Achilles (Mythological character); Classical literature; Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War
About the other city there lay encamped two hosts in gleaming
armour, and they were divided whether to sack it, or to spare it
and accept the half of what it contained. But the men of the city
would not yet consent, and armed themselves for a surprise; their
wives and little children kept guard upon the walls, and with
them were the men who were past fighting through age; but the
others sallied forth with Mars and Pallas Minerva at their
head—both of them wrought in gold and clad in golden raiment,
great and fair with their armour as befitting gods, while they
that followed were smaller. When they reached the place where
they would lay their ambush, it was on a riverbed to which live
stock of all kinds would come from far and near to water; here,
then, they lay concealed, clad in full armour. Some way off them
there were two scouts who were on the look-out for the coming of
sheep or cattle, which presently came, followed by two shepherds
who were playing on their pipes, and had not so much as a thought
of danger. When those who were in ambush saw this, they cut off
the flocks and herds and killed the shepherds. Meanwhile the
besiegers, when they heard much noise among the cattle as they
sat in council, sprang to their horses, and made with all speed
towards them; when they reached them they set battle in array by
the banks of the river, and the hosts aimed their bronze-shod
spears at one another. With them were Strife and Riot, and fell
Fate who was dragging three men after her, one with a fresh
wound, and the other unwounded, while the third was dead, and she
was dragging him along by his heel: and her robe was bedrabbled
in men’s blood. They went in and out with one another and fought
as though they were living people haling away one another’s dead.
He wrought also a fair fallow field, large and thrice ploughed
already. Many men were working at the plough within it, turning
their oxen to and fro, furrow after furrow. Each time that they
turned on reaching the headland a man would come up to them and
give them a cup of wine, and they would go back to their furrows
looking forward to the time when they should again reach the
headland. The part that they had ploughed was dark behind them,
so that the field, though it was of gold, still looked as if it
were being ploughed—very curious to behold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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