The Iliad - Homer (best novels to read for beginners .txt) 📗

general load, Except detraction, what hast thou bestow’d?

Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?

Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore, And let these eyes behold my son no more; If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear To strip those arms thou ill deserv’st to wear, Expel the council where our princes meet, And send thee scourged and howling through the fleet.”

 

He said, and cowering as the dastard bends, The weighty sceptre on his bank descends. [48]

On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise: The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes; Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears, From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears; While to his neighbour each express’d his thought: “Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought!

What fruits his conduct and his courage yield!

Great in the council, glorious in the field.

Generous he rises in the crown’s defence, To curb the factious tongue of insolence, Such just examples on offenders shown,

Sedition silence, and assert the throne.”

 

‘Twas thus the general voice the hero praised, Who, rising, high the imperial sceptre raised: The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend, (In form a herald,) bade the crowds attend.

The expecting crowds in still attention hung, To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue.

Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke, His silence thus the prudent hero broke: “Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian race With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace.

Not such at Argos was their generous vow: Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now: Ne’er to return, was then the common cry, Till Troy’s proud structures should in ashes lie.

Behold them weeping for their native shore; What could their wives or helpless children more?

What heart but melts to leave the tender train, And, one short month, endure the wintry main?

Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat, When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat: Then well may this long stay provoke their tears, The tedious length of nine revolving years.

Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame; But vanquish’d! baffled! oh, eternal shame!

Expect the time to Troy’s destruction given.

And try the faith of Chalcas and of heaven.

What pass’d at Aulis, Greece can witness bear, [49]

And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air.

Beside a fountain’s sacred brink we raised Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed: ‘Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around, The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent;

From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent.

Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll’d, And curl’d around in many a winding fold; The topmost branch a mother-bird possess’d; Eight callow infants fill’d the mossy nest; Herself the ninth; the serpent, as he hung, Stretch’d his black jaws and crush’d the crying young; While hovering near, with miserable moan, The drooping mother wail’d her children gone.

The mother last, as round the nest she flew, Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew; Nor long survived: to marble turn’d, he stands A lasting prodigy on Aulis’ sands.

Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare Trust in his omen, and support the war.

For while around we gazed with wondering eyes, And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice, Full of his god, the reverend Chalcas cried, [50]

‘Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside.

This wondrous signal Jove himself displays, Of long, long labours, but eternal praise.

As many birds as by the snake were slain, So many years the toils of Greece remain; But wait the tenth, for Ilion’s fall decreed:’

Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed.

Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait, Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate.”

He said: the shores with loud applauses sound, The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound.

Then Nestor thus—“These vain debates forbear, Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare.

Where now are all your high resolves at last?

Your leagues concluded, your engagements past?

Vow’d with libations and with victims then, Now vanish’d like their smoke: the faith of men!

While useless words consume the unactive hours, No wonder Troy so long resists our powers.

Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway; We march to war, if thou direct the way.

But leave the few that dare resist thy laws, The mean deserters of the Grecian cause, To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares, And view with envy our successful wars.

On that great day, when first the martial train, Big with the fate of Ilion, plough’d the main, Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent, And thunder rolling shook the firmament.

Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious strife, Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife, Till Helen’s woes at full revenged appear, And Troy’s proud matrons render tear for tear.

Before that day, if any Greek invite

His country’s troops to base, inglorious flight, Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly, And die the dastard first, who dreads to die.

But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise: [51]

Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise.

Among those counsels, let not mine be vain; In tribes and nations to divide thy train: His separate troops let every leader call, Each strengthen each, and all encourage all.

What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band, Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command, When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known And what the cause of Ilion not o’erthrown; If fate resists, or if our arms are slow, If gods above prevent, or men below.”

 

To him the king: “How much thy years excel In arts of counsel, and in speaking well!

O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree But ten such sages as they grant in thee; Such wisdom soon should Priam’s force destroy, And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy!

But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates In fierce contention and in vain debates: Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws, By me provoked; a captive maid the cause: If e’er as friends we join, the Trojan wall Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall!

But now, ye warriors, take a short repast; And, well refresh’d, to bloody conflict haste.

His sharpen’d spear let every Grecian wield, And every Grecian fix his brazen shield, Let all excite the fiery steeds of war, And all for combat fit the rattling car.

This day, this dreadful day, let each contend; No rest, no respite, till the shades descend; Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all: Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall; Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast, With the huge shield each brawny arm depress’d, Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw, And each spent courser at the chariot blow.

Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay, Who dares to tremble on this signal day; That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power, The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour.”

 

The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose, Loud as the surges when the tempest blows, That dash’d on broken rocks tumultuous roar, And foam and thunder on the stony shore.

Straight to the tents the troops dispersing bend, The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend; With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray, To avert the dangers of the doubtful day.

A steer of five years’ age, large limb’d, and fed, [52]

To Jove’s high altars Agamemnon led:

There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers; And Nestor first, as most advanced in years.

Next came Idomeneus, [53]

and Tydeus’ son, [54]

Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon; [55]

Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed; And Menelaus came, unbid, the last. [56]

The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take The sacred offering of the salted cake: When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer; “O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air, Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne, Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone!

Hear! and before the burning sun descends, Before the night her gloomy veil extends, Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires, Be Priam’s palace sunk in Grecian fires.

In Hector’s breast be plunged this shining sword, And slaughter’d heroes groan around their lord!”

 

Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer Great Jove refused, and toss’d in empty air: The God averse, while yet the fumes arose, Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes.

Their prayers perform’d the chiefs the rite pursue, The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew.

The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide, The thighs, selected to the gods, divide.

On these, in double cauls involved with art, The choicest morsels lie from every part, From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspires While the fat victims feed the sacred fire.

The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress’d The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest; Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.

Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress’d, The generous Nestor thus the prince address’d.

 

“Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms, And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms; Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey, And lead to war when heaven directs the way.”

 

He said; the monarch issued his commands; Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide, In tribes and nations rank’d on either side.

High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies; From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes; The dreadful aegis, Jove’s immortal shield, Blazed on her arm, and lighten’d all the field: Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll’d, Form’d the bright fringe, and seem’d to burn in gold, With this each Grecian’s manly breast she warms, Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms, No more they sigh, inglorious, to return, But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.

 

As on some mountain, through the lofty grove, The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above; The fires expanding, as the winds arise, Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies: So from the polish’d arms, and brazen shields, A gleamy splendour flash’d along the fields.

Not less their number than the embodied cranes, Or milk-white swans in Asius’ watery plains.

That, o’er the windings of Cayster’s springs, [57]

Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings, Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds, Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds.

Thus numerous and confused, extending wide, The legions crowd Scamander’s flowery side; [58]

With rushing troops the plains are cover’d o’er, And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore.

Along the river’s level meads they stand, Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land, Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play, The wandering nation of a summer’s day: That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours, In gather’d swarms surround the rural bowers; From pail to pail with busy murmur run

The gilded legions, glittering in the sun.

So throng’d, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood.

Each leader now his scatter’d force conjoins In close array, and forms the deepening lines.

Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain.

The king of kings, majestically tall,

Towers o’er his armies, and outshines them all; Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads His subject herds, the monarch of the meads, Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen, His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien; [59]

Jove o’er his eyes celestial glories spread, And dawning conquest played around his head.

 

Say, virgins, seated round the throne