us To join the combat. I attend on him; The same good galley brought us to this shore, And I am one among his Myrmidons. Polyctor is my father, who is rich, And now as old as thou. Six are his sons Beside me, I the seventh. In casting lots With them, it fell to me that I should come To Ilium with Achilles. I am here In coming from the fleet, for with the dawn The dark-eyed Greeks are planning to renew The war around the city. They have grown Impatient of long idleness; their chiefs Seek vainly to restrain their warlike rage.”
Then spake the godlike ancient, Priam, thus: “If thou indeed dost serve Pelides, tell, And truly tell me, whether yet my son Is at the fleet, or has Achilles cast, Torn limb from limb, his body to the hounds?”
The herald, Argus-queller, thus replied: “O aged monarch, neither have the hounds Devoured thy son, nor yet the birds of prey; But near the galleys of Achilles still He lies neglected and among the tents. Twelve mornings have beheld him lying there, Nor hath corruption touched him, nor the worms That make the slain their feast begun to feed. ’Tis true that, when the holy morning dawns Achilles drags him fiercely round the tomb Of his dear friend; yet that disfigures not The dead. Shouldst thou approach him, thou wouldst see With marvelling eyes how fresh and dewy still The body lies, the blood all cleansed away, Unsoiled in every part, and all the wounds Closed up wherever made; for many a spear Was thrust into his sides. Thus tenderly The blessed gods regard thy son, though dead, For dearly was he loved by them in life.”
He spake; the aged man was comforted, And said: “ ’Tis meet, O son, that we should pay Oblations to the immortals; for my son While yet alive neglected not within His palace the due worship of the gods Who dwell upon Olympus; therefore they Are mindful of him, even after death. Take this magnificent goblet; be my guard, And guide me, by the favor of the gods, Until I reach Pelides in his tent.”