HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

Introduction:

At the beginning of this, the penultimate book of "The Odyssey", the housewife Eurycleia wakens Penelope and tells her that Odysseus has returned. Initially, Penelope cannot believe that the beggar is Odysseus, but, by testing him in relation to the construction of their marriage-bed, she comes to the conclusion that he is indeed her husband after all. They go to bed and make love.  

Ll. 1-48. Eurycleia tells Penelope that her husband has returned. 

The old woman (i.e. Eurycleia) went up to the upper chamber chuckling, to tell her mistress that her dear husband was indoors; and her knees moved nimbly and her feet went along swiftly beneath (her). And she stood above her head and spoke these words to her: "Wake up, Penelope, dear child, so that you may see with your own eyes what you have longed for every day. Odysseus has come and is here at home, late though he has come. And he has slain the proud wooers, who have disrupted his home and consumed his substance, and harassed his son."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, the gods have made you mad, those who by their nature have the power to make foolish even one who is very wise, and they regularly set the slack-witted on (the path of) prudence; (it is) they (who) have stupified even you; and you were previously of sound mind. Why then did you make fun of me, who has a heart full of sorrow, to tell me this nonsense and to rouse me from a sweet slumber that has bound me and enfolded my eyelids? For never have I slept so soundly, since (the day) when Odysseus went to look at evil Ilium, (the place) with the unspeakable name. But come now, go down and go back to the hall. For, if any other of the women, that are mine, had come and told me these (things), and had roused me from sleep, for that reason, in my misery, I would have quickly sent her away to return again to the hall; but old age will bring you this benefit." 

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia spoke to her again: "I am not making a fool of you in any way, dear child, but (it is) really true that Odysseus has returned and is come home, just as I tell (you); (he is) that stranger whom everyone dishonoured in the hall. Telemachus has known for some time that he was home, but, in his wisdom, he hid the knowledge of his father, until he should take his revenge on the violence of overbearing men."

So she (i.e. Eurycleia) spoke, and she (i.e. Penelope) was glad, and leapt from her bed and embraced the old woman, and she let tears fall from her eyelids; and she spoke and addressed her with these winged words: "Come now, dear nurse, and tell me truly, if (it is) true that he has come home as you say, how on earth did he lay his hands on the shameless wooers, (all) alone as he was, while they always remained in the house in a pack."

Then did the dear nurse Eurycleia address her again: "I saw nothing, I was told nothing, but I only heard the groans of (men) being slain; but we (women) sat terror-stricken in the innermost part of our well-built chambers, and the well-fitted doors shut (us) in, (until the time) when your son Telemachus called me from the hall; for his father had sent him out to call (me). Then, I found Odysseus standing among the bodies of the slain; and they stretched (all) around him on the hard floor, lying one on top of another; it would have gladdened your heart to see (him), spattered with blood and gore like a lion. 

Ll. 49-84. Eurycleia insists that Odysseus has returned, despite Penelope's scepticism.

"And now all the (bodies) are in heaps at the gates of the courtyard, but he (i.e. Odysseus) is fumigating our very beautiful house with brimstone, and kindling a great fire; and he has sent me out to call you. But come follow (me), so that the hearts of you both may enter into happiness, since you have suffered many woes. But now at this time your long-deferred desire has been fulfilled; he himself has come alive to his own hearth, and he has found both you and his son in these halls; but the wooers treated him badly, and he has taken revenge on all of them in his house."  

Then, wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, do not exult so loudly (over them) with laughter. For you know how welcome the sight of him would be to all in these halls, but above all to me, and to that son whom we bore. But this tale is not true as you tell it, but one of the immortals has slain the haughty wooers in wrath at their grievous insolence and their evil deeds. For they honoured no one among men on the earth, whoever came among them, neither evil nor good; so (it is) through their own wanton folly that they have suffered disaster; meanwhile, Odysseus in some distant land has lost his (chance of) return to (the land of) Achaea, and is lost himself."    

Then, her dear nurse Eurycleia replied to her: " My child, what words have have come out of your mouth (lit. have escaped the barrier of your teeth)! Your husband is here at his own fireside, (and yet) you declare that he will never come home; your heart is ever untrustworthy. But come, let me tell you something else as definite proof even: the scar which a boar once gave him with his white tusk, I noticed this while I was washing (him), and I wanted to tell you as well. but he clapped his hand over my mouth and, with the great wisdom of his mind, he did not allow (me) to speak. But (come), follow (me), and I shall put my very (life) at stake, so that, if I shall have utterly deceived you, you may slay me by a most pitiable death."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, even though you are very full of wisdom, (it is) hard for you to comprehend the designs of the gods who are forever. But come, let us go to my son, so that I may see the suitor-men dead, and (the one) who has slain (them)." 

Ll. 85-128. Telemachus rebukes Penelope for not acknowledging that Odysseus has returned. 

So saying, she went down from the upper chamber; and her heart much pondered whether she should stand aloof as she questioned her husband, or whether she should go right up to him and kiss his face and clasp his hands. But, when she had come in and stepped over the stone threshold, then she sat down opposite to Odysseus in the firelight beside the other wall; but he was sitting by a tall pillar. looking down and waiting (to see) whether his comely wife would say anything to him, when she saw (him) with her own eyes. But she sat in silence for a long time, and (a feeling of) amazement came upon her soul; and then, with her gaze, she would look on his face, and then again she would fail to recognise (him), as he had mean raiment on his skin. But Telemachus rebuked (her) and spoke these words to (her) in a loud voice: "My mother, a cruel mother, who has a hard heart, why do you turn your back on my father, and not sit beside him and talk to (him) and ask (him) questions? No other woman with so patient a heart would stand aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come back to her in his native land in the twentieth year; but your heart is ever harder than stone."   

Then, wise Penelope answered him: "My child, the heart in my breast is overcome with amazement, nor can I speak any words nor ask a question, nor otherwise look (him) in the face. But if, in very truth, it is Odysseus, and he has come home, we two shall surely know one another better; for we have signs which only we two know, and which are kept hidden from others."  

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and the much-enduring godlike Odysseus smiled, and straightway addressed these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, now indeed do you allow your mother to test me in these halls; and soon she will know (me) better. But now, as I am filthy, and am wearing foul raiment on my body, for this reason she scorns me, and will not yet admit that I am he. But, as for us, let us consider how the very best (things) may happen. For whoever has slain one man in a land, even though there are not many (left) behind to avenge him, he goes into exile and leaves his kinsmen and his native land; but we have slain the mainstays of the city, (those) who (were) by far the best of the youths in Ithaca; and I bid you consider this." 

Then, wise Telemachus spoke to him in reply: "Do you yourself look to this, dear father; for they say that your counsel is the best among men, nor could any other man among mortal men vie with you. And, as for us, we will eagerly follow after you, nor do I think we shall be at all wanting in courage, whatever our strength may be."  

Ll. 129-180. Odysseus and Penelope exchange thoughts. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "So then will I tell you what seems to me to be the best (way). In the first place, bathe yourselves and put on your tunics, and tell the handmaids in the halls to take their raiment (i.e. clean dresses). But let the divine minstrel with his clear-toned lyre lead us on the gladsome dance, so that any man who hears (the sound) from outside, whether he is going on a journey, or whether (he is one of those) who live round about, may think it is a wedding feast (n.b. her neighbours had long expected Penelope to remarry); let the widespread rumour of the slaying of the suitor-men not be spread abroad, before we go forth to our well-wooded farm; and then afterwards we shall fortify ourselves with whatever opportunity the Olympian may grant us."  

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and they readily heard and obeyed him. So, then, firstly they bathed and put on their tunics, and the women adorned themselves; and the divine minstrel took hold of the hollow lyre, and aroused the desire in them for sweet singing and excellent dancing. And their great house resounded with the tread of the dancing men and of the women with beautiful girdles. And thus would a man speak who heard (the noise) from outside the house: "Now indeed a man has wed the much-wooed queen; hardhearted (she was), nor had she the heart to keep the great house of her wedded husband all in one piece, until he came back." 

So did they speak, but they did not know what a state things were in. Meanwhile, the housekeeper Eurynome bathed great-hearted Odysseus in his house, and anointed (him) with oil, and cast about him a fair cloak and tunic; and Athene shed much beauty on his head, and (made) him taller and stouter to look upon; and on his head she made curly locks (to flow). like the flower of the hyacinth. And, as when a man overlays gold with silver, a skilful (workman), whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught every kind of skill, and the work he produces (is) full of grace, so did (the goddess) shed grace on his head and shoulders. And he came out of the bathing-tub like the immortals in shape; and then he sat back down again on the chair from which he had arisen, opposite his wife, and he spoke the following words to her: "Mysterious (lady), to you beyond (all) tender womenfolk, those who have their dwellings on Olympus have given an implacable heart; no other woman would harden her heart as (you have), and stood aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come to her in his native land in the twentieth year. But come, nurse, spread me a couch, so that I myself can lie down; for, assuredly, the heart in her breast (is) made of iron."  

Then, wise Penelope addressed him once more: "Strange (man), I do not bear myself at all proudly, nor do I make light of (you), nor am I too much amazed, but very well do I know what sort (of man) you were, when you went from Ithaca in your long-oared ship. But come, Eurycleia, spread the stout bedstead for him outside the well-built bridal chamber, which he himself made; thither do you bring for him the stout bedstead and cast bedding upon (it), fleeces and cloaks, and glossy blankets."    

Ll. 181-230. By displaying his knowledge of how their bedchamber was constructed, Odysseus persuades Penelope that he is indeed her husband. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, putting her husband to the test; but Odysseus, with a burst of anger, spoke these words to his knowing and trusty wife: "O woman, this (is) surely a bitter word that you have spoken; who has put my bed elsewhere? Hard would it be (for one to do so), even if he were very skilled, unless a god himself should come and wish to place (it) easily in another spot. But among men, (there is) no living mortal, even though (he were in) the very prime of youth, who could easily pry (it) from its place, since a great secret is secured in this curiously wrought bed; and (it was) I who built it and no one else. A bush of long-leafed olives, fully grown and blooming, was growing within the courtyard; and it was as massive as a pillar. And round about it, I built my bedchamber with closely-fitting stones, until I had finished (it), and I roofed (it) over well from above, and added well-fastened and closely-fitting doors. Thereafter, I cut off the leafy branches of the long-leafed olive-tree, and very skilfully trimmed the trunk from the root, and made it straight to the line, (thus) fashioning the bedpost, and I bored everything through with the gimlet. Beginning from this, I carved out my bed, until I had finished (it), embellishing (it) with gold, and silver and ivory; and from (it) I stretched a thong of ox-hide, brightly (dyed) with purple. So I declare to you this token; but, woman, I do not know at all whether my bedstead is still firmly-set, or whether some man has now placed (it) somewhere else, having cut (it) from beneath the olive stump." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and her knees were loosened and her heart (melted) there, as she knew well the sure tokens which Odysseus had shown her; then, she burst into tears and ran straight (towards him), and flung her arms around the neck of Odysseus, and kissed his head and spoke these words: "Do not be angry with me, Odysseus, for you were always the most understanding of men; for the gods sent us misery, (they) who resented that we two should remain with each other, and enjoy our youth and reach the threshold of old age. But do not be angry with me now, nor full of indignation, because, when I saw you for the first time, I did not thus welcome (you). For the heart in my breast was always full of dread, lest some man should come and beguile me with his words; for many (men) devise evil tricks. Not even Argive Helen, born of Zeus, would have lain in bed with a loving man from another country, if she had known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans would bring her home again to her dear native land. Yet, in truth, a god prompted her to undertake a shameful deed; not until then had she put in her mind the (thought) of that grievous folly, from which grief came upon in the first place too. But now, since you have recounted the clear tokens of our bed, which no other mortal has seen, save you and I alone, and one solitary handmaid, the daughter of Actor, whom my father gave me, when I came here, (she) who kept guard of the doors of our strong bridal chamber, you are persuading my heart, so very stubborn as it is." 

Ll. 231-262.  Odysseus and Penelope embrace each other. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and she aroused in (him) still more the longing for lamentation, and he wept as he held his delightful wife (in his arms), trustworthy and sensible (as she was). And welcome as (is the sight of) land, when it is seen by swimmers, whose well-built ship, driven on by the wind and the sturdy waves, Poseidon has shattered in the sea; but a few have made their escape (by) swimming from the gray sea to the mainland, and brine clusters thickly around their bodies, and gladly have they set their foot on land, having escaped from their evil (situation); just so was the sight of her husband welcome to her, as she gazed upon (him), and in no way could she let her white arms go from his neck. And now the rosy-fingered Dawn would have disclosed their weeping, if the bright-eyed goddess Athene had not had other ideas. The long night she held back at its extremity, and likewise she held back the golden-throned Dawn at (the streams of) Ocean, and she would not allow (her) to yoke her swift-footed steeds who bring light to men, Lampus and Phaethon (that is), who (are) the colts (that) bring the Dawn. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said to his wife: "O wife, we have not yet come to the end of all our trials, but there is still in the future an immeasurable toil, long and hard, which I must accomplish. For so did the spirit of Teiresias prophesy for me, on the day when I went down into the house of Hades to inquire about the return of my comrades and myself. But come, wife, let us go to bed, so that, lulled now by sweet slumber, we may find our happiness." 

But, then, very thoughtful Penelope answered him: "Your bed will be there for you, whenever your heart shall desire (it), since the gods have arranged that you should come back to your well-built house and to your native land; but, since you have thought of (this), and a god has put (it) into your mind, come tell me of this ordeal, since I think I shall learn of (it) in the future, and to know it straightaway is not all worse."

Ll. 263-309. Odysseus tells Penelope of what Teiresias had prophesied for him in the future, and then the two of them go to bed. 

And Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "(What) a strange (lady you are)! Why then do you tell me to encourage (you) to say (something)? Yet I will say (it) and not hide (anything). But your heart will have no joy of (it); for I myself am not glad, since he (i.e. Teiresias) bade me go forth to very many cities of men, bearing a well-shaped oar in my hands, until I should come to those men who know nothing of the sea, and do not eat food (that is) mingled with salt; nor do they know of ships with red bows, nor of well-shaped oars that serve as wings to ships. And he told me of this clearly visible sign, and I shall not conceal (it); when another wayfarer, on meeting me, should say that I had a winnowing fan on my stout shoulder, then he bade me fix my oar in the earth and offer goodly sacrifices to lord Poseidon, a ram, and a bull, and a boar that mates with sows, and go back to my home and offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods that hold broad heaven, to each one in due order; and to me myself death will come away from the sea, such a very gentle (death) that it shall overcome me, when I am worn out by sleek old age; and my people shall dwell in prosperity around me; and to me he said that all these (things) would be fulfilled."

Then, wise Penelope spoke to him once more: "If the gods are to arrange a better old age (for you), then there is hope that there will be an escape for you from evil (things)."

Thus, they said such (things) to each other; and, in the meantime, both Eurynome and the nurse made up the bed with soft bedclothes by the bright light of torches. But, when they had hastily spread the sturdy marriage-bed, the old woman went back to her quarters to lie down, and the bridesmaid Eurynome led them on their way to bed, holding a torch in her hands; and, when she had led them to the bridal-chamber, she went back. Then, they gladly came to the location of their old marriage-bed; then, Telemachus and the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) stopped their feet from dancing, and stopped the women, and they themselves laid down to sleep throughout the darkening halls. 

But, when the two of them had enjoyed the pleasures of love-making, they took delight in tales, as they talked to each other, and she, the most divine of women, (told him) of all the (things) she had endured in his halls, as she looked upon that destructive throng of suitor-men, who, for her sake, slew many (beasts), cattle and chubby sheep, and a great deal of wine was drawn from the casks. But Zeus-born Odysseus told of all the woes he had brought on men, and of all the sorrows that he himself had suffered; and she was glad to listen, nor did sleep fall upon her eyelids till he has told (her) everything. 

Ll. 310-343. Odysseus recounts the story of his travels to Penelope. 

He began by telling (her) how he had, at first, subdued the Cicones (i.e. Thracian allies of the Trojans), but then he came to the rich land of the Lotus-eating men; and all the (things) that the Cyclops (i.e. Polyphemus) did, and how he had made him pay the price for his mighty comrades, whom he had eaten and (to whom) he had shown no pity; and how he came to Aeolus (i.e. the guardian of the winds), who readily received him and sent (him on his way), but it was not yet his destiny to come to his native land, but the hurricane caught hold of him again and bore him over the teeming deep, groaning heavily; and how he came to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians (i.e. a tribe of cannibals), who destroyed his ships and his well-greaved comrades; and Odysseus alone escaped in his black ship; and he told (her) of the cunning and resourcefulness of Circe, and how he had gone to the dank house of Hades in his ship with many benches to consult with the spirit of the Theban Teiresias, and had seen all his comrades and the mother (i.e. Anticleia) who bore him and reared (him) when he was small; and how he heard the voice of close-packed Sirens, and how he came to the Wandering Rocks, and to dread Charybdis, and to Scylla, from whom no man has ever yet escaped unscathed, and how Zeus, who thunders on high, smote his swift ship with a smouldering thunderbolt, and his noble companions all perished at the same time, but he himself escaped from an evil death; and how he came to the island of Ogygia and the nymph Calypso, who trapped him (there) in her hollow caves, yearning that he should be her husband, and she took care of (him), and said that she would make (him) immortal and ageless all his days; but she could never persuade the heart in his breast; and how, after much suffering, he came to the Phaeacians, who honoured him in their hearts like a god, and they sent him to his own native land with a ship, after giving (him) bronze and gold, and plenty of clothes. This (was) the last word he spoke, when sweet sleep that relaxes the limbs sprang upon him, and released the cares of his heart.     

Ll. 344-372. Odysseus advises Penelope to keep out of the way. 

Then did the bright-eyed goddess Athene have another idea; when she thought that Odysseus had found joy in his heart, and also sleep, in the bed of his wife, straightway she aroused the golden-throned child of the morning (i.e. Dawn) from the Ocean, in order to bring light to men; and Odysseus rose from his soft couch and gave these orders to his wife: "O wife, already we have both had our fill of many ordeals, you here, lamenting over my grievous journey home. But Zeus and the other gods bound me fast in sorrows far from my native land; but now, as we have both come to our much-loved bed, you must take care of the possessions that I have in these halls, and, as for those flocks of mine which the arrogant wooers so wasted, I myself will carry off just as much as booty, but the Achaeans will give others, until they fill all the folds. But I shall certainly go to our well-wooded farm to see my noble father (i.e. Laertes), who, on my behalf, is sorely distressed; and on you, my wife, I lay down this requirement, understanding though you are: for straightway, with the rising of the sun, there will be a report concerning the suitor-men, whom I slew in these halls; go up to your upstairs room with your handmaidens and stay there, and do not look at anything or ask a question."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and donned his beautiful armour around his shoulders, and he roused Telemachus, and the herdsman and the swineherd, and told (them) all to take up weapons of war in their hands. And they did not disobey him, but clad themselves in bronze, and they opened the doors and went out; and Odysseus led the way. There was already light on the earth, but Athene concealed them in the darkness, and led (them) swiftly out of the city.  

 

 

  

  

 

HOMER: "THE ILIAD": BOOK XXIV: THE REDEMPTION OF HECTOR'S BODY.

HOMER: "THE ILIAD": BOOK XXIV: THE REDEMPTION OF HECTOR'S BODY. 

Introduction:

The wrath of Achilles, which was where the story of the "Iliad" began, comes to an end in this the final book of the epic, when, at the wishes of Zeus, Hermes arranges for Priam to come to the Greek camp to ransom the body of his son Hector. Achilles has been persuaded by his mother Thetis to return the body of Hector, which he had previously been abusing, as Hector had slain his dear comrade Patroclus. Now, Achilles treats the old man with kindness, and indeed shares his tears, when he remembers his own father Peleus. After feeding Priam and helping him to get some sleep, he personally helps to lift Hector's body on to the truck which will take it back to Troy. The "Iliad" ends with the funeral rites of Hector, celebrated on a scale similar to those of Patroclus at the end of Book XXIII.  

Book XXIV is the last of the books of Homer's "Iliad", all of which have been carefully and lovingly translated by Sabidius on this blog. The dates when these translations were published are set out in the appendix at the end of this text. 

Ll. 1-21. Achilles continues to mistreat the body of Hector, due to his grief over the death of Patroclus.

The gathering broke up, and the people dispersed, each (group) on its way to their (own) speedy ships. Then, they turned their minds to their supper and to the delight of sweet sleep; but Achilles wept, as he remembered his dear comrade, and all-conquering sleep could not take hold of him, but he twisted and turned this way and that, yearning for the manliness and noble strength of Patroclus, and all the (things) he had accomplished with him, and the hardships they had suffered, while enduring the wars of men and the grievous waves. As he thought of these (things), he would shed big tears, lying now on his side, and now on his back, and now head-foremost, and on other occasions he would stand up and wander in a state of distraction along the shore of the sea; and no dawn would escape his notice as it appeared over the sea and the beaches. But, after that, he would yoke his swift horses beneath his chariot, and tie Hector (to it) to drag (him) behind the car, and after pulling (him) three times around the tomb of the dead son of Menoetius, he would rest again in his hut, and let him be stretched out face down in the dust; but Apollo kept all disfigurement from his flesh, pitying the man even though he were dead; and he covered (him) completely with the golden aegis, so that he (i.e. Achilles) might not tear the skin off his body as he dragged him. 

Ll. 22-63.

So he (i.e. Achilles) continued to abuse godlike Hector in his anger; but, as they looked on, the blessed gods pitied him, and kept on urging the sharp-sighted Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes, who was the patron god of thieves) to steal (the body) away . Here they found favour with all the other (gods), but never with Hera, or Poseidon, or the bright-eyed maiden (i.e. Athene), but sacred Ilium, and Priam and his people, were hated by them, as they had been from the beginning, on account of the sin of Alexander (i.e. Paris), who had scorned the goddesses when they came to his sheepfold, and had spoke in praise of her (i.e. Aphrodite) who had furthered his fatal lustiness. But, then, when the twelfth dawn from that (day) came round, then did Phoebus Apollo address the immortals: "(You) gods are cruel, and destroyers of men; did Hector never burn for you the thigh-bones of unblemished bulls and goats? And now you do not allow yourselves to rescue him, though he is but a corpse, and (to allow) his wife (i.e. Andromache) to see (him), as well as his mother (i.e. Hecuba) and his child (i.e. Astyanax) and his father Priam, and his people, who would quickly burn him in the fire and perform funeral rites in addition. But (you) gods are keen to come to the aid of ruthless Achilles, whose mind is not righteous, nor may the purpose be turned in his breast, but his thoughts are savage, like a lion who, when, at the bidding of his great might and lordly spirit, goes forth against the flocks of men, in order to win a feast; so Achilles has utterly lost all pity, nor is there any (sense of) shame in his heart, which can greatly harm and benefit mankind. It may perhaps be the case that a man has lost someone even more dear (to him), either a brother born of the same mother, or even a son; but, in truth, after he has wept and wailed, he is done; for the fates have given men a heart that is steadfast in suffering. But, when he had deprived godlike Hector of his life, he bound (him) to his chariot and dragged (him) around the tomb of his dear companion; in truth, neither honour nor reward (shall) this (bring) him. Let him beware lest we show our indignation at him, for he is already dishonouring the dumb earth in his wrath."      

Then, white-armed Hera spoke to them in her anger: "These words of yours would even be justified, if (you) gods will give equal honour to Achilles and Hector. Hector is but a mortal, and sucked the breast of a woman; but Achilles is the child of a goddess (i.e. the Nereid Thetis), whom I myself fostered and reared, and gave to a warrior to be his wife, (namely) Peleus, who was heartily dear to the immortals. And all (of you) gods came to their wedding; and you feasted among them, bearing your lyre, (you) friend of evil-doers, ever untrustworthy."

Ll. 64-92. Zeus summons Thetis to come to him.

Then, Zeus the cloud-gatherer spoke to her in answer: "Hera, do not be wholly enraged with the gods; for the honour (of these two) shall not be as one; however, Hector was dearest to the gods of (all) the mortals that are in Ilium; for so (he was) to me, since he never failed in any way with his gifts. For my altar was never wanting in the equal shares of a banquet, both a libation of wine and the savour of burnt offerings; for we old (ones) obtain these (things) by lot. But, in truth, we will not permit the stealing away of brave Hector from Achilles, even if it be by stealth; for his mother is ever at his side, by night and day equally. But would that one of the gods would summon Thetis (to come) nearer to me, so that I might speak carefully considered words to her, in order that Achilles might accept gifts from Priam, and he might release Hector's (body)." 

Thus he spoke, and storm-footed Iris (i.e. the messenger between the gods) hastened to bear his message, and midway between Samos (i.e. Samothrace) and rugged Imbros she leapt into the dark sea; and the waters roared above (her). And she plummeted to the depths like a small lead-weight, which, set upon the horn of an ox of the field, goes down, bringing death to the ravenous fishes. And she found Thetis in the hollow cavern, and around (her) other sea-goddesses (i.e. the Nereids) sat in a throng; and she in their midst was lamenting the fate of her peerless son (i.e. Achilles), who was about to perish in fertile Troy far from his native-land (i.e. Phthia). And swift-footed Iris drew near and spoke to (her): "Rouse yourself, Thetis; Zeus, whose thoughts are imperishable, is calling (you)." And then the silver-footed goddess Thetis replied to her: "Why then does that mighty god summon me? Now, I am ashamed to mingle with the immortals, and I have never-ending grief in my heart. However, I shall go, and his word shall not be in vain, whatever he shall say."  

Ll. 93-119. Zeus plans that the body of Hector should be ransomed.  

So saying, that most divine of goddesses (i.e. Thetis) took a dark blue veil, and there was no garment at all darker than this. Then, she set out to go, and swift-footed Iris led (the way) before (her); and around them, the waves of the sea parted asunder. And, when they stepped on to the beach, they shot up to heaven, and (there) they found the far-seeing son of Cronos, and all the other blessed gods that are forever sat assembled together around (him). Then, she sat down beside father Zeus, and Athene gave up her place (to her). And Hera placed a fine golden cup in her hand, and cheered (her) up with words; and Thetis drank and gave her cup back. Then, the father of men and of gods began speaking to them: "You have come to Olympus, O goddess Thetis, despite your sorrow, having unbearable grief within your heart; and I myself know of it; yet even so, I will tell you why I have called you here. Now strife has arisen among the immortals concerning the corpse of Hector and Achilles, sacker of cities; for they are urging the sharp-sighted Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes) to steal (the body) away. But, in this matter, I confer honour upon Achilles, in order to retain your respect and good will for the future. Go with all haste to the host, and declare my bidding to your son; tell him that the gods are angry (with him), and that I above all the immortals am filled with wrath, in that, in the fury of his heart, he keeps Hector beside the beaked ships, and does not release (his body), and, if this is so, may he, through his fear of me, give Hector back. But I shall send forth Iris to great-hearted Priam, (telling him) to go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom his dear son, and to bring gifts to Achilles that shall melt his heart."

Ll. 120-158.  Thetis encourages her son to give back the body, and Zeus prepares to send Iris to Troy to persuade Priam to visit Achilles to offer to ransom it. 

So he spoke, and the silver-footed goddess Thetis did not disobey (him), and she went darting down from the peaks of Olympus. And she went into her son's hut; there she found him lamenting loudly; but, around him, his dear companions were busily absorbing drink and preparing the morning meal; and a great woolly sheep was slaughtered in the hut. And his queenly mother sat down quite close to him, and she stroked him with her hand, and spoke these words to him, saying: "How long, my child, will you eat your heart out in mourning and sadness, thinking of neither food nor bed? A good (thing it is) to join in love with a woman; for I shall not see you live for long, but death and strong fate are already standing close beside (you). But take quick notice of me, as in your case I am the messenger of Zeus. He says that the gods are enraged at you, and that he is angry far beyond all the (other) immortals, because, in the anger of your mind, you are keeping Hector beside the beaked ships, and have not released (him). But come now, release him, and accept a ransom for his corpse."  

Then, swift-footed Achilles said to her (i.e. Thetis) in answer: "So be it! Let (the man) who brings the ransom take away the body, if the Olympian himself urges (it) with an earnest heart."

So, amongst the gathering of their ships, mother and son spoke many winged words to each other. But the son of Cronos urged Iris (to go) to sacred Ilium: "Speed you away from here, swift Iris, leaving the abode of Olympus, and give a message to great-hearted Priam within Ilium to go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom his dear son, and to bear gifts to Achilles that shall gladden his heart; (and let him go) alone, and do not let any other man among the Trojans go with him. A herald may accompany him, an older (man), who shall guide the mules and the smooth-running wagon, and he shall also carry back to the city the corpse (of him) whom godlike Achilles slew. But let not death be at all present in his thoughts, nor any (sense of) fear; for such a guide will we give him, (namely) the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), who shall lead (him) until in his leading he shall bring (him) near to Achilles. But, when he shall have led (him) into Achilles' hut, the very (man) shall not slay (him) and shall restrain all others from (doing so), for he is neither senseless, nor imprudent, nor wicked, but he will spare a suppliant man with all kindliness."  

Ll. 159-199. Zeus bids Priam go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom his son. 

So he spoke, and storm-footed Iris was summoned to give a message. And she went to Priam, and there she found weeping and wailing. His sons sat around their father within the court, soiling their garments with tears, and in their midst the old man was closely wrapped in his mantle so as to cover the shape of his limbs; and there was plenty of filth around the old man's head and neck, and he had spread it on his hands as he wallowed in the dirt. His daughters and daughters-in-law were wailing throughout the house, thinking of those (men), who, many and valiant (as they were), were lying low, their lives having been destroyed by the hands of the Argives. And the messenger of Zeus stood beside Priam and spoke to (him), talking quietly; but trembling took hold of his limbs: "Be of good courage in your mind, Priam, descendant of Dardanus, and do not be at all anxious; for I have not come here to you foreboding evil, but with good intentions; and I am a messenger to you from Zeus, who, far away from you though he is, has great concern and pity (for you). The Olympian bids you ransom godlike Hector, and bear gifts to Achilles which shall gladden his heart; (but do you go) alone, and do not let any other man of the Trojans go with (you). A herald may accompany you, an older man who shall guide the mules and the smooth-running wagon, and he shall also carry back to the city the corpse (of him) whom godlike Achilles slew. But let not death be at all present in your thoughts, nor any (sense of) fear; for such a guide will go with you, (namely) the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), who shall lead you, until in his leading he shall bring you near to Achilles. But, when he shall have led you into Achilles' hut, the very (man) shall not slay you, and he shall restrain all others from (doing so); for he is neither senseless, nor imprudent, nor wicked, but he will spare a suppliant man with all kindliness."   

When she had thus spoken, swift-footed Iris went away, but the king (i.e. Priam) bade his sons make ready the smooth-running mule wagon, and tie the wicker-basket on it. And he himself went down to the treasure-chamber, made of fragrant cedar-wood and high roofed (it was), and it contained many precious (things). And he called to his wife Hecabe and said: "My dear wife, an Olympian messenger has come to me from Zeus, (telling me) to go to the ships of the Achaeans to ransom my dear son, and to bear gifts to Achilles that shall gladden his heart. But come now, tell me this, how does it seem to be to your mind? For the strength of my heart itself strongly bids me go thither to the ships (and) into the broad camp of the Achaeans." 

Ll. 200-227. Against the advice of Hecuba, Priam is determined to visit Achilles.

So he spoke, but his wife let out a shriek and replied in these words: "O woe is me, where now has your wisdom gone, for which in the past you were celebrated among foreign men and those whom you rule? How (on earth) do you wish to go to the ships of the Achaeans to (meet) the eyes of the man who is slaying your many and valiant sons; then is your heart made of iron; for, if he should get you in his power and should behold (you) with his eyes, so savage and untrustworthy (is this) man that he will neither pity you, nor show you any respect. But now let us mourn far away (from him), sitting in this hall; and so in this way did mighty Fate spin his thread for him at his birth, when I myself bore him into this world, that he should glut swift-footed dogs far from his parents in the house of a violent man, in the midst of whose liver I should wish to fix (my teeth) and feed thereon; then there would be deeds of revenge for my son, for he did not slay him while he was behaving in a cowardly manner, but while he was standing forth in defence of the Trojans and the deep-bosomed women of Troy, nor while he was thinking of flight or shelter."

Then, the old man, godlike Priam, spoke to her again: "Do not try to stop me, as I want to go, neither be yourself a bird of ill-omen in my halls; for you will not persuade me. For, if any other men on the earth told me (to do this), whether there are sacrificing seers or priests, we may consider (it) false and disregard (it) all the more; but, as it is, for I myself heard (the voice) of the goddess and looked upon her face, I will go forth and her word will not be fruitless. And, if it be my fate to lie dead beside the ships of the bronze-coated Achaeans, (that is what) I wish for; for let Achilles slay me forthwith, once I have grasped my son in my arms, and I have put from me the desire for weeping."     

Ll. 228-264. Priam continues to prepare to seek the ransom, despite heavily criticising his surviving sons.  

So he spoke, and he lifted up the fine lids of the chests; and from there he took twelve beautiful robes, and twelve cloaks as single garments, and as many blankets, and as many white sheets, and as many tunics (to go) with them. And, having weighed out the gold, he bore from them ten talents in all, and two gleaming tripods, and four cauldrons, and a very lovely cup that the men of Thrace had given (him as) a great treasure when he went (there) on an embassy; and not even this did the old man spare in his halls, for in his heart he so greatly wished to ransom his dear son. Then did he drive all the Trojans from his vestibule, reproaching them with shameful words: "Get you gone, (you) shameful slanderers; is there not enough lamentation in your homes, that you should have to come (here) to annoy me? Or were you dissatisfied that Zeus, the son of Cronos, gave me the sorrow of losing the best son (I had)? But you yourselves shall know (it) too. For, now that he is dead, it will be much easier for the Achaeans to slay (you). But, as for me, before I behold with my eyes the city sacked and laid waste, may I go down into the house of Hades."

So he (i.e. Priam) spoke, and he ordered the men with his staff; and they went outside (the range) of the old man in his haste; then he called out to his sons in a scolding voice, Helenus, and Paris, and noble Agathon, and Pammon, and Antiphon, and Polites, good at the war-cry, and Deïphobus, and Hippothous and illustrious Dios (n.b. noble Agauos is a possible alternative name); to these nine (sons) the old man called out aloud and gave orders: "Come here quickly, (you) cowardly children who cause me shame; would that all (of you) together had been slain at the swift ships instead of Hector. Woe is me, all hapless (as I am), seeing that I begat the finest sons in the broad (land of) Troy, but of them I declare that not one (of them) is left, godlike Mestor, and Troilus the warrior-charioteer, and Hector, who was a god among men, nor did he seem to be the son of a mortal man, but of a god. Ares has killed them (all) (i.e. they died in battle), but those (things) of shame are all left (to me), braggarts and dancing dandies, who are best at beating the floor of the dance, and robbers of lambs and kids from their own people. Now will you not quickly prepare me a wagon, and lay all those (things) in (it), so that we can progress on our way?"

Ll. 265-298. Hecuba advises caution.   

So he (i.e. Priam) spoke, and, shrinking in fear at their father's rebuke, they brought forth the smooth-running wagon drawn by mules, beautiful and newly-made (it was), and tied the wicker box on to it, and they took down from the hook the yoke for the mule(-cart), made of box wood, with a knob on it, properly fitted with rings. And they brought out the nine cubit-long (rope) for tying the yoke, together with the yoke (itself). And they fitted it (i.e. the yoke) properly on the smooth pole, at the front end, and fitted the ring over the peg (at the end of the pole). Then, they tied it (i.e. the rope) three times on either side to the knob, and after that they fastened it securely, and bent (it) beneath the hook. Then, they brought forth from the treasure-chamber, and heaped upon the well-polished wagon, the boundless ransom for Hector's head, and yoked the strong-hooved horses which the Mysians (i.e. a people who lived in central Asia Minor) had once given to Priam (as) a splendid gift. And, for Priam, they led beneath the yoke the horses that the old man kept himself and tended at a well-polished stall. 

So the two of them were getting their horses and mules yoked to their carriages in the lofty palace, (that is) the herald (i.e. Idaeus) and Priam, with wise thoughts in their hearts; then, Hecuba came near to them, her heart sorely stricken, holding some delicious wine in her right-hand in a golden cup, so that they might make a libation ere they went; and she stood in front of their horses, and uttered aloud these words (to them), saying: "Now come here and pour a drink offering to father Zeus, and pray that you may come home again from your foe-men, seeing that your heart urges you (to go) to their ships, despite my unwillingness (that you should). But do you pray to the son of Cronos, (the lord) of the dark clouds and of (Mount) Ida, who looks down on all of (the land of) Troy, and do you ask him for a bird (of omen), his own messenger, that to himself (is) the dearest of birds, and its strength is the mightiest (of all) (i.e. it is an eagle); (let him appear) on your right (i.e. the favourable side; the observer would be facing north, and so the bird would be seen flying towards the east), so that you yourself may see him with your eyes, and have trust in him, and go your way to the ships of the Danaans with their swift steeds. But, if the far-seeing Zeus will not grant you his own messenger, then I would not urge you on and tell (you) to go to the ships of the Argives, however great is your eagerness (to do so)."  

Ll. 299-338. Priam begins his journey to see Achilles. 

Then, godlike Priam spoke to her in reply: "O wife, I will not disregard this behest of yours. For good (it is) to lift up one's hands to Zeus, if only he should take pity on us." 

So spoke the old man, and he told his attendant housekeeper to pour pure water on his hands; and the housemaid came near, holding (a basin of) holy water and an urn together in her hands. Then, when he had washed his hands, he took the cup from his wife; and then he prayed, standing in the centre of the courtyard, and he poured the wine, looking up to heaven (as he did so), and he spoke these words, saying: "Father Zeus, who rules from (Mount) Ida, most glorious, most great, grant that I may come to Achilles' (hut), as one to be welcomed and pitied, and send a bird (of omen), a messenger of your own, that (is) the dearest of birds to yourself, and is the mightiest of all in its strength; (let him appear) on my right, so that I myself may see him with my eyes, and have trust in him, and go my way to the ships of the Danaans with their swift steeds."

So he (i.e. Priam) spoke, and Zeus the counsellor heard him, and forthwith he sent an eagle, the most significant of winged (creatures), a dusky hunter that (men) call black. As wide as the door that is built in a rich man's high-roofed treasure-chamber, (a door that is) well-fitted with bolts, so wide were his wings on both sides; and he appeared to them on the right, darting across the city; and they rejoiced when they saw (him), and the heart in all their breasts was gladdened. 

Then, the old man made haste and stepped into his chariot, and drove out of the gateway and the resounding portico. The mules in front, whom thoughtful Idaeus drove, drew the four-wheeled carriage; and behind (them came) the horses that the old man drove swiftly through the city, plying the whip; and all his kinsmen followed (him) at the same time, weeping constantly, as if he were going to his death. But, when they went down from the city and reached the plain, then did his sons and sons-in-law go back to Ilium, but the two of them (i.e. Priam and Idaeus) did not escape the notice of far-seeing Zeus as they appeared on the plain. But, when he saw the old man, he took pity (on him) and quickly spoke face to face with his dear son Hermes: "Hermes, for it is a particularly great pleasure for you to befriend a man, and you always hear whomever you are willing to listen to; away with you then, and guide Priam to the hollow ships of the Achaeans in such a way that no one among the other Danaans may see (him) or be aware of (him) until he reaches the son of Peleus." 

Ll. 339-371. As his Helper, Hermes seeks to reassure Priam. 

So he spoke, and the guide, the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), did not fail to obey (him). Then, straightway, he bound his beautiful sandals beneath his feet, immortal and golden (as they were), and which carried him over the waves of the sea and over the boundless land together with the blast of the wind; and he took the wand, with which he lulls to sleep the eyes of whichever men he wishes, and (with which) he also arouses those who are asleep. And he quickly came to (the land of) Troy and the Hellespont, and he went on his way in the likeness of a young man who is a prince acquiring a beard for the first time, and whose youthful prime (is) at its fairest.  

Now when they had driven past the great barrow of Ilus (i.e. Priam's grandfather), and they halted the mules and the horses, so they could drink in the river; for darkness had now come over the earth. Then, the herald looked out and saw Hermes close at hand, and he spoke to Priam, saying: "Take care, (you) descendant of Dardanus; the deeds of a prudent mind have been devised. I see a man, and I think we shall soon be torn to pieces. But come now, let us flee in this chariot, or, alternatively, let us clasp his knees and entreat him to show us pity."  

So he spoke, and the old man's mind was confounded, and he was sore afraid, and the hair stood up on his pliant limbs, and he stood in a daze; but the Helper (i.e. Hermes) himself drew nigh and took the old man's hand and questioned (him), saying: "By what means, father, do you guide the horses and mules through the immortal night, when other men are sleeping? Are you not afraid of the fury-breathing Achaeans, who are near you, hostile and implacable (as they are)? If one of them should see you bearing such valuable (items) through the quick black night, what thoughts would you then have? You are not young yourself, and that man who accompanies you (is too) old to repel a man, when he has previously grown angry with (you). But I shall not maltreat you in any way, and I will even defend you against another, for I look on you like my own dear father."    

Ll. 372-404. Priam and Hermes exchange information.

Then, the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: "These (things), dear son, are more or less such as you say (they are). But still has one of the gods stretched out his hand over me, as he has sent such an exceptional wayfarer to meet me, wondrous such as you are in shape and form, and prudent in mind, and sprung from blessed parents."

Then, the guide, the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes) addressed him once more: "Yes, indeed, old man, you have said all these (things) rightly. But come now, tell me this, and recount (it) exactly, whether you are sending out these many fine treasures to foreign men, so all these (things) may await you in safety, or whether you are all now forsaking holy Ilium in fear; for the very best of warriors, such as your son (was), has perished; for he was never lacking in any way in his battle with the Achaeans."

Then, the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: "Who are you, (O) best of youths, and who are your parents? For so well did you speak of the fate of my unfortunate son."

And the guide, the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), spoke to him again: "You are putting me to the test, old man, when you ask (me) about godlike Hector. I have quite often seen him with my eyes in battle where men win glory, and, when, after driving the Argives to their ships, he would slay (them) by cleaving (them) asunder with his sharp bronze (sword). And we stood (there) and marvelled; for Achilles would not let us fight, in his anger with the son of Atreus (i.e. Agamemnon). For I am his squire, and the same well-made ship brought (us here). And I am of the Myrmidons, and my father is Polyctor. He is rich, and old now just like you, and he has six (other) sons, and I am his seventh (one). Having shaken lots among them, I was chosen to come here. And now I have come to the plain from the ships; for at dawn the sharp-eyed Achaeans will make (the arrangements for) battle around the city. For they are vexed at sitting (idle), nor can the kings of the Achaeans restrain (them) in their eagerness for battle."

Ll. 405-439. Hermes promises to escort Priam to meet with Achilles.

And then the old man, godlike Priam, answered him: "If you are indeed a squire of Peleus' son, Achilles, come now, tell me the whole truth, whether my son (is) still beside the ships, or whether Achilles has already hewn him limb from limb, and cast (him) out and thrown (him) to the dogs."   

Then, the guide, the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), addressed him again: "Old man, the dogs and the birds of prey have not yet devoured him, but there he still lies beside Achilles' ship, just as (he fell) amid the huts; and he has lain there for twelve days, yet his flesh has not decayed at all, nor do worms, (such as those) that devour men slain in war, consume it. In truth, he drags him remorselessly around the tomb of his dear comrade, whenever sacred dawn appears, but he does not disfigure him; you yourself may come and see how he lies (there) dewy-fresh, and (how) he has been thoroughly cleaned of blood, nor (is he) stained anywhere; and all the wounds, by which he was stricken, have been closed; for many (there were who) drove the bronze into his (flesh). So do the blessed gods care for your noble son, even though he is (but) a corpse, seeing that (he was) so dear to their hearts."  

So he spoke, and the old man rejoiced and replied in these words: "My child, (it is) indeed a good (thing) to give to the immortals the gifts that are due to (them), since my son, if ever he really existed, never forgot in our halls the gods that hold Olympus. Therefore, they have remembered (this) for him, even though it were at the fatal time of his death. But come now, take this fair goblet from me, and protect (me) myself," and escort me (to be) with the gods, so I can come to the hut of the son of Peleus."    

And the guide, the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes) spoke to him again: "You are putting me to the test, old man, (though I am) younger (than you), but you shall not prevail over me, since you are urging me to take gifts from you without the knowledge of Achilles. I am afraid and am ashamed in my heart to despoil him, lest something evil should happen thereafter. But I would (be happy to) go as your escort all the way to famous Argos, and attend to (you) in a kindly manner in a swift ship or on foot; and no man will pick a quarrel with you in scorn of your escort."

Ll. 440-467.  Hermes guides Priam to the hut of Achilles. 

So he (i.e. Hermes) spoke, and, leaping on the chariot and horses, the Helper quickly grasped the lash and the reins in his hands, and breathed great might into the horses and mules. But, when they came to the walls and the trench (that defended) the ships, the watchmen were working hard to heap up their supper, and the guide, (who was) the Slayer of Argus (i.e. Hermes), shed sleep on all of them, and forthwith opened the gates and thrust back the bars, and led Priam inside, together with the splendid gifts on the cart. But, when they arrived at the hut of the son of Peleus, that lofty (hut) which the Myrmidons had built for their king by cutting down beams of pine-wood; and they roofed (it) from above with downy thatch gathered from a meadow; and around (it) they made for him, (who was) their king, a great courtyard with close-packed pales; and a single bar of pine-wood held the gate that three Achaeans would drive home, and three of the others would draw back the great latch of the door; but Achilles would drive it home even by himself; then, indeed, did Hermes the Helper open (the door) for the old man, and he brought in the glorious gifts for the swift-footed son of Peleus, and he stepped down to the ground from his chariot, and spoke (these words): "In truth, old man, I (who) have come (to you am) Hermes, an immortal god; for the Father attached me to you as a guide. But now, indeed, I will go back, and not go within the sight of Achilles; for it would be a cause for wrath that mortals should thus openly welcome an immortal god; but go you in and clasp the knees of the son of Peleus, and entreat him, by his father, and his fair-haired mother (i.e. Thetis), and his child (i.e. Neoptolemus), so that you may stir his heart." 

Ll. 468-506. Priam appeals to Achilles.

So spoke Hermes, and he departed to high Olympus; and Priam sprang to the ground from his chariot, and he left Idaeus there behind (him); and (there) he stayed, controlling the horses and the mules; and the old man went straight towards the house, where Achilles, dear to Zeus, was wont to sit; and there he found the man himself, but his companions sat apart from (him); and of these two only, the warrior Automedon and Alcimus, scion of Ares, were bustling about beside (him); and he had recently ceased eating meat and drinking; and yet the table stood at his side. Unnoticed by them, great Priam entered in, and, standing close to (him), he clasped Achilles' knees in his hands and kissed his hands, those terrible manslaying (hands) that had slain his many sons. And, as when sore blindness of heart comes over a man who has slain a man in his own country, and he has escaped to a land of strangers, and to (the house) of a man of substance, and amazement takes hold of (those) who look upon (him), so was Achilles seized with wonder when he beheld godlike Priam; and the others were also seized with wonder, and they looked from one to another. But Priam entreated him, and spoke these words to (him): "Remember your father, Achilles, like unto the gods (as he is), (he who is) even as old as I am, (and) on the deadly threshold of old age; now (those) who are dwelling around him may well be oppressing (him), nor is there anyone who can ward off (from him) rack and ruin. But, when he hears that you are alive, there is joy in his heart, and every day he has cause to hope that he shall see his dear son returning from Troy; but I am utterly bereft, since I begot the best of sons in the broad (land of) Troy, and yet I declare that not one of these is left (to me). Fifty I had when the sons of the Achaeans came; nineteen were (born) to me from one womb (i.e. that of Hecuba), and women in the palace bore me the others. Of these, many (as they were), furious Ares loosened their knees under (them); and (he) who alone was (left) to me, and he guarded the city and its men, him you have lately slain as he fought for his country, (namely) Hector; for his sake I have now come to the ships of the Achaeans, to get (him) back from you, and I bear (with me) a ransom past counting. But have respect for the gods, Achilles, and have pity on myself, remembering your own father; but I (am) far more piteous (than he), and have endured what no other mortal on the face of the earth has ever yet (endured), to stretch forth my hand to the face of the man that has slain my sons."  

Ll. 507-551. Achilles shows some sympathy for Priam. 

So he (i.e. Achilles) spoke, and in him he aroused a yearning to weep for his father; and he took the old man by the hand and pushed (him) back a little. And the two of them remembered (their dead), and one of them (i.e. Priam) wept sorely for manslaying Hector and grovelled at the feet of Achilles, but Achilles wept for his father, and then again for Patroclus; and the sound of their weeping went up through the house. But, when godlike Achilles had had his fill of lamenting, and the longing (to do so) had gone from his heart and from his limbs, he sprang forthwith from his chair and raised up the old man, and, (taking him) by the hand, and pitying his hoary head and his hoary chin, he spoke these winged words to him, saying: " Ah, (you) poor (man), many in truth (are) the evils you have endured in your heart. How have you taken it upon yourself to come alone to the ships of the Achaeans to (meet) the eyes of the man who has killed your many valiant sons? Your heart (must be made) of iron. But come now, sit down upon a seat and we will allow our sorrow to lie still in our hearts, despite our pain; for no good comes from chill weeping; for in such a way have the gods spun the threads of fate for wretched mortals, that they should live in pain; but they themselves are without sorrow. For two jars are laid upon the floor of Zeus, which provide (us) with gifts: (one holds) evil (things), and the other one good (things); to whomever Zeus, who delights in thunder, should give a mixed (portion), that (man) meets with evil at one time and with good at another; but to whomever he gives from the baneful (jar) he brings disgrace, and dreadful misery drives him in a frenzy over (the face of) the sacred earth, honoured neither by the gods nor by mortals. So from his birth did the gods give glorious gifts to Peleus; for he surpassed all men in happiness and wealth, and he was king over the Myrmidons, and to him, who was (but) a mortal they made a goddess (i.e. Thetis the Nereid) his wife. But even upon him a god brought evil, in that no offspring of princely sons was born to him in his halls, but he did beget one son, destined to an untimely end; nor may I look after him as he grows old, seeing that I abide (here) in Troy very far from my father, bearing down upon you and your children. But of you, old man, we hear that you were once blessed with good fortune: as much of the lands as Lesbos out to sea, the seat of Macar, and inland Phrygia, and the boundless Hellespont enclose within themselves, in these men say that you, old man, excelled, on account of your wealth and your sons. But (from the time) when the heavenly (gods) brought this bane upon you, ever around your city (there are) battles and slayings of men. Bear up, and do not wail unceasingly in your heart; for no good comes from grieving for your son, nor will you bring him back to life, before you suffer some other evil (i.e. you will die yourself)."      

Ll. 552-595. Achilles agrees to return Hector's body in exchange for the ransom. 

And then, the old man, godlike Priam, replied to him: "Do not now sit me on a chair, (O you) who are cherished by Zeus, so long as Hector lies uncared for among the huts, but release him as soon as possible, so that I may behold (him) with my eyes, and do you accept the great ransom that we bring you, and may you have enjoyment of it, and return to your own native land, since, from the first, you have allowed me to live and to see the light of the sun."

Then, looking askance at him, swift-footed Achilles spoke to (him): "Do not now provoke me any further, old man; I, even myself, am minded to give Hector back to you, for a messenger has come to me from Zeus, (namely) the mother who bore me (i.e. Thetis), the daughter of the old man of the sea (i.e. Nereus). And of you, Priam, I know in my heart, and you do not escape my notice, that one of the gods led you to the swift ships of the Achaeans. For no mortal, not even (one) of the very young, would dare to come to this camp; for he could neither escape the watchmen, nor readily thrust back the bolts of our doors. So, do not now stir my heart any more amid my sorrows, lest I do not spare even you, old man, within these huts, even though you are my suppliant, and I should sin against the commands of Zeus." 

So he (i.e. Achilles) spoke, and the old man was seized with fear, and took account of what he said. But the son of Peleus sprang forth from the door of the house like a lion, not alone, for two squires followed after him, the warrior Automedon and Alcimus, (those) of his comrades, whom Achilles especially honoured after Patroclus was dead; then they loosed the horses and mules from beneath the yoke, and they led inside the herald, the old man's summoner (i.e. Idaeus), and sat him down on a stool, and they took from the well-polished wagon the boundless ransom for the head of Hector. And they left behind two cloaks and a well-woven tunic, in order that he (i.e. Achilles) might enwrap the body (before) he gave (it to them) to carry home. Then, he (i.e. Achilles) summoned the handmaids and bade then wash and anoint (him) (i.e. Hector) all over, bearing (him to a place) apart, so that Priam might not see his son, lest, in grief of heart, he might not restrain his wrath when he saw his son, and Achilles' own heart might be stirred to anger, and he might slay him, and sin against the commandments of Zeus. So, when the handmaids had washed (him) and anointed (him) with olive-oil, and had cast a fine cloak and tunic around him, then Achilles himself lifted him up and set (him) upon a bier, and those comrades (who were) with (him) lifted (him) on to the wagon. Then, he let out a groan, and called upon his dear comrade by name, (saying): "Do not be angry with me, Patroclus, if you should hear, even when you are in the (house) of Hades, that I have given goodly Hector back to his father, seeing that he has given me a not unseemly ransom. And  of this I shall render unto you once more all that is due to you." 

Ll. 596-642. Achilles feeds Priam.

So he (i.e. Achilles) spoke, and godlike Achilles went back inside the hut, and he sat down on the richly decorated chair against the far wall, from which he had stood up, and spoke these words to Priam: "Your son has been returned, old man, just as you wished, and lies on a bier; and, when dawn shows her lights, you yourself shall behold (him), as you carry (him) away; but now let us think about supper. For even lovely-haired Niobe thought of food, although her twelve children had been killed in her house, six daughters and six sons in the vigour of youth (they were). In his anger with Niobe, Apollo slew the (sons) with his silver bow, and Artemis, who delights in arrows, (slew) the (daughters) because she (i.e. Niobe) would compare herself with fair-cheeked Leto, and said that she had borne two (children only), (i.e. Apollo and Artemis) whereas she herself had borne many; but those two, although there were but two of them, had destroyed (them) all.  For a period of nine days, they lay in their blood, nor was there anyone to bury (them), for the son of Cronos had turned the people into stones, but on the tenth (day) the heavenly gods did bury them. Then did she (i.e. Niobe) think of food, since she was weary of shedding tears. Now somewhere among the rocks on the lonely mountains, on Sipylus (i.e. a mountain in Phrygia), where (men) say are the couches of goddesses, of nymphs, who dance around Achelous (i.e. a river flowing from Mount Sipylus towards Smyrna), and, although she is there (but) a stone, she broods over her god-given woes. But come now, (you) noble old man, let the two of us think of food; thereafter, may you lament again over your dear son, when you have borne (him) to Ilium; and by you he shall be mourned with many tears."  

At this, swift Achilles sprang up and slaughtered a white-fleeced sheep, and his comrades flayed (it) and took very good care of (it), and cut (it) up skilfully into slices and stuck (them) on spits, and roasted (them) carefully, and drew (them) all off (the spits). And Automedon took bread and spread (it) on the table in fair baskets; and Achilles dealt out the meat. And they put out their hands to the good cheer lying ready before (them). But, when they had satisfied their desire for food and drink, then in truth did Priam, the descendant of Dardanus, marvel at (the sight of) Achilles, how tall and how handsome he was; for face to face he looked like the gods; and Achilles marvelled at Priam, the descendant of Dardanus, looking with admiration at his noble appearance and listening to his words. But, when they had enjoyed gazing at one another, the old man, godlike Priam, was the first to speak, (saying) to him: "Now put me to bed as quickly as possible. (O you who are) cherished by Zeus, so that lulled at last by sweet sleep, we may find contentment; for never yet have I closed my eyes beneath my eyelids, since the time when my son lost his life at your hands, but ever do I wail and brood over my countless woes, as I grovel in the filth in the enclosures of the courtyard. But now I have tasted meat, and have let flaming wine go down my throat; whereas beforehand I had tasted nothing."

Ll. 643-676. Having agreed that Hector's funeral rites should be performed, Achilles and his guests go to bed.

So he (i.e. Priam) spoke, and Achilles bade his companions and the handmaids put bedsteads beneath the portico, and lay fair purple blankets on (them) and spread coverlets on top of (them), and put cloaks on (them), to cover (them) from above with fleecy woollen clothing. And the (handmaids) went forth from the hall with torches in their hands, and straightway they made up two beds in quick and active haste. Then, swift-footed Achilles spoke to him (i.e. Priam) in a bantering voice: "Do you lay yourself down outside, (you) dear old man, lest there should come here one of those counsellors of the Achaeans, who ever sit by my side and discuss their plans with me, as is right and proper; if one of these should catch sight of you during the swift black night, forthwith he might inform Agamemnon, shepherd of the host, of (this), and a delay might arise in the release of the body. But come now, tell me this, and declare (it) precisely, how many days are you minded to spend on burying godlike Hector with due honours, so that I myself may abide for a while and keep back the host."

Then old man, godlike Priam, answered him, (saying): "Since you are really willing that I should arrange a funeral for mighty Hector, you would do me a favour, Achilles, if you would agree to (this). For you know how we are pent up withing the city, and that the wood is far to bring from the mountain, and that the Trojans are sore afraid. For a period of nine day we will wail for him in our houses, and on the tenth (day) we shall perform his funeral rites and the people will feast, and on the eleventh (day) we will build the grave-mound over him, and on the twelfth (day) we shall fight, if (it is) still a necessity."

Then, swift-footed godlike Achilles spoke to him again: "This, aged Priam, should also be just as you require (it); for I shall hold back the battle for as long a time as you demand."

When he had thus spoken, he clasped the old man's right hand by the wrist, lest he should be at all fearful in his heart. So they lay down there in the porch of the house, the herald (i.e. Idaeus) and Priam, with wise thoughts in their minds, but Achilles slept in the innermost part of the well-built hut; and the fair-cheeked Briseïs lay at his side. 

Ll. 677-706. Priam returns to Troy with the body of Hector, who is recognised by his sister Cassandra.

Now the other gods and the men who are furnished with horses slumbered all night long, overcome (as they were) by sweet sleep; but sleep did not take hold of the Helper Hermes, as he pondered in his mind how he might despatch king Priam past the ships unnoticed by the hallowed gate-keepers. And he stood over his head and spoke these words to him: "Now trouble is not a matter of concern to you at all. old man, (judging) by the way that you sleep among your foemen, since Achilles spared you. And now you have ransomed your son, and you gave a great price; but for your life those sons of yours left behind must give a ransom three times as great, if Agamemnon, the son of Atreus, should know of you, and all the Achaeans should know of (you)."

So he spoke, and the old man was struck with fear, and made the herald arise. And Hermes yoked the horses and mules for them, and he himself drove (them) swiftly through the camp, and no one was aware of (them). 

But, when they came to the ford of the fair-flowing river, the whirling Xanthus that immortal Zeus had made, then Hermes departed to high Olympus, and saffron-robed Dawn was spreading over the whole of the earth, and with wailing and groaning they drove the horses to the city, and the mules conveyed the corpse. And no one else among the men and the fair-girdled women was aware of (this) earlier, but Cassandra (i.e. the prophetic daughter of Priam and Hecuba), resembling golden Aphrodite (as she did), having gone up to Pergamum (i.e. the citadel of Troy), noticed her dear father, as he stood in his carriage, and the herald and city's crier; and she saw the (man) lying on the bier among the mules; then she shrieked and let out a cry across the whole of the city: "Come and see Hector, (you) men and women of Troy, if ever, while he lived, you rejoiced at his returning from battle, since he was a great (source of) joy to the city and all of its people."  

Ll. 707-745. Hector's wife, Andromache, laments his death. 

So she (i.e. Cassandra) spoke, nor was there any man left there within the city, nor any woman either; for unbearable grief had come upon (them) all; and near the gates they met Priam as he was bearing the body. Firstly, his dear wife (i.e. Andromache) and queenly mother (i.e. Hecuba) tore their hair and flung themselves upon the smooth-running wagon, while clutching his head; and the throng of people stood around and wept. And now all day long until the setting of the sun, they would have lamented Hector, while shedding tears in front of the gates, if the old man had not spoken to the people from his chariot, (saying): "Make way for my mules to pass through; and thereafter may you have your fill of weeping, when I have brought (him) to my house." 

So he spoke, and they drew apart and gave way to the wagon. And, when they brought (him) to the great house, then they laid him on a perforated bedstead (i.e. the woodwork of the beds was pierced with holes for the straps of the bedding), and set singers by his side, the leaders of the dirge who sang mournful songs while the women groaned in accompaniment. And among these, white-armed Andromache began to weep, while she held the head of manslaying Hector between her hands: "Husband, you have brought your life to an end, while young, and you have left me a widow in your halls; and your son, whom you and I bore in the most miserable circumstances, (is) still an infant, nor do I think that he shall reach manhood; for, before that, this city will be wasted from top to bottom; for (you, who) have watched over (it), have perished, that is (you) who did rescue it and keep safe its noble wives and little children. and these shall soon be conveyed by the hollow ships, and I among them; and you, my child (i.e. Astyanax) shall follow me (to a place) where you shall labour at unseemly tasks, toiling for an implacable master, or some Achaean shall seize you by the arm and hurl (you) from the wall, a woeful death (n.b. after the fall of Troy, Astyanax was thrown from the wall by Achilles' son, Neoptolemus), in his anger that Hector sometime slew his brother. or his father, or even his son, seeing that very many Achaeans have bitten (the dust of) the wide earth with their teeth (having fallen) at the hands of Hector. For your father was not gentle in woeful war; therefore are the people wailing for him throughout the city, and you have brought unspeakable sorrow and grief upon your parents (i.e. Priam and Hecuba), Hector; and on me especially have grievous woes been left. For, when you died, you did not stretch out your hands to me from your bed, nor did you say any words of wisdom to me, which I might always have recalled as I shed tears (for you) night and day.  

Ll. 746-775. Both Hecuba and Helen lament the death of Hector. 

So she spoke weeping, and the women lamented with (her). And among them Hecuba led the deep wailing: "Hector, far dearest to my heart of all my children, now, when you were alive, you were dear to the gods; and so they have taken care of you, even though you are in the lot of death. For of the other sons of mine swift-footed Achilles used to sell whomever he had taken beyond the barren sea to Samnos, and to Imbros, and to inhospitable Lemnos. But, when he had taken away your life with his long-pointed bronze, often would he drag (you) around the barrow of his comrade Patroclus, whom you did slay; but not even so could he raise him up. And now you lie dewy-fresh and undecomposed in my halls, like one, whom Apollo of the silver bow goes up to and slays with his gentle shafts."    

So she spoke wailing, and she aroused unabating lament. And, then, after them, Helen (was) the third to lead the lament: "Hector, far dearest to my heart of all my husband's brothers, for, in truth, my husband is godlike Alexander (i.e. Paris), (the man) who brought me to Troy; if only I had died first! For this is now the twentieth year (n.b. this timescale is an evident error, and may have occurred through a confusion with the twenty years' absence of Odysseus from Ithaca) from the time when I went from that place and departed from my native-land; but never yet have I heard an evil or a spiteful word from you; but if anyone else spoke reproachfully to me in these halls, a brother-in-law or a sister-in-law, or the fair-robed wife of a brother, or my mother-in-law - though my father-in-law (was) always kind like a (real) father - , yet you would restrain them by encouraging speech, and your gentleness and your mild words. Therefore, do I wail both for you and for my unhappy self, with grief at heart; for no longer (is there) any other (person)  in broad Troy (who is) gentle or kind, but everyone shudders at me." 

Ll. 776-803. The funeral rites of Hector are duly celebrated in Troy.

So she (i.e. Helen) spoke, and the countless people groaned at (this). But the old man Priam spoke among the people, (saying): "Now bring wood to the city, (you) men of Troy, nor do you have any (reason) to fear in your heart a cunning ambush by the Argives; for, in truth, Achilles, when he sent me from the black ships, so assured me that they will do us no harm, until the twelfth dawn should come."

So he (i.e. Priam) spoke, and they yoked oxen and mules to the wagons, and then they gathered speedily together before the city. For a period of nine days, they brought in an unspeakably great (amount of) wood; but, when the tenth dawn arose giving light unto mortals, then did they bring forth bold Hector, shedding tears (as they did so), and they laid his dead body on the top of the pyre, and cast fire upon (it). 

But, when rosy-fingered early Dawn appeared, then did the people gather around the pyre of famous  Hector. And, when they had assembled and met together, firstly they quenched the whole of the pyre with flaming wine, in so far as the might of the fire had come upon (it); and then his brothers and his comrades gathered the white bones while mourning, and big tears flowed down their cheeks. And they took the bones and placed (them) in a golden coffin, covering (them) with soft purple robes. And they quickly placed (it) in a hollow grave, and covered (it) over from above with great stones laid close together; then they hastily heaped up the mound, and watchmen were stationed around (it) on every side, lest the well-greaved Achaeans should set upon them before their time. And, after they had heaped up the barrow, they went back; and, when they had duly gathered together, they gave a glorious feast in the palace of Priam, the king (who was) cherished by Zeus.  

Thus did they hold the funeral of horse-taming Hector. 

                                            -------------------

Appendix. The 24 books of Homer's "Iliad" may be found on this blog in accordance with the following dates: 

I) 12 March 2010; II) 29 July 2019; III) 16 December 2012; IV) 10 September 2019; V) 12 December 2019); VI) 5 April 2012; VII) 17 March 2020; VIII) 11 July 2020; IX) 24 December 2020; X) 30 March 2021; XI) 29 October 2021; XII) 22 May 2022; XIII) 7 September 2022; XIV) 7 December 2022; XV) 23 May 2023; XVI) 8 September 2023, (plus extracts 30 August 2010); XVII) 13 October 2023; XVIII) 13 April 2024; XIX) 15 June 2024; XX) 23 October 2024; XXI) 23 January 2025; XXII) 27 March 2025; XXIII) 10 June 2025; and XXIV) 7 July 2025.