Swift with glad laughter hied they to the ships, Hymning Achilles and the Blessed Ones. A feast they made, first severing thighs of kine For the Immortals. Gladsome sacrifice Steamed on all sides: in cups of silver and gold They drank sweet wine: their hearts leaped up with hope Of winning to their fatherland again. But when with meats and wine all these were filled, Then in their eager ears spake Neleus' son: "Hear, friends, who have 'scaped the long turmoil of war, That I may say to you one welcome word: Now is the hour of heart's delight, the hour Of home-return. Away! Achilles soul Hath ceased from ruinous wrath; Earth-shaker stills The stormy wave, and gentle breezes blow; No more the waves toss high. Haste, hale the ships Down to the sea. Now, ho for home-return!" Eager they heard, and ready made the ships. Then was a marvellous portent seen of men; For all-unhappy Priam's queen was changed From woman's form into a pitiful hound; And all men gathered round in wondering awe. Then all her body a God transformed to stone-- A mighty marvel for men yet unborn! At Calchas' bidding this the Achaeans bore In a swift ship to Hellespont's far side. Then down to the sea in haste they ran the keels: Their wealth they laid aboard, even all the spoil Taken, or ever unto Troy they came, From conquered neighbour peoples; therewithal Whatso they took from Ilium, wherein most They joyed, for untold was the sum thereof. And followed with them many a captive maid With anguished heart: so went they aboard the ships. But Calchas would not with that eager host Launch forth; yea, he had fain withheld therefrom All the Achaeans, for his prophet-soul Foreboded dread destruction looming o'er The Argives by the Rocks Capherean. But naught they heeded him; malignant Fate Deluded men's souls: only Amphilochus The wise in prophet-lore, the gallant son Of princely Amphiaraus, stayed with him. Fated were these twain, far from their own land, To reach Pamphylian and Cilician burgs; And this the Gods thereafter brought to pass. But now the Achaeans cast the hawsers loose From shore: in haste they heaved the anchor-stones. Roared Hellespont beneath swift-flashing oars; Crashed the prows through the sea. About the bows Much armour of slain foes was lying heaped: Along the bulwarks victory-trophies hung Countless. With garlands wreathed they all the ships, Their heads, the spears, the shields wherewith they had fought Against their foes. The chiefs stood on the prows, And poured into the dark sea once and again Wine to the Gods, to grant them safe return. But with the winds their prayers mixed; far away Vainly they floated blent with cloud and air.