The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  From Pylos, on whose swelling sides four handles fixed were,

  And upon every handle sat a pair of doves of gold,

  Some billing, and some pecking meat. Two gilt feet did uphold

  The antique body: and withal so weighty was the cup,

  That being propos’d brimful of wine, one scarce could lift it up:

  Yet Nestor drunk in it with ease, spite of his years’ respect.

  In this the goddess-like fair dame a potion did confect

  With gold old wine of Pramnius, and scrap’d into the wine

  Cheese made of goats’ milk; and on it spers’d flour exceeding fine:

  In this sort for the wounded lord the potion she prepar’d,

  And bad him drink; for company, with him old Nestor shar’d.

  Thus physically quench’d they thirst, and then their spirits reviv’d

  With pleasant conference. And now, Patroclus being arriv’d,

  Made stay at th’ entry of the tent: old Nestor seeing it,

  Rose, and receiv’d him by the hand, and fain would have him sit.

  He set that courtesy aside, excusing it with haste,

  Since his much-to-be-rev’renced friend sent him to know who pass’d

  (Wounded with him in chariot) so swiftly through the shore;

  ‘Whom now,’ said he, ‘I see and know, and now can stay no more:

  You know, good father, our great friend is apt to take offence,

  Whose fiery temper will inflame sometimes with innocence.’

  He answer’d: ‘When will Peleus’ son some royal pity show

  On his thus wounded countrymen? Ah, is he yet to know

  How much affliction tires our host, how our especial aid

  (Tainted with lances, at their tents) are miserably laid?

  Ulysses, Diomed, our king, Eurypilus, Machaon:

  All hurt, and all our worthiest friends, yet no compassion

  Can supple thy friend’s friendless breast. Doth he reserve his eye

  Till our fleet burn, and we ourselves one after other die?

  Alas! My forces are not now as in my younger life.

  Oh! Would to god I had that strength I used in the strife

  Betwixt us and the Elians, for oxen to be driv’n,

  When Itumonius’ lofty soul was by my valour giv’n

  As sacrifice to destiny, Hipporocus’ strong son,

  That dwelt in Elis, and fought first in our contention.

  We foraged (as proclaimed foes) a wondrous wealthy boot;

  And he, in rescue of his herds, fell breathless at my foot.

  All the dorp bores with terror fled; our prey was rich and great,

  Twice five and twenty flocks of sheep; as many herds of neat;

  As many goats, and nasty swine; an hundred fifty mares,

  All sorrel, most with sucking foals; and these soon-monied wares

  We drave into Neleius’ town, fair Pylos, all by night.

  My father’s heart was glad to see so much good fortune quite

  The forward mind of his young son, that us’d my youth in deeds,

  And would not smother it in moods. Now drew the sun’s bright steeds

  Light from the hills; our heralds now accited all that were

  Endamag’d by the Elians; our princes did appear;

  Our boot was parted; many men th’ Epeians much did owe,

  That (being our neighbours) they did spoil; afflictions did so flow

  On us poor Pyleans though but few. In brake great Hercules

  To our sad confines of late years, and wholly did suppress

  Our hapless princes: twice six sons renown’d Neleius bred;

  Only myself am left of all, the rest subdued and dead.

  And this was it that made so proud the base Epeian bands,

  On their near neighbours, being oppress’d, to lay injurious hands:

  A herd of oxen for himself, a mighty flock of sheep,

  My sire selected, and made choice of shepherds for their keep:

  And from the general spoil he cull’d three hundred of the best:

  The Elians ought him infinite, most plagued of all the rest.

  Four wager-winning horse he lost, and chariots intervented,

  Being led to an appointed race. The prize that was presented

  Was a religious three-foot urn: Augeas was the king

  That did detain them, and dismiss’d their keeper sorrowing

  For his lov’d charge, lost with foul words. Then both for words and deeds

  My sire being worthily incens’d, thus justly he proceeds

  To satisfaction, in first choice of all our wealthy prize:

  And as he shar’d much, much he left his subjects to suffice,

  That none might be oppress’d with pow’r, or want his portion due:

  Thus for the public good we shar’d. Then we to temples drew

  Our complete city, and to heav’n we thankful rights did burn

  For our rich conquest. The third day ensuing our return,

  The Elians flew on us in heaps: their general leaders were

  The two Moliones, two boys, untrained in the fear

  Of horrid war, or use of strength. A certain city shines

  Upon a lofty prominent, and in th’ extreme confines

  Of sandy Pylos, seated where Alpheus’ flood doth run,

  And call’d Thryessa: this they sieg’d, and gladly would have won;

  But, having pass’d through all our fields, Minerva as our spy

  Fell from Olympus in the night, and arm’d us instantly:

  Nor must’ered she unwilling men, nor unprepar’d for force.

  My sire yet would not let me arm, but hid away my horse,

  Esteeming me no soldier yet; yet shin’d I nothing less

  Amongst our gallants, though on foot; Minerva’s mightiness

  Led me to fight, and made me bear a soldier’s worthy name.

  There is a flood falls into sea, and his crook’d course doth frame

  Close to Arena, and is call’d bright Myniaeus stream.

  There made we halt: and there the sun cast many a glorious beam

  On our bright armours; horse and foot insea’d together there,

  Then march’d we on: by fiery noon we saw the sacred clear

  Of great Alphaeus, where to Jove we did fair sacrifice:

  And to the azure god, that rules the under-liquid skies,

  We offer’d up a solemn bull; a bull t’ Alphaeus’ name,

  And to the blue-ey’d Maid we burn’d a heifer never tame.

  Now was it night; we supp’d and slept about the flood in arms,

  The foe laid hard siege to our town, and shook it with alarms:

  But for prevention of their spleens, a mighty work of war

  Appear’d behind them. For as soon as Phoebus’ fiery car

  Cast night’s foul darkness from his wheels (invoking rev’rend Jove,

  And the unconquer’d Maid his birth), we did th’ event approve,

  And gave them battle: first of all, I slew (the army saw)

  The mighty soldier Mulius, Augeas’ son-in-law,

  And spoil’d him of his one-hoof’d horse: his elder daughter was

  Bright Agamede, that for skill in simples did surpass

  And knew as many kind of drugs as earth’s broad centre bred:

  Him charg’d I with my brass-arm’d lance, the dust receiv’d him dead:

  I (leaping to his chariot) amongst the foremost press’d,

  And the great hearted Elians fled frighted, seeing their best

  And loftiest soldier t
aken down, the general of their horse.

  I follow’d like a black whirlwind, and did for prize enforce

  Full fifty chariots, every one furnish’d with two arm’d men,

  Who ate the earth, slain with my lance; and I had slaughter’d then

  The two young boys, Moliones, if their world-circling sire

  (Great Neptune) had not sav’d their lives, and cover’d their retire

  With unpierc’d clouds: then Jove bestow’d a haughty victory

  Upon us Pyleans. For so long we did the chase apply,

  Slaught’ring and making spoil of arms, till sweet Buprasius’ soil,

  Alesius, and Olenia, were fam’d with our recoil.

  For there Minerva turn’d our pow’r, and there the last I slew,

  As when our battle join’d, the first: the Pyleans then withdrew

  To Pylos from Buprasius. Of all the immortals then,

  They most thank’d Jove for victory, Nestor the most of men.

  Such was I ever, if I were, employ’d with other peers,

  And I had honour of my youth, which dies not in my years.

  But great Achilles only joys hability of act

  In his brave prime, and doth not deign t’ impart it where ’tis lack’d.

  No doubt he will extremely mourn long after that black hour

  Wherein our ruin shall be wrought, and rue his ruthless pow’r.

  O friend, my memory revives, the charge Menetius gave

  Thy towardness, when thou sett’st forth, to keep out of the grave

  Our wounded honour; I myself and wise Ulysses were

  Within the room, where every word then spoken we did hear:

  For we were come to Peleus’ court, as we did must’ring pass

  Through rich Achaia, where thy sire, renown’d Menoetius, was,

  Thyself and great Aeacides, when Peleus the king

  To thunder-loving Jove did burn an ox for offering,

  In his court-yard: a cup of gold, crown’d with red wine, he held

  On th’ holy incensory pour’d. You, when the ox was fell’d,

  Were dressing his divided limbs, we in the portal stood.

  Achilles seeing us come so near, his honourable blood

  Was struck with a respective shame, rose, took us by the hands,

  Brought us both in, and made us sit, and us’d his kind commands

  For seemly hospitable rights, which quickly were appos’d.

  Then (after needfulness of food) I first of all disclos’d

  The royal cause of our repair, mov’d you and your great friend

  To consort our renown’d designs: both straight did condescend;

  Your fathers knew it, gave consent, and grave instruction

  To both your valours. Peleus charg’d his most unequall’d son

  To govern his victorious strength, and shine past all the rest

  In honour, as in mere main force. Then were thy partings blest

  With dear advices from thy sire. “My loved son,” said he,

  “Achilles by his grace of birth superior is to thee,

  And for his force more excellent, yet thou more ripe in years:

  Then with sound counsels (age’s fruits) employ his honour’d years,

  Command and overrule his moods; his nature will obey

  In any charge discreetly given, that doth his good assay.”

  Thus charg’d thy sire, which thou forgett’st; yet now at last approve

  (With forced reference of these) th’ attraction of his love.

  Who knows if sacred influence may bless thy good intent,

  And enter with thy gracious words, even to his full consent?

  The admonition of a friend is sweet and vehement.

  If any oracle he shun, or if his mother queen

  Hath brought him some instinct from Jove, that fortifies his spleen,

  Let him resign command to thee of all his Myrmidons,

  And yield by that means some repulse to our confusions,

  Adorning thee in his bright arms, that his resembled form

  May haply make thee thought himself, and calm this hostile storm:

  That so a little we may ease our overcharged hands,

  Draw some breath, not expire it all: the foe but faintly stands

  Beneath his labours, and your charge being fierce, and freshly giv’n,

  They easily from our tents and fleet may to their walls be driv’n.’

  This mov’d the good Patroclus’ mind, who made his utmost haste

  T’ inform his friend, and at the fleet of Ithacus he past,

  (At which their markets were dispos’d, counsels and martial courts,

  And where to th’ altars of the gods they made divine resorts)

  He met renown’d Eurypilus, Evemon’s noble son,

  Halting, his thigh hurt with a shaft: the liquid sweat did run

  Down from his shoulders and his brows, and from his raging wound

  Forth flow’d his melancholy blood; yet still his mind was sound.

  His sight in kind Patroclus’ breast to sacred pity turn’d,

  And (nothing more immartial for true ruth) thus he mourn’d:

  ‘Ah wretched progeny of Greece, princes, dejected kings,

  Was it your fates to nourish beasts, and serve the outcast wings

  Of savage vultures here in Troy? Tell me, Evemon’s fame,

  Do yet the Greeks withstand his force, whom yet no force can tame,

  Or are they hopeless thrown to death by his resistlesss lance?’

  ‘Divine Patroclus,’ he replied, ‘no more can Greece advance

  Defensive weapons, but to fleet they headlong must retire:

  For those that to this hour have held our fleet from hostile fire,

  And are the bulwarks of our host, lie wounded at their tents,

  And Troy’s unvanquishable pow’r, still as it toils, augments.

  But take me to thy black-stern’d ship, save me, and from my thigh

  Cut out this arrow; and the blood that is ingor’d and dry

  Wash with warm water from the wound: then gentle salves apply,

  Which thou know’st best; thy princely friend hath taught thee surgery,

  Whom, of all centaurs the most just, Chiron did institute:

  Thus to thy honourable hands my ease I prosecute,

  Since our physicians cannot help: Machaon at his tent

  Needs a physician himself, being leech and patient,

  And Podalirius in the field the sharp conflict sustains.’

  Strong Menetiades replied: ‘How shall I ease thy pains?

  What shall we do, Eurypilus? I am to use all haste

  To signify to Thetis’ son occurrents that have past,

  At Nestor’s honourable suit; but be that work achiev’d,

  When this is done, I will not leave thy torments unreliev’d.’

  This said, athwart his back he cast, beneath his breast, his arm,

  And nobly help’d him to his tent: his servants seeing his harm,

  Dispread ox-hides upon the earth, whereon Machaon lay:

  Patroclus cut out the sharp shaft, and clearly wash’d away

  With lukewarm water the black blood: then ’twixt his hands he bruis’d

  A sharp and mitigatory root, which when he had infus’d

  Into the green, well-cleansed wound, the pains he felt before

  Were well, and instantly allay’d, the wound did bleed no more.

  The end of the eleventh book

  Book 12

  The Argument

  The Trojans at the trench their pow’rs
engage,

  Though greeted by a bird of bad presage.

  In five parts they divide their pow’r to scale,

  And Prince Sarpedon forceth down the pale:

  Great Hector from the ports tears out a stone,

  And with so dead a strength he sets it gone

  At those broad gates the Grecians made to guard

  Their tents and ships that, broken and unbarr’d,

  They yield way to his pow’r; when all contend

  To reach the ships, which all at last ascend.

  Another Argument

  Mu works the Trojans all the grace,

  And doth the Grecian fort deface.

  Book 12

  Patroclus thus employ’d in cure of hurt Eurypilus,

  Both hosts are all for other wounds doubly contentious,

  One always labouring to expel, the other to invade.

  Nor could the broad dike of the Greeks, nor that strong wall they made

  To guard their fleet, be long unrac’t; because it was not rais’d

  By grave direction of the gods; nor were their deities prais’d

  (When they begun) with hecatombs, that then they might be sure

  (Their strength being season’d well with heav’n’s) it should have force t’ endure,

  And so the safeguard of their fleet, and all their treasure there,

  Infallibly had been confirm’d: when now, their bulwarks were

  Not only without pow’r of check to their assaulting foe

  (Even now, as soon as they were built), but apt to overthrow;

  Such as, in very little time, shall bury all their sight,

  And thought that ever they were made: as long as the despight

  Of great Aeacides held up, and Hector went not down,

  And that by those two means stood safe king Priam’s sacred town,

  So long their rampire had some use (though now it gave some way);

  But when Troy’s best men suffer’d fate, and many Greeks did pay

  Dear for their suff’rance, then the rest home to their country turn’d,

  The tenth year of their wars at Troy, and Troy was sack’d and burn’d,

  And then the gods fell to their fort; then they their pow’rs employ

  To ruin their work, and left less of that than they of Troy.

  Neptune and Phoebus tumbled down from the Idalian hills

  An inundation of all floods, that thence the broad sea fills

  On their huge rampire; in one glut, all these together roar’d,