When to wide heaven the Child of Mist uprose, Scattering night, unveiling earth and air, Then from their rest upsprang Achaea's sons Yearning for home. With laughter 'gan they hale Down to the sea the keels: but lo, their haste Was reined in by Achilles' mighty son: He assembled them, and told his sire's behest: "Hearken, dear sons of Argives battle-staunch, To this my glorious father's hest, to me Spoken in darkness slumbering on my bed: He saith, he dwells with the Immortal Gods: He biddeth you and Atreus' son the king To bring, as his war-guerdon passing-fair, To his dim dark tomb Polyxeina queenly-robed, To slay her there, but far thence bury her. But if ye slight him, and essay to sail The sea, he threateneth to stir up the waves To bar your path upon the deep, and here Storm-bound long time to hold you, ships and men." Then hearkened they, and as to a God they prayed; For even now a storm-blast on the sea Upheaved the waves, broad-backed and thronging fast More than before beneath the madding wind. Tossed the great deep, smit by Poseidon's hands For a grace to strong Achilles. All the winds Swooped on the waters. Prayed the Dardans all To Achilles, and a man to his fellow cried: "Great Zeus's seed Achilles verily was; Therefore is he a God, who in days past Dwelt among us; for lapse of dateless time Makes not the sons of Heaven to fade away." Then to Achilles' tomb the host returned, And led the maid, as calf by herdmen dragged For sacrifice, from woodland pastures torn From its mother's side, and lowing long and loud It moans with anguished heart; so Priam's child Wailed in the hands of foes. Down streamed her tears As when beneath the heavy sacks of sand Olives clear-skinned, ne'er blotched by drops of storm, Pour out their oil, when the long levers creak As strong men strain the cords; so poured the tears Of travail-burdened Priam's daughter, haled To stern Achilles' tomb, tears blent with moans. Drenched were her bosom-folds, glistened the drops On flesh clear-white as costly ivory.