Book XIX

The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon

Thetis brings to Achilles the armor forged by Vulcan⁠—The body of Patroclus preserved by the gods from corruption⁠—An assembly of all the army, before whom Agamemnon and Achilles make speeches, and renounce their enmity⁠—Briseis restored to Achilles, and the presents of Agamemnon accepted by him⁠—Lament of Briseis over Patroclus⁠—Sorrow of Achilles⁠—He arms himself for the war⁠—His speech to the horses of Patroclus whom he upbraids for having suffered their master to be slain⁠—The answer of one of them named Xanthus, warning Achilles of his approaching death.

In saffron-colored mantle from the tides

Of Ocean rose the Morning to bring light

To gods and men, when Thetis reached the fleet,

Bringing the gift of Vulcan. There she found

Her son, who, bending o’er Patroclus, wept

Aloud, and all around a troop of friends

Lamented bitterly. Beside him stood

The glorious goddess, took his hand, and said:⁠—

“Leave we the dead, my son, since it hath pleased

The gods that he should fall; and now receive

This sumptuous armor, forged by Vulcan’s hand,

Beautiful, such as no man ever wore.”

The goddess spake, and laid the armor down

Before Achilles; as they touched the earth,

The well-wrought pieces clanked, and terror seized

The Myrmidons. No one among them all

Dared fix his gaze upon them; all shrank back.

Achilles only, as he saw them, felt

His spirit roused within him. In his eyes

A terrible brightness flashed, as if of fire.

He lifted up the god’s magnificent gift

Rejoicing, and, when long his eyes had dwelt

Delighted on the marvellous workmanship,

Thus to his mother said, in wingèd words:⁠—

“A god indeed, my mother, must have given

These arms, the work of heavenly hands: no man

Could forge them. Now I arm myself for war.

But for the valiant Menoetiades

I greatly fear that flies will gather round

The wounds inflicted by the spear, and worms

Be bred within them, to pollute the corpse

Now that the life is gone, and taint the whole.”

And silver-footed Thetis answered thus:

“Son, have no care for that. The task be mine

To drive away the importunate swarm that feed

On heroes slain in battle. Though it lie

The whole year long, the body shall remain

Even more than uncorrupted. Call thou now

To council all the Achaian chiefs; renounce

Thy feud with Agamemnon, king of men,

And arm for war, and put on all thy might.”

She spake, and called a fiery courage up

Within the hero’s breast. The goddess then

Infused ambrosia and the ruddy juice

Of nectar through the nostrils of the dead

Into the frame, to keep it from decay.

Along the beach the great Achilles went,

Calling with mighty shouts the Grecian chiefs.

Then even they who till that day remained

Beside the fleet⁠—the pilots and the men

Who held the helm, the stewards of the ships,

And the purveyors⁠—all made haste to swell

The assembly, for they knew that he who long

Had borne no part in the disastrous war

Had now come forth. Two ministers of Mars,

The brave Tydides and the nobly born

Ulysses, both supported by their spears,

Came halting, for their wounds were painful yet;

They came and sat among the foremost chiefs.

And last came Agamemnon, king of men,

Wounded, for he had felt in thick of fight

The edge of the sharp spear which Coön bore,

Antenor’s son. Now when the Greeks were all

Assembled, swift Achilles rose and said:⁠—

“Atrides, of a truth it would have been

Better for both of us had we done this

At first, though sorely angered, when we strove

For a girl’s sake so fiercely. Would that she

Had perished in my ships, by Dian’s shaft,

The day on which I laid Lyrnessus waste!

So many Greeks would then have not been forced,

Slain by the enemy’s hand, to bite the dust

Of the great earth, while I was brooding o’er

My wrath. All that was for the good of Troy

And Hector; but the Greeks, I think, will long

Remember our contention. Let us leave

These things among the things that were, and, though

They make us grieve, let us subdue our minds

To what the time requires. Here then my wrath

Shall end; it is not meet that it should burn

Forever. Hasten thou and rouse to war

The long-haired Greeks, that I may yet again

Go forth among the men of Troy, and learn

If they design to encamp another night

Before the fleet. There is among them all

No man, I ween, who will not joyfully

Sit down when he escapes my deadly spear.”

He ended, and the Achaians all rejoiced

To hear the brave Pelides thus renounce

His anger. Agamemnon, king of men,

Then rose. He came not forth into the midst,

But stood beside his seat, and thus he spake:⁠—

“O friends, Achaian heroes, ministers

Of Mars! Whoever rises up to speak

’Tis well to hear him through, and not break in

Upon his speech, else is the most expert

Confounded. Who amid a clamorous throng

Can listen or can speak? The orator

Of clearest voice must utter it in vain.

Now I address Pelides; for the rest,

Hearken ye all, and ponder what I say.

The Greeks speak often of this feud, and cast

The blame on me. Yet was I not the cause,

But Jupiter and Fate, and she who walks

In darkness, dread Erynnis. It was they

Who filled my mind with fury in the hour

When from Achilles I bore off his prize.

What could I do? A deity prevails

In all things, Atè, mighty to destroy,

Daughter of Jove, and held in awe by all.

Delicate are her feet; she never comes

Near to the ground, but glides above the heads

Of men, to do them harm, and in her net

Entangles one at least of two who strive.

Jove, deemed the mightiest among men and gods,

Once felt her power of mischief. Him his spouse,

Juno, entrapped by cunning, when within

The massive walls of Thebes Alcmena lay

In childbed, and the mighty Hercules

Was near his birth. For Jupiter had said

Boastfully to the immortals: ‘Hear, ye gods

And goddesses, what I am moved to speak:

This day shall Ilithyia, who presides

At births, bring into light a prince whose rule

The neighboring tribes shall own; he shall be one

Who bears the blood of my illustrious race.’

“Imperial Juno thus, with words of guile,

Made answer: ‘What thou sayest will prove false,

Nor wilt thou keep thy word. Now swear to me,

Olympius, with the irrevocable oath,

That whosoever of thy race shall fall

This day between a woman’s feet shall bear

The rule o’er all the neighboring tribes.’ She spake,

And Jove, perceiving not her craft, complied,

And took the mighty oath, but afterward

Found himself wronged. For Juno, darting forth,

Shot from the Olympian summit, and at once

Alighted at Achaian Argos. There

She found the noble wife of Sthenelus,

The son of Perseus, pregnant with a son,

In the seventh month. She caused him to be born,

The number of his months yet incomplete,

And kept Alcmena’s hour of childbirth back,

And stayed her pangs. The goddess then made haste

To bear the tidings to Saturnian Jove.

“ ‘O Father Jupiter, by whom are hurled

The ruddy lightnings, I have news for thee.

A man-child of a generous stock is born⁠—

Eurystheus, whom the Argives shall obey⁠—

Born at this hour to Sthenelus, the son

Of Perseus, who is thine. And well it is

That such a prince should rule the Argive race.’

“She ended: Jupiter was deeply grieved,

And, seizing Atè by her shining locks,

In his great wrath, he swore a mighty oath⁠—

That Atè, whose delight it is to bring

Mischief to all, should never tread again

Olympus and the starry floor of heaven.

Thus having sworn, he swung her, with raised arm,

On high, and hurled her from the starry heaven

Downward, where soon she reached the haunts of men;

Yet oft in after time because of her

He sighed, beholding his beloved son

Doomed by Eurystheus to unworthy tasks.

So I, while crested Hector in his might

Made havoc at our fleet among the Greeks

Even by their prows, remembered well my fault.

And now since I have borne the penalty,

And Jupiter it was who took away

My reason, I would gladly make amends

With liberal gifts. But rise and join the war;

Inflame the courage of the rest; the gifts

Will I supply⁠—all that were promised thee

When nobly born Ulysses yesterday

Went to thy tents. Or, if it please thee, wait,

Though armed for battle, and my train shall bring

The treasures from my ship, that thou mayst see

My presents are peace-offerings indeed.”

The swift of foot, Achilles, answered thus:

“Most glorious son of Atreus, king of men!

Whether, O Agamemnon, thou wilt give

Gifts, as is meet, or keep them, rests with thee.

Now let us think of war; it is not well

To waste the hour in talking, and put off

The mighty work that we have yet to do.

Let every Greek among you, as he sees

Achilles fighting in the foremost ranks,

And slaughtering the Trojan phalanxes,

Take heart and boldly combat with his man.”

And then Ulysses, wise in council, spake,

Answering Achilles: “Nay, thou shouldst not thus,

Brave as thou art, lead on the sons of Greece,

Yet fasting, to the conflict with the men

Of Troy beside their city. No brief space

The struggle will endure when once the foes

Rush on each other, and a god inspires

Both hosts with fury. Bid the Achaians take

In their swift galleys food and wine; in these

Are force and vigor. No man can endure

To combat all the day till set of sun,

Save with the aid of food, however great

The promptings of his valor; for his limbs

Grow heavy, thirst and hunger weaken him,

And his knees fail him as he walks. Not so

The warrior well supplied with food and wine:

He fights the foe all day; a resolute heart

Is in his bosom; nor does weariness

O’ertake him till all others leave the field.

Now let the people be dismissed awhile,

And a repast be ordered. Let the king,

Atrides, bring to the assembly here

His gifts, that all the Greeks may look on them,

And thou rejoice to see them. Let him rise

Among the Greeks, and take a solemn oath

That he has ne’er approached the maiden’s bed

To claim a husband’s right. Thus let thy heart

Be satisfied. Yet let the monarch spread

A sumptuous banquet in his tent for thee,

That thy redress may be complete. And thou,

Atrides, wilt hereafter be more just

To others. It dishonors not a king

To make amends to one whom he has wronged.”

And then King Agamemnon spake in turn:

“Son of Laertes, gladly have I heard

What thou hast said, and well hast thou discoursed

Of all things in their order. I will take

The oath of which thou speakest⁠—so my heart

Commands me. In the presence of a god

I take it, and commit no perjury.

Now let Achilles, though he longs for war,

Delay awhile; and all assembled here,

Remain ye on the ground till from my ship

The gifts are brought. This charge and this command

I give to thee, Ulysses. Take with thee

A band of youths, the noblest of the host,

And bring the presents promised yesterday

To Peleus’ son, and hither let them lead

The women. Meantime let Talthybius haste

To bring from our broad camp a boar, which I

Will offer up to Jove and to the Sun.”

The swift of foot, Achilles, thus replied:

“Most glorious son of Atreus, king of men,

These things are for the time when there shall come

A pause from battle, and this warlike heat

Within my breast shall cool. They whom the spear

Of Hector, son of Priam, has o’ercome

Lie mangled on the earth, since Jupiter

Awarded him the glory of the day:⁠—

And ye propose a banquet. I would call

The sons of Greece to rush into the war

Unfed and fasting, and when this disgrace

Shall be avenged, I would, at sunset, spread

A liberal feast. Be sure that I, till then,

Taste neither food nor drink, while my slain friend

Lies gashed with weapons in my tent, amidst

His sorrowing comrades. Little I regard

The things of which thou speakest, for my thoughts

Are all of bloodshed and of dying groans.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, thus rejoined:

“Achilles, son of Peleus, bravest far

Of all the Achaians, mightier with the spear

By no small odds than I, yet do I stand

In prudence much above thee; I have lived

More years, and more have learned. Let then thy mind

Accept what I shall say. Men soon become

Weary of warfare, even when the sword

Lays its most ample harvest on the earth.

But fewer sheaves are reaped when Jupiter,

The arbiter of battles, turns the scale.

It is not well that we of Greece should mourn

The dead with fasting, since from day to day

Our warriors fall in numbers. Where were then

Respite from daily fasts? Lay we our slain

In earth and mourn a day. We who outlive

The cruel combat should refresh ourselves

With food and wine, that we may steadily

Maintain in arms the conflict with the foe.

And then let no man idly wait to hear

A further call to war⁠—for it will come

Freighted with evil to the man who skulks

Among the ships⁠—but let us all go forth

To wage fierce battle with the knights of Troy.”

He spake, and summoned to his side the sons

Of glorious Nestor, and Meriones,

And Meges, son of Phyleus, and with them

Thoas, and Lycomedes, Creon’s son,

And Melanippus. Straight they took their way

To Agamemnon’s tent, and there their task

Was done as quickly as the word was given.

They brought seven tripods forth, the promised gifts,

And twenty burnished cauldrons, and twelve steeds,

And led away seven graceful women trained

In household arts⁠—the maid with rosy cheeks,

Briseis, was the eighth. Ulysses came,

Leading the way, and bearing, duly weighed,

Ten talents, all of gold. The Achaian youths

Followed, and placed the presents in the midst

Of that assembly. Agamemnon rose;

And then Talthybius, who was like a god

In power of voice, came near and took his place

Beside the monarch, holding in his hands

A boar. The son of Atreus drew a knife,

Which hung by the great scabbard of his sword,

And, cutting off the forelock of the boar,

Prayed with uplifted hands to Jupiter:

Meantime the Greeks in silence kept their seats,

And, as became them, listened to the king,

Who looked into the sky above, and said:⁠—

“Now first bear witness, Jove, of all the gods

Greatest and best, and also Earth and Sun,

And Furies dwelling under Earth, who take

Vengeance on men forsworn, that never I

Have laid, for purpose of unchaste desire,

Or other cause, my hand upon the maid

Briseis. She hath dwelt inviolate

Within my tents. If yet in aught I say

Lurk perjury, then may the blessed gods

Heap on my head the many miseries

With which they punish those who falsely swear!”

He spake, and drew the unrelenting blade

Across the animal’s throat. Talthybius took

And swung the carcass round, and cast it forth

Into the gray sea’s depths, to be the food

Of fishes. Then again Achilles rose

Among the warlike sons of Greece, and said:⁠—

“Great sorrows thou dost send, O Father Jove!

Upon mankind; for never would the son

Of Atreus have provoked the wrath that burned

Within my bosom, never would have thought

To bear away the maiden from my tent

In spite of me, had it not been the will

Of Jupiter that many a Greek should die.

But banquet now, and then prepare for war.”

So spake Achilles, and at once dissolved

The assembly, each repairing to his ship

Save the large-hearted Myrmidons, who still

Were busy with the gifts, and carried them

Toward their great general’s galley. These they laid

Carefully in the tents, and seated there

The women, while the attentive followers drave

The coursers to the stables. When the maid

Briseis, beautiful as Venus, saw

Patroclus lying gashed with wounds, she sprang

And threw herself upon the dead, and tore

Her bosom, her fair cheeks and delicate neck;

And thus the graceful maiden, weeping, said:⁠—

“Patroclus, dear to my unhappy heart!

I left thee in full life, when from this tent

They led me; I return and find thee dead,

O chieftain of the people! Thus it is

That sorrow upon sorrow is my lot.

Him to whose arms my father, in my youth,

And gracious mother gave me as a bride,

I saw before our city pierced and slain,

And the three brothers whom my mother bore

Slain also⁠—brothers whom I dearly loved.

Yet thou, when swift Achilles struck to earth

My hapless husband, and laid waste the town

Of godlike Mynes, wouldst not suffer me

To weep despairingly; for thou didst give

Thy word to make me yet the wedded wife

Of great Achilles, bear me in the fleet

To Phthia, and prepare the wedding feast

Among the Myrmidons. O ever kind!

I mourn thy death, and cannot be consoled.”

Weeping she spake; the women wept with her

Seemingly for the dead, but each, in truth,

For her own griefs. Meanwhile the elders came

Around Achilles, praying him to join

The banquet, but the chief, with sighs, refused.

“Dear comrades, if ye love me, do not thus

Press me to sit and feast. A mighty woe

Weighs down my spirit; it is my resolve

To wait and bear until the setting sun.”

So saying, he dismissed the other kings.

The sons of Atreus, and the high-born chief

Ulysses, Nestor, and Idomeneus,

And Phoenix, aged knight, alone remained,

And anxiously they sought to comfort him

In his great grief; but comfort would he none

Ere entering the red jaws of war. He drew

Deep sighs, and, thinking on Patroclus, spake:

“The time has been when thou too, hapless one,

Dearest of all my comrades, wouldst have spread

With diligent speed before me in my tent

A genial banquet, while the Greeks prepared

For desperate battle with the knights of Troy.

Thou liest now a mangled corse, and I,

Through grief for thee, refrain from food and drink,

Though they are near. No worse calamity

Could light on me, not even should I hear

News of my father’s death, who haply now

Tenderly mourns with tears his absent son

In Phthia, while upon a foreign coast

I wage for hated Helen’s sake the war

Against the Trojans; or were I to hear

Tidings that my beloved son had died,

The noble Neoptolemus, who now,

If living, is in Scyros, growing up

To manhood. Once the hope was in my heart

That I alone should perish here at Troy,

Far from the Argive pastures full of steeds,

And thou return to Phthia and bring home

My son from Scyros in thy ship, and show

The youth my wealth, my servants, and my halls,

High-roofed and spacious. For my mind misgives

That Peleus either lives not, or endures

A painful age, and hardly lives, yet waits

To hear the sorrowful news that I am slain.”

So spake he weeping, and the elders sighed

To see his tears, as each recalled to mind

Those whom he left at home, while Saturn’s son

Beheld their grief with pity, and bespake

His daughter Pallas thus with wingèd words:⁠—

“My child, wilt thou desert that valiant man?

And shall Achilles be no mote thy care?

Lo, by his ships, before their lofty prows,

He sits, lamenting his beloved friend.

The rest are at the banquet; he remains

Apart from them, and fasting. Hasten thou;

With nectar and ambrosial sweets refresh

His frame, that hunger overtake him not.”

As thus he spake he sent the goddess forth

Eager to do her errand. Plunging down,

In form a shrill-voiced harpy with broad wings,

She cleft the air. The Greeks throughout the camp

Were putting on their armor. She infused

Into the hero’s frame ambrosial sweets

And nectar, that his limbs might not grow faint

With hunger. Then the goddess sought again

The stable mansion of Almighty Jove,

While all the Greeks came pouring from the fleet.

As when the flakes of snow fall thick from heaven,

Driven by the north wind sweeping on the clouds

Before it, so from out the galleys came

Helms crowding upon helms that glittered fair,

Strong hauberks, bossy shields, and ashen spears.

The gleam of armor brightened heaven and earth,

And mighty was the sound of trampling feet.

Amidst them all the great Achilles stood,

Putting his armor on; he gnashed his teeth;

His eyes shot fire; a grief too sharp to bear

Was in his heart, as, filled with rage against

The men of Troy, he cased his limbs in mail,

The gift of Vulcan, from whose diligent hand

It came. And first about his legs he clasped

The beautiful greaves, with silver fastenings,

Fitted the corselet to his bosom next,

And from his shoulders hung the brazen sword

With silver studs, and then he took the shield,

Massive and broad, whose brightness streamed as far

As the moon’s rays. And as at sea the light

Of beacon, blazing in some lonely spot

By night, upon a mountain summit, shines

To mariners whom the tempest’s force has driven

Far from their friends across the fishy deep,

So from that glorious buckler of the son

Of Peleus, nobly wrought, a radiance streamed

Into the sky. And then he raised and placed

Upon his head the impenetrable helm

With horse-hair plume. It glittered like a star,

And all the shining tufts of golden thread,

With which the maker’s hand had thickly set

Its cone, were shaken. Next the high-born chief

Tried his new arms, to know if they were well

Adjusted to his shape, and left his limbs

Free play. They seemed like wings, and lifted up

The shepherd of the people. Then he drew

From its ancestral sheath his father’s spear,

Heavy and huge and tough. No man of all

The Grecian host could wield that weapon save

Achilles only. ’Twas a Pelian ash,

Which Chiron for his father had cut down

On Pelion’s highest peak, to be the death

Of heroes. Meantime, busy with the steeds,

Automedon and Alcimus put on

Their trappings and their yoke, and round their necks

Bound the fair collars, thrust into their mouths

The bit, and backward drew the reins to meet

The well-wrought chariot. Then Automedon

Took in his hand the showy lash, and leaped

Into the seat. Behind him, all equipped

For war, Achilles mounted, in a blaze

Of arms that dazzled like the sun, and thus

Called to his father’s steeds with terrible voice:⁠—

“Xanthus and Balius, whom Podargè bore⁠—

A noble stock⁠—I charge you to bring back

Into the Grecian camp, the battle done,

Him whom ye now are bearing to the field,

Nor leave him, as ye left Patroclus, dead.”

Swift-footed Xanthus from beneath the yoke

Answered him with bowed head and drooping mane

That, flowing through the yoke-ring swept the ground⁠—

For Juno gave him then the power of speech:⁠—

“For this one day, at least, we bear thee safe,

O fiery chief, Achilles! But the hour

Of death draws nigh to thee, nor will the blame

Be ours; a mighty god and cruel fate

Ordain it. Not through our neglect or sloth

Did they of Troy strip off thy glorious arms

From slain Patroclus. That invincible god,

The son of golden-haired Latona, smote

The hero in the foremost ranks, and gave

Glory to Hector. Even though our speed

Were that of Zephyr, fleetest of the winds,

Yet certain is thy doom to be o’ercome

In battle by a god and by a man.”

Thus far he spake, and then the Furies checked

His further speech. Achilles, swift of foot,

Replied in anger: “Xanthus, why foretell

My death? It is not needed; well I know

My fate⁠—that here I perish, far away

From Peleus and my mother. I shall fight

Till I have made the Trojans sick of war.”

He spake, and, shouting to his firm-paced steeds,

Drave them, among the foremost, toward the war.