τὸν δʼ ἠμείβετʼ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·

οὕτω πῃ τάδε γʼ ἐστὶ φίλον τέκος ὡς ἀγορεύεις.

ἀλλʼ ἔτι τις καὶ ἐμεῖο θεῶν ὑπερέσχεθε χεῖρα,

ὅς μοι τοιόνδʼ ἧκεν ὁδοιπόρον ἀντιβολῆσαι375

αἴσιον, οἷος δὴ σὺ δέμας καὶ εἶδος ἀγητός,

πέπνυσαί τε νόῳ, μακάρων δʼ ἔξεσσι τοκήων.

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος ἀργεϊφόντης·

ναὶ δὴ ταῦτά γε πάντα γέρον κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπὲ καὶ ἀτρεκέως κατάλεξον,380

ἠέ πῃ ἐκπέμπεις κειμήλια πολλὰ καὶ ἐσθλὰ

ἄνδρας ἐς ἀλλοδαποὺς ἵνα περ τάδε τοι σόα μίμνῃ,

ἦ ἤδη πάντες καταλείπετε Ἴλιον ἱρὴν

δειδιότες· τοῖος γὰρ ἀνὴρ ὤριστος ὄλωλε

σὸς πάϊς· οὐ μὲν γάρ τι μάχης ἐπιδεύετʼ Ἀχαιῶν.385

τὸν δʼ ἠμείβετʼ ἔπειτα γέρων Πρίαμος θεοειδής·

τίς δὲ σύ ἐσσι φέριστε τέων δʼ ἔξεσσι τοκήων;

ὥς μοι καλὰ τὸν οἶτον ἀπότμου παιδὸς ἔνισπες.

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε διάκτορος ἀργεϊφόντης·

πειρᾷ ἐμεῖο γεραιὲ καὶ εἴρεαι Ἕκτορα δῖον.390

τὸν μὲν ἐγὼ μάλα πολλὰ μάχῃ ἔνι κυδιανείρῃ

ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ὄπωπα, καὶ εὖτʼ ἐπὶ νηυσὶν ἐλάσσας

Ἀργείους κτείνεσκε δαΐζων ὀξέϊ χαλκῷ·

ἡμεῖς δʼ ἑσταότες θαυμάζομεν· οὐ γὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς

εἴα μάρνασθαι κεχολωμένος Ἀτρεΐωνι.395

τοῦ γὰρ ἐγὼ θεράπων, μία δʼ ἤγαγε νηῦς εὐεργής·

Μυρμιδόνων δʼ ἔξειμι, πατὴρ δέ μοί ἐστι Πολύκτωρ.

ἀφνειὸς μὲν ὅ γʼ ἐστί, γέρων δὲ δὴ ὡς σύ περ ὧδε,

ἓξ δέ οἱ υἷες ἔασιν, ἐγὼ δέ οἱ ἕβδομός εἰμι·

τῶν μέτα παλλόμενος κλήρῳ λάχον ἐνθάδʼ ἕπεσθαι.400

νῦν δʼ ἦλθον πεδίον δʼ ἀπὸ νηῶν· ἠῶθεν γὰρ

θήσονται περὶ ἄστυ μάχην ἑλίκωπες Ἀχαιοί.

ἀσχαλόωσι γὰρ οἵδε καθήμενοι, οὐδὲ δύνανται

ἴσχειν ἐσσυμένους πολέμου βασιλῆες Ἀχαιῶν.

    The poet pauses the plot to develop the bond between Priam and the mysterious young man.

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    As we have seen, when Homer lingers over a journey, we have something to learn. Priam is drawn to the beautiful young stranger, calling him φίλον τέκος (373) in response to his φίλῳ δέ σε πατρὶ ἐΐσκω (371). After Hermes takes his hand, the king imagines that “some god must be holding his hand over me” (374), and assumes that the young man must the son of μακάρων … τοκήων (cf. μάκαρες θεοὶ, 99). The irony and light tone here and throughout the encounter are characteristic of the many encounters between deities and unknowing mortals in the Odyssey, where chance meetings with mysterious helpers are frequent.

    The charming atmosphere continues as Hermes pretends not to know the reason for Priam’s mission, then lavishes praise on Hector. Priam presses for more information: since you speak so kindly of my son, who are your parents? The god deflects with some teasing (390): “Testing me, are you, old man?” He has seen Hector in action, driving toward the seashore, killing Greeks. “We stood there, amazed” (394). Slowly, he slips in more clues: he is Greek, one of Achilles’s Myrmidons, the son of Polyktor (“rich man”) a wealthy man like Priam, the youngest of seven sons who lost the sibling lottery and had to come to Troy. The emerging parallels suggest a series of syllogisms:

    Polyktor : young stranger :: Priam : Hector.

    Polyktor (mortal father) : Hermes (god) :: Priam (mortal father) : Achilles (god?).

    We are heading toward the most important iteration:

    Polyktor (mortal father) : Hermes (god) :: Peleus (mortal father) : Achilles (god? mortal?)

    These parallel relationships reflect Homer’s practice of using repeated structures to build meaning through accretion. The encounter on the plain summons a certain music—to use the analogy we invoked in the Introduction (p.1)—and we need to listen carefully as the poet draws together the major motifs of his story. For the full impact of the composition, we return to its beginnings.

    The bond between parents and children frames the Iliad: beginning with Chryses and his daughter in the poem’s opening scene and ending with two fathers and their short-lived sons, beginning with the failed ransom of one child, ending with the successful ransom of another. In between, the bond appears as part of the ongoing negotiation between mortality and immortality, with Zeus declining to prevent Sarpedon’s death by contravening fate in Book 16 and Thetis acquiescing to Achilles’s mortality in Book 24. Both divine parents lament the coming death of the children they have created with mortal partners; both finally agree to let go. In each case, the poet focuses on the decision, making it the vehicle for exploring issues central to the poem’s meaning.

    The death of Zeus’s son by a mortal woman, Sarpedon, at the hands of Patroclus in Book 16 (426–507) shows the poet’s careful planning. The Trojan ally has appeared earlier in Book 12 delivering a striking reflection on the nature of Homeric heroism. Pausing there in the midst of a furious battle, Sarpedon speaks to his friend Glaucus, pondering why it is that certain warriors are honored as heroes, given the best meat and wine at the banquet, awarded choice land for their estates, and looked upon like gods. They are honored because they fight in the front of the battlelines and—perhaps even more importantly, they are seen to do so by others (Iliad 12.318–21). They have glory because they are seen doing glorious things. So far, so good. But now Sarpedon arrives at the crucial point:

    ὦ πέπον εἰ μὲν γὰρ πόλεμον περὶ τόνδε φυγόντε
    αἰεὶ ὴ μέλλοιμεν ἀγήρω τ᾽ ἀθανάτω τε
    ἔσσεσθ᾽, οὔτέ κεν αὐτὸς ἐνὶ πρώτοισι μαχοίμην
    οὔτέ κε σὲ στέλλοιμι μάχην ἐς κυδιάνειραν:
    νῦν δ᾽ ἔμπης γὰρ κῆρες ἐφεστᾶσιν θανάτοιο
    μυρίαι, ἃς οὐκ ἔστι φυγεῖν βροτὸν οὐδ᾽ ὑπαλύξαι,
    ἴομεν ἠέ τῳ εὖχος ὀρέξομεν ἠέ τις ἡμῖν.

    Friend, supposing that we, fleeing this battle,
    would be able to live forever, ageless and immortal,
    then neither would I myself fight in the front ranks,
    nor would I urge you toward the battle where men win glory.
    Now, since the spirits of death stand all around us
    in their multitudes, which it is not given to flee or avoid,
    let us go and strive for glory or yield it to others.

    Iliad 12.322–28

    Here is the key to understanding why Homer’s heroes fight on, even in the face of certain death. The Iliad has no firm concept of an afterlife, so the glory that warriors win is the only part of them that survives death. If, Sarpedon says, we were immortal, with no limits on our actions, he would not fight. Why bother? Turning the thought around, we encounter the reason that mortals are the significant moral agents in the story, not the gods, for whom nothing matters. The carefree life of the gods is held up in the poem as the ultimate goal that humans strive for, but that existence is finally meaningless and morally trivial. Only the fact of mortality requires us to have virtues.

    By putting such an important set of reflections in his mouth, the poet is building up Sarpedon in our minds as a prominent figure. (One problem for the poet creating a long battle narrative is providing his heroes with victims worthy of their prowess without killing off prominent warriors in the story.) At the same time, he establishes some telling associations he will exploit going forward, beginning with Patroclus’s last day of battle in Book 16. Zeus knows Sarpedon is fated to die at Patroclus’s hands and ponders whether he should intervene and save his son. The cosmic implications of this choice seem large: can the gods change fate? But the poet is not interested in exploring metaphysical subtleties here. His reasons are artistic, and we can understand the poet’s aims in creating this interlude if we consider it in the larger context of the poem’s meditation on the relationship of parents and children. Zeus, like Apollo’s priest Chryses in Book 1, is trying to protect his child. He seems in the immediate context of the battle to have failed, since Sarpedon dies on the battlefield. But viewed from another perspective, we can say that by allowing Sarpedon’s life to end, Zeus allows him to fulfill his true nature as a mortal, which is exactly what Thetis does for Achilles, however reluctantly. This small episode points fleetingly in the direction that the entire poem has been headed since its first verses, the affirmation of the need for humility, the knowledge of who we are and where fit in the larger order of the universe as the first step toward becoming a fully realized human being. The deep implications of its conclusions remain to be worked out in the final scenes.

     

    Further Reading

    Edwards, M. 1987. Homer: Poet of the Iliad, 306–308. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press.

     

    373  ἐστὶ: singular verb with neuter plural subject (τάδε).

    374  τις καὶ ἐμεῖο θεῶν ὑπερέσχεθε χεῖρα: “was holding (acc.) over (gen.)”; θεῶν is a partitive genitive with τις.

    374  ὑπερέσχεθε: 3rd sing. impf. act. indic., iterative > ὑπερέχω (LSJ ὑπερέχω I.2).

    375  ἧκεν: “sent,” 3rd sing. aor. act. indic. > ἵημι (LSJ ἵημι I.5).

    375  ἀντιβολῆσαι: aor. inf., infinitive of purpose.

    376  οἷος … σὺ: “(a traveler) such as you …”

    376  δέμας καὶ εἶδος: accusatives of respect.

    377  πέπνυσαί: 2nd sing. aor. mid. indic. >. πέπνυμαι.

    377  ἔξεσσι: “you come from,” “you are descended from,” 2nd sing. pres. act. indic. > ἔξειμι (Autenrieth ἔξειμιI). With genitive of source (Smyth 1411b regards this as a possessive genitive).

    382  τάδε: referring to the κειμήλια.

    382  μίμνῃ: 3rd sing. pres. act. subj. > μίμνω. Singular verb with neuter plural subject.

    384  δειδιότες: masc. nom. pl. pf. act. ptc. > δείδω. The perfect form has a present sense.

    384  τοῖος … ἀνὴρ ὤριστος: “by far the best man.” τοῖος emphasizes the adjective (“so great,” etc.), and this is a rare case of its use with a superlative (LSJ τοῖος III). ὤριστος is an epic crasis (or contraction, Smyth 62) for ὁ ἄριστος (LSJ ὤριστος).

    385  σὸς πάϊς: appositive.

    385  μάχης ἐπιδεύετ(ο) Ἀχαιῶν: “he was (not) lacking in battle with the Achaeans.” μάχης is a genitive of separation (Smyth 1396). Ἀχαιῶν is an objective genitive (Smyth 1332). The verb is imperfect (LSJ ἐπιδεύομαι).

    387  τέων: = τίνων, interrogative pron. (Smyth 334 D).

    390  πειρᾷ: “you make trial of,” “you test,” 2nd sing. pres. mid. indic. > πειράω (LSJ πειράω B.II.1), with genitive (Smyth 1345). 

    390  εἴρεαι: “you ask about (accusative),” 2nd sing. pres. mid. indic. > ἔρομαι.

    392  ὄπωπα: 1st sing. pf. act. indic. > ὁράω.

    393  Ἀργείους: the object of the participles ἐλάσσας and δαΐζων and the verb κτείνεσκε.

    393  κτείνεσκε: 3rd sing. impf. act. indic., iterative > κτείνω.

    394 ἑσταότες θαυμάζομεν: “stood in amazement” (literally, “standing, we were amazed”). Note that θαυμάζομεν is an unaugmented imperfect, though it has the same form as the present.

    394  ἑσταότες: masc. nom. pl. pf. act. ptc. > ἵστημι.

    395  εἴα: 3rd sing. impf. act. indic. > ἐάω.

    395  κεχολωμένος: masc. nom. sing. pf. mid./pass. ptc. > χολόω. A causal circumstantial participle (Smyth 2064). The verb takes a dative: “to be angry with (dative)” (LSJ. χολόω).

    396  τοῦ: “his,” gen. personal pron., referring to Achilles.

    396  ἤγαγε: “brought (us here).”

    397  Μυρμιδόνων: genitive of source with ἔξειμι.

    398  : “he,” that is, Polyctor.

    399  οἱ: dative of possession.

    399  ἔασιν: 3rd pl. pres. act. indic. > εἰμί.

    400  τῶν μέτα: “among these,” anastrophe (Smyth 175a).

    400  παλλόμενος κλήρῳ λάχον: “drew by lot” (LSJ πάλλω I.3).

    400  ἕπεσθαι: infinitive of purpose > ἕπομαι.

    401  πεδίον: “to the plain,” terminal acc. (Smyth 1588).

    402  θήσονται … μάχην: “will engage in battle,” 3rd sing. fut. mid. indic. > τίθημι (LSJ τίθημι C.3).

    404  πολέμου: objective genitive with ἐσσυμένους (LSJ ἐσσύμενος I).

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    Suggested Citation

    Thomas Van Nortwick and Geoffrey Steadman, Homer: Iliad 6 and 22. Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Dickinson College Commentaries, 2018. ISBN: 978-1-947822-11-5.https://dcc.dickinson.edu/homer-iliad/homer-iliad-xxiv-372-404