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eyes to his
face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his ugliness. I
attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The monster
continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At length I
gathered resolution to address him in a pause of the tempest of his passion.
“Your repentance,” I said, “is now superfluous. If you
had listened to the voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse
before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity,
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and that many of the chieftains busied themselves in
piratical expeditions about its neighborhood. Such a one was that of
which Achilles now speaks. From the following verses, it is evident
that fruits of these maraudings went to the common support of the
expedition, and not to the successful plunderer.
208 --_Pthia,_ the capital of Achilles' Thessalian domains.
209 --_Orchomenian town._ The topography of Orchomenus, in Boeotia,
"situated," as it was, "on the northern bank of the lake Ćpais,
which receives not only the river Cephisus from the valleys of
Phocis, but also other rivers from Parnassus and Helicon" (Grote,
vol. p. 181), was a sufficient reason for its prosperity and decay.
"As long as the channels of these waters were diligently watched and
kept clear, a large portion of the lake was in the condition of
alluvial land, pre-eminently rich and fertile. But when the channels
came to be either neglected, or designedly choked up by an enemy,
the water accumulated in such a degree as to occupy the soil of more
than one ancient islet, and to occasion the change of the site of
Orchomenus itself from the plain to the declivity of Mount
Hyphanteion." (Ibid.)
210 The phrase "hundred gates," &c., seems to be merely expressive of a
great number. See notes to my prose translation, p. 162.
211 Compare the following pretty lines of Quintus Calaber (Dyce's Select
Translations, p 88).--
"Many gifts he gave, and o'er
Dolopia bade me rule; thee in his arms
He brought an infant, on my bosom laid
The precious charge, and anxiously enjoin'd
That I should rear thee as my own with all
A parent's love. I fail'd not in my trust
And oft, while round my neck thy hands were lock'd,
From thy sweet lips the half articulate sound
Of Father came; and oft, as children use,
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