The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  A tall huge man, that to the nail knew that red sport of hand,

  And, seizing the tough mule, thus spake: “Now let some other stand

  Forth for the cup; this mule is mine, at cuffs I boast me best.

  Is’t not enough I am no soldier? Who is worthiest

  At all works? None; not possible. At this yet this I say,

  And will perform this: Who stands forth, I’ll burst him, I will bray

  His bones as in a mortar. Fetch surgeons enow to take 10

  His corse from under me.” This speech did all men silent make.

  At last stood forth Euryalus, a man god-like, and son

  To king Mecisteus, the grandchild of honour’d Talaon.

  He was so strong that, coming once to Thebes, when Œdipus

  Had like rites solemniz’d for him, he went victorious

  From all the Thebans. This rare man Tydides would prepare,

  Put on his girdle, oxhide cords, fair wrought; and spent much care

  That he might conquer, hearten’d him, and taught him tricks. Both dress’d

  Fit for th’ affair, both forth were brought; then breast oppos’d to breast,

  Fists against fists rose, and, they join’d, rattling of jaws was there,

  Gnashing of teeth, and heavy blows dash’d blood out ev’rywhere.

  At length Epëus spy’d clear way, rush’d in, and such a blow

  Drave underneath the other’s ear, that his neat limbs did strow

  The knock’d earth, no more legs had he; but as a huge fish laid

  Near to the cold-weed-gath’ring shore, is with a north flaw fraid.

  Shoots back, and in the black deep hides; so, sent against the ground,

  Was foil’d Euryalus, his strength so bid in more profound

  Deeps of Epëus, who took up th’ intranc’d competitor;

  About whom rush’d a crowd of friends, that through the clusters bore

  His falt’ring knees, he spitting up thick clods of blood, his head

  Totter’d of one side, his sense gone; when, to a by-place led,

  Thither they brought him the round cup. Pelides then set forth

  Prize for a wrastling; to the best a trivet, that was worth

  Twelve oxen, great and fit for fire; the conquer’d was t’ obtain

  A woman excellent in works; her beauty, and her gain,

  Priz’d at four oxen. Up he stood, and thus proclaim’d: “Arise,

  You wrastlers, that will prove for these.” Out stepp’d the ample size

  Of mighty Ajax, huge in strength; to him Laertes’ son,

  The crafty one, as huge in sleight. Their ceremony done

  Of making ready, forth they stepp’d, catch elbows with strong hands,

  And as the beams of some high house crack with a storm, yet stands

  The house, being built by well-skill’d men; so crack’d their backbones, wrinch’d

  With horrid twitches; in their sides, arms, shoulders, all bepinch’d,

  Ran thick the wales, red with the blood, ready to start out. Both

  Long’d for the conquest and the prize; yet show’d no play, being loth

  To lose both. Nor could Ithacus stir Ajax; nor could he

  Hale down Ulysses, being more strong than with mere strength to be

  Hurl’d from all vantage of his sleight. Tir’d then with tugging play,

  Great Ajax Telamonius said: “Thou wisest man, or lay

  My face up, or let me lay thine; let Jove take care for these.”

  This said, he hois’d him up to air; when Laertiades

  His wiles forgat not, Ajax’ thigh he strook behind, and flat

  He on his back fell; on his breast Ulysses. Wonder’d at

  Was this of all; all stood amaz’d. Then the much-suff’ring man,

  Divine Ulysses, at next close the Telamonian

  A little rais’d from earth, not quite, but with his knee implied

  Lock’d legs; and down fell both on earth, close by each other’s side,

  Both fil’d with dust; but starting up, the third close they had made,

  Had not Achilles’ self stood up, restraining them, and bade:

  “No more tug one another thus, nor moil yourselves; receive

  Prize equal; conquest crowns ye both; the lists to others leave.”

  They heard, and yielded willingly, brush’d off the dust, and on

  Put other vests. Pelides then, to those that swiftest run,

  Propos’d another prize; a bowl, beyond comparison,

  Both for the size and workmanship, past all the bowls of earth.

  It held six measures; silver all; but had his special worth

  For workmanship, receiving form from those ingenious men

  Of Sidon. The Phœnicians made choice, and brought it then

  Along the green sea, giving it to Thoas; by degrees

  It came t’ Eunæus, Jason’s son, who young Priamides,

  Lycaon, of Achilles’ friend bought with it; and this here

  Achilles made best game for him, that best his feet could bear.

  For second he propos’d an ox, a huge one, and a fat;

  And half a talent gold for last. These thus he set them at:

  “Rise, you that will assay for these.” Forth stepp’d Oïliades;

  Ulysses answer’d; and the third was, one esteem’d past these

  For footmanship, Antilochus. All rank’d, Achilles show’d

  The race-scope. From the start they glid. Oïliades bestow’d

  His feet the swiftest; close to him flew god-like Ithacus.

  And as a lady at her loom, being young and beauteous,

  Her silk-shuttle close to her breast, with grace that doth inflame,

  And her white hand, lifts quick and oft, in drawing from her frame

  Her gentle thread, which she unwinds with ever at her breast

  Gracing her fair hand; so close still, and with such interest

  In all men’s likings, Ithacus unwound, and spent the race

  By him before, took out his steps with putting in their place

  Promptly and gracefully his own, sprinkled the dust before,

  And clouded with his breath his head. So facilie he bore

  His royal person, that he strook shouts from the Greeks, with thirst

  That he should conquer, though he flew: “Yet come, come, O come first,”

  Ever they cried to him. And this ev’n his wise breast did move

  To more desire of victory; it made him pray, and prove,

  Minerva’s aid, his fautress still: “O Goddess, hear,” said he,

  “And to my feet stoop with thy help, now happy fautress be.”

  She was, and light made all his limbs. And now, both near their crown,

  Minerva tripp’d up Ajax’ heels, and headlong he fell down

  Amids the ordure of the beasts, there negligently left

  Since they were slain there; and by this, Minerva’s friend bereft

  Oïliades of that rich bowl, and left his lips, nose, eyes,

  Ruthfully smear’d. The fat ox yet he seiz’d for second prize,

  Held by the horn, spit out the tail, and thus spake all-besmear’d:

  “O villainous chance! This Ithacus so highly is endear’d

  To his Minerva, that her hand is ever in his deeds.

  She, like his mother, nestles him; for from her it proceeds,

  I know, that I am us’d thus.” This all in light laughter cast;

  Amongst whom quick Antilochus laugh’d out his coming last

  Thus wittily: “Know, all my friends, that all times past, and now,

  The Gods most honour most-liv’d men. Oïliades ye know

  More old than I, but Ithacus is of the foremost race,

  First generation of men. Give the old man his grace,

  They count him of the green-hair’d eld; they may; or in his flow’r;

  For not our greatest flourisher can equal him in pow’r

&nbs
p; Of foot-strife, but Æacides.” Thus sooth’d he Thetis’ son

  Who thus accepted it: “Well, youth, your praises shall not run

  With unrewarded feet on mine, your half a talent’s prize

  I’ll make a whole one. Take you, sir.” He took, and joy’d. Then flies

  Another game forth. Thetis’ son set in the lists a lance,

  A shield, and helmet, being th’ arms Sarpedon did advance

  Against Patroclus, and he pris’d. And thus he nam’d th’ address:

  “Stand forth two the most excellent, arm’d, and before all these

  Give mutual onset to the touch and wound of either’s flesh.

  Who first shall wound, through other’s arms his blood appearing fresh,

  Shall win this sword, silver’d, and hatch’d; the blade is right of

  Thrace;

  Asteropæus yielded it. These arms shall part their grace

  With either’s valour; and the men I’ll liberally feast

  At my pavilion.” To this game the first man that address’d

  Was Ajax Telamonius; to him king Diomed.

  Both, in oppos’d parts of the press, full arm’d, both enteréd

  The lists amids the multitude, put looks on so austere,

  And join’d so roughly, that amaze surpris’d the Greeks in fear

  Of either’s mischief. Thrice they threw their fierce darts, and clos’d thrice.

  Then Ajax strook through Diomed’s shield, but did no prejudice,

  His curets saft him. Diomed’s dart still over shoulders flew,

  Still mounting with the spirit it bore. And now rough Ajax grew

  So violent, that the Greeks cried: “Hold, no more. Let them no more.

  Give equal prize to either.” Yet the sword, propos’d before

  For him did best, Achilles gave to Diomed. Then a stone,

  In fashion of a sphere, he show’d; of no inventión,

  But natural, only melted through with iron. ’Twas the bowl

  That king Eetion us’d to hurl; but he bereft of soul

  By great Achilles, to the fleet, with store of other prise,

  He brought it, and propos’d it now both for the exercise

  And prize itself. He stood, and said: “Rise you that will approve

  Your arms’ strengths now in this brave strife. His vigour that can move

  This furthest, needs no game but this; for reach he ne’er so far

  With large fields of his own in Greece (and so needs for his car,

  His plough, or other tools of thrift, much iron) I’ll able this

  For five revolvéd years; no need shall use his messages

  To any town to furnish him, this only bowl shall yield

  Iron enough for all affairs.” This said; to try this field,

  First Polypœtes issuéd; next Leontëus; third

  Great Ajax; huge Epëus fourth, yet he was first that stirr’d

  That mine of iron. Up it went, and up he toss’d it so,

  That laughter took up all the field. The next man that did throw

  Was Leontëus; Ajax third, who gave it such a hand,

  That far past both their marks it flew. But now ’twas to be mann’d

  By Polypœtes, and, as far as at an ox that strays

  A herdsman can swing out his goad, so far did he outraise

  The stone past all men; all the field rose in a shout to see’t;

  About him flock’d his friends, and bore the royal game to fleet.

  For archery he then set forth ten axes edg’d two ways,

  And ten of one edge. On the shore, far-off, he caus’d to raise

  A ship-mast; to whose top they tied a fearful dove by th’ foot,

  At which all shot, the game put thus; He that the dove could shoot,

  Nor touch the string that fasten’d her, the two-edg’d tools should bear

  All to the fleet. Who touch’d the string, and miss’d the dove, should share

  The one-edg’d axes. This propos’d; king Teucer’s force arose,

  And with him rose Meriones. And now lots must dispose

  Their shooting first; both which let fall into a helm of brass,

  First Teucer’s came, and first he shot, and his cross fortune was

  To shoot the string, the dove untouch’d; Apollo did envy

  His skill, since not to him he vow’d, being God of archery,

  A first-fall’n lamb. The bitter shaft yet cut in two the cord,

  That down fell, and the dove aloft up to the welkin soar’d.

  The Greeks gave shouts. Meriones first made a hearty vow

  To sacrifice a first-fall’n lamb to Him that rules the bow,

  And then fell to his aim, his shaft being ready nock’d before.

  He spy’d her in the clouds that here, there, ev’rywhere, did soar,

  Yet at her height he reach’d her side, strook her quite through, and down

  The shaft fell at his feet; the dove the mast again did crown,

  There hung the head, and all her plumes were ruffled, she stark dead,

  And there, far off from him, she fell. The people wonderéd,

  And stood astonish’d; th’ archer pleas’d. Æacides then shows

  A long lance, and a caldron new, engrail’d with twenty hues,

  Priz’d at an ox. These games were show’d for men at darts; and then

  Up rose the General of all, up rose the King of men,

  Up rose late-crown’d Meriones. Achilles, seeing the King

  Do him this grace, prevents more deed, his royal offering

  Thus interrupting: “King of men, we well conceive how far

  Thy worth superior is to all, how much most singular

  Thy pow’r is, and thy skill in darts! Accept then this poor prize

  Without contention, and (your will pleas’d with what I advise)

  Afford Meriones the lance.” The King was nothing slow

  To that fit grace. Achilles then the brass lance did bestow

  On good Meriones. The King his present would not save,

  But to renown’d Talthybius the goodly caldron gave.

  THE END OF THE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK.

  ENDNOTES.

  1 A comment might well be bestowed upon this speech of Nestor.

  2 When all, etc. — Nestor’s aged love of speech was here briefly noted.

  3 Menelaus in fear to follow Antilochus, who ye may see played upon him.

  4 Note Menelaus’ ridiculous speech for conclusion of his character.

  5 Antilochus’s ironical reply.

  6 Ironicè.

  7 This simile likewise is merely ironical.

  8 His desire of praise pants still.

  9 Another note of Nestor’s humour, not so much being to be plainly observed in all these Iliads as in this book.

  10 Note the sharpness of wit in our Homer; if where you look not for it you can find it.

  THE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS

  THE ARGUMENT

  Jove, entertaining care of Hector’s corse,

  Sends Thetis to her son for his remorse,

  And fit dismission of it. Iris then

  He sends to Priam; willing him to gain

  His son for ransom. He, by Hermes led,

  Gets through Achilles’ guards; sleeps deep and dead

  Cast on them by his guide; when, with access

  And humble suit made to Æacides,

  He gains the body; which to Troy he bears,

  And buries it with feasts, buried in tears.

  ANOTHER ARGUMENT

  Omega sings the Exsequies,

  And Hector’s redemptory prise.

  The games perform’d; the soldiers wholly dispers’d to fleet,

  Supper and sleep their only care. Constant Achilles yet

  Wept for his friend, nor sleep itself, that all things doth subdue,

  Could touch at him; this way and that he turn’d, and did renew

  His friend’s dear memory
, his grace in managing his strength,

  And his strength’s greatness, how life rack’d into their utmost length

  Griefs, battles, and the wraths of seas, in their joint sufferance.

  Each thought of which turn’d to a tear. Sometimes he would advance,

  In tumbling on the shore, his side; sometimes his face: then turn

  Flat on his bosom; start upright. Although he saw the morn

  Show sea and shore his ecstasy, he left not, till at last

  Rage varied his distraction; horse, chariot, in haste

  He call’d for; and, those join’d, the corse was to his chariot tied,

  And thrice about the sepulchre he made his fury ride,

  Dragging the person. All this past; in his pavilion

  Rest seiz’d him, but with Hector’s corse his rage had never done,

  Still suff’ring it t’ oppress the dust. Apollo yet, ev’n dead,

  Pitied the prince, and would not see inhuman tyranny fed

  With more pollution of his limbs; and therefore cover’d round

  His person with his golden shield, that rude dogs might not wound

  His manly lineaments, which threat Achilles cruelly

  Had us’d in fury. But now Heav’n let fall a gen’ral eye

  Of pity on him; the blest Gods persuaded Mercury,

  Their good observer, to his stealth; and ev’ry Deity

  Stood pleas’d with it; Juno except, green Neptune, and the Maid

  Grac’d with the blue eyes, all their hearts stood hatefully appaid

  Long since, and held it, as at first, to Priam, Ilion,

  And all his subjects, for the rape of his licentious son,

  Proud Paris, that despis’d these Dames in their divine access

  Made to his cottage, and prais’d Her that his sad wantonness

  So costly nourish’d. The twelfth morn now shin’d on the delay

  Of Hector’s rescue, and then spake the Deity of the Day

  Thus to th’ Immortals: “Shameless Gods, authors of ill ye are

  To suffer ill. Hath Hector’s life at all times show’d his care

  Of all your rights, in burning thighs of beeves and goats to you,

  And are your cares no more of him? Vouchsafe ye not ev’n now,

  Ev’n dead, to keep him, that his wife, his mother, and his son,

  Father, and subjects, may be mov’d to those deeds he hath done,

  Seeing you preserve him that serv’d you, and sending to their hands

  His person for the rites of fire? Achilles, that withstands