by Homer
At last spake Sparta’s warlike king: ‘Now also give me ear,
Whom grief gives most cause of reply; I now have hope to free
The Greeks and Trojans of all ills they have sustain’d for me
And Alexander, that was cause I stretch’d my spleen so far:
Of both then, which is nearest fate, let his death end the war;
The rest immediately retire, and greet all homes in peace.
Go then (to bless your champion, and give his powers success),
Fetch for the earth, and for the sun (the gods on whom ye call)
Two lambs, a black one and a white, a female and a male;
And we another for ourselves will fetch, and kill to Jove:
To sign which rites bring Priam’s force, because we well approve
His sons perfidious, envious (and out of practis’d bane
To faith, when she believes in them) Jove’s high truce may profane;
All young men’s hearts are still unstaid; but in those well-weigh’d deeds
An old man will consent to pass things past, and what succeeds
He looks into, that he may know how best to make his way
Through both the fortunes of a fact – and will the worst obey.’
This granted, a delightful hope both Greeks and Trojans fed
Of long’d-for rest from those long toils their tedious war had bred.
Their horses then in rank they set, drawn from their chariots round,
Descend themselves, took off their arms, and plac’d them on the ground,
Near one another; for the space ’twixt both the hosts was small.
Hector two heralds sent to Troy, that they from thence might call
King Priam; and to bring the lambs, to rate the truce they swore.
But Agamemnon to the fleet Talthibius sent before,
To fetch their lamb, who nothing slackt the royal charge was given.
Iris, the rainbow, then came down, ambassadress from heaven,
To white-arm’d Helen: she assum’d at every part the grace
Of Helen’s last love’s sister’s shape, who had the highest place
In Helen’s love; and had to name, Laodice, most fair
Of all the daughters Priam had; and made the nuptial pair,
With Helicaon, royal sprout of old Antenor’s seed.
She found queen Helena at home, at work about a weed,
Wov’n for herself: it shin’d like fire, was rich, and full of size,
The work of both sides being alike, in which she did comprise
The many labours warlike Troy and brass-arm’d Greece endur’d
For her fair sake, by cruel Mars and his stern friends procur’d.
Iris came in in joyful haste, and said, ‘O come with me,
Lov’d nymph, and an admired sight of Greeks and Trojans see,
Who first on one another brought a war so full of tears:
Even thirsty of contentious war now every man forbears,
And friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield,
Their long and shining lances pitch’d fast by them in the field.
Paris and Sparta’s king alone must take up all the strife,
And he that conquers only call fair Helena his wife.’
Thus spake the thousand-colour’d dame; and to her mind commends
The joy to see her first espous’d, her native tow’rs and friends,
Which stirr’d a sweet desire in her, to serve the which she hied:
Shadow’d her graces with white veils, and (though she took a pride
To set her thoughts at gaze, and see in her clear beauty’s flood,
What choice of glory swam to her), yet tender womanhood
Season’d with tears her joys to see more joys the more offence,
And that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence.
Thus went she forth, and took with her her women most of name,
Aethra (Pitthaeus’ lovely birth) and Clymene, whom fame
Hath for her fair eyes memoris’d. They reach’d the Scaean tow’rs,
Where Priam sat to see the fight, with all his counsellors;
Panthous, Larnpus, Clitius, and stout Hycetaon,
Thimaetes, wise Antenor, and profound Ucalegon:
All grave old men, and soldiers they had been, but for age
Now left the wars; yet counsellors they were exceeding sage.
And as in well grown woods, on trees, cold spiny grasshoppers
Sit chirping, and send voices out that scarce can pierce our ears
For softness, and their weak faint sounds, so talking on the tow’r,
These seniors of the people sat: who when they saw the pow’r
Of beauty in the queen ascend, ev’n those cold-spirited peers,
Those wise and almost wither’d men found this heat in their years,
That they were forc’d (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greeks and Trojans to endure for so admir’d a dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Looks like the goddesses: and yet (though never so divine)
Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prize,
And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,
Labour and ruin, let her go: the profit of our land
Must pass the beauty.’ Thus, though these could bear so fit a hand
On their affections, yet when all their gravest powers were us’d,
They could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus’d
The gods than beauty; for thus spake the most fam’d king of Troy:
‘Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy
Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends and Princes near allied;
And name me some of these brave Greeks, so manly beautified.
Come: do not think I lay the wars endur’d by us on thee –
The gods have sent them, and the tears in which they swam to me.
Sit then, and name this goodly Greek, so tall, and broadly spread,
Who than the rest, that stand by him, is higher by the head;
The bravest man I ever saw, and most majestical:
His only presence makes me think him king amongst them all.’
The fairest of her sex replied: ‘Most rev’rend father-in-law,
Most lov’d, most fear’d, would some ill death had seiz’d me, when I saw
The first mean, why I wrong’d you thus; that I had never lost
The sight of these my ancient friends; of him that lov’d me most,
Of my sole daughter, brothers both; with all those kindly mates,
Of one soil, one age borne with me, though under different fates:
But these boons envious stars deny; the memory of these
In sorrow pines those beauties now, that then did too much please;
Nor satisfy they your demand, to which I thus reply:
That’s Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, the great in empery;
A king, whom double royalty doth crown, being great and good,
And one that was my brother-in-law, when I contain’d my blood,
And was more worthy, if at all I might be said to be,
My being being lost so soon, in all that honour’d me.’
The good old king admir’d, and said: ‘O Atreus’ blessed son!
Born unto joyful destinies, that hast the empire won
Of such a world of Grecian youths as I discover here.
I once march’d into Phrygia, that many vines doth bear,
> Where many Phrygians I beheld, well skill’d in use of horse,
That of the two men, like two gods, were the commanded force –
Otroeus, and great Migdonus – who on Sangarius’ sands
Set down their tents, with whom myself, for my assistant bands,
Was number’d as a man in chief; the cause of war was then
Th’ Amazon dames, that in their facts affected to be men.
In all, there was a mighty pow’r, which yet did never rise
To equal these Achaian youths, that have the sable eyes.’
Then (seeing Ulysses next) he said: ‘Lov’d daughter, what is he,
That lower than great Atreus’ son seems by the head to me?
Yet in his shoulders and big breast presents a broader show;
His armour lies upon the earth; he up and down doth go,
To see his soldiers keep their ranks, and ready have their arms,
If, in this truce, they should be tried by any false alarms:
Much like a well-grown bell-wether or feltred ram he shows,
That walks before a wealthy flock of fair white-fleeced ewes.’
High Jove and Leda’s fairest seed to Priam thus replies:
‘This is the old Laertes’ son, Ulysses, call’d the wise;
Who, though unfruitful Ithaca was made his nursing seat,
Yet knows he every sort of sleight, and is in counsels great.
The wise Antenor answer’d her: ‘Tis true, renowned dame;
For some times past wise Ithacus to Troy a legate came,
With Menelaus, for your cause: to whom I gave receipt
As guests, and welcom’d to my house, with all the love I might.
I learn’d the wisdoms of their souls, and humours of their blood:
For when the Trojan council met, and these together stood,
By height of his broad shoulders had Atrides eminence;
Yet set, Ulysses did exceed, and bred more reverence.
And when their counsels and their words they wove in one, the speech
Of Atreus’ son was passing loud, small, fast, yet did not reach
To much, being naturally born Laconical: nor would
His humour lie for anything, or was (like th’ other) old;
But when the prudent Ithacus did to his counsels rise,
He stood a little still, and fix’d upon the earth his eyes,
His sceptre moving neither way, but held it formally,
Like one that vainly doth affect. Of wrathful quality,
And frantic (rashly judging him) you would have said he was;
But when out of his ample breast he gave his great voice pass,
And words that flew about our ears like drifts of winter’s snow,
None thenceforth might contend with him, though nought admir’d for show.’
The third man aged Priam mark’d, was Ajax Telamon:
Of whom he ask’d: ‘What lord is that so large of limb and bone,
So rais’d in height, that to his breast I see there reacheth none?
To him the goddess of her sex, the large-veil’d Helen, said:
‘That lord is Ajax Telamon, a bulwark in their aid.
On th’ other side stands Idomen, in Crete of most command,
And round about his royal sides his Cretan captains stand.
Oft hath the warlike Spartan king giv’n hospitable due
To him within our Lacene court, and all his retinue.
And now the other Achive dukes I generally discern;
All which I know, and all their names could make thee quickly learn.
Two princes of the people yet I nowhere can behold:
Castor, the skilful knight on horse, and Pollux, uncontroll’d
For all stand-fights, and force of hand; both at a burthen bred,
My natural brothers: either here they have not followed
From lovely Sparta, or arriv’d within the sea-borne fleet,
In fear of infamy for me in broad field shame to meet.’
Nor so, for holy Tellus’ womb inclos’d those worthy men,
In Sparta their beloved soil. The voiceful heralds then
The firm agreement of the gods through all the city ring:
Two lambs, and spirit-refreshing wine (the fruit of earth) they bring,
Within a goat-skin bottle clos’d; Idaeus also brought
A massy glittering bowl, and cups, that all of gold were wrought;
Which bearing to the king, they cried: ‘Son of Laomedon,
Rise, for the well-rode peers of Troy and brass-arm’d Greeks in one
Send to thee to descend the field, that they firm vows may make;
For Paris and the Spartan king must fight for Helen’s sake,
With long arm’d lances; and the man that proves victorious,
The woman, and the wealth she brought, shall follow to his house;
The rest knit friendship, and firm leagues; we safe in Troy shall dwell;
In Argos and Achaia they, that do in dames excel.’
He said, and Priam’s aged joints with chilled fear did shake;
Yet instantly he had his men his chariot ready make.
Which soon they did, and he ascends: he takes the reins, and guide
Antenor calls, who instantly mounts to his royal side,
And through the Scaean ports to field, the swift-foot horse they drive.
And when at them of Troy and Greece the aged lords arrive,
From horse, on Troy’s well-feeding soil, ’twixt both the hosts they go.
When straight up rose the king of men, up rose Ulysses too;
The heralds in their richest coats repeat (as was the guise)
The true vows of the gods (term’d theirs, since made before their eyes);
Then in a cup of gold they mix the wine that each side brings,
And next pour water on the hands of both the kings of kings.
Which done, Atrides drew his knife, that evermore he put
Within the large sheath of his sword, with which away he cut
The wool from both fronts of the lambs, which (as a rite in use
Of execration to their heads, that brake the plighted truce)
The heralds of both hosts did give the peers of both. And then
With hands and voice advanc’d to heav’n, thus pray’d the king of men:
‘O Jove, that Ida dost protect, and hast the titles won,
Most glorious, most invincible; and thou all-seeing Sun,
All-hearing, all-recomforting; floods, earth, and pow’rs beneath,
That all the perjuries of men chastise ev’n after death,
Be witnesses, and see perform’d the hearty vows we make;
If Alexander shall the life of Menelaus take,
He shall from henceforth Helena, with all her wealth, retain;
And we will to our household gods hoist sail, and home again.
If by my honour’d brother’s hand be Alexander slain,
The Trojans then shall his forc’d queen with all her wealth restore,
And pay convenient fine to us and ours for evermore.
If Priam and his sons deny to pay this, thus agreed,
When Alexander shall be slain, for that perfidious deed,
And for the fine, will I fight here till dearly they repay,
By death and ruin, the amends that falsehood keeps away.
This said, the throats of both the lambs cut with his royal knife,
He laid them panting on the earth, till (quite depriv’d of life)
The steel had robb’d them of their strength. Then
golden cups they crown’d,
With wine out of a cistern drawn; which pour’d upon the ground,
They fell upon their humble knees to all the deities,
And thus pray’d one of both the hosts, that might do sacrifice:
‘O Jupiter, most high, most great, and all the deathless pow’rs,
Who first shall dare to violate the late sworn oaths of ours,
So let the bloods and brains of them, and all they shall produce,
Flow on the stain’d face of the earth, as now this sacred juice:
And let their wives with bastardies brand all their future race.’
Thus pray’d they: but with wish’d effects their pray’rs Jove did not grace.
When Priam said: ‘Lords of both hosts, I can no longer stay
To see my lov’d son try his life; and so must take my way
To wind-exposed Ilion: Jove yet and heav’n’s high states
Know only, which of these must now pay tribute to the Fates.’
Thus putting in his coach the lambs, he mounts and reins his horse,
Antenor to him, and to Troy both take their speedy course.
Then Hector, Priam’s martial son, stepp’d forth, and met the ground,
With wise Ulysses, where the blows of combat must resound.
Which done, into a helm they put two lots, to let them know
Which of the combatants should first his brass-pil’d javelin throw.
When all the people standing by, with hands held up to heav’n,
Pray’d Jove, the conquest might not be by force or fortune giv’n,
But that the man, who was in right the author of most wrong,
Might feel his justice, and no more these tedious wars prolong,
But sinking to the house of death, leave them (as long before)
Link’d fast in leagues of amity, that might dissolve no more.
Then Hector shook the helm that held the equal dooms of chance,
Look’d back, and drew; and Paris first had lot to hurl his lance.
The soldiers all sat down enrank’d, each by his arms and horse,
That then lay down, and cool’d their hoofs. And now th’ allotted course
Bids fair-hair’d Helen’s husband arm: who first makes fast his greaves
With silver buckles to his legs, then on his breast receives
The curets that Lycaon wore (his brother), but made fit
For his fair body; next his sword he took, and fasten’d it
(All damask’d) underneath his arm; his shield then grave and great