mourn,—in those sad syllables that shape my name; such heavy griefs are mine, whose sire by his prowess won the fairest prize of all the host, and brought all glory home from this land of Ida; but I his son, who came after him in might not less to this same ground of Troy, and proved the service of mine hand in no meaner deeds,440 thus perish, dishonoured of the Greeks. Yet, methinks, of thus much am I sure; if Achilles lived, and had been called to decree the first place in valour to any claimant of his arms, no one would have grasped them before me. But now the Atreidae have conveyed them to a villain, and thrust away the high deeds of Ajax.
And if these eyes, if this warped mind had not swerved from the purpose that was mine, never would they have procured such a judgment against another man.450 As it was, the daughter of Zeus, the fierce-eyed, unconquerable goddess, foiled me at the instant when I was making ready my hand against them,—struck me with a plague of frenzy,—made me imbrue my hands in the blood of these poor cattle. And yon men exult to have escaped me,—by no good-will of mine; but if a god send harm, verily e'en the base man can elude the worthier.
And now what shall I do; who plainly am hateful to the gods, abhorred by the Greek host, hated by all Troy and all these plains?460 Shall I forsake the station of the ships, and leave the Atreidae forlorn, and go homeward across the Aegean? And what face shall I show to my father when I come,—to Telamon? How will he find heart to look on me, when I stand before him ungraced
