THE RISING OF ACHILLES.

From the Iliad.

Straightway Achilles arose, the belov’d of Jove, round his shoulders Brawny her Ægis spread, fair fring’d, his guardian Athena, And his head with a cloud of golden hue and transparent She has encircled about, whence darted fire resplendent. As when fire from the town ascending clambers the ether Out of the island afar, around which enemies gather— Fierce the defenders all day engage in desperate warfare, Forth from the town advanc’d; but soon as the sun has descended Flame with beacons the dense, huge turrets; upwards the blazes Flaring, struggling ascend to be seen by friends and by neighbours, If with assistance in war o’er the sea in ships they are coming— So from Achilles’s head uptower’d the blazes to heaven; Striding from out the wall, he stood o’er the trench, but he mingled Not with the Greeks, for he heeded his mother’s solemn injunction; Standing, he shouted there, conjointly Pallas Athena Scream’d, and trouble immense was caus’d thereby to the Trojans; Like to the clamorous sound that’s heard, when pealing the trumpet Thrills through the city, besieg’d by bands of turbulent foemen, E’en was the clamorous sound sent forth by Eacus’ grandson— Soon as the dreadful voice was heard of Eacus’ grandson, All their minds were amaz’d—the fair-man’d beautiful horses Back’d with the chariots amain, such fear was awak’d in their bosoms; Ghasted the charioteers survey’d the untameable blazes Horribly round the brow of high, heroic Peleides Burning, ignited by her the blue-eyed Goddess Athena Thrice then o’er the deep trench loud shouted god-like Achilles, Thrice were the Trojans confus’d and all their illustrious aiders; Already round that trench had twice six champions fallen, Spoil’d of their chariots and arms, so that gladly now the Achaians Out of the tempest of darts the slain Patroclus dragging Plac’d on the sorrowful couch; his comrades round it arrang’d them Loudly lamenting, and thither there came swift-footed Achilles Shedding the hottest of tears, when he saw his comrade so faithful Stretch’d on that sorrowful couch, transfixt with the sharp pointed iron— Him he had lately despatch’d with chariot and steeds to the war-field Never, alas, to receive from that red war-field returning.