Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  Or dared; all stood; such terror had on all

  Fallen, for that Achilles had appear'd,

  After long pause from battle's arduous toil.

  First rose Polydamas the prudent son

  Of Panthus, above all the Trojans skill'd

  Both in futurity and in the past.

  He was the friend of Hector, and one night

  Gave birth to both. In council one excell'd

  And one still more in feats of high renown.

  Thus then, admonishing them, he began.

  My friends! weigh well the occasion. Back to Troy

  By my advice, nor wait the sacred morn

  Here, on the plain, from Ilium's walls remote

  So long as yet the anger of this Chief

  'Gainst noble Agamemnon burn'd, so long

  We found the Greeks less formidable foes,

  And I rejoiced, myself, spending the night

  Beside their oary barks, for that I hoped

  To seize them; but I now tremble at thought

  Of Peleus' rapid son again in arms.

  A spirit proud as his will scorn to fight

  Here, on the plain, where Greeks and Trojans take

  Their common share of danger and of toil,

  And will at once strike at your citadel,

  Impatient till he make your wives his prey.

  Haste — let us home — else thus shall it befall;

  Night's balmy influence in his tent detains

  Achilles now, but rushing arm'd abroad

  To-morrow, should he find us lingering here,

  None shall mistake him then; happy the man

  Who soonest, then, shall 'scape to sacred Troy!

  Then, dogs shall make and vultures on our flesh

  Plenteous repast. Oh spare mine ears the tale!

  But if, though troubled, ye can yet receive

  My counsel, thus assembled we will keep

  Strict guard to-night; meantime, her gates and towers

  With all their mass of solid timbers, smooth

  And cramp'd with bolts of steel, will keep the town.

  But early on the morrow we will stand

  All arm'd on Ilium's towers. Then, if he choose,

  His galleys left, to compass Troy about,

  He shall be task'd enough; his lofty steeds

  Shall have their fill of coursing to and fro

  Beneath, and gladly shall to camp return.

  But waste the town he shall not, nor attempt

  With all the utmost valor that he boasts

  To force a pass; dogs shall devour him first.

  To whom brave Hector louring, and in wrath.

  Polydamas, I like not thy advice

  Who bidd'st us in our city skulk, again

  Imprison'd there. Are ye not yet content?

  Wish ye for durance still in your own towers?

  Time was, when in all regions under heaven

  Men praised the wealth of Priam's city stored

  With gold and brass; but all our houses now

  Stand emptied of their hidden treasures rare.

  Jove in his wrath hath scatter'd them; our wealth

  Is marketed, and Phrygia hath a part

  Purchased, and part Mæonia's lovely land.

  But since the son of wily Saturn old

  Hath given me glory now, and to inclose

  The Grecians in their fleet hemm'd by the sea,

  Fool! taint not with such talk the public mind.

  For not a Trojan here will thy advice

  Follow, or shall; it hath not my consent.

  But thus I counsel. Let us, band by band,

  Throughout the host take supper, and let each,

  Guarded against nocturnal danger, watch.

  And if a Trojan here be rack'd in mind

  Lest his possessions perish, let him cast

  His golden heaps into the public maw,

  Far better so consumed than by the Greeks.

  Then, with the morrow's dawn, all fair array'd

  In battle, we will give them at their fleet

  Sharp onset, and if Peleus' noble son

  Have risen indeed to conflict for the ships,

  The worse for him. I shall not for his sake

  Avoid the deep-toned battle, but will firm

  Oppose his utmost. Either he shall gain

  Or I, great glory. Mars his favors deals

  Impartial, and the slayer oft is slain.

  So counsell'd Hector, whom with shouts of praise

  The Trojans answer'd: — fools, and by the power

  Of Pallas of all sober thought bereft!

  For all applauded Hector, who had given

  Advice pernicious, and Polydamas,

  Whose counsel was discreet and wholesome none.

  So then they took repast. But all night long

  The Grecians o'er Patroclus wept aloud,

  While, standing in the midst, Pelides led

  The lamentation, heaving many a groan,

  And on the bosom of his breathless friend

  Imposing, sad, his homicidal hands.

  As the grim lion, from whose gloomy lair

  Among thick trees the hunter hath his whelps

  Purloin'd, too late returning mourns his loss,

  Then, up and down, the length of many a vale

  Courses, exploring fierce the robber's foot,

  Incensed as he, and with a sigh deep-drawn

  Thus to his Myrmidons Achilles spake.

  How vain, alas! my word spoken that day

  At random, when to soothe the hero's fears

  Menœtius, then our guest, I promised him

  His noble son at Opoeis again,

  Living and laden with the spoils of Troy!

  But Jove performs not all the thoughts of man,

  For we were both destined to tinge the soil

  Of Ilium with our blood, nor I shall see,

  Myself, my father in his mansion more

  Or Thetis, but must find my burial here.

  Yet, my Patroclus! since the earth expects

  Me next, I will not thy funereal rites

  Finish, till I shall bring both head and arms

  Of that bold Chief who slew thee, to my tent.

  I also will smite off, before thy pile,

  The heads of twelve illustrious sons of Troy,

  Resentful of thy death. Meantime, among

  My lofty galleys thou shalt lie, with tears

  Mourn'd day and night by Trojan captives fair

  And Dardan compassing thy bier around,

  Whom we, at price of labor hard, ourselves

  With massy spears toiling in battle took

  From many an opulent city, now no more.

  So saying, he bade his train surround with fire

  A tripod huge, that they might quickly cleanse

  Patroclus from all stain of clotted gore.

  They on the blazing hearth a tripod placed

  Capacious, fill'd with water its wide womb,

  And thrust dry wood beneath, till, fierce, the flames

  Embraced it round, and warm'd the flood within.

  Soon as the water in the singing brass

  Simmer'd, they bathed him, and with limpid oil

  Anointed; filling, next, his ruddy wounds

  With unguent mellow'd by nine circling years,

  They stretch'd him on his bed, then cover'd him

  From head to feet with linen texture light,

  And with a wide unsullied mantle, last.

  All night the Myrmidons around the swift

  Achilles stood, deploring loud his friend,

  And Jove his spouse and sister thus bespake.

  So then, Imperial Juno! not in vain

  Thou hast the swift Achilles sought to rouse

  Again to battle; the Achaians, sure,

  Are thy own children, thou hast borne them all.

  To whom the awful Goddess ample-eyed.

  What
word hath pass'd thy lips, Jove, most severe?

  A man, though mortal merely, and to me

  Inferior in device, might have achieved

  That labor easily. Can I who boast

  Myself the chief of Goddesses, and such

  Not by birth only, but as thine espoused,

  Who art thyself sovereign of all the Gods,

  Can I with anger burn against the house

  Of Priam, and want means of just revenge?

  Thus they in heaven their mutual conference

  Meantime, the silver-footed Thetis reach'd

  The starr'd abode eternal, brazen wall'd

  Of Vulcan, by the builder lame himself

  Uprear'd, a wonder even in eyes divine.

  She found him sweating, at his bellows huge

  Toiling industrious; tripods bright he form'd

  Twenty at once, his palace-wall to grace

  Ranged in harmonious order. Under each

  Two golden wheels he set, on which (a sight

  Marvellous!) into council they should roll

  Self-moved, and to his house, self-moved, return.

  Thus far the work was finish'd, but not yet

  Their ears of exquisite design affixt,

  For them he stood fashioning, and prepared

  The rivets. While he thus his matchless skill

  Employ'd laborious, to his palace-gate

  The silver-footed Thetis now advanced,

  Whom Charis, Vulcan's well-attired spouse,

  Beholding from the palace portal, flew

  To seize the Goddess' hand, and thus inquired.

  Why, Thetis! worthy of all reverence

  And of all love, comest thou to our abode,

  Unfrequent here? But enter, and accept

  Such welcome as to such a guest is due.

  So saying, she introduced and to a seat

  Led her with argent studs border'd around

  And foot-stool'd sumptuously; then, calling forth

  Her spouse, the glorious artist, thus she said.

  Haste, Vulcan! Thetis wants thee; linger not.

  To whom the artist of the skies replied.

  A Goddess then, whom with much cause I love

  And venerate is here, who when I fell

  Saved me, what time my shameless mother sought

  To cast me, because lame, out of all sight;

  Then had I been indeed forlorn, had not

  Eurynome the daughter of the Deep

  And Thetis in their laps received me fallen.

  Nine years with them residing, for their use

  I form'd nice trinkets, clasps, rings, pipes, and chains,

  While loud around our hollow cavern roar'd

  The surge of the vast deep, nor God nor man,

  Save Thetis and Eurynome, my life's

  Preservers, knew where I was kept conceal'd.

  Since, therefore, she is come, I cannot less

  Than recompense to Thetis amber-hair'd

  With readiness the boon of life preserved.

  Haste, then, and hospitably spread the board

  For her regale, while with my best dispatch

  I lay my bellows and my tools aside.

  He spake, and vast in bulk and hot with toil

  Rose limping from beside his anvil-stock

  Upborne, with pain on legs tortuous and weak.

  First, from the forge dislodged he thrust apart

  His bellows, and his tools collecting all

  Bestow'd them, careful, in a silver chest,

  Then all around with a wet sponge he wiped

  His visage, and his arms and brawny neck

  Purified, and his shaggy breast from smutch;

  Last, putting on his vest, he took in hand

  His sturdy staff, and shuffled through the door.

  Beside the King of fire two golden forms

  Majestic moved, that served him in the place

  Of handmaids; young they seem'd, and seem'd alive,

  Nor want they intellect, or speech, or force,

  Or prompt dexterity by the Gods inspired.

  These his supporters were, and at his side

  Attendant diligent, while he, with gait

  Uncouth, approaching Thetis where she sat

  On a bright throne, seized fast her hand and said,

  Why, Thetis! worthy as thou art of love

  And of all reverence, hast thou arrived,

  Unfrequent here? Speak — tell me thy desire,

  Nor doubt my services, if thou demand

  Things possible, and possible to me.

  Then Thetis, weeping plenteously, replied.

  Oh Vulcan! Is there on Olympius' heights

  A Goddess with such load of sorrow press'd

  As, in peculiar, Jove assigns to me?

  Me only, of all ocean-nymphs, he made

  Spouse to a man, Peleus Æacides,

  Whose bed, although reluctant and perforce,

  I yet endured to share. He now, the prey

  Of cheerless age, decrepid lies, and Jove

  Still other woes heaps on my wretched head.

  He gave me to bring forth, gave me to rear

  A son illustrious, valiant, and the chief

  Of heroes; he, like a luxuriant plant

  Upran to manhood, while his lusty growth

  I nourish'd as the husbandman his vine

  Set in a fruitful field, and being grown

  I sent him early in his gallant fleet

  Embark'd, to combat with the sons of Troy;

  But him from fight return'd I shall receive,

  Beneath the roof of Peleus, never more,

  And while he lives and on the sun his eyes

  Opens, affliction is his certain doom,

  Nor aid resides or remedy in me.

  The virgin, his own portion of the spoils,

  Allotted to him by the Grecians — her

  Atrides, King of men, resumed, and grief

  Devour'd Achilles' spirit for her sake.

  Meantime, the Trojans shutting close within

  Their camp the Grecians, have forbidden them

  All egress, and the senators of Greece

  Have sought with splendid gifts to soothe my son.

  He, indisposed to rescue them himself

  From ruin, sent, instead, Patroclus forth,

  Clad in his own resplendent armor, Chief

  Of the whole host of Myrmidons. Before

  The Scæan gate from morn to eve they fought,

  And on that self-same day had Ilium fallen,

  But that Apollo, to advance the fame

  Of Hector, slew Menœtius' noble son

  Full-flush'd with victory. Therefore at thy knees

  Suppliant I fall, imploring from thine art

  A shield and helmet, greaves of shapely form

  With clasps secured, and corselet for my son.

  For those, once his, his faithful friend hath lost,

  Slain by the Trojans, and Achilles lies,

  Himself, extended mournful on the ground.

  Her answer'd then the artist of the skies.

  Courage! Perplex not with these cares thy soul.

  I would that when his fatal hour shall come,

  I could as sure secrete him from the stroke

  Of destiny, as he shall soon have arms

  Illustrious, such as each particular man

  Of thousands, seeing them, shall wish his own.

  He said, and to his bellows quick repair'd,

  Which turning to the fire he bade them heave.

  Full twenty bellows working all at once

  Breathed on the furnace, blowing easy and free

  The managed winds, now forcible, as best

  Suited dispatch, now gentle, if the will

  Of Vulcan and his labor so required.

  Impenetrable brass, tin, silver, gold,

  He cast into the forge, then, settling firm

  His ponderous anvil on the b
lock, one hand

  With his huge hammer fill'd, one with the tongs.

  He fashion'd first a shield massy and broad

  Of labor exquisite, for which he form'd

  A triple border beauteous, dazzling bright,

  And loop'd it with a silver brace behind.

  The shield itself with five strong folds he forged,

  And with devices multiform the disk

  Capacious charged, toiling with skill divine.

  There he described the earth, the heaven, the sea,

  The sun that rests not, and the moon full-orb'd.

  There also, all the stars which round about

  As with a radiant frontlet bind the skies,

  The Pleiads and the Hyads, and the might

  Of huge Orion, with him Ursa call'd,

  Known also by his popular name, the Wain,

  That spins around the pole looking toward

  Orion, only star of these denied

  To slake his beams in ocean's briny baths.

  Two splendid cities also there he form'd

  Such as men build. In one were to be seen

  Rites matrimonial solemnized with pomp

  Of sumptuous banquets; from their chambers forth

  Leading the brides they usher'd them along

  With torches through the streets, and sweet was heard

  The voice around of Hymenæal song.

  Here striplings danced in circles to the sound

  Of pipe and harp, while in the portals stood

  Women, admiring, all, the gallant show.

  Elsewhere was to be seen in council met

  The close-throng'd multitude. There strife arose.

  Two citizens contended for a mulct

  The price of blood. This man affirm'd the fine

  All paid, haranguing vehement the crowd,

  That man denied that he had aught received,

  And to the judges each made his appeal

  Eager for their award. Meantime the people,

  As favor sway'd them, clamor'd loud for each.

  The heralds quell'd the tumult; reverend sat

  On polish'd stones the elders in a ring,

  Each with a herald's sceptre in his hand,

  Which holding they arose, and all in turn

  Gave sentence. In the midst two talents lay

  Of gold, his destined recompense whose voice

  Decisive should pronounce the best award.

  The other city by two glittering hosts

  Invested stood, and a dispute arose

  Between the hosts, whether to burn the town

  And lay all waste, or to divide the spoil.

  Meantime, the citizens, still undismay'd,

  Surrender'd not the town, but taking arms

  Secretly, set the ambush in array,

  And on the walls their wives and children kept

  Vigilant guard, with all the ancient men.

  They sallied; at their head Pallas and Mars