by Homer
But pants and swells confusedly, here goes, and there will stay,
Till on it air casts one firm wind, and then it rolls away:
So stood old Nestor in debate, two thoughts at once on wing
In his discourse, if first to take direct course to the king,
Or to the multitude in fight. At last he did conclude
To visit Agamemnon first: mean time both hosts imbru’d
Their steel in one another’s blood, nought wrought their healths but harms,
Swords, huge stones, double-headed darts, still thumping on their arms.
And now the Jove-kept kings, whose wounds were yet in cure, did meet
Old Nestor: Diomed, Ithacus, and Atreus’ son from fleet,
Bent for the fight, which was far off, the ships being drawn to shore
On heaps at first, till all their sterns a wall was rais’d before;
Which (though not great) it yet sufficed to hide them, though their men
Were something straited; for whose scope, in form of battle then,
They drew them through the spacious shore, one by another still,
Till all the bosom of the strand their sable bulks did fill,
Ev’n till they took up all the space ’twixt both the promontories.
These kings, like Nestor, in desire to know for what those cries
Became so violent, came along (all leaning on their darts)
To see, though not of power to fight; sad and suspicious hearts
Distemp’ring them, and (meeting now Nestor) the king in fear
Cried out: ‘O Nestor our renown! Why shows thy presence here,
The harmful fight abandoned? Now Hector will make good
The threatening vow he made (I fear) that, till he had our blood,
And fir’d our fleet, he never more would turn to Ilion.
Nor is it long, I see, before his whole will will be done.
O gods, I now see all the Greeks put on Achilles’ ire
Against my honour: no mean left to keep our fleet from fire.’
He answer’d: ‘Tis an evident truth, not Jove himself can now
(With all the thunder in his hands) prevent our overthrow.
The wall we thought invincible, and trusted more than Jove,
Is scal’d, raz’d, enter’d, and our pow’rs (driven up) past breathing, prove
A most inevitable fight, both slaughters so commix’d,
That for your life you cannot put your diligent’st thought betwixt
The Greeks and Trojans; and as close their throats cleave to the sky.
Consult we then (if that will serve), for fight advise not I;
It fits not wounded men to fight.’ Atrides answer’d him:
‘If such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tired limb,
And such a dike be past, and raz’d, that (as yourself said well)
We all esteem’d invincible, and would past doubt repell
The world from both our fleet and us, it doth directly show
That here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know
His hand from ours, when he help’d us: and now I see as clear
That (like the blessed gods) he holds our hated enemies dear,
Supports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, ’tis in vain
To strive with him. Our ships drawn up now let us launch again,
And keep at anchor till calm night; that then, perhaps, our foes
May calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose:
“It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night:
Known ill, he better does that flies than he it takes in fight.” ’
Ulysses frown’d on him, and said: ‘Accurst, why talk’st thou thus?
Would thou hadst led some barbarous host, and not commanded us
Whom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly
From any charge it undertakes, and every dazzled eye
The honour’d hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this town
For which our many miseries felt entitle it our own?
Peace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such
As no man’s palate should profane – at least that knew how much
His own right weigh’d, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears
Rule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears –
Let others toil in light and cries, and we so light of heels
Upon their very noise and groans to hoise away our keels.
Thus we should fit the wish of Troy, that being something near
The victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear
A slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain
A stroke, the fleet gone, but at that look still, and wish him slain:
And therefore (prince of men) be sure, thy censure is unfit.’
‘O Ithacus!’ replied the king, ‘thy bitter terms have smit
My heart in sunder. At no hand, ’gainst any prince’s will
Do I command this; would to god that any man of skill
To give a better counsel would, or old or younger man;
My voice should gladly go with his.’ Then Diomed began:
‘The man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in,
That willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win
Fit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them,
Being youngest of you – since my sire that heir’d a diadem
May make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he
Lies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree:
Portheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calidon
And Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitation.
Agrius, Melus, and the third, the horseman Oeneus,
My father’s father, that excell’d in actions generous
The other two; but these kept home, my father being driv’n
With wand’ring and advent’rous spirits; for so the king of heav’n
And th’ other gods set down their wills: and he to Argos came,
Where he began the world, and dwelt; there marrying a dame,
One of Adrastus’ female race, he kept a royal house,
For he had great demesnes, good land, and being industrious,
He planted many orchard-grounds about his house, and bred
Great store of sheep. Besides all this, he was well qualitied,
And past all Argives for his spear: and these digressive things
Are such as you may well endure, since (being derived from kings,
And kings not poor, nor virtueless) you cannot hold me base,
Nor scorn my words: which oft, though true, in mean men meet disgrace.
However, they are these in short. Let us he seen at fight,
And yield to strong necessity, though wounded, that our sight
May set those men on, that of late have to Achilles’ spleen
Been too indulgent, and left blows: but be we only seen,
Not come within the reach of darts, lest wound on wound we lay
(Which reverend Nestor’s speech implied), and so far him obey.
This counsel gladly all observ’d, went on, Atrides led.
Nor Neptune this advantage lost, but closely followed,
And like an aged man appear’d t’ Atrides, whose right hand
He seiz’d, and said: ‘Atrides, this doth passing fitly stand
With stern Achilles’ wreakful spirit, that he can stand astern
His ship, and both in fight and death the Grecian bane discern,
Since not in his breast glows one spark of any human mind:
But be that his own bane; let god by that loss make him find
How vile a thing he is; for know, the blest gods have not giv’n
Thee ever over, but perhaps the Trojans may from heav’n
Receive that justice. Nay, ’tis sure, and thou shalt see their falls,
Your fleet soon freed, and for fights here, they glad to take their walls.’
This said, he made known who he was, and parted with a cry,
As if ten thousand men had join’d in battle then, so high
His throat flew through the host: and so this great Earth-shaking god
Cheer’d up the Greek hearts, that they wish their pains no period.
Saturnia from Olympus’ top saw her great brother there,
And her great husband’s brother, too, exciting everywhere
The glorious spirits of the Greeks, which as she joy’d to see,
So, on the fountful Ida’s top, Jove’s sight did disagree
With her contentment, since she fear’d that his hand would descend,
And check the Sea-god’s practices. And this she did contend
How to prevent, which thus seem’d best: to deck her curiously,
And visit the Idalian hill, so that the Lightner’s eye
She might enamour with her looks, and his high temples steep
(Even to his wisdom) in the kind and golden juice of sleep.
So took she chamber which her son, the god of ferrary,
With firm doors made, being joined close, and with a privy key
That no god could command but Jove, where, enter’d, she made fast
The shining gates, and then upon her lovely body cast
Ambrosia, that first made it clear, and after laid on it
An odorous, rich and sacred oil, that was so wondrous sweet
That ever, when it was but touch’d, it sweeten’d heav’n and earth.
Her body being cleans’d with this, her tresses she let forth,
And comb’d (her comb dipp’d in the oil), then wrapp’d them up in curls:
And thus, her deathless head adorn’d, a heavenly veil she hurls
On her white shoulders, wrought by her that rules in housewif’ries,
Who wove it full of antique works, of most divine device.
And this with goodly clasps of gold she fasten’d to her breast,
Then with a girdle, whose rich sphere a hundred studs impress’d,
She girt her small waist. In her ears, tenderly pierc’d, she wore
Pearls, great and orient: on her head, a wreath not worn before
Cast beams out like the sun. At last, she to her feet did tie
Fair shoes, and thus entire attir’d she shin’d in open sky,
Call’d the fair Paphian queen apart from th’ other gods, and said:
‘Lov’d daughter, should I ask a grace, should I or be obey’d
Or wouldst thou cross me, being incens’d, since I cross thee, and take
The Greeks’ part, thy hand helping Troy?’ She answer’d, ‘That shall make
No difference in a different cause: ask, ancient deity,
What most contents thee; my mind stands inclin’d as liberally
To grant it as thine own to ask, provided that it be
A favour fit and in my pow’r.’ She, giv’n deceitfully,
Thus said: ‘Then give me those two pow’rs, with which both men and gods
Thou vanquishest, Love and Desire. For now the periods
Of all the many-feeding earth, and the original
Of all the gods, Oceanus, and Thetis, whom we call
Our mother, I am going to greet: they nurst me in their court,
And brought me up, receiving me in most respectful sort
From Phaea, when Jove under earth and the unfruitful seas
Cast Saturn. These I go to see, intending to appease
Jars grown betwixt them, having long abstain’d from speech and bed.
Which jars could I so reconcile, that in their anger’s stead
I could place love, and so renew their first society,
I should their best lov’d be esteem’d, and honour’d endlessly.’
She answer’d: ‘Tis not fit nor just thy will should be denied,
Whom Jove in his embraces holds.’ This spoken, she untied
And from her odorous bosom took her Ceston, in whose sphere
Were all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,
Kind conference, fair speech, whose pow’r the wisest doth inflame:
This, she resigning to her hands, thus urg’d her by her name:
‘Receive this bridle, thus fair wrought, and put it ’twixt thy breasts,
Where all things to be done are done; and whatsoever rests
In thy desire, return with it.’ The great-ey’d Juno smil’d,
And put it ’twixt her breasts. Love’s queen, thus cunningly beguil’d,
To Jove’s court flew. Saturnia (straight stooping from heaven height)
Pieria and Emathia (those countries of delight)
Soon reach’d, and to the snowy mounts where Thracian soldiers dwell
Approaching, pass’d their tops untouch’d. From Athos then she fell,
Pass’d all the broad sea, and arriv’d in Lemnos, at the tow’rs
Of godlike Thoas; where she met the prince of all men’s pow’rs,
Death’s brother Sleep, whose hand she took, and said: ‘Thou king of men,
Prince of the gods too, if before thou heard’st my suits, again
Give helpful ear, and through all times I’ll offer thanks to thee.
Lay slumber on Jove’s fiery eyes, that I may comfort me
With his embraces: for which grace I’ll grace thee with a throne
Incorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done
By Mulciber, to which he forg’d a footstool for the ease
Of thy soft feet, when wine and feasts thy golden humours please.’
Sweet Sleep replied: ‘Saturnia, there lives not any god
(Besides Jove) but I would becalm: ay, if it were the flood
That fathers all the deities, the great Oceanus.
But Jove we dare not come more near than he commandeth us.
Now you command me as you did when Jove’s great-minded son,
Alcides (having sack’d the town of stubborn Ilion),
Took sail from thence; when by your charge I pour’d about Jove’s mind
A pleasing slumber, calming him till thou draw’st up the wind,
In all his cruelties, to sea, that set his son ashore
In Cous, far from all his friends; which (waking) vex’d so sore
The supreme godhead, that he cast the gods about the sky,
And me (above them all) he sought: whom he had utterly
Hurl’d from the sparkling firmament, if all-gods-taming Night
(Whom, flying, I besought for aid) had suffer’d his despite,
And not preserv’d me; but his wrath with my offence dispens’d,
For fear t’ offend her, and so ceas’d, though never so incens’d:
And now another such escape you wish I should prepare.’
She answer’d, ‘What hath thy deep rest to do with his deep care?
As though Jove’s love to Ilion in all degrees were such
As ’twas to Hercules his son, and so would storm as much
For their displeasure, as for his! Away, I will remove
Thy
fear, with giving thee the dame that thou didst ever love,
One of the fair young Graces born, divine Pasithaë.’
This started Somnus into joy, who answer’d, ‘Swear to me,
By those inviolable springs that feed the Stygian lake,
With one hand touch the nourishing earth, and in the other take
The marble sea, that all the gods of the infernal state
Which circle Saturn, may to us be witnesses, and rate
What thou hast vow’d: that with all truth, thou wilt bestow on me
The dame (I grant) I ever lov’d, divine Pasithaë.’
She swore, as he enjoin’d, in all, and strengthened all his joys,
By naming all th’ infernal gods, surnam’d the Titanois.
The oath thus taken, both took way, and made their quick repair
To Ida from the town and isle, all hid in liquid air.
At Lecton first they left the sea, and there the land they trod:
The fountful nurse of savages, with all her woods, did nod
Beneath their feet: there Somnus stay’d, lest Jove’s bright eye should see,
And yet (that he might see to Jove) he climb’d the goodliest tree
That all th’ Idalian mountain bred, and crown’d her progeny:
A fir it was, that shot past air, and kiss’d the burning sky.
There sate he hid in his dark arms, and in the shape withal
Of that continual prating bird, whom all the deities call
Chalcis, but men Cymmindis name. Saturnia tripp’d apace
Up to the top of Gargarus, and show’d her heav’nly face
To Jupiter; who saw, and lov’d, and with as hot a fire
(Being curious in her tempting view) as when with first desire
(The pleasure of it being stol’n) they mix’d in love and bed.
And (gazing on her still) he said: ‘Saturnia, what hath bred
This haste in thee from our high court, and whither tends thy gait,
That void of horse and chariot fit for thy sovereign state,
Thou lackiest here?’ Her studied fraud replied: ‘My journey now
Leaves state and labours to do good. And where in right I owe
All kindness to the sire of gods and our good mother queen
That nurst and kept me curiously, in court (since both have been
Long time at discord), my desire is to atone their hearts;
And therefore go I now to see those earth’s extremest parts,
For whose far-seat I spar’d my horse the scaling of this hill,