Excerpt from Homer's Iliad. Excerpts from the Iliad with brief comments
I. I. Dmitriev was born on September 21, 1760 in noble family. Having received his initial education at home (on a family estate near Syzran), he continued it in private boarding schools, first in Kazan and then in Simbirsk. In 1774, at the insistence of his father, the teenager was assigned to the St. Petersburg regimental school. Not having to military service no inclination, he nevertheless patiently served until 1796, reaching the rank of colonel. Soon, following a false denunciation, Dmitriev was accused of an attempt on the life of Paul I, who had just ascended the throne, and was arrested. The misunderstanding, however, quickly became clear, and the victim was showered with royal favors. Trying to fully engage literary work, the poet resigns at the end of 1799, but in 1806 returns to civilian service. In 1810, Dmitriev became Minister of Justice. He strives to be useful to the Fatherland in this high position, but the “sadness and annoyance” that the honest man had to experience statesman due to the intrigues of his colleagues, they forced him to resign again in 1814, and this time forever.
Dmitriev developed an interest in poetry in the 1770s. Derzhavin's poems made a great impression on him.
Participation in the Moscow Journal made Dmitriev’s name famous. During these years, Dmitriev wrote fairy tales, songs, and fables.
Dmitriev's lyrical songs, revealing inner world person. These include the songs “The blue dove is moaning...”, “Where should I go, my passionate heart, where should I run with you?..”, “What happened to you, angel?...”, “I loved all the flowers more than a rose ...", etc. Many of them were set to music and have survived to this day in the form of ancient romances. Typical example is the song “The Gray Dove Moans...”. Using words from folk song“Oh, why are you, my dear, sitting sadly?”, the author carefully selects emotionally charged words that immediately immerse the reader in the element of a quiet, sad feeling: “moans”, “yearning”, “drying”, “tears are pouring”, “ suffers,” “cries”... The reader finds himself at the mercy of the mood created by the poet, at the mercy of the elements of feelings.
The central place, however, in the work of Dmitriev, whom contemporaries called the “Russian Lafontaine,” belongs to fables (he wrote 80 fables). Arguing in them about universal human shortcomings, the poet urges his readers to be content with what they have and not to complain about fate. These are the fables “Two Pigeons”, “Seekers of Fortune”, “Eagle, Whale, Snake and Oyster”, “Desires”, “Flying Fish”, “Cat, Swallow and Rabbit”, “Fly”.
V. I. Fedorov - -
Read one of Dmitriev’s best fables, “The Fly.”
The ox with the plow trudged along to work;
And the Fly sat on his horns,
And they met Mukha on the way.
“Where are you from, sister?” - this was the question.
And she, raising her nose,
In response he says to her: “Where from?” We were plowing!”
From fables forever
You'll accidentally reach the byla.
Have you ever heard, gentlemen:
“We shot down! We have decided!
Dmitriev believed that a fable should satisfy the requirements of elegant taste and be pleasant to read and hear. It needs to be freed from the coarseness of the language, making it correct and giving it lightness, beauty, poetry. The fabulist, according to Dmitriev, is not a moralist, to whom only one has access to the truth, but good friend and a wise advisor. It comes not so much from general folk experience as from personal experience. Therefore, Dmitriev’s fables included personal feelings, often of a domestic nature. The fabulist conducted a conversation with the reader, excluding satire or loud indignant laughter, but containing important moral truths.
This characteristic also applies to the fable “The Fly,” one of the best in Dmitriev’s work. For this fable, Dmitriev took a plot from a peasant story, rural life. It is known how hard work is in the countryside, and plowing the land is especially painful. Previously, peasants plowed the land on horses or oxen. After working day The tired and exhausted Bull in Dmitriev’s fable slowly walks home. The fabulist chooses for the painting he needs expressive word“dragged,” conveying the fatigue of the Bull, who could barely move his legs. A Fly sat on the Bull’s horns, which, of course, did nothing, but saw how hard it was for the Bull to dig up the ground. But it is the Fly that ascribes to herself the same merits as the Bull: she, they say, also worked, she also plowed. And he even proudly boasts to another Fly about his imaginary labor exploits, without any reason. Dmitriev, wanting to emphasize the false and empty words of Mukha, introduced the expression “raising his nose”:
And she, raising her nose, answered her: “Where from?” We were plowing!”
Mukha’s words “We plowed!” have become popular since the time of Dmitriev and entered into popular usage, into our speech: this is how they began to talk about every person who strives, without making any effort, to appropriate for himself the works of others. The fable, therefore, refers not only to peasant or field labor, but to any activity - physical or mental. It condemns people who, being idle, imagine themselves to be great workers.
What is the moral of this story?
It happened to the Rabbit to leave home,
Or better: he went to bow to Aurora
On caraway seeds sprinkled with dew.
Healthy, calm and free,
Jumping, pinching fresh ants in the field,
Little Rabbit comes home.
And what? His legs almost gave way!
He sees: Lasochka is arranging there
Their penates in the corners!
“Am I in a dream or not? The gods are hospitable!”
The exile cried out
From my father's house.
"What do you need?" - the new hostess asked.
"So that you, madam, without thunder
Get out of here quickly! - the Rabbit answered her.
Until I called all the mice to help."
“Should I go out?” she cried. “That’s great!”
What kind of right is autocratic?
Who gave it to you? and is war worth it?
A hole that you yourself crawl into?
But let there be a kingdom: aren’t we all equal here?
And where, tell me, do you find,
That God, having created light, separated it?
God created the Little Weasel, you and the Dromedary;
And the land surveyor
Didn't create it at all.
Who gave more rights to this tithe?
Parsley Rabbit, nephew or son
Filata, Fefela, than Karpu or me?
Empty, brother! the earth serves everyone equally:
You were the first to seize - it belonged to you;
You went out, I came - the mink became mine."
Peter Krolik argued
Custom and prescription are their law;
He asserted: “Our family has been taken over
Undoubtedly this house
Which Rabbit Sophron
Refused, he was saved for his son
Ivan Krolik; after his death
Got it, by virtue of right,
Also to my son, namely to me, Peter Rabbit;
But if you think I'm lying,
Then we will submit ourselves to the judgment of the Rat-Slayer."
And this Ratcatcher, to say without many words,
There was a lean, fat cat, the husband was the most holy of all cats,
Pious hermit in the midst of the world,
And in casual matters an oracle for advice.
"Willingly!" - Lasochka said. And than
They went to the Cat. They come and hit me with their brows,
And both say: “Have mercy! Judge!”
“Come closer, kids,” the judge interrupted them,
I can't hear
He became deaf from old age; come closer!"
They moved and bowed to him again;
And he
Suddenly both paws are apart, scratching this one, the other one,
And instantly reconciled them,
Without saying a word:
Crushed.
Isn’t it the same sometimes with kings,
When they are in their business around the lands
They can't reconcile themselves
Do they resort to kings?
Dmitriev.
From the collection of tales and fables of Bidpai and Lokman.
Bidpai (Bilpai, Pilpai) - apocryphal name Indian sage; he is credited with a collection of fables and stories that have been circulated among all the peoples of the East and West in translations and adaptations for more than 1,500 years.
Two collections are known: “The Book of Light, or the Behavior of Kings, the Indian Sage Bidpai” and “Indian Legends and Indian Fables, Bidpai and Lokman.”
About Lokman, see note. To
Translation by Vasily Andreevich Zhukovsky
Having made a sacrifice to the gods, may they send salvation to Ilion,
Hector hurriedly flowed along the beautifully arranged haystacks;
Having passed the high castle of Pergamon, he finally reached
The Skeian gate leading from the city to a wide field.
There he met Geteon's daughter Andromache, his wife;
Her son was with her. On the breast of the nurse there is a tender baby
He lay quietly: like a radiant star, he was beautiful,
Hector called him Scamandrios; from others he was nicknamed
Astyanax (previously only Hector was the city’s defense).
Gently shaking his hand, Andromache said:
“Relentless, courage will be your undoing. Do not regret
You are neither about your son in swaddling clothes, nor about your poor wife,
Soon the widow will be sad; the Achaeans inevitably
Having attacked with all their might, they will kill you. It would be better for me
To hide in the ground, having lost you: what will happen to me,
What if you, taken away by mighty fate, no longer exist?
Woe! I no longer have either a father or a tender mother;
My father was killed by the divine Achilles; Thebes,
Destroying the Cilician city with its glittering golden gates,
He himself killed Geteon, but did not take the weapon; alien
Thoughts like this, he and his weapons were burned together
The bones of the parent, in honor of him, the funeral rite poured
A hill, and the mountain nymphs lined that hill with plane trees.
I still had seven brothers left in my homeland -
All of them are cast into the abyss of Hades on one day:
Swift-footed Achilles killed everyone with his merciless hand.
Mother queen from the pastures of densely wooded Plaka
He carried away the spoils of war into slavery, but for a great ransom
Soon he gave her freedom so that she would fall from the arrows of Artemis.
Hector, you are everything to me now: both father and tender mother;
You are my only brother, O Hector, my blooming husband.
Be compassionate towards me, stay here on the tower;
Don’t let your son become an orphan, don’t let your wife be a widow;
Set up an army there on the fig tree hill: attack
It's a degree easier from there; the walls there are open to attack.
There have already been three attempts on our life from that side
Both Ajax, Idomeneo, Diomedes and Atreides.”
Hector, adorned with a maned helmet, meekly responds:
“O Andromache, I too grieve about the same thing; but shame on me
It will then be from the Trojan men and from the wives of Ilion,
If, like a timid person, I retire here, avoiding battle;
This is what the heart also forbids; until now I'm used to it calmly
Stay awake in spirit and fight ahead of everyone, protecting
Troy, the great glory of the father and mine; but foresees
The prophetic heart secretly tells me an alarming feeling:
Someday this day will come - sacred Troy will fall,
With her are Priam and the people of the spear-bearing king, cheerful.
But the coming grief is not Troy, not the fate of Hecuba,
Neither Priam's death, nor so many, so brave
The destruction of my brothers, then inevitably falling
To dust under the hand of the enemy, they are now crushing so much
My soul is like the thought of you, Andromache, when you
Following the Achaean man dressed in copper armor,
You will leave here crying, deprived of the light of freedom,
Or in Argos you will weave for the queen with your slaves,
Or, weary, with a heavy vessel in the Hyperean spring
When you draw water, you will remember Pergamum in tears.
Maybe, seeing how you cry in your loneliness, they will say:
“Here is the widow of the famous Hector, who was the first
In the Trojan army in those days when they fought at the walls of Ilion.”
Having heard that, you will remember with new melancholy that in the world
There is no one who would be a reliable protection from slavery.
No! I’d rather have them hide me lifeless
To the ground, rather than hear about your crying and your crushing captivity.”
So Hector answered, and he stretched out his hands to his son;
He timidly deviated from them and towards the nurse's bosom, screaming.
The cute baby rushed, running away from his father, frightened
With the bright shine of the armor and the shaggy mane of the helmet,
It made a menacing noise above him from a huge copper ridge.
With a sad smile, both mother and father looked at their son.
The brilliant Hector hastily removes the helmet from his head;
He puts the swearing garment on the ground and, taking it in his hands,
Son, kisses him with tenderness and tenderly cherishes him.
Then he loudly calls out to the immortal gods and Zeus:
“King Zeus! you gods of Olympus! I beg you, let it be
Once upon a time my son, like me, was the first among the people in charity,
The same muscle is strong and powerfully dominates in Troy.
Let them say in time: He surpassed his Father!
Seeing him coming from the battle with magnificent armor,
Taken from the enemy - and may such praise please the mother."
So saying, he put him in the arms of his tender wife
Son. She, smiling through tears, fragrant cover
Perseus dressed him; and, full of deep sadness,
Hector, caressing her with his hand, said to her warmly:
“Poor thing, you shouldn’t grieve for me so much;
Against fate, I will not be exiled prematurely by anyone
To dark Hades; but not a single one has escaped fate
A mortal, born once on earth, is neither brave nor timid.
Go to your home in peace: take care of the order of the household,
Yarn, weaving; see that male and female slaves are at work
They were diligent; to take care of the war -
The cause of the Trojan men and mine is the most important of all.”
Having finished, the brilliant Hector raises his maned helmet.
Slowly walking and often looking back and crying
Bitter silence, Andromache went and reached
Soon the monastery of Hector; there were a lot of servants
Gathered there at work; everyone lamented with her;
Hector was mourned alive in his house. “It’s inevitable,”
They thought he would die; We won’t see him forever.”
The prophetic sorrow foretold them the truth; the time has come
To come true what was destined long ago: but before
The mighty defender of Pergamum was covered with great glory.
Patroclus fell at the hands of the noble Hector; in vain
The helmet of Achilles and the shield covered him; inevitable
The hour of fate has come - and from Patroclus's cold corpse
Hector pulled off Achilles' armor, and the slaughter lit up
Around the lifeless young man, previously so vigorous in battle.
“I sent Antilochus to the ships to tell Achilles
Death of Patroclus; but I know that he will not come to our aid,
No matter how angry he is at Hector... He is unarmed.
We alone have to defend our murdered friend. Persistently
Let us stand for him; let’s save the lifeless body.” -
Thus spoke Menelaus to Telamon's son Ajax.
“It’s true, Atrid is famous,” Ajax answered Menelaus, “
You and Merion protect Patroclus; bend over and body,
Take it on your shoulders and carry it out of the battle. We are both Ajax,
Hearts equal in courage, always inseparable in battle,
Let us strive together for the Trojans and the great Hector
Reflect with your chest, guarding your departure.”
King Menelaus and Merion lift the body of Patroclus
With a strong hand from the ground: the Trojans were horrified when they saw
The body was in the power of the Achaeans, and they rushed after them with a cry.
Like dogs, forestalling the young hunters
A boar, when it is wounded, rushes suddenly, but only
Mad, he, bristling, will turn at them, in fright
Everyone falls apart - so the Trojans first strive
Briskly forward, raising swords and double-edged spears;
But as soon as the Ajax turn their faces towards them -
Everyone turns pale and no one dares to start a fight.
King Menelaus with Merion fearlessly, with a slow step,
They go forward, carrying Patroclus’ body from the battle;
They are protected by the Ajaxes; brilliant Hector with Aeneas
They rush like enraged lions, trying to steal their prey;
A noisy battle approaches the ships like a terrible thunderstorm.
Meanwhile, Antilochus timidly approaches Achilles' headquarters.
He sat in front of the ships near the sea,
Gloomy, troubled by the thought of what has already happened.
“Woe! - he was thinking. - Why do they crowd towards the ships in disorder?
Achaeans again, leaving the battle? I'm afraid what's wrong with me
What my mother predicted long ago will come true: that I should
The bravest Myrmidon died before me from the Trojans.
The heart is trembling; Has Menetius's son fallen? Inflexible
Friend! and I begged to go to the ships, reflecting
The enemy’s fire and by no means test strength with Hector.”
So Achilles thought - and before him with crushing news
The son of the elderly Nestor, shedding tears, appeared.
"Woe is me! noble son of Peleus, you must oh terrible
Hearing a misfortune that should never happen!
Patroclus fell: now for his lifeless body
They fight; he is naked - the mighty Hector stole the weapon.”
A gloomy cloud of sorrow covered Achilles' face.
He filled both handfuls with ashes and sprinkled them on his head;
The young face turned black, his clothes and himself turned black,
With a great body covering the great space, in the dust
He was stretched out, tearing out his hair, and beating himself on the ground.
The virgins, captured by him and Patroclus, left the headquarters in fear
They ran out, screamed loudly over him and tormented him.
Antilochus groaned with them; bursting into tears with all his might
He held Achilles' hands so that in the madness of grief
He did not pierce his own chest with a sophisticated weapon.
He cried with a terrible cry. His mother heard him
In the house of a gray-haired father, at the bottom of the deep sea.
She sobbed loudly, and the Nereids gathered to her,
Young sisters, sea depth golden-haired maidens.
The underwater silver house was full of them, they amazed
They are all Percy, grieving with their sister. Thetis said to them:
“Dear sisters, Nereus immortal daughters, many,
There is a lot of sadness in my heart; oh, woe to me, poor thing!
To me, the great mother of Achilles! Born by me
A son so noble in soul, so glorious in courage, in heroes
The first... it blossomed like a beautiful young tree; with love
Tender, well-mannered, grew up and, finally, I went to Ilion
Sent, he sailed there in sharp-chested ships... and forever
I will never see him in Peleus’s father’s house;
But as long as he lives, illuminated by the radiance of the day,
He is condemned to suffer, and his mother will not help him.
Dear sisters, let us leave the deep sea; I owe it.
I have to see my son, I have to see what
New grief befell him, who did not enter the battle.”
So saying, Thetis comes out of the cave, and with her
Sisters, Nerean daughters, shedding tears. Waves
The seas around them rustle, separating. Having reached Troy,
They come ashore one after another in the place where they matured
All the ships of the Myrmidons are around Achilles' headquarters.
His mother came up to him, sobbed over him and, hugging him
With a gentle hand she bowed her son’s head and said:
“Why are you crying? What crushed your cheerful soul?
Be frank with me! Zeus the Thunderer performed
Everything you prayed for when you raised your hands here. Achaeans
We suffered a lot of shame, having lost you, and are oppressed
By the force of enemies to the ships, they called you hopelessly.”
With a heavy sigh, fleet-footed Achilles answered:
“Mother, I prayed not in vain, Zeus the Thunderer fulfilled
All; but what good is that when I lost Patroclus,
A most tender friend, dear to me, like the radiance of day?
He died, and Hector the killer stole the weapon,
Strong, wondrous, a gift from the Olympian gods to Peleus
On that day, how you were combined, immortal, with a mortal.
It would be better if you remained the goddess of the sea,
It would be better to have a simple, non-immortal wife as a spouse
There was Peleus: endless longing for his lost son
Now you will be destroyed; you won't see him forever
At my father's house. Yes, and my heart forbids me to share
Here to wander among the living; but first Hector will pay
I want Patroclus’s life, dying under my feet.”
The mother, shedding tears, replies: “What you said,
He announces to me that the end of your life is near:
You yourself, following Hector, must inevitably die -
Fate decreed it.” Achilles objected to her gloomily:
“Let me perish now! What in life if Patroclus
Am I not allowed to protect? Far from your beloved homeland
He fell, and I did not come to repel the hated death.
What am I? I am destined not to see my parents’ peaceful fields;
I could not save Patroclus’s life; could not be a defense
To so many noble friends who fell from the strong Hector.
Here I sit, behind the ships, a useless burden
Light, I, Achilles, of all the copper-plated Achaeans
I am the bravest in battle, although I yield to others in advice.
ABOUT! let enmity and anger perish, which often darkens
Reason to the wisest! At first it's sweeter than honey, but soon
The consuming flame ignites in the heart that has tasted it.
So Agamemnon, the ruler of kings, irritated me.
But let the past be past; no matter how unfortunate
It is an irritated heart that must submit to the heart.
I'm coming - you won't escape me, Patroklov's killer,
Hector. I am ready to accept my lot whenever it is appointed
Eternal Zeus and the immortal gods of Olympus; should I
Now to grumble about fate, when noble Alcides,
The beloved son of the Thunderer, was he once comprehended by her?
If a similar fate awaits me, let me lie down
Into the ground, having lost my breath; but great glory first
Here I will collect, fleeting life as a replacement; there are many here
I will force the full-breasted Dardanian maidens to crumble and cry
Wipe off the cheeks of young people, covering them with your hands
Faces and sighs spiral into a chest torn by grief.
They will soon find out that I have rested. Don't you hope
Mother, hold me back: I will never be subdued.”
“You speak the truth,” answered Thetis, “it is commendable
To be protection for friends from harm and from death. But Troy
Now he owns your shining armor; predatory
Hector, adorned with them, rejoices - although not for long
In them he will be magnified: the appointed hour is not far away;
But unarmed, my son, do not rush into the alarm of Ares;
Stay here until you see me again.
Here tomorrow at dawn, as soon as the sun rises,
I will come with the magnificent armor forged by the god Ifestus.”
Thus spoke the goddess and said goodbye to her mighty son.
Then turning to the young sisters, silver-legged goddesses,
“Dear sisters,” she said, “now plunge into the sea,
Return to the house of Nereus and the gray-haired old man of the abyss
Announce everything. And I’m on the top of Olympus to Ifestus
I’ll fly straight from here to beg him to give us weapons.”
Cum; The young goddesses plunged into the bosom of the swells.
Thetis flew quickly from them to the top of Olympus.
Sometimes the Achaeans oh the formidable Hector with a loud
They fled screaming to their ships, to the shores of Ellispont,
Trying in vain to snatch Patroclus’s body from the battle;
Hector, like a stormy flame, chased after him; already three times
He grabbed the dead man's leg from behind, ready to prey
To snatch from the hands of the Achaeans, and the Trojans called, and thrice
With all their might, Ajax repelled him from the corpse.
Furious, fiery, he overthrew everything; then, running fast,
Fought in the crowd; then, standing motionless, he called loudly
Into the battle of his own and relentlessly rushed towards the cold body.
So over the torn doe, hungry, eyes sparkling,
The cosmosed lion sits, not disturbed by the cry of the shepherds.
In vain do the brave Ajaxes fight him; would have mastered
He is inevitably Patroclus with great glory, whenever
Ira did not send Iris from heaven to Peleus’ son:
“Son of Peleus, run, run to the aid of Patroclus;
The battle has already approached the ships. Look: they kill
They are afraid of each other, some - fighting back, others - striving
Grab the body; the Trojans will prevail; brilliant Hector
Soon he will kidnap Patroclus, and rush off to Troy, and on the tower
He will display his head, taken from his shoulders, to the shame of the Achaeans.
Stop delaying: or else the dogs will feed on Patroclus’s body.
Stand up, unarmed, run into the sky; show yourself to the Trojans;
Your image will fill them with horror; the Achaeans will be encouraged.”
So the goddess Iris said to Achilles and disappeared.
Excited by her voice, Achilles jumped up. And Athena
She clothed his powerful shoulders with a terrible aegis,
She wrapped her head in a fiery cloud, and from it began to shine
Menacing rays illuminate the surroundings. Like smoke, wriggling
Rises far away on an island surrounded by a host of enemies
(The besieged fight vigorously all day long, but only the sun will set,
Everywhere bonfires are lit, and the flames burn with bright sparks
It rises in a great pillar and, around it, reflected by the sea,
It shines so that ships bringing help can see the way),
So from the head of Achilles the brilliance rose into the ether.
He ran up into the thunder and, standing in full view of the Achaeans,
Screamed... the piercing scream was repeated by Pallas Athena
The response is loud: the Trojan was seized with indescribable horror.
So the deafening thunder of the battle trumpet, announcing
An attack suddenly sickens the besieged. Barely Achilles
A voice was heard, everyone’s heart trembled; all the horses
Sensing death, they raised their manes and with a loud stomp
The chariots were driven back; their rulers are in a frenzy,
With a pale face, turning back, they looked motionless
Eye on the menacing face of Achilles' shine. Three times
He shouted from the rampart at them - three times, overwhelmed by fear,
Trojan and allied troops rushed back in disarray.
There are twelve from their chariots and from their own spears
The brave Dardanians died. The Achaeans, having kidnapped Patroclus,
At headquarters they stretched him out on his bed, and his friends surrounded him.
Body. Achilles has arrived. He burst into tears when he saw
Friend, before him on the bed lying motionless, sharp
Pierced with copper: he himself recently went to battle,
Having clothed himself with his armor, he sent, but he did not come back.
Sometimes, constant in the current of Helios, the will
Having completed the Ides, he reluctantly descended to the waters of the Ocean,
In them the sunken sun disappeared, and the army of the Achaeans
After the destructive battle, I plunged into deep peace.
But the Trojans could taste neither rest nor food,
Vaguely they gathered in council. Leaning on spears,
Everyone stood, and not a single one dared to sit down, and all of them
My heart was troubled by the thought of Achilles coming into battle.
Well-meaning polydamant, Hector's careful friend,
The first one gave advice: after leaving the battlefield,
Enter Troy. “Now the fragrant night is favorable to us. -
That's what he said. “She’s holding Achilles.” But in the morning,
When he sees us in the field, he will go out into battle. Then inevitably
Many will be prey to dogs. Let us retire to Troy until
Time, at the market place we will spend the night under the open sky;
With the first shine of the morning star, we will gather on the walls; let him
He will approach them to taste the battle; only in vain mighty
He will tire his horses; but he won’t be able to break into Troy.”
Gloomy, his eyebrows furrowed, the fiery Hector answered:
“Polydamantus, your cautious advice is now useless;
Should we, as timid, flee to Troy, fenced with towers?
Aren't we tired yet, crowding behind walls to take cover?
Once upon a time the city of Priam, glorious among all nations,
He was famous on earth for the abundance of copper and gold;
But abundance has long since disappeared from the sad dwellings.
We irritated Zeus: in Phrygia, in the allied region
Lush Meonia, our best utensils have been sold.
Now, when the mighty Kronion, Zeus the Almighty,
He sent glory to the ships of the copperplate Achaeans,
Will I take refuge in Troy? What advice do you give?
Which Trojan will submit to him? I am the master here.
Listen to my word and do my will:
Let the food be divided among the squads; get enough, but everyone
Be careful, and let the guard not sleep on watch. Morning
With the first radiance of the morning star, taking up the copper weapon,
We will run to the ships for a decisive attack. And if
It is true that Achilles got up, he chose a bad time;
I am not afraid to meet him, merciless; bravely
I will stand before him, not caring whether he will decorate me or him
With the glory of battle... Ares is incorruptible, and he strikes down those who strike.”
Hector spoke, and the Trojans, who agreed with him, answered
Noisy splashing... blind people! Pallas overshadowed their reason:
They preferred evil to good and remained in the field.
In grief and crying that night over the body of Patroclus, the Achaeans
Without closing our eyes, we spent the whole time. Achilles, putting
Powerful hands on the motionless chest of a friend, with a groan
Cried. So a formidable lioness roars when the hunter
He kidnapped her young lion cub from a deep ravine:
Angry, she prowls the gorges with a plaintive roar.
So Achilles cried out, surrounded by a crowd of Myrmidons:
“Gods! how foolish my hopes were when I,
Trying to assuage Menoetius's grief, he made a promise
Return to Opunt together with Patroclus, adorned with glory,
Having destroyed Troy and amassed a lot of rich booty.
A mortal plans one thing, but Zeus does something else!
We will both feed the same land with our blood.
Here, in the remote Troyan region. And they won't see me
Forever in the dwelling of the fathers, neither Peleus, my parent
Decrepit, neither mother Thetis. Here I will lie down, covered with a grave.
If after Patroclus it is appointed for me to go down into the earth,
Oh my Patroclus! I will perform your burial, throwing down
The head of Hector with his armor before you and twelve
The young men of the captives, the sons of the noblest of Troy, slaughtered
To your honor and consolation to your offended shadow!
Sleep in peace beside my ships, awaiting revenge;
Let the Trojan women, captured by us, day and night
They are still crying over your body and tormenting your soul.”
With these words, noble Achilles commanded his friends,
Filling a huge tripod cauldron with clean water,
Wash off the ashes and dried blood from Patroclus’ body.
Place the tripod on a bright fire, and a noisy stream
Spring water is poured into it and brushwood is thrown
Into the flame: it engulfed the cauldron and the water began to boil
In a copper ringing vessel. Washed by warm moisture,
The body was anointed with rich oil; then, fragrant
They filled the wounds with nine-year-old ointment and rubbed
Quietly on his bed and, covering him with precious linen,
They dressed both the body and the bed with shiny fabric.
Young Eos in scarlet clothing, immortal and mortal
The day-bringer rose from the waters of the Ocean. Thetis
With the wondrous armor given to her by Iphaestus, she came to Achilles;
He lay prostrate over the soulless Patroclus and loudly
Cried; Around the Myrmidons sat in gloomy silence.
The silver-legged mother goddess walked quietly between them
To her son and, taking him by the hand, she said tenderly:
“My son, let’s leave the dead man to rest, no matter how much we think about him
In his heart he was not crushed: he was comprehended by the power of the immortals.
I brought unharmed armor from the god Ifestos,
A miracle of beauty: no other person has seen anything like it.”
So saying, Thetis laid at the feet of Achilles
Armor; a loud weapon made a sound: the Myrmidons
Horror penetrated: not a single goddess dared to look
Right in the face, and everyone was in awe. But with the strongest anger,
Seeing the armor, Achilles began to boil; eyes sparkled
Sparks, flashing under the shadow of eyelashes, like a terrible flame;
With a greedy hand he grabbed the armor and, with a miraculous gift,
Captivated by the God Iphaestus, he began to admire him; but soon
He became gloomy again; then, turning to Thetis,
“Mother,” he said, “your weapon is wondrous, and immediately
I will go out into battle. But my heart is restless; he will
Here lie lifeless; greedy insects can
Fly into wounds, a worm will settle in them and may rot,
Having penetrated the body, the beautiful image disgraces it.”
“Be, my beloved son, carefree,” said Thetis, “
Inseparable from him, I will scatter the insects myself,
Greedily devouring the body of the murdered husband; at least
Slow years flew over him, I am imperishable
I will save his body, and he will be even more beautiful.”
With these words she pours water on the wounds of Patroclus
Fragrant ambrosia juice with light purple nectar.
The noble Achilles hastily flowed along the seashore;
The Achaeans gathered at his sonorous voice. It's unfortunate
He gave his hand to Atrid, and was a peace offering
The late alliance between them was confirmed. Agamemnon the mighty
He gave orders to take the gifts to Achilles. Immediately
King Odysseus with the sons of the venerable Nestor, with the glorious
The son of Filius Megit, with Foant and with them Kreon
Son of Lycomedes, Merion, Melanippus to Agamemnon at headquarters
They go and, having chosen seven precious tripods, twenty
Light vessels, twelve horses and seven handicrafts
The captives with the eighth Briseis retreat to the tent of Achilles,
King Odysseus is in front with ten talents of gold.
Everyone then, surrounding Achilles, invites him
To share lunch with them: but, sighing heavily, he answered:
“Oh friends! I beg you, if I’m even a little dear
To your heart, do not demand now that I enjoy
Your food: grief tears my whole soul apart.
No, I won’t touch anything until late at night.”
All the commanders then said goodbye to Achilles; remained
Both Atrid, Idomeneo, noble Odysseus,
Nestor and Elder Phoenix. Clarify the darkened soul
They tried to make friends with cheerful conversation; but in vain.
He was gloomy, only hungry for battle, incessantly
I thought about the dead, and talked about only one thing about him incessantly:
“Oh, how often has it happened that you yourself, poor, caring,
He came to my headquarters with morning food,
Announcing to me that the army of the Achaeans was leaving their tents,
Ready to go out into battle again with the Trojans: and now
Here you lie, lifeless! I can't enjoy myself
The heart has neither food nor sweet wine without you. I'm only strong
Wouldn’t I have been overwhelmed by grief when I heard about the death of Peleus?
Shedding tears in Phthia for my distant self,
Fighting in a foreign land for the offense of the despicable Elena,
Having received sad news about his son in Skyros
To me, the blossoming, god-like Neoptolemus,
If he's alive! - Until now, I have always had secret hope
I consoled my heart that I would die alone, separated
With the glorious horses Argos, in the Trojan land, which, within
Dear Phthia, returning, you yourself are in the white-winged ships
You will take your son in Skyros and show him in your homeland
All my riches, slaves and royal palaces.
I felt that Peleus was already in the ground, lifeless,
He will lie, or perhaps sadly live out his life,
He will be bent over with sadness and years, still fearing that from Troy
A messenger will come and tell him: “Achilles is gone.”
So he spoke and cried. Those who sat with him sighed,
Everyone was thinking about what they had left in a distant house.
Zeus bowed his compassionate gaze from heaven to the sad,
He quickly turns his winged speech to the goddess Pallas:
“Or, Pallas, will noble Achilles abandon you?
You see how he is on the shore, near his black-breasted ships,
Weeping for the dead Patroclus, he sits alone. Other
They strengthen themselves with morning food; but he doesn't accept
Food. Fly into the chest of Achilles sweet ambrosia
Pour in some nectar so that he doesn’t lose his strength from hunger.”
So Zeus spoke, anticipating the desire of Athena.
She is fast, like an eagle with immense wings, with a ringing
Shouting, she flew from the sky towards the tents. The Achaeans were already crowding,
Taking up arms in battle. Sweet ambrosia into the chest of Achilles
Athena secretly poured in nectar, so that from hunger strength
He did not lose it, and then returned to the monastery again
Zeus. The Achaeans flowed in waves, leaving the ships.
Like frequent, clumps of snow falling, carried away
Northern, quickly clearing wind, from rates
Countless helmets rained down, swarm after glittering swarm,
Steeply bent armor, made of solid ash,
Shields with a sharp plaque; a radiance rose to the heavens;
The earth laughed in the brilliance of weapons; under the feet of those running
The shore thundered. In the midst of their armor Achilles was clothed.
His teeth were gnashing, and his eyes were like quick flames,
They beamed, sparkling; but his heart is unbearably sad
It was full. Seething with anger, furious at the Trojans,
He took the armor, a wonderful creation of the god Ifestus;
The shins were first clothed in light, smooth greaves,
He pulled each one tightly with a silver buckle; huge
He covered his powerful chest with a shell; on the shoulder precious
A sword with a silver hilt and a copper blade hung.
Afterwards I put on an immense, heavy, brilliance-like
Shield for the full month: like a distant beacon for sailors
Shines in the darkness, flaming alone on the top of a cliff -
The storm carries them away from their friends across the noisy sea -
The divine shield of Achilles shone so radiantly,
A miracle of art. Then he pulled a heavy
Maned helmet; he shone like a star, and with thick golden hair
A horse's tail was adorned with a raised crest.
Clad in armor, Achilles tests his strength:
He moved freely in it, and the armor embraced his members
The wings seemed lighter and seemed to be lifted.
Then he took his father’s spear from the beautiful ark,
It is very huge - not a single one in the host of Achaeans
I couldn’t move, but Achilles’ hand played with it easily:
Having cut down the mighty ash tree from the proud head of Pelion,
Chiron created that spear for Peleus, to the destruction of his enemies.
Automedon and Alcimus hastily mounted
The light harness and bit were forced into their teeth;
Then, pulling the reins tightly, ahead of the chariot
They were strengthened. Automedon in a chariot with brilliant
He threw a whip. Achilles, preparing for a bloody battle,
He stood behind, like Helios, shining with wondrous armor.
Then he exclaimed loudly to Peleus’s vigorous horses:
“Xanthus and Valius, glorious children of Podarga, or rather,
Good horses, now be your ruler;
Return him, fed up with battle, to the ships; not dead
Leave it in the field, like Patroclus.” That's why he's light-footed
Xanth, breathing fire, answered, bending down to his hooves
A proud head - a lush mane fell to the ground;
Ida loosened her tongue with her lily hand and he said:
“So, we will bring you back alive, son of Peleus;
But your destined day is already near. Not ours
By will, but by the power of God and strict fate, it happened;
No, we are not the ones who are slowed down by our untimely laziness.
They allowed the Trojans to steal Patroclus’s strong armor;
The son of thick-haired Lita, God has comprehended the inevitable
In the battle he and Hector were adorned with the honor of victory.
Let us run ahead of Zephyr's flight, from the lungs
The lightest winds blow fragrant wings - but know:
You will perish from a mighty god and a mortal man.”
He spoke, and the power of the Erinnyes silenced his tongue.
With a gloomy face, fleet-footed Achilles answered him:
“Xanth, why is it useless for you to prophesy death to me? And myself
I know that I, far from my father and mother, must
Here, according to the law of fate, to die. But I won't stop
Fight and torment the Trojans with an insatiable battle."
He shouted loudly, and the horses rushed off with a loud stamping;
Following him, the Achaeans ran out of the barriers. Trojans
They were waiting for them in the field, standing in thick crowds on the hill.
Eternal Zeus from the multi-headed peak of Olympus Themis
He sends all the gods to be invited to the council. Goddess
She commanded them to gather in the abodes of heaven. Presented
All, even the very gods of the streams and in the shady groves,
In dark valleys, in secret springs, nymphs live;
The ancient Ocean alone did not appear. In the halls, Ifestos
Created with wondrous art by the will of Zeus, on thrones
The gods sat around the Thunderer. Calling of Themis
Posidon himself submitted. He came out of the waters and with others
Sat down for advice. Finally he asked Lord Zeus:
“God of thunder, why did you call us to the halls of Olympus?
Or are you planning to decide the fate of the Trojans and Achaeans,
Who went out into the field and were again filled with the fury of battle?
Zeus, thundering in the clouds, answered and said to Posidon:
“God, shaker of the earth, you know my thoughts,
You know what this advice is about. And my mind cares for those who are perishing.
Here I will sit, on the highest rock of Olympus,
Delighting yourself with the spectacle of battle. But I let you
Go to the troops of the Trojans and Achaeans, and you can help
Serve to whichever side your heart inclines you.
If Achilles alone attacks the Trojans - not a moment
In the field they will not hold out against Pelid's strength;
They were all struck with trepidation at his single appearance.
Now, when he is so angry at the death of his friend,
I am afraid that, despite fate, I will not destroy Troy.”
Thus spoke Zeus, and the immortals flared up in battle.
They separated from the sky and flew to the warring armies.
Powerful Ira went to the ships with Pallas Athena;
With her is Poseidon, hugging the earth, and Ermius, abundant
By machinations, generous giver of wealth, and slowly,
Flame-eyed Ifestus, drawing the lame by force
Leg. But the shining helmet of Ares turned to the Trojans,
With him is the full-haired Phoebus and the accuracy of his arrows is Artemis.
Proud, Leto, and Xanth, and Cypris with a welcoming smile.
The Achaeans were arrogant until the gods intervened
Into battle - Achilles with his appearance, but with a duty to rest,
They were encouraged, and the Trojans, at the sight of Peleus’ son,
With the shine of armor like Ares, everyone trembled, -
But as soon as the Olympians descended to mortals, Erinnis
Suddenly she began to rage terribly. Then standing on the shaft,
Near a deep ditch, then on the shore of a noisy sea
Athena screamed with a mighty voice. And like black
Storm, Ares howled, then from the mountain peak of Pergamum
Shouting Trojans, then running back and forth at the high
Kalikolons, outside the walls, not far from the Simois Coast.
So the Olympian gods excited army against army.
Soon a destructive battle of extermination flared up everywhere.
The almighty father of men and immortals thundered terribly
From the sky; below Posidon shook the vast earth;
The mountains shook; from the foot of Ida, rich in streams
Everything up to its top and Pergamon with the ships trembled.
In the kingdom of deep underground darkness, Aidoneus was indignant;
Pale ran away from the throne and shouted, fearing that from above
Poseidon the Crusher did not pierce the solid ground, so that the eye
The impregnable Hades did not open to mortal men and gods,
Terrible, hazy, empty and hated by the immortals themselves.
Having made a sacrifice to the gods, may they send salvation to Ilion,
Hector hurriedly flowed along the beautifully arranged haystacks;
Having passed the high castle of Pergamon, he finally reached
The Skeian gate leading from the city to a wide field.
There he met Geteon's daughter Andromache, his wife;
Her son was with her. On the breast of the nurse there is a tender baby
He lay quietly: like a radiant star, he was beautiful,
Hector called him Scamandrios; from others he was nicknamed
Astyanax (previously only Hector was the city’s defense).
Gently shaking his hand, Andromache said:
“Relentless, courage will be your undoing. Do not regret
You are neither about your son in swaddling clothes, nor about your poor wife,
Soon the widow will be sad; the Achaeans inevitably
Having attacked with all their might, they will kill you. It would be better for me
To hide in the ground, having lost you: what will happen to me,
What if you, taken away by mighty fate, no longer exist?
Woe! I no longer have either a father or a tender mother;
My father was killed by the divine Achilles; Thebes,
Destroying the Cilician city with its glittering golden gates,
He himself killed Geteon, but did not take the weapon; alien
Thoughts like this, he and his weapons were burned together
The bones of the parent, in honor of him, the funeral rite poured
A hill, and the mountain nymphs lined that hill with plane trees.
I still had seven brothers left in my homeland -
All of them are cast into the abyss of Hades on one day:
Swift-footed Achilles killed everyone with his merciless hand.
Mother queen from the pastures of densely wooded Plaka
He carried away the spoils of war into slavery, but for a great ransom
Soon he gave her freedom so that she would fall from the arrows of Artemis.
Hector, you are everything to me now: both father and tender mother;
You are my only brother, O Hector, my blooming husband.
Be compassionate towards me, stay here on the tower;
Don’t let your son become an orphan, don’t let your wife be a widow;
Set up an army there on the fig tree hill: attack
It's a degree easier from there; the walls there are open to attack.
There have already been three attempts on our life from that side
Both Ajax, Idomeneo, Diomedes and Atreides.”
Hector, adorned with a maned helmet, meekly responds:
“O Andromache, I too grieve about the same thing; but shame on me
It will then be from the Trojan men and from the wives of Ilion,
If, like a timid person, I retire here, avoiding battle;
This is what the heart also forbids; until now I'm used to it calmly
Stay awake in spirit and fight ahead of everyone, protecting
Troy, the great glory of the father and mine; but foresees
The prophetic heart secretly tells me an alarming feeling:
Someday this day will come - sacred Troy will fall,
With her are Priam and the people of the spear-bearing king, cheerful.
But the coming grief is not Troy, not the fate of Hecuba,
Neither Priam's death, nor so many, so brave
The destruction of my brothers, then inevitably falling
To dust under the hand of the enemy, they are now crushing so much
My soul is like the thought of you, Andromache, when you
Following the Achaean man dressed in copper armor,
You will leave here crying, deprived of the light of freedom,
Or in Argos you will weave for the queen with your slaves,
Or, weary, with a heavy vessel in the Hyperean spring
When you draw water, you will remember Pergamum in tears.
Maybe, seeing how you cry in your loneliness, they will say:
“Here is the widow of the famous Hector, who was the first
In the Trojan army in those days when they fought at the walls of Ilion.”
Having heard that, you will remember with new melancholy that in the world
There is no one who would be a reliable protection from slavery.
No! I’d rather have them hide me lifeless
To the ground, rather than hear about your crying and your crushing captivity.”
So Hector answered, and he stretched out his hands to his son;
He timidly deviated from them and towards the nurse's bosom, screaming.
The cute baby rushed, running away from his father, frightened
With the bright shine of the armor and the shaggy mane of the helmet,
It made a menacing noise above him from a huge copper ridge.
With a sad smile, both mother and father looked at their son.
The brilliant Hector hastily removes the helmet from his head;
He puts the swearing garment on the ground and, taking it in his hands,
Son, kisses him with tenderness and tenderly cherishes him.
Then he loudly calls out to the immortal gods and Zeus:
“King Zeus! you gods of Olympus! I beg you, let it be
Once upon a time my son, like me, was the first among the people in charity,
The same muscle is strong and powerfully dominates in Troy.
Let them say in time: He surpassed his Father!
Seeing him coming from the battle with magnificent armor,
Taken from the enemy - and may such praise please the mother."
So saying, he put him in the arms of his tender wife
Son. She, smiling through tears, fragrant cover
Perseus dressed him; and, full of deep sadness,
Hector, caressing her with his hand, said to her warmly:
“Poor thing, you shouldn’t grieve for me so much;
Against fate, I will not be exiled prematurely by anyone
To dark Hades; but not a single one has escaped fate
A mortal, born once on earth, is neither brave nor timid.
Go to your home in peace: take care of the order of the household,
Yarn, weaving; see that male and female slaves are at work
They were diligent; to take care of the war -
The cause of the Trojan men and mine is the most important of all.”
Having finished, the brilliant Hector raises his maned helmet.
Slowly walking and often looking back and crying
Bitter silence, Andromache went and reached
Soon the monastery of Hector; there were a lot of servants
Gathered there at work; everyone lamented with her;
Hector was mourned alive in his house. “It’s inevitable,”
They thought he would die; We won’t see him forever.”
The prophetic sorrow foretold them the truth; the time has come
To come true what was destined long ago: but before
The mighty defender of Pergamum was covered with great glory.
Patroclus fell at the hands of the noble Hector; in vain
The helmet of Achilles and the shield covered him; inevitable
The hour of fate has come - and from Patroclus's cold corpse
Hector pulled off Achilles' armor, and the slaughter lit up
Around the lifeless young man, previously so vigorous in battle.
“I sent Antilochus to the ships to tell Achilles
Death of Patroclus; but I know that he will not come to our aid,
No matter how angry he is at Hector... He is unarmed.
We alone have to defend our murdered friend. Persistently
Let us stand for him; let’s save the lifeless body.” -
Having made a sacrifice to the gods, may they send salvation to Ilion,
Hector hurriedly flowed along the beautifully arranged haystacks;
Having passed the high castle of Pergamon, he finally reached
The Skeian gate leading from the city to a wide field.
There he met Geteon's daughter Andromache, his wife;
Her son was with her. On the breast of the nurse there is a tender baby
He lay quietly: like a radiant star, he was beautiful,
Hector Scamandrios called him; from others he was nicknamed
Astyanax (previously only Hector was the city’s defense).
Gently shaking his hand, Andromache said:
“Relentless, courage will be your undoing. Do not regret
You are neither about your son in swaddling clothes, nor about your poor wife,
Soon the widow will be sad; the Achaeans inevitably
Having attacked with all their might, they will kill you. It would be better for me
To hide in the ground, having lost you: what will happen to me,
What if you, taken away by mighty fate, no longer exist?
Woe! I no longer have either a father or a tender mother;
My father was killed by the divine Achilles; Thebes,
Destroying the Cilician city with its glittering golden gates,
He himself killed Geteon, but did not take the weapon; alien
Thoughts like this, he and his weapons were burned together
The bones of the parent, in honor of him, the funeral rite poured
A hill, and the mountain nymphs lined that hill with plane trees.
I still had seven brothers left in my homeland -
All of them are cast into the abyss of Hades on one day:
Swift-footed Achilles killed everyone with his merciless hand.
Mother queen from the pastures of densely wooded Plaka
He was carried away into slavery by the spoils of war, but for a great ransom
Soon he gave her freedom so that she would fall from the arrows of Artemis.
Hector, you are everything to me now: both father and tender mother;
You are my only brother, O Hector, my blooming husband.
Be compassionate towards me, stay here on the tower;
Don’t let your son become an orphan, don’t let your wife be a widow;
Set up an army there on the fig tree hill: attack
It's a degree easier from there; the walls there are open to attack.
There have already been three attempts on our life from that side
Both Ajax, Idomeneo, Diomedes and Atreides.”
Hector, adorned with a maned helmet, meekly responds:
“O Andromache, I too grieve about the same thing; but shame on me
It will then be from the Trojan men and from the wives of Ilion,
If, like a timid person, I retire here, avoiding battle;
This is what the heart also forbids; until now I'm used to it calmly
Stay awake in spirit and fight ahead of everyone, protecting
Troy, the great glory of the father and mine; but foresees
The prophetic heart secretly tells me an alarming feeling:
Someday this day will come - sacred Troy will fall,
With her are Priam and the people of the spear-bearing king, cheerful.
But the coming grief is not Troy, not the fate of Hecuba,
Neither Priam's death, nor so many, so brave
The destruction of my brothers, then inevitably falling
To dust under the hand of the enemy, they are now crushing so much
My soul is like the thought of you, Andromache, when you
Following the Achaean man dressed in copper armor,
Crying, you will leave here, deprived of the light of freedom,
Or in Argos you will weave for the queen with your slaves,
Or, weary, with a heavy vessel in the Hyperean spring
When you draw water, you will remember Pergamum in tears.
Maybe, seeing how you cry in your loneliness, they will say:
“Here is the widow of the famous Hector, who was the first
In the Trojan army in those days when they fought at the walls of Ilion.”
Having heard that, you will remember with new melancholy that in the world
There is no one who would be a reliable protection from slavery.
No! I’d rather have them hide me lifeless
To the ground, rather than hear about your crying and crushing captivity.”
So Hector answered, and he stretched out his hands to his son;
He timidly deviated from them and towards the nurse's bosom, screaming.
The cute baby rushed, running away from his father, frightened
With the bright shine of the armor and the shaggy mane of the helmet,
It made a menacing noise above him from a huge copper ridge.
With a sad smile, both mother and father looked at their son.
The brilliant Hector hastily removes the helmet from his head;
He puts the swearing garment on the ground and, taking it in his hands,
Son, kisses him with tenderness and tenderly cherishes him.
Then he loudly calls out to the immortal gods and Zeus:
“King Zeus! you gods of Olympus! I beg you, let it be
Once upon a time my son, like me, was the first among the people in charity,
The same muscle is strong and powerfully dominates in Troy.
Let them say over time: He surpassed his father!
Seeing him coming from the battle with magnificent armor,
Taken from the enemy - and let such praise please the mother.”
So saying, he put him in the arms of his tender wife
Son. She, smiling through tears, fragrant cover
Perseus dressed him; and, full of deep sadness,
Hector, caressing her with his hand, said to her warmly:
“Poor thing, you shouldn’t grieve for me so much;
Against fate, I will not be exiled prematurely by anyone
To dark Hades; but not a single one has escaped fate
A mortal, born once on earth, is neither brave nor timid.
Go to your home in peace: take care of the order of the household,
Yarn, weaving; see that male and female slaves are at work
They were diligent; to take care of the war -
The cause of the Trojan men and mine is the most important of all.”
Having finished, the brilliant Hector raises his maned helmet.
Slowly and often looking back and crying
Bitter silence, Andromache went and reached
Soon the monastery of Hector; there were a lot of servants
Gathered there at work; everyone lamented with her;
Hector was mourned alive in his house. “It’s inevitable,”
They thought he would die; We won’t see him forever.”
The prophetic sorrow foretold them the truth; the time has come
To come true what was destined long ago: but before
The mighty defender of Pergamum was covered with great glory.
Patroclus fell at the hands of the noble Hector; in vain
The helmet of Achilles and the shield covered him; inevitable
The hour of fate has come - and from Patroclus's cold corpse
Hector pulled off Achilles' armor, and the slaughter lit up
Around the lifeless young man, previously so vigorous in battle.
“I sent Antilochus to the ships to tell Achilles
Death of Patroclus; but I know that he is not coming to our aid,
No matter how angry he is at Hector... He is unarmed.
We alone have to defend our murdered friend. Persistently
Let us stand for him; Let’s save the lifeless body.” -
Thus spoke Menelaus to Telamon's son Ajax.
“It’s true, Atrid is famous,” Ajax answered Menelaus, “
You and Merion protect Patroclus; bend over and body,
Take it on your shoulders and carry it out of the battle. We are both Ajax,
Hearts equal in courage, always inseparable in battle,
Let us strive together for the Trojans and the great Hector
Reflect with your chest, guarding your departure.”
King Menelaus and Merion lift the body of Patroclus
With a strong hand from the ground: the Trojans were horrified when they saw
The body was in the power of the Achaeans, and they rushed after them with a cry.
Like dogs, forestalling the young hunters
A boar, when it is wounded, rushes suddenly, but only
Mad, he, bristling, will turn at them, in fright
Everyone falls apart - so the Trojans first strive
Briskly forward, raising swords and double-edged spears;
But as soon as the Ajax turn their faces towards them -
Everyone turns pale and no one dares to start a fight.
King Menelaus with Merion fearlessly, with a slow step,
They go forward, carrying Patroclus’ body from the battle;
They are protected by the Ajaxes; brilliant Hector with Aeneas
They rush like angry lions, trying to steal their prey;
A noisy battle approaches the ships like a terrible thunderstorm.
Meanwhile, Antilochus timidly approaches Achilles' headquarters.
He sat in front of the ships not far from the sea,
Gloomy, troubled by the thought of what has already happened.
“Woe! - he was thinking. - Why do people crowd around the ships in disarray?
Achaeans again, leaving the battle? I'm afraid what's wrong with me
What my mother predicted long ago will come true: that I should
The bravest Myrmidon died before me from the Trojans.
The heart is trembling; Has Menetius's son fallen? Inflexible
Friend! and I begged to go to the ships, reflecting
The enemy’s fire and by no means test strength with Hector.”
So Achilles thought - and before him with crushing news
The son of the elderly Nestor, shedding tears, appeared.
"Woe is me! noble son of Peleus, you must oh terrible
Hearing a misfortune that should never happen!
Patroclus fell: now for his lifeless body
They fight; he is naked - the mighty Hector stole the weapon.”
A gloomy cloud of sorrow covered Achilles' face.
He filled both handfuls with ashes and sprinkled them on his head;
The young face turned black, his clothes and himself turned black,
With a great body covering the great space, in the dust
He was stretched out, tearing out his hair, and beating himself on the ground.
Virgins, they were captured together with Patroclus, in fear from the headquarters
They ran out, screamed loudly over him and tormented him.
Antilochus groaned with them; bursting into tears with all his might
He held Achilles' hands so that in the madness of grief
He did not pierce his own chest with a sophisticated weapon.
He cried with a terrible cry. His mother heard him
In the house of a gray-haired father, at the bottom of the deep sea.
She sobbed loudly, and the Nereids gathered to her,
Young sisters, golden-haired maidens of the depths of the sea.
The underwater silver house was full of them, they amazed
They are all Percy, grieving with their sister. Thetis said to them:
“Dear sisters, Nereus immortal daughters, many,
There is a lot of sadness in my heart; oh, woe to me, poor thing!
To me, the great mother of Achilles! Born by me
A son so noble in soul, so glorious in courage, in heroes
The first... it blossomed like a beautiful young tree; with love
Tender, well-mannered, grew up and, finally, I went to Ilion
Sent, he sailed there in sharp-chested ships... and forever
I will never see him in Peleus’s father’s house;
But as long as he lives, illuminated by the radiance of the day,
He is condemned to suffering, and his mother will not help him.
Dear sisters, let us leave the deep sea; I owe it.
I have to see my son, I have to see what
New grief befell him, who did not enter the battle.”
So saying, Thetis comes out of the cave, and with her
Sisters, Nerean daughters, shedding tears. Waves
The seas around them rustle, separating. Having reached Troy,
They come ashore one after another in the place where they matured
All the ships of the Myrmidons are around Achilles' headquarters.
His mother came up to him, sobbed over him and, hugging him
With a gentle hand she bowed her son’s head and said:
“Why are you crying? What crushed your cheerful soul?
Be frank with me! Zeus the Thunderer performed
Everything you prayed for when you raised your hands here. Achaeans
We suffered a lot of shame, having lost you, and are oppressed
By the force of enemies to the ships, they called you hopelessly.”
With a heavy sigh, fleet-footed Achilles answered:
“Mother, I prayed not in vain, Zeus the Thunderer fulfilled
All; but what good is that when I lost Patroclus,
A most tender friend, dear to me, like the radiance of day?
He died, and Hector the killer stole the weapon,
Strong, wondrous, a gift from the Olympian gods to Peleus
On that day, how you were combined, immortal, with a mortal.
It would be better if you remained the goddess of the sea,
It would be better to have a simple, non-immortal wife as a spouse
There was Peleus: endless longing for his lost son
Now you will be destroyed; you won't see him forever
At my father's house. Yes, and my heart forbids me to share
Here to wander among the living; but first Hector will pay
I want Patroclus’s life, dying under my feet.”
The mother, shedding tears, replies: “What you said,
He announces to me that the end of your life is near:
You yourself, following Hector, must inevitably die -
Fate decreed it.” Achilles objected to her gloomily:
“Let me perish now! What in life if Patroclus
Am I not allowed to protect? Far from your beloved homeland
He fell, and I did not come to repel the hated death.
What am I? I am destined not to see my parents’ peaceful fields;
I could not save Patroclus’s life; could not be a defense
To so many noble friends who fell from the strong Hector.
Here I sit, behind the ships, a useless burden
Light, I, Achilles, of all the copper-plated Achaeans
I am the bravest in battle, although I yield to others in advice.
ABOUT! let enmity and anger perish, which often darkens
Reason to the wisest! At first it's sweeter than honey, but soon
The consuming flame ignites in the heart that has tasted it.
So Agamemnon, the ruler of kings, irritated me.
But let the past be past; no matter how unfortunate
It is the irritated heart that must submit to the heart.
I'm coming - you won't escape me, Patroklov's killer,
Hector. I am ready to accept my lot whenever it is appointed
Eternal Zeus and the immortal gods of Olympus; should I
Now to grumble about fate, when noble Alcides,
The beloved son of the Thunderer, was he once comprehended by her?
If a similar fate awaits me, let me lie down
Into the ground, having lost my breath; but great glory first
Here I will collect, fleeting life as a replacement; there are many here
I will force the full-breasted Dardanian maidens to crumble and cry
Wipe off the cheeks of young people, covering them with your hands
Faces and sighs spiral into a chest torn by grief.
They will soon find out that I have rested. Don't you hope
Mother, hold me back: I will never be subdued.”
“You speak the truth,” answered Thetis, “it is commendable
To be protection for friends from harm and from death. But Troy
Now he owns your shining armor; predatory
Hector, adorned with them, rejoices - although not for long
In them he will be magnified: the appointed hour is not far away;
But unarmed, my son, do not rush into the alarm of Ares;
Stay here until you see me again.
Here tomorrow at dawn, as soon as the sun rises,
I will come with the magnificent armor forged by the god Ifestus.”
Thus spoke the goddess and said goodbye to her mighty son.
Then turning to the young sisters, silver-legged goddesses,
“Dear sisters,” she said, “now plunge into the sea,
Return to the house of Nereus and the gray-haired old man of the abyss
Announce everything. And I’m on the top of Olympus to Ifestus
I’ll fly straight from here to beg him to give us weapons.”
Cum; The young goddesses plunged into the bosom of the swells.
Thetis flew quickly from them to the top of Olympus.
Sometimes the Achaeans oh the formidable Hector with a loud
They fled screaming to their ships, to the shores of Ellispont,
Trying in vain to snatch Patroclus’s body from the battle;
Hector, like a stormy flame, chased after him; already three times
He grabbed the dead man's leg from behind, ready to prey
To snatch from the hands of the Achaeans, and the Trojans called, and thrice
With all their might, Ajax repelled him from the corpse.
Furious, fiery, he overthrew everything; then, running fast,
Fought in the crowd; then, standing motionless, he called loudly
Into the battle of his own and relentlessly rushed towards the cold body.
So over the torn doe, hungry, eyes sparkling,
The cosmosed lion sits, not disturbed by the cry of the shepherds.
In vain do the brave Ajaxes fight him; would have mastered
He is inevitably Patroclus with great glory, whenever
Ira did not send Iris from heaven to Peleus’ son:
“Son of Peleus, run, run to the aid of Patroclus;
The battle has already approached the ships. Look: they kill
They are afraid of each other, some - fighting back, others - striving
Grab the body; the Trojans will prevail; brilliant Hector
Soon he will kidnap Patroclus, and rush off to Troy, and on the tower
He will display his head, taken from his shoulders, to the shame of the Achaeans.
Stop delaying: or else the dogs will feed on Patroclus’s body.
Stand up, unarmed, run into the sky; show yourself to the Trojans;
Your image will fill them with horror; the Achaeans will be encouraged.”
So the goddess Iris said to Achilles and disappeared.
Excited by her voice, Achilles jumped up. And Athena
She clothed his powerful shoulders with a terrible aegis,
She wrapped her head in a fiery cloud, and from it began to shine
Menacing rays illuminate the surroundings. Like smoke, wriggling
Rises far away on an island surrounded by a host of enemies
(The besieged fight vigorously all day long, but only the sun will set,
Everywhere bonfires are lit, and the flames burn with bright sparks
It rises in a great pillar and, around the reflected sea,
It shines so that ships bringing help can see the way),
So from the head of Achilles the brilliance rose into the ether.
He ran up into the thunder and, standing in full view of the Achaeans,
Screamed... the piercing scream was repeated by Pallas Athena
The response is loud: the Trojan was seized with indescribable horror.
So the deafening thunder of the battle trumpet, announcing
An attack suddenly sickens the besieged. Barely Achilles
A voice was heard, everyone’s heart trembled; all the horses
Sensing death, they raised their manes and with a loud stomp
The chariots were driven back; their rulers are in a frenzy,
With a pale face, turning back, they looked motionless
Eye on the menacing face of Achilles' shine. Three times
He shouted from the rampart at them - three times, overwhelmed by fear,
Trojan and allied troops rushed back in disarray.
There are twelve from their chariots and from their own spears
The brave Dardanians died. The Achaeans, having kidnapped Patroclus,
At headquarters they stretched him out on his bed, and his friends surrounded him.
Body. Achilles has arrived. He burst into tears when he saw
Friend, before him on the bed lying motionless, sharp
Pierced with copper: he himself recently went to battle,
Having covered himself with his armor, he sent, but he did not come back.
Sometimes, constant in the current of Helios, the will
Having accomplished the rites, he reluctantly descended to the waters of the Ocean,
In them the sunken sun disappeared, and the army of the Achaeans
After the destructive battle, I plunged into deep peace.
But the Trojans could taste neither rest nor food,
Vaguely they gathered in council. Leaning on spears,
Everyone stood, and not a single one dared to sit down, and all of them
My heart was troubled by the thought of Achilles coming into battle.
Well-meaning polydamant, Hector's careful friend,
The first one gave advice: after leaving the battlefield,
Enter Troy. “Now the fragrant night is favorable to us. -
That's what he said. - She is holding Achilles. But in the morning,
When he sees us in the field, he will go out into battle. Then inevitably
Many will be prey to dogs. Let us retire to Troy until
Time, at the market place we will spend the night under the open sky;
With the first shine of the morning star, we will gather on the walls; let him
He will approach them to taste the battle; only in vain mighty
He will tire his horses; but he won’t be able to break into Troy.”
Gloomy, his eyebrows furrowed, the fiery Hector answered:
“Polydamantus, your cautious advice is now useless;
Should we, as timid, flee to Troy, fenced with towers?
Aren’t we tired yet, crowding behind walls to take cover?
Once upon a time the city of Priam, glorious among all nations,
He was famous on earth for the abundance of copper and gold;
But abundance has long since disappeared from the sad dwellings.
We irritated Zeus: in Phrygia, in the allied region
Lush Meonia, our best utensils have been sold.
Now, when the mighty Kronion, Zeus the Almighty,
He sent glory to the ships of the copperplate Achaeans,
Will I take refuge in Troy? What advice do you give?
Which Trojan will submit to him? I am the master here.
Listen to my word and do my will:
Let the food be divided among the squads; get enough, but everyone
Be careful, and let the guard not sleep on watch. Morning
With the first radiance of the morning star, taking up the copper weapon,
We will run to the ships for a decisive attack. And if
It is true that Achilles got up, he chose a bad time;
I am not afraid to meet him, merciless; bravely
I will stand before him, not caring whether he will decorate me or him
With the glory of battle... Ares is incorruptible, and he strikes down those who strike.”
Hector spoke, and the Trojans, who agreed with him, answered
Noisy splashing... blind people! Pallas overshadowed their reason:
They preferred evil to good and remained in the field.
In grief and crying that night over the body of Patroclus, the Achaeans
Without closing our eyes, we spent the whole time. Achilles, putting
Powerful hands on the motionless chest of a friend, with a groan
Cried. So a formidable lioness roars when the hunter
He kidnapped her young lion cub from a deep ravine:
Angry, she prowls the gorges with a plaintive roar.
So Achilles cried out, surrounded by a crowd of Myrmidons:
“Gods! how foolish my hopes were when I,
Trying to assuage Menoetius's grief, he made a promise
Return to Opunt together with Patroclus, adorned with glory,
Having destroyed Troy and amassed a lot of rich booty.
A mortal plans one thing, but Zeus does something else!
We will both feed the same land with our blood.
Here, in the remote Troyan region. And they won't see me
Forever in the dwelling of the fathers, neither Peleus, my parent
Decrepit, neither mother Thetis. Here I will lie down, covered with a grave.
If after Patroclus it is appointed for me to go down into the earth,
Oh my Patroclus! I will perform your burial, throwing down
Hector's head with his armor before you and twelve
The young men of the captives, the sons of the noblest of Troy, slaughtered
To your honor and consolation to your offended shadow!
Sleep in peace beside my ships, awaiting revenge;
Let the Trojan women, captured by us, day and night
They are still crying over your body and tormenting your soul.”
With these words, noble Achilles commanded his friends,
Filling a huge tripod cauldron with clean water,
Wash off the ashes and dried blood from Patroclus’ body.
Place the tripod on a bright fire, and with a noisy stream
Spring water is poured into it and brushwood is thrown
Into the flame: it engulfed the cauldron and the water began to boil
In a copper ringing vessel. Washed by warm moisture,
The body was anointed with rich oil; then, fragrant
Having filled the wounds with nine-year-old ointment, they rubbed
Quietly on his bed and, covering him with precious linen,
They dressed both the body and the bed with shiny fabric.
Young Eos in scarlet clothing, immortal and mortal
The day-bringer rose from the waters of the Ocean. Thetis
With the wondrous armor given to her by Ifestus, she came to Achilles;
He lay prostrate over the soulless Patroclus and loudly
Cried; Around the Myrmidons sat in gloomy silence.
The silver-legged mother goddess walked quietly between them
To her son and, taking him by the hand, she said tenderly:
“My son, let us leave the dead to rest, no matter how much we care about him
In his heart he was not crushed: he was comprehended by the power of the immortals.
I brought unharmed armor from the god Ifestos,
A miracle of beauty: no other person has seen anything like it.”
So saying, Thetis laid at the feet of Achilles
Armor; a loud weapon made a sound: the Myrmidons
Horror penetrated: not a single goddess dared to look
Right in the face, and everyone was in awe. But with the strongest anger,
Seeing the armor, Achilles began to boil; eyes sparkled
Sparks, flashing under the shadow of eyelashes, like a terrible flame;
With a greedy hand he grabbed the armor and, with a miraculous gift,
Captivated by the god Ifestos, he began to admire him; but soon
He became gloomy again; then, turning to Thetis,
“Mother,” he said, “your weapon is wondrous, and immediately
I will go out into battle. But my heart is restless; he will
Here lie lifeless; greedy insects can
Fly into wounds, a worm will settle in them and may rot,
Having penetrated the body, the beautiful image disgraces it.”
“Be, my beloved son, carefree,” said Thetis, “
Inseparable from him, I will scatter the insects myself,
Greedily devouring the body of the murdered husband; at least
A slow year flew over him, I am imperishable
I will save his body, and he will be even more beautiful.”
With these words she pours water on the wounds of Patroclus
Fragrant ambrosia juice with light purple nectar.
The noble Achilles hastily flowed along the seashore;
The Achaeans gathered at his sonorous voice. It's unfortunate
He gave his hand to Atrid, and was a peace offering
The late alliance between them was confirmed. Agamemnon the mighty
He gave orders to take the gifts to Achilles. Immediately
King Odysseus with the sons of the venerable Nestor, with the glorious
The son of Filius Megit, with Foant and with them Kreon
Son of Lycomedes, Merion, Melanippus to Agamemnon at headquarters
They go and, having chosen seven precious tripods, twenty
Light vessels, twelve horses and seven handicrafts
The captives with the eighth Briseis retreat to the tent of Achilles,
King Odysseus is in front with ten talents of gold.
Everyone then, surrounding Achilles, invites him
To share lunch with them: but, sighing heavily, he answered:
“Oh friends! I beg you, if I’m even a little dear
To your heart, do not demand now that I enjoy
Your food: grief tears my whole soul apart.
No, I won’t touch anything until late at night.”
All the commanders then said goodbye to Achilles; remained
Both Atrid, Idomeneo, noble Odysseus,
Nestor and Elder Phoenix. Clarify the darkened soul
They tried to make friends with cheerful conversation; but in vain.
He was gloomy, only hungry for battle, incessantly
I thought about the dead, and talked about only one thing about him incessantly:
“Oh, how often has it happened that you yourself, poor, caring,
He came to my headquarters with morning food,
Announcing to me that the army of the Achaeans was leaving their tents,
Ready to go out into battle again with the Trojans: and now
Here you lie, lifeless! I can't enjoy myself
The heart has neither food nor sweet wine without you. I'm only strong
He would not have been overcome with grief, and having heard about the death of Peleus,
Shedding tears in Phthia for my distant self,
Fighting in a foreign land for the offense of the despicable Elena,
Having received sad news about his son in Skyros
To me, the blossoming, god-like Neoptolemus,
If he's alive! - Until now I have always had secret hope
I consoled my heart that I would die alone, separated
With the glorious horses Argos, in the Trojan land, which, within
Dear Phthia, returning, you yourself are in the white-winged ships
You will take your son in Skyros and show him in your homeland
All my riches, slaves and royal palaces.
I felt that Peleus was already in the ground, lifeless,
He will lie, or perhaps sadly live out his life,
He will be bent over with sadness and years, still fearing that from Troy
A messenger will come and tell him: “Achilles is gone.”
So he spoke and cried. Those who sat with him sighed,
Everyone was thinking about what they had left in a house far away.
Zeus bowed his compassionate gaze from heaven to the sad,
He quickly turns his winged speech to the goddess Pallas:
“Or, Pallas, will noble Achilles abandon you?
You see how he is on the shore, near his black-breasted ships,
Weeping for the dead Patroclus, he sits alone. Other
They strengthen themselves with morning food; but he doesn't accept
Food. Fly into the chest of Achilles sweet ambrosia
Pour in some nectar so that he doesn’t lose his strength from hunger.”
So Zeus spoke, anticipating the desire of Athena.
She is fast, like an eagle with immense wings, with a ringing
Shouting, she flew from the sky towards the tents. The Achaeans were already crowding,
Taking up arms in battle. Sweet ambrosia into the chest of Achilles
Athena secretly poured in nectar, so that from hunger strength
He did not lose it, and then returned to the monastery again
Zeus. The Achaeans flowed in waves, leaving the ships.
Like frequent, clumps of snow falling, carried away
Northern, quickly clearing wind, from rates
Countless helmets rained down, swarm after glittering swarm,
Steeply bent armor, made of hard spear ash,
Shields with a sharp plaque; a radiance rose to the heavens;
The earth laughed in the brilliance of weapons; under the feet of those running
The shore thundered. In the midst of them, Achilles put on his armor.
His teeth were gnashing, and his eyes were like quick flames,
They beamed, sparkling; but his heart is unbearably sad
It was full. Seething with anger, furious at the Trojans,
He took the armor, a wonderful creation of the god Ifestus;
The shins were first clothed in light, smooth greaves,
He pulled each one tightly with a silver buckle; huge
He covered his powerful chest with a shell; on the shoulder precious
A sword with a silver hilt and a copper blade hung.
Afterwards I put on an immense, heavy, brilliance-like
Shield for the full month: like a distant beacon for sailors
Shines in the darkness, flaming alone on the top of a cliff -
The storm carries them away from their friends across the noisy sea -
The divine shield of Achilles shone so radiantly,
A miracle of art. Then he pulled a heavy
Maned helmet; he shone like a star, and with thick golden hair
A horse's tail was adorned with a raised crest.
Clad in armor, Achilles tests his strength:
He moved freely in it, and the armor embraced his members
The wings seemed lighter and seemed to be lifted.
Then he took his father’s spear from the beautiful ark,
It's huge - not a single one in the host of Achaeans
I couldn’t move, but Achilles’ hand played with it easily:
Having cut down the mighty ash tree from the proud head of Pelion,
Chiron created that spear for Peleus, to the destruction of his enemies.
Automedon and Alcimus hastily mounted
The light harness and bit were forced into their teeth;
Then, pulling the reins tightly, ahead of the chariot
They were strengthened. Automedon in a chariot with brilliant
He threw a whip. Achilles, preparing for a bloody battle,
He stood behind, like Helios, shining with wondrous armor.
Then he exclaimed loudly to Peleus’s vigorous horses:
“Xanthus and Valius, glorious children of Podarga, or rather,
Good horses, now be your ruler;
Return him, fed up with battle, to the ships; not dead
Leave it in the field, like Patroclus.” That's why he's light-footed
Xanth, breathing fire, answered, bending down to his hooves
A proud head - a lush mane fell to the ground;
Ira loosened her tongue with her lily hand - he said:
“So, we will bring you back alive, son of Peleus;
But your destined day is already near. Not ours
By will, but by the power of God and strict fate, it happened;
No, we are not the ones who are slowed down by our untimely laziness.
They allowed the Trojans to steal Patroclus’s strong armor;
The son of thick-haired Lita, God has comprehended the inevitable
In the battle he and Hector were adorned with the honor of victory.
Let us run ahead of Zephyr's flight, from the lungs
The lightest winds blow fragrant wings - but know:
You will perish from a mighty god and a mortal man.”
He spoke, and the power of the Erinnyes silenced his tongue.
With a gloomy face, fleet-footed Achilles answered him:
“Xanth, why is it useless for you to prophesy death to me? And myself
I know that I, far from my father and mother, must
Here, according to the law of fate, to die. But I won't stop
Fight and torment the Trojans with an insatiable battle."
He shouted loudly, and the horses rushed off with a loud stamping;
Following him, the Achaeans ran out of the barriers. Trojans
They were waiting for them in the field, standing in thick crowds on the hill.
Eternal Zeus from the multi-headed peak of Olympus Themis
He sends all the gods to be invited to the council. Goddess
She commanded them to gather in the abodes of heaven. Presented
All, even the very gods of the streams and in the shady groves,
In dark valleys, in secret springs, nymphs live;
The ancient Ocean alone did not appear. In the halls, Ifestos
Created with wondrous art by the will of Zeus, on thrones
The gods sat around the Thunderer. Calling of Themis
Posidon himself submitted. He came out of the waters and with others
Sat down for advice. Finally he asked Lord Zeus:
“God of thunder, why did you call us to the halls of Olympus?
Or are you planning to decide the fate of the Trojans and Achaeans,
Who went out into the field and were again filled with the fury of battle?
Zeus, thundering in the clouds, answered and said to Posidon:
“God, shaker of the earth, you know my thoughts,
You know what this advice is about. And my mind cares for those who are perishing.
Here I will sit, on the highest rock of Olympus,
Delighting yourself with the spectacle of battle. But I let you
Go to the troops of the Trojans and Achaeans, and you can help
Serve to whichever side your heart inclines you.
If Achilles alone attacks the Trojans - not a moment
In the field they will not hold out against Pelid's strength;
They were all struck with trepidation at his single appearance.
Now, when he is so angry at the death of his friend,
I am afraid that, despite fate, I will not destroy Troy.”
Thus spoke Zeus, and the immortals flared up in battle.
They separated from the sky and flew to the warring armies.
Powerful Ira went to the ships with Pallas Athena;
With her is Poseidon, hugging the earth, and Ermius, abundant
By machinations, generous giver of wealth, and slowly,
Flame-eyed Ifestus, drawing the lame by force
Leg. But the shining helmet of Ares turned to the Trojans,
With him is the full-haired Phoebus and the accuracy of his arrows is Artemis.
Proud, Leto, and Xanth, and Cypris with a welcoming smile.
The Achaeans were arrogant until the gods intervened
Into battle - Achilles with his appearance, but with a duty to rest,
They were encouraged, and the Trojans, at the sight of Peleus’ son,
With the shine of armor like Ares, everyone trembled, -
But as soon as the Olympians descended to mortals, Erinnis
Suddenly she began to rage terribly. Then standing on the shaft,
Near a deep ditch, then on the shore of a noisy sea
Athena screamed with a mighty voice. And like black
Storm, Ares howled, then from the mountain peak of Pergamum
Crying Trojans, then running back and forth at the high
Kalikolons, outside the walls, not far from the Simois Coast.
So the Olympian gods excited army against army.
Soon a destructive battle of extermination flared up everywhere.
The almighty father of men and immortals thundered terribly
From the sky; below Posidon shook the vast earth;
The mountains shook; from the foot of Ida, rich in streams
Everything up to the top of it and Pergamon with the ships trembled.
In the kingdom of deep underground darkness, Aidoneus was indignant;
Pale ran away from the throne and shouted, fearing that from above
Poseidon the Crusher did not pierce the solid ground, so that the eye
The impregnable Hades did not open to mortal men and gods,
Terrible, hazy, empty and hated by the immortals themselves.
