Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/336

334 "Sad tidings, son of Peleus! thou must hear;

And wretched I, the unwilling messenger!

Dead is Patroclus! for his corse they fight,

His naked corse: his arms are Hector's right."

A sudden horror shot through all the chief,

And wrapt his senses in the cloud of grief;

Cast on the ground, with furious hand he spread

The scorching ashes o'er his graceful head;

His purple garments, and his golden hairs,

Those he deforms with dust, and these he tears:

On the hard soil his groaning breast he threw,

And rolled and grovelled, as to earth he grew.

The virgin captives, with disordered charms,

Won by his own, or by Patroclus' arms,

Rushed from the tents with cries; and, gathering round,

Beat their white breasts, and fainted on the ground:

While Nestor's son sustains a manlier part,

And mourns the warrior with a warrior's heart;

Hangs on his arms, amidst his frantic woe,

And oft prevents the meditated blow.

Far in the deep abysses of the main,

With hoary Nereus, and the watery train,

The mother-goddess from her crystal throne

Heard his loud cries, and answered groan for groan.

The circling Nereids with their mistress weep,

And all the sea-green sisters of the deep.

Thalia, Glauce, every watery name,

Nesæa mild, and silver Spio came:

Gymothoë and Gymodoce were nigh,

And the blue languish of soft Alia's eye.

Their locks Actaea and Limnoria rear,

Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear,

Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita;

Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay;

Next Callianira, Callianassa shew

Their sister looks; Dexamene the slow,

And swift Dynamene, now cut the tides:

Isera now the verdant wave divides:

Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the head,

Bright Galatea quits her pearly bed;

These Orythia, Clymene, attend,

Maera, Amphinome, the train extend,

And black Janira, and Janassa fair,

And Amatheia with her amber hair.

All these, and all that deep in ocean held

Their sacred seats, the glimmering grotto filled;

Each beat her ivory breast with silent woe,

Till Thetis' sorrows thus began to flow:

"Hear me, and judge, ye sisters of the main!