Complete Works of Homer

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Complete Works of Homer Page 350

by Homer


  Soliciting, or otherwise, my hand

  Hath fair Briseis touch'd; but in my tent

  Still pure and undefil'd hath she remain'd:

  And if in this I be forsworn, may Heav'n

  With all the plagues afflict me, due to those

  Who sin by perjur'd oaths against the Gods."

  Thus as he spoke, across the victim's throat

  He drew the pitiless blade; Talthybius then

  To hoary Ocean's depths the carcase threw,

  Food for the fishes; then Achilles rose,

  And thus before th' assembled Greeks he spoke:

  "O Father Jove, how dost thou lead astray

  Our human judgments! ne'er had Atreus' son

  My bosom fill'd with wrath, nor from my arms,

  To his own loss, against my will had torn

  The girl I lov'd, but that the will of Jove

  To death predestin'd many a valiant Greek.

  Now to the meal; anon renew the war."

  This said, th' assembly he dismiss'd in haste,

  The crowd dispersing to their sev'ral ships;

  Upon the gifts the warlike Myrmidons

  Bestow'd their care, and bore them to the ships;

  Of Peleus' godlike son; within the tent

  They laid them down, and there the women plac'd,

  While to the drove the followers led the steeds.

  Briseis, fair as golden Venus, saw

  Patroclus lying, pierc'd with mortal wounds,

  Within the tent; and with a bitter cry,

  She flung her down upon the corpse, and tore

  Her breast, her delicate neck, and beauteous cheeks;

  And, weeping, thus the lovely woman wail'd:

  "Patroclus, dearly lov'd of this sad heart!

  When last I left this tent, I left thee full

  Of healthy life; returning now, I find

  Only thy lifeless corpse, thou Prince of men!

  So sorrow still, on sorrow heap'd, I bear.

  The husband of my youth, to whom my sire

  And honour'd mother gave me, I beheld

  Slain with the sword before the city walls:

  Three brothers, whom with me one mother bore,

  My dearly lov'd ones, all were doom'd to death:

  Nor wouldst thou, when Achilles swift of foot

  My husband slew, and royal Mynes' town

  In ruin laid, allow my tears to flow;

  But thou wouldst make me (such was still thy speech)

  The wedded wife of Peleus' godlike son:

  Thou wouldst to Phthia bear me in thy ship,

  And there, thyself, amid the Myrmidons,

  Wouldst give my marriage feast; then, unconsol'd,

  I weep thy death, my ever-gentle friend!"

  Weeping, she spoke; the women join'd her wail:

  Patroclus' death the pretext for their tears,

  But each in secret wept her private griefs.

  Around Achilles throng'd the elder men,

  Urging to eat; but he, with groans, refus'd:

  "I pray you, would you show your love, dear friends,

  Ask me not now with food or drink to appease

  Hunger or thirst; a load of bitter grief

  Weighs heavy on my soul; till set of sun

  Fasting will I remain, and still endure."

  The other monarchs at his word withdrew:

  The two Atridae, and Ulysses sage,

  And Nestor and Idomeneus remain'd,

  And aged Phoenix, to divert his grief;

  But comfort none, save in the bloody jaws

  Of battle would he take; by mem'ry stirr'd,

  He heav'd a deep-drawn sigh, as thus he spoke:

  "How oft hast thou, ill-fated, dearest friend,

  Here in this tent with eager zeal prepar'd

  The tempting meal, whene'er the sons of Greece

  In haste would arm them for the bloody fray!

  Now liest thou there, while I, for love of thee,

  From food and drink, before me plac'd, refrain:

  For ne'er shall I again such sorrow know,

  Not though I heard of aged Peleus' death,

  Who now in Phthia mourns, with tender tears,

  His absent son; he on a foreign shore

  Is warring in that hateful Helen's cause:

  No, nor of his, who now in Scyros' isle

  Is growing up, if yet indeed he live,

  Young Neoptolemus, my godlike son.

  My hope had been indeed, that here in Troy,

  Far from the plains of Argos, I alone

  Was doom'd to die; and that to Phthia thou,

  Return'd in safety, mightst my son convey

  From Scyros home, and show him all my wealth,

  My spoils, my slaves, my lofty, spacious house.

  For Peleus or to death, methinks, e'en now

  Hath yielded, or not far from death remov'd,

  Lives on in sorrow, bow'd by gloomy age,

  Expecting day by day the messenger

  Who bears the mournful tidings of my death."

  Weeping, Achilles spoke; and with him wept

  The Elders; each to fond remembrance mov'd

  Of all that in his home himself had left.

  The son of Saturn, pitying, saw their grief,

  And Pallas thus with winged words address'd:

  "My child, dost thou a hero's cause forsake,

  Or does Achilles claim no more thy care,

  Who sits in sorrow by the high-prow'd ships,

  Mourning his comrade slain? the others all

  Partake the meal, while he from food abstains:

  Then haste thee, and, with hunger lest he faint,

  Drop nectar and ambrosia on his breast."

  His words fresh impulse gave to Pallas' zeal:

  Down, like the long-wing'd falcon, shrill of voice,

  Thro' the clear sky she swoop'd: and while the Greeks

  Arm'd for the fight, Achilles she approach'd,

  And nectar and ambrosia on his breast

  Distill'd, lest hunger should his strength subdue;

  Back to her mighty Father's ample house

  Returning, as from out the ships they pour'd.

  Thick as the snow-flakes that from Heav'n descend,

  Before the sky-born Boreas' chilling blast;

  So thick, outpouring from the ships, the stream

  Of helmets polish'd bright, and bossy shields,

  And breastplates firmly brac'd, and ashen spears:

  Their brightness flash'd to Heav'n; and laugh'd the Earth

  Beneath the brazen glare; loud rang the tramp

  Of armed men: Achilles in the midst,

  The godlike chief, in dazzling arms array'd.

  His teeth were gnashing audibly; his eye

  Blaz'd with, the light of fire; but in his heart

  Was grief unbearable; with furious wrath

  He burn'd against the Trojans, as he donn'd

  The heav'nly gifts, the work of Vulcan's hand.

  First on his legs the well-wrought greaves he fix'd,

  Fasten'd with silver clasps; his breastplate next

  Around his chest; and o'er his shoulders flung

  His silver-studded sword, with blade of brass;

  Then took his vast and weighty shield, whence gleam'd

  A light refulgent as the full-orb'd moon;

  Or as to seamen o'er the wave is borne

  The watchfire's light, which, high among the hills,

  Some shepherd kindles in his lonely fold:

  As they, reluctant, by the stormy winds,

  Far from their friends are o'er the waters driv'n;

  So from Achilles' shield, bright, richly wrought,

  The light was thrown. The weighty helm he rais'd,

  And plac'd it on his head; the plumed helm

  Shone like a star; and wav'd the hairs of gold.

  Thick-set by Vulcan in the gleaming crest.

  Then al
l the arms Achilles prov'd, to know

  If well they fitted to his graceful limbs:

  Like wings, they seem'd to lift him from the ground.

  Last, from its case he drew his father's spear,

  Long, pond'rous, tough; not one of all the Greeks,

  None, save Achilles' self, could poise that spear;

  The far-fam'd Pelian ash, which to his sire,

  On Pelion's summit fell'd, to be the bane

  Of mighty chiefs, the Centaur Chiron gave.

  With care Automedon and Alcimus

  The horses yok'd, with collars fair attach'd:

  Plac'd in their mouths the bits, and pass'd the reins

  Back to the well-built car: Automedon

  Sprang on the car, with shining lash in hand:

  Behind, Achilles came, array'd for war,

  In arms all glitt'ring as the gorgeous sun,

  And loudly to his father's steeds he call'd:

  "Xanthus and Balius, noble progeny

  Of swift Podarge, now in other sort

  Back to the Grecian ranks in safety bear,

  When he shall quit the field, your charioteer;

  Nor leave him, as ye left Patroclus, slain."

  To whom in answer from beneath the yoke

  Xanthus, the noble horse, with glancing feet:

  Bowing his head the while, till all his mane

  Down from th' yokeband streaming, reach'd the ground;

  By Juno, white-arm'd Queen, with speech endued:

  "Yes, great Achilles, we this day again

  Will bear thee safely; but thy day of doom

  Is nigh at hand; nor we shall cause thy death,

  But Heav'n's high will, and Fate's imperious pow'r.

  By no default of ours, nor lack of speed,

  The Trojans stripp'd Patroclus of his arms:

  The mighty God, fair-hair'd Latona's son,

  Achiev'd his death, and Hector's vict'ry gain'd.

  Our speed of foot may vie with Zephyr's breeze,

  Deem'd swiftest of the winds; but thou art doom'd

  To die, by force combin'd of God and man."

  He said; his farther speech the Furies stay'd.

  To whom in wrath Achilles swift of foot;

  "Xanthus, why thus predict my coming fate?

  It ill beseems thee! well I know myself

  That I am fated here in Troy to die,

  Far from my home and parents; yet withal

  I cease not, till these Trojans from the field

  Before me fly." He said, and to the front,

  His war-cry shouting, urg'd his fiery steeds.

  ARGUMENT.

  THE BATTLE OF THE GODS, AND THE ACTS OF ACHILLES.

  Jupiter, upon Achilles' return to the battle, calls a council of the gods and permits them to assist either party. The terrors of the combat described when the deities are engaged. Apollo encourages AEneas to meet Achilles. After a long conversation, these two heroes encounter; but AEneas is preserved by the assistance of Neptune. Achilles falls upon the rest of the Trojans, and is upon the point of killing Hector, but Apollo conveys him away in a cloud. Achilles pursues the Trojans with a great slaughter.

  The same day continues. The scene is in the field before Troy.

  BOOK XX.

  Round thee, Achilles, eager for the fray,

  Stood thus accoutred, by their beaked ships,

  The sons of Greece; the Trojan host, oppos'd,

  Stood on the sloping margin of the plain.

  Then Jove to Themis gave command to call

  The Gods to council from the lofty height

  Of many-ridg'd Olympus; to the house

  Of Jove she summon'd them from ev'ry side.

  Thence of the Rivers, save Oceanus,

  Not one was absent; nor of Nymphs, who haunt

  Clear fount, or shady grove, or grassy mead.

  They, at the Cloud-compeller's house arriv'd,

  Within the polish'd corridor reclin'd,

  Which Vulcan's cunning hand for Jove had built.

  There were they gather'd in th' abode of Jove:

  Nor did th' Earth-shaking Neptune slight the call,

  But came from ocean's depths, and in the midst

  He sat, and thus the will of Jove enquir'd:

  "Why, Lord of lightning, hast thou summon'd here

  The Gods to council? dost thou aught devise

  Touching the Greeks and Trojans? who e'en now

  Kindle anew, it seems, the blaze of war."

  To whom the Cloud-compeller, answ'ring, thus:

  "The purpose, Neptune, well thou know'st thyself

  For which I call'd ye; true, they needs must die,

  But still they claim my care; yet here will I

  Upon Olympus' lofty ridge remain,

  And view, serene, the combat; you, the rest,

  Go, as you list, to Trojans or to Greeks,

  And at your pleasure either party aid.

  For if we leave Achilles thus alone

  To fight against the Trojans, not an hour

  Will they before the son of Peleus stand.

  They dreaded him before; but now, I fear,

  Since rous'd to fury by his comrade's death,

  He e'en in fate's despite may storm the wall."

  Thus Saturn's son, and quenchless battle rous'd:

  The Gods, divided, hasten'd to the war:

  Juno and Pallas to the ships of Greece,

  With them th' Earth-shaker, and the helpful God,

  Hermes, for cunning subtleties unmatch'd;

  And Vulcan too, exulting in his strength,

  Yet halting, and on feeble limbs sustain'd.

  Mars of the glancing helm took part with Troy,

  And golden Phoebus with his locks unshorn,

  Latona too, and Dian, Archer-Queen,

  Xanthus, and Venus, laughter-loving dame.

  While from the fight of men the Gods abstain'd,

  High rose the Grecian vaunts, as, long withdrawn,

  Achilles on the field again appear'd:

  And ev'ry Trojan's limbs with terror quak'd,

  Trembling, as Peleus' godlike son they saw,

  In arms all-glitt'ring, fierce as blood-stain'd Mars.

  But when th' Immortals mingled in the throng,

  Then furious wax'd the spirit-stirring strife;

  Then Pallas rais'd her war-cry, standing now

  Beside the deep-dug trench, without the wall,

  Now shouting loud along the sounding beach.

  On th' other side, as with the tempest's roar,

  Mars to the Trojans shouted loud; one while

  From Ilium's topmost height; anon again

  From the fair hill, o'erhanging Simois' stream.

  Thus, either side exciting to the fray,

  Th' immortal Gods unchain'd the angry war.

  Thunder'd on high the Sire of Gods and men

  With awful din; while Neptune shook beneath

  The boundless earth, and lofty mountain tops.

  The spring-abounding Ida quak'd and rock'd

  From her firm basis to her loftiest peak,

  And Troy's proud city, and the ships of Greece.

  Pluto, th' infernal monarch, heard alarm'd,

  And, springing from his throne, cried out in fear,

  Lest Neptune, breaking through the solid earth,

  To mortals and Immortals should lay bare

  His dark and drear abode, of Gods abhorr'd.

  Such was the shock when Gods in battle met;

  For there to royal Neptune stood oppos'd

  Phoebus Apollo with his arrows keen;

  The blue-ey'd Pallas to the God of War;

  To Juno, Dian, heav'nly Archeress,

  Sister of Phoebus, golden-shafted Queen.

  Stout Hermes, helpful God, Latona fac'd;

  While Vulcan met the mighty rolling stream,

  Xanthus by Gods, by men Scamander call'd.

  Thus Gods encounte
r'd Gods: Achilles' soul

  Meantime was burning 'mid the throng to meet

  Hector, the son of Priam; with whose blood

  He long'd to glut th' insatiate Lord of War.

  Apollo then, the spirit-stirring God,

  AEneas mov'd Achilles to confront,

  And fill'd with courage high; and thus, the voice

  Assuming of Lycaon, Priam's son,

  Apollo, son of Jove, the chief address'd:

  "AEneas, prince and councillor of Troy,

  Where are the vaunts, which o'er the wine-cup late

  Thou mad'st amid th' assembled chiefs of Troy,

  That hand to hand thou wouldst Achilles meet?"

  To whom AEneas thus in answer spoke:

  "Why, son of Priam, urge me to contend,

  Against my will, with Peleus' mighty son?

  Not for the first time should I now engage

  Achilles swift of foot: I met him once,

  And fled before his spear, on Ida's hill,

  When on our herds he fell; Lyrnessus then

  He raz'd, and Pedasus; me Jove preserv'd,

  With strength, endowing, and with speed of foot.

  Else had I fall'n beneath Achilles' hand,

  By Pallas aided; who before him moves,

  Light of his life, and guides his brazen spear

  Trojans and Leleges alike to slay.

  'Tis not in mortal man with him to fight,

  Whom still some God attends, and guards from harm;

  And, e'en unaided, to the mark his spear

  Unerring flies, uncheck'd until it pierce

  A warrior's breast; yet if the Gods the scale

  Impartial held, all brass-clad as he is,

  O'er me no easy triumph should he gain."

  To whom the King Apollo, son of Jove:

  "Brave chief, do thou too to th' immortal Gods

  Address thy pray'r; men say that thou art sprung

  From Venus, child of Jove; his mother owns

  A humbler origin; one born to Jove,

  The other to the aged Ocean God.

  On then with dauntless spear, nor be dismay'd

  By his high tone and vaunting menaces."

  His words with courage fill'd the hero's breast,

  And on he sprang, in dazzling arms arrayed;

  But not unmark'd of white-arm'd Juno pass'd,

  To meet Achilles, through the press of men,

  Who thus address'd the Gods, to council call'd:

  "Neptune and Pallas both, bethink ye well

  What now should be our course; AEneas comes,

  In dazzling arms array'd, to meet in fight

  The son of Peleus; Phoebus sends him forth.

  Say, then, shall we, encount'ring, to retreat

  Perforce constrain him? or shall one of us

  Beside Achilles stand, and give him strength

  That he may nothing lack; and know himself

 

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