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NOW had the sun appeared in his strength above the peak of Ida, and the crystal hollow of heaven was filled with his sacred beams, even as a cup overflows with wine at the banquet. And straightway Zeus called fierce Discord before his throne, and sent her flying down to the ships of the Greeks that she might put lust of battle into their hearts. Thither came the baneful goddess in likeness of a vulture, and perched on the black ship of Odysseus where it lay midmost of the line, and flapped her broad wings, yelling as vultures yell over the bodies of the slain. Then forthwith every man of the host grew athirst for the fray, even such as were most weary of continual fight and yearned most to be gone from Troy. So clamour of shouting arose in all the camp, and mighty din of warriors arming and chariots harnessed in haste; little need had the chiefs that day to stir up their vassals to the work of war, for one and all were zealous of themselves.
Forth they went, all the host of them, soon as the battalions were marshalled, eager as wolves that follow the trail of a stricken deer; and while they fared over the plain, a little cloud drifted over them in the blue, and dissolved in a shower of rain-drops clammy with gore. Thus did Zeus give sign how the blood of captains and of kings should be poured out that day like water; but the portent stayed not the Greeks in their fiery course, for Discord urged them on with invisible lash.
Now midway of the plain the Trojans met them, having descried their coming from afar; and a gallant sight it was to see the two armies draw together in order of battle. With the warriors of Troy came a remnant of their allies, Lycians and Mysians; and a mixed company of aliens, men outlawed and cityless, rovers on the earth, that fought for hire. And in the post of honour, on the right, were seen the dark ranks of the Ethiopians, led by Memnon in his resplendent chariot of four white steeds. As a flock of cranes, scared aloft from their marshy feeding-ground, rend the air with harshest cries, so cried and clamoured together the mixed armament of Troy in many an outlandish tongue. But the Greeks came on in silence, like well-schooled soldiers, hearkening mutely for the voice of their commanders and scorning to spend their breath in boastful outcry.
Now the men of Diomed, and Odysseus, and Ajax, were marshalled on the left fronting the Ethiopians; Agamemnon himself commanded the midmost battalion, having with him Menelaus, and Nestor with his sons, and many a chief of renown besides; these had the sons and kinsmen of Priam over against them, with the men of Troy and the mercenaries. And Achilles, with the Myrmidons, held his wonted post on the right, and faced the Lycian and Mysian allies. But when King Agamemnon beheld the Ethiopians he hastened to him along the lines and said, "See you, Achilles, the new foes that are mustered yonder, how many they are and stalwart, and grim of aspect; and their leader is even like unto a god? Would that the grave had gaped for me in mine own land ere I led a host against this city, for Zeus will never make an end of succouring it with warriors of every race under heaven. But come now, son of Peleus, set your array over against these barbarians, for none but you, methinks, can avail to withstand them."
But sternly answered Achilles: "What words are these you have let fall, King of Argos? Now might the soul of Hector laugh and be glad, to hear that mighty Agamemnon is afeared of half-naked blackamoors. What, must I shift my array to cope with such as these? Not so; here will I bide, unless, forsooth, they make head against our comrades. As for their prince, soon enough will Diomed or stout Ajax lower his proud crest and strip him of all that golden gear."
So spake he, mindful of his promise to Thetis, yet with no feigned scorn; for he well believed that the heavy-armed Greeks could overmatch the fiercest barbarians at any odds.
And now both hosts were set in array, and signal given for battle; and shoulder to shoulder charged the front ranks of either, and clashed together with thunder of shield on shield. And behind the press of the bronze-shielded footmen the chieftains drove to and fro, each cheering on his vassals and watching well his time to leap from his chariot and break a way through the lines. But long while stood that living wall unbroken; for even as two lordly stags battle for the mastery, locking their antlers together and thrusting with all their weight, and neither can stir the other a foot; even so foeman thrust shield against foeman along the serried lines, nor could gain an inch of ground.
At last Prince Memnon, devising subtlety, made the foremost of his dusky legions wheel as for flight; and the Greeks shouted and rushed after, and cut down many, until they turned again to wage desperate combat. Thus the columns of Ajax and Diomed were sundered from the rest—as for Odysseus, he restrained what men he could, scenting a snare—and meantime Memnon with the flower of his host charged down on the flank of Agamemnon's battalion. And the press of men-at-arms was scattered by the shock of his onset, and now they fought dispersedly, man to man, with the fury of wolves. But on rushed Memnon through the mellay, encompassed with a pillar of dust sent up by the whirling wheels; in sight like the bright, baleful star that rises in harvest time, when it glitters athwart the storm-cloud; and ever he looked about him to spy a chieftain worthy his encounter.
Then marked he noble Nestor driving his burnished car, and he cast at him with his javelin. Nestor it missed, but struck the trace-horse of his car full on the crest, piercing bone and brain; and the steed fell dead, dragging his two yoke-fellows to their knees. Nimbly the old man leapt down to cut the trace and right the struggling pair—for charioteer he had none, since by reason of age he wielded weapons no more, but took the field only to strengthen the hands of others with skilful leadership. Now in a trice he got the horses to their feet, but as he did so he saw gigantic Memnon close upon him, brandishing his great curved scimitar. Then the old man's heart failed him for fear; he shrank back, and cried in a loud voice of anguish, "Help, my sons! Hither and help me, or I perish!"
Antilochus, his youngest, heard the cry, and came speeding like the wind; in the nick of time he sprang from his chariot and threw himself in front of Nestor. "Mount and flee, my father," he said, "while I hold the foe in play"; and so saying, he hurled his spear at Memnon with a good aim and true. But deftly Memnon swerved aside, and the spear flew over his left shoulder and buried its point in the ground. Loud laughed the haughty prince in triumph, and rushed upon Antilochus, whirling aloft his scimitar with both hands, and smote him where neck and shoulder join or ever he could ward off the blow. As a sapling oak falls in its summer glory beneath the woodman's axe, and its green crown lies wilting on the mountainside, so fell young Antilochus, so his comely head lay low in the bloody dust. His father saw it, looking backward as he fled; then groaned he in agony of soul, and urged his horses on, seeking some helper. But Memnon exulted aloud, and set his foot on the dead man's breast, and stripped him of corselet and helm.
Now Achilles was making havoc of the Lycians; and as he ranged hither and thither afoot, dealing death, he lifted up his eyes and saw Nestor coming in wild career, like one distraught. And Nestor cried to him, saying, "Help me now, son of Peleus, for sore is my need. Antilochus is fallen, woe the day—fallen in his prime to save this grey, withered head—and the slayer even now despoils his corse. O, mount and ride with me, if ever you held him dear, to rescue his body and avenge him."
Then Achilles beat his bosom and leapt up beside Nestor in the chariot, and said, "Who has done this deed, old man? Not long shall he boast of it, be he who he may."
"It was the prince of the dark-skinned folk," answered Nestor, turning his steeds; "he came against me, huge and terrible as a Titan, and was at point to slay me. Then cried I to my sons, and Antilochus came speeding amain—would to Zeus he had heard me not, but I had perished in his stead."
With that he gave rein to the coursers and they flew like the wind to the place where Antilochus lay; and there stood the Prince of Ethiopia bestriding the corse, and the goodly arms were at his feet. To him spoke Achilles: "You of all men else have I avoided, Son of the Morning; but now needs must you pay me the price of his blood who lies there. To your chariot then and let us fight; for not gold of Ethiopia shall you pay, but life for life. And know that your adversary is Achilles, son of silver-footed immortal Thetis."
"Vaunt not yourself of that, renowned Achilles," answered Memnon, scornfully, "seeing I avow myself of higher lineage by far. For my mother is the celestial Dawn, worshipped of all; yours, but one of the fifty daughters of a Sea-god. And think not to daunt me, like a child, with words, but spare your threats until we see whether it is not rather the Greeks who shall pay a heavy price this day, when they sue to ransom the bodies and armour of this youth—and of Achilles." So saying, he mounted his chariot, and both heroes addressed themselves to combat.
In that fateful hour, the heights round about Troy plain were thronged with unseen presences; for the gods were come down out of heaven to watch the fortune of battle, both those that were helpers to the Greeks and those that befriended the Trojans. But Zeus sat apart on topmost Ida, tabernacled in cloud, and held in his hand the golden balance wherein he weighs the issues of fight. And now he thundered from the mountain-top, doing honour to those twain in their glorious encounter.
Now Memnon was first to throw his flashing spear; mightily he threw, aiming full at Achilles' right breast; nor missed, but the spear-point rebounded from the corselet divine Hephaestus wrought, as though the trenchant iron were a child's dart of reed.
Then Achilles poised and flung the spear that none but he could wield; the huge ashen shaft whereof Chiron the Centaur cut on Mount Pelion, and gave the spear to youthful Peleus for a guest-gift, and Peleus in old age gave it to his son. And as it flew from Achilles' hand, the deathful point made lightnings in the blaze of noon, and it clove the air with the sound of a rushing wind. Then did Memnon avoid swift doom by a hand's-breadth; for he started aside, leaning far out from the chariot; and the spear pierced but the rim of his shield, that else had crashed through the centre and found his heart; nevertheless, the force of that blow hurled him headlong to earth. Loud clanged his glittering panoply as he fell, and his white steeds reared and snorted in terror, and fled over the plain, for all their charioteer could do. Achilles leapt from Nestor's car and made at him with drawn sword; but Memnon sprang up, and wrenched the spear from his shield, and flew upon Achilles, scimitar in hand. As when two lions, hunger-mad, fight on the hill over the bleeding carcase of a deer that the one has slain, so fought those two beside dead Antilochus; and the company of the Immortals watched them with their shining eyes.
But now Zeus put the fates of both into his golden scales; and the scale of Memnon sank low, heavy with doom. In that instant, the great brand of Achilles beat down Memnon's guard; in the next, it plunged deep through breastplate and through breast, and like a thunder-smitten tower he reeled and crashed to earth. And Achilles stood looking on him as he lay, clutching the dust, and said, "Not again, O Prince, will you vaunt your goddess mother as excelling Thetis of the waves, nor fondly deem that Greeks shall sue to Ethiopians for ransom of their dead. Truly, small profit have the Trojans of all the helpers that arise for them from the ends of the earth; but least of you, bright Child of Dawn. For like her sparkling dews have you passed from their ken, ere yet the sun rides at his highest."
And answer made great Memnon, gasping out his soul, "Rejoice not over me, my conqueror, for ere yon sun go down you shall be even as I. Behold, this comfort some god makes known to me at the last." And with that word his spirit fled.
Then answered Achilles: "Go forth on the dark road I too must tread ere nightfall. Yea, well I know how soon I am to follow; so much the rather will I bestir myself to send yet other souls before me down to the House of Hades." So saying, he rushed into the thickest of the fight.
But Nestor caught sight of Odysseus nigh at hand, giving chase to a foeman, and called to him for aid; and with his help the old man laid Antilochus in the chariot, together with his armour. Then they turned to strip the body of Memnon of his golden harness—but lo, it was vanished clean away, and where it had lain was nought but a pool of blood. For Dawn suffered not her child to lie weltering on the battle-plain, a prey to the spoilers and after that to dogs and birds; like to a wreath of morning mist she came stealing over the field, and lightly, as a goddess can, she bore him aloft, unseen of human eyes. Far from dolorous Troy she sped him, to where, in a vale of Phrygia, silver poplars wave beside an eddying river; there she made his sepulchre, and there it is unto this day. And yearly, on the day he died, a flock of birds visit the tomb that are called Memnon's birds, like crested larks; they clear away the fallen twigs and leaves with their bills, and, having dipped their wings in the river water, they scatter it in showers on the grassy mound. So, at least, the folk of Phrygia tell, and they say these birds are the spirits of the Ethiopians who fell at Troy.
Now when Nestor saw that the body of Memnon was gone, he said to Odysseus, "Of a surety, this is the work of some god; nor marvel I that there should be such care in heaven for that fallen prince, seeing he avowed himself the son of ever-sacred Dawn."
"Ay, he was goddess-born, like Achilles that slew him," answered Odysseus, "and little such birth availed him, or will avail, I fear me, the son of Thetis. For not Zeus himself might save his son, Lycian Sarpedon, from the doom that comes to every churl. But here is no time for speech—I must away. See, the tide of fight has rolled Troy-wards; safely now may you return alone to the camp with your piteous freight."
So old Nestor departed from the field, mourning as he went; and Odysseus hied him back to the work of war.
By this, as he said, the tide of battle was turned; for the Trojans were fleeing before Achilles. As when a roaring lion flies upon a herd at graze, and the kine scatter before him over the pasture, lowing in their terror—now on one, now on another he springs, greedy to slay; so Achilles bounded after the Trojans, crying his dread war-cry; so leapt on man after man as they fled, shrieking, this way and that. And after him streamed a mingled mass of pursuers and pursued; and now might the watchers on Troy wall behold close at hand the dismal rout and slaughter of their host. Nor durst they open the gates to give them refuge, lest the Greeks should enter on their heels; so hot was the pursuit.
But the Immortals that favoured Troy, even Phoebus Apollo and Artemis, and fair Leto their mother, and Ares, and golden Aphrodite—these drew nigh the city, grieved at heart; and thus spoke warrior Ares to Apollo: "What though Father Zeus forbade us any more to do battle for Troy, shall we endure to behold murderous Achilles storm the wall, exceeding his destiny? Nay, let us arise against him, thou and I, and turn him back; not against us two, I ween, shall he stand long, for all his mad pride."
But Phoebus Apollo answered, "Not so, my brother, lest valiant Athena be stirred up to take his part, whom thou hast known ere now for thy better in fight. Let him be awhile, for Zeus hath granted him his fill of glory this day, to the going down of the sun. But in the hour when he thinks full surely to storm yonder wall, beyond his destiny, then will I so deal with him as shall well content thee."
So Ares refrained himself from fight, and with Apollo and the goddesses he took stand on the tomb of a Trojan king of old—a high-built barrow overlooking all the plain. But thence he sent forth his mighty voice, as it were the roar of flame through a forest, calling on the Trojans to turn and play the man, for not that day should their city fall; and therewith he breathed into them valour and strength. So all day long the battle raged beneath Troy wall. And ever the spear of Achilles was lifted up to slay; and wheresoever he passed through the mellay, there might you see the dead lie thick about his track as ranks of bearded wheat in the path of the storm.
But when the day was far spent, Achilles took breath awhile and looked seaward, and beheld the tranquil deep and measureless vault of air aflame with the pomp of sunset. Wistfully he gazed, as one that looks his last on the dear fields of home, and with a bursting sigh he said, "Farewell, thou glorious Sun, hail and farewell! No more shall these eyes be gladdened with thy beams, thrice-holy god, but languish in darkness for ever. Ah, happier is a peasant's thrall that sees thy blessed light, than a king that holds sceptred sway among the dead. But till that light fail me, let me be up and doing; who knows but I may win the crown of all our toils in this last hour?" He then darted to the foot of Troy wall, shouting his dread war-cry, and the Myrmidons gathered after him as he ran. And where a buttress of rough masonry stood out from the rampart, he flung down his spear, and climbed by the stonework of the corner, lightly as ever man clomb a stair. And the men upon the wall were astonished at the shout of Achilles in their ears, and the flashing of his sunlit helm as he mounted aloft, insomuch that they fled from his coming as from the face of a god. Nor other than a god he seemed to the wondering hosts below, when his form appeared on the battlements, towering up resplendent against the glowing sky. Then, indeed, both Greeks and Trojans deemed the end was come, and the cry of thousands went up in diverse tones of triumph and anguish—"Behold, some god hath stormed the wall! Great Troy is fallen, is fallen at last!" And next there burst exulting shouts from all the Greeks—"Achilles! It is Achilles yonder! See, the bold Myrmidons essay to follow him!—On friends, make up to the assault—the glorious son of Peleus beckons us on!"
But meanwhile Phoebus Apollo unslung from his shoulder the bow that is his joy, and drew an arrow from his shining quiver, and glided like a sunbeam to where, on the outskirts of the fight, Paris leaned against the stem of an oak, bemused with despair. The god came before him in his own shape and said, "What ails Paris, best archer of the Trojans, to stand idle here when he might win deathless renown? Look where Achilles, high upon the wall, tears down the cornice with the god-given strength of his hands, breaking way for the Greeks—up, now, shoot at that goodly mark, and be ever famed as the deliverer of Troy."
"Ah, glorious Apollo," answered Paris, "do you appear to me only to mock those you have forsaken? For well I know the son of Thetis can nowhere be wounded but in the left heel—and what mortal can hit that mark at the distance of yonder wall? Were not you hard of heart beyond all gods, your own shafts, Archer divine, would have slain ere now the scourge of your chosen people."
"Be it unto you according to that word," said Apollo, frowning. "I spoke to prove you, and had you not doubted, your arrow should have flown true as my own. But now shall Achilles verily fall by my shaft, and you lose half the glory of the deed. Take this my bow and lay this arrow to the string—and beware how you disobey me twice."
Sternly spoke the Archer god, and Paris obeyed him trembling. Then Apollo laid his hands on the hands of Paris, from behind, and caused him to draw the bowstring with strength not his own, bending the bow into an arc, and let fly the gleaming arrow. Singing it flew, and therewithal the great bow twanged loud and sweet as the chime of harpstrings. And swifter than eye could follow that shaft found its mark; for Paris saw only that Achilles rose suddenly to his full height, threw up his arms, and fell, like a falling star, headlong from the battlement. In the same instant the sun's broad disk sank below the waves and the glory faded from earth and sky.
Then from all the Greek hosts rose a cry of horror—for all were gathered at the wall's foot while Achilles laboured above, some striving to clamber up, others piling together the huge stones he cast down, to mount thereby; nor heeded they any longer the Trojans, who meanwhile had sped through the city gate to make their last stand within. And these, hearing that cry, flocked to the wall, and looked down on the white, upturned face of Achilles, who lay dead in the midst of his weeping Myrmidons. Unwounded he seemed, and lay like one asleep; for they had pillowed his head on his shield and straightened the wan limbs; but whoso looked narrowly might spy a tiny graze, no deeper than a pin-prick, on his left heel. For even so slight are the wounds dealt by the arrows of Apollo, that slay with a touch. Neither can any man find them when their work is done, but they return viewless into the hand of the god.
Now who would not think that the men of Troy would have been filled beyond measure with rejoicing and exultation, to see the terror of all their race stretched lifeless before their eyes? Yet it was not so; no sound of laughter, no voice of triumph or thanksgiving was heard among them; but silently, with awestruck faces, they watched from the wall, while the Myrmidons lifted Achilles and laid him in his chariot, that his trusty charioteer, Automedon, had brought nigh. And then came old Priam upon the wall with the elders of the city; and Helen followed them, and Cassandra, and Andromache with Hector's babe in her arms: all these gazed mutely on Achilles dead, as though that sight was strange to them beyond the happenings of a dream. But the Greeks wept aloud, all the host of them, and the sons of Atreus the loudest; and like a moaning tide their battalions closed around the chariot and drew away across the plain, through the fast-falling twilight. Meantime, Paris stood yet beneath the oak, doubting whether he had but wounded Achilles, or slain him outright; for even as the arrow flew, Apollo snatched the bow from him and was gone. But by the lamentations of the Greeks as they came on, he perceived that Achilles was already dead, and he hid behind the oak to watch their passing, glorying in his heart. Then saw he in their midst the immortal horses, Xanthus and Balius, that Zeus bestowed on King Peleus long of yore, stepping slowly with down-drooped heads, as well knowing what burden they bore along; none drove them, but the spangled reins were tied to the chariot-rails and the charioteer followed on foot, lamenting. And over the car were spread cloaks of scarlet and purple, shrouding that which lay within; so Paris alone of the Trojans did not look upon his handiwork; none the less, he rejoiced over it, laughing to himself, and said, "Ah, Hector, my brother, how often would you chide my slackness in fight, how often cast scorn on me for that I had skill of no manlier weapon than the bow! Yet now I, the bowman, the faint-heart among Priam's valiant sons, have lightly vanquished the vanquisher of my brethren. Saviour of Troy am I, for never can the Greeks prevail against it without Achilles." Thus he boasted to himself, while the host passed by his hiding-place; then sped back to the city to tell what he had done.
But not even deliverance from their most dreaded foe could assuage the grief of Priam and his people for the huge havoc he had made of both Trojans and allies on his last field of fight. So through the brief hours of the summer night, city and camp rang alike with noise of mourning; and the Greeks beside their watchfires might see the redder glare of burning pyres under Troy walls, and hear afar the shrill cry of women and the wild keening of the Ethiopians. And ever and again fainter sounds were borne to them, blent with the murmurs of the sea—the voices of Thetis and her sisters making piteous moan far below in their coral caves.
Now ere break of day King Agamemnon and the chiefs of the host were met together to take order for the funerals of the slain, among whom were not only Achilles and the son of Nestor, but vassals and henchmen some two score in number. And thus it seemed best to them: to burn on one common pyre the bodies of the men-at-arms, and lay their ashes in one grave hard by the camp, where already there were many such; but to raise for Achilles a pyre some way off, on a promontory of the shore, and there build his tomb, that it might be singled out from the rest to all time coming. But to Antilochus they appointed this signal honour, that his body should be burned on the pyre of Achilles; yet so far apart that their ashes should not mingle; for at the burying of Patroclus, Achilles took an oath of all the princes that when he too was fallen they would lay his bones in the urn of his loved comrade.
And next the chieftains took thought of sacrifices and burnt-offerings, and Agamemnon declared that he himself would offer a hundred oxen at the pyre, being his king's tithe of the herds Achilles and his men had driven in their forays; "Therefore reason would," said he, "that I should render such mark of honour to the son of Peleus." Then Menelaus and brave Diomed were both at point to speak, but Ajax quickly took the word and said, "Royal Agamemnon and comrades all, if you will hear the rede of a plain, blunt soldier, this it is—we shall best honour Achilles by avenging him. Let us first finish the work he had so nearly achieved when death stayed his hand; then will be time enough to mourn him, then may we offer him gifts meeter for his warrior soul—the spoils of burning Troy and the blood not of oxen but of his enemies. So, methinks, he would bid us do, who was the flower of us all."
Odysseus shook his head at this, and the sons of Atreus interchanged doubtful glances; but Diomed cried, "Well spoken, Ajax! Why should we waste one hour over funeral pomps while that wall stands yet whole that Achilles died to breach for us? Now by Athena, our Lady of Succour, I swear I will but tarry till his ashes are laid in earth, and then to Troy with my men—yea, though we should go alone!"
Then the more part of the chieftains declared themselves of one mind with Ajax and Diomed; and Agamemnon, fearing dissension, gave his voice likewise on their side. So word was sent throughout the host that all save the Myrmidons and the men of Nestor should fall to the work of giving fire and sepulture to their dead comrades in arms, under command of Menelaus and Odysseus. But Automedon and the henchmen of Achilles were bidden to bring their dead lord in his chariot to the place of burning; and forth they went, the chariot of Nestor following, wherein the old man stood beside the corse of his son. And after these came Agamemnon with the rest of the princes, and the Myrmidons, and Nestor's vassals, folk of sandy Pylos; and last a long troop of slaves, bringing wood and all things needful for the funeral rites. Thus came they to the place that was chosen, a low, solitary headland carpeted with turf and the sweet wild thyme; there was the pyre raised with speed of many hands, and the two heroes were laid thereon, each apart, with great store of unguents and spices.
Soon as the pyre was kindled, vassals and slaves were sent to trench a grave on the point of the headland and throw up soil for the mound. But the chieftains abode by the pyre, silent and heavyhearted, watching the upcurling smoke and the flames that shone palely in the glow of sunrise. Then, athwart the smoke-wreaths, they beheld nine radiant forms, as of flower-crowned maidens, hovering in air, from whose lips broke all at once a song not earthly. For now it was like the warbling of nightingales; now like the plaintive flute that shepherds hear far off on moonlit wolds, and know Pan is abroad; now, like a symphony of all sad and lovely sounds that are. Words mingled with that melody, but their sense baffled the ear like whispers in a dream; only, they seemed to tell how all things sweet and fair fleet away in little space, yet are not wholly taken from us, for their beauty is made one with the manifold beauty of Earth. Such was the dirge the violet-crowned Muses sang over the son of Thetis.
And Thetis heard them; for when they ceased, the Greek princes started as at the breaking of a spell, and were 'ware of her standing close at hand in tears, and the gentle company of her sisters weeping around her. Then said she to the Immortal Nine: "Ah, honey-voiced daughters of Zeus, another song was that you sang me on woody Pelion in the day of my espousals, when all the gods were gathered to the marriage feast and bright Apollo led your choir, harping on his harp of gold. Nought boded he, the heavenly Seer—nor you, that know what is, and was, and is to come—of the bitter lot I must endure, mated to a mortal. Of the son I should bear, you sang in that bridal song, and how he should be of all men fairest and most glorious; but not how his mother—ah, me—must see him perish in his flower. And now I hear once more your divine voices, hymning not Love but Death—and the child of your promise lies there!"
"List yet again, Sea-King's daughter," answered one of the Muses, "for still our song shall be of Love—Love that in this place and hour is become Death's vanquisher."
And again they sang together; but now the mortal listeners heard no words, only such thrilling notes of purest joyance as the lark pours from heaven's gate. And as the lark soars and sings until he and his carol are lost in the upper blue, so hovered upward the chanting Nine, and passed in melody out of sight. But with a glad cry Thetis darted forward and leaped upon the pyre, that blazed up as she did so in one clear sheet of flame; and through that fierce, white radiance the astonied Greeks might plainly see her clasping in her arms the unscathed form of her son.
Then said the goddess in a voice of joy: "O friends and comrades of Achilles, hear what high Zeus hath granted to his mother's prayers, revealing it by the mouth of the Nine—even that his spirit should not dwell prisoner in the drear House of Hades, nor his body be consumed of ravening fire, but that I myself should waft him to a lone isle far away, where he shall abide in great peace for ever. And you, dear sisters mine, hasten after me, that you may share my bliss in seeing life return to these fair limbs; but first unyoke Xanthus and Balius yonder, and lead them with you to their lord's new home. But with you, princes of the Greeks, I leave the glorious arms that Hephaestus forged for my son at my entreaty, commanding you to bestow them as a meed of valour on the warrior whom you account next in prowess to Achilles—for peer he hath left none. And know, that you are fated not to enter Troy except the wearer of Achilles' arms shall lead the way."
When Thetis had thus spoken, dense clouds of smoke suddenly rose from the pyre, rolling seaward; therein she floated away with Achilles in her arms, and the Greeks saw them no more. Gone also were the lovely troop of the sea-maidens, and gone Xanthus and Balius from their car; but far out on the deep the Greeks beheld the fluttering of green, translucent robes, and the tossing crests of those immortal horses as lightly they skimmed along the waves.
Then seemed it best to the chieftains to lay the ashes of Patroclus in the grave prepared for Achilles, and rear a far-seen mound thereon, that so at least the twain might have one memorial, though they were not fated to rest together in death. So they buried there the golden urn, brought from the tomb by the camp wherein Achilles laid it to await the hour when it should receive his ashes also; and still it lies deep under the high, grassy barrow that is a mark for mariners on that wide-watered, solitary shore.
After that they quenched the pyre with wine, and gathered the bones of gallant Antilochus in a fair silver urn, which Nestor carried to his chariot; for, he said, "My son shall not lie here, but in the sepulchre of his fathers in Pylos, if the gods spare me to come home alive. Graciously may they hear my prayer to sleep beside him there at last!"
Then Agamemnon and all the chieftains returned again to their camp, pondering deeply the things they had seen and heard.