Book 24
Then Hermes of Cyllene summoned the ghosts [psukhai] of the suitors, and in his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave, when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang, even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Hermes the healer of sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had passed the waters of Okeanos and the rock Leukas, they came to the gates of the sun and the dêmos of dreams, whereon they reached the meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that can labor no more.
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Here they found the ghost [psukhê] of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of Patroklos, Antilokhos, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost [psukhê] of Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of Aigisthos; and the ghost [psukhê] of Achilles spoke first.
"Son of Atreus," it said, "we used to say that Zeus had loved you better from first to last than any other hero, for you were leader over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together in the dêmos of the Trojans; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon you all too early. Better for you had you fallen in the Trojan dêmos in the hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your kleos, whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end."
"Happy [olbios] son of Peleus," answered the ghost [psukhê] of Agamemnon, "for having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor should we ever have left off if Zeus had not sent a gale to stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray, we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, ‘Hold, Argives, flee not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.’
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