Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donât realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Myths of Greece and Rome by H. A. Guerber (classic books for 11 year olds txt) đ
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The debt of vengeance for Patroclus slain.â
Homer (Bryantâs tr.).
Then, in sudden dread lest Hector should fall by anotherâs hand, or withdraw from the battlefield and thus escape his vengeance, Achilles would have rushed from his tent unarmed; but his mother prevailed upon him to wait until the morrow, when she promised to bring him a full suit of armor from Vulcanâs own hand. Rapidly Thetis then traversed the wide space which separates the coast of Asia Minor from Mount Ătna, where Vulcan labored at his forge.
Sweating and toiling, and with busy hand
Plying the bellows.â
Homer (Bryantâs tr.).
Arrived before him, she breathlessly made known her errand, and the god promised that the arms should be ready within the given time, and immediately set to work to fashion them. By his skillful hands the marvelous weapons were forged; and when the first streak of light appeared above the horizon, he consigned them to Thetis, who hastened back to her sonâs tent, where she found him still bewailing the loss of Patroclus.
THETIS BEARING THE ARMOR OF ACHILLES.âGĂ©rard.
During Thetisâ absence, messengers had come to Achillesâ tent to warn him that Patroclusâ body was still in the enemyâs hands, and to implore him to come and rescue the precious corpse. Mindful of his promise to his mother, Achilles still refused to fight, but, springing upon the rampart, uttered his mighty war-cry, the sound of which filled the enemyâs hearts with terror, and made them yield to the well-directed onslaught of Ajax and Diomedes, who finally succeeded in recovering the body, which they then reverently bore to Achillesâ tent.
To console Achilles for his friendâs death, Thetis exhibited the glorious armor she had just obtained, helped him put it on, and then bade him go forth and conquer.
The gods that he should fall; and now receive
This sumptuous armor, forged by Vulcanâs hand,
Beautiful, such as no man ever wore.ââ
Homer (Bryantâs tr.).
Thus armed, mounted in his chariot drawn by his favorite steeds, and driven by his faithful charioteer Automedon, Achilles went forth to battle, and finally seeing Hector, whom alone he wished to meet, he rushed upon him with a hoarse cry of rage. The Trojan hero, at the mere sight of the deadly hatred which shone in Achillesâ eyes, turned to flee. Achilles pursued him, and taunted him with his cowardice, until Hector turned and fought with all the courage and recklessness of despair.
Their blows fell like hail, a cloud of dust enveloped their struggling forms, and the anxious witnesses only heard the dull thud of the blows and the metallic clash of the weapons. Suddenly there came a loud cry, then all was still; and when the dust-cloud had blown away, the Trojans from the ramparts, where they had waited in agony for the issue of the fight, beheld Achilles tear the armor from their championâs body, bind the corpse to his chariot, and drive nine times round the city walls, Hectorâs princely head dragging in the dust. Priam, Hecuba, and Andromache, Hectorâs beautiful young wife, tearfully watched this ignominious treatment, and finally saw Achilles drive off to the spot where Patroclusâ funeral pile was laid, and there abandon the corpse.
Achilles then returned to his tent, where for a long time he continued to mourn his friendâs untimely end, refusing to be comforted.
The gods, from their celestial abode, had also witnessed this heartrending scene, and now Jupiter sent Iris to Thetis, and bade her hasten down to Achilles and command him to restore Hectorâs body to his mourning family. He also directed Mercury to lead Priam, unseen, into Achillesâ tent, to claim and bear away his sonâs desecrated corpse. Thetis, seeking Achilles in his tent, announced the will of Jove:â
A messenger from Jove, who bids me say
The immortals are offended, and himself
The most, that thou shouldst in thy spite detain
The corse of Hector at the beaked ships,
Refusing its release. Comply thou, then,
And take the ransom and restore the dead.â
Homer (Bryantâs tr.).
Mercury acquitted himself with his usual dispatch, and soon guided Priam in safety through the Grecian camp to Achillesâ tent, where the aged king fell at the heroâs feet, humbly pleading for his sonâs body, and proffering a princely ransom in exchange.
Achilles, no longer able to refuse this entreaty, and touched by a fatherâs tears, consigned Hectorâs corpse to the old manâs care, and promised an armistice of fourteen days, that the funeral rites in both camps might be celebrated with all due pomp and solemnity; and with the burial of Hector the Iliad comes to a close.
At the end of the truce the hostilities were renewed, and the Trojans were reinforced by the arrival of Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, who, with a chosen troop of warrior maidens, came to offer her aid. The brave queen afforded them, however, only temporary relief, as she was slain by Achilles in their very first encounter.
He, too, however, was doomed to die âin the flower of his youth and beauty,â and the Fates had almost finished spinning his thread of life. In an early skirmish, while in close pursuit of the Trojans, Thetisâ son had once caught sight of Polyxena, daughter of Priam, and had been deeply smitten by her girlish charms. He now vainly tried to make peace between the conflicting nations, hoping that, were the war but ended, he might obtain her hand in marriage.
His efforts to make peace failed; but at last he prevailed upon Priam to celebrate his betrothal with Polyxena, with the stipulation that the marriage would take place as soon as the war was over. The betrothal ceremony was held without the city gates; and Achilles was just about to part from his blushing betrothed, when Paris, ever treacherous, stole behind him and shot a poisoned arrow into his vulnerable heel, thus slaying the hero who had caused so many brave warriors to bite the dust.
In healing wounds, died of a wounded heel.â
O. W. Holmes.
His armorâthe glorious armor forged by Vulcanâwas hotly contested for by Ulysses and Ajax. The former finally obtained the coveted weapons; and Ajaxâ grief at their loss was so intense, that he became insane, and killed himself in a fit of frenzy, while Polyxena, inconsolable at her betrothedâs death, committed suicide on the magnificent tomb erected over his remains on the Trojan plain.
The oracles, silent so long, now announced that Troy could never be taken without the poisoned arrows of Hercules, then in the keeping of Philoctetes (p. 238). This hero had started with the expedition, but had been put ashore on the Island of Lemnos on account of a wound in his foot, which had become so offensive that none of the shipâs company could endure his presence on board.
Ten long years had already elapsed since then, and, although a party of Greeks immediately set out in search of him, they had but little hope of finding him alive. They nevertheless wended their way to the cave where they had deposited him, where, to their unbounded surprise, they still found him. The wound had not healed, but he had managed to exist by killing such game as came within reach of his hand.
Deserted and forlorn he lies;
No friend or fellow-mourner there,
To soothe his sorrows, and divide his care;
Or seek the healing plant, of power to âsuage
His aching wound, and mitigate its rage.â
Sophocles (Francklinâs tr.).
Incensed by the Greeksâ former cruel desertion, no entreaty could now induce Philoctetes to accompany the messengers to Troy, until Hercules appeared to him in a dream, and bade him go without delay, for there he would find Machaon (p. 64), Ăsculapiusâ son, who was to heal his wound.
The dream was realized. Philoctetes, whole once more, joined the Greek host, and caused great dismay in the enemyâs ranks with his poisoned arrows. One of his deadly missiles even struck Paris, and, as the poison entered his veins, it caused him grievous suffering. Paris then remembered that his first love, Ćnone, who knew all remedies and the best modes of applying them, had once told him to send for her should he ever be wounded. He therefore sent for Ćnone; but she, justly offended by the base desertion and long neglect of her lover, refused her aid, and let him die in torture. When he was dead, Ćnone repented of this decision; and when the flames of his funeral pyre rose around him, she rushed into their midst, and was burned to death on his corpse.
The ring of faces reddenâd by the flames
Infolding that dark body which had lain
Of old in her embrace, pausedâand then askâd
Falteringly, âWho lies on yonder pyre?â
But every man was mute for reverence.
Then moving quickly forward till the heat
Smote on her brow, she lifted up a voice
Of shrill command, âWho burns upon the pyre?â
Whereon their oldest and their boldest said,
âHe, whom thou wouldâst not heal!â and all at once
The morning light of happy marriage broke,
Throâ all the clouded years of widowhood,
And muffling up her comely head, and crying
âHusband!â she leapt upon the funeral pile,
And mixt herself with him and past in fire.â
Tennyson.
Two of Priamâs sons had already expired, and yet Troy had not fallen into the hands of the Greeks, who now heard another prophecy, to the effect that Troy could never be taken as long as the Palladiumâa sacred statue of Minerva, said to have fallen from heavenâremained within its walls (p. 60). So Ulysses and Diomedes in disguise effected an entrance into the city one night, and after many difficulties succeeded in escaping with the precious image.
Men and chiefs, impatient of further delay, now joyfully hailed Ulyssesâ proposal to take the city by stratagem. They therefore secretly built a colossal wooden horse, within whose hollow sides a number of brave warriors might lie concealed. The main army feigned weariness of the endless enterprise, and embarked, leaving the horse as a pretended offering to Minerva; while Sinon, a shrewd slave, remained to persuade the Trojans to drag the horse within their gates and keep him there, a lasting monument of their hard-won triumph.
To the unbounded joy of the long-besieged Trojans, the Greek fleet then sailed away, until the Island of Tenedos hid the ships from view. All the inhabitants of Troy poured out of the city to view the wooden horse, and question Sinon, who pretended to have great cause of complaint against the Greeks, and strongly advised them to secure their last offering to Minerva.
The Trojans hailed this idea with rapture; but Laocoon, a Trojan priest, implored them to leave the horse alone, lest they should bring untold evil upon their heads.
âWhat monstrous madness blinds your eyes?
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