There meets the chariot rushing down the skies, 505
Restrains their progress from the bright abodes,
And speaks the mandate of the Sire of Gods:
‘What frenzy, Goddesses! what rage can move
Celestial minds to tempt the wrath of Jove?
Desist, obedient to his high command; 510
This is his word: and know his word shall stand.
His lightning your rebellion shall confound,
And hurl ye headlong, flaming to the ground:
Your horses crush’d beneath the wheels shall lie,
Your car in fragments scatter’d o’er the sky; 515
Yourselves condemn’d ten rolling years to weep
The wounds impress’d by burning Thunder deep.
So shall Minerva learn to fear his ire,
Nor dare to combat hers and Nature’s Sire.
For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, 520
She claims some title to transgress his will:
But thee what desp’rate insolence has driv’n,
To lift thy lance against the King of Heav’n?’
Then, mounting on the pinions of the wind,
She flew; and Juno thus her rage resign’d: 525
‘O Daughter of that God, whose arm can wield
Th’ avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield!
No more let beings of superior birth
Contend with Jove for this low race of earth:
Triumphant now, now miserably slain, 530
They breathe or perish as the Fates ordain.
But Jove’s high counsels full effect shall find,
And, ever constant, ever rule mankind.’
She spoke, and backward turn’d her steeds of light,
Adorn’d with manes of gold, and heav’nly bright. 535
The Hours unloos’d them, panting as they stood,
And heap’d their mangers with ambrosial food.
There tied, they rest in high celestial stalls;
The chariot propp’d against the crystal walls.
The pensive Goddesses, abash’d, controll’d, 540
Mix with the Gods, and fill their seats of gold.
And now the Thund’rer meditates his flight
From Ida’s summits to th’ Olympian height.
Swifter than thought the wheels instinctive fly,
Flame thro’ the vast of air, and reach the sky. 545
‘T was Neptune’s charge his coursers to unbrace,
And fix the car on its immortal base;
There stood the chariot, beaming forth its rays,
Till with a snowy veil he screen’d the blaze.
He, whose all-conscious eyes the world behold, 550
Th’ eternal Thunderer, sat throned in gold.
High Heav’n the footstool of his feet he makes,
And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes.
Trembling afar th’ offending Powers appear’d,
Confused and silent, for his frown they fear’d. 555
He saw their soul, and thus his word imparts:
‘Pallas and Juno! say, why heave your hearts?
Soon was your battle o’er: proud Troy retired
Before your face, and in your wrath expired.
But know, whoe’er almighty Power withstand! 560
Unmatch’d our force, unconquer’d is our hand:
Who shall the Sov’reign of the Skies control?
Not all the Gods that crown the starry pole.
Your hearts shall tremble, if our arms we take,
And each immortal nerve with horror shake. 565
For thus I speak, and what I speak shall stand,
What Power soe’er provokes our lifted hand,
On this our hill no more shall hold his place,
Cut off, and exil’d from th’ ethereal race.’
Juno and Pallas grieving hear the doom, 570
But feast their souls on Ilion’s woes to come.
Tho’ secret anger swell’d Minerva’s breast,
The prudent Goddess yet her wrath repress’d:
But Juno, impotent of rage, replies:
‘What hast thou said, oh Tyrant of the Skies! 575
Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne;
‘T is thine to punish; ours to grieve alone.
For Greece we grieve, abandon’d by her Fate
To drink the dregs of thy unmeasured hate:
From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, 580
With arms unaiding see our Argives slain;
Yet grant our counsels still their breasts may move,
Lest all should perish in the rage of Jove.’
The Goddess thus: and thus the God replies;
Who swells the clouds, and blackens all the skies: 585
‘The morning sun, awaked by loud alarms,
Shall see th’ almighty Thunderer in arms.
What heaps of Argives then shall load the plain,
Those radiant eyes shall view, and view in vain.
Nor shall great Hector cease the rage of fight, 590
The navy flaming, and thy Greeks in flight,
Ev’n till the day, when certain Fates ordain
That stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain)
Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste the plain.
For such is Fate, nor canst thou turn its course 595
With all thy rage, with all thy rebel force.
Fly, if thou wilt, to earth’s remotest bound,
Where on her utmost verge the seas resound;
Where curs’d Iäpetus and Saturn dwell,
Fast by the brink, within the steams of Hell; 600
No sun e’er gilds the gloomy horrors there,
No cheerful gales refresh the lazy air:
There arm once more the bold Titanian band,
And arm in vain: for what I will shall stand.’
Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light, 605
And drew behind the cloudy veil of night:
The conquering Trojans mourn his beams decay’d;
The Greeks rejoicing bless the friendly shade.
The victors keep the field; and Hector calls
A martial council near the navy walls: 610
These to Scamander’s bank apart he led,
Where thinly scatter’d lay the heaps of dead.
Th’ assembled Chiefs, descending on the ground,
Attend his order, and their Prince surround.
A massy spear he bore of mighty strength, 615
Of full ten cubits was the lance’s length;
The point was brass, refulgent to behold,
Fix’d to the wood with circling rings of gold:
The noble Hector on this lance reclin’d,
And, bending forward, thus reveal’d his mind: 620
‘Ye valiant Trojans, with attention hear!
Ye Dardan bands, and gen’rous aids, give ear!
This day, we hoped, would wrap in conquering flame
Greece with her ships, and crown our toils with fame:
But darkness now, to save the cowards, falls, 625
And guards them trembling in their wooden walls.
Obey the night, and use her peaceful hours
Our steeds to forage, and refresh our powers.
Straight from the town be sheep and oxen sought,
And strength’ning bread and gen’rous wine be brought. 630
Wide o’er the field, high blazing to the sky,
Let numerous fires the absent sun supply,
The flaming piles with plenteous fuel raise,
Till the bright morn her purple beam displays:
Lest in the silence and the shades of night, 635
Greece on her sable ships attempt her flight.
Not unmolested let the wretches gain
Their lofty decks, or safely cleave the main:
Some hostile wound let ev’ry dart bestow,
Some lasting token of the Phrygian foe, 640
Wounds, that long hence may ask their spouses’ care,
And warn their children from a Trojan war.
Now thro’ the circuit of our Ilion wall,
Let sacred heralds sound the solemn call;
To bid the sires with hoary honours crown’d, 645
And beardless youths, our battlements surround.
Firm be the guard, while distant lie our powers,
And let the matrons hang with lights the towers:
Lest, under covert of the midnight shade,
Th’ insidious foe the naked town invade. 650
Suffice, to-night, these orders to obey;
A nobler charge shall rouse the dawning day.
The Gods, I trust, shall give to Hector’s hand,
From these detested foes to free the land,
Who plough’d, with Fates averse, the wat’ry way; 655
For Trojan vultures a predestin’d prey.
Our common safety must be now the care;
But, soon as morning paints the fields of air,
Sheathed in bright arms let every troop engage,
And the fired fleet behold the battle rage. 660
Then, then shall Hector and Tydides prove,
Whose Fates are heaviest in the scale of Jove.
To-morrow’s light (oh haste the glorious morn!)
Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph borne;
With this keen jav’lin shall his breast be gored, 665
And prostrate heroes bleed around their lord.
Certain as this, oh! might my days endure,
From age inglorious, and black death, secure;
So might my life and glory know no bound,
Like Pallas worshipp’d, like the sun renown’d, 670
As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy,
Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes of Troy.’
The leader spoke. From all his hosts around
Shouts of applause along the shores resound.
Each from the yoke the smoking steeds untied, 675
And fix’d their headstalls to his chariot-side.
Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led,
With gen’rous wine, and all-sustaining bread.
Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore;
The winds to Heav’n the curling vapours bore. 680
Ungrateful off’ring to th’ immortal Powers!
Whose wrath hund heavy o’er the Trojan towers;
Nor Priam nor his sons obtain’d their grace;
Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty race.
The troops exulting sat in order round, 685
And beaming fires illumin’d all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O’er Heav’n’s clear azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene; 690
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,
O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver ev’ry mountain’s head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, 695
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies:
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault and bless the useful light.
So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And lighten glimm’ring Xanthus with their rays: 700
The long reflections of the distant fires
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires.
A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild,
And shoot a shady lustre o’er the field.
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, 705
Whose umber’d arms, by fits, thick flashes send.
Loud neigh the coursers o’er their heaps of corn,
And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.
Iliad Book IX. The Embassy to Achilles
THE ARGUMENT
Agamemnon, after the last day’s defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit the siege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this, and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to be strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures were to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor farther prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made choice of, who are accompanied by old Phœnix. They make, each of them, very moving and pressing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who notwithstanding retains Phœnix in his tent. The ambassadors return unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep.
This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on the sea-shore, the station of the Grecian ships.
THUS Troy maintain’d the watch of night:
While Fear, pale comrade of inglorious Flight,
And heav’n-bred Horror, on the Grecian part,
Sat on each face, and sadden’d ev’ry heart.
As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, 5
A double tempest of the west and north
Swells o’er the sea, from Thracia’s frozen shore,
Heaps waves on waves, and bids th’ Ægean roar;
This way and that the boiling deeps are toss’d;
Such various passions urged the troubled host. 10
Great Agamemnon griev’d above the rest;
Superior sorrows swell’d his royal breast;
Himself his orders to the heralds bears,
To bid to council all the Grecian peers,
But bid in whispers: these surround their Chief, 15
In solemn sadness and majestic grief.
The King amidst the mournful circle rose;
Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows:
So silent fountains, from a rock’s tall head,
In sable streams soft-trickling waters shed. 20
With more than vulgar grief he stood oppress’d;
Words, mix’d with sighs, thus bursting from his breast:
‘Ye of Greece! partake your leader’s care,
Fellows in arms, and Princes of the war!
Of partial Jove too justly we complain, 25
And heav’nly oracles believ’d in vain.
A safe return was promis’d to our toils
With conquest honour’d, and enrich’d with spoils:
Now shameful flight alone can save the host,
Our wealth, our people, and our glory, 30
So Jove decrees, almighty Lord of all!
Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall,
Who shakes the feeble props of human trust,
And towers and armies humbles to the dust.
Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, 35
Haste to the joys our native country yields;
Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ,
Nor hope the fall of Heav’n-defended Troy.’
He said; deep silence held the Grecian band;
Silent, unmov’d, in dire dismay they stand, 40
A pensive scene! till Tydeus’ warlike son
Roll’d on the King his eyes, and thus begun:
‘When Kings advise us to renounce our fame,
First let him speak, who first has suffer’d shame.
If I oppose thee, Prince! thy wrath withhold; 45
The laws of council bid my tongue be bold.
Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight,
Durst brand my courage, and defame my might;
Nor from a friend th’ unkind reproach appear’d,
The Greeks stood witness, all our army heard. 50
The Gods, O Chief! from whom our honours spring,
The Gods have made thee but by halves a King:
They gave thee scep
tres and a wide command,
They gave dominion o’er the seas and land;
The noblest power that might the world control 55
They gave thee not — a brave and virtuous soul.
Is this a gen’ral’s voice, that would suggest
Fears like his own in ev’ry Grecian breast?
Confiding in our want of worth he stands,
And if we fly, ‘t is what our King commands. 60
Go thou, inglorious! from th’ embattled plain,
Ships thou hast, store, and nearest to the main;
A nobler care the Grecians shall employ,
To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy.
Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, 65
Myself will stay, till Troy or I expire;
Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame;
God bade us fight, and ‘t was with God we came.’
He ceas’d; the Greeks loud acclamations raise,
And voice to voice resounds Tydides’ praise. 70
Wise Nestor then his rev’rend figure rear’d;
He spoke: the host in still attention heard:
‘O truly great! in whom the Gods have join’d
Such strength of body with such force of mind;
In conduct, as in courage, you excel, 75
Still first to act what you advise so well.
Those wholesome counsels which thy wisdom moves,
Applauding Greece, with common voice, approves.
Kings thou canst blame; a bold, but prudent youth;
And blame ev’n Kings with praise, because with truth. 80
And yet those fears that since thy birth have run,
Would hardly style thee Nestor’s youngest son.
Then let me add what yet remains behind,
A thought unfinish’d in that gen’rous mind;
Age bids me speak; nor shall th’ advice I bring 85
Distaste the people, or offend the King:
‘Curs’d is the man, and void of law and right,
Unworthy property, unworthy light,
Unfit for public rule, or private care,
That wretch, that monster, that delights in war: 90
Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy
To tear his country, and his kind destroy!
This night refresh and fortify thy train;
Between the trench and wall let guards remain:
Be that the duty of the young and bold; 95
But thou, O King, to council call the old:
Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy cares;
Thy high commands must spirit all our wars:
With Thracian wines recruit thy honour’d guests,
For happy counsels flow from sober feasts. 100
Wise, weighty counsels aid a state distress’d
And such a monarch as can choose the best.
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 82