ἐννῆμαρ μὲν ἀνα στρατὸν ᾤχετο κῆλα θεοῖο:
τῇ δεκάτῃ δ' ἀγορὴν δὲ καλέσσατο λαὸν Ἀχιλλεύς:
τῷ γὰρ ἐπὶ φρεσὶ θῆκε θεὰ λευκώλενος Ἥρη:
κήδετο γὰρ Δαναῶν ὅτι ῥα θνήισκοντας ὁρᾶτο.
οἱ δ' ἐπεὶ οὖν ἤγερθεν: ὁμηγερέες τ' ἐγένοντο,
τοῖσι δ' ἀνιστάμενος μετέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς:
Ἀτρείδη νῦν ἄμμε παλιμπλαγχθέντας ὀΐω:
ἂψ ἀπονοστήσειν: εἴ κεν θάνατόν γε φύγοιμεν.
εἰ δὴ ὁμοῦ πόλεμός τε δαμᾷ καὶ λοιμὸς Ἀχαιούς:
ἀλλ' ἄγε δή τινα μάντιν ἐρείομεν ἢ ἱ̈ερῆα
ἢ καὶ ὀνειροπόλον, καὶ γάρ τ' ὄναρ ἐκ Διός ἐστιν,
ὅς κ' εἴποι ὅ τι τόσσον ἐχώσατο Φοῖβος Ἀπολλων.
εἴ ταρ ὅ γ' εὐχωλῆς ἐπιμέμφεται ἢδ' ἑκατόμβης:
αἴ κέν πως ἀρνῶν κνίσης αἰγῶν τε τελείων
βούλεται ἀντιάσας ἡμῖν ἀπὸ λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι.
For nine days the missiles of the god ranged among the host, but on the tenth Achilles called the people to assembly, for the goddess, white-armed Hera, had put it in his heart, since she pitied the Danaans, when she saw them dying. When they were assembled and gathered together, among them arose and spoke swift-footed Achilles: "Son of Atreus, now I think we shall return home, beaten back again, should we even escape death, if war and pestilence alike are to ravage the Achaeans. But come, let us ask some seer or priest, or some reader of dreams—for a dream too is from Zeus—who might say why Phoebus Apollo is so angry, whether he finds fault with a vow or a hecatomb; in hope that he may accept the savour of lambs and unblemished goats, and be willing to ward off the pestilence from us."
