First Stasimon

CHORUS.O for the ships of Troy, the beatOf oars that shimmeredInnumerable, and dancing feetOf Nereids glimmered;And dolphins, drunken with the lyre,Across the dark blue prows, like fire,Did bound and quiver,To cleave the way for Thetis' son,Fleet-in-the-wind Achilles, onTo war, to war, till Troy be wonBeside the reedy river.

Up from Euboea's caverns cameThe Nereids, bearingGold armour from the Lords of Flame,Wrought for his wearing:Long sought those daughters of the deep,Up Pelion's glen, up Ossa's steepForest enchanted,Where Peleus reared alone, afar,His lost sea-maiden's child, the starOf Hellas, and swift help of warWhen weary armies panted.

There came a man from Troy, and toldHere in the haven,How, orb on orb, to strike with coldThe Trojan, o'er that targe of gold,Dread shapes were graven.All round the level rim thereofPerseus, on wingèd feet, aboveThe long seas hied him;The Gorgon's wild and bleeding hairHe lifted; and a herald fair,He of the wilds, whom Maia bare,God's Hermes, flew beside him.

But midmost, where the boss rose higher,A sun stood blazing,And wingèd steeds, and stars in choir,Hyad and Pleiad, fire on fire,For Hector's dazing:Across the golden helm, each way,Two taloned Sphinxes held their prey,Song-drawn to slaughter:And round the breastplate ramping cameA mingled breed of lion and flame,Hot-eyed to tear that steed of fameThat found Pirênê's water.

The red red sword with steeds four-yokedBlack-maned, was graven,That laboured, and the hot dust smokedCloudwise to heaven.Thou Tyndarid woman! Fair and tallThose warriors were, and o'er them allOne king great-hearted,Whom thou and thy false love did slay:Therefore the tribes of Heaven one dayFor these thy dead shall send on theeAn iron death: yea, men shall seeThe white throat drawn, and blood's red spray,And lips in terror parted.