Tossed the great deep, smit by Poseidon's hands For a grace to strong Achilles. All the winds Swooped on the waters. Prayed the Dardans all To Achilles, and a man to his fellow cried:
"Great Zeus's seed Achilles verily was;
Therefore is he a God, who in days past Dwelt among us; for lapse of dateless time Makes not the sons of Heaven to fade away."
Then to Achilles' tomb the host returned, And led the maid, as calf by herdmen dragged For sacrifice, from woodland pastures torn From its mother's side, and lowing long and loud It moans with anguished heart; so Priam's child Wailed in the hands of foes. Down streamed her tears As when beneath the heavy sacks of sand Olives clear-skinned, ne'er blotched by drops of storm, Pour out their oil, when the long levers creak As strong men strain the cords; so poured the tears Of travail-burdened Priam's daughter, haled To stern Achilles' tomb, tears blent with moans.
Drenched were her bosom-folds, glistened the drops On flesh clear-white as costly ivory.
Then, to crown all her griefs, yet sharper pain Fell on the heart of hapless Hecuba.
Then did her soul recall that awful dream, The vision of sleep of that night overpast:
Herseemed that on Achilles' tomb she stood Moaning, her hair down-streaming to the ground, And from her breasts blood dripped to earth the while, And drenched the tomb. Fear-haunted touching this, Foreboding all calamity, she wailed Piteously; far rang her wild lament.
As a dog moaning at her master's door, Utters long howls, her teats with milk distent, Whose whelps, ere their eyes opened to the light, Her lords afar have flung, a prey to kites;
And now with short sharp cries she plains, and now Long howling: the weird outcry thrills the air;
So wailed and shrieked for her child Hecuba:
"Ah me! what sorrows first or last shall I Lament heart-anguished, who am full of woes?
Those unimagined ills my sons, my king Have suffered? or my city, or daughters shamed?
Or my despair, my day of slavery?
Oh, the grim fates have caught me in a net Of manifold ills! O child, they have spun for thee Dread weird of unimagined misery!
They have thrust thee away, when near was Hymen"s hymn, From thine espousals, marked thee for destruction Dark, unendurable, unspeakable!
For lo, a dead man's heart, Achilles' heart, Is by our blood made warm with life to-day!
O child, dear child, that I might die with thee, That earth might swallow me, ere I see thy doom!"
So cried she, weeping never-ceasing tears, For grief on bitter grief encompassed her.
But when these reached divine Achilles' tomb, Then did his son unsheathe the whetted sword, His left hand grasped the maid, and his right hand Was laid upon the tomb, and thus he cried:
"Hear, father, thy son's prayer, hear all the prayers Of Argives, and be no more wroth with us!
Lo, unto thee now all thine heart's desire Will we fulfil. Be gracious to us thou, And to our praying grant sweet home-return."
Into the maid's throat then he plunged the blade Of death: the dear life straightway sobbed she forth, With the last piteous moan of parting breath.
Face-downward to the earth she fell: all round Her flesh was crimsoned from her neck, as snow Stained on a mountain-side with scarlet blood Rushing, from javelin-smitten boar or bear.
The maiden's corpse then gave they, to be borne Unto the city, to Antenor's home, For that, when Troy yet stood, he nurtured her In his fair halls, a bride for his own son Eurymachus. The old man buried her, King Priam's princess-child, nigh his own house, By Ganymedes' shrine, and overagainst The temple of Pallas the Unwearied One.
Then were the waves stilled, and the blast was hushed To sleep, and all the sea-flood lulled to calm.
Swift with glad laughter hied they to the ships, Hymning Achilles and the Blessed Ones.
A feast they made, first severing thighs of kine For the Immortals. Gladsome sacrifice Steamed on all sides: in cups of silver and gold They drank sweet wine: their hearts leaped up with hope Of winning to their fatherland again.
But when with meats and wine all these were filled, Then in their eager ears spake Neleus' son:
"Hear, friends, who have 'scaped the long turmoil of war, That I may say to you one welcome word:
Now is the hour of heart's delight, the hour Of home-return. Away! Achilles soul Hath ceased from ruinous wrath; Earth-shaker stills The stormy wave, and gentle breezes blow;
No more the waves toss high. Haste, hale the ships Down to the sea. Now, ho for home-return!"
Eager they heard, and ready made the ships.
Then was a marvellous portent seen of men;
For all-unhappy Priam's queen was changed From woman's form into a pitiful hound;
And all men gathered round in wondering awe.
Then all her body a God transformed to stone -- A mighty marvel for men yet unborn!
At Calchas' bidding this the Achaeans bore In a swift ship to Hellespont's far side.
Then down to the sea in haste they ran the keels:
Their wealth they laid aboard, even all the spoil Taken, or ever unto Troy they came, From conquered neighbour peoples; therewithal Whatso they took from Ilium, wherein most They joyed, for untold was the sum thereof.
And followed with them many a captive maid With anguished heart: so went they aboard the ships.
But Calchas would not with that eager host Launch forth; yea, he had fain withheld therefrom All the Achaeans, for his prophet-soul Foreboded dread destruction looming o'er The Argives by the Rocks Capherean.
But naught they heeded him; malignant Fate Deluded men's souls: only Amphilochus The wise in prophet-lore, the gallant son Of princely Amphiaraus, stayed with him.
Fated were these twain, far from their own land, To reach Pamphylian and Cilician burgs;
And this the Gods thereafter brought to pass.
But now the Achaeans cast the hawsers loose From shore: in haste they heaved the anchor-stones.
Roared Hellespont beneath swift-flashing oars;
Crashed the prows through the sea. About the bows Much armour of slain foes was lying heaped:
