Capitolo 8
Where waters of refluent splash about, you cradle, and the hesitation;
It is common with sick delay
From northern Strymon the gust that opposes blew--
Mother of skin of famine,
That anchor contains wand'ring of the men
Away from the I bring where them fains would be!--
Wastes it is merciless
Every ship and it cables, whether to decompose himself/herself/themselves on the sea,
And, doubling with delay every tired time,
You faded with hope deferred th' the warlike flower of Achaeans.
But when, for bitter storm, a deadlier relief,
It is heavier with sick to both principal,
Begging the anger of Artemis, the clairvoyant admitted,
The two Atridaes smote their scepter on the plan,
And, striving himself/herself/itself firm, was not able their torn wounds they contain him!
And then the spake of the oldest monarch to tall voice--
_Ill throws to fate was mine disobey!
Be sick, to hit my child, the love of my family and the pride!
To stain with virgin Chest a father's hands, and it kills
My daughter, from the side of the altar!
'The pain of Twixt and the pain that I live--
I don't challenge as a cowardly fly,
And he/she leaves the league of ships, and it fails every true ally;
For justly them persistently asks, with ardent and anxious mind,
The virgin's blood, verses before to cradle the adverse wind--
God the push of the wave the action is well!_
This way on his/her neck him taken
Fate is forcing very hard joke;
Then, in the strong box-wind of abhorr of wish, accursed,
To the rashness its spirit of change veered--
Alas! that Frenzy, before ills and worse,
With the souls of bad men of art for never to sin mixed hath!
And so he covered him of steel the heart--ah, well-a-day--
Helping a war for the cause of a false woman,
His/her child to kill,
And with his/her blood of spilt does
An offer, go to all speed' the ships on their way!
Lusting for war, the bloody arbiters
Closed heart and ears, and it is able neither it feels neither it keeps in mind of