THE
ILIAD
OF
HOMER.
BOOK I.
The wrath of the son of Peleus—O goddess of song, unfold! The deadly wrath of Achilles: To Greece the source of many woes! Which peopled the regions of death—with shades of heroes untimely slain: While pale they lay along the shore: Torn by beasts and birds of prey: But such was the will of Jove! Begin the verse, from the source of rage—between Achilles and the sovereign of men.
Who of the gods was he? Who kindled rage between the chiefs? Who, but the son of Latona and high-thundering Jove? He—rouzed to wrath against the king—threw death and disease, among the host. The people perished before him. The son of Atreus had dishonoured his priest. White-haired, the aged Chryses came—to the swift ships of the Argive powers. He came to redeem his daughter. The high-prized ransom is borne before. In his hands is the wreath of the god—the golden scepter of
A
