The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) š
- Author: Homer
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And ye, who after death beneath the earth Your vengeance wreak on souls of men forsworn, Be witness ye, and this our covānant guard.
If Menelaus fall by Parisā hand,
Let him retain both Helen and the spoil, While in our ships we take our homeward way; If Paris be by Menelaus slain,
Troy shall surrender Helen and the spoil, With compensation due to Greece, that so A record may to future days remain.
But, Paris slain, if Priam and his sons The promisād compensation shall withhold, Then here, my rights in battle to assert, Will I remain, till I the end achieve.ā
Thus as he spoke, across the victimsā throats He drew the pitiless blade, and on the ground He laid them gasping, as the stream of life Pourād forth, their vigour by the blade subdued.
Then, from the flagon drawn, from out the cups The wine they pourād; and to thā eternal Gods They prayād; and thus from Trojans and from Greeks Arose the joint petition; āGrant, O Jove!
Most great! most glorious! grant, ye heavānly powārs, That whosoeāer this solemn truce shall break, Evān as this wine we pour, their heartsā best blood, Theirs and their childrenās, on the earth be pourād, And strangers in subjection take their wives!ā
Thus they; but Jove, unyielding, heard their prayār.
The rites performād, then aged Priam spoke: āHear me, ye Trojans, and ye well-greavād Greeks!
To Iliumās breezy heights I now withdraw, For that mine eyes will not endure the sight Of warlike Menelaus and my son
Engagād in deadly combat; of the two
Which may be doomād to death, is only known To Jove, and to thā immortal powārs of Heavān.ā
Thus spoke the godlike King; and on the car He placād the consecrated lambs; himself Ascending then, he gatherād up the reins, And with Antenor by his side, the twain To Iliumās walls retracād their homeward way.
Then Hector, son of Priam, measurād out, With sage Ulysses joinād, thā allotted space; Next, in the brass-bound helmet cast the lots, Which of the two the first should throw the spear.
The crowd, with hands uplifted, to the Gods, Trojans and Greeks alike, addressād their prayār: āO Father Jove! who rulāst from Idaās height, Most great! most glorious! grant that whosoeāer On both our armies hath this turmoil brought May undergo the doom of death, and we, The rest, firm peace and lasting friendship swear.ā
Thus they; great Hector of the glancing helm, With eyes averted, shook the casque; and forth Was cast the lot of Paris; on the ground The rest lay down by ranks, where near to each Were rangād his active steeds, and glittāring arms.
Then oāer his shoulders fair-hairād Helenās Lord, The godlike Paris, donnād his armour bright: First on his legs the well-wrought greaves he fixād, Fastenād with silver clasps; his ample chest A breastplate guarded, by Lycaon lent, His brother, but which fitted well his form.
Around his shoulders slung, his sword he bore, Brass-bladed, silver-studded; then his shield Weighty and strong; and on his firm-set head A helm he wore, well wrought, with horsehair plume That nodded, fearful, oāer his brow; his hand Graspād the firm spear, familiar to his hold.
Preparād alike the adverse warrior stood.
They, from the crowd apart their armour donnād, Came forth: and each, with eyes of mutual hate, Regarded each: admiring wonder seizād
The Trojan warriors and the well-greavād Greeks, As in the centre of the measurād ground They stood opposād, and poisād their quivāring spears.
First Paris threw his weighty spear, and struck Fair in the midst Atridesā buckler round, But broke not through; upon the stubborn targe Was bent the lanceās point; then thus to Jove, His weapon hurling, Menelaus prayād:
āGreat King, on him who wrought me causeless wrong, On Paris, grant that retribution due
My arm may bring; that men in days to come May fear their host to injure, and repay With treachārous wile his hospitable cares.ā
He said, and poising, hurlād his weighty spear: Full in the midst it struck the buckler round; Right through the buckler passād the sturdy spear, And through the gorgeous breastplate, and within Cut through the linen vest; but Paris, back Inclining, stoopād, and shunnād the doom of death.
Atrides then his silver-studded sword
Rearing on high, a mighty blow let fall On Parisā helm; but shivāring in his hand In countless fragments new the faithless blade.
Then thus to Jove, with eyes uplift to Heavān, Atrides made his moan: āO Father Jove!
Of all the Gods, the most unfriendly thou!
On Parisā head I hopād for all his crimes To wreak my vengeance due; but in my grasp My faithless sword is shatterād, and my spear Hath bootless left my hand, nor reached my foe.ā
Then onward rushing, by the horsehair plume He seizād his foemanās helm, and wrenching round Draggād by main force amid the well-greavād Greeks.
The broiderād strap, that, passād beneath his beard, The helmet held, the warriorās throat compressād: Then had Atrides draggād him from the field, And endless fame acquirād; but Venus, child Of Jove, her favāriteās peril quickly saw.
And broke the throttling strap of tough bullās hide.
In the broad hand the empty helm remained.
The trophy, by their champion whirlād amid The well-greavād Greeks, his eager comrades seizād; While he, infuriate, rushād with murdārous aim On Priamās son; but him, the Queen of Love (As Gods can only) from the field conveyād, Wrapt in a misty cloud; and on a couch, Sweet perfumes breathing, gently laid him down; Then went in search of Helen; her she found, Circled with Trojan dames, on Iliumās towār: Her by her airy robe the Goddess held, And in the likeness of an aged dame
Who oft for her, in Sparta when she dwelt, Many a fair fleece had wrought, and lovād her well, Addressād her thus: āCome, Helen, to thy house; Come, Paris calls thee; in his chamber he Expects thee, resting on luxurious couch, In costly garb, with manly beauty gracād: Not from the fight of warriors wouldst thou deem He late had come, but for the dance preparād, Or resting from the danceās pleasing toil.ā
She said, and Helenās spirit within her movād; And when she saw the Goddessā beauteous neck, Her lovely bosom, and her glowing eyes, She gazād in wonder, and addressād her thus: āOh why, great Goddess, make me thus thy sport?
Seekāst thou to bear me far away from hence To some fair Phrygian or Maeonian town, If there some mortal have thy favour gainād?
Or, for that Menelaus in the field
Hath vanquishād Paris, and is willing yet That I, his bane, should to his home return; Here art thou found, to weave again thy wiles!
Go then thyself! thy godship abdicate!
Renounce Olympus! lavish here on him
Thy pity and thy care! he may perchance Make thee his wifeāat least his paramour!
But thither go not I! foul shame it were Again to share his bed; the dames of Troy Will for a byword hold me; and eāen now My soul with endless sorrow is possessād.ā
To whom in anger heavānly Venus spoke: āIncense me not, poor fool! lest I in wrath Desert thee quite, and as I heretofore Have lovād, so make thee object of my hate; And kindle, ātwixt the Trojans and the Greeks, Such bitter feuds, as both shall wreak on thee.ā
She said; and trembled Helen, child of Jove; She rose in silence; in a snow-white veil All glittāring, shrouded; by the Goddess led She passād, unnoticād by the Trojan dames.
But when to Parisā splendid house they came, Thronging around her, her attendants gave Their duteous service; through the lofty hall With queenly grace the godlike woman passād.
A seat the laughter-loving Goddess placād By Parisā side; there Helen sat, the child Of aegis-bearing Jove, with downcast eyes, Yet with sharp words she thus addressād her Lord: āBack from the battle? would thou there hadst died Beneath a warriorās arm, whom once I callād My husband! vainly didst thou boast erewhile Thine arm, thy dauntless courage, and thy spear The warlike Menelaus should subdue!
Go now again, and challenge to the fight The warlike Menelaus. Be thou ware!
I warn thee, pause, ere madly thou presume With fair-hairād Menelaus to contend!
Soon shouldst thou fall beneath his conquāring spear.ā
To whom thus Paris: āWring not thus my soul With keen reproaches: now, with Pallasā aid, Hath Menelaus conquerād; but my day
Will come: I too can boast my guardian Gods.
But turn we now to love, and loveās delights; For never did thy beauty so inflame
My sense; not when from Lacedaemon first I bore thee in my ocean-going ships,
And revellād in thy love on Cranaeās isle, As now it fills my soul with fond desire.ā
He said, and led her to the nuptial couch; Her Lord she followād; and while there reclinād Upon the richly-inlaid couch they lay, Atrides, like a lion baffled, rushād
Amid the crowd, if haply he might find The godlike Paris; but not one of all
The Trojans and their brave allies could aid The warlike Menelaus in his search;
Not that, for love, would any one that knew Have screenād him from his anger, for they all Abhorrād him as the shade of death: then thus Outspoke great Agamemnon, King of men: āHear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and Allies!
With warlike Menelaus rests, ātis plain, The prize of victāry: then surrender ye The Argive Helen and the spoils of war, With compensation due to Greece, that so A record may to future days remain.ā
Thus he; the Greeks, assenting, cheerād his words.
ARGUMENT.
THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE.
The Gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon. In the mean time some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises, and others by reproofs. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides.
The same day continues through this, as through the last book; as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book. The scene is wholly in the field before Troy.
BOOK IV.
On golden pavement, round the board of Jove, The Gods were gatherād; Hebe in the midst Pourād the sweet nectar; they, in golden cups, Each other pledgād, as down they lookād on Troy.
Then Jove, with cutting words and taunting tone, Began the wrath of Juno to provoke:
āTwo Goddesses for Menelaus fight,
Thou, Juno, Queen of Argos, and with thee Minerva, shield of warriors; but ye two Sitting aloof, well-pleased it seems, look on; While laughter-loving Venus, at the side Of Paris standing, still averts his fate, And rescues, when, as now, expecting death.
To warlike Menelaus we decree,
Of right, the victāry; but consult we now What may the issue be; if we shall light Again the name of war and discord fierce, Or the two sides in peace and friendship join.
For me, if thus your genāral voice incline, Let Priamās city stand, and Helen back To warlike Menelaus be restorād.ā
So spoke the God; but seated side by side, Juno and Pallas glances interchangād
Of ill portent for Troy; Pallas indeed Sat silent; and, though inly wroth with Jove, Yet answerād not a word; but Junoās breast Could not contain her rage, and thus she spoke:
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