Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/441

The work of soldiers, where the hero sat.
Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength
A solid pine-tree barred of wondrous length;
Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty weight,
But great Achilles singly closed the gate.
This Hermes, such the power of gods, set wide;
Then swift alighted the celestial guide,
And thus, revealed: "Hear, prince, and understand,
Thou owest thy guidance to no mortal hand;
Hermes I am, descended from above,
The king of arts, the messenger of Jove.
Farewell : to shun Achilles' sight I fly;
Uncommon are such favours of the sky,
Nor stand confessed to frail mortality.
Now fearless enter, and prefer thy prayers;
Adjure him by his father's silver hairs,
His son, his mother I urge him to bestow
Whatever pity that stern heart can know."
Thus having said, he vanished from his eyes,
And in a moment shot into the skies:
The king, confirmed from heaven, alighted there,
And left his aged herald on the car.
With solemn pace through various rooms he went,
And found Achilles in his inner tent:
There sat the hero; Alcimus the brave,
And great Autornedon, attendance gave;
These served his person at the royal feast;
Around, at awful distance, stood the rest
Unseen by these, the king his entry made;
And, prostrate now before Achilles laid,
Sudden—a venerable sight—appears;
Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands in tears;
Those direful hands his kisses pressed, imbrued
E'en with the best, the dearest of his blood!
As when a wretch, who, conscious of his crime,
Pursued for murder, flies his native clime,
Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amazed!
All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gazed:
Thus stood the attendants stupid with surprise:
All mute, yet seemed to question with their eyes:
Each looked on other, none the silence broke,
Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke:
"Ah think, thou favoured of the powers divine!
Think of thy father's age, and pity mine!
In me, that father's reverend image trace,
Those silver hairs, that venerable face;
His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see!
In all my equal, but in misery!
Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate