Achilles (Mythological character); Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War
Then Diomedes of the loud war-cry spake also among them: “The man is
near,—not long shall we seek him, if ye be willing to be persuaded of
me, and each of you be not resentful at all, because in years I am the
youngest among you. Nay, but I too boast me to come by lineage of a
noble sire, Tydeus, whom in Thebes the piled-up earth doth cover. For
Portheus had three well-born children, and they dwelt in Pleuron, and
steep Kalydon, even Agrios and Melas, and the third was Oineus the
knight, the father of my father, and in valour he excelled the others.
And there he abode, but my father dwelt at Argos, whither he had
wandered, for so Zeus and the other gods willed that it should be. And
he wedded one of the daughters of Adrastos, and dwelt in a house full
of livelihood, and had wheat-bearing fields enow, and many orchards of
trees apart, and many sheep were his, and in skill with the spear he
excelled all the Achaians: these things ye must have heard, if I speak
sooth. Therefore ye could not say that I am weak and a coward by
lineage, and so dishonour my spoken counsel, that well I may speak. Let
us go down to the battle, wounded as we are, since we needs must; and
then might we hold ourselves aloof from the battle, beyond the range of
darts, lest any take wound upon wound; but the others will we spur on,
even them that aforetime gave place to their passion, and stand apart,
and fight not.”
So he spake, and they all heard him readily, and obeyed him. And they
set forth, led by Agamemnon the king of men.
Now the renowned Earth-shaker held no vain watch, but went with them in
the guise of an ancient man, and he seized the right hand of Agamemnon,
Atreus’ son, and uttering winged words he spake to him, saying:
“Atreides, now methinks the ruinous heart of Achilles rejoices in his
breast, as he beholds the slaughter and flight of the Achaians, since
he hath no wisdom, not a grain. Nay, even so may he perish likewise,
and god mar him. But with thee the blessed gods are not utterly wroth,
nay, even yet methinks the leaders and rulers of the Trojans will cover
the wide plain with dust, and thyself shalt see them fleeing to the
city from the ships and the huts.”
So spake he, and shouted mightily, as he sped over the plain. And loud
as nine thousand men, or ten thousand cry in battle, when they join the
strife of war, so mighty was the cry that the strong Shaker of the
earth sent forth from his breast, and great strength he put into the
heart of each of the Achaians, to strive and war unceasingly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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