Achilles (Mythological character) -- Poetry; Classical literature; Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War -- Poetry
The old man spoke reproachful; at his words
Up rose nine warriors: far before the rest,
The monarch Agamemnon, King of men;
Next Tydeus’ son, the valiant Diomed;
The two Ajaces, cloth’d with courage high;
Idomeneus, and of Idomeneus
The faithful follower, brave Meriones,
Equal in fight to blood-stain’d Mars; with these
Eurypylus, Euaemon’s noble son;
Thoas, Andraemon’s son; Ulysses last:
These all with Hector offer’d to contend.
Then thus again Gerenian Nestor spoke:
“Shake then the lots; on whomsoe’er it fall,
Great profit shall he bring to Grecian arms,
Great glory to himself, if he escape
Unwounded from the deadly battle strife.”
He said: each mark’d his sev’ral lot, and all
Together threw in Agamemnon’s helm.
The crowd, with hands uplifted, pray’d the Gods,
And looking heav’nward, said, “Grant, Father Jove,
The lot on Ajax, or on Tydeus’ son,
Or on Mycenæ’s wealthy King may fall.”
Thus they: then aged Nestor shook the helm,
And forth, according to their wish, was thrown
The lot of Ajax; then from left to right
A herald show’d to all the chiefs of Greece,
In turn, the token; they who knew it not,
Disclaim’d it all; but when to him he came
Who mark’d, and threw it in Atrides’ helm,
The noble Ajax, and, approaching, placed
The token in his outstretch’d hand, forthwith
He knew it, and rejoic’d; before his feet
He threw it down upon the ground, and said,
“O friends, the lot is mine; great is my joy,
And hope o’er godlike Hector to prevail.
But now, while I my warlike armour don,
Pray ye to Saturn’s royal son, apart,
In silence, that the Trojans hear ye not;
Or ev’n aloud, for nought have we to fear.
No man against my will can make me fly,
By greater force or skill; nor will, I hope,
My inexperience in the field disgrace
The teaching of my native Salamis.”
Thus he; and they to Saturn’s royal son
Address’d their pray’rs, and looking heav’nward, said:
“O Father Jove, who rul’st on Ida’s height!
Most great! most glorious! grant that Ajax now
May gain the vict’ry, and immortal praise:
Or if thy love and pity Hector claim,
Give equal pow’r and equal praise to both.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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