The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  The blood so from their faces that it left

  A greenish paleness; all their hands it reft

  Of all their weapons, falling thence to earth;

  And to the common mother of their birth,

  The city, all fled, in desire to save

  The lives yet left them. Then Ulysses gave

  A horrid shout, and like Jove’s eagle flew

  In fiery pursuit, till Saturnius threw

  His smoking lightning ’twixt them, that had fall

  Before Minerva, who then out did call

  Thus to Ulysses: ‘Born of Jove! Abstain

  From further bloodshed. Jove’s hand in the slain

  Hath equall’d in their pains their prides to thee.

  Abstain, then, lest you move the deity.’

  Again then ’twixt both parts the seed of Jove,

  Athenian Pallas, of all future love

  A league compos’d, and for her form took choice

  Of Mentor’s likeness both in limb and voice.

  The end of the twenty-fourth book

  So wrought divine Ulysses through his woes,

  So crown’d the light with him his mother’s throes,

  As through his great renowner I have wrought,

  And my safe sail to sacred anchor brought.

  Nor did the Argive ship more burthen feel,

  That bore the care of all men in her keel,

  Than my adventurous bark; the Colchian fleece

  Not half so precious as this soul of Greece,

  In whose songs I have made our shores rejoice,

  And Greek itself vail to our English voice.

  Yet this inestimable pearl will all

  Our dunghill chanticleers but obvious call,

  Each modern scraper this gem scratching by,

  His oat preferring far. Let such let lie.

  So scorn the stars the clouds, as true-soul’d men

  Despise deceivers. For, as clouds would fain

  Obscure the stars, yet (regions left below

  With all their envies) bar them but of show,

  For they shine ever, and will shine, when they

  Dissolve in sinks, make mire, and temper clay:

  So puff’d impostors (our muse-vapours) strive,

  With their self-blown additions, to deprive

  Men solid of their full, though infinite short

  They come in their compare, and false report

  Of levelling or touching at their light,

  That still retain their radiance, and clear right,

  And shall shine ever, when, alas, one blast

  Of least disgrace tears down th’ impostor’s mast,

  His tops and tacklings, his whole freight, and he

  Confiscate to the fishy monarchy,

  His trash, by foolish Fame brought now, from hence

  Giv’n to serve mackerel forth, and frankincense.

  Such then, and any too soft-eyed to see,

  Through works so solid, any worth, so free

  Of all the learn’d professions, as is fit

  To praise at such price, let him think his wit

  Too weak to rate it, rather than oppose

  With his poor pow’rs ages and hosts of foes.

  To the ruins of Troy and Greece

  Troy rac’t, Greece wrack’t, who mourns? Ye both may boast,

  Else th’ Iliads and Odysseys had been lost!

  Ad Deum

  The Only True God (betwixt Whom and me

  I only bound my comfort, and agree

  With all my actions) only truly knows,

  And can judge truly, me, with all that goes

  To all my faculties. In Whose free Grace

  And Inspiration I only place

  All means to know (with my means, study, prayer,

  In and from His Word taken) stair by stair,

  In all continual contentation, rising

  To knowledge of His Truth, and practising

  His Will in it, with my sole Saviour’s Aid,

  Guide, and Enlight’ning; nothing done, nor said,

  Nor thought, that good is, but acknowledg’d by

  His Inclination, Skill, and Faculty.

  By which, to find the way out to His Love

  Past all the worlds, the sphere is where doth move

  My studies, pray’rs, and pow’rs; no pleasure taken

  But sign’d by His, for which, my blood forsaken,

  My soul I cleave to, and what (in His Blood

  That hath redeem’d, cleansed, taught her) fits her good.

  Deo Opt. Max. gloria

  Finis