Then all the other Achaians cried assent, to reverence
the priest and accept his goodly ransom; yet the thing
pleased not the heart of Agamemnon son of Atreus,
but he roughly sent him away, and laid stern charge
upon him, saying: “Let me not find thee,
old man, amid the hollow ships, whether tarrying now
or returning again hereafter, lest the staff and fillet
of the god avail thee naught. And her will I not
set free; nay, ere that shall old age come on her
in our house, in Argos, far from her native land,
where she shall ply the loom and serve my couch.
But depart, provoke me not, that thou mayest the rather
go in peace.”
So said he, and the old man was afraid and obeyed
his word, and fared silently along the shore of the
loud-sounding sea. Then went that aged man apart
and prayed aloud to king Apollo, whom Leto of the fair
locks bare: “Hear me, god of the silver
bow, that standest over Chryse and holy Killa, and
rulest Tenedos with might, O Smintheus! If ever
I built a temple gracious in thine eyes, or if ever
I burnt to thee fat flesh of thighs of bulls or goats,
fulfil thou this my desire; let the Danaans pay by
thine arrows for my tears.”
So spake he in prayer, and Phoebus Apollo heard him,
and came down from the peaks of Olympus wroth at heart,
bearing on his shoulders his bow and covered quiver.
And the arrows clanged upon his shoulders in wrath,
as the god moved; and he descended like to night.
Then he sate him aloof from the ships, and let an
arrow fly; and there was heard a dread clanging of
the silver bow. First did the assail the mules
and fleet dogs, but afterward, aiming at the men his
piercing dart, he smote; and the pyres of the dead
burnt continually in multitude.
Now for nine days ranged the god’s shafts through
the host; but on the tenth Achilles summoned the folk
to assembly, for in his mind did goddess Hera of white
arms put the thought, because she had pity on the
Danaans when she beheld them perishing. Now when
they had gathered and were met in assembly, then Achilles
fleet of foot stood up and spake among them:
“Son of Atreus, now deem I that we shall return
wandering home again—if verily we might
escape death—if war at once and pestilence
must indeed ravage the Achaians. But come, let
us now inquire of some soothsayer or priest, yea,
or an interpreter of dreams—seeing that
a dream too is of Zeus—who shall say wherefore
Phoebus Apollo is so wroth, whether he blame us by
reason of vow or hecatomb; if perchance he would accept
the savour of lambs or unblemished goats, and so would
take away the pestilence from us.”
