The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  The horse for his so bold presage doth chide.

  Another Argument

  Tau gives the anger period,

  And great Achilles comes abroad.

  Book 19

  The moon arose, and from the ocean in her saffron robe

  Gave light to all, as well to gods as men of th’ under globe.

  Thetis stoop’d home, and found the prostrate person of her son

  About his friend, still pouring out himself in passion,

  A number more being heavy consorts to him in his cares:

  Amongst them all Thetis appear’d, and (sacred comforters)

  Made these short words: ‘Though we must grieve, yet bear it thus, my son:

  It was no man that prostrated in this sad fashion

  Thy dearest friend; it was a god that first laid on his hand,

  Whose will is law: the gods’ decrees no human must withstand.

  Do thou embrace this fabric of a god, whose hand before

  Ne’er forg’d the like, and such as yet no human shoulder wore.’

  Thus (setting down), the precious metal of the arms was such

  That all the room rung with the weight of every slend’rest touch.

  Cold tremblings took the Myrmidons; none durst sustain, all fear’d

  T’ oppose their eyes. Achilles yet, as soon as they appear’d,

  Stern Anger enter’d. From his eyes (as if the day-star rose)

  A radiance, terrifying men, did all the state enclose.

  At length he took into his hands the rich gift of the god,

  And (much pleas’d to behold the art that in the shield he show’d)

  He brake forth into this applause: ‘O mother, these right well

  Show an immortal finger’s touch; man’s hand must never deal

  With arms again. Now I will arm; yet (that no honour make

  My friend forgotten) I much fear, lest with the blows of flies

  His brass-inflicted wounds are fil’d; life gone, his person lies

  All apt to putrefaction.’ She bade him doubt no harm

  Of those offences; she would care to keep the petulant swarm

  Of flies (that usually taint the bodies of the slain)

  From his friend’s person: though a year the earth’s top should sustain

  His slaughter’d body, it should still rest sound, and rather hold

  A better state than worse, since time that death first made him cold.

  And so bade call a council, to dispose of new alarms,

  Where (to the king that was the pastor of that flock in arms)

  He should depose all anger, and put on a fortitude

  Fit for his arms. All this his pow’rs with dreadful strength indu’d.

  She, with her fair hand, still’d into the nostrils of his friend

  Red nectar and ambrosia, with which she did defend

  The corse from putrefaction. He trod along the shore,

  And summon’d all th’ heroic Greeks, with all that spent before

  The time in exercise with him; the masters, pilots too,

  Vict’lers, and all: all, when they saw Achilles summon so,

  Swarm’d to the council, having long left the laborious wars.

  To all these came two halting kings, true servitors of Mars,

  Tydides and wise Ithacus, both leaning on their spears,

  Their wound still painful, and both these sate first of all the peers.

  The last come was the king of men, sore wounded with the lance

  Of Coon Antenorides. All set, the first in utterance

  Was Thetis’ son, who rose and said: ‘Atrides, had not this

  Conferr’d most profit to us both, when both our enmities

  Consum’d us so, and for a wench – whom when I choos’d for prize

  (In laying Lyrnessus’ ruin’d walls amongst our victories),

  I would to heav’n (as first she set her dainty foot aboard)

  Diana’s hand had tumbled off, and with a javelin gor’d.

  For then th’ unmeasurable earth had not so thick been gnawn

  (In death’s convulsions) by our friends, since my affects were drawn

  To such distemper. To our foe, and to our foe’s chief friend,

  Our jar brought profit: but the Greeks will never give an end

  To thought of what it prejudic’d them: past things, yet past our aid.

  Fit grief for what wrath rul’d in them, must make th’ amends repaid

  With that necessity of love that now forbids our ire,

  Which I with free affects obey. ’Tis for the senseless fire

  Still to be burning, having stuff; but men must curb rage still,

  Being fram’d with voluntary pow’rs as well to check the will

  As give it reins. Give you then charge, that for our instant fight

  The Greeks may follow me to field, to try if still the night

  Will bear out Trojans at our ships. I hope there is some one

  Amongst their chief encouragers will thank me to be gone,

  And bring his heart down to his knees in that submission.’

  The Greeks rejoic’d to hear the heart of Peleus’ mighty son

  So qualified. And then the king (not rising from his throne,

  For his late hurt), to get good ear, thus order’d his reply:

  ‘Princes of Greece, your states shall suffer no indignity,

  If (being far off) ye stand and hear, nor fits it such as stand

  At greater distance, to disturb the counsel now in hand

  By uproar, in their too much care of hearing. Some, of force,

  Must lose some words: for hard it is in such a great concourse

  (Though hearers’ ears be ne’er so sharp) to touch at all things spoke.

  And in assemblies of such trust, how can a man provoke

  Fit pow’r to hear, or leave to speak? Best auditors may there

  Lose fittest words, and the most vocal orator fit ear.

  My main end, then, to satisfy Pelides with reply,

  My words shall prosecute. To him my speech especially

  Shall bear direction. Yet I wish the court in general

  Would give fit ear; my speech shall need attention of all.

  Oft have our peers of Greece much blam’d my forcing of the prize

  Due to Achilles, of which act not I, but destinies,

  And Jove himself, and black Erinys (that casts false mists still

  Betwixt us and our actions done, both by her pow’r and will)

  Are authors: what could I do then? The very day and hour

  Of our debate that Fury stole in that act on my pow’r.

  And more: all things are done by Strife; that ancient seed of Jove,

  Ate, that hurts all, perfects all: her feet are soft, and move

  Not on the earth; they bear her still aloft men’s heads, and there

  She harmful hurts them. Nor was I alone her prisoner –

  Jove (best of men and gods) hath been. Not he himself hath gone

  Beyond her fetters: no, she made a woman put them on.

  For when Alcmena was to vent the force of Hercules

  In well-wall’d Thebes, thus Jove triumph’d: “Hear, gods and goddesses,

  The words my joys urg’d: in this day, Lucina (bringing pain

  To labouring women) shall produce into the light of men

  A man that all his neighbour kings shall in his empire hold,

  And vaunt that more than manly race, whose honour’d veins enfold

  My eminent blood.” Saturnia conceiv’d a present sleight,

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nbsp; And urg’d confirmance of his vaunt, t’ infringe it; her conceit

  In this sort urg’d: “Thou wilt not hold thy word with this rare man,

  Or if thou wilt, confirm it with the oath Olympian,

  That whosoever falls this day betwixt a woman’s knees,

  Of those men’s stocks that from thy blood derive their pedigrees,

  Shall all his neighbour towns command.” Jove (ignorant of fraud)

  Took that great oath, which his great ill gave little cause t’ applaud.

  Down from Olympus top she stoop’d, and quickly reach’d the place

  In Argos, where the famous wife of Sthenelus (whose race

  He fetch’d from Jove, by Perseus) dwelt. She was but seven months gone

  With issue, yet she brought it forth; Alcmena’s matchless son

  Delay’d from light, Saturnia repress’d the teeming throes

  Of his great mother. Up to heav’n she mounts again, and shows

  (In glory) her deceit to Jove. “Bright-lightning Jove,” said she,

  “Now th’ Argives have an emperor; a son deriv’d from thee

  Is born to Persean Sthenelus; Eurystheus his name,

  Noble and worthy of the rule thou swor’st to him.” This came

  Close to the heart of Jupiter, and Ate that had wrought

  This anger by Saturnia, by her bright hair he caught,

  Held down her head, and over her made this infallible vow:

  That never to the cope of stars should reascend that brow,

  Being so infortunate to all. Thus, swinging her about,

  He cast her from the fiery heav’n, who ever since thrust out

  Her fork’d sting in th’ affairs of men. Jove ever since did grieve,

  Since his dear issue Hercules did by his vow achieve

  The unjust toils of Eurystheus: thus fares it now with me,

  Since under Hector’s violence the Grecian progeny

  Fell so unfitly by my spleen, whose falls will ever stick

  In my griev’d thoughts. My weakness yet (Saturnius making sick

  The state my mind held) now recur’d, th’ amends shall make ev’n weight

  With my offence, and therefore rouse thy spirits to the fight

  With all thy forces; all the gifts propos’d thee at thy tent

  (Last day) by royal Ithacus, my officers shall present;

  And (if it like thee) strike no stroke (though never so on thorns

  Thy mind stands to thy friend’s revenge) till my command adorns

  Thy tents and coffers with such gifts as well may let thee know

  How much I wish thee satisfied.’ He answer’d: ‘Let thy vow,

  Renown’d Atrides, at thy will be kept (as justice would),

  Or keep thy gifts; ’tis all in thee. The council now we hold

  Is for repairing our main field with all our fortitude.

  My fair show made brooks no retreat, nor must delays delude

  Our deed’s expectance. Yet undone the great work is, all eyes

  Must see Achilles in first fight, depeopling enemies,

  As well as counsel it in court, that every man set on

  May choose his man to imitate my exercise upon.’

  Ulysses answer’d: ‘Do not yet, thou man made like the gods,

  Take fasting men to field: suppose, that whatsoever odds

  It brings against them, with full men, thy boundless eminence

  Can amply answer; yet refrain to tempt a violence.

  The conflict wearing out our men was late, and held as long;

  Wherein, though most Jove stood for Troy, he yet made our part strong

  To bear that most. But ’twas to bear, and that breeds little heart.

  Let wine and bread then add to it; they help the twofold part,

  The soul and body in a man, both force and fortitude.

  All day men cannot fight, and fast, though never so indu’d

  With minds to fight; for that suppos’d, there lurks yet secretly

  Thirst, hunger, in th’ oppressed joints; which no mind can supply.

  They take away a marcher’s knees. Men’s bodies throughly fed,

  Their minds share with them in their strength; and (all day combated)

  One stirs not, till you call off all. Dismiss them then to meat,

  And let Atrides tender here, in sight of all his seat,

  The gifts he promis’d. Let him swear before us all, and rise

  To that oath, that he never touch’d in any wanton wise

  The lady he enforc’d. Besides, that he remains in mind

  As chastely satisfied, not touch’d or privily inclin’d

  With future vantages. And last, ’tis fit he should approve

  All these rites at a solemn feast, in honour of your love,

  That so you take no mangled law for merits absolute.

  And thus the honours you receive, resolving the pursuit

  Of your friend’s quarrel, well will quit your sorrow for your friend.

  And thou, Atrides, in the taste of so severe an end,

  Hereafter may on others hold a juster government.

  Nor will it aught impair a king to give a sound content

  To any subject soundly wrong’d.’ ‘I joy,’ replied the king,

  ‘O Laertiades, to hear thy liberal counselling;

  In which is all decorum kept, nor any point lacks touch,

  That might be thought on to conclude a reconcilement such

  As fits example, and us two. My mind yet makes me swear,

  Not your impulsion. And that mind shall rest so kind and clear,

  That I will not forswear to god. Let then Achilles stay

  (Though never so inflam’d for fight), and all men here I pray

  To stay, till from my tents these gifts be brought here, and the truce

  At all parts finish’d before all. And thou of all I choose,

  Divine Ulysses, and command to choose of all your host

  Youths of most honour, to present to him we honour most

  The gifts we late vow’d, and the dames. Mean space about our tents

  Talthybius shall provide a boar, to crown these kind events

  With thankful sacrifice to Jove, and to the god of light.’

  Achilles answer’d: ‘These affairs will show more requisite,

  Great king of men, some other time, when our more free estates

  Yield fit cessation from the war, and when my spleen abates;

  But now (to all our shames besides) our friends by Hector slain

  (And Jove to friend) lie unfetch’d off. Haste, then, and meat your men,

  Though I must still say, my command would lead them fasting forth,

  And all together feast at night. Meat will be something worth

  When stomachs first have made it way with venting infamy

  (And other sorrows late sustain’d) with long’d-for wreaks, that lie

  Heavy upon them, for right’s sake. Before which load be got

  From off my stomach, meat nor drink, I vow, shall down my throat,

  My friend being dead, who digg’d with wounds, and bor’d through both his feet,

  Lies in the entry of my tent, and in the tears doth fleet

  Of his associates. Meat and drink have little merit then

  To comfort me, but blood and death, and deadly groans of men.’

  The great in counsels yet made good his former counsels thus:

  ‘O Peleus’ son, of all the Greeks by much most valorous,

  Better and mightier than myself, no little, with thy lance,

 
I yield thy worth; in wisdom yet no less I dare advance

  My right above thee, since above in years, and knowing more.

  Let then thy mind rest in thy words, we quickly shall have store,

  And all satiety of fight; whose steel heaps store of straw,

  And little corn upon a floor, when Jove (that doth withdraw,

  And join all battles) once begins t’ incline his balances

  In which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not press

  To mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that

  In healthful men that mourn for friends. His steel we stumble at,

  And fall at, every day you see sufficient store, and fast.

  What hour is it that any breathes? We must not use more haste

  Than speed holds fit for our revenge: nor should we mourn too much.

  Who dead is, must be buried; men’s patience should be such

  That one day’s moan should serve one man: the dead must end with death,

  And life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their breath

  From death in fight, the more should eat, that so they may supply

  Their fellows that have stuck in field, and fight incessantly.

  Let none expect reply to this, nor stay; for this shall stand

  Or fall with some offence to him that looks for new command,

  Whoever in dislike holds back. All join then, all things fit

  Allow’d for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.’

  This said, he chose (for noblest youths to bear the presents) these:

  The sons of Nestor, and with them renown’d Meriones,

  Phylidas, Thoas, Lycomed, and Meges, all which went

  (And Melanippus following Ulysses) to the tent

  Of Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed

  Had join’d effect: the fitness well was answer’d in the speed.

  The presents added to the dame the general did enforce,

  Were twenty cauldrons, tripods seven, twelve young and goodly horse;

  Seven ladies excellently seen in all Minerva’s skill;

  The eighth, Briseis, who had pow’r to ravish every will;

  Twelve talents of the finest gold, all which Ulysses weigh’d,

  And carried first; and after him the other youths convey’d

  The other presents, tender’d all in face of all the court.

  Up rose the king. Talthybius (whose voice had a report

  Like to a god) call’d to the rites; there, having brought the boar,