Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

Of none account in council, or in arms.

  By no means may we all alike bear sway

  At Ilium; such plurality of Kings

  Were evil. One suffices. One, to whom

  The son of politic Saturn hath assign'd

  The sceptre, and inforcement of the laws,

  That he may rule us as a monarch ought.

  With such authority the troubled host

  He sway'd; they, quitting camp and fleet again

  Rush'd back to council; deafening was the sound

  As when a billow of the boisterous deep

  Some broad beach dashes, and the Ocean roars.

  The host all seated, and the benches fill'd,

  Thersites only of loquacious tongue

  Ungovern'd, clamor'd mutinous; a wretch

  Of utterance prompt, but in coarse phrase obscene

  Deep learn'd alone, with which to slander Kings.

  Might he but set the rabble in a roar,

  He cared not with what jest; of all from Greece

  To Ilium sent, his country's chief reproach.

  Cross-eyed he was, and halting moved on legs

  Ill-pair'd; his gibbous shoulders o'er his breast

  Contracted, pinch'd it; to a peak his head

  Was moulded sharp, and sprinkled thin with hair

  Of starveling length, flimsy and soft as down.

  Achilles and Ulysses had incurr'd

  Most his aversion; them he never spared;

  But now, imperial Agamemnon 'self

  In piercing accents stridulous he charged

  With foul reproach. The Grecians with contempt

  Listen'd, and indignation, while with voice

  At highest pitch, he thus the monarch mock'd.

  What wouldst thou now? Whereof is thy complaint

  Now, Agamemnon? Thou hast fill'd thy tents

  With treasure, and the Grecians, when they take

  A city, choose the loveliest girls for thee.

  Is gold thy wish? More gold? A ransom brought

  By some chief Trojan for his son's release

  Whom I, or other valiant Greek may bind?

  Or wouldst thou yet a virgin, one, by right

  Another's claim, but made by force thine own?

  It was not well, great Sir, that thou shouldst bring

  A plague on the Achaians, as of late.

  But come, my Grecian sisters, soldiers named

  Unfitly, of a sex too soft for war,

  Come, let us homeward: let him here digest

  What he shall gorge, alone; that he may learn

  If our assistance profit him or not.

  For when he shamed Achilles, he disgraced

  A Chief far worthier than himself, whose prize

  He now withholds. But tush, — Achilles lacks

  Himself the spirit of a man; no gall

  Hath he within him, or his hand long since

  Had stopp'd that mouth, that it should scoff no more.

  Thus, mocking royal Agamemnon, spake

  Thersites. Instant starting to his side,

  Noble Ulysses with indignant brows

  Survey'd him, and him thus reproved severe.

  Thersites! Railer! — peace. Think not thyself,

  Although thus eloquent, alone exempt

  From obligation not to slander Kings.

  I deem thee most contemptible, the worst

  Of Agamemnon's followers to the war;

  Presume not then to take the names revered

  Of Sovereigns on thy sordid lips, to asperse

  Their sacred character, and to appoint

  The Greeks a time when they shall voyage home.

  How soon, how late, with what success at last

  We shall return, we know not: but because

  Achaia's heroes numerous spoils allot

  To Agamemnon, Leader of the host,

  Thou therefore from thy seat revilest the King.

  But mark me. If I find thee, as even now,

  Raving and foaming at the lips again,

  May never man behold Ulysses' head

  On these my shoulders more, and may my son

  Prove the begotten of another Sire,

  If I not strip thee to that hide of thine

  As bare as thou wast born, and whip thee hence

  Home to thy galley, sniveling like a boy.

  He ceased, and with his sceptre on the back

  And shoulders smote him. Writhing to and fro,

  He wept profuse, while many a bloody whelk

  Protuberant beneath the sceptre sprang.

  Awe-quell'd he sat, and from his visage mean,

  Deep-sighing, wiped the rheums. It was no time

  For mirth, yet mirth illumined every face,

  And laughing, thus they spake. A thousand acts

  Illustrious, both by well-concerted plans

  And prudent disposition of the host

  Ulysses hath achieved, but this by far

  Transcends his former praise, that he hath quell'd

  Such contumelious rhetoric profuse.

  The valiant talker shall not soon, we judge,

  Take liberties with royal names again.

  So spake the multitude. Then, stretching forth

  The sceptre, city-spoiler Chief, arose

  Ulysses. Him beside, herald in form,

  Appeared Minerva. Silence she enjoined

  To all, that all Achaia's sons might hear,

  Foremost and rearmost, and might weigh his words.

  He then his counsel, prudent, thus proposed.

  Atrides! Monarch! The Achaians seek

  To make thee ignominious above all

  In sight of all mankind. None recollects

  His promise more in steed-famed Argos pledged,

  Here to abide till Ilium wall'd to heaven

  Should vanquish'd sink, and all her wealth be ours.

  No — now, like widow'd women, or weak boys,

  They whimper to each other, wishing home.

  And home, I grant, to the afflicted soul

  Seems pleasant. The poor seaman from his wife

  One month detain'd, cheerless his ship and sad

  Possesses, by the force of wintry blasts,

  And by the billows of the troubled deep

  Fast lock'd in port. But us the ninth long year

  Revolving, finds camp'd under Ilium still.

  I therefore blame not, if they mourn beside

  Their sable barks, the Grecians. Yet the shame

  That must attend us after absence long

  Returning unsuccessful, who can bear?

  Be patient, friends! wait only till we learn

  If Calchas truly prophesied, or not;

  For well we know, and I to all appeal,

  Whom Fate hath not already snatch'd away,

  (It seems but yesterday, or at the most

  A day or two before) that when the ships

  Wo-fraught for Priam, and the race of Troy,

  At Aulis met, and we beside the fount

  With perfect hecatombs the Gods adored

  Beneath the plane-tree, from whose root a stream

  Ran crystal-clear, there we beheld a sign

  Wonderful in all eyes. A serpent huge,

  Tremendous spectacle! with crimson spots

  His back all dappled, by Olympian Jove

  Himself protruded, from the altar's foot

  Slipp'd into light, and glided to the tree.

  There on the topmost bough, close-cover'd sat

  With foliage broad, eight sparrows, younglings all,

  Then newly feather'd, with their dam, the ninth.

  The little ones lamenting shrill he gorged,

  While, wheeling o'er his head, with screams the dam

  Bewail'd her darling brood. Her also next,

  Hovering and clamoring, he by the wing

  Within his spiry folds drew, and devoured.

  All eaten thus, the nestlings and the dam,


  The God who sent him, signalized him too,

  For him Saturnian Jove transform'd to stone.

  We wondering stood, to see that strange portent

  Intrude itself into our holy rites,

  When Calchas, instant, thus the sign explain'd.

  Why stand ye, Greeks, astonish'd? Ye behold

  A prodigy by Jove himself produced,

  An omen, whose accomplishment indeed

  Is distant, but whose fame shall never die.

  E'en as this serpent in your sight devour'd

  Eight youngling sparrows, with their dam, the ninth,

  So we nine years must war on yonder plain,

  And in the tenth, wide-bulwark'd Troy is ours.

  So spake the seer, and as he spake, is done.

  Wait, therefore, brave Achaians! go not hence

  Till Priam's spacious city be your prize.

  He ceased, and such a shout ensued, that all

  The hollow ships the deafening roar return'd

  Of acclamation, every voice the speech

  Extolling of Ulysses, glorious Chief.

  Then Nestor the Gerenian, warrior old,

  Arising, spake; and, by the Gods, he said,

  Ye more resemble children inexpert

  In war, than disciplined and prudent men.

  Where now are all your promises and vows,

  Councils, libations, right-hand covenants?

  Burn them, since all our occupation here

  Is to debate and wrangle, whereof end

  Or fruit though long we wait, shall none be found.

  But, Sovereign, be not thou appall'd. Be firm.

  Relax not aught of thine accustomed sway,

  But set the battle forth as thou art wont.

  And if there be a Grecian, here and there,

  One, adverse to the general voice, let such

  Wither alone. He shall not see his wish

  Gratified, neither will we hence return

  To Argos, ere events shall yet have proved

  Jove's promise false or true. For when we climb'd

  Our gallant barks full-charged with Ilium's fate,

  Saturnian Jove omnipotent, that day,

  (Omen propitious!) thunder'd on the right.

  Let no man therefore pant for home, till each

  Possess a Trojan spouse, and from her lips

  Take sweet revenge for Helen's pangs of heart.

  Who then? What soldier languishes and sighs

  To leave us? Let him dare to lay his hand

  On his own vessel, and he dies the first.

  But hear, O King! I shall suggest a course

  Not trivial. Agamemnon! sort the Greeks

  By districts and by tribes, that tribe may tribe

  Support, and each his fellow. This performed,

  And with consent of all, thou shalt discern

  With ease what Chief, what private man deserts,

  And who performs his part. The base, the brave,

  Such disposition made, shall both appear;

  And thou shalt also know, if heaven or we,

  The Gods, or our supineness, succor Troy.

  To whom Atrides, King of men, replied.

  Old Chief! Thou passest all Achaia's sons

  In consultation; would to Jove our Sire,

  To Athenæan Pallas, and Apollo!

  That I had ten such coadjutors, wise

  As thou art, and the royal city soon

  Of Priam, with her wealth, should all be ours.

  But me the son of Saturn, Jove supreme

  Himself afflicts, who in contentious broils

  Involves me, and in altercation vain.

  Thence all that wordy tempest for a girl

  Achilles and myself between, and I

  The fierce aggressor. Be that breach but heal'd!

  And Troy's reprieve thenceforth is at an end.

  Go — take refreshment now that we may march

  Forth to our enemies. Let each whet well

  His spear, brace well his shield, well feed his brisk

  High-mettled horses, well survey and search

  His chariot on all sides, that no defect

  Disgrace his bright habiliments of war.

  So will we give the day from morn to eve

  To dreadful battle. Pause there shall be none

  Till night divide us. Every buckler's thong

  Shall sweat on the toil'd bosom, every hand

  That shakes the spear shall ache, and every steed

  Shall smoke that whirls the chariot o'er the plain.

  Wo then to whom I shall discover here

  Loitering among the tents; let him escape

  My vengeance if he can. The vulture's maw

  Shall have his carcase, and the dogs his bones.

  He spake; whom all applauded with a shout

  Loud as against some headland cliff the waves

  Roll'd by the stormy South o'er rocks that shoot

  Afar into the deep, which in all winds

  The flood still overspreads, blow whence they may.

  Arising, forth they rush'd, among the ships

  All scatter'd; smoke from every tent arose,

  The host their food preparing; next, his God

  Each man invoked (of the Immortals him

  Whom he preferr'd) with sacrifice and prayer

  For safe escape from danger and from death.

  But Agamemnon to Saturnian Jove

  Omnipotent, an ox of the fifth year

  Full-flesh'd devoted, and the Princes call'd

  Noblest of all the Grecians to his feast.

  First, Nestor with Idomeneus the King,

  Then either Ajax, and the son he call'd

  Of Tydeus, with Ulysses sixth and last,

  Jove's peer in wisdom. Menelaus went,

  Heroic Chief! unbidden, for he knew

  His brother's mind with weight of care oppress'd.

  The ox encircling, and their hands with meal

  Of consecration fill'd, the assembly stood,

  When Agamemnon thus his prayer preferred.

  Almighty Father! Glorious above all!

  Cloud-girt, who dwell'st in heaven thy throne sublime,

  Let not the sun go down, till Priam's roof

  Fall flat into the flames; till I shall burn

  His gates with fire; till I shall hew away

  His hack'd and riven corslet from the breast

  Of Hector, and till numerous Chiefs, his friends,

  Around him, prone in dust, shall bite the ground.

  So prayed he, but with none effect, The God

  Received his offering, but to double toil

  Doom'd them, and sorrow more than all the past.

  They then, the triturated barley grain

  First duly sprinkling, the sharp steel infix'd

  Deep in the victim's neck reversed, then stripp'd

  The carcase, and divided at their joint

  The thighs, which in the double caul involved

  They spread with slices crude, and burn'd with fire

  Ascending fierce from billets sere and dry.

  The spitted entrails next they o'er the coals

  Suspended held. The thighs with fire consumed,

  They gave to each his portion of the maw,

  Then slash'd the remnant, pierced it with the spits,

  And managing with culinary skill

  The roast, withdrew it from the spits again.

  Thus, all their task accomplished, and the board

  Set forth, they feasted, and were all sufficed.

  When neither hunger more nor thirst remain'd

  Unsatisfied, Gerenian Nestor spake.

  Atrides! Agamemnon! King of men!

  No longer waste we time in useless words,

  Nor to a distant hour postpone the work

  To which heaven calls thee. Send thine heralds forth.

  Who shall convene the Achaians at the fleet,

  That we,
the Chiefs assembled here, may range,

  Together, the imbattled multitude,

  And edge their spirits for immediate fight.

  He spake, nor Agamemnon not complied.

  At once he bade his clear-voiced heralds call

  The Greeks to battle. They the summons loud

  Gave forth, and at the sound the people throng'd.

  Then Agamemnon and the Kings of Greece

  Dispatchful drew them into order just,

  With whom Minerva azure-eyed advanced,

  The inestimable Ægis on her arm,

  Immortal, unobnoxious to decay

  A hundred braids, close twisted, all of gold,

  Each valued at a hundred beeves, around

  Dependent fringed it. She from side to side

  Her eyes cerulean rolled, infusing thirst

  Of battle endless into every breast.

  War won them now, war sweeter now to each

  Than gales to waft them over ocean home.

  As when devouring flames some forest seize

  On the high mountains, splendid from afar

  The blaze appears, so, moving on the plain,

  The steel-clad host innumerous flash'd to heaven.

  And as a multitude of fowls in flocks

  Assembled various, geese, or cranes, or swans

  Lithe-neck'd, long hovering o'er Caÿster's banks

  On wanton plumes, successive on the mead

  Alight at last, and with a clang so loud

  That all the hollow vale of Asius rings;

  In number such from ships and tents effused,

  They cover'd the Scamandrian plain; the earth

  Rebellow'd to the feet of steeds and men.

  They overspread Scamander's grassy vale,

  Myriads, as leaves, or as the flowers of spring.

  As in the hovel where the peasant milks

  His kine in spring-time, when his pails are fill'd,

  Thick clouds of humming insects on the wing

  Swarm all around him, so the Grecians swarm'd

  An unsumm'd multitude o'er all the plain,

  Bright arm'd, high crested, and athirst for war.

  As goat-herds separate their numerous flocks

  With ease, though fed promiscuous, with like ease

  Their leaders them on every side reduced

  To martial order glorious; among whom

  Stood Agamemnon "with an eye like Jove's,

  To threaten or command," like Mars in girth,

  And with the port of Neptune. As the bull

  Conspicuous among all the herd appears,

  For he surpasses all, such Jove ordain'd

  That day the son of Atreus, in the midst

  Of Heroes, eminent above them all.

  Tell me, (for ye are are heavenly, and beheld

  A scene, whereof the faint report alone

  Hath reached our ears, remote and ill-informed,)

  Tell me, ye Muses, under whom, beneath