Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
So the Achaeans armed beside their curved ships around you, son of Peleus, never sated with battle, and the Trojans on the other side, up on the rise of the plain. And Zeus told Themis to summon the gods to assembly, calling from the many-folded height of Olympus; and she went everywhere and told them to come to the house of Zeus. No river was absent except Ocean, and no nymph either, of those who haunt the lovely groves, the springs of rivers, and the grassy meadows. They came to the hall of Zeus who gathers the clouds and took their seats in the polished colonnades that Hephaestus had built for father Zeus with his cunning skill.
So they gathered inside the house of Zeus, and the Earthshaker did not fail to heed the goddess either, but came up out of the sea to join them, and sat down in their midst, and asked Zeus his purpose: "Why have you called the gods to assembly again, lord of the bright thunderbolt? Is it something about the Trojans and Achaeans you're pondering? For their battle and their war are blazing very close now."
Answering him Zeus who gathers the clouds said: "You have seen into my mind, Earth-shaker, and know why I gathered them — even in their ruin, they concern me. But I myself will stay here on a fold of Olympus, sitting where I can watch and please my heart. The rest of you, go down until you reach the Trojans and Achaeans, and help each side as each of you is minded. For if Achilles fights the Trojans alone, unhelped, they will not hold out even a little against the swift son of Peleus — before now they trembled just at the sight of him, and now that his heart rages so terribly over his friend, I fear he may raze the wall itself, beyond what fate allows."
So spoke the son of Cronus, and roused war that would not be checked. And the gods went down to the war, their hearts split between the two sides: Hera went to the ships, with Pallas Athena, and Poseidon who holds the earth, and the helpful god Hermes, who excels in shrewd thoughts; and Hephaestus went with them too, glorying in his strength, limping, though his thin legs moved him quickly. But toward the Trojans went Ares of the flashing helm, and with him unshorn Phoebus, and Artemis showering arrows, and Leto, and the river Xanthus, and laughing Aphrodite.
Now as long as the gods stayed apart from mortal men, the Achaeans gloried greatly, since Achilles had appeared again, after being so long kept from grim battle; but a terrible trembling came over every Trojan limb as they took fright, seeing the swift son of Peleus blazing in his armor, a match for man-killing Ares. But when the Olympians came in among the throng of men, mighty Strife who drives men on rose up, and Athena cried out, standing now beside the dug trench outside the wall, now shouting long and loud along the echoing shore. And on the other side Ares cried out, like a black storm-wind, urging the Trojans on shrilly from the city's height, then again running along the Simois by Kallikolone.
So the blessed gods drove the two sides together and clashed, and broke a heavy quarrel open between them. The father of gods and men thundered terribly from above, while below Poseidon shook the boundless earth and the steep heads of the mountains. All the roots of many-fountained Ida shook, and its peaks, and the city of the Trojans, and the ships of the Achaeans. And Hades, lord of the dead below, was afraid — he leapt in fear from his throne and cried out, lest Poseidon the Earth-shaker split the earth open above him and lay bare to mortals and immortals alike his house, dank and dreadful, which even the gods shudder at. So great was the crash that rose when the gods came together in strife.
For against lord Poseidon stood Phoebus Apollo with his winged arrows, and against Enyalius stood the gray-eyed goddess Athena; against Hera stood Artemis of the golden distaff, showering arrows, sister of the Far-shooter; against Leto stood the strong, helpful god Hermes; and against Hephaestus stood the great river of deep eddies whom the gods call Xanthus, and men call Scamander.
So the gods went against gods. But Achilles longed above all to plunge into the crowd against Hector, Priam's son — it was his blood, more than any other's, that his heart drove him to give to Ares, that tireless warrior. But Apollo, who drives men on, sent Aeneas straight against the son of Peleus, filling him with strong courage, and made his voice sound like that of Priam's son Lycaon. In that likeness Apollo, son of Zeus, spoke to him:
"Aeneas, counselor of the Trojans, where now are the threats you made over your wine, promising the Trojan lords you would stand and fight the son of Peleus, Achilles, face to face?"
Then Aeneas answered him: "Son of Priam, why do you urge me to this, against my will, to fight the proud son of Peleus face to face? This would not be the first time I stood against swift Achilles — once before his spear routed me, from Ida, when he came upon our cattle and sacked Lyrnessus and Pedasus. But Zeus saved me then, and gave strength to my knees and speed to my feet, or I would have gone down under the hands of Achilles and Athena, who went before him giving him light and urging him to cut down the Leleges and Trojans with his bronze spear. No man can stand against Achilles and live, for always some god is at his side warding off ruin. And besides, his spear flies straight and does not stop until it has driven through a man's flesh. If only a god would hold the outcome of the fight level, he would not win so easily, even boasting that he is bronze all over."
Then lord Apollo, son of Zeus, said to him: "Then you too, hero, call on the gods who live forever. They say you were born of Zeus's daughter, Aphrodite, while his mother comes from a lesser god — one is Zeus's daughter, the other the daughter of the old man of the sea. Carry your tireless bronze straight at him, and do not let him turn you back with his cruel and threatening words."
So he spoke, and breathed great strength into the shepherd of the people, and Aeneas strode through the front ranks, armed in gleaming bronze.
Nor did white-armed Hera fail to notice Anchises' son going through the ranks of men against the son of Peleus. She gathered the gods together and spoke among them: "Consider now, both of you, Poseidon and Athena, in your hearts, how these things will turn out. Here is Aeneas, gone out armed in gleaming bronze against the son of Peleus, sent by Phoebus Apollo. Come, let us turn him back where he stands, or else let one of us go stand by Achilles and give him great strength, so that he knows the best of the immortals love him, and that those others are nothing but wind who have long defended the Trojans from war and ruin. All of us came down from Olympus to take part in this battle, so that Achilles takes no harm today at Trojan hands — later he will suffer whatever fate spun for him with her thread when his mother bore him. But if Achilles does not learn this from the voice of the gods, he will be afraid whenever a god comes against him face to face in battle — it is a hard thing for gods to appear plainly to men."
Then Poseidon the Earth-shaker answered her: "Hera, do not rage beyond reason — it does not become you. I myself would not wish to drive the gods, us here, into conflict with the others, since we are far stronger. Instead let us go and sit ourselves down on a lookout away from the path, and leave the war to men. But if Ares or Phoebus Apollo begin the fighting, or hold Achilles back and won't let him fight, then at once a quarrel of battle will rise between us too, and I think they will very quickly be driven apart and go back up to Olympus, to the gathering of the other gods, beaten down under the force of our hands."
So speaking, the dark-haired god led the way to the built-up rampart of godlike Heracles, high and steep, which the Trojans and Pallas Athena had made for him, so that he could flee there and escape the sea-monster whenever it drove him from the shore toward the plain. There Poseidon sat down, and the other gods with him, and wrapped an unbreakable cloud about their shoulders; while the others took their seats on the other side, along the ridges of Kallikolone, around you, Phoebus, and Ares, sacker of cities. So the gods sat apart on either side, weighing their plans, both sides reluctant to begin the grim fighting, while Zeus, sitting on high, urged them on.
Meanwhile the whole plain was filled with them and shone with bronze — men and horses — and the earth rang under the feet of those rushing together. And two men, far the best, came together in the space between the two armies, eager to fight: Aeneas, son of Anchises, and godlike Achilles.
Aeneas came forward first with threats, nodding his heavy helmet; he held his strong shield in front of his chest and brandished his bronze spear. On the other side the son of Peleus rose to meet him like a lion, a marauder that a whole gathered village of men is bent on killing; at first he goes on scorning them, but when one of the quick young men has struck him with a spear, he crouches open-mouthed, foam gathers around his teeth, his brave heart groans within him, and he lashes his ribs and flanks on both sides with his tail, working himself up to fight, and glaring, he charges straight on in his fury, to kill some man or himself die in the first rush. So Achilles' strength and proud heart drove him on to meet great-hearted Aeneas.
When they had come close, advancing on each other, swift godlike Achilles spoke first to him: "Aeneas, why have you come out so far ahead of the crowd and taken your stand? Does your heart urge you to fight me in hope of ruling the horse-taming Trojans with Priam's honor? Even if you were to kill me, Priam would not for that place the prize in your hand — he has sons of his own, and he is sound of mind, not foolish. Or have the Trojans marked out for you a fine plot of orchard and plowland, better than the rest, to hold if you kill me? I think you will find that a hard thing to do. I say I have already routed you once before with my spear. Or do you not remember when I chased you alone away from your cattle, down the slopes of Ida, on my swift feet, running hard? You didn't turn to look back then as you fled. From there you escaped to Lyrnessus — but I stormed after and sacked it, with Athena and father Zeus at my side, and led off the captive women, stripped of their day of freedom; you, though, Zeus and the other gods saved. I don't think they will shield you now, as you imagine in your heart they will. No — I tell you, go back into the crowd, and do not stand against me, before you come to harm. Even a fool learns once the deed is done."
Then Aeneas answered him: "Son of Peleus, do not hope to frighten me with words as if I were a child — I know well enough myself how to speak both taunts and insults. We each know the other's lineage, we each know the other's parents, from what we have heard told by mortal men, in famous stories — though with our own eyes neither of us has seen the other's parents. They say you are the offspring of blameless Peleus, and that your mother is Thetis of the lovely hair, from the sea; and I claim to be the son of great-hearted Anchises, and my mother is Aphrodite. One pair or the other will mourn a beloved son today — for I do not think we two will part from this battle and go home again with nothing more than childish words between us. But if you wish to learn this too, so that you know well our lineage — for many men know it — Zeus who gathers the clouds first fathered Dardanus, who founded Dardania, since sacred Ilium was not yet built in the plain as a city of speaking men, and they still dwelt on the slopes of many-fountained Ida. And Dardanus fathered a son, king Erichthonius, who became the richest of mortal men: he had three thousand mares that grazed in the marshland, mares with their tender foals, delighting in them. And the North Wind fell in love with them as they grazed, and took the shape of a dark-maned stallion and lay with them, and they conceived and bore twelve foals. And when these pranced over the grain-giving plowland, they ran over the topmost ears of grain and did not break them; and when they pranced over the broad back of the sea, they ran along the topmost edge of the foaming surf. And Erichthonius fathered Tros, king of the Trojans, and from Tros in turn came three blameless sons, Ilus, Assaracus, and godlike Ganymede, who became the most beautiful of mortal men, so that the gods carried him off to pour wine for Zeus, for the sake of his beauty, so that he might live among the immortals. And Ilus fathered a son, blameless Laomedon, and Laomedon fathered Tithonus, and Priam, and Lampus, and Clytius, and Hicetaon, offshoot of Ares; and Assaracus fathered Capys, and he fathered his son Anchises; and Anchises fathered me, and Priam fathered godlike Hector. This is the lineage and blood I claim as my own. But Zeus increases or diminishes a man's strength as he wills, for he is mightiest of all. Come, let us no longer talk like children, standing here in the midst of this grim fighting. There are insults enough for both of us to hurl at each other, more than a ship of a hundred oars could carry as cargo. The tongue of mortals turns easily; there are many kinds of words stored up in it, ranging far and wide. Whatever kind of word you speak, such a one you are likely to hear back. But why must we two quarrel and trade insults with each other like women, who, angered by some heart-devouring feud, go out and hurl abuse at each other in the middle of the street, one true thing and many false — for anger drives them to it. You will not turn me back from my courage with words, not before we have fought it out with bronze, face to face. Come, let us taste each other's bronze-tipped spears at once."
With that he drove his heavy spear into the terrible, dreadful shield, and the point of the spear rang loud against the great shield. The son of Peleus held the shield away from him with his broad hand, afraid, for he thought the long-shadowed spear of great-hearted Aeneas would pass easily through — poor fool, not understanding in his mind and heart that the gods' glorious gifts do not yield or give way so easily to mortal men. And this time the heavy spear of bold Aeneas did not break through the shield, for the gold, the god's own gift, held it back; it drove through two layers, but three still remained, for the crook-footed god had hammered five layers onto it, two of bronze, two of tin within, and one of gold, and it was this that stopped the ashen spear. Then Achilles in turn let fly his own long-shadowed spear, and struck Aeneas's perfectly balanced shield at the very rim, where the bronze ran thinnest and the ox-hide backing it was thinnest too; the Pelian ash spear tore straight through, and the shield cracked under its force. Aeneas crouched down and held the shield out and away from him, afraid; and the spear passed over his back and stuck fast in the ground, still quivering, after tearing through both circles of the man-shielding shield. He escaped the long spear and stood there, and boundless grief poured over his eyes, terrified that the weapon had struck so close to him. But Achilles, raging, rushed at him, drawing his sharp sword and shouting terribly. Then Aeneas seized a stone in his hand — a massive thing, which two men, as men are now, could not carry — but he swung it easily, alone.
Then Aeneas would have struck the charging Achilles with the stone, on his helmet or his shield, which would have warded off grim death from him, and Achilles would have closed in and taken his life with the sword — had not Poseidon the Earth-shaker seen it sharply in time. At once he spoke among the immortal gods: "Ah, what grief I feel for great-hearted Aeneas, who will soon go down to the house of Hades, beaten by the son of Peleus, because he trusted the words of Apollo who shoots from afar — poor fool, and Apollo will do nothing to save him from grim destruction. But why should this innocent man suffer pain now, uselessly, for others' griefs, when he has always given pleasing gifts to the gods who hold the wide heaven? Come, let us lead him ourselves out from under death,
"Let it not happen that the son of Cronus grows angry, if Achilles kills this man now. It is fated that he escape, so that the line of Dardanus not perish root and branch and vanish from sight — Dardanus, whom the son of Cronus loved beyond all the sons born to him from mortal women. For Cronus's son has already come to hate the line of Priam, and now the strength of Aeneas will rule the Trojans, he and his sons' sons who are yet to come."
Then the ox-eyed lady Hera answered him: "Shaker of Earth, weigh this yourself in your own mind. Either you pull Aeneas free, or you leave him to be beaten down by Achilles, son of Peleus, brave as he is. For the two of us, Pallas Athena and I, have sworn many oaths before all the immortals, never to ward off the evil day from the Trojans — not even when all Troy burns in raging fire, set ablaze by the warlike sons of the Achaeans."
When Poseidon, shaker of the earth, heard this, he went off through the fighting and the storm of spears, and came to where Aeneas and glorious Achilles stood. At once he poured a mist over the eyes of Achilles, son of Peleus, and pulled the bronze-tipped ash spear from the shield of great-hearted Aeneas, and set it down before the feet of Achilles. Then he lifted Aeneas high off the ground and sent him flying. Aeneas soared over many ranks of warriors and many ranks of horses, hurled onward by the god's hand, and came down at the far edge of the raging battle, where the Cauconians were arming themselves for war. Poseidon, shaker of the earth, came close beside him there,
and spoke to him, and his words flew fast: "Aeneas, which of the gods commands you to be so reckless as to fight face to face with the proud son of Peleus, who is both stronger than you and dearer to the immortals? Draw back whenever you meet him, or you may go down to the house of Hades before your fated day. But once Achilles meets his death and doom, then take heart and fight among the foremost, for no other Achaean will be able to cut you down."
With these words he left him there, once he had made everything clear. And at once he swept the strange mist from Achilles's eyes. Achilles stared hard, and, troubled, spoke to his own great heart: "Ah, here is a marvel I see before my eyes! My spear lies here on the ground, but I cannot see the man I hurled it at, meaning to kill him. So Aeneas really is dear to the immortal gods after all — and I thought his boasting was empty. Let him go. His heart won't want to test me again, since he was glad enough to escape death just now.
"But come — let me call to the Danaans who love the din of war, and go up against the rest of the Trojans, and test them." So saying, he leaped along the ranks, and called out to each man: "No longer stand apart from the Trojans, brilliant Achaeans — let man go against man, and let each be eager to fight! Hard it is for me, strong as I am, to press so many men and fight them all. Not even Ares, immortal god that he is, not even Athena, could range the mouth of so vast a battle and labor through it. But whatever I can do with my hands, my feet, and my strength,
that I will do without holding back, not even a little — I will drive straight through their line, and I don't think any Trojan who comes near my spear will be glad of it." So he spoke, urging them on. And on the other side glorious Hector shouted to the Trojans, calling them to battle, and declared he would go against Achilles himself: "Proud-hearted Trojans, do not fear the son of Peleus. I too could fight even the immortals with words, but with the spear it is hard, since they are far stronger. Achilles will not bring every one of his boasts to pass — some he will accomplish, but others he will cut short midway.
"I will go against him even if his hands are like fire — even if his hands are like fire, and his fury like blazing iron!" So he spoke, urging them on, and the Trojans raised their spears against the enemy, and their fury mingled together, and the war-cry rose. Then Phoebus Apollo came and stood beside Hector and said: "Hector, do not fight Achilles out in front any longer — hold back within the crowd, out of the roar of battle, or he may strike you with a spear-throw, or catch you close and cut you down with his sword." So he spoke, and Hector shrank back again into the mass of men, seized with fear once he heard the voice of the god speaking.
Then Achilles leaped among the Trojans, his heart clothed in fury, screaming his terrible war-cry, and first he cut down Iphition, brave son of Otrynteus, leader of many people, whom a water-nymph bore to Otrynteus, sacker of cities, beneath snowy Tmolus in the rich land of Hyde. As he charged straight at him, godlike Achilles struck him with his spear full in the head, and it split clean apart. He fell with a crash, and godlike Achilles boasted over him: "You lie there, son of Otrynteus, most terrible of all men! Here is your death, though you were born beside the lake
of Gyge, where your father's estate lies, by the fish-filled Hyllus and the swirling Hermus." So he spoke in triumph, and darkness covered the dead man's eyes. The chariots of the Achaeans tore his body apart with their wheel-rims in the first shock of the fight. Next Achilles struck down Demoleon, son of Antenor, a brave defender in battle, stabbing him through the temple, through his bronze-cheeked helmet. The bronze helm did not hold — the spear-point drove straight through, shattered the bone, and his brains were splattered all inside. So he brought down a man still eager for the fight.
Then he struck Hippodamas with his spear in the back as he leaped down from his chariot and fled before him. Hippodamas gasped out his life and bellowed, as a bull bellows when young men drag it around the altar of the Lord of Helicon, and the Earth-Shaker delights in it. So his proud spirit left his bones as he bellowed there. Then Achilles went with his spear after godlike Polydorus, son of Priam. His father would not let him fight at all, since he was the youngest-born of all his sons and the dearest to him, and he outran everyone on foot.
But now, in his youthful folly, showing off the speed of his feet, he ran wild through the front ranks, until he lost his own life. Swift-footed godlike Achilles struck him with a javelin square in the back as he raced past, where the golden clasps of his belt met and the double breastplate joined. The spear-point drove straight through and out beside his navel, and he fell to his knees with a groan, and a dark cloud wrapped around him as he sank down, clutching his spilling guts in his hands. When Hector saw his brother Polydorus
holding his own guts in his hands as he sank to the ground, a mist poured down over his eyes; he could no longer bear to circle at a distance, but went straight at Achilles, shaking his sharp spear like a tongue of flame. When Achilles saw him, he sprang up, and cried out in triumph: "Here is the man who has wounded my heart the most — the one who killed my beloved companion. No longer will we shrink from each other along the causeways of war!" So he spoke, and with a dark glance he called out to godlike Hector: "Come closer, so you may sooner reach the end that is death."
Hector of the flashing helmet, unafraid, answered him: "Son of Peleus, do not hope to frighten me with words as though I were a child — I too know well how to speak taunts and insults. I know that you are strong, and that I am far weaker than you. Yet even so, this lies in the knees of the gods — that I, weaker as I am, might still take your life with a cast of the spear, since my point too has been sharp before now." So he spoke, and drew back his arm and hurled his spear — but Athena turned it aside from glorious Achilles with a light breath,
and it drifted back to godlike Hector and fell there before his feet. Then Achilles rushed at him, his heart clothed in fury, eager to kill, screaming his terrible war-cry — but Apollo snatched Hector away, easily, as a god can, and wrapped him in thick mist. Three times swift-footed godlike Achilles charged forward with his bronze spear, and three times he struck only the deep mist. But when he charged a fourth time, like something more than mortal, he shouted a terrible threat and his words flew fast: "Dog, this time again you have escaped death — and it came close to you indeed. But now Phoebus Apollo has saved you again,
the god you must pray to whenever you walk into the crash of spears. I will finish you yet, be sure of it, when we meet again — if I too have some god on my side to help me. For now I will go after the rest, whoever I can catch." So saying, he stabbed Dryops through the middle of the neck with his javelin, and Dryops fell before his feet; Achilles left him lying there, and struck Demouchos, son of Philetor, a big, fine man, in the knee with his spear and stopped him in his tracks; then he finished him off with a great sword-thrust and tore the life from him. Then he charged Laogonus and Dardanus, the sons of Bias,
and knocked them both down from their chariot to the ground — one struck with the spear, the other cut down close with the sword. And Tros, son of Alastor, came up and clasped his knees, begging that he might somehow be spared and let go alive, and not be killed — hoping Achilles might pity a man his own age. Foolish man, he did not know there was no persuading Achilles now — for he was not a man of gentle heart or kindly mind, but altogether savage. Tros clutched at his knees with both hands, longing to plead with him, but Achilles drove his sword into his liver;
the liver slid out, and dark blood poured from it and soaked his lap, and darkness covered his eyes as his life left him. Then Achilles came up beside Mulius and stabbed him through the ear with his spear, and the bronze point drove clean through and out the other ear. Then he struck Echeclus, son of Agenor, full on the head with his hilted sword, and the whole blade grew hot with blood; and the purple hand of death and mighty fate seized him by the eyes. Next he pierced Deucalion through the arm, where the tendons of the elbow join,
there through his own hand, right through with the bronze point; and Deucalion stood waiting for death, his arm made heavy and useless, watching death come on before him — and Achilles struck his neck with the sword and sent his head flying far off, helmet and all. The marrow spurted out from his spine, and he lay stretched on the ground. Then Achilles went after the blameless son of Peires, Rhigmus, who had come from the rich soil of Thrace; he struck him in the middle with his javelin, and the bronze lodged in his belly, and he fell headlong from his chariot. And as his attendant Areithous wheeled the horses around to flee, Achilles stabbed him in the back with his sharp spear and threw him off the chariot, and the horses bolted in confusion.
As a raging fire sweeps through the deep gorges of a parched mountain and the thick forest burns, and the wind whips the flame on every side and drives it whirling — so Achilles raged everywhere with his spear, like something more than mortal, hunting down the men he killed, and the black earth ran with blood. And as a man yokes broad-browed oxen to thresh white barley on a well-built threshing floor, and the grain is quickly husked beneath the feet of the bellowing oxen — so, under great-hearted Achilles, his single-hoofed horses trampled the dead and their shields together, and the axle beneath the chariot was all splattered with blood, and the rails that ran around the car as well,
spattered by drops flung up from the horses' hooves and from the chariot wheels. And the son of Peleus pressed on, straining to win glory, his invincible hands smeared and fouled with gore.