And swift Achilles, godlike chief, rejoined: “Be it, O reverend Priam, as thou wilt, And for that space will I delay the war.”
He spake, and that the aged king might feel No fear, he grasped his right hand at the wrist; And then King Priam and the herald went To sleep within the porch, but wary still. Achilles slumbered in his stately tent, The rosy-cheeked Briseis at his side, And all the other gods and men who fought In chariots gave themselves to slumber, save Beneficent Hermes; sleep came not to him, For still he meditated how to bring King Priam back from the Achaian fleet Unnoticed by the watchers at the gate. So at the monarch’s head he stood, and spake:—
“O aged king, thou givest little heed To danger, sleeping thus amid thy foes, Because Achilles spares thee. Thou hast paid Large ransom for thy well-beloved son, And yet the sons whom thou hast left in Troy Would pay three times that ransom for thy life, Should Agamemnon, son of Atreus, learn— Or any of the Greeks—that thou art here.”
He spake: the aged king in fear awaked The herald. Hermes yoked the steeds and mules, And drave them quickly through the camp unmarked By any there. But when they reached the ford Where Xanthus, progeny of Jupiter, Rolls the smooth eddies of his stream, the god Deputed for the Olympian height, and Morn In saffron robes o’erspread the Earth with light. Townward they urged the steeds, and as they went Sorrowed and wailed: the mules conveyed the dead, And they were seen by none of all the men And graceful dames of Troy save one alone. Cassandra, beautiful as Venus, stood On Pergamus, and from its height discerned Her wither, standing on the chariot-seat, And knew the herald, him whose voice so oft Summoned the citizens, and knew the dead Stretched on a litter drawn by mules. She raised Her voice, and called to all the city thus:—