The Iliad, Homer [short books for teens TXT] 📗
- Author: Homer
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Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes, There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods, Show’d the celestial blood, and with a groan Thus pour’d his plaints before the immortal throne: “Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey, And brook the furies of this daring day?
For mortal men celestial powers engage, And gods on gods exert eternal rage:
From thee, O father! all these ills we bear, And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear; Thou gavest that fury to the realms of light, Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right.
All heaven beside reveres thy sovereign sway, Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: ‘Tis hers to offend, and even offending share Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish’d care: So boundless she, and thou so partial grown, Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy own.
Now frantic Diomed, at her command,
Against the immortals lifts his raging hand: The heavenly Venus first his fury found, Me next encountering, me he dared to wound; Vanquish’d I fled; even I, the god of fight, From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight.
Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain, Heap’d round, and heaving under loads of slain!
Or pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie, Condemn’d to pain, though fated not to die.”
Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look The lord of thunders view’d, and stern bespoke: “To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain?
Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain?
Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes!
Inhuman discord is thy dire delight,
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight.
No bounds, no law, thy fiery temper quells, And all thy mother in thy soul rebels.
In vain our threats, in vain our power we use; She gives the example, and her son pursues.
Yet long the inflicted pangs thou shall not mourn, Sprung since thou art from Jove, and heavenly-born.
Else, singed with lightning, hadst thou hence been thrown, Where chain’d on burning rocks the Titans groan.”
Thus he who shakes Olympus with his nod; Then gave to Paeon’s care the bleeding god. [120]
With gentle hand the balm he pour’d around, And heal’d the immortal flesh, and closed the wound.
As when the fig’s press’d juice, infused in cream, To curds coagulates the liquid stream,
Sudden the fluids fix the parts combined; Such, and so soon, the ethereal texture join’d.
Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair Hebe dress’d His mighty limbs in an immortal vest.
Glorious he sat, in majesty restored,
Fast by the throne of heaven’s superior lord.
Juno and Pallas mount the bless’d abodes, Their task perform’d, and mix among the gods.
{Illustration: JUNO.}
BOOK VI.
ARGUMENT.
THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple of Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle relaxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an interview between the two armies; where, coming to the knowledge, of the friendship and hospitality passed between their ancestors, they make exchange of their arms. Hector, having performed the orders of Helenus, prevails upon Paris to return to the battle, and, taking a tender leave of his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field.
The scene is first in the field of battle, between the rivers Simois and Scamander, and then changes to Troy.
Now heaven forsakes the fight: the immortals yield To human force and human skill the field: Dark showers of javelins fly from foes to foes; Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows; While Troy’s famed streams, that bound the deathful plain On either side, run purple to the main.
Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, Broke the thick ranks, and turn’d the doubtful day.
The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, And hew’d the enormous giant to the ground; His thundering arm a deadly stroke impress’d Where the black horse-hair nodded o’er his crest; Fix’d in his front the brazen weapon lies, And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes.
Next Teuthras’ son distain’d the sands with blood, Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good:
In fair Arisbe’s walls (his native place) [121]
He held his seat! a friend to human race.
Fast by the road, his ever-open door
Obliged the wealthy, and relieved the poor.
To stern Tydides now he falls a prey,
No friend to guard him in the dreadful day!
Breathless the good man fell, and by his side His faithful servant, old Calesius died.
By great Euryalus was Dresus slain,
And next he laid Opheltius on the plain.
Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young, From a fair naiad and Bucolion sprung:
(Laomedon’s white flocks Bucolion fed,
That monarch’s first-born by a foreign bed; In secret woods he won the naiad’s grace, And two fair infants crown’d his strong embrace:) Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms; The ruthless victor stripp’d their shining arms.
Astyalus by Polypoetes fell;
Ulysses’ spear Pidytes sent to hell;
By Teucer’s shaft brave Aretaon bled,
And Nestor’s son laid stern Ablerus dead; Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave,
The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave,
Who held in Pedasus his proud abode, [122]
And till’d the banks where silver Satnio flow’d.
Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain;
And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain.
Unbless’d Adrastus next at mercy lies
Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize.
Scared with the din and tumult of the fight, His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, Rush’d on a tamarisk’s strong trunk, and broke The shatter’d chariot from the crooked yoke; Wide o’er the field, resistless as the wind, For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind.
Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel: Atrides o’er him shakes his vengeful steel; The fallen chief in suppliant posture press’d The victor’s knees, and thus his prayer address’d: “O spare my youth, and for the life I owe Large gifts of price my father shall bestow.
When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain, Thy hollow ships his captive son detain: Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told, [123]
And steel well-temper’d, and persuasive gold.”
He said: compassion touch’d the hero’s heart He stood, suspended with the lifted dart: As pity pleaded for his vanquish’d prize, Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, And, furious, thus: “Oh impotent of mind! [124]
Shall these, shall these Atrides’ mercy find?
Well hast thou known proud Troy’s perfidious land, And well her natives merit at thy hand!
Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age, Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage: Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all; Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall; [125]
A dreadful lesson of exampled fate,
To warn the nations, and to curb the great!”
The monarch spoke; the words, with warmth address’d, To rigid justice steel’d his brother’s breast Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust; The monarch’s javelin stretch’d him in the dust, Then pressing with his foot his panting heart, Forth from the slain he tugg’d the reeking dart.
Old Nestor saw, and roused the warrior’s rage; “Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage; No son of Mars descend, for servile gains, To touch the booty, while a foe remains.
Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil!
First gain the conquest, then reward the toil.”
And now had Greece eternal fame acquired, And frighted Troy within her walls, retired, Had not sage Helenus her state redress’d, Taught by the gods that moved his sacred breast.
Where Hector stood, with great AEneas join’d, The seer reveal’d the counsels of his mind: “Ye generous chiefs! on whom the immortals lay The cares and glories of this doubtful day; On whom your aids, your country’s hopes depend; Wise to consult, and active to defend!
Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite, Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight, Ere yet their wives’ soft arms the cowards gain, The sport and insult of the hostile train.
When your commands have hearten’d every band, Ourselves, here fix’d, will make the dangerous stand; Press’d as we are, and sore of former fight, These straits demand our last remains of might.
Meanwhile thou, Hector, to the town retire, And teach our mother what the gods require: Direct the queen to lead the assembled train Of Troy’s chief matrons to Minerva’s fane; [126]
Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the power, With offer’d vows, in Ilion’s topmost tower.
The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold, Most prized for art, and labour’d o’er with gold, Before the goddess’ honour’d knees be spread, And twelve young heifers to her altars led: If so the power, atoned by fervent prayer, Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, And far avert Tydides’ wasteful ire,
That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire; Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread, Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed; Not thus resistless ruled the stream of fight, In rage unbounded, and unmatch’d in might.”
Hector obedient heard: and, with a bound, Leap’d from his trembling chariot to the ground; Through all his host inspiring force he flies, And bids the thunder of the battle rise.
With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow, And turn the tide of conflict on the foe: Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears; All Greece recedes, and ‘midst her triumphs fears; Some god, they thought, who ruled the fate of wars, Shot down avenging from the vault of stars.
Then thus aloud: “Ye dauntless Dardans, hear!
And you whom distant nations send to war!
Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore; Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more.
One hour demands me in the Trojan wall, To bid our altars flame, and victims fall: Nor shall, I trust, the matrons’ holy train, And reverend elders, seek the gods in vain.”
This said, with ample strides the hero pass’d; The shield’s large orb behind his shoulder cast, His neck o’ershading, to his ankle hung; And as he march’d the brazen buckler rung.
Now paused the battle (godlike Hector gone), [127]
Where daring Glaucus and great Tydeus’ son Between both armies met: the chiefs from far Observed each other, and had mark’d for war.
Near as they drew, Tydides thus began:
“What art thou, boldest of the race of man?
Our eyes till now that aspect ne’er beheld, Where fame is reap’d amid the embattled field; Yet far before the troops thou dar’st appear, And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear.
Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires, Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires!
But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend, Know with immortals we no more contend.
Not long Lycurgus view’d the golden light, That daring man who mix’d with gods in fight.
Bacchus, and Bacchus’ votaries, he drove, With brandish’d steel, from Nyssa’s sacred grove: Their consecrated spears lay scatter’d round, With curling vines and twisted ivy bound; While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, And Thetis’ arms received the trembling god.
Nor fail’d the crime the immortals’ wrath to move; (The immortals bless’d with endless ease above;) Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, Cheerless he breathed, and wander’d in the gloom, Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes,
A wretch accursed, and hated by the gods!
I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of
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