he is afraid and drives his flock into a cave—
even thus did the ranks of stalwart youths move in a dark
mass to battle under the Ajaxes, horrid with shield and
spear. Glad was King Agamemnon when he saw them. ‘No
need,’ he cried, ‘to give orders to such leaders of the Argives
as you are, for of your own selves you spur your men on to
fight with might and main. Would, by father Jove, Minerva,
and Apollo that all were so minded as you are, for the city
of Priam would then soon fall beneath our hands, and we
should sack it.’
With this he left them and went onward to Nestor, the
facile speaker of the Pylians, who was marshalling his men
and urging them on, in company with Pelagon, Alastor,
Chromius, Haemon, and Bias shepherd of his people. He
placed his knights with their chariots and horses in the front
rank, while the foot-soldiers, brave men and many, whom
he could trust, were in the rear. The cowards he drove into
the middle, that they might fight whether they would or no.
He gave his orders to the knights first, bidding them hold
70 The Iliad
their horses well in hand, so as to avoid confusion. ‘Let no
man,’ he said, ‘relying on his strength or horsemanship, get
before the others and engage singly with the Trojans, nor
yet let him lag behind or you will weaken your attack; but
let each when he meets an enemy’s chariot throw his spear
from his own; this be much the best; this is how the men
of old took towns and strongholds; in this wise were they
minded.’
Thus did the old man charge them, for he had been in
many a fight, and King Agamemnon was glad. ‘I wish,’
he said to him, ‘that your limbs were as supple and your
strength as sure as your judgment is; but age, the common
enemy of mankind, has laid his hand upon you; would
that it had fallen upon some other, and that you were still
young.’
And Nestor, knight of Gerene, answered, ‘Son of Atreus,
I too would gladly be the man I was when I slew mighty
Ereuthalion; but the gods will not give us everything at one
and the same time. I was then young, and now I am old; still
I can go with my knights and give them that counsel which
old men have a right to give. The wielding of the spear I
leave to those who are younger and stronger than myself.’
Agamemnon went his way rejoicing, and presently found
Menestheus, son of Peteos, tarrying in his place, and with
him were the Athenians loud of tongue in battle. Near him
also tarried cunning Ulysses, with his sturdy Cephalleni-
ans round him; they had not yet heard the battle-cry, for the
ranks of Trojans and Achaeans had only just begun to move,
so they were standing still, waiting for some other columns

of the Achaeans to attack the Trojans and begin the fight-
ing. When he saw this Agamemnon rebuked them and said,
‘Son of Peteos, and you other, steeped in cunning, heart of
guile, why stand you here cowering and waiting on others?
You two should be of all men foremost when there is hard
fighting to be done, for you are ever foremost to accept my
invitation when we councillors of the Achaeans are hold-
ing feast. You are glad enough then to take your fill of roast
meats and to drink wine as long as you please, whereas now
you would not care though you saw ten columns of Achae-
ans engage the enemy in front of you.’
Ulysses glared at him and answered, ‘Son of Atreus, what
are you talking about? How can you say that we are slack?
When the Achaeans are in full fight with the Trojans, you
shall see, if you care to do so, that the father of Telemachus
will join battle with the foremost of them. You are talking
idly.’
When Agamemnon saw that Ulysses was angry, he
smiled pleasantly at him and withdrew his words. ‘Ulysses,’
said he, ‘noble son of Laertes, excellent in all good coun-
sel, I have neither fault to find nor orders to give you, for I
know your heart is right, and that you and I are of a mind.
Enough; I will make you amends for what I have said, and if
any ill has now been spoken may the gods bring it to noth-
ing.’
He then left them and went on to others. Presently he
saw the son of Tydeus, noble Diomed, standing by his char-
iot and horses, with Sthenelus the son of Capaneus beside
him; whereon he began to upbraid him. ‘Son of Tydeus,’ he
72 The Iliad
said, ‘why stand you cowering here upon the brink of bat-
tle? Tydeus did not shrink thus, but was ever ahead of his
men when leading them on against the foe— so, at least, say
they that saw him in battle, for I never set eyes upon him
myself. They say that there was no man like him. He came
once to Mycenae, not as an enemy but as a guest, in compa-
ny with Polynices to recruit his forces, for they were levying
war against the strong city of Thebes, and prayed our people
for a body of picked men to help them. The men of Myce-
nae were willing to let them have one, but Jove dissuaded
them by showing them unfavourable omens. Tydeus, there-
fore, and Polynices went their way. When they had got as far
the deep-meadowed and rush-grown banks of the Aesopus,
the Achaeans sent Tydeus as their envoy, and he found the
Cadmeans gathered in great numbers to a banquet in the
house of Eteocles. Stranger though he was, he knew no fear
on finding himself single-handed among so many, but chal-
lenged them to contests of all kinds, and in each one of them
was at once victorious, so mightily did Minerva help him.
The Cadmeans were incensed at his success, and set a force
of fifty youths with two captains—the godlike hero Maeon,
son of Haemon, and Polyphontes, son of Autophonus—at
their head, to lie in wait for him on his return journey; but
Tydeus slew every man of them, save only Maeon, whom he
let go in obedience to heaven’s omens. Such was Tydeus of
Aetolia. His son can talk more glibly, but he cannot fight as
his father did.’
Diomed made no answer, for he was shamed by the re-
buke of Agamemnon; but the son of Capaneus took up his

words and said, ‘Son of Atreus, tell no lies, for you can speak
truth if you will. We boast ourselves as even better men
than our fathers; we took seven-gated Thebes, though the
wall was stronger and our men were fewer in number, for
we trusted in the omens of the gods and in the help of Jove,
whereas they perished through their own sheer folly; hold
not, then, our fathers in like honour with us.’
Diomed looked sternly at him and said, ‘Hold your peace,
my friend, as I bid you. It is not amiss that Agamemnon
should urge the Achaeans forward, for the glory will be his
if we take the city, and his the shame if we are vanquished.
Therefore let us acquit ourselves with valour.’
As he spoke he sprang from his chariot, and his armour
rang so fiercely about his body that even a brave man might
well have been scared to hear it.
As when some mighty wave that thunders on the beach
when the west wind has lashed it into fury—it has reared
its head afar and now comes crashing down on the shore; it
bows its arching crest high over the jagged rocks and spews
its salt foam in all directions—even so did the serried pha-
lanxes of the Danaans march steadfastly to battle. The chiefs
gave orders each to his own people, but the men said never
a word; no man would think it, for huge as the host was, it
seemed as though there was not a tongue among them, so
silent were they in their obedience; and as they marched
the armour about their bodies glistened in the sun. But the
clamour of the Trojan ranks was as that of many thousand
ewes that stand waiting to be milked in the yards of some
rich flockmaster, and bleat incessantly in answer to the
74 The Iliad
bleating of their lambs; for they had not one speech nor lan-
guage, but their tongues were diverse, and they came from
many different places. These were inspired of Mars, but the
others by Minerva—and with them came Panic, Rout, and
Strife whose fury never tires, sister and friend of murder-
ous Mars, who, from being at first but low in stature, grows
till she uprears her head to heaven, though her feet are still
on earth. She it was that went about among them and flung
down discord to the waxing of sorrow with even hand be-
tween them.
When they were got together in one place shield clashed
with shield and spear with spear in the rage of battle. The
bossed shields beat one upon another, and there was a
tramp as of a great multitude—death-cry and shout of tri-
umph of slain and slayers, and the earth ran red with blood.
As torrents swollen with rain course madly down their deep
channels till the angry floods meet in some gorge, and the
shepherd on the hillside hears their roaring from afar—
even such was the toil and uproar of the hosts as they joined
in battle.
First Antilochus slew an armed warrior of the Trojans,
Echepolus, son of Thalysius, fighting in the foremost ranks.
He struck at the projecting part of his helmet and drove the
spear into his brow; the point of bronze pierced the bone,
and darkness veiled his eyes; headlong as a tower he fell
amid the press of the fight, and as he dropped King Elephe-
nor, son of Chalcodon and captain of the proud Abantes
began dragging him out of reach of the darts that were fall-
ing around him, in haste to strip him of his armour. But

his purpose was not for long; Agenor saw him haling the
body away, and smote him in the side with his bronze-shod
spear—for as he stooped his side was left unprotected by
his shield—and thus he perished. Then the fight between
Trojans and Achaeans grew furious over his body, and they
flew upon each other like wolves, man and man crushing
one upon the other.
Forthwith Ajax, son of Telamon, slew the fair youth Si-
moeisius, son of Anthemion, whom his mother bore by
the banks of the Simois, as she was coming down from Mt.
Ida, where she had been with her parents to see their flocks.
Therefore he was named Simoeisius, but he did not live to
pay his parents for his rearing, for he was cut off untimely
by the spear of mighty Ajax, who struck him in the breast
by the right nipple as he was coming on among the fore-
most fighters; the spear went right through his shoulder,
and he fell as a poplar that has grown straight and tall in a
meadow by some mere, and its top is thick with branches.
Then the wheelwright lays his axe to its roots that he may
fashion a felloe for the wheel of some goodly chariot, and
it lies seasoning by the waterside. In such wise did Ajax fell
to earth Simoeisius, son of Anthemion. Thereon Antiphus
of the gleaming corslet, son of Priam, hurled a spear at Ajax
from amid the crowd and missed him, but he hit Leucus,
the brave comrade of Ulysses, in the groin, as he was drag-
ging the body of Simoeisius over to the other side; so he fell
upon the body and loosed his hold upon it. Ulysses was fu-
rious when he saw Leucus slain, and strode in full armour
through the front ranks till he was quite close; then he glared
76 The Iliad
round about him and took aim, and the Trojans fell back as
he did so. His dart was not sped in vain, for it struck Demo-
coon, the bastard son of Priam, who had come to him from
Abydos, where he had charge of his father’s mares. Ulysses,
infuriated by the death of his comrade, hit him with his
spear on one temple, and the bronze point came through
on the other side of his forehead. Thereon darkness veiled
his eyes, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell
heavily to the ground. Hector, and they that were in front,
then gave round while the Argives raised a shout and drew
off the dead, pressing further forward as they did so. But
Apollo looked down from Pergamus and called aloud to the
Trojans, for he was displeased. ‘Trojans,’ he cried, ‘rush on
the foe, and do not let yourselves be thus beaten by the Ar-
gives. Their skins are not stone nor iron that when hit them
you do them no harm. Moreover, Achilles, the son of lovely
Thetis, is not fighting, but is nursing his anger at the ships.’
Thus spoke the mighty god, crying to them from the city,
while Jove’s redoubtable daughter, the Trito-born, went
about among the host of the Achaeans, and urged them for-
ward whenever she beheld them slackening.
Then fate fell upon Diores, son of Amarynceus, for he
was struck by a jagged stone near the ancle of his right leg.
He that hurled it was Peirous, son of Imbrasus, captain of
the Thracians, who had come from Aenus; the bones and
both the tendons were crushed by the pitiless stone. He fell
to the ground on his back, and in his death throes stretched
out his hands towards his comrades. But Peirous, who had
wounded him, sprang on him and thrust a spear into his

belly, so that his bowels came gushing out upon the ground,
and darkness veiled his eyes. As he was leaving the body,
Thoas of Aetolia struck him in the chest near the nipple, and
the point fixed itself in his lungs. Thoas came close up to
him, pulled the spear out of his chest, and then drawing
his sword, smote him in the middle of the belly so that he
died; but he did not strip him of his armour, for his Thra-
cian comrades, men who wear their hair in a tuft at the
top of their heads, stood round the body and kept him off
with their long spears for all his great stature and valour; so
he was driven back. Thus the two corpses lay stretched on
earth near to one another, the one captain of the Thracians
and the other of the Epeans; and many another fell round
them.
And now no man would have made light of the fight-
ing if he could have gone about among it scatheless and
unwounded, with Minerva leading him by the hand, and
protecting him from the storm of spears and arrows. For
many Trojans and Achaeans on that day lay stretched side
by side face downwards upon the earth.
78 The Iliad
BOOK V
T hen Pallas Minerva put valour into the heart of Di-

omed, son of Tydeus, that he might excel all the other
Argives, and cover himself with glory. She made a stream of
fire flare from his shield and helmet like the star that shines
most brilliantly in summer after its bath in the waters of
Oceanus—even such a fire did she kindle upon his head
and shoulders as she bade him speed into the thickest hurly-
burly of the fight.
Now there was a certain rich and honourable man
among the Trojans, priest of Vulcan, and his name was
Dares. He had two sons, Phegeus and Idaeus, both of them
skilled in all the arts of war. These two came forward from
the main body of Trojans, and set upon Diomed, he being
on foot, while they fought from their chariot. When they
were close up to one another, Phegeus took aim first, but
his spear went over Diomed’s left shoulder without hitting
him. Diomed then threw, and his spear sped not in vain,
for it hit Phegeus on the breast near the nipple, and he fell
from his chariot. Idaeus did not dare to bestride his broth-
er’s body, but sprang from the chariot and took to flight, or
he would have shared his brother’s fate; whereon Vulcan
saved him by wrapping him in a cloud of darkness, that his
old father might not be utterly overwhelmed with grief; but
the son of Tydeus drove off with the horses, and bade his

followers take them to the ships. The Trojans were scared
when they saw the two sons of Dares, one of them in fright
and the other lying dead by his chariot. Minerva, therefore,
took Mars by the hand and said, ‘Mars, Mars, bane of men,
bloodstained stormer of cities, may we not now leave the
Trojans and Achaeans to fight it out, and see to which of
the two Jove will vouchsafe the victory? Let us go away, and
thus avoid his anger.’
So saying, she drew Mars out of the battle, and set him
down upon the steep banks of the Scamander. Upon this
the Danaans drove the Trojans back, and each one of their
chieftains killed his man. First King Agamemnon flung
mighty Odius, captain of the Halizoni, from his chariot. The
spear of Agamemnon caught him on the broad of his back,
just as he was turning in flight; it struck him between the
shoulders and went right through his chest, and his armour
rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground.
Then Idomeneus killed Phaesus, son of Borus the Me-
onian, who had come from Varne. Mighty Idomeneus
speared him on the right shoulder as he was mounting his
chariot, and the darkness of death enshrouded him as he
fell heavily from the car.
The squires of Idomeneus spoiled him of his armour,
while Menelaus, son of Atreus, killed Scamandrius the
son of Strophius, a mighty huntsman and keen lover of the
chase. Diana herself had taught him how to kill every kind
of wild creature that is bred in mountain forests, but nei-
ther she nor his famed skill in archery could now save him,
for the spear of Menelaus struck him in the back as he was
80 The Iliad
flying; it struck him between the shoulders and went right
through his chest, so that he fell headlong and his armour
rang rattling round him.
Meriones then killed Phereclus the son of Tecton, who
was the son of Hermon, a man whose hand was skilled in all
manner of cunning workmanship, for Pallas Minerva had
dearly loved him. He it was that made the ships for Alexan-
drus, which were the beginning of all mischief, and brought
evil alike both on the Trojans and on Alexandrus himself;
for he heeded not the decrees of heaven. Meriones overtook
him as he was flying, and struck him on the right buttock.
The point of the spear went through the bone into the blad-
der, and death came upon him as he cried aloud and fell
forward on his knees.
Meges, moreover, slew Pedaeus, son of Antenor, who,
though he was a bastard, had been brought up by Theano
as one of her own children, for the love she bore her hus-
band. The son of Phyleus got close up to him and drove a
spear into the nape of his neck: it went under his tongue all
among his teeth, so he bit the cold bronze, and fell dead in
the dust.
And Eurypylus, son of Euaemon, killed Hypsenor, the
son of noble Dolopion, who had been made priest of the
river Scamander, and was honoured among the people as
though he were a god. Eurypylus gave him chase as he was
flying before him, smote him with his sword upon the arm,
and lopped his strong hand from off it. The bloody hand
fell to the ground, and the shades of death, with fate that no
man can withstand, came over his eyes.

Thus furiously did the battle rage between them. As for
the son of Tydeus, you could not say whether he was more
among the Achaeans or the Trojans. He rushed across the
plain like a winter torrent that has burst its barrier in full
flood; no dykes, no walls of fruitful vineyards can embank
it when it is swollen with rain from heaven, but in a moment
it comes tearing onward, and lays many a field waste that
many a strong man’s hand has reclaimed—even so were the
dense phalanxes of the Trojans driven in rout by the son of
Tydeus, and many though they were, they dared not abide
his onslaught.
Now when the son of Lycaon saw him scouring the plain
and driving the Trojans pell-mell before him, he aimed an
arrow and hit the front part of his cuirass near the shoul-
der: the arrow went right through the metal and pierced the
flesh, so that the cuirass was covered with blood. On this
the son of Lycaon shouted in triumph, ‘Knights Trojans,
come on; the bravest of the Achaeans is wounded, and he
will not hold out much longer if King Apollo was indeed
with me when I sped from Lycia hither.’
Thus did he vaunt; but his arrow had not killed Di-
omed, who withdrew and made for the chariot and horses
of Sthenelus, the son of Capaneus. ‘Dear son of Capaneus,’
said he, ‘come down from your chariot, and draw the arrow
out of my shoulder.’
Sthenelus sprang from his chariot, and drew the ar-
row from the wound, whereon the blood came spouting
out through the hole that had been made in his shirt. Then
Diomed prayed, saying, ‘Hear me, daughter of aegis-bear-
82 The Iliad
ing Jove, unweariable, if ever you loved my father well and
stood by him in the thick of a fight, do the like now by me;
grant me to come within a spear’s throw of that man and
kill him. He has been too quick for me and has wounded
me; and now he is boasting that I shall not see the light of
the sun much longer.’
Thus he prayed, and Pallas Minerva heard him; she made
his limbs supple and quickened his hands and his feet. Then
she went up close to him and said, ‘Fear not, Diomed, to do
battle with the Trojans, for I have set in your heart the spirit
of your knightly father Tydeus. Moreover, I have withdrawn
the veil from your eyes, that you know gods and men apart.
If, then, any other god comes here and offers you battle, do
not fight him; but should Jove’s daughter Venus come, strike
her with your spear and wound her.’
When she had said this Minerva went away, and the son
of Tydeus again took his place among the foremost fighters,
three times more fierce even than he had been before. He
was like a lion that some mountain shepherd has wounded,
but not killed, as he is springing over the wall of a sheep-
yard to attack the sheep. The shepherd has roused the brute
to fury but cannot defend his flock, so he takes shelter un-
der cover of the buildings, while the sheep, panic-stricken
on being deserted, are smothered in heaps one on top of
the other, and the angry lion leaps out over the sheep-yard
wall. Even thus did Diomed go furiously about among the
Trojans.
He killed Astynous, and Hypeiron shepherd of his peo-
ple, the one with a thrust of his spear, which struck him

above the nipple, the other with a sword-cut on the col-
lar-bone, that severed his shoulder from his neck and back.
He let both of them lie, and went in pursuit of Abas and
Polyidus, sons of the old reader of dreams Eurydamas: they
never came back for him to read them any more dreams, for
mighty Diomed made an end of them. He then gave chase
to Xanthus and Thoon, the two sons of Phaenops, both of
them very dear to him, for he was now worn out with age,
and begat no more sons to inherit his possessions. But Di-
omed took both their lives and left their father sorrowing
bitterly, for he nevermore saw them come home from battle
alive, and his kinsmen divided his wealth among them-
selves.
Then he came upon two sons of Priam, Echemmon and
Chromius, as they were both in one chariot. He sprang
upon them as a lion fastens on the neck of some cow or
heifer when the herd is feeding in a coppice. For all their
vain struggles he flung them both from their chariot and
stripped the armour from their bodies. Then he gave their
horses to his comrades to take them back to the ships.
When Aeneas saw him thus making havoc among the
ranks, he went through the fight amid the rain of spears
to see if he could find Pandarus. When he had found the
brave son of Lycaon he said, ‘Pandarus, where is now your
bow, your winged arrows, and your renown as an archer,
in respect of which no man here can rival you nor is there
any in Lycia that can beat you? Lift then your hands to Jove
and send an arrow at this fellow who is going so masterfully
about, and has done such deadly work among the Trojans.
84 The Iliad
He has killed many a brave man—unless indeed he is some
god who is angry with the Trojans about their sacrifices,
and and has set his hand against them in his displeasure.’
And the son of Lycaon answered, ‘Aeneas, I take him for
none other than the son of Tydeus. I know him by his shield,
the visor of his helmet, and by his horses. It is possible that
he may be a god, but if he is the man I say he is, he is not
making all this havoc without heaven’s help, but has some
god by his side who is shrouded in a cloud of darkness, and
who turned my arrow aside when it had hit him. I have tak-
en aim at him already and hit him on the right shoulder;
my arrow went through the breastpiece of his cuirass; and
I made sure I should send him hurrying to the world be-
low, but it seems that I have not killed him. There must be
a god who is angry with me. Moreover I have neither horse
nor chariot. In my father’s stables there are eleven excel-
lent chariots, fresh from the builder, quite new, with cloths
spread over them; and by each of them there stand a pair
of horses, champing barley and rye; my old father Lycaon
urged me again and again when I was at home and on the
point of starting, to take chariots and horses with me that
I might lead the Trojans in battle, but I would not listen to
him; it would have been much better if I had done so, but I
was thinking about the horses, which had been used to eat
their fill, and I was afraid that in such a great gathering of
men they might be ill-fed, so I left them at home and came
on foot to Ilius armed only with my bow and arrows. These
it seems, are of no use, for I have already hit two chieftains,
the sons of Atreus and of Tydeus, and though I drew blood

surely enough, I have only made them still more furious. I
did ill to take my bow down from its peg on the day I led
my band of Trojans to Ilius in Hector’s service, and if ever I
get home again to set eyes on my native place, my wife, and
the greatness of my house, may some one cut my head off
then and there if I do not break the bow and set it on a hot
fire—such pranks as it plays me.’
Aeneas answered, ‘Say no more. Things will not mend
till we two go against this man with chariot and horses and
bring him to a trial of arms. Mount my chariot, and note
how cleverly the horses of Tros can speed hither and thither
over the plain in pursuit or flight. If Jove again vouchsafes
glory to the son of Tydeus they will carry us safely back to
the city. Take hold, then, of the whip and reins while I stand
upon the car to fight, or else do you wait this man’s onset
while I look after the horses.’
‘Aeneas,’ replied the son of Lycaon, ‘take the reins and
drive; if we have to fly before the son of Tydeus the horses
will go better for their own driver. If they miss the sound of
your voice when they expect it they may be frightened, and
refuse to take us out of the fight. The son of Tydeus will then
kill both of us and take the horses. Therefore drive them
yourself and I will be ready for him with my spear.’
They then mounted the chariot and drove full-speed to-
wards the son of Tydeus. Sthenelus, son of Capaneus, saw
them coming and said to Diomed, ‘Diomed, son of Tydeus,
man after my own heart, I see two heroes speeding towards
you, both of them men of might the one a skilful archer,
Pandarus son of Lycaon, the other, Aeneas, whose sire is
86 The Iliad
Anchises, while his mother is Venus. Mount the chariot and
let us retreat. Do not, I pray you, press so furiously forward,
or you may get killed.’
Diomed looked angrily at him and answered: ‘Talk not
of flight, for I shall not listen to you: I am of a race that
knows neither flight nor fear, and my limbs are as yet un-
wearied. I am in no mind to mount, but will go against
them even as I am; Pallas Minerva bids me be afraid of no
man, and even though one of them escape, their steeds shall
not take both back again. I say further, and lay my saying
to your heart—if Minerva sees fit to vouchsafe me the glory
of killing both, stay your horses here and make the reins
fast to the rim of the chariot; then be sure you spring Ae-
neas’ horses and drive them from the Trojan to the Achaean
ranks. They are of the stock that great Jove gave to Tros in
payment for his son Ganymede, and are the finest that live
and move under the sun. King Anchises stole the blood by
putting his mares to them without Laomedon’s knowledge,
and they bore him six foals. Four are still in his stables, but
he gave the other two to Aeneas. We shall win great glory if
we can take them.’
Thus did they converse, but the other two had now driven
close up to them, and the son of Lycaon spoke first. ‘Great
and mighty son,’ said he, ‘of noble Tydeus, my arrow failed
to lay you low, so I will now try with my spear.’
He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it from him.
It struck the shield of the son of Tydeus; the bronze point
pierced it and passed on till it reached the breastplate.
Thereon the son of Lycaon shouted out and said, ‘You are

hit clean through the belly; you will not stand out for long,
and the glory of the fight is mine.’
But Diomed all undismayed made answer, ‘You have
missed, not hit, and before you two see the end of this mat-
ter one or other of you shall glut tough-shielded Mars with
his blood.’
With this he hurled his spear, and Minerva guided it on
to Pandarus’s nose near the eye. It went crashing in among
his white teeth; the bronze point cut through the root of
his tongue, coming out under his chin, and his glistening
armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to the
ground. The horses started aside for fear, and he was reft of
life and strength.
Aeneas sprang from his chariot armed with shield and
spear, fearing lest the Achaeans should carry off the body.
He bestrode it as a lion in the pride of strength, with shield
and spear before him and a cry of battle on his lips resolute
to kill the first that should dare face him. But the son of Ty-
deus caught up a mighty stone, so huge and great that as
men now are it would take two to lift it; nevertheless he bore
it aloft with ease unaided, and with this he struck Aeneas
on the groin where the hip turns in the joint that is called
the ‘cup-bone.’ The stone crushed this joint, and broke both
the sinews, while its jagged edges tore away all the flesh. The
hero fell on his knees, and propped himself with his hand
resting on the ground till the darkness of night fell upon his
eyes. And now Aeneas, king of men, would have perished
then and there, had not his mother, Jove’s daughter Venus,
who had conceived him by Anchises when he was herding
88 The Iliad
cattle, been quick to mark, and thrown her two white arms
about the body of her dear son. She protected him by cov-
ering him with a fold of her own fair garment, lest some
Danaan should drive a spear into his breast and kill him.
Thus, then, did she bear her dear son out of the fight. But
the son of Capaneus was not unmindful of the orders that
Diomed had given him. He made his own horses fast, away
from the hurly-burly, by binding the reins to the rim of the
chariot. Then he sprang upon Aeneas’s horses and drove
them from the Trojan to the Achaean ranks. When he had
so done he gave them over to his chosen comrade Deipylus,
whom he valued above all others as the one who was most
like-minded with himself, to take them on to the ships. He
then remounted his own chariot, seized the reins, and drove
with all speed in search of the son of Tydeus.
Now the son of Tydeus was in pursuit of the Cyprian
goddess, spear in hand, for he knew her to be feeble and not
one of those goddesses that can lord it among men in battle
like Minerva or Enyo the waster of cities, and when at last
after a long chase he caught her up, he flew at her and thrust
his spear into the flesh of her delicate hand. The point tore
through the ambrosial robe which the Graces had woven
for her, and pierced the skin between her wrist and the
palm of her hand, so that the immortal blood, or ichor, that
flows in the veins of the blessed gods, came pouring from
the wound; for the gods do not eat bread nor drink wine,
hence they have no blood such as ours, and are immortal.
Venus screamed aloud, and let her son fall, but Phoebus
Apollo caught him in his arms, and hid him in a cloud of

darkness, lest some Danaan should drive a spear into his
breast and kill him; and Diomed shouted out as he left her,
‘Daughter of Jove, leave war and battle alone, can you not be
contented with beguiling silly women? If you meddle with
fighting you will get what will make you shudder at the very
name of war.’
The goddess went dazed and discomfited away, and Iris,
fleet as the wind, drew her from the throng, in pain and
with her fair skin all besmirched. She found fierce Mars
waiting on the left of the battle, with his spear and his two
fleet steeds resting on a cloud; whereon she fell on her knees
before her brother and implored him to let her have his
horses. ‘Dear brother,’ she cried, ‘save me, and give me your
horses to take me to Olympus where the gods dwell. I am
badly wounded by a mortal, the son of Tydeus, who would
now fight even with father Jove.’
Thus she spoke, and Mars gave her his gold-bedizened
steeds. She mounted the chariot sick and sorry at heart,
while Iris sat beside her and took the reins in her hand. She
lashed her horses on and they flew forward nothing loth,
till in a trice they were at high Olympus, where the gods
have their dwelling. There she stayed them, unloosed them
from the chariot, and gave them their ambrosial forage; but
Venus flung herself on to the lap of her mother Dione, who
threw her arms about her and caressed her, saying, ‘Which
of the heavenly beings has been treating you in this way, as
though you had been doing something wrong in the face
of day?’
And laughter-loving Venus answered, ‘Proud Diomed,
90 The Iliad
the son of Tydeus, wounded me because I was bearing my
dear son Aeneas, whom I love best of all mankind, out of
the fight. The war is no longer one between Trojans and
Achaeans, for the Danaans have now taken to fighting with
the immortals.’
‘Bear it, my child,’ replied Dione, ‘and make the best of
it. We dwellers in Olympus have to put up with much at the
hands of men, and we lay much suffering on one another.
Mars had to suffer when Otus and Ephialtes, children of
Aloeus, bound him in cruel bonds, so that he lay thirteen
months imprisoned in a vessel of bronze. Mars would have
then perished had not fair Eeriboea, stepmother to the sons
of Aloeus, told Mercury, who stole him away when he was
already well-nigh worn out by the severity of his bondage.
Juno, again, suffered when the mighty son of Amphitryon
wounded her on the right breast with a three-barbed ar-
row, and nothing could assuage her pain. So, also, did huge
Hades, when this same man, the son of aegis-bearing Jove,
hit him with an arrow even at the gates of hell, and hurt
him badly. Thereon Hades went to the house of Jove on
great Olympus, angry and full of pain; and the arrow in
his brawny shoulder caused him great anguish till Paeeon
healed him by spreading soothing herbs on the wound, for
Hades was not of mortal mould. Daring, head-strong, evil-
doer who recked not of his sin in shooting the gods that
dwell in Olympus. And now Minerva has egged this son of
Tydeus on against yourself, fool that he is for not reflecting
that no man who fights with gods will live long or hear his
children prattling about his knees when he returns from

battle. Let, then, the son of Tydeus see that he does not have
to fight with one who is stronger than you are. Then shall
his brave wife Aegialeia, daughter of Adrestus, rouse her
whole house from sleep, wailing for the loss of her wedded
lord, Diomed the bravest of the Achaeans.’
So saying, she wiped the ichor from the wrist of her
daughter with both hands, whereon the pain left her, and
her hand was healed. But Minerva and Juno, who were look-
ing on, began to taunt Jove with their mocking talk, and
Minerva was first to speak. ‘Father Jove,’ said she, ‘do not
be angry with me, but I think the Cyprian must have been
persuading some one of the Achaean women to go with the
Trojans of whom she is so very fond, and while caressing
one or other of them she must have torn her delicate hand
with the gold pin of the woman’s brooch.’
The sire of gods and men smiled, and called golden Ve-
nus to his side. ‘My child,’ said he, ‘it has not been given you
to be a warrior. Attend, henceforth, to your own delightful
matrimonial duties, and leave all this fighting to Mars and
to Minerva.’
Thus did they converse. But Diomed sprang upon Ae-
neas, though he knew him to be in the very arms of Apollo.
Not one whit did he fear the mighty god, so set was he on
killing Aeneas and stripping him of his armour. Thrice did
he spring forward with might and main to slay him, and
thrice did Apollo beat back his gleaming shield. When he
was coming on for the fourth time, as though he were a god,
Apollo shouted to him with an awful voice and said, ‘Take
heed, son of Tydeus, and draw off; think not to match your-
92 The Iliad
self against gods, for men that walk the earth cannot hold
their own with the immortals.’
The son of Tydeus then gave way for a little space, to
avoid the anger of the god, while Apollo took Aeneas out of
the crowd and set him in sacred Pergamus, where his tem-
ple stood. There, within the mighty sanctuary, Latona and
Diana healed him and made him glorious to behold, while
Apollo of the silver bow fashioned a wraith in the likeness
of Aeneas, and armed as he was. Round this the Trojans
and Achaeans hacked at the bucklers about one another’s
breasts, hewing each other’s round shields and light hide-
covered targets. Then Phoebus Apollo said to Mars, ‘Mars,
Mars, bane of men, blood-stained stormer of cities, can
you not go to this man, the son of Tydeus, who would now
fight even with father Jove, and draw him out of the battle?
He first went up to the Cyprian and wounded her in the
hand near her wrist, and afterwards sprang upon me too, as
though he were a god.’
He then took his seat on the top of Pergamus, while mur-
derous Mars went about among the ranks of the Trojans,
cheering them on, in the likeness of fleet Acamas chief of
the Thracians. ‘Sons of Priam,’ said he, ‘how long will you
let your people be thus slaughtered by the Achaeans? Would
you wait till they are at the walls of Troy? Aeneas the son of
Anchises has fallen, he whom we held in as high honour as
Hector himself. Help me, then, to rescue our brave comrade
from the stress of the fight.’
With these words he put heart and soul into them all.
Then Sarpedon rebuked Hector very sternly. ‘Hector,’ said

he, ‘where is your prowess now? You used to say that though
you had neither people nor allies you could hold the town
alone with your brothers and brothers-in-law. I see not one
of them here; they cower as hounds before a lion; it is we,
your allies, who bear the brunt of the battle. I have come
from afar, even from Lycia and the banks of the river Xan-
thus, where I have left my wife, my infant son, and much
wealth to tempt whoever is needy; nevertheless, I head my
Lycian soldiers and stand my ground against any who would
fight me though I have nothing here for the Achaeans to
plunder, while you look on, without even bidding your men
stand firm in defence of their wives. See that you fall not
into the hands of your foes as men caught in the meshes of a
net, and they sack your fair city forthwith. Keep this before
your mind night and day, and beseech the captains of your
allies to hold on without flinching, and thus put away their
reproaches from you.’
So spoke Sarpedon, and Hector smarted under his
words. He sprang from his chariot clad in his suit of ar-
mour, and went about among the host brandishing his two
spears, exhorting the men to fight and raising the terrible
cry of battle. Then they rallied and again faced the Achae-
ans, but the Argives stood compact and firm, and were not
driven back. As the breezes sport with the chaff upon some
goodly threshing-floor, when men are winnowing—while
yellow Ceres blows with the wind to sift the chaff from the
grain, and the chaff-heaps grow whiter and whiter—even so
did the Achaeans whiten in the dust which the horses’ hoofs
raised to the firmament of heaven, as their drivers turned
94 The Iliad
them back to battle, and they bore down with might upon
the foe. Fierce Mars, to help the Trojans, covered them in a
veil of darkness, and went about everywhere among them,
inasmuch as Phoebus Apollo had told him that when he saw
Pallas, Minerva leave the fray he was to put courage into
the hearts of the Trojans—for it was she who was helping
the Danaans. Then Apollo sent Aeneas forth from his rich
sanctuary, and filled his heart with valour, whereon he took
his place among his comrades, who were overjoyed at see-
ing him alive, sound, and of a good courage; but they could
not ask him how it had all happened, for they were too busy
with the turmoil raised by Mars and by Strife, who raged
insatiably in their midst.
The two Ajaxes, Ulysses and Diomed, cheered the Dan-
aans on, fearless of the fury and onset of the Trojans. They
stood as still as clouds which the son of Saturn has spread
upon the mountain tops when there is no air and fierce
Boreas sleeps with the other boisterous winds whose shrill
blasts scatter the clouds in all directions—even so did the
Danaans stand firm and unflinching against the Trojans.
The son of Atreus went about among them and exhorted
them. ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘quit yourselves like brave men,
and shun dishonour in one another’s eyes amid the stress
of battle. They that shun dishonour more often live than get
killed, but they that fly save neither life nor name.’
As he spoke he hurled his spear and hit one of those who
were in the front rank, the comrade of Aeneas, Deicoon son
of Pergasus, whom the Trojans held in no less honour than
the sons of Priam, for he was ever quick to place himself

among the foremost. The spear of King Agamemnon struck
his shield and went right through it, for the shield stayed it
not. It drove through his belt into the lower part of his belly,
and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily
to the ground.
Then Aeneas killed two champions of the Danaans, Cre-
thon and Orsilochus. Their father was a rich man who lived
in the strong city of Phere and was descended from the river
Alpheus, whose broad stream flows through the land of the
Pylians. The river begat Orsilochus, who ruled over much
people and was father to Diocles, who in his turn begat twin
sons, Crethon and Orsilochus, well skilled in all the arts of
war. These, when they grew up, went to Ilius with the Ar-
give fleet in the cause of Menelaus and Agamemnon sons
of Atreus, and there they both of them fell. As two lions
whom their dam has reared in the depths of some moun-
tain forest to plunder homesteads and carry off sheep and
cattle till they get killed by the hand of man, so were these
two vanquished by Aeneas, and fell like high pine-trees to
the ground.
Brave Menelaus pitied them in their fall, and made his
way to the front, clad in gleaming bronze and brandish-
ing his spear, for Mars egged him on to do so with intent
that he should be killed by Aeneas; but Antilochus the son
of Nestor saw him and sprang forward, fearing that the
king might come to harm and thus bring all their labour
to nothing; when, therefore Aeneas and Menelaus were set-
ting their hands and spears against one another eager to do
battle, Antilochus placed himself by the side of Menelaus.
96 The Iliad
Aeneas, bold though he was, drew back on seeing the two
heroes side by side in front of him, so they drew the bod-
ies of Crethon and Orsilochus to the ranks of the Achaeans
and committed the two poor fellows into the hands of their
comrades. They then turned back and fought in the front
ranks.
They killed Pylaemenes peer of Mars, leader of the
Paphlagonian warriors. Menelaus struck him on the collar-
bone as he was standing on his chariot, while Antilochus
hit his charioteer and squire Mydon, the son of Atymnius,
who was turning his horses in flight. He hit him with a
stone upon the elbow, and the reins, enriched with white
ivory, fell from his hands into the dust. Antilochus rushed
towards him and struck him on the temples with his sword,
whereon he fell head first from the chariot to the ground.
There he stood for a while with his head and shoulders bur-
ied deep in the dust—for he had fallen on sandy soil till his
horses kicked him and laid him flat on the ground, as An-
tilochus lashed them and drove them off to the host of the
Achaeans.
But Hector marked them from across the ranks, and
with a loud cry rushed towards them, followed by the strong
battalions of the Trojans. Mars and dread Enyo led them
on, she fraught with ruthless turmoil of battle, while Mars
wielded a monstrous spear, and went about, now in front of
Hector and now behind him.
Diomed shook with passion as he saw them. As a man
crossing a wide plain is dismayed to find himself on the
brink of some great river rolling swiftly to the sea—he sees

its boiling waters and starts back in fear—even so did the
son of Tydeus give ground. Then he said to his men, ‘My
friends, how can we wonder that Hector wields the spear so
well? Some god is ever by his side to protect him, and now
Mars is with him in the likeness of mortal man. Keep your
faces therefore towards the Trojans, but give ground back-
wards, for we dare not fight with gods.’
As he spoke the Trojans drew close up, and Hector killed
two men, both in one chariot, Menesthes and Anchialus,
heroes well versed in war. Ajax son of Telamon pitied them
in their fall; he came close up and hurled his spear, hitting
Amphius the son of Selagus, a man of great wealth who
lived in Paesus and owned much corn-growing land, but
his lot had led him to come to the aid of Priam and his sons.
Ajax struck him in the belt; the spear pierced the lower part
of his belly, and he fell heavily to the ground. Then Ajax
ran towards him to strip him of his armour, but the Tro-
jans rained spears upon him, many of which fell upon his
shield. He planted his heel upon the body and drew out his
spear, but the darts pressed so heavily upon him that he
could not strip the goodly armour from his shoulders. The
Trojan chieftains, moreover, many and valiant, came about
him with their spears, so that he dared not stay; great, brave
and valiant though he was, they drove him from them and
he was beaten back.
Thus, then, did the battle rage between them. Present-
ly the strong hand of fate impelled Tlepolemus, the son of
Hercules, a man both brave and of great stature, to fight
Sarpedon; so the two, son and grandson of great Jove, drew
98 The Iliad
near to one another, and Tlepolemus spoke first. ‘Sarpedon,’
said he, ‘councillor of the Lycians, why should you come
skulking here you who are a man of peace? They lie who call
you son of aegis-bearing Jove, for you are little like those
who were of old his children. Far other was Hercules, my
own brave and lion-hearted father, who came here for the
horses of Laomedon, and though he had six ships only, and
few men to follow him, sacked the city of Ilius and made
a wilderness of her highways. You are a coward, and your
people are falling from you. For all your strength, and all
your coming from Lycia, you will be no help to the Trojans
but will pass the gates of Hades vanquished by my hand.’
And Sarpedon, captain of the Lycians, answered, ‘Tlepol-
emus, your father overthrew Ilius by reason of Laomedon’s
folly in refusing payment to one who had served him well.
He would not give your father the horses which he had
come so far to fetch. As for yourself, you shall meet death
by my spear. You shall yield glory to myself, and your soul
to Hades of the noble steeds.’
Thus spoke Sarpedon, and Tlepolemus upraised his spear.
They threw at the same moment, and Sarpedon struck his
foe in the middle of his throat; the spear went right through,
and the darkness of death fell upon his eyes. Tlepolemus’s
spear struck Sarpedon on the left thigh with such force that
it tore through the flesh and grazed the bone, but his father
as yet warded off destruction from him.
His comrades bore Sarpedon out of the fight, in great
pain by the weight of the spear that was dragging from his
wound. They were in such haste and stress as they bore him

that no one thought of drawing the spear from his thigh
so as to let him walk uprightly. Meanwhile the Achaeans
carried off the body of Tlepolemus, whereon Ulysses was
moved to pity, and panted for the fray as he beheld them.
He doubted whether to pursue the son of Jove, or to make
slaughter of the Lycian rank and file; it was not decreed,
however, that he should slay the son of Jove; Minerva, there-
fore, turned him against the main body of the Lycians. He
killed Coeranus, Alastor, Chromius, Alcandrus, Halius,
Noemon, and Prytanis, and would have slain yet more, had
not great Hector marked him, and sped to the front of the
fight clad in his suit of mail, filling the Danaans with terror.
Sarpedon was glad when he saw him coming, and besought
him, saying, ‘Son of Priam, let me not be here to fall into the
hands of the Danaans. Help me, and since I may not return
home to gladden the hearts of my wife and of my infant son,
let me die within the walls of your city.’
Hector made him no answer, but rushed onward to fall
at once upon the Achaeans and kill many among them. His
comrades then bore Sarpedon away and laid him beneath
Jove’s spreading oak tree. Pelagon, his friend and comrade,
drew the spear out of his thigh, but Sarpedon fainted and a
mist came over his eyes. Presently he came to himself again,
for the breath of the north wind as it played upon him gave
him new life, and brought him out of the deep swoon into
which he had fallen.
Meanwhile the Argives were neither driven towards their
ships by Mars and Hector, nor yet did they attack them; when
they knew that Mars was with the Trojans they retreated,
100 The Iliad

but kept their faces still turned towards the foe. Who, then,
was first and who last to be slain by Mars and Hector? They
were valiant Teuthras, and Orestes the renowned charioteer,
Trechus the Aetolian warrior, Oenomaus, Helenus the son
of Oenops, and Oresbius of the gleaming girdle, who was
possessed of great wealth, and dwelt by the Cephisian lake
with the other Boeotians who lived near him, owners of a
fertile country.
Now when the goddess Juno saw the Argives thus fall-
ing, she said to Minerva, ‘Alas, daughter of aegis-bearing
Jove, unweariable, the promise we made Menelaus that he
should not return till he had sacked the city of Ilius will be
of no effect if we let Mars rage thus furiously. Let us go into
the fray at once.’
Minerva did not gainsay her. Thereon the august goddess,
daughter of great Saturn, began to harness her gold-bedi-
zened steeds. Hebe with all speed fitted on the eight-spoked
wheels of bronze that were on either side of the iron axle-
tree. The felloes of the wheels were of gold, imperishable,
and over these there was a tire of bronze, wondrous to be-
hold. The naves of the wheels were silver, turning round the
axle upon either side. The car itself was made with plaited
bands of gold and silver, and it had a double top-rail run-
ning all round it. From the body of the car there went a pole
of silver, on to the end of which she bound the golden yoke,
with the bands of gold that were to go under the necks of the
horses Then Juno put her steeds under the yoke, eager for
battle and the war-cry.
Meanwhile Minerva flung her richly embroidered ves-

ture, made with her own hands, on to her father’s threshold,
and donned the shirt of Jove, arming herself for battle. She
threw her tasselled aegis about her shoulders, wreathed
round with Rout as with a fringe, and on it were Strife, and
Strength, and Panic whose blood runs cold; moreover there
was the head of the dread monster Gorgon, grim and awful
to behold, portent of aegis-bearing Jove. On her head she set
her helmet of gold, with four plumes, and coming to a peak
both in front and behind—decked with the emblems of a
hundred cities; then she stepped into her flaming chariot
and grasped the spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, with
which she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased
her. Juno lashed the horses on, and the gates of heaven bel-
lowed as they flew open of their own accord—gates over
which the Hours preside, in whose hands are Heaven and
Olympus, either to open the dense cloud that hides them, or
to close it. Through these the goddesses drove their obedi-
ent steeds, and found the son of Saturn sitting all alone on
the topmost ridges of Olympus. There Juno stayed her hors-
es, and spoke to Jove the son of Saturn, lord of all. ‘Father
Jove,’ said she, ‘are you not angry with Mars for these high
doings? how great and goodly a host of the Achaeans he has
destroyed to my great grief, and without either right or rea-
son, while the Cyprian and Apollo are enjoying it all at their
ease and setting this unrighteous madman on to do further
mischief. I hope, Father Jove, that you will not be angry if I
hit Mars hard, and chase him out of the battle.’
And Jove answered, ‘Set Minerva on to him, for she pun-
ishes him more often than any one else does.’
102 The Iliad

Juno did as he had said. She lashed her horses, and they
flew forward nothing loth midway betwixt earth and sky.
As far as a man can see when he looks out upon the sea from
some high beacon, so far can the loud-neighing horses of
the gods spring at a single bound. When they reached Troy
and the place where its two flowing streams Simois and Sca-
mander meet, there Juno stayed them and took them from
the chariot. She hid them in a thick cloud, and Simois made
ambrosia spring up for them to eat; the two goddesses then
went on, flying like turtledoves in their eagerness to help
the Argives. When they came to the part where the bravest
and most in number were gathered about mighty Diomed,
fighting like lions or wild boars of great strength and en-
durance, there Juno stood still and raised a shout like that
of brazen-voiced Stentor, whose cry was as loud as that of
fifty men together. ‘Argives,’ she cried; ‘shame on cowardly
creatures, brave in semblance only; as long as Achilles was
fighting, if his spear was so deadly that the Trojans dared
not show themselves outside the Dardanian gates, but now
they sally far from the city and fight even at your ships.’
With these words she put heart and soul into them all,
while Minerva sprang to the side of the son of Tydeus,
whom she found near his chariot and horses, cooling the
wound that Pandarus had given him. For the sweat caused
by the hand that bore the weight of his shield irritated the
hurt: his arm was weary with pain, and he was lifting up
the strap to wipe away the blood. The goddess laid her hand
on the yoke of his horses and said, ‘The son of Tydeus is not
such another as his father. Tydeus was a little man, but he

could fight, and rushed madly into the fray even when I told
him not to do so. When he went all unattended as envoy to
the city of Thebes among the Cadmeans, I bade him feast in
their houses and be at peace; but with that high spirit which
was ever present with him, he challenged the youth of the
Cadmeans, and at once beat them in all that he attempted,
so mightily did I help him. I stand by you too to protect you,
and I bid you be instant in fighting the Trojans; but either
you are tired out, or you are afraid and out of heart, and in
that case I say that you are no true son of Tydeus the son of
Oeneus.’
Diomed answered, ‘I know you, goddess, daughter of ae-
gis-bearing Jove, and will hide nothing from you. I am not
afraid nor out of heart, nor is there any slackness in me. I
am only following your own instructions; you told me not
to fight any of the blessed gods; but if Jove’s daughter Venus
came into battle I was to wound her with my spear. There-
fore I am retreating, and bidding the other Argives gather
in this place, for I know that Mars is now lording it in the
field.’
‘Diomed, son of Tydeus,’ replied Minerva, ‘man after my
own heart, fear neither Mars nor any other of the immor-
tals, for I will befriend you. Nay, drive straight at Mars, and
smite him in close combat; fear not this raging madman,
villain incarnate, first on one side and then on the other.
But now he was holding talk with Juno and myself, saying
he would help the Argives and attack the Trojans; neverthe-
less he is with the Trojans, and has forgotten the Argives.’
With this she caught hold of Sthenelus and lifted him
104 The Iliad

off the chariot on to the ground. In a second he was on the
ground, whereupon the goddess mounted the car and placed
herself by the side of Diomed. The oaken axle groaned
aloud under the burden of the awful goddess and the hero;
Pallas Minerva took the whip and reins, and drove straight
at Mars. He was in the act of stripping huge Periphas, son
of Ochesius and bravest of the Aetolians. Bloody Mars was
stripping him of his armour, and Minerva donned the hel-
met of Hades, that he might not see her; when, therefore,
he saw Diomed, he made straight for him and let Periphas
lie where he had fallen. As soon as they were at close quar-
ters he let fly with his bronze spear over the reins and yoke,
thinking to take Diomed’s life, but Minerva caught the
spear in her hand and made it fly harmlessly over the chari-
ot. Diomed then threw, and Pallas Minerva drove the spear
into the pit of Mars’s stomach where his under-girdle went
round him. There Diomed wounded him, tearing his fair
flesh and then drawing his spear out again. Mars roared as
loudly as nine or ten thousand men in the thick of a fight,
and the Achaeans and Trojans were struck with panic, so
terrible was the cry he raised.
As a dark cloud in the sky when it comes on to blow af-
ter heat, even so did Diomed son of Tydeus see Mars ascend
into the broad heavens. With all speed he reached high
Olympus, home of the gods, and in great pain sat down be-
side Jove the son of Saturn. He showed Jove the immortal
blood that was flowing from his wound, and spoke piteous-
ly, saying, ‘Father Jove, are you not angered by such doings?
We gods are continually suffering in the most cruel manner

at one another’s hands while helping mortals; and we all
owe you a grudge for having begotten that mad termagant
of a daughter, who is always committing outrage of some
kind. We other gods must all do as you bid us, but her you
neither scold nor punish; you encourage her because the
pestilent creature is your daughter. See how she has been
inciting proud Diomed to vent his rage on the immortal
gods. First he went up to the Cyprian and wounded her in
the hand near her wrist, and then he sprang upon me too as
though he were a god. Had I not run for it I must either have
lain there for long enough in torments among the ghastly
corpes, or have been eaten alive with spears till I had no
more strength left in me.’
Jove looked angrily at him and said, ‘Do not come whin-
ing here, Sir Facing-both-ways. I hate you worst of all the
gods in Olympus, for you are ever fighting and making
mischief. You have the intolerable and stubborn spirit of
your mother Juno: it is all I can do to manage her, and it is
her doing that you are now in this plight: still, I cannot let
you remain longer in such great pain; you are my own off-
spring, and it was by me that your mother conceived you;
if, however, you had been the son of any other god, you are
so destructive that by this time you should have been lying
lower than the Titans.’
He then bade Paeeon heal him, whereon Paeeon spread
pain-killing herbs upon his wound and cured him, for he
was not of mortal mould. As the juice of the fig-tree cur-
dles milk, and thickens it in a moment though it is liquid,
even so instantly did Paeeon cure fierce Mars. Then Hebe
106 The Iliad

washed him, and clothed him in goodly raiment, and he
took his seat by his father Jove all glorious to behold.
But Juno of Argos and Minerva of Alalcomene, now that
they had put a stop to the murderous doings of Mars, went
back again to the house of Jove.

BOOK VI
T HE fight between Trojans and Achaeans was now left

to rage as it would, and the tide of war surged hither
and thither over the plain as they aimed their bronze-shod
spears at one another between the streams of Simois and
Xanthus.
First, Ajax son of Telamon, tower of strength to the
Achaeans, broke a phalanx of the Trojans, and came to the
assistance of his comrades by killing Acamas son of Eus-
sorus, the best man among the Thracians, being both brave
and of great stature. The spear struck the projecting peak of
his helmet: its bronze point then went through his forehead
into the brain, and darkness veiled his eyes.
Then Diomed killed Axylus son of Teuthranus, a rich
man who lived in the strong city of Arisbe, and was beloved
by all men; for he had a house by the roadside, and enter-
tained every one who passed; howbeit not one of his guests
stood before him to save his life, and Diomed killed both
him and his squire Calesius, who was then his charioteer—
so the pair passed beneath the earth.
Euryalus killed Dresus and Opheltius, and then went in
pursuit of Aesepus and Pedasus, whom the naiad nymph
Abarbarea had borne to noble Bucolion. Bucolion was el-
dest son to Laomedon, but he was a bastard. While tending
his sheep he had converse with the nymph, and she con-
108 The Iliad

ceived twin sons; these the son of Mecisteus now slew, and
he stripped the armour from their shoulders. Polypoetes
then killed Astyalus, Ulysses Pidytes of Percote, and Teucer
Aretaon. Ablerus fell by the spear of Nestor’s son Antilochus,
and Agamemnon, king of men, killed Elatus who dwelt in
Pedasus by the banks of the river Satnioeis. Leitus killed
Phylacus as he was flying, and Eurypylus slew Melanthus.
Then Menelaus of the loud war-cry took Adrestus alive,
for his horses ran into a tamarisk bush, as they were fly-
ing wildly over the plain, and broke the pole from the car;
they went on towards the city along with the others in full
flight, but Adrestus rolled out, and fell in the dust flat on
his face by the wheel of his chariot; Menelaus came up to
him spear in hand, but Adrestus caught him by the knees
begging for his life. ‘Take me alive,’ he cried, ‘son of Atreus,
and you shall have a full ransom for me: my father is rich
and has much treasure of gold, bronze, and wrought iron
laid by in his house. From this store he will give you a large
ransom should he hear of my being alive and at the ships of
the Achaeans.’
Thus did he plead, and Menelaus was for yielding and
giving him to a squire to take to the ships of the Achae-
ans, but Agamemnon came running up to him and rebuked
him. ‘My good Menelaus,’ said he, ‘this is no time for giving
quarter. Has, then, your house fared so well at the hands of
the Trojans? Let us not spare a single one of them—not even
the child unborn and in its mother’s womb; let not a man of
them be left alive, but let all in Ilius perish, unheeded and
forgotten.’

Thus did he speak, and his brother was persuaded by
him, for his words were just. Menelaus, therefore, thrust
Adrestus from him, whereon King Agamemnon struck him
in the flank, and he fell: then the son of Atreus planted his
foot upon his breast to draw his spear from the body.
Meanwhile Nestor shouted to the Argives, saying, ‘My
friends, Danaan warriors, servants of Mars, let no man lag
that he may spoil the dead, and bring back much booty to
the ships. Let us kill as many as we can; the bodies will lie
upon the plain, and you can despoil them later at your lei-
sure.’
And now the Trojans would have been routed and driven
back into Ilius, had not Priam’s son Helenus, wisest of au-
gurs, said to Hector and Aeneas, ‘Hector and Aeneas, you
two are the mainstays of the Trojans and Lycians, for you are
foremost at all times, alike in fight and counsel; hold your
ground here, and go about among the host to rally them in
front of the gates, or they will fling themselves into the arms
of their wives, to the great joy of our foes. Then, when you
have put heart into all our companies, we will stand firm
here and fight the Danaans however hard they press us, for
there is nothing else to be done. Meanwhile do you, Hector,
go to the city and tell our mother what is happening. Tell
her to bid the matrons gather at the temple of Minerva in
the acropolis; let her then take her key and open the doors
of the sacred building; there, upon the knees of Minerva,
let her lay the largest, fairest robe she has in her house—
the one she sets most store by; let her, moreover, promise to
110 The Iliad

sacrifice twelve yearling heifers that have never yet felt the
goad, in the temple of the goddess, if she will take pity on
the town, with the wives and little ones of the Trojans, and
keep the son of Tydeus from falling on the goodly city of
Ilius; for he fights with fury and fills men’s souls with panic.
I hold him mightiest of them all; we did not fear even their
great champion Achilles, son of a goddess though he be, as
we do this man: his rage is beyond all bounds, and there is
none can vie with him in prowess.’
Hector did as his brother bade him. He sprang from his
chariot, and went about everywhere among the host, bran-
dishing his spears, urging the men on to fight, and raising
the dread cry of battle. Thereon they rallied and again faced
the Achaeans, who gave ground and ceased their murder-
ous onset, for they deemed that some one of the immortals
had come down from starry heaven to help the Trojans, so
strangely had they rallied. And Hector shouted to the Tro-
jans, ‘Trojans and allies, be men, my friends, and fight with
might and main, while I go to Ilius and tell the old men of
our council and our wives to pray to the gods and vow heca-
tombs in their honour.’
With this he went his way, and the black rim of hide that
went round his shield beat against his neck and his ancles.
Then Glaucus son of Hippolochus, and the son of Tydeus
went into the open space between the hosts to fight in single
combat. When they were close up to one another Diomed
of the loud war-cry was the first to speak. ‘Who, my good
sir,’ said he, ‘who are you among men? I have never seen
you in battle until now, but you are daring beyond all oth-

ers if you abide my onset. Woe to those fathers whose sons
face my might. If, however, you are one of the immortals
and have come down from heaven, I will not fight you; for
even valiant Lycurgus, son of Dryas, did not live long when
he took to fighting with the gods. He it was that drove the
nursing women who were in charge of frenzied Bacchus
through the land of Nysa, and they flung their thyrsi on the
ground as murderous Lycurgus beat them with his oxgoad.
Bacchus himself plunged terror-stricken into the sea, and
Thetis took him to her bosom to comfort him, for he was
scared by the fury with which the man reviled him. There-
on the gods who live at ease were angry with Lycurgus and
the son of Saturn struck him blind, nor did he live much
longer after he had become hateful to the immortals. There-
fore I will not fight with the blessed gods; but if you are of
them that eat the fruit of the ground, draw near and meet
your doom.’
And the son of Hippolochus answered, son of Tydeus,
why ask me of my lineage? Men come and go as leaves year
by year upon the trees. Those of autumn the wind sheds
upon the ground, but when spring returns the forest buds
forth with fresh vines. Even so is it with the generations of
mankind, the new spring up as the old are passing away.
If, then, you would learn my descent, it is one that is well
known to many. There is a city in the heart of Argos, pasture
land of horses, called Ephyra, where Sisyphus lived, who
was the craftiest of all mankind. He was the son of Aeolus,
and had a son named Glaucus, who was father to Bellero-
phon, whom heaven endowed with the most surpassing
112 The Iliad

comeliness and beauty. But Proetus devised his ruin, and
being stronger than he, drove him from the land of the Ar-
gives, over which Jove had made him ruler. For Antea, wife
of Proetus, lusted after him, and would have had him lie
with her in secret; but Bellerophon was an honourable man
and would not, so she told lies about him to Proteus. ‘Proe-
tus,’ said she, ‘kill Bellerophon or die, for he would have had
converse with me against my will.’ The king was angered,
but shrank from killing Bellerophon, so he sent him to Ly-
cia with lying letters of introduction, written on a folded
tablet, and containing much ill against the bearer. He bade
Bellerophon show these letters to his father-in-law, to the
end that he might thus perish; Bellerophon therefore went
to Lycia, and the gods convoyed him safely.
‘When he reached the river Xanthus, which is in Ly-
cia, the king received him with all goodwill, feasted him
nine days, and killed nine heifers in his honour, but when
rosy-fingered morning appeared upon the tenth day, he
questioned him and desired to see the letter from his son-
in-law Proetus. When he had received the wicked letter he
first commanded Bellerophon to kill that savage monster,
the Chimaera, who was not a human being, but a goddess,
for she had the head of a lion and the tail of a serpent, while
her body was that of a goat, and she breathed forth flames
of fire; but Bellerophon slew her, for he was guided by signs
from heaven. He next fought the far-famed Solymi, and this,
he said, was the hardest of all his battles. Thirdly, he killed
the Amazons, women who were the peers of men, and as he
was returning thence the king devised yet another plan for

his destruction; he picked the bravest warriors in all Lycia,
and placed them in ambuscade, but not a man ever came
back, for Bellerophon killed every one of them. Then the
king knew that he must be the valiant offspring of a god,
so he kept him in Lycia, gave him his daughter in marriage,
and made him of equal honour in the kingdom with him-
self; and the Lycians gave him a piece of land, the best in
all the country, fair with vineyards and tilled fields, to have
and to hold.
‘The king’s daughter bore Bellerophon three children,
Isander, Hippolochus, and Laodameia. Jove, the lord of
counsel, lay with Laodameia, and she bore him noble
Sarpedon; but when Bellerophon came to be hated by all
the gods, he wandered all desolate and dismayed upon the
Alean plain, gnawing at his own heart, and shunning the
path of man. Mars, insatiate of battle, killed his son Isander
while he was fighting the Solymi; his daughter was killed by
Diana of the golden reins, for she was angered with her; but
Hippolochus was father to myself, and when he sent me to
Troy he urged me again and again to fight ever among the
foremost and outvie my peers, so as not to shame the blood
of my fathers who were the noblest in Ephyra and in all Ly-
cia. This, then, is the descent I claim.’
Thus did he speak, and the heart of Diomed was glad.
He planted his spear in the ground, and spoke to him with
friendly words. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘you are an old friend of my
father’s house. Great Oeneus once entertained Bellerophon
for twenty days, and the two exchanged presents. Oeneus
gave a belt rich with purple, and Bellerophon a double cup,
114 The Iliad

which I left at home when I set out for Troy. I do not re-
member Tydeus, for he was taken from us while I was yet
a child, when the army of the Achaeans was cut to pieces
before Thebes. Henceforth, however, I must be your host
in middle Argos, and you mine in Lycia, if I should ever
go there; let us avoid one another’s spears even during a
general engagement; there are many noble Trojans and al-
lies whom I can kill, if I overtake them and heaven delivers
them into my hand; so again with yourself, there are many
Achaeans whose lives you may take if you can; we two, then,
will exchange armour, that all present may know of the old
ties that subsist between us.’
With these words they sprang from their chariots,
grasped one another’s hands, and plighted friendship. But
the son of Saturn made Glaucus take leave of his wits, for he
exchanged golden armour for bronze, the worth of a hun-
dred head of cattle for the worth of nine.
Now when Hector reached the Scaean gates and the oak
tree, the wives and daughters of the Trojans came running
towards him to ask after their sons, brothers, kinsmen, and
husbands: he told them to set about praying to the gods,
and many were made sorrowful as they heard him.
Presently he reached the splendid palace of King Priam,
adorned with colonnades of hewn stone. In it there were fif-
ty bedchambers—all of hewn stone—built near one another,
where the sons of Priam slept, each with his wedded wife.
Opposite these, on the other side the courtyard, there were
twelve upper rooms also of hewn stone for Priam’s daugh-
ters, built near one another, where his sons-in-law slept with

their wives. When Hector got there, his fond mother came
up to him with Laodice the fairest of her daughters. She
took his hand within her own and said, ‘My son, why have
you left the battle to come hither? Are the Achaeans, woe
betide them, pressing you hard about the city that you have
thought fit to come and uplift your hands to Jove from the
citadel? Wait till I can bring you wine that you may make
offering to Jove and to the other immortals, and may then
drink and be refreshed. Wine gives a man fresh strength
when he is wearied, as you now are with fighting on behalf
of your kinsmen.’
And Hector answered, ‘Honoured mother, bring no wine,
lest you unman me and I forget my strength. I dare not make
a drink-offering to Jove with unwashed hands; one who is
bespattered with blood and filth may not pray to the son
of Saturn. Get the matrons together, and go with offerings
to the temple of Minerva driver of the spoil; there, upon
the knees of Minerva, lay the largest and fairest robe you
have in your house—the one you set most store by; promise,
moreover, to sacrifice twelve yearling heifers that have nev-
er yet felt the goad, in the temple of the goddess if she will
take pity on the town, with the wives and little ones of the
Trojans, and keep the son of Tydeus from off the goodly city
of Ilius, for he fights with fury, and fills men’s souls with
panic. Go, then, to the temple of Minerva, while I seek Paris
and exhort him, if he will hear my words. Would that the
earth might open her jaws and swallow him, for Jove bred
him to be the bane of the Trojans, and of Priam and Priam’s
sons. Could I but see him go down into the house of Hades,
116 The Iliad

my heart would forget its heaviness.’
His mother went into the house and called her waiting-
women who gathered the matrons throughout the city. She
then went down into her fragrant store-room, where her
embroidered robes were kept, the work of Sidonian women,
whom Alexandrus had brought over from Sidon when he
sailed the seas upon that voyage during which he carried
off Helen. Hecuba took out the largest robe, and the one
that was most beautifully enriched with embroidery, as an
offering to Minerva: it glittered like a star, and lay at the
very bottom of the chest. With this she went on her way and
many matrons with her.
When they reached the temple of Minerva, lovely The-
ano, daughter of Cisseus and wife of Antenor, opened the
doors, for the Trojans had made her priestess of Minerva.
The women lifted up their hands to the goddess with a loud
cry, and Theano took the robe to lay it upon the knees of
Minerva, praying the while to the daughter of great Jove.
‘Holy Minerva,’ she cried, ‘protectress of our city, mighty
goddess, break the spear of Diomed and lay him low before
the Scaean gates. Do this, and we will sacrifice twelve heif-
ers that have never yet known the goad, in your temple, if
you will have pity upon the town, with the wives and little
ones of the Trojans.’ Thus she prayed, but Pallas Minerva
granted not her prayer.
While they were thus praying to the daughter of great
Jove, Hector went to the fair house of Alexandrus, which
he had built for him by the foremost builders in the land.
They had built him his house, storehouse, and courtyard

near those of Priam and Hector on the acropolis. Here Hec-
tor entered, with a spear eleven cubits long in his hand; the
bronze point gleamed in front of him, and was fastened to
the shaft of the spear by a ring of gold. He found Alexan-
drus within the house, busied about his armour, his shield
and cuirass, and handling his curved bow; there, too, sat
Argive Helen with her women, setting them their several
tasks; and as Hector saw him he rebuked him with words
of scorn. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘you do ill to nurse this rancour; the
people perish fighting round this our town; you would
yourself chide one whom you saw shirking his part in the
combat. Up then, or ere long the city will be in a blaze.’
And Alexandrus answered, ‘Hector, your rebuke is just;
listen therefore, and believe me when I tell you that I am
not here so much through rancour or ill-will towards the
Trojans, as from a desire to indulge my grief. My wife was
even now gently urging me to battle, and I hold it better that
I should go, for victory is ever fickle. Wait, then, while I put
on my armour, or go first and I will follow. I shall be sure
to overtake you.’
Hector made no answer, but Helen tried to soothe him.
‘Brother,’ said she, ‘to my abhorred and sinful self, would
that a whirlwind had caught me up on the day my mother
brought me forth, and had borne me to some mountain or
to the waves of the roaring sea that should have swept me
away ere this mischief had come about. But, since the gods
have devised these evils, would, at any rate, that I had been
wife to a better man—to one who could smart under dis-
honour and men’s evil speeches. This fellow was never yet
118 The Iliad

to be depended upon, nor never will be, and he will surely
reap what he has sown. Still, brother, come in and rest upon
this seat, for it is you who bear the brunt of that toil that has
been caused by my hateful self and by the sin of Alexan-
drus—both of whom Jove has doomed to be a theme of song
among those that shall be born hereafter.’
And Hector answered, ‘Bid me not be seated, Helen, for
all the goodwill you bear me. I cannot stay. I am in haste
to help the Trojans, who miss me greatly when I am not
among them; but urge your husband, and of his own self
also let him make haste to overtake me before I am out of
the city. I must go home to see my household, my wife and
my little son, for I know not whether I shall ever again re-
turn to them, or whether the gods will cause me to fill by
the hands of the Achaeans.’
Then Hector left her, and forthwith was at his own house.
He did not find Andromache, for she was on the wall with
her child and one of her maids, weeping bitterly. Seeing,
then, that she was not within, he stood on the threshold of
the women’s rooms and said, ‘Women, tell me, and tell me
true, where did Andromache go when she left the house?
Was it to my sisters, or to my brothers’ wives? or is she at the
temple of Minerva where the other women are propitiating
the awful goddess?’
His good housekeeper answered, ‘Hector, since you bid
me tell you truly, she did not go to your sisters nor to your
brothers’ wives, nor yet to the temple of Minerva, where the
other women are propitiating the awful goddess, but she is
on the high wall of Ilius, for she had heard the Trojans were

being hard pressed, and that the Achaeans were in great
force: she went to the wall in frenzied haste, and the nurse
went with her carrying the child.’
Hector hurried from the house when she had done
speaking, and went down the streets by the same way that
he had come. When he had gone through the city and had
reached the Scaean gates through which he would go out on
to the plain, his wife came running towards him, Andro-
mache, daughter of great Eetion who ruled in Thebe under
the wooded slopes of Mt. Placus, and was king of the Cili-
cians. His daughter had married Hector, and now came to
meet him with a nurse who carried his little child in her bo-
som—a mere babe. Hector’s darling son, and lovely as a star.
Hector had named him Scamandrius, but the people called
him Astyanax, for his father stood alone as chief guard-
ian of Ilius. Hector smiled as he looked upon the boy, but
he did not speak, and Andromache stood by him weeping
and taking his hand in her own. ‘Dear husband,’ said she,
‘your valour will bring you to destruction; think on your in-
fant son, and on my hapless self who ere long shall be your
widow—for the Achaeans will set upon you in a body and
kill you. It would be better for me, should I lose you, to lie
dead and buried, for I shall have nothing left to comfort me
when you are gone, save only sorrow. I have neither father
nor mother now. Achilles slew my father when he sacked
Thebe the goodly city of the Cilicians. He slew him, but did
not for very shame despoil him; when he had burned him
in his wondrous armour, he raised a barrow over his ashes
and the mountain nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Jove,
120 The Iliad

planted a grove of elms about his tomb. I had seven broth-
ers in my father’s house, but on the same day they all went
within the house of Hades. Achilles killed them as they
were with their sheep and cattle. My mother—her who had
been queen of all the land under Mt. Placus—he brought
hither with the spoil, and freed her for a great sum, but the
archer-queen Diana took her in the house of your father.
Nay—Hector—you who to me are father, mother, brother,
and dear husband—have mercy upon me; stay here upon
this wall; make not your child fatherless, and your wife a
widow; as for the host, place them near the fig-tree, where
the city can be best scaled, and the wall is weakest. Thrice
have the bravest of them come thither and assailed it, un-
der the two Ajaxes, Idomeneus, the sons of Atreus, and the
brave son of Tydeus, either of their own bidding, or because
some soothsayer had told them.’
And Hector answered, ‘Wife, I too have thought upon all
this, but with what face should I look upon the Trojans, men
or women, if I shirked battle like a coward? I cannot do so:
I know nothing save to fight bravely in the forefront of the
Trojan host and win renown alike for my father and myself.
Well do I know that the day will surely come when mighty
Ilius shall be destroyed with Priam and Priam’s people, but
I grieve for none of these—not even for Hecuba, nor King
Priam, nor for my brothers many and brave who may fall in
the dust before their foes—for none of these do I grieve as
for yourself when the day shall come on which some one of
the Achaeans shall rob you for ever of your freedom, and
bear you weeping away. It may be that you will have to ply

the loom in Argos at the bidding of a mistress, or to fetch
water from the springs Messeis or Hypereia, treated bru-
tally by some cruel task-master; then will one say who sees
you weeping, ‘She was wife to Hector, the bravest warrior
among the Trojans during the war before Ilius.’ On this
your tears will break forth anew for him who would have
put away the day of captivity from you. May I lie dead under
the barrow that is heaped over my body ere I hear your cry
as they carry you into bondage.’
He stretched his arms towards his child, but the boy cried
and nestled in his nurse’s bosom, scared at the sight of his
father’s armour, and at the horse-hair plume that nodded
fiercely from his helmet. His father and mother laughed to
see him, but Hector took the helmet from his head and laid
it all gleaming upon the ground. Then he took his darling
child, kissed him, and dandled him in his arms, praying
over him the while to Jove and to all the gods. ‘Jove,’ he
cried, ‘grant that this my child may be even as myself, chief
among the Trojans; let him be not less excellent in strength,
and let him rule Ilius with his might. Then may one say of
him as he comes from battle, ‘The son is far better than the
father.’ May he bring back the blood-stained spoils of him
whom he has laid low, and let his mother’s heart be glad.’’
With this he laid the child again in the arms of his wife,
who took him to her own soft bosom, smiling through
her tears. As her husband watched her his heart yearned
towards her and he caressed her fondly, saying, ‘My own
wife, do not take these things too bitterly to heart. No one
can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man’s
122 The Iliad

hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no es-
cape for him when he has once been born. Go, then, within
the house, and busy yourself with your daily duties, your
loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for
war is man’s matter, and mine above all others of them that
have been born in Ilius.’
He took his plumed helmet from the ground, and his
wife went back again to her house, weeping bitterly and of-
ten looking back towards him. When she reached her home
she found her maidens within, and bade them all join in her
lament; so they mourned Hector in his own house though
he was yet alive, for they deemed that they should never see
him return safe from battle, and from the furious hands of
the Achaeans.
Paris did not remain long in his house. He donned his
goodly armour overlaid with bronze, and hasted through
the city as fast as his feet could take him. As a horse, stabled
and fed, breaks loose and gallops gloriously over the plain
to the place where he is wont to bathe in the fair-flowing
river—he holds his head high, and his mane streams upon
his shoulders as he exults in his strength and flies like the
wind to the haunts and feeding ground of the mares—even
so went forth Paris from high Pergamus, gleaming like sun-
light in his armour, and he laughed aloud as he sped swiftly
on his way. Forthwith he came upon his brother Hector,
who was then turning away from the place where he had
held converse with his wife, and he was himself the first to
speak. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I fear that I have kept you waiting when
you are in haste, and have not come as quickly as you bade

me.’
‘My good brother,’ answered Hector, ‘you fight bravely,
and no man with any justice can make light of your doings
in battle. But you are careless and wilfully remiss. It grieves
me to the heart to hear the ill that the Trojans speak about
you, for they have suffered much on your account. Let us
be going, and we will make things right hereafter, should
Jove vouchsafe us to set the cup of our deliverance before
ever-living gods of heaven in our own homes, when we have
chased the Achaeans from Troy.’
124 The Iliad

BOOK VII
W ITH these words Hector passed through the gates,

and his brother Alexandrus with him, both eager for
the fray. As when heaven sends a breeze to sailors who have
long looked for one in vain, and have laboured at their oars
till they are faint with toil, even so welcome was the sight of
these two heroes to the Trojans.
Thereon Alexandrus killed Menesthius the son of Are-
ithous; he lived in Arne, and was son of Areithous the
Mace-man, and of Phylomedusa. Hector threw a spear at
Eioneus and struck him dead with a wound in the neck un-
der the bronze rim of his helmet. Glaucus, moreover, son of
Hippolochus, captain of the Lycians, in hard hand-to-hand
fight smote Iphinous son of Dexius on the shoulder, as he
was springing on to his chariot behind his fleet mares; so he
fell to earth from the car, and there was no life left in him.
When, therefore, Minerva saw these men making havoc
of the Argives, she darted down to Ilius from the summits
of Olympus, and Apollo, who was looking on from Perga-
mus, went out to meet her; for he wanted the Trojans to be
victorious. The pair met by the oak tree, and King Apollo
son of Jove was first to speak. ‘What would you have’, said
he, ‘daughter of great Jove, that your proud spirit has sent
you hither from Olympus? Have you no pity upon the Tro-
jans, and would you incline the scales of victory in favour

of the Danaans? Let me persuade you—for it will be better
thus—stay the combat for to-day, but let them renew the
fight hereafter till they compass the doom of Ilius, since you
goddesses have made up your minds to destroy the city.’
And Minerva answered, ‘So be it, Far-Darter; it was in
this mind that I came down from Olympus to the Trojans
and Achaeans. Tell me, then, how do you propose to end
this present fighting?’
Apollo, son of Jove, replied, ‘Let us incite great Hector
to challenge some one of the Danaans in single combat; on
this the Achaeans will be shamed into finding a man who
will fight him.’
Minerva assented, and Helenus son of Priam divined the
counsel of the gods; he therefore went up to Hector and said,
‘Hector son of Priam, peer of gods in counsel, I am your
brother, let me then persuade you. Bid the other Trojans
and Achaeans all of them take their seats, and challenge the
best man among the Achaeans to meet you in single com-
bat. I have heard the voice of the ever-living gods, and the
hour of your doom is not yet come.’
Hector was glad when he heard this saying, and went
in among the Trojans, grasping his spear by the middle to
hold them back, and they all sat down. Agamemnon also
bade the Achaeans be seated. But Minerva and Apollo, in
the likeness of vultures, perched on father Jove’s high oak
tree, proud of their men; and the ranks sat close ranged to-
gether, bristling with shield and helmet and spear. As when
the rising west wind furs the face of the sea and the waters
grow dark beneath it, so sat the companies of Trojans and
126 The Iliad

Achaeans upon the plain. And Hector spoke thus:—
‘Hear me, Trojans and Achaeans, that I may speak even as
I am minded; Jove on his high throne has brought our oaths
and covenants to nothing, and foreshadows ill for both of
us, till you either take the towers of Troy, or are yourselves
vanquished at your ships. The princes of the Achaeans are
here present in the midst of you; let him, then, that will fight
me stand forward as your champion against Hector. Thus I
say, and may Jove be witness between us. If your champion
slay me, let him strip me of my armour and take it to your
ships, but let him send my body home that the Trojans and
their wives may give me my dues of fire when I am dead. In
like manner, if Apollo vouchsafe me glory and I slay your
champion, I will strip him of his armour and take it to the
city of Ilius, where I will hang it in the temple of Apollo, but
I will give up his body, that the Achaeans may bury him at
their ships, and the build him a mound by the wide waters
of the Hellespont. Then will one say hereafter as he sails his
ship over the sea, ‘This is the monument of one who died
long since a champion who was slain by mighty Hector.’
Thus will one say, and my fame shall not be lost.’
Thus did he speak, but they all held their peace, ashamed
to decline the challenge, yet fearing to accept it, till at last
Menelaus rose and rebuked them, for he was angry. ‘Alas,’
he cried, ‘vain braggarts, women forsooth not men, dou-
ble-dyed indeed will be the stain upon us if no man of the
Danaans will now face Hector. May you be turned every
man of you into earth and water as you sit spiritless and
inglorious in your places. I will myself go out against this

man, but the upshot of the fight will be from on high in the
hands of the immortal gods.’
With these words he put on his armour; and then, O
Menelaus, your life would have come to an end at the hands
of hands of Hector, for he was far better the man, had not
the princes of the Achaeans sprung upon you and checked
you. King Agamemnon caught him by the right hand and
said, ‘Menelaus, you are mad; a truce to this folly. Be pa-
tient in spite of passion, do not think of fighting a man so
much stronger than yourself as Hector son of Priam, who is
feared by many another as well as you. Even Achilles, who
is far more doughty than you are, shrank from meeting
him in battle. Sit down your own people, and the Achae-
ans will send some other champion to fight Hector; fearless
and fond of battle though he be, I ween his knees will bend
gladly under him if he comes out alive from the hurly-burly
of this fight.’
With these words of reasonable counsel he persuaded
his brother, whereon his squires gladly stripped the ar-
mour from off his shoulders. Then Nestor rose and spoke,
‘Of a truth,’ said he, ‘the Achaean land is fallen upon evil
times. The old knight Peleus, counsellor and orator among
the Myrmidons, loved when I was in his house to question
me concerning the race and lineage of all the Argives. How
would it not grieve him could he hear of them as now quail-
ing before Hector? Many a time would he lift his hands
in prayer that his soul might leave his body and go down
within the house of Hades. Would, by father Jove, Minerva,
and Apollo, that I were still young and strong as when the
128 The Iliad

Pylians and Arcadians were gathered in fight by the rapid
river Celadon under the walls of Pheia, and round about the
waters of the river Iardanus. The godlike hero Ereuthalion
stood forward as their champion, with the armour of King
Areithous upon his shoulders— Areithous whom men and
women had surnamed ‘the Mace-man,’ because he fought
neither with bow nor spear, but broke the battalions of the
foe with his iron mace. Lycurgus killed him, not in fair fight,
but by entrapping him in a narrow way where his mace
served him in no stead; for Lycurgus was too quick for him
and speared him through the middle, so he fell to earth on
his back. Lycurgus then spoiled him of the armour which
Mars had given him, and bore it in battle thenceforward;
but when he grew old and stayed at home, he gave it to his
faithful squire Ereuthalion, who in this same armour chal-
lenged the foremost men among us. The others quaked and
quailed, but my high spirit bade me fight him though none
other would venture; I was the youngest man of them all;
but when I fought him Minerva vouchsafed me victory. He
was the biggest and strongest man that ever I killed, and
covered much ground as he lay sprawling upon the earth.
Would that I were still young and strong as I then was, for
the son of Priam would then soon find one who would face
him. But you, foremost among the whole host though you
be, have none of you any stomach for fighting Hector.’
Thus did the old man rebuke them, and forthwith nine
men started to their feet. Foremost of all uprose King
Agamemnon, and after him brave Diomed the son of Tyde-
us. Next were the two Ajaxes, men clothed in valour as with

a garment, and then Idomeneus, and Meriones his broth-
er in arms. After these Eurypylus son of Euaemon, Thoas
the son of Andraemon, and Ulysses also rose. Then Nestor
knight of Gerene again spoke, saying: ‘Cast lots among you
to see who shall be chosen. If he come alive out of this fight
he will have done good service alike to his own soul and to
the Achaeans.’
Thus he spoke, and when each of them had marked his
lot, and had thrown it into the helmet of Agamemnon son
of Atreus, the people lifted their hands in prayer, and thus
would one of them say as he looked into the vault of heaven,
‘Father Jove, grant that the lot fall on Ajax, or on the son of
Tydeus, or upon the king of rich Mycene himself.’
As they were speaking, Nestor knight of Gerene shook
the helmet, and from it there fell the very lot which they
wanted—the lot of Ajax. The herald bore it about and
showed it to all the chieftains of the Achaeans, going from
left to right; but they none of them owned it. When, how-
ever, in due course he reached the man who had written
upon it and had put it into the helmet, brave Ajax held out
his hand, and the herald gave him the lot. When Ajax saw
his mark he knew it and was glad; he threw it to the ground
and said, ‘My friends, the lot is mine, and I rejoice, for I
shall vanquish Hector. I will put on my armour; meanwhile,
pray to King Jove in silence among yourselves that the Tro-
jans may not hear you—or aloud if you will, for we fear no
man. None shall overcome me, neither by force nor cun-
ning, for I was born and bred in Salamis, and can hold my
own in all things.’
130 The Iliad

With this they fell praying to King Jove the son of Saturn,
and thus would one of them say as he looked into the vault
of heaven, ‘Father Jove that rulest from Ida, most glorious
in power, vouchsafe victory to Ajax, and let him win great
glory: but if you wish well to Hector also and would protect
him, grant to each of them equal fame and prowess.’
Thus they prayed, and Ajax armed himself in his suit of
gleaming bronze. When he was in full array he sprang for-
ward as monstrous Mars when he takes part among men
whom Jove has set fighting with one another—even so did
huge Ajax, bulwark of the Achaeans, spring forward with
a grim smile on his face as he brandished his long spear
and strode onward. The Argives were elated as they beheld
him, but the Trojans trembled in every limb, and the heart
even of Hector beat quickly, but he could not now retreat
and withdraw into the ranks behind him, for he had been
the challenger. Ajax came up bearing his shield in front of
him like a wall—a shield of bronze with seven folds of ox-
hide—the work of Tychius, who lived in Hyle and was by far
the best worker in leather. He had made it with the hides
of seven full-fed bulls, and over these he had set an eighth
layer of bronze. Holding this shield before him, Ajax son of
Telamon came close up to Hector, and menaced him say-
ing, ‘Hector, you shall now learn, man to man, what kind
of champions the Danaans have among them even besides
lion-hearted Achilles cleaver of the ranks of men. He now
abides at the ships in anger with Agamemnon shepherd of
his people, but there are many of us who are well able to face
you; therefore begin the fight.’

And Hector answered, ‘Noble Ajax, son of Telamon, cap-
tain of the host, treat me not as though I were some puny
boy or woman that cannot fight. I have been long used to the
blood and butcheries of battle. I am quick to turn my leath-
ern shield either to right or left, for this I deem the main
thing in battle. I can charge among the chariots and horse-
men, and in hand to hand fighting can delight the heart of
Mars; howbeit I would not take such a man as you are off his
guard—but I will smite you openly if I can.’
He poised his spear as he spoke, and hurled it from him.
It struck the sevenfold shield in its outermost layer—the
eighth, which was of bronze—and went through six of the
layers but in the seventh hide it stayed. Then Ajax threw in
his turn, and struck the round shield of the son of Priam.
The terrible spear went through his gleaming shield, and
pressed onward through his cuirass of cunning workman-
ship; it pierced the shirt against his side, but he swerved and
thus saved his life. They then each of them drew out the
spear from his shield, and fell on one another like savage
lions or wild boars of great strength and endurance: the son
of Priam struck the middle of Ajax’s shield, but the bronze
did not break, and the point of his dart was turned. Ajax
then sprang forward and pierced the shield of Hector; the
spear went through it and staggered him as he was spring-
ing forward to attack; it gashed his neck and the blood came
pouring from the wound, but even so Hector did not cease
fighting; he gave ground, and with his brawny hand seized
a stone, rugged and huge, that was lying upon the plain;
with this he struck the shield of Ajax on the boss that was in
132 The Iliad

its middle, so that the bronze rang again. But Ajax in turn
caught up a far larger stone, swung it aloft, and hurled it
with prodigious force. This millstone of a rock broke Hec-
tor’s shield inwards and threw him down on his back with
the shield crushing him under it, but Apollo raised him at
once. Thereon they would have hacked at one another in
close combat with their swords, had not heralds, messen-
gers of gods and men, come forward, one from the Trojans
and the other from the Achaeans—Talthybius and Idaeus
both of them honourable men; these parted them with their
staves, and the good herald Idaeus said, ‘My sons, fight no
longer, you are both of you valiant, and both are dear to
Jove; we know this; but night is now falling, and the behests
of night may not be well gainsaid.’
Ajax son of Telamon answered, ‘Idaeus, bid Hector say
so, for it was he that challenged our princes. Let him speak
first and I will accept his saying.’
Then Hector said, ‘Ajax, heaven has vouchsafed you
stature and strength, and judgement; and in wielding the
spear you excel all others of the Achaeans. Let us for this
day cease fighting; hereafter we will fight anew till heaven
decide between us, and give victory to one or to the other;
night is now falling, and the behests of night may not be
well gainsaid. Gladden, then, the hearts of the Achaeans at
your ships, and more especially those of your own followers
and clansmen, while I, in the great city of King Priam, bring
comfort to the Trojans and their women, who vie with one
another in their prayers on my behalf. Let us, moreover, ex-
change presents that it may be said among the Achaeans

and Trojans, ‘They fought with might and main, but were
reconciled and parted in friendship.’’
On this he gave Ajax a silver-studded sword with its
sheath and leathern baldric, and in return Ajax gave him a
girdle dyed with purple. Thus they parted, the one going to
the host of the Achaeans, and the other to that of the Tro-
jans, who rejoiced when they saw their hero come to them
safe and unharmed from the strong hands of mighty Ajax.
They led him, therefore, to the city as one that had been
saved beyond their hopes. On the other side the Achaeans
brought Ajax elated with victory to Agamemnon.
When they reached the quarters of the son of Atreus,
Agamemnon sacrificed for them a five-year-old bull in hon-
our of Jove the son of Saturn. They flayed the carcass, made
it ready, and divided it into joints; these they cut carefully
up into smaller pieces, putting them on the spits, roast-
ing them sufficiently, and then drawing them off. When
they had done all this and had prepared the feast, they ate
it, and every man had his full and equal share, so that all
were satisfied, and King Agamemnon gave Ajax some slices
cut lengthways down the loin, as a mark of special hon-
our. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, old
Nestor whose counsel was ever truest began to speak; with
all sincerity and goodwill, therefore, he addressed them
thus:—
‘Son of Atreus, and other chieftains, inasmuch as many
of the Achaeans are now dead, whose blood Mars has shed
by the banks of the Scamander, and their souls have gone
down to the house of Hades, it will be well when morning
134 The Iliad

comes that we should cease fighting; we will then wheel our
dead together with oxen and mules and burn them not far
from the ships, that when we sail hence we may take the
bones of our comrades home to their children. Hard by the
funeral pyre we will build a barrow that shall be raised from
the plain for all in common; near this let us set about build-
ing a high wall, to shelter ourselves and our ships, and let it
have well-made gates that there may be a way through them
for our chariots. Close outside we will dig a deep trench all
round it to keep off both horse and foot, that the Trojan
chieftains may not bear hard upon us.’
Thus he spoke, and the princess shouted in applause.
Meanwhile the Trojans held a council, angry and full of dis-
cord, on the acropolis by the gates of King Priam’s palace;
and wise Antenor spoke. ‘Hear me,’ he said, ‘Trojans, Dar-
danians, and allies, that I may speak even as I am minded.
Let us give up Argive Helen and her wealth to the sons of
Atreus, for we are now fighting in violation of our solemn
covenants, and shall not prosper till we have done as I say.’
He then sat down and Alexandrus husband of lovely Hel-
en rose to speak. ‘Antenor,’ said he, ‘your words are not to
my liking; you can find a better saying than this if you will;
if, however, you have spoken in good earnest, then indeed
has heaven robbed you of your reason. I will speak plainly,
and hereby notify to the Trojans that I will not give up the
woman; but the wealth that I brought home with her from
Argos I will restore, and will add yet further of my own.’
On this, when Paris had spoken and taken his seat, Pri-
am of the race of Dardanus, peer of gods in council, rose

and with all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus:
‘Hear me, Trojans, Dardanians, and allies, that I may speak
even as I am minded. Get your suppers now as hitherto
throughout the city, but keep your watches and be wakeful.
At daybreak let Idaeus go to the ships, and tell Agamem-
non and Menelaus sons of Atreus the saying of Alexandrus
through whom this quarrel has come about; and let him
also be instant with them that they now cease fighting till
we burn our dead; hereafter we will fight anew, till heaven
decide between us and give victory to one or to the other.’
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. They
took supper in their companies and at daybreak Idaeus
went his way to the ships. He found the Danaans, servants
of Mars, in council at the stern of Agamemnon’s ship, and
took his place in the midst of them. ‘Son of Atreus,’ he said,
‘and princes of the Achaean host, Priam and the other noble
Trojans have sent me to tell you the saying of Alexandrus
through whom this quarrel has come about, if so be that you
may find it acceptable. All the treasure he took with him in
his ships to Troy—would that he had sooner perished—he
will restore, and will add yet further of his own, but he will
not give up the wedded wife of Menelaus, though the Tro-
jans would have him do so. Priam bade me inquire further
if you will cease fighting till we burn our dead; hereafter we
will fight anew, till heaven decide between us and give vic-
tory to one or to the other.’
They all held their peace, but presently Diomed of the
loud war-cry spoke, saying, ‘Let there be no taking, neither
treasure, nor yet Helen, for even a child may see that the
136 The Iliad

doom of the Trojans is at hand.’
The sons of the Achaeans shouted applause at the words
that Diomed had spoken, and thereon King Agamem-
non said to Idaeus, ‘Idaeus, you have heard the answer the
Achaeans make you-and I with them. But as concerning the
dead, I give you leave to burn them, for when men are once
dead there should be no grudging them the rites of fire. Let
Jove the mighty husband of Juno be witness to this cove-
nant.’
As he spoke he upheld his sceptre in the sight of all the
gods, and Idaeus went back to the strong city of Ilius. The
Trojans and Dardanians were gathered in council waiting
his return; when he came, he stood in their midst and de-
livered his message. As soon as they heard it they set about
their twofold labour, some to gather the corpses, and others
to bring in wood. The Argives on their part also hastened
from their ships, some to gather the corpses, and others to
bring in wood.
The sun was beginning to beat upon the fields, fresh ris-
en into the vault of heaven from the slow still currents of
deep Oceanus, when the two armies met. They could hardly
recognise their dead, but they washed the clotted gore from
off them, shed tears over them, and lifted them upon their
waggons. Priam had forbidden the Trojans to wail aloud,
so they heaped their dead sadly and silently upon the pyre,
and having burned them went back to the city of Ilius. The
Achaeans in like manner heaped their dead sadly and si-
lently on the pyre, and having burned them went back to
their ships.

Now in the twilight when it was not yet dawn, chosen
bands of the Achaeans were gathered round the pyre and
built one barrow that was raised in common for all, and
hard by this they built a high wall to shelter themselves and
their ships; they gave it strong gates that there might be a
way through them for their chariots, and close outside it
they dug a trench deep and wide, and they planted it within
with stakes.
Thus did the Achaeans toil, and the gods, seated by the
side of Jove the lord of lightning, marvelled at their great
work; but Neptune, lord of the earthquake, spoke, saying,
‘Father Jove, what mortal in the whole world will again take
the gods into his counsel? See you not how the Achaeans
have built a wall about their ships and driven a trench all
round it, without offering hecatombs to the gods? The fame
of this wall will reach as far as dawn itself, and men will
no longer think anything of the one which Phoebus Apollo
and myself built with so much labour for Laomedon.’
Jove was displeased and answered, ‘What, O shaker of
the earth, are you talking about? A god less powerful than
yourself might be alarmed at what they are doing, but your
fame reaches as far as dawn itself. Surely when the Achae-
ans have gone home with their ships, you can shatter their
wall and fling it into the sea; you can cover the beach with
sand again, and the great wall of the Achaeans will then be
utterly effaced.’
Thus did they converse, and by sunset the work of the
Achaeans was completed; they then slaughtered oxen at
their tents and got their supper. Many ships had come with
138 The Iliad

wine from Lemnos, sent by Euneus the son of Jason, born
to him by Hypsipyle. The son of Jason freighted them with
ten thousand measures of wine, which he sent specially to
the sons of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaus. From this
supply the Achaeans bought their wine, some with bronze,
some with iron, some with hides, some with whole heifers,
and some again with captives. They spread a goodly ban-
quet and feasted the whole night through, as also did the
Trojans and their allies in the city. But all the time Jove bod-
ed them ill and roared with his portentous thunder. Pale
fear got hold upon them, and they spilled the wine from
their cups on to the ground, nor did any dare drink till he
had made offerings to the most mighty son of Saturn. Then
they laid themselves down to rest and enjoyed the boon of
sleep.

BOOK VIII
N OW when Morning, clad in her robe of saffron, had be-

gun to suffuse light over the earth, Jove called the gods
in council on the topmost crest of serrated Olympus. Then
he spoke and all the other gods gave ear. ‘Hear me,’ said he,
‘gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded.
Let none of you neither goddess nor god try to cross me, but
obey me every one of you that I may bring this matter to an
end. If I see anyone acting apart and helping either Trojans
or Danaans, he shall be beaten inordinately ere he come
back again to Olympus; or I will hurl him down into dark
Tartarus far into the deepest pit under the earth, where the
gates are iron and the floor bronze, as far beneath Hades
as heaven is high above the earth, that you may learn how
much the mightiest I am among you. Try me and find out
for yourselves. Hangs me a golden chain from heaven, and
lay hold of it all of you, gods and goddesses together—tug
as you will, you will not drag Jove the supreme counsel-
lor from heaven to earth; but were I to pull at it myself I
should draw you up with earth and sea into the bargain,
then would I bind the chain about some pinnacle of Olym-
pus and leave you all dangling in the mid firmament. So far
am I above all others either of gods or men.’
They were frightened and all of them of held their peace,
for he had spoken masterfully; but at last Minerva answered,
140 The Iliad

‘Father, son of Saturn, king of kings, we all know that your
might is not to be gainsaid, but we are also sorry for the
Danaan warriors, who are perishing and coming to a bad
end. We will, however, since you so bid us, refrain from ac-
tual fighting, but we will make serviceable suggestions to
the Argives that they may not all of them perish in your
displeasure.’
Jove smiled at her and answered, ‘Take heart, my child,
Trito-born; I am not really in earnest, and I wish to be kind
to you.’
With this he yoked his fleet horses, with hoofs of bronze
and manes of glittering gold. He girded himself also with
gold about the body, seized his gold whip and took his seat
in his chariot. Thereon he lashed his horses and they flew
forward nothing loth midway twixt earth and starry heav-
en. After a while he reached many-fountained Ida, mother
of wild beasts, and Gargarus, where are his grove and fra-
grant altar. There the father of gods and men stayed his
horses, took them from the chariot, and hid them in a thick
cloud; then he took his seat all glorious upon the topmost
crests, looking down upon the city of Troy and the ships of
the Achaeans.
The Achaeans took their morning meal hastily at the
ships, and afterwards put on their armour. The Trojans on
the other hand likewise armed themselves throughout the
city, fewer in numbers but nevertheless eager perforce to do
battle for their wives and children. All the gates were flung
wide open, and horse and foot sallied forth with the tramp
as of a great multitude.

When they were got together in one place, shield clashed
with shield, and spear with spear, in the conflict of mail-
clad men. Mighty was the din as the bossed shields pressed
hard on one another—death—cry and shout of triumph of
slain and slayers, and the earth ran red with blood.
Now so long as the day waxed and it was still morning
their weapons beat against one another, and the people fell,
but when the sun had reached mid-heaven, the sire of all
balanced his golden scales, and put two fates of death with-
in them, one for the Trojans and the other for the Achaeans.
He took the balance by the middle, and when he lifted it up
the day of the Achaeans sank; the death-fraught scale of the
Achaeans settled down upon the ground, while that of the
Trojans rose heavenwards. Then he thundered aloud from
Ida, and sent the glare of his lightning upon the Achaeans;
when they saw this, pale fear fell upon them and they were
sore afraid.
Idomeneus dared not stay nor yet Agamemnon, nor did
the two Ajaxes, servants of Mars, hold their ground. Nestor
knight of Gerene alone stood firm, bulwark of the Achaeans,
not of his own will, but one of his horses was disabled. Alex-
andrus husband of lovely Helen had hit it with an arrow just
on the top of its head where the mane begins to grow away
from the skull, a very deadly place. The horse bounded in
his anguish as the arrow pierced his brain, and his struggles
threw others into confusion. The old man instantly began
cutting the traces with his sword, but Hector’s fleet hors-
es bore down upon him through the rout with their bold
charioteer, even Hector himself, and the old man would
142 The Iliad

have perished there and then had not Diomed been quick
to mark, and with a loud cry called Ulysses to help him.
‘Ulysses,’ he cried, ‘noble son of Laertes where are you
flying to, with your back turned like a coward? See that you
are not struck with a spear between the shoulders. Stay here
and help me to defend Nestor from this man’s furious on-
set.’
Ulysses would not give ear, but sped onward to the ships
of the Achaeans, and the son of Tydeus flinging himself
alone into the thick of the fight took his stand before the
horses of the son of Neleus. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘these young war-
riors are pressing you hard, your force is spent, and age is
heavy upon you, your squire is naught, and your horses are
slow to move. Mount my chariot and see what the horses of
Tros can do—how cleverly they can scud hither and thither
over the plain either in flight or in pursuit. I took them from
the hero Aeneas. Let our squires attend to your own steeds,
but let us drive mine straight at the Trojans, that Hector
may learn how furiously I too can wield my spear.’
Nestor knight of Gerene hearkened to his words. Thereon
the doughty squires, Sthenelus and kind-hearted Euryme-
don, saw to Nestor’s horses, while the two both mounted
Diomed’s chariot. Nestor took the reins in his hands and
lashed the horses on; they were soon close up with Hector,
and the son of Tydeus aimed a spear at him as he was charg-
ing full speed towards them. He missed him, but struck his
charioteer and squire Eniopeus son of noble Thebaeus in
the breast by the nipple while the reins were in his hands,
so that he died there and then, and the horses swerved as he

fell headlong from the chariot. Hector was greatly grieved
at the loss of his charioteer, but let him lie for all his sorrow,
while he went in quest of another driver; nor did his steeds
have to go long without one, for he presently found brave
Archeptolemus the son of Iphitus, and made him get up be-
hind the horses, giving the reins into his hand.
All had then been lost and no help for it, for they would
have been penned up in Ilius like sheep, had not the sire of
gods and men been quick to mark, and hurled a fiery flam-
ing thunderbolt which fell just in front of Diomed’s horses
with a flare of burning brimstone. The horses were fright-
ened and tried to back beneath the car, while the reins
dropped from Nestor’s hands. Then he was afraid and said
to Diomed, ‘Son of Tydeus, turn your horses in flight; see
you not that the hand of Jove is against you? To-day he
vouchsafes victory to Hector; to-morrow, if it so please him,
he will again grant it to ourselves; no man, however brave,
may thwart the purpose of Jove, for he is far stronger than
any.’
Diomed answered, ‘All that you have said is true; there is
a grief however which pierces me to the very heart, for Hec-
tor will talk among the Trojans and say, ‘The son of Tydeus
fled before me to the ships.’ This is the vaunt he will make,
and may earth then swallow me.’
‘Son of Tydeus,’ replied Nestor, ‘what mean you? Though
Hector say that you are a coward the Trojans and Darda-
nians will not believe him, nor yet the wives of the mighty
warriors whom you have laid low.’
So saying he turned the horses back through the thick of
144 The Iliad

the battle, and with a cry that rent the air the Trojans and
Hector rained their darts after them. Hector shouted to him
and said, ‘Son of Tydeus, the Danaans have done you hon-
our hitherto as regards your place at table, the meals they
give you, and the filling of your cup with wine. Henceforth
they will despise you, for you are become no better than a
woman. Be off, girl and coward that you are, you shall not
scale our walls through any flinching upon my part; neither
shall you carry off our wives in your ships, for I shall kill
you with my own hand.’
The son of Tydeus was in two minds whether or no to
turn his horses round again and fight him. Thrice did he
doubt, and thrice did Jove thunder from the heights of Ida
in token to the Trojans that he would turn the battle in their
favour. Hector then shouted to them and said, ‘Trojans, Ly-
cians, and Dardanians, lovers of close fighting, be men, my
friends, and fight with might and with main; I see that Jove
is minded to vouchsafe victory and great glory to myself,
while he will deal destruction upon the Danaans. Fools, for
having thought of building this weak and worthless wall.
It shall not stay my fury; my horses will spring lightly over
their trench, and when I am at their ships forget not to bring
me fire that I may burn them, while I slaughter the Argives
who will be all dazed and bewildered by the smoke.’
Then he cried to his horses, ‘Xanthus and Podargus, and
you Aethon and goodly Lampus, pay me for your keep now
and for all the honey-sweet corn with which Andromache
daughter of great Eetion has fed you, and for she has mixed
wine and water for you to drink whenever you would, be-

fore doing so even for me who am her own husband. Haste
in pursuit, that we may take the shield of Nestor, the fame
of which ascends to heaven, for it is of solid gold, arm-rods
and all, and that we may strip from the shoulders of Di-
omed. the cuirass which Vulcan made him. Could we take
these two things, the Achaeans would set sail in their ships
this self-same night.’
Thus did he vaunt, but Queen Juno made high Olympus
quake as she shook with rage upon her throne. Then said
she to the mighty god of Neptune, ‘What now, wide ruling
lord of the earthquake? Can you find no compassion in your
heart for the dying Danaans, who bring you many a wel-
come offering to Helice and to Aegae? Wish them well then.
If all of us who are with the Danaans were to drive the Tro-
jans back and keep Jove from helping them, he would have
to sit there sulking alone on Ida.’
King Neptune was greatly troubled and answered, ‘Juno,
rash of tongue, what are you talking about? We other gods
must not set ourselves against Jove, for he is far stronger
than we are.’
Thus did they converse; but the whole space enclosed by
the ditch, from the ships even to the wall, was filled with
horses and warriors, who were pent up there by Hector son
of Priam, now that the hand of Jove was with him. He would
even have set fire to the ships and burned them, had not
Queen Juno put it into the mind of Agamemnon, to bestir
himself and to encourage the Achaeans. To this end he went
round the ships and tents carrying a great purple cloak, and
took his stand by the huge black hull of Ulysses’ ship, which
146 The Iliad

was middlemost of all; it was from this place that his voice
would carry farthest, on the one hand towards the tents
of Ajax son of Telamon, and on the other towards those of
Achilles—for these two heroes, well assured of their own
strength, had valorously drawn up their ships at the two
ends of the line. From this spot then, with a voice that could
be heard afar, he shouted to the Danaans, saying, ‘Argives,
shame on you cowardly creatures, brave in semblance only;
where are now our vaunts that we should prove victorious—
the vaunts we made so vaingloriously in Lemnos, when we
ate the flesh of horned cattle and filled our mixing-bowls
to the brim? You vowed that you would each of you stand
against a hundred or two hundred men, and now you prove
no match even for one—for Hector, who will be ere long set-
ting our ships in a blaze. Father Jove, did you ever so ruin
a great king and rob him so utterly of his greatness? Yet,
when to my sorrow I was coming hither, I never let my ship
pass your altars without offering the fat and thigh-bones of
heifers upon every one of them, so eager was I to sack the
city of Troy. Vouchsafe me then this prayer—suffer us to es-
cape at any rate with our lives, and let not the Achaeans be
so utterly vanquished by the Trojans.’
Thus did he pray, and father Jove pitying his tears vouch-
safed him that his people should live, not die; forthwith he
sent them an eagle, most unfailingly portentous of all birds,
with a young fawn in its talons; the eagle dropped the fawn
by the altar on which the Achaeans sacrificed to Jove the
lord of omens; when, therefore, the people saw that the bird
had come from Jove, they sprang more fiercely upon the

Trojans and fought more boldly.
There was no man of all the many Danaans who could
then boast that he had driven his horses over the trench and
gone forth to fight sooner than the son of Tydeus; long be-
fore any one else could do so he slew an armed warrior of
the Trojans, Agelaus the son of Phradmon. He had turned
his horses in flight, but the spear struck him in the back
midway between his shoulders and went right through his
chest, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell for-
ward from his chariot.
After him came Agamemnon and Menelaus, sons of
Atreus, the two Ajaxes clothed in valour as with a garment,
Idomeneus and his companion in arms Meriones, peer of
murderous Mars, and Eurypylus the brave son of Euaemon.
Ninth came Teucer with his bow, and took his place under
cover of the shield of Ajax son of Telamon. When Ajax lift-
ed his shield Teucer would peer round, and when he had hit
any one in the throng, the man would fall dead; then Teucer
would hie back to Ajax as a child to its mother, and again
duck down under his shield.
Which of the Trojans did brave Teucer first kill? Orsilo-
chus, and then Ormenus and Ophelestes, Daetor, Chromius,
and godlike Lycophontes, Amopaon son of Polyaemon, and
Melanippus. these in turn did he lay low upon the earth, and
King Agamemnon was glad when he saw him making hav-
oc of the Trojans with his mighty bow. He went up to him
and said, ‘Teucer, man after my own heart, son of Telamon,
captain among the host, shoot on, and be at once the saving
of the Danaans and the glory of your father Telamon, who
148 The Iliad

brought you up and took care of you in his own house when
you were a child, bastard though you were. Cover him with
glory though he is far off; I will promise and I will assur-
edly perform; if aegis-bearing Jove and Minerva grant me
to sack the city of Ilius, you shall have the next best meed
of honour after my own—a tripod, or two horses with their
chariot, or a woman who shall go up into your bed.’
And Teucer answered, ‘Most noble son of Atreus, you
need not urge me; from the moment we began to drive them
back to Ilius, I have never ceased so far as in me lies to look
out for men whom I can shoot and kill; I have shot eight
barbed shafts, and all of them have been buried in the flesh
of warlike youths, but this mad dog I cannot hit.’
As he spoke he aimed another arrow straight at Hec-
tor, for he was bent on hitting him; nevertheless he missed
him, and the arrow hit Priam’s brave son Gorgythion in the
breast. His mother, fair Castianeira, lovely as a goddess, had
been married from Aesyme, and now he bowed his head
as a garden poppy in full bloom when it is weighed down
by showers in spring—even thus heavy bowed his head be-
neath the weight of his helmet.
Again he aimed at Hector, for he was longing to hit him,
and again his arrow missed, for Apollo turned it aside; but
he hit Hector’s brave charioteer Archeptolemus in the breast,
by the nipple, as he was driving furiously into the fight. The
horses swerved aside as he fell headlong from the chariot,
and there was no life left in him. Hector was greatly grieved
at the loss of his charioteer, but for all his sorrow he let him
lie where he fell, and bade his brother Cebriones, who was

hard by, take the reins. Cebriones did as he had said. Hec-
tor thereon with a loud cry sprang from his chariot to the
ground, and seizing a great stone made straight for Teucer
with intent kill him. Teucer had just taken an arrow from
his quiver and had laid it upon the bow-string, but Hector
struck him with the jagged stone as he was taking aim and
drawing the string to his shoulder; he hit him just where the
collar-bone divides the neck from the chest, a very deadly
place, and broke the sinew of his arm so that his wrist was
less, and the bow dropped from his hand as he fell forward
on his knees. Ajax saw that his brother had fallen, and run-
ning towards him bestrode him and sheltered him with his
shield. Meanwhile his two trusty squires, Mecisteus son
of Echius, and Alastor, came up and bore him to the ships
groaning in his great pain.
Jove now again put heart into the Trojans, and they drove
the Achaeans to their deep trench with Hector in all his glo-
ry at their head. As a hound grips a wild boar or lion in flank
or buttock when he gives him chase, and watches warily
for his wheeling, even so did Hector follow close upon the
Achaeans, ever killing the hindmost as they rushed pan-
ic-stricken onwards. When they had fled through the set
stakes and trench and many Achaeans had been laid low
at the hands of the Trojans, they halted at their ships, call-
ing upon one another and praying every man instantly as
they lifted up their hands to the gods; but Hector wheeled
his horses this way and that, his eyes glaring like those of
Gorgo or murderous Mars.
Juno when she saw them had pity upon them, and at once
150 The Iliad

said to Minerva, ‘Alas, child of aegis-bearing Jove, shall you
and I take no more thought for the dying Danaans, though
it be the last time we ever do so? See how they perish and
come to a bad end before the onset of but a single man. Hec-
tor the son of Priam rages with intolerable fury, and has
already done great mischief.’
Minerva answered, ‘Would, indeed, this fellow might
die in his own land, and fall by the hands of the Achaeans;
but my father Jove is mad with spleen, ever foiling me, ever
headstrong and unjust. He forgets how often I saved his son
when he was worn out by the labours Eurystheus had laid
on him. He would weep till his cry came up to heaven, and
then Jove would send me down to help him; if I had had
the sense to foresee all this, when Eurystheus sent him to
the house of Hades, to fetch the hell-hound from Erebus, he
would never have come back alive out of the deep waters of
the river Styx. And now Jove hates me, while he lets Thetis
have her way because she kissed his knees and took hold
of his beard, when she was begging him to do honour to
Achilles. I shall know what to do next time he begins call-
ing me his grey-eyed darling. Get our horses ready, while
I go within the house of aegis-bearing Jove and put on my
armour; we shall then find out whether Priam’s son Hector
will be glad to meet us in the highways of battle, or whether
the Trojans will glut hounds and vultures with the fat of
their flesh as they be dead by the ships of the Achaeans.’
Thus did she speak and white-armed Juno, daughter of
great Saturn, obeyed her words; she set about harnessing
her gold-bedizened steeds, while Minerva daughter of ae-

gis-bearing Jove flung her richly vesture, made with her
own hands, on to the threshold of her father, and donned
the shirt of Jove, arming herself for battle. Then she stepped
into her flaming chariot, and grasped the spear so stout and
sturdy and strong with which she quells the ranks of heroes
who have displeased her. Juno lashed her horses, and the
gates of heaven bellowed as they flew open of their own ac-
cord—gates over which the Hours preside, in whose hands
are heaven and Olympus, either to open the dense cloud
that hides them or to close it. Through these the goddesses
drove their obedient steeds.
But father Jove when he saw them from Ida was very an-
gry, and sent winged Iris with a message to them. ‘Go,’ said
he, ‘fleet Iris, turn them back, and see that they do not come
near me, for if we come to fighting there will be mischief.
This is what I say, and this is what I mean to do. I will lame
their horses for them; I will hurl them from their chariot,
and will break it in pieces. It will take them all ten years to
heal the wounds my lightning shall inflict upon them; my
grey-eyed daughter will then learn what quarrelling with
her father means. I am less surprised and angry with Juno,
for whatever I say she always contradicts me.’
With this Iris went her way, fleet as the wind, from the
heights of Ida to the lofty summits of Olympus. She met the
goddesses at the outer gates of its many valleys and gave
them her message. ‘What,’ said she, ‘are you about? Are
you mad? The son of Saturn forbids going. This is what he
says, and this is he means to do, he will lame your horses
for you, he will hurl you from your chariot, and will break
152 The Iliad

it in pieces. It will take you all ten years to heal the wounds
his lightning will inflict upon you, that you may learn, grey-
eyed goddess, what quarrelling with your father means. He
is less hurt and angry with Juno, for whatever he says she
always contradicts him but you, bold hussy, will you really
dare to raise your huge spear in defiance of Jove?’
With this she left them, and Juno said to Minerva, ‘Of
a truth, child of aegis-bearing Jove, I am not for fighting
men’s battles further in defiance of Jove. Let them live or
die as luck will have it, and let Jove mete out his judgements
upon the Trojans and Danaans according to his own plea-
sure.’
She turned her steeds; the Hours presently unyoked them,
made them fast to their ambrosial mangers, and leaned the
chariot against the end wall of the courtyard. The two god-
desses then sat down upon their golden thrones, amid the
company of the other gods; but they were very angry.
Presently father Jove drove his chariot to Olympus, and
entered the assembly of gods. The mighty lord of the earth-
quake unyoked his horses for him, set the car upon its stand,
and threw a cloth over it. Jove then sat down upon his gold-
en throne and Olympus reeled beneath him. Minerva and
Juno sat alone, apart from Jove, and neither spoke nor asked
him questions, but Jove knew what they meant, and said,
‘Minerva and Juno, why are you so angry? Are you fatigued
with killing so many of your dear friends the Trojans? Be
this as it may, such is the might of my hands that all the
gods in Olympus cannot turn me; you were both of you
trembling all over ere ever you saw the fight and its terrible

doings. I tell you therefore-and it would have surely been—
I should have struck you with lighting, and your chariots
would never have brought you back again to Olympus.’
Minerva and Juno groaned in spirit as they sat side by
side and brooded mischief for the Trojans. Minerva sat si-
lent without a word, for she was in a furious passion and
bitterly incensed against her father; but Juno could not con-
tain herself and said, ‘What, dread son of Saturn, are you
talking about? We know how great your power is, neverthe-
less we have compassion upon the Danaan warriors who
are perishing and coming to a bad end. We will, however,
since you so bid us, refrain from actual fighting, but we will
make serviceable suggestions to the Argives, that they may
not all of them perish in your displeasure.’
And Jove answered, ‘To-morrow morning, Juno, if you
choose to do so, you will see the son of Saturn destroying
large numbers of the Argives, for fierce Hector shall not
cease fighting till he has roused the son of Peleus when they
are fighting in dire straits at their ships’ sterns about the
body of Patroclus. Like it or no, this is how it is decreed;
for aught I care, you may go to the lowest depths beneath
earth and sea, where Iapetus and Saturn dwell in lone Tar-
tarus with neither ray of light nor breath of wind to cheer
them. You may go on and on till you get there, and I shall
not care one whit for your displeasure; you are the greatest
vixen living.’
Juno made him no answer. The sun’s glorious orb now
sank into Oceanus and drew down night over the land.
Sorry indeed were the Trojans when light failed them, but
154 The Iliad

welcome and thrice prayed for did darkness fall upon the
Achaeans.
Then Hector led the Trojans back from the ships, and
held a council on the open space near the river, where there
was a spot clear of corpses. They left their chariots and sat
down on the ground to hear the speech he made them. He
grasped a spear eleven cubits long, the bronze point of
which gleamed in front of it, while the ring round the spear-
head was of gold. Spear in hand he spoke. ‘Hear me,’ said
he, ‘Trojans, Dardanians, and allies. I deemed but now that
I should destroy the ships and all the Achaeans with them
ere I went back to Ilius, but darkness came on too soon. It
was this alone that saved them and their ships upon the sea-
shore. Now, therefore, let us obey the behests of night, and
prepare our suppers. Take your horses out of their chari-
ots and give them their feeds of corn; then make speed to
bring sheep and cattle from the city; bring wine also and
corn for your horses and gather much wood, that from dark
till dawn we may burn watchfires whose flare may reach to
heaven. For the Achaeans may try to fly beyond the sea by
night, and they must not embark scatheless and unmolest-
ed; many a man among them must take a dart with him to
nurse at home, hit with spear or arrow as he is leaping on
board his ship, that others may fear to bring war and weep-
ing upon the Trojans. Moreover let the heralds tell it about
the city that the growing youths and grey-bearded men are
to camp upon its heaven-built walls. Let the women each of
them light a great fire in her house, and let watch be safely
kept lest the town be entered by surprise while the host is

outside. See to it, brave Trojans, as I have said, and let this
suffice for the moment; at daybreak I will instruct you fur-
ther. I pray in hope to Jove and to the gods that we may
then drive those fate-sped hounds from our land, for ‘tis
the fates that have borne them and their ships hither. This
night, therefore, let us keep watch, but with early morning
let us put on our armour and rouse fierce war at the ships of
the Achaeans; I shall then know whether brave Diomed the
son of Tydeus will drive me back from the ships to the wall,
or whether I shall myself slay him and carry off his blood-
stained spoils. To-morrow let him show his mettle, abide
my spear if he dare. I ween that at break of day, he shall be
among the first to fall and many another of his comrades
round him. Would that I were as sure of being immortal
and never growing old, and of being worshipped like Mi-
nerva and Apollo, as I am that this day will bring evil to
the Argives.’
Thus spoke Hector and the Trojans shouted applause.
They took their sweating steeds from under the yoke, and
made them fast each by his own chariot. They made haste to
bring sheep and cattle from the city, they brought wine also
and corn from their houses and gathered much wood. They
then offered unblemished hecatombs to the immortals, and
the wind carried the sweet savour of sacrifice to heaven—but
the blessed gods partook not thereof, for they bitterly hat-
ed Ilius with Priam and Priam’s people. Thus high in hope
they sat through the livelong night by the highways of war,
and many a watchfire did they kindle. As when the stars
shine clear, and the moon is bright—there is not a breath of
156 The Iliad

air, not a peak nor glade nor jutting headland but it stands
out in the ineffable radiance that breaks from the serene of
heaven; the stars can all of them be told and the heart of
the shepherd is glad—even thus shone the watchfires of the
Trojans before Ilius midway between the ships and the river
Xanthus. A thousand camp-fires gleamed upon the plain,
and in the glow of each there sat fifty men, while the horses,
champing oats and corn beside their chariots, waited till
dawn should come.

BOOK IX
T HUS did the Trojans watch. But Panic, comrade of

blood-stained Rout, had taken fast hold of the Achae-
ans, and their princes were all of them in despair. As when
the two winds that blow from Thrace—the north and the
northwest—spring up of a sudden and rouse the fury of the
main—in a moment the dark waves uprear their heads and
scatter their sea-wrack in all directions—even thus trou-
bled were the hearts of the Achaeans.
The son of Atreus in dismay bade the heralds call the
people to a council man by man, but not to cry the matter
aloud; he made haste also himself to call them, and they sat
sorry at heart in their assembly. Agamemnon shed tears as
it were a running stream or cataract on the side of some
sheer cliff; and thus, with many a heavy sigh he spoke to the
Achaeans. ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘princes and councillors Of
the Argives, the hand of heaven has been laid heavily upon
me. Cruel Jove gave me his solemn promise that I should
sack the city of Troy before returning, but he has played me
false, and is now bidding me go ingloriously back to Argos
with the loss of much people. Such is the will of Jove, who
has laid many a proud city in the dust as he will yet lay oth-
ers, for his power is above all. Now, therefore, let us all do
as I say and sail back to our own country, for we shall not
take Troy.’
158 The Iliad

Thus he spoke, and the sons of the Achaeans for a long
while sat sorrowful there, but they all held their peace, till
at last Diomed of the loud battle-cry made answer saying,
‘Son of Atreus, I will chide your folly, as is my right in coun-
cil. Be not then aggrieved that I should do so. In the first
place you attacked me before all the Danaans and said that
I was a coward and no soldier. The Argives young and old
know that you did so. But the son of scheming Saturn en-
dowed you by halves only. He gave you honour as the chief
ruler over us, but valour, which is the highest both right and
might he did not give you. Sir, think you that the sons of the
Achaeans are indeed as unwarlike and cowardly as you say
they are? If your own mind is set upon going home—go—
the way is open to you; the many ships that followed you
from Mycene stand ranged upon the seashore; but the rest
of us stay here till we have sacked Troy. Nay though these
too should turn homeward with their ships, Sthenelus and
myself will still fight on till we reach the goal of Ilius, for
heaven was with us when we came.’
The sons of the Achaeans shouted applause at the words
of Diomed, and presently Nestor rose to speak. ‘Son of Ty-
deus,’ said he, ‘in war your prowess is beyond question, and
in council you excel all who are of your own years; no one
of the Achaeans can make light of what you say nor gain-
say it, but you have not yet come to the end of the whole
matter. You are still young—you might be the youngest of
my own children—still you have spoken wisely and have
counselled the chief of the Achaeans not without discre-
tion; nevertheless I am older than you and I will tell you

everything; therefore let no man, not even King Agamem-
non, disregard my saying, for he that foments civil discord
is a clanless, hearthless outlaw.
‘Now, however, let us obey the behests of night and get
our suppers, but let the sentinels every man of them camp
by the trench that is without the wall. I am giving these
instructions to the young men; when they have been at-
tended to, do you, son of Atreus, give your orders, for you
are the most royal among us all. Prepare a feast for your
councillors; it is right and reasonable that you should do so;
there is abundance of wine in your tents, which the ships
of the Achaeans bring from Thrace daily. You have every-
thing at your disposal wherewith to entertain guests, and
you have many subjects. When many are got together, you
can be guided by him whose counsel is wisest—and sorely
do we need shrewd and prudent counsel, for the foe has lit
his watchfires hard by our ships. Who can be other than
dismayed? This night will either be the ruin of our host, or
save it.’
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said.
The sentinels went out in their armour under command of
Nestor’s son Thrasymedes, a captain of the host, and of the
bold warriors Ascalaphus and Ialmenus: there were also
Meriones, Aphareus and Deipyrus, and the son of Creion,
noble Lycomedes. There were seven captains of the senti-
nels, and with each there went a hundred youths armed
with long spears: they took their places midway between
the trench and the wall, and when they had done so they lit
their fires and got every man his supper.
160 The Iliad

The son of Atreus then bade many councillors of the
Achaeans to his quarters prepared a great feast in their hon-
our. They laid their hands on the good things that were
before them, and as soon as they had enough to eat and
drink, old Nestor, whose counsel was ever truest, was the
first to lay his mind before them. He, therefore, with all sin-
cerity and goodwill addressed them thus.
‘With yourself, most noble son of Atreus, king of men,
Agamemnon, will I both begin my speech and end it, for
you are king over much people. Jove, moreover, has vouch-
safed you to wield the sceptre and to uphold righteousness,
that you may take thought for your people under you; there-
fore it behooves you above all others both to speak and to
give ear, and to out the counsel of another who shall have
been minded to speak wisely. All turns on you and on your
commands, therefore I will say what I think will be best. No
man will be of a truer mind than that which has been mine
from the hour when you, sir, angered Achilles by taking the
girl Briseis from his tent against my judgment. I urged you
not to do so, but you yielded to your own pride, and dis-
honoured a hero whom heaven itself had honoured—for
you still hold the prize that had been awarded to him. Now,
however, let us think how we may appease him, both with
presents and fair speeches that may conciliate him.’
And King Agamemnon answered, ‘Sir, you have re-
proved my folly justly. I was wrong. I own it. One whom
heaven befriends is in himself a host, and Jove has shown
that he befriends this man by destroying much people of
the Achaeans. I was blinded with passion and yielded to my

worser mind; therefore I will make amends, and will give
him great gifts by way of atonement. I will tell them in the
presence of you all. I will give him seven tripods that have
never yet been on the fire, and ten talents of gold. I will give
him twenty iron cauldrons and twelve strong horses that
have won races and carried off prizes. Rich, indeed, both
in land and gold is he that has as many prizes as my horses
have won me. I will give him seven excellent workwomen,
Lesbians, whom I chose for myself when he took Lesbos—
all of surpassing beauty. I will give him these, and with
them her whom I erewhile took from him, the daughter of
Briseus; and I swear a great oath that I never went up into
her couch, nor have been with her after the manner of men
and women.
‘All these things will I give him now, and if hereafter
the gods vouchsafe me to sack the city of Priam, let him
come when we Achaeans are dividing the spoil, and load
his ship with gold and bronze to his liking; furthermore
let him take twenty Trojan women, the loveliest after Helen
herself. Then, when we reach Achaean Argos, wealthiest of
all lands, he shall be my son-in-law and I will show him
like honour with my own dear son Orestes, who is being
nurtured in all abundance. I have three daughters, Chryso-
themis, Laodice, and lphianassa, let him take the one of his
choice, freely and without gifts of wooing, to the house of
Peleus; I will add such dower to boot as no man ever yet
gave his daughter, and will give him seven well established
cities, Cardamyle, Enope, and Hire, where there is grass;
holy Pherae and the rich meadows of Anthea; Aepea also,
162 The Iliad

and the vine-clad slopes of Pedasus, all near the sea, and
on the borders of sandy Pylos. The men that dwell there are
rich in cattle and sheep; they will honour him with gifts as
though he were a god, and be obedient to his comfortable
ordinances. All this will I do if he will now forgo his anger.
Let him then yield; it is only Hades who is utterly ruthless
and unyielding—and hence he is of all gods the one most
hateful to mankind. Moreover I am older and more royal
than himself. Therefore, let him now obey me.’
Then Nestor answered, ‘Most noble son of Atreus, king
of men, Agamemnon. The gifts you offer are no small ones,
let us then send chosen messengers, who may go to the tent
of Achilles son of Peleus without delay. Let those go whom I
shall name. Let Phoenix, dear to Jove, lead the way; let Ajax
and Ulysses follow, and let the heralds Odius and Eurybates
go with them. Now bring water for our hands, and bid all
keep silence while we pray to Jove the son of Saturn, if so be
that he may have mercy upon us.’
Thus did he speak, and his saying pleased them well.
Men-servants poured water over the hands of the guests,
while pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water,
and handed it round after giving every man his drink-of-
fering; then, when they had made their offerings, and had
drunk each as much as he was minded, the envoys set out
from the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus; and Nestor,
looking first to one and then to another, but most especially
at Ulysses, was instant with them that they should prevail
with the noble son of Peleus.
They went their way by the shore of the sounding sea,

and prayed earnestly to earth-encircling Neptune that the
high spirit of the son of Aeacus might incline favourably
towards them. When they reached the ships and tents of
the Myrmidons, they found Achilles playing on a lyre, fair,
of cunning workmanship, and its cross-bar was of silver. It
was part of the spoils which he had taken when he sacked
the city of Eetion, and he was now diverting himself with
it and singing the feats of heroes. He was alone with Pa-
troclus, who sat opposite to him and said nothing, waiting
till he should cease singing. Ulysses and Ajax now came
in— Ulysses leading the way—and stood before him. Achil-
les sprang from his seat with the lyre still in his hand, and
Patroclus, when he saw the strangers, rose also. Achilles
then greeted them saying, ‘All hail and welcome—you must
come upon some great matter, you, who for all my anger are
still dearest to me of the Achaeans.’
With this he led them forward, and bade them sit on
seats covered with purple rugs; then he said to Patroclus
who was close by him, ‘Son of Menoetius, set a larger bowl
upon the table, mix less water with the wine, and give every
man his cup, for these are very dear friends, who are now
under my roof.’
Patroclus did as his comrade bade him; he set the chop-
ping-block in front of the fire, and on it he laid the loin of
a sheep, the loin also of a goat, and the chine of a fat hog.
Automedon held the meat while Achilles chopped it; he
then sliced the pieces and put them on spits while the son
of Menoetius made the fire burn high. When the flame had
died down, he spread the embers, laid the spits on top of
164 The Iliad

them, lifting them up and setting them upon the spit-racks;
and he sprinkled them with salt. When the meat was roast-
ed, he set it on platters, and handed bread round the table
in fair baskets, while Achilles dealt them their portions.
Then Achilles took his seat facing Ulysses against the oppo-
site wall, and bade his comrade Patroclus offer sacrifice to
the gods; so he cast the offerings into the fire, and they laid
their hands upon the good things that were before them. As
soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Ajax made a
sign to Phoenix, and when he saw this, Ulysses filled his cup
with wine and pledged Achilles.
‘Hail,’ said he, ‘Achilles, we have had no scant of good
cheer, neither in the tent of Agamemnon, nor yet here; there
has been plenty to eat and drink, but our thought turns
upon no such matter. Sir, we are in the face of great disas-
ter, and without your help know not whether we shall save
our fleet or lose it. The Trojans and their allies have camped
hard by our ships and by the wall; they have lit watchfires
throughout their host and deem that nothing can now pre-
vent them from falling on our fleet. Jove, moreover, has sent
his lightnings on their right; Hector, in all his glory, rages
like a maniac; confident that Jove is with him he fears nei-
ther god nor man, but is gone raving mad, and prays for the
approach of day. He vows that he will hew the high sterns of
our ships in pieces, set fire to their hulls, and make havoc of
the Achaeans while they are dazed and smothered in smoke;
I much fear that heaven will make good his boasting, and
it will prove our lot to perish at Troy far from our home in
Argos. Up, then, and late though it be, save the sons of the

Achaeans who faint before the fury of the Trojans. You will
repent bitterly hereafter if you do not, for when the harm
is done there will be no curing it; consider ere it be too late,
and save the Danaans from destruction.
‘My good friend, when your father Peleus sent you from
Phthia to Agamemnon, did he not charge you saying, ‘Son,
Minerva and Juno will make you strong if they choose,
but check your high temper, for the better part is in good-
will. Eschew vain quarrelling, and the Achaeans old and
young will respect you more for doing so.’ These were his
words, but you have forgotten them. Even now, however, be
appeased, and put away your anger from you. Agamem-
non will make you great amends if you will forgive him;
listen, and I will tell you what he has said in his tent that
he will give you. He will give you seven tripods that have
never yet been on the fire, and ten talents of gold; twen-
ty iron cauldrons, and twelve strong horses that have won
races and carried off prizes. Rich indeed both in land and
gold is he who has as many prizes as these horses have won
for Agamemnon. Moreover he will give you seven excellent
workwomen, Lesbians, whom he chose for himself, when
you took Lesbos—all of surpassing beauty. He will give you
these, and with them her whom he erewhile took from you,
the daughter of Briseus, and he will swear a great oath, he
has never gone up into her couch nor been with her after the
manner of men and women. All these things will he give
you now down, and if hereafter the gods vouchsafe him to
sack the city of Priam, you can come when we Achaeans are
dividing the spoil, and load your ship with gold and bronze
166 The Iliad

to your liking. You can take twenty Trojan women, the
loveliest after Helen herself. Then, when we reach Achaean
Argos, wealthiest of all lands, you shall be his son-in-law,
and he will show you like honour with his own dear son Or-
estes, who is being nurtured in all abundance. Agamemnon
has three daughters, Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianas-
sa; you may take the one of your choice, freely and without
gifts of wooing, to the house of Peleus; he will add such
dower to boot as no man ever yet gave his daughter, and will
give you seven well-established cities, Cardamyle, Enope,
and Hire where there is grass; holy Pheras and the rich
meadows of Anthea; Aepea also, and the vine-clad slopes
of Pedasus, all near the sea, and on the borders of sandy
Pylos. The men that dwell there are rich in cattle and sheep;
they will honour you with gifts as though were a god, and
be obedient to your comfortable ordinances. All this will
he do if you will now forgo your anger. Moreover, though
you hate both him and his gifts with all your heart, yet pity
the rest of the Achaeans who are being harassed in all their
host; they will honour you as a god, and you will earn great
glory at their hands. You might even kill Hector; he will
come within your reach, for he is infatuated, and declares
that not a Danaan whom the ships have brought can hold
his own against him.’
Achilles answered, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, I
should give you formal notice plainly and in all fixity of
purpose that there be no more of this cajoling, from what-
soever quarter it may come. Him do I hate even as the gates
of hell who says one thing while he hides another in his

heart; therefore I will say what I mean. I will be appeased
neither by Agamemnon son of Atreus nor by any other of
the Danaans, for I see that I have no thanks for all my fight-
ing. He that fights fares no better than he that does not;
coward and hero are held in equal honour, and death deals
like measure to him who works and him who is idle. I have
taken nothing by all my hardships—with my life ever in
my hand; as a bird when she has found a morsel takes it to
her nestlings, and herself fares hardly, even so many a long
night have I been wakeful, and many a bloody battle have
I waged by day against those who were fighting for their
women. With my ships I have taken twelve cities, and elev-
en round about Troy have I stormed with my men by land;
I took great store of wealth from every one of them, but I
gave all up to Agamemnon son of Atreus. He stayed where
he was by his ships, yet of what came to him he gave little,
and kept much himself.
‘Nevertheless he did distribute some meeds of honour
among the chieftains and kings, and these have them still;
from me alone of the Achaeans did he take the woman in
whom I delighted—let him keep her and sleep with her.
Why, pray, must the Argives needs fight the Trojans? What
made the son of Atreus gather the host and bring them?
Was it not for the sake of Helen? Are the sons of Atreus the
only men in the world who love their wives? Any man of
common right feeling will love and cherish her who is his
own, as I this woman, with my whole heart, though she
was but a fruitling of my spear. Agamemnon has taken
her from me; he has played me false; I know him; let him
168 The Iliad

tempt me no further, for he shall not move me. Let him
look to you, Ulysses, and to the other princes to save his
ships from burning. He has done much without me already.
He has built a wall; he has dug a trench deep and wide all
round it, and he has planted it within with stakes; but even
so he stays not the murderous might of Hector. So long as I
fought the Achaeans Hector suffered not the battle range far
from the city walls; he would come to the Scaean gates and
to the oak tree, but no further. Once he stayed to meet me
and hardly did he escape my onset: now, however, since I
am in no mood to fight him, I will to-morrow offer sacrifice
to Jove and to all the gods; I will draw my ships into the wa-
ter and then victual them duly; to-morrow morning, if you
care to look, you will see my ships on the Hellespont, and
my men rowing out to sea with might and main. If great
Neptune vouchsafes me a fair passage, in three days I shall
be in Phthia. I have much there that I left behind me when I
came here to my sorrow, and I shall bring back still further
store of gold, of red copper, of fair women, and of iron, my
share of the spoils that we have taken; but one prize, he who
gave has insolently taken away. Tell him all as I now bid you,
and tell him in public that the Achaeans may hate him and
beware of him should he think that he can yet dupe others
for his effrontery never fails him.
‘As for me, hound that he is, he dares not look me in the
face. I will take no counsel with him, and will undertake
nothing in common with him. He has wronged me and de-
ceived me enough, he shall not cozen me further; let him go
his own way, for Jove has robbed him of his reason. I loathe

his presents, and for himself care not one straw. He may
offer me ten or even twenty times what he has now done,
nay—not though it be all that he has in the world, both now
or ever shall have; he may promise me the wealth of Orcho-
menus or of Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in
the whole world, for it has a hundred gates through each of
which two hundred men may drive at once with their chari-
ots and horses; he may offer me gifts as the sands of the sea
or the dust of the plain in multitude, but even so he shall
not move me till I have been revenged in full for the bitter
wrong he has done me. I will not marry his daughter; she
may be fair as Venus, and skilful as Minerva, but I will have
none of her: let another take her, who may be a good match
for her and who rules a larger kingdom. If the gods spare
me to return home, Peleus will find me a wife; there are
Achaean women in Hellas and Phthia, daughters of kings
that have cities under them; of these I can take whom I will
and marry her. Many a time was I minded when at home
in Phthia to woo and wed a woman who would make me a
suitable wife, and to enjoy the riches of my old father Peleus.
My life is more to me than all the wealth of Ilius while it
was yet at peace before the Achaeans went there, or than all
the treasure that lies on the stone floor of Apollo’s temple
beneath the cliffs of Pytho. Cattle and sheep are to be had
for harrying, and a man buy both tripods and horses if he
wants them, but when his life has once left him it can nei-
ther be bought nor harried back again.
‘My mother Thetis tells me that there are two ways in
which I may meet my end. If I stay here and fight, I shall
170 The Iliad

not return alive but my name will live for ever: whereas if
I go home my name will die, but it will be long ere death
shall take me. To the rest of you, then, I say, ‘Go home, for
you will not take Ilius.’ Jove has held his hand over her to
protect her, and her people have taken heart. Go, therefore,
as in duty bound, and tell the princes of the Achaeans the
message that I have sent them; tell them to find some other
plan for the saving of their ships and people, for so long as
my displeasure lasts the one that they have now hit upon
may not be. As for Phoenix, let him sleep here that he may
sail with me in the morning if he so will. But I will not take
him by force.’
They all held their peace, dismayed at the sternness with
which he had denied them, till presently the old knight
Phoenix in his great fear for the ships of the Achaeans, burst
into tears and said, ‘Noble Achilles, if you are now minded
to return, and in the fierceness of your anger will do nothing
to save the ships from burning, how, my son, can I remain
here without you? Your father Peleus bade me go with you
when he sent you as a mere lad from Phthia to Agamemnon.
You knew nothing neither of war nor of the arts whereby
men make their mark in council, and he sent me with you
to train you in all excellence of speech and action. Therefore,
my son, I will not stay here without you—no, not though
heaven itself vouchsafe to strip my years from off me, and
make me young as I was when I first left Hellas the land of
fair women. I was then flying the anger of father Amyntor,
son of Ormenus, who was furious with me in the matter of
his concubine, of whom he was enamoured to the wrong-

ing of his wife my mother. My mother, therefore, prayed
me without ceasing to lie with the woman myself, that so
she hate my father, and in the course of time I yielded. But
my father soon came to know, and cursed me bitterly, call-
ing the dread Erinyes to witness. He prayed that no son of
mine might ever sit upon knees—and the gods, Jove of the
world below and awful Proserpine, fulfilled his curse. I took
counsel to kill him, but some god stayed my rashness and
bade me think on men’s evil tongues and how I should be
branded as the murderer of my father; nevertheless I could
not bear to stay in my father’s house with him so bitter a
against me. My cousins and clansmen came about me, and
pressed me sorely to remain; many a sheep and many an ox
did they slaughter, and many a fat hog did they set down to
roast before the fire; many a jar, too, did they broach of my
father’s wine. Nine whole nights did they set a guard over
me taking it in turns to watch, and they kept a fire always
burning, both in the cloister of the outer court and in the
inner court at the doors of the room wherein I lay; but when
the darkness of the tenth night came, I broke through the
closed doors of my room, and climbed the wall of the out-
er court after passing quickly and unperceived through the
men on guard and the women servants. I then fled through
Hellas till I came to fertile Phthia, mother of sheep, and to
King Peleus, who made me welcome and treated me as a
father treats an only son who will be heir to all his wealth.
He made me rich and set me over much people, establish-
ing me on the borders of Phthia where I was chief ruler over
the Dolopians.
172 The Iliad

‘It was I, Achilles, who had the making of you; I loved
you with all my heart: for you would eat neither at home
nor when you had gone out elsewhere, till I had first set you
upon my knees, cut up the dainty morsel that you were to
eat, and held the wine-cup to your lips. Many a time have
you slobbered your wine in baby helplessness over my shirt;
I had infinite trouble with you, but I knew that heaven had
vouchsafed me no offspring of my own, and I made a son of
you, Achilles, that in my hour of need you might protect me.
Now, therefore, I say battle with your pride and beat it; cher-
ish not your anger for ever; the might and majesty of heaven
are more than ours, but even heaven may be appeased;
and if a man has sinned he prays the gods, and reconciles
them to himself by his piteous cries and by frankincense,
with drink-offerings and the savour of burnt sacrifice. For
prayers are as daughters to great Jove; halt, wrinkled, with
eyes askance, they follow in the footsteps of sin, who, be-
ing fierce and fleet of foot, leaves them far behind him, and
ever baneful to mankind outstrips them even to the ends of
the world; but nevertheless the prayers come hobbling and
healing after. If a man has pity upon these daughters of Jove
when they draw near him, they will bless him and hear him
too when he is praying; but if he deny them and will not lis-
ten to them, they go to Jove the son of Saturn and pray that
he may presently fall into sin—to his ruing bitterly here-
after. Therefore, Achilles, give these daughters of Jove due
reverence, and bow before them as all good men will bow.
Were not the son of Atreus offering you gifts and promis-
ing others later—if he were still furious and implacable— I

am not he that would bid you throw off your anger and help
the Achaeans, no matter how great their need; but he is giv-
ing much now, and more hereafter; he has sent his captains
to urge his suit, and has chosen those who of all the Ar-
gives are most acceptable to you; make not then their words
and their coming to be of none effect. Your anger has been
righteous so far. We have heard in song how heroes of old
time quarrelled when they were roused to fury, but still they
could be won by gifts, and fair words could soothe them.
‘I have an old story in my mind—a very old one—but
you are all friends and I will tell it. The Curetes and the
Aetolians were fighting and killing one another round Ca-
lydon—the Aetolians defending the city and the Curetes
trying to destroy it. For Diana of the golden throne was an-
gry and did them hurt because Oeneus had not offered her
his harvest first-fruits. The other gods had all been feast-
ed with hecatombs, but to the daughter of great Jove alone
he had made no sacrifice. He had forgotten her, or some-
how or other it had escaped him, and this was a grievous
sin. Thereon the archer goddess in her displeasure sent a
prodigious creature against him—a savage wild boar with
great white tusks that did much harm to his orchard lands,
uprooting apple-trees in full bloom and throwing them to
the ground. But Meleager son of Oeneus got huntsmen and
hounds from many cities and killed it—for it was so mon-
strous that not a few were needed, and many a man did it
stretch upon his funeral pyre. On this the goddess set the
Curetes and the Aetolians fighting furiously about the head
and skin of the boar.
174 The Iliad

‘So long as Meleager was in the field things went badly
with the Curetes, and for all their numbers they could not
hold their ground under the city walls; but in the course of
time Meleager was angered as even a wise man will some-
times be. He was incensed with his mother Althaea, and
therefore stayed at home with his wedded wife fair Cleopa-
tra, who was daughter of Marpessa daughter of Euenus,
and of Ides the man then living. He it was who took his
bow and faced King Apollo himself for fair Marpessa’s
sake; her father and mother then named her Alcyone, be-
cause her mother had mourned with the plaintive strains
of the halcyon-bird when Phoebus Apollo had carried her
off. Meleager, then, stayed at home with Cleopatra, nurs-
ing the anger which he felt by reason of his mother’s curses.
His mother, grieving for the death of her brother, prayed
the gods, and beat the earth with her hands, calling upon
Hades and on awful Proserpine; she went down upon her
knees and her bosom was wet with tears as she prayed that
they would kill her son—and Erinys that walks in darkness
and knows no ruth heard her from Erebus.
‘Then was heard the din of battle about the gates of Ca-
lydon, and the dull thump of the battering against their
walls. Thereon the elders of the Aetolians besought Melea-
ger; they sent the chiefest of their priests, and begged him
to come out and help them, promising him a great reward.
They bade him choose fifty plough-gates, the most fertile in
the plain of Calydon, the one-half vineyard and the other
open plough-land. The old warrior Oeneus implored him,
standing at the threshold of his room and beating the doors

in supplication. His sisters and his mother herself besought
him sore, but he the more refused them; those of his com-
rades who were nearest and dearest to him also prayed him,
but they could not move him till the foe was battering at the
very doors of his chamber, and the Curetes had scaled the
walls and were setting fire to the city. Then at last his sor-
rowing wife detailed the horrors that befall those whose city
is taken; she reminded him how the men are slain, and the
city is given over to the flames, while the women and chil-
dren are carried into captivity; when he heard all this, his
heart was touched, and he donned his armour to go forth.
Thus of his own inward motion he saved the city of the Aeto-
lians; but they now gave him nothing of those rich rewards
that they had offered earlier, and though he saved the city
he took nothing by it. Be not then, my son, thus minded; let
not heaven lure you into any such course. When the ships
are burning it will be a harder matter to save them. Take
the gifts, and go, for the Achaeans will then honour you as a
god; whereas if you fight without taking them, you may beat
the battle back, but you will not be held in like honour.’
And Achilles answered, ‘Phoenix, old friend and father,
I have no need of such honour. I have honour from Jove
himself, which will abide with me at my ships while I have
breath in my body, and my limbs are strong. I say further—
and lay my saying to your heart—vex me no more with this
weeping and lamentation, all in the cause of the son of Atre-
us. Love him so well, and you may lose the love I bear you.
You ought to help me rather in troubling those that trouble
me; be king as much as I am, and share like honour with
176 The Iliad

myself; the others shall take my answer; stay here yourself
and sleep comfortably in your bed; at daybreak we will con-
sider whether to remain or go.’
On this she nodded quietly to Patroclus as a sign that he
was to prepare a bed for Phoenix, and that the others should
take their leave. Ajax son of Telamon then said, ‘Ulysses,
noble son of Laertes, let us be gone, for I see that our journey
is vain. We must now take our answer, unwelcome though
it be, to the Danaans who are waiting to receive it. Achilles
is savage and remorseless; he is cruel, and cares nothing for
the love his comrades lavished upon him more than on all
the others. He is implacable—and yet if a man’s brother or
son has been slain he will accept a fine by way of amends
from him that killed him, and the wrong-doer having paid
in full remains in peace among his own people; but as for
you, Achilles, the gods have put a wicked unforgiving spirit
in your heart, and this, all about one single girl, whereas we
now offer you the seven best we have, and much else into
the bargain. Be then of a more gracious mind, respect the
hospitality of your own roof. We are with you as messen-
gers from the host of the Danaans, and would fain he held
nearest and dearest to yourself of all the Achaeans.’
‘Ajax,’ replied Achilles, ‘noble son of Telamon, you have
spoken much to my liking, but my blood boils when I think
it all over, and remember how the son of Atreus treated me
with contumely as though I were some vile tramp, and that
too in the presence of the Argives. Go, then, and deliver
your message; say that I will have no concern with fight-
ing till Hector, son of noble Priam, reaches the tents of the

Myrmidons in his murderous course, and flings fire upon
their ships. For all his lust of battle, I take it he will be held
in check when he is at my own tent and ship.’
On this they took every man his double cup, made their
drink-offerings, and went back to the ships, Ulysses leading
the way. But Patroclus told his men and the maid-servants
to make ready a comfortable bed for Phoenix; they there-
fore did so with sheepskins, a rug, and a sheet of fine linen.
The old man then laid himself down and waited till morn-
ing came. But Achilles slept in an inner room, and beside
him the daughter of Phorbas lovely Diomede, whom he had
carried off from Lesbos. Patroclus lay on the other side of
the room, and with him fair Iphis whom Achilles had given
him when he took Scyros the city of Enyeus.
When the envoys reached the tents of the son of Atreus,
the Achaeans rose, pledged them in cups of gold, and began
to question them. King Agamemnon was the first to do so.
‘Tell me, Ulysses,’ said he, ‘will he save the ships from burn-
ing, or did be refuse, and is he still furious?’
Ulysses answered, ‘Most noble son of Atreus, king of
men, Agamemnon, Achilles will not be calmed, but is more
fiercely angry than ever, and spurns both you and your
gifts. He bids you take counsel with the Achaeans to save
the ships and host as you best may; as for himself, he said
that at daybreak he should draw his ships into the water. He
said further that he should advise every one to sail home
likewise, for that you will not reach the goal of Ilius. ‘Jove,’
he said, ‘has laid his hand over the city to protect it, and
the people have taken heart.’ This is what he said, and the
178 The Iliad

others who were with me can tell you the same story—Ajax
and the two heralds, men, both of them, who may be trust-
ed. The old man Phoenix stayed where he was to sleep, for
so Achilles would have it, that he might go home with him
in the morning if he so would; but he will not take him by
force.’
They all held their peace, sitting for a long time silent and
dejected, by reason of the sternness with which Achilles had
refused them, till presently Diomed said, ‘Most noble son of
Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, you ought not to have
sued the son of Peleus nor offered him gifts. He is proud
enough as it is, and you have encouraged him in his pride
still further. Let him stay or go as he will. He will fight later
when he is in the humour, and heaven puts it in his mind
to do so. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say; we have eaten
and drunk our fill, let us then take our rest, for in rest there
is both strength and stay. But when fair rosy-fingered morn
appears, forthwith bring out your host and your horsemen
in front of the ships, urging them on, and yourself fighting
among the foremost.’
Thus he spoke, and the other chieftains approved his
words. They then made their drink-offerings and went ev-
ery man to his own tent, where they laid down to rest and
enjoyed the boon of sleep.

BOOK X
N OW the other princes of the Achaeans slept sound-

ly the whole night through, but Agamemnon son of
Atreus was troubled, so that he could get no rest. As when
fair Juno’s lord flashes his lightning in token of great rain
or hail or snow when the snow-flakes whiten the ground,
or again as a sign that he will open the wide jaws of hungry
war, even so did Agamemnon heave many a heavy sigh, for
his soul trembled within him. When he looked upon the
plain of Troy he marvelled at the many watchfires burn-
ing in front of Ilius, and at the sound of pipes and flutes
and of the hum of men, but when presently he turned to-
wards the ships and hosts of the Achaeans, he tore his hair
by handfuls before Jove on high, and groaned aloud for the
very disquietness of his soul. In the end he deemed it best to
go at once to Nestor son of Neleus, and see if between them
they could find any way of the Achaeans from destruction.
He therefore rose, put on his shirt, bound his sandals about
his comely feet, flung the skin of a huge tawny lion over his
shoulders—a skin that reached his feet—and took his spear
in his hand.
Neither could Menelaus sleep, for he, too, boded ill for
the Argives who for his sake had sailed from far over the
seas to fight the Trojans. He covered his broad back with
the skin of a spotted panther, put a casque of bronze upon
180 The Iliad

his head, and took his spear in his brawny hand. Then he
went to rouse his brother, who was by far the most powerful
of the Achaeans, and was honoured by the people as though
he were a god. He found him by the stern of his ship already
putting his goodly array about his shoulders, and right glad
was he that his brother had come.
Menelaus spoke first. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘my dear brother,
are you thus arming? Are you going to send any of our com-
rades to exploit the Trojans? I greatly fear that no one will
do you this service, and spy upon the enemy alone in the
dead of night. It will be a deed of great daring.’
And King Agamemnon answered, ‘Menelaus, we both of
us need shrewd counsel to save the Argives and our ships,
for Jove has changed his mind, and inclines towards Hec-
tor’s sacrifices rather than ours. I never saw nor heard tell of
any man as having wrought such ruin in one day as Hector
has now wrought against the sons of the Achaeans—and
that too of his own unaided self, for he is son neither to
god nor goddess. The Argives will rue it long and deeply.
Run, therefore, with all speed by the line of the ships, and
call Ajax and Idomeneus. Meanwhile I will go to Nestor,
and bid him rise and go about among the companies of our
sentinels to give them their instructions; they will listen to
him sooner than to any man, for his own son, and Meriones
brother in arms to Idomeneus, are captains over them. It
was to them more particularly that we gave this charge.’
Menelaus replied, ‘How do I take your meaning? Am I to
stay with them and wait your coming, or shall I return here
as soon as I have given your orders?’ ‘Wait,’ answered King

Agamemnon, ‘for there are so many paths about the camp
that we might miss one another. Call every man on your
way, and bid him be stirring; name him by his lineage and
by his father’s name, give each all titular observance, and
stand not too much upon your own dignity; we must take
our full share of toil, for at our birth Jove laid this heavy
burden upon us.’
With these instructions he sent his brother on his way,
and went on to Nestor shepherd of his people. He found him
sleeping in his tent hard by his own ship; his goodly armour
lay beside him—his shield, his two spears and his helmet;
beside him also lay the gleaming girdle with which the old
man girded himself when he armed to lead his people into
battle—for his age stayed him not. He raised himself on his
elbow and looked up at Agamemnon. ‘Who is it,’ said he,
‘that goes thus about the host and the ships alone and in the
dead of night, when men are sleeping? Are you looking for
one of your mules or for some comrade? Do not stand there
and say nothing, but speak. What is your business?’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘Nestor, son of Neleus, hon-
our to the Achaean name, it is I, Agamemnon son of Atreus,
on whom Jove has laid labour and sorrow so long as there
is breath in my body and my limbs carry me. I am thus
abroad because sleep sits not upon my eyelids, but my heart
is big with war and with the jeopardy of the Achaeans. I am
in great fear for the Danaans. I am at sea, and without sure
counsel; my heart beats as though it would leap out of my
body, and my limbs fail me. If then you can do anything—
for you too cannot sleep—let us go the round of the watch,
182 The Iliad

and see whether they are drowsy with toil and sleeping to
the neglect of their duty. The enemy is encamped hard and
we know not but he may attack us by night.’
Nestor replied, ‘Most noble son of Atreus, king of men,
Agamemnon, Jove will not do all for Hector that Hector
thinks he will; he will have troubles yet in plenty if Achil-
les will lay aside his anger. I will go with you, and we will
rouse others, either the son of Tydeus, or Ulysses, or fleet
Ajax and the valiant son of Phyleus. Some one had also bet-
ter go and call Ajax and King Idomeneus, for their ships are
not near at hand but the farthest of all. I cannot however
refrain from blaming Menelaus, much as I love him and
respect him—and I will say so plainly, even at the risk of
offending you—for sleeping and leaving all this trouble to
yourself. He ought to be going about imploring aid from all
the princes of the Achaeans, for we are in extreme danger.’
And Agamemnon answered, ‘Sir, you may sometimes
blame him justly, for he is often remiss and unwilling to
exert himself—not indeed from sloth, nor yet heedlessness,
but because he looks to me and expects me to take the lead.
On this occasion, however, he was awake before I was, and
came to me of his own accord. I have already sent him to
call the very men whom you have named. And now let us be
going. We shall find them with the watch outside the gates,
for it was there I said that we would meet them.’
‘In that case,’ answered Nestor, ‘the Argives will not
blame him nor disobey his orders when he urges them to
fight or gives them instructions.’
With this he put on his shirt, and bound his sandals

about his comely feet. He buckled on his purple coat, of two
thicknesses, large, and of a rough shaggy texture, grasped
his redoubtable bronze-shod spear, and wended his way
along the line of the Achaean ships. First he called loudly
to Ulysses peer of gods in counsel and woke him, for he was
soon roused by the sound of the battle-cry. He came outside
his tent and said, ‘Why do you go thus alone about the host,
and along the line of the ships in the stillness of the night?
What is it that you find so urgent?’ And Nestor knight of
Gerene answered, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, take it not
amiss, for the Achaeans are in great straits. Come with me
and let us wake some other, who may advise well with us
whether we shall fight or fly.’
On this Ulysses went at once into his tent, put his shield
about his shoulders and came out with them. First they
went to Diomed son of Tydeus, and found him outside his
tent clad in his armour with his comrades sleeping round
him and using their shields as pillows; as for their spears,
they stood upright on the spikes of their butts that were
driven into the ground, and the burnished bronze flashed
afar like the lightning of father Jove. The hero was sleeping
upon the skin of an ox, with a piece of fine carpet under
his head; Nestor went up to him and stirred him with his
heel to rouse him, upbraiding him and urging him to bestir
himself. ‘Wake up,’ he exclaimed, ‘son of Tydeus. How can
you sleep on in this way? Can you not see that the Trojans
are encamped on the brow of the plain hard by our ships,
with but a little space between us and them?’
On these words Diomed leaped up instantly and said,
184 The Iliad

‘Old man, your heart is of iron; you rest not one moment
from your labours. Are there no younger men among the
Achaeans who could go about to rouse the princes? There
is no tiring you.’
And Nestor knight of Gerene made answer, ‘My son, all
that you have said is true. I have good sons, and also much
people who might call the chieftains, but the Achaeans are
in the gravest danger; life and death are balanced as it were
on the edge of a razor. Go then, for you are younger than I,
and of your courtesy rouse Ajax and the fleet son of Phyle-
us.’
Diomed threw the skin of a great tawny lion about his
shoulders— a skin that reached his feet—and grasped his
spear. When he had roused the heroes, he brought them
back with him; they then went the round of those who were
on guard, and found the captains not sleeping at their posts
but wakeful and sitting with their arms about them. As
sheep dogs that watch their flocks when they are yarded,
and hear a wild beast coming through the mountain for-
est towards them—forthwith there is a hue and cry of dogs
and men, and slumber is broken—even so was sleep chased
from the eyes of the Achaeans as they kept the watches of
the wicked night, for they turned constantly towards the
plain whenever they heard any stir among the Trojans. The
old man was glad bade them be of good cheer. ‘Watch on,
my children,’ said he, ‘and let not sleep get hold upon you,
lest our enemies triumph over us.’
With this he passed the trench, and with him the other
chiefs of the Achaeans who had been called to the coun-

cil. Meriones and the brave son of Nestor went also, for the
princes bade them. When they were beyond the trench that
was dug round the wall they held their meeting on the open
ground where there was a space clear of corpses, for it was
here that when night fell Hector had turned back from his
onslaught on the Argives. They sat down, therefore, and
held debate with one another.
Nestor spoke first. ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘is there any man
bold enough to venture the Trojans, and cut off some strag-
gler, or us news of what the enemy mean to do whether they
will stay here by the ships away from the city, or whether,
now that they have worsted the Achaeans, they will retire
within their walls. If he could learn all this and come back
safely here, his fame would be high as heaven in the mouths
of all men, and he would be rewarded richly; for the chiefs
from all our ships would each of them give him a black ewe
with her lamb—which is a present of surpassing value—and
he would be asked as a guest to all feasts and clan-gather-
ings.’
They all held their peace, but Diomed of the loud war-cry
spoke saying, ‘Nestor, gladly will I visit the host of the Tro-
jans over against us, but if another will go with me I shall do
so in greater confidence and comfort. When two men are
together, one of them may see some opportunity which the
other has not caught sight of; if a man is alone he is less full
of resource, and his wit is weaker.’
On this several offered to go with Diomed. The two Aja-
xes, servants of Mars, Meriones, and the son of Nestor all
wanted to go, so did Menelaus son of Atreus; Ulysses also
186 The Iliad

wished to go among the host of the Trojans, for he was ever
full of daring, and thereon Agamemnon king of men spoke
thus: ‘Diomed,’ said he, ‘son of Tydeus, man after my own
heart, choose your comrade for yourself—take the best man
of those that have offered, for many would now go with you.
Do not through delicacy reject the better man, and take the
worst out of respect for his lineage, because he is of more
royal blood.’
He said this because he feared for Menelaus. Diomed an-
swered, ‘If you bid me take the man of my own choice, how
in that case can I fail to think of Ulysses, than whom there
is no man more eager to face all kinds of danger—and Pal-
las Minerva loves him well? If he were to go with me we
should pass safely through fire itself, for he is quick to see
and understand.’
‘Son of Tydeus,’ replied Ulysses, ‘say neither good nor ill
about me, for you are among Argives who know me well.
Let us be going, for the night wanes and dawn is at hand.
The stars have gone forward, two-thirds of the night are al-
ready spent, and the third is alone left us.’
They then put on their armour. Brave Thrasymedes pro-
vided the son of Tydeus with a sword and a shield (for he
had left his own at his ship) and on his head he set a helmet
of bull’s hide without either peak or crest; it is called a skull-
cap and is a common headgear. Meriones found a bow and
quiver for Ulysses, and on his head he set a leathern hel-
met that was lined with a strong plaiting of leathern thongs,
while on the outside it was thickly studded with boar’s teeth,
well and skilfully set into it; next the head there was an in-

ner lining of felt. This helmet had been stolen by Autolycus
out of Eleon when he broke into the house of Amyntor son
of Ormenus. He gave it to Amphidamas of Cythera to take
to Scandea, and Amphidamas gave it as a guest-gift to Mo-
lus, who gave it to his son Meriones; and now it was set upon
the head of Ulysses.
When the pair had armed, they set out, and left the other
chieftains behind them. Pallas Minerva sent them a her-
on by the wayside upon their right hands; they could not
see it for the darkness, but they heard its cry. Ulysses was
glad when he heard it and prayed to Minerva: ‘Hear me,’ he
cried, ‘daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, you who spy out all
my ways and who are with me in all my hardships; befriend
me in this mine hour, and grant that we may return to the
ships covered with glory after having achieved some mighty
exploit that shall bring sorrow to the Trojans.’
Then Diomed of the loud war-cry also prayed: ‘Hear me
too,’ said he, ‘daughter of Jove, unweariable; be with me
even as you were with my noble father Tydeus when he went
to Thebes as envoy sent by the Achaeans. He left the Achae-
ans by the banks of the river Aesopus, and went to the city
bearing a message of peace to the Cadmeians; on his return
thence, with your help, goddess, he did great deeds of dar-
ing, for you were his ready helper. Even so guide me and
guard me now, and in return I will offer you in sacrifice a
broad-browed heifer of a year old, unbroken, and never yet
brought by man under the yoke. I will gild her horns and
will offer her up to you in sacrifice.’
Thus they prayed, and Pallas Minerva heard their prayer.
188 The Iliad

When they had done praying to the daughter of great Jove,
they went their way like two lions prowling by night amid
the armour and blood-stained bodies of them that had fall-
en.
Neither again did Hector let the Trojans sleep; for he
too called the princes and councillors of the Trojans that
he might set his counsel before them. ‘Is there one,’ said he,
‘who for a great reward will do me the service of which I will
tell you? He shall be well paid if he will. I will give him a
chariot and a couple of horses, the fleetest that can be found
at the ships of the Achaeans, if he will dare this thing; and
he will win infinite honour to boot; he must go to the ships
and find out whether they are still guarded as heretofore, or
whether now that we have beaten them the Achaeans design
to fly, and through sheer exhaustion are neglecting to keep
their watches.’
They all held their peace; but there was among the Trojans
a certain man named Dolon, son of Eumedes, the famous
herald—a man rich in gold and bronze. He was ill-favoured,
but a good runner, and was an only son among five sisters.
He it was that now addressed the Trojans. ‘I, Hector,’ said
he, ‘Will to the ships and will exploit them. But first hold
up your sceptre and swear that you will give me the chari-
ot, bedight with bronze, and the horses that now carry the
noble son of Peleus. I will make you a good scout, and will
not fail you. I will go through the host from one end to the
other till I come to the ship of Agamemnon, where I take
it the princes of the Achaeans are now consulting whether
they shall fight or fly.’

When he had done speaking Hector held up his sceptre,
and swore him his oath saying, ‘May Jove the thunder-
ing husband of Juno bear witness that no other Trojan but
yourself shall mount those steeds, and that you shall have
your will with them for ever.’
The oath he swore was bootless, but it made Dolon more
keen on going. He hung his bow over his shoulder, and as
an overall he wore the skin of a grey wolf, while on his head
he set a cap of ferret skin. Then he took a pointed javelin,
and left the camp for the ships, but he was not to return
with any news for Hector. When he had left the horses and
the troops behind him, he made all speed on his way, but
Ulysses perceived his coming and said to Diomed, ‘Diomed,
here is some one from the camp; I am not sure whether he
is a spy, or whether it is some thief who would plunder the
bodies of the dead; let him get a little past us, we can then
spring upon him and take him. If, however, he is too quick
for us, go after him with your spear and hem him in to-
wards the ships away from the Trojan camp, to prevent his
getting back to the town.’
With this they turned out of their way and lay down
among the corpses. Dolon suspected nothing and soon
passed them, but when he had got about as far as the dis-
tance by which a mule-plowed furrow exceeds one that has
been ploughed by oxen (for mules can plow fallow land
quicker than oxen) they ran after him, and when he heard
their footsteps he stood still, for he made sure they were
friends from the Trojan camp come by Hector’s orders to
bid him return; when, however, they were only a spear’s
190 The Iliad

cast, or less away form him, he saw that they were enemies
as fast as his legs could take him. The others gave chase at
once, and as a couple of well-trained hounds press forward
after a doe or hare that runs screaming in front of them,
even so did the son of Tydeus and Ulysses pursue Dolon
and cut him off from his own people. But when he had fled
so far towards the ships that he would soon have fallen in
with the outposts, Minerva infused fresh strength into the
son of Tydeus for fear some other of the Achaeans might
have the glory of being first to hit him, and he might him-
self be only second; he therefore sprang forward with his
spear and said, ‘Stand, or I shall throw my spear, and in that
case I shall soon make an end of you.’
He threw as he spoke, but missed his aim on purpose.
The dart flew over the man’s right shoulder, and then stuck
in the ground. He stood stock still, trembling and in great
fear; his teeth chattered, and he turned pale with fear. The
two came breathless up to him and seized his hands, where-
on he began to weep and said, ‘Take me alive; I will ransom
myself; we have great store of gold, bronze, and wrought
iron, and from this my father will satisfy you with a very
large ransom, should he hear of my being alive at the ships
of the Achaeans.’
‘Fear not,’ replied Ulysses, ‘let no thought of death be
in your mind; but tell me, and tell me true, why are you
thus going about alone in the dead of night away from your
camp and towards the ships, while other men are sleeping?
Is it to plunder the bodies of the slain, or did Hector send
you to spy out what was going on at the ships? Or did you

come here of your own mere notion?’
Dolon answered, his limbs trembling beneath him: ‘Hec-
tor, with his vain flattering promises, lured me from my
better judgement. He said he would give me the horses of
the noble son of Peleus and his bronze-bedizened chariot;
he bade me go through the darkness of the flying night, get
close to the enemy, and find out whether the ships are still
guarded as heretofore, or whether, now that we have beaten
them, the Achaeans design to fly, and through sheer ex-
haustion are neglecting to keep their watches.’
Ulysses smiled at him and answered, ‘You had indeed
set your heart upon a great reward, but the horses of the
descendant of Aeacus are hardly to be kept in hand or driv-
en by any other mortal man than Achilles himself, whose
mother was an immortal. But tell me, and tell me true,
where did you leave Hector when you started? Where lies
his armour and his horses? How, too, are the watches and
sleeping-ground of the Trojans ordered? What are their
plans? Will they stay here by the ships and away from the
city, or now that they have worsted the Achaeans, will they
retire within their walls?’
And Dolon answered, ‘I will tell you truly all. Hector and
the other councillors are now holding conference by the
monument of great Ilus, away from the general tumult; as
for the guards about which you ask me, there is no chosen
watch to keep guard over the host. The Trojans have their
watchfires, for they are bound to have them; they, therefore,
are awake and keep each other to their duty as sentinels;
but the allies who have come from other places are asleep
192 The Iliad

and leave it to the Trojans to keep guard, for their wives and
children are not here.’
Ulysses then said, ‘Now tell me; are they sleeping among
the Trojan troops, or do they lie apart? Explain this that I
may understand it.’
‘I will tell you truly all,’ replied Dolon. ‘To the seaward
lie the Carians, the Paeonian bowmen, the Leleges, the
Cauconians, and the noble Pelasgi. The Lysians and proud
Mysians, with the Phrygians and Meonians, have their
place on the side towards Thymbra; but why ask about an
this? If you want to find your way into the host of the Tro-
jans, there are the Thracians, who have lately come here and
lie apart from the others at the far end of the camp; and
they have Rhesus son of Eioneus for their king. His horses
are the finest and strongest that I have ever seen, they are
whiter than snow and fleeter than any wind that blows. His
chariot is bedight with silver and gold, and he has brought
his marvellous golden armour, of the rarest workmanship—
too splendid for any mortal man to carry, and meet only for
the gods. Now, therefore, take me to the ships or bind me se-
curely here, until you come back and have proved my words
whether they be false or true.’
Diomed looked sternly at him and answered, ‘Think not,
Dolon, for all the good information you have given us, that
you shall escape now you are in our hands, for if we ransom
you or let you go, you will come some second time to the
ships of the Achaeans either as a spy or as an open enemy,
but if I kill you and an end of you, you will give no more
trouble.’

On this Dolon would have caught him by the beard to
beseech him further, but Diomed struck him in the middle
of his neck with his sword and cut through both sinews so
that his head fell rolling in the dust while he was yet speak-
ing. They took the ferret-skin cap from his head, and also
the wolf-skin, the bow, and his long spear. Ulysses hung
them up aloft in honour of Minerva the goddess of plunder,
and prayed saying, ‘Accept these, goddess, for we give them
to you in preference to all the gods in Olympus: therefore
speed us still further towards the horses and sleeping-
ground of the Thracians.’
With these words he took the spoils and set them upon
a tamarisk tree, and they marked the place by pulling up
reeds and gathering boughs of tamarisk that they might not
miss it as they came back through the’ flying hours of dark-
ness. The two then went onwards amid the fallen armour
and the blood, and came presently to the company of Thra-
cian soldiers, who were sleeping, tired out with their day’s
toil; their goodly armour was lying on the ground beside
them all orderly in three rows, and each man had his yoke
of horses beside him. Rhesus was sleeping in the middle,
and hard by him his horses were made fast to the topmost
rim of his chariot. Ulysses from some way off saw him and
said, ‘This, Diomed, is the man, and these are the horses
about which Dolon whom we killed told us. Do your very
utmost; dally not about your armour, but loose the hors-
es at once—or else kill the men yourself, while I see to the
horses.’
Thereon Minerva put courage into the heart of Diomed,
194 The Iliad

and he smote them right and left. They made a hideous
groaning as they were being hacked about, and the earth
was red with their blood. As a lion springs furiously upon a
flock of sheep or goats when he finds without their shepherd,
so did the son of Tydeus set upon the Thracian soldiers till
he had killed twelve. As he killed them Ulysses came and
drew them aside by their feet one by one, that the horses
might go forward freely without being frightened as they
passed over the dead bodies, for they were not yet used to
them. When the son of Tydeus came to the king, he killed
him too (which made thirteen), as he was breathing hard,
for by the counsel of Minerva an evil dream, the seed of Oe-
neus, hovered that night over his head. Meanwhile Ulysses
untied the horses, made them fast one to another and drove
them off, striking them with his bow, for he had forgotten
to take the whip from the chariot. Then he whistled as a sign
to Diomed.
But Diomed stayed where he was, thinking what other
daring deed he might accomplish. He was doubting wheth-
er to take the chariot in which the king’s armour was lying,
and draw it out by the pole, or to lift the armour out and
carry it off; or whether again, he should not kill some more
Thracians. While he was thus hesitating Minerva came up
to him and said, ‘Get back, Diomed, to the ships or you may
be driven thither, should some other god rouse the Tro-
jans.’
Diomed knew that it was the goddess, and at once sprang
upon the horses. Ulysses beat them with his bow and they
flew onward to the ships of the Achaeans.

But Apollo kept no blind look-out when he saw Minerva
with the son of Tydeus. He was angry with her, and coming
to the host of the Trojans he roused Hippocoon, a coun-
sellor of the Thracians and a noble kinsman of Rhesus. He
started up out of his sleep and saw that the horses were no
longer in their place, and that the men were gasping in their
death-agony; on this he groaned aloud, and called upon
his friend by name. Then the whole Trojan camp was in
an uproar as the people kept hurrying together, and they
marvelled at the deeds of the heroes who had now got away
towards the ships.
When they reached the place where they had killed Hec-
tor’s scout, Ulysses stayed his horses, and the son of Tydeus,
leaping to the ground, placed the blood-stained spoils in
the hands of Ulysses and remounted: then he lashed the
horses onwards, and they flew forward nothing loth to-
wards the ships as though of their own free will. Nestor was
first to hear the tramp of their feet. ‘My friends,’ said he,
‘princes and counsellors of the Argives, shall I guess right
or wrong?—but I must say what I think: there is a sound
in my ears as of the tramp of horses. I hope it may Diomed
and Ulysses driving in horses from the Trojans, but I much
fear that the bravest of the Argives may have come to some
harm at their hands.’
He had hardly done speaking when the two men came
in and dismounted, whereon the others shook hands right
gladly with them and congratulated them. Nestor knight
of Gerene was first to question them. ‘Tell me,’ said he, ‘re-
nowned Ulysses, how did you two come by these horses?
196 The Iliad

Did you steal in among the Trojan forces, or did some god
meet you and give them to you? They are like sunbeams. I
am well conversant with the Trojans, for old warrior though
I am I never hold back by the ships, but I never yet saw or
heard of such horses as these are. Surely some god must
have met you and given them to you, for you are both of
you dear to Jove, and to Jove’s daughter Minerva.’
And Ulysses answered, ‘Nestor son of Neleus, honour to
the Achaean name, heaven, if it so will, can give us even
better horses than these, for the gods are far mightier than
we are. These horses, however, about which you ask me, are
freshly come from Thrace. Diomed killed their king with
the twelve bravest of his companions. Hard by the ships we
took a thirteenth man—a scout whom Hector and the other
Trojans had sent as a spy upon our ships.’
He laughed as he spoke and drove the horses over the
ditch, while the other Achaeans followed him gladly. When
they reached the strongly built quarters of the son of Tyde-
us, they tied the horses with thongs of leather to the manger,
where the steeds of Diomed stood eating their sweet corn,
but Ulysses hung the blood-stained spoils of Dolon at the
stern of his ship, that they might prepare a sacred offering
to Minerva. As for themselves, they went into the sea and
washed the sweat from their bodies, and from their necks
and thighs. When the sea-water had taken all the sweat
from off them, and had refreshed them, they went into the
baths and washed themselves. After they had so done and
had anointed themselves with oil, they sat down to table,
and drawing from a full mixing-bowl, made a drink-offer-

ing of wine to Minerva.
198 The Iliad

BOOK XI
A ND now as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus,

harbinger of light alike to mortals and immortals, Jove
sent fierce Discord with the ensign of war in her hands to
the ships of the Achaeans. She took her stand by the huge
black hull of Ulysses’ ship which was middlemost of all, so
that her voice might carry farthest on either side, on the
one hand towards the tents of Ajax son of Telamon, and on
the other towards those of Achilles—for these two heroes,
well-assured of their own strength, had valorously drawn
up their ships at the two ends of the line. There she took her
stand, and raised a cry both loud and shrill that filled the
Achaeans with courage, giving them heart to fight resolute-
ly and with all their might, so that they had rather stay there
and do battle than go home in their ships.
The son of Atreus shouted aloud and bade the Argives
gird themselves for battle while he put on his armour. First
he girded his goodly greaves about his legs, making them
fast with ankleclasps of silver; and about his chest he set
the breastplate which Cinyras had once given him as a
guest-gift. It had been noised abroad as far as Cyprus that
the Achaeans were about to sail for Troy, and therefore he
gave it to the king. It had ten courses of dark cyanus, twelve
of gold, and ten of tin. There were serpents of cyanus that
reared themselves up towards the neck, three upon either

side, like the rainbows which the son of Saturn has set in
heaven as a sign to mortal men. About his shoulders he
threw his sword, studded with bosses of gold; and the scab-
bard was of silver with a chain of gold wherewith to hang
it. He took moreover the richly-dight shield that covered
his body when he was in battle—fair to see, with ten circles
of bronze running all round it. On the body of the shield
there were twenty bosses of white tin, with another of dark
cyanus in the middle: this last was made to show a Gorgon’s
head, fierce and grim, with Rout and Panic on either side.
The band for the arm to go through was of silver, on which
there was a writhing snake of cyanus with three heads that
sprang from a single neck, and went in and out among one
another. On his head Agamemnon set a helmet, with a peak
before and behind, and four plumes of horse-hair that nod-
ded menacingly above it; then he grasped two redoubtable
bronze-shod spears, and the gleam of his armour shot from
him as a flame into the firmament, while Juno and Minerva
thundered in honour of the king of rich Mycene.
Every man now left his horses in charge of his charioteer
to hold them in readiness by the trench, while he went into
battle on foot clad in full armour, and a mighty uproar rose
on high into the dawning. The chiefs were armed and at the
trench before the horses got there, but these came up pres-
ently. The son of Saturn sent a portent of evil sound about
their host, and the dew fell red with blood, for he was about
to send many a brave man hurrying down to Hades.
The Trojans, on the other side upon the rising slope of the
plain, were gathered round great Hector, noble Polydamas,
200 The Iliad

Aeneas who was honoured by the Trojans like an immortal,
and the three sons of Antenor, Polybus, Agenor, and young
Acamas beauteous as a god. Hector’s round shield showed
in the front rank, and as some baneful star that shines for
a moment through a rent in the clouds and is again hidden
beneath them; even so was Hector now seen in the front
ranks and now again in the hindermost, and his bronze ar-
mour gleamed like the lightning of aegis-bearing Jove.
And now as a band of reapers mow swathes of wheat or
barley upon a rich man’s land, and the sheaves fall thick be-
fore them, even so did the Trojans and Achaeans fall upon
one another; they were in no mood for yielding but fought
like wolves, and neither side got the better of the other. Dis-
cord was glad as she beheld them, for she was the only god
that went among them; the others were not there, but stayed
quietly each in his own home among the dells and valleys of
Olympus. All of them blamed the son of Saturn for wanting
to give victory to the Trojans, but father Jove heeded them
not: he held aloof from all, and sat apart in his all-glori-
ous majesty, looking down upon the city of the Trojans, the
ships of the Achaeans, the gleam of bronze, and alike upon
the slayers and on the slain.
Now so long as the day waxed and it was still morning,
their darts rained thick on one another and the people per-
ished, but as the hour drew nigh when a woodman working
in some mountain forest will get his midday meal—for he
has felled till his hands are weary; he is tired out, and must
now have food—then the Danaans with a cry that rang
through all their ranks, broke the battalions of the enemy.

Agamemnon led them on, and slew first Bienor, a leader
of his people, and afterwards his comrade and charioteer
Oileus, who sprang from his chariot and was coming full
towards him; but Agamemnon struck him on the forehead
with his spear; his bronze visor was of no avail against the
weapon, which pierced both bronze and bone, so that his
brains were battered in and he was killed in full fight.
Agamemnon stripped their shirts from off them and left
them with their breasts all bare to lie where they had fall-
en. He then went on to kill Isus and Antiphus two sons of
Priam, the one a bastard, the other born in wedlock; they
were in the same chariot—the bastard driving, while no-
ble Antiphus fought beside him. Achilles had once taken
both of them prisoners in the glades of Ida, and had bound
them with fresh withes as they were shepherding, but he
had taken a ransom for them; now, however, Agamemnon
son of Atreus smote Isus in the chest above the nipple with
his spear, while he struck Antiphus hard by the ear and
threw him from his chariot. Forthwith he stripped their
goodly armour from off them and recognized them, for he
had already seen them at ships when Achilles brought them
in from Ida. As a lion fastens on the fawns of a hind and
crushes them in his great jaws, robbing them of their tender
life while he on his way back to his lair—the hind can do
nothing for them even though she be close by, for she is in
an agony of fear, and flies through the thick forest, sweating,
and at her utmost speed before the mighty monster—so, no
man of the Trojans could help Isus and Antiphus, for they
were themselves flying panic before the Argives.
202 The Iliad

Then King Agamemnon took the two sons of Antima-
chus, Pisander and brave Hippolochus. It was Antimachus
who had been foremost in preventing Helen’s being restored
to Menelaus, for he was largely bribed by Alexandrus; and
now Agamemnon took his two sons, both in the same char-
iot, trying to bring their horses to a stand—for they had lost
hold of the reins and the horses were mad with fear. The
son of Atreus sprang upon them like a lion, and the pair
besought him from their chariot. ‘Take us alive,’ they cried,
‘son of Atreus, and you shall receive a great ransom for us.
Our father Antimachus has great store of gold, bronze, and
wrought iron, and from this he will satisfy you with a very
large ransom should he hear of our being alive at the ships
of the Achaeans.’
With such piteous words and tears did they beseech the
king, but they heard no pitiful answer in return. ‘If,’ said
Agamemnon, ‘you are sons of Antimachus, who once at a
council of Trojans proposed that Menelaus and Ulysses,
who had come to you as envoys, should be killed and not
suffered to return, you shall now pay for the foul iniquity
of your father.’
As he spoke he felled Pisander from his chariot to the
earth, smiting him on the chest with his spear, so that he
lay face uppermost upon the ground. Hippolochus fled, but
him too did Agamemnon smite; he cut off his hands and his
head—which he sent rolling in among the crowd as though
it were a ball. There he let them both lie, and wherever the
ranks were thickest thither he flew, while the other Achae-
ans followed. Foot soldiers drove the foot soldiers of the

foe in rout before them, and slew them; horsemen did the
like by horsemen, and the thundering tramp of the horses
raised a cloud of dust from off the plain. King Agamemnon
followed after, ever slaying them and cheering on the Achae-
ans. As when some mighty forest is all ablaze—the eddying
gusts whirl fire in all directions till the thickets shrivel and
are consumed before the blast of the flame—even so fell the
heads of the flying Trojans before Agamemnon son of Atre-
us, and many a noble pair of steeds drew an empty chariot
along the highways of war, for lack of drivers who were ly-
ing on the plain, more useful now to vultures than to their
wives.
Jove drew Hector away from the darts and dust, with
the carnage and din of battle; but the son of Atreus sped
onwards, calling out lustily to the Danaans. They flew on
by the tomb of old Ilus, son of Dardanus, in the middle of
the plain, and past the place of the wild fig-tree making al-
ways for the city—the son of Atreus still shouting, and with
hands all bedrabbled in gore; but when they had reached the
Scaean gates and the oak tree, there they halted and wait-
ed for the others to come up. Meanwhile the Trojans kept
on flying over the middle of the plain like a herd of cows
maddened with fright when a lion has attacked them in the
dead of night—he springs on one of them, seizes her neck
in the grip of his strong teeth and then laps up her blood
and gorges himself upon her entrails—even so did King
Agamemnon son of Atreus pursue the foe, ever slaughter-
ing the hindmost as they fled pell-mell before him. Many a
man was flung headlong from his chariot by the hand of the
204 The Iliad

son of Atreus, for he wielded his spear with fury.
But when he was just about to reach the high wall and
the city, the father of gods and men came down from heav-
en and took his seat, thunderbolt in hand, upon the crest of
many-fountained Ida. He then told Iris of the golden wings
to carry a message for him. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘fleet Iris, and
speak thus to Hector—say that so long as he sees Agamem-
non heading his men and making havoc of the Trojan ranks,
he is to keep aloof and bid the others bear the brunt of the
battle, but when Agamemnon is wounded either by spear or
arrow, and takes to his chariot, then will I vouchsafe him
strength to slay till he reach the ships and night falls at the
going down of the sun.’
Iris hearkened and obeyed. Down she went to strong Ili-
us from the crests of Ida, and found Hector son of Priam
standing by his chariot and horses. Then she said, ‘Hector
son of Priam, peer of gods in counsel, father Jove has sent
me to bear you this message—so long as you see Agamem-
non heading his men and making havoc of the Trojan ranks,
you are to keep aloof and bid the others bear the brunt of the
battle, but when Agamemnon is wounded either by spear or
arrow, and takes to his chariot, then will Jove vouchsafe you
strength to slay till you reach the ships, and till night falls at
the going down of the sun.’
When she had thus spoken Iris left him, and Hector
sprang full armed from his chariot to the ground, brandish-
ing his spear as he went about everywhere among the host,
cheering his men on to fight, and stirring the dread strife
of battle. The Trojans then wheeled round, and again met

the Achaeans, while the Argives on their part strengthened
their battalions. The battle was now in array and they stood
face to face with one another, Agamemnon ever pressing
forward in his eagerness to be ahead of all others.
Tell me now ye Muses that dwell in the mansions of
Olympus, who, whether of the Trojans or of their allies, was
first to face Agamemnon? It was Iphidamas son of Antenor,
a man both brave and of great stature, who was brought
up in fertile Thrace, the mother of sheep. Cisses, his moth-
er’s father, brought him up in his own house when he was
a child—Cisses, father to fair Theano. When he reached
manhood, Cisses would have kept him there, and was for
giving him his daughter in marriage, but as soon as he had
married he set out to fight the Achaeans with twelve ships
that followed him: these he had left at Percote and had come
on by land to Ilius. He it was that now met Agamemnon son
of Atreus. When they were close up with one another, the
son of Atreus missed his aim, and Iphidamas hit him on
the girdle below the cuirass and then flung himself upon
him, trusting to his strength of arm; the girdle, however,
was not pierced, nor nearly so, for the point of the spear
struck against the silver and was turned aside as though it
had been lead: King Agamemnon caught it from his hand,
and drew it towards him with the fury of a lion; he then
drew his sword, and killed Iphidamas by striking him on
the neck. So there the poor fellow lay, sleeping a sleep as
it were of bronze, killed in the defence of his fellow-citi-
zens, far from his wedded wife, of whom he had had no joy
though he had given much for her: he had given a hundred-
206 The Iliad

head of cattle down, and had promised later on to give a
thousand sheep and goats mixed, from the countless flocks
of which he was possessed. Agamemnon son of Atreus then
despoiled him, and carried off his armour into the host of
the Achaeans.
When noble Coon, Antenor’s eldest son, saw this, sore
indeed were his eyes at the sight of his fallen brother. Un-
seen by Agamemnon he got beside him, spear in hand, and
wounded him in the middle of his arm below the elbow, the
point of the spear going right through the arm. Agamem-
non was convulsed with pain, but still not even for this did
he leave off struggling and fighting, but grasped his spear
that flew as fleet as the wind, and sprang upon Coon who
was trying to drag off the body of his brother—his father’s
son—by the foot, and was crying for help to all the bravest
of his comrades; but Agamemnon struck him with a bronze-
shod spear and killed him as he was dragging the dead body
through the press of men under cover of his shield: he then
cut off his head, standing over the body of Iphidamas. Thus
did the sons of Antenor meet their fate at the hands of the
son of Atreus, and go down into the house of Hades.
As long as the blood still welled warm from his wound
Agamemnon went about attacking the ranks of the enemy
with spear and sword and with great handfuls of stone, but
when the blood had ceased to flow and the wound grew
dry, the pain became great. As the sharp pangs which the
Eilithuiae, goddesses of childbirth, daughters of Juno and
dispensers of cruel pain, send upon a woman when she is in
labour—even so sharp were the pangs of the son of Atreus.

He sprang on to his chariot, and bade his charioteer drive to
the ships, for he was in great agony. With a loud clear voice
he shouted to the Danaans, ‘My friends, princes and coun-
sellors of the Argives, defend the ships yourselves, for Jove
has not suffered me to fight the whole day through against
the Trojans.’
With this the charioteer turned his horses towards the
ships, and they flew forward nothing loth. Their chests were
white with foam and their bellies with dust, as they drew
the wounded king out of the battle.
When Hector saw Agamemnon quit the field, he shouted
to the Trojans and Lycians saying, ‘Trojans, Lycians, and
Dardanian warriors, be men, my friends, and acquit your-
selves in battle bravely; their best man has left them, and
Jove has vouchsafed me a great triumph; charge the foe with
your chariots that you may win still greater glory.’
With these words he put heart and soul into them all,
and as a huntsman hounds his dogs on against a lion or wild
boar, even so did Hector, peer of Mars, hound the proud
Trojans on against the Achaeans. Full of hope he plunged
in among the foremost, and fell on the fight like some fierce
tempest that swoops down upon the sea, and lashes its deep
blue waters into fury.
What, then is the full tale of those whom Hector son of
Priam killed in the hour of triumph which Jove then vouch-
safed him? First Asaeus, Autonous, and Opites; Dolops
son of Clytius, Opheltius and Agelaus; Aesymnus, Orus
and Hipponous steadfast in battle; these chieftains of the
Achaeans did Hector slay, and then he fell upon the rank
208 The Iliad

and file. As when the west wind hustles the clouds of the
white south and beats them down with the fierceness of its
fury—the waves of the sea roll high, and the spray is flung
aloft in the rage of the wandering wind—even so thick were
the heads of them that fell by the hand of Hector.
All had then been lost and no help for it, and the Achae-
ans would have fled pell-mell to their ships, had not Ulysses
cried out to Diomed, ‘Son of Tydeus, what has happened to
us that we thus forget our prowess? Come, my good fellow,
stand by my side and help me, we shall be shamed for ever
if Hector takes the ships.’
And Diomed answered, ‘Come what may, I will stand
firm; but we shall have scant joy of it, for Jove is minded to
give victory to the Trojans rather than to us.’
With these words he struck Thymbraeus from his chariot
to the ground, smiting him in the left breast with his spear,
while Ulysses killed Molion who was his squire. These they
let lie, now that they had stopped their fighting; the two
heroes then went on playing havoc with the foe, like two
wild boars that turn in fury and rend the hounds that hunt
them. Thus did they turn upon the Trojans and slay them,
and the Achaeans were thankful to have breathing time in
their flight from Hector.
They then took two princes with their chariot, the two
sons of Merops of Percote, who excelled all others in the
arts of divination. He had forbidden his sons to go to the
war, but they would not obey him, for fate lured them to
their fall. Diomed son of Tydeus slew them both and
stripped them of their armour, while Ulysses killed Hippo-

damus and Hypeirochus.
And now the son of Saturn as he looked down from Ida
ordained that neither side should have the advantage, and
they kept on killing one another. The son of Tydeus speared
Agastrophus son of Paeon in the hip-joint with his spear.
His chariot was not at hand for him to fly with, so blindly
confident had he been. His squire was in charge of it at some
distance and he was fighting on foot among the foremost
until he lost his life. Hector soon marked the havoc Diomed
and Ulysses were making, and bore down upon them with
a loud cry, followed by the Trojan ranks; brave Diomed was
dismayed when he saw them, and said to Ulysses who was
beside him, ‘Great Hector is bearing down upon us and we
shall be undone; let us stand firm and wait his onset.’
He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it, nor did he
miss his mark. He had aimed at Hector’s head near the top
of his helmet, but bronze was turned by bronze, and Hector
was untouched, for the spear was stayed by the visored helm
made with three plates of metal, which Phoebus Apollo had
given him. Hector sprang back with a great bound under
cover of the ranks; he fell on his knees and propped himself
with his brawny hand leaning on the ground, for darkness
had fallen on his eyes. The son of Tydeus having thrown his
spear dashed in among the foremost fighters, to the place
where he had seen it strike the ground; meanwhile Hec-
tor recovered himself and springing back into his chariot
mingled with the crowd, by which means he saved his life.
But Diomed made at him with his spear and said, ‘Dog, you
have again got away though death was close on your heels.
210 The Iliad

Phoebus Apollo, to whom I ween you pray ere you go into
battle, has again saved you, nevertheless I will meet you and
make an end of you hereafter, if there is any god who will
stand by me too and be my helper. For the present I must
pursue those I can lay hands on.’
As he spoke he began stripping the spoils from the son
of Paeon, but Alexandrus husband of lovely Helen aimed
an arrow at him, leaning against a pillar of the monument
which men had raised to Ilus son of Dardanus, a ruler in
days of old. Diomed had taken the cuirass from off the
breast of Agastrophus, his heavy helmet also, and the shield
from off his shoulders, when Paris drew his bow and let fly
an arrow that sped not from his hand in vain, but pierced
the flat of Diomed’s right foot, going right through it and
fixing itself in the ground. Thereon Paris with a hearty
laugh sprang forward from his hiding-place, and taunted
him saying, ‘You are wounded—my arrow has not been
shot in vain; would that it had hit you in the belly and killed
you, for thus the Trojans, who fear you as goats fear a lion,
would have had a truce from evil.’
Diomed all undaunted answered, ‘Archer, you who with-
out your bow are nothing, slanderer and seducer, if you
were to be tried in single combat fighting in full armour,
your bow and your arrows would serve you in little stead.
Vain is your boast in that you have scratched the sole of my
foot. I care no more than if a girl or some silly boy had hit
me. A worthless coward can inflict but a light wound; when
I wound a man though I but graze his skin it is another mat-
ter, for my weapon will lay him low. His wife will tear her

cheeks for grief and his children will be fatherless: there
will he rot, reddening the earth with his blood, and vul-
tures, not women, will gather round him.’
Thus he spoke, but Ulysses came up and stood over him.
Under this cover he sat down to draw the arrow from his
foot, and sharp was the pain he suffered as he did so. Then
he sprang on to his chariot and bade the charioteer drive
him to the ships, for he was sick at heart.
Ulysses was now alone; not one of the Argives stood by
him, for they were all panic-stricken. ‘Alas,’ said he to him-
self in his dismay, ‘what will become of me? It is ill if I turn
and fly before these odds, but it will be worse if I am left
alone and taken prisoner, for the son of Saturn has struck
the rest of the Danaans with panic. But why talk to myself
in this way? Well do I know that though cowards quit the
field, a hero, whether he wound or be wounded, must stand
firm and hold his own.’
While he was thus in two minds, the ranks of the Trojans
advanced and hemmed him in, and bitterly did they come
to rue it. As hounds and lusty youths set upon a wild boar
that sallies from his lair whetting his white tusks—they at-
tack him from every side and can hear the gnashing of his
jaws, but for all his fierceness they still hold their ground—
even so furiously did the Trojans attack Ulysses. First he
sprang spear in hand upon Deiopites and wounded him on
the shoulder with a downward blow; then he killed Thoon
and Ennomus. After these he struck Chersidamas in the
loins under his shield as he had just sprung down from his
chariot; so he fell in the dust and clutched the earth in the
212 The Iliad

hollow of his hand. These he let lie, and went on to wound
Charops son of Hippasus own brother to noble Socus. So-
cus, hero that he was, made all speed to help him, and when
he was close to Ulysses he said, ‘Far-famed Ulysses, insatia-
ble of craft and toil, this day you shall either boast of having
killed both the sons of Hippasus and stripped them of their
armour, or you shall fall before my spear.’
With these words he struck the shield of Ulysses. The
spear went through the shield and passed on through his
richly wrought cuirass, tearing the flesh from his side, but
Pallas Minerva did not suffer it to pierce the entrails of the
hero. Ulysses knew that his hour was not yet come, but he
gave ground and said to Socus, ‘Wretch, you shall now sure-
ly die. You have stayed me from fighting further with the
Trojans, but you shall now fall by my spear, yielding glory to
myself, and your soul to Hades of the noble steeds.’
Socus had turned in flight, but as he did so, the spear
struck him in the back midway between the shoulders, and
went right through his chest. He fell heavily to the ground
and Ulysses vaunted over him saying, ‘O Socus, son of Hip-
pasus tamer of horses, death has been too quick for you and
you have not escaped him: poor wretch, not even in death
shall your father and mother close your eyes, but the raven-
ing vultures shall enshroud you with the flapping of their
dark wings and devour you. Whereas even though I fall the
Achaeans will give me my due rites of burial.’
So saying he drew Socus’s heavy spear out of his flesh
and from his shield, and the blood welled forth when the
spear was withdrawn so that he was much dismayed. When

the Trojans saw that Ulysses was bleeding they raised a
great shout and came on in a body towards him; he there-
fore gave ground, and called his comrades to come and
help him. Thrice did he cry as loudly as man can cry, and
thrice did brave Menelaus hear him; he turned, therefore,
to Ajax who was close beside him and said, ‘Ajax, noble son
of Telamon, captain of your people, the cry of Ulysses rings
in my ears, as though the Trojans had cut him off and were
worsting him while he is single-handed. Let us make our
way through the throng; it will be well that we defend him;
I fear he may come to harm for all his valour if he be left
without support, and the Danaans would miss him sorely.’
He led the way and mighty Ajax went with him. The Tro-
jans had gathered round Ulysses like ravenous mountain
jackals round the carcase of some horned stag that has been
hit with an arrow—the stag has fled at full speed so long as
his blood was warm and his strength has lasted, but when
the arrow has overcome him, the savage jackals devour him
in the shady glades of the forest. Then heaven sends a fierce
lion thither, whereon the jackals fly in terror and the lion
robs them of their prey—even so did Trojans many and
brave gather round crafty Ulysses, but the hero stood at bay
and kept them off with his spear. Ajax then came up with
his shield before him like a wall, and stood hard by, where-
on the Trojans fled in all directions. Menelaus took Ulysses
by the hand, and led him out of the press while his squire
brought up his chariot, but Ajax rushed furiously on the
Trojans and killed Doryclus, a bastard son of Priam; then
he wounded Pandocus, Lysandrus, Pyrasus, and Pylartes;
214 The Iliad

as some swollen torrent comes rushing in full flood from
the mountains on to the plain, big with the rain of heaven—
many a dry oak and many a pine does it engulf, and much
mud does it bring down and cast into the sea— even so did
brave Ajax chase the foe furiously over the plain, slaying
both men and horses.
Hector did not yet know what Ajax was doing, for he
was fighting on the extreme left of the battle by the banks
of the river Scamander, where the carnage was thickest and
the war-cry loudest round Nestor and brave Idomeneus.
Among these Hector was making great slaughter with his
spear and furious driving, and was destroying the ranks
that were opposed to him; still the Achaeans would have
given no ground, had not Alexandrus husband of love-
ly Helen stayed the prowess of Machaon, shepherd of his
people, by wounding him in the right shoulder with a triple-
barbed arrow. The Achaeans were in great fear that as the
fight had turned against them the Trojans might take him
prisoner, and Idomeneus said to Nestor, ‘Nestor son of Ne-
leus, honour to the Achaean name, mount your chariot at
once; take Machaon with you and drive your horses to the
ships as fast as you can. A physician is worth more than sev-
eral other men put together, for he can cut out arrows and
spread healing herbs.’
Nestor knight of Gerene did as Idomeneus had coun-
selled; he at once mounted his chariot, and Machaon son of
the famed physician Aesculapius, went with him. He lashed
his horses and they flew onward nothing loth towards the
ships, as though of their own free will.

Then Cebriones seeing the Trojans in confusion said to
Hector from his place beside him, ‘Hector, here are we two
fighting on the extreme wing of the battle, while the other
Trojans are in pell-mell rout, they and their horses. Ajax
son of Telamon is driving them before him; I know him by
the breadth of his shield: let us turn our chariot and horses
thither, where horse and foot are fighting most desperately,
and where the cry of battle is loudest.’
With this he lashed his goodly steeds, and when they
felt the whip they drew the chariot full speed among the
Achaeans and Trojans, over the bodies and shields of those
that had fallen: the axle was bespattered with blood, and the
rail round the car was covered with splashes both from the
horses’ hoofs and from the tyres of the wheels. Hector tore
his way through and flung himself into the thick of the fight,
and his presence threw the Danaans into confusion, for his
spear was not long idle; nevertheless though he went among
the ranks with sword and spear, and throwing great stones,
he avoided Ajax son of Telamon, for Jove would have been
angry with him if he had fought a better man than himself.
Then father Jove from his high throne struck fear into
the heart of Ajax, so that he stood there dazed and threw
his shield behind him—looking fearfully at the throng of
his foes as though he were some wild beast, and turning
hither and thither but crouching slowly backwards. As
peasants with their hounds chase a lion from their stock-
yard, and watch by night to prevent his carrying off the
pick of their herd—he makes his greedy spring, but in vain,
for the darts from many a strong hand fall thick around
216 The Iliad

him, with burning brands that scare him for all his fury,
and when morning comes he slinks foiled and angry away—
even so did Ajax, sorely against his will, retreat angrily
before the Trojans, fearing for the ships of the Achaeans. Or
as some lazy ass that has had many a cudgel broken about
his back, when he into a field begins eating the corn—boys
beat him but he is too many for them, and though they lay
about with their sticks they cannot hurt him; still when he
has had his fill they at last drive him from the field—even
so did the Trojans and their allies pursue great Ajax, ever
smiting the middle of his shield with their darts. Now and
again he would turn and show fight, keeping back the bat-
talions of the Trojans, and then he would again retreat; but
he prevented any of them from making his way to the ships.
Single-handed he stood midway between the Trojans and
Achaeans: the spears that sped from their hands stuck some
of them in his mighty shield, while many, though thirsting
for his blood, fell to the ground ere they could reach him to
the wounding of his fair flesh.
Now when Eurypylus the brave son of Euaemon saw that
Ajax was being overpowered by the rain of arrows, he went
up to him and hurled his spear. He struck Apisaon son of
Phausius in the liver below the midriff, and laid him low.
Eurypylus sprang upon him, and stripped the armour from
his shoulders; but when Alexandrus saw him, he aimed an
arrow at him which struck him in the right thigh; the arrow
broke, but the point that was left in the wound dragged on
the thigh; he drew back, therefore, under cover of his com-
rades to save his life, shouting as he did so to the Danaans,

‘My friends, princes and counsellors of the Argives, rally to
the defence of Ajax who is being overpowered, and I doubt
whether he will come out of the fight alive. Hither, then, to
the rescue of great Ajax son of Telamon.’
Even so did he cry when he was wounded; thereon the
others came near, and gathered round him, holding their
shields upwards from their shoulders so as to give him
cover. Ajax then made towards them, and turned round to
stand at bay as soon as he had reached his men.
Thus then did they fight as it were a flaming fire. Mean-
while the mares of Neleus, all in a lather with sweat, were
bearing Nestor out of the fight, and with him Machaon
shepherd of his people. Achilles saw and took note, for he
was standing on the stern of his ship watching the hard
stress and struggle of the fight. He called from the ship to
his comrade Patroclus, who heard him in the tent and came
out looking like Mars himself—here indeed was the be-
ginning of the ill that presently befell him. ‘Why,’ said he,
‘Achilles, do you call me? What do you want with me?’ And
Achilles answered, ‘Noble son of Menoetius, man after my
own heart, I take it that I shall now have the Achaeans pray-
ing at my knees, for they are in great straits; go, Patroclus,
and ask Nestor who it is that he is bearing away wounded
from the field; from his back I should say it was Machaon
son of Aesculapius, but I could not see his face for the hors-
es went by me at full speed.’
Patroclus did as his dear comrade had bidden him, and
set off running by the ships and tents of the Achaeans.
When Nestor and Machaon had reached the tents of
218 The Iliad

the son of Neleus, they dismounted, and an esquire, Eu-
rymedon, took the horses from the chariot. The pair then
stood in the breeze by the seaside to dry the sweat from
their shirts, and when they had so done they came inside
and took their seats. Fair Hecamede, whom Nestor had had
awarded to him from Tenedos when Achilles took it, mixed
them a mess; she was daughter of wise Arsinous, and the
Achaeans had given her to Nestor because he excelled all
of them in counsel. First she set for them a fair and well-
made table that had feet of cyanus; on it there was a vessel of
bronze and an onion to give relish to the drink, with honey
and cakes of barley-meal. There was also a cup of rare work-
manship which the old man had brought with him from
home, studded with bosses of gold; it had four handles, on
each of which there were two golden doves feeding, and it
had two feet to stand on. Any one else would hardly have
been able to lift it from the table when it was full, but Nestor
could do so quite easily. In this the woman, as fair as a god-
dess, mixed them a mess with Pramnian wine; she grated
goat’s milk cheese into it with a bronze grater, threw in a
handful of white barley-meal, and having thus prepared
the mess she bade them drink it. When they had done so
and had thus quenched their thirst, they fell talking with
one another, and at this moment Patroclus appeared at the
door.
When the old man saw him he sprang from his seat,
seized his hand, led him into the tent, and bade him take
his place among them; but Patroclus stood where he was
and said, ‘Noble sir, I may not stay, you cannot persuade me

to come in; he that sent me is not one to be trifled with, and
he bade me ask who the wounded man was whom you were
bearing away from the field. I can now see for myself that he
is Machaon, shepherd of his people. I must go back and tell
Achilles. You, sir, know what a terrible man he is, and how
ready to blame even where no blame should lie.’
And Nestor answered, ‘Why should Achilles care to
know how many of the Achaeans may be wounded? He
recks not of the dismay that reigns in our host; our most
valiant chieftains lie disabled, brave Diomed, son of Tyde-
us, is wounded; so are Ulysses and Agamemnon; Eurypylus
has been hit with an arrow in the thigh, and I have just been
bringing this man from the field—he too wounded with
an arrow. Nevertheless, Achilles, so valiant though he be,
cares not and knows no ruth. Will he wait till the ships, do
what we may, are in a blaze, and we perish one upon the
other? As for me, I have no strength nor stay in me any lon-
ger; would that I were still young and strong as in the days
when there was a fight between us and the men of Elis about
some cattle-raiding. I then killed Itymoneus, the valiant
son of Hypeirochus, a dweller in Elis, as I was driving in the
spoil; he was hit by a dart thrown by my hand while fighting
in the front rank in defence of his cows, so he fell and the
country people around him were in great fear. We drove off
a vast quantity of booty from the plain, fifty herds of cattle
and as many flocks of sheep; fifty droves also of pigs, and
as many wide-spreading flocks of goats. Of horses, more-
over, we seized a hundred and fifty, all of them mares, and
many had foals running with them. All these did we drive
220 The Iliad

by night to Pylus, the city of Neleus, taking them within
the city; and the heart of Neleus was glad in that I had taken
so much, though it was the first time I had ever been in the
field. At daybreak the heralds went round crying that all in
Elis to whom there was a debt owing should come; and the
leading Pylians assembled to divide the spoils. There were
many to whom the Epeans owed chattels, for we men of
Pylus were few and had been oppressed with wrong; in for-
mer years Hercules had come, and had laid his hand heavy
upon us, so that all our best men had perished. Neleus had
had twelve sons, but I alone was left; the others had all been
killed. The Epeans presuming upon all this had looked
down upon us and had done us much evil. My father chose
a herd of cattle and a great flock of sheep—three hundred
in all—and he took their shepherds with him, for there was
a great debt due to him in Elis, to wit four horses, winners
of prizes. They and their chariots with them had gone to the
games and were to run for a tripod, but King Augeas took
them, and sent back their driver grieving for the loss of his
horses. Neleus was angered by what he had both said and
done, and took great value in return, but he divided the rest,
that no man might have less than his full share.
‘Thus did we order all things, and offer sacrifices to the
gods throughout the city; but three days afterwards the
Epeans came in a body, many in number, they and their
chariots, in full array, and with them the two Moliones in
their armour, though they were still lads and unused to
fighting. Now there is a certain town, Thryoessa, perched
upon a rock on the river Alpheus, the border city Pylus.

This they would destroy, and pitched their camp about
it, but when they had crossed their whole plain, Minerva
darted down by night from Olympus and bade us set our-
selves in array; and she found willing soldiers in Pylos, for
the men meant fighting. Neleus would not let me arm, and
hid my horses, for he said that as yet I could know nothing
about war; nevertheless Minerva so ordered the fight that,
all on foot as I was, I fought among our mounted forces and
vied with the foremost of them. There is a river Minyeius
that falls into the sea near Arene, and there they that were
mounted (and I with them) waited till morning, when the
companies of foot soldiers came up with us in force. Thence
in full panoply and equipment we came towards noon to
the sacred waters of the Alpheus, and there we offered vic-
tims to almighty Jove, with a bull to Alpheus, another to
Neptune, and a herd-heifer to Minerva. After this we took
supper in our companies, and laid us down to rest each in
his armour by the river.
‘The Epeans were beleaguering the city and were deter-
mined to take it, but ere this might be there was a desperate
fight in store for them. When the sun’s rays began to fall
upon the earth we joined battle, praying to Jove and to Mi-
nerva, and when the fight had begun, I was the first to kill
my man and take his horses—to wit the warrior Mulius. He
was son-in-law to Augeas, having married his eldest daugh-
ter, golden-haired Agamede, who knew the virtues of every
herb which grows upon the face of the earth. I speared him
as he was coming towards me, and when he fell headlong
in the dust, I sprang upon his chariot and took my place in
222 The Iliad

the front ranks. The Epeans fled in all directions when they
saw the captain of their horsemen (the best man they had)
laid low, and I swept down on them like a whirlwind, tak-
ing fifty chariots—and in each of them two men bit the dust,
slain by my spear. I should have even killed the two Molion-
es, sons of Actor, unless their real father, Neptune lord of
the earthquake, had hidden them in a thick mist and borne
them out of the fight. Thereon Jove vouchsafed the Pylians a
great victory, for we chased them far over the plain, killing
the men and bringing in their armour, till we had brought
our horses to Buprasium, rich in wheat, and to the Olenian
rock, with the hill that is called Alision, at which point Mi-
nerva turned the people back. There I slew the last man and
left him; then the Achaeans drove their horses back from
Buprasium to Pylos and gave thanks to Jove among the
gods, and among mortal men to Nestor.
‘Such was I among my peers, as surely as ever was, but
Achilles is for keeping all his valour for himself; bitterly will
he rue it hereafter when the host is being cut to pieces. My
good friend, did not Menoetius charge you thus, on the day
when he sent you from Phthia to Agamemnon? Ulysses and
I were in the house, inside, and heard all that he said to you;
for we came to the fair house of Peleus while beating up
recruits throughout all Achaea, and when we got there we
found Menoetius and yourself, and Achilles with you. The
old knight Peleus was in the outer court, roasting the fat
thigh-bones of a heifer to Jove the lord of thunder; and he
held a gold chalice in his hand from which he poured drink-
offerings of wine over the burning sacrifice. You two were

busy cutting up the heifer, and at that moment we stood at
the gates, whereon Achilles sprang to his feet, led us by the
hand into the house, placed us at table, and set before us
such hospitable entertainment as guests expect. When we
had satisfied ourselves with meat and drink, I said my say
and urged both of you to join us. You were ready enough to
do so, and the two old men charged you much and straitly.
Old Peleus bade his son Achilles fight ever among the fore-
most and outvie his peers, while Menoetius the son of Actor
spoke thus to you: ‘My son,’ said he, ‘Achilles is of nobler
birth than you are, but you are older than he, though he is
far the better man of the two. Counsel him wisely, guide
him in the right way, and he will follow you to his own prof-
it.’ Thus did your father charge you, but you have forgotten;
nevertheless, even now, say all this to Achilles if he will lis-
ten to you. Who knows but with heaven’s help you may talk
him over, for it is good to take a friend’s advice. If, however,
he is fearful about some oracle, or if his mother has told him
something from Jove, then let him send you, and let the rest
of the Myrmidons follow with you, if perchance you may
bring light and saving to the Danaans. And let him send
you into battle clad in his own armour, that the Trojans may
mistake you for him and leave off fighting; the sons of the
Achaeans may thus have time to get their breath, for they
are hard pressed and there is little breathing time in battle.
You, who are fresh, might easily drive a tired enemy back to
his walls and away from the tents and ships.’
With these words he moved the heart of Patroclus, who
set off running by the line of the ships to Achilles, descen-
224 The Iliad

dant of Aeacus. When he had got as far as the ships of
Ulysses, where was their place of assembly and court of jus-
tice, with their altars dedicated to the gods, Eurypylus son
of Euaemon, met him, wounded in the thigh with an arrow,
and limping out of the fight. Sweat rained from his head and
shoulders, and black blood welled from his cruel wound,
but his mind did not wander. The son of Menoetius when
he saw him had compassion upon him and spoke piteously
saying, ‘O unhappy princes and counsellors of the Danaans,
are you then doomed to feed the hounds of Troy with your
fat, far from your friends and your native land? Say, noble
Eurypylus, will the Achaeans be able to hold great Hector in
check, or will they fall now before his spear?’
Wounded Eurypylus made answer, ‘Noble Patroclus,
there is no hope left for the Achaeans but they will perish
at their ships. All they that were princes among us are lying
struck down and wounded at the hands of the Trojans, who
are waxing stronger and stronger. But save me and take me
to your ship; cut out the arrow from my thigh; wash the
black blood from off it with warm water, and lay upon it
those gracious herbs which, so they say, have been shown
you by Achilles, who was himself shown them by Chiron,
most righteous of all the centaurs. For of the physicians Po-
dalirius and Machaon, I hear that the one is lying wounded
in his tent and is himself in need of healing, while the other
is fighting the Trojans upon the plain.’
‘Hero Eurypylus,’ replied the brave son of Menoetius,
‘how may these things be? What can I do? I am on my way
to bear a message to noble Achilles from Nestor of Gerene,

bulwark of the Achaeans, but even so I will not be unmind-
ful of your distress.’
With this he clasped him round the middle and led him
into the tent, and a servant, when he saw him, spread bull-
ock-skins on the ground for him to lie on. He laid him at
full length and cut out the sharp arrow from his thigh; he
washed the black blood from the wound with warm water;
he then crushed a bitter herb, rubbing it between his hands,
and spread it upon the wound; this was a virtuous herb
which killed all pain; so the wound presently dried and the
blood left off flowing.
226 The Iliad

BOOK XII
S O THE son of Menoetius was attending to the hurt of

Eurypylus within the tent, but the Argives and Trojans
still fought desperately, nor were the trench and the high
wall above it, to keep the Trojans in check longer. They had
built it to protect their ships, and had dug the trench all
round it that it might safeguard both the ships and the rich
spoils which they had taken, but they had not offered heca-
tombs to the gods. It had been built without the consent
of the immortals, and therefore it did not last. So long as
Hector lived and Achilles nursed his anger, and so long as
the city of Priam remained untaken, the great wall of the
Achaeans stood firm; but when the bravest of the Trojans
were no more, and many also of the Argives, though some
were yet left alive—when, moreover, the city was sacked in
the tenth year, and the Argives had gone back with their
ships to their own country—then Neptune and Apollo took
counsel to destroy the wall, and they turned on to it the
streams of all the rivers from Mount Ida into the sea, Rhe-
sus, Heptaporus, Caresus, Rhodius, Grenicus, Aesopus, and
goodly Scamander, with Simois, where many a shield and
helm had fallen, and many a hero of the race of demigods
had bitten the dust. Phoebus Apollo turned the mouths of
all these rivers together and made them flow for nine days
against the wall, while Jove rained the whole time that he

might wash it sooner into the sea. Neptune himself, tri-
dent in hand, surveyed the work and threw into the sea all
the foundations of beams and stones which the Achaeans
had laid with so much toil; he made all level by the mighty
stream of the Hellespont, and then when he had swept the
wall away he spread a great beach of sand over the place
where it had been. This done he turned the rivers back into
their old courses.
This was what Neptune and Apollo were to do in after
time; but as yet battle and turmoil were still raging round
the wall till its timbers rang under the blows that rained
upon them. The Argives, cowed by the scourge of Jove, were
hemmed in at their ships in fear of Hector the mighty min-
ister of Rout, who as heretofore fought with the force and
fury of a whirlwind. As a lion or wild boar turns fiercely on
the dogs and men that attack him, while these form solid
wall and shower their javelins as they face him—his cour-
age is all undaunted, but his high spirit will be the death of
him; many a time does he charge at his pursuers to scatter
them, and they fall back as often as he does so—even so did
Hector go about among the host exhorting his men, and
cheering them on to cross the trench.
But the horses dared not do so, and stood neighing upon
its brink, for the width frightened them. They could neither
jump it nor cross it, for it had overhanging banks all round
upon either side, above which there were the sharp stakes
that the sons of the Achaeans had planted so close and
strong as a defence against all who would assail it; a horse,
therefore, could not get into it and draw his chariot after
228 The Iliad

him, but those who were on foot kept trying their very ut-
most. Then Polydamas went up to Hector and said, ‘Hector,
and you other captains of the Trojans and allies, it is mad-
ness for us to try and drive our horses across the trench; it
will be very hard to cross, for it is full of sharp stakes, and
beyond these there is the wall. Our horses therefore can-
not get down into it, and would be of no use if they did;
moreover it is a narrow place and we should come to harm.
If, indeed, great Jove is minded to help the Trojans, and in
his anger will utterly destroy the Achaeans, I would myself
gladly see them perish now and here far from Argos; but if
they should rally and we are driven back from the ships pell-
mell into the trench there will be not so much as a man get
back to the city to tell the tale. Now, therefore, let us all do
as I say; let our squires hold our horses by the trench, but let
us follow Hector in a body on foot, clad in full armour, and
if the day of their doom is at hand the Achaeans will not be
able to withstand us.’
Thus spoke Polydamas and his saying pleased Hector,
who sprang in full armour to the ground, and all the other
Trojans, when they saw him do so, also left their chari-
ots. Each man then gave his horses over to his charioteer
in charge to hold them ready for him at the trench. Then
they formed themselves into companies, made themselves
ready, and in five bodies followed their leaders. Those that
went with Hector and Polydamas were the bravest and most
in number, and the most determined to break through the
wall and fight at the ships. Cebriones was also joined with
them as third in command, for Hector had left his chariot

in charge of a less valiant soldier. The next company was led
by Paris, Alcathous, and Agenor; the third by Helenus and
Deiphobus, two sons of Priam, and with them was the hero
Asius—Asius, the son of Hyrtacus, whose great black horses
of the breed that comes from the river Selleis had brought
him from Arisbe. Aeneas, the valiant son of Anchises, led
the fourth; he and the two sons of Antenor, Archelochus
and Acamas, men well versed in all the arts of war. Sarpe-
don was captain over the allies, and took with him Glaucus
and Asteropaeus whom he deemed most valiant after him-
self—for he was far the best man of them all. These helped
to array one another in their ox-hide shields, and then
charged straight at the Danaans, for they felt sure that they
would not hold out longer and that they should themselves
now fall upon the ships.
The rest of the Trojans and their allies now followed the
counsel of Polydamas but Asius, son of Hyrtacus, would
not leave his horses and his esquire behind him; in his fool-
hardiness he took them on with him towards the ships, nor
did he fail to come by his end in consequence. Nevermore
was he to return to wind-beaten Ilius, exulting in his char-
iot and his horses; ere he could do so, death of ill-omened
name had overshadowed him and he had fallen by the spear
of Idomeneus the noble son of Deucalion. He had driven
towards the left wing of the ships, by which way the Achae-
ans used to return with their chariots and horses from the
plain. Hither he drove and found the gates with their doors
opened wide, and the great bar down—for the gatemen kept
them open so as to let those of their comrades enter who
230 The Iliad

might be flying towards the ships. Hither of set purpose did
he direct his horses, and his men followed him with a loud
cry, for they felt sure that the Achaeans would not hold out
longer, and that they should now fall upon the ships. Little
did they know that at the gates they should find two of the
bravest chieftains, proud sons of the fighting Lapithae—the
one, Polypoetes, mighty son of Pirithous, and the oth-
er Leonteus, peer of murderous Mars. These stood before
the gates like two high oak trees upon the mountains, that
tower from their wide-spreading roots, and year after year
battle with wind and rain—even so did these two men await
the onset of great Asius confidently and without flinching.
The Trojans led by him and by Iamenus, Orestes, Adamas
the son of Asius, Thoon and Oenomaus, raised a loud cry of
battle and made straight for the wall, holding their shields
of dry ox-hide above their heads; for a while the two de-
fenders remained inside and cheered the Achaeans on to
stand firm in the defence of their ships; when, however, they
saw that the Trojans were attacking the wall, while the Dan-
aans were crying out for help and being routed, they rushed
outside and fought in front of the gates like two wild boars
upon the mountains that abide the attack of men and dogs,
and charging on either side break down the wood all round
them tearing it up by the roots, and one can hear the clat-
tering of their tusks, till some one hits them and makes an
end of them—even so did the gleaming bronze rattle about
their breasts, as the weapons fell upon them; for they fought
with great fury, trusting to their own prowess and to those
who were on the wall above them. These threw great stones

at their assailants in defence of themselves their tents and
their ships. The stones fell thick as the flakes of snow which
some fierce blast drives from the dark clouds and showers
down in sheets upon the earth—even so fell the weapons
from the hands alike of Trojans and Achaeans. Helmet and
shield rang out as the great stones rained upon them, and
Asius, the son of Hyrtacus, in his dismay cried aloud and
smote his two thighs. ‘Father Jove,’ he cried, ‘of a truth you
too are altogether given to lying. I made sure the Argive
heroes could not withstand us, whereas like slim-waist-
ed wasps, or bees that have their nests in the rocks by the
wayside—they leave not the holes wherein they have built
undefended, but fight for their little ones against all who
would take them—even so these men, though they be but
two, will not be driven from the gates, but stand firm either
to slay or be slain.’
He spoke, but moved not the mind of Jove, whose coun-
sel it then was to give glory to Hector. Meanwhile the rest
of the Trojans were fighting about the other gates; I, how-
ever, am no god to be able to tell about all these things, for
the battle raged everywhere about the stone wall as it were
a fiery furnace. The Argives, discomfited though they were,
were forced to defend their ships, and all the gods who were
defending the Achaeans were vexed in spirit; but the Lapi-
thae kept on fighting with might and main.
Thereon Polypoetes, mighty son of Pirithous, hit Dama-
sus with a spear upon his cheek-pierced helmet. The helmet
did not protect him, for the point of the spear went through
it, and broke the bone, so that the brain inside was scattered
232 The Iliad

about, and he died fighting. He then slew Pylon and Or-
menus. Leonteus, of the race of Mars, killed Hippomachus
the son of Antimachus by striking him with his spear upon
the girdle. He then drew his sword and sprang first upon
Antiphates whom he killed in combat, and who fell face up-
wards on the earth. After him he killed Menon, Iamenus,
and Orestes, and laid them low one after the other.
While they were busy stripping the armour from these
heroes, the youths who were led on by Polydamas and Hec-
tor (and these were the greater part and the most valiant of
those that were trying to break through the wall and fire
the ships) were still standing by the trench, uncertain what
they should do; for they had seen a sign from heaven when
they had essayed to cross it—a soaring eagle that flew skirt-
ing the left wing of their host, with a monstrous blood-red
snake in its talons still alive and struggling to escape. The
snake was still bent on revenge, wriggling and twisting it-
self backwards till it struck the bird that held it, on the neck
and breast; whereon the bird being in pain, let it fall, drop-
ping it into the middle of the host, and then flew down the
wind with a sharp cry. The Trojans were struck with ter-
ror when they saw the snake, portent of aegis-bearing Jove,
writhing in the midst of them, and Polydamas went up to
Hector and said, ‘Hector, at our councils of war you are ever
given to rebuke me, even when I speak wisely, as though it
were not well, forsooth, that one of the people should cross
your will either in the field or at the council board; you
would have them support you always: nevertheless I will say
what I think will be best; let us not now go on to fight the

Danaans at their ships, for I know what will happen if this
soaring eagle which skirted the left wing of our host with
a monstrous blood-red snake in its talons (the snake being
still alive) was really sent as an omen to the Trojans on their
essaying to cross the trench. The eagle let go her hold; she
did not succeed in taking it home to her little ones, and so
will it be—with ourselves; even though by a mighty effort
we break through the gates and wall of the Achaeans, and
they give way before us, still we shall not return in good or-
der by the way we came, but shall leave many a man behind
us whom the Achaeans will do to death in defence of their
ships. Thus would any seer who was expert in these matters,
and was trusted by the people, read the portent.’
Hector looked fiercely at him and said, ‘Polydamas, I like
not of your reading. You can find a better saying than this if
you will. If, however, you have spoken in good earnest, then
indeed has heaven robbed you of your reason. You would
have me pay no heed to the counsels of Jove, nor to the
promises he made me—and he bowed his head in confir-
mation; you bid me be ruled rather by the flight of wild-fowl.
What care I whether they fly towards dawn or dark, and
whether they be on my right hand or on my left? Let us put
our trust rather in the counsel of great Jove, king of mor-
tals and immortals. There is one omen, and one only—that
a man should fight for his country. Why are you so fearful?
Though we be all of us slain at the ships of the Argives you
are not likely to be killed yourself, for you are not steadfast
nor courageous. If you will not fight, or would talk oth-
ers over from doing so, you shall fall forthwith before my
234 The Iliad

spear.’
With these words he led the way, and the others followed
after with a cry that rent the air. Then Jove the lord of thun-
der sent the blast of a mighty wind from the mountains
of Ida, that bore the dust down towards the ships; he thus
lulled the Achaeans into security, and gave victory to Hec-
tor and to the Trojans, who, trusting to their own might and
to the signs he had shown them, essayed to break through
the great wall of the Achaeans. They tore down the breast-
works from the walls, and overthrew the battlements; they
upheaved the buttresses, which the Achaeans had set in
front of the wall in order to support it; when they had pulled
these down they made sure of breaking through the wall,
but the Danaans still showed no sign of giving ground; they
still fenced the battlements with their shields of ox-hide,
and hurled their missiles down upon the foe as soon as any
came below the wall.
The two Ajaxes went about everywhere on the walls
cheering on the Achaeans, giving fair words to some while
they spoke sharply to any one whom they saw to be remiss.
‘My friends,’ they cried, ‘Argives one and all—good bad and
indifferent, for there was never fight yet, in which all were of
equal prowess—there is now work enough, as you very well
know, for all of you. See that you none of you turn in flight
towards the ships, daunted by the shouting of the foe, but
press forward and keep one another in heart, if it may so be
that Olympian Jove the lord of lightning will vouchsafe us
to repel our foes, and drive them back towards the city.’
Thus did the two go about shouting and cheering the

Achaeans on. As the flakes that fall thick upon a winter’s
day, when Jove is minded to snow and to display these his
arrows to mankind—he lulls the wind to rest, and snows
hour after hour till he has buried the tops of the high moun-
tains, the headlands that jut into the sea, the grassy plains,
and the tilled fields of men; the snow lies deep upon the
forelands, and havens of the grey sea, but the waves as they
come rolling in stay it that it can come no further, though
all else is wrapped as with a mantle, so heavy are the heav-
ens with snow—even thus thickly did the stones fall on
one side and on the other, some thrown at the Trojans, and
some by the Trojans at the Achaeans; and the whole wall
was in an uproar.
Still the Trojans and brave Hector would not yet have bro-
ken down the gates and the great bar, had not Jove turned
his son Sarpedon against the Argives as a lion against a herd
of horned cattle. Before him he held his shield of hammered
bronze, that the smith had beaten so fair and round, and
had lined with ox hides which he had made fast with rivets
of gold all round the shield; this he held in front of him, and
brandishing his two spears came on like some lion of the
wilderness, who has been long famished for want of meat
and will dare break even into a well-fenced homestead to
try and get at the sheep. He may find the shepherds keeping
watch over their flocks with dogs and spears, but he is in no
mind to be driven from the fold till he has had a try for it;
he will either spring on a sheep and carry it off, or be hit by
a spear from some strong hand—even so was Sarpedon fain
to attack the wall and break down its battlements. Then he
236 The Iliad

said to Glaucus son of Hippolochus, ‘Glaucus, why in Lycia
do we receive especial honour as regards our place at table?
Why are the choicest portions served us and our cups kept
brimming, and why do men look up to us as though we
were gods? Moreover we hold a large estate by the banks of
the river Xanthus, fair with orchard lawns and wheat-grow-
ing land; it becomes us, therefore, to take our stand at the
head of all the Lycians and bear the brunt of the fight, that
one may say to another, ‘Our princes in Lycia eat the fat of
the land and drink best of wine, but they are fine fellows;
they fight well and are ever at the front in battle.’ My good
friend, if, when we were once out of this fight, we could es-
cape old age and death thenceforward and forever, I should
neither press forward myself nor bid you do so, but death
in ten thousand shapes hangs ever over our heads, and no
man can elude him; therefore let us go forward and either
win glory for ourselves, or yield it to another.’
Glaucus heeded his saying, and the pair forthwith led
on the host of Lycians. Menestheus son of Peteos was dis-
mayed when he saw them, for it was against his part of the
wall that they came— bringing destruction with them; he
looked along the wall for some chieftain to support his
comrades and saw the two Ajaxes, men ever eager for the
fray, and Teucer, who had just come from his tent, standing
near them; but he could not make his voice heard by shout-
ing to them, so great an uproar was there from crashing
shields and helmets and the battering of gates with a din
which reached the skies. For all the gates had been closed,
and the Trojans were hammering at them to try and break

their way through them. Menestheus, therefore, sent Tho-
otes with a message to Ajax. ‘Run, good Thootes,’ he said,
‘and call Ajax, or better still bid both come, for it will be
all over with us here directly; the leaders of the Lycians are
upon us, men who have ever fought desperately heretofore.
But if they have too much on their hands to let them come,
at any rate let Ajax son of Telamon do so, and let Teucer, the
famous bowman, come with him.’
The messenger did as he was told, and set off running
along the wall of the Achaeans. When he reached the Aja-
xes he said to them, ‘Sirs, princes of the Argives, the son
of noble Peteos bids you come to him for a while and help
him. You had better both come if you can, or it will be all
over with him directly; the leaders of the Lycians are upon
him, men who have ever fought desperately heretofore; if
you have too much on your hands to let both come, at any
rate let Ajax, son of Telamon, do so, and let Teucer, the fa-
mous bowman, come with him.’
Great Ajax son of Telamon heeded the message, and at
once spoke to the son of Oileus. ‘Ajax,’ said he, ‘do you two,
yourself and brave Lycomedes, stay here and keep the Da-
naans in heart to fight their hardest. I will go over yonder,
and bear my part in the fray, but I will come back here at
once as soon as I have given them the help they need.’
With this, Ajax son of Telamon set off, and Teucer, his
brother by the same father, went also, with Pandion to car-
ry Teucer’s bow. They went along inside the wall, and when
they came to the tower where Menestheus was (and hard
pressed indeed did they find him) the brave captains and
238 The Iliad

leaders of the Lycians were storming the battlements as it
were a thick dark cloud, fighting in close quarters, and rais-
ing the battle-cry aloud.
First, Ajax son of Telamon killed brave Epicles, a com-
rade of Sarpedon, hitting him with a jagged stone that lay
by the battlements at the very top of the wall. As men now
are, even one who is in the bloom of youth could hardly lift
it with his two hands, but Ajax raised it high aloft and flung
it down, smashing Epicles’ four-crested helmet so that the
bones of his head were crushed to pieces, and he fell from
the high wall as though he were diving, with no more life
left in him. Then Teucer wounded Glaucus the brave son
of Hippolochus as he was coming on to attack the wall. He
saw his shoulder bare and aimed an arrow at it, which made
Glaucus leave off fighting. Thereon he sprang covertly down
for fear some of the Achaeans might see that he was wound-
ed and taunt him. Sarpedon was stung with grief when he
saw Glaucus leave him, still he did not leave off fighting, but
aimed his spear at Alcmaon the son of Thestor and hit him.
He drew his spear back again and Alcmaon came down
headlong after it with his bronzed armour rattling round
him. Then Sarpedon seized the battlement in his strong
hands, and tugged at it till it all gave way together, and a
breach was made through which many might pass.
Ajax and Teucer then both of them attacked him. Teucer
hit him with an arrow on the band that bore the shield which
covered his body, but Jove saved his son from destruction
that he might not fall by the ships’ sterns. Meanwhile Ajax
sprang on him and pierced his shield, but the spear did not

go clean through, though it hustled him back that he could
come on no further. He therefore retired a little space from
the battlement, yet without losing all his ground, for he still
thought to cover himself with glory. Then he turned round
and shouted to the brave Lycians saying, ‘Lycians, why do
you thus fail me? For all my prowess I cannot break through
the wall and open a way to the ships single-handed. Come
close on behind me, for the more there are of us the better.’
The Lycians, shamed by his rebuke, pressed closer round
him who was their counsellor and their king. The Argives
on their part got their men in fighting order within the wall,
and there was a deadly struggle between them. The Lycians
could not break through the wall and force their way to the
ships, nor could the Danaans drive the Lycians from the
wall now that they had once reached it. As two men, mea-
suring-rods in hand, quarrel about their boundaries in a
field that they own in common, and stickle for their rights
though they be but in a mere strip, even so did the battle-
ments now serve as a bone of contention, and they beat one
another’s round shields for their possession. Many a man’s
body was wounded with the pitiless bronze, as he turned
round and bared his back to the foe, and many were struck
clean through their shields; the wall and battlements were
everywhere deluged with the blood alike of Trojans and of
Achaeans. But even so the Trojans could not rout the Achae-
ans, who still held on; and as some honest hard-working
woman weighs wool in her balance and sees that the scales
be true, for she would gain some pitiful earnings for her
little ones, even so was the fight balanced evenly between
240 The Iliad

them till the time came when Jove gave the greater glory to
Hector son of Priam, who was first to spring towards the
wall of the Achaeans. When he had done so, he cried aloud
to the Trojans, ‘Up, Trojans, break the wall of the Argives,
and fling fire upon their ships.’
Thus did he hound them on, and in one body they rushed
straight at the wall as he had bidden them, and scaled the
battlements with sharp spears in their hands. Hector laid
hold of a stone that lay just outside the gates and was thick
at one end but pointed at the other; two of the best men in a
town, as men now are, could hardly raise it from the ground
and put it on to a waggon, but Hector lifted it quite easily
by himself, for the son of scheming Saturn made it light for
him. As a shepherd picks up a ram’s fleece with one hand
and finds it no burden, so easily did Hector lift the great
stone and drive it right at the doors that closed the gates
so strong and so firmly set. These doors were double and
high, and were kept closed by two cross-bars to which there
was but one key. When he had got close up to them, Hector
strode towards them that his blow might gain in force and
struck them in the middle, leaning his whole weight against
them. He broke both hinges, and the stone fell inside by
reason of its great weight. The portals re-echoed with the
sound, the bars held no longer, and the doors flew open, one
one way, and the other the other, through the force of the
blow. Then brave Hector leaped inside with a face as dark
as that of flying night. The gleaming bronze flashed fiercely
about his body and he had two spears in his hand. None but
a god could have withstood him as he flung himself into the

gateway, and his eyes glared like fire. Then he turned round
towards the Trojans and called on them to scale the wall,
and they did as he bade them—some of them at once climb-
ing over the wall, while others passed through the gates.
The Danaans then fled panic-stricken towards their ships,
and all was uproar and confusion.
242 The Iliad

BOOK XIII
N OW when Jove had thus brought Hector and the Tro-

jans to the ships, he left them to their never-ending toil,
and turned his keen eyes away, looking elsewhither towards
the horse-breeders of Thrace, the Mysians, fighters at close
quarters, the noble Hippemolgi, who live on milk, and the
Abians, justest of mankind. He no longer turned so much as
a glance towards Troy, for he did not think that any of the
immortals would go and help either Trojans or Danaans.
But King Neptune had kept no blind look-out; he had
been looking admiringly on the battle from his seat on the
topmost crests of wooded Samothrace, whence he could see
all Ida, with the city of Priam and the ships of the Achaeans.
He had come from under the sea and taken his place here,
for he pitied the Achaeans who were being overcome by the
Trojans; and he was furiously angry with Jove.
Presently he came down from his post on the mountain
top, and as he strode swiftly onwards the high hills and the
forest quaked beneath the tread of his immortal feet. Three
strides he took, and with the fourth he reached his goal—
Aegae, where is his glittering golden palace, imperishable,
in the depths of the sea. When he got there, he yoked his
fleet brazen-footed steeds with their manes of gold all flying
in the wind; he clothed himself in raiment of gold, grasped
his gold whip, and took his stand upon his chariot. As he

went his way over the waves the sea-monsters left their lairs,
for they knew their lord, and came gambolling round him
from every quarter of the deep, while the sea in her glad-
ness opened a path before his chariot. So lightly did the
horses fly that the bronze axle of the car was not even wet
beneath it; and thus his bounding steeds took him to the
ships of the Achaeans.
Now there is a certain huge cavern in the depths of the
sea midway between Tenedos and rocky Imbrus; here Nep-
tune lord of the earthquake stayed his horses, unyoked
them, and set before them their ambrosial forage. He hob-
bled their feet with hobbles of gold which none could either
unloose or break, so that they might stay there in that place
until their lord should return. This done he went his way to
the host of the Achaeans.
Now the Trojans followed Hector son of Priam in close
array like a storm-cloud or flame of fire, fighting with might
and main and raising the cry battle; for they deemed that
they should take the ships of the Achaeans and kill all their
chiefest heroes then and there. Meanwhile earth-encircling
Neptune lord of the earthquake cheered on the Argives, for
he had come up out of the sea and had assumed the form
and voice of Calchas.
First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, who were doing their
best already, and said, ‘Ajaxes, you two can be the saving
of the Achaeans if you will put out all your strength and
not let yourselves be daunted. I am not afraid that the Tro-
jans, who have got over the wall in force, will be victorious
in any other part, for the Achaeans can hold all of them
244 The Iliad

in check, but I much fear that some evil will befall us here
where furious Hector, who boasts himself the son of great
Jove himself, is leading them on like a pillar of flame. May
some god, then, put it into your hearts to make a firm stand
here, and to incite others to do the like. In this case you
will drive him from the ships even though he be inspired
by Jove himself.’
As he spoke the earth-encircling lord of the earthquake
struck both of them with his sceptre and filled their hearts
with daring. He made their legs light and active, as also their
hands and their feet. Then, as the soaring falcon poises on
the wing high above some sheer rock, and presently swoops
down to chase some bird over the plain, even so did Nep-
tune lord of the earthquake wing his flight into the air and
leave them. Of the two, swift Ajax son of Oileus was the first
to know who it was that had been speaking with them, and
said to Ajax son of Telamon, ‘Ajax, this is one of the gods
that dwell on Olympus, who in the likeness of the prophet
is bidding us fight hard by our ships. It was not Calchas the
seer and diviner of omens; I knew him at once by his feet
and knees as he turned away, for the gods are soon recog-
nised. Moreover I feel the lust of battle burn more fiercely
within me, while my hands and my feet under me are more
eager for the fray.’
And Ajax son of Telamon answered, ‘I too feel my hands
grasp my spear more firmly; my strength is greater, and my
feet more nimble; I long, moreover, to meet furious Hector
son of Priam, even in single combat.’
Thus did they converse, exulting in the hunger after battle

with which the god had filled them. Meanwhile the earth-
encircler roused the Achaeans, who were resting in the rear
by the ships overcome at once by hard fighting and by grief
at seeing that the Trojans had got over the wall in force.
Tears began falling from their eyes as they beheld them, for
they made sure that they should not escape destruction; but
the lord of the earthquake passed lightly about among them
and urged their battalions to the front.
First he went up to Teucer and Leitus, the hero Penele-
os, and Thoas and Deipyrus; Meriones also and Antilochus,
valiant warriors; all did he exhort. ‘Shame on you young
Argives,’ he cried, ‘it was on your prowess I relied for the
saving of our ships; if you fight not with might and main,
this very day will see us overcome by the Trojans. Of a
truth my eyes behold a great and terrible portent which I
had never thought to see—the Trojans at our ships—they,
who were heretofore like panic-stricken hinds, the prey of
jackals and wolves in a forest, with no strength but in flight
for they cannot defend themselves. Hitherto the Trojans
dared not for one moment face the attack of the Achaeans,
but now they have sallied far from their city and are fight-
ing at our very ships through the cowardice of our leader
and the disaffection of the people themselves, who in their
discontent care not to fight in defence of the ships but are
being slaughtered near them. True, King Agamemnon son
of Atreus is the cause of our disaster by having insulted the
son of Peleus, still this is no reason why we should leave off
fighting. Let us be quick to heal, for the hearts of the brave
heal quickly. You do ill to be thus remiss, you, who are the
246 The Iliad

finest soldiers in our whole army. I blame no man for keep-
ing out of battle if he is a weakling, but I am indignant with
such men as you are. My good friends, matters will soon
become even worse through this slackness; think, each one
of you, of his own honour and credit, for the hazard of the
fight is extreme. Great Hector is now fighting at our ships;
he has broken through the gates and the strong bolt that
held them.’
Thus did the earth-encircler address the Achaeans and
urge them on. Thereon round the two Ajaxes there gathered
strong bands of men, of whom not even Mars nor Minerva,
marshaller of hosts could make light if they went among
them, for they were the picked men of all those who were
now awaiting the onset of Hector and the Trojans. They
made a living fence, spear to spear, shield to shield, buckler
to buckler, helmet to helmet, and man to man. The horse-
hair crests on their gleaming helmets touched one another
as they nodded forward, so closely serried were they; the
spears they brandished in their strong hands were inter-
laced, and their hearts were set on battle.
The Trojans advanced in a dense body, with Hector at
their head pressing right on as a rock that comes thunder-
ing down the side of some mountain from whose brow the
winter torrents have torn it; the foundations of the dull
thing have been loosened by floods of rain, and as it bounds
headlong on its way it sets the whole forest in an uproar; it
swerves neither to right nor left till it reaches level ground,
but then for all its fury it can go no further—even so eas-
ily did Hector for a while seem as though he would career

through the tents and ships of the Achaeans till he had
reached the sea in his murderous course; but the closely ser-
ried battalions stayed him when he reached them, for the
sons of the Achaeans thrust at him with swords and spears
pointed at both ends, and drove him from them so that he
staggered and gave ground; thereon he shouted to the Tro-
jans, ‘Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanians, fighters in close
combat, stand firm: the Achaeans have set themselves as a
wall against me, but they will not check me for long; they
will give ground before me if the mightiest of the gods, the
thundering spouse of Juno, has indeed inspired my onset.’
Deiphobus son of Priam went about among them intent on
deeds of daring with his round shield before him, under
cover of which he strode quickly forward. Meriones took
aim at him with a spear, nor did he fail to hit the broad
orb of ox-hide; but he was far from piercing it for the spear
broke in two pieces long ere he could do so; moreover Dei-
phobus had seen it coming and had held his shield well away
from him. Meriones drew back under cover of his com-
rades, angry alike at having failed to vanquish Deiphobus,
and having broken his spear. He turned therefore towards
the ships and tents to fetch a spear which he had left behind
in his tent.
The others continued fighting, and the cry of battle rose
up into the heavens. Teucer son of Telamon was the first
to kill his man, to wit, the warrior Imbrius, son of Men-
tor, rich in horses. Until the Achaeans came he had lived in
Pedaeum, and had married Medesicaste, a bastard daugh-
248 The Iliad

ter of Priam; but on the arrival of the Danaan fleet he had
gone back to Ilius, and was a great man among the Trojans,
dwelling near Priam himself, who gave him like honour
with his own sons. The son of Telamon now struck him
under the ear with a spear which he then drew back again,
and Imbrius fell headlong as an ash-tree when it is felled
on the crest of some high mountain beacon, and its deli-
cate green foliage comes toppling down to the ground. Thus
did he fall with his bronze-dight armour ringing harshly
round him, and Teucer sprang forward with intent to strip
him of his armour; but as he was doing so, Hector took
aim at him with a spear. Teucer saw the spear coming and
swerved aside, whereon it hit Amphimachus, son of Ctea-
tus son of Actor, in the chest as he was coming into battle,
and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to
the ground. Hector sprang forward to take Amphimachus’s
helmet from off his temples, and in a moment Ajax threw
a spear at him, but did not wound him, for he was encased
all over in his terrible armour; nevertheless the spear struck
the boss of his shield with such force as to drive him back
from the two corpses, which the Achaeans then drew off.
Stichius and Menestheus, captains of the Athenians, bore
away Amphimachus to the host of the Achaeans, while the
two brave and impetuous Ajaxes did the like by Imbrius. As
two lions snatch a goat from the hounds that have it in their
fangs, and bear it through thick brushwood high above the
ground in their jaws, thus did the Ajaxes bear aloft the body
of Imbrius, and strip it of its armour. Then the son of Oi-
leus severed the head from the neck in revenge for the death

of Amphimachus, and sent it whirling over the crowd as
though it had been a ball, till it fell in the dust at Hector’s
feet.
Neptune was exceedingly angry that his grandson Am-
phimachus should have fallen; he therefore went to the tents
and ships of the Achaeans to urge the Danaans still fur-
ther, and to devise evil for the Trojans. Idomeneus met him,
as he was taking leave of a comrade, who had just come to
him from the fight, wounded in the knee. His fellow-sol-
diers bore him off the field, and Idomeneus having given
orders to the physicians went on to his tent, for he was still
thirsting for battle. Neptune spoke in the likeness and with
the voice of Thoas son of Andraemon who ruled the Aeto-
lians of all Pleuron and high Calydon, and was honoured
among his people as though he were a god. ‘Idomeneus,’
said he, ‘lawgiver to the Cretans, what has now become of
the threats with which the sons of the Achaeans used to
threaten the Trojans?’
And Idomeneus chief among the Cretans answered,
‘Thoas, no one, so far as I know, is in fault, for we can all
fight. None are held back neither by fear nor slackness, but
it seems to be the will of almighty Jove that the Achaeans
should perish ingloriously here far from Argos: you, Thoas,
have been always staunch, and you keep others in heart if
you see any fail in duty; be not then remiss now, but exhort
all to do their utmost.’
To this Neptune lord of the earthquake made answer,
‘Idomeneus, may he never return from Troy, but remain
here for dogs to batten upon, who is this day wilfully slack
250 The Iliad

in fighting. Get your armour and go, we must make all
haste together if we may be of any use, though we are only
two. Even cowards gain courage from companionship, and
we two can hold our own with the bravest.’
Therewith the god went back into the thick of the fight,
and Idomeneus when he had reached his tent donned his
armour, grasped his two spears, and sallied forth. As the
lightning which the son of Saturn brandishes from bright
Olympus when he would show a sign to mortals, and its
gleam flashes far and wide—even so did his armour gleam
about him as he ran. Meriones his sturdy squire met him
while he was still near his tent (for he was going to fetch his
spear) and Idomeneus said:
‘Meriones, fleet son of Molus, best of comrades, why have
you left the field? Are you wounded, and is the point of the
weapon hurting you? or have you been sent to fetch me?
I want no fetching; I had far rather fight than stay in my
tent.’
‘Idomeneus,’ answered Meriones, ‘I come for a spear, if
I can find one in my tent; I have broken the one I had, in
throwing it at the shield of Deiphobus.’
And Idomeneus captain of the Cretans answered, ‘You
will find one spear, or twenty if you so please, standing up
against the end wall of my tent. I have taken them from Tro-
jans whom I have killed, for I am not one to keep my enemy
at arm’s length; therefore I have spears, bossed shields, hel-
mets, and burnished corslets.’
Then Meriones said, ‘I too in my tent and at my ship have
spoils taken from the Trojans, but they are not at hand. I

have been at all times valorous, and wherever there has
been hard fighting have held my own among the foremost.
There may be those among the Achaeans who do not know
how I fight, but you know it well enough yourself.’
Idomeneus answered, ‘I know you for a brave man: you
need not tell me. If the best men at the ships were being cho-
sen to go on an ambush—and there is nothing like this for
showing what a man is made of; it comes out then who is
cowardly and who brave; the coward will change colour at
every touch and turn; he is full of fears, and keeps shifting
his weight first on one knee and then on the other; his heart
beats fast as he thinks of death, and one can hear the chat-
tering of his teeth; whereas the brave man will not change
colour nor be frightened on finding himself in ambush, but
is all the time longing to go into action—if the best men
were being chosen for such a service, no one could make
light of your courage nor feats of arms. If you were struck by
a dart or smitten in close combat, it would not be from be-
hind, in your neck nor back, but the weapon would hit you
in the chest or belly as you were pressing forward to a place
in the front ranks. But let us no longer stay here talking like
children, lest we be ill spoken of; go, fetch your spear from
the tent at once.’
On this Meriones, peer of Mars, went to the tent and got
himself a spear of bronze. He then followed after Idome-
neus, big with great deeds of valour. As when baneful Mars
sallies forth to battle, and his son Panic so strong and
dauntless goes with him, to strike terror even into the heart
of a hero—the pair have gone from Thrace to arm them-
252 The Iliad

selves among the Ephyri or the brave Phlegyans, but they
will not listen to both the contending hosts, and will give
victory to one side or to the other—even so did Meriones
and Idomeneus, captains of men, go out to battle clad in
their bronze armour. Meriones was first to speak. ‘Son of
Deucalion,’ said he, ‘where would you have us begin fight-
ing? On the right wing of the host, in the centre, or on the
left wing, where I take it the Achaeans will be weakest?’
Idomeneus answered, ‘There are others to defend the
centre—the two Ajaxes and Teucer, who is the finest archer
of all the Achaeans, and is good also in a hand-to-hand fight.
These will give Hector son of Priam enough to do; fight as he
may, he will find it hard to vanquish their indomitable fury,
and fire the ships, unless the son of Saturn fling a firebrand
upon them with his own hand. Great Ajax son of Telamon
will yield to no man who is in mortal mould and eats the
grain of Ceres, if bronze and great stones can overthrow
him. He would not yield even to Achilles in hand-to-hand
fight, and in fleetness of foot there is none to beat him; let
us turn therefore towards the left wing, that we may know
forthwith whether we are to give glory to some other, or he
to us.’
Meriones, peer of fleet Mars, then led the way till they
came to the part of the host which Idomeneus had named.
Now when the Trojans saw Idomeneus coming on like a
flame of fire, him and his squire clad in their richly wrought
armour, they shouted and made towards him all in a body,
and a furious hand-to-hand fight raged under the ships’
sterns. Fierce as the shrill winds that whistle upon a day

when dust lies deep on the roads, and the gusts raise it into
a thick cloud—even such was the fury of the combat, and
might and main did they hack at each other with spear and
sword throughout the host. The field bristled with the long
and deadly spears which they bore. Dazzling was the sheen
of their gleaming helmets, their fresh-burnished breast-
plates, and glittering shields as they joined battle with one
another. Iron indeed must be his courage who could take
pleasure in the sight of such a turmoil, and look on it with-
out being dismayed.
Thus did the two mighty sons of Saturn devise evil
for mortal heroes. Jove was minded to give victory to the
Trojans and to Hector, so as to do honour to fleet Achil-
les, nevertheless he did not mean to utterly overthrow the
Achaean host before Ilius, and only wanted to glorify Thetis
and her valiant son. Neptune on the other hand went about
among the Argives to incite them, having come up from the
grey sea in secret, for he was grieved at seeing them van-
quished by the Trojans, and was furiously angry with Jove.
Both were of the same race and country, but Jove was elder
born and knew more, therefore Neptune feared to defend
the Argives openly, but in the likeness of man, he kept on
encouraging them throughout their host. Thus, then, did
these two devise a knot of war and battle, that none could
unloose or break, and set both sides tugging at it, to the fail-
ing of men’s knees beneath them.
And now Idomeneus, though his hair was already fleck-
ed with grey, called loud on the Danaans and spread panic
among the Trojans as he leaped in among them. He slew
254 The Iliad

Othryoneus from Cabesus, a sojourner, who had but lately
come to take part in the war. He sought Cassandra, the fair-
est of Priam’s daughters, in marriage, but offered no gifts of
wooing, for he promised a great thing, to wit, that he would
drive the sons of the Achaeans willy nilly from Troy; old
King Priam had given his consent and promised her to him,
whereon he fought on the strength of the promises thus
made to him. Idomeneus aimed a spear, and hit him as he
came striding on. His cuirass of bronze did not protect him,
and the spear stuck in his belly, so that he fell heavily to the
ground. Then Idomeneus vaunted over him saying, ‘Othry-
oneus, there is no one in the world whom I shall admire
more than I do you, if you indeed perform what you have
promised Priam son of Dardanus in return for his daughter.
We too will make you an offer; we will give you the loveliest
daughter of the son of Atreus, and will bring her from Ar-
gos for you to marry, if you will sack the goodly city of Ilius
in company with ourselves; so come along with me, that we
may make a covenant at the ships about the marriage, and
we will not be hard upon you about gifts of wooing.’
With this Idomeneus began dragging him by the foot
through the thick of the fight, but Asius came up to protect
the body, on foot, in front of his horses which his esquire
drove so close behind him that he could feel their breath
upon his shoulder. He was longing to strike down Idome-
neus, but ere he could do so Idomeneus smote him with his
spear in the throat under the chin, and the bronze point
went clean through it. He fell as an oak, or poplar, or pine
which shipwrights have felled for ship’s timber upon the

mountains with whetted axes—even thus did he lie full
length in front of his chariot and horses, grinding his teeth
and clutching at the bloodstained dust. His charioteer was
struck with panic and did not dare turn his horses round
and escape: thereupon Antilochus hit him in the middle of
his body with a spear; his cuirass of bronze did not protect
him, and the spear stuck in his belly. He fell gasping from
his chariot and Antilochus, great Nestor’s son, drove his
horses from the Trojans to the Achaeans.
Deiphobus then came close up to Idomeneus to avenge
Asius, and took aim at him with a spear, but Idomeneus was
on the look-out and avoided it, for he was covered by the
round shield he always bore—a shield of oxhide and bronze
with two arm-rods on the inside. He crouched under cov-
er of this, and the spear flew over him, but the shield rang
out as the spear grazed it, and the weapon sped not in vain
from the strong hand of Deiphobus, for it struck Hypsenor
son of Hippasus, shepherd of his people, in the liver under
the midriff, and his limbs failed beneath him. Deiphobus
vaunted over him and cried with a loud voice saying, ‘Of a
truth Asius has not fallen unavenged; he will be glad even
while passing into the house of Hades, strong warden of the
gate, that I have sent some one to escort him.’
Thus did he vaunt, and the Argives were stung by his
saying. Noble Antilochus was more angry than any one,
but grief did not make him forget his friend and comrade.
He ran up to him, bestrode him, and covered him with
his shield; then two of his staunch comrades, Mecisteus
son of Echius, and Alastor, stooped down, and bore him
256 The Iliad

away groaning heavily to the ships. But Idomeneus ceased
not his fury. He kept on striving continually either to en-
shroud some Trojan in the darkness of death, or himself to
fall while warding off the evil day from the Achaeans. Then
fell Alcathous son of noble Aesyetes; he was son-in-law to
Anchises, having married his eldest daughter Hippodameia,
who was the darling of her father and mother, and excelled
all her generation in beauty, accomplishments, and under-
standing, wherefore the bravest man in all Troy had taken
her to wife—him did Neptune lay low by the hand of Idome-
neus, blinding his bright eyes and binding his strong limbs
in fetters so that he could neither go back nor to one side,
but stood stock still like pillar or lofty tree when Idome-
neus struck him with a spear in the middle of his chest. The
coat of mail that had hitherto protected his body was now
broken, and rang harshly as the spear tore through it. He
fell heavily to the ground, and the spear stuck in his heart,
which still beat, and made the butt-end of the spear quiver
till dread Mars put an end to his life. Idomeneus vaunted
over him and cried with a loud voice saying, ‘Deiphobus,
since you are in a mood to vaunt, shall we cry quits now
that we have killed three men to your one? Nay, sir, stand
in fight with me yourself, that you may learn what manner
of Jove-begotten man am I that have come hither. Jove first
begot Minos, chief ruler in Crete, and Minos in his turn be-
got a son, noble Deucalion. Deucalion begot me to be a ruler
over many men in Crete, and my ships have now brought
me hither, to be the bane of yourself, your father, and the
Trojans.’

Thus did he speak, and Deiphobus was in two minds,
whether to go back and fetch some other Trojan to help
him, or to take up the challenge single-handed. In the end,
he deemed it best to go and fetch Aeneas, whom he found
standing in the rear, for he had long been aggrieved with
Priam because in spite of his brave deeds he did not give
him his due share of honour. Deiphobus went up to him
and said, ‘Aeneas, prince among the Trojans, if you know
any ties of kinship, help me now to defend the body of your
sister’s husband; come with me to the rescue of Alcathous,
who being husband to your sister brought you up when you
were a child in his house, and now Idomeneus has slain
him.’
With these words he moved the heart of Aeneas, and he
went in pursuit of Idomeneus, big with great deeds of valour;
but Idomeneus was not to be thus daunted as though he were
a mere child; he held his ground as a wild boar at bay upon
the mountains, who abides the coming of a great crowd of
men in some lonely place—the bristles stand upright on his
back, his eyes flash fire, and he whets his tusks in his eager-
ness to defend himself against hounds and men—even so
did famed Idomeneus hold his ground and budge not at the
coming of Aeneas. He cried aloud to his comrades looking
towards Ascalaphus, Aphareus, Deipyrus, Meriones, and
Antilochus, all of them brave soldiers—‘Hither my friends,’
he cried, ‘and leave me not single-handed—I go in great fear
by fleet Aeneas, who is coming against me, and is a redoubt-
able dispenser of death battle. Moreover he is in the flower
of youth when a man’s strength is greatest; if I was of the
258 The Iliad

same age as he is and in my present mind, either he or I
should soon bear away the prize of victory.’
On this, all of them as one man stood near him, shield
on shoulder. Aeneas on the other side called to his com-
rades, looking towards Deiphobus, Paris, and Agenor, who
were leaders of the Trojans along with himself, and the peo-
ple followed them as sheep follow the ram when they go
down to drink after they have been feeding, and the heart of
the shepherd is glad—even so was the heart of Aeneas glad-
dened when he saw his people follow him.
Then they fought furiously in close combat about the body
of Alcathous, wielding their long spears; and the bronze ar-
mour about their bodies rang fearfully as they took aim at
one another in the press of the fight, while the two heroes
Aeneas and Idomeneus, peers of Mars, outvied everyone in
their desire to hack at each other with sword and spear. Ae-
neas took aim first, but Idomeneus was on the lookout and
avoided the spear, so that it sped from Aeneas’ strong hand
in vain, and fell quivering in the ground. Idomeneus mean-
while smote Oenomaus in the middle of his belly, and broke
the plate of his corslet, whereon his bowels came gushing
out and he clutched the earth in the palms of his hands as
he fell sprawling in the dust. Idomeneus drew his spear out
of the body, but could not strip him of the rest of his armour
for the rain of darts that were showered upon him: more-
over his strength was now beginning to fail him so that he
could no longer charge, and could neither spring forward
to recover his own weapon nor swerve aside to avoid one
that was aimed at him; therefore, though he still defend-

ed himself in hand-to-hand fight, his heavy feet could not
bear him swiftly out of the battle. Deiphobus aimed a spear
at him as he was retreating slowly from the field, for his
bitterness against him was as fierce as ever, but again he
missed him, and hit Ascalaphus, the son of Mars; the spear
went through his shoulder, and he clutched the earth in the
palms of his hands as he fell sprawling in the dust.
Grim Mars of awful voice did not yet know that his son
had fallen, for he was sitting on the summits of Olympus
under the golden clouds, by command of Jove, where the
other gods were also sitting, forbidden to take part in the
battle. Meanwhile men fought furiously about the body.
Deiphobus tore the helmet from off his head, but Meriones
sprang upon him, and struck him on the arm with a spear
so that the visored helmet fell from his hand and came ring-
ing down upon the ground. Thereon Meriones sprang upon
him like a vulture, drew the spear from his shoulder, and
fell back under cover of his men. Then Polites, own brother
of Deiphobus passed his arms around his waist, and bore
him away from the battle till he got to his horses that were
standing in the rear of the fight with the chariot and their
driver. These took him towards the city groaning and in
great pain, with the blood flowing from his arm.
The others still fought on, and the battle-cry rose to
heaven without ceasing. Aeneas sprang on Aphareus son of
Caletor, and struck him with a spear in his throat which
was turned towards him; his head fell on one side, his hel-
met and shield came down along with him, and death, life’s
foe, was shed around him. Antilochus spied his chance, flew
260 The Iliad

forward towards Thoon, and wounded him as he was turn-
ing round. He laid open the vein that runs all the way up
the back to the neck; he cut this vein clean away throughout
its whole course, and Thoon fell in the dust face upwards,
stretching out his hands imploringly towards his comrades.
Antilochus sprang upon him and stripped the armour from
his shoulders, glaring round him fearfully as he did so. The
Trojans came about him on every side and struck his broad
and gleaming shield, but could not wound his body, for
Neptune stood guard over the son of Nestor, though the
darts fell thickly round him. He was never clear of the foe,
but was always in the thick of the fight; his spear was never
idle; he poised and aimed it in every direction, so eager was
he to hit someone from a distance or to fight him hand to
hand.
As he was thus aiming among the crowd, he was seen by
Adamas, son of Asius, who rushed towards him and struck
him with a spear in the middle of his shield, but Neptune
made its point without effect, for he grudged him the life of
Antilochus. One half, therefore, of the spear stuck fast like a
charred stake in Antilochus’s shield, while the other lay on
the ground. Adamas then sought shelter under cover of his
men, but Meriones followed after and hit him with a spear
midway between the private parts and the navel, where a
wound is particualrly painful to wretched mortals. There
did Meriones transfix him, and he writhed convulsively
about the spear as some bull whom mountain herdsmen
have bound with ropes of withes and are taking away per-
force. Even so did he move convulsively for a while, but not

for very long, till Meriones came up and drew the spear out
of his body, and his eyes were veiled in darkness.
Helenus then struck Deipyrus with a great Thracian
sword, hitting him on the temple in close combat and tear-
ing the helmet from his head; the helmet fell to the ground,
and one of those who were fighting on the Achaean side
took charge of it as it rolled at his feet, but the eyes of Dei-
pyrus were closed in the darkness of death.
On this Menelaus was grieved, and made menacingly to-
wards Helenus, brandishing his spear; but Helenus drew his
bow, and the two attacked one another at one and the same
moment, the one with his spear, and the other with his bow
and arrow. The son of Priam hit the breastplate of Mene-
laus’s corslet, but the arrow glanced from off it. As black
beans or pulse come pattering down on to a threshing-floor
from the broad winnowing-shovel, blown by shrill winds
and shaken by the shovel—even so did the arrow glance
off and recoil from the shield of Menelaus, who in his turn
wounded the hand with which Helenus carried his bow; the
spear went right through his hand and stuck in the bow it-
self, so that to his life he retreated under cover of his men,
with his hand dragging by his side—for the spear weighed it
down till Agenor drew it out and bound the hand carefully
up in a woollen sling which his esquire had with him.
Pisander then made straight at Menelaus—his evil des-
tiny luring him on to his doom, for he was to fall in fight
with you, O Menelaus. When the two were hard by one an-
other the spear of the son of Atreus turned aside and he
missed his aim; Pisander then struck the shield of brave
262 The Iliad

Menelaus but could not pierce it, for the shield stayed the
spear and broke the shaft; nevertheless he was glad and
made sure of victory; forthwith, however, the son of Atreus
drew his sword and sprang upon him. Pisander then seized
the bronze battle-axe, with its long and polished handle
of olive wood that hung by his side under his shield, and
the two made at one another. Pisander struck the peak of
Menelaus’s crested helmet just under the crest itself, and
Menelaus hit Pisander as he was coming towards him, on
the forehead, just at the rise of his nose; the bones cracked
and his two gore-bedrabbled eyes fell by his feet in the dust.
He fell backwards to the ground, and Menelaus set his heel
upon him, stripped him of his armour, and vaunted over
him saying, ‘Even thus shall you Trojans leave the ships of
the Achaeans, proud and insatiate of battle though you be,
nor shall you lack any of the disgrace and shame which you
have heaped upon myself. Cowardly she-wolves that you
are, you feared not the anger of dread Jove, avenger of vio-
lated hospitality, who will one day destroy your city; you
stole my wedded wife and wickedly carried off much trea-
sure when you were her guest, and now you would fling fire
upon our ships, and kill our heroes. A day will come when,
rage as you may, you shall be stayed. O father Jove, you, who
they say art above all, both gods and men, in wisdom, and
from whom all things that befall us do proceed, how can
you thus favour the Trojans—men so proud and overween-
ing, that they are never tired of fighting? All things pall after
a while—sleep, love, sweet song, and stately dance— still
these are things of which a man would surely have his fill

rather than of battle, whereas it is of battle that the Trojans
are insatiate.’
So saying Menelaus stripped the blood-stained armour
from the body of Pisander, and handed it over to his men;
then he again ranged himself among those who were in the
front of the fight.
Harpalion son of King Pylaemenes then sprang upon
him; he had come to fight at Troy along with his father, but
he did not go home again. He struck the middle of Menel-
aus’s shield with his spear but could not pierce it, and to save
his life drew back under cover of his men, looking round
him on every side lest he should be wounded. But Meriones
aimed a bronze-tipped arrow at him as he was leaving the
field, and hit him on the right buttock; the arrow pierced
the bone through and through, and penetrated the blad-
der, so he sat down where he was and breathed his last in
the arms of his comrades, stretched like a worm upon the
ground and watering the earth with the blood that flowed
from his wound. The brave Paphlagonians tended him with
all due care; they raised him into his chariot, and bore him
sadly off to the city of Troy; his father went also with him
weeping bitterly, but there was no ransom that could bring
his dead son to life again.
Paris was deeply grieved by the death of Harpalion, who
was his host when he went among the Paphlagonians; he
aimed an arrow, therefore, in order to avenge him. Now
there was a certain man named Euchenor, son of Polyidus
the prophet, a brave man and wealthy, whose home was in
Corinth. This Euchenor had set sail for Troy well knowing
264 The Iliad

that it would be the death of him, for his good old father
Polyidus had often told him that he must either stay at home
and die of a terrible disease, or go with the Achaeans and
perish at the hands of the Trojans; he chose, therefore, to
avoid incurring the heavy fine the Achaeans would have
laid upon him, and at the same time to escape the pain and
suffering of disease. Paris now smote him on the jaw under
his ear, whereon the life went out of him and he was en-
shrouded in the darkness of death.
Thus then did they fight as it were a flaming fire. But
Hector had not yet heard, and did not know that the Ar-
gives were making havoc of his men on the left wing of the
battle, where the Achaeans ere long would have triumphed
over them, so vigorously did Neptune cheer them on and
help them. He therefore held on at the point where he had
first forced his way through the gates and the wall, after
breaking through the serried ranks of Danaan warriors. It
was here that the ships of Ajax and Protesilaus were drawn
up by the sea-shore; here the wall was at its lowest, and the
fight both of man and horse raged most fiercely. The Boeo-
tians and the Ionians with their long tunics, the Locrians,
the men of Phthia, and the famous force of the Epeans
could hardly stay Hector as he rushed on towards the ships,
nor could they drive him from them, for he was as a wall of
fire. The chosen men of the Athenians were in the van, led
by Menestheus son of Peteos, with whom were also Pheidas,
Stichius, and stalwart Bias; Meges son of Phyleus, Amphi-
on, and Dracius commanded the Epeans, while Medon and
staunch Podarces led the men of Phthia. Of these, Medon

was bastard son to Oileus and brother of Ajax, but he lived
in Phylace away from his own country, for he had killed the
brother of his stepmother Eriopis, the wife of Oileus; the
other, Podarces, was the son of Iphiclus, son of Phylacus.
These two stood in the van of the Phthians, and defended
the ships along with the Boeotians.
Ajax son of Oileus, never for a moment left the side of Ajax,
son of Telamon, but as two swart oxen both strain their ut-
most at the plough which they are drawing in a fallow field,
and the sweat steams upwards from about the roots of their
horns—nothing but the yoke divides them as they break up
the ground till they reach the end of the field—even so did
the two Ajaxes stand shoulder to shoulder by one another.
Many and brave comrades followed the son of Telamon, to
relieve him of his shield when he was overcome with sweat
and toil, but the Locrians did not follow so close after the
son of Oileus, for they could not hold their own in a hand-
to-hand fight. They had no bronze helmets with plumes of
horse-hair, neither had they shields nor ashen spears, but
they had come to Troy armed with bows, and with slings
of twisted wool from which they showered their missiles to
break the ranks of the Trojans. The others, therefore, with
their heavy armour bore the brunt of the fight with the Tro-
jans and with Hector, while the Locrians shot from behind,
under their cover; and thus the Trojans began to lose heart,
for the arrows threw them into confusion.
The Trojans would now have been driven in sorry
plight from the ships and tents back to windy Ilius, had
not Polydamas presently said to Hector, ‘Hector, there is
266 The Iliad

no persuading you to take advice. Because heaven has so
richly endowed you with the arts of war, you think that you
must therefore excel others in counsel; but you cannot thus
claim preeminence in all things. Heaven has made one man
an excellent soldier; of another it has made a dancer or a
singer and player on the lyre; while yet in another Jove has
implanted a wise understanding of which men reap fruit
to the saving of many, and he himself knows more about
it than any one; therefore I will say what I think will be
best. The fight has hemmed you in as with a circle of fire,
and even now that the Trojans are within the wall some
of them stand aloof in full armour, while others are fight-
ing scattered and outnumbered near the ships. Draw back,
therefore, and call your chieftains round you, that we may
advise together whether to fall now upon the ships in the
hope that heaven may vouchsafe us victory, or to beat a re-
treat while we can yet safely do so. I greatly fear that the
Achaeans will pay us their debt of yesterday in full, for there
is one abiding at their ships who is never weary of battle,
and who will not hold aloof much longer.’
Thus spoke Polydamas, and his words pleased Hector
well. He sprang in full armour from his chariot and said,
‘Polydamas, gather the chieftains here; I will go yonder into
the fight, but will return at once when I have given them
their orders.’
He then sped onward, towering like a snowy mountain,
and with a loud cry flew through the ranks of the Trojans and
their allies. When they heard his voice they all hastened to
gather round Polydamas, the excellent son of Panthous, but

Hector kept on among the foremost, looking everywhere to
find Deiphobus and prince Helenus, Adamas son of Asius,
and Asius son of Hyrtacus; living, indeed, and scatheless
he could no longer find them, for the two last were lying by
the sterns of the Achaean ships, slain by the Argives, while
the others had been also stricken and wounded by them;
but upon the left wing of the dread battle he found Alexan-
drus, husband of lovely Helen, cheering his men and urging
them on to fight. He went up to him and upbraided him.
‘Paris,’ said he, ‘evil-hearted Paris, fair to see but woman-
mad and false of tongue, where are Deiphobus and King
Helenus? Where are Adamas son of Asius, and Asius son
of Hyrtacus? Where too is Othryoneus? Ilius is undone and
will now surely fall!’
Alexandrus answered, ‘Hector, why find fault when there
is no one to find fault with? I should hold aloof from battle
on any day rather than this, for my mother bore me with
nothing of the coward about me. From the moment when
you set our men fighting about the ships we have been stay-
ing here and doing battle with the Danaans. Our comrades
about whom you ask me are dead; Deiphobus and King
Helenus alone have left the field, wounded both of them
in the hand, but the son of Saturn saved them alive. Now,
therefore, lead on where you would have us go, and we will
follow with right goodwill; you shall not find us fail you in
so far as our strength holds out, but no man can do more
than in him lies, no matter how willing he may be.’
With these words he satisfied his brother, and the two
went towards the part of the battle where the fight was
268 The Iliad

thickest, about Cebriones, brave Polydamas, Phalces, Or-
thaeus, godlike Polyphetes, Palmys, Ascanius, and Morys
son of Hippotion, who had come from fertile Ascania on
the preceding day to relieve other troops. Then Jove urged
them on to fight. They flew forth like the blasts of some
fierce wind that strike earth in the van of a thunderstorm—
they buffet the salt sea into an uproar; many and mighty
are the great waves that come crashing in one after the oth-
er upon the shore with their arching heads all crested with
foam—even so did rank behind rank of Trojans arrayed in
gleaming armour follow their leaders onward. The way was
led by Hector son of Priam, peer of murderous Mars, with
his round shield before him—his shield of ox-hides cov-
ered with plates of bronze—and his gleaming helmet upon
his temples. He kept stepping forward under cover of his
shield in every direction, making trial of the ranks to see
if they would give way before him, but he could not daunt
the courage of the Achaeans. Ajax was the first to stride out
and challenge him. ‘Sir,’ he cried, ‘draw near; why do you
think thus vainly to dismay the Argives? We Achaeans are
excellent soldiers, but the scourge of Jove has fallen heav-
ily upon us. Your heart, forsooth, is set on destroying our
ships, but we too have hands that can keep you at bay, and
your own fair town shall be sooner taken and sacked by
ourselves. The time is near when you shall pray Jove and all
the gods in your flight, that your steeds may be swifter than
hawks as they raise the dust on the plain and bear you back
to your city.’
As he was thus speaking a bird flew by upon his right

hand, and the host of the Achaeans shouted, for they took
heart at the omen. But Hector answered, ‘Ajax, braggart
and false of tongue, would that I were as sure of being son
for evermore to aegis-bearing Jove, with Queen Juno for my
mother, and of being held in like honour with Minerva and
Apollo, as I am that this day is big with the destruction of
the Achaeans; and you shall fall among them if you dare
abide my spear; it shall rend your fair body and bid you glut
our hounds and birds of prey with your fat and your flesh,
as you fall by the ships of the Achaeans.’
With these words he led the way and the others followed
after with a cry that rent the air, while the host shouted be-
hind them. The Argives on their part raised a shout likewise,
nor did they forget their prowess, but stood firm against the
onslaught of the Trojan chieftains, and the cry from both
the hosts rose up to heaven and to the brightness of Jove’s
presence.
270 The Iliad

BOOK XIV
N ESTOR was sitting over his wine, but the cry of battle
did not escape him, and he said to the son of Aescu-
lapius, ‘What, noble Machaon, is the meaning of all this?
The shouts of men fighting by our ships grow stronger and
stronger; stay here, therefore, and sit over your wine, while
fair Hecamede heats you a bath and washes the clotted
blood from off you. I will go at once to the look-out station
and see what it is all about.’
As he spoke he took up the shield of his son Thrasymedes
that was lying in his tent, all gleaming with bronze, for
Thrasymedes had taken his father’s shield; he grasped his
redoubtable bronze-shod spear, and as soon as he was out-
side saw the disastrous rout of the Achaeans who, now that
their wall was overthrown, were flying pell-mell before the
Trojans. As when there is a heavy swell upon the sea, but the
waves are dumb—they keep their eyes on the watch for the
quarter whence the fierce winds may spring upon them, but
they stay where they are and set neither this way nor that,
till some particular wind sweeps down from heaven to de-
termine them—even so did the old man ponder whether to
make for the crowd of Danaans, or go in search of Agamem-
non. In the end he deemed it best to go to the son of Atreus;
but meanwhile the hosts were fighting and killing one an-
other, and the hard bronze rattled on their bodies, as they

thrust at one another with their swords and spears.
The wounded kings, the son of Tydeus, Ulysses, and
Agamemnon son of Atreus, fell in Nestor as they were com-
ing up from their ships—for theirs were drawn up some way
from where the fighting was going on, being on the shore
itself inasmuch as they had been beached first, while the
wall had been built behind the hindermost. The stretch of
the shore, wide though it was, did not afford room for all
the ships, and the host was cramped for space, therefore
they had placed the ships in rows one behind the other, and
had filled the whole opening of the bay between the two
points that formed it. The kings, leaning on their spears,
were coming out to survey the fight, being in great anxiety,
and when old Nestor met them they were filled with dismay.
Then King Agamemnon said to him, ‘Nestor son of Neleus,
honour to the Achaean name, why have you left the bat-
tle to come hither? I fear that what dread Hector said will
come true, when he vaunted among the Trojans saying that
he would not return to Ilius till he had fired our ships and
killed us; this is what he said, and now it is all coming true.
Alas! others of the Achaeans, like Achilles, are in anger with
me that they refuse to fight by the sterns of our ships.’
Then Nestor knight of Gerene, answered, ‘It is indeed as
you say; it is all coming true at this moment, and even Jove
who thunders from on high cannot prevent it. Fallen is the
wall on which we relied as an impregnable bulwark both
for us and our fleet. The Trojans are fighting stubbornly
and without ceasing at the ships; look where you may you
cannot see from what quarter the rout of the Achaeans is
272 The Iliad

coming; they are being killed in a confused mass and the
battle-cry ascends to heaven; let us think, if counsel can be
of any use, what we had better do; but I do not advise our
going into battle ourselves, for a man cannot fight when he
is wounded.’
And King Agamemnon answered, ‘Nestor, if the Trojans
are indeed fighting at the rear of our ships, and neither the
wall nor the trench has served us—over which the Danaans
toiled so hard, and which they deemed would be an impreg-
nable bulwark both for us and our fleet—I see it must be
the will of Jove that the Achaeans should perish inglorious-
ly here, far from Argos. I knew when Jove was willing to
defend us, and I know now that he is raising the Trojans to
like honour with the gods, while us, on the other hand, he
bas bound hand and foot. Now, therefore, let us all do as I
say; let us bring down the ships that are on the beach and
draw them into the water; let us make them fast to their
mooring-stones a little way out, against the fall of night—if
even by night the Trojans will desist from fighting; we may
then draw down the rest of the fleet. There is nothing wrong
in flying ruin even by night. It is better for a man that he
should fly and be saved than be caught and killed.’
Ulysses looked fiercely at him and said, ‘Son of Atreus,
what are you talking about? Wretch, you should have com-
manded some other and baser army, and not been ruler over
us to whom Jove has allotted a life of hard fighting from
youth to old age, till we every one of us perish. Is it thus
that you would quit the city of Troy, to win which we have
suffered so much hardship? Hold your peace, lest some oth-

er of the Achaeans hear you say what no man who knows
how to give good counsel, no king over so great a host as
that of the Argives should ever have let fall from his lips. I
despise your judgement utterly for what you have been say-
ing. Would you, then, have us draw down our ships into the
water while the battle is raging, and thus play further into
the hands of the conquering Trojans? It would be ruin; the
Achaeans will not go on fighting when they see the ships be-
ing drawn into the water, but will cease attacking and keep
turning their eyes towards them; your counsel, therefore,
sir captain, would be our destruction.’
Agamemnon answered, ‘Ulysses, your rebuke has stung
me to the heart. I am not, however, ordering the Achae-
ans to draw their ships into the sea whether they will or no.
Someone, it may be, old or young, can offer us better coun-
sel which I shall rejoice to hear.’
Then said Diomed, ‘Such an one is at hand; he is not far
to seek, if you will listen to me and not resent my speaking
though I am younger than any of you. I am by lineage son
to a noble sire, Tydeus, who lies buried at Thebes. For Porth-
eus had three noble sons, two of whom, Agrius and Melas,
abode in Pleuron and rocky Calydon. The third was the
knight Oeneus, my father’s father, and he was the most val-
iant of them all. Oeneus remained in his own country, but
my father (as Jove and the other gods ordained it) migrated
to Argos. He married into the family of Adrastus, and his
house was one of great abundance, for he had large estates
of rich corn-growing land, with much orchard ground as
well, and he had many sheep; moreover he excelled all the
274 The Iliad

Argives in the use of the spear. You must yourselves have
heard whether these things are true or no; therefore when
I say well despise not my words as though I were a coward
or of ignoble birth. I say, then, let us go to the fight as we
needs must, wounded though we be. When there, we may
keep out of the battle and beyond the range of the spears
lest we get fresh wounds in addition to what we have al-
ready, but we can spur on others, who have been indulging
their spleen and holding aloof from battle hitherto.’
Thus did he speak; whereon they did even as he had said
and set out, King Agamemnon leading the way.
Meanwhile Neptune had kept no blind look-out, and
came up to them in the semblance of an old man. He took
Agamemnon’s right hand in his own and said, ‘Son of Atre-
us, I take it Achilles is glad now that he sees the Achaeans
routed and slain, for he is utterly without remorse—may he
come to a bad end and heaven confound him. As for your-
self, the blessed gods are not yet so bitterly angry with you
but that the princes and counsellors of the Trojans shall
again raise the dust upon the plain, and you shall see them
flying from the ships and tents towards their city.’
With this he raised a mighty cry of battle, and sped for-
ward to the plain. The voice that came from his deep chest
was as that of nine or ten thousand men when they are
shouting in the thick of a fight, and it put fresh courage into
the hearts of the Achaeans to wage war and do battle with-
out ceasing.
Juno of the golden throne looked down as she stood
upon a peak of Olympus and her heart was gladdened at the

sight of him who was at once her brother and her brother-
in-law, hurrying hither and thither amid the fighting. Then
she turned her eyes to Jove as he sat on the topmost crests
of many-fountained Ida, and loathed him. She set herself
to think how she might hoodwink him, and in the end she
deemed that it would be best for her to go to Ida and array
herself in rich attire, in the hope that Jove might become
enamoured of her, and wish to embrace her. While he was
thus engaged a sweet and careless sleep might be made to
steal over his eyes and senses.
She went, therefore, to the room which her son Vulcan
had made her, and the doors of which he had cunningly fas-
tened by means of a secret key so that no other god could
open them. Here she entered and closed the doors behind
her. She cleansed all the dirt from her fair body with am-
brosia, then she anointed herself with olive oil, ambrosial,
very soft, and scented specially for herself—if it were so
much as shaken in the bronze-floored house of Jove, the
scent pervaded the universe of heaven and earth. With this
she anointed her delicate skin, and then she plaited the fair
ambrosial locks that flowed in a stream of golden tresses
from her immortal head. She put on the wondrous robe
which Minerva had worked for her with consummate art,
and had embroidered with manifold devices; she fastened it
about her bosom with golden clasps, and she girded herself
with a girdle that had a hundred tassels: then she fastened
her earrings, three brilliant pendants that glistened most
beautifully, through the pierced lobes of her ears, and threw
a lovely new veil over her head. She bound her sandals on
276 The Iliad

to her feet, and when she had arrayed herself perfectly to
her satisfaction, she left her room and called Venus to come
aside and speak to her. ‘My dear child,’ said she, ‘will you
do what I am going to ask of you, or will refuse me because
you are angry at my being on the Danaan side, while you
are on the Trojan?’
Jove’s daughter Venus answered, ‘Juno, august queen of
goddesses, daughter of mighty Saturn, say what you want,
and I will do it for you at once, if I can, and if it can be done
at all.’
Then Juno told her a lying tale and said, ‘I want you to
endow me with some of those fascinating charms, the spells
of which bring all things mortal and immortal to your feet.
I am going to the world’s end to visit Oceanus (from whom
all we gods proceed) and mother Tethys: they received me
in their house, took care of me, and brought me up, hav-
ing taken me over from Rhaea when Jove imprisoned great
Saturn in the depths that are under earth and sea. I must
go and see them that I may make peace between them; they
have been quarrelling, and are so angry that they have not
slept with one another this long while; if I can bring them
round and restore them to one another’s embraces, they
will be grateful to me and love me for ever afterwards.’
Thereon laughter-loving Venus said, ‘I cannot and must
not refuse you, for you sleep in the arms of Jove who is our
king.’
As she spoke she loosed from her bosom the curious-
ly embroidered girdle into which all her charms had been
wrought—love, desire, and that sweet flattery which steals

the judgement even of the most prudent. She gave the girdle
to Juno and said, ‘Take this girdle wherein all my charms
reside and lay it in your bosom. If you will wear it I promise
you that your errand, be it what it may, will not be boot-
less.’
When she heard this Juno smiled, and still smiling she
laid the girdle in her bosom.
Venus now went back into the house of Jove, while Juno
darted down from the summits of Olympus. She passed over
Pieria and fair Emathia, and went on and on till she came
to the snowy ranges of the Thracian horsemen, over whose
topmost crests she sped without ever setting foot to ground.
When she came to Athos she went on over the, waves of the
sea till she reached Lemnos, the city of noble Thoas. There
she met Sleep, own brother to Death, and caught him by the
hand, saying, ‘Sleep, you who lord it alike over mortals and
immortals, if you ever did me a service in times past, do one
for me now, and I shall be grateful to you ever after. Close
Jove’s keen eyes for me in slumber while I hold him clasped
in my embrace, and I will give you a beautiful golden seat,
that can never fall to pieces; my clubfooted son Vulcan shall
make it for you, and he shall give it a footstool for you to rest
your fair feet upon when you are at table.’
Then Sleep answered, ‘Juno, great queen of goddesses,
daughter of mighty Saturn, I would lull any other of the
gods to sleep without compunction, not even excepting the
waters of Oceanus from whom all of them proceed, but I
dare not go near Jove, nor send him to sleep unless he bids
me. I have had one lesson already through doing what you
278 The Iliad

asked me, on the day when Jove’s mighty son Hercules set
sail from Ilius after having sacked the city of the Trojans.
At your bidding I suffused my sweet self over the mind of
aegis-bearing Jove, and laid him to rest; meanwhile you
hatched a plot against Hercules, and set the blasts of the
angry winds beating upon the sea, till you took him to the
goodly city of Cos, away from all his friends. Jove was furi-
ous when he awoke, and began hurling the gods about all
over the house; he was looking more particularly for myself,
and would have flung me down through space into the sea
where I should never have been heard of any more, had not
Night who cows both men and gods protected me. I fled
to her and Jove left off looking for me in spite of his be-
ing so angry, for he did not dare do anything to displease
Night. And now you are again asking me to do something
on which I cannot venture.’
And Juno said, ‘Sleep, why do you take such notions as
those into your head? Do you think Jove will be as anxious
to help the Trojans, as he was about his own son? Come, I
will marry you to one of the youngest of the Graces, and
she shall be your own— Pasithea, whom you have always
wanted to marry.’
Sleep was pleased when he heard this, and answered,
‘Then swear it to me by the dread waters of the river Styx;
lay one hand on the bounteous earth, and the other on the
sheen of the sea, so that all the gods who dwell down below
with Saturn may be our witnesses, and see that you real-
ly do give me one of the youngest of the Graces—Pasithea,
whom I have always wanted to marry.’

Juno did as he had said. She swore, and invoked all the
gods of the nether world, who are called Titans, to witness.
When she had completed her oath, the two enshrouded
themselves in a thick mist and sped lightly forward, leav-
ing Lemnos and Imbrus behind them. Presently they
reached many-fountained Ida, mother of wild beasts, and
Lectum where they left the sea to go on by land, and the
tops of the trees of the forest soughed under the going of
their feet. Here Sleep halted, and ere Jove caught sight of
him he climbed a lofty pine-tree—the tallest that reared its
head towards heaven on all Ida. He hid himself behind the
branches and sat there in the semblance of the sweet-sing-
ing bird that haunts the mountains and is called Chalcis
by the gods, but men call it Cymindis. Juno then went to
Gargarus, the topmost peak of Ida, and Jove, driver of the
clouds, set eyes upon her. As soon as he did so he became
inflamed with the same passionate desire for her that he had
felt when they had first enjoyed each other’s embraces, and
slept with one another without their dear parents knowing
anything about it. He went up to her and said, ‘What do you
want that you have come hither from Olympus—and that
too with neither chariot nor horses to convey you?’
Then Juno told him a lying tale and said, ‘I am going to
the world’s end, to visit Oceanus, from whom all we gods
proceed, and mother Tethys; they received me into their
house, took care of me, and brought me up. I must go and
see them that I may make peace between them: they have
been quarrelling, and are so angry that they have not slept
with one another this long time. The horses that will take
280 The Iliad

me over land and sea are stationed on the lowermost spurs
of many-fountained Ida, and I have come here from Olym-
pus on purpose to consult you. I was afraid you might be
angry with me later on, if I went to the house of Oceanus
without letting you know.’
And Jove said, ‘Juno, you can choose some other time
for paying your visit to Oceanus—for the present let us de-
vote ourselves to love and to the enjoyment of one another.
Never yet have I been so overpowered by passion neither
for goddess nor mortal woman as I am at this moment for
yourself—not even when I was in love with the wife of Ixion
who bore me Pirithous, peer of gods in counsel, nor yet with
Danae the daintily-ancled daughter of Acrisius, who bore
me the famed hero Perseus. Then there was the daughter
of Phoenix, who bore me Minos and Rhadamanthus: there
was Semele, and Alcmena in Thebes by whom I begot my
lion-hearted son Hercules, while Semele became mother to
Bacchus the comforter of mankind. There was queen Ceres
again, and lovely Leto, and yourself—but with none of these
was I ever so much enamoured as I now am with you.’
Juno again answered him with a lying tale. ‘Most dread
son of Saturn,’ she exclaimed, ‘what are you talking about?
Would you have us enjoy one another here on the top of
Mount Ida, where everything can be seen? What if one of
the ever-living gods should see us sleeping together, and tell
the others? It would be such a scandal that when I had risen
from your embraces I could never show myself inside your
house again; but if you are so minded, there is a room which
your son Vulcan has made me, and he has given it good

strong doors; if you would so have it, let us go thither and
lie down.’
And Jove answered, ‘Juno, you need not be afraid that
either god or man will see you, for I will enshroud both of
us in such a dense golden cloud, that the very sun for all his
bright piercing beams shall not see through it.’
With this the son of Saturn caught his wife in his em-
brace; whereon the earth sprouted them a cushion of young
grass, with dew-bespangled lotus, crocus, and hyacinth, so
soft and thick that it raised them well above the ground.
Here they laid themselves down and overhead they were
covered by a fair cloud of gold, from which there fell glit-
tering dew-drops.
Thus, then, did the sire of all things repose peacefully on
the crest of Ida, overcome at once by sleep and love, and he
held his spouse in his arms. Meanwhile Sleep made off to
the ships of the Achaeans, to tell earth-encircling Neptune,
lord of the earthquake. When he had found him he said,
‘Now, Neptune, you can help the Danaans with a will, and
give them victory though it be only for a short time while
Jove is still sleeping. I have sent him into a sweet slumber,
and Juno has beguiled him into going to bed with her.’
Sleep now departed and went his ways to and fro among
mankind, leaving Neptune more eager than ever to help
the Danaans. He darted forward among the first ranks and
shouted saying, ‘Argives, shall we let Hector son of Priam
have the triumph of taking our ships and covering himself
with glory? This is what he says that he shall now do, see-
ing that Achilles is still in dudgeon at his ship; we shall get
282 The Iliad

on very well without him if we keep each other in heart and
stand by one another. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say.
Let us each take the best and largest shield we can lay hold of,
put on our helmets, and sally forth with our longest spears
in our hands; I will lead you on, and Hector son of Priam,
rage as he may, will not dare to hold out against us. If any
good staunch soldier has only a small shield, let him hand it
over to a worse man, and take a larger one for himself.’
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The
son of Tydeus, Ulysses, and Agamemnon, wounded though
they were, set the others in array, and went about every-
where effecting the exchanges of armour; the most valiant
took the best armour, and gave the worse to the worse man.
When they had donned their bronze armour they marched
on with Neptune at their head. In his strong hand he grasped
his terrible sword, keen of edge and flashing like lightning;
woe to him who comes across it in the day of battle; all men
quake for fear and keep away from it.
Hector on the other side set the Trojans in array. Thereon
Neptune and Hector waged fierce war on one another—Hec-
tor on the Trojan and Neptune on the Argive side. Mighty
was the uproar as the two forces met; the sea came rolling
in towards the ships and tents of the Achaeans, but waves
do not thunder on the shore more loudly when driven be-
fore the blast of Boreas, nor do the flames of a forest fire
roar more fiercely when it is well alight upon the moun-
tains, nor does the wind bellow with ruder music as it tears
on through the tops of when it is blowing its hardest, than
the terrible shout which the Trojans and Achaeans raised as

they sprang upon one another.
Hector first aimed his spear at Ajax, who was turned
full towards him, nor did he miss his aim. The spear struck
him where two bands passed over his chest—the band of his
shield and that of his silver-studded sword—and these pro-
tected his body. Hector was angry that his spear should have
been hurled in vain, and withdrew under cover of his men.
As he was thus retreating, Ajax son of Telamon, struck him
with a stone, of which there were many lying about under
the men’s feet as they fought—brought there to give support
to the ships’ sides as they lay on the shore. Ajax caught up
one of them and struck Hector above the rim of his shield
close to his neck; the blow made him spin round like a top
and reel in all directions. As an oak falls headlong when
uprooted by the lightning flash of father Jove, and there is
a terrible smell of brimstone—no man can help being dis-
mayed if he is standing near it, for a thunderbolt is a very
awful thing— even so did Hector fall to earth and bite the
dust. His spear fell from his hand, but his shield and helmet
were made fast about his body, and his bronze armour rang
about him.
The sons of the Achaeans came running with a loud cry
towards him, hoping to drag him away, and they showered
their darts on the Trojans, but none of them could wound
him before he was surrounded and covered by the princes
Polydamas, Aeneas, Agenor, Sarpedon captain of the Ly-
cians, and noble Glaucus. Of the others, too, there was not
one who was unmindful of him, and they held their round
shields over him to cover him. His comrades then lifted him
284 The Iliad

off the ground and bore him away from the battle to the
place where his horses stood waiting for him at the rear of
the fight with their driver and the chariot; these then took
him towards the city groaning and in great pain. When they
reached the ford of the fair stream of Xanthus, begotten of
Immortal Jove, they took him from off his chariot and laid
him down on the ground; they poured water over him, and
as they did so he breathed again and opened his eyes. Then
kneeling on his knees he vomited blood, but soon fell back
on to the ground, and his eyes were again closed in dark-
ness for he was still stunned by the blow.
When the Argives saw Hector leaving the field, they took
heart and set upon the Trojans yet more furiously. Ajax fleet
son of Oileus began by springing on Satnius son of Enops,
and wounding him with his spear: a fair naiad nymph had
borne him to Enops as he was herding cattle by the banks
of the river Satnioeis. The son of Oileus came up to him
and struck him in the flank so that he fell, and a fierce
fight between Trojans and Danaans raged round his body.
Polydamas son of Panthous drew near to avenge him, and
wounded Prothoenor son of Areilycus on the right shoulder;
the terrible spear went right through his shoulder, and he
clutched the earth as he fell in the dust. Polydamas vaunted
loudly over him saying, ‘Again I take it that the spear has
not sped in vain from the strong hand of the son of Pan-
thous; an Argive has caught it in his body, and it will serve
him for a staff as he goes down into the house of Hades.’
The Argives were maddened by this boasting. Ajax son
of Telamon was more angry than any, for the man had fall-

en close beside him; so he aimed at Polydamas as he was
retreating, but Polydamas saved himself by swerving aside
and the spear struck Archelochus son of Antenor, for heav-
en counselled his destruction; it struck him where the head
springs from the neck at the top joint of the spine, and sev-
ered both the tendons at the back of the head. His head,
mouth, and nostrils reached the ground long before his legs
and knees could do so, and Ajax shouted to Polydamas say-
ing, ‘Think, Polydamas, and tell me truly whether this man
is not as well worth killing as Prothoenor was: he seems
rich, and of rich family, a brother, it may be, or son of the
knight Antenor, for he is very like him.’
But he knew well who it was, and the Trojans were great-
ly angered. Acamas then bestrode his brother’s body and
wounded Promachus the Boeotian with his spear, for he
was trying to drag his brother’s body away. Acamas vaunted
loudly over him saying, ‘Argive archers, braggarts that you
are, toil and suffering shall not be for us only, but some of
you too shall fall here as well as ourselves. See how Proma-
chus now sleeps, vanquished by my spear; payment for my
brother’s blood has not been long delayed; a man, therefore,
may well be thankful if he leaves a kinsman in his house be-
hind him to avenge his fall.’
His taunts infuriated the Argives, and Peneleos was more
enraged than any of them. He sprang towards Acamas, but
Acamas did not stand his ground, and he killed Ilioneus
son of the rich flock-master Phorbas, whom Mercury had
favoured and endowed with greater wealth than any oth-
er of the Trojans. Ilioneus was his only son, and Peneleos
286 The Iliad

now wounded him in the eye under his eyebrows, tearing
the eye-ball from its socket: the spear went right through
the eye into the nape of the neck, and he fell, stretching out
both hands before him. Peneleos then drew his sword and
smote him on the neck, so that both head and helmet came
tumbling down to the ground with the spear still sticking
in the eye; he then held up the head, as though it had been
a poppy-head, and showed it to the Trojans, vaunting over
them as he did so. ‘Trojans,’ he cried, ‘bid the father and
mother of noble Ilioneus make moan for him in their house,
for the wife also of Promachus son of Alegenor will never
be gladdened by the coming of her dear husband—when we
Argives return with our ships from Troy.’
As he spoke fear fell upon them, and every man looked
round about to see whither he might fly for safety.
Tell me now, O Muses that dwell on Olympus, who was
the first of the Argives to bear away blood-stained spoils af-
ter Neptune lord of the earthquake had turned the fortune of
war. Ajax son of Telamon was first to wound Hyrtius son of
Gyrtius, captain of the staunch Mysians. Antilochus killed
Phalces and Mermerus, while Meriones slew Morys and
Hippotion, Teucer also killed Prothoon and Periphetes. The
son of Atreus then wounded Hyperenor shepherd of his peo-
ple, in the flank, and the bronze point made his entrails gush
out as it tore in among them; on this his life came hurrying
out of him at the place where he had been wounded, and his
eyes were closed in darkness. Ajax son of Oileus killed more
than any other, for there was no man so fleet as he to pursue
flying foes when Jove had spread panic among them.

BOOK XV
B UT when their flight had taken them past the trench

and the set stakes, and many had fallen by the hands
of the Danaans, the Trojans made a halt on reaching their
chariots, routed and pale with fear. Jove now woke on the
crests of Ida, where he was lying with golden-throned Juno
by his side, and starting to his feet he saw the Trojans and
Achaeans, the one thrown into confusion, and the others
driving them pell-mell before them with King Neptune in
their midst. He saw Hector lying on the ground with his
comrades gathered round him, gasping for breath, wander-
ing in mind and vomiting blood, for it was not the feeblest
of the Achaeans who struck him.
The sire of gods and men had pity on him, and looked
fiercely on Juno. ‘I see, Juno,’ said he, ‘you mischief-making
trickster, that your cunning has stayed Hector from fight-
ing and has caused the rout of his host. I am in half a mind
to thrash you, in which case you will be the first to reap the
fruits of your scurvy knavery. Do you not remember how
once upon a time I had you hanged? I fastened two anvils
on to your feet, and bound your hands in a chain of gold
which none might break, and you hung in mid-air among
the clouds. All the gods in Olympus were in a fury, but they
could not reach you to set you free; when I caught any one
of them I gripped him and hurled him from the heavenly
288 The Iliad

threshold till he came fainting down to earth; yet even this
did not relieve my mind from the incessant anxiety which I
felt about noble Hercules whom you and Boreas had spite-
fully conveyed beyond the seas to Cos, after suborning the
tempests; but I rescued him, and notwithstanding all his
mighty labours I brought him back again to Argos. I would
remind you of this that you may learn to leave off being so
deceitful, and discover how much you are likely to gain by
the embraces out of which you have come here to trick me.’
Juno trembled as he spoke, and said, ‘May heaven above
and earth below be my witnesses, with the waters of the riv-
er Styx—and this is the most solemn oath that a blessed god
can take—nay, I swear also by your own almighty head and
by our bridal bed— things over which I could never possi-
bly perjure myself—that Neptune is not punishing Hector
and the Trojans and helping the Achaeans through any do-
ing of mine; it is all of his own mere motion because he was
sorry to see the Achaeans hard pressed at their ships: if I
were advising him, I should tell him to do as you bid him.’
The sire of gods and men smiled and answered, ‘If you,
Juno, were always to support me when we sit in council of
the gods, Neptune, like it or no, would soon come round
to your and my way of thinking. If, then, you are speak-
ing the truth and mean what you say, go among the rank
and file of the gods, and tell Iris and Apollo lord of the bow,
that I want them—Iris, that she may go to the Achaean host
and tell Neptune to leave off fighting and go home, and
Apollo, that he may send Hector again into battle and give
him fresh strength; he will thus forget his present suffer-

ings, and drive the Achaeans back in confusion till they fall
among the ships of Achilles son of Peleus. Achilles will then
send his comrade Patroclus into battle, and Hector will kill
him in front of Ilius after he has slain many warriors, and
among them my own noble son Sarpedon. Achilles will kill
Hector to avenge Patroclus, and from that time I will bring
it about that the Achaeans shall persistently drive the Tro-
jans back till they fulfil the counsels of Minerva and take
Ilius. But I will not stay my anger, nor permit any god to
help the Danaans till I have accomplished the desire of the
son of Peleus, according to the promise I made by bowing
my head on the day when Thetis touched my knees and be-
sought me to give him honour.’
Juno heeded his words and went from the heights of Ida
to great Olympus. Swift as the thought of one whose fan-
cy carries him over vast continents, and he says to himself,
‘Now I will be here, or there,’ and he would have all manner
of things—even so swiftly did Juno wing her way till she
came to high Olympus and went in among the gods who
were gathered in the house of Jove. When they saw her they
all of them came up to her, and held out their cups to her by
way of greeting. She let the others be, but took the cup of-
fered her by lovely Themis, who was first to come running
up to her. ‘Juno,’ said she, ‘why are you here? And you seem
troubled—has your husband the son of Saturn been fright-
ening you?’
And Juno answered, ‘Themis, do not ask me about it. You
know what a proud and cruel disposition my husband has.
Lead the gods to table, where you and all the immortals can
290 The Iliad

hear the wicked designs which he has avowed. Many a one,
mortal and immortal, will be angered by them, however
peaceably he may be feasting now.’
On this Juno sat down, and the gods were troubled
throughout the house of Jove. Laughter sat on her lips but
her brow was furrowed with care, and she spoke up in a
rage. ‘Fools that we are,’ she cried, ‘to be thus madly an-
gry with Jove; we keep on wanting to go up to him and stay
him by force or by persuasion, but he sits aloof and cares
for nobody, for he knows that he is much stronger than any
other of the immortals. Make the best, therefore, of whatev-
er ills he may choose to send each one of you; Mars, I take it,
has had a taste of them already, for his son Ascalaphus has
fallen in battle—the man whom of all others he loved most
dearly and whose father he owns himself to be.’
When he heard this Mars smote his two sturdy thighs
with the flat of his hands, and said in anger, ‘Do not blame
me, you gods that dwell in heaven, if I go to the ships of
the Achaeans and avenge the death of my son, even though
it end in my being struck by Jove’s lightning and lying in
blood and dust among the corpses.’
As he spoke he gave orders to yoke his horses Panic and
Rout, while he put on his armour. On this, Jove would have
been roused to still more fierce and implacable enmity
against the other immortals, had not Minerva, alarmed for
the safety of the gods, sprung from her seat and hurried
outside. She tore the helmet from his head and the shield
from his shoulders, and she took the bronze spear from his
strong hand and set it on one side; then she said to Mars,

‘Madman, you are undone; you have ears that hear not, or
you have lost all judgement and understanding; have you
not heard what Juno has said on coming straight from the
presence of Olympian Jove? Do you wish to go through all
kinds of suffering before you are brought back sick and sor-
ry to Olympus, after having caused infinite mischief to all
us others? Jove would instantly leave the Trojans and Achae-
ans to themselves; he would come to Olympus to punish us,
and would grip us up one after another, guilty or not guilty.
Therefore lay aside your anger for the death of your son; bet-
ter men than he have either been killed already or will fall
hereafter, and one cannot protect every one’s whole family.’
With these words she took Mars back to his seat. Mean-
while Juno called Apollo outside, with Iris the messenger of
the gods. ‘Jove,’ she said to them, ‘desires you to go to him
at once on Mt. Ida; when you have seen him you are to do as
he may then bid you.’
Thereon Juno left them and resumed her seat inside,
while Iris and Apollo made all haste on their way. When
they reached many-fountained Ida, mother of wild beasts,
they found Jove seated on topmost Gargarus with a fragrant
cloud encircling his head as with a diadem. They stood be-
fore his presence, and he was pleased with them for having
been so quick in obeying the orders his wife had given
them.
He spoke to Iris first. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘fleet Iris, tell King
Neptune what I now bid you—and tell him true. Bid him
leave off fighting, and either join the company of the gods,
or go down into the sea. If he takes no heed and disobeys
292 The Iliad

me, let him consider well whether he is strong enough to
hold his own against me if I attack him. I am older and
much stronger than he is; yet he is not afraid to set him-
self up as on a level with myself, of whom all the other gods
stand in awe.’
Iris, fleet as the wind, obeyed him, and as the cold hail
or snowflakes that fly from out the clouds before the blast
of Boreas, even so did she wing her way till she came close
up to the great shaker of the earth. Then she said, ‘I have
come, O dark-haired king that holds the world in his em-
brace, to bring you a message from Jove. He bids you leave
off fighting, and either join the company of the gods or go
down into the sea; if, however, you take no heed and dis-
obey him, he says he will come down here and fight you.
He would have you keep out of his reach, for he is older and
much stronger than you are, and yet you are not afraid to
set yourself up as on a level with himself, of whom all the
other gods stand in awe.’
Neptune was very angry and said, ‘Great heavens! strong
as Jove may be, he has said more than he can do if he has
threatened violence against me, who am of like honour
with himself. We were three brothers whom Rhea bore to
Saturn—Jove, myself, and Hades who rules the world below.
Heaven and earth were divided into three parts, and each
of us was to have an equal share. When we cast lots, it fell
to me to have my dwelling in the sea for evermore; Hades
took the darkness of the realms under the earth, while air
and sky and clouds were the portion that fell to Jove; but
earth and great Olympus are the common property of all.

Therefore I will not walk as Jove would have me. For all his
strength, let him keep to his own third share and be con-
tented without threatening to lay hands upon me as though
I were nobody. Let him keep his bragging talk for his own
sons and daughters, who must perforce obey him.’
Iris fleet as the wind then answered, ‘Am I really, Nep-
tune, to take this daring and unyielding message to Jove, or
will you reconsider your answer? Sensible people are open
to argument, and you know that the Erinyes always range
themselves on the side of the older person.’
Neptune answered, ‘Goddess Iris, your words have been
spoken in season. It is well when a messenger shows so much
discretion. Nevertheless it cuts me to the very heart that any
one should rebuke so angrily another who is his own peer,
and of like empire with himself. Now, however, I will give
way in spite of my displeasure; furthermore let me tell you,
and I mean what I say— if contrary to the desire of myself,
Minerva driver of the spoil, Juno, Mercury, and King Vul-
can, Jove spares steep Ilius, and will not let the Achaeans
have the great triumph of sacking it, let him understand
that he will incur our implacable resentment.’
Neptune now left the field to go down under the sea, and
sorely did the Achaeans miss him. Then Jove said to Apollo,
‘Go, dear Phoebus, to Hector, for Neptune who holds the
earth in his embrace has now gone down under the sea to
avoid the severity of my displeasure. Had he not done so
those gods who are below with Saturn would have come to
hear of the fight between us. It is better for both of us that
he should have curbed his anger and kept out of my reach,
294 The Iliad

for I should have had much trouble with him. Take, then,
your tasselled aegis, and shake it furiously, so as to set the
Achaean heroes in a panic; take, moreover, brave Hector, O
Far-Darter, into your own care, and rouse him to deeds of
daring, till the Achaeans are sent flying back to their ships
and to the Hellespont. From that point I will think it well
over, how the Achaeans may have a respite from their trou-
bles.’
Apollo obeyed his father’s saying, and left the crests of
Ida, flying like a falcon, bane of doves and swiftest of all
birds. He found Hector no longer lying upon the ground,
but sitting up, for he had just come to himself again. He
knew those who were about him, and the sweat and hard
breathing had left him from the moment when the will of
aegis-bearing Jove had revived him. Apollo stood beside
him and said, ‘Hector son of Priam, why are you so faint,
and why are you here away from the others? Has any mis-
hap befallen you?’
Hector in a weak voice answered, ‘And which, kind sir,
of the gods are you, who now ask me thus? Do you not
know that Ajax struck me on the chest with a stone as I was
killing his comrades at the ships of the Achaeans, and com-
pelled me to leave off fighting? I made sure that this very
day I should breathe my last and go down into the house
of Hades.’
Then King Apollo said to him, ‘Take heart; the son of
Saturn has sent you a mighty helper from Ida to stand by
you and defend you, even me, Phoebus Apollo of the golden
sword, who have been guardian hitherto not only of your-

self but of your city. Now, therefore, order your horsemen to
drive their chariots to the ships in great multitudes. I will
go before your horses to smooth the way for them, and will
turn the Achaeans in flight.’
As he spoke he infused great strength into the shepherd of
his people. And as a horse, stabled and full-fed, breaks loose
and gallops gloriously over the plain to the place where he
is wont to take his bath in the river—he tosses his head, and
his mane streams over his shoulders as in all the pride of his
strength he flies full speed to the pastures where the mares
are feeding— even so Hector, when he heard what the god
said, urged his horsemen on, and sped forward as fast as his
limbs could take him. As country peasants set their hounds
on to a homed stag or wild goat—he has taken shelter under
rock or thicket, and they cannot find him, but, lo, a bearded
lion whom their shouts have roused stands in their path,
and they are in no further humour for the chase—even so
the Achaeans were still charging on in a body, using their
swords and spears pointed at both ends, but when they saw
Hector going about among his men they were afraid, and
their hearts fell down into their feet.
Then spoke Thoas son of Andraemon, leader of the Ae-
tolians, a man who could throw a good throw, and who
was staunch also in close fight, while few could surpass
him in debate when opinions were divided. He then with
all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: ‘What, in
heaven’s name, do I now see? Is it not Hector come to life
again? Every one made sure he had been killed by Ajax son
of Telamon, but it seems that one of the gods has again res-
296 The Iliad

cued him. He has killed many of us Danaans already, and I
take it will yet do so, for the hand of Jove must be with him
or he would never dare show himself so masterful in the
forefront of the battle. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say;
let us order the main body of our forces to fall back upon
the ships, but let those of us who profess to be the flower of
the army stand firm, and see whether we cannot hold Hec-
tor back at the point of our spears as soon as he comes near
us; I conceive that he will then think better of it before he
tries to charge into the press of the Danaans.’
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said.
Those who were about Ajax and King Idomeneus, the fol-
lowers moreover of Teucer, Meriones, and Meges peer of
Mars called all their best men about them and sustained
the fight against Hector and the Trojans, but the main body
fell back upon the ships of the Achaeans.
The Trojans pressed forward in a dense body, with Hec-
tor striding on at their head. Before him went Phoebus
Apollo shrouded in cloud about his shoulders. He bore aloft
the terrible aegis with its shaggy fringe, which Vulcan the
smith had given Jove to strike terror into the hearts of men.
With this in his hand he led on the Trojans.
The Argives held together and stood their ground. The
cry of battle rose high from either side, and the arrows flew
from the bowstrings. Many a spear sped from strong hands
and fastened in the bodies of many a valiant warrior, while
others fell to earth midway, before they could taste of man’s
fair flesh and glut themselves with blood. So long as Phoe-
bus Apollo held his aegis quietly and without shaking it,

the weapons on either side took effect and the people fell,
but when he shook it straight in the face of the Danaans
and raised his mighty battle-cry their hearts fainted within
them and they forgot their former prowess. As when two
wild beasts spring in the dead of night on a herd of cattle or
a large flock of sheep when the herdsman is not there—even
so were the Danaans struck helpless, for Apollo filled them
with panic and gave victory to Hector and the Trojans.
The fight then became more scattered and they killed one
another where they best could. Hector killed Stichius and
Arcesilaus, the one, leader of the Boeotians, and the other,
friend and comrade of Menestheus. Aeneas killed Medon
and Iasus. The first was bastard son to Oileus, and brother
to Ajax, but he lived in Phylace away from his own country,
for he had killed a man, a kinsman of his stepmother Erio-
pis whom Oileus had married. Iasus had become a leader of
the Athenians, and was son of Sphelus the son of Boucolos.
Polydamas killed Mecisteus, and Polites Echius, in the front
of the battle, while Agenor slew Clonius. Paris struck De-
iochus from behind in the lower part of the shoulder, as he
was flying among the foremost, and the point of the spear
went clean through him.
While they were spoiling these heroes of their armour,
the Achaeans were flying pell-mell to the trench and the set
stakes, and were forced back within their wall. Hector then
cried out to the Trojans, ‘Forward to the ships, and let the
spoils be. If I see any man keeping back on the other side
the wall away from the ships I will have him killed: his kins-
men and kinswomen shall not give him his dues of fire, but
298 The Iliad

dogs shall tear him in pieces in front of our city.’
As he spoke he laid his whip about his horses’ shoul-
ders and called to the Trojans throughout their ranks; the
Trojans shouted with a cry that rent the air, and kept their
horses neck and neck with his own. Phoebus Apollo went
before, and kicked down the banks of the deep trench into
its middle so as to make a great broad bridge, as broad as
the throw of a spear when a man is trying his strength. The
Trojan battalions poured over the bridge, and Apollo with
his redoubtable aegis led the way. He kicked down the wall
of the Achaeans as easily as a child who playing on the sea-
shore has built a house of sand and then kicks it down again
and destroys it—even so did you, O Apollo, shed toil and
trouble upon the Argives, filling them with panic and con-
fusion.
Thus then were the Achaeans hemmed in at their ships,
calling out to one another and raising their hands with
loud cries every man to heaven. Nestor of Gerene, tower of
strength to the Achaeans, lifted up his hands to the starry
firmament of heaven, and prayed more fervently than any of
them. ‘Father Jove,’ said he, ‘if ever any one in wheat-grow-
ing Argos burned you fat thigh-bones of sheep or heifer
and prayed that he might return safely home, whereon you
bowed your head to him in assent, bear it in mind now, and
suffer not the Trojans to triumph thus over the Achaeans.’
All-counselling Jove thundered loudly in answer to the
prayer of the aged son of Neleus. When they heard Jove thun-
der they flung themselves yet more fiercely on the Achaeans.
As a wave breaking over the bulwarks of a ship when the sea

runs high before a gale—for it is the force of the wind that
makes the waves so great—even so did the Trojans spring
over the wall with a shout, and drive their chariots onwards.
The two sides fought with their double-pointed spears in
hand-to-hand encounter-the Trojans from their chariots,
and the Achaeans climbing up into their ships and wield-
ing the long pikes that were lying on the decks ready for use
in a sea-fight, jointed and shod with bronze.
Now Patroclus, so long as the Achaeans and Trojans were
fighting about the wall, but were not yet within it and at the
ships, remained sitting in the tent of good Eurypylus, en-
tertaining him with his conversation and spreading herbs
over his wound to ease his pain. When, however, he saw the
Trojans swarming through the breach in the wall, while the
Achaeans were clamouring and struck with panic, he cried
aloud, and smote his two thighs with the flat of his hands.
‘Eurypylus,’ said he in his dismay, ‘I know you want me bad-
ly, but I cannot stay with you any longer, for there is hard
fighting going on; a servant shall take care of you now, for I
must make all speed to Achilles, and induce him to fight if I
can; who knows but with heaven’s help I may persuade him.
A man does well to listen to the advice of a friend.’
When he had thus spoken he went his way. The Achaeans
stood firm and resisted the attack of the Trojans, yet though
these were fewer in number, they could not drive them back
from the ships, neither could the Trojans break the Achae-
an ranks and make their way in among the tents and ships.
As a carpenter’s line gives a true edge to a piece of ship’s tim-
ber, in the hand of some skilled workman whom Minerva
300 The Iliad

has instructed in all kinds of useful arts—even so level was
the issue of the fight between the two sides, as they fought
some round one and some round another.
Hector made straight for Ajax, and the two fought fierce-
ly about the same ship. Hector could not force Ajax back
and fire the ship, nor yet could Ajax drive Hector from the
spot to which heaven had brought him.
Then Ajax struck Caletor son of Clytius in the chest
with a spear as he was bringing fire towards the ship. He
fell heavily to the ground and the torch dropped from his
hand. When Hector saw his cousin fallen in front of the
ship he shouted to the Trojans and Lycians saying, ‘Trojans,
Lycians, and Dardanians good in close fight, bate not a jot,
but rescue the son of Clytius lest the Achaeans strip him of
his armour now that he has fallen.’
He then aimed a spear at Ajax, and missed him, but he
hit Lycophron a follower of Ajax, who came from Cythera,
but was living with Ajax inasmuch as he had killed a man
among the Cythereans. Hector’s spear struck him on the
head below the ear, and he fell headlong from the ship’s
prow on to the ground with no life left in him. Ajax shook
with rage and said to his brother, ‘Teucer, my good fellow,
our trusty comrade the son of Mastor has fallen, he came to
live with us from Cythera and whom we honoured as much
as our own parents. Hector has just killed him; fetch your
deadly arrows at once and the bow which Phoebus Apollo
gave you.’
Teucer heard him and hastened towards him with his
bow and quiver in his hands. Forthwith he showered his

arrows on the Trojans, and hit Cleitus the son of Pisenor,
comrade of Polydamas the noble son of Panthous, with the
reins in his hands as he was attending to his horses; he was
in the middle of the very thickest part of the fight, doing
good service to Hector and the Trojans, but evil had now
come upon him, and not one of those who were fain to do
so could avert it, for the arrow struck him on the back of
the neck. He fell from his chariot and his horses shook the
empty car as they swerved aside. King Polydamas saw what
had happened, and was the first to come up to the horses;
he gave them in charge to Astynous son of Protiaon, and
ordered him to look on, and to keep the horses near at hand.
He then went back and took his place in the front ranks.
Teucer then aimed another arrow at Hector, and there
would have been no more fighting at the ships if he had hit
him and killed him then and there: Jove, however, who kept
watch over Hector, had his eyes on Teucer, and deprived
him of his triumph, by breaking his bowstring for him just
as he was drawing it and about to take his aim; on this the
arrow went astray and the bow fell from his hands. Teuc-
er shook with anger and said to his brother, ‘Alas, see how
heaven thwarts us in all we do; it has broken my bowstring
and snatched the bow from my hand, though I strung it this
selfsame morning that it might serve me for many an ar-
row.’
Ajax son of Telamon answered, ‘My good fellow, let your
bow and your arrows be, for Jove has made them useless in
order to spite the Danaans. Take your spear, lay your shield
upon your shoulder, and both fight the Trojans yourself and
302 The Iliad

urge others to do so. They may be successful for the moment
but if we fight as we ought they will find it a hard matter to
take the ships.’
Teucer then took his bow and put it by in his tent. He
hung a shield four hides thick about his shoulders, and on
his comely head he set his helmet well wrought with a crest
of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it; he grasped
his redoubtable bronze-shod spear, and forthwith he was by
the side of Ajax.
When Hector saw that Teucer’s bow was of no more use
to him, he shouted out to the Trojans and Lycians, ‘Trojans,
Lycians, and Dardanians good in close fight, be men, my
friends, and show your mettle here at the ships, for I see
the weapon of one of their chieftains made useless by the
hand of Jove. It is easy to see when Jove is helping people
and means to help them still further, or again when he is
bringing them down and will do nothing for them; he is
now on our side, and is going against the Argives. Therefore
swarm round the ships and fight. If any of you is struck by
spear or sword and loses his life, let him die; he dies with
honour who dies fighting for his country; and he will leave
his wife and children safe behind him, with his house and
allotment unplundered if only the Achaeans can be driven
back to their own land, they and their ships.’
With these words he put heart and soul into them
all. Ajax on the other side exhorted his comrades saying,
‘Shame on you Argives, we are now utterly undone, unless
we can save ourselves by driving the enemy from our ships.
Do you think, if Hector takes them, that you will be able

to get home by land? Can you not hear him cheering on
his whole host to fire our fleet, and bidding them remember
that they are not at a dance but in battle? Our only course is
to fight them with might and main; we had better chance it,
life or death, once for all, than fight long and without issue
hemmed in at our ships by worse men than ourselves.’
With these words he put life and soul into them all. Hec-
tor then killed Schedius son of Perimedes, leader of the
Phoceans, and Ajax killed Laodamas captain of foot sol-
diers and son to Antenor. Polydamas killed Otus of Cyllene
a comrade of the son of Phyleus and chief of the proud
Epeans. When Meges saw this he sprang upon him, but
Polydamas crouched down, and he missed him, for Apollo
would not suffer the son of Panthous to fall in battle; but
the spear hit Croesmus in the middle of his chest, where-
on he fell heavily to the ground, and Meges stripped him
of his armour. At that moment the valiant soldier Dolops
son of Lampus sprang upon Lampus was son of Laomedon
and for his valour, while his son Dolops was versed in all
the ways of war. He then struck the middle of the son of
Phyleus’ shield with his spear, setting on him at close quar-
ters, but his good corslet made with plates of metal saved
him; Phyleus had brought it from Ephyra and the river Sell-
eis, where his host, King Euphetes, had given it him to wear
in battle and protect him. It now served to save the life of
his son. Then Meges struck the topmost crest of Dolops’s
bronze helmet with his spear and tore away its plume of
horse-hair, so that all newly dyed with scarlet as it was it
tumbled down into the dust. While he was still fighting and
304 The Iliad

confident of victory, Menelaus came up to help Meges, and
got by the side of Dolops unperceived; he then speared him
in the shoulder, from behind, and the point, driven so furi-
ously, went through into his chest, whereon he fell headlong.
The two then made towards him to strip him of his armour,
but Hector called on all his brothers for help, and he espe-
cially upbraided brave Melanippus son of Hiketaon, who
erewhile used to pasture his herds of cattle in Percote before
the war broke out; but when the ships of the Danaans came,
he went back to Ilius, where he was eminent among the Tro-
jans, and lived near Priam who treated him as one of his
own sons. Hector now rebuked him and said, ‘Why, Mela-
nippus, are we thus remiss? do you take no note of the death
of your kinsman, and do you not see how they are trying to
take Dolops’s armour? Follow me; there must be no fighting
the Argives from a distance now, but we must do so in close
combat till either we kill them or they take the high wall of
Ilius and slay her people.’
He led on as he spoke, and the hero Melanippus followed
after. Meanwhile Ajax son of Telamon was cheering on the
Argives. ‘My friends,’ he cried, ‘be men, and fear dishonour;
quit yourselves in battle so as to win respect from one an-
other. Men who respect each other’s good opinion are less
likely to be killed than those who do not, but in flight there
is neither gain nor glory.’
Thus did he exhort men who were already bent upon
driving back the Trojans. They laid his words to heart and
hedged the ships as with a wall of bronze, while Jove urged
on the Trojans. Menelaus of the loud battle-cry urged An-

tilochus on. ‘Antilochus,’ said he, ‘you are young and there
is none of the Achaeans more fleet of foot or more valiant
than you are. See if you cannot spring upon some Trojan
and kill him.’
He hurried away when he had thus spurred Antilochus,
who at once darted out from the front ranks and aimed a
spear, after looking carefully round him. The Trojans fell
back as he threw, and the dart did not speed from his hand
without effect, for it struck Melanippus the proud son of
Hiketaon in the breast by the nipple as he was coming for-
ward, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell
heavily to the ground. Antilochus sprang upon him as a dog
springs on a fawn which a hunter has hit as it was breaking
away from its covert, and killed it. Even so, O Melanippus,
did stalwart Antilochus spring upon you to strip you of your
armour; but noble Hector marked him, and came running
up to him through the thick of the battle. Antilochus, brave
soldier though he was, would not stay to face him, but fled
like some savage creature which knows it has done wrong,
and flies, when it has killed a dog or a man who is herding
his cattle, before a body of men can be gathered to attack it.
Even so did the son of Nestor fly, and the Trojans and Hec-
tor with a cry that rent the air showered their weapons after
him; nor did he turn round and stay his flight till he had
reached his comrades.
The Trojans, fierce as lions, were still rushing on towards
the ships in fulfilment of the behests of Jove who kept spur-
ring them on to new deeds of daring, while he deadened
the courage of the Argives and defeated them by encourag-
306 The Iliad

ing the Trojans. For he meant giving glory to Hector son
of Priam, and letting him throw fire upon the ships, till he
had fulfilled the unrighteous prayer that Thetis had made
him; Jove, therefore, bided his time till he should see the
glare of a blazing ship. From that hour he was about so to
order that the Trojans should be driven back from the ships
and to vouchsafe glory to the Achaeans. With this purpose
he inspired Hector son of Priam, who was cager enough al-
ready, to assail the ships. His fury was as that of Mars, or as
when a fire is raging in the glades of some dense forest upon
the mountains; he foamed at the mouth, his eyes glared un-
der his terrible eye-brows, and his helmet quivered on his
temples by reason of the fury with which he fought. Jove
from heaven was with him, and though he was but one
against many, vouchsafed him victory and glory; for he was
doomed to an early death, and already Pallas Minerva was
hurrying on the hour of his destruction at the hands of the
son of Peleus. Now, however, he kept trying to break the
ranks of the enemy wherever he could see them thickest,
and in the goodliest armour; but do what he might he could
not break through them, for they stood as a tower four-
square, or as some high cliff rising from the grey sea that
braves the anger of the gale, and of the waves that thunder
up against it. He fell upon them like flames of fire from ev-
ery quarter. As when a wave, raised mountain high by wind
and storm, breaks over a ship and covers it deep in foam,
the fierce winds roar against the mast, the hearts of the sail-
ors fail them for fear, and they are saved but by a very little
from destruction—even so were the hearts of the Achaeans

fainting within them. Or as a savage lion attacking a herd of
cows while they are feeding by thousands in the low-lying
meadows by some wide-watered shore—the herdsman is at
his wit’s end how to protect his herd and keeps going about
now in the van and now in the rear of his cattle, while the
lion springs into the thick of them and fastens on a cow so
that they all tremble for fear—even so were the Achaeans
utterly panic-stricken by Hector and father Jove. Neverthe-
less Hector only killed Periphetes of Mycenae; he was son
of Copreus who was wont to take the orders of King Eurys-
theus to mighty Hercules, but the son was a far better man
than the father in every way; he was fleet of foot, a valiant
warrior, and in understanding ranked among the foremost
men of Mycenae. He it was who then afforded Hector a tri-
umph, for as he was turning back he stumbled against the
rim of his shield which reached his feet, and served to keep
the javelins off him. He tripped against this and fell face
upward, his helmet ringing loudly about his head as he did
so. Hector saw him fall and ran up to him; he then thrust a
spear into his chest, and killed him close to his own com-
rades. These, for all their sorrow, could not help him for
they were themselves terribly afraid of Hector.
They had now reached the ships and the prows of those
that had been drawn up first were on every side of them,
but the Trojans came pouring after them. The Argives were
driven back from the first row of ships, but they made a
stand by their tents without being broken up and scattered;
shame and fear restrained them. They kept shouting in-
cessantly to one another, and Nestor of Gerene, tower of
308 The Iliad

strength to the Achaeans, was loudest in imploring every
man by his parents, and beseeching him to stand firm.
‘Be men, my friends,’ he cried, ‘and respect one anoth-
er’s good opinion. Think, all of you, on your children, your
wives, your property, and your parents whether these be
alive or dead. On their behalf though they are not here, I
implore you to stand firm, and not to turn in flight.’
With these words he put heart and soul into them all. Mi-
nerva lifted the thick veil of darkness from their eyes, and
much light fell upon them, alike on the side of the ships and
on that where the fight was raging. They could see Hector
and all his men, both those in the rear who were taking no
part in the battle, and those who were fighting by the ships.
Ajax could not bring himself to retreat along with the
rest, but strode from deck to deck with a great sea-pike in
his hands twelve cubits long and jointed with rings. As a
man skilled in feats of horsemanship couples four horses
together and comes tearing full speed along the public way
from the country into some large town—many both men
and women marvel as they see him for he keeps all the time
changing his horse, springing from one to another without
ever missing his feet while the horses are at a gallop—even
so did Ajax go striding from one ship’s deck to another, and
his voice went up into the heavens. He kept on shouting his
orders to the Danaans and exhorting them to defend their
ships and tents; neither did Hector remain within the main
body of the Trojan warriors, but as a dun eagle swoops
down upon a flock of wild-fowl feeding near a river-geese,
it may be, or cranes, or long-necked swans—even so did

Hector make straight for a dark-prowed ship, rushing right
towards it; for Jove with his mighty hand impelled him for-
ward, and roused his people to follow him.
And now the battle again raged furiously at the ships.
You would have thought the men were coming on fresh and
unwearied, so fiercely did they fight; and this was the mind
in which they were—the Achaeans did not believe they
should escape destruction but thought themselves doomed,
while there was not a Trojan but his heart beat high with
the hope of firing the ships and putting the Achaean heroes
to the sword.
Thus were the two sides minded. Then Hector seized
the stern of the good ship that had brought Protesilaus to
Troy, but never bore him back to his native land. Round this
ship there raged a close hand-to-hand fight between Dan-
aans and Trojans. They did not fight at a distance with bows
and javelins, but with one mind hacked at one another in
close combat with their mighty swords and spears pointed
at both ends; they fought moreover with keen battle-axes
and with hatchets. Many a good stout blade hilted and
scabbarded with iron, fell from hand or shoulder as they
fought, and the earth ran red with blood. Hector, when he
had seized the ship, would not loose his hold but held on
to its curved stern and shouted to the Trojans, ‘Bring fire,
and raise the battle-cry all of you with a single voice. Now
has Jove vouchsafed us a day that will pay us for all the rest;
this day we shall take the ships which came hither against
heaven’s will, and which have caused us such infinite suffer-
ing through the cowardice of our councillors, who when I
310 The Iliad

would have done battle at the ships held me back and for-
bade the host to follow me; if Jove did then indeed warp our
judgements, himself now commands me and cheers me on.’
As he spoke thus the Trojans sprang yet more fiercely on
the Achaeans, and Ajax no longer held his ground, for he
was overcome by the darts that were flung at him, and made
sure that he was doomed. Therefore he left the raised deck
at the stern, and stepped back on to the seven-foot bench
of the oarsmen. Here he stood on the look-out, and with
his spear held back Trojan whom he saw bringing fire to
the ships. All the time he kept on shouting at the top of his
voice and exhorting the Danaans. ‘My friends,’ he cried,
‘Danaan heroes, servants of Mars, be men my friends, and
fight with might and with main. Can we hope to find help-
ers hereafter, or a wall to shield us more surely than the one
we have? There is no strong city within reach, whence we
may draw fresh forces to turn the scales in our favour. We
are on the plain of the armed Trojans with the sea behind
us, and far from our own country. Our salvation, therefore,
is in the might of our hands and in hard fighting.’
As he spoke he wielded his spear with still greater fury,
and when any Trojan made towards the ships with fire at
Hector’s bidding, he would be on the look-out for him, and
drive at him with his long spear. Twelve men did he thus kill
in hand-to-hand fight before the ships.

BOOK XVI
T HUS did they fight about the ship of Protesilaus. Then

Patroclus drew near to Achilles with tears welling from
his eyes, as from some spring whose crystal stream falls
over the ledges of a high precipice. When Achilles saw him
thus weeping he was sorry for him and said, ‘Why, Patro-
clus, do you stand there weeping like some silly child that
comes running to her mother, and begs to be taken up and
carried—she catches hold of her mother’s dress to stay her
though she is in a hurry, and looks tearfully up until her
mother carries her—even such tears, Patroclus, are you
now shedding. Have you anything to say to the Myrmidons
or to myself? or have you had news from Phthia which you
alone know? They tell me Menoetius son of Actor is still
alive, as also Peleus son of Aeacus, among the Myrmidons—
men whose loss we two should bitterly deplore; or are you
grieving about the Argives and the way in which they are
being killed at the ships, through their own high-handed
doings? Do not hide anything from me but tell me that both
of us may know about it.’
Then, O knight Patroclus, with a deep sigh you answered,
‘Achilles, son of Peleus, foremost champion of the Achae-
ans, do not be angry, but I weep for the disaster that has
now befallen the Argives. All those who have been their
champions so far are lying at the ships, wounded by sword
312 The Iliad

or spear. Brave Diomed son of Tydeus has been hit with a
spear, while famed Ulysses and Agamemnon have received
sword-wounds; Eurypylus again has been struck with an ar-
row in the thigh; skilled apothecaries are attending to these
heroes, and healing them of their wounds; are you still, O
Achilles, so inexorable? May it never be my lot to nurse such
a passion as you have done, to the baning of your own good
name. Who in future story will speak well of you unless you
now save the Argives from ruin? You know no pity; knight
Peleus was not your father nor Thetis your mother, but the
grey sea bore you and the sheer cliffs begot you, so cruel and
remorseless are you. If however you are kept back through
knowledge of some oracle, or if your mother Thetis has told
you something from the mouth of Jove, at least send me
and the Myrmidons with me, if I may bring deliverance to
the Danaans. Let me moreover wear your armour; the Tro-
jans may thus mistake me for you and quit the field, so that
the hard-pressed sons of the Achaeans may have breath-
ing time—which while they are fighting may hardly be. We
who are fresh might soon drive tired men back from our
ships and tents to their own city.’
He knew not what he was asking, nor that he was suing
for his own destruction. Achilles was deeply moved and an-
swered, ‘What, noble Patroclus, are you saying? I know no
prophesyings which I am heeding, nor has my mother told
me anything from the mouth of Jove, but I am cut to the
very heart that one of my own rank should dare to rob me
because he is more powerful than I am. This, after all that
I have gone through, is more than I can endure. The girl

whom the sons of the Achaeans chose for me, whom I won
as the fruit of my spear on having sacked a city—her has
King Agamemnon taken from me as though I were some
common vagrant. Still, let bygones be bygones: no man may
keep his anger for ever; I said I would not relent till battle
and the cry of war had reached my own ships; nevertheless,
now gird my armour about your shoulders, and lead the
Myrmidons to battle, for the dark cloud of Trojans has burst
furiously over our fleet; the Argives are driven back on to
the beach, cooped within a narrow space, and the whole
people of Troy has taken heart to sally out against them, be-
cause they see not the visor of my helmet gleaming near
them. Had they seen this, there would not have been a creek
nor grip that had not been filled with their dead as they
fled back again. And so it would have been, if only King
Agamemnon had dealt fairly by me. As it is the Trojans have
beset our host. Diomed son of Tydeus no longer wields his
spear to defend the Danaans, neither have I heard the voice
of the son of Atreus coming from his hated head, whereas
that of murderous Hector rings in my cars as he gives orders
to the Trojans, who triumph over the Achaeans and fill the
whole plain with their cry of battle. But even so, Patroclus,
fall upon them and save the fleet, lest the Trojans fire it and
prevent us from being able to return. Do, however, as I now
bid you, that you may win me great honour from all the Da-
naans, and that they may restore the girl to me again and
give me rich gifts into the bargain. When you have driven
the Trojans from the ships, come back again. Though Juno’s
thundering husband should put triumph within your reach,
314 The Iliad

do not fight the Trojans further in my absence, or you will
rob me of glory that should be mine. And do not for lust of
battle go on killing the Trojans nor lead the Achaeans on
to Ilius, lest one of the ever-living gods from Olympus at-
tack you—for Phoebus Apollo loves them well: return when
you have freed the ships from peril, and let others wage war
upon the plain. Would, by father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo,
that not a single man of all the Trojans might be left alive,
nor yet of the Argives, but that we two might be alone left to
tear aside the mantle that veils the brow of Troy.’
Thus did they converse. But Ajax could no longer hold
his ground for the shower of darts that rained upon him;
the will of Jove and the javelins of the Trojans were too
much for him; the helmet that gleamed about his temples
rang with the continuous clatter of the missiles that kept
pouring on to it and on to the cheek-pieces that protected
his face. Moreover his left shoulder was tired with having
held his shield so long, yet for all this, let fly at him as they
would, they could not make him give ground. He could
hardly draw his breath, the sweat rained from every pore of
his body, he had not a moment’s respite, and on all sides he
was beset by danger upon danger.
And now, tell me, O Muses that hold your mansions on
Olympus, how fire was thrown upon the ships of the Achae-
ans. Hector came close up and let drive with his great sword
at the ashen spear of Ajax. He cut it clean in two just behind
where the point was fastened on to the shaft of the spear.
Ajax, therefore, had now nothing but a headless spear, while
the bronze point flew some way off and came ringing down

on to the ground. Ajax knew the hand of heaven in this, and
was dismayed at seeing that Jove had now left him utterly
defenceless and was willing victory for the Trojans. There-
fore he drew back, and the Trojans flung fire upon the ship
which was at once wrapped in flame.
The fire was now flaring about the ship’s stern, whereon
Achilles smote his two thighs and said to Patroclus, ‘Up, no-
ble knight, for I see the glare of hostile fire at our fleet; up,
lest they destroy our ships, and there be no way by which we
may retreat. Gird on your armour at once while I call our
people together.’
As he spoke Patroclus put on his armour. First he greaved
his legs with greaves of good make, and fitted with ancle-
clasps of silver; after this he donned the cuirass of the son
of Aeacus, richly inlaid and studded. He hung his silver-
studded sword of bronze about his shoulders, and then his
mighty shield. On his comely head he set his helmet, well
wrought, with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacing-
ly above it. He grasped two redoubtable spears that suited
his hands, but he did not take the spear of noble Achilles,
so stout and strong, for none other of the Achaeans could
wield it, though Achilles could do so easily. This was the
ashen spear from Mount Pelion, which Chiron had cut
upon a mountain top and had given to Peleus, wherewith to
deal out death among heroes. He bade Automedon yoke his
horses with all speed, for he was the man whom he held in
honour next after Achilles, and on whose support in battle
he could rely most firmly. Automedon therefore yoked the
fleet horses Xanthus and Balius, steeds that could fly like
316 The Iliad

the wind: these were they whom the harpy Podarge bore to
the west wind, as she was grazing in a meadow by the wa-
ters of the river Oceanus. In the side traces he set the noble
horse Pedasus, whom Achilles had brought away with him
when he sacked the city of Eetion, and who, mortal steed
though he was, could take his place along with those that
were immortal.
Meanwhile Achilles went about everywhere among the
tents, and bade his Myrmidons put on their armour. Even
as fierce ravening wolves that are feasting upon a homed
stag which they have killed upon the mountains, and their
jaws are red with blood—they go in a pack to lap water from
the clear spring with their long thin tongues; and they reek
of blood and slaughter; they know not what fear is, for it is
hunger drives them—even so did the leaders and counsel-
lors of the Myrmidons gather round the good squire of the
fleet descendant of Aeacus, and among them stood Achilles
himself cheering on both men and horses.
Fifty ships had noble Achilles brought to Troy, and in
each there was a crew of fifty oarsmen. Over these he set
five captains whom he could trust, while he was himself
commander over them all. Menesthius of the gleaming
corslet, son to the river Spercheius that streams from heav-
en, was captain of the first company. Fair Polydora daughter
of Peleus bore him to ever-flowing Spercheius—a woman
mated with a god—but he was called son of Borus son of
Perieres, with whom his mother was living as his wedded
wife, and who gave great wealth to gain her. The second
company was led by noble Eudorus, son to an unwedded

woman. Polymele, daughter of Phylas the graceful dancer,
bore him; the mighty slayer of Argos was enamoured of her
as he saw her among the singing women at a dance held in
honour of Diana the rushing huntress of the golden arrows;
he therefore—Mercury, giver of all good—went with her
into an upper chamber, and lay with her in secret, whereon
she bore him a noble son Eudorus, singularly fleet of foot
and in fight valiant. When Ilithuia goddess of the pains of
child-birth brought him to the light of day, and he saw the
face of the sun, mighty Echecles son of Actor took the moth-
er to wife, and gave great wealth to gain her, but her father
Phylas brought the child up, and took care of him, doting as
fondly upon him as though he were his own son. The third
company was led by Pisander son of Maemalus, the finest
spearman among all the Myrmidons next to Achilles’ own
comrade Patroclus. The old knight Phoenix was captain of
the fourth company, and Alcimedon, noble son of Laerceus
of the fifth.
When Achilles had chosen his men and had stationed
them all with their captains, he charged them straitly
saying, ‘Myrmidons, remember your threats against the
Trojans while you were at the ships in the time of my anger,
and you were all complaining of me. ‘Cruel son of Peleus,’
you would say, ‘your mother must have suckled you on gall,
so ruthless are you. You keep us here at the ships against
our will; if you are so relentless it were better we went home
over the sea.’ Often have you gathered and thus chided with
me. The hour is now come for those high feats of arms that
you have so long been pining for, therefore keep high hearts
318 The Iliad

each one of you to do battle with the Trojans.’
and they serried their companies yet more closely when
they heard the of their king. As the stones which a builder
sets in the wall of some high house which is to give shel-
ter from the winds—even so closely were the helmets and
bossed shields set against one another. Shield pressed on
shield, helm on helm, and man on man; so close were they
that the horse-hair plumes on the gleaming ridges of their
helmets touched each other as they bent their heads.
In front of them all two men put on their armour—Pa-
troclus and Automedon—two men, with but one mind to
lead the Myrmidons. Then Achilles went inside his tent
and opened the lid of the strong chest which silver-footed
Thetis had given him to take on board ship, and which she
had filled with shirts, cloaks to keep out the cold, and good
thick rugs. In this chest he had a cup of rare workmanship,
from which no man but himself might drink, nor would
he make offering from it to any other god save only to fa-
ther Jove. He took the cup from the chest and cleansed it
with sulphur; this done he rinsed it clean water, and after
he had washed his hands he drew wine. Then he stood in
the middle of the court and prayed, looking towards heaven,
and making his drink-offering of wine; nor was he unseen
of Jove whose joy is in thunder. ‘King Jove,’ he cried, ‘lord
of Dodona, god of the Pelasgi, who dwellest afar, you who
hold wintry Dodona in your sway, where your prophets the
Selli dwell around you with their feet unwashed and their
couches made upon the ground—if you heard me when

I prayed to you aforetime, and did me honour while you
sent disaster on the Achaeans, vouchsafe me now the fulfil-
ment of yet this further prayer. I shall stay here where my
ships are lying, but I shall send my comrade into battle at
the head of many Myrmidons. Grant, O all-seeing Jove, that
victory may go with him; put your courage into his heart
that Hector may learn whether my squire is man enough
to fight alone, or whether his might is only then so indomi-
table when I myself enter the turmoil of war. Afterwards
when he has chased the fight and the cry of battle from the
ships, grant that he may return unharmed, with his armour
and his comrades, fighters in close combat.’
Thus did he pray, and all-counselling Jove heard his
prayer. Part of it he did indeed vouchsafe him—but not the
whole. He granted that Patroclus should thrust back war
and battle from the ships, but refused to let him come safely
out of the fight.
When he had made his drink-offering and had thus
prayed, Achilles went inside his tent and put back the cup
into his chest.
Then he again came out, for he still loved to look upon
the fierce fight that raged between the Trojans and Achae-
ans.
Meanwhile the armed band that was about Patroclus
marched on till they sprang high in hope upon the Trojans.
They came swarming out like wasps whose nests are by the
roadside, and whom silly children love to tease, whereon
any one who happens to be passing may get stung—or again,
if a wayfarer going along the road vexes them by accident,
320 The Iliad

every wasp will come flying out in a fury to defend his little
ones—even with such rage and courage did the Myrmidons
swarm from their ships, and their cry of battle rose heaven-
wards. Patroclus called out to his men at the top of his voice,
‘Myrmidons, followers of Achilles son of Peleus, be men my
friends, fight with might and with main, that we may win
glory for the son of Peleus, who is far the foremost man at
the ships of the Argives—he, and his close fighting follow-
ers. The son of Atreus King Agamemnon will thus learn his
folly in showing no respect to the bravest of the Achaeans.’
and they fell in a body upon the Trojans. The ships rang
again with the cry which the Achaeans raised, and when
the Trojans saw the brave son of Menoetius and his squire
all gleaming in their armour, they were daunted and their
battalions were thrown into confusion, for they thought the
fleet son of Peleus must now have put aside his anger, and
have been reconciled to Agamemnon; every one, therefore,
looked round about to see whither he might fly for safety.
Patroclus first aimed a spear into the middle of the press
where men were packed most closely, by the stern of the
ship of Protesilaus. He hit Pyraechmes who had led his Pae-
onian horsemen from the Amydon and the broad waters of
the river Axius; the spear struck him on the right shoulder,
and with a groan he fell backwards in the dust; on this his
men were thrown into confusion, for by killing their lead-
er, who was the finest soldier among them, Patroclus struck
panic into them all. He thus drove them from the ship and
quenched the fire that was then blazing—leaving the half-

burnt ship to lie where it was. The Trojans were now driven
back with a shout that rent the skies, while the Danaans
poured after them from their ships, shouting also with-
out ceasing. As when Jove, gatherer of the thunder-cloud,
spreads a dense canopy on the top of some lofty mountain,
and all the peaks, the jutting headlands, and forest glades
show out in the great light that flashes from the bursting
heavens, even so when the Danaans had now driven back
the fire from their ships, they took breath for a little while;
but the fury of the fight was not yet over, for the Trojans
were not driven back in utter rout, but still gave battle, and
were ousted from their ground only by sheer fighting.
The fight then became more scattered, and the chieftains
killed one another when and how they could. The val-
iant son of Menoetius first drove his spear into the thigh
of Areilycus just as he was turning round; the point went
clean through, and broke the bone so that he fell forward.
Meanwhile Menelaus struck Thoas in the chest, where it
was exposed near the rim of his shield, and he fell dead.
The son of Phyleus saw Amphiclus about to attack him, and
ere he could do so took aim at the upper part of his thigh,
where the muscles are thicker than in any other part; the
spear tore through all the sinews of the leg, and his eyes
were closed in darkness. Of the sons of Nestor one, Anti-
lochus, speared Atymnius, driving the point of the spear
through his throat, and down he fell. Maris then sprang on
Antilochus in hand-to-hand fight to avenge his brother, and
bestrode the body spear in hand; but valiant Thrasymedes
was too quick for him, and in a moment had struck him in
322 The Iliad

the shoulder ere he could deal his blow; his aim was true,
and the spear severed all the muscles at the root of his arm,
and tore them right down to the bone, so he fell heavily to
the ground and his eyes were closed in darkness. Thus did
these two noble comrades of Sarpedon go down to Erebus
slain by the two sons of Nestor; they were the warrior sons
of Amisodorus, who had reared the invincible Chimaera,
to the bane of many. Ajax son of Oileus sprang on Cleobu-
lus and took him alive as he was entangled in the crush; but
he killed him then and there by a sword-blow on the neck.
The sword reeked with his blood, while dark death and the
strong hand of fate gripped him and closed his eyes.
Peneleos and Lycon now met in close fight, for they had
missed each other with their spears. They had both thrown
without effect, so now they drew their swords. Lycon struck
the plumed crest of Peneleos’ helmet but his sword broke
at the hilt, while Peneleos smote Lycon on the neck under
the ear. The blade sank so deep that the head was held on
by nothing but the skin, and there was no more life left in
him. Meriones gave chase to Acamas on foot and caught
him up just as he was about to mount his chariot; he drove
a spear through his right shoulder so that he fell headlong
from the car, and his eyes were closed in darkness. Idome-
neus speared Erymas in the mouth; the bronze point of the
spear went clean through it beneath the brain, crashing in
among the white bones and smashing them up. His teeth
were all of them knocked out and the blood came gushing
in a stream from both his eyes; it also came gurgling up
from his mouth and nostrils, and the darkness of death en-

folded him round about.
Thus did these chieftains of the Danaans each of them
kill his man. As ravening wolves seize on kids or lambs, fas-
tening on them when they are alone on the hillsides and
have strayed from the main flock through the carelessness
of the shepherd—and when the wolves see this they pounce
upon them at once because they cannot defend themselves—
even so did the Danaans now fall on the Trojans, who fled
with ill-omened cries in their panic and had no more fight
left in them.
Meanwhile great Ajax kept on trying to drive a spear
into Hector, but Hector was so skilful that he held his broad
shoulders well under cover of his ox-hide shield, ever on the
look-out for the whizzing of the arrows and the heavy thud
of the spears. He well knew that the fortunes of the day had
changed, but still stood his ground and tried to protect his
comrades.
As when a cloud goes up into heaven from Olympus, ris-
ing out of a clear sky when Jove is brewing a gale—even
with such panic stricken rout did the Trojans now fly, and
there was no order in their going. Hector’s fleet horses bore
him and his armour out of the fight, and he left the Trojan
host penned in by the deep trench against their will. Many
a yoke of horses snapped the pole of their chariots in the
trench and left their master’s car behind them. Patroclus
gave chase, calling impetuously on the Danaans and full
of fury against the Trojans, who, being now no longer in a
body, filled all the ways with their cries of panic and rout;
the air was darkened with the clouds of dust they raised,
324 The Iliad

and the horses strained every nerve in their flight from the
tents and ships towards the city.
Patroclus kept on heading his horses wherever he saw
most men flying in confusion, cheering on his men the
while. Chariots were being smashed in all directions, and
many a man came tumbling down from his own car to fall
beneath the wheels of that of Patroclus, whose immortal
steeds, given by the gods to Peleus, sprang over the trench
at a bound as they sped onward. He was intent on trying to
get near Hector, for he had set his heart on spearing him,
but Hector’s horses were now hurrying him away. As the
whole dark earth bows before some tempest on an autumn
day when Jove rains his hardest to punish men for giving
crooked judgement in their courts, and arriving justice
therefrom without heed to the decrees of heaven—all the
rivers run full and the torrents tear many a new channel as
they roar headlong from the mountains to the dark sea, and
it fares ill with the works of men—even such was the stress
and strain of the Trojan horses in their flight.
Patroclus now cut off the battalions that were nearest
to him and drove them back to the ships. They were doing
their best to reach the city, but he would not let them, and
bore down on them between the river and the ships and
wall. Many a fallen comrade did he then avenge. First he hit
Pronous with a spear on the chest where it was exposed near
the rim of his shield, and he fell heavily to the ground. Next
he sprang on Thestor son of Enops, who was sitting all hud-
dled up in his chariot, for he had lost his head and the reins
had been torn out of his hands. Patroclus went up to him

and drove a spear into his right jaw; he thus hooked him by
the teeth and the spear pulled him over the rim of his car,
as one who sits at the end of some jutting rock and draws a
strong fish out of the sea with a hook and a line— even so
with his spear did he pull Thestor all gaping from his char-
iot; he then threw him down on his face and he died while
falling. On this, as Erylaus was on to attack him, he struck
him full on the head with a stone, and his brains were all
battered inside his helmet, whereon he fell headlong to the
ground and the pangs of death took hold upon him. Then
he laid low, one after the other, Erymas, Amphoterus, Ep-
altes, Tlepolemus, Echius son of Damastor, Pyris, lpheus,
Euippus and Polymelus son of Argeas.
Now when Sarpedon saw his comrades, men who wore
ungirdled tunics, being overcome by Patroclus son of Meno-
etius, he rebuked the Lycians saying. ‘Shame on you, where
are you flying to? Show your mettle; I will myself meet this
man in fight and learn who it is that is so masterful; he has
done us much hurt, and has stretched many a brave man
upon the ground.’
He sprang from his chariot as he spoke, and Patro-
clus, when he saw this, leaped on to the ground also. The
two then rushed at one another with loud cries like eagle-
beaked crook-taloned vultures that scream and tear at one
another in some high mountain fastness.
The son of scheming Saturn looked down upon them in
pity and said to Juno who was his wife and sister, ‘Alas, that
it should be the lot of Sarpedon whom I love so dearly to
perish by the hand of Patroclus. I am in two minds whether
326 The Iliad

to catch him up out of the fight and set him down safe and
sound in the fertile land of Lycia, or to let him now fall by
the hand of the son of Menoetius.’
And Juno answered, ‘Most dread son of Saturn, what is
this that you are saying? Would you snatch a mortal man,
whose doom has long been fated, out of the jaws of death?
Do as you will, but we shall not all of us be of your mind.
I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, that if you
send Sarpedon safely to his own home, some other of the
gods will be also wanting to escort his son out of battle, for
there are many sons of gods fighting round the city of Troy,
and you will make every one jealous. If, however, you are
fond of him and pity him, let him indeed fall by the hand
of Patroclus, but as soon as the life is gone out of him, send
Death and sweet Sleep to bear him off the field and take him
to the broad lands of Lycia, where his brothers and his kins-
men will bury him with mound and pillar, in due honour
to the dead.’
The sire of gods and men assented, but he shed a rain of
blood upon the earth in honour of his son whom Patro-
clus was about to kill on the rich plain of Troy far from his
home.
When they were now come close to one another Patro-
clus struck Thrasydemus, the brave squire of Sarpedon, in
the lower part of the belly, and killed him. Sarpedon then
aimed a spear at Patroclus and missed him, but he struck
the horse Pedasus in the right shoulder, and it screamed
aloud as it lay, groaning in the dust until the life went out
of it. The other two horses began to plunge; the pole of the

chariot cracked and they got entangled in the reins through
the fall of the horse that was yoked along with them; but
Automedon knew what to do; without the loss of a moment
he drew the keen blade that hung by his sturdy thigh and
cut the third horse adrift; whereon the other two righted
themselves, and pulling hard at the reins again went togeth-
er into battle.
Sarpedon now took a second aim at Patroclus, and again
missed him, the point of the spear passed over his left shoul-
der without hitting him. Patroclus then aimed in his turn,
and the spear sped not from his hand in vain, for he hit
Sarpedon just where the midriff surrounds the ever-beating
heart. He fell like some oak or silver poplar or tall pine to
which woodmen have laid their axes upon the mountains to
make timber for ship-building—even so did he lie stretched
at full length in front of his chariot and horses, moaning
and clutching at the blood-stained dust. As when a lion
springs with a bound upon a herd of cattle and fastens on a
great black bull which dies bellowing in its clutches—even
so did the leader of the Lycian warriors struggle in death
as he fell by the hand of Patroclus. He called on his trusty
comrade and said, ‘Glaucus, my brother, hero among he-
roes, put forth all your strength, fight with might and main,
now if ever quit yourself like a valiant soldier. First go about
among the Lycian captains and bid them fight for Sarpedon;
then yourself also do battle to save my armour from being
taken. My name will haunt you henceforth and for ever if
the Achaeans rob me of my armour now that I have fallen
at their ships. Do your very utmost and call all my people
328 The Iliad

together.’
Death closed his eyes as he spoke. Patroclus planted his
heel on his breast and drew the spear from his body, where-
on his senses came out along with it, and he drew out both
spear-point and Sarpedon’s soul at the same time. Hard by
the Myrmidons held his snorting steeds, who were wild
with panic at finding themselves deserted by their lords.
Glaucus was overcome with grief when he heard what
Sarpedon said, for he could not help him. He had to support
his arm with his other hand, being in great pain through
the wound which Teucer’s arrow had given him when Teuc-
er was defending the wall as he, Glaucus, was assailing it.
Therefore he prayed to far-darting Apollo saying, ‘Hear me
O king from your seat, may be in the rich land of Lycia, or
may be in Troy, for in all places you can hear the prayer
of one who is in distress, as I now am. I have a grievous
wound; my hand is aching with pain, there is no staunching
the blood, and my whole arm drags by reason of my hurt,
so that I cannot grasp my sword nor go among my foes and
fight them, thou our prince, Jove’s son Sarpedon, is slain.
Jove defended not his son, do you, therefore, O king, heal
me of my wound, ease my pain and grant me strength both
to cheer on the Lycians and to fight along with them round
the body of him who has fallen.’
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He eased
his pain, staunched the black blood from the wound, and
gave him new strength. Glaucus perceived this, and was
thankful that the mighty god had answered his prayer;
forthwith, therefore, he went among the Lycian captains,

and bade them come to fight about the body of Sarpedon.
From these he strode on among the Trojans to Polydamas
son of Panthous and Agenor; he then went in search of
Aeneas and Hector, and when he had found them he said,
‘Hector, you have utterly forgotten your allies, who lan-
guish here for your sake far from friends and home while
you do nothing to support them. Sarpedon leader of the
Lycian warriors has fallen— he who was at once the right
and might of Lycia; Mars has laid him low by the spear of
Patroclus. Stand by him, my friends, and suffer not the
Myrmidons to strip him of his armour, nor to treat his body
with contumely in revenge for all the Danaans whom we
have speared at the ships.’
As he spoke the Trojans were plunged in extreme and
ungovernable grief; for Sarpedon, alien though he was, had
been one of the main stays of their city, both as having much
people with him, and himself the foremost among them all.
Led by Hector, who was infuriated by the fall of Sarpedon,
they made instantly for the Danaans with all their might,
while the undaunted spirit of Patroclus son of Menoetius
cheered on the Achaeans. First he spoke to the two Ajax-
es, men who needed no bidding. ‘Ajaxes,’ said he, ‘may it
now please you to show yourselves the men you have always
been, or even better—Sarpedon is fallen—he who was first
to overleap the wall of the Achaeans; let us take the body
and outrage it; let us strip the armour from his shoulders,
and kill his comrades if they try to rescue his body.’
He spoke to men who of themselves were full eager; both
sides, therefore, the Trojans and Lycians on the one hand,
330 The Iliad

and the Myrmidons and Achaeans on the other, strength-
ened their battalions, and fought desperately about the body
of Sarpedon, shouting fiercely the while. Mighty was the
din of their armour as they came together, and Jove shed
a thick darkness over the fight, to increase the toil of the
battle over the body of his son.
At first the Trojans made some headway against the
Achaeans, for one of the best men among the Myrmidons
was killed, Epeigeus, son of noble Agacles who had erewhile
been king in the good city of Budeum; but presently, hav-
ing killed a valiant kinsman of his own, he took refuge with
Peleus and Thetis, who sent him to Ilius the land of noble
steeds to fight the Trojans under Achilles. Hector now struck
him on the head with a stone just as he had caught hold of
the body, and his brains inside his helmet were all battered
in, so that he fell face foremost upon the body of Sarpedon,
and there died. Patroclus was enraged by the death of his
comrade, and sped through the front ranks as swiftly as
a hawk that swoops down on a flock of daws or starlings.
Even so swiftly, O noble knight Patroclus, did you make
straight for the Lycians and Trojans to avenge your com-
rade. Forthwith he struck Sthenelaus the son of Ithaemenes
on the neck with a stone, and broke the tendons that join it
to the head and spine. On this Hector and the front rank of
his men gave ground. As far as a man can throw a javelin
when competing for some prize, or even in battle—so far
did the Trojans now retreat before the Achaeans. Glaucus,
captain of the Lycians, was the first to rally them, by killing
Bathycles son of Chalcon who lived in Hellas and was the

richest man among the Myrmidons. Glaucus turned round
suddenly, just as Bathycles who was pursuing him was about
to lay hold of him, and drove his spear right into the middle
of his chest, whereon he fell heavily to the ground, and the
fall of so good a man filled the Achaeans with dismay, while
the Trojans were exultant, and came up in a body round the
corpse. Nevertheless the Achaeans, mindful of their prow-
ess, bore straight down upon them.
Meriones then killed a helmed warrior of the Trojans,
Laogonus son of Onetor, who was priest of Jove of Mt. Ida,
and was honoured by the people as though he were a god.
Meriones struck him under the jaw and ear, so that life went
out of him and the darkness of death laid hold upon him.
Aeneas then aimed a spear at Meriones, hoping to hit him
under the shield as he was advancing, but Meriones saw it
coming and stooped forward to avoid it, whereon the spear
flew past him and the point stuck in the ground, while the
butt-end went on quivering till Mars robbed it of its force.
The spear, therefore, sped from Aeneas’s hand in vain and
fell quivering to the ground. Aeneas was angry and said,
‘Meriones, you are a good dancer, but if I had hit you my
spear would soon have made an end of you.’
And Meriones answered, ‘Aeneas, for all your bravery,
you will not be able to make an end of every one who comes
against you. You are only a mortal like myself, and if I were
to hit you in the middle of your shield with my spear, how-
ever strong and self-confident you may be, I should soon
vanquish you, and you would yield your life to Hades of the
noble steeds.’
332 The Iliad

On this the son of Menoetius rebuked him and said,
‘Meriones, hero though you be, you should not speak thus;
taunting speeches, my good friend, will not make the Tro-
jans draw away from the dead body; some of them must go
under ground first; blows for battle, and words for council;
fight, therefore, and say nothing.’
He led the way as he spoke and the hero went forward
with him. As the sound of woodcutters in some forest glade
upon the mountains—and the thud of their axes is heard
afar—even such a din now rose from earth-clash of bronze
armour and of good ox-hide shields, as men smote each
other with their swords and spears pointed at both ends.
A man had need of good eyesight now to know Sarpedon,
so covered was he from head to foot with spears and blood
and dust. Men swarmed about the body, as flies that buzz
round the full milk-pails in spring when they are brimming
with milk—even so did they gather round Sarpedon; nor
did Jove turn his keen eyes away for one moment from the
fight, but kept looking at it all the time, for he was settling
how best to kill Patroclus, and considering whether Hector
should be allowed to end him now in the fight round the
body of Sarpedon, and strip him of his armour, or whether
he should let him give yet further trouble to the Trojans. In
the end, he deemed it best that the brave squire of Achilles
son of Peleus should drive Hector and the Trojans back to-
wards the city and take the lives of many. First, therefore, he
made Hector turn fainthearted, whereon he mounted his
chariot and fled, bidding the other Trojans fly also, for he
saw that the scales of Jove had turned against him. Neither

would the brave Lycians stand firm; they were dismayed
when they saw their king lying struck to the heart amid a
heap of corpses—for when the son of Saturn made the fight
wax hot many had fallen above him. The Achaeans, there-
fore stripped the gleaming armour from his shoulders and
the brave son of Menoetius gave it to his men to take to
the ships. Then Jove lord of the storm-cloud said to Apol-
lo, ‘Dear Phoebus, go, I pray you, and take Sarpedon out of
range of the weapons; cleanse the black blood from off him,
and then bear him a long way off where you may wash him
in the river, anoint him with ambrosia, and clothe him in
immortal raiment; this done, commit him to the arms of
the two fleet messengers, Death, and Sleep, who will carry
him straightway to the rich land of Lycia, where his broth-
ers and kinsmen will inter him, and will raise both mound
and pillar to his memory, in due honour to the dead.’
Thus he spoke. Apollo obeyed his father’s saying, and
came down from the heights of Ida into the thick of the
fight; forthwith he took Sarpedon out of range of the weap-
ons, and then bore him a long way off, where he washed
him in the river, anointed him with ambrosia and clothed
him in immortal raiment; this done, he committed him to
the arms of the two fleet messengers, Death, and Sleep, who
presently set him down in the rich land of Lycia.
Meanwhile Patroclus, with many a shout to his horses
and to Automedon, pursued the Trojans and Lycians in the
pride and foolishness of his heart. Had he but obeyed the
bidding of the son of Peleus, he would have, escaped death
and have been scatheless; but the counsels of Jove pass
334 The Iliad

man’s understanding; he will put even a brave man to flight
and snatch victory from his grasp, or again he will set him
on to fight, as he now did when he put a high spirit into the
heart of Patroclus.
Who then first, and who last, was slain by you, O Patro-
clus, when the gods had now called you to meet your doom?
First Adrestus, Autonous, Echeclus, Perimus the son of
Megas, Epistor and Melanippus; after these he killed Ela-
sus, Mulius, and Pylartes. These he slew, but the rest saved
themselves by flight.
The sons of the Achaeans would now have taken Troy by
the hands of Patroclus, for his spear flew in all directions,
had not Phoebus Apollo taken his stand upon the wall to
defeat his purpose and to aid the Trojans. Thrice did Pa-
troclus charge at an angle of the high wall, and thrice did
Apollo beat him back, striking his shield with his own im-
mortal hands. When Patroclus was coming on like a god
for yet a fourth time, Apollo shouted to him with an awful
voice and said, ‘Draw back, noble Patroclus, it is not your
lot to sack the city of the Trojan chieftains, nor yet will it
be that of Achilles who is a far better man than you are.’
On hearing this, Patroclus withdrew to some distance and
avoided the anger of Apollo.
Meanwhile Hector was waiting with his horses inside the
Scaean gates, in doubt whether to drive out again and go on
fighting, or to call the army inside the gates. As he was thus
doubting Phoebus Apollo drew near him in the likeness of
a young and lusty warrior Asius, who was Hector’s uncle,
being own brother to Hecuba, and son of Dymas who lived

in Phrygia by the waters of the river Sangarius; in his like-
ness Jove’s son Apollo now spoke to Hector saying, ‘Hector,
why have you left off fighting? It is ill done of you. If I were
as much better a man than you, as I am worse, you should
soon rue your slackness. Drive straight towards Patroclus,
if so be that Apollo may grant you a triumph over him, and
you may rule him.’
With this the god went back into the hurly-burly, and
Hector bade Cebriones drive again into the fight. Apollo
passed in among them, and struck panic into the Argives,
while he gave triumph to Hector and the Trojans. Hector
let the other Danaans alone and killed no man, but drove
straight at Patroclus. Patroclus then sprang from his chariot
to the ground, with a spear in his left hand, and in his right
a jagged stone as large as his hand could hold. He stood still
and threw it, nor did it go far without hitting some one; the
cast was not in vain, for the stone struck Cebriones, Hec-
tor’s charioteer, a bastard son of Priam, as he held the reins
in his hands. The stone hit him on the forehead and drove
his brows into his head for the bone was smashed, and his
eyes fell to the ground at his feet. He dropped dead from his
chariot as though he were diving, and there was no more
life left in him. Over him did you then vaunt, O knight Pa-
troclus, saying, ‘Bless my heart, how active he is, and how
well he dives. If we had been at sea this fellow would have
dived from the ship’s side and brought up as many oysters
as the whole crew could stomach, even in rough water, for
he has dived beautifully off his chariot on to the ground. It
seems, then, that there are divers also among the Trojans.’
336 The Iliad

As he spoke he flung himself on Cebriones with the
spring, as it were, of a lion that while attacking a stockyard
is himself struck in the chest, and his courage is his own
bane—even so furiously, O Patroclus, did you then spring
upon Cebriones. Hector sprang also from his chariot to the
ground. The pair then fought over the body of Cebriones.
As two lions fight fiercely on some high mountain over the
body of a stag that they have killed, even so did these two
mighty warriors, Patroclus son of Menoetius and brave
Hector, hack and hew at one another over the corpse of Ce-
briones. Hector would not let him go when he had once got
him by the head, while Patroclus kept fast hold of his feet,
and a fierce fight raged between the other Danaans and Tro-
jans. As the east and south wind buffet one another when
they beat upon some dense forest on the mountains—there
is beech and ash and spreading cornel; the top of the trees
roar as they beat on one another, and one can hear the
boughs cracking and breaking—even so did the Trojans
and Achaeans spring upon one another and lay about each
other, and neither side would give way. Many a pointed
spear fell to ground and many a winged arrow sped from its
bow-string about the body of Cebriones; many a great stone,
moreover, beat on many a shield as they fought around his
body, but there he lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all
huge and hugely, heedless of his driving now.
So long as the sun was still high in mid-heaven the weap-
ons of either side were alike deadly, and the people fell; but
when he went down towards the time when men loose their
oxen, the Achaeans proved to be beyond all forecast stron-

ger, so that they drew Cebriones out of range of the darts
and tumult of the Trojans, and stripped the armour from
his shoulders. Then Patroclus sprang like Mars with fierce
intent and a terrific shout upon the Trojans, and thrice did
he kill nine men; but as he was coming on like a god for a
time, then, O Patroclus, was the hour of your end approach-
ing, for Phoebus fought you in fell earnest. Patroclus did
not see him as he moved about in the crush, for he was en-
shrouded in thick darkness, and the god struck him from
behind on his back and his broad shoulders with the flat
of his hand, so that his eyes turned dizzy. Phoebus Apollo
beat the helmet from off his head, and it rolled rattling off
under the horses’ feet, where its horse-hair plumes were all
begrimed with dust and blood. Never indeed had that hel-
met fared so before, for it had served to protect the head and
comely forehead of the godlike hero Achilles. Now, howev-
er, Zeus delivered it over to be worn by Hector. Nevertheless
the end of Hector also was near. The bronze-shod spear, so
great and so strong, was broken in the hand of Patroclus,
while his shield that covered him from head to foot fell to
the ground as did also the band that held it, and Apollo un-
did the fastenings of his corslet.
On this his mind became clouded; his limbs failed him,
and he stood as one dazed; whereon Euphorbus son of Pan-
thous a Dardanian, the best spearman of his time, as also
the finest horseman and fleetest runner, came behind him
and struck him in the back with a spear, midway between
the shoulders. This man as soon as ever he had come up
with his chariot had dismounted twenty men, so proficient
338 The Iliad

was he in all the arts of war—he it was, O knight Patro-
clus, that first drove a weapon into you, but he did not quite
overpower you. Euphorbus then ran back into the crowd,
after drawing his ashen spear out of the wound; he would
not stand firm and wait for Patroclus, unarmed though he
now was, to attack him; but Patroclus unnerved, alike by
the blow the god had given him and by the spear-wound,
drew back under cover of his men in fear for his life. Hec-
tor on this, seeing him to be wounded and giving ground,
forced his way through the ranks, and when close up with
him struck him in the lower part of the belly with a spear,
driving the bronze point right through it, so that he fell
heavily to the ground to the great of the Achaeans. As when
a lion has fought some fierce wild-boar and worsted him—
the two fight furiously upon the mountains over some little
fountain at which they would both drink, and the lion has
beaten the boar till he can hardly breathe—even so did
Hector son of Priam take the life of the brave son of Meno-
etius who had killed so many, striking him from close at
hand, and vaunting over him the while. ‘Patroclus,’ said he,
‘you deemed that you should sack our city, rob our Trojan
women of their freedom, and carry them off in your ships
to your own country. Fool; Hector and his fleet horses were
ever straining their utmost to defend them. I am foremost
of all the Trojan warriors to stave the day of bondage from
off them; as for you, vultures shall devour you here. Poor
wretch, Achilles with all his bravery availed you nothing;
and yet I ween when you left him he charged you straitly
saying, ‘Come not back to the ships, knight Patroclus, till

you have rent the bloodstained shirt of murderous Hector
about his body. Thus I ween did he charge you, and your
fool’s heart answered him ‘yea’ within you.’
Then, as the life ebbed out of you, you answered, O knight
Patroclus: ‘Hector, vaunt as you will, for Jove the son of Sat-
urn and Apollo have vouchsafed you victory; it is they who
have vanquished me so easily, and they who have stripped
the armour from my shoulders; had twenty such men as
you attacked me, all of them would have fallen before my
spear. Fate and the son of Leto have overpowered me, and
among mortal men Euphorbus; you are yourself third only
in the killing of me. I say further, and lay my saying to your
heart, you too shall live but for a little season; death and the
day of your doom are close upon you, and they will lay you
low by the hand of Achilles son of Aeacus.’
When he had thus spoken his eyes were closed in death,
his soul left his body and flitted down to the house of Ha-
des, mourning its sad fate and bidding farewell to the youth
and vigor of its manhood. Dead though he was, Hector still
spoke to him saying, ‘Patroclus, why should you thus fore-
tell my doom? Who knows but Achilles, son of lovely Thetis,
may be smitten by my spear and die before me?’
As he spoke he drew the bronze spear from the wound,
planting his foot upon the body, which he thrust off and let
lie on its back. He then went spear in hand after Autome-
don, squire of the fleet descendant of Aeacus, for he longed
to lay him low, but the immortal steeds which the gods had
given as a rich gift to Peleus bore him swiftly from the field.
340 The Iliad

BOOK XVII
B RAVE Menelaus son of Atreus now came to know that

Patroclus had fallen, and made his way through the
front ranks clad in full armour to bestride him. As a cow
stands lowing over her first calf, even so did yellow-haired
Menelaus bestride Patroclus. He held his round shield and
his spear in front of him, resolute to kill any who should
dare face him. But the son of Panthous had also noted the
body, and came up to Menelaus saying, ‘Menelaus, son of
Atreus, draw back, leave the body, and let the bloodstained
spoils be. I was first of the Trojans and their brave allies to
drive my spear into Patroclus, let me, therefore, have my
full glory among the Trojans, or I will take aim and kill
you.’
To this Menelaus answered in great anger ‘By father Jove,
boasting is an ill thing. The pard is not more bold, nor the
lion nor savage wild-boar, which is fiercest and most daunt-
less of all creatures, than are the proud sons of Panthous.
Yet Hyperenor did not see out the days of his youth when he
made light of me and withstood me, deeming me the mean-
est soldier among the Danaans. His own feet never bore
him back to gladden his wife and parents. Even so shall I
make an end of you too, if you withstand me; get you back
into the crowd and do not face me, or it shall be worse for
you. Even a fool may be wise after the event.’

Euphorbus would not listen, and said, ‘Now indeed,
Menelaus, shall you pay for the death of my brother over
whom you vaunted, and whose wife you widowed in her
bridal chamber, while you brought grief unspeakable on
his parents. I shall comfort these poor people if I bring your
head and armour and place them in the hands of Panthous
and noble Phrontis. The time is come when this matter shall
be fought out and settled, for me or against me.’
As he spoke he struck Menelaus full on the shield, but
the spear did not go through, for the shield turned its point.
Menelaus then took aim, praying to father Jove as he did
so; Euphorbus was drawing back, and Menelaus struck him
about the roots of his throat, leaning his whole weight on the
spear, so as to drive it home. The point went clean through
his neck, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell
heavily to the ground. His hair which was like that of the
Graces, and his locks so deftly bound in bands of silver and
gold, were all bedrabbled with blood. As one who has grown
a fine young olive tree in a clear space where there is abun-
dance of water—the plant is full of promise, and though the
winds beat upon it from every quarter it puts forth its white
blossoms till the blasts of some fierce hurricane sweep down
upon it and level it with the ground—even so did Menelaus
strip the fair youth Euphorbus of his armour after he had
slain him. Or as some fierce lion upon the mountains in the
pride of his strength fastens on the finest heifer in a herd as
it is feeding—first he breaks her neck with his strong jaws,
and then gorges on her blood and entrails; dogs and shep-
herds raise a hue and cry against him, but they stand aloof
342 The Iliad

and will not come close to him, for they are pale with fear—
even so no one had the courage to face valiant Menelaus.
The son of Atreus would have then carried off the armour of
the son of Panthous with ease, had not Phoebus Apollo been
angry, and in the guise of Mentes chief of the Cicons incited
Hector to attack him. ‘Hector,’ said he, ‘you are now going
after the horses of the noble son of Aeacus, but you will not
take them; they cannot be kept in hand and driven by mor-
tal man, save only by Achilles, who is son to an immortal
mother. Meanwhile Menelaus son of Atreus has bestridden
the body of Patroclus and killed the noblest of the Trojans,
Euphorbus son of Panthous, so that he can fight no more.’
The god then went back into the toil and turmoil, but the
soul of Hector was darkened with a cloud of grief; he looked
along the ranks and saw Euphorbus lying on the ground
with the blood still flowing from his wound, and Menelaus
stripping him of his armour. On this he made his way to the
front like a flame of fire, clad in his gleaming armour, and
crying with a loud voice. When the son of Atreus heard him,
he said to himself in his dismay, ‘Alas! what shall I do? I may
not let the Trojans take the armour of Patroclus who has
fallen fighting on my behalf, lest some Danaan who sees me
should cry shame upon me. Still if for my honour’s sake I
fight Hector and the Trojans single-handed, they will prove
too many for me, for Hector is bringing them up in force.
Why, however, should I thus hesitate? When a man fights in
despite of heaven with one whom a god befriends, he will
soon rue it. Let no Danaan think ill of me if I give place to
Hector, for the hand of heaven is with him. Yet, if I could

find Ajax, the two of us would fight Hector and heaven too,
if we might only save the body of Patroclus for Achilles son
of Peleus. This, of many evils would be the least.’
While he was thus in two minds, the Trojans came up to
him with Hector at their head; he therefore drew back and
left the body, turning about like some bearded lion who is
being chased by dogs and men from a stockyard with spears
and hue and cry, whereon he is daunted and slinks sulkily
off—even so did Menelaus son of Atreus turn and leave the
body of Patroclus. When among the body of his men, he
looked around for mighty Ajax son of Telamon, and pres-
ently saw him on the extreme left of the fight, cheering on
his men and exhorting them to keep on fighting, for Phoe-
bus Apollo had spread a great panic among them. He ran
up to him and said, ‘Ajax, my good friend, come with me at
once to dead Patroclus, if so be that we may take the body to
Achilles—as for his armour, Hector already has it.’
These words stirred the heart of Ajax, and he made his
way among the front ranks, Menelaus going with him. Hec-
tor had stripped Patroclus of his armour, and was dragging
him away to cut off his head and take the body to fling be-
fore the dogs of Troy. But Ajax came up with his shield like
wall before him, on which Hector withdrew under shelter
of his men, and sprang on to his chariot, giving the armour
over to the Trojans to take to the city, as a great trophy for
himself; Ajax, therefore, covered the body of Patroclus with
his broad shield and bestrode him; as a lion stands over his
whelps if hunters have come upon him in a forest when he
is with his little ones—in the pride and fierceness of his
344 The Iliad

strength he draws his knit brows down till they cover his
eyes—even so did Ajax bestride the body of Patroclus, and
by his side stood Menelaus son of Atreus, nursing great sor-
row in his heart.
Then Glaucus son of Hippolochus looked fiercely at Hec-
tor and rebuked him sternly. ‘Hector,’ said he, ‘you make a
brave show, but in fight you are sadly wanting. A runaway
like yourself has no claim to so great a reputation. Think
how you may now save your town and citadel by the hands
of your own people born in Ilius; for you will get no Lycians
to fight for you, seeing what thanks they have had for their
incessant hardships. Are you likely, sir, to do anything to
help a man of less note, after leaving Sarpedon, who was at
once your guest and comrade in arms, to be the spoil and
prey of the Danaans? So long as he lived he did good ser-
vice both to your city and yourself; yet you had no stomach
to save his body from the dogs. If the Lycians will listen to
me, they will go home and leave Troy to its fate. If the Tro-
jans had any of that daring fearless spirit which lays hold of
men who are fighting for their country and harassing those
who would attack it, we should soon bear off Patroclus into
Ilius. Could we get this dead man away and bring him into
the city of Priam, the Argives would readily give up the ar-
mour of Sarpedon, and we should get his body to boot. For
he whose squire has been now killed is the foremost man at
the ships of the Achaeans—he and his close-fighting follow-
ers. Nevertheless you dared not make a stand against Ajax,
nor face him, eye to eye, with battle all round you, for he is
a braver man than you are.’

Hector scowled at him and answered, ‘Glaucus, you
should know better. I have held you so far as a man of more
understanding than any in all Lycia, but now I despise you
for saying that I am afraid of Ajax. I fear neither battle nor
the din of chariots, but Jove’s will is stronger than ours; Jove
at one time makes even a strong man draw back and snatch-
es victory from his grasp, while at another he will set him
on to fight. Come hither then, my friend, stand by me and
see indeed whether I shall play the coward the whole day
through as you say, or whether I shall not stay some even
of the boldest Danaans from fighting round the body of Pa-
troclus.’
As he spoke he called loudly on the Trojans saying, ‘Tro-
jans, Lycians, and Dardanians, fighters in close combat, be
men, my friends, and fight might and main, while I put on
the goodly armour of Achilles, which I took when I killed
Patroclus.’
With this Hector left the fight, and ran full speed after
his men who were taking the armour of Achilles to Troy,
but had not yet got far. Standing for a while apart from the
woeful fight, he changed his armour. His own he sent to the
strong city of Ilius and to the Trojans, while he put on the
immortal armour of the son of Peleus, which the gods had
given to Peleus, who in his age gave it to his son; but the son
did not grow old in his father’s armour.
When Jove, lord of the storm-cloud, saw Hector standing
aloof and arming himself in the armour of the son of Pele-
us, he wagged his head and muttered to himself saying, ‘A!
poor wretch, you arm in the armour of a hero, before whom
346 The Iliad

many another trembles, and you reck nothing of the doom
that is already close upon you. You have killed his comrade
so brave and strong, but it was not well that you should strip
the armour from his head and shoulders. I do indeed endow
you with great might now, but as against this you shall not
return from battle to lay the armour of the son of Peleus be-
fore Andromache.’
The son of Saturn bowed his portentous brows, and Hec-
tor fitted the armour to his body, while terrible Mars entered
into him, and filled his whole body with might and valour.
With a shout he strode in among the allies, and his armour
flashed about him so that he seemed to all of them like the
great son of Peleus himself. He went about among them
and cheered them on—Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon, Ther-
silochus, Asteropaeus, Deisenor and Hippothous, Phorcys,
Chromius and Ennomus the augur. All these did he exhort
saying, ‘Hear me, allies from other cities who are here in
your thousands, it was not in order to have a crowd about
me that I called you hither each from his several city, but
that with heart and soul you might defend the wives and
little ones of the Trojans from the fierce Achaeans. For this
do I oppress my people with your food and the presents
that make you rich. Therefore turn, and charge at the foe,
to stand or fall as is the game of war; whoever shall bring
Patroclus, dead though he be, into the hands of the Trojans,
and shall make Ajax give way before him, I will give him
one half of the spoils while I keep the other. He will thus
share like honour with myself.’
When he had thus spoken they charged full weight upon

the Danaans with their spears held out before them, and
the hopes of each ran high that he should force Ajax son
of Telamon to yield up the body—fools that they were, for
he was about to take the lives of many. Then Ajax said to
Menelaus, ‘My good friend Menelaus, you and I shall hardly
come out of this fight alive. I am less concerned for the body
of Patroclus, who will shortly become meat for the dogs and
vultures of Troy, than for the safety of my own head and
yours. Hector has wrapped us round in a storm of battle
from every quarter, and our destruction seems now certain.
Call then upon the princes of the Danaans if there is any
who can hear us.’
Menelaus did as he said, and shouted to the Danaans for
help at the top of his voice. ‘My friends,’ he cried, ‘princes
and counsellors of the Argives, all you who with Agamem-
non and Menelaus drink at the public cost, and give orders
each to his own people as Jove vouchsafes him power and
glory, the fight is so thick about me that I cannot distinguish
you severally; come on, therefore, every man unbidden, and
think it shame that Patroclus should become meat and mor-
sel for Trojan hounds.’
Fleet Ajax son of Oileus heard him and was first to force
his way through the fight and run to help him. Next came
Idomeneus and Meriones his esquire, peer of murderous
Mars. As for the others that came into the fight after these,
who of his own self could name them?
The Trojans with Hector at their head charged in a body.
As a great wave that comes thundering in at the mouth of
some heaven-born river, and the rocks that jut into the
348 The Iliad

sea ring with the roar of the breakers that beat and buffet
them—even with such a roar did the Trojans come on; but
the Achaeans in singleness of heart stood firm about the
son of Menoetius, and fenced him with their bronze shields.
Jove, moreover, hid the brightness of their helmets in a thick
cloud, for he had borne no grudge against the son of Meno-
etius while he was still alive and squire to the descendant
of Aeacus; therefore he was loth to let him fall a prey to the
dogs of his foes the Trojans, and urged his comrades on to
defend him.
At first the Trojans drove the Achaeans back, and they
withdrew from the dead man daunted. The Trojans did
not succeed in killing any one, nevertheless they drew the
body away. But the Achaeans did not lose it long, for Ajax,
foremost of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus alike
in stature and prowess, quickly rallied them and made to-
wards the front like a wild boar upon the mountains when
he stands at bay in the forest glades and routs the hounds
and lusty youths that have attacked him—even so did Ajax
son of Telamon passing easily in among the phalanxes of
the Trojans, disperse those who had bestridden Patroclus
and were most bent on winning glory by dragging him off
to their city. At this moment Hippothous brave son of the
Pelasgian Lethus, in his zeal for Hector and the Trojans,
was dragging the body off by the foot through the press of
the fight, having bound a strap round the sinews near the
ancle; but a mischief soon befell him from which none of
those could save him who would have gladly done so, for
the son of Telamon sprang forward and smote him on his

bronze-cheeked helmet. The plumed headpiece broke about
the point of the weapon, struck at once by the spear and by
the strong hand of Ajax, so that the bloody brain came ooz-
ing out through the crest-socket. His strength then failed
him and he let Patroclus’ foot drop from his hand, as he fell
full length dead upon the body; thus he died far from the
fertile land of Larissa, and never repaid his parents the cost
of bringing him up, for his life was cut short early by the
spear of mighty Ajax. Hector then took aim at Ajax with
a spear, but he saw it coming and just managed to avoid it;
the spear passed on and struck Schedius son of noble Iphi-
tus, captain of the Phoceans, who dwelt in famed Panopeus
and reigned over much people; it struck him under the mid-
dle of the collar-bone the bronze point went right through
him, coming out at the bottom of his shoulder-blade, and
his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to
the ground. Ajax in his turn struck noble Phorcys son of
Phaenops in the middle of the belly as he was bestriding
Hippothous, and broke the plate of his cuirass; whereon the
spear tore out his entrails and he clutched the ground in
his palm as he fell to earth. Hector and those who were in
the front rank then gave ground, while the Argives raised a
loud cry of triumph, and drew off the bodies of Phorcys and
Hippothous which they stripped presently of their armour.
The Trojans would now have been worsted by the brave
Achaeans and driven back to Ilius through their own cow-
ardice, while the Argives, so great was their courage and
endurance, would have achieved a triumph even against the
will of Jove, if Apollo had not roused Aeneas, in the likeness
350 The Iliad

of Periphas son of Epytus, an attendant who had grown old
in the service of Aeneas’ aged father, and was at all times
devoted to him. In his likeness, then, Apollo said, ‘Aeneas,
can you not manage, even though heaven be against us, to
save high Ilius? I have known men, whose numbers, cour-
age, and self-reliance have saved their people in spite of Jove,
whereas in this case he would much rather give victory to
us than to the Danaans, if you would only fight instead of
being so terribly afraid.’
Aeneas knew Apollo when he looked straight at him, and
shouted to Hector saying, ‘Hector and all other Trojans and
allies, shame on us if we are beaten by the Achaeans and
driven back to Ilius through our own cowardice. A god has
just come up to me and told me that Jove the supreme dis-
poser will be with us. Therefore let us make for the Danaans,
that it may go hard with them ere they bear away dead Pa-
troclus to the ships.’
As he spoke he sprang out far in front of the others, who
then rallied and again faced the Achaeans. Aeneas speared
Leiocritus son of Arisbas, a valiant follower of Lycomedes,
and Lycomedes was moved with pity as he saw him fall; he
therefore went close up, and speared Apisaon son of Hippa-
sus shepherd of his people in the liver under the midriff, so
that he died; he had come from fertile Paeonia and was the
best man of them all after Asteropaeus. Asteropaeus flew
forward to avenge him and attack the Danaans, but this
might no longer be, inasmuch as those about Patroclus were
well covered by their shields, and held their spears in front
of them, for Ajax had given them strict orders that no man

was either to give ground, or to stand out before the others,
but all were to hold well together about the body and fight
hand to hand. Thus did huge Ajax bid them, and the earth
ran red with blood as the corpses fell thick on one another
alike on the side of the Trojans and allies, and on that of
the Danaans; for these last, too, fought no bloodless fight
though many fewer of them perished, through the care they
took to defend and stand by one another.
Thus did they fight as it were a flaming fire; it seemed as
though it had gone hard even with the sun and moon, for
they were hidden over all that part where the bravest heroes
were fighting about the dead son of Menoetius, whereas the
other Danaans and Achaeans fought at their ease in full
daylight with brilliant sunshine all round them, and there
was not a cloud to be seen neither on plain nor mountain.
These last moreover would rest for a while and leave off
fighting, for they were some distance apart and beyond the
range of one another’s weapons, whereas those who were
in the thick of the fray suffered both from battle and dark-
ness. All the best of them were being worn out by the great
weight of their armour, but the two valiant heroes, Thra-
symedes and Antilochus, had not yet heard of the death of
Patroclus, and believed him to be still alive and leading the
van against the Trojans; they were keeping themselves in
reserve against the death or rout of their own comrades, for
so Nestor had ordered when he sent them from the ships
into battle.
Thus through the livelong day did they wage fierce war,
and the sweat of their toil rained ever on their legs under
352 The Iliad

them, and on their hands and eyes, as they fought over the
squire of the fleet son of Peleus. It was as when a man gives
a great ox-hide all drenched in fat to his men, and bids them
stretch it; whereon they stand round it in a ring and tug till
the moisture leaves it, and the fat soaks in for the many that
pull at it, and it is well stretched—even so did the two sides
tug the dead body hither and thither within the compass of
but a little space—the Trojans steadfastly set on dragging
it into Ilius, while the Achaeans were no less so on taking
it to their ships; and fierce was the fight between them. Not
Mars himself the lord of hosts, nor yet Minerva, even in
their fullest fury could make light of such a battle.
Such fearful turmoil of men and horses did Jove on that
day ordain round the body of Patroclus. Meanwhile Achil-
les did not know that he had fallen, for the fight was under
the wall of Troy a long way off the ships. He had no idea,
therefore, that Patroclus was dead, and deemed that he
would return alive as soon as he had gone close up to the
gates. He knew that he was not to sack the city neither with
nor without himself, for his mother had often told him this
when he had sat alone with her, and she had informed him
of the counsels of great Jove. Now, however, she had not told
him how great a disaster had befallen him in the death of
the one who was far dearest to him of all his comrades.
The others still kept on charging one another round the
body with their pointed spears and killing each other. Then
would one say, ‘My friends, we can never again show our
faces at the ships— better, and greatly better, that earth
should open and swallow us here in this place, than that we

should let the Trojans have the triumph of bearing off Pa-
troclus to their city.’
The Trojans also on their part spoke to one another say-
ing, ‘Friends, though we fall to a man beside this body, let
none shrink from fighting.’ With such words did they ex-
hort each other. They fought and fought, and an iron clank
rose through the void air to the brazen vault of heaven. The
horses of the descendant of Aeacus stood out of the fight
and wept when they heard that their driver had been laid
low by the hand of murderous Hector. Automedon, valiant
son of Diores, lashed them again and again; many a time did
he speak kindly to them, and many a time did he upbraid
them, but they would neither go back to the ships by the
waters of the broad Hellespont, nor yet into battle among
the Achaeans; they stood with their chariot stock still, as a
pillar set over the tomb of some dead man or woman, and
bowed their heads to the ground. Hot tears fell from their
eyes as they mourned the loss of their charioteer, and their
noble manes drooped all wet from under the yokestraps on
either side the yoke.
The son of Saturn saw them and took pity upon their
sorrow. He wagged his head, and muttered to himself, say-
ing, ‘Poor things, why did we give you to King Peleus who
is a mortal, while you are yourselves ageless and immortal?
Was it that you might share the sorrows that befall man-
kind? for of all creatures that live and move upon the earth
there is none so pitiable as he is—still, Hector son of Priam
shall drive neither you nor your chariot. I will not have it.
It is enough that he should have the armour over which he
354 The Iliad

vaunts so vainly. Furthermore I will give you strength of
heart and limb to bear Automedon safely to the ships from
battle, for I shall let the Trojans triumph still further, and
go on killing till they reach the ships; whereon night shall
fall and darkness overshadow the land.’
As he spoke he breathed heart and strength into the hors-
es so that they shook the dust from out of their manes, and
bore their chariot swiftly into the fight that raged between
Trojans and Achaeans. Behind them fought Automedon
full of sorrow for his comrade, as a vulture amid a flock of
geese. In and out, and here and there, full speed he dashed
amid the throng of the Trojans, but for all the fury of his
pursuit he killed no man, for he could not wield his spear
and keep his horses in hand when alone in the chariot; at
last, however, a comrade, Alcimedon, son of Laerces son
of Haemon caught sight of him and came up behind his
chariot. ‘Automedon,’ said he, ‘what god has put this folly
into your heart and robbed you of your right mind, that you
fight the Trojans in the front rank single-handed? He who
was your comrade is slain, and Hector plumes himself on
being armed in the armour of the descendant of Aeacus.’
Automedon son of Diores answered, ‘Alcimedon, there is
no one else who can control and guide the immortal steeds
so well as you can, save only Patroclus—while he was alive—
peer of gods in counsel. Take then the whip and reins, while
I go down from the car and fight.’
Alcimedon sprang on to the chariot, and caught up the
whip and reins, while Automedon leaped from off the car.
When Hector saw him he said to Aeneas who was near

him, ‘Aeneas, counsellor of the mail-clad Trojans, I see the
steeds of the fleet son of Aeacus come into battle with weak
hands to drive them. I am sure, if you think well, that we
might take them; they will not dare face us if we both at-
tack them.’
The valiant son of Anchises was of the same mind, and
the pair went right on, with their shoulders covered under
shields of tough dry ox-hide, overlaid with much bronze.
Chromius and Aretus went also with them, and their hearts
beat high with hope that they might kill the men and cap-
ture the horses—fools that they were, for they were not to
return scatheless from their meeting with Automedon, who
prayed to father Jove and was forthwith filled with courage
and strength abounding. He turned to his trusty comrade
Alcimedon and said, ‘Alcimedon, keep your horses so close
up that I may feel their breath upon my back; I doubt that
we shall not stay Hector son of Priam till he has killed us
and mounted behind the horses; he will then either spread
panic among the ranks of the Achaeans, or himself be killed
among the foremost.’
On this he cried out to the two Ajaxes and Menelaus,
‘Ajaxes captains of the Argives, and Menelaus, give the dead
body over to them that are best able to defend it, and come
to the rescue of us living; for Hector and Aeneas who are
the two best men among the Trojans, are pressing us hard
in the full tide of war. Nevertheless the issue lies on the lap
of heaven, I will therefore hurl my spear and leave the rest
to Jove.’
He poised and hurled as he spoke, whereon the spear
356 The Iliad

struck the round shield of Aretus, and went right through
it for the shield stayed it not, so that it was driven through
his belt into the lower part of his belly. As when some stur-
dy youth, axe in hand, deals his blow behind the horns of
an ox and severs the tendons at the back of its neck so that
it springs forward and then drops, even so did Aretus give
one bound and then fall on his back the spear quivering
in his body till it made an end of him. Hector then aimed
a spear at Automedon but he saw it coming and stooped
forward to avoid it, so that it flew past him and the point
stuck in the ground, while the butt-end went on quivering
till Mars robbed it of its force. They would then have fought
hand to hand with swords had not the two Ajaxes forced
their way through the crowd when they heard their com-
rade calling, and parted them for all their fury—for Hector,
Aeneas, and Chromius were afraid and drew back, leaving
Aretus to lie there struck to the heart. Automedon, peer of
fleet Mars, then stripped him of his armour and vaunted
over him saying, ‘I have done little to assuage my sorrow
for the son of Menoetius, for the man I have killed is not so
good as he was.’
As he spoke he took the blood-stained spoils and laid
them upon his chariot; then he mounted the car with his
hands and feet all steeped in gore as a lion that has been
gorging upon a bull.
And now the fierce groanful fight again raged about Pa-
troclus, for Minerva came down from heaven and roused its
fury by the command of far-seeing Jove, who had changed
his mind and sent her to encourage the Danaans. As when

Jove bends his bright bow in heaven in token to mankind
either of war or of the chill storms that stay men from their
labour and plague the flocks—even so, wrapped in such ra-
diant raiment, did Minerva go in among the host and speak
man by man to each. First she took the form and voice of
Phoenix and spoke to Menelaus son of Atreus, who was
standing near her. ‘Menelaus,’ said she, ‘it will be shame
and dishonour to you, if dogs tear the noble comrade of
Achilles under the walls of Troy. Therefore be staunch, and
urge your men to be so also.’
Menelaus answered, ‘Phoenix, my good old friend, may
Minerva vouchsafe me strength and keep the darts from
off me, for so shall I stand by Patroclus and defend him; his
death has gone to my heart, but Hector is as a raging fire
and deals his blows without ceasing, for Jove is now grant-
ing him a time of triumph.’
Minerva was pleased at his having named herself before
any of the other gods. Therefore she put strength into his
knees and shoulders, and made him as bold as a fly, which,
though driven off will yet come again and bite if it can, so
dearly does it love man’s blood—even so bold as this did
she make him as he stood over Patroclus and threw his
spear. Now there was among the Trojans a man named Po-
des, son of Eetion, who was both rich and valiant. Hector
held him in the highest honour for he was his comrade and
boon companion; the spear of Menelaus struck this man
in the girdle just as he had turned in flight, and went right
through him. Whereon he fell heavily forward, and Mene-
laus son of Atreus drew off his body from the Trojans into
358 The Iliad

the ranks of his own people.
Apollo then went up to Hector and spurred him on to
fight, in the likeness of Phaenops son of Asius who lived in
Abydos and was the most favoured of all Hector’s guests.
In his likeness Apollo said, ‘Hector, who of the Achaeans
will fear you henceforward now that you have quailed be-
fore Menelaus who has ever been rated poorly as a soldier?
Yet he has now got a corpse away from the Trojans single-
handed, and has slain your own true comrade, a man brave
among the foremost, Podes son of Eetion.’
A dark cloud of grief fell upon Hector as he heard, and he
made his way to the front clad in full armour. Thereon the
son of Saturn seized his bright tasselled aegis, and veiled
Ida in cloud: he sent forth his lightnings and his thunders,
and as he shook his aegis he gave victory to the Trojans and
routed the Achaeans.
The panic was begun by Peneleos the Boeotian, for
while keeping his face turned ever towards the foe he had
been hit with a spear on the upper part of the shoulder; a
spear thrown by Polydamas had grazed the top of the bone,
for Polydamas had come up to him and struck him from
close at hand. Then Hector in close combat struck Leitus
son of noble Alectryon in the hand by the wrist, and dis-
abled him from fighting further. He looked about him in
dismay, knowing that never again should he wield spear
in battle with the Trojans. While Hector was in pursuit of
Leitus, Idomeneus struck him on the breastplate over his
chest near the nipple; but the spear broke in the shaft, and
the Trojans cheered aloud. Hector then aimed at Idome-

neus son of Deucalion as he was standing on his chariot,
and very narrowly missed him, but the spear hit Coiranus,
a follower and charioteer of Meriones who had come with
him from Lyctus. Idomeneus had left the ships on foot and
would have afforded a great triumph to the Trojans if Coira-
nus had not driven quickly up to him, he therefore brought
life and rescue to Idomeneus, but himself fell by the hand
of murderous Hector. For Hector hit him on the jaw under
the ear; the end of the spear drove out his teeth and cut his
tongue in two pieces, so that he fell from his chariot and
let the reins fall to the ground. Meriones gathered them up
from the ground and took them into his own hands, then
he said to Idomeneus, ‘Lay on, till you get back to the ships,
for you must see that the day is no longer ours.’
On this Idomeneus lashed the horses to the ships, for
fear had taken hold upon him.
Ajax and Menelaus noted how Jove had turned the scale
in favour of the Trojans, and Ajax was first to speak. ‘Alas,’
said he, ‘even a fool may see that father Jove is helping the
Trojans. All their weapons strike home; no matter whether
it be a brave man or a coward that hurls them, Jove speeds
all alike, whereas ours fall each one of them without effect.
What, then, will be best both as regards rescuing the body,
and our return to the joy of our friends who will be griev-
ing as they look hitherwards; for they will make sure that
nothing can now check the terrible hands of Hector, and
that he will fling himself upon our ships. I wish that some
one would go and tell the son of Peleus at once, for I do not
think he can have yet heard the sad news that the dearest
360 The Iliad

of his friends has fallen. But I can see not a man among the
Achaeans to send, for they and their chariots are alike hid-
den in darkness. O father Jove, lift this cloud from over the
sons of the Achaeans; make heaven serene, and let us see; if
you will that we perish, let us fall at any rate by daylight.’
Father Jove heard him and had compassion upon his
tears. Forthwith he chased away the cloud of darkness, so
that the sun shone out and all the fighting was revealed.
Ajax then said to Menelaus, ‘Look, Menelaus, and if Anti-
lochus son of Nestor be still living, send him at once to tell
Achilles that by far the dearest to him of all his comrades
has fallen.’
Menelaus heeded his words and went his way as a lion
from a stockyard—the lion is tired of attacking the men and
hounds, who keep watch the whole night through and will
not let him feast on the fat of their herd. In his lust of meat
he makes straight at them but in vain, for darts from strong
hands assail him, and burning brands which daunt him for
all his hunger, so in the morning he slinks sulkily away—
even so did Menelaus sorely against his will leave Patroclus,
in great fear lest the Achaeans should be driven back in rout
and let him fall into the hands of the foe. He charged Merio-
nes and the two Ajaxes straitly saying, ‘Ajaxes and Meriones,
leaders of the Argives, now indeed remember how good Pa-
troclus was; he was ever courteous while alive, bear it in
mind now that he is dead.’
With this Menelaus left them, looking round him as
keenly as an eagle, whose sight they say is keener than that
of any other bird—however high he may be in the heavens,

not a hare that runs can escape him by crouching under
bush or thicket, for he will swoop down upon it and make
an end of it—even so, O Menelaus, did your keen eyes range
round the mighty host of your followers to see if you could
find the son of Nestor still alive. Presently Menelaus saw
him on the extreme left of the battle cheering on his men
and exhorting them to fight boldly. Menelaus went up to
him and said, ‘Antilochus, come here and listen to sad news,
which I would indeed were untrue. You must see with your
own eyes that heaven is heaping calamity upon the Dan-
aans, and giving victory to the Trojans. Patroclus has fallen,
who was the bravest of the Achaeans, and sorely will the Da-
naans miss him. Run instantly to the ships and tell Achilles,
that he may come to rescue the body and bear it to the ships.
As for the armour, Hector already has it.’
Antilochus was struck with horror. For a long time he
was speechless; his eyes filled with tears and he could find
no utterance, but he did as Menelaus had said, and set off
running as soon as he had given his armour to a comrade,
Laodocus, who was wheeling his horses round, close beside
him.
Thus, then, did he run weeping from the field, to carry
the bad news to Achilles son of Peleus. Nor were you, O
Menelaus, minded to succour his harassed comrades, when
Antilochus had left the Pylians—and greatly did they miss
him—but he sent them noble Thrasymedes, and himself
went back to Patroclus. He came running up to the two
Ajaxes and said, ‘I have sent Antilochus to the ships to tell
Achilles, but rage against Hector as he may, he cannot come,
362 The Iliad

for he cannot fight without armour. What then will be our
best plan both as regards rescuing the dead, and our own
escape from death amid the battle-cries of the Trojans?’
Ajax answered, ‘Menelaus, you have said well: do you,
then, and Meriones stoop down, raise the body, and bear
it out of the fray, while we two behind you keep off Hector
and the Trojans, one in heart as in name, and long used to
fighting side by side with one another.’
On this Menelaus and Meriones took the dead man in
their arms and lifted him high aloft with a great effort. The
Trojan host raised a hue and cry behind them when they
saw the Achaeans bearing the body away, and flew after
them like hounds attacking a wounded boar at the loo of a
band of young huntsmen. For a while the hounds fly at him
as though they would tear him in pieces, but now and again
he turns on them in a fury, scaring and scattering them in
all directions—even so did the Trojans for a while charge in
a body, striking with sword and with spears pointed ai both
the ends, but when the two Ajaxes faced them and stood
at bay, they would turn pale and no man dared press on to
fight further about the dead.
In this wise did the two heroes strain every nerve to bear
the body to the ships out of the fight. The battle raged round
them like fierce flames that when once kindled spread like
wildfire over a city, and the houses fall in the glare of its
burning— even such was the roar and tramp of men and
horses that pursued them as they bore Patroclus from the
field. Or as mules that put forth all their strength to draw
some beam or great piece of ship’s timber down a rough

mountain-track, and they pant and sweat as they, go even
so did Menelaus and pant and sweat as they bore the body
of Patroclus. Behind them the two Ajaxes held stoutly out.
As some wooded mountain-spur that stretches across a
plain will turn water and check the flow even of a great riv-
er, nor is there any stream strong enough to break through
it—even so did the two Ajaxes face the Trojans and stem the
tide of their fighting though they kept pouring on towards
them and foremost among them all was Aeneas son of An-
chises with valiant Hector. As a flock of daws or starlings
fall to screaming and chattering when they see a falcon, foe
to all small birds, come soaring near them, even so did the
Achaean youth raise a babel of cries as they fled before Ae-
neas and Hector, unmindful of their former prowess. In the
rout of the Danaans much goodly armour fell round about
the trench, and of fighting there was no end.
364 The Iliad

BOOK XVIII
T HUS then did they fight as it were a flaming fire. Mean-

while the fleet runner Antilochus, who had been sent
as messenger, reached Achilles, and found him sitting by
his tall ships and boding that which was indeed too surely
true. ‘Alas,’ said he to himself in the heaviness of his heart,
‘why are the Achaeans again scouring the plain and flocking
towards the ships? Heaven grant the gods be not now bring-
ing that sorrow upon me of which my mother Thetis spoke,
saying that while I was yet alive the bravest of the Myrmi-
dons should fall before the Trojans, and see the light of the
sun no longer. I fear the brave son of Menoetius has fallen
through his own daring and yet I bade him return to the
ships as soon as he had driven back those that were bring-
ing fire against them, and not join battle with Hector.’
As he was thus pondering, the son of Nestor came up to
him and told his sad tale, weeping bitterly the while. ‘Alas,’
he cried, ‘son of noble Peleus, I bring you bad tidings, would
indeed that they were untrue. Patroclus has fallen, and a
fight is raging about his naked body—for Hector holds his
armour.’
A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened.
He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and
poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and let-
ting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung

himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore
his hair with his hands. The bondswomen whom Achilles
and Patroclus had taken captive screamed aloud for grief,
beating their breasts, and with their limbs failing them for
sorrow. Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and
holding both his hands as he lay groaning for he feared that
he might plunge a knife into his own throat. Then Achil-
les gave a loud cry and his mother heard him as she was
sitting in the depths of the sea by the old man her father,
whereon she screamed, and all the goddesses daughters of
Nereus that dwelt at the bottom of the sea, came gathering
round her. There were Glauce, Thalia and Cymodoce, Nesa-
ia, Speo, Thoe and dark-eyed Halie, Cymothoe, Actaea and
Limnorea, Melite, Iaera, Amphithoe and Agave, Doto and
Proto, Pherusa and Dynamene, Dexamene, Amphinome
and Callianeira, Doris, Panope, and the famous sea-nymph
Galatea, Nemertes, Apseudes and Callianassa. There were
also Clymene, Ianeira and Ianassa, Maera, Oreithuia and
Amatheia of the lovely locks, with other Nereids who dwell
in the depths of the sea. The crystal cave was filled with
their multitude and they all beat their breasts while Thetis
led them in their lament.
‘Listen,’ she cried, ‘sisters, daughters of Nereus, that you
may hear the burden of my sorrows. Alas, woe is me, woe
in that I have borne the most glorious of offspring. I bore
him fair and strong, hero among heroes, and he shot up as a
sapling; I tended him as a plant in a goodly garden, and sent
him with his ships to Ilius to fight the Trojans, but never
shall I welcome him back to the house of Peleus. So long as
366 The Iliad

he lives to look upon the light of the sun he is in heaviness,
and though I go to him I cannot help him. Nevertheless
I will go, that I may see my dear son and learn what sor-
row has befallen him though he is still holding aloof from
battle.’
She left the cave as she spoke, while the others followed
weeping after, and the waves opened a path before them.
When they reached the rich plain of Troy, they came up out
of the sea in a long line on to the sands, at the place where
the ships of the Myrmidons were drawn up in close order
round the tents of Achilles. His mother went up to him as
he lay groaning; she laid her hand upon his head and spoke
piteously, saying, ‘My son, why are you thus weeping? What
sorrow has now befallen you? Tell me; hide it not from me.
Surely Jove has granted you the prayer you made him, when
you lifted up your hands and besought him that the Achae-
ans might all of them be pent up at their ships, and rue it
bitterly in that you were no longer with them.’
Achilles groaned and answered, ‘Mother, Olympian Jove
has indeed vouchsafed me the fulfilment of my prayer, but
what boots it to me, seeing that my dear comrade Patro-
clus has fallen—he whom I valued more than all others, and
loved as dearly as my own life? I have lost him; aye, and Hec-
tor when he had killed him stripped the wondrous armour,
so glorious to behold, which the gods gave to Peleus when
they laid you in the couch of a mortal man. Would that you
were still dwelling among the immortal sea-nymphs, and
that Peleus had taken to himself some mortal bride. For
now you shall have grief infinite by reason of the death of

that son whom you can never welcome home—nay, I will
not live nor go about among mankind unless Hector fall by
my spear, and thus pay me for having slain Patroclus son of
Menoetius.’
Thetis wept and answered, ‘Then, my son, is your end
near at hand—for your own death awaits you full soon after
that of Hector.’
Then said Achilles in his great grief, ‘I would die here
and now, in that I could not save my comrade. He has fall-
en far from home, and in his hour of need my hand was
not there to help him. What is there for me? Return to my
own land I shall not, and I have brought no saving neither
to Patroclus nor to my other comrades of whom so many
have been slain by mighty Hector; I stay here by my ships a
bootless burden upon the earth, I, who in fight have no peer
among the Achaeans, though in council there are better
than I. Therefore, perish strife both from among gods and
men, and anger, wherein even a righteous man will harden
his heart—which rises up in the soul of a man like smoke,
and the taste thereof is sweeter than drops of honey. Even
so has Agamemnon angered me. And yet—so be it, for it is
over; I will force my soul into subjection as I needs must;
I will go; I will pursue Hector who has slain him whom I
loved so dearly, and will then abide my doom when it may
please Jove and the other gods to send it. Even Hercules, the
best beloved of Jove—even he could not escape the hand
of death, but fate and Juno’s fierce anger laid him low, as I
too shall lie when I am dead if a like doom awaits me. Till
then I will win fame, and will bid Trojan and Dardanian
368 The Iliad

women wring tears from their tender cheeks with both their
hands in the grievousness of their great sorrow; thus shall
they know that he who has held aloof so long will hold aloof
no longer. Hold me not back, therefore, in the love you bear
me, for you shall not move me.’
Then silver-footed Thetis answered, ‘My son, what you
have said is true. It is well to save your comrades from de-
struction, but your armour is in the hands of the Trojans;
Hector bears it in triumph upon his own shoulders. Full
well I know that his vaunt shall not be lasting, for his end
is close at hand; go not, however, into the press of battle till
you see me return hither; to-morrow at break of day I shall
be here, and will bring you goodly armour from King Vul-
can.’
On this she left her brave son, and as she turned away she
said to the sea-nymphs her sisters, ‘Dive into the bosom of
the sea and go to the house of the old sea-god my father. Tell
him everything; as for me, I will go to the cunning work-
man Vulcan on high Olympus, and ask him to provide my
son with a suit of splendid armour.’
When she had so said, they dived forthwith beneath
the waves, while silver-footed Thetis went her way that she
might bring the armour for her son.
Thus, then, did her feet bear the goddess to Olympus,
and meanwhile the Achaeans were flying with loud cries
before murderous Hector till they reached the ships and
the Hellespont, and they could not draw the body of Mars’s
servant Patroclus out of reach of the weapons that were
showered upon him, for Hector son of Priam with his host

and horsemen had again caught up to him like the flame
of a fiery furnace; thrice did brave Hector seize him by the
feet, striving with might and main to draw him away and
calling loudly on the Trojans, and thrice did the two Aja-
xes, clothed in valour as with a garment, beat him from off
the body; but all undaunted he would now charge into the
thick of the fight, and now again he would stand still and
cry aloud, but he would give no ground. As upland shep-
herds that cannot chase some famished lion from a carcase,
even so could not the two Ajaxes scare Hector son of Priam
from the body of Patroclus.
And now he would even have dragged it off and have won
imperishable glory, had not Iris fleet as the wind, winged
her way as messenger from Olympus to the son of Peleus
and bidden him arm. She came secretly without the knowl-
edge of Jove and of the other gods, for Juno sent her, and
when she had got close to him she said, ‘Up, son of Peleus,
mightiest of all mankind; rescue Patroclus about whom this
fearful fight is now raging by the ships. Men are killing one
another, the Danaans in defence of the dead body, while the
Trojans are trying to hale it away, and take it to windy Ilius:
Hector is the most furious of them all; he is for cutting the
head from the body and fixing it on the stakes of the wall.
Up, then, and bide here no longer; shrink from the thought
that Patroclus may become meat for the dogs of Troy. Shame
on you, should his body suffer any kind of outrage.’
And Achilles said, ‘Iris, which of the gods was it that sent
you to me?’
Iris answered, ‘It was Juno the royal spouse of Jove, but
370 The Iliad

the son of Saturn does not know of my coming, nor yet does
any other of the immortals who dwell on the snowy sum-
mits of Olympus.’
Then fleet Achilles answered her saying, ‘How can I go
up into the battle? They have my armour. My mother for-
bade me to arm till I should see her come, for she promised
to bring me goodly armour from Vulcan; I know no man
whose arms I can put on, save only the shield of Ajax son of
Telamon, and he surely must be fighting in the front rank
and wielding his spear about the body of dead Patroclus.’
Iris said, ‘We know that your armour has been taken, but
go as you are; go to the deep trench and show yourself be-
fore the Trojans, that they may fear you and cease fighting.
Thus will the fainting sons of the Achaeans gain some brief
breathing-time, which in battle may hardly be.’
Iris left him when she had so spoken. But Achilles dear
to Jove arose, and Minerva flung her tasselled aegis round
his strong shoulders; she crowned his head with a halo of
golden cloud from which she kindled a glow of gleaming
fire. As the smoke that goes up into heaven from some city
that is being beleaguered on an island far out at sea—all day
long do men sally from the city and fight their hardest, and
at the going down of the sun the line of beacon-fires blazes
forth, flaring high for those that dwell near them to behold,
if so be that they may come with their ships and succour
them—even so did the light flare from the head of Achilles,
as he stood by the trench, going beyond the wall— but he
aid not join the Achaeans for he heeded the charge which
his mother laid upon him.

There did he stand and shout aloud. Minerva also raised
her voice from afar, and spread terror unspeakable among
the Trojans. Ringing as the note of a trumpet that sounds
alarm then the foe is at the gates of a city, even so brazen was
the voice of the son of Aeacus, and when the Trojans heard
its clarion tones they were dismayed; the horses turned
back with their chariots for they boded mischief, and their
drivers were awe-struck by the steady flame which the grey-
eyed goddess had kindled above the head of the great son
of Peleus.
Thrice did Achilles raise his loud cry as he stood by the
trench, and thrice were the Trojans and their brave allies
thrown into confusion; whereon twelve of their noblest
champions fell beneath the wheels of their chariots and per-
ished by their own spears. The Achaeans to their great joy
then drew Patroclus out of reach of the weapons, and laid
him on a litter: his comrades stood mourning round him,
and among them fleet Achilles who wept bitterly as he saw
his true comrade lying dead upon his bier. He had sent him
out with horses and chariots into battle, but his return he
was not to welcome.
Then Juno sent the busy sun, loth though he was, into
the waters of Oceanus; so he set, and the Achaeans had rest
from the tug and turmoil of war.
Now the Trojans when they had come out of the fight,
unyoked their horses and gathered in assembly before pre-
paring their supper. They kept their feet, nor would any
dare to sit down, for fear had fallen upon them all because
Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof so long
372 The Iliad

from battle. Polydamas son of Panthous was first to speak,
a man of judgement, who alone among them could look
both before and after. He was comrade to Hector, and they
had been born upon the same night; with all sincerity and
goodwill, therefore, he addressed them thus:—
‘Look to it well, my friends; I would urge you to go back
now to your city and not wait here by the ships till morn-
ing, for we are far from our walls. So long as this man was at
enmity with Agamemnon the Achaeans were easier to deal
with, and I would have gladly camped by the ships in the
hope of taking them; but now I go in great fear of the fleet
son of Peleus; he is so daring that he will never bide here
on the plain whereon the Trojans and Achaeans fight with
equal valour, but he will try to storm our city and carry off
our women. Do then as I say, and let us retreat. For this is
what will happen. The darkness of night will for a time stay
the son of Peleus, but if he find us here in the morning when
he sallies forth in full armour, we shall have knowledge of
him in good earnest. Glad indeed will he be who can escape
and get back to Ilius, and many a Trojan will become meat
for dogs and vultures may I never live to hear it. If we do as
I say, little though we may like it, we shall have strength in
counsel during the night, and the great gates with the doors
that close them will protect the city. At dawn we can arm
and take our stand on the walls; he will then rue it if he sal-
lies from the ships to fight us. He will go back when he has
given his horses their fill of being driven all whithers under
our walls, and will be in no mind to try and force his way
into the city. Neither will he ever sack it, dogs shall devour

him ere he do so.’
Hector looked fiercely at him and answered, ‘Polydamas,
your words are not to my liking in that you bid us go back
and be pent within the city. Have you not had enough of
being cooped up behind walls? In the old-days the city of
Priam was famous the whole world over for its wealth of
gold and bronze, but our treasures are wasted out of our
houses, and much goods have been sold away to Phrygia
and fair Meonia, for the hand of Jove has been laid heavily
upon us. Now, therefore, that the son of scheming Saturn
has vouchsafed me to win glory here and to hem the Achae-
ans in at their ships, prate no more in this fool’s wise among
the people. You will have no man with you; it shall not be;
do all of you as I now say;—take your suppers in your com-
panies throughout the host, and keep your watches and be
wakeful every man of you. If any Trojan is uneasy about his
possessions, let him gather them and give them out among
the people. Better let these, rather than the Achaeans, have
them. At daybreak we will arm and fight about the ships;
granted that Achilles has again come forward to defend
them, let it be as he will, but it shall go hard with him. I
shall not shun him, but will fight him, to fall or conquer.
The god of war deals out like measure to all, and the slayer
may yet be slain.’
Thus spoke Hector; and the Trojans, fools that they were,
shouted in applause, for Pallas Minerva had robbed them of
their understanding. They gave ear to Hector with his evil
counsel, but the wise words of Polydamas no man would
heed. They took their supper throughout the host, and
374 The Iliad

meanwhile through the whole night the Achaeans mourn-
ed Patroclus, and the son of Peleus led them in their lament.
He laid his murderous hands upon the breast of his com-
rade, groaning again and again as a bearded lion when a
man who was chasing deer has robbed him of his young in
some dense forest; when the lion comes back he is furious,
and searches dingle and dell to track the hunter if he can
find him, for he is mad with rage—even so with many a sigh
did Achilles speak among the Myrmidons saying, ‘Alas!
vain were the words with which I cheered the hero Menoe-
tius in his own house; I said that I would bring his brave son
back again to Opoeis after he had sacked Ilius and taken
his share of the spoils—but Jove does not give all men their
heart’s desire. The same soil shall be reddened here at Troy
by the blood of us both, for I too shall never be welcomed
home by the old knight Peleus, nor by my mother Thetis,
but even in this place shall the earth cover me. Neverthe-
less, O Patroclus, now that I am left behind you, I will not
bury you, till I have brought hither the head and armour of
mighty Hector who has slain you. Twelve noble sons of Tro-
jans will I behead before your bier to avenge you; till I have
done so you shall lie as you are by the ships, and fair women
of Troy and Dardanus, whom we have taken with spear and
strength of arm when we sacked men’s goodly cities, shall
weep over you both night and day.’
Then Achilles told his men to set a large tripod upon the
fire that they might wash the clotted gore from off Patro-
clus. Thereon they set a tripod full of bath water on to a
clear fire: they threw sticks on to it to make it blaze, and

the water became hot as the flame played about the belly
of the tripod. When the water in the cauldron was boiling
they washed the body, anointed it with oil, and closed its
wounds with ointment that had been kept nine years. Then
they laid it on a bier and covered it with a linen cloth from
head to foot, and over this they laid a fair white robe. Thus
all night long did the Myrmidons gather round Achilles to
mourn Patroclus.
Then Jove said to Juno his sister-wife, ‘So, Queen Juno,
you have gained your end, and have roused fleet Achilles.
One would think that the Achaeans were of your own flesh
and blood.’
And Juno answered, ‘Dread son of Saturn, why should
you say this thing? May not a man though he be only mor-
tal and knows less than we do, do what he can for another
person? And shall not I— foremost of all goddesses both by
descent and as wife to you who reign in heaven—devise evil
for the Trojans if I am angry with them?’
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Thetis came to the
house of Vulcan, imperishable, star-bespangled, fairest of
the abodes in heaven, a house of bronze wrought by the
lame god’s own hands. She found him busy with his bel-
lows, sweating and hard at work, for he was making twenty
tripods that were to stand by the wall of his house, and he
set wheels of gold under them all that they might go of their
own selves to the assemblies of the gods, and come back
again—marvels indeed to see. They were finished all but
the ears of cunning workmanship which yet remained to
be fixed to them: these he was now fixing, and he was ham-
376 The Iliad

mering at the rivets. While he was thus at work silver-footed
Thetis came to the house. Charis, of graceful head-dress,
wife to the far-famed lame god, came towards her as soon
as she saw her, and took her hand in her own, saying, ‘Why
have you come to our house, Thetis, honoured and ever wel-
come—for you do not visit us often? Come inside and let me
set refreshment before you.’
The goddess led the way as she spoke, and bade Thetis
sit on a richly decorated seat inlaid with silver; there was
a footstool also under her feet. Then she called Vulcan and
said, ‘Vulcan, come here, Thetis wants you”; and the far-
famed lame god answered, ‘Then it is indeed an august and
honoured goddess who has come here; she it was that took
care of me when I was suffering from the heavy fall which I
had through my cruel mother’s anger—for she would have
got rid of me because I was lame. It would have gone hardly
with me had not Eurynome, daughter of the ever-encircl-
ing waters of Oceanus, and Thetis, taken me to their bosom.
Nine years did I stay with them, and many beautiful works
in bronze, brooches, spiral armlets, cups, and chains, did
I make for them in their cave, with the roaring waters of
Oceanus foaming as they rushed ever past it; and no one
knew, neither of gods nor men, save only Thetis and Eury-
nome who took care of me. If, then, Thetis has come to my
house I must make her due requital for having saved me;
entertain her, therefore, with all hospitality, while I put by
my bellows and all my tools.’
On this the mighty monster hobbled off from his anvil,
his thin legs plying lustily under him. He set the bellows

away from the fire, and gathered his tools into a silver chest.
Then he took a sponge and washed his face and hands, his
shaggy chest and brawny neck; he donned his shirt, grasped
his strong staff, and limped towards the door. There were
golden handmaids also who worked for him, and were like
real young women, with sense and reason, voice also and
strength, and all the learning of the immortals; these bus-
ied themselves as the king bade them, while he drew near to
Thetis, seated her upon a goodly seat, and took her hand in
his own, saying, ‘Why have you come to our house, Thetis
honoured and ever welcome—for you do not visit us often?
Say what you want, and I will do it for you at once if I can,
and if it can be done at all.’
Thetis wept and answered, ‘Vulcan, is there another god-
dess in Olympus whom the son of Saturn has been pleased
to try with so much affliction as he has me? Me alone of the
marine goddesses did he make subject to a mortal husband,
Peleus son of Aeacus, and sorely against my will did I sub-
mit to the embraces of one who was but mortal, and who
now stays at home worn out with age. Neither is this all.
Heaven vouchsafed me a son, hero among heroes, and he
shot up as a sapling. I tended him as a plant in a goodly gar-
den and sent him with his ships to Ilius to fight the Trojans,
but never shall I welcome him back to the house of Peleus.
So long as he lives to look upon the light of the sun, he is
in heaviness, and though I go to him I cannot help him;
King Agamemnon has made him give up the maiden whom
the sons of the Achaeans had awarded him, and he wastes
with sorrow for her sake. Then the Trojans hemmed the
378 The Iliad

Achaeans in at their ships’ sterns and would not let them
come forth; the elders, therefore, of the Argives besought
Achilles and offered him great treasure, whereon he refused
to bring deliverance to them himself, but put his own ar-
mour on Patroclus and sent him into the fight with much
people after him. All day long they fought by the Scaean
gates and would have taken the city there and then, had
not Apollo vouchsafed glory to Hector and slain the valiant
son of Menoetius after he had done the Trojans much evil.
Therefore I am suppliant at your knees if haply you may be
pleased to provide my son, whose end is near at hand, with
helmet and shield, with goodly greaves fitted with ancle-
clasps, and with a breastplate, for he lost his own when his
true comrade fell at the hands of the Trojans, and he now
lies stretched on earth in the bitterness of his soul.’
And Vulcan answered, ‘Take heart, and be no more dis-
quieted about this matter; would that I could hide him from
death’s sight when his hour is come, so surely as I can find
him armour that shall amaze the eyes of all who behold it.’
When he had so said he left her and went to his bellows,
turning them towards the fire and bidding them do their of-
fice. Twenty bellows blew upon the melting-pots, and they
blew blasts of every kind, some fierce to help him when he
had need of them, and others less strong as Vulcan willed it
in the course of his work. He threw tough copper into the
fire, and tin, with silver and gold; he set his great anvil on
its block, and with one hand grasped his mighty hammer
while he took the tongs in the other.
First he shaped the shield so great and strong, adorning

it all over and binding it round with a gleaming circuit in
three layers; and the baldric was made of silver. He made
the shield in five thicknesses, and with many a wonder did
his cunning hand enrich it.
He wrought the earth, the heavens, and the sea; the
moon also at her full and the untiring sun, with all the
signs that glorify the face of heaven—the Pleiads, the Hya-
ds, huge Orion, and the Bear, which men also call the Wain
and which turns round ever in one place, facing. Orion, and
alone never dips into the stream of Oceanus.
He wrought also two cities, fair to see and busy with the
hum of men. In the one were weddings and wedding-feasts,
and they were going about the city with brides whom they
were escorting by torchlight from their chambers. Loud
rose the cry of Hymen, and the youths danced to the music
of flute and lyre, while the women stood each at her house
door to see them.
Meanwhile the people were gathered in assembly, for
there was a quarrel, and two men were wrangling about
the blood-money for a man who had been killed, the one
saying before the people that he had paid damages in full,
and the other that he had not been paid. Each was trying
to make his own case good, and the people took sides, each
man backing the side that he had taken; but the heralds kept
them back, and the elders sate on their seats of stone in a
solemn circle, holding the staves which the heralds had put
into their hands. Then they rose and each in his turn gave
judgement, and there were two talents laid down, to be giv-
en to him whose judgement should be deemed the fairest.
380 The Iliad

About the other city there lay encamped two hosts in
gleaming armour, and they were divided whether to sack
it, or to spare it and accept the half of what it contained.
But the men of the city would not yet consent, and armed
themselves for a surprise; their wives and little children
kept guard upon the walls, and with them were the men
who were past fighting through age; but the others sallied
forth with Mars and Pallas Minerva at their head— both
of them wrought in gold and clad in golden raiment, great
and fair with their armour as befitting gods, while they that
followed were smaller. When they reached the place where
they would lay their ambush, it was on a riverbed to which
live stock of all kinds would come from far and near to wa-
ter; here, then, they lay concealed, clad in full armour. Some
way off them there were two scouts who were on the look-
out for the coming of sheep or cattle, which presently came,
followed by two shepherds who were playing on their pipes,
and had not so much as a thought of danger. When those
who were in ambush saw this, they cut off the flocks and
herds and killed the shepherds. Meanwhile the besiegers,
when they heard much noise among the cattle as they sat in
council, sprang to their horses, and made with all speed to-
wards them; when they reached them they set battle in array
by the banks of the river, and the hosts aimed their bronze-
shod spears at one another. With them were Strife and Riot,
and fell Fate who was dragging three men after her, one
with a fresh wound, and the other unwounded, while the
third was dead, and she was dragging him along by his heel:
and her robe was bedrabbled in men’s blood. They went in

and out with one another and fought as though they were
living people haling away one another’s dead.
He wrought also a fair fallow field, large and thrice
ploughed already. Many men were working at the plough
within it, turning their oxen to and fro, furrow after furrow.
Each time that they turned on reaching the headland a man
would come up to them and give them a cup of wine, and
they would go back to their furrows looking forward to the
time when they should again reach the headland. The part
that they had ploughed was dark behind them, so that the
field, though it was of gold, still looked as if it were being
ploughed—very curious to behold.
He wrought also a field of harvest corn, and the reapers
were reaping with sharp sickles in their hands. Swathe after
swathe fell to the ground in a straight line behind them, and
the binders bound them in bands of twisted straw. There
were three binders, and behind them there were boys who
gathered the cut corn in armfuls and kept on bringing them
to be bound: among them all the owner of the land stood by
in silence and was glad. The servants were getting a meal
ready under an oak, for they had sacrificed a great ox, and
were busy cutting him up, while the women were making a
porridge of much white barley for the labourers’ dinner.
He wrought also a vineyard, golden and fair to see, and
the vines were loaded with grapes. The bunches overhead
were black, but the vines were trained on poles of silver. He
ran a ditch of dark metal all round it, and fenced it with a
fence of tin; there was only one path to it, and by this the
vintagers went when they would gather the vintage. Youths
382 The Iliad

and maidens all blithe and full of glee, carried the luscious
fruit in plaited baskets; and with them there went a boy who
made sweet music with his lyre, and sang the Linos-song
with his clear boyish voice.
He wrought also a herd of horned cattle. He made the
cows of gold and tin, and they lowed as they came full speed
out of the yards to go and feed among the waving reeds that
grow by the banks of the river. Along with the cattle there
went four shepherds, all of them in gold, and their nine fleet
dogs went with them. Two terrible lions had fastened on a
bellowing bull that was with the foremost cows, and bellow
as he might they haled him, while the dogs and men gave
chase: the lions tore through the bull’s thick hide and were
gorging on his blood and bowels, but the herdsmen were
afraid to do anything, and only hounded on their dogs; the
dogs dared not fasten on the lions but stood by barking and
keeping out of harm’s way.
The god wrought also a pasture in a fair mountain dell,
and a large flock of sheep, with a homestead and huts, and
sheltered sheepfolds.
Furthermore he wrought a green, like that which Dae-
dalus once made in Cnossus for lovely Ariadne. Hereon
there danced youths and maidens whom all would woo,
with their hands on one another’s wrists. The maidens wore
robes of light linen, and the youths well woven shirts that
were slightly oiled. The girls were crowned with garlands,
while the young men had daggers of gold that hung by silver
baldrics; sometimes they would dance deftly in a ring with
merry twinkling feet, as it were a potter sitting at his work

and making trial of his wheel to see whether it will run, and
sometimes they would go all in line with one another, and
much people was gathered joyously about the green. There
was a bard also to sing to them and play his lyre, while two
tumblers went about performing in the midst of them when
the man struck up with his tune.
All round the outermost rim of the shield he set the
mighty stream of the river Oceanus.
Then when he had fashioned the shield so great and
strong, he made a breastplate also that shone brighter than
fire. He made a helmet, close fitting to the brow, and richly
worked, with a golden plume overhanging it; and he made
greaves also of beaten tin.
Lastly, when the famed lame god had made all the ar-
mour, he took it and set it before the mother of Achilles;
whereon she darted like a falcon from the snowy summits
of Olympus and bore away the gleaming armour from the
house of Vulcan.
384 The Iliad

BOOK XIX
N OW when Dawn in robe of saffron was hasting from

the streams of Oceanus, to bring light to mortals and
immortals, Thetis reached the ships with the armour that
the god had given her. She found her son fallen about the
body of Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many also of his
followers were weeping round him, but when the goddess
came among them she clasped his hand in her own, saying,
‘My son, grieve as we may we must let this man lie, for it is by
heaven’s will that he has fallen; now, therefore, accept from
Vulcan this rich and goodly armour, which no man has ever
yet borne upon his shoulders.’
As she spoke she set the armour before Achilles, and it
rang out bravely as she did so. The Myrmidons were struck
with awe, and none dared look full at it, for they were afraid;
but Achilles was roused to still greater fury, and his eyes
gleamed with a fierce light, for he was glad when he handled
the splendid present which the god had made him. Then,
as soon as he had satisfied himself with looking at it, he
said to his mother, ‘Mother, the god has given me armour,
meet handiwork for an immortal and such as no-one living
could have fashioned; I will now arm, but I much fear that
flies will settle upon the son of Menoetius and breed worms
about his wounds, so that his body, now he is dead, will be
disfigured and the flesh will rot.’

Silver-footed Thetis answered, ‘My son, be not disquiet-
ed about this matter. I will find means to protect him from
the swarms of noisome flies that prey on the bodies of men
who have been killed in battle. He may lie for a whole year,
and his flesh shall still be as sound as ever, or even sounder.
Call, therefore, the Achaean heroes in assembly; unsay your
anger against Agamemnon; arm at once, and fight with
might and main.’
As she spoke she put strength and courage into his heart,
and she then dropped ambrosia and red nectar into the
wounds of Patroclus, that his body might suffer no change.
Then Achilles went out upon the seashore, and with a
loud cry called on the Achaean heroes. On this even those
who as yet had stayed always at the ships, the pilots and
helmsmen, and even the stewards who were about the ships
and served out rations, all came to the place of assembly
because Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof
so long from fighting. Two sons of Mars, Ulysses and the
son of Tydeus, came limping, for their wounds still pained
them; nevertheless they came, and took their seats in the
front row of the assembly. Last of all came Agamemnon,
king of men, he too wounded, for Coon son of Antenor had
struck him with a spear in battle.
When the Achaeans were got together Achilles rose and
said, ‘Son of Atreus, surely it would have been better alike
for both you and me, when we two were in such high anger
about Briseis, surely it would have been better, had Diana’s
arrow slain her at the ships on the day when I took her after
having sacked Lyrnessus. For so, many an Achaean the less
386 The Iliad

would have bitten dust before the foe in the days of my anger.
It has been well for Hector and the Trojans, but the Achae-
ans will long indeed remember our quarrel. Now, however,
let it be, for it is over. If we have been angry, necessity has
schooled our anger. I put it from me: I dare not nurse it for
ever; therefore, bid the Achaeans arm forthwith that I may
go out against the Trojans, and learn whether they will be
in a mind to sleep by the ships or no. Glad, I ween, will he be
to rest his knees who may fly my spear when I wield it.’
Thus did he speak, and the Achaeans rejoiced in that he
had put away his anger.
Then Agamemnon spoke, rising in his place, and not go-
ing into the middle of the assembly. ‘Danaan heroes,’ said
he, ‘servants of Mars, it is well to listen when a man stands
up to speak, and it is not seemly to interrupt him, or it will
go hard even with a practised speaker. Who can either hear
or speak in an uproar? Even the finest orator will be dis-
concerted by it. I will expound to the son of Peleus, and do
you other Achaeans heed me and mark me well. Often have
the Achaeans spoken to me of this matter and upbraided
me, but it was not I that did it: Jove, and Fate, and Erinys
that walks in darkness struck me mad when we were as-
sembled on the day that I took from Achilles the meed that
had been awarded to him. What could I do? All things are
in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of Jove’s daughters,
shuts men’s eyes to their destruction. She walks delicately,
not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men to
make them stumble or to ensnare them.
‘Time was when she fooled Jove himself, who they say is

greatest whether of gods or men; for Juno, woman though
she was, beguiled him on the day when Alcmena was to
bring forth mighty Hercules in the fair city of Thebes. He
told it out among the gods saying, ‘Hear me, all gods and
goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded; this day
shall an Ilithuia, helper of women who are in labour, bring
a man child into the world who shall be lord over all that
dwell about him who are of my blood and lineage.’ Then
said Juno all crafty and full of guile, ‘You will play false, and
will not hold to your word. Swear me, O Olympian, swear
me a great oath, that he who shall this day fall between the
feet of a woman, shall be lord over all that dwell about him
who are of your blood and lineage.’
‘Thus she spoke, and Jove suspected her not, but swore
the great oath, to his much ruing thereafter. For Juno dart-
ed down from the high summit of Olympus, and went in
haste to Achaean Argos where she knew that the noble wife
of Sthenelus son of Perseus then was. She being with child
and in her seventh month, Juno brought the child to birth
though there was a month still wanting, but she stayed the
offspring of Alcmena, and kept back the Ilithuiae. Then she
went to tell Jove the son of Saturn, and said, ‘Father Jove,
lord of the lightning—I have a word for your ear. There is
a fine child born this day, Eurystheus, son to Sthenelus the
son of Perseus; he is of your lineage; it is well, therefore, that
he should reign over the Argives.’
‘On this Jove was stung to the very quick, and in his rage
he caught Folly by the hair, and swore a great oath that nev-
er should she again invade starry heaven and Olympus, for
388 The Iliad

she was the bane of all. Then he whirled her round with a
twist of his hand, and flung her down from heaven so that
she fell on to the fields of mortal men; and he was ever an-
gry with her when he saw his son groaning under the cruel
labours that Eurystheus laid upon him. Even so did I grieve
when mighty Hector was killing the Argives at their ships,
and all the time I kept thinking of Folly who had so baned
me. I was blind, and Jove robbed me of my reason; I will
now make atonement, and will add much treasure by way
of amends. Go, therefore, into battle, you and your people
with you. I will give you all that Ulysses offered you yes-
terday in your tents: or if it so please you, wait, though you
would fain fight at once, and my squires shall bring the gifts
from my ship, that you may see whether what I give you is
enough.’
And Achilles answered, ‘Son of Atreus, king of men
Agamemnon, you can give such gifts as you think proper,
or you can withhold them: it is in your own hands. Let us
now set battle in array; it is not well to tarry talking about
trifles, for there is a deed which is as yet to do. Achilles shall
again be seen fighting among the foremost, and laying low
the ranks of the Trojans: bear this in mind each one of you
when he is fighting.’
Then Ulysses said, ‘Achilles, godlike and brave, send not
the Achaeans thus against Ilius to fight the Trojans fasting,
for the battle will be no brief one, when it is once begun,
and heaven has filled both sides with fury; bid them first
take food both bread and wine by the ships, for in this there
is strength and stay. No man can do battle the livelong day

to the going down of the sun if he is without food; however
much he may want to fight his strength will fail him be-
fore he knows it; hunger and thirst will find him out, and
his limbs will grow weary under him. But a man can fight
all day if he is full fed with meat and wine; his heart beats
high, and his strength will stay till he has routed all his foes;
therefore, send the people away and bid them prepare their
meal; King Agamemnon will bring out the gifts in presence
of the assembly, that all may see them and you may be sat-
isfied. Moreover let him swear an oath before the Argives
that he has never gone up into the couch of Briseis, nor been
with her after the manner of men and women; and do you,
too, show yourself of a gracious mind; let Agamemnon en-
tertain you in his tents with a feast of reconciliation, that so
you may have had your dues in full. As for you, son of Atre-
us, treat people more righteously in future; it is no disgrace
even to a king that he should make amends if he was wrong
in the first instance.’
And King Agamemnon answered, ‘Son of Laertes, your
words please me well, for throughout you have spoken wise-
ly. I will swear as you would have me do; I do so of my own
free will, neither shall I take the name of heaven in vain. Let,
then, Achilles wait, though he would fain fight at once, and
do you others wait also, till the gifts come from my tent and
we ratify the oath with sacrifice. Thus, then, do I charge you:
take some noble young Achaeans with you, and bring from
my tents the gifts that I promised yesterday to Achilles, and
bring the women also; furthermore let Talthybius find me
a boar from those that are with the host, and make it ready
390 The Iliad

for sacrifice to Jove and to the sun.’
Then said Achilles, ‘Son of Atreus, king of men Agamem-
non, see to these matters at some other season, when there
is breathing time and when I am calmer. Would you have
men eat while the bodies of those whom Hector son of Pri-
am slew are still lying mangled upon the plain? Let the sons
of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and without food, till
we have avenged them; afterwards at the going down of the
sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying dead
in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door,
and his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can
take thought of nothing save only slaughter and blood and
the rattle in the throat of the dying.’
Ulysses answered, ‘Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest of
all the Achaeans, in battle you are better than I, and that
more than a little, but in counsel I am much before you, for
I am older and of greater knowledge. Therefore be patient
under my words. Fighting is a thing of which men soon
surfeit, and when Jove, who is war’s steward, weighs the up-
shot, it may well prove that the straw which our sickles have
reaped is far heavier than the grain. It may not be that the
Achaeans should mourn the dead with their bellies; day by
day men fall thick and threefold continually; when should
we have respite from our sorrow? Let us mourn our dead
for a day and bury them out of sight and mind, but let those
of us who are left eat and drink that we may arm and fight
our foes more fiercely. In that hour let no man hold back,
waiting for a second summons; such summons shall bode
ill for him who is found lagging behind at our ships; let us

rather sally as one man and loose the fury of war upon the
Trojans.’
When he had thus spoken he took with him the sons of
Nestor, with Meges son of Phyleus, Thoas, Meriones, Lyco-
medes son of Creontes, and Melanippus, and went to the
tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus. The word was not soon-
er said than the deed was done: they brought out the seven
tripods which Agamemnon had promised, with the twenty
metal cauldrons and the twelve horses; they also brought
the women skilled in useful arts, seven in number, with Bri-
seis, which made eight. Ulysses weighed out the ten talents
of gold and then led the way back, while the young Achae-
ans brought the rest of the gifts, and laid them in the middle
of the assembly.
Agamemnon then rose, and Talthybius whose voice was
like that of a god came to him with the boar. The son of
Atreus drew the knife which he wore by the scabbard of his
mighty sword, and began by cutting off some bristles from
the boar, lifting up his hands in prayer as he did so. The
other Achaeans sat where they were all silent and orderly
to hear the king, and Agamemnon looked into the vault of
heaven and prayed saying, ‘I call Jove the first and mighti-
est of all gods to witness, I call also Earth and Sun and the
Erinyes who dwell below and take vengeance on him who
shall swear falsely, that I have laid no hand upon the girl
Briseis, neither to take her to my bed nor otherwise, but that
she has remained in my tents inviolate. If I swear falsely
may heaven visit me with all the penalties which it metes
out to those who perjure themselves.’
392 The Iliad

He cut the boar’s throat as he spoke, whereon Talthybius
whirled it round his head, and flung it into the wide sea to
feed the fishes. Then Achilles also rose and said to the Ar-
gives, ‘Father Jove, of a truth you blind men’s eyes and bane
them. The son of Atreus had not else stirred me to so fierce
an anger, nor so stubbornly taken Briseis from me against
my will. Surely Jove must have counselled the destruction
of many an Argive. Go, now, and take your food that we
may begin fighting.’
On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went
back to his own ship. The Myrmidons attended to the pres-
ents and took them away to the ship of Achilles. They placed
them in his tents, while the stable-men drove the horses in
among the others.
Briseis, fair as Venus, when she saw the mangled body
of Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud, tear-
ing her breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her
hands. Beautiful as a goddess she wept and said, ‘Patroclus,
dearest friend, when I went hence I left you living; I return,
O prince, to find you dead; thus do fresh sorrows multiply
upon me one after the other. I saw him to whom my fa-
ther and mother married me, cut down before our city, and
my three own dear brothers perished with him on the self-
same day; but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles slew my
husband and sacked the city of noble Mynes, told me that I
was not to weep, for you said you would make Achilles mar-
ry me, and take me back with him to Phthia, we should have
a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were always
kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.’

She wept as she spoke, and the women joined in her la-
ment-making as though their tears were for Patroclus, but
in truth each was weeping for her own sorrows. The elders
of the Achaeans gathered round Achilles and prayed him to
take food, but he groaned and would not do so. ‘I pray you,’
said he, ‘if any comrade will hear me, bid me neither eat nor
drink, for I am in great heaviness, and will stay fasting even
to the going down of the sun.’
On this he sent the other princes away, save only the
two sons of Atreus and Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and
the knight Phoenix, who stayed behind and tried to com-
fort him in the bitterness of his sorrow: but he would not
be comforted till he should have flung himself into the
jaws of battle, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking ever of
Patroclus. Then he said—
‘Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get
a good dinner ready for me at once and without delay when
the Achaeans were hasting to fight the Trojans; now, there-
fore, though I have meat and drink in my tents, yet will I
fast for sorrow. Grief greater than this I could not know, not
even though I were to hear of the death of my father, who is
now in Phthia weeping for the loss of me his son, who am
here fighting the Trojans in a strange land for the accursed
sake of Helen, nor yet though I should hear that my son is
no more—he who is being brought up in Scyros—if indeed
Neoptolemus is still living. Till now I made sure that I alone
was to fall here at Troy away from Argos, while you were
to return to Phthia, bring back my son with you in your
own ship, and show him all my property, my bondsmen,
394 The Iliad

and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be
either dead, or what little life remains to him is oppressed
alike with the infirmities of age and ever present fear lest he
should hear the sad tidings of my death.’
He wept as he spoke, and the elders sighed in concert as
each thought on what he had left at home behind him. The
son of Saturn looked down with pity upon them, and said
presently to Minerva, ‘My child, you have quite deserted
your hero; is he then gone so clean out of your recollection?
There he sits by the ships all desolate for the loss of his dear
comrade, and though the others are gone to their dinner he
will neither eat nor drink. Go then and drop nectar and am-
brosia into his breast, that he may know no hunger.’
With these words he urged Minerva, who was already
of the same mind. She darted down from heaven into the
air like some falcon sailing on his broad wings and scream-
ing. Meanwhile the Achaeans were arming throughout the
host, and when Minerva had dropped nectar and ambro-
sia into Achilles so that no cruel hunger should cause his
limbs to fail him, she went back to the house of her mighty
father. Thick as the chill snow-flakes shed from the hand of
Jove and borne on the keen blasts of the north wind, even
so thick did the gleaming helmets, the bossed shields, the
strongly plated breastplates, and the ashen spears stream
from the ships. The sheen pierced the sky, the whole land
was radiant with their flashing armour, and the sound of
the tramp of their treading rose from under their feet. In
the midst of them all Achilles put on his armour; he gnashed
his teeth, his eyes gleamed like fire, for his grief was greater

than he could bear. Thus, then, full of fury against the Tro-
jans, did he don the gift of the god, the armour that Vulcan
had made him.
First he put on the goodly greaves fitted with ancle-clasps,
and next he did on the breastplate about his chest. He slung
the silver-studded sword of bronze about his shoulders, and
then took up the shield so great and strong that shone afar
with a splendour as of the moon. As the light seen by sailors
from out at sea, when men have lit a fire in their homestead
high up among the mountains, but the sailors are carried
out to sea by wind and storm far from the haven where they
would be—even so did the gleam of Achilles’ wondrous
shield strike up into the heavens. He lifted the redoubtable
helmet, and set it upon his head, from whence it shone like
a star, and the golden plumes which Vulcan had set thick
about the ridge of the helmet, waved all around it. Then
Achilles made trial of himself in his armour to see whether
it fitted him, so that his limbs could play freely under it, and
it seemed to buoy him up as though it had been wings.
He also drew his father’s spear out of the spear-stand, a
spear so great and heavy and strong that none of the Achae-
ans save only Achilles had strength to wield it; this was the
spear of Pelian ash from the topmost ridges of Mt. Pelion,
which Chiron had once given to Peleus, fraught with the
death of heroes. Automedon and Alcimus busied themselves
with the harnessing of his horses; they made the bands fast
about them, and put the bit in their mouths, drawing the
reins back towards the chariot. Automedon, whip in hand,
sprang up behind the horses, and after him Achilles mount-
396 The Iliad

ed in full armour, resplendent as the sun-god Hyperion.
Then with a loud voice he chided with his father’s horses
saying, ‘Xanthus and Balius, famed offspring of Podarge—
this time when we have done fighting be sure and bring
your driver safely back to the host of the Achaeans, and do
not leave him dead on the plain as you did Patroclus.’
Then fleet Xanthus answered under the yoke—for white-
armed Juno had endowed him with human speech—and
he bowed his head till his mane touched the ground as it
hung down from under the yoke-band. ‘Dread Achilles,’
said he, ‘we will indeed save you now, but the day of your
death is near, and the blame will not be ours, for it will be
heaven and stern fate that will destroy you. Neither was it
through any sloth or slackness on our part that the Tro-
jans stripped Patroclus of his armour; it was the mighty god
whom lovely Leto bore that slew him as he fought among
the foremost, and vouchsafed a triumph to Hector. We two
can fly as swiftly as Zephyrus who they say is fleetest of all
winds; nevertheless it is your doom to fall by the hand of a
man and of a god.’
When he had thus said the Erinyes stayed his speech,
and Achilles answered him in great sadness, saying, ‘Why,
O Xanthus, do you thus foretell my death? You need not do
so, for I well know that I am to fall here, far from my dear
father and mother; none the more, however, shall I stay my
hand till I have given the Trojans their fill of fighting.’
So saying, with a loud cry he drove his horses to the
front.

BOOK XX
T HUS, then, did the Achaeans arm by their ships round

you, O son of Peleus, who were hungering for battle;
while the Trojans over against them armed upon the rise
of the plain.
Meanwhile Jove from the top of many-delled Olympus,
bade Themis gather the gods in council, whereon she went
about and called them to the house of Jove. There was not a
river absent except Oceanus, nor a single one of the nymphs
that haunt fair groves, or springs of rivers and meadows of
green grass. When they reached the house of cloud-com-
pelling Jove, they took their seats in the arcades of polished
marble which Vulcan with his consummate skill had made
for father Jove.
In such wise, therefore, did they gather in the house of
Jove. Neptune also, lord of the earthquake, obeyed the call
of the goddess, and came up out of the sea to join them.
There, sitting in the midst of them, he asked what Jove’s
purpose might be. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘wielder of the lightning,
have you called the gods in council? Are you considering
some matter that concerns the Trojans and Achaeans—for
the blaze of battle is on the point of being kindled between
them?’
And Jove answered, ‘You know my purpose, shaker of
earth, and wherefore I have called you hither. I take thought
398 The Iliad

for them even in their destruction. For my own part I shall
stay here seated on Mt. Olympus and look on in peace, but
do you others go about among Trojans and Achaeans, and
help either side as you may be severally disposed. If Achil-
les fights the Trojans without hindrance they will make no
stand against him; they have ever trembled at the sight of
him, and now that he is roused to such fury about his com-
rade, he will override fate itself and storm their city.’
Thus spoke Jove and gave the word for war, whereon the
gods took their several sides and went into battle. Juno, Pal-
las Minerva, earth-encircling Neptune, Mercury bringer of
good luck and excellent in all cunning—all these joined the
host that came from the ships; with them also came Vulcan
in all his glory, limping, but yet with his thin legs plying
lustily under him. Mars of gleaming helmet joined the Tro-
jans, and with him Apollo of locks unshorn, and the archer
goddess Diana, Leto, Xanthus, and laughter-loving Venus.
So long as the gods held themselves aloof from mortal
warriors the Achaeans were triumphant, for Achilles who
had long refused to fight was now with them. There was
not a Trojan but his limbs failed him for fear as he beheld
the fleet son of Peleus all glorious in his armour, and look-
ing like Mars himself. When, however, the Olympians came
to take their part among men, forthwith uprose strong
Strife, rouser of hosts, and Minerva raised her loud voice,
now standing by the deep trench that ran outside the wall,
and now shouting with all her might upon the shore of the
sounding sea. Mars also bellowed out upon the other side,
dark as some black thunder-cloud, and called on the Tro-

jans at the top of his voice, now from the acropolis, and now
speeding up the side of the river Simois till he came to the
hill Callicolone.
Thus did the gods spur on both hosts to fight, and rouse
fierce contention also among themselves. The sire of gods
and men thundered from heaven above, while from beneath
Neptune shook the vast earth, and bade the high hills trem-
ble. The spurs and crests of many-fountained Ida quaked, as
also the city of the Trojans and the ships of the Achaeans.
Hades, king of the realms below, was struck with fear; he
sprang panic-stricken from his throne and cried aloud in
terror lest Neptune, lord of the earthquake, should crack
the ground over his head, and lay bare his mouldy man-
sions to the sight of mortals and immortals—mansions so
ghastly grim that even the gods shudder to think of them.
Such was the uproar as the gods came together in battle.
Apollo with his arrows took his stand to face King Neptune,
while Minerva took hers against the god of war; the archer-
goddess Diana with her golden arrows, sister of far-darting
Apollo, stood to face Juno; Mercury the lusty bringer of
good luck faced Leto, while the mighty eddying river whom
men can Scamander, but gods Xanthus, matched himself
against Vulcan.
The gods, then, were thus ranged against one another.
But the heart of Achilles was set on meeting Hector son of
Priam, for it was with his blood that he longed above all
things else to glut the stubborn lord of battle. Meanwhile
Apollo set Aeneas on to attack the son of Peleus, and put
courage into his heart, speaking with the voice of Lycaon
400 The Iliad

son of Priam. In his likeness therefore, he said to Aeneas,
‘Aeneas, counsellor of the Trojans, where are now the brave
words with which you vaunted over your wine before the
Trojan princes, saying that you would fight Achilles son of
Peleus in single combat?’
And Aeneas answered, ‘Why do you thus bid me fight
the proud son of Peleus, when I am in no mind to do so?
Were I to face him now, it would not be for the first time.
His spear has already put me to Right from Ida, when he
attacked our cattle and sacked Lyrnessus and Pedasus; Jove
indeed saved me in that he vouchsafed me strength to fly,
else had the fallen by the hands of Achilles and Minerva,
who went before him to protect him and urged him to fall
upon the Lelegae and Trojans. No man may fight Achilles,
for one of the gods is always with him as his guardian an-
gel, and even were it not so, his weapon flies ever straight,
and fails not to pierce the flesh of him who is against him;
if heaven would let me fight him on even terms he should
not soon overcome me, though he boasts that he is made of
bronze.’
Then said King Apollo, son to Jove, ‘Nay, hero, pray to
the ever-living gods, for men say that you were born of
Jove’s daughter Venus, whereas Achilles is son to a goddess
of inferior rank. Venus is child to Jove, while Thetis is but
daughter to the old man of the sea. Bring, therefore, your
spear to bear upon him, and let him not scare you with his
taunts and menaces.’
As he spoke he put courage into the heart of the shep-
herd of his people, and he strode in full armour among the

ranks of the foremost fighters. Nor did the son of Anchis-
es escape the notice of white-armed Juno, as he went forth
into the throng to meet Achilles. She called the gods about
her, and said, ‘Look to it, you two, Neptune and Minerva,
and consider how this shall be; Phoebus Apollo has been
sending Aeneas clad in full armour to fight Achilles. Shall
we turn him back at once, or shall one of us stand by Achil-
les and endow him with strength so that his heart fail not,
and he may learn that the chiefs of the immortals are on
his side, while the others who have all along been defend-
ing the Trojans are but vain helpers? Let us all come down
from Olympus and join in the fight, that this day he may
take no hurt at the hands of the Trojans. Hereafter let him
suffer whatever fate may have spun out for him when he was
begotten and his mother bore him. If Achilles be not thus
assured by the voice of a god, he may come to fear presently
when one of us meets him in battle, for the gods are terrible
if they are seen face to face.’
Neptune lord of the earthquake answered her saying,
‘Juno, restrain your fury; it is not well; I am not in favour of
forcing the other gods to fight us, for the advantage is too
greatly on our own side; let us take our places on some hill
out of the beaten track, and let mortals fight it out among
themselves. If Mars or Phoebus Apollo begin fighting, or
keep Achilles in check so that he cannot fight, we too, will
at once raise the cry of battle, and in that case they will soon
leave the field and go back vanquished to Olympus among
the other gods.’
With these words the dark-haired god led the way to the
402 The Iliad

high earth-barrow of Hercules, built round solid masonry,
and made by the Trojans and Pallas Minerva for him fly to
when the sea-monster was chasing him from the shore on
to the plain. Here Neptune and those that were with him
took their seats, wrapped in a thick cloud of darkness; but
the other gods seated themselves on the brow of Callicolone
round you, O Phoebus, and Mars the waster of cities.
Thus did the gods sit apart and form their plans, but nei-
ther side was willing to begin battle with the other, and
Jove from his seat on high was in command over them all.
Meanwhile the whole plain was alive with men and horses,
and blazing with the gleam of armour. The earth rang again
under the tramp of their feet as they rushed towards each
other, and two champions, by far the foremost of them all,
met between the hosts to fight—to wit, Aeneas son of An-
chises, and noble Achilles.
Aeneas was first to stride forward in attack, his doughty
helmet tossing defiance as he came on. He held his strong
shield before his breast, and brandished his bronze spear.
The son of Peleus from the other side sprang forth to meet
him, like some fierce lion that the whole country-side has
met to hunt and kill—at first he bodes no ill, but when some
daring youth has struck him with a spear, he crouches open-
mouthed, his jaws foam, he roars with fury, he lashes his
tail from side to side about his ribs and loins, and glares as
he springs straight before him, to find out whether he is to
slay, or be slain among the foremost of his foes—even with
such fury did Achilles burn to spring upon Aeneas.
When they were now close up with one another Achil-

les was first to speak. ‘Aeneas,’ said he, ‘why do you stand
thus out before the host to fight me? Is it that you hope to
reign over the Trojans in the seat of Priam? Nay, though you
kill me Priam will not hand his kingdom over to you. He
is a man of sound judgement, and he has sons of his own.
Or have the Trojans been allotting you a demesne of pass-
ing richness, fair with orchard lawns and corn lands, if you
should slay me? This you shall hardly do. I have discomfited
you once already. Have you forgotten how when you were
alone I chased you from your herds helter-skelter down the
slopes of Ida? You did not turn round to look behind you;
you took refuge in Lyrnessus, but I attacked the city, and
with the help of Minerva and father Jove I sacked it and
carried its women into captivity, though Jove and the other
gods rescued you. You think they will protect you now, but
they will not do so; therefore I say go back into the host, and
do not face me, or you will rue it. Even a fool may be wise
after the event.’
Then Aeneas answered, ‘Son of Peleus, think not that
your words can scare me as though I were a child. I too, if
I will, can brag and talk unseemly. We know one anoth-
er’s race and parentage as matters of common fame, though
neither have you ever seen my parents nor I yours. Men say
that you are son to noble Peleus, and that your mother is
Thetis, fair-haired daughter of the sea. I have noble Anchis-
es for my father, and Venus for my mother; the parents of
one or other of us shall this day mourn a son, for it will
be more than silly talk that shall part us when the fight is
over. Learn, then, my lineage if you will—and it is known
404 The Iliad

to many.
‘In the beginning Dardanus was the son of Jove, and
founded Dardania, for Ilius was not yet stablished on the
plain for men to dwell in, and her people still abode on the
spurs of many-fountained Ida. Dardanus had a son, king
Erichthonius, who was wealthiest of all men living; he had
three thousand mares that fed by the water-meadows, they
and their foals with them. Boreas was enamoured of them
as they were feeding, and covered them in the semblance of
a dark-maned stallion. Twelve filly foals did they conceive
and bear him, and these, as they sped over the rich plain,
would go bounding on over the ripe ears of corn and not
break them; or again when they would disport themselves
on the broad back of Ocean they could gallop on the crest of
a breaker. Erichthonius begat Tros, king of the Trojans, and
Tros had three noble sons, Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymede
who was comeliest of mortal men; wherefore the gods car-
ried him off to be Jove’s cupbearer, for his beauty’s sake, that
he might dwell among the immortals. Ilus begat Laomedon,
and Laomedon begat Tithonus, Priam, Lampus, Clytius,
and Hiketaon of the stock of Mars. But Assaracus was fa-
ther to Capys, and Capys to Anchises, who was my father,
while Hector is son to Priam.
‘Such do I declare my blood and lineage, but as for valour,
Jove gives it or takes it as he will, for he is lord of all. And
now let there be no more of this prating in mid-battle as
though we were children. We could fling taunts without
end at one another; a hundred-oared galley would not hold
them. The tongue can run all whithers and talk all wise;

it can go here and there, and as a man says, so shall he be
gainsaid. What is the use of our bandying hard like women
who when they fall foul of one another go out and wrangle
in the streets, one half true and the other lies, as rage in-
spires them? No words of yours shall turn me now that I
am fain to fight—therefore let us make trial of one another
with our spears.’
As he spoke he drove his spear at the great and terrible
shield of Achilles, which rang out as the point struck it. The
son of Peleus held the shield before him with his strong
hand, and he was afraid, for he deemed that Aeneas’s spear
would go through it quite easily, not reflecting that the god’s
glorious gifts were little likely to yield before the blows of
mortal men; and indeed Aeneas’s spear did not pierce the
shield, for the layer of gold, gift of the god, stayed the point.
It went through two layers, but the god had made the shield
in five, two of bronze, the two innermost ones of tin, and
one of gold; it was in this that the spear was stayed.
Achilles in his turn threw, and struck the round shield of
Aeneas at the very edge, where the bronze was thinnest; the
spear of Pelian ash went clean through, and the shield rang
under the blow; Aeneas was afraid, and crouched back-
wards, holding the shield away from him; the spear, however,
flew over his back, and stuck quivering in the ground, after
having gone through both circles of the sheltering shield.
Aeneas though he had avoided the spear, stood still, blinded
with fear and grief because the weapon had gone so near
him; then Achilles sprang furiously upon him, with a cry as
of death and with his keen blade drawn, and Aeneas seized
406 The Iliad

a great stone, so huge that two men, as men now are, would
be unable to lift it, but Aeneas wielded it quite easily.
Aeneas would then have struck Achilles as he was spring-
ing towards him, either on the helmet, or on the shield that
covered him, and Achilles would have closed with him and
despatched him with his sword, had not Neptune lord of
the earthquake been quick to mark, and said forthwith to
the immortals, ‘Alas, I am sorry for great Aeneas, who will
now go down to the house of Hades, vanquished by the
son of Peleus. Fool that he was to give ear to the counsel of
Apollo. Apollo will never save him from destruction. Why
should this man suffer when he is guiltless, to no purpose,
and in another’s quarrel? Has he not at all times offered ac-
ceptable sacrifice to the gods that dwell in heaven? Let us
then snatch him from death’s jaws, lest the son of Saturn be
angry should Achilles slay him. It is fated, moreover, that
he should escape, and that the race of Dardanus, whom
Jove loved above all the sons born to him of mortal women,
shall not perish utterly without seed or sign. For now in-
deed has Jove hated the blood of Priam, while Aeneas shall
reign over the Trojans, he and his children’s children that
shall be born hereafter.’
Then answered Juno, ‘Earth-shaker, look to this matter
yourself, and consider concerning Aeneas, whether you will
save him, or suffer him, brave though he be, to fall by the
hand of Achilles son of Peleus. For of a truth we two, I and
Pallas Minerva, have sworn full many a time before all the
immortals, that never would we shield Trojans from de-
struction, not even when all Troy is burning in the flames

that the Achaeans shall kindle.’
When earth-encircling Neptune heard this he went
into the battle amid the clash of spears, and came to the
place where Achilles and Aeneas were. Forthwith he shed
a darkness before the eyes of the son of Peleus, drew the
bronze-headed ashen spear from the shield of Aeneas, and
laid it at the feet of Achilles. Then he lifted Aeneas on high
from off the earth and hurried him away. Over the heads of
many a band of warriors both horse and foot did he soar as
the god’s hand sped him, till he came to the very fringe of
the battle where the Cauconians were arming themselves for
fight. Neptune, shaker of the earth, then came near to him
and said, ‘Aeneas, what god has egged you on to this folly
in fighting the son of Peleus, who is both a mightier man of
valour and more beloved of heaven than you are? Give way
before him whensoever you meet him, lest you go down to
the house of Hades even though fate would have it other-
wise. When Achilles is dead you may then fight among the
foremost undaunted, for none other of the Achaeans shall
slay you.’
The god left him when he had given him these instruc-
tions, and at once removed the darkness from before the
eyes of Achilles, who opened them wide indeed and said in
great anger, ‘Alas! what marvel am I now beholding? Here
is my spear upon the ground, but I see not him whom I
meant to kill when I hurled it. Of a truth Aeneas also must
be under heaven’s protection, although I had thought his
boasting was idle. Let him go hang; he will be in no mood
to fight me further, seeing how narrowly he has missed be-
408 The Iliad

ing killed. I will now give my orders to the Danaans and
attack some other of the Trojans.’
He sprang forward along the line and cheered his men
on as he did so. ‘Let not the Trojans,’ he cried, ‘keep you
at arm’s length, Achaeans, but go for them and fight them
man for man. However valiant I may be, I cannot give chase
to so many and fight all of them. Even Mars, who is an im-
mortal, or Minerva, would shrink from flinging himself
into the jaws of such a fight and laying about him; neverthe-
less, so far as in me lies I will show no slackness of hand or
foot nor want of endurance, not even for a moment; I will
utterly break their ranks, and woe to the Trojan who shall
venture within reach of my spear.’
Thus did he exhort them. Meanwhile Hector called upon
the Trojans and declared that he would fight Achilles. ‘Be
not afraid, proud Trojans,’ said he, ‘to face the son of Peleus;
I could fight gods myself if the battle were one of words only,
but they would be more than a match for me, if we had to
use our spears. Even so the deed of Achilles will fall some-
what short of his word; he will do in part, and the other part
he will clip short. I will go up against him though his hands
be as fire—though his hands be fire and his strength iron.’
Thus urged the Trojans lifted up their spears against the
Achaeans, and raised the cry of battle as they flung them-
selves into the midst of their ranks. But Phoebus Apollo
came up to Hector and said, ‘Hector, on no account must
you challenge Achilles to single combat; keep a lookout for
him while you are under cover of the others and away from
the thick of the fight, otherwise he will either hit you with a

spear or cut you down at close quarters.’
Thus he spoke, and Hector drew back within the crowd,
for he was afraid when he heard what the god had said to
him. Achilles then sprang upon the Trojans with a terri-
ble cry, clothed in valour as with a garment. First he killed
Iphition son of Otrynteus, a leader of much people whom
a naiad nymph had borne to Otrynteus waster of cities, in
the land of Hyde under the snowy heights of Mt. Tmolus.
Achilles struck him full on the head as he was coming on to-
wards him, and split it clean in two; whereon he fell heavily
to the ground and Achilles vaunted over him saying, ‘You
be low, son of Otrynteus, mighty hero; your death is here,
but your lineage is on the Gygaean lake where your father’s
estate lies, by Hyllus, rich in fish, and the eddying waters of
Hermus.’
Thus did he vaunt, but darkness closed the eyes of the
other. The chariots of the Achaeans cut him up as their
wheels passed over him in the front of the battle, and after
him Achilles killed Demoleon, a valiant man of war and
son to Antenor. He struck him on the temple through his
bronze-cheeked helmet. The helmet did not stay the spear,
but it went right on, crushing the bone so that the brain in-
side was shed in all directions, and his lust of fighting was
ended. Then he struck Hippodamas in the midriff as he was
springing down from his chariot in front of him, and trying
to escape. He breathed his last, bellowing like a bull bellows
when young men are dragging him to offer him in sacrifice
to the King of Helice, and the heart of the earth-shaker is
glad; even so did he bellow as he lay dying. Achilles then
410 The Iliad

went in pursuit of Polydorus son of Priam, whom his father
had always forbidden to fight because he was the youngest
of his sons, the one he loved best, and the fastest runner.
He, in his folly and showing off the fleetness of his feet, was
rushing about among front ranks until he lost his life, for
Achilles struck him in the middle of the back as he was dart-
ing past him: he struck him just at the golden fastenings of
his belt and where the two pieces of the double breastplate
overlapped. The point of the spear pierced him through
and came out by the navel, whereon he fell groaning on to
his knees and a cloud of darkness overshadowed him as he
sank holding his entrails in his hands.
When Hector saw his brother Polydorus with his entrails
in his hands and sinking down upon the ground, a mist
came over his eyes, and he could not bear to keep longer
at a distance; he therefore poised his spear and darted to-
wards Achilles like a flame of fire. When Achilles saw him
he bounded forward and vaunted saying, ‘This is he that
has wounded my heart most deeply and has slain my be-
loved comrade. Not for long shall we two quail before one
another on the highways of war.’
He looked fiercely on Hector and said, ‘Draw near, that
you may meet your doom the sooner.’ Hector feared him
not and answered, ‘Son of Peleus, think not that your words
can scare me as though I were a child; I too if I will can
brag and talk unseemly; I know that you are a mighty war-
rior, mightier by far than I, nevertheless the issue lies in the
lap of heaven whether I, worse man though I be, may not
slay you with my spear, for this too has been found keen

ere now.’
He hurled his spear as he spoke, but Minerva breathed
upon it, and though she breathed but very lightly she turned
it back from going towards Achilles, so that it returned to
Hector and lay at his feet in front of him. Achilles then
sprang furiously on him with a loud cry, bent on killing him,
but Apollo caught him up easily as a god can, and hid him
in a thick darkness. Thrice did Achilles spring towards him
spear in hand, and thrice did he waste his blow upon the air.
When he rushed forward for the fourth time as though he
were a god, he shouted aloud saying, ‘Hound, this time too
you have escaped death—but of a truth it came exceedingly
near you. Phoebus Apollo, to whom it seems you pray be-
fore you go into battle, has again saved you; but if I too have
any friend among the gods I will surely make an end of you
when I come across you at some other time. Now, however,
I will pursue and overtake other Trojans.’
On this he struck Dryops with his spear, about the mid-
dle of his neck, and he fell headlong at his feet. There he
let him lie and stayed Demouchus son of Philetor, a man
both brave and of great stature, by hitting him on the knee
with a spear; then he smote him with his sword and killed
him. After this he sprang on Laogonus and Dardanus, sons
of Bias, and threw them from their chariot, the one with a
blow from a thrown spear, while the other he cut down in
hand-to-hand fight. There was also Tros the son of Alastor—
he came up to Achilles and clasped his knees in the hope
that he would spare him and not kill him but let him go, be-
cause they were both of the same age. Fool, he might have
412 The Iliad

known that he should not prevail with him, for the man
was in no mood for pity or forbearance but was in grim ear-
nest. Therefore when Tros laid hold of his knees and sought
a hearing for his prayers, Achilles drove his sword into his
liver, and the liver came rolling out, while his bosom was all
covered with the black blood that welled from the wound.
Thus did death close his eyes as he lay lifeless.
Achilles then went up to Mulius and struck him on the
ear with a spear, and the bronze spear-head came right out at
the other ear. He also struck Echeclus son of Agenor on the
head with his sword, which became warm with the blood,
while death and stern fate closed the eyes of Echeclus. Next
in order the bronze point of his spear wounded Deucalion
in the fore-arm where the sinews of the elbow are united,
whereon he waited Achilles’ onset with his arm hanging
down and death staring him in the face. Achilles cut his
head off with a blow from his sword and flung it helmet and
all away from him, and the marrow came oozing out of his
backbone as he lay. He then went in pursuit of Rhigmus,
noble son of Peires, who had come from fertile Thrace, and
struck him through the middle with a spear which fixed
itself in his belly, so that he fell headlong from his chariot.
He also speared Areithous squire to Rhigmus in the back as
he was turning his horses in flight, and thrust him from his
chariot, while the horses were struck with panic.
As a fire raging in some mountain glen after long
drought—and the dense forest is in a blaze, while the wind
carries great tongues of fire in every direction—even so fu-
riously did Achilles rage, wielding his spear as though he

were a god, and giving chase to those whom he would slay,
till the dark earth ran with blood. Or as one who yokes
broad-browed oxen that they may tread barley in a thresh-
ing-floor—and it is soon bruised small under the feet of the
lowing cattle—even so did the horses of Achilles trample
on the shields and bodies of the slain. The axle underneath
and the railing that ran round the car were bespattered
with clots of blood thrown up by the horses’ hoofs, and
from the tyres of the wheels; but the son of Peleus pressed
on to win still further glory, and his hands were bedrabbled
with gore.
414 The Iliad

BOOK XXI
N OW when they came to the ford of the full-flowing

river Xanthus, begotten of immortal Jove, Achilles
cut their forces in two: one half he chased over the plain
towards the city by the same way that the Achaeans had
taken when flying panic-stricken on the preceding day with
Hector in full triumph; this way did they fly pell-mell, and
Juno sent down a thick mist in front of them to stay them.
The other half were hemmed in by the deep silver-eddying
stream, and fell into it with a great uproar. The waters re-
sounded, and the banks rang again, as they swam hither
and thither with loud cries amid the whirling eddies. As
locusts flying to a river before the blast of a grass fire—the
flame comes on and on till at last it overtakes them and they
huddle into the water—even so was the eddying stream of
Xanthus filled with the uproar of men and horses, all strug-
gling in confusion before Achilles.
Forthwith the hero left his spear upon the bank, leaning
it against a tamarisk bush, and plunged into the river like a
god, armed with his sword only. Fell was his purpose as he
hewed the Trojans down on every side. Their dying groans
rose hideous as the sword smote them, and the river ran red
with blood. As when fish fly scared before a huge dolphin,
and fill every nook and corner of some fair haven—for he
is sure to eat all he can catch—even so did the Trojans cow-

er under the banks of the mighty river, and when Achilles’
arms grew weary with killing them, he drew twelve youths
alive out of the water, to sacrifice in revenge for Patroclus
son of Menoetius. He drew them out like dazed fawns,
bound their hands behind them with the girdles of their
own shirts, and gave them over to his men to take back to
the ships. Then he sprang into the river, thirsting for still
further blood.
There he found Lycaon, son of Priam seed of Dardanus,
as he was escaping out of the water; he it was whom he had
once taken prisoner when he was in his father’s vineyard,
having set upon him by night, as he was cutting young
shoots from a wild fig-tree to make the wicker sides of a
chariot. Achilles then caught him to his sorrow unawares,
and sent him by sea to Lemnos, where the son of Jason
bought him. But a guest-friend, Eetion of Imbros, freed him
with a great sum, and sent him to Arisbe, whence he had
escaped and returned to his father’s house. He had spent
eleven days happily with his friends after he had come from
Lemnos, but on the twelfth heaven again delivered him into
the hands of Achilles, who was to send him to the house
of Hades sorely against his will. He was unarmed when
Achilles caught sight of him, and had neither helmet nor
shield; nor yet had he any spear, for he had thrown all his
armour from him on to the bank, and was sweating with
his struggles to get out of the river, so that his strength was
now failing him.
Then Achilles said to himself in his surprise, ‘What
marvel do I see here? If this man can come back alive after
416 The Iliad

having been sold over into Lemnos, I shall have the Trojans
also whom I have slain rising from the world below. Could
not even the waters of the grey sea imprison him, as they
do many another whether he will or no? This time let him
taste my spear, that I may know for certain whether mother
earth who can keep even a strong man down, will be able to
hold him, or whether thence too he will return.’
Thus did he pause and ponder. But Lycaon came up to
him dazed and trying hard to embrace his knees, for he
would fain live, not die. Achilles thrust at him with his
spear, meaning to kill him, but Lycaon ran crouching up
to him and caught his knees, whereby the spear passed over
his back, and stuck in the ground, hungering though it was
for blood. With one hand he caught Achilles’ knees as he
besought him, and with the other he clutched the spear
and would not let it go. Then he said, ‘Achilles, have mer-
cy upon me and spare me, for I am your suppliant. It was
in your tents that I first broke bread on the day when you
took me prisoner in the vineyard; after which you sold me
away to Lemnos far from my father and my friends, and I
brought you the price of a hundred oxen. I have paid three
times as much to gain my freedom; it is but twelve days that
I have come to Ilius after much suffering, and now cruel fate
has again thrown me into your hands. Surely father Jove
must hate me, that he has given me over to you a second
time. Short of life indeed did my mother Laothoe bear me,
daughter of aged Altes—of Altes who reigns over the war-
like Lelegae and holds steep Pedasus on the river Satnioeis.
Priam married his daughter along with many other women

and two sons were born of her, both of whom you will have
slain. Your spear slew noble Polydorus as he was fighting in
the front ranks, and now evil will here befall me, for I fear
that I shall not escape you since heaven has delivered me
over to you. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your
heart, spare me, for I am not of the same womb as Hector
who slew your brave and noble comrade.’
With such words did the princely son of Priam beseech
Achilles; but Achilles answered him sternly. ‘Idiot,’ said he,
‘talk not to me of ransom. Until Patroclus fell I preferred to
give the Trojans quarter, and sold beyond the sea many of
those whom I had taken alive; but now not a man shall live
of those whom heaven delivers into my hands before the
city of Ilius—and of all Trojans it shall fare hardest with the
sons of Priam. Therefore, my friend, you too shall die. Why
should you whine in this way? Patroclus fell, and he was a
better man than you are. I too—see you not how I am great
and goodly? I am son to a noble father, and have a goddess
for my mother, but the hands of doom and death overshad-
ow me all as surely. The day will come, either at dawn or
dark, or at the noontide, when one shall take my life also
in battle, either with his spear, or with an arrow sped from
his bow.’
Thus did he speak, and Lycaon’s heart sank within him.
He loosed his hold of the spear, and held out both hands be-
fore him; but Achilles drew his keen blade, and struck him
by the collar-bone on his neck; he plunged his two-edged
sword into him to the very hilt, whereon he lay at full length
on the ground, with the dark blood welling from him till the
418 The Iliad

earth was soaked. Then Achilles caught him by the foot and
flung him into the river to go down stream, vaunting over
him the while, and saying, ‘Lie there among the fishes, who
will lick the blood from your wound and gloat over it; your
mother shall not lay you on any bier to mourn you, but the
eddies of Scamander shall bear you into the broad bosom
of the sea. There shall the fishes feed on the fat of Lycaon as
they dart under the dark ripple of the waters—so perish all
of you till we reach the citadel of strong Ilius—you in flight,
and I following after to destroy you. The river with its broad
silver stream shall serve you in no stead, for all the bulls you
offered him and all the horses that you flung living into his
waters. None the less miserably shall you perish till there
is not a man of you but has paid in full for the death of
Patroclus and the havoc you wrought among the Achaeans
whom you have slain while I held aloof from battle.’
So spoke Achilles, but the river grew more and more
angry, and pondered within himself how he should stay
the hand of Achilles and save the Trojans from disaster.
Meanwhile the son of Peleus, spear in hand, sprang upon
Asteropaeus son of Pelegon to kill him. He was son to the
broad river Axius and Periboea eldest daughter of Acessa-
menus; for the river had lain with her. Asteropaeus stood
up out of the water to face him with a spear in either hand,
and Xanthus filled him with courage, being angry for the
death of the youths whom Achilles was slaying ruthlessly
within his waters. When they were close up with one an-
other Achilles was first to speak. ‘Who and whence are you,’
said he, ‘who dare to face me? Woe to the parents whose son

stands up against me.’ And the son of Pelegon answered,
‘Great son of Peleus, why should you ask my lineage. I am
from the fertile land of far Paeonia, captain of the Paeo-
nians, and it is now eleven days that I am at Ilius. I am of the
blood of the river Axius—of Axius that is the fairest of all
rivers that run. He begot the famed warrior Pelegon, whose
son men call me. Let us now fight, Achilles.’
Thus did he defy him, and Achilles raised his spear of
Pelian ash. Asteropaeus failed with both his spears, for he
could use both hands alike; with the one spear he struck
Achilles’ shield, but did not pierce it, for the layer of gold, gift
of the god, stayed the point; with the other spear he grazed
the elbow of Achilles’ right arm drawing dark blood, but
the spear itself went by him and fixed itself in the ground,
foiled of its bloody banquet. Then Achilles, fain to kill him,
hurled his spear at Asteropaeus, but failed to hit him and
struck the steep bank of the river, driving the spear half
its length into the earth. The son of Peleus then drew his
sword and sprang furiously upon him. Asteropaeus vainly
tried to draw Achilles’ spear out of the bank by main force;
thrice did he tug at it, trying with all his might to draw it
out, and thrice he had to leave off trying; the fourth time he
tried to bend and break it, but ere he could do so Achilles
smote him with his sword and killed him. He struck him in
the belly near the navel, so that all his bowels came gushing
out on to the ground, and the darkness of death came over
him as he lay gasping. Then Achilles set his foot on his chest
and spoiled him of his armour, vaunting over him and say-
ing, ‘Lie there—begotten of a river though you be, it is hard
420 The Iliad

for you to strive with the offspring of Saturn’s son. You de-
clare yourself sprung from the blood of a broad river, but I
am of the seed of mighty Jove. My father is Peleus, son of
Aeacus ruler over the many Myrmidons, and Aeacus was
the son of Jove. Therefore as Jove is mightier than any riv-
er that flows into the sea, so are his children stronger than
those of any river whatsoever. Moreover you have a great
river hard by if he can be of any use to you, but there is
no fighting against Jove the son of Saturn, with whom not
even King Achelous can compare, nor the mighty stream of
deep-flowing Oceanus, from whom all rivers and seas with
all springs and deep wells proceed; even Oceanus fears the
lightnings of great Jove, and his thunder that comes crash-
ing out of heaven.’
With this he drew his bronze spear out of the bank, and
now that he had killed Asteropaeus, he let him lie where
he was on the sand, with the dark water flowing over him
and the eels and fishes busy nibbling and gnawing the fat
that was about his kidneys. Then he went in chase of the
Paeonians, who were flying along the bank of the river in
panic when they saw their leader slain by the hands of the
son of Peleus. Therein he slew Thersilochus, Mydon, Asty-
pylus, Mnesus, Thrasius, Oeneus, and Ophelestes, and he
would have slain yet others, had not the river in anger taken
human form, and spoken to him from out the deep waters
saying, ‘Achilles, if you excel all in strength, so do you also
in wickedness, for the gods are ever with you to protect you:
if, then, the son of Saturn has vouchsafed it to you to destroy
all the Trojans, at any rate drive them out of my stream, and

do your grim work on land. My fair waters are now filled
with corpses, nor can I find any channel by which I may
pour myself into the sea for I am choked with dead, and yet
you go on mercilessly slaying. I am in despair, therefore, O
captain of your host, trouble me no further.’
Achilles answered, ‘So be it, Scamander, Jove-descended;
but I will never cease dealing out death among the Trojans,
till I have pent them up in their city, and made trial of Hec-
tor face to face, that I may learn whether he is to vanquish
me, or I him.’
As he spoke he set upon the Trojans with a fury like that
of the gods. But the river said to Apollo, ‘Surely, son of Jove,
lord of the silver bow, you are not obeying the commands of
Jove who charged you straitly that you should stand by the
Trojans and defend them, till twilight fades, and darkness
is over an the earth.’
Meanwhile Achilles sprang from the bank into mid-
stream, whereon the river raised a high wave and attacked
him. He swelled his stream into a torrent, and swept away
the many dead whom Achilles had slain and left within his
waters. These he cast out on to the land, bellowing like a bull
the while, but the living he saved alive, hiding them in his
mighty eddies. The great and terrible wave gathered about
Achilles, falling upon him and beating on his shield, so that
he could not keep his feet; he caught hold of a great elm-tree,
but it came up by the roots, and tore away the bank, dam-
ming the stream with its thick branches and bridging it all
across; whereby Achilles struggled out of the stream, and
fled full speed over the plain, for he was afraid.
422 The Iliad

But the mighty god ceased not in his pursuit, and sprang
upon him with a dark-crested wave, to stay his hands and
save the Trojans from destruction. The son of Peleus dart-
ed away a spear’s throw from him; swift as the swoop of a
black hunter-eagle which is the strongest and fleetest of all
birds, even so did he spring forward, and the armour rang
loudly about his breast. He fled on in front, but the river
with a loud roar came tearing after. As one who would wa-
ter his garden leads a stream from some fountain over his
plants, and all his ground-spade in hand he clears away the
dams to free the channels, and the little stones run rolling
round and round with the water as it goes merrily down the
bank faster than the man can follow—even so did the river
keep catching up with Achilles albeit he was a fleet runner,
for the gods are stronger than men. As often as he would
strive to stand his ground, and see whether or no all the
gods in heaven were in league against him, so often would
the mighty wave come beating down upon his shoulders,
and be would have to keep flying on and on in great dismay;
for the angry flood was tiring him out as it flowed past him
and ate the ground from under his feet.
Then the son of Peleus lifted up his voice to heaven say-
ing, ‘Father Jove, is there none of the gods who will take pity
upon me, and save me from the river? I do not care what
may happen to me afterwards. I blame none of the other
dwellers on Olympus so severely as I do my dear moth-
er, who has beguiled and tricked me. She told me I was to
fall under the walls of Troy by the flying arrows of Apollo;
would that Hector, the best man among the Trojans, might

there slay me; then should I fall a hero by the hand of a hero;
whereas now it seems that I shall come to a most pitiable
end, trapped in this river as though I were some swine-
herd’s boy, who gets carried down a torrent while trying to
cross it during a storm.’
As soon as he had spoken thus, Neptune and Minerva
came up to him in the likeness of two men, and took him
by the hand to reassure him. Neptune spoke first. ‘Son of
Peleus,’ said he, ‘be not so exceeding fearful; we are two
gods, come with Jove’s sanction to assist you, I, and Pallas
Minerva. It is not your fate to perish in this river; he will
abate presently as you will see; moreover we strongly advise
you, if you will be guided by us, not to stay your hand from
fighting till you have pent the Trojan host within the famed
walls of Ilius—as many of them as may escape. Then kill
Hector and go back to the ships, for we will vouchsafe you
a triumph over him.’
When they had so said they went back to the other
immortals, but Achilles strove onward over the plain, en-
couraged by the charge the gods had laid upon him. All was
now covered with the flood of waters, and much goodly ar-
mour of the youths that had been slain was rifting about, as
also many corpses, but he forced his way against the stream,
speeding right onwards, nor could the broad waters stay
him, for Minerva had endowed him with great strength.
Nevertheless Scamander did not slacken in his pursuit, but
was still more furious with the son of Peleus. He lifted his
waters into a high crest and cried aloud to Simois saying,
‘Dear brother, let the two of us unite to save this man, or
424 The Iliad

he will sack the mighty city of King Priam, and the Tro-
jans will not hold out against him. Help me at once; fill your
streams with water from their sources, rouse all your tor-
rents to a fury; raise your wave on high, and let snags and
stones come thundering down you that we may make an
end of this savage creature who is now lording it as though
he were a god. Nothing shall serve him longer, not strength
nor comeliness, nor his fine armour, which forsooth shall
soon be lying low in the deep waters covered over with mud.
I will wrap him in sand, and pour tons of shingle round
him, so that the Achaeans shall not know how to gather
his bones for the silt in which I shall have hidden him, and
when they celebrate his funeral they need build no barrow.’
On this he upraised his tumultuous flood high against
Achilles, seething as it was with foam and blood and the
bodies of the dead. The dark waters of the river stood up-
right and would have overwhelmed the son of Peleus, but
Juno, trembling lest Achilles should be swept away in the
mighty torrent, lifted her voice on high and called out to
Vulcan her son. ‘Crook-foot,’ she cried, ‘my child, be up and
doing, for I deem it is with you that Xanthus is fain to fight;
help us at once, kindle a fierce fire; I will then bring up the
west and the white south wind in a mighty hurricane from
the sea, that shall bear the flames against the heads and ar-
mour of the Trojans and consume them, while you go along
the banks of Xanthus burning his trees and wrapping him
round with fire. Let him not turn you back neither by fair
words nor foul, and slacken not till I shout and tell you.
Then you may stay your flames.’

On this Vulcan kindled a fierce fire, which broke out first
upon the plain and burned the many dead whom Achilles
had killed and whose bodies were lying about in great num-
bers; by this means the plain was dried and the flood stayed.
As the north wind, blowing on an orchard that has been
sodden with autumn rain, soon dries it, and the heart of
the owner is glad—even so the whole plain was dried and
the dead bodies were consumed. Then he turned tongues of
fire on to the river. He burned the elms the willows and the
tamarisks, the lotus also, with the rushes and marshy herb-
age that grew abundantly by the banks of the river. The eels
and fishes that go darting about everywhere in the water,
these, too, were sorely harassed by the flames that cunning
Vulcan had kindled, and the river himself was scalded, so
that he spoke saying, ‘Vulcan, there is no god can hold his
own against you. I cannot fight you when you flare out your
flames in this way; strive with me no longer. Let Achilles
drive the Trojans out of city immediately. What have I to do
with quarrelling and helping people?’
He was boiling as he spoke, and all his waters were seeth-
ing. As a cauldron upon a large fire boils when it is melting
the lard of some fatted hog, and the lard keeps bubbling up
all over when the dry faggots blaze under it—even so were
the goodly waters of Xanthus heated with the fire till they
were boiling. He could flow no longer but stayed his stream,
so afflicted was he by the blasts of fire which cunning Vul-
can had raised. Then he prayed to Juno and besought her
saying, ‘Juno, why should your son vex my stream with
such especial fury? I am not so much to blame as all the oth-
426 The Iliad

ers are who have been helping the Trojans. I will leave off,
since you so desire it, and let son leave off also. Furthermore
I swear never again will I do anything to save the Trojans
from destruction, not even when all Troy is burning in the
flames which the Achaeans will kindle.’
As soon as Juno heard this she said to her son Vulcan,
‘Son Vulcan, hold now your flames; we ought not to use
such violence against a god for the sake of mortals.’
When she had thus spoken Vulcan quenched his flames,
and the river went back once more into his own fair bed.
Xanthus was now beaten, so these two left off fighting,
for Juno stayed them though she was still angry; but a furi-
ous quarrel broke out among the other gods, for they were
of divided counsels. They fell on one another with a mighty
uproar—earth groaned, and the spacious firmament rang
out as with a blare of trumpets. Jove heard as he was sit-
ting on Olympus, and laughed for joy when he saw the gods
coming to blows among themselves. They were not long
about beginning, and Mars piercer of shields opened the
battle. Sword in hand he sprang at once upon Minerva and
reviled her. ‘Why, vixen,’ said he, ‘have you again set the
gods by the ears in the pride and haughtiness of your heart?
Have you forgotten how you set Diomed son of Tydeus on
to wound me, and yourself took visible spear and drove it
into me to the hurt of my fair body? You shall now suffer for
what you then did to me.’
As he spoke he struck her on the terrible tasselled aegis—
so terrible that not even can Jove’s lightning pierce it. Here
did murderous Mars strike her with his great spear. She

drew back and with her strong hand seized a stone that was
lying on the plain— great and rugged and black—which
men of old had set for the boundary of a field. With this
she struck Mars on the neck, and brought him down. Nine
roods did he cover in his fall, and his hair was all soiled
in the dust, while his armour rang rattling round him. But
Minerva laughed and vaunted over him saying, ‘Idiot, have
you not learned how far stronger I am than you, but you
must still match yourself against me? Thus do your moth-
er’s curses now roost upon you, for she is angry and would
do you mischief because you have deserted the Achaeans
and are helping the Trojans.’
She then turned her two piercing eyes elsewhere, where-
on Jove’s daughter Venus took Mars by the hand and led
him away groaning all the time, for it was only with great
difficulty that he had come to himself again. When Queen
Juno saw her, she said to Minerva, ‘Look, daughter of aegis-
bearing Jove, unweariable, that vixen Venus is again taking
Mars through the crowd out of the battle; go after her at
once.’
Thus she spoke. Minerva sped after Venus with a will,
and made at her, striking her on the bosom with her strong
hand so that she fell fainting to the ground, and there they
both lay stretched at full length. Then Minerva vaunted
over her saying, ‘May all who help the Trojans against the
Argives prove just as redoubtable and stalwart as Venus did
when she came across me while she was helping Mars. Had
this been so, we should long since have ended the war by
sacking the strong city of Ilius.’
428 The Iliad

Juno smiled as she listened. Meanwhile King Neptune
turned to Apollo saying, ‘Phoebus, why should we keep
each other at arm’s length? it is not well, now that the oth-
ers have begun fighting; it will be disgraceful to us if we
return to Jove’s bronze-floored mansion on Olympus with-
out having fought each other; therefore come on, you are
the younger of the two, and I ought not to attack you, for
I am older and have had more experience. Idiot, you have
no sense, and forget how we two alone of all the gods fared
hardly round about Ilius when we came from Jove’s house
and worked for Laomedon a whole year at a stated wage and
he gave us his orders. I built the Trojans the wall about their
city, so wide and fair that it might be impregnable, while
you, Phoebus, herded cattle for him in the dales of many
valleyed Ida. When, however, the glad hours brought round
the time of payment, mighty Laomedon robbed us of all our
hire and sent us off with nothing but abuse. He threatened
to bind us hand and foot and sell us over into some distant
island. He tried, moreover, to cut off the ears of both of us,
so we went away in a rage, furious about the payment he
had promised us, and yet withheld; in spite of all this, you
are now showing favour to his people, and will not join us
in compassing the utter ruin of the proud Trojans with their
wives and children.’
And King Apollo answered, ‘Lord of the earthquake, you
would have no respect for me if I were to fight you about
a pack of miserable mortals, who come out like leaves in
summer and eat the fruit of the field, and presently fall life-
less to the ground. Let us stay this fighting at once and let

them settle it among themselves.’
He turned away as he spoke, for he would lay no hand
on the brother of his own father. But his sister the huntress
Diana, patroness of wild beasts, was very angry with him
and said, ‘So you would fly, Far-Darter, and hand victory
over to Neptune with a cheap vaunt to boot. Baby, why keep
your bow thus idle? Never let me again hear you bragging
in my father’s house, as you have often done in the presence
of the immortals, that you would stand up and fight with
Neptune.’
Apollo made her no answer, but Jove’s august queen was
angry and upbraided her bitterly. ‘Bold vixen,’ she cried,
‘how dare you cross me thus? For all your bow you will find
it hard to hold your own against me. Jove made you as a lion
among women, and lets you kill them whenever you choose.
You will find it better to chase wild beasts and deer upon
the mountains than to fight those who are stronger than
you are. If you would try war, do so, and find out by pitting
yourself against me, how far stronger I am than you are.’
She caught both Diana’s wrists with her left hand as she
spoke, and with her right she took the bow from her shoul-
ders, and laughed as she beat her with it about the ears while
Diana wriggled and writhed under her blows. Her swift ar-
rows were shed upon the ground, and she fled weeping from
under Juno’s hand as a dove that flies before a falcon to the
cleft of some hollow rock, when it is her good fortune to es-
cape. Even so did she fly weeping away, leaving her bow and
arrows behind her.
Then the slayer of Argus, guide and guardian, said to
430 The Iliad

Leto, ‘Leto, I shall not fight you; it is ill to come to blows
with any of Jove’s wives. Therefore boast as you will among
the immortals that you worsted me in fair fight.’
Leto then gathered up Diana’s bow and arrows that had
fallen about amid the whirling dust, and when she had got
them she made all haste after her daughter. Diana had now
reached Jove’s bronze-floored mansion on Olympus, and
sat herself down with many tears on the knees of her fa-
ther, while her ambrosial raiment was quivering all about
her. The son of Saturn drew her towards him, and laughing
pleasantly the while began to question her saying, ‘Which
of the heavenly beings, my dear child, has been treating you
in this cruel manner, as though you had been misconduct-
ing yourself in the face of everybody?’ and the fair-crowned
goddess of the chase answered, ‘It was your wife Juno, fa-
ther, who has been beating me; it is always her doing when
there is any quarrelling among the immortals.’
Thus did they converse, and meanwhile Phoebus Apollo
entered the strong city of Ilius, for he was uneasy lest the
wall should not hold out and the Danaans should take the
city then and there, before its hour had come; but the rest
of the ever-living gods went back, some angry and some
triumphant to Olympus, where they took their seats beside
Jove lord of the storm cloud, while Achilles still kept on
dealing out death alike on the Trojans and on their hors-
es. As when the smoke from some burning city ascends to
heaven when the anger of the gods has kindled it—there
is then toil for all, and sorrow for not a few—even so did
Achilles bring toil and sorrow on the Trojans.

Old King Priam stood on a high tower of the wall look-
ing down on huge Achilles as the Trojans fled panic-stricken
before him, and there was none to help them. Presently he
came down from off the tower and with many a groan went
along the wall to give orders to the brave warders of the gate.
‘Keep the gates,’ said he, ‘wide open till the people come fly-
ing into the city, for Achilles is hard by and is driving them
in rout before him. I see we are in great peril. As soon as
our people are inside and in safety, close the strong gates for
I fear lest that terrible man should come bounding inside
along with the others.’
As he spoke they drew back the bolts and opened the
gates, and when these were opened there was a haven of ref-
uge for the Trojans. Apollo then came full speed out of the
city to meet them and protect them. Right for the city and
the high wall, parched with thirst and grimy with dust, still
they fied on, with Achilles wielding his spear furiously be-
hind them. For he was as one possessed, and was thirsting
after glory.
Then had the sons of the Achaeans taken the lofty gates of
Troy if Apollo had not spurred on Agenor, valiant and noble
son to Antenor. He put courage into his heart, and stood
by his side to guard him, leaning against a beech tree and
shrouded in thick darkness. When Agenor saw Achilles he
stood still and his heart was clouded with care. ‘Alas,’ said
he to himself in his dismay, ‘if I fly before mighty Achilles,
and go where all the others are being driven in rout, he will
none the less catch me and kill me for a coward. How would
it be were I to let Achilles drive the others before him, and
432 The Iliad

then fly from the wall to the plain that is behind Ilius till I
reach the spurs of Ida and can hide in the underwood that
is thereon? I could then wash the sweat from off me in the
river and in the evening return to Ilius. But why commune
with myself in this way? Like enough he would see me as I
am hurrying from the city over the plain, and would speed
after me till he had caught me—I should stand no chance
against him, for he is mightiest of all mankind. What, then,
if I go out and meet him in front of the city? His flesh too, I
take it, can be pierced by pointed bronze. Life is the same
in one and all, and men say that he is but mortal despite the
triumph that Jove son of Saturn vouchsafes him.’
So saying he stood on his guard and awaited Achilles, for
he was now fain to fight him. As a leopardess that bounds
from out a thick covert to attack a hunter—she knows no
fear and is not dismayed by the baying of the hounds; even
though the man be too quick for her and wound her either
with thrust or spear, still, though the spear has pierced her
she will not give in till she has either caught him in her grip
or been killed outright—even so did noble Agenor son of
Antenor refuse to fly till he had made trial of Achilles, and
took aim at him with his spear, holding his round shield be-
fore him and crying with a loud voice. ‘Of a truth,’ said he,
‘noble Achilles, you deem that you shall this day sack the city
of the proud Trojans. Fool, there will be trouble enough yet
before it, for there is many a brave man of us still inside who
will stand in front of our dear parents with our wives and
children, to defend Ilius. Here therefore, huge and mighty
warrior though you be, here shall you die.’

As he spoke his strong hand hurled his javelin from him,
and the spear struck Achilles on the leg beneath the knee;
the greave of newly wrought tin rang loudly, but the spear
recoiled from the body of him whom it had struck, and did
not pierce it, for the gods gift stayed it. Achilles in his turn
attacked noble Agenor, but Apollo would not vouchsafe
him glory, for he snatched Agenor away and hid him in a
thick mist, sending him out of the battle unmolested Then
he craftily drew the son of Peleus away from going after the
host, for he put on the semblance of Agenor and stood in
front of Achilles, who ran towards him to give him chase
and pursued him over the corn lands of the plain, turning
him towards the deep waters of the river Scamander. Apol-
lo ran but a little way before him and beguiled Achilles by
making him think all the time that he was on the point of
overtaking him. Meanwhile the rabble of routed Trojans
was thankful to crowd within the city till their numbers
thronged it; no longer did they dare wait for one another
outside the city walls, to learn who had escaped and who
were fallen in fight, but all whose feet and knees could still
carry them poured pell-mell into the town.
434 The Iliad

BOOK XXII
T HUS the Trojans in the city, scared like fawns, wiped the
sweat from off them and drank to quench their thirst,
leaning against the goodly battlements, while the Achae-
ans with their shields laid upon their shoulders drew close
up to the walls. But stern fate bade Hector stay where he
was before Ilius and the Scaean gates. Then Phoebus Apollo
spoke to the son of Peleus saying, ‘Why, son of Peleus, do
you, who are but man, give chase to me who am immortal?
Have you not yet found out that it is a god whom you pursue
so furiously? You did not harass the Trojans whom you had
routed, and now they are within their walls, while you have
been decoyed hither away from them. Me you cannot kill,
for death can take no hold upon me.’
Achilles was greatly angered and said, ‘You have baulked
me, Far-Darter, most malicious of all gods, and have drawn
me away from the wall, where many another man would
have bitten the dust ere he got within Ilius; you have robbed
me of great glory and have saved the Trojans at no risk to
yourself, for you have nothing to fear, but I would indeed
have my revenge if it were in my power to do so.’
On this, with fell intent he made towards the city, and
as the winning horse in a chariot race strains every nerve
when he is flying over the plain, even so fast and furiously
did the limbs of Achilles bear him onwards. King Priam

was first to note him as he scoured the plain, all radiant as
the star which men call Orion’s Hound, and whose beams
blaze forth in time of harvest more brilliantly than those of
any other that shines by night; brightest of them all though
he be, he yet bodes ill for mortals, for he brings fire and fe-
ver in his train—even so did Achilles’ armour gleam on his
breast as he sped onwards. Priam raised a cry and beat his
head with his hands as he lifted them up and shouted out
to his dear son, imploring him to return; but Hector still
stayed before the gates, for his heart was set upon doing bat-
tle with Achilles. The old man reached out his arms towards
him and bade him for pity’s sake come within the walls.
‘Hector,’ he cried, ‘my son, stay not to face this man alone
and unsupported, or you will meet death at the hands of
the son of Peleus, for he is mightier than you. Monster that
he is; would indeed that the gods loved him no better than
I do, for so, dogs and vultures would soon devour him as
he lay stretched on earth, and a load of grief would be lifted
from my heart, for many a brave son has he reft from me, ei-
ther by killing them or selling them away in the islands that
are beyond the sea: even now I miss two sons from among
the Trojans who have thronged within the city, Lycaon and
Polydorus, whom Laothoe peeress among women bore me.
Should they be still alive and in the hands of the Achae-
ans, we will ransom them with gold and bronze, of which
we have store, for the old man Altes endowed his daugh-
ter richly; but if they are already dead and in the house of
Hades, sorrow will it be to us two who were their parents;
albeit the grief of others will be more short-lived unless you
436 The Iliad

too perish at the hands of Achilles. Come, then, my son,
within the city, to be the guardian of Trojan men and Tro-
jan women, or you will both lose your own life and afford
a mighty triumph to the son of Peleus. Have pity also on
your unhappy father while life yet remains to him—on me,
whom the son of Saturn will destroy by a terrible doom on
the threshold of old age, after I have seen my sons slain and
my daughters haled away as captives, my bridal chambers
pillaged, little children dashed to earth amid the rage of
battle, and my sons’ wives dragged away by the cruel hands
of the Achaeans; in the end fierce hounds will tear me in
pieces at my own gates after some one has beaten the life
out of my body with sword or spear-hounds that I myself
reared and fed at my own table to guard my gates, but who
will yet lap my blood and then lie all distraught at my doors.
When a young man falls by the sword in battle, he may lie
where he is and there is nothing unseemly; let what will be
seen, all is honourable in death, but when an old man is
slain there is nothing in this world more pitiable than that
dogs should defile his grey hair and beard and all that men
hide for shame.’
The old man tore his grey hair as he spoke, but he moved
not the heart of Hector. His mother hard by wept and
moaned aloud as she bared her bosom and pointed to the
breast which had suckled him. ‘Hector,’ she cried, weeping
bitterly the while, ‘Hector, my son, spurn not this breast,
but have pity upon me too: if I have ever given you comfort
from my own bosom, think on it now, dear son, and come
within the wall to protect us from this man; stand not with-

out to meet him. Should the wretch kill you, neither I nor
your richly dowered wife shall ever weep, dear offshoot of
myself, over the bed on which you lie, for dogs will devour
you at the ships of the Achaeans.’
Thus did the two with many tears implore their son, but
they moved not the heart of Hector, and he stood his ground
awaiting huge Achilles as he drew nearer towards him. As
serpent in its den upon the mountains, full fed with deadly
poisons, waits for the approach of man—he is filled with
fury and his eyes glare terribly as he goes writhing round
his den—even so Hector leaned his shield against a tower
that jutted out from the wall and stood where he was, un-
daunted.
‘Alas,’ said he to himself in the heaviness of his heart, ‘if
I go within the gates, Polydamas will be the first to heap
reproach upon me, for it was he that urged me to lead the
Trojans back to the city on that awful night when Achil-
les again came forth against us. I would not listen, but it
would have been indeed better if I had done so. Now that
my folly has destroyed the host, I dare not look Trojan men
and Trojan women in the face, lest a worse man should say,
‘Hector has ruined us by his self-confidence.’ Surely it would
be better for me to return after having fought Achilles and
slain him, or to die gloriously here before the city. What,
again, if I were to lay down my shield and helmet, lean my
spear against the wall and go straight up to noble Achilles?
What if I were to promise to give up Helen, who was the
fountainhead of all this war, and all the treasure that Alex-
andrus brought with him in his ships to Troy, aye, and to
438 The Iliad

let the Achaeans divide the half of everything that the city
contains among themselves? I might make the Trojans, by
the mouths of their princes, take a solemn oath that they
would hide nothing, but would divide into two shares all
that is within the city—but why argue with myself in this
way? Were I to go up to him he would show me no kind of
mercy; he would kill me then and there as easily as though I
were a woman, when I had off my armour. There is no par-
leying with him from some rock or oak tree as young men
and maidens prattle with one another. Better fight him at
once, and learn to which of us Jove will vouchsafe victory.’
Thus did he stand and ponder, but Achilles came up to
him as it were Mars himself, plumed lord of battle. From
his right shoulder he brandished his terrible spear of Pelian
ash, and the bronze gleamed around him like flashing fire
or the rays of the rising sun. Fear fell upon Hector as he be-
held him, and he dared not stay longer where he was but fled
in dismay from before the gates, while Achilles darted af-
ter him at his utmost speed. As a mountain falcon, swiftest
of all birds, swoops down upon some cowering dove—the
dove flies before him but the falcon with a shrill scream fol-
lows close after, resolved to have her—even so did Achilles
make straight for Hector with all his might, while Hector
fled under the Trojan wall as fast as his limbs could take
him.
On they flew along the waggon-road that ran hard by
under the wall, past the lookout station, and past the weath-
er-beaten wild fig-tree, till they came to two fair springs
which feed the river Scamander. One of these two springs

is warm, and steam rises from it as smoke from a burning
fire, but the other even in summer is as cold as hail or snow,
or the ice that forms on water. Here, hard by the springs,
are the goodly washing-troughs of stone, where in the time
of peace before the coming of the Achaeans the wives and
fair daughters of the Trojans used to wash their clothes.
Past these did they fly, the one in front and the other giving
chase behind him: good was the man that fled, but better
far was he that followed after, and swiftly indeed did they
run, for the prize was no mere beast for sacrifice or bull-
ock’s hide, as it might be for a common foot-race, but they
ran for the life of Hector. As horses in a chariot race speed
round the turning-posts when they are running for some
great prize—a tripod or woman—at the games in honour of
some dead hero, so did these two run full speed three times
round the city of Priam. All the gods watched them, and the
sire of gods and men was the first to speak.
‘Alas,’ said he, ‘my eyes behold a man who is dear to me
being pursued round the walls of Troy; my heart is full of
pity for Hector, who has burned the thigh-bones of many
a heifer in my honour, one while on the crests of many-
valleyed Ida, and again on the citadel of Troy; and now I
see noble Achilles in full pursuit of him round the city of
Priam. What say you? Consider among yourselves and de-
cide whether we shall now save him or let him fall, valiant
though he be, before Achilles, son of Peleus.’
Then Minerva said, ‘Father, wielder of the lightning, lord
of cloud and storm, what mean you? Would you pluck this
mortal whose doom has long been decreed out of the jaws of
440 The Iliad

death? Do as you will, but we others shall not be of a mind
with you.’
And Jove answered, ‘My child, Trito-born, take heart. I
did not speak in full earnest, and I will let you have your
way. Do without let or hindrance as you are minded.’
Thus did he urge Minerva who was already eager, and
down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus.
Achilles was still in full pursuit of Hector, as a hound
chasing a fawn which he has started from its covert on the
mountains, and hunts through glade and thicket. The fawn
may try to elude him by crouching under cover of a bush,
but he will scent her out and follow her up until he gets her—
even so there was no escape for Hector from the fleet son of
Peleus. Whenever he made a set to get near the Dardanian
gates and under the walls, that his people might help him
by showering down weapons from above, Achilles would
gain on him and head him back towards the plain, keeping
himself always on the city side. As a man in a dream who
fails to lay hands upon another whom he is pursuing—the
one cannot escape nor the other overtake—even so neither
could Achilles come up with Hector, nor Hector break away
from Achilles; nevertheless he might even yet have escaped
death had not the time come when Apollo, who thus far had
sustained his strength and nerved his running, was now no
longer to stay by him. Achilles made signs to the Achaean
host, and shook his head to show that no man was to aim a
dart at Hector, lest another might win the glory of having
hit him and he might himself come in second. Then, at last,
as they were nearing the fountains for the fourth time, the

father of all balanced his golden scales and placed a doom
in each of them, one for Achilles and the other for Hec-
tor. As he held the scales by the middle, the doom of Hector
fell down deep into the house of Hades—and then Phoe-
bus Apollo left him. Thereon Minerva went close up to the
son of Peleus and said, ‘Noble Achilles, favoured of heav-
en, we two shall surely take back to the ships a triumph for
the Achaeans by slaying Hector, for all his lust of battle. Do
what Apollo may as he lies grovelling before his father, ae-
gis-bearing Jove, Hector cannot escape us longer. Stay here
and take breath, while I go up to him and persuade him to
make a stand and fight you.’
Thus spoke Minerva. Achilles obeyed her gladly, and
stood still, leaning on his bronze-pointed ashen spear,
while Minerva left him and went after Hector in the form
and with the voice of Deiphobus. She came close up to him
and said, ‘Dear brother, I see you are hard pressed by Achil-
les who is chasing you at full speed round the city of Priam,
let us await his onset and stand on our defence.’
And Hector answered, ‘Deiphobus, you have always been
dearest to me of all my brothers, children of Hecuba and
Priam, but henceforth I shall rate you yet more highly, in-
asmuch as you have ventured outside the wall for my sake
when all the others remain inside.’
Then Minerva said, ‘Dear brother, my father and mother
went down on their knees and implored me, as did all my
comrades, to remain inside, so great a fear has fallen upon
them all; but I was in an agony of grief when I beheld you;
now, therefore, let us two make a stand and fight, and let
442 The Iliad

there be no keeping our spears in reserve, that we may learn
whether Achilles shall kill us and bear off our spoils to the
ships, or whether he shall fall before you.’
Thus did Minerva inveigle him by her cunning, and when
the two were now close to one another great Hector was first
to speak. ‘I will-no longer fly you, son of Peleus,’ said he, ‘as
I have been doing hitherto. Three times have I fled round
the mighty city of Priam, without daring to withstand you,
but now, let me either slay or be slain, for I am in the mind
to face you. Let us, then, give pledges to one another by our
gods, who are the fittest witnesses and guardians of all cov-
enants; let it be agreed between us that if Jove vouchsafes
me the longer stay and I take your life, I am not to treat
your dead body in any unseemly fashion, but when I have
stripped you of your armour, I am to give up your body to
the Achaeans. And do you likewise.’
Achilles glared at him and answered, ‘Fool, prate not to
me about covenants. There can be no covenants between
men and lions, wolves and lambs can never be of one mind,
but hate each other out and out an through. Therefore there
can be no understanding between you and me, nor may
there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall
fall and glut grim Mars with his life’s blood. Put forth all
your strength; you have need now to prove yourself indeed a
bold soldier and man of war. You have no more chance, and
Pallas Minerva will forthwith vanquish you by my spear:
you shall now pay me in full for the grief you have caused
me on account of my comrades whom you have killed in
battle.’

He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it. Hector
saw it coming and avoided it; he watched it and crouched
down so that it flew over his head and stuck in the ground
beyond; Minerva then snatched it up and gave it back to
Achilles without Hector’s seeing her; Hector thereon said to
the son of Peleus, ‘You have missed your aim, Achilles, peer
of the gods, and Jove has not yet revealed to you the hour of
my doom, though you made sure that he had done so. You
were a false-tongued liar when you deemed that I should
forget my valour and quail before you. You shall not drive
spear into the back of a runaway—drive it, should heaven
so grant you power, drive it into me as I make straight to-
wards you; and now for your own part avoid my spear if you
can—would that you might receive the whole of it into your
body; if you were once dead the Trojans would find the war
an easier matter, for it is you who have harmed them most.’
He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it. His aim
was true for he hit the middle of Achilles’ shield, but the
spear rebounded from it, and did not pierce it. Hector was
angry when he saw that the weapon had sped from his hand
in vain, and stood there in dismay for he had no second
spear. With a loud cry he called Deiphobus and asked him
for one, but there was no man; then he saw the truth and
said to himself, ‘Alas! the gods have lured me on to my de-
struction. I deemed that the hero Deiphobus was by my side,
but he is within the wall, and Minerva has inveigled me;
death is now indeed exceedingly near at hand and there
is no way out of it—for so Jove and his son Apollo the far-
darter have willed it, though heretofore they have been ever
444 The Iliad

ready to protect me. My doom has come upon me; let me
not then die ingloriously and without a struggle, but let me
first do some great thing that shall be told among men here-
after.’
As he spoke he drew the keen blade that hung so great
and strong by his side, and gathering himself together be
sprang on Achilles like a soaring eagle which swoops down
from the clouds on to some lamb or timid hare—even so
did Hector brandish his sword and spring upon Achilles.
Achilles mad with rage darted towards him, with his won-
drous shield before his breast, and his gleaming helmet,
made with four layers of metal, nodding fiercely forward.
The thick tresses of gold with which Vulcan had crested the
helmet floated round it, and as the evening star that shines
brighter than all others through the stillness of night, even
such was the gleam of the spear which Achilles poised in
his right hand, fraught with the death of noble Hector. He
eyed his fair flesh over and over to see where he could best
wound it, but all was protected by the goodly armour of
which Hector had spoiled Patroclus after he had slain him,
save only the throat where the collar-bones divide the neck
from the shoulders, and this is a most deadly place: here
then did Achilles strike him as he was coming on towards
him, and the point of his spear went right through the fleshy
part of the neck, but it did not sever his windpipe so that he
could still speak. Hector fell headlong, and Achilles vaunt-
ed over him saying, ‘Hector, you deemed that you should
come off scatheless when you were spoiling Patroclus, and
recked not of myself who was not with him. Fool that you

were: for I, his comrade, mightier far than he, was still left
behind him at the ships, and now I have laid you low. The
Achaeans shall give him all due funeral rites, while dogs
and vultures shall work their will upon yourself.’
Then Hector said, as the life ebbed out of him, ‘I pray you
by your life and knees, and by your parents, let not dogs
devour me at the ships of the Achaeans, but accept the rich
treasure of gold and bronze which my father and mother
will offer you, and send my body home, that the Trojans and
their wives may give me my dues of fire when I am dead.’
Achilles glared at him and answered, ‘Dog, talk not to
me neither of knees nor parents; would that I could be as
sure of being able to cut your flesh into pieces and eat it
raw, for the ill you have done me, as I am that nothing shall
save you from the dogs—it shall not be, though they bring
ten or twenty-fold ransom and weigh it out for me on the
spot, with promise of yet more hereafter. Though Priam son
of Dardanus should bid them offer me your weight in gold,
even so your mother shall never lay you out and make la-
ment over the son she bore, but dogs and vultures shall eat
you utterly up.’
Hector with his dying breath then said, ‘I know you what
you are, and was sure that I should not move you, for your
heart is hard as iron; look to it that I bring not heaven’s an-
ger upon you on the day when Paris and Phoebus Apollo,
valiant though you be, shall slay you at the Scaean gates.’
When he had thus said the shrouds of death enfolded
him, whereon his soul went out of him and flew down to the
house of Hades, lamenting its sad fate that it should enjoy
446 The Iliad

youth and strength no longer. But Achilles said, speaking to
the dead body, ‘Die; for my part I will accept my fate when-
soever Jove and the other gods see fit to send it.’
As he spoke he drew his spear from the body and set it on
one side; then he stripped the blood-stained armour from
Hector’s shoulders while the other Achaeans came running
up to view his wondrous strength and beauty; and no one
came near him without giving him a fresh wound. Then
would one turn to his neighbour and say, ‘It is easier to han-
dle Hector now than when he was flinging fire on to our
ships’ and as he spoke he would thrust his spear into him
anew.
When Achilles had done spoiling Hector of his armour,
he stood among the Argives and said, ‘My friends, princes
and counsellors of the Argives, now that heaven has vouch-
safed us to overcome this man, who has done us more hurt
than all the others together, consider whether we should not
attack the city in force, and discover in what mind the Tro-
jans may be. We should thus learn whether they will desert
their city now that Hector has fallen, or will still hold out
even though he is no longer living. But why argue with my-
self in this way, while Patroclus is still lying at the ships
unburied, and unmourned—he whom I can never forget so
long as I am alive and my strength fails not? Though men
forget their dead when once they are within the house of
Hades, yet not even there will I forget the comrade whom I
have lost. Now, therefore, Achaean youths, let us raise the
song of victory and go back to the ships taking this man
along with us; for we have achieved a mighty triumph

and have slain noble Hector to whom the Trojans prayed
throughout their city as though he were a god.’
On this he treated the body of Hector with contumely:
he pierced the sinews at the back of both his feet from heel
to ancle and passed thongs of ox-hide through the slits he
had made: thus he made the body fast to his chariot, let-
ting the head trail upon the ground. Then when he had put
the goodly armour on the chariot and had himself mounted,
he lashed his horses on and they flew forward nothing loth.
The dust rose from Hector as he was being dragged along,
his dark hair flew all abroad, and his head once so comely
was laid low on earth, for Jove had now delivered him into
the hands of his foes to do him outrage in his own land.
Thus was the head of Hector being dishonoured in the
dust. His mother tore her hair, and flung her veil from her
with a loud cry as she looked upon her son. His father made
piteous moan, and throughout the city the people fell to
weeping and wailing. It was as though the whole of frown-
ing Ilius was being smirched with fire. Hardly could the
people hold Priam back in his hot haste to rush without
the gates of the city. He grovelled in the mire and besought
them, calling each one of them by his name. ‘Let be, my
friends,’ he cried, ‘and for all your sorrow, suffer me to go
single-handed to the ships of the Achaeans. Let me beseech
this cruel and terrible man, if maybe he will respect the feel-
ing of his fellow-men, and have compassion on my old age.
His own father is even such another as myself—Peleus, who
bred him and reared him to be the bane of us Trojans, and
of myself more than of all others. Many a son of mine has
448 The Iliad

he slain in the flower of his youth, and yet, grieve for these
as I may, I do so for one— Hector—more than for them all,
and the bitterness of my sorrow will bring me down to the
house of Hades. Would that he had died in my arms, for
so both his ill-starred mother who bore him, and myself,
should have had the comfort of weeping and mourning over
him.’
Thus did he speak with many tears, and all the people of
the city joined in his lament. Hecuba then raised the cry of
wailing among the Trojans. ‘Alas, my son,’ she cried, ‘what
have I left to live for now that you are no more? Night and
day did I glory in you throughout the city, for you were a
tower of strength to all in Troy, and both men and wom-
en alike hailed you as a god. So long as you lived you were
their pride, but now death and destruction have fallen upon
you.’
Hector’s wife had as yet heard nothing, for no one had
come to tell her that her husband had remained without the
gates. She was at her loom in an inner part of the house,
weaving a double purple web, and embroidering it with
many flowers. She told her maids to set a large tripod on
the fire, so as to have a warm bath ready for Hector when
he came out of battle; poor woman, she knew not that he
was now beyond the reach of baths, and that Minerva had
laid him low by the hands of Achilles. She heard the cry
coming as from the wall, and trembled in every limb; the
shuttle fell from her hands, and again she spoke to her wait-
ing-women. ‘Two of you,’ she said, ‘come with me that I may
learn what it is that has befallen; I heard the voice of my

husband’s honoured mother; my own heart beats as though
it would come into my mouth and my limbs refuse to car-
ry me; some great misfortune for Priam’s children must
be at hand. May I never live to hear it, but I greatly fear
that Achilles has cut off the retreat of brave Hector and has
chased him on to the plain where he was singlehanded; I
fear he may have put an end to the reckless daring which
possessed my husband, who would never remain with the
body of his men, but would dash on far in front, foremost of
them all in valour.’
Her heart beat fast, and as she spoke she flew from the
house like a maniac, with her waiting-women following
after. When she reached the battlements and the crowd of
people, she stood looking out upon the wall, and saw Hector
being borne away in front of the city—the horses dragging
him without heed or care over the ground towards the ships
of the Achaeans. Her eyes were then shrouded as with the
darkness of night and she fell fainting backwards. She tore
the attiring from her head and flung it from her, the front-
let and net with its plaited band, and the veil which golden
Venus had given her on the day when Hector took her with
him from the house of Eetion, after having given count-
less gifts of wooing for her sake. Her husband’s sisters and
the wives of his brothers crowded round her and support-
ed her, for she was fain to die in her distraction; when she
again presently breathed and came to herself, she sobbed
and made lament among the Trojans saying, ‘Woe is me, O
Hector; woe, indeed, that to share a common lot we were
born, you at Troy in the house of Priam, and I at Thebes
450 The Iliad

under the wooded mountain of Placus in the house of Eet-
ion who brought me up when I was a child—ill-starred sire
of an ill-starred daughter—would that he had never begot-
ten me. You are now going into the house of Hades under
the secret places of the earth, and you leave me a sorrow-
ing widow in your house. The child, of whom you and I are
the unhappy parents, is as yet a mere infant. Now that you
are gone, O Hector, you can do nothing for him nor he for
you. Even though he escape the horrors of this woeful war
with the Achaeans, yet shall his life henceforth be one of
labour and sorrow, for others will seize his lands. The day
that robs a child of his parents severs him from his own
kind; his head is bowed, his cheeks are wet with tears, and
he will go about destitute among the friends of his father,
plucking one by the cloak and another by the shirt. Some
one or other of these may so far pity him as to hold the
cup for a moment towards him and let him moisten his lips,
but he must not drink enough to wet the roof of his mouth;
then one whose parents are alive will drive him from the
table with blows and angry words. ‘Out with you,’ he will
say, ‘you have no father here,’ and the child will go crying
back to his widowed mother—he, Astyanax, who erewhile
would sit upon his father’s knees, and have none but the
daintiest and choicest morsels set before him. When he had
played till he was tired and went to sleep, he would lie in
a bed, in the arms of his nurse, on a soft couch, knowing
neither want nor care, whereas now that he has lost his fa-
ther his lot will be full of hardship—he, whom the Trojans
name Astyanax, because you, O Hector, were the only de-

fence of their gates and battlements. The wriggling writhing
worms will now eat you at the ships, far from your parents,
when the dogs have glutted themselves upon you. You will
lie naked, although in your house you have fine and goodly
raiment made by hands of women. This will I now burn; it
is of no use to you, for you can never again wear it, and thus
you will have respect shown you by the Trojans both men
and women.’
In such wise did she cry aloud amid her tears, and the
women joined in her lament.
452 The Iliad

BOOK XXIII
T HUS did they make their moan throughout the city,

while the Achaeans when they reached the Hellespont
went back every man to his own ship. But Achilles would
not let the Myrmidons go, and spoke to his brave comrades
saying, ‘Myrmidons, famed horsemen and my own trusted
friends, not yet, forsooth, let us unyoke, but with horse and
chariot draw near to the body and mourn Patroclus, in due
honour to the dead. When we have had full comfort of lam-
entation we will unyoke our horses and take supper all of
us here.’
On this they all joined in a cry of wailing and Achilles
led them in their lament. Thrice did they drive their chari-
ots all sorrowing round the body, and Thetis stirred within
them a still deeper yearning. The sands of the seashore and
the men’s armour were wet with their weeping, so great a
minister of fear was he whom they had lost. Chief in all
their mourning was the son of Peleus: he laid his blood-
stained hand on the breast of his friend. ‘Fare well,’ he cried,
‘Patroclus, even in the house of Hades. I will now do all that
I erewhile promised you; I will drag Hector hither and let
dogs devour him raw; twelve noble sons of Trojans will I
also slay before your pyre to avenge you.’
As he spoke he treated the body of noble Hector with
contumely, laying it at full length in the dust beside the bier

of Patroclus. The others then put off every man his armour,
took the horses from their chariots, and seated themselves
in great multitude by the ship of the fleet descendant of
Aeacus, who thereon feasted them with an abundant fu-
neral banquet. Many a goodly ox, with many a sheep and
bleating goat did they butcher and cut up; many a tusked
boar moreover, fat and well-fed, did they singe and set to
roast in the flames of Vulcan; and rivulets of blood flowed
all round the place where the body was lying.
Then the princes of the Achaeans took the son of Pele-
us to Agamemnon, but hardly could they persuade him to
come with them, so wroth was he for the death of his com-
rade. As soon as they reached Agamemnon’s tent they told
the serving-men to set a large tripod over the fire in case
they might persuade the son of Peleus to wash the clotted
gore from this body, but he denied them sternly, and swore
it with a solemn oath, saying, ‘Nay, by King Jove, first and
mightiest of all gods, it is not meet that water should touch
my body, till I have laid Patroclus on the flames, have built
him a barrow, and shaved my head—for so long as I live no
such second sorrow shall ever draw nigh me. Now, there-
fore, let us do all that this sad festival demands, but at break
of day, King Agamemnon, bid your men bring wood, and
provide all else that the dead may duly take into the realm
of darkness; the fire shall thus burn him out of our sight
the sooner, and the people shall turn again to their own la-
bours.’
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. They
made haste to prepare the meal, they ate, and every man
454 The Iliad

had his full share so that all were satisfied. As soon as they
had had enough to eat and drink, the others went to their
rest each in his own tent, but the son of Peleus lay grieving
among his Myrmidons by the shore of the sounding sea, in
an open place where the waves came surging in one after
another. Here a very deep slumber took hold upon him and
eased the burden of his sorrows, for his limbs were weary
with chasing Hector round windy Ilius. Presently the sad
spirit of Patroclus drew near him, like what he had been in
stature, voice, and the light of his beaming eyes, clad, too,
as he had been clad in life. The spirit hovered over his head
and said—
‘You sleep, Achilles, and have forgotten me; you loved me
living, but now that I am dead you think for me no further.
Bury me with all speed that I may pass the gates of Hades;
the ghosts, vain shadows of men that can labour no more,
drive me away from them; they will not yet suffer me to join
those that are beyond the river, and I wander all desolate
by the wide gates of the house of Hades. Give me now your
hand I pray you, for when you have once given me my dues
of fire, never shall I again come forth out of the house of
Hades. Nevermore shall we sit apart and take sweet counsel
among the living; the cruel fate which was my birth-right
has yawned its wide jaws around me—nay, you too Achil-
les, peer of gods, are doomed to die beneath the wall of the
noble Trojans.
‘One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let
not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with
them; even as we were brought up together in your own

home, what time Menoetius brought me to you as a child
from Opoeis because by a sad spite I had killed the son of
Amphidamas—not of set purpose, but in childish quarrel
over the dice. The knight Peleus took me into his house,
entreated me kindly, and named me to be your squire;
therefore let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-han-
dled golden vase given to you by your mother.’
And Achilles answered, ‘Why, true heart, are you come
hither to lay these charges upon me? will of my own self do
all as you have bidden me. Draw closer to me, let us once
more throw our arms around one another, and find sad
comfort in the sharing of our sorrows.’
He opened his arms towards him as he spoke and would
have clasped him in them, but there was nothing, and the
spirit vanished as a vapour, gibbering and whining into the
earth. Achilles sprang to his feet, smote his two hands, and
made lamentation saying, ‘Of a truth even in the house of
Hades there are ghosts and phantoms that have no life in
them; all night long the sad spirit of Patroclus has hovered
over head making piteous moan, telling me what I am to do
for him, and looking wondrously like himself.’
Thus did he speak and his words set them all weeping
and mourning about the poor dumb dead, till rosy-fingered
morn appeared. Then King Agamemnon sent men and
mules from all parts of the camp, to bring wood, and Mer-
iones, squire to Idomeneus, was in charge over them. They
went out with woodmen’s axes and strong ropes in their
hands, and before them went the mules. Up hill and down
dale did they go, by straight ways and crooked, and when
456 The Iliad

they reached the heights of many-fountained Ida, they laid
their axes to the roots of many a tall branching oak that
came thundering down as they felled it. They split the trees
and bound them behind the mules, which then wended
their way as they best could through the thick brushwood
on to the plain. All who had been cutting wood bore logs,
for so Meriones squire to Idomeneus had bidden them, and
they threw them down in a line upon the seashore at the
place where Achilles would make a mighty monument for
Patroclus and for himself.
When they had thrown down their great logs of wood
over the whole ground, they stayed all of them where they
were, but Achilles ordered his brave Myrmidons to gird on
their armour, and to yoke each man his horses; they there-
fore rose, girded on their armour and mounted each his
chariot—they and their charioteers with them. The chariots
went before, and they that were on foot followed as a cloud
in their tens of thousands after. In the midst of them his
comrades bore Patroclus and covered him with the locks of
their hair which they cut off and threw upon his body. Last
came Achilles with his head bowed for sorrow, so noble a
comrade was he taking to the house of Hades.
When they came to the place of which Achilles had told
them they laid the body down and built up the wood. Achil-
les then bethought him of another matter. He went a space
away from the pyre, and cut off the yellow lock which he
had let grow for the river Spercheius. He looked all sorrow-
fully out upon the dark sea, and said, ‘Spercheius, in vain
did my father Peleus vow to you that when I returned home

to my loved native land I should cut off this lock and offer
you a holy hecatomb; fifty she-goats was I to sacrifice to you
there at your springs, where is your grove and your altar
fragrant with burnt-offerings. Thus did my father vow, but
you have not fulfilled his prayer; now, therefore, that I shall
see my home no more, I give this lock as a keepsake to the
hero Patroclus.’
As he spoke he placed the lock in the hands of his dear
comrade, and all who stood by were filled with yearning
and lamentation. The sun would have gone down upon their
mourning had not Achilles presently said to Agamemnon,
‘Son of Atreus, for it is to you that the people will give ear,
there is a time to mourn and a time to cease from mourn-
ing; bid the people now leave the pyre and set about getting
their dinners: we, to whom the dead is dearest, will see to
what is wanted here, and let the other princes also stay by
me.’
When King Agamemnon heard this he dismissed the
people to their ships, but those who were about the dead
heaped up wood and built a pyre a hundred feet this way
and that; then they laid the dead all sorrowfully upon the
top of it. They flayed and dressed many fat sheep and oxen
before the pyre, and Achilles took fat from all of them and
wrapped the body therein from head to foot, heaping the
flayed carcases all round it. Against the bier he leaned two-
handled jars of honey and unguents; four proud horses did
he then cast upon the pyre, groaning the while he did so.
The dead hero had had house-dogs; two of them did Achil-
les slay and threw upon the pyre; he also put twelve brave
458 The Iliad

sons of noble Trojans to the sword and laid them with the
rest, for he was full of bitterness and fury. Then he commit-
ted all to the resistless and devouring might of the fire; he
groaned aloud and called on his dead comrade by name.
‘Fare well,’ he cried, ‘Patroclus, even in the house of Hades;
I am now doing all that I have promised you. Twelve brave
sons of noble Trojans shall the flames consume along with
yourself, but dogs, not fire, shall devour the flesh of Hector
son of Priam.’
Thus did he vaunt, but the dogs came not about the
body of Hector, for Jove’s daughter Venus kept them off
him night and day, and anointed him with ambrosial oil
of roses that his flesh might not be torn when Achilles was
dragging him about. Phoebus Apollo moreover sent a dark
cloud from heaven to earth, which gave shade to the whole
place where Hector lay, that the heat of the sun might not
parch his body.
Now the pyre about dead Patroclus would not kindle.
Achilles therefore bethought him of another matter; he
went apart and prayed to the two winds Boreas and Zeph-
yrus vowing them goodly offerings. He made them many
drink-offerings from the golden cup and besought them to
come and help him that the wood might make haste to kin-
dle and the dead bodies be consumed. Fleet Iris heard him
praying and started off to fetch the winds. They were hold-
ing high feast in the house of boisterous Zephyrus when
Iris came running up to the stone threshold of the house
and stood there, but as soon as they set eyes on her they all
came towards her and each of them called her to him, but

Iris would not sit down. ‘I cannot stay,’ she said, ‘I must go
back to the streams of Oceanus and the land of the Ethio-
pians who are offering hecatombs to the immortals, and I
would have my share; but Achilles prays that Boreas and
shrill Zephyrus will come to him, and he vows them goodly
offerings; he would have you blow upon the pyre of Patro-
clus for whom all the Achaeans are lamenting.’
With this she left them, and the two winds rose with
a cry that rent the air and swept the clouds before them.
They blew on and on until they came to the sea, and the
waves rose high beneath them, but when they reached Troy
they fell upon the pyre till the mighty flames roared un-
der the blast that they blew. All night long did they blow
hard and beat upon the fire, and all night long did Achil-
les grasp his double cup, drawing wine from a mixing-bowl
of gold, and calling upon the spirit of dead Patroclus as he
poured it upon the ground until the earth was drenched. As
a father mourns when he is burning the bones of his bride-
groom son whose death has wrung the hearts of his parents,
even so did Achilles mourn while burning the body of his
comrade, pacing round the bier with piteous groaning and
lamentation.
At length as the Morning Star was beginning to herald
the light which saffron-mantled Dawn was soon to suffuse
over the sea, the flames fell and the fire began to die. The
winds then went home beyond the Thracian sea, which
roared and boiled as they swept over it. The son of Peleus
now turned away from the pyre and lay down, overcome
with toil, till he fell into a sweet slumber. Presently they
460 The Iliad

who were about the son of Atreus drew near in a body, and
roused him with the noise and tramp of their coming. He
sat upright and said, ‘Son of Atreus, and all other princes
of the Achaeans, first pour red wine everywhere upon the
fire and quench it; let us then gather the bones of Patroclus
son of Menoetius, singling them out with care; they are eas-
ily found, for they lie in the middle of the pyre, while all
else, both men and horses, has been thrown in a heap and
burned at the outer edge. We will lay the bones in a golden
urn, in two layers of fat, against the time when I shall myself
go down into the house of Hades. As for the barrow, labour
not to raise a great one now, but such as is reasonable. After-
wards, let those Achaeans who may be left at the ships when
I am gone, build it both broad and high.’
Thus he spoke and they obeyed the word of the son of
Peleus. First they poured red wine upon the thick layer of
ashes and quenched the fire. With many tears they singled
out the whitened bones of their loved comrade and laid them
within a golden urn in two layers of fat: they then covered
the urn with a linen cloth and took it inside the tent. They
marked off the circle where the barrow should be, made a
foundation for it about the pyre, and forthwith heaped up
the earth. When they had thus raised a mound they were
going away, but Achilles stayed the people and made them
sit in assembly. He brought prizes from the ships—caul-
drons, tripods, horses and mules, noble oxen, women with
fair girdles, and swart iron.
The first prize he offered was for the chariot races—a
woman skilled in all useful arts, and a three-legged caul-

dron that had ears for handles, and would hold twenty-two
measures. This was for the man who came in first. For the
second there was a six-year old mare, unbroken, and in foal
to a he-ass; the third was to have a goodly cauldron that had
never yet been on the fire; it was still bright as when it left
the maker, and would hold four measures. The fourth prize
was two talents of gold, and the fifth a two-handled urn as
yet unsoiled by smoke. Then he stood up and spoke among
the Argives saying—
‘Son of Atreus, and all other Achaeans, these are the priz-
es that lie waiting the winners of the chariot races. At any
other time I should carry off the first prize and take it to my
own tent; you know how far my steeds excel all others—for
they are immortal; Neptune gave them to my father Peleus,
who in his turn gave them to myself; but I shall hold aloof,
I and my steeds that have lost their brave and kind driv-
er, who many a time has washed them in clear water and
anointed their manes with oil. See how they stand weep-
ing here, with their manes trailing on the ground in the
extremity of their sorrow. But do you others set yourselves
in order throughout the host, whosoever has confidence in
his horses and in the strength of his chariot.’
Thus spoke the son of Peleus and the drivers of chariots
bestirred themselves. First among them all uprose Eumelus,
king of men, son of Admetus, a man excellent in horse-
manship. Next to him rose mighty Diomed son of Tydeus;
he yoked the Trojan horses which he had taken from Ae-
neas, when Apollo bore him out of the fight. Next to him,
yellow-haired Menelaus son of Atreus rose and yoked his
462 The Iliad

fleet horses, Agamemnon’s mare Aethe, and his own horse
Podargus. The mare had been given to Agamemnon by
Echepolus son of Anchises, that he might not have to fol-
low him to Ilius, but might stay at home and take his ease;
for Jove had endowed him with great wealth and he lived in
spacious Sicyon. This mare, all eager for the race, did Mene-
laus put under the yoke.
Fourth in order Antilochus, son to noble Nestor son
of Neleus, made ready his horses. These were bred in Py-
los, and his father came up to him to give him good advice
of which, however, he stood in but little need. ‘Antilochus,’
said Nestor, ‘you are young, but Jove and Neptune have
loved you well, and have made you an excellent horseman.
I need not therefore say much by way of instruction. You
are skilful at wheeling your horses round the post, but the
horses themselves are very slow, and it is this that will, I fear,
mar your chances. The other drivers know less than you do,
but their horses are fleeter; therefore, my dear son, see if
you cannot hit upon some artifice whereby you may insure
that the prize shall not slip through your fingers. The wood-
man does more by skill than by brute force; by skill the pilot
guides his storm-tossed barque over the sea, and so by skill
one driver can beat another. If a man go wide in rounding
this way and that, whereas a man who knows what he is do-
ing may have worse horses, but he will keep them well in
hand when he sees the doubling-post; he knows the precise
moment at which to pull the rein, and keeps his eye well
on the man in front of him. I will give you this certain to-
ken which cannot escape your notice. There is a stump of a

dead tree—oak or pine as it may be—some six feet above
the ground, and not yet rotted away by rain; it stands at the
fork of the road; it has two white stones set one on each side,
and there is a clear course all round it. It may have been
a monument to some one long since dead, or it may have
been used as a doubling-post in days gone by; now, how-
ever, it has been fixed on by Achilles as the mark round
which the chariots shall turn; hug it as close as you can, but
as you stand in your chariot lean over a little to the left;
urge on your right-hand horse with voice and lash, and give
him a loose rein, but let the left-hand horse keep so close in,
that the nave of your wheel shall almost graze the post; but
mind the stone, or you will wound your horses and break
your chariot in pieces, which would be sport for others but
confusion for yourself. Therefore, my dear son, mind well
what you are about, for if you can be first to round the post
there is no chance of any one giving you the go-by later, not
even though you had Adrestus’s horse Arion behind you—a
horse which is of divine race—or those of Laomedon, which
are the noblest in this country.’
When Nestor had made an end of counselling his son he
sat down in his place, and fifth in order Meriones got ready
his horses. They then all mounted their chariots and cast
lots. Achilles shook the helmet, and the lot of Antilochus
son of Nestor fell out first; next came that of King Eumelus,
and after his, those of Menelaus son of Atreus and of Mer-
iones. The last place fell to the lot of Diomed son of Tydeus,
who was the best man of them all. They took their places in
line; Achilles showed them the doubling-post round which
464 The Iliad

they were to turn, some way off upon the plain; here he sta-
tioned his father’s follower Phoenix as umpire, to note the
running, and report truly.
At the same instant they all of them lashed their horses,
struck them with the reins, and shouted at them with all
their might. They flew full speed over the plain away from
the ships, the dust rose from under them as it were a cloud
or whirlwind, and their manes were all flying in the wind.
At one moment the chariots seemed to touch the ground,
and then again they bounded into the air; the drivers stood
erect, and their hearts beat fast and furious in their lust
of victory. Each kept calling on his horses, and the horses
scoured the plain amid the clouds of dust that they raised.
It was when they were doing the last part of the course
on their way back towards the sea that their pace was
strained to the utmost and it was seen what each could do.
The horses of the descendant of Pheres now took the lead,
and close behind them came the Trojan stallions of Di-
omed. They seemed as if about to mount Eumelus’s chariot,
and he could feel their warm breath on his back and on his
broad shoulders, for their heads were close to him as they
flew over the course. Diomed would have now passed him,
or there would have been a dead heat, but Phoebus Apollo
to spite him made him drop his whip. Tears of anger fell
from his eyes as he saw the mares going on faster than ever,
while his own horses lost ground through his having no
whip. Minerva saw the trick which Apollo had played the
son of Tydeus, so she brought him his whip and put spirit
into his horses; moreover she went after the son of Admetus

in a rage and broke his yoke for him; the mares went one to
one side of the course, and the other to the other, and the
pole was broken against the ground. Eumelus was thrown
from his chariot close to the wheel; his elbows, mouth, and
nostrils were all torn, and his forehead was bruised above
his eyebrows; his eyes filled with tears and he could find no
utterance. But the son of Tydeus turned his horses aside and
shot far ahead, for Minerva put fresh strength into them
and covered Diomed himself with glory.
Menelaus son of Atreus came next behind him, but An-
tilochus called to his father’s horses. ‘On with you both,’ he
cried, ‘and do your very utmost. I do not bid you try to beat
the steeds of the son of Tydeus, for Minerva has put run-
ning into them, and has covered Diomed with glory; but
you must overtake the horses of the son of Atreus and not
be left behind, or Aethe who is so fleet will taunt you. Why,
my good fellows, are you lagging? I tell you, and it shall
surely be—Nestor will keep neither of you, but will put both
of you to the sword, if we win any the worse a prize through
your carelessness. Fly after them at your utmost speed; I
will hit on a plan for passing them in a narrow part of the
way, and it shall not fail me.’
They feared the rebuke of their master, and for a short
space went quicker. Presently Antilochus saw a narrow
place where the road had sunk. The ground was broken, for
the winter’s rain had gathered and had worn the road so
that the whole place was deepened. Menelaus was making
towards it so as to get there first, for fear of a foul, but An-
tilochus turned his horses out of the way, and followed him
466 The Iliad

a little on one side. The son of Atreus was afraid and shout-
ed out, ‘Antilochus, you are driving recklessly; rein in your
horses; the road is too narrow here, it will be wider soon,
and you can pass me then; if you foul my chariot you may
bring both of us to a mischief.’
But Antilochus plied his whip, and drove faster, as though
he had not heard him. They went side by side for about as
far as a young man can hurl a disc from his shoulder when
he is trying his strength, and then Menelaus’s mares drew
behind, for he left off driving for fear the horses should foul
one another and upset the chariots; thus, while pressing
on in quest of victory, they might both come headlong to
the ground. Menelaus then upbraided Antilochus and said,
‘There is no greater trickster living than you are; go, and bad
luck go with you; the Achaeans say not well that you have
understanding, and come what may you shall not bear away
the prize without sworn protest on my part.’
Then he called on his horses and said to them, ‘Keep
your pace, and slacken not; the limbs of the other horses
will weary sooner than yours, for they are neither of them
young.’
The horses feared the rebuke of their master, and went
faster, so that they were soon nearly up with the others.
Meanwhile the Achaeans from their seats were watching
how the horses went, as they scoured the plain amid clouds
of their own dust. Idomeneus captain of the Cretans was
first to make out the running, for he was not in the thick of
the crowd, but stood on the most commanding part of the
ground. The driver was a long way off, but Idomeneus could

hear him shouting, and could see the foremost horse quite
plainly—a chestnut with a round white star, like the moon,
on its forehead. He stood up and said among the Argives,
‘My friends, princes and counsellors of the Argives, can you
see the running as well as I can? There seems to be another
pair in front now, and another driver; those that led off at
the start must have been disabled out on the plain. I saw
them at first making their way round the doubling-post, but
now, though I search the plain of Troy, I cannot find them.
Perhaps the reins fell from the driver’s hand so that he lost
command of his horses at the doubling-post, and could not
turn it. I suppose he must have been thrown out there, and
broken his chariot, while his mares have left the course and
gone off wildly in a panic. Come up and see for yourselves,
I cannot make out for certain, but the driver seems an Ae-
tolian by descent, ruler over the Argives, brave Diomed the
son of Tydeus.’
Ajax the son of Oileus took him up rudely and said,
‘Idomeneus, why should you be in such a hurry to tell us all
about it, when the mares are still so far out upon the plain?
You are none of the youngest, nor your eyes none of the
sharpest, but you are always laying down the law. You have
no right to do so, for there are better men here than you are.
Eumelus’s horses are in front now, as they always have been,
and he is on the chariot holding the reins.’
The captain of the Cretans was angry, and answered, ‘Ajax
you are an excellent railer, but you have no judgement, and
are wanting in much else as well, for you have a vile temper.
I will wager you a tripod or cauldron, and Agamemnon son
468 The Iliad

of Atreus shall decide whose horses are first. You will then
know to your cost.’
Ajax son of Oileus was for making him an angry answer,
and there would have been yet further brawling between
them, had not Achilles risen in his place and said, ‘Cease
your railing, Ajax and Idomeneus; is it not you would be
scandalised if you saw any one else do the like: sit down and
keep your eyes on the horses; they are speeding towards the
winning-post and will be bere directly. You will then both
of you know whose horses are first, and whose come after.’
As he was speaking, the son of Tydeus came driving in,
plying his whip lustily from his shoulder, and his horses
stepping high as they flew over the course. The sand and
grit rained thick on the driver, and the chariot inlaid with
gold and tin ran close behind his fleet horses. There was
little trace of wheel-marks in the fine dust, and the horses
came flying in at their utmost speed. Diomed stayed them
in the middle of the crowd, and the sweat from their manes
and chests fell in streams on to the ground. Forthwith he
sprang from his goodly chariot, and leaned his whip against
his horses’ yoke; brave Sthenelus now lost no time, but at
once brought on the prize, and gave the woman and the
ear-handled cauldron to his comrades to take away. Then
he unyoked the horses.
Next after him came in Antilochus of the race of Neleus,
who had passed Menelaus by a trick and not by the fleetness
of his horses; but even so Menelaus came in as close behind
him as the wheel is to the horse that draws both the chariot
and its master. The end hairs of a horse’s tail touch the tyre

of the wheel, and there is never much space between wheel
and horse when the chariot is going; Menelaus was no fur-
ther than this behind Antilochus, though at first he had
been a full disc’s throw behind him. He had soon caught
him up again, for Agamemnon’s mare Aethe kept pulling
stronger and stronger, so that if the course had been lon-
ger he would have passed him, and there would not even
have been a dead heat. Idomeneus’s brave squire Meriones
was about a spear’s cast behind Menelaus. His horses were
slowest of all, and he was the worst driver. Last of them all
came the son of Admetus, dragging his chariot and driving
his horses on in front. When Achilles saw him he was sorry,
and stood up among the Argives saying, ‘The best man is
coming in last. Let us give him a prize for it is reasonable.
He shall have the second, but the first must go to the son of
Tydeus.’
Thus did he speak and the others all of them applauded
his saying, and were for doing as he had said, but Nestor’s
son Antilochus stood up and claimed his rights from the
son of Peleus. ‘Achilles,’ said he, ‘I shall take it much amiss
if you do this thing; you would rob me of my prize, be-
cause you think Eumelus’s chariot and horses were thrown
out, and himself too, good man that he is. He should have
prayed duly to the immortals; he would not have come in
last if he had done so. If you are sorry for him and so choose,
you have much gold in your tents, with bronze, sheep, cattle
and horses. Take something from this store if you would
have the Achaeans speak well of you, and give him a better
prize even than that which you have now offered; but I will
470 The Iliad

not give up the mare, and he that will fight me for her, let
him come on.’
Achilles smiled as he heard this, and was pleased with
Antilochus, who was one of his dearest comrades. So he
said—
‘Antilochus, if you would have me find Eumelus another
prize, I will give him the bronze breastplate with a rim of
tin running all round it which I took from Asteropaeus. It
will be worth much money to him.’
He bade his comrade Automedon bring the breastplate
from his tent, and he did so. Achilles then gave it over to
Eumelus, who received it gladly.
But Menelaus got up in a rage, furiously angry with Anti-
lochus. An attendant placed his staff in his hands and bade
the Argives keep silence: the hero then addressed them.
‘Antilochus,’ said he, ‘what is this from you who have been
so far blameless? You have made me cut a poor figure and
baulked my horses by flinging your own in front of them,
though yours are much worse than mine are; therefore, O
princes and counsellors of the Argives, judge between us
and show no favour, lest one of the Achaeans say, ‘Menelaus
has got the mare through lying and corruption; his horses
were far inferior to Antilochus’s, but he has greater weight
and influence.’ Nay, I will determine the matter myself, and
no man will blame me, for I shall do what is just. Come here,
Antilochus, and stand, as our custom is, whip in hand be-
fore your chariot and horses; lay your hand on your steeds,
and swear by earth-encircling Neptune that you did not
purposely and guilefully get in the way of my horses.’

And Antilochus answered, ‘Forgive me; I am much
younger, King Menelaus, than you are; you stand higher
than I do and are the better man of the two; you know how
easily young men are betrayed into indiscretion; their tem-
pers are more hasty and they have less judgement; make due
allowances therefore, and bear with me; I will of my own
accord give up the mare that I have won, and if you claim
any further chattel from my own possessions, I would rath-
er yield it to you, at once, than fall from your good graces
henceforth, and do wrong in the sight of heaven.’
The son of Nestor then took the mare and gave her over
to Menelaus, whose anger was thus appeased; as when dew
falls upon a field of ripening corn, and the lands are bris-
tling with the harvest—even so, O Menelaus, was your heart
made glad within you. He turned to Antilochus and said,
‘Now, Antilochus, angry though I have been, I can give way
to you of my own free will; you have never been headstrong
nor ill-disposed hitherto, but this time your youth has got
the better of your judgement; be careful how you outwit
your betters in future; no one else could have brought me
round so easily, but your good father, your brother, and
yourself have all of you had infinite trouble on my behalf; I
therefore yield to your entreaty, and will give up the mare to
you, mine though it indeed be; the people will thus see that
I am neither harsh nor vindictive.’
With this he gave the mare over to Antilochus’s comrade
Noemon, and then took the cauldron. Meriones, who had
come in fourth, carried off the two talents of gold, and the
fifth prize, the two-handled urn, being unawarded, Achil-
472 The Iliad

les gave it to Nestor, going up to him among the assembled
Argives and saying, ‘Take this, my good old friend, as an
heirloom and memorial of the funeral of Patroclus—for
you shall see him no more among the Argives. I give you
this prize though you cannot win one; you can now neither
wrestle nor fight, and cannot enter for the javelin-match nor
foot-races, for the hand of age has been laid heavily upon
you.’
So saying he gave the urn over to Nestor, who received
it gladly and answered, ‘My son, all that you have said is
true; there is no strength now in my legs and feet, nor can
I hit out with my hands from either shoulder. Would that I
were still young and strong as when the Epeans were bury-
ing King Amarynceus in Buprasium, and his sons offered
prizes in his honour. There was then none that could vie
with me neither of the Epeans nor the Pylians themselves
nor the Aetolians. In boxing I overcame Clytomedes son of
Enops, and in wrestling, Ancaeus of Pleuron who had come
forward against me. Iphiclus was a good runner, but I beat
him, and threw farther with my spear than either Phyleus
or Polydorus. In chariot-racing alone did the two sons of
Actor surpass me by crowding their horses in front of me,
for they were angry at the way victory had gone, and at the
greater part of the prizes remaining in the place in which
they had been offered. They were twins, and the one kept
on holding the reins, and holding the reins, while the other
plied the whip. Such was I then, but now I must leave these
matters to younger men; I must bow before the weight of
years, but in those days I was eminent among heroes. And

now, sir, go on with the funeral contests in honour of your
comrade: gladly do I accept this urn, and my heart rejoices
that you do not forget me but are ever mindful of my good-
will towards you, and of the respect due to me from the
Achaeans. For all which may the grace of heaven be vouch-
safed you in great abundance.’
Thereon the son of Peleus, when he had listened to all the
thanks of Nestor, went about among the concourse of the
Achaeans, and presently offered prizes for skill in the pain-
ful art of boxing. He brought out a strong mule, and made
it fast in the middle of the crowd—a she-mule never yet
broken, but six years old—when it is hardest of all to break
them: this was for the victor, and for the vanquished he of-
fered a double cup. Then he stood up and said among the
Argives, ‘Son of Atreus, and all other Achaeans, I invite our
two champion boxers to lay about them lustily and compete
for these prizes. He to whom Apollo vouchsafes the greater
endurance, and whom the Achaeans acknowledge as victor,
shall take the mule back with him to his own tent, while he
that is vanquished shall have the double cup.’
As he spoke there stood up a champion both brave and
great stature, a skilful boxer, Epeus, son of Panopeus. He
laid his hand on the mule and said, ‘Let the man who is to
have the cup come hither, for none but myself will take the
mule. I am the best boxer of all here present, and none can
beat me. Is it not enough that I should fall short of you in ac-
tual fighting? Still, no man can be good at everything. I tell
you plainly, and it shall come true; if any man will box with
me I will bruise his body and break his bones; therefore let
474 The Iliad

his friends stay here in a body and be at hand to take him
away when I have done with him.’
They all held their peace, and no man rose save Euryalus
son of Mecisteus, who was son of Talaus. Mecisteus went
once to Thebes after the fall of Oedipus, to attend his funer-
al, and he beat all the people of Cadmus. The son of Tydeus
was Euryalus’s second, cheering him on and hoping heartily
that he would win. First he put a waistband round him and
then he gave him some well-cut thongs of ox-hide; the two
men being now girt went into the middle of the ring, and
immediately fell to; heavily indeed did they punish one an-
other and lay about them with their brawny fists. One could
hear the horrid crashing of their jaws, and they sweated
from every pore of their skin. Presently Epeus came on and
gave Euryalus a blow on the jaw as he was looking round;
Euryalus could not keep his legs; they gave way under him
in a moment and he sprang up with a bound, as a fish leaps
into the air near some shore that is all bestrewn with sea-
wrack, when Boreas furs the top of the waves, and then falls
back into deep water. But noble Epeus caught hold of him
and raised him up; his comrades also came round him and
led him from the ring, unsteady in his gait, his head hang-
ing on one side, and spitting great clots of gore. They set him
down in a swoon and then went to fetch the double cup.
The son of Peleus now brought out the prizes for the
third contest and showed them to the Argives. These were
for the painful art of wrestling. For the winner there was a
great tripod ready for setting upon the fire, and the Achae-
ans valued it among themselves at twelve oxen. For the loser

he brought out a woman skilled in all manner of arts, and
they valued her at four oxen. He rose and said among the
Argives, ‘Stand forward, you who will essay this contest.’
Forthwith uprose great Ajax the son of Telamon, and
crafty Ulysses, full of wiles, rose also. The two girded them-
selves and went into the middle of the ring. They gripped
each other in their strong hands like the rafters which some
master-builder frames for the roof of a high house to keep
the wind out. Their backbones cracked as they tugged at
one another with their mighty arms—and sweat rained
from them in torrents. Many a bloody weal sprang up on
their sides and shoulders, but they kept on striving with
might and main for victory and to win the tripod. Ulysses
could not throw Ajax, nor Ajax him; Ulysses was too strong
for him; but when the Achaeans began to tire of watching
them, Ajax said to Ulysses, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes,
you shall either lift me, or I you, and let Jove settle it be-
tween us.’
He lifted him from the ground as he spoke, but Ulysses
did not forget his cunning. He hit Ajax in the hollow at back
of his knee, so that he could not keep his feet, but fell on his
back with Ulysses lying upon his chest, and all who saw it
marvelled. Then Ulysses in turn lifted Ajax and stirred him
a little from the ground but could not lift him right off it, his
knee sank under him, and the two fell side by side on the
ground and were all begrimed with dust. They now sprang
towards one another and were for wrestling yet a third time,
but Achilles rose and stayed them. ‘Put not each other fur-
ther,’ said he, ‘to such cruel suffering; the victory is with
476 The Iliad

both alike, take each of you an equal prize, and let the other
Achaeans now compete.’
Thus did he speak and they did even as he had said, and
put on their shirts again after wiping the dust from off their
bodies.
The son of Peleus then offered prizes for speed in run-
ning—a mixing-bowl beautifully wrought, of pure silver. It
would hold six measures, and far exceeded all others in the
whole world for beauty; it was the work of cunning artificers
in Sidon, and had been brought into port by Phoenicians
from beyond the sea, who had made a present of it to Thoas.
Eueneus son of Jason had given it to Patroclus in ransom of
Priam’s son Lycaon, and Achilles now offered it as a prize in
honour of his comrade to him who should be the swiftest
runner. For the second prize he offered a large ox, well fat-
tened, while for the last there was to be half a talent of gold.
He then rose and said among the Argives, ‘Stand forward,
you who will essay this contest.’
Forthwith uprose fleet Ajax son of Oileus, with cunning
Ulysses, and Nestor’s son Antilochus, the fastest runner
among all the youth of his time. They stood side by side and
Achilles showed them the goal. The course was set out for
them from the starting-post, and the son of Oileus took the
lead at once, with Ulysses as close behind him as the shuttle
is to a woman’s bosom when she throws the woof across
the warp and holds it close up to her; even so close behind
him was Ulysses—treading in his footprints before the dust
could settle there, and Ajax could feel his breath on the back
of his head as he ran swiftly on. The Achaeans all shouted

applause as they saw him straining his utmost, and cheered
him as he shot past them; but when they were now nearing
the end of the course Ulysses prayed inwardly to Minerva.
‘Hear me,’ he cried, ‘and help my feet, O goddess.’ Thus did
he pray, and Pallas Minerva heard his prayer; she made his
hands and his feet feel light, and when the runners were at
the point of pouncing upon the prize, Ajax, through Miner-
va’s spite slipped upon some offal that was lying there from
the cattle which Achilles had slaughtered in honour of Pa-
troclus, and his mouth and nostrils were all filled with cow
dung. Ulysses therefore carried off the mixing-bowl, for he
got before Ajax and came in first. But Ajax took the ox and
stood with his hand on one of its horns, spitting the dung
out of his mouth. Then he said to the Argives, ‘Alas, the
goddess has spoiled my running; she watches over Ulyss-
es and stands by him as though she were his own mother.’
Thus did he speak and they all of them laughed heartily.
Antilochus carried off the last prize and smiled as he said
to the bystanders, ‘You all see, my friends, that now too the
gods have shown their respect for seniority. Ajax is some-
what older than I am, and as for Ulysses, he belongs to an
earlier generation, but he is hale in spite of his years, and no
man of the Achaeans can run against him save only Achil-
les.’
He said this to pay a compliment to the son of Peleus, and
Achilles answered, ‘Antilochus, you shall not have praised
me to no purpose; I shall give you an additional half talent
of gold.’ He then gave the half talent to Antilochus, who re-
ceived it gladly.
478 The Iliad

Then the son of Peleus brought out the spear, helmet and
shield that had been borne by Sarpedon, and were taken
from him by Patroclus. He stood up and said among the
Argives, ‘We bid two champions put on their armour, take
their keen blades, and make trial of one another in the pres-
ence of the multitude; whichever of them can first wound
the flesh of the other, cut through his armour, and draw
blood, to him will I give this goodly Thracian sword inlaid
with silver, which I took from Asteropaeus, but the armour
let both hold in partnership, and I will give each of them a
hearty meal in my own tent.’
Forthwith uprose great Ajax the son of Telamon, as
also mighty Diomed son of Tydeus. When they had put on
their armour each on his own side of the ring, they both
went into the middle eager to engage, and with fire flash-
ing from their eyes. The Achaeans marvelled as they beheld
them, and when the two were now close up with one an-
other, thrice did they spring forward and thrice try to strike
each other in close combat. Ajax pierced Diomed’s round
shield, but did not draw blood, for the cuirass beneath the
shield protected him; thereon the son of Tydeus from over
his huge shield kept aiming continually at Ajax’s neck with
the point of his spear, and the Achaeans alarmed for his
safety bade them leave off fighting and divide the prize be-
tween them. Achilles then gave the great sword to the son of
Tydeus, with its scabbard, and the leathern belt with which
to hang it.
Achilles next offered the massive iron quoit which mighty
Eetion had erewhile been used to hurl, until Achilles had

slain him and carried it off in his ships along with other
spoils. He stood up and said among the Argives, ‘Stand for-
ward, you who would essay this contest. He who wins it will
have a store of iron that will last him five years as they go
rolling round, and if his fair fields lie far from a town his
shepherd or ploughman will not have to make a journey to
buy iron, for he will have a stock of it on his own premises.’
Then uprose the two mighty men Polypoetes and Leon-
teus, with Ajax son of Telamon and noble Epeus. They stood
up one after the other and Epeus took the quoit, whirled it,
and flung it from him, which set all the Achaeans laughing.
After him threw Leonteus of the race of Mars. Ajax son of
Telamon threw third, and sent the quoit beyond any mark
that had been made yet, but when mighty Polypoetes took
the quoit he hurled it as though it had been a stockman’s
stick which he sends flying about among his cattle when
he is driving them, so far did his throw out-distance those
of the others. All who saw it roared applause, and his com-
rades carried the prize for him and set it on board his ship.
Achilles next offered a prize of iron for archery—ten
double-edged axes and ten with single edges: he set up a
ship’s mast, some way off upon the sands, and with a fine
string tied a pigeon to it by the foot; this was what they were
to aim at. ‘Whoever,’ he said, ‘can hit the pigeon shall have
all the axes and take them away with him; he who hits the
string without hitting the bird will have taken a worse aim
and shall have the single-edged axes.’
Then uprose King Teucer, and Meriones the stalwart
squire of Idomeneus rose also, They cast lots in a bronze
480 The Iliad

helmet and the lot of Teucer fell first. He let fly with his
arrow forthwith, but he did not promise hecatombs of first-
ling lambs to King Apollo, and missed his bird, for Apollo
foiled his aim; but he hit the string with which the bird was
tied, near its foot; the arrow cut the string clean through so
that it hung down towards the ground, while the bird flew
up into the sky, and the Achaeans shouted applause. Mer-
iones, who had his arrow ready while Teucer was aiming,
snatched the bow out of his hand, and at once promised
that he would sacrifice a hecatomb of firstling lambs to
Apollo lord of the bow; then espying the pigeon high up
under the clouds, he hit her in the middle of the wing as
she was circling upwards; the arrow went clean through the
wing and fixed itself in the ground at Meriones’ feet, but the
bird perched on the ship’s mast hanging her head and with
all her feathers drooping; the life went out of her, and she
fell heavily from the mast. Meriones, therefore, took all ten
double-edged axes, while Teucer bore off the single-edged
ones to his ships.
Then the son of Peleus brought in a spear and a caul-
dron that had never been on the fire; it was worth an ox, and
was chased with a pattern of flowers; and those that throw
the javelin stood up—to wit the son of Atreus, king of men
Agamemnon, and Meriones, stalwart squire of Idomeneus.
But Achilles spoke saying, ‘Son of Atreus, we know how far
you excel all others both in power and in throwing the jav-
elin; take the cauldron back with you to your ships, but if it
so please you, let us give the spear to Meriones; this at least
is what I should myself wish.’

King Agamemnon assented. So he gave the bronze spear
to Meriones, and handed the goodly cauldron to Talthybius
his esquire.
482 The Iliad

BOOK XXIV
T HE assembly now broke up and the people went their

ways each to his own ship. There they made ready their
supper, and then bethought them of the blessed boon of
sleep; but Achilles still wept for thinking of his dear com-
rade, and sleep, before whom all things bow, could take no
hold upon him. This way and that did he turn as he yearned
after the might and manfulness of Patroclus; he thought of
all they had done together, and all they had gone through
both on the field of battle and on the waves of the weary sea.
As he dwelt on these things he wept bitterly and lay now on
his side, now on his back, and now face downwards, till at
last he rose and went out as one distraught to wander upon
the seashore. Then, when he saw dawn breaking over beach
and sea, he yoked his horses to his chariot, and bound the
body of Hector behind it that he might drag it about. Thrice
did he drag it round the tomb of the son of Menoetius,
and then went back into his tent, leaving the body on the
ground full length and with its face downwards. But Apollo
would not suffer it to be disfigured, for he pitied the man,
dead though he now was; therefore he shielded him with his
golden aegis continually, that he might take no hurt while
Achilles was dragging him.
Thus shamefully did Achilles in his fury dishonour Hec-
tor; but the blessed gods looked down in pity from heaven,

and urged Mercury, slayer of Argus, to steal the body. All
were of this mind save only Juno, Neptune, and Jove’s grey-
eyed daughter, who persisted in the hate which they had
ever borne towards Ilius with Priam and his people; for
they forgave not the wrong done them by Alexandrus in
disdaining the goddesses who came to him when he was in
his sheepyards, and preferring her who had offered him a
wanton to his ruin.
When, therefore, the morning of the twelfth day had now
come, Phoebus Apollo spoke among the immortals saying,
‘You gods ought to be ashamed of yourselves; you are cruel
and hard-hearted. Did not Hector burn you thigh-bones of
heifers and of unblemished goats? And now dare you not
rescue even his dead body, for his wife to look upon, with
his mother and child, his father Priam, and his people, who
would forthwith commit him to the flames, and give him
his due funeral rites? So, then, you would all be on the side
of mad Achilles, who knows neither right nor ruth? He is
like some savage lion that in the pride of his great strength
and daring springs upon men’s flocks and gorges on them.
Even so has Achilles flung aside all pity, and all that con-
science which at once so greatly banes yet greatly boons
him that will heed it. man may lose one far dearer than
Achilles has lost—a son, it may be, or a brother born from
his own mother’s womb; yet when he has mourned him and
wept over him he will let him bide, for it takes much sorrow
to kill a man; whereas Achilles, now that he has slain noble
Hector, drags him behind his chariot round the tomb of his
comrade. It were better of him, and for him, that he should
484 The Iliad

not do so, for brave though he be we gods may take it ill that
he should vent his fury upon dead clay.’
Juno spoke up in a rage. ‘This were well,’ she cried, ‘O
lord of the silver bow, if you would give like honour to Hec-
tor and to Achilles; but Hector was mortal and suckled at a
woman’s breast, whereas Achilles is the offspring of a god-
dess whom I myself reared and brought up. I married her
to Peleus, who is above measure dear to the immortals; you
gods came all of you to her wedding; you feasted along with
them yourself and brought your lyre—false, and fond of low
company, that you have ever been.’
Then said Jove, ‘Juno, be not so bitter. Their honour shall
not be equal, but of all that dwell in Ilius, Hector was dearest
to the gods, as also to myself, for his offerings never failed
me. Never was my altar stinted of its dues, nor of the drink-
offerings and savour of sacrifice which we claim of right. I
shall therefore permit the body of mighty Hector to be sto-
len; and yet this may hardly be without Achilles coming to
know it, for his mother keeps night and day beside him. Let
some one of you, therefore, send Thetis to me, and I will im-
part my counsel to her, namely that Achilles is to accept a
ransom from Priam, and give up the body.’
On this Iris fleet as the wind went forth to carry his mes-
sage. Down she plunged into the dark sea midway between
Samos and rocky Imbrus; the waters hissed as they closed
over her, and she sank into the bottom as the lead at the
end of an ox-horn, that is sped to carry death to fishes. She
found Thetis sitting in a great cave with the other sea-god-
desses gathered round her; there she sat in the midst of

them weeping for her noble son who was to fall far from his
own land, on the rich plains of Troy. Iris went up to her and
said, ‘Rise Thetis; Jove, whose counsels fail not, bids you
come to him.’ And Thetis answered, ‘Why does the mighty
god so bid me? I am in great grief, and shrink from going in
and out among the immortals. Still, I will go, and the word
that he may speak shall not be spoken in vain.’
The goddess took her dark veil, than which there can be
no robe more sombre, and went forth with fleet Iris lead-
ing the way before her. The waves of the sea opened them a
path, and when they reached the shore they flew up into the
heavens, where they found the all-seeing son of Saturn with
the blessed gods that live for ever assembled near him. Mi-
nerva gave up her seat to her, and she sat down by the side of
father Jove. Juno then placed a fair golden cup in her hand,
and spoke to her in words of comfort, whereon Thetis drank
and gave her back the cup; and the sire of gods and men was
the first to speak.
‘So, goddess,’ said he, ‘for all your sorrow, and the grief
that I well know reigns ever in your heart, you have come
hither to Olympus, and I will tell you why I have sent for
you. This nine days past the immortals have been quarrel-
ling about Achilles waster of cities and the body of Hector.
The gods would have Mercury slayer of Argus steal the body,
but in furtherance of our peace and amity henceforward, I
will concede such honour to your son as I will now tell you.
Go, then, to the host and lay these commands upon him;
say that the gods are angry with him, and that I am myself
more angry than them all, in that he keeps Hector at the
486 The Iliad

ships and will not give him up. He may thus fear me and let
the body go. At the same time I will send Iris to great Priam
to bid him go to the ships of the Achaeans, and ransom his
son, taking with him such gifts for Achilles as may give him
satisfaction.’
Silver-footed Thetis did as the god had told her, and
forthwith down she darted from the topmost summits of
Olympus. She went to her son’s tents where she found him
grieving bitterly, while his trusty comrades round him were
busy preparing their morning meal, for which they had
killed a great woolly sheep. His mother sat down beside him
and caressed him with her hand saying, ‘My son, how long
will you keep on thus grieving and making moan? You are
gnawing at your own heart, and think neither of food nor of
woman’s embraces; and yet these too were well, for you have
no long time to live, and death with the strong hand of fate
are already close beside you. Now, therefore, heed what I say,
for I come as a messenger from Jove; he says that the gods
are angry with you, and himself more angry than them all,
in that you keep Hector at the ships and will not give him
up. Therefore let him go, and accept a ransom for his body.’
And Achilles answered, ‘So be it. If Olympian Jove of his
own motion thus commands me, let him that brings the
ransom bear the body away.’
Thus did mother and son talk together at the ships in
long discourse with one another. Meanwhile the son of Sat-
urn sent Iris to the strong city of Ilius. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘fleet
Iris, from the mansions of Olympus, and tell King Priam in
Ilius, that he is to go to the ships of the Achaeans and free

the body of his dear son. He is to take such gifts with him
as shall give satisfaction to Achilles, and he is to go alone,
with no other Trojan, save only some honoured servant
who may drive his mules and waggon, and bring back the
body of him whom noble Achilles has slain. Let him have
no thought nor fear of death in his heart, for we will send
the slayer of Argus to escort him, and bring him within the
tent of Achilles. Achilles will not kill him nor let another do
so, for he will take heed to his ways and sin not, and he will
entreat a suppliant with all honourable courtesy.’
On this Iris, fleet as the wind, sped forth to deliver her
message. She went to Priam’s house, and found weeping and
lamentation therein. His sons were seated round their fa-
ther in the outer courtyard, and their raiment was wet with
tears: the old man sat in the midst of them with his mantle
wrapped close about his body, and his head and neck all
covered with the filth which he had clutched as he lay grov-
elling in the mire. His daughters and his sons’ wives went
wailing about the house, as they thought of the many and
brave men who lay dead, slain by the Argives. The messen-
ger of Jove stood by Priam and spoke softly to him, but fear
fell upon him as she did so. ‘Take heart,’ she said, ‘Priam
offspring of Dardanus, take heart and fear not. I bring no
evil tidings, but am minded well towards you. I come as
a messenger from Jove, who though he be not near, takes
thought for you and pities you. The lord of Olympus bids
you go and ransom noble Hector, and take with you such
gifts as shall give satisfaction to Achilles. You are to go alone,
with no Trojan, save only some honoured servant who may
488 The Iliad

drive your mules and waggon, and bring back to the city the
body of him whom noble Achilles has slain. You are to have
no thought, nor fear of death, for Jove will send the slayer
of Argus to escort you. When he has brought you within
Achilles’ tent, Achilles will not kill you nor let another do
so, for he will take heed to his ways and sin not, and he will
entreat a suppliant with all honourable courtesy.’
Iris went her way when she had thus spoken, and Priam
told his sons to get a mule-waggon ready, and to make the
body of the waggon fast upon the top of its bed. Then he
went down into his fragrant store-room, high-vaulted, and
made of cedar-wood, where his many treasures were kept,
and he called Hecuba his wife. ‘Wife,’ said he, ‘a messen-
ger has come to me from Olympus, and has told me to go
to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom my dear son, tak-
ing with me such gifts as shall give satisfaction to Achilles.
What think you of this matter? for my own part I am greatly
moved to pass through the camps of the Achaeans and go
to their ships.’
His wife cried aloud as she heard him, and said, ‘Alas,
what has become of that judgement for which you have been
ever famous both among strangers and your own people?
How can you venture alone to the ships of the Achaeans,
and look into the face of him who has slain so many of your
brave sons? You must have iron courage, for if the cruel
savage sees you and lays hold on you, he will know neither
respect nor pity. Let us then weep Hector from afar here
in our own house, for when I gave him birth the threads
of overruling fate were spun for him that dogs should eat

his flesh far from his parents, in the house of that terrible
man on whose liver I would fain fasten and devour it. Thus
would I avenge my son, who showed no cowardice when
Achilles slew him, and thought neither of flight nor of
avoiding battle as he stood in defence of Trojan men and
Trojan women.’
Then Priam said, ‘I would go, do not therefore stay me nor
be as a bird of ill omen in my house, for you will not move
me. Had it been some mortal man who had sent me some
prophet or priest who divines from sacrifice—I should have
deemed him false and have given him no heed; but now I
have heard the goddess and seen her face to face, therefore I
will go and her saying shall not be in vain. If it be my fate to
die at the ships of the Achaeans even so would I have it; let
Achilles slay me, if I may but first have taken my son in my
arms and mourned him to my heart’s comforting.’
So saying he lifted the lids of his chests, and took out
twelve goodly vestments. He took also twelve cloaks of
single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal
number of shirts. He weighed out ten talents of gold, and
brought moreover two burnished tripods, four cauldrons,
and a very beautiful cup which the Thracians had given
him when he had gone to them on an embassy; it was very
precious, but he grudged not even this, so eager was he to
ransom the body of his son. Then he chased all the Tro-
jans from the court and rebuked them with words of anger.
‘Out,’ he cried, ‘shame and disgrace to me that you are. Have
you no grief in your own homes that you are come to plague
me here? Is it a small thing, think you, that the son of Sat-
490 The Iliad

urn has sent this sorrow upon me, to lose the bravest of my
sons? Nay, you shall prove it in person, for now he is gone
the Achaeans will have easier work in killing you. As for me,
let me go down within the house of Hades, ere mine eyes
behold the sacking and wasting of the city.’
He drove the men away with his staff, and they went
forth as the old man sped them. Then he called to his
sons, upbraiding Helenus, Paris, noble Agathon, Pammon,
Antiphonus, Polites of the loud battle-cry, Deiphobus, Hip-
pothous, and Dius. These nine did the old man call near
him. ‘Come to me at once,’ he cried, ‘worthless sons who do
me shame; would that you had all been killed at the ships
rather than Hector. Miserable man that I am, I have had the
bravest sons in all Troy—noble Nestor, Troilus the daunt-
less charioteer, and Hector who was a god among men, so
that one would have thought he was son to an immortal—
yet there is not one of them left. Mars has slain them and
those of whom I am ashamed are alone left me. Liars, and
light of foot, heroes of the dance, robbers of lambs and kids
from your own people, why do you not get a waggon ready
for me at once, and put all these things upon it that I may
set out on my way?’
Thus did he speak, and they feared the rebuke of their fa-
ther. They brought out a strong mule-waggon, newly made,
and set the body of the waggon fast on its bed. They took the
mule-yoke from the peg on which it hung, a yoke of box-
wood with a knob on the top of it and rings for the reins
to go through. Then they brought a yoke-band eleven cu-
bits long, to bind the yoke to the pole; they bound it on at

the far end of the pole, and put the ring over the upright
pin making it fast with three turns of the band on either
side the knob, and bending the thong of the yoke beneath
it. This done, they brought from the store-chamber the rich
ransom that was to purchase the body of Hector, and they
set it all orderly on the waggon; then they yoked the strong
harness-mules which the Mysians had on a time given as a
goodly present to Priam; but for Priam himself they yoked
horses which the old king had bred, and kept for own use.
Thus heedfully did Priam and his servant see to the yolk-
ing of their cars at the palace. Then Hecuba came to them
all sorrowful, with a golden goblet of wine in her right hand,
that they might make a drink-offering before they set out.
She stood in front of the horses and said, ‘Take this, make a
drink-offering to father Jove, and since you are minded to
go to the ships in spite of me, pray that you may come safely
back from the hands of your enemies. Pray to the son of Sat-
urn lord of the whirlwind, who sits on Ida and looks down
over all Troy, pray him to send his swift messenger on your
right hand, the bird of omen which is strongest and most
dear to him of all birds, that you may see it with your own
eyes and trust it as you go forth to the ships of the Danaans.
If all-seeing Jove will not send you this messenger, however
set upon it you may be, I would not have you go to the ships
of the Argives.’
And Priam answered, ‘Wife, I will do as you desire me;
it is well to lift hands in prayer to Jove, if so be he may have
mercy upon me.’
With this the old man bade the serving-woman pour
492 The Iliad

pure water over his hands, and the woman came, bearing
the water in a bowl. He washed his hands and took the cup
from his wife; then he made the drink-offering and prayed,
standing in the middle of the courtyard and turning his
eyes to heaven. ‘Father Jove,’ he said, ‘that rulest from Ida,
most glorious and most great, grant that I may be received
kindly and compassionately in the tents of Achilles; and
send your swift messenger upon my right hand, the bird of
omen which is strongest and most dear to you of all birds,
that I may see it with my own eyes and trust it as I go forth
to the ships of the Danaans.’
So did he pray, and Jove the lord of counsel heard his
prayer. Forthwith he sent an eagle, the most unerring por-
tent of all birds that fly, the dusky hunter that men also call
the Black Eagle. His wings were spread abroad on either
side as wide as the well-made and well-bolted door of a rich
man’s chamber. He came to them flying over the city upon
their right hands, and when they saw him they were glad
and their hearts took comfort within them. The old man
made haste to mount his chariot, and drove out through the
inner gateway and under the echoing gatehouse of the outer
court. Before him went the mules drawing the four-wheeled
waggon, and driven by wise Idaeus; behind these were the
horses, which the old man lashed with his whip and drove
swiftly through the city, while his friends followed after,
wailing and lamenting for him as though he were on his
road to death. As soon as they had come down from the city
and had reached the plain, his sons and sons-in-law who
had followed him went back to Ilius.

But Priam and Idaeus as they showed out upon the plain
did not escape the ken of all-seeing Jove, who looked down
upon the old man and pitied him; then he spoke to his son
Mercury and said, ‘Mercury, for it is you who are the most
disposed to escort men on their way, and to hear those
whom you will hear, go, and so conduct Priam to the ships
of the Achaeans that no other of the Danaans shall see him
nor take note of him until he reach the son of Peleus.’
Thus he spoke and Mercury, guide and guardian, slayer
of Argus, did as he was told. Forthwith he bound on his
glittering golden sandals with which he could fly like the
wind over land and sea; he took the wand with which he
seals men’s eyes in sleep, or wakes them just as he pleases,
and flew holding it in his hand till he came to Troy and to
the Hellespont. To look at, he was like a young man of noble
birth in the hey-day of his youth and beauty with the down
just coming upon his face.
Now when Priam and Idaeus had driven past the great
tomb of Ilius, they stayed their mules and horses that they
might drink in the river, for the shades of night were falling,
when, therefore, Idaeus saw Mercury standing near them
he said to Priam, ‘Take heed, descendant of Dardanus; here
is matter which demands consideration. I see a man who I
think will presently fall upon us; let us fly with our horses,
or at least embrace his knees and implore him to take com-
passion upon us?’
When he heard this the old man’s heart failed him, and
he was in great fear; he stayed where he was as one dazed,
and the hair stood on end over his whole body; but the
494 The Iliad

bringer of good luck came up to him and took him by the
hand, saying, ‘Whither, father, are you thus driving your
mules and horses in the dead of night when other men are
asleep? Are you not afraid of the fierce Achaeans who are
hard by you, so cruel and relentless? Should some one of
them see you bearing so much treasure through the dark-
ness of the flying night, what would not your state then be?
You are no longer young, and he who is with you is too old
to protect you from those who would attack you. For myself,
I will do you no harm, and I will defend you from any one
else, for you remind me of my own father.’
And Priam answered, ‘It is indeed as you say, my dear
son; nevertheless some god has held his hand over me, in
that he has sent such a wayfarer as yourself to meet me
so opportunely; you are so comely in mien and figure,
and your judgement is so excellent that you must come of
blessed parents.’
Then said the slayer of Argus, guide and guardian, ‘Sir,
all that you have said is right; but tell me and tell me true,
are you taking this rich treasure to send it to a foreign peo-
ple where it may be safe, or are you all leaving strong Ilius
in dismay now that your son has fallen who was the bravest
man among you and was never lacking in battle with the
Achaeans?’
And Priam said, ‘Who are you, my friend, and who are
your parents, that you speak so truly about the fate of my
unhappy son?’
The slayer of Argus, guide and guardian, answered him,
‘Sir, you would prove me, that you question me about noble

Hector. Many a time have I set eyes upon him in battle when
he was driving the Argives to their ships and putting them
to the sword. We stood still and marvelled, for Achilles in
his anger with the son of Atreus suffered us not to fight. I
am his squire, and came with him in the same ship. I am
a Myrmidon, and my father’s name is Polyctor: he is a rich
man and about as old as you are; he has six sons besides my-
self, and I am the seventh. We cast lots, and it fell upon me
to sail hither with Achilles. I am now come from the ships
on to the plain, for with daybreak the Achaeans will set bat-
tle in array about the city. They chafe at doing nothing, and
are so eager that their princes cannot hold them back.’
Then answered Priam, ‘If you are indeed the squire of
Achilles son of Peleus, tell me now the whole truth. Is my
son still at the ships, or has Achilles hewn him limb from
limb, and given him to his hounds?’
‘Sir,’ replied the slayer of Argus, guide and guardian, ‘nei-
ther hounds nor vultures have yet devoured him; he is still
just lying at the tents by the ship of Achilles, and though
it is now twelve days that he has lain there, his flesh is not
wasted nor have the worms eaten him although they feed
on warriors. At daybreak Achilles drags him cruelly round
the sepulchre of his dear comrade, but it does him no hurt.
You should come yourself and see how he lies fresh as dew,
with the blood all washed away, and his wounds every one
of them closed though many pierced him with their spears.
Such care have the blessed gods taken of your brave son, for
he was dear to them beyond all measure.’
The old man was comforted as he heard him and said,
496 The Iliad

‘My son, see what a good thing it is to have made due of-
ferings to the immortals; for as sure as that he was born
my son never forgot the gods that hold Olympus, and now
they requite it to him even in death. Accept therefore at my
hands this goodly chalice; guard me and with heaven’s help
guide me till I come to the tent of the son of Peleus.’
Then answered the slayer of Argus, guide and guard-
ian, ‘Sir, you are tempting me and playing upon my youth,
but you shall not move me, for you are offering me presents
without the knowledge of Achilles whom I fear and hold it
great guilt to defraud, lest some evil presently befall me; but
as your guide I would go with you even to Argos itself, and
would guard you so carefully whether by sea or land, that
no one should attack you through making light of him who
was with you.’
The bringer of good luck then sprang on to the chari-
ot, and seizing the whip and reins he breathed fresh spirit
into the mules and horses. When they reached the trench
and the wall that was before the ships, those who were on
guard had just been getting their suppers, and the slayer of
Argus threw them all into a deep sleep. Then he drew back
the bolts to open the gates, and took Priam inside with the
treasure he had upon his waggon. Ere long they came to the
lofty dwelling of the son of Peleus for which the Myrmidons
had cut pine and which they had built for their king; when
they had built it they thatched it with coarse tussock-grass
which they had mown out on the plain, and all round it they
made a large courtyard, which was fenced with stakes set
close together. The gate was barred with a single bolt of pine

which it took three men to force into its place, and three to
draw back so as to open the gate, but Achilles could draw it
by himself. Mercury opened the gate for the old man, and
brought in the treasure that he was taking with him for the
son of Peleus. Then he sprang from the chariot on to the
ground and said, ‘Sir, it is I, immortal Mercury, that am
come with you, for my father sent me to escort you. I will
now leave you, and will not enter into the presence of Achil-
les, for it might anger him that a god should befriend mortal
men thus openly. Go you within, and embrace the knees
of the son of Peleus: beseech him by his father, his lovely
mother, and his son; thus you may move him.’
With these words Mercury went back to high Olympus.
Priam sprang from his chariot to the ground, leaving Idae-
us where he was, in charge of the mules and horses. The old
man went straight into the house where Achilles, loved of
the gods, was sitting. There he found him with his men seat-
ed at a distance from him: only two, the hero Automedon,
and Alcimus of the race of Mars, were busy in attendance
about his person, for he had but just done eating and drink-
ing, and the table was still there. King Priam entered without
their seeing him, and going right up to Achilles he clasped
his knees and kissed the dread murderous hands that had
slain so many of his sons.
As when some cruel spite has befallen a man that he
should have killed some one in his own country, and must
fly to a great man’s protection in a land of strangers, and
all marvel who see him, even so did Achilles marvel as he
beheld Priam. The others looked one to another and mar-
498 The Iliad

velled also, but Priam besought Achilles saying, ‘Think of
your father, O Achilles like unto the gods, who is such even
as I am, on the sad threshold of old age. It may be that those
who dwell near him harass him, and there is none to keep
war and ruin from him. Yet when he hears of you being
still alive, he is glad, and his days are full of hope that he
shall see his dear son come home to him from Troy; but I,
wretched man that I am, had the bravest in all Troy for my
sons, and there is not one of them left. I had fifty sons when
the Achaeans came here; nineteen of them were from a sin-
gle womb, and the others were borne to me by the women
of my household. The greater part of them has fierce Mars
laid low, and Hector, him who was alone left, him who was
the guardian of the city and ourselves, him have you lately
slain; therefore I am now come to the ships of the Achaeans
to ransom his body from you with a great ransom. Fear, O
Achilles, the wrath of heaven; think on your own father and
have compassion upon me, who am the more pitiable, for I
have steeled myself as no man yet has ever steeled himself
before me, and have raised to my lips the hand of him who
slew my son.’
Thus spoke Priam, and the heart of Achilles yearned as
he bethought him of his father. He took the old man’s hand
and moved him gently away. The two wept bitterly—Priam,
as he lay at Achilles’ feet, weeping for Hector, and Achilles
now for his father and now for Patroclous, till the house was
filled with their lamentation. But when Achilles was now
sated with grief and had unburthened the bitterness of his
sorrow, he left his seat and raised the old man by the hand,

in pity for his white hair and beard; then he said, ‘Unhappy
man, you have indeed been greatly daring; how could you
venture to come alone to the ships of the Achaeans, and en-
ter the presence of him who has slain so many of your brave
sons? You must have iron courage: sit now upon this seat,
and for all our grief we will hide our sorrows in our hearts,
for weeping will not avail us. The immortals know no care,
yet the lot they spin for man is full of sorrow; on the floor of
Jove’s palace there stand two urns, the one filled with evil
gifts, and the other with good ones. He for whom Jove the
lord of thunder mixes the gifts he sends, will meet now with
good and now with evil fortune; but he to whom Jove sends
none but evil gifts will be pointed at by the finger of scorn,
the hand of famine will pursue him to the ends of the world,
and he will go up and down the face of the earth, respected
neither by gods nor men. Even so did it befall Peleus; the
gods endowed him with all good things from his birth up-
wards, for he reigned over the Myrmidons excelling all men
in prosperity and wealth, and mortal though he was they
gave him a goddess for his bride. But even on him too did
heaven send misfortune, for there is no race of royal chil-
dren born to him in his house, save one son who is doomed
to die all untimely; nor may I take care of him now that he
is growing old, for I must stay here at Troy to be the bane of
you and your children. And you too, O Priam, I have heard
that you were aforetime happy. They say that in wealth and
plenitude of offspring you surpassed all that is in Lesbos,
the realm of Makar to the northward, Phrygia that is more
inland, and those that dwell upon the great Hellespont;
500 The Iliad

but from the day when the dwellers in heaven sent this evil
upon you, war and slaughter have been about your city con-
tinually. Bear up against it, and let there be some intervals
in your sorrow. Mourn as you may for your brave son, you
will take nothing by it. You cannot raise him from the dead,
ere you do so yet another sorrow shall befall you.’
And Priam answered, ‘O king, bid me not be seated,
while Hector is still lying uncared for in your tents, but ac-
cept the great ransom which I have brought you, and give
him to me at once that I may look upon him. May you pros-
per with the ransom and reach your own land in safety,
seeing that you have suffered me to live and to look upon
the light of the sun.’
Achilles looked at him sternly and said, ‘Vex me, sir, no
longer; I am of myself minded to give up the body of Hector.
My mother, daughter of the old man of the sea, came to me
from Jove to bid me deliver it to you. Moreover I know well,
O Priam, and you cannot hide it, that some god has brought
you to the ships of the Achaeans, for else, no man however
strong and in his prime would dare to come to our host; he
could neither pass our guard unseen, nor draw the bolt of
my gates thus easily; therefore, provoke me no further, lest
I sin against the word of Jove, and suffer you not, suppliant
though you are, within my tents.’
The old man feared him and obeyed. Then the son of
Peleus sprang like a lion through the door of his house,
not alone, but with him went his two squires Automedon
and Alcimus who were closer to him than any others of his
comrades now that Patroclus was no more. These unyoked

the horses and mules, and bade Priam’s herald and atten-
dant be seated within the house. They lifted the ransom for
Hector’s body from the waggon. but they left two mantles
and a goodly shirt, that Achilles might wrap the body in
them when he gave it to be taken home. Then he called to
his servants and ordered them to wash the body and anoint
it, but he first took it to a place where Priam should not see
it, lest if he did so, he should break out in the bitterness of
his grief, and enrage Achilles, who might then kill him and
sin against the word of Jove. When the servants had washed
the body and anointed it, and had wrapped it in a fair shirt
and mantle, Achilles himself lifted it on to a bier, and he
and his men then laid it on the waggon. He cried aloud as
he did so and called on the name of his dear comrade, ‘Be
not angry with me, Patroclus,’ he said, ‘if you hear even in
the house of Hades that I have given Hector to his father for
a ransom. It has been no unworthy one, and I will share it
equitably with you.’
Achilles then went back into the tent and took his place
on the richly inlaid seat from which he had risen, by the
wall that was at right angles to the one against which Priam
was sitting. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘your son is now laid upon his bier
and is ransomed according to desire; you shall look upon
him when you him away at daybreak; for the present let us
prepare our supper. Even lovely Niobe had to think about
eating, though her twelve children—six daughters and six
lusty sons—had been all slain in her house. Apollo killed
the sons with arrows from his silver bow, to punish Niobe,
and Diana slew the daughters, because Niobe had vaunted
502 The Iliad

herself against Leto; she said Leto had borne two children
only, whereas she had herself borne many—whereon the
two killed the many. Nine days did they lie weltering, and
there was none to bury them, for the son of Saturn turned
the people into stone; but on the tenth day the gods in heav-
en themselves buried them, and Niobe then took food, being
worn out with weeping. They say that somewhere among
the rocks on the mountain pastures of Sipylus, where the
nymphs live that haunt the river Achelous, there, they say,
she lives in stone and still nurses the sorrows sent upon her
by the hand of heaven. Therefore, noble sir, let us two now
take food; you can weep for your dear son hereafter as you
are bearing him back to Ilius—and many a tear will he cost
you.’
With this Achilles sprang from his seat and killed a sheep
of silvery whiteness, which his followers skinned and made
ready all in due order. They cut the meat carefully up into
smaller pieces, spitted them, and drew them off again when
they were well roasted. Automedon brought bread in fair
baskets and served it round the table, while Achilles dealt
out the meat, and they laid their hands on the good things
that were before them. As soon as they had had enough to
eat and drink, Priam, descendant of Dardanus, marvelled
at the strength and beauty of Achilles for he was as a god to
see, and Achilles marvelled at Priam as he listened to him
and looked upon his noble presence. When they had gazed
their fill Priam spoke first. ‘And now, O king,’ he said, ‘take
me to my couch that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed
boon of sleep. Never once have my eyes been closed from

the day your hands took the life of my son; I have grov-
elled without ceasing in the mire of my stable-yard, making
moan and brooding over my countless sorrows. Now, more-
over, I have eaten bread and drunk wine; hitherto I have
tasted nothing.’
As he spoke Achilles told his men and the women-ser-
vants to set beds in the room that was in the gatehouse, and
make them with good red rugs, and spread coverlets on the
top of them with woollen cloaks for Priam and Idaeus to
wear. So the maids went out carrying a torch and got the
two beds ready in all haste. Then Achilles said laughingly
to Priam, ‘Dear sir, you shall lie outside, lest some coun-
sellor of those who in due course keep coming to advise
with me should see you here in the darkness of the flying
night, and tell it to Agamemnon. This might cause delay in
the delivery of the body. And now tell me and tell me true,
for how many days would you celebrate the funeral rites of
noble Hector? Tell me, that I may hold aloof from war and
restrain the host.’
And Priam answered, ‘Since, then, you suffer me to bury
my noble son with all due rites, do thus, Achilles, and I shall
be grateful. You know how we are pent up within our city; it
is far for us to fetch wood from the mountain, and the peo-
ple live in fear. Nine days, therefore, will we mourn Hector
in my house; on the tenth day we will bury him and there
shall be a public feast in his honour; on the eleventh we will
build a mound over his ashes, and on the twelfth, if there be
need, we will fight.’
And Achilles answered, ‘All, King Priam, shall be as you
504 The Iliad

have said. I will stay our fighting for as long a time as you
have named.’
As he spoke he laid his hand on the old man’s right wrist,
in token that he should have no fear; thus then did Pri-
am and his attendant sleep there in the forecourt, full of
thought, while Achilles lay in an inner room of the house,
with fair Briseis by his side.
And now both gods and mortals were fast asleep through
the livelong night, but upon Mercury alone, the bringer of
good luck, sleep could take no hold for he was thinking all
the time how to get King Priam away from the ships without
his being seen by the strong force of sentinels. He hovered
therefore over Priam’s head and said, ‘Sir, now that Achilles
has spared your life, you seem to have no fear about sleep-
ing in the thick of your foes. You have paid a great ransom,
and have received the body of your son; were you still alive
and a prisoner the sons whom you have left at home would
have to give three times as much to free you; and so it would
be if Agamemnon and the other Achaeans were to know of
your being here.’
When he heard this the old man was afraid and roused
his servant. Mercury then yoked their horses and mules,
and drove them quickly through the host so that no man
perceived them. When they came to the ford of eddying
Xanthus, begotten of immortal Jove, Mercury went back to
high Olympus, and dawn in robe of saffron began to break
over all the land. Priam and Idaeus then drove on toward
the city lamenting and making moan, and the mules drew
the body of Hector. No one neither man nor woman saw

them, till Cassandra, fair as golden Venus standing on Per-
gamus, caught sight of her dear father in his chariot, and his
servant that was the city’s herald with him. Then she saw
him that was lying upon the bier, drawn by the mules, and
with a loud cry she went about the city saying, ‘Come hither
Trojans, men and women, and look on Hector; if ever you
rejoiced to see him coming from battle when he was alive,
look now on him that was the glory of our city and all our
people.’
At this there was not man nor woman left in the city, so
great a sorrow had possessed them. Hard by the gates they
met Priam as he was bringing in the body. Hector’s wife and
his mother were the first to mourn him: they flew towards
the waggon and laid their hands upon his head, while the
crowd stood weeping round them. They would have stayed
before the gates, weeping and lamenting the livelong day to
the going down of the sun, had not Priam spoken to them
from the chariot and said, ‘Make way for the mules to pass
you. Afterwards when I have taken the body home you shall
have your fill of weeping.’
On this the people stood asunder, and made a way for
the waggon. When they had borne the body within the
house they laid it upon a bed and seated minstrels round it
to lead the dirge, whereon the women joined in the sad mu-
sic of their lament. Foremost among them all Andromache
led their wailing as she clasped the head of mighty Hector
in her embrace. ‘Husband,’ she cried, ‘you have died young,
and leave me in your house a widow; he of whom we are the
ill-starred parents is still a mere child, and I fear he may not
506 The Iliad

reach manhood. Ere he can do so our city will be razed and
overthrown, for you who watched over it are no more—you
who were its saviour, the guardian of our wives and chil-
dren. Our women will be carried away captives to the ships,
and I among them; while you, my child, who will be with
me will be put to some unseemly tasks, working for a cruel
master. Or, may be, some Achaean will hurl you (O miser-
able death) from our walls, to avenge some brother, son, or
father whom Hector slew; many of them have indeed bitten
the dust at his hands, for your father’s hand in battle was
no light one. Therefore do the people mourn him. You have
left, O Hector, sorrow unutterable to your parents, and my
own grief is greatest of all, for you did not stretch forth your
arms and embrace me as you lay dying, nor say to me any
words that might have lived with me in my tears night and
day for evermore.’
Bitterly did she weep the while, and the women joined
in her lament. Hecuba in her turn took up the strains of
woe. ‘Hector,’ she cried, ‘dearest to me of all my children.
So long as you were alive the gods loved you well, and even
in death they have not been utterly unmindful of you; for
when Achilles took any other of my sons, he would sell him
beyond the seas, to Samos Imbrus or rugged Lemnos; and
when he had slain you too with his sword, many a time did
he drag you round the sepulchre of his comrade—though
this could not give him life—yet here you lie all fresh as
dew, and comely as one whom Apollo has slain with his
painless shafts.’
Thus did she too speak through her tears with bitter

moan, and then Helen for a third time took up the strain
of lamentation. ‘Hector,’ said she, ‘dearest of all my broth-
ers-in-law—for I am wife to Alexandrus who brought me
hither to Troy—would that I had died ere he did so—twen-
ty years are come and gone since I left my home and came
from over the sea, but I have never heard one word of in-
sult or unkindness from you. When another would chide
with me, as it might be one of your brothers or sisters or
of your brothers’ wives, or my mother-in-law—for Priam
was as kind to me as though he were my own father—you
would rebuke and check them with words of gentleness and
goodwill. Therefore my tears flow both for you and for my
unhappy self, for there is no one else in Troy who is kind to
me, but all shrink and shudder as they go by me.’
She wept as she spoke and the vast crowd that was gath-
ered round her joined in her lament. Then King Priam
spoke to them saying, ‘Bring wood, O Trojans, to the city,
and fear no cunning ambush of the Argives, for Achilles
when he dismissed me from the ships gave me his word that
they should not attack us until the morning of the twelfth
day.’
Forthwith they yoked their oxen and mules and gath-
ered together before the city. Nine days long did they bring
in great heaps of wood, and on the morning of the tenth
day with many tears they took brave Hector forth, laid his
dead body upon the summit of the pile, and set the fire
thereto. Then when the child of morning, rosy-fingered
dawn, appeared on the eleventh day, the people again as-
sembled, round the pyre of mighty Hector. When they were
508 The Iliad

got together, they first quenched the fire with wine wherev-
er it was burning, and then his brothers and comrades with
many a bitter tear gathered his white bones, wrapped them
in soft robes of purple, and laid them in a golden urn, which
they placed in a grave and covered over with large stones
set close together. Then they built a barrow hurriedly over
it keeping guard on every side lest the Achaeans should at-
tack them before they had finished. When they had heaped
up the barrow they went back again into the city, and being
well assembled they held high feast in the house of Priam
their king.
Thus, then, did they celebrate the funeral of Hector tam-
er of horses.

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S ing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that

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N ow the other gods and the armed warriors on the plain

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W hen the companies were thus arrayed, each under its

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N ow the gods were sitting with Jove in council upon

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T hen Pallas Minerva put valour into the heart of Di-

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