Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  Touched at his person; still he lies at fleet, and in the tent

  Of our great Captain, who indeed is much too negligent

  Of his fit usage. But, though now twelve days have spent their heat

  On his cold body, neither worms with any taint have eat,

  Nor putrefaction perished it; yet ever, when the Morn

  Lifts her divine light from the sea, unmercifully borne

  About Patroclus' sepulchre, it bears his friend's disdain,

  Bound to his chariot; but no fits of further outrage reign

  In his distemper. You would muse to see how deep a dew

  Even steeps the body, all the blood washed off, no slend'rest show

  Of gore or quitture, but his wounds all closed, though many were

  Opened about him. Such a love the blest Immortals bear,

  Even dead, to thy dear son, because his life showed love to them."

  He joyful answered : " O my son, it is a grace supreme

  In any man to serve the gods. And I must needs say this,

  For no cause, having season fit, my Hector's hands would miss

  Advancement to the Gods with gifts, and therefore do not they

  Miss his remembrance after death. Now let an old man pray

  Thy graces to receive this cup, and keep it for my love,

  Nor leave me till the gods and thee have made my prayers approve

  Achilles' pity, by thy guide brought to his princely tent."

  Hermes replied : " You tempt me now, old king, to a consent

  Far from me, though youth aptly errs. I secretly receive

  Gifts that I cannot broadly vouch, take graces that will give

  My lord dishonour, or what be knows not, or will esteem

  Perhaps unfit? Such briberies perhaps at first may seem

  Sweet and secure, but futurely they still prove sour, and breed

  Both fear and danger.. I could wish thy grave affairs did need

  My guide to Argos, either shipped, or lackeying by thy side,

  And would be studious in thy guard, so nothing could be tried

  But care in me to keep thee safe, for that I could excuse,

  And vouch to all men." These words past, he put the deeds in use

  For which Jove sent him; up he leapt to Priam's chariot,

  Took scourge and reins, and blew in strength to his free steeds, and got

  The naval tow'rs and deep dike straight. The guards were all at meat,

  Those he enslumbered, oped the ports, and in he safely let

  Old Priam with his wealthy prize. Forthwith they reached the tent

  Of great Achilles, large and high, and in his most ascent

  A shaggy roof of seedy reeds mown from the meads; a hall

  Of state they made their king in it, and strength'ned it withal

  Thick with fir rafters, whose approach was let in by a door

  That had but one bar, but so big that three men evermore

  Raised it to shut, three fresh take down, which yet Aeacides

  Would shut and ope himself. And this with far more ease

  Hermes set ope, ent'ring the" king; then leaped from horse and said :

  “Now know, old king, that Mercury, a god, hath given this aid

  To thy endeavour, sent by Jove; and now away must I,

  For men would envy thy estate to see a deity

  Affect a man thus. Enter thou, embrace Achilles' knee,

  And by his sire, son, mother, pray his ruth and grace to thee"

  This said, he high Olympus reached. The king then left his coach

  To grave Idseus, and went on, made his resolved approach,

  And entered in a goodly room, where with his princes sate

  Jove-loved Achilles, at their feast; two only kept the state

  Of his attendance, Alcimus, and lord Automedon,

  At Priam's entry. A great time Achilles gazed upon

  His wondered-at approach, nor eat; the rest did nothing see,

  While close he came up, with his hands fast holding the bent knee

  Of Hector's conqueror, and kissed that large man-slaughtering hand

  That much blood from his sons had drawn. And as in some strange land,

  And great man's house, a man is driv'n (with that abhorred dismay

  That follows wilful bloodshed still, his fortune being to slay

  One whose blood cries aloud for his) to plead protection,

  In such a miserable plight as frights the lookers on;

  In such a stupefied estate Achilles sat to see

  So unexpected, so in night, and so incredibly,

  Old Priam's entry. All his friends one on another stared

  To see his strange looks, seeing no cause. Thus Priam then prepared

  His son's redemption: " See in me, O godlike Thetis' son,

  Thy aged father, and perhaps even now being outrun

  With some of my woes, neighbour foes, (thou absent), taking time

  To do him mischief, no mean left to terrify the crime

  Of his oppression; yet he hears thy graces still survive,

  And joys to hear it, hoping still to see thee safe arrive

  From ruined Troy; but I, cursed man, of all my race shall live

  To see none living. Fifty sons the deities did give

  My hopes to live in, all alive when near our trembling shore

  The Greek ships harboured, and one womb nineteen of those sons bore.

  Now Mars a number of their knees hath strengthless left, and he

  That was, of all, my only joy, and Troy's sole guard, by thee,

  Late fighting for his country, slain : whose tendered person now

  I come to ransom. Infinite is that I offer you,

  Myself conferring it, exposed alone to all your odds,

  Only imploring right of arms. Achilles! Fear the Gods,

  Pity an old man like thy sire, different in only this,

  That I am wretcheder, and bear that weight of miseries

  That never man did, my cursed lips enforced to kiss that hand

  That slew my children." This moved tears, his father's name did stand

  (Mentioned by Priam,) in much help to his compassion,

  And moved Aeacides so much he could not look upon

  The weeping father. With his hand he gently put away

  His grave face. Calm remission now did mutually display

  Her power in either's heaviness. Old Priam, to record

  His son's death and his deathsman see, his tears and bosom poured

  Before Achilles; at his feet he laid his reverend head.

  Achilles' thoughts, now with his sire, now with his friend, were fed.

  Betwixt both sorrow filled the tent. But now Aeacides

  (Satiate at all parts with the ruth of their calamities)

  Start up, and up he raised the king. His milk-white head and beard

  With pity he beheld, and said : " Poor man, thy mind is scared

  With much affliction. How durst thy person thus alone

  Venture on his sight that hath slain so many a worthy son,

  And so dear to thee? Thy old heart is made of iron. Sit,

  And 'settle we our woes, though huge, for nothing profits it.

  Cold mourning wastes but our lives' heats. The gods have destinate

  That wretched mortals must live sad : 'Tis the immortal state

  Of deity that lives secure. Two tuns of gifts there lie

  In Jove's gate, one of good, one ill, that our mortality

  Maintain, spoil, order; which when Jove doth mix to any man,

  One while he frolics, one while mourns. If of his mournful can

  A man drinks only, only wrongs he doth expose him to,

  Sad hunger in th' abundant earth doth toss him to and fro.

  Respected nor of gods nor men. The mixed cup Peleus drank

  Even from his birth; Heaven blest his life; he lived not that could thank

  The gods for suc
h rare benefits as set forth his estate.

  He reigned among his Myrmidons most rich, most fortunate,

  And, though a mortal, had his bed decked with a deathless dame.

  And yet, with all this good, one ill God mixed, that takes all name

  From all that goodness; his name now, whose preservation here

  Men count the crown of their most good, not bless'd with power to bear

  One blossom but myself, and I shaken as soon as blown;

  Nor shall I live to cheer his age, and give nutrition

  To him that nourished me. Far off my rest is set in Troy

  To leave thee restless and thy seed; thyself that did enjoy,

  As we have heard, a happy life, what Lesbos doth contain,

  In times past being a bless'd man's seat, what th' unmeasured main

  Of Hellespontus, Phrygia, holds, are all said to adorn

  Thy empire, wealth and sons enow, but, when the Gods did turn

  Thy blest state to partake with bane, war and the bloods of men

  Circled thy city, never olear. Sit down and suffer then,

  Mourn not inevitable things; thy tears can spring no deeds

  To help thee, nor recall thy son; impatience ever breeds

  Ill upon ill, makes worst things worse, and therefore sit." He said :

  “Give me no seat, great seed of Jove, when yet unransomed

  Hector lies riteless in thy tents, but deign with utmost speed

  His resignation, that these eyes.may see his person freed,

  And thy grace satisfied with gifts. Accept what I have brought,

  And turn to Phthia; 'tis enough thy conquering hand hath fought

  Till Hector faltered under it, and Hector's father stood

  With free humanity safe." He frowned and said : " Give not my blood

  Fresh cause of fury. I know well I must resign thy son,

  Jove by my mother utter'd it, and what besides is done

  I know as amply; and thyself, old Priam, I know too.

  Some God hath brought thee, for no man durst use a thought to go •

  On such a service. I have guards, and I have gates to stay

  Easy accesses; do not then presume thy will can sway,

  Like Jove's will, and incense again my quenched blood, lest nor thou

  Nor Jove get the command of me." This made the old king bow,

  And down he sat in fear. The prince leaped like a lion forth,

  Automedon and Alcimus attending; all the Worth

  Brought for the body they took down and brought in, and with it

  Idseus, herald to the king; a coat embroidered yet,

  And two rich cloaks, they left to hide the person. Thetis' son

  Called out his women to anoint and quickly overrun

  The corse with water, lifting it in private to the coach,

  Lest Priam saw, and his cold blood embraced a fiery touch

  Of anger at the turpitude profaning it, and blew

  Again his wrath's fire to his death. This done, his women threw

  The coat and cloak on, but the corse Achilles' own hand laid

  Upon a bed, and with his friends to chariot it conveyed.

  For which forced grace, abhorring so from his free mind, he wept,

  Cried out for anger, and thus prayed : " O, friend, do not accept

  Against this favour to our foe, if in the deep thou hear,

  And that I give him to his sire; he gave fair ransom; dear

  In my observance is Jove's will; and whatsoever part

  Of all these gifts by any mean I fitly may convert

  To thy renown here, and will there, it shall be poured upon

  Thy honoured sepulchre." This said, he went, and what was done

  Told Priam, saying : " Father, now thy will's fit rites are paid,

  Thy son is given up; in the morn thine eyes shall see him laid

  Decked in thy chariot on his bed; in mean space let us eat.

  The rich-haired Niobe found thoughts that made her take her meat,

  Though twelve dear children she saw slain, six daughters, six young sons

  The sons incensed Apollo slew; the maids' confusions

  Diana wrought, since Niobe her merits durst compare

  With great Latona's, arguing that she did only bear

  Two children, and herself had twelve, for which those only two

  Slew all her twelve. Nine days they lay steeped in their blood, her woe

  Found no friend to afford them fire, Saturnius had turned

  Humanes to stones. The tenth day yet, the good celestials burned

  The trunks themselves, and Niobe, when she was tired with tears,

  Fell to her food, and now with rocks and wild hills mixed she bears

  In Sipylus the gods' wraths still, in that place where 'tis said

  The Goddess Fairies use to dance about the funeral bed

  Of Achelous, where, though turned with cold grief to a stone,

  Heaven gives her heat enough to feel what plague comparison

  With his pow'rs made by earth deserves. Affect not then too far

  Without grief, like a God, being a .man, but for a man's life care,

  And take fit food: thou shalt have time beside to mourn thy son;

  He shall be tearful, thou being full, not here, but Ilion i

  Shall find thee weeping-rooms enow." He said, and so arose,

  And caused a silver-fleeced sheep killed: his friends' skills did dispose

  The flaying, cutting of it up, and cookly spitted it,

  Roasted, and drew it artfully. Automedon, as fit,

  Was for the reverend sewer's place; and all the brown joints served

  On wicker vessels to the board; Achilles' own hands kerved,

  And close they fell to. Hunger stanched, talk, and observing time,

  Was used of all hands. Priam sat amazed to see the prime

  Of Thetis' son, accomplished so with stature, looks, and grace,

  In which the fashion of a God he thought had changed his place.

  Achilles fell to him as fast, admired as much his years

  Told in his grave and good aspect, his speech even charmed his ears,

  So ordered, so material. With this food feasted too,

  Old Priam spake thus : " Now, Jove's seed, command that I may go,

  And add to this feast grace of rest. These lids ne'er closed mine eyes

  Since under thy hands fled the soul of my dear son; sighs, cries,

  And woes, all use from food and sleep have taken; the base courts

  Of my sad palace made my beds, where all the abject sorts

  Of sorrow I have varied, tumbled in dust, and hid;

  No bit, no drop, of sustenance touched." Then did Achilles bid

  His men and women see his bed laid down, and covered

  With purple blankets, and on them an arras coverlid,

  Waistcoats of silk plush laying by. The women straight took lights,

  And two beds made with'utmost speed, and all the other rites'

  Their lord named used, who pleasantly the king in hand thus bore :

  “Good father, you must sleep without, lest any counsellor

  Make his access in depth of night, as oft their industry

  Brings them t' impart our war-affairs, of whom should any eye

  Discern your presence, his next steps to Agamemnon fly,

  And then shall I lose all these gifts. But go to, signify,

  And that with truth, how many days you mean to keep the state

  Of Hector's funerals; because so long would I rebate

  Mine own edge set to sack your town, and all our host contain

  From interruption of your rites." He answered: " If you mean

  To suffer such rites to my son, you shall perform a part

  Of most grace to me. But you know with how dismayed a heart

  Our host took Troy, and how much fear will therefore apprehend

  Their spirits
to make out again, so far as we must send

  For wood to raise our heap of death; unless I may assure

  That this your high grace will stand good, and make their pass secure;

  Which if you seriously confirm, nine days I mean to mourn,

  The tenth keep funeral and feast, th' eleventh raise and adorn

  My son's fit sepulchre, the twelfth, if w.e-must needs, we'll fight."

  “Be it," replied Aeacides, " do Hector all, this right;

  I'll hold war back those whole twelve days; of which, to free all fear,

  Take this my right hand." This confirmed, the old king rested there;

  His herald lodged by him; and both in forepart of the tent;

  Achilles in an inmost room of wondrous ornament,

  Whose side bright-cheeked Briseis warmed. Soft sleep tamed gods and men,

  All but most-useful Mercury; sleep could not lay one chain

  On his quick temples, taking care for getting off again

  Engaged Priam undiscerned of those that did maintain

  The sacred watch. Above his head he stood with this demand:

  “O father, sleep'st thou so secure, still lying in the hand

  Of so much ill, and being dismissed by great ^Eacides?

  'Tis true thou hast redeemed the dead, but for thy life's release,

  Should Agamemnon hear thee here, three times the price now paid

  Thy sons' hands must repay for thee." This said, the king, afraid,

  Starts from his sleep, Idaeus'called, and, for both, Mercury

  The horse and mules, before loosed, joined so soft and curiously

  That no ear heard, and through the host drave; but when they drew

  To gulfy Xanthus' bright-waved stream, up to Olympus flew

  Industrious Mercury. And now the saffron morning rose,

  Spreading her white robe over all the world; when, full of woes,

  They scourged on with the corse to Troy, from whence no eye had seen,

  Before Cassandra, their return. She, like love's golden Queen,

  Ascending Pergamus, discerned her father's person nigh,

  His herald, and her brother's corse, and then she 'cast this cry

  Round about Troy : " O Tro'ians, if ever ye did greet

  Hector returned from fight alive, now look ye out and meet

  His ransomed person. Then his worth was all your city's joy,

  Now do it honour." Out all rushed, woman nor man in Troy

  Was left, a most unmeasured cry took up their voices. Close

  To Scsea's ports they met the corse : and to it headlong goes

  The reverend mother, the dear wife, upon it strow their hair,