To whom the mournful mother thus replies
(The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes): 500
‘Oh Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine
So pierc’d with sorrows, so o’erwhelm’d as mine?
Of all the Goddesses, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only such a weight of care?
I, only I, of all the wat’ry race, 505
By force subjected to a man’s embrace,
Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays
The mighty fine imposed on length of days.
Sprung from my bed, a godlike Hero came,
The bravest sure that ever bore the name; 510
Like some fair plant, beneath my careful hand,
He grew, he flourish’d, and he graced the land:
To Troy I sent him; but his native shore
Never, ah never, shall receive him more!
Ev’n while he lives, he wastes with secret woe, 515
Nor I, a Goddess, can retard the blow!
Robb’d of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave,
The King of Nations forc’d his royal slave:
For this he griev’d; and, till the Greeks oppress’d
Required his arm, he sorrow’d unredress’d. 520
Large gifts they promise, and their elders send;
In vain — he arms not, but permits his friend
His arms, his steeds, his forces, to employ;
He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy:
Then slain by Phœbus (Hector had the name), 525
At once resigns his armour, life, and fame.
But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won;
Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son,
And to the field in martial pomp restore,
To shine with glory, till he shines no more!’ 530
To her the Artist-God: ‘Thy griefs resign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel,
As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze 535
Of wond’ring ages, and the world’s amaze!’
Thus having said, the Father of the Fires
To the black labours of his forge retires.
Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn’d
Their iron mouths, and, where the furnace burn’d 540
Resounding breathed: at once the blast expires,
And twenty forges catch at once the fires;
Just as the God directs, now loud, now low,
They raise a tempest, or they gently blow.
In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll’d, 545
And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold:
Before, deep fix’d, th’ eternal anvils stand;
The pond’rous hammer loads his better hand,
His left with tongs turns the vex’d metal round;
And thick strong strokes the doubling vaults rebound. 550
Then first he form’d th’ immense and solid shield;
Rich various artifice emblazed the field;
Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;
A silver chain suspends the massy round:
Five ample plates the broad expanse compose, 555
And godlike labours on the surface rose.
There shone the image of the master-mind:
There Earth, there Heav’n, there Ocean, he design’d;
Th’ unwearied sun, the moon completely round;
The starry lights that Heav’n’s high convex crown’d; 560
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team;
And great Orion’s more refulgent beam;
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear revolving points his golden eye;
Still shines exalted on th’ ethereal plain, 565
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Two cities radiant on the shield appear,
The image one of peace, and one of war.
Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight,
And solemn dance, and Hymeneal rite; 570
Along the street the new-made brides are led,
With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed:
The youthful dancers in a circle bound
To the soft flute, and cittern’s silver sound:
Thro’ the fair streets, the matrons in a row 575
Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show.
There, in the Forum swarm a numerous train;
The subject of debate, a townsman slain:
One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied,
And bade the public and the laws decide: 580
The witness is produced on either hand:
For this, or that, the partial people stand:
Th’ appointed heralds still the noisy bands,
And form a ring, with sceptres in their hands;
On seats of stone, within the sacred place, 585
The rev’rend elders nodded o’er the case;
Alternate, each th’ attending sceptre took,
And, rising solemn, each his sentence spoke.
Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight,
The prize of him who best adjudg’d the right. 590
Another part (a prospect diff’ring far)
Glow’d with refulgent arms, and horrid war.
Two mighty hosts a leaguer’d town embrace,
And one would pillage, one would burn, the place.
Meantime the townsmen, arm’d with silent care, 595
A secret ambush on the foe prepare:
Their wives, their children, and the watchful band
Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand.
They march, by Pallas and by Mars made bold;
Gold were the Gods, their radiant garments gold, 600
And gold their armour; these the squadron led,
August, divine, superior by the head!
A place for ambush fit they found, and stood
Cover’d with shields, beside a silver flood.
Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem 605
If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream.
Soon the white flocks proceeded o’er the plains,
And steers slow-moving, and two shepherd swains;
Behind them, piping on their reeds, they go,
Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. 610
In arms the glitt’ring squadron rising round,
Rush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the ground:
Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains,
And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains!
The bell’wing oxen the besiegers hear; 615
They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war;
They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood;
The waving silver seem’d to blush with blood.
There tumult, there contention, stood confess’d;
One rear’d a dagger at a captive’s breast, 620
One held a living foe, that freshly bled
With new-made wounds; another dragg’d a dead;
Now here, now there, the carcasses they tore:
Fate stalk’d amidst them, grim with human gore.
And the whole war came out, and met the eye: 625
And each bold figure seem’d to live, or die.
A field deep furrow’d next the God design’d,
The third time labour’d by the sweating hind;
The shining shares full many ploughmen guide,
And turn their crooked yokes on ev’ry side. 630
Still as at either end they wheel around,
The master meets them with his goblet crown’d;
The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil;
Then back the turning ploughshares cleave the soil:
Behind, the rising earth in ridges roll’d, 635
And sable look’d, tho’ form’d of mol
ten gold.
Another field rose high with waving grain;
With bended sickles stand the reaper-train.
Here stretch’d in ranks the levell’d swaths are found,
Sheaves, heap’d on sheaves, here thicken up the ground. 640
With sweeping stroke the mowers strew the lands;
The gath’rers follow, and collect in bands;
And last the children, in whose arms are borne
(Too short to gripe them) the brown sheaves of corn.
The rustic Monarch of the Field descries, 645
With silent glee, the heaps around him rise.
A ready banquet on the turf is laid,
Beneath an ample oak’s expanded shade.
The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare;
The reaper’s due repast, the women’s care. 650
Next ripe, in yellow gold, a vineyard shines,
Bent with the pond’rous harvest of its vines;
A deeper dye the dangling clusters shew,
And, curl’d on silver props, in order glow:
A darker metal mix’d, intrench’d the place; 655
And pales of glitt’ring tin th’ enclosure grace.
To this, one pathway gently winding leads,
Where march a train with baskets on their heads
(Fair maids and blooming youths), that smiling bear
The purple product of th’ autumnal year. 660
To these a youth awakes the warbling strings,
Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings;
In measured dance behind him move the train,
Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain.
Here, herds of oxen march, erect and bold, 665
Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold,
And speed to meadows, on whose sounding shores
A rapid torrent thro’ the rushes roars:
Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand,
And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band. 670
Two lions rushing from the wood appear’d;
And seized a bull, the master of the herd;
He roar’d: in vain the dogs, the men, withstood;
They tore his flesh, and drank the sable blood.
The dogs (oft cheer’d in vain) desert the prey, 675
Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay.
Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads
Deep thro’ fair forests, and a length of meads;
And stalls, and folds, and scatter’d cots between;
And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene. 680
A figured dance succeeds: such once was seen
In lofty Gnossus, for the Cretan Queen,
Form’d by Dædalean art: A comely band
Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand;
The maids in soft cymars of linen dress’d; 685
The youths all graceful in the glossy vest;
Of those the locks with flowery wreaths inroll’d,
Of these the sides adorn’d with swords of gold,
That, glitt’ring gay, from silver belts depend.
Now all at once they rise, at once descend, 690
With well-taught feet: now shape, in oblique ways,
Confusedly regular, the moving maze:
Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring,
And undistinguish’d blend the flying ring:
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss’d, 695
And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost.
The gazing multitudes admire around;
Two active tumblers in the centre bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend,
And gen’ral songs the sprightly revel end. 700
Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown’d
With his last hand, and pour’d the ocean round:
In living silver seem’d the waves to roll,
And beat the buckler’s verge, and bound the whole.
This done, whate’er a warrior’s use requires 705
He forged; the cuirass that outshines the fires,
The greaves of ductile tin, the helm impress’d
With various sculpture, and the golden crest.
At Thetis’ feet the finish’d labour lay;
She, as a falcon, cuts th’ aërial way, 710
Swift from Olympus’ snowy summit flies,
And bears the blazing present thro’ the skies.
Iliad Book XIX. The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon
THE ARGUMENT
Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the body of his friend from corruption, and commands him to assemble the army, to declare his resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are solemnly reconciled: the speeches, presents, and ceremonies on that occasion. Achilles is with great difficulty persuaded to refrain from the battle till the troops have refreshed themselves, by the advice of Ulysses. The presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles: where Briseïs laments over the body of Patroclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives himself up to lamentations for his friend. Minerva descends to strengthen him, by the order of Jupiter. He arms for the fight; his appearance described. He addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches them with the death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculously endued with voice, and inspired to prophesy his fate; but the hero, not astonished by that prodigy, rushes with fury to the combat.
The thirtieth day. The scene is on the seashore.
SOON as Aurora heav’d her orient head
Above the waves that blush’d with early red
(With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of Heav’n with sacred light),
Th’ immortal arms the Goddess-mother bears 5
Swift to her son: her son she finds in tears,
Stretch’d o’er Patroclus’ corse, while all the rest
Their Sov’reign’s sorrows in their own express’d.
A ray divine her heav’nly presence shed,
And thus, his hand soft touching, Thetis said: 10
‘Suppress, my son, this rage of grief, and know
It was not man, but Heav’n, that gave the blow:
Behold what arms by Vulcan are bestow’d,
Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a God.’
Then drops the radiant burden on the ground; 15
Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores around;
Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread surprise,
And from the broad effulgence turn their eyes.
Unmov’d, the hero kindles at the show,
And feels with rage divine his bosom glow; 20
From his fierce eye-balls living flames expire,
And flash incessant like a stream of fire:
He turns the radiant gift, and feeds his mind
On all th’ immortal artist had design’d.
‘Goddess’ (he cried), ‘these glorious arms that shine 25
With matchless art, confess the hand divine.
Now to the bloody battle let me bend:
But ah! the relics of my slaughter’d friend!
In those wide wounds thro’ which his spirit fled,
Shall flies, and worms obscene, pollute the dead?’ 30
‘That unavailing care be laid aside’
(The azure Goddess to her son replied);
‘Whole years untouch’d, uninjured shall remain,
Fresh as in life, the carcass of the slain.
But go, Achilles (as affairs require), 35
Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire:
Then uncontroll’d in boundless war engage,
And Heav’n with strength supply the mighty rage!’
Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour’d
Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower’d 40
O’er all the corse: the flies forbid their prey,
Untouch’d it rests, and sacred from deca
y.
Achilles to the strand obedient went;
The shores resounded with the voice he sent.
The heroes heard, and all the naval train 45
That tend the ships, or guide, them o’er the main,
Alarm’d, transported, at the well-known sound,
Frequent and full, the great assembly crown’d;
Studious to see that terror of the plain,
Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. 50
Tydides and Ulysses first appear,
Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear:
These on the sacred seats of council placed,
The King of Men, Atrides, came the last:
He too sore wounded by Agenor’s son. 55
Achilles (rising in the midst) begun:
‘Oh Monarch! better far had been the fate
Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state,
If (ere the day when by mad passion sway’d,
Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid) 60
Preventing Dian had despatch’d her dart,
And shot the shining mischief to the heart!
Then many a hero had not press’d the shore,
Nor Troy’s glad fields been fatten’d with our gore:
Long, long shall Greece the woes we caus’d bewail, 65
And sad posterity repeat the tale.
But this, no more the subject of debate,
Is past, forgotten, and resign’d to Fate:
Why should, alas! a mortal man, as I,
Burn with a fury that can never die? 70
Here then my anger ends: let war succeed,
And ev’n as Greece hath bled, let Ilion bleed.
Now call the hosts, and try, if in our sight,
Troy yet shall dare to camp a second night?
I deem their mightiest, when this arm he knows, 75
Shall’scape with transport, and with joy repose.’
He said; his finish’d wrath with loud acclaim
The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides’ name.
When thus, not rising from his lofty throne,
In state unmov’d, the King of Men begun: 80
‘Hear me, ye sons of Greece! with silence hear!
And grant your Monarch an impartial ear:
Awhile your loud untimely joy suspend,
And let your rash injurious clamours end:
Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause, 85
Wrong the best speaker, and the justest cause.
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate;
Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that day
When from Achilles’ arms I forc’d the prey. 90
What then could I, against the will of Heav’n?
Not by myself, but vengeful Até driv’n;
She, Jove’s dread daughter, fated to infest
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 108