Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
All the other gods and the chariot-driving men slept through the night, but sweet sleep did not hold Zeus. He turned it over in his mind, how he might honor Achilles and destroy many Achaeans at their ships. This was the plan that seemed best to him: to send a treacherous Dream to Agamemnon, son of Atreus. He called to it and spoke winged words:
"Go, ruinous Dream, down to the swift ships of the Achaeans. Enter the hut of Agamemnon and tell him everything, exactly as I command. Order him to arm the long-haired Achaeans at once, all of them together, for now he may take the wide-streeted city of the Trojans. The immortals who hold the halls of Olympus are no longer divided in their counsel; Hera has bent them all to her pleading, and grief hangs now over the Trojans."
So he spoke, and the Dream went on its way once it had heard him. Swiftly it came to the fast ships of the Achaeans, and went to Agamemnon, son of Atreus. It found him asleep in his hut, immortal slumber poured over him. The Dream stood above his head in the shape of Nestor, son of Neleus, the elder Agamemnon honored above all others. Taking on that likeness, the divine Dream spoke to him:
"You are asleep, son of wise, horse-taming Atreus. A man who carries counsel for his people, a man with so much on his hands, should not sleep the whole night through. Listen to me now, quickly — I am a messenger of Zeus, who cares for you and pities you from afar, though he is far away. He orders you to arm the long-haired Achaeans at once, all of them together, for now you may take the wide-streeted city of the Trojans. The immortals who hold the halls of Olympus are no longer divided; Hera has bent them all to her pleading, and grief hangs now over the Trojans, sent from Zeus. Hold this fast in your mind — don't let forgetfulness take you once honey-sweet sleep lets you go."
With these words the Dream departed, leaving Agamemnon there to brood on things that were not, in fact, going to come true. For he believed he would take Priam's city that very day — the fool, not knowing what work Zeus had in his mind. Zeus still meant to lay pain and groaning on both Trojans and Danaans alike, through the grinding of hard battles.
Agamemnon woke from sleep, the divine voice still ringing around him. He sat up, drew a soft tunic over himself, new and finely made, and threw a great cloak around it. He bound fair sandals beneath his smooth feet and slung a silver-studded sword across his shoulders. He took up his father's staff, imperishable forever, and with it went down among the bronze-armored ships of the Achaeans.
Now the goddess Dawn climbed high Olympus to announce daylight to Zeus and the other immortals, while Agamemnon told his clear-voiced heralds to call the long-haired Achaeans to assembly. The heralds cried the summons, and the men gathered quickly. But first Agamemnon seated the council of high-hearted elders beside the ship of Nestor, king born in Pylos. Once he had called them together, he set out his careful plan:
"Listen, friends. A divine Dream came to me in my sleep through the immortal night, and in shape, size, and build it was the very image of noble Nestor. It stood over my head and spoke to me: 'You are asleep, son of wise, horse-taming Atreus. A man who carries counsel for his people, a man with so much on his hands, should not sleep the whole night through. Listen to me now, quickly — I am a messenger of Zeus, who cares for you and pities you from afar, though he is far away. He orders you to arm the long-haired Achaeans at once, all of them together, for now you may take the wide-streeted city of the Trojans. The immortals who hold the halls of Olympus are no longer divided; Hera has bent them all to her pleading, and grief hangs now over the Trojans, sent from Zeus. Hold this fast in your mind.' So he spoke, then flew off, and sweet sleep released me. Come then, let us see if we can arm the sons of the Achaeans. But first, as is right, I will test them with words — I will tell them to flee with their benched ships — and you, each from his own place, hold them back."
So speaking he sat back down, and among them rose Nestor, who ruled over sandy Pylos. With good will toward them all he spoke and said:
"Friends, leaders and rulers of the Argives — if any other Achaean had told us this dream, we might call it a lie and turn away from it all the more. But the man who saw it claims to be far the best of the Achaeans. Come, then, let us see if we can arm the sons of the Achaeans."
With these words he led the way out of the council, and the other scepter-bearing kings rose and obeyed the shepherd of the people, while the troops came streaming after. Like the crowded swarms of bees that pour endlessly out from a hollow rock, clustering in bunches to fly among the flowers of spring, some massing here, some there —
so the many companies of men marched out from the ships and huts, streaming along the deep shore toward the assembly, rank upon rank. And Rumor blazed among them, the messenger of Zeus, driving them on, and they gathered. The assembly ground churned, the earth groaned beneath the men as they took their seats, and there was uproar. Nine heralds shouted to hold them back, to see if they would stop their clamor and listen to the kings whom Zeus had nurtured. At last, with effort, the crowd sat down and the shouting ceased, each man settling into his place.
Then lord Agamemnon rose, holding the staff that Hephaestus himself had labored to make. Hephaestus gave it to Zeus, son of Cronos, the king; Zeus gave it to the messenger Hermes, slayer of Argus; lord Hermes gave it to Pelops, breaker of horses; Pelops in turn gave it to Atreus, shepherd of the people; Atreus, dying, left it to Thyestes, rich in flocks; and Thyestes left it in turn to Agamemnon to carry, so that he might rule over many islands and all of Argos. Leaning on this staff, he spoke to the Argives:
"Friends, Danaan warriors, servants of Ares — Zeus, son of Cronos, has bound me fast in a heavy delusion. Cruel god — once he promised me, and nodded his assent, that I would sack well-walled Troy before sailing home. But now I see it was a wicked deception, and he orders me to return to Argos in disgrace, having lost so many of my men. This must be the pleasure of Zeus, whose might is beyond all others, who has already brought down the high walls of many cities, and will bring down more — his power is the greatest there is. What a shame this will be, for men yet unborn to hear of — that so great and so fine an army of Achaeans fought a war for nothing, to no purpose, battling against fewer men, with no end in sight!
For if we wished — Achaeans and Trojans both — to swear a solemn truce and count our numbers: the Trojans mustered by household, all who live in the city, and we Achaeans formed into groups of ten, and each group chose one Trojan man to pour our wine — many tens of us would go without a wine-pourer, so far do the sons of the Achaeans outnumber the Trojans who dwell in the city. But they have allies from many cities, spearmen who thwart my purpose and will not let me sack the well-peopled stronghold of Troy, no matter how I wish it.
Nine years of great Zeus have already gone by, and the timbers of our ships have rotted, the rigging has come apart. Our wives and young children sit at home waiting for us, while the task we came here for stays unfinished, undone. So come, let us all do as I say: let us flee with our ships to our own dear homeland, for we will never take wide-streeted Troy."
So he spoke, and stirred the hearts in the breasts of all who had not heard the plan — the whole mass of common men. The assembly heaved like the long waves of the Icarian Sea, which the East Wind and the South Wind whip up, rushing down from the clouds of father Zeus. And as the West Wind stirs a deep field of grain, sweeping hard across it so that the ears of wheat bow down — so was the whole assembly stirred. With a great shout the men rushed toward the ships, and the dust rose up beneath their feet and hung there;
they called to each other to lay hold of the ships and drag them down into the bright sea, and they began clearing the launching channels; their shouting reached the sky, so eager were they to go home. They were even pulling the props out from under the ships' hulls.
Then the Argives' homecoming would have come about beyond what fate allowed, had Hera not spoken to Athena:
"How shameful this is, daughter of Zeus who bears the aegis, tireless one! Will the Argives really flee home this way, over the sea's broad back to their own dear homeland, and leave Helen of Argos — for whose sake so many Achaeans have died in Troy, far from their own dear homeland — as a trophy for Priam and the Trojans to boast over? No — go now among the bronze-armored Achaean host. Hold each man back with your gentle words, and don't let them drag their curved ships down into the sea."
So she spoke, and the bright-eyed goddess Athena did not disobey. She swept down from the peaks of Olympus and came quickly to the swift ships of the Achaeans. There she found Odysseus, a match for Zeus in cunning, standing apart — he had not laid a hand on his black, well-benched ship, for grief had reached his heart and mind. Bright-eyed Athena came close and stood beside him and said:
"Son of Laertes, seed of Zeus, resourceful Odysseus — will you all really flee home this way, falling aboard your benched ships, and leave Helen of Argos as a trophy for Priam and the Trojans to boast over — she for whose sake so many Achaeans have died in Troy, far from their own dear homeland? No — go now among the Achaean host, don't hold back any longer. Hold each man back with your gentle words, and don't let them drag their curved ships down into the sea."
So she spoke, and he recognized the goddess's voice. He set off running, throwing aside his cloak, which his herald Eurybates of Ithaca, who attended him, caught up. He himself went straight to Agamemnon, son of Atreus, and took from him the staff of his fathers, imperishable forever, and with it he went among the bronze-armored ships of the Achaeans.
Whenever he came upon a king or a man of standing, he would stand beside him and hold him back with gentle words: "Strange man — it is not fitting to threaten you like a coward. Sit down yourself, and get the rest of the men to sit as well. You don't yet know clearly what is in the son of Atreus's mind. He is testing the Achaeans now, and soon he will come down hard on them. Not all of us heard what he said in council. Watch out he doesn't lose his temper and do the sons of the Achaeans some harm — the pride of kings nurtured by Zeus runs deep, their honor comes from Zeus, and Zeus who devises all things loves them."
But whenever he saw and caught some man of the common people shouting, he would strike him with the staff and rebuke him with words: "Strange man — sit still, and listen to what better men than you have to say. You are no fighter, and count for nothing in battle or in council. We cannot all be kings here, we Achaeans. Rule by the many is no good thing — let there be one ruler, one king, the one to whom the son of crooked-scheming Cronos has given the staff and the right to judge, so that he may take counsel for his people."
So he went through the army, giving orders, and the men rushed back to the assembly from the ships and huts, with a roar, like the roar of a wave of the crashing sea breaking on a long beach, so that the whole sea thunders.
The rest sat down and were held to their places, all but Thersites, who alone kept up his endless babbling. His mind was stuffed with disorderly words, many of them, reckless and without any sense of proper order, spoken only to pick quarrels with the kings — whatever he thought might get a laugh out of the Argives. He was the ugliest man who had come to Troy: bandy-legged, lame in one foot, his shoulders hunched and drawn together over his chest, and above them a head that came to a point, with a thin, patchy scruff of hair on it. He was hated most of all by Achilles and by Odysseus,
for it was those two he liked best to abuse. But now it was godlike Agamemnon he went after, screeching shrilly, flinging insults — and the Achaeans were bitterly angry with him, indignant in their hearts. Yet he, bawling loudly, kept hurling his abuse at Agamemnon:
"Son of Atreus, what is it you're complaining of now, what more do you need? Your huts are full of bronze, and plenty of women sit in your huts, the pick of the lot, that we Achaeans hand over to you first of all whenever we take a town. Or is it gold you're still short of, gold that some Trojan horse-breaker might bring from Troy as ransom for a son I've captured and led off myself, or some other Achaean has? Or is it a fresh young woman, so you can lie with her, keeping her apart from the rest for yourself? It's not right for the man in command to lead the sons of the Achaeans into misery.
You soft creatures, you disgraces — women of Achaea, not men of Achaea any longer — let's just sail home in our ships, and leave this fellow here in Troy to choke on his prizes, so he can find out whether we're worth anything to him or not — the man who has just now dishonored Achilles, a far better man than himself, seizing and keeping his prize with his own hands.
There's no real anger in Achilles' heart — he just lets it go. If there were, son of Atreus, this outrage would be your last."
So spoke Thersites, hurling abuse at Agamemnon, shepherd of the people. But godlike Odysseus quickly came up beside him, and with a black look he laid into him with harsh words:
"Thersites, you babbler, sharp-tongued as you are — hold your peace, and don't try, alone, to pick fights with kings. I say there is no worse man than you among all who came to Troy with the sons of Atreus. So you have no business with the kings' names in your mouth, hurling insults at them and watching for a chance to sail home. We don't yet know clearly how this business will turn out, whether we sons of the Achaeans will make it home well or badly.
And yet here you sit, abusing Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the people, because the Danaan warriors give him so much — and all you do is jeer. But I tell you this straight out, and it will be done: if I catch you playing the fool again, as you are now, may Odysseus's head no longer sit on his shoulders, may I no longer be called Telemachus's father,
if I don't grab you, strip the clothes off you — cloak and tunic both, everything that covers your nakedness — and send you off howling to the swift ships, driven from the assembly with shameful blows."
So he spoke, and struck him across the back and shoulders with the staff. Thersites doubled over, and a fat tear fell from his eye; a bloody welt rose up on his back under the golden staff, and he sat down, frightened, and wiped away his tear, wincing in pain, looking helpless. And the rest of the men, though troubled themselves, laughed at him with pleasure,
and one man would say, glancing at another beside him: "Well now — Odysseus has done ten thousand good things before, leading us in good counsel and readying us for war, but this is by far the best thing he's ever done for the Argives — shutting the mouth of that foul-mouthed troublemaker. I don't think his proud spirit will send him back again anytime soon to pick quarrels with kings with his insulting words."
So said the crowd. Then Odysseus, sacker of cities, rose holding the staff, and bright-eyed Athena, in the shape of a herald, stood beside him and told the men to be quiet, so that the sons of the Achaeans, nearest and farthest alike, could hear his words and take in his counsel. With good will toward them all he spoke and said:
"Son of Atreus — now the Achaeans mean to make you, my lord, the most disgraced of all mortal men, and they will not keep the promise they made you when they set out here from horse-pasturing Argos — that you would sack well-walled Troy before sailing home. Like children, like widowed women, they wail to each other about going home.
And truly there is hardship enough in it, to be worn down and go home empty-handed. Any man who stays away from his wife even one month grows restless aboard his many-benched ship, when the winter storms and the heaving sea pen him in. But for us, this is the ninth year turning round, as we linger here. So I do not blame the Achaeans for growing restless beside the curved ships. And yet, all the same, it is a shameful thing to stay so long and go home with nothing.
Bear up, friends, and wait a while longer, so that we may learn whether Calchas prophesies the truth, or whether he does not."
For we know this well in our hearts, and you are all witnesses whom the fates of death have not carried off: yesterday and the day before, when the ships of the Achaeans gathered at Aulis bringing evils to Priam and the Trojans, we stood around a spring, beside the sacred altars, offering the immortals perfect hecatombs, under a fine plane tree from which bright water flowed. There a great sign appeared: a serpent, blood-red on its back and terrible to see, which the Olympian himself had sent up into the light, darted out from under the altar and rushed toward the plane tree.
There were the nestlings of a sparrow, helpless young, huddled under the leaves on the topmost branch, eight of them, and the mother was the ninth, who had hatched them. The serpent devoured them there, cheeping pitifully, while the mother fluttered around them, crying for her dear children; then, coiling itself, it caught her by the wing as she screamed about it. But when it had eaten the sparrow's young and the mother herself, the god who had sent it forth made it a wonder to behold: the son of crooked-scheming Cronus turned it to stone. And we stood there and marveled at what had happened.
So when this dread portent of the gods came in upon our hecatombs, Calchas at once spoke out, declaring the will of the gods: 'Why have you fallen silent, long-haired Achaeans? Zeus the counselor has shown us this great sign, late in coming, late to be fulfilled, and its fame will never die. Just as this serpent devoured the sparrow's young and the mother herself, eight of them, and the mother who bore them the ninth, so shall we make war here for that many years, and in the tenth year we shall take the wide-wayed city.' So he spoke, and now all of this is coming to pass.
'Come, then, stay here, all you well-armored Achaeans, until we take the great city of Priam.' So he spoke, and the Argives shouted greatly, and all around the ships echoed terribly at the Achaeans' cry, as they applauded the words of godlike Odysseus.
Then the Gerenian horseman Nestor spoke among them: 'Shame! You are talking like children, like little boys who care nothing for the work of war. What is to become of our agreements and our oaths? Let the counsels and plans of men go into the fire, and the unmixed libations and the handclasps we trusted in — for we do nothing but quarrel with words, and we can find no remedy for it, though we have been here a long time. Son of Atreus, hold still to your firm resolve as before, and lead the Argives through the fierce battles, and let these men perish, the one or two of them who scheme apart from the rest of the Achaeans — it will come to nothing for them — to go back to Argos before we learn whether the promise of Zeus, who bears the aegis, is false or not. For I say the almighty son of Cronus gave us his nod on that day when the Argives boarded their swift ships, bringing death and doom to the Trojans, flashing his lightning on our right, showing us favorable signs. So let no man hurry to go home until each has lain with some Trojan's wife and avenged the trouble and the sighing over Helen. But if any man longs desperately to go home, let him lay hands on his own black, well-benched ship, so that before the rest of us he may meet his death and doom. But you, my lord, take good counsel yourself, and listen to another man's: what I am about to say will not be a thing to throw away. Separate the men by tribe and by clan, Agamemnon, so that clan may support clan and tribe support tribe. If you do this, and the Achaeans obey you, you will learn then which of the leaders is a coward, and which of the men, and which one is brave, for they will fight each within his own group. And you will learn, too, whether it is by the will of heaven that you fail to sack the city, or by the cowardice of your men and their ignorance of war.'
Then lord Agamemnon answered him: 'Once again, old man, you outdo the sons of the Achaeans in speech. Ah, father Zeus, Athena, Apollo — if only I had ten such counselors among the Achaeans! Then the city of lord Priam would soon bow its head, taken and stripped bare by our hands. But Zeus, son of Cronus, who bears the aegis, has given me grief instead, casting me into fruitless quarrels and strife. For I and Achilles fought over a girl, with hard words on both sides, and it was I who began it in anger. If the two of us should ever again think as one, then there will be no postponing ruin for the Trojans, not for a moment. But now, go to your meal, so that we may join battle. Let each man sharpen his spear well, and set his shield in good order, let each man give his swift-footed horses a good meal, and let each look well to his chariot and turn his mind to war, so that all day long we may fight it out in this hateful battle. For there will be no rest, not for a moment, until night comes down and parts the fury of men. The strap will grow wet with sweat around many a man's chest, the strap of his body-covering shield, and a hand will grow weary about the spear, and a horse will sweat as it strains at the polished chariot. And whatever man I see willing to hang back from the fighting, lingering by the curved ships, for him there will be no escape afterward from the dogs and the birds.'
So he spoke, and the Argives shouted greatly, like a wave against a high headland when the South Wind comes and stirs it up, breaking on a jutting cliff — a cliff the waves never leave, from whatever wind rises, now from here, now from there. They rose up and scattered, hurrying among the ships, lit fires beside their shelters, and took their meal. And one man sacrificed to one of the gods who live forever, another to another, praying to escape death and the grind of war. And Agamemnon, lord of men, slaughtered a fat five-year-old bull to the almighty son of Cronus, and called together the elders, the noblest of the whole Achaean army: Nestor first of all, and lord Idomeneus, and after them the two men named Ajax, and the son of Tydeus, and sixth, Odysseus, the equal of Zeus in cunning. And Menelaus, good at the war cry, came to them unbidden, for he knew in his heart how his brother was burdened. They stood around the bull and took up the barley grains, and among them lord Agamemnon prayed:
'Zeus, most glorious, most great, dwelling in the dark clouds, lord of the sky — do not let the sun go down and darkness come until I have brought crashing down, headlong, the smoke-blackened hall of Priam, and set fire to its doorway with consuming flame, and torn the tunic on Hector's chest, ripped by my bronze; and may many of his companions around him bite the dust, falling face-down in the dirt.'
So he spoke, but the son of Cronus did not yet grant him this; he accepted the offering, but piled up toil beyond measure instead.
When they had prayed and scattered the barley grains, they first drew back the victims' heads, cut their throats, and skinned them; they cut out the thighbones and wrapped them in fat, folding it double, and laid raw strips of meat upon them. These they burned on split, leafless wood, and skewered the inner organs and held them over the flame of Hephaestus. And when the thighs were burned through and they had tasted the inner parts, they carved up the rest of the meat, pierced it on spits, roasted it with care, and drew it all off the fire. And when they had finished the labor and prepared the feast, they ate, and no man's heart lacked its fair share of the meal. And when they had satisfied their desire for food and drink, the Gerenian horseman Nestor began to speak among them: 'Most glorious son of Atreus, lord of men, Agamemnon, let us not sit here talking any longer, nor put off any further the work that the god is now placing in our hands. Come, let the heralds of the bronze-armored Achaeans call the men together throughout the camp, and let us go together, all of us, through the broad ranks of the Achaeans, so that we may rouse sharp-edged war all the sooner.'
So he spoke, and Agamemnon, lord of men, did not refuse him. At once he ordered the clear-voiced heralds to summon the long-haired Achaeans to battle. They gave the call, and the men gathered very quickly. And the kings nurtured by Zeus, around the son of Atreus, hurried about marshaling the ranks, and among them was grey-eyed Athena, carrying the priceless aegis, ageless and undying, from which a hundred tassels of pure gold hang, all tightly woven, each one worth a hundred oxen. With this she darted flashing through the Achaean ranks, driving them on, and she stirred up strength in every man's heart, to fight and make war without ceasing. And at once war grew sweeter to them than sailing home in their hollow ships to their own dear native land.
As ravaging fire sets a vast forest ablaze on a mountain's peaks, and its glow is seen from far away, so, as they marched, the dazzling flash from their bronze went up through the air to the very sky. And as the many tribes of winged birds — geese, or cranes, or long-necked swans — on the Asian meadow, by the streams of the Cayster, fly this way and that, glorying in their wings, and settle ahead of one another with loud cries, so that the whole meadow rings with sound, so did the many tribes of men pour out from the ships and shelters onto the plain of Scamander, and the earth echoed terribly under the feet of men and horses alike. They took their stand in the flowering meadow of Scamander, countless as the leaves and flowers that come with the season.
Like the many crowded tribes of flies that swarm about a shepherd's steading in the season of spring, when milk drenches the pails, just so many long-haired Achaeans stood arrayed against the Trojans on the plain, eager to tear them to pieces.
And as goatherds easily sort out their wide-scattered herds of goats once they have mingled together at pasture, so did the leaders marshal their men this way and that to go into battle, and among them lord Agamemnon, like Zeus who delights in thunder in his eyes and his head, like Ares in his belt, and like Poseidon in his chest. As a bull stands out far above all the rest in a herd, preeminent among the gathered cattle — such did Zeus make the son of Atreus on that day, standing out among the many, foremost among heroes.
Tell me now, Muses, who have your homes on Olympus — for you are goddesses, you are present everywhere, and you know all things, while we hear only rumor and know nothing — who were the leaders and commanders of the Danaans? The mass of the army I could not tell nor name, not even if I had ten tongues and ten mouths, an unbreakable voice, and a heart of bronze within me, unless the Olympian Muses, daughters of Zeus who bears the aegis, should call to mind all those who came beneath Troy. But I will tell of the captains of the ships, and of all the ships together.
Of the Boeotians, Peneleos and Leïtus were the leaders, with Arcesilaus, Prothoenor, and Clonius — men who dwelt in Hyria and rocky Aulis, in Schoenus and Scolus and terraced Eteonus, in Thespeia and Graea and wide-spaced Mycalessus, and those who lived around Harma and Eilesium and Erythrae, and those who held Eleon and Hyle and Peteon, Ocalea and the well-built stronghold of Medeon, Copae and Eutresis and dove-rich Thisbe, and those who held Coronea and grassy Haliartus, and those who held Plataea, and those who dwelt in Glisas, and those who held lower Thebes, a well-built stronghold, and holy Onchestus, Poseidon's shining grove, and those who held vine-rich Arne, and Midea, and holy Nisa, and Anthedon at the world's edge. Of these there came fifty ships, and aboard each one sailed a hundred and twenty young men of the Boeotians.
And the men who dwelt in Aspledon and Orchomenus of the Minyans were led by Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Ares, whom Astyoche bore in the house of Actor, son of Azeus — a modest young woman who had climbed to the upper chamber, and mighty Ares lay with her there in secret. With these two, thirty hollow ships were ranged in line.
And Schedius and Epistrophus led the men of Phocis, sons of great-hearted Iphitus, son of Naubolus — men who held Cyparissus and rocky Pytho, and holy Crisa, and Daulis, and Panopeus, and those who dwelt around Anemoreia and Hyampolis, and those who lived along the sacred river Cephisus, and those who held Lilaea by the springs of Cephisus. With them followed forty black ships, and their captains busied themselves marshaling the ranks of the Phocians, arraying them and stationing them close beside the Boeotians, on their left.
And Ajax, the swift son of Oileus, led the Locrians — a lesser man, nowhere near as large as Ajax, son of Telamon, but far smaller: small he was, and wore a corselet of linen, but with the spear he surpassed every Greek and every Achaean. His men were those who dwelt in Cynus and Opoeis and Calliarus, in Bessa and Scarphe and lovely Augeae, in Tarphe and Thronium, by the streams of the Boagrius. With him followed forty black ships of the Locrians, who live across the water from holy Euboea.
And the Abantes, breathing fury, who held Euboea — Chalcis and Eretria and vine-rich Histiaea, Cerinthus by the sea, and the steep stronghold of Dium, and those who held Carystus and lived in Styra — these were led by Elephenor, son of Chalcodon, a scion of Ares, chief of the great-hearted Abantes. With him followed the swift Abantes, their hair grown long behind, spearmen eager to tear the corselets from their enemies' chests with outstretched ashen spears. With him followed forty black ships.
And the men who held Athens, the well-built stronghold, the land of great-hearted Erechtheus, whom Athena once nurtured, though the grain-giving earth had borne him, and she set him down in Athens, in her own rich temple — there the young men of Athens win his favor with bulls and rams as the years turn round — these were led by Menestheus, son of Peteos. No man born on earth was ever his equal at marshaling horses and shield-bearing men; only Nestor could rival him, for Nestor was the elder. With him followed fifty black ships.
And Ajax brought twelve ships from Salamis, and stationed them where the Athenian ranks stood.
And the men who held Argos and walled Tiryns, Hermione and Asine on their deep gulf, Troezen and Eionae and vine-clad Epidaurus, and those who held Aegina and Mases, young men of the Achaeans — these were led by Diomedes, good at the war cry, and Sthenelus, the beloved son of famous Capaneus. And with them came a third, Euryalus, a man like a god, son of lord Mecisteus, son of Talaus. But over all of them Diomedes, good at the war cry, held command. With them followed eighty black ships.
And the men who held Mycenae, the well-built stronghold, and wealthy Corinth, and well-built Cleonae, and those who dwelt in Orneae and lovely Araethyrea, and Sicyon, where Adrastus had once been the first king, and those who held Hyperesia and steep Gonoessa, and Pellene, and those who lived around Aegium and the whole stretch of the Aegialus and about wide Helice — of these, a hundred ships were led by lord Agamemnon, son of Atreus. With him followed by far the most men, and the best. And among them he himself put on gleaming bronze, glorying, standing out among all the heroes, because he was the best and led by far the greatest army.
And the men who held hollow Lacedaemon, land of ravines, Pharis and Sparta and dove-rich Messe, and those who dwelt in Bryseae and lovely Augeae, and those who held Amyclae and Helos, a stronghold by the sea, and those who held Laas and lived around Oetylus — these were led by Menelaus, good at the war cry, brother of Agamemnon, with sixty ships, drawn up apart from the rest. And among them he himself went, trusting in his own eagerness, urging his men on to war; and above all, in his heart, he longed to avenge the trouble and the sighing over Helen.
And the men who dwelt in Pylos and lovely Arene, in Thryum, the ford of the Alpheus, and well-built Aepy, and those who lived in Cyparisseis and Amphigeneia, in Pteleum and Helos and Dorium, where the Muses met Thamyris the Thracian, coming from Oechalia, from the house of Eurytus of Oechalia, and stopped his singing — for he had boasted that he would win, even if the Muses themselves, the daughters of Zeus who bears the aegis, should sing against him; and they, in their anger, maimed him, and took away his wondrous gift of song, and made him forget
These men were led by Gerenian Nestor, the old horseman; ninety hollow ships stood in their ranks. Others held Arcadia, under the steep mountain of Cyllene, near the tomb of Aepytus, where men fight hand to hand; they lived in Pheneus and Orchomenus rich in sheep, in Rhipe and Stratie and windy Enispe, and they held Tegea and lovely Mantinea, Stymphelus and Parrhasia. Their leader was Agapenor son of Ancaeus, lord of sixty ships, and in each ship many Arcadian men embarked who knew nothing of war at sea -- for Agamemnon, lord of men, son of Atreus, had given them their well-benched ships to cross the wine-dark water, since seafaring was no concern of theirs.
Others lived in Buprasium and bright Elis, all the land enclosed by Hyrmine and Myrsinus at its edge, the Olenian Rock, and Alesium. Four commanders led these men, and ten swift ships followed each, with many Epeians aboard. Amphimachus and Thalpius led one band -- sons of Cteatus and Eurytus, the two Actorians. Amarynceus's son, mighty Diores, led another, and the fourth was led by godlike Polyxeinus, son of lord Agasthenes, son of Augeias.
Others came from Dulichium and the holy Echinean islands that lie across the sea from Elis. Meges led them, a match for Ares, son of Phyleus, dear to Zeus, who once left for Dulichium in anger at his father. With him came forty black ships. Odysseus led the great-hearted Cephallenians, men who held Ithaca and leaf-shaking Neritum, Crocyleia and rugged Aegilips, Zacynthus and Samos, and the mainland shore opposite the islands. Odysseus, a match for Zeus in cunning, commanded them, and twelve ships with vermilion cheeks followed him.
Thoas son of Andraemon led the Aetolians, men who lived in Pleuron and Olenus and Pylene, Chalcis by the sea and rocky Calydon -- for the sons of great-hearted Oeneus were gone, and Oeneus himself was dead, and fair-haired Meleager was dead, so all rule over the Aetolians had passed to Thoas, and forty black ships followed him.
Idomeneus, famous with the spear, led the men of Crete -- those who held Knossos and walled Gortyn, Lyctus and Miletus and white Lycastus, Phaestus and Rhytium, well-built cities, and all the rest who lived in Crete of the hundred towns. Idomeneus, famous with the spear, led them, together with Meriones, a match for man-slaying Ares. Eighty black ships followed the two of them.
Tlepolemus, son of Heracles, tall and brave, brought nine ships of proud Rhodians out of Rhodes -- men who lived on Rhodes divided into three, Lindos, Ialysus, and white Cameirus. Tlepolemus, famous with the spear, led them, the son Astyocheia bore to the might of Heracles, whom he carried off from Ephyra, by the river Selleis, after sacking many cities of Zeus-nurtured young men. When Tlepolemus had grown to manhood in the strong-built house, he killed his father's own uncle, Licymnius, offshoot of Ares, then already growing old. At once he built ships, gathered a great host of men, and fled over the sea, since the other sons and grandsons of the might of Heracles threatened him. He came wandering to Rhodes, suffering hardship on the way; there his people settled in three tribes and were loved by Zeus, who rules over gods and men, and the son of Cronos poured down wondrous wealth upon them.
Nireus led three trim ships from Syme -- Nireus, son of Aglaea and lord Charopus, Nireus, the handsomest man who came beneath Troy of all the Danaans after the flawless son of Peleus; but he was weak, and few men followed him.
Others held Nisyros, Crapathus, and Casos, and Cos, the city of Eurypylus, and the Calydnian islands. Pheidippus and Antiphus led these, the two sons of lord Thessalus, son of Heracles, and thirty hollow ships stood in their ranks.
Now for all who lived in Pelasgian Argos, in Alos and Alope and Trachis, and those who held Phthia and Hellas of the fair women -- called Myrmidons, and Hellenes, and Achaeans -- of these fifty ships were under the command of Achilles. But they gave no thought to the din of war, for there was no one to lead them into the ranks: swift-footed, godlike Achilles lay among the ships, raging over the girl Briseis of the lovely hair, whom he had won from Lyrnessus after great toil, when he sacked Lyrnessus and the walls of Thebe and struck down the spearmen Mynes and Epistrophus, sons of lord Evenus, son of Selepus. For her sake he lay grieving now, though soon he was to rise again.
Others held Phylace and flowery Pyrasus, sacred ground of Demeter, and Iton mother of flocks, Antron by the sea and grassy Pteleos. Warlike Protesilaus had led these men while he still lived; but now the black earth held him fast. His wife was left behind in Phylace, her cheeks torn in grief, and his house stood half built -- for a Dardanian man killed him as he leapt from his ship, first by far of all the Achaeans. Yet his men were not leaderless, though they missed him: Podarces, offshoot of Ares, marshaled them now, son of Iphiclus, rich in flocks, son of Phylacus, own brother to great-hearted Protesilaus, though younger in birth; the elder man was braver, the warrior Protesilaus. Still his people did not lack a leader, though they longed for the brave man they had lost, and forty black ships followed Podarces.
Others lived by Lake Boebeis, in Pherae, Boebe, and well-built Iolcus. Eumelus led them, dear son of Admetus, whom Alcestis bore to Admetus -- Alcestis, loveliest of the daughters of Pelias. Others held Methone and Thaumacia, Meliboea and rugged Olizon. Philoctetes led these, a master of the bow, seven ships each carrying fifty oarsmen skilled in fighting with the bow. But Philoctetes lay on an island in terrible pain, on holy Lemnos, where the sons of the Achaeans had left him suffering from the wound of a deadly water-snake. There he lay grieving; but soon the Argives by their ships were to remember lord Philoctetes. His men were not leaderless either, though they longed for their king: Medon marshaled them, bastard son of Oileus, whom Rhene bore to Oileus, sacker of cities.
Others held Tricca and terraced Ithome, and Oechalia, city of Eurytus of Oechalia. The two sons of Asclepius led these, skilled healers both, Podalirius and Machaon, and thirty hollow ships stood in their ranks. Others held Ormenium, and the spring of Hypereia, and Asterium, and the white peaks of Titanus. Eurypylus led them, the shining son of Euaemon, and forty black ships followed him.
Others held Argissa and lived in Gyrtone, Orthe, Elone, and white Oloosson. Battle-hungry Polypoites led these, son of Peirithous, whom immortal Zeus had fathered -- Hippodameia, famed in story, bore him to Peirithous on the day her father drove the shaggy Centaurs from Pelion and pressed them back among the Aethices. He did not lead alone; with him was Leonteus, offshoot of Ares, son of proud Coronus, son of Caeneus, and forty black ships followed the two of them.
Gouneus led twenty-two ships from Cyphus. With him came the Enienes and the battle-hungry Perrhaebians, who made their homes around wintry Dodona, and those who worked the fields along lovely Titaresius, whose fair-flowing water runs into the Peneus, yet does not mingle with the silver eddies of the Peneus, but glides above it like oil -- for it is a branch of the water of the Styx, the river of the dread oath. Prothous son of Tenthredon led the Magnesians, who lived around the Peneus and leaf-shaking Pelion. Swift Prothous led them, and forty black ships followed him.
These, then, were the leaders and lords of the Danaans. Now tell me, Muse, who among them all was best -- the men and the horses that followed the sons of Atreus. Best by far were the mares of the son of Pheres, which Eumelus drove, swift as birds, matched in coat and age, level as a builder's line across their backs; silver-bowed Apollo had bred them in Pieria, both mares, and they carried the terror of war with them. Of the men, Telamonian Ajax was far the best, so long as Achilles held back in anger -- for Achilles was far the greatest of all, and so were the horses that carried the flawless son of Peleus.
But Achilles lay among his curved seafaring ships, raging still at Agamemnon, shepherd of the people, son of Atreus, while his men amused themselves along the breaking surf, throwing the discus and the hunting-spear and shooting arrows. The horses stood each beside its own chariot, cropping lotus and marsh parsley, while the chariots, well covered, sat in the huts of their lords. The men missed their war-loving leader and wandered here and there through the camp, taking no part in the fighting.
So the whole army moved forward as though fire were sweeping over the entire earth, and the ground groaned beneath them as it does under Zeus who delights in thunder when he rages around Typhoeus, in the land of the Arimi, where they say Typhoeus has his bed -- so the earth groaned loudly beneath the men's feet as they came on, and very swiftly they crossed the plain.
Now to the Trojans came a messenger, wind-footed swift Iris, from Zeus who bears the aegis, with grim news. The Trojans were gathered in assembly at Priam's gates, all together, young men and old. Swift-footed Iris came close and spoke to them, taking the voice of Priam's son Polites, who sat as a Trojan lookout, trusting to his swift feet, on the topmost mound of old Aesyetes' tomb, watching for the moment the Achaeans might rush from their ships. In his likeness swift-footed Iris spoke:
"Old man, you still love endless talk, as you did once in time of peace; but now pitiless war is upon us. Many times before I have gone into the battles of men, but never have I seen a host so great, so many. They come on like leaves, like grains of sand, marching across the plain to fight before the city. Hector, I charge this above all to you -- do as I say. There are many allies scattered through great Priam's city, and they speak in many different tongues, men gathered from far and wide. Let each captain give orders to his own people, and lead out his own countrymen, marshaled for battle."
So she spoke, and Hector did not fail to know the voice of a goddess. At once he broke up the assembly; men rushed to arms. All the gates were thrown open, and the army poured out, foot soldiers and horsemen together, and a great tumult rose.
There is a steep hill in front of the city, out on the plain, with open ground on every side; men call it Batieia, but the immortals call it the tomb of much-leaping Myrine. There the Trojans and their allies now formed their ranks.
Great Hector of the flashing helmet, son of Priam, led the Trojans; with him marched by far the most and the best of the fighting men, eager with their spears. The noble son of Anchises, Aeneas, led the Dardanians -- Aeneas, whom shining Aphrodite bore to Anchises on the slopes of Ida, a goddess who lay with a mortal man; he did not lead alone, for with him were Antenor's two sons, Archelochus and Acamas, skilled in every kind of fighting.
Others lived in Zeleia, at the foot of Ida, wealthy men who drink the dark water of the Aesepus, Trojans led by the shining son of Lycaon, Pandarus, to whom Apollo himself had given the bow. Others held Adrasteia, the land of Apaesus, Pityeia, and the steep hill of Tereia; Adrastus and Amphius of the linen corselet led these, the two sons of Merops of Percote, who beyond all men understood the art of prophecy and would not let his sons go into man-killing war; but they would not listen to him, for the fates of black death were driving them on.
Others lived around Percote and Practius, and held Sestos and Abydos and holy Arisbe; Asius son of Hyrtacus, a leader of men, led these -- Asius son of Hyrtacus, whom great tawny horses carried from Arisbe, from the river Selleis. Hippothous led the tribes of the spear-fighting Pelasgians, those who lived in deep-soiled Larisa; Hippothous and Pylaeus, offshoot of Ares, led them, the two sons of Lethus the Pelasgian, son of Teutamus.
Acamas and the warrior Peirous led the Thracians, all those enclosed by the strong-flowing Hellespont. Euphemus was captain of the spear-wielding Cicones, son of Troezenus, son of Zeus-nurtured Ceas. Pyraechmes led the Paeonians with their curved bows, from far off, from Amydon, from the wide-flowing Axius -- the Axius, whose water is the fairest that spreads over the earth.
Pylaemenes, his heart shaggy with courage, led the Paphlagonians, from the land of the Eneti, where the breed of wild mules comes from; these were the men who held Cytorus and lived around Sesamon, who made their famous homes along the river Parthenius, in Cromna, Aegialus, and lofty Erythini. Odius and Epistrophus led the Halizones, from far off, from Alybe, where silver is born. Chromis led the Mysians, with Ennomus the augur; but not even his skill in reading birds could save him from black death, for he was cut down by the hands of swift-footed Achilles in the river, where Achilles slaughtered so many other Trojans too.
Phorcys and godlike Ascanius led the Phrygians, from far off, from Ascania, and they were eager for the press of battle. Mesthles and Antiphus led the Maeonians, the two sons of Talaemenes, whom the Gygaean lake bore; they led the Maeonians born beneath Mount Tmolus. Nastes led the Carians of the barbarous tongue, men who held Miletus, the thick-leaved mountain of Phthires, the streams of the Maeander, and the steep peaks of Mycale. Amphimachus and Nastes led them -- Nastes and Amphimachus, the splendid sons of Nomion. Nastes went to war wearing gold like a girl, the fool -- it did nothing to keep off grim destruction, for he too was cut down by the hands of swift-footed Achilles in the river, and shrewd Achilles carried off his gold.
Sarpedon led the Lycians, and blameless Glaucus, from far off, from Lycia, from the swirling Xanthus.