Ἰλιάδος Σ

So they fought on, like the blaze of burning fire.

Swift-footed Antilochus came as a messenger to Achilles.

He found him before the high-horned ships,

thinking in his heart of what had now come to pass;

then in anguish he spoke to his own great-hearted spirit:

"Ah me, why once again are the long-haired Achaeans

surging in panic over the plain toward the ships?

May the gods not bring bitter griefs to pass for my heart,

as once my mother plainly foretold and told me:

while I was still alive, the best of the Myrmidons

would leave the light of the sun beneath Trojan hands.

Surely the valiant son of Menoetius is dead,

stubborn man. I told him, once he had driven off the hostile fire,

to go back to the ships and not fight Hector in his strength."

While he pondered these things in mind and spirit,

the son of glorious Nestor came near him,

shedding hot tears, and spoke the grievous message:

"Ah me, son of battle-wise Peleus, you will hear

a bitter message, one that should never have come to pass.

Patroclus lies dead, and now they fight around his corpse,

naked; but Hector of the flashing helm holds his armor."

So he spoke, and a black cloud of grief covered him.

Taking soot-black dust in both his hands,

he poured it down over his head and fouled his lovely face;

black ash settled over his fragrant tunic.

He himself lay stretched full-length, huge, in the dust,

and with his own hands he ravaged his hair, tearing it.

The captive women whom Achilles and Patroclus had taken as spoil,

heart-stricken, cried aloud, and out through the doors

they ran around battle-wise Achilles; with their hands they all

beat their breasts, and each woman's limbs gave way beneath her.

On the other side Antilochus mourned, shedding tears,

holding Achilles' hands, while Achilles groaned from his glorious heart;

for he feared that Achilles might cut his throat with iron.

Achilles gave a terrible cry. His queenly mother heard him,

sitting in the depths of the sea beside her aged father;

and then she wailed; the goddesses gathered around her,

all the Nereids who dwelt in the depths of the sea.

There were Glauce, Thalia, and Cymodoce,

Nesaea, Speio, Thoe, and ox-eyed Halie,

Cymothoe and Actaea and Limnorea,

and Melite and Iaera and Amphithoe and Agave,

Doto and Proto and Pherusa and Dynamene,

Dexamene and Amphinome and Callianeira,

Doris and Panope and renowned Galatea,

Nemertes and Apseudes and Callianassa;

there were Clymene and Ianeira and Ianassa,

Maera and Oreithyia and fair-haired Amatheia,

and other Nereids who dwelt in the depths of the sea.

The silvery cave was filled with them; all together they

beat their breasts, and Thetis led the lament:

"Listen, sister Nereids, so that all of you may fully

know, as you hear, how many griefs are in my heart.

Ah, wretched me, ah, unhappy in bearing the best,

for when I bore a son, blameless and strong,

foremost of heroes; and he shot up like a sapling.

I raised him like a tree on the slope of an orchard,

and sent him in the beaked ships toward Ilium,

to fight the Trojans; but I shall never welcome him again

home to the house of Peleus.

While he lives and sees the light of the sun,

he grieves, and I can bring him no help when I go.

But I shall go, so I may see my dear child and hear

what grief has reached him as he stays back from war."

So she spoke and left the cave; they went with her,

weeping, and around them the wave of the sea

broke apart. When they reached rich-soiled Troy,

they climbed the shore in a line, where in close ranks

the Myrmidons' ships were drawn up around swift Achilles.

His queenly mother stood beside him as he groaned heavily,

and with a piercing wail she took her own son's head,

and grieving, she addressed him with winged words:

"My child, why do you weep? What grief has come upon your heart?

Speak out, do not hide it. Those things have now been fulfilled for you

by Zeus, just as before you prayed with hands raised,

that all the sons of the Achaeans be hemmed at their sterns,

lacking you, and suffer shameful deeds."

Groaning heavily, swift-footed Achilles answered her:

"My mother, the Olympian has fulfilled those things for me;

but what pleasure have I from them, since my dear companion died,

Patroclus, whom above all my comrades I honored,

equal to my own head? I lost him; and Hector, after killing him,

stripped away the mighty armor, a wonder to behold,

beautiful, splendid gifts the gods gave Peleus

on the day they cast you into the bed of a mortal man.

Would that you had stayed there among the immortal sea-goddesses,

and Peleus had taken a mortal wife.

But now there will be measureless grief in your heart

for your dead son, whom you will not welcome again

returning home, since my own heart does not urge me

to live or remain among men unless Hector

first, struck beneath my spear, loses his life

and pays the price for making Patroclus, son of Menoetius, his spoil."

Then Thetis addressed him again, shedding tears:

"My child, you will be short-lived, from what you say;

for straight after Hector your doom stands ready."

Greatly troubled, swift-footed Achilles answered her:

"I would die at once, since I was not destined to defend my companion

as he was killed. Far from his homeland he died,

and had need of me to be a ward against ruin.

Now since I shall not return to my dear native land,

nor was I a saving light to Patroclus or my other comrades,

so many of whom were broken by godlike Hector,

but I sit beside the ships, a useless burden on the earth,

though in war I am such as no bronze-clad Achaean is;

yet in assembly there are others better than I.

May strife vanish from among gods and men,

and anger too, which drives even a thoughtful man to bitterness,