The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) 📗

sov’reign will resist; Live they or die, as each man’s fate may be; While he, ‘twixt Greeks and Trojans, as ‘tis meet, His own designs accomplishing, decides.”

She said, and backward turn’d her horses’ heads.

The horses from the car the Hours unyok’d, And safely tether’d in the heav’nly stalls; The car they rear’d against the inner wall, That brightly polish’d shone; the Goddesses Themselves meanwhile, amid th’ Immortals all, With, sorrowing hearts on golden seats reclin’d.

 

Ere long, on swiftly-rolling chariot borne, Jove to Olympus, to th’ abode of Gods, From Ida’s height return’d: th’ earth-shaking God, Neptune, unyok’d his steeds; and on the stand Secur’d the car, and spread the cov’ring o’er.

Then on his golden throne all-seeing Jove Sat down; beneath his feet Olympus shook.

Juno and Pallas only sat aloof;

No word they utter’d, no enquiry made.

Jove knew their thoughts, and thus address’d them both: “Pallas and Juno, wherefore sit ye thus In angry silence? In the glorious fight No lengthen’d toil have ye sustain’d, to slay The Trojans, whom your deadly hate pursues.

Not all the Gods that on Olympus dwell Could turn me from my purpose, such my might, And such the pow’r of my resistless hand; But ye were struck with terror ere ye saw The battle-field, and fearful deeds of war.

But this I say, and bear it in your minds, Had I my lightning launch’d, and from your car Had hurl’d ye down, ye ne’er had reach’d again Olympus’ height, th’ immortal Gods’ abode.”

 

So spoke the God; but, seated side by side, Juno and Pallas glances interchang’d

Of ill portent for Troy; Pallas indeed Sat silent, and, though inly wroth with Jove, Yet answer’d not a word; but Juno’s breast Could not contain her rage, and thus she spoke: “What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak?

Well do we know thy pow’r invincible,

Yet deeply grieve we for the warlike Greeks, Condemn’d to hopeless ruin: from the fight, Since such is thy command, we stand aloof; But yet some saving counsel may we give, Lest in thine anger thou destroy them quite.”

 

To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Yet greater slaughter, stag-ey’d Queen of Heav’n, To-morrow shalt thou see, if so thou list, Wrought on the warrior Greeks by Saturn’s son; For Hector’s proud career shall not be check’d Until the wrath of Peleus’ godlike son Beside the ships be kindled, in the day When round Patroclus’ corpse, in narrow space, E’en by the vessels’ sterns, the war shall rage.

Such is the voice of destiny: for thee, I reck not of thy wrath; nor should I care Though thou wert thrust beneath the lowest deep Of earth and ocean, where Iapetus

And Saturn lie, uncheer’d by ray of sun Or breath of air, in Tartarus profound.

Though there thou wert to banishment consign’d, I should not heed, but thy reproaches hear Unmov’d; for viler thing is none than thou.”

He said, but white-arm’d Juno answer’d not.

 

The sun, now sunk beneath the ocean wave, Drew o’er the teeming earth the veil of night.

The Trojans saw, reluctant, day’s decline; But on the Greeks thrice welcome, thrice invoked With earnest prayers, the shades of darkness fell.

 

The noble Hector then to council call’d The Trojan leaders; from the ships apart He led them, by the eddying river’s side, To a clear space of ground, from corpses free.

They from their cars dismounting, to the words Of godlike Hector listen’d: in his hand His massive spear he held, twelve cubits long, Whose glitt’ring point flash’d bright, with hoop of gold Encircled round; on this he leant, and said, “Hear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and Allies; I hop’d that to the breezy heights of Troy We might ere now in triumph have return’d, The Grecian ships and all the Greeks destroy’d: But night hath come too soon, and sav’d awhile The Grecian army and their stranded ships.

Then yield we to the night; prepare the meal; Unyoke your horses, and before them place Their needful forage; from the city bring Oxen and sheep; the luscious wine provide; Bring bread from out our houses; and collect Good store of fuel, that the livelong night, E’en till the dawn of day, may broadly blaze Our num’rous watchfires, and illume the Heav’ns; Lest, e’en by night, the long-hair’d Greeks should seek O’er the broad bosom of the sea to fly, That so not unassail’d they may embark, Nor undisturb’d; but haply some may bear, E’en to their homes, the mem’ry of a wound Receiv’d from spear or arrow, as on board They leap’d in haste; and others too may fear To tempt with hostile arms the pow’r of Troy.

Then let the sacred heralds’ voice proclaim Throughout the city, that the stripling youths And hoary-headed sires allot themselves In sev’ral watches to the Heav’n-built tow’rs.

Charge too the women, in their houses each, To kindle blazing fires; let careful watch Be set, lest, in the absence of the men, The town by secret ambush be surpris’d.

Such, valiant Trojans, is th’ advice I give; And what to-night your wisdom shall approve Will I, at morn, before the Trojans speak.

Hopeful, to Jove I pray, and all the Gods, To chase from hence these fate-inflicted hounds, By fate sent hither on their dark-ribb’d ships.

Now keep we through the night our watchful guard; And with the early dawn, equipp’d in arms, Upon their fleet our angry battle pour.

Then shall I know if Tydeus’ valiant son Back from the ships shall drive me to the walls, Or I, triumphant, bear his bloody spoils: To-morrow morn his courage will decide, If he indeed my onset will await.

But ere to-morrow’s sun be high in Heav’n, He, ‘mid the foremost, if I augur right, Wounded and bleeding in the dust shall lie, And many a comrade round him. Would to Heav’n I were as sure to be from age and death Exempt, and held in honour as a God,

Phoebus, or Pallas, as I am assur’d

The coming day is fraught with ill to Greece.”

 

Thus Hector spoke; the Trojans shouted loud: Then from the yoke the sweating steeds they loos’d, And tether’d each beside their sev’ral cars: Next from the city speedily they brought Oxen and sheep; the luscious wine procur’d; Brought bread from out their houses, and good store Of fuel gather’d; wafted from the plain, The winds to Heav’n the sav’ry odours bore.

Full of proud hopes, upon the pass of war, All night they camp’d; and frequent blaz’d their fires.

 

As when in Heav’n, around the glitt’ring moon The stars shine bright amid the breathless air; And ev’ry crag, and ev’ry jutting peak Stands boldly forth, and ev’ry forest glade; Ev’n to the gates of Heav’n is open’d wide The boundless sky; shines each particular star Distinct; joy fills the gazing shepherd’s heart.

So bright, so thickly scatter’d o’er the plain, Before the walls of Troy, between the ships And Xanthus’ stream, the Trojan watchfires blaz’d.

 

A thousand fires burnt brightly; and round each Sat fifty warriors in the ruddy glare; Champing the provender before them laid, Barley and rye, the tether’d horses stood Beside the cars, and waited for the morn.

 

ARGUMENT.

 

THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES.

 

Agamemnon, after the last day’s defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit the siege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this, and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to be strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what meabures were to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor farther prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles in order to move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are make choice of, who are accompanied by old Phoenix. They make, each of them, very moving and pressing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who notwithstanding retains Phoenix in his tent. The ambassadors return unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep.

 

This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on the seashore, the station of the Grecian ships.

 

BOOK IX.

 

Thus kept their watch, the Trojans; but the Greeks Dire Panic held, companion of chill Fear, Their bravest struck with grief unbearable.

As when two stormy winds ruffle the sea, Boreas and Zephyr, from the hills of Thrace With sudden gust descending; the dark waves Rear high their angry crests, and toss on shore Masses of tangled weed; such stormy grief The breast of ev’ry Grecian warrior rent.

 

Atrides, heart-struck, wander’d to and fro, And to the clear-voic’d heralds gave command To call, but not with proclamation loud, Each sev’ral man to council; he himself Spar’d not his labour, mixing with the chiefs.

Sadly they sat in council; Atreus’ son, Weeping, arose; as some dark-water’d fount Pours o’er a craggy steep its gloomy stream; Then with deep groans th’ assembled Greeks address’d: “O friends! the chiefs and councillors of Greece, Grievous, and all unlook’d for, is the blow Which Jove hath dealt me; by his promise led I hop’d to raze the strong-built walls of Troy, And home return in safety; but it seems He falsifies his word, and bids me now Return to Argos, frustrate of my hope, Dishonour’d, and with grievous loss of men.

Such now appears th’ o’erruling sov’reign will Of Saturn’s son, who oft hath sunk the heads Of many a lofty city in the dust,

And yet will sink; for mighty is his hand.

Hear then my counsel; let us all agree Home to direct our course: since here in vain We strive to take the well-built walls of Troy.”

 

The monarch spoke; they all in silence heard: In speechless sorrow long they sat: at length Rose valiant Diomed, and thus he spoke: “Atrides, I thy folly must confront,

As is my right, in council: thou, O King!

Be not offended: once, among the Greeks Thou heldest light my prowess, with the name Of coward branding me; how justly so

Is known to all the Greeks, both young and old.

On thee the deep-designing Saturn’s son In diff’ring measure hath his gifts bestow’d: A throne he gives thee, higher far than all; But valour, noblest boon of Heav’n, denies.

How canst thou hope the sons of Greece shall prove Such heartless dastards as thy words suppose?

If homeward to return thy mind be fix’d, Depart; the way is open, and the ships, Which from Mycenae follow’d thee in crowds, Are close at hand, and ready to be launch’d.

Yet will the other long-hair’d Greeks remain Till Priam’s city fall: nay, though the rest Betake them to their ships, and sail for home, Yet I and Sthenelus, we two, will fight Till Troy be ours; for Heav’n is on our side.”

 

Thus he; the sons of Greece, with loud applause, The speech of valiant Diomed confirm’d.

 

Then aged Nestor rose, and thus began: “Tydides, eminent thou art in war;

And In the council thy compeers in age Must yield to thee; thy present words, no Greek Can censure, or gainsay; and yet the end Thou hast not reach’d, and object of debate.

But thou art young, and for thine age mightst be My latest born; yet dost thou to the Kings Sage counsel give, and well in season speak.

But now will I, that am thine elder far, Go fully through the whole; and none my words May disregard, not ev’n Atrides’ self.

Outcast from kindred, law, and hearth is he Whose soul delights in fierce internal strife.

But yield we now to th’ influence of night: Prepare the meal; and let the sev’ral guards Be posted by the ditch, without the wall.

This duty on the younger