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Sri Aurobindo

Translations

CWSA.- Volume 5

Part Four. Translations from Greek

Homer

Opening of the Iliad

Sing to me, Muse, of the wrath of Achilles Pelidean,

Murderous, bringing a million woes on the men of Achaea;

Many the mighty souls whom it drove down headlong to Hades,

Souls of heroes and made of their bodies booty for vultures,

Dogs and all birds; so the will of Zeus was wholly accomplished

Even from the moment when they two parted in strife and in anger,

Peleus’ glorious son and the monarch of men Agamemnon.

Which of the gods was it set them to conflict and quarrel disastrous?

Leto’s son from the seed of Zeus; he wroth with their monarch

Roused in the ranks an evil pest and the peoples perished.

For he insulted Chryses, priest and master of prayer,

Atreus’ son, when he came to the swift ships of the Achaeans

Hoping release for his daughter, bringing a limitless ransom

While in his hands were the chaplets of great far-hurtling Apollo

Twined on a sceptre of gold and entreated all the Achaeans.

“Atreus’ son and all you highgreaved armèd Achaeans;

You may the gods grant, they who dwell in your lofty Olympus,

Priam’s city to sack and safely to reach your firesides.

Only my child beloved may you loose to me taking this ransom,

Holding in awe great Zeus’ son far-hurtling Apollo.”

Then all there rumoured approval, the other Achaeans,

Deeming the priest to revere and take that glorious ransom,

But Agamemnon it pleased not; the heart of him angered,

Evilly rather he sent him and hard was his word upon him.

“Let me not find thee again, old man, by our ships of the Ocean

Either lingering now or afterwards ever returning,

Lest the sceptre avail thee not, no nor the great God’s chaplets.

Her will I not release; before that age shall o’ertake her

There in our dwelling in Argos far from the land of her fathers

Going about her loom, ascending my couch at nightfall.

Hence with thee, rouse me not, safer shalt thou return then homeward.”

So he spake and the old man feared him and heeded his bidding.

Voiceless along the shore by the myriad cry of the waters

Slowly he went; but deeply he prayed as he paced to the distance,

Prayed to the Lord Apollo, child of Leto the golden.