Achilles (Mythological character); Classical literature; Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War
“Juno,” replied the sire of gods and men, “you must not expect to
be informed of all my counsels. You are my wife, but you would
find it hard to understand them. When it is proper for you to
hear, there is no one, god or man, who will be told sooner, but
when I mean to keep a matter to myself, you must not pry nor ask
questions.”
“Dread son of Saturn,” answered Juno, “what are you talking
about? I? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have your own
way in everything. Still, I have a strong misgiving that the old
merman’s daughter Thetis has been talking you over, for she was
with you and had hold of your knees this self-same morning. I
believe, therefore, that you have been promising her to give
glory to Achilles, and to kill much people at the ships of the
Achaeans.”
“Wife,” said Jove, “I can do nothing but you suspect me and find
it out. You will take nothing by it, for I shall only dislike you
the more, and it will go harder with you. Granted that it is as
you say; I mean to have it so; sit down and hold your tongue as I
bid you for if I once begin to lay my hands about you, though all
heaven were on your side it would profit you nothing.”
On this Juno was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn will and
sat down in silence. But the heavenly beings were disquieted
throughout the house of Jove, till the cunning workman Vulcan
began to try and pacify his mother Juno. “It will be
intolerable,” said he, “if you two fall to wrangling and setting
heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If such ill counsels
are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at our banquet. Let me
then advise my mother—and she must herself know that it will be
better—to make friends with my dear father Jove, lest he again
scold her and disturb our feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants
to hurl us all from our seats, he can do so, for he is far the
strongest, so give him fair words, and he will then soon be in a
good humour with us.”
As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar, and placed it in his
mother’s hand. “Cheer up, my dear mother,” said he, “and make the
best of it. I love you dearly, and should be very sorry to see
you get a thrashing; however grieved I might be, I could not
help, for there is no standing against Jove. Once before when I
was trying to help you, he caught me by the foot and flung me
from the heavenly threshold. All day long from morn till eve, was
I falling, till at sunset I came to ground in the island of
Lemnos, and there I lay, with very little life left in me, till
the Sintians came and tended me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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