The Iliad, Homer [short books for teens TXT] 📗

decks, or safely cleave the main; Some hostile wound let every dart bestow, Some lasting token of the Phrygian foe, Wounds, that long hence may ask their spouses’ care.

And warn their children from a Trojan war.

Now through the circuit of our Ilion wall, Let sacred heralds sound the solemn call; To bid the sires with hoary honours crown’d, And beardless youths, our battlements surround.

Firm be the guard, while distant lie our powers, And let the matrons hang with lights the towers; Lest, under covert of the midnight shade, The insidious foe the naked town invade.

Suffice, to-night, these orders to obey; A nobler charge shall rouse the dawning day.

The gods, I trust, shall give to Hector’s hand From these detested foes to free the land, Who plough’d, with fates averse, the watery way: For Trojan vultures a predestined prey.

Our common safety must be now the care; But soon as morning paints the fields of air, Sheathed in bright arms let every troop engage, And the fired fleet behold the battle rage.

Then, then shall Hector and Tydides prove Whose fates are heaviest in the scales of Jove.

To-morrow’s light (O haste the glorious morn!) Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph borne, With this keen javelin shall his breast be gored, And prostrate heroes bleed around their lord.

Certain as this, oh! might my days endure, From age inglorious, and black death secure; So might my life and glory know no bound, Like Pallas worshipp’d, like the sun renown’d!

As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy, Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes of Troy.”

 

The leader spoke. From all his host around Shouts of applause along the shores resound.

Each from the yoke the smoking steeds untied, And fix’d their headstalls to his chariot-side.

Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led, With generous wine, and all-sustaining bread, Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore: The winds to heaven the curling vapours bore.

Ungrateful offering to the immortal powers! [157]

Whose wrath hung heavy o’er the Trojan towers: Nor Priam nor his sons obtain’d their grace; Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty race.

 

The troops exulting sat in order round, And beaming fires illumined all the ground.

As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, [158]

O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene, Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole, O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain’s head: Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies: The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.

So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays.

The long reflections of the distant fires Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires.

A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, And shoot a shady lustre o’er the field.

Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, Whose umber’d arms, by fits, thick flashes send, Loud neigh the coursers o’er their heaps of corn, And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.

 

{Illustration: THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES.}

 

BOOK IX.

 

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 measures are to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor further prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made 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.

 

Thus joyful Troy maintain’d the watch of night; While fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight, [159]

And heaven-bred horror, on the Grecian part, Sat on each face, and sadden’d every heart.

As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, A double tempest of the west and north

Swells o’er the sea, from Thracia’s frozen shore, Heaps waves on waves, and bids the AEgean roar: This way and that the boiling deeps are toss’d: Such various passions urged the troubled host, Great Agamemnon grieved above the rest; Superior sorrows swell’d his royal breast; Himself his orders to the heralds bears, To bid to council all the Grecian peers, But bid in whispers: these surround their chief, In solemn sadness and majestic grief.

The king amidst the mournful circle rose: Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows.

So silent fountains, from a rock’s tall head, In sable streams soft-trickling waters shed.

With more than vulgar grief he stood oppress’d; Words, mix’d with sighs, thus bursting from his breast: “Ye sons of Greece! partake your leader’s care; Fellows in arms and princes of the war!

Of partial Jove too justly we complain, And heavenly oracles believed in vain.

A safe return was promised to our toils, With conquest honour’d and enrich’d with spoils: Now shameful flight alone can save the host; Our wealth, our people, and our glory lost.

So Jove decrees, almighty lord of all!

Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall, Who shakes the feeble props of human trust, And towers and armies humbles to the dust.

Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, Haste to the joys our native country yields; Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ, Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy.”

 

He said: deep silence held the Grecian band; Silent, unmov’d in dire dismay they stand; A pensive scene! till Tydeus’ warlike son Roll’d on the king his eyes, and thus begun: “When kings advise us to renounce our fame, First let him speak who first has suffer’d shame.

If I oppose thee, prince! thy wrath withhold, The laws of council bid my tongue be bold.

Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight, Durst brand my courage, and defame my might: Nor from a friend the unkind reproach appear’d, The Greeks stood witness, all our army heard.

The gods, O chief! from whom our honours spring, The gods have made thee but by halves a king: They gave thee sceptres, and a wide command; They gave dominion o’er the seas and land; The noblest power that might the world control They gave thee not—a brave and virtuous soul.

Is this a general’s voice, that would suggest Fears like his own to every Grecian breast?

Confiding in our want of worth, he stands; And if we fly, ‘tis what our king commands.

Go thou, inglorious! from the embattled plain; Ships thou hast store, and nearest to the main; A noble care the Grecians shall employ, To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy.

Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, Myself shall stay, till Troy or I expire; Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame; God bade us fight, and ‘twas with God we came.”

 

He ceased; the Greeks loud acclamations raise, And voice to voice resounds Tydides’ praise.

Wise Nestor then his reverend figure rear’d; He spoke: the host in still attention heard: [160]

 

“O truly great! in whom the gods have join’d Such strength of body with such force of mind: In conduct, as in courage, you excel,

Still first to act what you advise so well.

These wholesome counsels which thy wisdom moves, Applauding Greece with common voice approves.

Kings thou canst blame; a bold but prudent youth: And blame even kings with praise, because with truth.

And yet those years that since thy birth have run Would hardly style thee Nestor’s youngest son.

Then let me add what yet remains behind, A thought unfinish’d in that generous mind; Age bids me speak! nor shall the advice I bring Distaste the people, or offend the king: “Cursed is the man, and void of law and right, Unworthy property, unworthy light,

Unfit for public rule, or private care, That wretch, that monster, who delights in war; Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy, To tear his country, and his kind destroy!

This night, refresh and fortify thy train; Between the trench and wall let guards remain: Be that the duty of the young and bold; But thou, O king, to council call the old; Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy cares; Thy high commands must spirit all our wars.

With Thracian wines recruit thy honour’d guests, For happy counsels flow from sober feasts.

Wise, weighty counsels aid a state distress’d, And such a monarch as can choose the best.

See what a blaze from hostile tents aspires, How near our fleet approach the Trojan fires!

Who can, unmoved, behold the dreadful light?

What eye beholds them, and can close to-night?

This dreadful interval determines all;

To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece must fall.”

 

Thus spoke the hoary sage: the rest obey; Swift through the gates the guards direct their way.

His son was first to pass the lofty mound, The generous Thrasymed, in arms renown’d: Next him, Ascalaphus, Ialmen, stood,

The double offspring of the warrior-god: Deipyrus, Aphareus, Merion join,

And Lycomed of Creon’s noble line.

Seven were the leaders of the nightly bands, And each bold chief a hundred spears commands.

The fires they light, to short repasts they fall, Some line the trench, and others man the wall.

 

The king of men, on public counsels bent, Convened the princes in his ample tent, Each seized a portion of the kingly feast, But stay’d his hand when thirst and hunger ceased.

Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approved, And slowly rising, thus the council moved.

 

“Monarch of nations! whose superior sway Assembled states, and lords of earth obey, The laws and sceptres to thy hand are given, And millions own the care of thee and Heaven.

O king! the counsels of my age attend;

With thee my cares begin, with thee must end.

Thee, prince! it fits alike to speak and hear, Pronounce with judgment, with regard give ear, To see no wholesome motion be withstood, And ratify the best for public good.

Nor, though a meaner give advice, repine, But follow it, and make the wisdom thine.

Hear then a thought, not now conceived in haste, At once my present judgment and my past.

When from Pelides’ tent you forced the maid, I first opposed, and faithful, durst dissuade; But bold of soul, when headlong fury fired, You wronged the man, by men and gods admired: Now seek some means his fatal wrath to end, With prayers to move him, or with gifts to bend.”

 

To whom the king. “With justice hast thou shown A prince’s faults, and I with reason own.

That happy man, whom Jove still honours most, Is more than armies, and himself a host.

Bless’d in his love, this wondrous hero stands; Heaven fights his war, and humbles all our bands.

Fain would my heart, which err’d through frantic rage, The wrathful chief and angry gods assuage.

If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow, [161]

Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I vow.

Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, And twice ten vases of refulgent mould: Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; Twelve steeds unmatch’d in fleetness and