Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  The vengeance, deep and deadly; whence to Greece

  Unnumbered ills arose; which many a soul

  Of mighty warriors to the viewless shades

  Untimely sent; they on the battle plain

  Unburied lay, a prey to rav'ning dogs,

  And carrion birds; but so had Jove decreed,

  From that sad day when first in wordy war,

  The mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

  Confronted stood by Peleus' godlike son.

  Say then, what God the fatal strife provok'd?

  Jove's and Latona's son; he, filled with wrath

  Against the King, with deadly pestilence

  The camp afflicted, — and the people died, —

  For Chryses' sake, his priest, whom Atreus' son

  With scorn dismiss'd, when to the Grecian ships

  He came, his captive daughter to redeem,

  With costly ransom charg'd; and in his hand

  The sacred fillet of his God he bore,

  And golden staff; to all he sued, but chief

  To Atreus' sons, twin captains of the host:

  "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye well-greav'd Greeks,

  May the great Gods, who on Olympus dwell,

  Grant you yon hostile city to destroy,

  And home return in safety; but my child

  Restore, I pray; her proffer'd ransom take,

  And in his priest, the Lord of Light revere."

  Then through the ranks assenting murmurs ran,

  The priest to rev'rence, and the ransom take:

  Not so Atrides; he, with haughty mien,

  And bitter speech, the trembling sire address'd:

  "Old man, I warn thee, that beside our ships

  I find thee not, or ling'ring now, or back

  Returning; lest thou prove of small avail

  Thy golden staff, and fillet of thy God.

  Her I release not, till her youth be fled;

  Within my walls, in Argos, far from home,

  Her lot is cast, domestic cares to ply,

  And share a master's bed. For thee, begone!

  Incense me not, lest ill betide thee now."

  He said: the old man trembled, and obeyed;

  Beside the many-dashing Ocean's shore

  Silent he pass'd; and all apart, he pray'd

  To great Apollo, fair Latona's son:

  "Hear me, God of the silver bow! whose care

  Chrysa surrounds, and Cilia's lovely vale;

  Whose sov'reign sway o'er Tenedos extends;

  O Smintheus, hear! if e'er my offered gifts

  Found favour in thy sight; if e'er to thee

  I burn'd the fat of bulls and choicest goats,

  Grant me this boon — upon the Grecian host

  Let thine unerring darts avenge my tears."

  Thus as he pray'd, his pray'r Apollo heard:

  Along Olympus' heights he pass'd, his heart

  Burning with wrath; behind his shoulders hung

  His bow, and ample quiver; at his back

  Rattled the fateful arrows as he mov'd;

  Like the night-cloud he pass'd, and from afar

  He bent against the ships, and sped the bolt;

  And fierce and deadly twang'd the silver bow.

  First on the mules and dogs, on man the last,

  Was pour'd the arrowy storm; and through the camp,

  Constant and num'rous, blaz'd the fun'ral fires.

  Nine days the heav'nly Archer on the troops

  Hurl'd his dread shafts; the tenth, th' assembled Greeks

  Achilles call'd to council; so inspir'd

  By Juno, white-arm'd Goddess, who beheld

  With pitying eyes the wasting hosts of Greece.

  When all were met, and closely throng'd around,

  Rose the swift-footed chief, and thus began:

  "Great son of Atreus, to my mind there seems,

  If we would 'scape from death, one only course,

  Home to retrace our steps: since here at once

  By war and pestilence our forces waste.

  But seek we first some prophet, or some priest,

  Or some wise vision-seer (since visions too

  From Jove proceed), who may the cause explain,

  Which with such deadly wrath Apollo fires:

  If for neglected hecatombs or pray'rs

  He blame us; or if fat of lambs and goats

  May soothe his anger and the plague assuage."

  This said, he sat; and Thestor's son arose,

  Calchas, the chief of seers, to whom were known

  The present, and the future, and the past;

  Who, by his mystic art, Apollo's gift,

  Guided to Ilium's shore the Grecian fleet.

  Who thus with cautious speech replied, and said;

  "Achilles, lov'd of Heav'n, thou bidd'st me say

  Why thus incens'd the far-destroying King;

  Therefore I speak; but promise thou, and swear,

  By word and hand, to bear me harmless through.

  For well I know my speech must one offend,

  The Argive chief, o'er all the Greeks supreme;

  And terrible to men of low estate

  The anger of a King; for though awhile

  He veil his wrath, yet in his bosom pent

  It still is nurs'd, until the time arrive;

  Say, then, wilt thou protect me, if I speak?"

  Him answer'd thus Achilles, swift of foot:

  "Speak boldly out whate'er thine art can tell;

  For by Apollo's self I swear, whom thou,

  O Calchas, serv'st, and who thy words inspires,

  That, while I live, and see the light of Heav'n,

  Not one of all the Greeks shall dare on thee,

  Beside our ships, injurious hands to lay:

  No, not if Agamemnon's self were he,

  Who 'mid our warriors boasts the foremost place."

  Embolden'd thus, th' unerring prophet spoke:

  "Not for neglected hecatombs or pray'rs,

  But for his priest, whom Agamemnon scorn'd,

  Nor took his ransom, nor his child restor'd;

  On his account the Far-destroyer sends

  This scourge of pestilence, and yet will send;

  Nor shall we cease his heavy hand to feel,

  Till to her sire we give the bright-ey'd girl,

  Unbought, unransom'd, and to Chrysa's shore

  A solemn hecatomb despatch; this done,

  The God, appeas'd, his anger may remit."

  This said, he sat; and Atreus' godlike son,

  The mighty monarch, Agamemnon, rose,

  His dark soul fill'd with fury, and his eyes

  Flashing like flames of fire; on Calchas first

  A with'ring glance he cast, and thus he spoke;

  "Prophet of ill! thou never speak'st to me

  But words of evil omen; for thy soul

  Delights to augur ill, but aught of good

  Thou never yet hast promis'd, nor perform'd.

  And now among the Greeks thou spread'st abroad

  Thy lying prophecies, that all these ills

  Come from the Far-destroyer, for that I

  Refus'd the ransom of my lovely prize,

  And that I rather chose herself to keep,

  To me not less than Clytemnestra dear,

  My virgin-wedded wife; nor less adorn'd

  In gifts of form, of feature, or of mind.

  Yet, if it must he so, I give her back;

  I wish my people's safety, not their death.

  But seek me out forthwith some other spoil,

  Lest empty-handed I alone appear

  Of all the Greeks; for this would ill beseem;

  And how I lose my present share, ye see."

  To whom Achilles, swift of foot, replied:

  "Haughtiest of men, and greediest of the prey!

  How shall our valiant Greeks for thee seek out

  Some other spoil? no common fund ha
ve we

  Of hoarded treasures; what our arms have won

  From captur'd towns, has been already shar'd,

  Nor can we now resume th' apportion'd spoil.

  Restore the maid, obedient to the God!

  And if Heav'n will that we the strong-built walls

  Of Troy should raze, our warriors will to thee

  A threefold, fourfold recompense assign."

  To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:

  "Think not, Achilles, valiant though thou art

  In fight, and godlike, to defraud me thus;

  Thou shalt not so persuade me, nor o'erreach.

  Think'st thou to keep thy portion of the spoil,

  While I with empty hands sit humbly down?

  The bright-ey'd girl thou bidd'st me to restore;

  If then the valiant Greeks for me seek out

  Some other spoil, some compensation just,

  'Tis well: if not, I with my own right hand

  Will from some other chief, from thee perchance,

  Or Ajax, or Ulysses, wrest his prey;

  And woe to him, on whomsoe'er I call!

  But this for future counsel we remit:

  Haste we then now our dark-ribb'd bark to launch,

  Muster a fitting crew, and place on board

  The sacred hecatomb; then last embark

  The fair Chryseis; and in chief command

  Let some one of our councillors be plac'd,

  Ajax, Ulysses, or Idomeneus,

  Or thou, the most ambitious of them all,

  That so our rites may soothe the angry God."

  To whom Achilles thus with scornful glance;

  "Oh, cloth'd in shamelessness! oh, sordid soul!

  How canst thou hope that any Greek for thee

  Will brave the toils of travel or of war?

  Well dost thou know that 't was no feud of mine

  With Troy's brave sons that brought me here in arms;

  They never did me wrong; they never drove

  My cattle, or my horses; never sought

  In Phthia's fertile, life-sustaining fields

  To waste the crops; for wide between us lay

  The shadowy mountains and the roaring sea.

  With thee, O void of shame! with thee we sail'd,

  For Menelaus and for thee, ingrate,

  Glory and fame on Trojan crests to win.

  All this hast thou forgotten, or despis'd;

  And threat'nest now to wrest from me the prize

  I labour'd hard to win, and Greeks bestow'd.

  Nor does my portion ever equal thine,

  When on some populous town our troops have made

  Successful war; in the contentious fight

  The larger portion of the toil is mine;

  But when the day of distribution comes,

  Thine is the richest spoil; while I, forsooth,

  Must be too well content to bear on board

  Some paltry prize for all my warlike toil.

  To Phthia now I go; so better far,

  To steer my homeward course, and leave thee here

  But little like, I deem, dishonouring me,

  To fill thy coffers with the spoils of war."

  Whom answer'd Agamemnon, King of men:

  "Fly then, if such thy mind! I ask thee not

  On mine account to stay; others there are

  Will guard my honour and avenge my cause:

  And chief of all, the Lord of counsel, Jove!

  Of all the Heav'n-born Kings, thou art the man

  I hate the most; for thou delight'st in nought

  But war and strife: thy prowess I allow;

  Yet this, remember, is the gift of Heav'n.

  Return then, with thy vessels, if thou wilt,

  And with thy followers, home; and lord it there

  Over thy Myrmidons! I heed thee not!

  I care not for thy fury! Hear my threat:

  Since Phoebus wrests Chryseis from my arms,

  In mine own ship, and with mine own good crew,

  Her I send forth; and, in her stead, I mean,

  Ev'n from thy tent, myself, to bear thy prize,

  The fair Briseis; that henceforth thou know

  How far I am thy master; and that, taught

  By thine example, others too may fear

  To rival me, and brave me to my face."

  Thus while he spake, Achilles chaf'd with rage;

  And in his manly breast his heart was torn

  With thoughts conflicting — whether from his side

  To draw his mighty sword, and thrusting by

  Th' assembled throng, to kill th' insulting King;

  Or school his soul, and keep his anger down.

  But while in mind and spirit thus he mus'd,

  And half unsheath'd his sword, from Heav'n came down

  Minerva, sent by Juno, white-arm'd Queen,

  Whose love and care both chiefs alike enjoy'd.

  She stood behind, and by the yellow hair

  She held the son of Peleus, visible

  To him alone, by all the rest unseen.

  Achilles, wond'ring, turn'd, and straight he knew

  The blue-eyed Pallas; awful was her glance;

  Whom thus the chief with winged words address'd:

  "Why com'st thou, child of aegis-bearing Jove?

  To see the arrogance of Atreus' son?

  But this I say, and will make good my words,

  This insolence may cost him soon his life."

  To whom the blue-ey'd Goddess thus replied:

  "From Heav'n I came, to curb, if thou wilt hear,

  Thy fury; sent by Juno, white-arm'd Queen,

  Whose love and care ye both alike enjoy.

  Cease, then, these broils, and draw not thus thy sword;

  In words, indeed, assail him as thou wilt.

  But this I promise, and will make it good,

  The time shall come, when for this insolence

  A threefold compensation shall be thine;

  Only be sway'd by me, and curb thy wrath."

  Whom answer'd thus Achilles, swift of foot:

  "Goddess, I needs must yield to your commands,

  Indignant though I be — for so 'tis best;

  Who hears the Gods, of them his pray'rs are heard."

  He said: and on the silver hilt he stay'd

  His pow'rful hand, and flung his mighty sword

  Back to its scabbard, to Minerva's word

  Obedient: she her heav'nward course pursued

  To join th' Immortals in th' abode of Jove.

  But Peleus' son, with undiminish'd wrath,

  Atrides thus with bitter words address'd:

  "Thou sot, with eye of dog, and heart of deer!

  Who never dar'st to lead in armed fight

  Th' assembled host, nor with a chosen few

  To man the secret ambush — for thou fear'st

  To look on death — no doubt 'tis easier far,

  Girt with thy troops, to plunder of his right

  Whoe'er may venture to oppose thy will!

  A tyrant King, because thou rul'st o'er slaves!

  Were it not so, this insult were thy last.

  But this I say, and with an oath confirm,

  By this my royal staff, which never more

  Shall put forth leaf nor spray, since first it left

  Upon the mountain-side its parent stem,

  Nor blossom more; since all around the axe

  Hath lopp'd both leaf and bark, and now 'tis borne

  Emblem of justice, by the sons of Greece,

  Who guard the sacred ministry of law

  Before the face of Jove! a mighty oath!

  The time shall come, when all the sons of Greece

  Shall mourn Achilles' loss; and thou the while,

  Heart-rent, shalt be all-impotent to aid,

  When by the warrior-slayer Hector's hand

  Many shall fall; and then thy soul shall mourn

  Th
e slight on Grecia's bravest warrior cast."

  Thus spoke Pelides; and upon the ground

  He cast his staff, with golden studs emboss'd,

  And took his seat; on th' other side, in wrath,

  Atrides burn'd; but Nestor interpos'd;

  Nestor, the leader of the Pylian host,

  The smooth-tongued chief, from whose persuasive lips

  Sweeter than honey flowed the stream of speech.

  Two generations of the sons of men

  For him were past and gone, who with himself

  Were born and bred on Pylos' lovely shore,

  And o'er the third he now held royal sway.

  He thus with prudent words the chiefs address'd:

  "Alas, alas! what grief is this for Greece!

  What joy for Priam, and for Priam's sons!

  What exultation for the men of Troy,

  To hear of feuds 'tween you, of all the Greeks

  The first in council, and the first in fight!

  Yet, hear my words, I pray; in years, at least,

  Ye both must yield to me; and in times past

  I liv'd with men, and they despis'd me not,

  Abler in counsel, greater than yourselves.

  Such men I never saw, and ne'er shall see,

  As Pirithous and Dryas, wise and brave,

  Coeneus, Exadius, godlike Polypheme,

  And Theseus, AEgeus' more than mortal son.

  The mightiest they among the sons of men;

  The mightiest they, and of the forest beasts

  Strove with the mightiest, and their rage subdued.

  With them from distant lands, from Pylos' shore

  I join'd my forces, and their call obey'd;

  With them I play'd my part; with them, not one

  Would dare to fight of mortals now on earth.

  Yet they my counsels heard, my voice obey'd;

  And hear ye also, for my words are wise.

  Nor thou, though great thou be, attempt to rob

  Achilles of his prize, but let him keep

  The spoil assign'd him by the sons of Greece;

  Nor thou, Pelides, with the monarch strive

  In rivalry; for ne'er to sceptred King

  Hath Jove such pow'rs, as to Atrides, giv'n;

  And valiant though thou art, and Goddess-born,

  Yet mightier he, for wider is his sway.

  Atrides, curb thy wrath! while I beseech

  Achilles to forbear; in whom the Greeks

  From adverse war their great defender see."

  To whom the monarch, Agamemnon, thus:

  "O father, full of wisdom are thy words;

  But this proud chief o'er all would domineer;

  O'er all he seeks to rule, o'er all to reign,

  To all to dictate; which I will not bear.

  Grant that the Gods have giv'n him warlike might,

  Gave they unbridled license to his tongue?"

  To whom Achilles, interrupting, thus: