Achilles (Mythological character); Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War
Now when they came to the hut of the son of Neleus, they lighted down
on the bounteous earth, and the squire, Eurymedon, loosed the horses of
that old man from the car, and they dried the sweat from their
doublets, standing before the breeze, by the shore of the sea, and
thereafter came they to the hut, and sat them down on chairs. And
fair-tressed Hekamede mixed for them a mess, Hekamede that the old man
won from Tenedos, when Achilles sacked it, and she was the daughter of
great-hearted Arsinoos, and her the Achaians chose out for him, because
always in counsel he excelled them all. First she drew before them a
fair table, polished well, with feet of cyanus, and thereon a vessel of
bronze, with onion, for relish to the drink, and pale honey, and the
grain of sacred barley, and beside it a right goodly cup, that the old
man brought from home, embossed with studs of gold, and four handles
there were to it, and round each two golden doves were feeding, and to
the cup were two feet below. Another man could scarce have lifted the
cup from the table, when it was full, but Nestor the Old raised it
easily. In this cup the woman, like unto the goddesses, mixed a mess
for them, with Pramnian wine, and therein grated cheese of goats’ milk,
with a grater of bronze, and scattered white barley thereover, and bade
them drink, whenas she had made ready the mess.
So when the twain had drunk, and driven away parching thirst, they took
their pleasure in discourse, speaking each to the other. Now Patroklos
stood at the doors, a godlike man, and when the old man beheld him, he
arose from his shining chair, and took him by the hand, and led him in,
and bade him be seated. But Patroklos, from over against him, was for
refusing, and spake and said: “No time to sit have I, old man,
fosterling of Zeus, nor wilt thou persuade me. Revered and dreaded is
he that sent me forth to ask thee who this man is that thou bringest
home wounded. Nay, but I know myself, for I see Machaon, shepherd of
the host. And now will I go back again, a messenger, to speak a word to
Achilles. And well dost thou know, old man, fosterling of Zeus, how
terrible a man he is; lightly would he blame even one that is
blameless.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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