Thetis answered him, weeping as she did: “Ah, my child — why did I bear you to a terrible fate, and nurse you? If only you could sit by the ships without tears and without pain, since your portion is so very short — not long at all. As it is, you are doomed to an early death and to sorrow above all men. I bore you to an evil fate in our halls. Still, I will go myself to snowy Olympus and tell this to Zeus who delights in the thunderbolt — whether he will be persuaded. For now, you stay by the swift ships, keep up your rage at the Achaeans, and hold back from war entirely. Zeus went yesterday to Ocean, to the blameless Ethiopians, for a feast, and all the gods went with him. In twelve days he will come back to Olympus, and then I will go to Zeus’s bronze-floored house and take his knees. I think I will persuade him.”
She spoke, and went away, and left him there angry at heart over the well-girdled woman they had taken from him by force against his will. Odysseus meanwhile was nearing Chryse with the sacred hecatomb. When they had entered the deep harbor, they furled the sails and stowed them in the black ship, let down the mast by the forestays and laid it quickly in the crutch, and rowed her to the anchorage with oars. They threw out the mooring-stones and made her fast with cables, and then stepped out onto the shore of the sea. They brought out the hecatomb for far-shooting Apollo, and Chryseis stepped from the seagoing ship. Resourceful Odysseus led her to the altar and put her in her dear father’s hands and said to him:
“Chryses: Agamemnon, lord of men, sent me to bring you your child, and to offer a sacred hecatomb to Phoebus for the Danaans, so we may appease the lord who has now sent the Argives miserable pains.”
So he spoke, and put her in his arms. The priest received his dear child joyfully. Quickly they set the sacred hecatomb for the god in good order around the well-built altar, washed their hands, and took up the barley grains. Chryses lifted his hands and prayed aloud for them:
“Hear me, god of the silver bow, who stand over Chryse and holy Cilla and rule Tenedos with force: as you once heard me when I prayed before — you honored me and struck hard at the Achaean people — so now again fulfill this wish for me: ward this ugly plague off the Danaans now.”
So he spoke in prayer, and Phoebus Apollo heard him. When they had prayed and thrown the barley grains, first they pulled back the victims’ heads and cut their throats and flayed them. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them in a double fold of fat, and laid raw meat on them. The old man burned them on split wood and poured gleaming wine over them; young men beside him held five-pronged forks. When the thigh-bones were consumed and they had tasted the inner parts, they cut up the rest, pierced it with spits, roasted it carefully, and drew it all off. When the work was done and the feast was ready, they ate, and no one’s hunger lacked a fair share. When they had put away the desire for food and drink, the young men filled mixing-bowls brimful of wine, and after pouring drops in each cup for the gods, they served it to all. All day long they sought to please the god with song and dance, the Achaean young men singing a beautiful paean, celebrating the far-shooter. He listened with delight in his heart.
When the sun went down and darkness came on, they lay down to sleep by the ship’s stern-cables. When early-born, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, they set sail for the broad camp of the Achaeans. Far-shooting Apollo sent them a following wind. They set up the mast and spread the white sails. The wind filled the middle of the sail, and around the stem the blue wave sang loud as the ship went. She ran across the wave, making way. When they reached the broad camp of the Achaeans, they hauled the black ship high on the sand, set long props under her, and then scattered to their own ships and shelters.