As he was thus pondering, the son of Nestor came up
to him and told his sad tale, weeping bitterly the
while. “Alas,” he cried, “son
of noble Peleus, I bring you bad tidings, would indeed
that they were untrue. Patroclus has fallen,
and a fight is raging about his naked body—for
Hector holds his armour.”
A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened.
He filled both hands with dust from off the ground,
and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely
face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt
so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge
and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with
his hands. The bondswomen whom Achilles and Patroclus
had taken captive screamed aloud for grief, beating
their breasts, and with their limbs failing them for
sorrow. Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping
and holding both his hands as he lay groaning for
he feared that he might plunge a knife into his own
throat. Then Achilles gave a loud cry and his
mother heard him as she was sitting in the depths
of the sea by the old man her father, whereon she
screamed, and all the goddesses daughters of Nereus
that dwelt at the bottom of the sea, came gathering
round her. There were Glauce, Thalia and Cymodoce,
Nesaia, Speo, Thoe and dark-eyed Halie, Cymothoe,
Actaea and Limnorea, Melite, Iaera, Amphithoe and
Agave, Doto and Proto, Pherusa and Dynamene, Dexamene,
Amphinome and Callianeira, Doris, Panope, and the
famous sea-nymph Galatea, Nemertes, Apseudes and Callianassa.
There were also Clymene, Ianeira and Ianassa, Maera,
Oreithuia and Amatheia of the lovely locks, with other
Nereids who dwell in the depths of the sea. The
crystal cave was filled with their multitude and they
all beat their breasts while Thetis led them in their
lament.
“Listen,” she cried, “sisters, daughters
of Nereus, that you may hear the burden of my sorrows.
Alas, woe is me, woe in that I have borne the most
glorious of offspring. I bore him fair and strong,
hero among heroes, and he shot up as a sapling; I tended
him as a plant in a goodly garden, and sent him with
his ships to Ilius to fight the Trojans, but never
shall I welcome him back to the house of Peleus.
So long as he lives to look upon the light of the
sun he is in heaviness, and though I go to him I cannot
help him. Nevertheless I will go, that I may see
my dear son and learn what sorrow has befallen him
though he is still holding aloof from battle.”
She left the cave as she spoke, while the others followed
weeping after, and the waves opened a path before
them. When they reached the rich plain of Troy,
they came up out of the sea in a long line on to the
sands, at the place where the ships of the Myrmidons
were drawn up in close order round the tents of Achilles.
His mother went up to him as he lay groaning; she laid
her hand upon his head and spoke piteously, saying,
“My son, why are you thus weeping? What
sorrow has now befallen you? Tell me; hide it
not from me. Surely Jove has granted you the prayer
you made him, when you lifted up your hands and besought
him that the Achaeans might all of them be pent up
at their ships, and rue it bitterly in that you were
no longer with them.”
