Homer (Lombardo, trans) - Iliad (Achilles) lyrics

1.1-261 Rage: Sing, Goddess, Achilles' rage, Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls Of heroes into Hades' dark, And left their bodies to rot as feasts 5 For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done. Begin with the clash between Agamemnon- The Greek warlord—and godlike Achilles. Which of the immortals set these two At each other's throats? 10 Apollo, Zeus' son and Leto's, offended By the warlord. Agamemnon had dishonored Chryses, Apollo's priest, so the god Struck the Greek camp with plague, 15 And the soldiers were dying of it. Chryses Had come to the Greek beachhead camp Hauling a fortune for his daughter's ransom. Displaying Apollo's sacral ribbons 20 On a golden staff, he made a formal plea To the entire Greek army, but especially The commanders, Atreus' two sons: “Sons of Atreus and Greek heroes all: May the gods on Olympus grant you plunder 25 Of Priam's city and a safe return home. But give me my daughter back and accept This ransom out of respect for Zeus' son, Lord Apollo, who deals d**h from afar.” A murmur rippled through the ranks: 30 “Respect the priest and take the ransom.” But Agamemnon was not pleased And dismissed Chryses with a rough speech: “Don't let me ever catch you, old man, by these ships again, Skulking around now or sneaking back later. 35 The god's staff and ribbons won't save you next time. The girl is mine, and she'll be an old woman in Argos Before I let her go, working the loom in my house And coming to my bed, far from her homeland. Now clear out of here before you make me angry!” 40 The old man was afraid and did as he was told. He walked in silence along the whispering surf line, And when he had gone some distance the priest Prayed to Lord Apollo, son of silken-haired Leto: “Hear me, Silverbow, Protector of Chryse, 45 Lord of Holy Cilia, Master of Tenedos, And Sminthian God of Plague! If ever I've built a temple that pleased you Or burnt fat thighbones of bulls and goats— Grant me this prayer: 50 Let the Danaans pay for my tears with your arrows!” Apollo heard his prayer and descended Olympus' crags Pulsing with fury, bow slung over one shoulder, The arrows rattling in their case on his back As the angry god moved like night down the mountain. 55 He settled near the ships and let loose an arrow. Reverberation from his silver bow hung in the air. He picked off the pack animals first, and the lean hounds, But then aimed his needle-tipped arrows at the men And shot until the d**h-fires crowded the beach. 60 Nine days the god's arrows rained d**h on the camp. On the tenth day Achilles called an a**embly. Hera, the white-armed goddess, planted the thought in him Because she cared for the Greeks and it pained her To see them dying. When the troops had all mustered, 65 Up stood the great runner Achilles, and said: “Well, Agamemnon, it looks as if we'd better give up And sail home—a**uming any of us are left alive— If we have to fight both the war and this plague. But why not consult some prophet or priest 70 Or a dream interpreter, since dreams too come from Zeus, Who could tell us why Apollo is so angry, If it's for a vow or a sacrifice he holds us at fault. Maybe he'd be willing to lift this plague from us If he savored the smoke from lambs and prime goats.” 75 Achilles had his say and sat down. Then up rose Calchas, son ofThestor, bird-reader supreme, Who knew what is, what will be, and what has been. He had guided the Greek ships to Troy Through the prophetic power Apollo 80 Had given him, and he spoke out now: “Achilles, beloved of Zeus, you want me to tell you About the rage of Lord Apollo, the Arch-Destroyer. And I will tell you. But you have to promise me and swear You will support me and protect me in word and deed. 85 I have a feeling I might offend a person of some authority Among the Greeks, and you know how it is when a king Is angry with an underling. He might swallow his temper For a day, but he holds it in his heart until later And it all comes out. Will you guarantee my security?” 90 Achilles, the great runner, responded: “Don't worry. Prophesy to the best of your knowledge. I swear by Apollo, to whom you pray when you reveal The gods' secrets to the Greeks, Calchas, that while I live And look upon this earth, no one will lay a hand 95 On you here beside these hollow ships, no, not even Agamemnon, who boasts he is the best of the Achaeans.” And Calchas, the perfect prophet, taking courage: “The god finds no fault with vow or sacrifice. It is for his priest, whom Agamemnon dishonored 100 And would not allow to ransom his daughter, That Apollo deals and will deal d**h from afar. He will not lift this foul plague from the Greeks Until we return the dancing-eyed girl to her father Unransomed, unbought, and make formal sacrifice 105 On Chryse. Only then might we appease the god.” He finished speaking and sat down. Then up rose Atreus' son, the warlord Agamemnon, Furious, anger like twin black thunderheads seething In his lungs, and his eyes flickered with fire 110 As he looked Calchas up and down, and said: “You damn soothsayer! You've never given me a good omen yet. You take some kind of perverse pleasure in prophesying Doom, don't you? Not a single favorable omen ever! 115 Nothing good ever happens! And now you stand here Uttering oracles before the Greeks, telling us That your great ballistic god is giving us all this trouble Because I was unwilling to accept the ransom For Chryses' daughter but preferred instead to keep her 120 In my tent! And why shouldn't I? I like her better than My wife Clytemnestra. She's no worse than her When it comes to looks, body, mind, or ability. Still, I'll give her back, if that's what's best. I don't want to see the army destroyed like this. 125 But I want another prize ready for me right away. I'm not going to be the only Greek without a prize, It wouldn't be right. And you all see where mine is going.” And Achilles, strong, swift, and godlike: “And where do you think, son of Atreus, 130 You greedy glory-hound, the magnanimous Greeks Are going to get another prize for you? Do you think we have some kind of stockpile in reserve? Every town in the area has been sacked and the stuff all divided. You want the men to count it all back and redistribute it? 135 All right, you give the girl back to the god. The army Will repay you three and four times over—when and if Zeus allows us to rip Troy down to its foundations.” The warlord Agamemnon responded: “You may be a good man in a fight, Achilles, 140 And look like a god, but don't try to put one over on me— It won't work. So while you have your prize, You want me to sit tight and do without? Give the girl back, just like that? Now maybe If the army, in a generous spirit, voted me 145 Some suitable prize of their own choice, something fair— But if it doesn't, I'll just go take something myself, Your prize perhaps, or Ajax's, or Odysseus', And whoever she belongs to, it'll stick in his throat. But we can think about that later. 150 Right now we launch A black ship on the bright salt water, get a crew aboard, Load on a hundred bulls, and have Chryseis board her too, My girl with her lovely cheeks. And we'll want a good man For captain, Ajax or Idomeneus or godlike Odysseus— 155 Or maybe you, son of Peleus, our most formidable hero— To offer sacrifice and appease the Arch-Destroyer for us.” Achilles looked him up and down and said: “You sorry, profiteering excuse for a commander! How are you going to get any Greek warrior 160 To follow you into battle again? You know, I don't have any quarrel with the Trojans, They didn't do anything to meto make me Come over here and fight, didn't run off my cattle or horses Or ruin myfarmland back home in Phthia, not with all 165 The shadowy mountains and moaning seas between. It's for you,dogface, for your precious pleasure— And Menelaus' honor—that we came here, A fact you don't have the decency even to mention! And now you're threatening to take away the prize 170 That I sweated for and the Greeks gave me. I never get a prize equal to yours when the army Captures one of the Trojan strongholds. No, I do all the dirty work with my own hands, And when the battle's over and we divide the loot 175 You get the lion's share and I go back to the ships With some pitiful little thing, so worn out from fighting I don't have the strength left even to complain. Well, I'm going back to Phthia now. Far better To head home with my curved ships than stay here, 180 Unhonored myself and piling up a fortune for you.” The warlord Agamemnon responded: “Go ahead and desert, if that's what you want! I'm not going to beg you to stay. There are plenty of others Who will honor me, not least of all Zeus the Counselor. 185 To me, you're the most hateful king under heaven, A born troublemaker. You actually like fighting and war. If you're all that strong, it's just a gift from some god. So why don't you go home with your ships and lord it over Your precious Myrmidons. I couldn't care less about you 190 Or your famous temper. But I'll tell you this: Since Phoebus Apollo is taking away my Chryseis, Whom I'm sending back aboard ship with my friends, I'm coming to your hut and taking Briséis, Your own beautiful prize, so that you will see just how much 195 Stronger I am than you, and the next person will wince At the thought of opposing me as an equal.” Achilles' chest was a rough knot of pain Twisting around his heart: should he Draw the sharp sword that hung by his thigh, 200 Scatter the ranks and gut Agamemnon, Or control his temper, repress his rage? He was mulling it over, inching the great sword From its sheath, when out of the blue Athena came, sent by the white-armed goddess 205 Hera, who loved and watched over both men. She stood behind Achilles and grabbed his sandy hair, Visible only to him: not another soul saw her. Awestruck, Achilles turned around, recognizing Pallas Athena at once—it was her eyes— 210 And words flew from his mouth like winging birds: “Daughter of Zeus! Why have you come here? To see Agamemnon's arrogance, no doubt. I'll tell you where I place my bets, Goddess: Sudden d**h for this outrageous behavior.” 215 Athena's eyes glared through the sea's salt haze. “I came to see if I could check this temper of yours, Sent from heaven by the white-armed goddess Hera, who loves and watches over both of you men. Now come on, drop this quarrel, don't draw your sword. 220 Tell him off instead. And I'll tell you, Achilles, how things will be: You're going to get Three times as many magnificent gifts Because of his arrogance. Just listen to us and be patient.” Achilles, the great runner, responded: 225 “When you two speak, Goddess, a man has to listen No matter how angry. It's better that way. Obey the gods and they hear you when you pray.” With that he ground his heavy hand Onto the silver hilt and pushed the great sword 230 Back into its sheath. Athena's speech Had been well-timed. She was on her way To Olympus by now, to the halls of Zeus And the other immortals, while Achilles Tore into Agamemnon again: 235 “You bloated drunk, With a dog's eyes and a rabbit's heart! You've never had the guts to buckle on armor in battle Or come out with the best fighting Greeks On any campaign! Afraid to look d**h in the eye, 240 Agamemnon? It's far more profitable To hang back in the army's rear—isn't it?— Confiscating prizes from any Greek who talks back And bleeding your people dry. There's not a real man Under your command, or this latest atrocity 245 Would be your last, son of Atreus. Now get this straight. I swear a formal oath: By this scepter, which will never sprout leaf Or branch again since it was cut from its stock In the mountains, which will bloom no more 250 Now that bronze has pared off leaf and bark, And which now the sons of the Greeks hold in their hands At council, upholding Zeus' laws— By this scepter I swear: When every last Greek desperately misses Achilles, 255 Your remorse won't do any good then, When Hector the man-k**er swats you down like flies. And you will eat your heart out Because you failed to honor the best Greek of all.” Those were his words, and he slammed the scepter, 260 Studded with gold, to the ground and sat down. 18.1-146 The fight went on, like wildfire burning. Antilochus, running hard like a herald, Found Achilles close to his upswept hulls, His great heart brooding with premonitions Of what had indeed already happened. 5 “This looks bad, All these Greeks with their hair in the wind Stampeding off the plain and back to the ships. God forbid that what my mother told me Has now come true, that while I'm still alive 10 Trojan hands would steal the sunlight From the best of all the Myrmidons. Patroclus, Menoetius' brave son, is dead. Damn him! I told him only to repel The enemy fire from our ships, 15 And not to take on Hector in a fight.” Antilochus was in tears when he reached him And delivered his unendurable message: “Son of wise Peleus, this is painful news For you to hear, and I wish it were not true. 20 Patroclus is down, and they are fighting For his naked corpse. Hector has the armor.” A mist of black grief enveloped Achilles. He scooped up fistfuls of sunburnt dust And poured it on his head, fouling 25 His beautiful face. Black ash grimed His finespun cloak as he stretched his huge body Out in the dust and lay there, Tearing out his hair with his hands. The women, whom Achilles and Patroclus 30 Had taken in raids, ran shrieking out of the tent To be with Achilles, and they beat their breasts Until their knees gave out beneath them. Antilochus, sobbing himself, stayed with Achilles And held his hands—he was groaning 35 From the depths of his soul—for fear He would lay open his own throat with steel. The sound of Achilles' grief stung the air. Down in the water his mother heard him, Sitting in the sea-depths beside her old father, And she began to wail. 40 And the saltwater women Gathered around her, all the deep-sea Nereids, Glaucê and Thaleia and Cymodocê, Neseia and Speio, Thoê and ox-eyed Halié, 45 Cymothoê, Actaeê, and Limnoeira, Melite and Iaera, Amphithoê and Agauê, Doris, Panopê, and milk-white Galateia, Nemertes, Apseudes, and Calliana**a, Clymenê, Ianeira, Iana**a, and Maera, 50 Oreithyia and Amatheia, hair streaming behind her, And all of the other deep-sea Nereids. They filled the silver, shimmering cave, And they all beat their breasts. Thetis led the lament: 55 “Hear me, sisters, hear the pain in my heart. I gave birth to a son, and that is my sorrow, My perfect son, the best of heroes. He grew like a sapling, and I nursed him As I would a plant on the hill in my garden, 60 And I sent him to Ilion on a sailing ship To fight the Trojans. And now I will never Welcome him home again to Peleus' house. As long as he lives and sees the sunlight He will be in pain, and I cannot help him. 65 But I'll go now to see and hear my dear son, Since he is suffering while he waits out the war.” She left the cave, and they went with her, Weeping, and around them a wave Broke through the sea, and they came to Troy. 70 They emerged on the beach where the Myrmidons' ships Formed an encampment around Achilles. He was groaning deeply, and his mother Stood next to him and held her son's head. Her lamentation hung sharp in the air, 75 And then she spoke in low, sorrowful tones: “Child, why are you crying? What pain Has come to your heart? Speak, don't hide it. Zeus has granted your prayer. The Greeks Have all been beaten back to their ships 80 And suffered horribly. They can't do without you.” Achilles answered her: “Mother, Zeus may have done all this for me, But how can I rejoice? My friend is dead, Patroclus, my dearest friend of all. I loved him, 85 And I k**ed him. And the armor— Hector cut him down and took off his body The heavy, splendid armor, beautiful to see, That the gods gave to Peleus as a gift On the day they put you to bed with a mortal. 90 You should have stayed with the 'saltwater women, And Peleus should have married a mortal. But now—it was all so you would suffer pain For your ravaged son. You will never again Welcome me home, since I no longer have the will 95 To remain alive among men, not unless Hector Loses his life on the point of my spear And pays for despoiling Menoetius' son.” And Thetis, in tears, said to him: “I won't have you with me for long, my child, 100 If you say such things. Hector's d**h means yours.” From under a great weight, Achilles answered: “Then let me die now. I was no help To him when he was k**ed out there. He died Far from home, and he needed me to protect him. 105 But now, since I'm not going home, and wasn't A light for Patroclus or any of the rest Of my friends who have been beaten by Hector, But just squatted by my ships, a dead weight on the earth ... I stand alone in the whole Greek army 110 When it comes to war—though some do speak better. I wish all strife could stop, among gods And among men, and anger too—it sends Sensible men into fits of temper, It drips down our throats sweeter than honey 115 And mushrooms up in our bellies like smoke. Yes, the warlord Agamemnon angered me. But we'll let that be, no matter how it hurts, And conquer our pride, because we must. But I'm going now to find the man who destroyed 120 My beloved—Hector. As for my own fate, I'll accept it whenever it pleases Zeus And the other immortal gods to send it. Not even Heracles could escape his doom. 125 He was dearest of all to Lord Zeus, but fate And Hera's hard anger destroyed him. If it is true that I have a fate like his, then I too Will lie down in d**h. But now to win glory 130 And make some Trojan woman or deep-breasted Dardanian matron wipe the tears From her soft cheeks, make her sob and groan. Let them feel how long I've been out of the war. Don't try, out of love, to stop me. I won't listen.” 135 And Thetis, her feet silver on the sand: “Yes, child. It's not wrong to save your friends When they are beaten to the brink of d**h. But your beautiful armor is in the hands of the Trojans, The mirrored bronze. Hector himself 140 Has it on his shoulders. He glories in it. Not for long, though. I see his d**h is near. But you, don't dive into the red dust of war Until with your own eyes you see me returning. Tomorrow I will come with the rising sun 145 Bearing beautiful armor from Lord Hephaestus." 24.497-643 And with that Hermes left and returned Tо high Olympus. Priam jumped down And left Idaeus to hold the horses and mules. The old man went straight to the house 500 Where Achilles, dear to Zeus, sat and waited. He found him inside. His companions sat Apart from him, and a solitary pair, Automedon and Alcimus, warriors both, Were busy at his side. He had just finished 505 His evening meal. The table was still set up. Great Priam entered unnoticed. He stood Close to Achilles, and touching his knees, He kissed thе dread and murderous hands That had k**ed so many of his sons. 510 Pa**ion sometimes blinds a man so completely That he k**s one of his own countrymen. In exile, he comes into a wealthy house, And everyone stares at him with wonder. So Achilles stared in wonder at Priam. 515 Was he a god? And the others there stared And wondered and looked at each оther. But Priam spoke, a prayer of entreaty: “Remember your father, godlike Achilles. 520 He and I both are on the doorstep Of old age. He may well be now Surrounded by enemies wearing him down And have no one to protect him from harm. But when he hears that you are still alive 525 And his heart rejoices, and he hopes all his days To see his dear son come back from Troy. But what is left for me? I had the finest sons In all wide Troy, and not one of them is left. Fifty I had when the Greeks came over, 530 Nineteen out of one belly, and the rest The women in my house bore to me. It doesn't matter how many they were, The god of war has cut them down at thе knees. And the only one who could save the city 535 You've just now k**ed as he fought for his country, My Hector. It is for him I have come to the Greek ships, To get him back from you. I've brought A fortune in ransom. Respect the gods, Achilles. Think of your own father, and pity me. 540 I am more pitiable. I have borne what no man Who has walked this еаrth has ever yet borne. I have kissed the hand of the man who k**ed my son.” He spoke, and sorrow for his own father Welled up in Achilles. He took Priam's hand 545 And gently pushed the old man away. The two of them remembered. Priam, Huddled in grief at Achilles' feet, cried And moaned softly for his man-slaying Hector. And Achilles cried for his father and 550 For Patroclus. The sound filled the room. When Achilles had his fill of grief And the aching sorrow left his heart, He rose from his chair and lifted the old man By his hand, pitying his white hair and beard. 555 And his words enfolded him like wings: “Ah, the suffering you've had, and the courage. To come here alone to the Greek ships And meet my eye, the man who slaughtered Your many fine sons! You have a heart of iron. 560 But come, sit on this chair. Let our pain Lie at rest a while, no matter how much we hurt. There's nothing to be gained from cold grief. Yes, the gods have woven pain into mortal lives, While they are free from care. 565 Two jars Sit at the doorstep of Zeus, filled with gifts That he gives, one full of good things, The other of evil. If Zeus gives a man A mixture from both jars, sometimes 570 Life is good for him, sometimes not. But if all he gives you is from the jar of woe, You become a pariah, and hunger drives you Over the bright earth, dishonored by gods and men. Now take Peleus. The gods gave him splendid gifts 575 From the day he was born. He was the happiest And richest man on earth, king of the Myrmidons, And although he was a mortal, the gods gave him An immortal goddess to be his wife. But even to Peleus the god gave some evil: 580 He would not leave offspring to succeed him in power, Just one child, all out of season. I can't be with him To take care of him now that he's old, since I'm far From my fatherland, squatting here in Troy, Tormenting you and your children. And you, old sir, 585 We hear that you were prosperous once. From Lesbos down south clear over to Phrygia And up to the Hellespont's boundary, No one could match you in wealth or in sons. But then the gods have brought you trouble, 590 This constant fighting and k**ing around your town. You must endure this grief and not constantly grieve. You will not gain anything by torturing yourself Over the good son you lost, not bring him back. Sooner you will suffer some other sorrow.” 595 And Priam, old and godlike, answered him: “Don't sit me in a chair, prince, while Hector Lies uncared for in your hut. Deliver him now So I can see him with my own eyes, and you— Take all this ransom we bring, take pleasure in it, 600 And go back home to your own fatherland, Since you've taken this first step and allowed me To live and see the light of day.” Achilles glowered at him and said: “Don't provoke me, old man. It's my own decision 605 To release Hector to you. A messenger came to me From Zeus—my own natural mother, Daughter of the old sea god. And I know you, Priam, inside out. You don't fool me one bit. Some god escorted you to the Greek ships. 610 No mortal would have dared come into our camp, Not even your best young hero. He couldn't have Gotten past the guards or muscled open the gate. So just stop stirring up grief in my heart, Or I might not let you out of here alive, old man— 615 Suppliant though you are—and sin against Zeus.” The old man was afraid and did as he was told. The son of Peleus leapt out the door like a lion. Followed by Automedon and Alcimus, whom Achilles Honored most now that Patroclus was dead. 620 They unyoked the horses and mules, and led The old man's herald inside and seated him on a chair. Then they unloaded from the strong-wheeled cart The endless ransom that was Hector's blood price, Leaving behind two robes and a finespun tunic 625 For the body to be wrapped in and brought inside. Achilles called the women and ordered them To wash the body well and anoint it with oil, Removing it first for fear that Priam might see his son And in his grief be unable to control his anger 630 At the sight of his child, and that this would arouse Achilles' pa**ion and he would k** the old man And so sin against the commandments of Zeus. After the female slaves had bathed Hector's body And anointed it with olive, they wrapped it 'round 635 With a beautiful robe and tunic, and Achilles himself Lifted him up and placed him on a pallet And with his friends raised it onto the polished cart. Then he groaned and called out to Patroclus: “Don't be angry with me, dear friend, if somehow 640 You find out, even in Hades, that I have released Hector to his father. He paid a handsome price, And I will share it with you, as much as is right.