Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

Him Agamemnon answer'd, King of men.

  Thou hast arranged wisely the whole concern,

  O Läertiades, and I have heard

  Thy speech, both words and method with delight.

  Willing I am, yea more, I wish to swear

  As thou hast said, for by the Gods I can

  Most truly. Let Achilles, though of pause

  Impatient, suffer yet a short delay

  With all assembled here, till from my tent

  The gifts arrive, and oaths of peace be sworn.

  To thee I give it in peculiar charge

  That choosing forth the most illustrious youths

  Of all Achaia, thou produce the gifts

  from my own ship, all those which yesternight

  We promised, nor the women leave behind.

  And let Talthybius throughout all the camp

  Of the Achaians, instant, seek a boar

  For sacrifice to Jove and to the Sun.

  Then thus Achilles matchless in the race.

  Atrides! most illustrious! King of men!

  Expedience bids us to these cares attend

  Hereafter, when some pause, perchance, of fight

  Shall happen, and the martial rage which fires

  My bosom now, shall somewhat less be felt.

  Our friends by Priameian Hector slain,

  Now strew the field mangled, for him hath Jove

  Exalted high, and given him great renown.

  But haste, now take refreshment; though, in truth

  Might I direct, the host should by all means

  Unfed to battle, and at set of sun

  All sup together, this affront revenged.

  But as for me, no drop shall pass my lips

  Or morsel, whose companion lies with feet

  Turn'd to the vestibule, pierced by the spear,

  And compass'd by my weeping train around.

  No want of food feel I. My wishes call

  For carnage, blood, and agonies and groans.

  But him, excelling in all wisdom, thus

  Ulysses answer'd. Oh Achilles! son

  Of Peleus! bravest far of all our host!

  Me, in no scanty measure, thou excell'st

  Wielding the spear, and thee in prudence, I

  Not less. For I am elder, and have learn'd

  What thou hast yet to learn. Bid then thine heart

  Endure with patience to be taught by me.

  Men, satiate soon with battle, loathe the field

  On which the most abundant harvest falls,

  Reap'd by the sword; and when the hand of Jove

  Dispenser of the great events of war,

  Turns once the scale, then, farewell every hope

  Of more than scanty gleanings. Shall the Greeks

  Abstain from sustenance for all who die?

  That were indeed severe, since day by day

  No few expire, and respite could be none.

  The dead, die whoso may, should be inhumed.

  This, duty bids, but bids us also deem

  One day sufficient for our sighs and tears.

  Ourselves, all we who still survive the war,

  Have need of sustenance, that we may bear

  The lengthen'd conflict with recruited might,

  Case in enduring brass. — Ye all have heard

  Your call to battle; let none lingering stand

  In expectation of a farther call,

  Which if it sound, shall thunder prove to him

  Who lurks among the ships. No. Rush we all

  Together forth, for contest sharp prepared,

  And persevering with the host of Troy.

  So saying, the sons of Nestor, glorious Chief,

  He chose, with Meges Phyleus' noble son,

  Thoas, Meriones, and Melanippus

  And Lycomedes. These, together, sought

  The tent of Agamemnon, King of men.

  They ask'd, and they received. Soon they produced

  The seven promised tripods from the tent,

  Twice ten bright caldrons, twelve high-mettled steeds,

  Seven lovely captives skill'd alike in arts

  Domestic, of unblemish'd beauty rare,

  And last, Brisëis with the blooming cheeks.

  Before them went Ulysses, bearing weigh'd

  Ten golden talents, whom the chosen Greeks

  Attended laden with the remnant gifts.

  Full in the midst they placed them. Then arose

  King Agamemnon, and Talthybius

  The herald, clear in utterance as a God,

  Beside him stood, holding the victim boar.

  Atrides, drawing forth his dagger bright,

  Appendant ever to his sword's huge sheath,

  Sever'd the bristly forelock of the boar,

  A previous offering. Next, with lifted hands

  To Jove he pray'd, while, all around, the Greeks

  Sat listening silent to the Sovereign's voice.

  He look'd to the wide heaven, and thus he pray'd.

  First, Jove be witness! of all Powers above

  Best and supreme; Earth next, and next the Sun!

  And last, who under Earth the guilt avenge

  Of oaths sworn falsely, let the Furies hear!

  For no respect of amorous desire

  Or other purpose, have I laid mine hand

  On fair Brisëis, but within my tent

  Untouch'd, immaculate she hath remain'd.

  And if I falsely swear, then may the Gods

  The many woes with which they mark the crime

  Of men forsworn, pour also down on me!

  So saying, he pierced the victim in his throat

  And, whirling him around, Talthybius, next,

  Cast him into the ocean, fishes' food.

  Then, in the centre of Achaia's sons

  Uprose Achilles, and thus spake again.

  Jove! Father! dire calamities, effects

  Of thy appointment, fall on human-kind.

  Never had Agamemnon in my breast

  Such anger kindled, never had he seized,

  Blinded by wrath, and torn my prize away,

  But that the slaughter of our numerous friends

  Which thence ensued, thou hadst, thyself, ordained.

  Now go, ye Grecians, eat, and then to battle.

  So saying, Achilles suddenly dissolved

  The hasty council, and all flew dispersed

  To their own ships. Then took the Myrmidons

  Those splendid gifts which in the tent they lodged

  Of swift Achilles, and the damsels led

  Each to a seat, while others of his train

  Drove forth the steeds to pasture with his herd.

  But when Brisëis, bright as Venus, saw

  Patroclus lying mangled by the spear,

  Enfolding him around, she shriek'd and tore

  Her bosom, her smooth neck and beauteous cheeks.

  Then thus, divinely fair, with tears she said.

  Ah, my Patroclus! dearest friend of all

  To hapless me, departing from this tent

  I left thee living, and now, generous Chief!

  Restored to it again, here find thee dead.

  How rapid in succession are my woes!

  I saw, myself, the valiant prince to whom

  My parents had betroth'd me, slain before

  Our city walls; and my three brothers, sons

  Of my own mother, whom with long regret

  I mourn, fell also in that dreadful field.

  But when the swift Achilles slew the prince

  Design'd my spouse, and the fair city sack'd

  Of noble Mynes, thou by every art

  Of tender friendship didst forbid my tears,

  Promising oft that thou would'st make me bride

  Of Peleus' godlike son, that thy own ship

  Should waft me hence to Phthia, and that thyself

  Would'st furnish forth among the Myrmidons

  Our nuptial feast.
Therefore thy death I mourn

  Ceaseless, for thou wast ever kind to me.

  She spake, and all her fellow-captives heaved

  Responsive sighs, deploring each, in show,

  The dead Patroclus, but, in truth, herself.

  Then the Achaian Chiefs gather'd around

  Achilles, wooing him to eat, but he

  Groan'd and still resolute, their suit refused —

  If I have here a friend on whom by prayers

  I may prevail, I pray that ye desist,

  Nor longer press me, mourner as I am,

  To eat or drink, for till the sun go down

  I am inflexible, and will abstain.

  So saying, the other princes he dismiss'd

  Impatient, but the sons of Atreus both,

  Ulysses, Nestor and Idomeneus,

  With Phœnix, hoary warrior, in his tent

  Abiding still, with cheerful converse kind

  Essay'd to soothe him, whose afflicted soul

  All soothing scorn'd till he should once again

  Rush on the ravening edge of bloody war.

  Then, mindful of his friend, groaning he said

  Time was, unhappiest, dearest of my friends!

  When even thou, with diligent dispatch,

  Thyself, hast spread a table in my tent,

  The hour of battle drawing nigh between

  The Greeks and warlike Trojans. But there lies

  Thy body now, gored by the ruthless steel,

  And for thy sake I neither eat nor drink,

  Though dearth be none, conscious that other wo

  Surpassing this I can have none to fear.

  No, not if tidings of my father's death

  Should reach me, who, this moment, weeps, perhaps,

  In Phthia tears of tenderest regret

  For such a son; while I, remote from home

  Fight for detested Helen under Troy.

  Nor even were he dead, whom, if he live,

  I rear in Scyros, my own darling son,

  My Neoptolemus of form divine.

  For still this hope I cherish'd in my breast

  Till now, that, of us two, myself alone

  Should fall at Ilium, and that thou, restored

  To Phthia, should'st have wafted o'er the waves

  My son from Scyros to his native home,

  That thou might'st show him all his heritage,

  My train of menials, and my fair abode.

  For either dead already I account

  Peleus, or doubt not that his residue

  Of miserable life shall soon be spent,

  Through stress of age and expectation sad

  That tidings of my death shall, next, arrive.

  So spake Achilles weeping, around whom

  The Chiefs all sigh'd, each with remembrance pain'd

  Of some loved object left at home. Meantime

  Jove, with compassion moved, their sorrow saw,

  And in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake.

  Daughter! thou hast abandon'd, as it seems,

  Yon virtuous Chief for ever; shall no care

  Thy mind engage of brave Achilles more?

  Before his gallant fleet mourning he sits

  His friend, disconsolate; the other Greeks

  Sat and are satisfied; he only fasts.

  Go then — instil nectar into his breast,

  And sweets ambrosial, that he hunger not.

  So saying, he urged Minerva prompt before.

  In form a shrill-voiced Harpy of long wing

  Through ether down she darted, while the Greeks

  In all their camp for instant battle arm'd.

  Ambrosial sweets and nectar she instill'd

  Into his breast, lest he should suffer loss

  Of strength through abstinence, then soar'd again

  To her great Sire's unperishing abode.

  And now the Grecians from their gallant fleet

  All pour'd themselves abroad. As when thick snow

  From Jove descends, driven by impetuous gusts

  Of the cloud-scattering North, so frequent shone

  Issuing from the fleet the dazzling casques,

  Boss'd bucklers, hauberks strong, and ashen spears.

  Upwent the flash to heaven; wide all around

  The champain laugh'd with beamy brass illumed,

  And tramplings of the warriors on all sides

  Resounded, amidst whom Achilles arm'd.

  He gnash'd his teeth, fire glimmer'd in his eyes,

  Anguish intolerable wrung his heart

  And fury against Troy, while he put on

  His glorious arms, the labor of a God.

  First, to his legs his polish'd greaves he clasp'd

  Studded with silver, then his corselet bright

  Braced to his bosom, his huge sword of brass

  Athwart his shoulder slung, and his broad shield

  Uplifted last, luminous as the moon.

  Such as to mariners a fire appears,

  Kindled by shepherds on the distant top

  Of some lone hill; they, driven by stormy winds,

  Reluctant roam far off the fishy deep,

  Such from Achilles' burning shield divine

  A lustre struck the skies; his ponderous helm

  He lifted to his brows; starlike it shone,

  And shook its curling crest of bushy gold,

  By Vulcan taught to wave profuse around.

  So clad, godlike Achilles trial made

  If his arms fitted him, and gave free scope

  To his proportion'd limbs; buoyant they proved

  As wings, and high upbore his airy tread.

  He drew his father's spear forth from his case,

  Heavy and huge and long. That spear, of all

  Achaia's sons, none else had power to wield;

  Achilles only could the Pelian spear

  Brandish, by Chiron for his father hewn

  From Pelion's top for slaughter of the brave.

  His coursers, then, Automedon prepared

  And Alcimus, adjusting diligent

  The fair caparisons; they thrust the bits

  Into their mouths, and to the chariot seat

  Extended and made fast the reins behind.

  The splendid scourge commodious to the grasp

  Seizing, at once Automedon upsprang

  Into his place; behind him, arm'd complete

  Achilles mounted, as the orient sun

  All dazzling, and with awful tone his speech

  Directed to the coursers of his Sire.

  Xanthus, and Balius of Podarges' blood

  Illustrious! see ye that, the battle done,

  Ye bring whom now ye bear back to the host

  Of the Achaians in far other sort,

  Nor leave him, as ye left Patroclus, dead.

  Him then his steed unconquer'd in the race,

  Xanthus answer'd from beneath his yoke,

  But, hanging low his head, and with his mane

  Dishevell'd all, and streaming to the ground.

  Him Juno vocal made, Goddess white-arm'd.

  And doubtless so we will. This day at least

  We bear thee safe from battle, stormy Chief!

  But thee the hour of thy destruction swift

  Approaches, hasten'd by no fault of ours,

  But by the force of fate and power divine.

  For not through sloth or tardiness on us

  Aught chargeable, have Ilium's sons thine arms

  Stript from Patroclus' shoulders, but a God

  Matchless in battle, offspring of bright-hair'd

  Latona, him contending in the van

  Slew, for the glory of the Chief of Troy.

  We, Zephyrus himself, though by report

  Swiftest of all the winds of heaven, in speed

  Could equal, but the Fates thee also doom

  By human hands to fall, and hands divine.

  The interposing Furies at that word
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br />   Suppress'd his utterance, and indignant, thus,

  Achilles, swiftest of the swift, replied.

  Why, Xanthus, propheciest thou my death?

  It ill beseems thee. I already know

  That from my parents far remote my doom

  Appoints me here to die; yet not the more

  Cease I from feats if arms, till Ilium's host

  Shall have received, at length, their fill of war.

  He said, and with a shout drove forth to battle.

  * * *

  BOOK XX.

  * * *

  ARGUMENT OF THE TWENTIETH BOOK.

  By permission of Jupiter the Gods descend into the battle, and range themselves on either side respectively. Neptune rescues Æneas from death by the hand of Achilles, from whom Apollo, soon after, rescues Hector. Achilles slays many Trojans.

  * * *

  BOOK XX.

  The Grecians, thus, before their lofty ships

  Stood arm'd around Achilles, glorious Chief

  Insatiable with war, and opposite

  The Trojans on the rising-ground appear'd.

  Meantime, Jove order'd Themis, from the head

  Of the deep-fork'd Olympian to convene

  The Gods in council. She to every part

  Proceeding, bade them to the courts of Jove.

  Nor of the Floods was any absent thence

  Oceanus except, or of the Nymphs

  Who haunt the pleasant groves, or dwell beside

  Stream-feeding fountains, or in meadows green.

  Within the courts of cloud-assembler Jove

  Arrived, on pillar'd thrones radiant they sat,

  With ingenuity divine contrived

  By Vulcan for the mighty Sire of all.

  Thus they within the Thunderer's palace sat

  Assembled; nor was Neptune slow to hear

  The voice of Themis, but (the billows left)

  Came also; in the midst his seat he took,

  And ask'd, incontinent, the mind of Jove.

  King of the lightnings! wherefore hast thou call'd

  The Gods to council? Hast thou aught at heart

  Important to the hosts of Greece and Troy?

  For on the battle's fiery edge they stand.

  To whom replied Jove, Sovereign of the storms,

  Thou know'st my council, Shaker of the shores!

  And wherefore ye are call'd. Although ordain'd

  So soon to die, they interest me still.

  Myself, here seated on Olympus' top,

  With contemplation will my mind indulge

  Of yon great spectacle; but ye, the rest,

  Descend into the field, Trojan or Greek

  Each to assist, as each shall most incline.

  For should Achilles in the field no foe

  Find save the Trojans, quickly should they fly