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

that Leonteus, like the god of war.

As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; Their roots in earth, their heads amidst the skies: Whose spreading arms with leafy honours crown’d, Forbid the tempest, and protect the ground; High on the hills appears their stately form, And their deep roots for ever brave the storm.

So graceful these, and so the shock they stand Of raging Asius, and his furious band.

Orestes, Acamas, in front appear,

And OEnomaus and Thoon close the rear:

In vain their clamours shake the ambient fields, In vain around them beat their hollow shields; The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, To guard their navies, and defend the wall.

Even when they saw Troy’s sable troops impend, And Greece tumultuous from her towers descend, Forth from the portals rush’d the intrepid pair, Opposed their breasts, and stood themselves the war.

So two wild boars spring furious from their den, Roused with the cries of dogs and voice of men; On every side the crackling trees they tear, And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare; They gnash their tusks, with fire their eyeballs roll, Till some wide wound lets out their mighty soul.

Around their heads the whistling javelins sung, With sounding strokes their brazen targets rung; Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian powers Maintain’d the walls, and mann’d the lofty towers: To save their fleet their last efforts they try, And stones and darts in mingled tempests fly.

 

As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings The dreary winter on his frozen wings;

Beneath the low-hung clouds the sheets of snow Descend, and whiten all the fields below: So fast the darts on either army pour,

So down the rampires rolls the rocky shower: Heavy, and thick, resound the batter’d shields, And the deaf echo rattles round the fields.

 

With shame repulsed, with grief and fury driven, The frantic Asius thus accuses Heaven:

“In powers immortal who shall now believe?

Can those too flatter, and can Jove deceive?

What man could doubt but Troy’s victorious power Should humble Greece, and this her fatal hour?

But like when wasps from hollow crannies drive, To guard the entrance of their common hive, Darkening the rock, while with unwearied wings They strike the assailants, and infix their stings; A race determined, that to death contend: So fierce these Greeks their last retreats defend.

Gods! shall two warriors only guard their gates, Repel an army, and defraud the fates?”

 

These empty accents mingled with the wind, Nor moved great Jove’s unalterable mind; To godlike Hector and his matchless might Was owed the glory of the destined fight.

Like deeds of arms through all the forts were tried, And all the gates sustain’d an equal tide; Through the long walls the stony showers were heard, The blaze of flames, the flash of arms appear’d.

The spirit of a god my breast inspire,

To raise each act to life, and sing with fire!

While Greece unconquer’d kept alive the war, Secure of death, confiding in despair;

And all her guardian gods, in deep dismay, With unassisting arms deplored the day.

 

Even yet the dauntless Lapithae maintain The dreadful pass, and round them heap the slain.

First Damasus, by Polypoetes’ steel,

Pierced through his helmet’s brazen visor, fell; The weapon drank the mingled brains and gore!

The warrior sinks, tremendous now no more!

Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their breath: Nor less Leonteus strews the field with death; First through the belt Hippomachus he gored, Then sudden waved his unresisted sword: Antiphates, as through the ranks he broke, The falchion struck, and fate pursued the stroke: Iamenus, Orestes, Menon, bled;

And round him rose a monument of dead.

Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan crew, Bold Hector and Polydamas, pursue;

Fierce with impatience on the works to fall, And wrap in rolling flames the fleet and wall.

These on the farther bank now stood and gazed, By Heaven alarm’d, by prodigies amazed: A signal omen stopp’d the passing host, Their martial fury in their wonder lost.

Jove’s bird on sounding pinions beat the skies; A bleeding serpent of enormous size,

His talons truss’d; alive, and curling round, He stung the bird, whose throat received the wound: Mad with the smart, he drops the fatal prey, In airy circles wings his painful way,

Floats on the winds, and rends the heaven with cries: Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies.

They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll’d, And Jove’s portent with beating hearts behold.

Then first Polydamas the silence broke, Long weigh’d the signal, and to Hector spoke: “How oft, my brother, thy reproach I bear, For words well meant, and sentiments sincere?

True to those counsels which I judge the best, I tell the faithful dictates of my breast.

To speak his thoughts is every freeman’s right, In peace, in war, in council, and in fight; And all I move, deferring to thy sway,

But tends to raise that power which I obey.

Then hear my words, nor may my words be vain!

Seek not this day the Grecian ships to gain; For sure, to warn us, Jove his omen sent, And thus my mind explains its clear event: The victor eagle, whose sinister flight Retards our host, and fills our hearts with fright, Dismiss’d his conquest in the middle skies, Allow’d to seize, but not possess the prize; Thus, though we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, Though these proud bulwalks tumble at our feet, Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; More woes shall follow, and more heroes bleed.

So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; For thus a skilful seer would read the skies.”

 

To him then Hector with disdain return’d: (Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury burn’d:) “Are these the faithful counsels of thy tongue?

Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, Sure heaven resumes the little sense it lent.

What coward counsels would thy madness move Against the word, the will reveal’d of Jove?

The leading sign, the irrevocable nod,

And happy thunders of the favouring god, These shall I slight, and guide my wavering mind By wandering birds that flit with every wind?

Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, Or where the suns arise, or where descend; To right, to left, unheeded take your way, While I the dictates of high heaven obey.

Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country’s cause.

But why should’st thou suspect the war’s success?

None fears it more, as none promotes it less: Though all our chiefs amidst yon ships expire, Trust thy own cowardice to escape their fire.

Troy and her sons may find a general grave, But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave.

Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests Spread their cold poison through our soldiers’ breasts, My javelin can revenge so base a part,

And free the soul that quivers in thy heart.”

 

Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, Calls on his host; his host obey the call; With ardour follow where their leader flies: Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies.

Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, And gives great Hector the predestined day.

Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, Close to the works their rigid siege they laid.

In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, While these they undermine, and those they rend; Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall.

Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce alarms; The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving arms, Shield touching shield, a long refulgent row; Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain below.

The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian power.

The generous impulse every Greek obeys; Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, praise.

 

“Fellows in arms! whose deeds are known to fame, And you, whose ardour hopes an equal name!

Since not alike endued with force or art; Behold a day when each may act his part!

A day to fire the brave, and warm the cold, To gain new glories, or augment the old.

Urge those who stand, and those who faint, excite; Drown Hector’s vaunts in loud exhorts of fight; Conquest, not safety, fill the thoughts of all; Seek not your fleet, but sally from the wall; So Jove once more may drive their routed train, And Troy lie trembling in her walls again.”

 

Their ardour kindles all the Grecian powers; And now the stones descend in heavier showers.

As when high Jove his sharp artillery forms, And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; In winter’s bleak un comfortable reign, A snowy inundation hides the plain;

He stills the winds, and bids the skies to sleep; Then pours the silent tempest thick and deep; And first the mountain-tops are cover’d o’er, Then the green fields, and then the sandy shore; Bent with the weight, the nodding woods are seen, And one bright waste hides all the works of men: The circling seas, alone absorbing all, Drink the dissolving fleeces as they fall: So from each side increased the stony rain, And the white ruin rises o’er the plain.

 

Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend: Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yield, Till great Sarpedon tower’d amid the field; For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame His matchless son, and urged him on to fame.

In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar, And bears aloft his ample shield in air; Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were roll’d, Ponderous with brass, and bound with ductile gold: And while two pointed javelins arm his hands, Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands.

 

So press’d with hunger, from the mountain’s brow Descends a lion on the flocks below;

So stalks the lordly savage o’er the plain, In sullen majesty, and stern disdain:

In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar, And shepherds gall him with an iron war; Regardless, furious, he pursues his way; He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey.

 

Resolved alike, divine Sarpedon glows

With generous rage that drives him on the foes.

He views the towers, and meditates their fall, To sure destruction dooms the aspiring wall; Then casting on his friend an ardent look, Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke: “Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign, [186]

Where Xanthus’ streams enrich the Lycian plain, Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field, And hills where vines their purple harvest yield, Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown’d, Our feasts enhanced with music’s sprightly sound?

Why on those shores are we with joy survey’d, Admired as heroes, and as gods obey’d,

Unless great acts superior merit prove, And vindicate the bounteous powers above?

‘Tis ours, the dignity they give to grace; The first in valour, as the first in place; That when with wondering eyes our martial bands Behold our deeds transcending our commands, Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, Whom those that envy dare not imitate!

Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, For lust of fame I should not vainly dare In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war.

But since, alas! ignoble age must come, Disease, and death’s inexorable doom

The life, which others pay, let us bestow, And give to fame what we to nature owe; Brave though we fall, and honour’d if we live, Or let us glory gain, or glory give!”

 

He said; his words the listening chief inspire With equal warmth,