The Iliad - Homer (read more books TXT) 📗

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In front, a dragon in the hinder parts,
And in the midst a goat, and terribly
Her nostrils breathed a fierce, consuming flame;
Yet, trusting in the portents of the gods,
He slew her. Then it was his second task
To combat with the illustrious Solymi⁠—
The hardest battle he had ever fought⁠—
So he declared⁠—with men; and then he slew⁠—
His third exploit⁠—the man-like Amazons.
Then he returned to Lycia; on his way
The monarch laid a treacherous snare. He chose
From his wide Lycian realm the bravest men
To lie in ambush for him. Never one
Of these came home again⁠—Bellerophon
The matchless slew them all. And when the king
Saw that he was the offspring of a god,
He kept him near him, giving him to wife
His daughter, and dividing with him all
His kingly honors, while the Lycians set
Their richest fields apart⁠—a goodly spot,
Ploughlands and vineyards⁠—for the prince to till.
And she who now became his wife brought forth
Three children to the sage Bellerophon⁠—
Isandrus and Hippolochus; and, last,
Laodameia, who in secret bore
To all-providing Jupiter a son⁠—
Godlike Sarpedon, eminent in arms.
But when Bellerophon upon himself
Had drawn the anger of the gods, he roamed
The Alcian fields alone, a prey to thoughts
That wasted him, and shunning every haunt
Of humankind. The god whose lust of strife
Is never sated, Mars, cut off his son
Isandrus, warring with the illustrious race
Of Solymi; and Dian, she who guides
Her car with golden reins, in anger slew
His daughter. I am of Hippolochus;
From him I claim my birth. He sent me forth
To Troy with many counsels and commands,
Ever to bear myself like a brave man,
And labor to excel, and never bring
Dishonor on the stock from which I sprang⁠—
The bravest stock by far in Ephyra
And the wide realm of Lycia. ’Tis my boast
To be of such a race and such a blood.”

He spake. The warlike Diomed was glad,
And, planting in the foodful earth his spear,
Addressed the people’s shepherd blandly thus:⁠—

“Most surely thou art my ancestral guest;
For noble Oeneus once within his halls
Received the blameless chief Bellerophon,
And kept him twenty days, and they bestowed
Gifts on each other, such as host and guest
Exchange; a purple baldric Oeneus gave
Of dazzling color, and Bellerophon
A double golden goblet; this I left
Within my palace when I came to Troy.
Of Tydeus I remember nothing, since
He left me, yet a little child, and went
To Thebes, where perished such a host of Greeks.
Henceforward I will be thy host and friend
In Argos; thou shalt be the same to me
In Lycia when I visit Lycia’s towns;
And let us in the tumult of the fray
Avoid each other’s spears, for there will be
Of Trojans and of their renowned allies
Enough for me to slay whene’er a god
Shall bring them in my way. In turn for thee
Are many Greeks to smite whomever thou
Canst overcome. Let us exchange our arms,
That even these may see that thou and I
Regard each other as ancestral guests.”

Thus having said, and leaping from their cars,
They clasped each other’s hands and pledged their faith.
Then did the son of Saturn take away
The judging mind of Glaucus, when he gave
His arms of gold away for arms of brass
Worn by Tydides Diomed⁠—the worth
Of fivescore oxen for the worth of nine.

And now had Hector reached the Scaean gates
And beechen tree. Around him flocked the wives
And daughters of the Trojans eagerly;
Tidings of sons and brothers they required,
And friends and husbands. He admonished all
Duly to importune the gods in prayer,
For woe, he said, was near to many a one.

And then he came to Priam’s noble hall⁠—
A palace built with graceful porticos,
And fifty chambers near each other, walled
With polished stone, the rooms of Priam’s sons
And of their wives; and opposite to these
Twelve chambers for his daughters, also near
Each other; and, with polished marble walls,
The sleeping-rooms of Priam’s sons-in-law
And their unblemished consorts. There he met
His gentle mother on her way to seek
Her fairest child, Laodice. She took
His hand and held it fast, while thus she spake:⁠—

“Why art thou come, my child, and why hast left
The raging fight? Full hard these hateful Greeks
Press us, in fighting round the city-walls.
Thy heart, I know, hath moved thee to repair
To our high citadel, and lift thy hands
In prayer to Jupiter. But stay thou here
Till I bring pleasant wine, that thou mayst pour
A part to Jove and to the other gods,
And drink and be refreshed; for wine restores
Strength to the weary, and I know that thou
Art weary, fighting for thy countrymen.”

Great Hector of the crested helm replied:⁠—
“My honored mother, bring not pleasant wine,
Lest that unman me, and my wonted might
And valor leave me. I should fear to pour
Dark wine to Jupiter with hands unwashed.
Nor is it fitting that a man like me,
Defiled with blood and battle-dust, should make
Vows to the cloud-compeller, Saturn’s son.
But thou, with incense, seek the temple reared
To Pallas the despoiler⁠—calling first
Our honored dames together. Take with thee
What thou shalt deem the fairest of the robes,
And amplest, in thy palace, and the one
Thou prizest most, and lay it on the knees
Of the bright-haired Minerva. Make a vow
To offer to the goddess in her fane
Twelve yearling heifers that have never borne
The yoke, if she in mercy will regard
The city, and the wives and little ones
Of its defenders; if she will protect
Our sacred Ilium from the ruthless son
Of Tydeus, from whose valor armies flee.
So to the shrine of Pallas, warrior-queen,
Do thou repair, while I depart to seek
Paris, if he will listen to my voice.
Would that the earth might open where he stands,
And swallow him! Olympian Jupiter
Reared him to be the bane of all who dwell
In Troy, to large-souled Priam and his sons.
Could I behold him sinking to the shades,
My heart would lose its sense of bitter woe.”

He spake. His mother, turning homeward, gave
Charge to her handmaids, who through all the town
Passed, summoning the matrons, while the queen
Descended to her chamber, where the air
Was sweet with perfumes, and in which were laid
Her rich embroidered robes, the handiwork
Of Sidon’s damsels, whom her son had brought⁠—
The godlike Alexander⁠—from the coast
Of Sidon, when across the mighty deep
He sailed and brought the high born Helen thence.
One robe, most beautiful of all, she chose,
To bring to Pallas, ampler than the rest,
And many-hued; it glistened like a star,
And