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

the plague.”

 

Thus, as he pray’d, his pray’r Apollo heard.

Their pray’rs concluded, and the salt cake strew’d Upon the victims’ heads, they drew them back, And slew, and flay’d; then cutting from the thighs The choicest pieces, and in double layers O’erspreading them with fat, above them plac’d The due meat-off’rings; then the aged priest The cleft wood kindled, and libations pour’d Of ruddy wine; arm’d with the five-fork’d prongs Th’ attendant ministers beside him stood.

The thighs consum’d with fire, the inward parts They tasted first; the rest upon the spits Roasted with care, and from the fire withdrew.

Their labours ended, and the feast prepar’d, They shared the social meal, nor lacked there aught.

The rage of thirst and hunger satisfied, Th’ attendant youths the flowing goblets crown’d, And in fit order serv’d the cups to all.

All day they sought the favour of the God, The glorious paeans chanting, and the praise Of Phoebus: he, well pleas’d, the strain receiv’d But when the sun was set, and shades of night O’erspread the sky, upon the sandy beach Close to their ship they laid them down to rest.

And when the rosy-finger’d morn appear’d, Back to the camp they took their homeward way A fav’ring breeze the Far-destroyer sent: They stepp’d the mast, and spread the snowy sail: Full in the midst the bellying sail receiv’d The gallant breeze; and round the vessel’s prow The dark waves loudly roar’d, as on she rush’d Skimming the seas, and cut her wat’ry way.

Arriv’d where lay the wide-spread host of Greece, Their dark-ribb’d vessel on the beach they drew High on the sand, and strongly shor’d her up; Then through the camp they took their sev’ral ways.

 

Meantime, beside the ships Achilles sat, The Heav’n-born son of Peleus, swift of foot, Chafing with rage repress’d; no more he sought The honour’d council, nor the battle-field; But wore his soul away, and inly pin’d For the fierce joy and tumult of the fight.

But when the twelfth revolving day was come, Back to Olympus’ heights th’ immortal Gods, Jove at their head, together all return’d.

Then Thetis, mindful of her son’s request, Rose from the ocean wave, and sped in haste To high Olympus, and the courts of Heav’n.

Th’ all-seeing son of Saturn there she found Sitting apart upon the topmost crest

Of many-ridg’d Olympus; at his feet

She sat, and while her left hand clasp’d his knees, Her right approached his beard, and suppliant thus She made her pray’r to Saturn’s royal son: “Father, if e’er amid th’ immortal Gods By word or deed I did thee service true, Hear now my pray’r! Avenge my hapless son, Of mortals shortest-liv’d, insulted now By mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

And plunder’d of his lawful spoils of war.

But Jove, Olympian, Lord of counsel, Thou Avenge his cause; and give to Trojan arms Such strength and pow’r, that Greeks may learn how much They need my son, and give him honour due.”

 

She said: the Cloud-compeller answer’d not, But silent sat; then Thetis clasp’d his knees, And hung about him, and her suit renew’d: “Give me thy promise sure, thy gracious nod, Or else refuse (for thou hast none to fear), That I may learn, of all th’ immortal Gods, How far I stand the lowest in thine eyes.”

 

Then, much disturb’d, the Cloud-compeller spoke: “Sad work thou mak’st, in bidding me oppose My will to Juno’s, when her bitter words Assail me; for full oft amid the Gods

She taunts me, that I aid the Trojan cause.

But thou return, that Juno see thee not, And leave to me the furth’rance of thy suit.

Lo, to confirm thy faith, I nod my head; And well among th’ immortal Gods is known The solemn import of that pledge from me: For ne’er my promise shall deceive, or fail, Or be recall’d, if with a nod confirm’d.”

 

He said, and nodded with his shadowy brows; Wav’d on th’ immortal head th’ ambrosial locks, And all Olympus trembled at his nod.

They parted thus: from bright Olympus’ heights The Goddess hasted to her ocean-caves, Jove to his palace; at his entrance all Rose from their seats at once; not one presum’d To wait his coming, but advanc’d to meet.

Then on his throne he sat; but not unmark’d Of Juno’s eye had been the council held In secret with the silver-footed Queen, The daughter of the aged Ocean-God;

And with sharp words she thus addressed her Lord: “Tell me, deceiver, who was she with whom Thou late held’st council? ever ‘tis thy way Apart from me to weave thy secret schemes, Nor dost thou freely share with me thy mind.”

 

To whom the Sire of Gods and men replied: “Expect not, Juno, all my mind to know; My wife thou art, yet would such knowledge be Too much for thee; whate’er I deem it fit That thou shouldst know, nor God nor man shall hear Before thee; but what I in secret plan, Seek not to know, nor curiously inquire.”

 

Whom answer’d thus the stag-ey’d Queen of Heav’n: “What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak?

Ne’er have I sought, or now, or heretofore, Thy secret thoughts to know; what thou think’st fit To tell, I wait thy gracious will to hear.

Yet fear I in my soul thou art beguil’d By wiles of Thetis, silver-footed Queen, The daughter of the aged Ocean-God;

For she was with thee early, and embrac’d Thy knees, and has, I think, thy promise sure, Thou wilt avenge Achilles’ cause, and bring Destructive slaughter on the Grecian host.”

 

To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Presumptuous, to thy busy thoughts thou giv’st Too free a range, and watchest all I do; Yet shalt thou not prevail, but rather thus Be alien’d from my heart—the worse for thee!

If this be so, it is my sov’reign will.

But now, keep silence, and my words obey, Lest all th’ Immortals fail, if I be wroth, To rescue thee from my resistless hand.”

 

He said, and terror seiz’d the stag-ey’d Queen: Silent she sat, curbing her spirit down, And all the Gods in pitying sorrow mourn’d.

Vulcan, the skill’d artificer, then first Broke silence, and with soothing words address’d His mother, Juno, white-arm’d Queen of Heav’n: “Sad were’t, indeed, and grievous to be borne, If for the sake of mortal men you two

Should suffer angry passions to arise, And kindle broils in Heav’n; so should our feast By evil influence all its sweetness lack.

Let me advise my mother (and I know

That her own reason will my words approve) To speak my father fair; lest he again Reply in anger, and our banquet mar.

For Jove, the lightning’s Lord, if such his will, Might hurl us from our seats (so great his pow’r), But thou address him still with gentle words; So shall his favour soon again be ours.”

 

This said, he rose, and in his mother’s hand A double goblet plac’d, as thus he spoke: “Have patience, mother mine! though much enforc’d, Restrain thy spirit, lest perchance these eyes, Dear as thou art, behold thee brought to shame; And I, though griev’d in heart, be impotent To save thee; for ‘tis hard to strive with Jove.

When to thy succour once before I came, He seiz’d me by the foot, and hurl’d me down From Heav’n’s high threshold; all the day I fell, And with the setting sun, on Lemnos’ isle Lighted, scarce half alive; there was I found, And by the Sintian people kindly nurs’d.”

 

Thus as he spoke, the white-armed Goddess smil’d, And, smiling, from, his hand receiv’d the cup, Then to th’ Immortals all, in order due, He minister’d, and from the flagon pour’d The luscious nectar; while among the Gods Rose laughter irrepressible, at sight

Of Vulcan hobbling round the spacious hall.

 

Thus they till sunset pass’d the festive hours; Nor lack’d the banquet aught to please the sense, Nor sound of tuneful lyre, by Phoebus touch’d, Nor Muses’ voice, who in alternate strains Responsive sang: but when the sun had set, Each to his home departed, where for each The crippled Vulcan, matchless architect, With wondrous skill a noble house had rear’d.

 

To his own couch, where he was wont of old, When overcome by gentle sleep, to rest, Olympian Jove ascended; there he slept, And, by his side, the golden-throned Queen.

 

ARGUMENT.

 

THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY AND CATALOGUE OF THE FORCES.

 

Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a deceitful vision to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the army to battle in order to make the Greeks sensible of their want of Achilles. The general, who is deluded with the hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army was discouraged by his absence and the late plague, as well as by length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposition by a stratagem. He first communicates his design to the princes in council that he would propose a return to the soldiers, and that they should put a stop to them if the proposal was embraced. Then he assembles the whole host, and upon moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to it, and run to prepare the ships. They are detained by the management of Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Thersites. The assembly is recalled, several speeches made on the occasion, and at length the advice of Nestor followed, which was to make a general muster of the troops, and to divide them into their several nations, before they proceeded to battle. This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate all the forces of the Greeks and Trojans, in a large catalogue.

 

The time employed in this book consists not entirely of one day. The scene lies in the Grecian camp and upon the seashore; toward the end it removes to Troy.

 

BOOK II.

 

All night in sleep repos’d the other Gods, And helmed warriors; but the eyes of Jove Sweet slumber held not, pondering in his mind How to avenge Achilles’ cause, and pour Destructive slaughter on the Grecian host.

Thus as he mus’d, the wisest course appear’d By a deluding vision to mislead

The son of Atreus; and with winged words Thus to a phantom form he gave command: “Hie thee, deluding Vision, to the camp And ships of Greece, to Agamemnon’s tent; There, changing nought, as I command thee, speak.

Bid that he arm in haste the long-hair’d Greeks To combat; for the wide-built streets of Troy He now may capture; since th’ immortal Gods Watch over her no longer; all are gain’d By Juno’s pray’rs; and woes impend o’er Troy.”

 

He said: the Vision heard, and straight obey’d: Swiftly he sped, and reached the Grecian ships, And sought the son of Atreus; him he found Within his tent, wrapped in ambrosial sleep; Above his head he stood, like Neleus’ son, Nestor, whom Agamemnon rev’renc’d most Of all the Elders; in his likeness cloth’d Thus spoke the heav’nly Vision; “Sleep’st thou, son Of Atreus, valiant warrior, horseman bold?

To sleep all night but ill becomes a chief, Charg’d with the public weal, and cares of state.

Hear now the words I bear; to thee I come A messenger from Jove, who from on high Looks down on thee with eyes of pitying love.

He bids thee arm in haste the long-hair’d Greeks To combat; since the wide-built streets of Troy Thou now mayst capture; for th’ immortal Gods Watch over her no longer; all are gain’d By Juno’s pray’rs; and woes impend o’er Troy.

Bear this in mind; and when from sleep arous’d Let not my words from thy remembrance fade.”

This said, he vanish’d; and the monarch left, Inspir’d with thoughts which ne’er should come to