Myself am angry) that he still detains
  Amid his fleet, through fury of revenge, 150
  Unransom’d Hector; so shall he, at length,
  Through fear of me, perchance, release the slain. 
  Myself to generous Priam will, the while,
  Send Iris, who shall bid him to the fleet
  Of Greece, such ransom bearing as may soothe 155
  Achilles, for redemption of his son. 
    So spake the God, nor Thetis not complied. 
  Descending swift from the Olympian heights
  She reach’d Achilles’ tent.  Him there she found
  Groaning disconsolate, while others ran 160
  To and fro, occupied around a sheep
  New-slaughter’d, large, and of exuberant fleece. 
  She, sitting close beside him, softly strok’d
  His cheek, and thus, affectionate, began. 
    How long, my son! sorrowing and mourning here, 165
  Wilt thou consume thy soul, nor give one thought
  Either to food or love?  Yet love is good,
  And woman grief’s best cure; for length of days
  Is not thy doom, but, even now, thy death
  And ruthless destiny are on the wing. 170
  Mark me,—­I come a lieger sent from Jove. 
  The Gods, he saith, resent it, but himself
  More deeply than the rest, that thou detain’st
  Amid thy fleet, through fury of revenge,
  Unransom’d Hector.  Be advised, accept 175
  Ransom, and to his friends resign the dead. 
    To whom Achilles, swiftest of the swift. 
  Come then the ransomer, and take him hence;
  If Jove himself command it,—­be it so. 
    So they, among the ships, conferring sat 180
  On various themes, the Goddess and her son;
  Meantime Saturnian Jove commanded down
  His swift ambassadress to sacred Troy. 
    Hence, rapid Iris! leave the Olympian heights. 
  And, finding noble Priam, bid him haste 185
  Into Achaia’s fleet, bearing such gifts
  As may assuage Achilles, and prevail
  To liberate the body of his son. 
  Alone, he must; no Trojan of them all
  May company the senior thither, save 190
  An ancient herald to direct his mules
  And his wheel’d litter, and to bring the dead
  Back into Ilium, whom Achilles slew. 
  Let neither fear of death nor other fear
  Trouble him aught, so safe a guard and sure 195
  We give him; Mercury shall be his guide
  Into Achilles’ presence in his tent. 
  Nor will himself Achilles slay him there,
  Or even permit his death, but will forbid
  All violence; for he is not unwise 200
  Nor heedless, no—­nor wilful to offend,
  But will his suppliant with much grace receive.[5]
    He ceased; then Iris tempest-wing’d arose,
  Jove’s messenger, and, at the gates arrived
  Of Priam, wo and wailing found within.