Page 174 - the-iliad

‘It was I, Achilles, who had the making of you; I loved
you with all my heart: for you would eat neither at home
nor when you had gone out elsewhere, till I had first set you
upon my knees, cut up the dainty morsel that you were to
eat, and held the wine-cup to your lips. Many a time have
you slobbered your wine in baby helplessness over my shirt;
I had infinite trouble with you, but I knew that heaven had
vouchsafed me no offspring of my own, and I made a son of
you, Achilles, that in my hour of need you might protect me.
Now, therefore, I say battle with your pride and beat it; cher-
ish not your anger for ever; the might and majesty of heaven
are more than ours, but even heaven may be appeased;
and if a man has sinned he prays the gods, and reconciles
them to himself by his piteous cries and by frankincense,
with drink-offerings and the savour of burnt sacrifice. For
prayers are as daughters to great Jove; halt, wrinkled, with
eyes askance, they follow in the footsteps of sin, who, be-
ing fierce and fleet of foot, leaves them far behind him, and
ever baneful to mankind outstrips them even to the ends of
the world; but nevertheless the prayers come hobbling and
healing after. If a man has pity upon these daughters of Jove
when they draw near him, they will bless him and hear him
too when he is praying; but if he deny them and will not lis-
ten to them, they go to Jove the son of Saturn and pray that
he may presently fall into sin—to his ruing bitterly here-
after. Therefore, Achilles, give these daughters of Jove due
reverence, and bow before them as all good men will bow.
Were not the son of Atreus offering you gifts and promis-
ing others later—if he were still furious and implacable— I

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