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Zeus; and Glaucos was grieved at the heart, for he could not go to his aid, because his arm was torn with a grievous wound. Then he prayed to Phoebus Apollo the Lykian-born,51 and Phoebus drew the black blood from the wound and cheered the soul of Glaucos.

Fierce was the strife over the body of the Lykian king, until at length even the brave Hector was driven back and the Achaians took the bright armour of Sarpêdon. Then from the dark cloud Zeus spake to Phoebus Apollo and said, 'Hasten now, O Phoebus, and bear the body of my child Sarpêdon to the stream of Simoeis. There bathe it in the pure waters and anoint it with ambrosia and wrap it in shining robes, and then bid Hupnos and Thanatos carry it to the land of his people.'

So Phoebus Apollo bathed the body of Sarpêdon in the stream; and the round moon rose up from behind the dark eastern hills. No breeze whispered in the heaven above, no sound was heard upon the earth beneath, as the powers of sleep and death drew near on their noiseless wings. Gently they looked on the face of Sarpêdon, still and cold, but fair beyond the beauty which is given to the sons of men, before the toil of life is ended. Then they raised him softly in

their arms, and the still air sounded not with the waving of their wings as they bore him homewards through the silent hours of night.

The first rays of Eôs quivered in the pale sky, as they laid the body of Sarpêdon in his own hall. Then was there sorrow and mourning for the great chief of the Lykians; but their tears were stilled as they looked on his face, so passing fair in the happy sleep of death. So they laid him gently in the earth and raised a great heap of stones above his grave, that in time to come men might tell of the great deeds of the good and brave Sarpêdon.

MEMNON.

ROM the burning land of the Ethiopians

FROM

came Memnon the fair son of Eôs, to aid the men of Troy against the Achaian chieftains. Like the brave and beautiful Sarpêdon, he was foremost in the strife of battle, and few might withstand the strength of his arm. Smitten by his sword fell Antilochos, the son of the old chieftain of Pylos. Bitter and deep was the grief of Nestor, the sweet-voiced speaker of the Achaians; and deep was the vow by which Achilles sware that he would avenge the death of Antilochos on the bright son of the Morning.

Then in the thickest fight Achilles sought out Memnôn, and he knew him by the height of his glorious form, and his beauty which was beyond the beauty of the sons of men. Long time they strove, but nothing might stand against the might of Achilles; so the son of Eôs was smitten down, and the heavy sleep of death fell on his eyes.

But Eôs saw her child die, and she came down to the earth and took away his body from the

battle-field. In the pure waters of a river she washed away the dark blood, and wrapped it in a glittering robe. Long time she mourned, and her tear-drops fell on the earth whenever the sun rose up in the sky or sank beneath the waters of the sea. Then at last in bitter sorrow she hastened to the home of the undying gods, and fell before the throne of Zeus and said, 'O Zeus, look upon my grief, and give me comfort in my misery, for Achilles has slain my child, and the bright Memnôn lies pale and cold in death. If ever it hath been a joy to thee to look upon my face, when the first light of morning quivers in the sky, if ever thou hast loved to see my glory spread its soft and tender flush before the path of the bright sun,-then let not my child wander among the dark shades in the land of Hades and Persephonê. Speak thou the word, and he shall come up in his brightness to gladden the heart of the undying gods.' Then Zeus bowed his head and spake the word; and Eôs wept no more, but hastened down to the earth; and Memnôn rose with her to the high Olympus, to feast with the undying gods in the halls of Zeus.52

ŒNÔNÊ.

HERE was sorrow, instead of gladness, in the

THERE

halls of Priam, because a son was born unto him, and the lady Hecabê had dreamed a dream, from which the seers knew that the child should bring ruin on the Ilian land. So his mother looked with cold unloving eyes on the babe as he lay weak and helpless in his cradle ; and Priam bade them take the child and leave him on rugged Ida, for the fountain of his love was closed against him.

For five days the dew fell on the babe by night, and the sun shone fiercely on him by day, as he lay on the desolate hillside; and the shepherd who placed him there to sleep the sleep of death, looked upon the child and said, 'He sleeps as babes may slumber on silken couches; the gods will it not that he should die.' So he took him to his home, and the child grew up with ruddy cheek and nimble feet, brave and hardy, so that none might be matched with him for strength and beauty. The fierce wolves came

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