Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  I dwelt in th' utmost region rich Phthia doth extend,

  And governed the Dolopians, and made thee what thou art.

  O thou that like the Gods art framed, since, dearest to my heart,

  I used thee so, thou lov'dst none else; nor anywhere wouldst eat,

  Till I had crowned my knee with thee, and carved thee tend'rest meat,

  And given thee wine so much, for love, that, in thy infancy

  (Which still discretion must protect, and a continual eye)

  My bosom lovingly sustained the wine thine could not bear.

  Then, now my strength needs thine as much, be mine to thee as dear.

  Much have I suffered for thy love, much laboured, wished much,

  Thinking, since I must have no heir (the Gods' decrees are such)

  ' I would adopt thyself my heir. To thee my heart did give

  What any sire could give his son. In thee I hoped to live.

  O mitigate thy mighty spirits. It fits not one that moves

  The hearts of all to live unmoved, and succour hates for loves.

  The Gods themselves are flexible, whose virtues, honours, powers,

  Are more than thine, yet they will bend their breasts as we bend ours.

  Perfumes, benign devotions, savours of off'rings humed,

  And holy rites, the engines are with which their hearts are turned

  By men that pray to them, whose faith their sins have falsified.

  For Prayers are daughters of great Jove, lame, wrinkled, ruddy-eyed,

  And ever following Injury, who, strong and sound of feet,

  Plies through the world, afflicting men. Believing Prayers yet,

  To all that love that seed of Jove, the certain blessing get

  To have Jove hear, and help them too; but if he shall refuse,

  And stand inflexible to them, they fly to Jove, and use

  Their powers against him, that the wrongs he doth to them may fall

  On his own head, and pay those pains whose cure he fails to call.

  Then, great Achilles, honour thou this sacred seed of Jove,

  And yield to them, since other men of greatest minds they move.

  If Agamemnon would not give the self-same gifts he vows,

  But offer other afterwards, and in his still-bent brows

  Entomb his honour and his word, I would not thus exhort,

  With wrath appeased, thy aid to Greece, though plagued in heaviest sort;

  But much he presently will give, and after yield the rest.

  T assure which he hath sent to thee the men thou lovest best,

  And most renowned of all the host, that they might soften thee.

  Then let not both their pains and prayers lost and despised be,

  Before which none could reprehend the tumult of thy heart,

  But now to rest inexpiate were much too rude a part.

  Of ancient worthies we have heard, when they were more displeased,

  To their high fames, with gifts and prayers they have been still appeased.

  For instance, I remember well a fact performed of old,

  Which to you all my friends, I'll tell: The Curets wars did hold

  With the well-fought ^Etolians, where mutual lives had end

  About the city Calydon. Th' iEtolians did defend

  Their flourishing country, which to spoil the Gurets did contend.

  Diana with-the-golden-throne, with Oeneus much incensed

  Since with his plenteous land's first fruits she was not reverenced

  (Yet other Gods, with hecatombs, had feasts, and she alone,

  Great Jove's bright daughter, left unserved, or by oblivion,

  Or undue knowledge of her dues) much hurt in heart she swore;

  And she, enraged, excited much, she sent a sylvan boar

  From their green groves, with wounding tusks, who usually did spoil

  King Oeneus' fields, his lofty woods lay prostrate on the soil,

  Rent by the roots trees fresh, adorned with fragrant apple flowers.

  Which Meleager (Oeneus' son) slew, with assembled powers

  Of hunters, and of fiercest hounds, from many cities brought;

  For such he was that with few lives his death could not be bought,

  Heaps of dead humans, by his rage the funeral piles applied.

  Yet, slain at last, the Goddess stirred about his head, and hide,

  A wondrous tumult, and a war betwixt the Curets wrought

  And brave iEtolians. All the while fierce Meleager fought,

  111 fared the Curets.' Near the walls none durst advance his crest,

  Though they were many. But when wrath inflamed his haughty breast

  (Which oft the firm mind of the wise with passion doth infest)

  Since 'twixt his mother-queen and him arose a deadly strife,

  He left the court, and privately lived with his lawful wife,

  Fair Cleopatra, female birth of bright Marpessa's pain,

  And of Ideus; who of all terrestrial men did reign,

  At that time, king of fortitude, and for Marpessa's sake,

  'Gainst wanton Phcebus, king of flames, his bow in hand did take,

  Since he had ravished her, his joy; whom her friends after gave

  The surname of Alcyone, because they could not save

  Their daughter from Alcyone's fate. In Cleopatra's arms

  Lay Meleager, feeding on his anger, for the harms

  His mother prayed might fall on him; who, for her brother slain

  By Meleager, grieved, and prayed the Gods to wreak her pain

  With all the horror could be poured upon her furious birth.

  Still knocked she with her impious hands the many-feeding earth,

  To urge stern Pluto and his Queen t' incline their vengeful ears,

  Fell on her knees, and all her breast dewed with her fiery tears,

  To make them massacre her son, whose wrath enraged her thus.

  Erinnys, wand'ring through the air, heard, out of Erebus,

  Prayers fit for her unpleased mind. Yet Meleager lay

  Obscured in fury. Then the bruit of the tumultuous fray.

  Rung through the turrets as they scaled; then came the iEtolian peers

  To Meleager with low suits to rise and free their fears;

  Then sent they the chief priests of Gods with offered gifts t' atone

  His differing fury, bade him choose, in sweet-soiled Calydon,

  Of the most fat and yieldy soil, what with an hundred steers

  Might in an hundred days be ploughed, half that rich vintage bears,

  And half of naked earth to plough; yet yielded not his ire.

  Then to his lofty chamber-door ascends his royal sire

  With ruthful plaints, shook the strong bars; then came his sisters' cries;

  His mother then; and all intreat; — yet still more stiff he lies; —

  His friends, most reverend, most esteemed; yet none impression took,

  Till the high turrets where he lay, and his strong chamber, shook

  With the invading enemy, who now forced dreadful way

  Along the city. Then his wife, in pitiful dismay,

  Besought him, weeping; telling him the miseries sustained

  By all the citizens, whose town the enemy had gained;

  Men slaughtered; children bondslaves made.; sweet ladies forced with lust

  Fires climbing towers, and turning them to heaps of fruitless dust.

  These dangers softened his steel heart. Up the stout prince arose,

  Indued his body with rich arms, and freed th' iEtolians' woes,

  His smothered anger giving air, which gifts did not assuage

  But his own peril. And because he did not disengage

  Their lives for gifts, their gifts he lost. But for my sake, dear friend,

  Be not thou bent to see our plights to these extremes descend,

  Ere thou assist us; be not so by thy ill angel turned

  From t
hine own honour. It were shame to see our navy burned,

  And then come with thy timeless aid. For offered presents, come,

  And all the Greeks will honour thee, as of celestial room.

  But if without these gifts thou fight, forced by thy private woe,

  Thou wilt be nothing so renowned, though thou repel the foe."

  Achilles answered the last part of this oration thus :

  “Phoenix, renowned and reverend, the honours urged on us

  We need not. Jove doth honour me, and to my safety sees,

  And will, whiles I retain a spirit, or can command my knees.

  Then do not thou with tears and woes impassion my affects,

  Becoming gracious to my foe. Nor fits it the respects

  Of thy vowed love to honour him that hath dishonoured me,

  Lest such loose kindness lose his heart that yet is firm to thee.

  It were thy praise to hurt with me the hurter of my state,

  Since half my honour and my realm thou mayst participate.

  Let these lords then return th' event, and do thou here repose,

  And, when dark sleep breaks with the day, our counsels shall disclose

  The course of otir return or stay." This said, he with his eye

  Made to his friend a covert sign, to hasten instantly

  A good soft bed, that the old prince, soon as the peers were gone,

  Might take his rest; when, soldier-like, brave Ajax Telamon

  Spake to Ulysses, as with thought Achilles was not worth

  The high direction of his speech, that stood so sternly forth

  Unmoved with th' other orators, and spake, not to appease

  Pelides' wrath, but to depart. His arguments were these :

  “High-issued Laertiades, let us insist no more

  On his persuasion. I perceive the world would end before

  Our speeches end in this affair. We must with utmost haste

  Return his answer, though but bad. The peers are elsewhere placed,

  And will not rise till we return. Great Thetis' son hath stored

  Proud wrath within him, as his wealth, and will not be implored,

  Rude that he is, nor his friends' love respects, do what they can,

  Wherein past all, we honoured him. O unremorseful man!

  Another for his brother slain, another for his son,

  Accepts of satisfaction; and he the deed hath done

  Lives in beloved society long after his amends,

  To which his foe's high heart, for gifts, with patience condescends;

  But thee a wild and cruel spirit the Gods for plague have given,

  And for one girl, of whose fair sex we come to offer seven,

  The most exempt for excellence, and many a better prize.

  Then put a sweet mind in thy breast, respect thy own allies,

  Though others make thee not remiss. A multitude we are,

  Sprung of thy royal family, and our supremest care

  Is to be most familiar, and hold most love with thee

  Of all the Greeks, how great an host soever here there be."

  He answered : " Noble Telamon, prince of our soldiers here,

  Out of thy heart I know thou speak'st, and as thou hold'st me dear,

  But still as often as I think how rudely I was used,

  And, like a stranger, for all rites, fit for our good, refused,

  My heart doth swell against the man that durst be so profane

  To violate his sacred place; not for my private bane,

  But since wracked virtue's general laws he shameless did infringe;

  For whose sake I will loose the reins, and give mine anger swinge,

  Without my wisdom's least impeach. He is a fool, and base,

  That pities vice-plagued minds, when pain, not love of right, gives place.

  And therefore tell your king, my lords, my just wrath will not care

  For all his cares, before my tents and navy charged are

  By warlike Hector, making way through flocks of Grecian lives,

  Enlight'ned by their naval fire; but when his rage arrives

  About my tent, and sable bark, I doubt not but to shield

  Them and myself, and make him fly the there strong-bounded field."

  This said, each one but kissed the cup, and to the ships retired;

  Ulysses first. Patroclus then the men and maids required

  To make grave Phoenix' bed with speed, and see he nothing lacks.

  They straight obeyed, and thereon laid the subtile fruit-of flax,

  And warm sheep-fells for covering; and there the old man slept,

  Attending till the golden Morn her usual station kept.

  Achilles lay in th' inner room of his tent richly wrought,

  And that fair lady by his side that he from Lesbos brought,

  Bright Diomeda, Phorbas' seed. Patroclus did embrace

  The beauteous Iphis, given to him when his bold friend did race

  The lofty Scyrus that was kept in Enyeius' hold.

  Now at the tent of Atreus' son, each man with cups of gold

  Received th' ambassadors returned. All clustered near to know

  What news they brought; which first the king would have Ulysses show :

  “Say, most praiseworthy Ithacus, the Grecians' great renown,

  Will he defend us? Or not yet will his proud stomach down? "

  Ulysses made reply : " Not yet will he appeased be,

  But grows more wrathful, prizing light thy offered gifts and thee,

  And wills thee to consult with us, and take some other course

  To save our army and our fleet, and says,' with all his force,

  The morn shall light him on his way to Phthia's wished soil,

  For never shall high-seated Troy be sacked with all our toil;

  Jove holds his hand 'twixt us and it, the soldiers gather heart.'

  Thus he replies, which Ajax here can equally impart,

  And both these heralds. Phoenix stays, for so was his desire,

  To go with him, if he thought good; if not, he might retire.''

  All wond'red he should be so stern; at last bold Diomed spake :

  “Would God, Atrides, thy request were yet to undertake,

  And all thy gifts unoffered him! He's proud enough beside,

  But this ambassage thou hast sent will make him burst with pride.

  But let us suffer him to stay, or go, at his desire,

  Fight when his stomach serves him best, or when Jove shall inspire.

  Meanwhile, our watch being strongly held, let us a little rest

  After our food; strength lives by both, and virtue is their guest.

  Then when the rosy-fingered Morn holds out her silver light,

  Bring forth thy host, encourage all, and be thou first in fight."

  The kings admired the fortitude that so divinely moved

  The skilful horseman Diomed, and his advice approved.

  Then with their nightly sacrifice each took his several tent,

  Where all received the sovereign gifts soft Somnus did present.

  BOOK X.

  ARGUMENT.

  Th' Atrides, watching, wulce the other peers,

  And {in the fort, consulting of their fears)

  Two kings they send, most stout, and honoured most,

  For royal scouts, into the Trojan host;

  Who meeting Dolon, Hector's bribed spy,

  Take him,, and learn how all the quarters lie.

  He told them, in the Thracian regiment

  Of rich king Rhesus, and his royal tent,

  Striving for safety; but they end his strife,

  And rid poor Dolon of a dangerous life.

  Then with digressive wiles they use their force

  On Rhesus' life, and take his snowy horse.

  ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

  Kappa the night exploits applies:

  Rhesus' and Dolon's tragedies.

  THE other princ
es at their ships soft-fingered Sleep did bind,

  But not the general; Somnus' silks bound not his labouring mind

  That turned, and returned, many thoughts. And as quick

  lightnings fly,

  From -well-decked Juno's sovereign, out of the thickened sky,

  Preparing some exceeding rain, or hail, the fruit of cold,

  Or down-like snow that suddenly makes all the fields look old,

  Or opes the gulfy mouth of war with his ensulphured hand,

  In dazzling flashes poured from clouds, on any punished land;

  So from Atrides' troubled heart, through his dark sorrows flew

  Redoubled sighs; his entrails shook, as often as his view

  Admired the multitude of fires that gilt the Phrygian shade,

  And heard the sounds of fifes, and shawms, and tumults soldiers made.

  But when he saw his fleet and host kneel to his care and love,

  He rent his hair up by the roots as sacrifice to Jove,

  Burnt in his fiery sighs, still breathed out of his royal heart,

  And first thought good to Nestor's care his sorrows to impart,

  To try if royal diligence, with his approved advice,

  Might fashion counsels to prevent their threat'ned miseries.

  So up he rose, attired himself, and to his strong feet tied

  Rich shoes, and cast upon his back a ruddy lion's hide,

  So ample it his ankles reached, then took his royal spear.

  Like him was Menelaus pierced with an industrious fear,

  Nor sat sweet slumber on his eyes, lest bitter fates should quite

  The Greeks' high favours, that for him resolved such endless fight.

  And first a freckled panther's hide hid his broad back athwart;

  His head his brazen helm did arm; his able hand his dart;

  Then made he all his haste to raise his brother's head as rare,

  That he who most excelled in rule might help t' effect his care.

  He found him, at his ship's crook'd stern, adorning him with arms,

  Who joyed to see his brother's spirits awaked without alarms,

  Well weighing th' importance of the time. And first the younger spake:

  “Why, brother, are ye arming thus? Is it to undertake

  The sending of some vent'rous Greek t' explore the foe's intent?

  Alas! I greatly fear, not one will give that work consent,

  Exposed alone to all the fears that flow in gloomy night.

  He that doth this must know death well, in which ends every fright."

  “Brother," said he, " in these affairs we both must use advice,