Translated by Torsten Schwanke
High to flame the mighty blaze once more,
Striving towards the sky, and Ilios' walls appeared
Red, through the dark night; of the piled-up woods
Immense scaffolding, collapsing, aroused
Mighty embers at last. Then Hector's bones sank
And in ashes lay the noblest Trojan on the ground.
Now Achill rose from his seat in front of his tent,
Where he watched the hours, the nocturnal hours, the flames.
Distant, terrible play and the changing fire's movement,
Without turning his eyes from Pergamon's reddish fortress.
Deep in his heart he still felt hatred for the dead man,
Who had slain his friend and now sank buried.
But when the fury of the devouring fire subsided
And at the same time with rose fingers the Goddess
Adorned land and sea that the flames' horrors paled,
The great Pelid, deeply moved and gentle,
Towards Antilochos spoke the weighty words,
So the day will come when from the ruins of Ilios
Smoke and fumes will rise, driven by the Thracian airs,
Ida's long mountains and Gargaro's heights darken;
But I shall not see him! Aurore, the awakener of nations,
Found me gathering Patroclus' bones, she finds
Hector's brothers now in the same pious business,
And soon, my dear Antilochus, she may find thee too,
That thou may'st mournfully bury the light remnant of thy friend.
Let this be then, as the gods bid me; be it so!
Let us now remember the needful things that are yet to be done.
For I, united with my friend Patroclus,
A glorious hill, on the high shore of the sea.
Erect, a monument to the peoples and times to come.
Already the brave Myrmidons have diligently
Dug around the space and threw the earth inwards,
As it were, a protective wall against the enemy's onslaught.
And so they busily circumscribed the wide space.
But the work shall grow for me! I hasten to call up
Those who are still willing to heap earth with earth
And so, perhaps, I'll get half of it done;
Yours be the completion, when soon the urn has seized me.
So he spoke and went, and walked through the row of tents,
Waving to this one and that one and calling others together.
All immediately excited, they took hold of the strong tools,
The shovel and the pick with delight, that the sound of the ore rang out,
And the mighty pole, the stone-moving lever.
And so they departed, crowded out of the camp,
Up the gentle path, and in silence the crowd hurried.
As when, armed for the assault, the nightly selection
Of Silence draws the army, with silent steps the line
And each one measures the steps, and each one holds his breath.
To penetrate the enemy city, the poorly guarded one.
So they also went, and all active Silence
Honoured the serious business and their king's pain.
But when they reached the ridge of the wave-swept hill
Soon, and now the vastness of the sea opened up,
Aurore gazed kindly upon them, from the sacred dawn
From a distant cloud of mist, and each one's heart was refreshed by her.
All rushed at once to the trench, greedy of the work,
Tearing in clods upon the long-trodden ground,
Shovelling it away, others carried it with baskets upwards.
Some were seen filling helmet and shield,
And the corner of the garment was others' instead of the vessel.
Now the gates of Heaven opened fiercely,
And the wild team of Sol roared up.
Quickly he enlightened the pious Ethiopians,
Who dwell the outermost of all the peoples of the earth.
Soon shaking his glowing locks, he emerged from the Ida
Forests, to shine on lamenting Trojans, on armed Achaians.
But the Hours, striving towards the ether, reached
Jove‘s holy house, which they greet eternally.
And they entered, there met them Vulcan hurriedly,
Limping, and spoke words of encouragement to them,
Deceivers! Happy ones quickly, those who wait slowly! hear me!
I have built this hall in obedience to the will of the Father,
According to the divine measure of the most glorious Muses' song,
Spared not gold and silver, nor brass, nor pale metal;
And as I have finished, the work still stands perfect,
Untroubled by time. For here the rust seizes it not,
Nor dust, the earthly wanderer's companion, reach it.
I have done everything that any creative art can do.
The high ceiling of the house rests unshaken,
And the smooth floor invites the foot to tread.
Every ruler's throne follows where he commands,
As the hound follows the huntsman, and golden walking boys
I created, who support Jove, the coming one,
As I created for myself girls of brass. But all is lifeless!
To you alone it is given, to the Graces and to you alone,
To sprinkle charms on the dead form of life.
Come, then, spare me nothing, and from the sacred horn
Of salt, that I may rejoice in the work, and the gods,
Enraptured, continue to praise me as they did at first.
And they smiled softly, the mobile ones, nodded to the old one
Friendly, and poured out life and light lavishly all around,
That no man could bear it, and that it delighted the gods.
So Vulcan hurriedly moved towards the threshold,
Intent on his work, for it was the only thing that stirred his heart.
Then Juno, accompanied by Pallas Minerva, met him,
And when she saw the son, she stopped him at once,
She stopped him at once and spoke, the divine Juno,
O Son, thou wilt soon lack self-satisfied fame,
That thou preparest weapons to defend men from death,
Exhausting all art, as this beseeches thee and that
Goddess! for the day is at hand when the great Pelid
Will sink into the dust, marking the mortal boundary.
Protection is not the helmet, nor the armour, nor the shield‘s
Circumference, if the dark Proserpine disputes him.
But the artificial god Vulcan said against it,
Why mockest thou me, O Mother, that I have been busy,
Proved myself to Thetis and made those weapons?
Would not the like come from the anvil of earthly men;
Yes, with my tool even a god could not make them
And poured into the body like wings to lift the hero.
Impenetrable and rich, a wonder to behold.
For what a god bestows on men is a blessing,
Not like an enemy's gift, preserved only to ruin.
And surely Patroclus would have returned to me victorious,
If Phoebus had not knocked the helmet from his head
And parted the armour, so that the naked one sank.
But be it so, and Fate demands of man,
Did not the weapon, the most divine, protect, the Aegis
Not even the gods themselves, who alone shoo away the sad days.
But what do I care! He who forges weapons prepares war,
And must not expect the sound of the guitar.
So he spoke and went and grumbled, the Goddesses laughed!
Meanwhile the other gods entered the hall.
Diana came, the early one, already joyful of the victorious arrow,
That killed the strongest stag for her at the springs of Ida.
Also with Iris Mercury, and the sublime Leto,
Eternally hated by Juno, similar to her, milder in nature.
Phoebos follows her, the Divine Mother rejoices in her longing.
Mars strides mightily, nimble, the warrior,
Friendly to none, and only tamed by Venus the fair.
Late came Venus, the smiling Goddess,
Who about lovers in the morning hours so unwillingly,
Charmingly weary, as if the night had not been enough for her to rest,
She lowered herself into the arms of the throne.
And the halls shone softly, the breezes of the ether
From the vastness came forth, proclaiming Jove's nearness.
Immediately he came out of the high chamber to the assembly,
Supported by Vulcan‘s image. Thus he glided gloriously
Up to the golden throne, the artificial one, sat, and the others
Standing bent to him, and sat down, each separately.
Immediately the gift-fliss'd, dexterous
And Youth-Goddesses, the Graces and Hebe,
Gave round the rich ambrosial spray,
Full, not overflowing, pleasure to the uranium ions.
Only to Jove stepped Ganymede, with the earnestness of the first
In the childish eyes, and the God rejoiced,
So they all silently enjoyed the fullness of bliss.
But Thetis appeared, the divine one, looking sad,
Full-bodied and tall, the loveliest daughter of Nereus,
And to Juno immediately turned she spoke the word,
Goddess, receive me, not turning away! Learn to be just!
For I swear by those who, dwelling down in Tartarus,
Sit around Saturn and above the Stygian spring,
Late avengers of the falsely spoken oath:
I came not hither to hinder my son's
Certain fate, and remove the sad day from him;
Nay, I am driven up from the purple dwelling of the sea.
With unconquerable pain, whether in the Olympian height
If I might relieve the lamentable anguish.
For the son no longer calls me, he stands on the shore,
Forgetting me, and thinking only of his friend,
Who now before him descended into the dark dwelling
And to whom he strives towards the shadows.
Yes, I may not see him, nor speak him. Can we help each other
To lament together our unavoidable misery?
Juno turned violently, and gazing dreadfully
She spoke, full of vexation, words of grievance to the mourner,
Foolish one, unexplored, like the sea that made thee!
Shall I trust? and even receive thee with a friendly look?
Thee, who a thousand times hath offended me, as usually, so lately,
Who hath borne me the noblest warriors to death,
For the sake of her to flatter her son's intolerable, unreasonable mind?
Think'st thou I know thee not, and think'st not of this beginning?
When, as a bridegroom, Jove did gloriously descend to thee,
And left me wife and sister, and the daughter of Nereus
Hoped to be Queen of Heaven, inflamed with pride?
But well he returned, the Divine One, frightened
By the Titan's wise tale, who from the damned bed
Proclaims to him the most dangerous son. Prometheus understood!
For from you and the mortal man a beast has sprung,
In place of the Chimera and the earth-destroying dragon.
If a god had begotten him, who would have secured the ether for the gods?
And as the former devastated the world, this one the heavens.
And yet I never see thee approach, that not, exhilarated,
The Crowned One beckons to thee, and lightly caresses thy cheek;
Yea, that he all consents, the dreadful one, to shorten me.
Unsatisfied lust never withers in the bosom of man!
And the daughter of the truly speaking Nereus said,
Cruel one! What speech thou sendest! Arrows of hate!
You do not spare the mother's pain, the most terrible of all,
Who, grieved, the near fate of her son laments about.
Thou hast not known this grief in the bosom
Of the mortal woman, as of the immortal Goddess.
For, begotten of Jove, glorious sons surround thee,
Eternally spry and young, and thou enjoyest the Highest.
But thou thyself didst lament, in fearful lamentations poured out,
That day when Jove, enraged, the faithful Vulcan,
For thine own sake, hurled down on Lemnos' ground;
And the glorious one, wounded in the foot, lay like a son of the earth.
Then you cried aloud to the nymphs of the shady island,
Summoned the paean and waited for the damage to be done.
Yes, even now the error of the limping son grieves thee.
He hurries about, benevolently, the gods'
Riches of delicious drink, and carries the golden bowl
Swaying, earnestly anxious lest he should spill,
And endless laughter arises from the blessed gods:
Always thou alone show'st thyself grave, and tak'st care of the son.
And I sought not the lamentation's convivial consolation
Today, when the death of the glorious only one is at hand?
For I have heard it too firmly from the gray father,
Nereus, the true mouth of the future divine explorer,
Of that day when ye, assembled, eternal gods,
To me to the enforced feast, the mortal man's embrace,
In Pelion's woods, descending.
At that time the old man announced to me the glorious son,
To be preferred to his father, for so Fate would have it;
But at the same time he proclaimed the sad days shortened.
So the hurrying years rolled past me,
Unstoppable, the son to the black gate of Hades urging.
What did art and cunning help me? What the purifying flame?
What the female dress? The noblest was drawn to war
With unlimited lust for fame and the bonds of fate.
Sad days he has lived, they are coming to an end
In a moment. I know the condition of high Fortune.
Eternal glory remains to him, but the weapons of death
Threaten him near and sure, even Jove did not save him.
So she spoke and went and sat down at Leto's side,
Who a motherly heart had before the rest of the Uranions
In her bosom, and there she felt the fullness of pain.
Earnestly now turned Jove and mildly his divine face
Towards the lamenting one, and thus fatherly he began,
O Daughter, if I should ever hear from thee words of blasphemy
In my ears ever! as a titan in displeasure might
Against the gods who rule Olympos on high.
You yourself deny your son‘s life, foolishly despairing;
Hope remains wedded to Life, the flattering Goddess,
Pleasing to many who, as faithful demons live
With mortal men through the changing days.
Olympus is not closed to her, even the grey dwelling of Hades
Opens to her, and the brazen fate smiles when she,
The fair one, flatteringly presses herself upon him.
But the impenetrable night gave Admetus' wife back
To my son, the unconquerable. Did not
Protesilaos came up, embracing his sorrowing wife?
And did not Proserpine soften when she heard down there
Orpheus' song and unconquerable longing?
Was not Asclepius' strength subdued by my radiance
Who, bold enough, returned the dead to life?
Even for the dead the living man hopes. Wilt thou despair,
Since the living son still enjoys the light of the sun?
The boundary of life is not firmly fenced; a God drives,
Yea, Man drives them back the ghosts of death.
Therefore let not your courage fail, keep from iniquity
Thy lips, and shut thine ear to the enemy's mockery.
Often has the sick man buried the physician who has recently
Healed him and had been glad of the illuminating sun.
Does not Neptune often push the keel of the ship mightily
Towards the perilous course, and cleave the planks and ribs?
In a moment the rudder falls from the hand, and the bursting ship,
The wreckage, seized by men, the God scatters in the waves.
He wants to destroy all, but the demon saves some.
So too, methinks, no God knows nor the Goddesses first,
Whose field of Ilios is destined to return home.
So he spoke and held his peace; then the divine Juno
Quickly rose from her seat and stood as a mountain in the sea,
Whose lofty summits of the ether's weather do shine.
She spoke with anger and high, the only one, worthy being,
Terrible, wavering-minded one! what is the meaning of these words?
Dost thou speak to provoke me? and to please thee,
When I am angry, to disgrace myself thus before the celestials?
For I scarcely believe that the word is earnest in thy mind.
Ilios falls! you swore it to me yourself, and the signs of Fate
All point to it, so may Achill fall!
He, the best of the Greeks, the worthy darling of the Gods.
For he who stands in the way of destiny,
He falls into the dust, he is trampled by the horses,
He is crushed by the wheel of the brazen sacred chariot.
So I do not care how much doubt you arouse,
To soothe her that softly surrenders to pain.
But this I tell thee and take it to thy heart:
Arbitrariness remains eternally hateful to gods and men,
If it shows itself in deed, even if it only makes itself known in words.
For as high as we stand, the eternal Gods'
Eternal Themis alone, and She alone must rule and reign,
When thy kingdom, however late it may be,
The mighty power of the Titans, long subdued, shall give way.
But calmly and cheerfully Jove replied: You speak wisely,
But you do not act so, for it remains reprehensible,
On earth and in heaven, when the comrade of the sovereign
Joins the adversaries, it would be in deeds
Or words; the word is a herald to approaching deeds.
So I mean this to thee, be it well, troubled one, to thee still,
This day to divide the kingdom of Saturn below;
Descend with purpose, endure the day of the Titans,
Which, methinks, is yet far from the light of the ether.
But to the rest of you I say, not yet doom presses on
Unstoppable approaches to topple the walls of Troy.
Let him who protects Troy, protect Achill at the same time,
And the rest, methinks, have a sad work before them,
If they kill the most excellent man of the favoured Danaans.
So saying, he rose from the throne to his chambers.
And, moved from the seat, Leto and Thetis departed
Into the depths of the halls; of the lonely conversation
Desiring sad delight, and no one followed the two.
Now turned to Mars, the sublime Juno cried out,
O Son! what do you think now, whose unrestrained arbitrariness
Favours this and that, the one and the other
With the changing Fortune of terrible weapons delights?
The goal is never in your mind, where it is set,
But momentary strength, and rage, and infinite woe.
So I think thou wilt soon, in the midst of the Trojans,
Even Achill thou shalt fight, that at last is near his Fate,
And not unworthy to fall from the hands of the Gods.
But Mars, with nobility and reverence, answered,
O Mother, do not command me this: for to end such a thing
Would never befit the God. Let mortal men
Kill each other, as they are driven by the desire of victory.
Mine is to stir them up, from far peaceful abode,
Where they enjoy the glorious days unchallenged,
And toiling for the bounty of Ceres, their nourisher.
But I admonish them, accompanied by Ossa;
The distant battle sounds before their ears;
Already the storm of battle around them, and stirs the tempers,
Nothing holds them back, and in courageous urge
They stride forward eagerly, eager for the danger of death.
So now I go to call the son of lovely Aurore,
Memnon, and the Ethiopian nations,
Even the Amazons, to whom men are detestable.
So he spoke and turned away; but Venus, the fair one,
Seized him and looked him in the eyes and said with a smile,
Savage, thou art thus rushing on! the last nations of the earth
To summon to the battle that is fought here for a woman.
Do it, I won't hold you! For the fairest of women
It is a more worthy fight than ever for the possessions of goods.
But do not excite me the Ethiopian people,
Who so often crown the Gods' most pious feasts,
Pure life, I gave the fairest gifts to the good,
Everlasting love's delight, and children's infinite round about.
But praise be to me, when you send unfeminine hordes
Of savage Amazons to the death struggle;
For I hate them, the brute, who flee men's
Sweet companionship and as horse tamers
Every clean charm, the adornment of women they lack.
So she spoke and looked after the hurrying man, but nimbly
She turned away her eyes to spy the ways of Phoebus,
Who descended from Olympos to the blooming earth,
Then crossed the sea, avoiding all the islands,
Hastened to the Thymbraean Valley, where a temple
To him stood solemn and worthy, surrounded by Troy's people,
When there was peace, when all was desirous of festivity.
But now it stood empty and without celebration and competition.
There the clever, skilful Venus, the Goddess, saw him,
To meet him, for many a thing she rolled in her great bosom.
And to Juno spoke the earnest Pallas Minerva,
O Goddess, you are not angry with me. I now descend,
To stand by the side of him whom Fate is about to overtake.
Such a beautiful life does not deserve to end in displeasure.
I gladly confess it to you, before all the heroes of the past,
Achill was always dear to my immaculate heart;
Yes, I would have joined him in love and embrace,
Could Minerva have befitted the works of Venus;
But as he hath embraced his friend with mighty affection,
So do I hold him, and as he laments that one,
I shall, when he falls, lament the mortal, I, the Goddess.
Alas! that so soon the beautiful image of the earth
Should be missing! Which rejoices broad and wide
In the common. That the body, the glorious edifice of life,
Shall withering away to the devouring flame.
Alas! and that he, the noble youth, should not form
Himself into a man. A princely man is so needed on earth.
That the younger rage, the wild destroying desire
May at last prove to be a mighty mind, a creative one,
Which determines the order by which thousands are guided.
Then the accomplished no longer resembles the storming Mars,
For whom only the battle is enough, the man-killing one!
No, he resembles Jove himself, from whom emanates welfare.
He no longer destroys cities, he builds them; from distant shores
He brings the abundance of the citizens; coasts and seashores
Teem with new peoples, eager for space and food.
But this one builds his grave. Not can or should I
My darling hold back from the gate of Hades,
Which he already inquires and seeks to follow his friend,
Which, so near it gapes, yet nightly darkness shrouds.
So she spoke, and gazed terribly out into the vast ether.
A God gazes terribly where mortals weep.
But Juno, touching her girlfriend's shoulder, said,
O Daughter, I share with you the pain that seizes you;
For we think alike in many things, even in this,
That I avoid the man's embrace, that you abhor it.
But the more honoured is always the worthy.
Many women desire a softy, like Anchises the fair,
Or even Endymion, who was loved but as a dreamer.
But now, worthy daughter of Jove, take hold of yourself,
Descend to the Pelid, and fill with divine life
His bosom that he, above all mortal men, lives,
Today the happiest, remembering the glory to come,
And give him the hand of the Hour, the fullness of eternity.
Minerva hastily adorned the foot with the golden soles,
Which through the wide space of heaven and across the sea
Thus strode forth and through the ethereal spaces,
As the lower air, and on the Skamandric heights
She quickly descended to the far-seen tomb of Aesyetes.
She did not look towards the fortress of the city,
Not into the quiet field that between the sacred Xanthos‘
Ever-flowing ornament and the Simoi's stony broad
Dry bed, stretching down to the pebbly shore.
Her eyes did not run through the rows of ships and tents,
Nor spied in the throng of the busy camp;
Seaward the divine turned, the Sigean hill
Filled her eye, she saw the sprightly Achill
Commanding his busy people of the Myrmidons.
Like the agile multitude of ants, whose business
Deep in the forest the hurrying footfall of the hunter disturbs,
Dispersing their heap, how long and carefully it was piled.
Quickly the convivial crowd, dispersed into a thousand flocks,
Swarming to and fro, and single thousands swarming,
Each grasping the next, and striving to the centre,
Towards the ancient edifice of the labyrinthine cone.
So the Myrmidons, they heaped earth on earth,
Piling up the rampart from the outside, so it grew
Higher, in an instant, upwards in the described circle.
But Achill stood in the bottom of the cup, surrounded
By the tumbling rampart that rose a monument around him.
Behind him stepped Minerva, not far away, of Antilochos' formation.
Enveloped the Goddess, not quite, for more glorious he seemed.
Soon now she turned back, saw the friend of the Pelides
Joyfully, went to meet him and, grasping his hand, and spoke,
My dear, will you also come to help me with this serious business?
That the young men's diligence brings me nearer and nearer?
See! how the embankment rises all around and already towards the middle
The rolling debris, narrowing the circle, presses in.
The crowd may complete this, but it is recommended to you
To build the roof in the middle, the shield of the urn.
Here! I have separated two slabs, found in the digging
Monstrous; surely Neptune, the earth-shaker
Took them from the high mountains and hurled them here
To the edge of the sea, covering them with gravel and earth.
These prepared set them up, leaning on one another
To build the firm tent! beneath it may the urn stand,
Secretly kept, far away till the end of days.
Then fill the gap of the deep space with earth,
Ever closer, until the completed cone.
Be a mark for men to come, he said.
So he spoke, and Jove‘s clear-eyed daughter Minerva
Still held out her hands to him, to whom in the fight
Unwillingly a man approaches, even if he were the most excellent.
These she presses closed with divine kindly strength,
Repeating, and speaking the fair and pleasant words,
Dear, what thou hast wrought, thine own shall hereafter consummate.
Last, be it I, be it another, who knows?
But let us at once, from this pressing circle,
Climb up, round the rampart's lofty ridge.
There the sea and the land and the islands are revealed.
So she spoke and stirred his heart and, taking him by the hand,
Leading him lightly up, and so they both walked
Around the lofty edge of the ever-growing causeway.
But the Goddess, her shining blue eyes turned
Towards the sea, trying kind words,
What sails are these, numerous, one behind the other,
Striving towards the shore, stretched in wide array?
These, methinks, do not so soon approach the holy earth,
For from the shore the morning wind blows to meet them.
Do not my eyes deceive me, said the great Pelid,
If I am not deceived by the image of the coloured ships.
Bold Phoenician men, eager for all kinds of riches,
From the islands they bring welcome food,
To the Achaian army, who long missed the supply.
Wine and dried fruit and herds of bleating cattle.
Yea, they shall land, methinks, to refresh the nations,
Before the pressing battle summons the newly strengthened.
Verily! the bluish-eyed Goddess replied,
There was no mistake about the man who here on the coast
To create a waiting place for himself aroused all his own,
To watch the high seas for ships to come,
Or to light a fire, the steersmen's nightly signal.
For the widest space opens up to the eyes here,
Never empty; a ship meets ships at hand,
Or follows. Verily! a man from Oceanus' streams
Coming, and grained gold of the rearmost Phasis in hollow
Carrying ships, eager for barter, to roam the sea,
He would always be seen wheresoever he turned. He sailed
Through the salty tide of the broad Hellespont
To Jove‘s cradle and to the streams of Egypt,
To see the Tritonian Syrte, or perhaps
At the end of the earth the descending steeds
Sol's descending steeds and then return home,
Richly laden with goods, as many a coast offered,
This would be seen so forth as well as thither.
Himself dwells, it seems to me, back there, where the night
Never separates from the holy earth.
Separates from the sacred earth, the eternal mists chagrined,
Many a resolute man, eager for adventure,
And he ventures into the open sea, towards the light day.
Steering hither he arrives, and shows the hill from afar
To his companions and asks what the sign here means.
And with a cheerful look the Pelid answered gladly,
You tell me wisely, the wisest of father's begets!
Not only considering what now touches your eyes,
But seeing what is to come, and like the holy seers.
Gladly I listen to thee, the fair speeches produce
New delight to the breast, which I have so long lacked.
Many a one will therefore cut through the blue waves,
See the glorious mark and speak to the oarsmen:
Here lies buried by no means the least of the Achaians,
Whose way back the Moirene's severity hath denied;
For not a few carried the towering hill together.
No! He doesn't talk like that, the Goddess replied vehemently,
Behold! he cries with delight, beholding the summit from afar,
There is the glorious mark of the only great Pelid,
From the earth by the will of Fate.
For this I tell thee, a truth-loving seer,
To whom now, in a moment, the Gods reveal what is to come,
Far from Oceanus' stream, where Sol‘s steeds lead,
And over the crest of it to where he descends in the evening,
Yea, as far as the day and night goes, behold,
Thy glorious fame spreads, and all nations revere
Thy apt choice of short glorious life.
Delightful you have chosen. He who leaves the earth young,
Walks also eternally young in the kingdom of Proserpine,
Eternally young he appears to the future, eternally longed for.
If my father dies one day, the grey, travelled Nestor,
Who then mourns him? and even from his son's eye
The tear scarcely rolls, the gentle one. Completely finished
Lays the resting old man, the glorious pattern of mortals.
But the young man, falling, arouses infinite longing
To all those to come, and to each he dies anew, who wishes
The praiseworthy deed crowned with praiseworthy deeds.
Immediately, Achill spoke in unison,
Yes, this is how man values life, as a sacred jewel,
That he most reverences him who defies it.
Some virtues there are of high understanding Wisdom,
Some of fidelity and duty and all-embracing Love;
But none is so revered by all men
Than the firmer sense, which, instead of yielding to death,
Even to the power of death courageously summons to the fray.
Even venerable appears to future generations
He who, beset by shame and sorrow, resolutely
Even the sharpness of the ore turned to the tender body.
Glory follows him against his will; from the hand of despair
He takes the glorious wreath of the unfading victor.
So he spoke, but Pallas Minerva answered him,
Thou hast spoken well, for so it is with men.
Even the least of them is raised in contempt of the dangers of death.
A servant stands gloriously by the king's side in battle.
Even the domestic woman's fame spreads through the earth.
Alcestis, the silent wife, is still named
Among the heroes who gave herself for her Admetus.
But no one has a greater fate to look forward to,
Than he who, in the strife of countless men, is first.
Without question, who here, of Achaian descent
Or native Phrygians, endure endless battles.
Mnemosyne, with her lovely daughters, will soon forget
Those battles forgotten, the first divine battles,
Which fortified the crowned one's empire, where the earth
And the heavens and the seas moved in flaming share,
Before the memory of Argonautic valour is extinguished,
And Herculean strength no more remember the earth,
So that this clime and this shore shall henceforth herald
Ten years of battle and the summits of deeds
And it was destined for thee, in this glorious war,
Which has stirred all Hellas and driven its valiant fighters
Across the sea, like the last barbarians,
The last barbarians, allies of the Trojans,
Always to be called first, as leader of the nations.
Where now henceforth the wreath of calm men gathers
And hears the singer, landed in safe harbour,
Resting on hewn stone from the toil of the oar
And of the terrible struggle with indomitable waves;
Even at the sacred feast round the glorious temple encamped
Jove the Olympian, or of the fernet-striking Phoebus,
When the praiseworthy prize was given to the happy victors,
Thy name shall always first from the lips of the singer
When he first praised the God.
To all thou dost lift up the heart, as present, and to all
The bravely the glory vanishes uniting on the one.
Achill answered with a serious look,
This thou speakest fair and well, an understanding youth.
For indeed it excites a man to see the thronging crowd
Gathered for his sake, in life, greedy of sight,
And so it pleases him to think of the fair singer,
Who weaves the song's garland with his name;
But more delightful is it to rejoice in the kindred sentiments
Of noble men to rejoice, in life as in death.
For nothing on earth was ever given to me more delicious,
Than when Ajax, the Telamonian, shakes my hand,
In the evening, after the battle is over and the toil is done,
Rejoicing in victory and the enemies slain.
Verily, the short life, it would be granted to man
That he might happily accomplish it, from morning till evening
Sitting under the hall and enjoying the abundance of food,
And with it the fortifying wine, the sorrow quencher,
If the singer could bring the past and the future.
But he was not so fortunate that day,
When Jove angered the wise Japetids,
And Pandore's image Vulcan created for the king;
Then was decreed the inevitable woe
To all mortal men that ever inhabit the earth.
To whom Sol shines only to deceptive hopes,
Deceived even by celestial glories and refreshing rays.
For in the bosom of man there is always the infinite strife
The source of the calmest house's corrupter tends to flow.
Envy and lust for power and the desire for unconditional possession
Of widely distributed goods, of herds, as well as of women,
Which to him seeming divine doth bring perilous woe into the house
And where does man rest from toil and mighty striving,
Who sails the seas in a hollow ship? The earth,
Following stout bulls, with a fair furrow he traverses the earth?
Dangers are everywhere near him, and Tyche, the Fates‘
Elder, stirs up the soil of the earth as well as the sea.
So I'll tell you this: the luckiest man thinks
To be always armed, and each like the warrior,
Who is always ready to part from Sol‘s gaze.
Smiling, the Goddess Pallas Minerva replied,
Let us now do away with all this! Any speech,
However wise they may be, of earth-born men,
Will not solve the riddles of the impenetrable future.
Therefore, I had better remember the purpose
For which I came, to ask thee if thou wilt by any means,
To procure for thee, as well as for thine own, what is necessary.
And with cheerful earnestness the great Pelid added,
Thou rememberest me well, the wiser, what it needs.
I am no longer tempted by hunger, nor by thirst, nor by any other
Earth-born desire, to the celebration of happy hours;
But this is not, to faithful labouring men,
In toil's own refreshment is given.
If you demand strength from your own, you must strengthen them
With the gifts of Ceres, who gives all nourishment.
Therefore hurry down, my friend, and send of bread
And of wine enough, that we may further the work.
And in the evening, the smell of welcome meat
Shall steam up to you, that first fell slaughtered.
So he spoke aloud; his own heard the words,
Smiling among themselves, refreshed with the sweat of labour.
But down descended Minerva, the Divine, with flying step
And straightway reached the tents of the Myrmidons,
Down at the foot of the hill, guarding the right side of the camp.
Faithfully guarding; this fate fell to the high Achill.
Immediately the Goddess aroused the ever cautious men,
Who, keeping the golden fruit of the earth plentiful.
They are always ready to hand it to the contending man.
She called them and spoke the commanding words:
Up! why do you now omit the welcome food of bread
And drink of wine to bring up to the weary?
Who are not gathered today at the tent in joyful chatter
Sitting, stoking the fire, prepare your daily food.
Come on, you lazy ones, prepare at once for the active men
What the stomach needs; for all too often you only shorten
The people's quarrels the due reward of promised nourishment.
But, methinks, the wrath of the ruler shall yet overtake you,
Who has not brought the warrior here for your sake.
So said she, and they obeyed, in a disgruntled heart
Hastening, and brought forth the abundance, loading their mouths.