Classic Poem

So , saying, Mercury vanished up to heaven.
And Priam then alighted from the chariot,
Leaving Idœus with it, who remained
Holding the mules and horses; and the old man
Went straight in-doors, where the beloved of Jove,
Achilles sat, and found him there within
The household sat apart; and two alone,
The hero Automedon, and Alcimus,
A branch of Mars, stood by him. They had been
At meals, and had not yet removed the board.
Great Priam came, without their seeing him,
And kneeling down, he grasped Achilles' knees,
And kissed those terrible hands, man-slaughtering,
Which had deprived him of so many sons.
And as a man, who is pressed heavily
For having slain another, flies away
To foreign lands, and comes into the house
Of some great man, and is beheld with wonder;
So did Achilles wonder, to see Priam;
And the rest wondered, looking at each other.
But Priam, praying to him, spoke these words:—

‘God-like Achilles, think of thine own father,
Who is, as I am, at the weary door
Of age: and though the neighbouring chiefs may vex him,
And he has none to keep his evils off,
Yet, when he hears that thou art still alive,
He gladdens inwardly; and daily hopes
To see his dear son coming back from Troy.
But I, forbidden creature! I had once
Brave sons in Troy, and now I cannot say
That one is left me. Fifty children had I,
When the Greeks came; nineteen were of one womb;
The rest my women bore me in my house.
The knees of many of these fierce Mars has loosened;
And he who had no peer, Troy's prop and theirs,
Him hast thou killed now, fighting for his country,
Hector; and for his sake am I come here
To ransom him, bringing a countless ransom
But thou, Achilles, fear the gods, and think
Of thine own father, and have mercy on me;
For I am much more wretched, and have borne
What never mortal bore, I think, on earth,
To lift unto my mouth the hand of him
Who slew my boys.’
He spoke; and there arose
Sharp longing in Achilles for his father;
And taking Priam by the hand, he gently
Put him away; for both shed tears to think
Of other times; the one, most bitter ones
For Hector, and with wilful wretchedness
Lay right before Achilles; and the other,
For his own father now, and now his friend;
And the whole house might hear them as they moaned.
But when divine Achilles had refreshed
His soul with tears, and sharp desire had left
His heart and limbs, he got up from his throne,
And raised the old man by the hand, and took
Pity on his grey head and his grey chin.