Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/432

430 'Tis Jove that calls." " And why," the dame replies,

" Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies?

Sad object as I am for heavenly sight!

Ah I may my sorrows ever shun the light!

Howe'er, be heaven's almighty sire obeyed:"

She spake, and veiled her head in sable shade,

Which, flowing long, her graceful person clad;

And forth she paced majestically sad.

And through the world of waters they repair,

The way fair Iris led, to upper air.

The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they rise,

And touch with momentary flight the skies.

There in the lightning's blaze the sire they found,

And all the gods in shining synod round.

Thetis approached with anguish in her face,

Minerva rising gave the mourner place,

E'en Juno sought her sorrows to console,

And offered from her hand the nectar bowl:

She tasted, and resigned it: then began

The sacred sire of gods and mortal man:

"Thou comest, fair Thetis, but with grief o'ercast,

Maternal sorrows, long, ah long to last!

Suffice, we know, and we partake, thy cares:

But yield to Fate, and hear what Jove declares.

Nine days are past, since all the court above

In Hector's cause have moved the ear of Jove;

'Twas voted, Hermes from his godlike foe

By stealth should bear him, but we willed not so:

We will, thy son himself the corse restore,

And to his conquest add this glory more.

Then hie thee to him, and our mandate bear;

Tell him he tempts the wrath of heaven too far:

Nor let him more, our anger if he dread,

Vent his mad vengeance on the sacred dead:

But yield to ransom and the. father's prayer.

The mournful father Iris shall prepare,

With gifts to sue; and offer to his hands

Whatever his honour asks or heart demands."

His word the silver-footed queen attends,

And from Olympus' snowy tops descends,

Arrived, she heard the voice of loud lament,

And echoing groans that shook the lofty tent.

His friends prepare the victim, and dispose

Repast unheeded, while he vents his woes.

The goddess seats her by her pensive son;

She pressed his hand, and tender thus begun:

"How long, unhappy! shall thy sorrows flow,

And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe?