HOMER

ILIAD

Translated by Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo, British

Columbia, Canada

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BOOK ONE
THE QUARREL BY THE SHIPS
[The invocation to the Muse; Agamemnon insults Apollo; Apollo sends the plague
onto the army; the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon; Calchas indicates
what must be done to appease Apollo; Agamemnon takes Briseis from Achilles;
Achilles prays to Thetis for revenge; Achilles meets Thetis; Chryseis is returned to
her father; Thetis visits Zeus; the gods converse about the matter on Olympus; the
banquet of the gods]

Sing, Goddess, sing the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus—

that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans
to countless agonies and threw many warrior souls
deep into Hades, leaving their dead bodies
carrion food for dogs and birds—
all in fulfilment of the will of Zeus.

Start at the point where Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

that king of men, quarrelled with noble Achilles.
Which of the gods incited these two men to fight?

That god was Apollo, son of Zeus and Leto. 10

Angry with Agamemnon, he cast plague down [10]
onto the troops—a deadly infectious evil.
For Agamemnon had dishonoured the god’s priest,
Chryses, who’d come to the ships to find his daughter,
Chryseis, bringing with him a huge ransom.
In his hand he held up on a golden staff
the scarf sacred to archer god Apollo.
He begged Achaeans, above all the army’s leaders:

“Menelaus, Agamemnon, sons of Atreus, 20

all you well-armed Achaeans, may the gods
on Olympus grant you wipe out Priam’s city,
and then return home safe and sound.
Release my dear child to me. Take this ransom. [20]
Honour Apollo, far-shooting son of Zeus.”

All the Achaeans roared out their support:

“Respect the priest. Take the generous ransom.”

Displeased, Agamemnon dismissed Chryses roughly:

“Old man,
don’t let me catch you by our hollow ships,
sneaking back here today or later on. 30
Who cares about Apollo’s scarf and staff?
I’ll not release the girl to you, no, not before
she’s grown old with me in Argos, far from home, [30]
working the loom, sharing my bed. Go away.
If you want to get home safely, don’t anger me.”

The old man, afraid, obeyed and walked off in silence,

along the shore by the tumbling, crashing surf.
Some distance off, he prayed to lord Apollo,
Leto’s fair-haired child:

“God with the silver bow,

protector of Chryse, sacred Cilla, 40
mighty lord of Tenedos, Sminthean Apollo,
hear my prayer: If I’ve ever pleased you
with a holy shrine, or burned bones for you— [40]
bulls and goats well wrapped in fat—
grant me my prayer.(1) Force the Danaans
to pay full price for my tears with your arrows.”

So Chryses prayed. Phoebus Apollo heard him.

He came down from Olympus top enraged,
carrying on his shoulders bow and covered quiver,
his arrows rattling in anger against his arm. 50
So the god swooped down, descending like the night.
He sat some distance from the ships, shot off an arrow—
the silver bow reverberating ominously.

First, the god massacred mules and swift-running dogs, [50]

then loosed sharp arrows in among the troops themselves.
Thick fires burned the corpses ceaselessly.

For nine days Apollo rained death down upon the troops.
On the tenth, Achilles summoned an assembly.
White-armed Hera put that thought into his mind,
concerned for the Danaans, seeing them die. 60
The men gathered. The meeting came to order.
Swift-footed Achilles rose to speak:

“Son of Atreus,
I fear we’re being beaten back, forced home,
if we aren’t all going to be destroyed right here, [60]
with war and plague killing off Achaeans.
Come now, let’s ask some prophet, priest,
interpreter of dreams—for dreams, too, come from Zeus—
a man who might say why Apollo is so angry,
whether he faults our prayers and offerings,
whether somehow he’ll welcome sacrificial smoke 70
from perfect lambs and goats, then rouse himself
and release us from this plague.”

Achilles spoke and took his seat.

Then Calchas, Thestor’s son, stood up before them all,
the most astute interpreter of birds, who understood
present, future, past. His skill in prophecy, [70]
Apollo’s gift, had led Achaean ships to Troy.
He addressed the troops, thinking of their common good:

“Achilles, friend of Zeus, you ask me to explain

Apollo’s anger, the god who shoots from far.
And I will speak. But first you listen to me. 80
Swear an oath that you will freely help me
in word and deed. I think I may provoke
someone who wields great power over Argives,
a man who is obeyed by everyone.
An angry king overpowers lesser men. [80]
Even if that day his anger is suppressed,
resentment lingers in his chest, until one day
he acts on it. So speak. Will you protect me?”
In response to Calchas, swift-footed Achilles said:

“Take courage. State what your powers tell you. 90

By Apollo, whom Zeus loves, to whom you, Calchas,
pray in prophesy to the Danaans, I swear this—
while I live to look upon the light of day,
no Achaean will raise violent hands against you,
no, not even if you name Agamemnon, [90]
who claims he’s by far the best Achaean.”

Encouraged, the wise prophet then declared:

“Apollo does not fault us for prayers or offerings,

but for his priest, disgraced by Agamemnon,
who did not free his daughter and take ransom. 100
That’s why the archer god has brought disaster,
and will bring still more. He will not remove
this wretched plague from the Danaans,
until we hand back bright-eyed Chryseis,
give her to her beloved father freely,
without ransom, and offer holy sacrifice
at Chryse. If we will carry out all that,
we may change Apollo’s mind, appease him.” [100]

So he spoke and sat back down. Then, Atreus’s son,

wide-ruling, mighty Agamemnon, stood up before them, 110
incensed, his spirit filled with immense black rage.
Eyes blazing fire, he rounded first on Calchas:

“Prophet of evil, when have you ever said

good things to me? You love to predict the worst,
always the worst! You never show good news.
Now, in prophecy to the Danaans,
you say archer Apollo brings us pain [110]
because I was unwilling to accept
fine ransom for Chryses’ daughter, Chryseis.
But I have a great desire to take her home. 120
In fact, I want her more than Clytaemnestra,
the wife I married. Chryseis is just as good
in her shape, physique, intelligence, or work.
Still, I’m prepared to give her back, if that’s best.
I want the people safe, not all killed off.
But then you will owe me another prize.
 I won’t be the only Argive left without a gift.
That would be entirely unfair to me.
You all can see my spoils are going elsewhere.” [120]

At that point, swift-footed Achilles answered the king: 130

“Noble son of Atreus, most acquisitive of men,

how can brave Achaeans give you a prize now?
There are none left for us to pass around.
We’ve divided up what we allotted,
loot from captured towns we devastated.
For men to make a common pile again
would be most unfair. Send the girl back now,
as the god demands. Should Zeus ever grant
we pillage Troy, a city rich in goods,
we’ll offer you three or four times as much.” 140

Mighty Agamemnon then said in reply: [130]

“Achilles, you’re a fine man, like a god.

But don’t conceal what’s hidden in your heart.
You’ll not deceive me or win me with your words.
You intend to keep your prizes for yourself,
while the army takes my trophy from me.
That’s why you tell me to give Chryseis back.
Let Achaeans give me another prize,
equal in value, something I’ll enjoy.
If not, then I’ll take a prize myself by force, 150
something from you or Ajax or Odysseus.
The man I visit is going to be enraged.
But let’s postpone discussion of all this. [140]
Let’s drag a black ship to the sacred sea,
select a crew, load oxen on for sacrifice,
and Chryseis, that fair-complexioned girl.
Let’s have as leader some wise counsellor—
Idomeneus, Ajax, godlike Odysseus,
or you, Peleus’s son, most eminent of all,
so with an offering we may appease 160
the god who shoots from far away.”

Scowling grimly, swift-footed Achilles interposed:

“You insatiable creature, quite shameless.

How can any Achaean obey you willingly— [150]
 join a raiding party or keep fighting
with full force against an enemy?
I did not come to battle over here
because of Trojans. I have no fight with them.
They never stole my bulls or horses
or destroyed my crops in fertile Phthia, 170
where heroes grow. Many shady mountains
and the roaring sea stand there between us.
But you, great shameless man, we came with you,
to please you, to win honour from the Trojans—
for you, dog face, and for Menelaus.
You don’t consider this, don’t think at all. [160]
You threaten now to confiscate the prize
I worked so hard for, gift from Achaea’s sons.
When we Achaeans loot some well-built Trojan town,
my prizes never match the ones you get. 180
The major share of war’s fury rests on me.
But when we hand around the battle spoils,
you get much larger trophies. Worn out in war,
I reach my ships with something fine but small.
So I’ll return home now to Phthia.
It’s far better to sail back in my curved ships. [170]
I don’t fancy staying here unvalued,
to pile up riches, treasures just for you.”

To that, Agamemnon, king of men, shot back:

“Fly off home then, if that’s your heart’s desire. 190

I’ll not beg you to stay on my account.
I have others around to honour me,
especially all-wise Zeus himself.
Of all the kings Zeus cherishes, it’s you
I hate the most. You love constant strife—
war and combat. So what if you’re strong?
Some god gave you that. So scurry off home.
Take ships and friends. Go rule your Myrmidons. [180]
I don’t like you or care about your rage.
But I’ll make this threat: I’ll take your prize, 200
fair-cheeked Briseis. I’ll fetch her in person.
You’ll see just how much I’m the better man.
And others will hate to speak to me as peers,
in public claiming full equality with me.”
As Agamemnon spoke, Peleus’s son, Achilles,
was overwhelmed with anguish, heart torn two ways,
debating in his shaggy chest what he should do:
Should he draw out the sharp sword on his thigh, [190]
incite the crowd, kill Atreus’s son, or suppress his rage,
control his fury? As he argued in his mind and heart, 210
he slid his huge sword part way from its sheath.
At that moment, Athena came down from heaven.
White-armed Hera sent her. She cherished both men,
cared for them equally. Athena stood behind Achilles,
grabbed him by his golden hair, invisible to all
except Achilles. In astonishment he turned.
At once he recognized Pallas Athena,
the dreadful glitter in her eyes. Achilles spoke— [200]
his words had wings.

“Child of aegis-bearing Zeus,

why have you come now? Do you wish to see 220
how overbearing Agamemnon is?(2)
I’ll tell you where all this is going to lead—
that arrogance will soon cost him his life.”

Glittery-eyed Athena then spoke in reply:

“I came down from heaven to curb your passion,

if you obey. White-armed Hera sent me.
She loves you both alike, cares equally.
Give up this quarrel. Don’t draw your sword. [210]
Fight him with words, so he becomes disgraced.
For I say to you, and this will happen, 230
because of Agamemnon’s arrogance
some day gifts three times greater than this girl
will be set down before you. Control yourself.
Obey.”

Swift-footed Achilles answered Athena:

“Goddess, men should follow your instructions,

though angry in their hearts. It’s better so.
The person who’s obedient to the gods,
the gods attend to all the more.”

Obeying Athena’s words,

Achilles relaxed his huge fist on the silver hilt
 and pushed the massive sword back in its scabbard. 240 [220]
Athena then returned to heaven, home of Zeus,
who bears the aegis, and the other gods.

Achilles turned again on Agamemnon, Atreus’s son,

with harsh abuse, his anger still unabated:

“You drunken sot, dog-eyed, deer-timid coward,

you’re never strong enough within yourself
to arm for war alongside other comrades,
or venture with Achaea’s bravest on a raid.
To you that smells too much like death.
No. You’d much prefer to stroll around 250
throughout the wide Achaean army,
to grab gifts from a man who speaks against you. [230]
A king who gorges on his own people!
You lord it over worthless men. If not,
son of Atreus, this would be your last offence.
I’ll tell you, swear a great oath on this point,
by this sceptre, which will never sprout
leaves and shoots again, since first ripped away
from its mountain stump, nor bloom any more,
now that bronze has sliced off leaf and bark. 260
This sceptre Achaea’s sons take in hand
whenever they do justice in Zeus’s name.
An oath on this has power. On this I swear—
the time will come when Achaea’s sons
all miss Achilles, a time when, in distress, [240]
you’ll lack my help, a time when Hector,
that man killer, destroys many warriors.
Then grief will tear your hearts apart,
because you shamed Achaea’s finest man.”

So the son of Peleus spoke, throwing to the ground 270

the sceptre with the golden studs. Then he sat down,
directly facing furious Agamemnon.

(1) Smithean is a special epithet given to Apollo. It seems to mean something like “killer
of field mice.” Chryse is a small coastal town near Troy, where Chryses, the father of
Chryseis, is a priest of Apollo. [Back to Text]

(2) The aegis is a special divine shield, the sight of which has the power to terrify men
and make them run away. Later in the poem Apollo uses it to terrify the Achaean soldiers.
[Back to Text]