Iliad
24 480 ff.
As when dense disaster closes on one who has
murdered
a
man in his own land, and he comes to the country of others,
to
a man of substance, and wonder seizes on those who behold him,
so
Achilleus wondered as he looked on Priam, a godlike
man,
and the rest of them wondered also, and looked at each other.
But
now Priam spoke to him in the words of a suppliant:
`Achilleus
like the gods, remember your father, one who
is
of years like mine, and on the door‑sill of sorrowful old age.
And
they who dwell nearby encompass him and afflict him,
nor
is there any to defend him against the wrath, the destruction.
Yet surely
he, when he hears of you and that you are still living,
is gladdened within his heart and all his days he
is hopeful
that he will see his beloved son come home from
the Troad.
But for me, my destiny was evil. I have had the noblest
of sons in Troy, but I
say not one of them is left to me.
Fifty were my sons, when
the sons of the Achaians came here.
Nineteen were born to me
from the womb of a single mother,
and other women bore the
rest in my palace; and of these
violent Ares broke the strength in the knees of most of
them,
but one was left me who guarded my city and
people, that one
you killed a few days since as he fought in defence
of his country,
Hektor; for whose sake I come now to the ships of
the Achaians
to win him back from you, and I bring you gifts
beyond number.
Honour then the gods, Achilleus, and take pity
upon me
remembering your father, yet I am still more
pitiful;
1
have gone through what no other mortal on earth has gone through;
I
put my lips to the hands of the man who has killed my children.'
So he spoke, and stirred in the other a passion of
grieving
for his own father. He took the old man's hand and
pushed him
gently away, and the two remembered, as Priam sat
huddled
at the
feet of Achilleus and wept close for manslaughtering Hektor
and Achilleus wept now for his own father, now again
for Patroklos. The sound of their mourning moved
in the house. Then
when great Achilleus had taken full satisfaction
in sorrow
and the
passion for it had gone from his mind and body, thereafter
he
rose from his chair, and took the old man by the hand, and set him
on
his feet again, in pity for the grey head and the grey beard,
and
spoke to him and addressed him in winged words: `Ah, unlucky,
surely
you have had much evil to endure in your spirit.
How
could you dare to come alone to the ships of the Achaians
and
before my eyes, when I am one who have killed in such numbers
such
brave sons of yours? The heart in you is iron. Come, then,
and
sit down upon this chair, and you and I will even let
our
sorrows lie still in the heart for all our grieving. There is not
any
advantage to be won from grim lamentation.
Such
is the way the gods spun life for unfortunate mortals,
that
we live in unhappiness, but the gods themselves have no sorrows.
There
are two urns that stand on the door‑sill of Zeus. They are unlike
for
the gifts they bestow: an urn of evils, an urn of blessings.
If
Zeus who delights in thunder mingles these and bestows them
on
man, he shifts, and moves now in evil, again in good fortune.
But
when Zeus bestows from the urn of sorrows, he makes a failure
of
man, and the evil hunger drives him over the shining
earth,
and he wanders respected neither of gods nor mortals.
Such
were the shining gifts given by the gods to Peleus
from
his birth, who outshone all men beside for his riches
and
pride of possession, and was lord over the Myrmidons. Thereto
the
gods bestowed an immortal wife on him, who was mortal.
But
even on him the god piled evil also. There was not
any
generation of strong sons born to him in his great house
but
a single all‑untimely child he had, and I give him
no
care as he grows old, since far from the land of my fathers
I
sit here in Troy, and bring nothing but sorrow to you and your children.
And
you, old sir, we are told you prospered once; for as much
as
Lesbos, Makar's hold, confines to the north above it
and
Phrygia from the north confines, and enormous Hellespont,
of
these, old sir, you were lord once in your wealth and your children.
But
now the Uranian gods brought us, an auction upon you,
forever
there is fighting about your city, and men killed.
But
bear up, nor mourn endlessly in your heart, for there is not
anything
to be gained from grief for your son; you will never
bring
him back; sooner you must go through yet another sorrow.'
Do
Hardy and Achilleus agree exactly?
1
If but some vengeful god would call to me
2 From up the
sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
3 Know that
thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
4 That thy
love's loss is my hate's profiting!"
5 Then would
I bear it, clench myself, and die,
6 Steeled by
the sense of ire unmerited;
7 Half-eased
in that a Powerfuller than I
8 Had willed
and meted me the tears I shed.
9 But not so.
How arrives it joy lies slain,
10 And why unblooms the
best hope ever sown?
11 ---Crass Casualty
obstructs the sun and rain,
12 And dicing Time for
gladness casts a moan. . . .
13 These purblind
Doomsters had as readily strown
14 Blisses about my
pilgrimage as pain.
1866.