The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) š
- Author: Homer
- Performer: -
Book online Ā«The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) šĀ». Author Homer
Three daughters fair are his, Chrysothemis, Iphianassa, and Laodice;
Of these whicheāer thou wilt, to Peleusā house, No portion askād for, thou shalt take to wife; And with her will he add such wedding gifts, As never man before to daughter gave.
Sevān prospārous towns besides; Cardamyle, And Enope, and Iraās grassy plains,
And Pherae, and Antheiaās pastures deep, AEpeia fair, and vine-clad Pedasus;
All by the sea, by sandy Pylosā bounds.
The dwellers there in flocks and herds are rich, And, as a God, will honour thee with gifts, And to thy sceptre ample tribute pay.
All these he gives, so thou thy wrath remit.
But if thou hold Atrides in such hate, Him and his gifts, yet let thy pity rest On all the other Greeks, thus sore bested; By whom thou shalt be honourād as a God: For great the triumph that thou now mayst gain; Eāen Hectorās self is now within thy reach; For he is near at hand; and in his pride And martial fury deems that none, of all Our ships contain, can rival him in arms.ā
Whom answerād thus Achilles, swift of foot: āHeavān-born Ulysses, sage in council, son Of great Laertes, I must frankly speak My mind at once, my fixād resolve declare: That from henceforth I may not by the Greeks, By this man and by that, be importunād.
Him as the gates of hell my soul abhors, Whose outward words his secret thoughts belie, Hear then what seems to me the wisest course.
On me nor Agamemnon, Atreusā son,
Nor others shall prevail, since nought is gainād By toil unceasing in the battle field.
Who nobly fight, but share with those who skulk; Like honours gain the coward and the brave; Alike the idlers and the active die:
And nought it profits me, though day by day In constant toil I set my life at stake; But as a bird, though ill she fare herself, Brings to her callow brood the food she takes, So I through many a sleepless night have lain, And many a bloody day have labourād through, Engagād in battle on your wivesā behalf.
Twelve cities have I taken with my ships; Eleven more by land, on Trojan soil:
From all of these abundant stores of wealth I took, and all to Agamemnon gave;
He, safe beside his ships, my spoils receivād, A few divided, but the most retainād.
To other chiefs and Kings he meted out Their sevāral portions, and they hold them still; From me, from me alone of all the Greeks, He bore away, and keeps my cherishād wife; Well! let him keep her, solace of his bed!
But say then, why do Greeks with Trojans fight?
Why hath Atrides brought this mighty host To Troy, if not in fair-hairād Helenās cause?
Of mortals are there none that love their wives, Save Atreusā sons alone? or do not all, Who boast the praise of sense and virtue, love And cherish each his own? as her I lovād Eāen from my soul, though captive of my spear.
Now, since he once hath robbād me, and deceivād, Let him not seek my aid; I know him now, And am not to be won; let him devise,
With thee, Ulysses, and the other Kings, How best from hostile fires to save his ships.
He hath completed many mighty works
Without my aid; hath built a lofty wall, And dug a trench around it, wide and deep, And in the trench hath fixād a palisade; Nor so the warrior-slayer Hectorās might Can keep in check; while I was in the field, Not far without the walls would Hector range His line of battle, nor beyond the Oak And Scaean gates would venture; there indeed He once presumād to meet me, hand to hand, And from my onset narrowly escapād.
But as with Hector now no more I fight, To-morrow morn, my offārings made to Jove, And all the Gods, and freighted well my ships, And launchād upon the main, thyself shall see, If that thou care to see, my vessels spread Oāer the broad bosom of the Hellespont, My lusty crews plying the vigārous oar; And if thā Earth-shaker send a favāring breeze, Three days will bear us home to Phthiaās shore.
There did I leave abundant store of wealth, When hitherward I took my luckless way; Thither from hence I bear, of ruddy gold, And brass, and women fair, and iron hoar The share assignād me; but my chiefest prize The monarch Agamemnon, Atreusā son,
Himself who gave, with insult takes away.
To him then speak aloud the words I send, That all may know his crimes, if yet he hope Some other Greek by treachārous wiles to cheat, Clothād as he is in shamelessness! my glance, All brazen as he is, he dare not meet.
I share no more his counsels, nor his acts; He hath deceivād me once, and wrongād; again He shall not cozen me! Of him, enough!
I pass him by, whom Jove hath robbād of sense.
His gifts I loathe, and spurn; himself I hold At a hairās worth; and would he proffer me Tenfold or twentyfold of all he has,
Or ever may be his; or all the gold
Sent to Orchomenos or royal Thebes,
Egyptian, treasurehouse of countless wealth, Who boasts her hundred gates, through each of which With horse and car two hundred warriors march: Nay, were his gifts in number as the sand, Or dust upon the plain, yet neāer will I By Agamemnon be prevailād upon,
Till I have paid him back my heartās offence.
Nor eāer of Agamemnon, Atreusā son,
Will I a daughter wed; not were she fair As golden Venus, and in works renownād As Pallas, blue-eyād Maid, yet her eāen so I wed not; let him choose some other Greek, Some fitting match, of nobler blood than mine.
But should the Gods in safety bring me home, At Peleusā hands I may receive a wife; And Greece can boast of many a lovely maid, In Hellas or in Phthia, daughters fair Of chiefs who hold their native fortresses: Of these, at will, a wife I may select: And ofttimes hath my warlike soul inclinād To take a wedded wife, a fitting bride, And aged Peleusā wealth in peace enjoy.
For not the stores which Troy, they say, containād In peaceful times, ere came the sons of Greece, Nor all the treasures which Apolloās shrine, The Archer-God, in rock-built Pythos holds, May weigh with life; of oxen and of sheep Successful forays may good store provide; And tripods may be gainād, and noble steeds: But when the breath of man hath passād his lips, Nor strength nor foray can the loss repair.
I by my Goddess-mother have been warnād, The silver-footed Thetis, that oāer me A double chance of destiny impends:
If here remaining, round the walls of Troy I wage the war, I neāer shall see my home, But then undying glory shall be mine:
If I return, and see my native land,
My glory all is gone; but length of life Shall then be mine, and death be long deferrād.
If others askād my counsel, I should say, āHomeward direct your course; of lofty Troy Ye see not yet the end; all-seeing Jove Oāer her extends his hand; on him relying Her people all with confidence are fillād.ā
Go then; my answer to the chiefs of Greece Speak boldlyāsuch the privilege of ageā
Bid that some better counsel they devise To save their ships and men; their present scheme, My anger unappeasād, avails them nought.
But Phoenix here shall stay, and sleep to-night; And with the morrow he with me shall sail And seek our native land, if so he will: For not by force will I remove him hence.ā
He said; they all, confounded by his words, In silence heard; so sternly did he speak.
At length, in tears, the aged Phoenix spoke, For greatly fearād he for the ships of Greece: āIf, great Achilles, on returning home Thy mind is set, nor canst thou be inducād To save the ships from fire, so fierce thy wrath; How then, dear boy, can I remain behind, Alone? whom with thee aged Peleus sent, That day when he in Agamemnonās cause
From Phthia sent thee, inexperiencād yet In all the duties of confedārate war,
And sage debate, on which attends renown.
Me then he sent, instructor of thy youth, To prompt thy language, and thine acts to guide.
So not from thee, dear boy, can I consent To part, though Heavān should undertake my age To prompt thy language, and thine acts to guide.
So not from thee, dear boy, can I consent To part, though Heavān should undertake my age To wipe away, and vigārous youth restore, Such as I boasted, when from Greece I fled Before my angry sire, Amyntor, son
Of Ormenus; a fair-hairād concubine
Cause of the quarrel; her my father lovād, And by her love estrangād, despisād his wife, My mother; oft she prayād me to seduce, To vex thā old man, my fatherās concubine; I yielded; he, suspecting, on my head
A curse invokād, and on the Furies callād His curse to witness, that upon his knees No child, by me begotten, eāer should sit: His curse the Gods have heard, and ratified, Thā infernal King, and awful Proserpine.
Then would I fain have slain him with the sword, Had not some God my rising fury quellād, And set before my mind the public voice, The odium I should have to bear āmid Greeks, If branded with the name of patricide.
But longer in my angry fatherās house
To dwell, my spirit brookād not, though my friends And kinsmen all besought me to remain; And many a goodly sheep, and many a steer They slew, and many swine, with fat oāerlaid, They singād, and roasted oāer the burning coals; And drank in many a cup the old manās wine.
Nine nights they kept me in continual watch, By turns relieving guards. The fires meanwhile Burnt constant: one beneath the porch that facād The well-fencād court; one in the vestibule Before my chamber door. The tenth dark night My chamberās closely-fitting doors I broke, And lightly vaulted oāer the court-yard fence, By guards alike and servant maids unmarkād.
Through all the breadth of Hellas then I fled, Until at length to Phthiaās fruitful soil, Mother of flocks, to Peleusā realm I came, Who kindly welcomād me, and with such love As to his only son, his well-belovād,
A father shows, his genārous gifts bestowād.
He gave me wealth, he gave me ample rule; And on the bounds of Phthia bade me dwell, And oāer the Dolopes hold sovāreign sway.
Thee too, Achilles, rival of the Gods, Such, as thou art I made thee; from my soul I lovād thee; nor wouldst thou with others go Or to the meal, or in the house be fed, Till on my knee thou sattāst, and by my hand Thy food were cut, the cup were tenderād thee; And often, in thy childish helplessness.
The bosom of my dress with wine was drenchād; Such care I had of thee, such pains I took, Remembāring that by Heavānās decree, no son Of mine I eāer might see; then thee I made, Achilles, rival of the Gods, my son,
That thou mightst be the guardian of mine age.
But thou, Achilles, curb thy noble rage; A heart implacable beseems thee not.
The Gods themselves, in virtue, honour, strength, Excelling thee, may yet be mollified;
For they, when mortals have transgressād, or failād To do aright, by sacrifice and prayār, Libations and burnt-offārings, may be soothād.
Prayārs are the daughters of immortal Jove; But halt, and wrinkled, and of feeble sight, They plod in Ateās track; while Ate, strong And swift of foot, outstrips their laggard
Comments (0)