Though some necessity, I know, doth make you visit me,
Incens’d with just cause ‘gainst the Greeks.” This said, a sev’ral seat
With purple cushions he set forth, and did their ease intreat,
And said: “Now, friend, our greatest bowl, with wine unmix’d and neat,
Appose these lords, and of the depth let every man make proof,
These are my best esteeméd friends, and underneath my roof.”
Patroclus did his dear friend’s will; and he that did desire
To cheer the lords, come faint from fight, set on a blazing fire
A great brass pot, and into it a chine of mutton put,
And fat goat’s flesh. Automedon held, while he pieces cut,
To roast and boil, right cunningly; then of a well-fed swine
A huge fat shoulder he cuts out, and spits it wondrous fine.
His good friend made a goodly fire; of which the force once past,
He laid the spit low, near the coals, to make it brown at last,
Then sprinkled it with sacred salt, and took it from the racks.
This roasted and on dresser set, his friend Patroclus takes
Bread in fair baskets; which set on, Achilles brought the meat,
And to divinest Ithacus took his opposéd seat
Upon the bench. Then did he will his friend to sacrifice,
Who cast sweet incense in the fire to all the Deities.
Thus fell they to their ready food. Hunger and thirst allay’d,
Ajax to Phœnix made a sign, as if too long they stay’d
Before they told their legacy. Ulysses saw him wink,
And, filling the great bowl with wine, did to Achilles drink:
“Health to Achilles! But our plights stand not in need of meat,
Who late supp’d at Atrides’ tent, though for thy love we eat
Of many things, whereof a part would make a cómplete feast.
Nor can we joy in these kind rites, that have our hearts oppress’d,
O prince, with fear of utter spoil. ’Tis made a question now,
If we can save our fleet or not, unless thyself endow
Thy pow’rs with wonted fortitude. Now Troy and her consórts,
Bold of thy want, have pitch’d their tents close to our fleet and forts,
And made a firmament of fires; and now no more, they say,
Will they be prison’d in their walls, but force their violent way
Ev’n to our ships; and Jove himself hath with his lightnings show’d
Their bold adventures happy signs; and Hector grows so proud
Of his huge strength, borne out by Jove, that fearfully he raves,
Presuming neither men nor Gods can interrupt his braves.
Wild rage invades him, and he prays that soon the sacred Morn
Would light his fury; boasting then our streamers shall be torn,
And all our naval ornaments fall by his conqu’ring stroke,
Our ships shall burn, and we ourselves lie stifled in the smoke.
And I am seriously afraid, Heav’n will perform his threats,
And that ’tis fatal to us all, far from our native seats,
To perish in victorious Troy. But rise, though it be late,
Deliver the afflicted Greeks from Troy’s tumultuous hate;
It will hereafter be thy grief, when no strength can suffice
To remedy th’ effected threats of our calamities.
Consider these affairs in time, while thou mayst use thy pow’r.
And have the grace to turn from Greece fate’s unrecover’d hour.
O friend, thou know’st thy royal sire forewarn’d what should be done,
That day he sent thee from his court to honour Atreus’ son:
‘My son,’ said he, ‘the victory let Jove and Pallas use
At their high pleasures, but do thou no honour’d means refuse
That may advance her. In fit bounds contain thy mighty mind,
Nor let the knowledge of thy strength be factiously inclin’d,
Contriving mischiefs. Be to fame and gen’ral good profess’d.
The more will all sorts honour thee. Benignity is best.’
Thus charg’d thy sire, which thou forgett’st. Yet now those thoughts appease,
That torture thy great spirit with wrath; which if thou wilt surcease,
The king will merit it with gifts; and, if thou wilt give ear,
I’ll tell how much he offers thee yet thou sitt’st angry here:
Sev’n tripods that no fire must touch; twice-ten pans, fit for flame;
Ten talents of fine gold; twelve horse that ever overcame,
And brought huge prises from the field, with swiftness of their feet,
That man should bear no poor account, nor want gold’s quick’ning sweet,
That had but what he won with them; sev’n worthiest Lesbian dames,
Renown’d for skill in housewif’ry, and bear the sov’reign fames
For beauty from their gen’ral sex, which, at thy overthrow
Of well-built Lesbos, he did choose; and these he will bestow,
And with these her he took from thee, whom, by his state, since then,
He swears he touch’d not, as fair dames use to be touch’d by men.
All these are ready for thee now. And, if at length we take,
By helps of Gods, this wealthy town, thy ships shall burthen make
Of gold and brass at thy desires, when we the spoil divide;
And twenty beauteous Trojan dames thou shalt select beside,
Next Helen, the most beautiful; and, when return’d we be
To Argos, be his son-in-law, for he will honour thee
Like his Orestes, his sole son, maintained in height of bliss.
Three daughters beautify his court, the fair Chrysothemis,
Laodice, and Iphianesse; of all the fairest take
To Peleus’ thy grave father’s court, and never jointure make;
He will the jointure make himself, so great, as never sire
Gave to his daughter’s nuptials. Sev’n cities left entire;
Cardamyle, and Enope, and Hira full of flow’rs,
Anthæa for sweet meadows prais’d, and Phera deck’d with tow’rs,
The bright Epea, Pedasus that doth God Bacchus please;
All, on the sandy Pylos’ soil, are seated near the seas;
Th’ inhabitants in droves and flocks exceeding wealthy be,
Who, like a God, with worthy gifts will gladly honour thee,
And tribute of especial rate to thy high sceptre pay.
All this he freely will perform, thy anger to allay.
But if thy hate to him be more than his gifts may repress,
Yet pity all the other Greeks, in such extreme distress,
Who with religion honour thee; and to their desp’rate ill
Thou shalt triumphant glory bring; and Hector thou may’st kill,
When pride makes him encounter thee, fill’d with a baneful sprite,
Who vaunts our whole fleet brought not one, equal to him in fight.”
Swift-foot Æacides replied: “Divine Laertes’ son,
’Tis requisite I should be short, and show what place hath won
Thy serious speech, affirming nought but what you shall approve
Establish’d in my settled heart, that in the rest I move
No murmur nor exceptión; for, like hell mouth I loath,
Who holds not in his words and thoughts one indistinguish’d troth.
What fits the freeness of my mind, my speech shall make display’d.
Nor Atreus’ son, nor all the Greeks, shall win me to their aid,
Their suit is wretchedly enforc’d, to free their own despairs,
And my life never shall be hir’d with thankless desp’rate pray’rs;
For never had I benefit, that ever foil’d the foe;
Ev’n share hath he that keeps his tent, and he to fiel
d doth go,
With equal honour cowards die, and men most valiant,
The much performer, and the man that can of nothing vaunt.
No overplus I ever found, when, with my mind’s most strife
To do them good, to dang’rous fight I have expos’d my life.
But ev’n as to unfeather’d birds the careful dam brings meat,
Which when she hath bestow’d, herself hath nothing left to eat;
So, when my broken sleeps have drawn the nights t’ extremest length,
And ended many bloody days with still-employéd strength,
To guard their weakness, and preserve their wives’ contents infract,
I have been robb’d before their eyes: Twelve cities I have sack’d
Assail’d by sea, elev’n by land, while this siege held at Troy;
And of all these, what was most dear, and most might crown the joy
Of Agamemnon, he enjoy’d, who here behind remain’d:
Which when he took, a few he gave, and many things retain’d,
Other to optimates and kings he gave, who hold them fast,
Yet mine he forceth; only I sit with my loss disgrac’d.
But so he gain a lovely dame, to be his bed’s delight,
It is enough; for what cause else do Greeks and Trojans fight?
Why brought he hither such an host? Was it not for a dame?
For fair-hair’d Helen? And doth love alone the hearts inflame
Of the Atrides to their wives, of all the men that move?
Ev’ry discreet and honest mind cares for his private love,
As much as they; as I myself lov’d Brisis as my life,
Although my captive, and had will to take her for my wife.
Whom since he forc’d, preventing me, in vain he shall prolong
Hopes to appease me that know well the deepness of my wrong.
But, good Ulysses, with thyself, and all you other kings,
Let him take stomach to repel Troy’s fi’ry threatenings.
Much hath he done without my help, built him a goodly fort,
Cut a dike by it, pitch’d with pales, broad and of deep import;
And cannot all these helps repress this kill-man Hector’s fright?
When I was arm’d among the Greeks, he would not offer fight
Without the shadow of his walls; but to the Scæan ports,
Or to the holy beach of Jove, come back’d with his consorts;
Where once he stood my charge alone, and hardly made retreat,
And to make new proof of our pow’rs, the doubt is not so great.
To-morrow then, with sacrifice perform’d t’ imperial Jove
And all the Gods, I’ll launch my fleet, and all my men remove;
Which (if thou wilt use so thy sight, or think’st it worth respect)
In forehead of the morn, thine eyes shall see, with sails erect
Amidst the fishy Hellespont, help’d with laborious oars.
And, if the Sea-god send free sail, the fruitful Phthian shores
Within three days we shall attain, where I have store of prise
Left, when with prejudice I came to these indignities.
There have I gold as well as here, and store of ruddy brass,
Dames slender, elegantly girt, and steel as bright as glass.
These will I take as I retire, as shares I firmly save,
Though Agamemnon be so base to take the gifts he gave.
Tell him all this, and openly, I on your honours charge,
That others may take shame to hear his lusts command so large,
And, if there yet remain a man he hopeth to deceive
(Being dyed in endless impudence) that man may learn to leave
His trust and empire. But alas, though, like a wolf he be,
Shameless and rude, he durst not take my prise, and look on me.
I never will partake his works, nor counsels, as before,
He once deceiv’d and injur’d me, and he shall never more
Tye my affections with his words. Enough is the increase
Of one success in his deceits; which let him joy in peace,
And bear it to a wretched end. Wise Jove hath reft his brain
To bring him plagues, and these his gifts I, as my foes, disdain.
Ev’n in the numbness of calm death I will revengeful be,
Though ten or twenty times so much he would bestow on me,
All he hath here, or any where, or Orchomen contains,
To which men bring their wealth for strength, or all the store remains
In circuit of Egyptian Thebes, where much hid treasure lies,
Whose walls contain an hundred ports, of so admir’d a size
Two hundred soldiers may a-front with horse and chariots pass.
Nor, would he amplify all this like sand, or dust, or grass,
Should he reclaim me, till this wreak pay’d me for all the pains
That with his contumely burn’d, like poison, in my veins.
Nor shall his daughter be my wife, although she might contend
With golden Venus for her form, or if she did transcend
Blue-ey’d Minerva for her works; let him a Greek select
Fit for her, and a greater king. For if the Gods protect
My safety to my father’s court, he shall choose me a wife.
Many fair Achive princesses of unimpeachéd life
In Helle and in Phthia live, whose sires do cities hold,
Of whom I can have whom I will. And, more an hundred fold
My true mind in my country likes to take a lawful wife
Than in another nation; and there delight my life
With those goods that my father got, much rather than die here.
Not all the wealth of well-built Troy, possess’d when peace was there,
All that Apollo’s marble fane in stony Pythos holds,
I value equal with the life that my free breast enfolds.
Sheep, oxen, tripods, crest-deck’d horse, though lost, may come again,
But when the white guard of our teeth no longer can contain
Our human soul, away it flies, and, once gone, never more
To her frail mansion any man can her lost pow’rs restore.
And therefore since my mother-queen, fam’d for her silver feet,
Told me two fates about my death in my direction meet:
The one, that, if I here remain t’ assist our victory,
My safe return shall never live, my fame shall never die;
If my return obtain success, much of my fame decays,
But death shall linger his approach, and I live many days,
This being reveal’d, ‘twere foolish pride, t’ abridge my life for praise.
Then with myself, I will advise, others to hoise their sail,
For, ‘gainst the height of Ilion, you never shall prevail,
Jove with his hand protecteth it, and makes the soldiers bold.
This tell the kings in ev’ry part, for so grave legates should,
That they may better counsels use, to save their fleet and friends
By their own valours; since this course, drown’d in my anger, ends.
Phœnix may in my tent repose, and in the morn steer course
For Phthia, if he think it good; if not, I’ll use no force.”
All wonder’d at his stern reply; and Phœnix, full of fears
His words would be more weak than just, supplied their wants with tears.
“If thy return incline thee thus, Peleus’ renownéd joy,
And thou wilt let our ships be burn’d with harmful fire of Troy,
Since thou art angry, O my son, how shall I after be
Alone in these extremes of death, relinquishéd by thee?
I, whom thy royal father sent as ord’rer of thy force,
When to Atrides from his court he left thee for this course,
Yet young, and when in skill of arms thou didst not so abound,
Nor hadst the habit of discourse, that makes men so renown’d.
In all which I was set by him, t’ instruct thee as my son,
That thou might’st speak, when speech was fit, and do, when deeds were done,
Not sit as dumb, for want of words, idle, for skill to move,
I would not then be left by thee, dear son, begot in love,
No, not if God would promise me, to raze the prints of time
Carv’d in my bosom and my brows, and grace me with the prime
Of manly youth, as when at first I left sweet Helle’s shore
Deck’d with fair dames, and fled the grudge my angry father bore;
Who was the fair Amyntor call’d, surnam’d Ormenides,
And for a fair-hair’d harlot’s sake, that his affects could please,
Contemn’d my mother, his true wife, who ceaseless urgéd me
To use his harlot Clytia, and still would clasp my knee
To do her will, that so my sire might turn his love to hate
Of that lewd dame, converting it to comfort her estate.
At last I was content to prove to do my mother good,
And reconcile my father’s love; who straight suspicious stood,
Pursuing me with many a curse, and to the Furies pray’d
No dame might love, nor bring me seed. The Deities obey’d
That govern hell; infernal Jove, and stern Persephone.
Then durst I in no longer date with my stern father be.
Yet did my friends, and near allies, inclose me with desires
Not to depart; kill’d sheep, boars, beeves; roast them at solemn fires;
And from my father’s tuns we drunk exceeding store of wine.
Nine nights they guarded me by turns, their fires did ceaseless shine,
One in the porch of his strong hall, and in the portal one,
Before my chamber; but when day beneath the tenth night shone,
I brake my chamber’s thick-fram’d doors, and through the hall’s guard pass’d,
Unseen of any man or maid. Through Greece then, rich and vast,
I fled to Phthia, nurse of sheep, and came to Peleus’ court;
Who entertain’d me heartily, and in as gracious sort
As any sire his only son, born when his strength is spent,
And bless’d with great possessions to leave to his descent.
He made me rich, and to my charge did much command commend.
I dwelt in th’ utmost region rich Phthia doth extend,
And govern’d the Dolopians, and made thee what thou art,
O thou that like the Gods art fram’d. Since, dearest to my heart,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 69