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

in force, And still victorious in the dusty course; (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, Skill’d in each art, unmatch’d in form divine, The same I chose for more than vulgar charms, When Lesbos sank beneath the hero’s arms: All these, to buy his friendship, shall be paid, And join’d with these the long-contested maid; With all her charms, Briseis I resign,

And solemn swear those charms were never mine; Untouch’d she stay’d, uninjured she removes, Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my loves, [162]

These instant shall be his; and if the powers Give to our arms proud Ilion’s hostile towers, Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil divides) With gold and brass his loaded navy’s sides: Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race With copious love shall crown his warm embrace, Such as himself will choose; who yield to none, Or yield to Helen’s heavenly charms alone.

Yet hear me further: when our wars are o’er, If safe we land on Argos’ fruitful shore, There shall he live my son, our honours share, And with Orestes’ self divide my care.

Yet more—three daughters in my court are bred, And each well worthy of a royal bed;

Laodice and Iphigenia fair, [163]

And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair; Her let him choose whom most his eyes approve, I ask no presents, no reward for love:

Myself will give the dower; so vast a store As never father gave a child before.

Seven ample cities shall confess his sway, Him Enope, and Pherae him obey,

Cardamyle with ample turrets crown’d,

And sacred Pedasus for vines renown’d;

AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields,

And rich Antheia with her flowery fields: [164]

The whole extent to Pylos’ sandy plain, Along the verdant margin of the main

There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; Bold are the men, and generous is the soil; There shall he reign, with power and justice crown’d, And rule the tributary realms around.

All this I give, his vengeance to control, And sure all this may move his mighty soul.

Pluto, the grisly god, who never spares, Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, Lives dark and dreadful in deep hell’s abodes, And mortals hate him, as the worst of gods Great though he be, it fits him to obey, Since more than his my years, and more my sway.”

 

{Illustration: PLUTO.}

 

The monarch thus. The reverend Nestor then: “Great Agamemnon! glorious king of men!

Such are thy offers as a prince may take, And such as fits a generous king to make.

Let chosen delegates this hour be sent

(Myself will name them) to Pelides’ tent.

Let Phoenix lead, revered for hoary age, Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage.

Yet more to sanctify the word you send, Let Hodius and Eurybates attend.

Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece demands; Pray in deep silence, and with purest hands.” [165]

 

{Illustration: THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES.}

 

He said; and all approved. The heralds bring The cleansing water from the living spring.

The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown’d, And large libations drench’d the sands around.

The rite perform’d, the chiefs their thirst allay, Then from the royal tent they take their way; Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye, Forbids to offend, instructs them to apply; Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, To deprecate the chief, and save the host.

Through the still night they march, and hear the roar Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore.

To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound, Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless, And calm the rage of stern AEacides.

And now, arrived, where on the sandy bay The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay;

Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, Pleased with the solemn harp’s harmonious sound.

(The well wrought harp from conquered Thebae came; Of polish’d silver was its costly frame.) With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings The immortal deeds of heroes and of kings.

Patroclus only of the royal train,

Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: Full opposite he sat, and listen’d long, In silence waiting till he ceased the song.

Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds

To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads.

Achilles starting, as the chiefs he spied, Leap’d from his seat, and laid the harp aside.

With like surprise arose Menoetius’ son: Pelides grasp’d their hands, and thus begun: “Princes, all hail! whatever brought you here.

Or strong necessity, or urgent fear;

Welcome, though Greeks! for not as foes ye came; To me more dear than all that bear the name.”

 

With that, the chiefs beneath his roof he led, And placed in seats with purple carpets spread.

Then thus—“Patroclus, crown a larger bowl, Mix purer wine, and open every soul.

Of all the warriors yonder host can send, Thy friend most honours these, and these thy friend.”

 

He said: Patroclus o’er the blazing fire Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire: The brazen vase Automedon sustains,

Which flesh of porker, sheep, and goat contains.

Achilles at the genial feast presides,

The parts transfixes, and with skill divides.

Meanwhile Patroclus sweats, the fire to raise; The tent is brighten’d with the rising blaze: Then, when the languid flames at length subside, He strows a bed of glowing embers wide, Above the coals the smoking fragments turns And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns; With bread the glittering canisters they load, Which round the board Menoetius’ son bestow’d; Himself, opposed to Ulysses full in sight, Each portion parts, and orders every rite.

The first fat offering to the immortals due, Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw; Then each, indulging in the social feast, His thirst and hunger soberly repress’d.

That done, to Phoenix Ajax gave the sign: Not unperceived; Ulysses crown’d with wine The foaming bowl, and instant thus began, His speech addressing to the godlike man.

 

“Health to Achilles! happy are thy guests!

Not those more honour’d whom Atrides feasts: Though generous plenty crown thy loaded boards, That, Agamemnon’s regal tent affords;

But greater cares sit heavy on our souls, Nor eased by banquets or by flowing bowls.

What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear!

The dead we mourn, and for the living fear; Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands, And owns no help but from thy saving hands: Troy and her aids for ready vengeance call; Their threatening tents already shade our wall: Hear how with shouts their conquest they proclaim, And point at every ship their vengeful flame!

For them the father of the gods declares, Theirs are his omens, and his thunder theirs.

See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise!

See! heaven and earth the raging chief defies; What fury in his breast, what lightning in his eyes!

He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name.

Heavens! how my country’s woes distract my mind, Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design’d!

And must we, gods! our heads inglorious lay In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day?

Return, Achilles: oh return, though late, To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate; If in that heart or grief or courage lies, Rise to redeem; ah, yet to conquer, rise!

The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain: Regard in time, O prince divinely brave!

Those wholesome counsels which thy father gave.

When Peleus in his aged arms embraced

His parting son, these accents were his last: “‘My child! with strength, with glory, and success, Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless!

Trust that to Heaven: but thou, thy cares engage To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage: From gentler manners let thy glory grow, And shun contention, the sure source of woe; That young and old may in thy praise combine, The virtues of humanity be thine—’

This now-despised advice thy father gave; Ah! check thy anger; and be truly brave.

If thou wilt yield to great Atrides’ prayers, Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares; If not—but hear me, while I number o’er The proffer’d presents, an exhaustless store.

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 unmatched in fleetness and in force, And still victorious in the dusty course; (Rich were the man, whose ample stores exceed The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, Skill’d in each art, unmatch’d in form divine, The same he chose for more than vulgar charms, When Lesbos sank beneath thy conquering arms.

All these, to buy thy friendship shall be paid, And, join’d with these, the long-contested maid; With all her charms, Briseis he’ll resign, And solemn swear those charms were only thine; Untouch’d she stay’d, uninjured she removes, Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves.

These instant shall be thine; and if the powers Give to our arms proud Ilion’s hostile towers, Then shalt thou store (when Greece the spoil divides) With gold and brass thy loaded navy’s sides.

Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race With copious love shall crown thy warm embrace; Such as thyself shall chose; who yield to none, Or yield to Helen’s heavenly charms alone.

Yet hear me further: when our wars are o’er, If safe we land on Argos’ fruitful shore, There shalt thou live his son, his honour share, And with Orestes’ self divide his care.

Yet more—three daughters in his court are bred, And each well worthy of a royal bed:

Laodice and Iphigenia fair,

And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve; He asks no presents, no reward for love: Himself will give the dower; so vast a store As never father gave a child before.

Seven ample cities shall confess thy sway, The Enope and Pherae thee obey,

Cardamyle with ample turrets crown’d,

And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown’d: AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields,

And rich Antheia with her flowery fields; The whole extent to Pylos’ sandy plain, Along the verdant margin of the main.

There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; Bold are the men, and generous is the soil.

There shalt thou reign, with power and justice crown’d, And rule the tributary realms around.

Such are the proffers which this day we bring, Such the repentance of a suppliant king.

But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, If honour and if interest plead in vain, Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford, And be, amongst her guardian gods, adored.

If no regard thy suffering country claim, Hear thy own glory, and the voice of fame: For now that chief, whose unresisted ire Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire, Proud Hector, now, the unequal fight demands, And only triumphs to deserve thy hands.”

 

Then thus the goddess-born: “Ulysses, hear A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor fear; What in my secret soul is understood,

My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good.

Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain: Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain.

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell.

 

“Then thus in short my fix’d resolves attend, Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend; Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore, But now the unfruitful glories charm no more.

Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, The wretch and hero find their prize the same.

Alike regretted in the dust he lies,

Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies.