The which harmeth men greatly and profiteth them withal. Him whose mind is nowise right, neither the purpose in his breast one that may be bent but his heart is set on cruelty, even as a lion that at the bidding of his great might and lordly spirit goeth forth against the flocks of men to win him a feast even so hath Achilles lost all pity, neither is shame in his heart, Nay, it is the ruthless Achilles, O ye gods, that ye are fain to succour,

Him now have ye not the heart to save, a corpse though he be, for his wife to look upon and his mother and his child, and his father Priam and his people, who would forthwith burn him in the fire and pay him funeral rites. Hath Hector then never burned for you thighs of bulls and goats without blemish? But when at length the twelfth morn thereafter was come, then among the immortals spake Phoebus Apollo:“Cruel are ye, O ye gods, and workers of bane.

Thus Achilles in his fury did foul despite unto goodly Hector but the blessed gods had pity on him as they beheld him, and bestirred the keen-sighted Argeiphontes to steal away the corpse.Īnd the thing was pleasing unto all the rest, yet not unto Hera or Poseidon or the flashing-eyed maiden, but they continued even as when at the first sacred Ilios became hateful in their eyes and Priam and his folk, by reason of the sin of Alexander, for that he put reproach upon those goddesses when they came to his steading,Īnd gave precedence to her who furthered his fatal lustfulness. Howbeit Apollo kept all defacement from his flesh, pitying the warriorĮven in death, and with the golden aegis he covered him wholly, that Achilles might not tear his body as he dragged him. Neither would he fail to mark the Dawn, as she shone over the sea and the sea-beaches, but would yoke beneath the car his swift horses,Īnd bind Hector behind the chariot to drag him withal and when he had haled him thrice about the barrow of the dead son of Menoetius, he would rest again in his hut, but would leave Hector outstretched on his face in the dust. Lying now upon his side, now upon his back, and now upon his face and then again he would rise upon his feet and roam distraught along the shore of the sea. Thinking thereon he would shed big tears,

That mastereth all, lay hold of him, but he turned him ever to this side or to that, yearning for the man-hood and valorous might of Patroclus, thinking on all he had wrought with him and all the woes he had borne, passing though wars of men and the grievous waves. The rest bethought them of supper and of sweet sleep, to take their fill thereof but Achilles wept, ever remembering his dear comrade, neither might sleep, Then was the gathering broken up, and the folk scattered, each man to go to his own ship.

The illiad book