Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Patroclus Achillem orat, ut īram dēponat
Patroclus begs Achilles to put aside his anger (Revised Version)
in Alcaics

"Ō nāte dūrā ex rūpe, leōnibus
nutrīte, mollīrī sine tē, precor,
ut fonte pūrō cum minūta est
flamma, furensve fugātus Auster

maris potentī; nam cohibet manūs
vī turma Grāiās Hectoreā tenax:
Lux nostra, nunc exstingue saevum
rōbora quō pereunt Achaea

furōris ignem, tē morientium
clāmor, bucīna et admoneat gravis
nōn sustinērī posse Phoebo
tēla diū Lycia adiuvante."

O, born of the harsh cliff, nourished

by lions, allow yourself to be won over,

I pray, as when fire has been lessened

by clear water, or raging Auster

put to flight by Neptune. For a squadron,

tenacious thanks to Hector’s might,

hems in the Greek forces.

O our light, now quench the fire

of savage anger, through which

the flower of Achaea perish.

Let the cry of the dying, and the

deep-pitched trumpet now remind you

that Lycian spears cannot be sustained

for long, with Phoebus helping (them).

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