And thus the godlike Priam, aged king, Made answer: “Bid me not be seated here, Nursling of Jove, while Hector lies among Thy tents unburied. Let me ransom him At once, that I may look on him once more With my own eyes. Receive the many gifts We bring thee, and mayst thou possess them long, And reach thy native shore, since by thy grace I live and yet behold the light of day.”
Achilles heard, and, frowning, thus rejoined: “Anger me not, old man; ’twas in my thought To let thee ransom Hector. To my tent The mother came who bore me, sent from Jove, The daughter of the Ancient of the Sea, And I perceive, nor can it be concealed, O Priam, that some god hath guided thee To our swift galleys; for no mortal man, Though in his prime of youthful strength, would dare To come into the camp; he could not pass The guard, nor move the beams that bar our gates. So then remind me of my griefs no more, Lest, suppliant as thou art, I leave thee not Unharmed, and thus transgress the laws of Jove.”
He spake: the aged man in fear obeyed. And then Pelides like