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so moving was their song. The gods and men

were mourning seventeen long nights and days

and then we gave you to the pyre, and killed

many fat sheep and cattle for your corpse.

You burned in clothes from gods; you were anointed

with oil and honey. Troops of warriors

on foot and horseback, fully armed, went marching

around your pyre, and made a mighty din.70

At last Hephaestus’ flame consumed your flesh.

When morning came, we gathered your white bones,

Achilles, and anointed them with oil

and unmixed wine. Your mother gave an urn

of gold with double handles, which she said

Hephaestus made and Dionysus gave her.

Your white bones lay inside it, Lord Achilles,

mixed with the bones of your dead friend Patroclus.

We laid the urn beside Antilochus,

the friend you most respected after him.80

The army of Greek warriors assembled,

and with all reverence we heaped a mound

out on the headland by the Hellespont,

large enough to be visible to those

at sea, both now and in the years to come.

Your mother asked the gods for splendid prizes

and put them in the midst of an arena,

so the best athletes could compete for them.

You have seen many burials of heroes,

when young men tie their tunics to compete.90

But you would have been startled at the riches

that silver-footed Thetis brought for you.

You were so dearly loved by all the gods.

You did not lose your name in death. Your fame

will live forever; everyone will know

Achilles. As for me, what good was it

that I wound up the war? When I came home

Aegisthus and my wicked, fiendish wife

murdered me. Zeus had planned it.”

While they talked,

Hermes the guide came near them, with the suitors100

killed by Odysseus. The two great lords,

astonished at the sight, rushed up to them,

and Agamemnon’s spirit recognized

the son of his old friend, Menelaus,

with whom he stayed in Ithaca. He said,

“Amphimedon! What happened to you all?

Why have you all come down here to the land

of darkness? You are all so young and strong;

you must have been the best boys in your town.

Maybe Poseidon raised great waves and winds110

to wreck your fleet? Or were you all attacked

by men on land while you were poaching cows

or flocks of sheep, or fighting for a city

and women? You must tell me! We are friends.

Do you remember when I visited

your home, when Menelaus and myself

were trying to persuade Odysseus

to join the fleet and sail with us to Troy?

It took a whole damned month to cross the sea;

we had to work so hard to sway that man,120

who sacked the city.”

Amphimedon’s spirit

answered, “Great General, Agamemnon, yes,

I do remember everything you say.

And I will tell, in every gruesome detail,

the manner of our death. Odysseus

was gone for many years. We came to court

his wife, who had no wish to marry us,

but would not tell us no or make an end.

She planned black death for us, and tricked us, too.

She set a mighty loom up in the hall,130

and wove a wide fine cloth, and said to us,

‘Young suitors, now Odysseus is dead.

I know that you are eager for the wedding,

but wait till I am finished with this cloth,

so that my weaving will not go to waste.

It is a shroud for when Laertes dies,

so that the women in the town do not

blame me because a man who gained such wealth

was buried with no winding-sheet.’ Her words

convinced us. So by day she wove the cloth,140

and then at night by torchlight, she unwove it.

For three long years she fooled us; when the hours

and months had passed, the fourth year rolled around,

and then a girl who knew the truth told us;

and we found her unraveling her work.

We made her finish it. When she had washed

the marvelous huge sheet, she showed it to us,

bright as the sun or moon. And then some spirit

of ruin brought Odysseus from somewhere

to Ithaca; he went out to the fields,150

to where the swineherd lived. His own dear son

sailed in his black ship back from sandy Pylos.

The two of them made plans to murder us.

They showed up at the palace—first the boy,

and then Odysseus propped on a stick

and dressed in dirty rags. He seemed to be

a poor old homeless man, who suddenly

appeared, led by the swineherd. None of us

could recognize him, even those of us

who were a little older than myself.160

We hurled insulting words and missiles at him,

and for a while he patiently endured

abuse in his own home. But when the will

of Zeus awakened him, with his son’s help,

he put the splendid weapons in the storeroom

and locked the door. Then came his cunning plan:

he told his wife to set for us the axes

and bow. The competition meant our doom,

the start of slaughter. None of us could string

the mighty bow—we all were far too weak. 170

But when it was his turn, we shouted out

that nobody should give the bow to him,

no matter what he said. Telemachus

alone insisted that he ought to have it.

At last Odysseus, with calm composure,

took it and strung it easily, and shot

all through the iron axes. Then he stood

astride the threshold with a fearsome scowl,

and started shooting fast. His arrow struck

Antinous, our leader. With sure aim180

he shot his deadly arrows at more men;

those nearest to him fell. It was apparent

some god was helping them. Impelled by rage,

they rushed around the palace killing us

in turn. There was a dreadful noise of screaming

and broken skulls; the whole floor ran with blood.

So, Agamemnon, we were killed. Our bodies

still lie unburied in our killer’s house.

Our families at home do not yet know.

They need to wash the black blood from our wounds190

and weep for us and lay our bodies out.

This is the honor due the dead.”

The ghost

of Agamemnon answered, “Lucky you,

cunning Odysseus: you got yourself

a wife of virtue—great Penelope.

How principled she was, that she remembered

her husband all those years! Her fame will live

forever, and the deathless gods will make

a poem to delight all those on earth

about intelligent Penelope.200

Not like my wife—who murdered her own husband!

Her story will be hateful; she will bring

bad reputation to all other women,

even the good ones.”

So they spoke together,

standing in Hades, hidden in the earth.

Meanwhile, Odysseus and his companions

had left the town and quickly reached the farm,

won by Laertes long ago—he fought

hard for it, and his house was there; the slaves,

who had to do his wishes, lived and slept210

and ate their food in quarters that surrounded

the central house. One was from Sicily,

the old slave woman who took care of him

out in the countryside. Odysseus

spoke to his slaves and to his son.

“Go in,

choose the best pig and kill it for our dinner.

And I will test my father, to find out

if he will know me instantly on sight,

or not—I have been absent for so long.”

At that he gave his weapons to the slaves.220

They quickly went inside. Odysseus

walked to the fruitful orchard on his quest.

He did not find old Dolius, the steward,

nor any of his slaves or sons—he had

led them to gather rocks to build dry-walls.

Odysseus’ father was alone,

inside the well-built orchard, digging earth

to make it level round a tree. He wore

a dirty ragged tunic, and his leggings

had leather patches to protect from scratches.230

He wore thick gloves because of thorns, and had