Achilles (Mythological character) -- Poetry; Classical literature; Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War -- Poetry
Then rose the valiant Diomed, and said:
“The man is near at hand, nor far to seek,
If ye will hear, nor take offence, that I,
The youngest of you all, presume to speak.
Yet of a noble sire I boast me sprung,
Tydeus, who sleeps beneath the Theban soil:
To Portheus three brave sons were born, who dwelt
In Pleuron and in lofty Calydon,
Agrius, and Melas; bravest of them all,
My father’s father, Œneus, was the third.
He there remain’d; my father, wand’ring long,
To Argos came; such was the will of Jove
And of th’ Immortals all; he there espous’d
Adrastus’ daughter; own’d a wealthy house,
With fertile corn-lands round, and orchards stor’d
With goodly fruit-trees; num’rous flocks he had,
And all the Greeks in feats of arms excell’d.
Hear ye the words I speak, for they are true:
And if my speech be wise, despise it not,
As of one worthless, or ignobly born.
Though wounded, to the battle I advise
That we perforce repair; yet not ourselves
To join the combat, or confront the spears,
Lest wounds to wounds be added; but to rouse
The spirits of some, who, zealous heretofore,
How stand aloof, nor mingle in the fray.”
He said, and they, his words approving, went,
By Agamemnon led, the King of men.
Nor careless was the watch by Neptune kept:
With them, in likeness of an aged man,
He went, and Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
By the right hand he took, and thus address’d:
“O son of Atreus, great is now the joy
With which Achilles’ savage breast is fill’d,
Who sees the slaughter and the rout of Greeks:
For nought he has of heart, no, not a whit:
But perish he, accursed of the Gods!
Nor deem thou that to thee the blessed Gods
Are wholly hostile; yet again the chiefs
And councillors of Troy shall scour in flight
The dusty plain; and from the ships and tents
Thine eyes shall see them to the city fly.”
He said; and loudly shouting, onward rush’d.
As of nine thousand or ten thousand men,
In deadly combat meeting, is the shout;
Such was the sound which from his ample chest
Th’ Earth-shaker sent; and ev’ry Greek inspir’d
With stern resolve to wage unflinching war.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account