The Iliad. Homer

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       Chrysa surrounds, and Cilla's lovely vale,

       Whose sov'reign sway o'er Tenedos extends!

       Once hast thou heard my pray'r, aveng'd my cause,

       And pour'd thy fury on the Grecian host.

       Hear yet again, and grant what now I ask;

       Withdraw thy chast'ning hand, and stay the plague."

      Thus, as he pray'd, his pray'r Apollo heard.

       Their pray'rs concluded, and the salt cake strew'd

       Upon the victims' heads, they drew them back,

       And slew, and flay'd; then cutting from the thighs

       The choicest pieces, and in double layers

       O'erspreading them with fat, above them plac'd

       The due meat-off'rings; then the aged priest

       The cleft wood kindled, and libations pour'd

       Of ruddy wine; arm'd with the five-fork'd prongs

       Th' attendant ministers beside him stood.

       The thighs consum'd with fire, the inward parts

       They tasted first; the rest upon the spits

       Roasted with care, and from the fire withdrew.

       Their labours ended, and the feast prepar'd,

       They shared the social meal, nor lacked there aught.

       The rage of thirst and hunger satisfied,

       Th' attendant youths the flowing goblets crown'd,

       And in fit order serv'd the cups to all.

       All day they sought the favour of the God,

       The glorious paeans chanting, and the praise

       Of Phoebus: he, well pleas'd, the strain receiv'd

       But when the sun was set, and shades of night

       O'erspread the sky, upon the sandy beach

       Close to their ship they laid them down to rest.

       And when the rosy-finger'd morn appear'd,

       Back to the camp they took their homeward way

       A fav'ring breeze the Far-destroyer sent:

       They stepp'd the mast, and spread the snowy sail:

       Full in the midst the bellying sail receiv'd

       The gallant breeze; and round the vessel's prow

       The dark waves loudly roar'd, as on she rush'd

       Skimming the seas, and cut her wat'ry way.

       Arriv'd where lay the wide-spread host of Greece,

       Their dark-ribb'd vessel on the beach they drew

       High on the sand, and strongly shor'd her up;

       Then through the camp they took their sev'ral ways.

      Meantime, beside the ships Achilles sat,

       The Heav'n-born son of Peleus, swift of foot,

       Chafing with rage repress'd; no more he sought

       The honour'd council, nor the battle-field;

       But wore his soul away, and inly pin'd

       For the fierce joy and tumult of the fight.

       But when the twelfth revolving day was come,

       Back to Olympus' heights th' immortal Gods,

       Jove at their head, together all return'd.

       Then Thetis, mindful of her son's request,

       Rose from the ocean wave, and sped in haste

       To high Olympus, and the courts of Heav'n.

       Th' all-seeing son of Saturn there she found

       Sitting apart upon the topmost crest

       Of many-ridg'd Olympus; at his feet

       She sat, and while her left hand clasp'd his knees,

       Her right approached his beard, and suppliant thus

       She made her pray'r to Saturn's royal son:

      "Father, if e'er amid th' immortal Gods

       By word or deed I did thee service true,

       Hear now my pray'r! Avenge my hapless son,

       Of mortals shortest-liv'd, insulted now

       By mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

       And plunder'd of his lawful spoils of war.

       But Jove, Olympian, Lord of counsel, Thou

       Avenge his cause; and give to Trojan arms

       Such strength and pow'r, that Greeks may learn how much

       They need my son, and give him honour due."

      She said: the Cloud-compeller answer'd not,

       But silent sat; then Thetis clasp'd his knees,

       And hung about him, and her suit renew'd:

      "Give me thy promise sure, thy gracious nod,

       Or else refuse (for thou hast none to fear),

       That I may learn, of all th' immortal Gods,

       How far I stand the lowest in thine eyes."

      Then, much disturb'd, the Cloud-compeller spoke:

       "Sad work thou mak'st, in bidding me oppose

       My will to Juno's, when her bitter words

       Assail me; for full oft amid the Gods

       She taunts me, that I aid the Trojan cause.

       But thou return, that Juno see thee not,

       And leave to me the furth'rance of thy suit.

       Lo, to confirm thy faith, I nod my head;

       And well among th' immortal Gods is known

       The solemn import of that pledge from me:

       For ne'er my promise shall deceive, or fail,

       Or be recall'd, if with a nod confirm'd."

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