The Iliad, Homer [librera reader .TXT] 📗

his comrade’s death Enrag’d, Achilles Hector shall subdue; Thenceforth my counsel is, that from the ships The Trojan force shall still be backward driv’n, Until at length, by Pallas’ deep designs, The Greeks possess the lofty walls of Troy.

Yet will not I my anger intermit,

Nor suffer other of th’ immortal Gods

To aid the Greeks, till Peleus’ son behold His wish accomplish’d, and the boon obtain’d I promis’d once, and with a nod confirm’d, That day when sea-born Thetis clasp’d my knees, And pray’d me to avenge her warrior son.”

 

Thus he; the white-arm’d Queen of Heav’n submiss His mandate heard; and from th’ Idaean mount With rapid flight to high Olympus sped.

Swift as the mind of man, who many a land Hath travell’d o’er, and with reflective thought Recalls, “here was I such a day, or here,”

And in a moment many a scene surveys;

So Juno sped o’er intervening space;

Olympus’ heights she reach’d, and in the house Of Jove appear’d amid th’ assembled Gods.

They at her coming rose, with golden cups Greeting their Queen’s approach; the rest she pass’d, And from the hand of fair-fac’d Themis took The proffer’d cup, who first had run to meet, And thus with winged words address’d the Queen: “Juno, why com’st thou hither? and with looks Of one distraught with, fear? hath Saturn’s son, Thy mighty Lord, thus sore affrighted thee?”

To whom the white-arm’d Goddess, Juno, thus: “Forbear thy questions, Themis; well thou know’st How haughty and imperious is his mind; Thou for the Gods in haste prepare the feast; Then shalt thou learn, amid th’ Immortals all, What evil he designs; nor all, I ween, His counsels will approve, or men, or Gods, Though now in blissful ignorance they feast.”

 

She said, and sat; the Gods, oppress’d with care, Her farther speech awaited; on her lips There dwelt indeed a smile, but not a ray Pass’d o’er her dark’ning brow, as thus her wrath Amid th’ assembled Gods found vent in words: “Fools are we all, who madly strive with Jove, Or hope, by access to his throne, to sway, By word or deed, his course; from all apart, He all our counsels heeds not, but derides; And boasts o’er all th’ immortal Gods to reign In unapproach’d pre-eminence of pow’r.

Prepare then each his sev’ral woe to bear; On Mars e’en now, methinks, the blow hath fall’n; Since in the fight, the man he loves the best, And boasts his son, Ascalaphus, is slain.”

She said; and Mars, enrag’d, his brawny thigh Smote with his hands, and thus, lamenting, spoke: “Blame not, ye Gods, who on Olympus dwell, That to the Grecian ships I haste, to avenge My slaughter’d son, though blasted by Heav’n’s fire ‘Twere mine ‘mid corpses, blood, and dust to lie.”

 

He said, and gave command to Fear and Flight To yoke his ear; and donn’d his glitt’ring arms.

Then from the throne of Jove had heavier wrath And deeper vengeance on th’ Immortals fall’n, But Pallas, in alarm for all the Gods, Quitting in haste the throne whereon she sat, Sprang past the vestibule, and from his head The helmet lifted, from his arm the shield; Took from his sturdy hand, and rear’d upright, The brazen spear; then with reproachful words She thus assail’d th’ impetuous God of War; “Frantic, and passion-maddened, thou art lost!

Hast thou no ears to hear! or are thy mind And sense of rev’rence utterly destroyed?

Or heard’st thou not what white-arm’d Juno spoke, Fresh from the presence of Olympian Jove?

Wouldst thou, thine evil destiny fulfill’d, By hard constraint, despite thy grief, be driv’n Back to Olympus; and to all the rest

Confusion and disaster with thee bring?

At once from valiant Trojans and from Greeks His thoughts would be diverted, and his wrath Embroil Olympus, and on all alike,

Guilty or not, his anger would be pour’d.

Waive then thy vengeance for thy gallant son; Others as brave of heart, as strong of arm, Have fall’n, and yet must fall; and vain th’ attempt To watch at once o’er all the race of men.”

 

Thus saying, to his seat again she forc’d Th’ impetuous Mars: meanwhile, without the house, Juno, by Jove’s command, Apollo call’d, And Iris, messenger from God to God;

And thus to both her winged words address’d: “Jove bids you with all speed to Ida haste; And when, arriv’d, before his face ye stand, Whate’er he orders, that observe and do.”

 

Thus Juno spoke, and to her throne return’d; While they to spring-abounding Ida’s heights, Wild nurse of forest beasts, pursued their way; Th’ all-seeing son of Saturn there they found Upon the topmost crag of Gargarus,

An incense-breathing cloud around him spread.

Before the face of cloud-compelling Jove They stood; well-pleas’d he witness’d their approach In swift obedience to his consort’s words, And thus to Iris first his speech address’d: “Haste thee, swift Iris, and to Ocean’s King My message bear, nor misreporting aught, Nor aught omitting; from the battle-field Bid him retire, and join th’ assembled Gods, Or to his own domain of sea withdraw.

If my commands he heed not, nor obey,

Let him consider in his inmost soul

If, mighty though he be, he dare await My hostile coming; mightier far than him, His elder born; nor may his spirit aspire To rival me, whom all regard with awe.”

 

He said; swift-footed Iris, at the word, From Ida’s heights to sacred Ilium sped.

Swift as the snow-flakes from the clouds descend, Or wintry hail before the driving blast Of Boreas, ether-born; so swift to Earth Descended Iris; by his side she stood, And with these words th’ Earth-shaking God address’d: “A message, dark-hair’d Circler of the Earth, To thee I bring from AEgis-bearing Jove.

He bids thee straightway from the battle-field Retire, and either join th’ assembled Gods, Or to thine own domain of sea withdraw.

If his commands thou heed not, nor obey, Hither he menaces himself to come,

And fight against thee; but he warns thee first, Beware his arm, as mightier far than thee, Thine elder born; nor may thy spirit aspire To rival him, whom all regard with awe.”

 

To whom in tow’ring wrath th’ Earth-shaking God: “By Heav’n, though great he be, he yet presumes Somewhat too far, if me, his equal born, He seeks by force to baffle of my will.

We were three brethren, all of Rhaea born To Saturn; Jove and I, and Pluto third, Who o’er the nether regions holds his sway.

Threefold was our partition; each obtain’d His meed of honour due; the hoary Sea

By lot my habitation was assign’d;

The realms of Darkness fell to Pluto’s share; Broad Heav’n, amid the sky and clouds, to Jove; But Earth, and high Olympus, are to all A common heritage; nor will I walk

To please the will of Jove; though great he be, With his own third contented let him rest: Nor let him think that I, as wholly vile, Shall quail before his arm; his lofty words Were better to his daughters and his sons Address’d, his own begotten; who perforce Must listen to his mandates, and obey.”

 

To whom swift-footed Iris thus replied: “Is this, then, dark-hair’d Circler of the Earth, The message, stern and haughty, which to Jove Thou bidd’st me bear? perchance thine angry mood May bend to better counsels; noblest minds Are easiest bent; and o’er superior age Thou know’st th’ avenging Furies ever watch.”

 

To whom Earth-shaking Neptune thus replied: “Immortal Iris, weighty are thy words, And in good season spoken; and ‘tis well When envoys are by sound discretion led.

Yet are my heart and mind with grief oppress’d, When me, his equal both by birth and fate, He seeks with haughty words to overbear.

I yield, but with indignant sense of wrong.

This too I say, nor shall my threat be vain: Let him remember, if in my despite,

‘Gainst Pallas’, Juno’s, Hermes’, Vulcan’s will, He spare to overthrow proud Ilium’s tow’rs, And crown with victory the Grecian arms, The feud between us never can be heal’d.”

 

Th’ Earth-shaker said, and from the field withdrew Beneath the ocean wave, the warrior Greeks His loss deploring; to Apollo then

The Cloud-compeller thus his speech address’d: “Go straight to Hector of the brazen helm, Good Phoebus; for beneath the ocean wave Th’ Earth-shaker hath withdrawn, escaping thus My high displeasure; had he dar’d resist, The tumult of our strife had reach’d the Gods Who in the nether realms with Saturn dwell.

Yet thus ‘tis better, both for me and him, That, though indignant, to my will he yields; For to compel him were no easy task.

Take thou, and wave on high thy tassell’d shield, The Grecian warriors daunting: thou thyself, Far-darting King, thy special care bestow On noble Hector; so restore his strength And vigour, that in panic to their ships, And the broad Hellespont, the Greeks be driv’n.

Then will I so by word and deed contrive That they may gain fresh respite from their toil.”

 

He said, nor did Apollo not obey

His Sire’s commands; from Ida’s heights he flew, Like to a falcon, swooping on a dove,

Swiftest of birds; then Priam’s son he found, The godlike Hector, stretch’d at length no more, But sitting, now to consciousness restor’d, With recognition looking on his friends; The cold sweat dried, nor gasping now for breath, Since by the will of AEgis-bearing Jove To life new waken’d; close beside him stood The Far-destroyer, and address’d him thus: “Hector, thou son of Priam, why apart

From all thy comrades art thou sitting here, Feeble and faint? What trouble weighs thee down?”

 

To whom thus Hector of the glancing helm With falt’ring voice: “Who art thou, Prince of Gods, Who thus enquirest of me? know’st thou not How a huge stone, by mighty Ajax hurl’d, As on his comrades by the Grecian ships I dealt destruction, struck me on the breast, Dash’d to the earth, and all my vigour quell’d?

I deem’d in sooth this day my soul, expir’d, Should see the dead, and Pluto’s shadowy realm.”

 

To whom again the far-destroying King: “Be of good cheer; from Saturn’s son I come From Ida’s height to be thy guide and guard; Phoebus Apollo, of the golden sword,

I, who of old have thy protector been, Thee and thy city guarding. Rise then straight; Summon thy num’rous horsemen; bid them drive Their flying cars to assail the Grecian ships: I go before: and will thy horses’ way

Make plain and smooth, and daunt the warrior Greeks.”

 

His words fresh vigour in the chief infus’d.

As some proud steed, at well-fill’d manger fed, His halter broken, neighing, scours the plain, And revels in the widely-flowing stream To bathe his sides; then tossing high his head, While o’er his shoulders streams his ample mane, Light-borne on active limbs, in conscious pride, To the wide pastures of the mares he flies; So vig’rous, Hector plied his active limbs, His horsemen summoning at Heav’n’s command.

 

As when a rustic crowd of men and dogs Have chas’d an antler’d stag, or mountain goat, That ‘mid the crags and thick o’ershadowing wood Hath refuge found, and baffled their pursuit: If, by the tumult rous’d, a lion stand, With bristling mane, before them, back they turn, Check’d in their mid career; ev’n so the Greeks, Who late in eager throngs were pressing on, Thrusting with swords and double-pointed spears, When Hector moving through the ranks they saw, Recoil’d, and to their feet their courage fell.

To whom thus Thoas spoke, Andraemon’s son, AEtolia’s bravest warrior, skill’d to throw The jav’lin, dauntless in the stubborn fight; By few surpass’d in speech, when in debate In full assembly Grecian youths contend.

He thus with prudent speech began, and said: “Great is the marvel which our