“A god indeed, my mother, must have given These arms, the work of heavenly hands: no man Could forge them. Now I arm myself for war. But for the valiant Menoetiades I greatly fear that flies will gather round The wounds inflicted by the spear, and worms Be bred within them, to pollute the corpse Now that the life is gone, and taint the whole.”
And silver-footed Thetis answered thus: “Son, have no care for that. The task be mine To drive away the importunate swarm that feed On heroes slain in battle. Though it lie The whole year long, the body shall remain Even more than uncorrupted. Call thou now To council all the Achaian chiefs; renounce Thy feud with Agamemnon, king of men, And arm for war, and put on all thy might.”
She spake, and called a fiery courage up Within the hero’s breast. The goddess then Infused ambrosia and the ruddy juice Of nectar through the nostrils of the dead Into the frame, to keep it from decay.
Along the beach the great Achilles went, Calling with mighty shouts the Grecian chiefs. Then even they who till that day remained Beside the fleet—the pilots and the men Who held the helm, the stewards of the ships, And the purveyors—all made haste to swell The assembly, for they knew that he who long Had borne no part in the disastrous war Had now come forth. Two ministers of Mars, The brave Tydides and the nobly born Ulysses, both supported by their spears, Came halting, for their wounds were painful yet; They came and sat among the foremost chiefs. And last came Agamemnon, king of men, Wounded, for he had felt in thick of fight The edge of the sharp spear which Coön bore, Antenor’s son. Now when the Greeks were all Assembled, swift Achilles rose and said:—
“Atrides, of a truth it would have been Better for both of us had we done this At first, though sorely angered, when we strove For a girl’s sake so fiercely. Would that she Had perished in my ships, by Dian’s shaft, The