ἂλλ' ὅτε δή ῥ' ἐκ τοῖο δυωδεκάτη γένετ' ἠώς.
καὶ τότ' άρ' ἀθανάτοισι μετήυδα Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων:
σχέτλιοί ἐστε θεοὶ δηλήμονες: οὐδέποθ' ὗμιν
Ἕκτωρ μηρί' ἔκηε βοῶν αἰγῶν τε τελείων.
τὸν νῦν οὐκ ἔτλητε νέκυν περ εόντα σαῶσαι.
ᾗ τ' ἀλόχῳ ΐδέειν, καὶ μητέρι. καὶ τέκεϊ ᾧ.
καὶ πατέρι Πριάμῳ. λαοῖσί τε, τοι κέ μιν ῶκα
ἐν πυρὶ κήαιεν. καὶ ἐπι κτέρεα κτερίσαιεν.
ἂλλ' ὀλοῷ Ἀχιλῆϊ θεοὶ βούλεσθ' ἐπαρήγειν.
ᾧ οὔτ' ἂρ φρένες εἰσὶν ἐναίσιμοι. οὔτε νόημα
γαμπτὸν ἐνι στήθεσσι. λέων δ' ὡς ἄγρια οἶδεν:
ὅς τ' ἐπεὶ ὰρ μεγάλῃ τε βίῃ καὶ ἀγήνορι θυμῷ
εἴξας. εῖσ' ἐπὶ μῆλα. βροτῶν, ἵνα δαῖτα λάβῃσιν.
ὡς Ἀχιλεὺς, ἔλεον μὲν ἀπώλεσεν. οὐδέ οἱ αἰδὼς
γίνεται. ἥ τ' ἄνδρας μέγα σίνεται. ἠδ' ὀνίνησι:
μέλλει μέν που τις καὶ φίλτερον ἄλλον ὀλέσσαι:
ἢε κασίγνητον ὁμογάστριον. ἢε καὶ υἱὸν:
ἂλλ' ἤτοι κλαύσας καὶ ὀδυράμενος μεθέηκε:
τλητὸν γὰρ Μοῖραι θυμὸν θέσαν ἀνθρώποισιν:
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ' Ἕκτορα δῖον. ἐπεὶ φίλον ῆτορ ἀπηύρα.
ἵππων ἐξάπτων, περὶ σῆμ' ἑτάροιο φίλοιο
ἕλκει: οὐ μήν οἱ, τό γε κάλλιον, οὐδέ τ' ἄμεινον:
μὴ ἀγαθῷ περ ἐόντι νεμεσσηθῶμεν οἱ καὶ ἡμεῖς:
κωφὴν γὰρ δὴ γαῖαν ἀεικίζει μενεαίνων:
But when at length the twelfth morn thereafter was come, then among the immortals spake Phoebus Apollo: "Cruel are ye, O ye gods, and workers of bane. Hath Hector then never burned for you thighs of bulls and goats without blemish? Him now have ye not the heart to save, a corpse though he be, for his wife to look upon and his mother and his child, and his father Priam and his people, who would forthwith burn him in the fire and pay him funeral rites. Nay, it is the ruthless Achilles, O ye gods, that ye are fain to succour, him whose mind is nowise right, neither the purpose in his breast one that may be bent; but his heart is set on cruelty, even as a lion that at the bidding of his great might and lordly spirit goeth forth against the flocks of men to win him a feast; even so hath Achilles lost all pity, neither is shame in his heart, the which harmeth men greatly and profiteth them withal. Lo, it may be that a man hath lost one dearer even than was this—a brother, that the selfsame mother bare, or haply a son; yet verily when he hath wept and wailed for him he maketh an end; for an enduring soul have the Fates given unto men. But this man, when he hath reft goodly Hector of life, bindeth him behind his chariot and draggeth him about the barrow of his dear comrade; in sooth neither honour nor profit shall he have therefrom. Let him beware lest we wax wroth with him, good man though he be; for lo, in his fury he doth foul despite unto senseless clay."
