Homer’s Iliad I.1-47. Translation in the epic hexameter, the meter of the Greek. Sing of the wrath, my goddess, of Peleus’ son Achilles, doomed and destructive, which gave the Achaeans numberless sorrows, sending so many robust souls down to the house of Hades, spirits of heroes, but bodies abandoned as meat for the dogs and flesh for the birds, and the will of God was all but accomplished right at the outset of strife, at the moment they clashed, when the conflict parted Atrides, master of men, from godlike Achilles. Which of the gods had brought them together to wage such a quarrel? Leto and Zeus’s son Apollo: enraged at the king, he stirred up a plague through the army; and people all over were dying, all because Atreus’ son had dishonored the priest of Apollo, Chryses, who’d come to the swift Greek ships to buy back his daughter, bearing a boundless ransom, and holding a golden scepter tied with the banner of far-shooting archer Apollo—he pled with all the Achaeans, but most of all he beseeched the Atridae, both of the sons of Atreus, marshals of men and the people: “Sons of Atreus, and you other Achaeans with strong greaves, truly, may all of the gods who dwell on Olympus give you Priam’s city to plunder, and then safe passage homewards; but, may you let my child go free, and accept this ransom, honoring Zeus’s son, the far-shooting archer Apollo.” Then all the other Achaeans cried out with shouts of approval, out of respect for the priest, and to reap the magnificent ransom; but, unmoved in his heart, the king Agamemnon Atrides harshly dismissed him, and speaking with powerful words, he commanded: “Don’t let me find you again, old man, by the hollow vessels— lingering here today, or returning again tomorrow— or else the scepter and banner of god will no longer protect you. As for the girl, I will never set her free until old age comes to her, back in my house in Argos, far from her homeland, working away at the loom, and sharing my bed beside me. Leave us, and try not to vex me, so you may return in safety.” Thus he spoke; and the old man feared him, obeyed his commandment, silently walking away by the shore of the rumbling ocean. Then, going farther away from them, over and over the old man prayed to the Lord Apollo, whom fair-haired Leto gave birth to: “Hear me, god of the silver bow, who keeps watch around Chryse, sacrosanct Cilla, and Tenedos, where you reign with power: Smintheus, if I ever built you a roof on your beautiful temple, or if I ever have burned you the slivers of rich fat thighs of bulls and of goats, then you can accomplish for me this one prayer: make the Danaans pay for each of my tears with your arrows.” Thus he spoke in his prayer; and Phoebus Apollo had heard him. Down from the heights of Olympus he came, with rage in his heart, his bow in his hand, and a covered quiver slung on his shoulder, arrows behind him clattering as he departed with fury, plummeting forth, and the raging god came down like nightfall. Click here to read more on the website of the translator, J. Simon Harris. Or click here for the first 100 lines of the translation, with the first (stressed) syllable of each metric foot highlighted. J. Simon Harris lives with his family in Raleigh, NC. He is a graduate researcher in Materials Science at NC State University. Much of his poetry, including his ongoing translation of Homer's Iliad in dactylic hexameter and samples of his translation of Dante's Inferno in terza rima, is available on his website (www.jsimonharris.com). His novel, Lemnos, is available now on Amazon Kindle."