That makes it public, being seduc’d by this old sea-god’s seed,
That could so early use her knees, embracing thine. I doubt,
The late act of thy bowéd head was for the working out
Of some boon she ask’d; that her son thy partial hand would please
With plaguing others.” “Wretch!” said he, “thy subtle jealousies
Are still exploring; my designs can never ‘scape thine eye,
Which yet thou never canst prevent. Thy curiosity
Makes thee less car’d for at my hands, and horrible the end
Shall make thy humour. If it be what thy suspects intend,
What then? ’Tis my free will it should; to which let way be giv’n
With silence. Curb your tongue in time; lest all the Gods in heav’n
Too few be and too weak to help thy punish’d insolence,
When my inaccessible hands shall fall on thee.” The sense
Of this high threat’ning made her fear, and silent she sate down,
Humbling her great heart. All the Gods in court of Jove did frown
At this offence giv’n; amongst whom heav’n’s famous artizan,
Ephaistus, in his mother’s care, this comely speech began:
“Believe it, these words will breed wounds, beyond our pow’rs to bear,
If thus for mortals ye fall out. Ye make a tumult here
That spoils our banquet. Evermore worst matters put down best.
But, mother, though yourself be wise, yet let your son request
His wisdom audience. Give good terms to our lov’d father Jove,
For fear he take offence again, and our kind banquet prove
A wrathful battle. If he will, the heav’nly Light’ner can
Take you and toss you from your throne; his pow’r Olympian
Is so surpassing. Soften then with gentle speech his spleen,
And drink to him; I know his heart will quickly down again.”
This said, arising from his throne, in his lov’d mother’s hand
He put the double-handed cup, and said: “Come, do not stand
On these cross humours, suffer, bear, though your great bosom grieve,
And lest blows force you; all my aid not able to relieve
Your hard condition, though these eyes behold it, and this heart
Sorrow to think it. ’Tis a task too dang’rous to take part
Against Olympius. I myself the proof of this still feel.
When other Gods would fain have help’d, he took me by the heel,
And hurl’d me out of heav’n. All day I was in falling down;
At length in Lemnos I strook earth. The likewise-falling sun
And I, together, set; my life almost set too; yet there
The Sintii cheer’d and took me up.” This did to laughter cheer
White-wristed Juno, who now took the cup of him, and smil’d.
The sweet peace-making draught went round, and lame Ephaistus fill’d
Nectar to all the other Gods. A laughter never left
Shook all the blesséd deities, to see the lame so deft
At that cup service. All that day, ev’n till the sun went down,
They banqueted, and had such cheer as did their wishes crown.
Nor had they music less divine; Apollo there did touch
His most sweet harp, to which, with voice, the Muses pleas’d as much.
But when the sun’s fair light was set, each Godhead to his house
Address’d for sleep, where ev’ry one, with art most curious,
By heav’n’s great both-foot-halting God a sev’ral roof had built.
Ev’n he to sleep went, by whose hand heav’n is with lightning gilt,
High Jove, where he had us’d to rest when sweet sleep seiz’d his eyes;
By him the golden-thron’d Queen slept, the Queen of deities.
THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
ENDNOTES.
1 “See my bed made,” it may be Englished. The word is ἀντιόωσαν, which signifies contra stantem as standing of one side opposite to another on the other side; which yet others translate capessentem et adornantem; which since it shows best to a reader, I follow.
2 This simile Virgil directly translates.
THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS
THE ARGUMENT
Jove calls a vision up from Somnus’ den
To bid Atrides muster up his men.
The King, to Greeks dissembling his desire,
Persuades them to their country to retire.
By Pallas’ will, Ulysses stays their flight:
And wise old Nestor heartens them to fight.
They take their meat; which done, to arms they go,
And march in good array against the foe.
So those of Troy; when Iris, from the sky,
Of Saturn’s son performs the embassy.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Beta the dream and synod cites;
And catalogues the naval knights.
The other Gods, and knights at arms, all night slept; only Jove
Sweet slumber seiz’d not; he discours’d how best he might approve
His vow made for Achilles’ grace, and make the Grecians find
His miss in much death. All ways cast, this counsel serv’d his mind
With most allowance; to despatch a harmful Dream to greet
The king of men, and gave this charge: “Go to the Achive fleet,
Pernicious Dream, and, being arriv’d in Agamemnon’s tent,
Deliver truly all this charge. Command him to convent
His whole host arm’d before these tow’rs; for now Troy’s broad-way’d town
He shall take in; the heav’n-hous’d Gods are now indiff’rent grown:
Juno’s request hath won them; Troy now under imminent ills
At all parts labours.” This charge heard, the Vision straight fulfils;
The ships reach’d, and Atrides’ tent, in which he found him laid,
Divine sleep pour’d about his pow’rs. He stood above his head
Like Nestor, grac’d of old men most, and this did intimate:
“Sleeps the wise Atreus’ tame-horse son? A councillor of state
Must not the whole night spend in sleep, to whom the people are
For guard committed, and whose life stands bound to so much care.
Now hear me, then, Jove’s messenger, who, though far off from thee,
Is near thee yet in ruth and care, and gives command by me
To arm thy whole host. Thy strong hand the broad-way’d town of Troy
Shall now take in; no more the Gods dissentiously employ
Their high-hous’d powers; Juno’s suit hath won them all to her;
And ill fates overhang these tow’rs, address’d by Jupiter.
Fix in thy mind this, nor forget to give it action, when
Sweet sleep shall leave thee.” Thus, he fled; and left the king of men
Repeating in discourse his dream, and dreaming still, awake,
Of pow’r, not ready yet for act. O fool, he thought to take
In that next day old Priam’s town; not knowing what affairs
Jove had in purpose, who prepar’d, by strong fight, sighs and cares
For Greeks and Trojans. The Dream gone, his voice still murmured
About the king’s ears; who sate up, put on him in his bed
His silken inner weed, fair, new; and then in haste arose,
Cast on his ample mantle, tied to his soft feet fair shoes,
His silver-hilted sword he hung about his shoulder, took
His father’s sceptre never stain’d, which then abroad he shook,
And went to fleet. And now great heav’n Goddess Aurora scal’d,
To Jove, and all Gods, bringing light; when Agamemnon call’d
His heralds, charging them aloud to call to instant court
The thick-hair’d Greeks. The heralds call’d; the Greeks ma
de quick resort.
The Council chiefly he compos’d of old great-minded men,
At Nestor’s ships, the Pylian king. All there assembled then,
Thus Atreus’ son begun the court: “Hear, friends: A Dream divine,
Amidst the calm night in my sleep, did through my shut eyes shine,
Within my fantasy. His form did passing naturally
Resemble Nestor; such attire, a stature just as high.
He stood above my head, and words thus fashion’d did relate:
‘Sleeps the wise Atreus’ tame-horse son? A councillor of state
Must not the whole night spend in sleep, to whom the people are
For guard committed, and whose life stands bound to so much care.
Now hear me then, Jove’s messenger, who, though far off from thee,
Is near thee yet in love and care, and gives command by me
To arm thy whole host. Thy strong hand the broad-way’d town of Troy
Shall now take in; no more the Gods dissentiously employ
Their high-hous’d pow’rs; Saturnia’s suit hath won them all to her;
And ill fates over-hang these tow’rs, address’d by Jupiter.
Fix in thy mind this.’ This express’d, he took wing and away,
And sweet sleep left me. Let us then by all our means assay
To arm our army; I will first (as far as fits our right)
Try their addictions, and command with full-sail’d ships our flight;
Which if they yield to, oppose you.” He sate, and up arose
Nestor, of sandy Pylos king, who, willing to dispose
Their counsel to the public good, propos’d this to the state:
“Princes and Councillors of Greece, if any should relate
This vision but the king himself, it might be held a tale,
And move the rather our retreat; but since our General
Affirms he saw it, hold it true, and all our best means make
To arm our army.” This speech us’d, he first the Council brake;
The other sceptre-bearing States arose too, and obey’d
The people’s Rector. Being abroad, the earth was overlaid
With flockers to them, that came forth, as when of frequent bees
Swarms rise out of a hollow rock, repairing the degrees
Of their egression endlessly, with ever rising new
From forth their sweet nest; as their store, still as it faded, grew,
And never would cease sending forth her clusters to the spring,
They still crowd out so; this fleck here, that there, belabouring
The loaded flow’rs; so from the ships and tents the army’s store
Troop’d to these princes and the court, along th’ unmeasur’d shore;
Amongst whom, Jove’s ambassadress, Fame, in her virtue shin’d,
Exciting greediness to hear. The rabble, thus inclin’d,
Hurried together; uproar seiz’d the high court; earth did groan
Beneath the settling multitude; tumult was there alone.
Thrice-three vocif’rous heralds rose, to check the rout, and get
Ear to their Jove-kept governors; and instantly was set
That huge confusion; ev’ry man set fast, the clamour ceas’d.
Then stood divine Atrides up, and in his hand compress’d
His sceptre, th’ elaborate work of fi’ry Mulciber,
Who gave it to Saturnian Jove; Jove to his messenger;
His messenger, Argicides, to Pelops, skill’d in horse;
Pelops to Atreus, chief of men; he, dying, gave it course
To prince Thyestes, rich in herds; Thyestes to the hand
Of Agamemnon render’d it, and with it the command
Of many isles, and Argos all. On this he leaning, said:
“O friends, great sons of Danaus, servants of Mars, Jove laid
A heavy curse on me, to vow, and bind it with the bent
Of his high forehead; that, this Troy of all her people spent,
I should return; yet now to mock our hopes built on his vow,
And charge ingloriously my flight, when such an overthrow
Of brave friends I have authored. But to his mightiest will
We must submit us, that hath raz’d, and will be razing still,
Men’s footsteps from so many towns; because his pow’r is most,
He will destroy most. But how vile such and so great an host
Will show to future times, that, match’d with lesser numbers far,
We fly, not putting on the crown of our so-long-held war,
Of which there yet appears no end! Yet should our foes and we
Strike truce, and number both our pow’rs; Troy taking all that be
Her arm’d inhabitants, and we, in tens, should all sit down
At our truce banquet, ev’ry ten allow’d one of the town
To fill his feast-cup; many tens would their attendant want;
So much I must affirm our pow’r exceeds th’ inhabitant.
But their auxiliáry bands, those brandishers of spears,
From many cities drawn, are they that are our hinderers,
Not suff’ring well-rais’d Troy to fall. Nine years are ended now,
Since Jove our conquest vow’d; and now, our vessels rotten grow,
Our tackling falls; our wives, young sons, sit in their doors and long
For our arrival; yet the work, that should have wreak’d our wrong,
And made us welcome, lies unwrought. Come then, as I bid, all
Obey, and fly to our lov’d home; for now, nor ever, shall
Our utmost take-in broad-way’d Troy.” This said, the multitude
Was all for home; and all men else that what this would conclude
Had not discover’d. All the crowd was shov’d about the shore,
In sway, like rude and raging waves, rous’d with the fervent blore
Of th’ east and south winds, when they break from Jove’s clouds, and are borne
On rough backs of th’ Icarian seas: or like a field of corn
High grown, that Zephyr’s vehement gusts bring eas’ly underneath,
And make the stiff up-bristled ears do homage to his breath;
For ev’n so eas’ly, with the breath Atrides us’d, was sway’d
The violent multitude. To fleet with shouts, and disarray’d,
All rush’d; and, with a fog of dust, their rude feet dimm’d the day;
Each cried to other, “Cleanse our ships, come, launch, aboard, away.”
The clamour of the runners home reach’d heav’n; and then, past fate,
The Greeks had left Troy, had not then the Goddess of estate
Thus spoke to Pallas: “O foul shame, thou untam’d seed of Jove,
Shall thus the sea’s broad back be charg’d with these our friends’ remove,
Thus leaving Argive Helen here, thus Priam grac’d, thus Troy,
In whose fields, far from their lov’d own, for Helen’s sake, the joy
And life of so much Grecian birth is vanish’d? Take thy way
T’ our brass-arm’d people, speak them fair, let not a man obey
The charge now giv’n, nor launch one ship.” She said, and Pallas did
As she commanded; from the tops of heav’n’s steep hill she slid,
And straight the Greeks’ swift ships she reach’d; Ulysses (like to
Jove
In gifts of counsel) she found out; who to that base remove
Stirr’d not a foot, nor touch’d a ship, but griev’d at heart to see
That fault in others. To him close the blue-eyed Deity
Made way, and said: “Thou wisest Greek, divine Laertes’ son,
Thus fly ye homewards to your ships? Shall all thus headlong run?
Glory to Priam thus ye leave, glory to all his friends,
If thus ye leave her here, for whom so many violent ends
Have clos’d your Greek eyes, and so far
from their so loved home.
Go to these people, use no stay, with fair terms overcome
Their foul endeavour, not a man a flying sail let hoice.”
Thus spake she; and Ulysses knew ’twas Pallas by her voice,
Ran to the runners, cast from him his mantle, which his man
And herald, grave Eurybates, the Ithacensian
That follow’d him, took up. Himself to Agamemnon went,
His incorrupted sceptre took, his sceptre of descent,
And with it went about the fleet. What prince, or man of name,
He found flight-giv’n, he would restrain with words of gentlest blame:
“Good sir, it fits not you to fly, or fare as one afraid,
You should not only stay yourself, but see the people staid.
You know not clearly, though you heard the king’s words, yet his mind;
He only tries men’s spirits now, and, whom his trials find
Apt to this course, he will chastise, Nor you, nor I, heard all
He spake in council; nor durst press too near our General,
Lest we incens’d him to our hurt. The anger of a king
Is mighty; he is kept of Jove, and from Jove likewise spring
His honours, which, out of the love of wise Jove, he enjoys.”
Thus he the best sort us’d; the worst, whose spirits brake out in noise,
He cudgell’d with his sceptre, chid, and said: “Stay, wretch, be still,
And hear thy betters; thou art base, and both in pow’r and skill
Poor and unworthy, without name in council or in war.
We must not all be kings. The rule is most irregular,
Where many rule. One lord, one king, propose to thee; and he,
To whom wise Saturn’s son, hath giv’n both law and empery
To rule the public, is that king.” Thus ruling, he restrain’d
The host from flight; and then again the Council was maintain’d
With such a concourse, that the shore rung with the tumult made;
As when the far-resounding sea doth in its rage invade
His sandy confines, whose sides groan with his involvéd wave,
And make his own breast echo sighs. All sate, and audience gave.
Thersites only would speak all. A most disorder’d store
Of words he foolishly pour’d out, of which his mind held more
Than it could manage; any thing, with which he could procure
Laughter, he never could contain. He should have yet been sure
To touch no kings; t’ oppose their states becomes not jesters’ parts.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 51