s of Peleus' son
Achilles, by the ever-living Gods
To Peleues given, put on. Those arms the Sire,
Now old himself, had on his son conferr'd
But in those arms his son grew never old. 240
Him, therefore, soon as cloud-assembler Jove
Saw glittering in divine Achilles' arms,
Contemplative he shook his brows, and said,
Ah hapless Chief! thy death, although at hand,
Nought troubles thee. Thou wear'st his heavenly 245
Who all excels, terror of Ilium's host.
His friend, though bold yet gentle, thou hast slain
And hast the brows and bosom of the dead
Unseemly bared: yet, bright success awhile
I give thee; so compensating thy lot, 250
From whom Andromache shall ne'er receive
Those glorious arms, for thou shalt ne'er return.
So spake the Thunderer, and his sable brows
Shaking, confirm'd the word. But Hector found
The armor apt; the God of war his soul 255
With fury fill'd, he felt his limbs afresh
Invigorated, and with loudest shouts
Return'd to his illustrious allies.
To them he seem'd, clad in those radiant arms,
Himself Achilles; rank by rank he pass'd 260
Through all the host, exhorting every Chief,
Asteropaeus, Mesthles, Phorcys, Medon,
Thersilochus, Deisenor, augur Ennomus,
Chromius, Hippothoues; all these he roused
To battle, and in accents wing'd began. 265
Hear me, ye myriads, neighbors and allies!
For not through fond desire to fill the plain
With multitudes, have I convened you here
Each from his city, but that well-inclined
To Ilium, ye might help to guard our wives 270
And little ones against the host of Greece.
Therefore it is that forage large and gifts
Providing for you, I exhaust the stores
Of Troy, and drain our people for your sake.
Turn then direct against them, and his life 275
Save each, or lose; it is the course of war.
Him who shall drag, though dead, Patroclus home
Into the host of Troy, and shall repulse
Ajax, I will reward with half the spoils
And half shall be my own; glory and praise 280
Shall also be his meed, equal to mine.
He ended; they compact with lifted spears
Bore on the Danai, conceiving each
Warm expectation in his heart to wrest
From Ajax son of Telamon, the dead.