The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) š
- Author: Homer
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Such was his prayār; but Juno on her throne Trembled with rage, till great Olympus quakād, And thus to Neptune, mighty God, she spoke: āO thou of boundless might, Earth-shaking God, Seeāst thou unmovād the ruin of the Greeks?
Yet they in AEgae and in Helice,
With grateful offārings rich thine altars crown; Then give we them the victāry; if we all Who favour Greece, together should combine To put to flight the Trojans, and restrain All-seeing Jove, he might be left alone, On Idaās summit to digest his wrath.ā
To whom, in anger, Neptune thus replied: āO Juno, rash of speech, what words are these!
I dare not counsel that we all should join āGainst Saturnās son; so much the stronger he.ā
Such converse held they; all the space meanwhile Within the trench, between the towār and ships, Was closely throngād with steeds and bucklerād men; By noble Hector, brave as Mars, and led By Jove to victāry, coopād in narrow space; Who now had burnt with fire the Grecian ships, But Juno bade Atrides haste to rouse
Their fainting courage; through the camp he passād; On his broad hand a purple robe he bore, And stood upon Ulyssesā lofty ship,
The midmost, whence to shout to either side, Or to the tents of Ajax Telamon,
Or of Achilles, who at each extreme,
Confiding in their strength, had moorād their ships.
Thence to the Greeks he shouted, loud and clear: āShame on ye, Greeks, base cowards, brave alone In outward semblance! where are now the vaunts Which once (so highly of ourselves we deemād) Ye made, vain-glorious braggarts as ye were, In Lemnosā isle, when, feasting on the flesh Of straight-hornād oxen, and your flowing cups Crowning with ruddy wine, not one of you, But for a hundred Trojans in the field, Or for two hundred, deemād himself a match: Now quail ye all before a single man,
Hector, who soon will wrap our ships in fire.
O Father Jove! what sovāreign eāer hast thou So far deluded, of such glory robbād?
Yet neāer, on this disastrous voyage bent, Have I unheeded passād thine altar by; The choicest offārings burning still on each, In hopes to raze the well-built walls of Troy.
Yet to this prayār at least thine ear incline; Grant that this coast in safety we may leave, Nor be by Trojans utterly subdued.ā
He said; and Jove, with pity, saw his tears; And, with a sign, his peopleās safety vouchād.
He sent an eagle, noblest bird that flies, Who in his talons bore a wild deerās fawn: The fawn he droppād beside the holy shrine, Where to the Lord of divination, Jove, The Greeks were wont their solemn rites to pay.
The sign from Heavān they knew; with courage fresh Assailād the Trojans, and the fight renewād.
Then none of all the many Greeks might boast That he, before Tydides, drove his car Across the ditch, and mingled in the fight.
His was the hand that first a crested chief, The son of Phradmon, Agelaus, struck.
He turnād his car for flight; but as he turnād, The lance of Diomed, behind his neck,
Between the shoulders, through his chest was drivān; Headlong he fell, and loud his armour rang.
Next to Tydides, Agamemnon came,
And Menelaus, Atreusā godlike sons;
Thā Ajaces both, in dauntless courage clothād; Idomeneus, with whom Meriones,
His faithful comrade, terrible as Mars; Eurypylus, Euaemonās noble son;
The ninth was Teucer, who, with bended bow, Behind the shield of Ajax Telamon
Took shelter; Ajax oāer him held his shield; Thence lookād he round, and aimād amid the crowd; And as he saw each Trojan, wounded, fall, Struck by his shafts, to Ajax close he pressād, As to its motherās sheltāring arms a child, Concealād and safe beneath the ample targe.
Say then, who first of all the Trojans fell By Teucerās arrows slain? Orsilochus,
And Ophelestes, Daetor, Ormenus,
And godlike Lycophontes, Chromius,
And Amopaon, Polyaemonās son,
And valiant Melanippus: all of these,
Each after other, Teucer laid in dust.
Him Agamemnon, with his well-strung bow Thinning the Trojan ranks, with joy beheld, And, standing at his side, addressād him thus: āTeucer, good comrade, son of Telamon, Shoot ever thus, if thou wouldst be the light And glory of the Greeks, and of thy sire, Who nursed thine infancy, and in his house Maintainād, though bastard; him, though distant far, To highest fame let thine achievements raise.
This too I say, and will make good my word: If by the grace of aegis-bearing Jove, And Pallas, Iliumās well-built walls we raze, A gift of honour, second but to mine,
I in thy hands will place; a tripod bright, Or, with their car and harness, two brave steeds, Or a fair woman who thy bed may share.ā
To whom in answer valiant Teucer thus: āMost mighty son of Atreus, why excite Who lacks not zeal? To thā utmost of my powār Since first we drove the Trojans back, I watch, Unceasing, every chance to ply my shafts.
Eight barbed arrows have I shot eāen now, And in a warrior each has found its mark; That savage hound alone defeats my aim.ā
At Hector, as he spoke, another shaft
He shot, ambitious of so great a prize: He missād his aim; but Priamās noble son Gorgythion, through the breast his arrow struck, Whom from AEsyme brought, a wedded bride Of heavenly beauty, Castianeira bore.
Down sank his head, as in a garden sinks A ripenād poppy chargād with vernal rains; So sank his head beneath his helmetās weight.
At Hector yet another arrow shot
Teucer, ambitious of so great a prize; Yet this too missād, by Phoebus turnād aside; But Archeptolemus, the charioteer
Of Hector, onward hurrying, through the breast It struck, beside the nipple; from the car He fell; aside the startled horses swervād; And as he fell the vital spirit fled.
Deep, for his comrade slain, was Hectorās grief; Yet him, though grievād at heart, perforce he left, And to Cebriones, his brother, callād, Then near at hand, the horsesā reins to take; He heard, and straight obeyād; then Hector leapād Down from his glittāring chariot to the ground, His fearful war-cry shouting; in his hand A pondārous stone he carried; and, intent To strike him down, at Teucer straight he rushād.
He from his quiver chose a shaft in haste, And fitted to the cord; but as he drew The sinew, Hector of the glancing helm Hurlād the huge mass of rock, which Teucer struck Near to the shoulder, where the collar-bone Joins neck and breast, the spot most opportune, And broke the tendon; paralysād, his arm Droppād helpless by his side; upon his knees He fell, and from his hands let fall the bow.
Not careless Ajax saw his brotherās fall, But oāer him spread in haste his covāring shield.
Two faithful friends, Mecisteus, Echiusā son, And brave Alastor, from the press withdrew, And bore him, deeply groaning, to the ships.
Then Jove again the Trojan courage firād, And backward to the ditch they forcād the Greeks.
Proud of his prowess, Hector led them on; And as a hound that, fleet of foot, oāertakes Or boar or lion, object of his chase,
Springs from behind, and fastens on his flank, Yet careful watches, lest he turn to bay: So Hector pressād upon the long-hairād Greeks, Slaying the hindmost; they in terror fled.
But, passād at length the ditch and palisade, With loss of many by the Trojans slain, Before the ships they rallied from their flight, And one to other callād: and one and all With hands uplifted, prayād to all the Gods; While Hector, here and there, on evāry side His flying coursers wheelād, with eyes that flashād Awful as Gorgonās, or as blood-stainād Mars.
Juno, the white-armād Queen, with pity movād, To Pallas thus her winged words addressād: āO Heavān, brave child of aegis-bearing Jove, Can we, evān now, in this their sorest need, Refuse the Greeks our aid, by one subdued, One single man, of pride unbearable,
Hector, the son of Priam, who eāen now, Hath causād them endless grief?ā To whom again The blue-eyād Goddess, Pallas, thus replied: āI too would fain behold him robbād of life, In his own country slain by Grecian hands; But that my sire, by ill advice misled, Rages in wrath, still thwarting all my plans; Forgetting now how oft his son I savād, Sore wearied with the toils Eurystheus gave.
Oft would his tears ascend to Heavān, and oft From Heavān would Jove despatch me to his aid; But if I then had known what now I know, When to the narrow gates of Plutoās realm He sent him forth to bring from Erebus Its guardian dog, he never had returnād In safety from the marge of Styx profound.
He holds me now in hatred, and his ear To Thetis lends, who kissād his knees, and touchād His beard, and prayād him to avenge her son Achilles; yet the time shall come when I Shall be once more his own dear blue-eyād Maid.
But haste thee now, prepare for us thy car, While to the house of aegis-bearing Jove I go, and don my armour for the fight, To prove if Hector of the glancing helm, The son of Priam, will unmovād behold
Us two advancing oāer the pass of war; Or if the flesh of Trojans, slain by Greeks, Shall sate the maw of ravāning dogs and birds.ā
She said: the white-armād Queen her word obeyād.
Juno, great Goddess, royal Saturnās child, The horses brought, with golden frontlets crownād; While Pallas, child of aegis-bearing Jove, Within her fatherās threshold droppād her veil Of airy texture, work of her own hands; The cuirass donnād of cloud-compelling Jove, And stood accoutred for the bloody fray.
The fiery car she mounted; in her hand A spear she bore, long, weighty, tough; wherewith The mighty daughter of a mighty sire
Sweeps down the ranks of those her wrath pursues.
Then Juno sharply touchād the flying steeds; Forthwith spontaneous opening, grated harsh The heavenly portals, guarded by the Hours, Who Heavān and high Olympus have in charge, To roll aside or close the veil of cloud; Through these thā excited horses held their way.
From Idaās heights the son of Saturn saw, And, fillād with wrath, the heavānly messenger, The golden-winged Iris, thus bespoke:
āHaste thee, swift Iris; turn them back, and warn That farther they advance not: ātis not meet That they and I in war should be opposād.
This too I say, and will make good my words: Their flying horses I will lame; themselves Dash from their car, and break their chariot-wheels; And ten revolving years heal not the wound Where strikes my lightning; so shall Pallas learn What ātis against her father to contend.
Juno less moves my wonder and my wrath; Whateāer I plan, ātis still her wont to thwart.ā
Thus he: from Ida to Olympusā height
The storm-swift Iris on her errand sped.
At many-ridgād Olympusā outer gate
She met the Goddesses, and stayād their course, And thus conveyād the sovāreign will of Jove: āWhither away? what madness fills your breasts?
To give the Greeks your succour, Jove forbids; And thus he threatens, and will make it good: Your flying horses he will lame; yourselves Dash from the car, and break your chariot-wheels; And ten revolving years heal not the wounds His lightning makes: so, Pallas, shalt thou learn What ātis against thy father to contend.
Juno less moves his wonder and his wrath; Whateāer he plans, ātis still her wont to thwart; But overbold and void of shame art thou, If against Jove thou dare to lift thy spear.ā
Thus as she spoke, swift Iris disappearād.
Then Juno thus to Pallas spoke: āNo more, Daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, can we For mortal men his
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