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For Achilles says somewhere in the course of his lament for the death of Patroclus, as recalling one of the greatest of sorrows, that unwillingly he has broken the promise he had given to Menoetius, the father of Patroclus; for he had promised to bring his son back safe to Opus, if he would send him along with him to Troy, and entrust him to his care. It is evident from this that it was because of love that he undertook to take care of him.
Now read what Patroclus says in the dream about their common burial and about the intercourse that they once had with one another.“For we no longer as in life shall sitApart in sweet communion. Nay, the doomAppointed me at birth has yawned for me.And fate has destined thee, Achilles, peerOf gods, to die beneath the wall of Troy'sProud lords, fighting for fair-haired Helen's sake.More will I say to thee, pray heed it well:Let not my bones be laid apart from thine,Achilles, but that thou and I may beIn common earth, I beg that I may shareThat golden coffer which thy mother broughtTo be thine own, even as we in youthGrew up together in thy home. My sireMenoetius brought me, a little lad, from home,From Opus, to your house, for sad bloodshed,That day, when, all unwitting, in childish wrathAbout the dice, I killed Amphidamas' son.The knightly Peleus took me to his homeAnd kindly reared me, naming me thy squire.So let one common coffer hide our bones.”Hom. Il. 2
And on the third of the Hermae stands written:“Once from this city Menestheus, summoned to join the Atreidae,Led forth an army to Troy, plain beloved of the gods.Homer has sung of his fame, and has said that of all the mailed chieftainsNone could so shrewdly as he marshal the ranks for the fight.Fittingly then shall the people of Athens be honored, and calledMarshals and leaders of war, heroes in combat of arms.”unknownIs the name of the generals anywhere here? Nowhere; only the name of the peo
Release from this weary task of mine has been my plea to the gods throughout this long year's watch, in which, lying upon the palace roof of the Atreidae, upon my bent arm, like a dog, I have learned to know well the gathering of the night's stars, those radiant potentates conspicuous in the firmament,bringers of winter and summer to mankind [the constellations, when they rise and set].So now I am still watching for the signal-flame, the gleaming fire that is to bring news from Troy andtidings of its capture. For thus commands my queen, woman in passionate heart and man in strength of purpose. And whenever I make here my bed, restless and dank with dew and unvisited by dreams—for instead of sleep fear stands ever by my side,so that I cannot close my eyelids fast in sleep—and whenever I care to sing or hum （and thus apply an antidote of song to ward off drowsiness）, then my tears start forth, as I bewail the fortunes of this house of ours, not ordered for the best as in days gone by.
Chorus Then the wise seer of the host, noticing how the two warlike sons of Atreus were two in temper, recognized the devourers of the hare as the leaders of the army, andthus interpreted the portent and spoke: “In time those who here issue forth shall seize Priam's town, and fate shall violently ravage before its towered walls all the public store of cattle.Only may no jealous god-sent wrath cast its shadow upon the embattled host, the mighty bit forged for Troy's mouth, and strike it before it reaches its goal!For, in her pity, holy Artemis is angry at the winged hounds of her father, for they sacrifice a wretched timorous thing, together with her young, before she has brought them forth. An abomination to her is the eagles' feast.” Sing the song of woe, the song of woe, but may the good prev
Clytaemestra This day the Achaeans hold Troy. Within the town there sounds loud, I believe, a clamor of voices which will not blend. Pour vinegar and oil into the same vessel and you will say that, as foes, they keep apart; so the cries of vanquished and victors greet the ear,distinct as their fortunes are diverse. Those, flung upon the corpses of their husbands and their brothers, children upon the bodies of their aged fathers who gave them life, bewail from lips no longer free the death of their dearest ones, while these—a night of restless toil after battle sets them down famished to break their fast on such fare as the town affords; not faring according to rank, but as each man has drawn his lot by chance.And even now they are quartered in the captured Trojan homes, delivered from the frosts and dew of the naked sky, and like happy men will sleep all the night without a guard. Now if they keep clear of guilt towards the gods of the town—those of the conquered land—and towards t<
Hail, sovereign Zeus, and you kindly Night, you who have given us great glory, you who cast your meshed snare upon the towered walls of Troy, so that neither old nor young could overleapthe huge enslaving net of all-conquering Destruction. Great Zeus it is, lord of host and guest, whom I revere—he has brought this to pass. He long kept his bow bent against Alexanderuntil his bolt would neither fall short of the mark nor, flying beyond the stars, be launched in vai