All the Achaeans roared out their support:

"Respect the priest. Take the generous ransom."                        

Displeased, Agamemnon dismissed Chryses roughly—

                                                                  "Old man,
don't let me catch you by our hollow ships,                         
sneaking back here today or later on.                                            30
Who cares about Apollo's scarf and staff?                              
I'll not release the girl to you, no, not before
she's grown old with me in Argos, far from home,                                [30]
working the loom, sharing my bed. Go away. 
If you want to get home safely, don't anger me."

The old man, afraid, obeyed his words, walked off in silence,
along the shore by the tumbling, crashing surf. 
Some distance off, he prayed to lord Apollo, 
Leto's fair-haired child:

                      "God with the silver bow,
protector of Chryse, sacred Cilla,                                                  40
mighty lord of Tenedos, Sminthean Apollo,                        
hear my prayer: If I've ever pleased you 
with a holy shrine, or burned bones for you—                                      [40]
bulls and goats well wrapped in fat—
grant me my prayer.  Force the Danaans
to pay full price with your arrows for my tears."

For nine days Apollo rained death down upon the troops.            
On the tenth, Achilles summoned an assembly.
White-armed Hera put that thought into his mind,
concerned for the Danaans, seeing them die.                                         60
The men gathered.  The meeting came to order.      
Swift-footed Achilles rose to speak:

                                               "Son of Atreus,
I fear we're being beaten back, forced home,
if we aren't all going to be destroyed right here,                                    [60]
with war and plague killing off Achaeans.                           
Come now, let's ask some prophet, priest,
interpreter of dreams—for dreams, too, come from Zeus—
a man who might say why Apollo is so angry, 
whether he faults our prayers and offerings, 
whether somehow he'll welcome sacrificial smoke                      70
from perfect lambs and goats, then rouse himself      
and release us from this plague."

                                            Achilles spoke and took his seat.
Then Calchas, Thestor's son, stood up before them all,                                        
the most astute interpreter of birds, who understood
present, future, past.  His skill in prophecy,                                                    [70]
Apollo's gift, had led Achaean ships to Troy.                                 
He addressed the troops, thinking of their common good:

"Achilles, friend of Zeus, you ask me to explain
Apollo's anger, the god who shoots from far. 
And I will speak.  But first you listen to me.                                 80 
Swear an oath that you will freely help me    
in word and deed. I think I may provoke                   
someone who wields great power over Argives,
a man who is obeyed by everyone.
An angry king overpowers lesser men.                                                  [80]
Even if that day his anger is suppressed,
resentment lingers in his chest, until one day
he acts on it.  So speak.  Will you protect me?"

In response to Calchas, swift-footed Achilles said:

"Take courage. State what your powers tell you.                          90 
By Apollo, whom Zeus loves, to whom you, Calchas, 
pray in prophesy to the Danaans, I swear this—
while I live to look upon the light of day, 
no Achaean will raise violent hands against you, 
no, not even if you name Agamemnon,                                                [90]
who claims he's by far the best Achaean."

Encouraged, the wise prophet then declared:

So he spoke and sat back down.  Then, Atreus' son,
wide-ruling, mighty Agamemnon, stood up before them,                       110
incensed, spirit filled with huge black rage.     
Eyes blazing fire, he rounded first on Calchas:                                    

At that point, swift-footed Achilles answered the king:                         130

"Noble son of Atreus, most acquisitive of men,   
how can brave Achaeans give you a prize now?             
There are none left for us to pass around. 
We've divided up what we allotted, 
loot from captured towns we devastated.
For men to make a common pile again
would be most unfair. Send the girl back now,
as the god demands. Should Zeus ever grant
we pillage Troy, a city rich in goods,
we'll give you three or four times as much."                                140

  Mighty Agamemnon then said in reply:                                                         [130]

Scowling grimly, swift-footed Achilles interposed:  

To that, Agamemnon, king of men, shot back:                 

As Agamemnon spoke, Peleus' son, Achilles,
was overwhelmed with anguish, heart torn two ways,
debating in his shaggy chest what he should do:                                        
Should he draw out the sharp sword on his thigh,                                           [190]
incite the crowd, kill Atreus' son, or suppress his rage,   
control his fury?  As he argued in his mind and heart,                           210
he slid his huge sword part way from its sheath.          
At that moment, Athena came down from heaven.
White-armed Hera sent her.  She cherished both men,
cared for them equally. Athena stood behind Achilles, 
grabbed him by his golden hair, invisible to all 
except Achilles.  In astonishment he turned.
At once he recognized Pallas Athena, 
the dreadful glitter in her eyes. Achilles spoke—                                            [200]
his words had wings.

Glittery-eyed Athena then spoke in reply:

                         Swift-footed Achilles answered Athena:

"Goddess, men should follow your instructions,
though angry in their hearts.  It's better so.                    
The person who's obedient to the gods, 
the gods attend to all the more."

                                                     Obeying Athena's words,
Achilles relaxed his huge fist on the silver hilt   
and pushed the massive sword back in its scabbard.                              240        [220]
Athena then returned to heaven, home of Zeus,   
who bears the aegis, and the other gods.

Achilles turned again on Agamemnon, Atreus' son, 
with harsh abuse, his anger still unabated:

Then Nestor stood up, clear, sweet orator from Pylos.
Sweeter than honey the words flowed from his tongue.
In his own lifetime two generations of mortal men                                         [250]
had come and passed away, all those born and raised
with him so long ago in sacred Pylos.                                             
Now he ruled a third generation of his people.
Concerned about their common good, he said:    

Achilles, interrupting Agamemnon, shouted:

Thus the pair of them continued arguing.                                              340
Then they stood up, dissolving the assembly by the ships.   
Peleus's son returned to his well balanced ships and huts,         
along with Patroclus, Menoetius' son, and friends.      

Agamemnon dragged a swift ship down the shore,
chose twenty sailors, loaded it with oxen,
offerings for the god, and led on fair-cheeked Chryseis.                                 [310]
Shrewd Odysseus shipped on as leader.  All aboard,
they set off, carving a pathway through the sea.                            

Atreus' son ordered troops to cleanse themselves.
The men bathed in the sea, washed off  impurities.                               350
They then made sacrificial offerings to Apollo—
hundreds of perfect bulls and goats—beside the restless sea.              
Savory smells curled up amid the smoke high into heaven.     

The men thus occupied, Agamemnon did not forget
the challenge he'd made earlier to Achilles.
He called his heralds, Talthybius and Eurybates:                                           [320]

"Cheer up, heralds, messengers for gods and men.                      370
Come here. I don't blame you, but Agamemnon.  
He sends you both here for the girl Briseis.
Come, Patroclus, born from Zeus, fetch the girl.   
Give her to these two men to take away.
Let them both witness, before blessed gods,
mortal men, and that unfeeling king,                                                    [340]
if ever there's a need for me again                                          
to defend others from a shameful death.
That man's wits are foolish, disastrously so—
he's not thinking about past or future,                                         380
how Achaeans may fight safely by their ships."    

Patroclus did as his dear comrade had requested.
He led out fair-cheeked Briseis from the hut     
and gave her up to be led off.  The heralds went back,
returning to Achaean ships, Briseis with them,
but against her will.

                                                         As he said this, he wept.
His noble mother heard him from deep within the sea,
where she sat by her old father.  Quickly she rose up,
moving above gray waters, like an ocean mist, 
and settled down before him, as he wept. She stroked him,                  400      [360]
then said::

With a deep groan, swift-footed Achilles then replied.

 "You know.  Why should I tell you what you know? 
We came to Thebe, Eëtion's sacred city,
sacked it, taking everything the city had.
Achaea's sons apportioned it all fairly
amongst themselves.  Agamemnon's share
was fair-skinned Chryseis. Then Chryses arrived                         410        [370]
at the swift ships of bronze-armed Achaeans.    
Archer god Apollo's priest sought out his daughter.               
He brought with him an enormous ransom,     
carried in his hands the sacred golden staff
with the shawl of archer god Apollo.
He begged Achaeans, above all Atreus' two sons,
the people's leaders. All Achaeans called on them
to respect the priest, accept the splendid ransom.  
But that didn't please Agamemnon in his heart.  
He sent him roughly off with harsh abusive orders.                     420
The old man went away again, enraged.                                               [380]
He prayed to Apollo, who loved him well.                             
The god heard him and sent his deadly arrows                  
against the Argives.  The troops kept dying,
one by one, as the god rained arrows down
throughout the wide Achaean army.
The prophet Calchas, understanding all,
told us Apollo's will.  At once I was the first
to recommend we all appease the god.
But anger got control of Agamemnon.                                         430
He stood up on the spot and made that threat    
which he's just carried out.  So quick-eyed Achaeans                         
are sending Chryseis in fast ships back to Chryse,                                 [390]
transporting gifts for lord Apollo, and heralds came
to take away Briseis from my huts,
the girl who is my gift from Achaea's sons.
So now, if you can, protect your son.
Go to Mount Olympus, implore Zeus,
if ever you in word or deed have pleased him.
For often I have heard you boast in father's house                      440
that you alone of all the deathless gods 
saved Zeus of the dark clouds from disgraceful ruin,             
when other Olympians came to tie him up,      
Hera, Pallas Athena, and Poseidon.                                                      [400]
But you, goddess, came and set him free, 
by quickly calling up to high Olympus 
that hundred-handed monster gods call Briareos, 
and men all name Aigaion, a creature
whose strength was greater  than his father's.
He sat down beside the son of Cronos,                                       450
exulting in his glory.  The sacred gods, afraid, 
stopped tying up Zeus.  So sit down right by Zeus,                   
clasp his knee, remind him of all that,           
so he'll want to help the Trojans somehow,
corner Achaeans by the sea, by their ships' prows, 
have them destroyed, so they all enjoy their king,                                 [410]
so the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, 
himself may see his foolishness, dishonouring
Achilles, the best of the Achaeans."

Thetis, shedding tears, answered her son, Achilles:                               460

"Oh my child, why did I rear you,   
since I brought you up to so much pain? 
Would you were safely by your ships dry-eyed.
Your life is fated to be short—you'll not live long.
Now, faced with a quick doom, you're in distress,
more so than any other man. At home,
I gave you life marked by an evil fate. 
But I'll tell these things to thunder-loving Zeus. 
I'll go myself to snow-topped Mount Olympus,                                     [420]
to see if he will undertake all this.                                                470
Meanwhile, you should sit by your swift ships, 
angry at Achaeans. Take no part in war.  
For yesterday Zeus went to Oceanus,
to banquet with the worthy Ethiopians.  
The gods all journeyed with him. In twelve days,
when he returns and comes home to Olympus,
I'll go to Zeus' bronze-floored house, clasp his knee.
I think I'll get him to consent."

                                                             Thetis spoke. 
Then she went away, leaving Achilles there,           
angry at heart for lovely girdled Briseis,                                                 480
taken from him by force against his will.  

Odysseus sailed to Chryse, bringing with him
the sacrificial animals as sacred offerings.
When they had sailed into deep anchorage,
they took in the sails and stowed them in the ship.
With forestays they soon set the mast down in its notch,
then rowed the ship in to its mooring place.
They threw out anchor stones, lashed stern cables,
and clambered out into the ocean surf.                             
They brought off the offerings to archer god Apollo.                            490
Then Chryseis disembarked from the ocean ship.     
Resourceful Odysseus led her to the altar,                                                          [440]
placed her in her beloved father's hands, then said:       

"Chryses, I have been sent by Agamemnon,
ruler of men, to bring your daughter to you,
and then, on behalf of the Danaans,
to make an offering to lord Apollo—
all these sacrificial beasts—to placate the god,
who now inflicts such dismal evil on us."

After saying this, he handed the girl over.                                             500
Chryses gave his daughter a joyful welcome back.  
And then around the well-built altar, they arranged                                        
the splendid sacrifice. They washed their hands,     
and picked up the barley grain for sprinkling.
Raising his arms, Chryses prayed out loud on their behalf:                            [450]

"Hear me, god of the silver bow, protector
of Chryse, mighty lord of holy Cilla,
sacred Tenedos.  You heard me earlier,
when I prayed to you.  Just as you honoured me,                  
striking hard against Achaeans then, so now,                              510
grant me what I pray for—remove disaster,   
this wretched evil, from the Danaans."

So Chryses spoke.  Phoebus Apollo heard him.
Once they had prayed and scattered barley grain,
they pulled back the heads of sacrificial beasts, 
slit their throats, flayed them, sliced the thigh bones out, 
and hid them in twin layers of fat, with raw meat on top                               [460]
Old Chryses burned them on split wood, poured wine on them. 
Young men beside him held out five-pronged forks.                     
Once the thighs were well burned, they sampled entrails,                     520
then sliced up all the rest, skewered the meat on spits,   
roasted it carefully, and drew off every piece. 
That work complete, they then prepared a meal and ate.   
No heart was left unsatisfied. All feasted equally. 
And when the men had had their fill of food and drink,
young boys filled the mixing bowl with wine up to the brim,                          [470]
and served it, pouring libations into every cup. 
Then all day long young Achaean lads played music,
singing to the god a lovely hymn of praise,     
honouring in dance and song the god who shoots from far.                   530
Hearing them, Apollo felt joy fill his heart.  At sunset,   
as dusk came on, by the ship's stern they went to sleep.

Meanwhile, Achilles, divinely born son of Peleus,
sat down in anger alongside his swift ships.  Not once
did he attend assembly where men win glory                                                 [490]
or go out to fight.  But he pined away at heart,
remaining idle by his ships, yearning
for the hue and cry and clash of battle.                                            

Twelve days later, the company of gods came back                              550
together to Olympus, with Zeus in the lead.   
Thetis did not forget the promise to her son.  
She rose up through the ocean waves at daybreak,         
then moved high up to great Olympus. She found Zeus,
wide-seeing son of Cronos, some distance from the rest,
seated on the highest peak of many-ridged Olympus.
She sat down right in front of him. With her left hand,                                   [500]
she clutched his knees, with her right she cupped his chin,
in supplication to lord Zeus, son of Cronos:                          

Thetis finished. Cloud gatherer Zeus did not respond. 
He sat a long time silent. Thetis held his knees,     
clinging close, repeating her request once more:          

"Promise me truly, nod your head, or deny me—
since there's nothing here for you to fear—
so I'll clearly see how among all gods
I enjoy the least respect."

Cloud gatherer Zeus, greatly troubled, said:

Zeus, son of Cronos, nodded his dark brows.                                        590
The divine hair on the king of gods fell forward,   
down over his immortal head, shaking Olympus                                           [530]
to its very base. The conference over, the two parted.     
Thetis plunged from bright Olympus back into the sea. 

Zeus went inside his house. Their father present,
all the gods at once stood up from their seats. 
No one dared stay put as he came in--all rose together.                  
Zeus seated himself upon his throne. Looking at him,
Hera sensed he'd made some deal with Thetis,
silver-footed daughter of the Old Man of the Sea.                                   600
At once she spoke up accusingly:                

"Which god has been scheming with you, you crafty one?                   [540]
You always love to work on things in secret,     
without involving me. You never want 
to tell me openly what you intend."

The father of gods and men replied:

                                                              "Hera,
don't hope to understand my every plan.                              
Even for my own wife that's dangerous.
What's appropriate for you to hear about,
no one, god or man, will know before you.                                  610
But when I wish to hide my thoughts from gods, 
don't you go digging after them,        
or pestering me for every detail."                                                         [550]

Zeus, the cloud gatherer, spoke out in response:                                            [560]                           

"My dear lady, you're always fancying things.
Your attention picks up every detail.  
But you can't do anything about it,                                              630
except push yourself still further from my heart, 
making matters so much worse for you. 
If things are as they are, then that's the way           
I want them.  So sit down quietly.
Do as I say.  If not, then all the gods
here on Olympus won't be any help,
when I reach out to set my hands on you,
for they're invincible."

Zeus finished speaking.  Ox-eyed queen Hera sat down,
in fear, silently suppressing what her heart desired.                               640
In Zeus' home the Olympian gods began to quarrel.                                       [570]  
Then that famous artisan, Hephaestus, concerned     
about his mother, white-armed Hera, spoke to them:         

"A troublesome matter this will prove—
unendurable—if you two start fighting
over mortal men like this, inciting gods to quarrel.
If we start bickering, we can't enjoy the meal,
our excellent banquet. So I'm urging mother,
though she's more than willing, to humour Zeus,
our dear father, so he won't get angry once again,                       650
disturb the feast for us. For if Zeus,                    
the Olympian lord of lightning, was of a mind                                      [580]
to hurl us from our seats, his strength's too great. 
But if you talk to him with soothing words, 
at once Olympian Zeus will treat us well."

Hephaestus spoke, then stood up, passed a double goblet 
across to his dear mother, saying:

 "Stay calm, mother, even though you are upset.                 
If not, then, as beloved as you are,
I may see you beaten up before my eyes,                                    660
with me incapable of helping out,       
though the sight would make me most unhappy. 
It's hard to take a stand opposing Zeus.         
Once, when I was eager to assist you,                                                  [590]
Zeus seized me by the feet and threw me out,
down from heaven's heights.  The entire day
I fell and then, right at sunset, dropped
on Lemnos, almost dead.  After that fall,
men of Sintes helped me to recover."