Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 4

by Homer


  Thee, and thy prayer, and the command of Jove.

  He said; the old King trembled, and obey’d.

  Then sprang Pelides like a lion forth,

  Not sole, but with his two attendant friends

  Alcimus and Automedon the brave,

  For them (Patroclus slain) he honor’d most

  Of all the Myrmidons. They from the yoke

  Released both steeds and mules, then introduced

  And placed the herald of the hoary King.

  They lighten’d next the litter of its charge

  Inestimable, leaving yet behind

  Two mantles and a vest, that, not unveil’d,

  The body might be borne back into Troy.

  Then, calling forth his women, them he bade

  Lave and anoint the body, but apart,

  Lest haply Priam, noticing his son,

  Through stress of grief should give resentment scope,

  And irritate by some affront himself

  To slay him, in despite of Jove’s commands.

  They, therefore, laving and anointing first

  The body, cover’d it with cloak and vest;

  Then, Peleus’ son disposed it on the bier,

  Lifting it from the ground, and his two friends

  Together heaved it to the royal wain.

  Achilles, last, groaning, his friend invoked.

  Patroclus! should the tidings reach thine ear,

  Although in Ades, that I have released

  The noble Hector at his father’s suit,

  Resent it not; no sordid gifts have paid

  His ransom-price, which thou shalt also share.

  So saying, Achilles to his tent return’d,

  And on the splendid couch whence he had risen

  Again reclined, opposite to the seat

  Of Priam, whom the hero thus bespake.

  Priam! at thy request thy son is loosed,

  And lying on his bier; at dawn of day

  Thou shalt both see him and convey him hence

  Thyself to Troy. But take we now repast;

  For even bright-hair’d Niobe her food

  Forgat not, though of children twelve bereft,

  Of daughters six, and of six blooming sons.

  Apollo these struck from his silver bow,

  And those shaft-arm’d Diana, both incensed

  That oft Latona’s children and her own

  Numbering, she scorn’d the Goddess who had borne

  Two only, while herself had twelve to boast.

  Vain boast! those two sufficed to slay them all.

  Nine days they welter’d in their blood, no man

  Was found to bury them, for Jove had changed

  To stone the people; but themselves, at last,

  The Powers of heaven entomb’d them on the tenth.

  Yet even she, once satisfied with tears,

  Remember’d food; and now the rocks among

  And pathless solitudes of Sipylus,

  The rumor’d cradle of the nymphs who dance

  On Acheloüs’ banks, although to stone

  Transform’d, she broods her heaven-inflicted woes.

  Come, then, my venerable guest! take we

  Refreshment also; once arrived in Troy

  With thy dear son, thou shalt have time to weep

  Sufficient, nor without most weighty cause.

  So spake Achilles, and, upstarting, slew

  A sheep white-fleeced, which his attendants flay’d,

  And busily and with much skill their task

  Administ’ring, first scored the viands well,

  Then pierced them with the spits, and when the roast

  Was finish’d, drew them from the spits again.

  And now, Automedon dispensed around

  The polish’d board bread in neat baskets piled,

  Which done, Achilles portion’d out to each

  His share, and all assail’d the ready feast.

  But when nor hunger more nor thirst they felt,

  Dardanian Priam, wond’ring at his bulk

  And beauty (for he seem’d some God from heaven)

  Gazed on Achilles, while Achilles held

  Not less in admiration of his looks

  Benign, and of his gentle converse wise,

  Gazed on Dardanian Priam, and, at length

  (The eyes of each gratified to the full)

  The ancient King thus to Achilles spake.

  Hero! dismiss us now each to our bed,

  That there at ease reclined, we may enjoy

  Sweet sleep; for never have these eyelids closed

  Since Hector fell and died, but without cease

  I mourn, and nourishing unnumber’d woes,

  Have roll’d me in the ashes of my courts.

  But I have now both tasted food, and given

  Wine to my lips, untasted till with thee.

  So he, and at his word Achilles bade

  His train beneath his portico prepare

  With all dispatch two couches, purple rugs,

  And arras, and warm mantles over all.

  Forth went the women bearing lights, and spread

  A couch for each, when feigning needful fear,

  Achilles thus his speech to Priam turn’d.

  My aged guest beloved; sleep thou without;

  Lest some Achaian chief (for such are wont

  Ofttimes, here sitting, to consult with me)

  Hither repair; of whom should any chance

  To spy thee through the gloom, he would at once

  Convey the tale to Agamemnon’s ear,

  Whence hindrance might arise, and the release

  Haply of Hector’s body be delay’d.

  But answer me with truth. How many days

  Wouldst thou assign to the funereal rites

  Of noble Hector, for so long I mean

  Myself to rest, and keep the host at home?

  Then thus the ancient King godlike replied.

  If thou indeed be willing that we give

  Burial to noble Hector, by an act

  So generous, O Achilles! me thou shalt

  Much gratify; for we are shut, thou know’st,

  In Ilium close, and fuel must procure

  From Ida’s side remote; fear, too, hath seized

  On all our people. Therefore thus I say.

  Nine days we wish to mourn him in the house;

  To his interment we would give the tenth,

  And to the public banquet; the eleventh

  Shall see us build his tomb; and on the twelfth

  (If war we must) we will to war again.

  To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.

  So be it, ancient Priam! I will curb

  Twelve days the rage of war, at thy desire.

  He spake, and at his wrist the right hand grasp’d

  Of the old sovereign, to dispel his fear.

  Then in the vestibule the herald slept

  And Priam, prudent both, but Peleus’ son

  In the interior tent, and at his side

  Brisëis, with transcendent beauty adorn’d.

  Now all, all night, by gentle sleep subdued,

  Both Gods and chariot-ruling warriors lay,

  But not the benefactor of mankind,

  Hermes; him sleep seized not, but deep he mused

  How likeliest from amid the Grecian fleet

  He might deliver by the guard unseen

  The King of Ilium; at his head he stood

  In vision, and the senior thus bespake.

  Ah heedless and secure! hast thou no dread

  Of mischief, ancient King, that thus by foes

  Thou sleep’st surrounded, lull’d by the consent

  And sufferance of Achilles? Thou hast given

  Much for redemption of thy darling son,

  But thrice that sum thy sons who still survive

  Must give to Agamemnon and the Greeks

  For thy redemption, should they know thee here.

/>   He ended; at the sound alarm’d upsprang

  The King, and roused his herald. Hermes yoked

  Himself both mules and steeds, and through the camp

  Drove them incontinent, by all unseen.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Odyssey Extracts

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Opening of the Epic: Book I

  Translated by Alexander Pope

  The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,

  Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound;

  Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall

  Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall,

  Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray’d,

  Their manners noted, and their states survey’d,

  On stormy seas unnumber’d toils he bore,

  Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:

  Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey

  On herds devoted to the god of day;

  The god vindictive doom’d them never more

  (Ah, men unbless’d!) to touch that natal shore.

  Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,

  Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.

  Now at their native realms the Greeks arrived;

  All who the wars of ten long years survived;

  And ‘scaped the perils of the gulfy main.

  Ulysses, sole of all the victor train,

  An exile from his dear paternal coast,

  Deplored his absent queen and empire lost.

  Calypso in her caves constrain’d his stay,

  With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay;

  In vain-for now the circling years disclose

  The day predestined to reward his woes.

  At length his Ithaca is given by fate,

  Where yet new labours his arrival wait;

  At length their rage the hostile powers restrain,

  All but the ruthless monarch of the main.

  But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest,

  In AEthiopia graced the genial feast

  (A race divided, whom with sloping rays

  The rising and descending sun surveys);

  There on the world’s extremest verge revered

  With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr’d,

  Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes

  Of high Olympus, Jove convened the gods:

  The assembly thus the sire supreme address’d,

  AEgysthus’ fate revolving in his breast,

  Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast

  Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted ghost.

  “Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free,

  Charge all their woes on absolute degree;

  All to the dooming gods their guilt translate,

  And follies are miscall’d the crimes of fate.

  When to his lust AEgysthus gave the rein,

  Did fate, or we, the adulterous act constrain?

  Did fate, or we, when great Atrides died,

  Urge the bold traitor to the regicide?

  Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain’d

  Sincere from royal blood, and faith profaned;

  To warn the wretch, that young Orestes, grown

  To manly years, should re-assert the throne.

  Yet, impotent of mind, and uncontroll’d,

  He plunged into the gulf which Heaven foretold.”

  Here paused the god; and pensive thus replies

  Minerva, graceful with her azure eyes:

  “O thou! from whom the whole creation springs,

  The source of power on earth derived to kings!

  His death was equal to the direful deed;

  So may the man of blood be doomed to bleed!

  But grief and rage alternate wound my breast

  For brave Ulysses, still by fate oppress’d.

  Amidst an isle, around whose rocky shore

  The forests murmur, and the surges roar,

  The blameless hero from his wish’d-for home

  A goddess guards in her enchanted dome;

  (Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye

  The wonders of the deep expanded lie;

  The eternal columns which on earth he rears

  End in the starry vault, and prop the spheres).

  By his fair daughter is the chief confined,

  Who soothes to dear delight his anxious mind;

  Successless all her soft caresses prove,

  To banish from his breast his country’s love;

  To see the smoke from his loved palace rise,

  While the dear isle in distant prospect lies,

  With what contentment could he close his eyes!

  And will Omnipotence neglect to save

  The suffering virtue of the wise and brave?

  Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore

  With frequent rites, and pure, avow’d thy power,

  Be doom’d the worst of human ills to prove,

  Unbless’d, abandon’d to the wrath of Jove?”

  “Daughter! what words have pass’d thy lips unweigh’d!

  (Replied the Thunderer to the martial maid;)

  Deem not unjustly by my doom oppress’d,

  Of human race the wisest and the best.

  Neptune, by prayer repentant rarely won,

  Afflicts the chief, to avenge his giant son,

  Whose visual orb Ulysses robb’d of light;

  Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might?

  Him young Thousa bore (the bright increase

  Of Phorcys, dreaded in the sounds and seas);

  Whom Neptune eyed with bloom of beauty bless’d,

  And in his cave the yielding nymph compress’d

  For this the god constrains the Greek to roam,

  A hopeless exile from his native home,

  From death alone exempt — but cease to mourn;

  Let all combine to achieve his wish’d return;

  Neptune atoned, his wrath shall now refrain,

  Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain.”

  “Father and king adored!” Minerva cried,

  “Since all who in the Olympian bower reside

  Now make the wandering Greek their public care,

  Let Hermes to the Atlantic isle repair;

  Bid him, arrived in bright Calypso’s court,

  The sanction of the assembled powers report:

  That wise Ulysses to his native land

  Must speed, obedient to their high command.

  Meantime Telemachus, the blooming heir

  Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care;

  ’Tis mine to form his green, unpractised years

  In sage debates; surrounded with his peers,

  To save the state, and timely to restrain

  The bold intrusion of the suitor-train;

  Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power

  His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour.

  To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste

  Of Sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste.

  There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire

  That from his realm retards his god-like sire;

  Delivering early to the voice of fame

  The promise of a green immortal name.”

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Odysseus’ Visit to the Underworld: Book VI

  Arriving on the shore, and launching, first,

  Our bark into the sacred Deep, we set

  Our mast and sails, and stow’d secure on board

  The ram and ewe, then, weeping, and with hearts

  Sad and disconsolate, embark’d ourselves.

  And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,

  Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,

/>   Pleasant companion of our course, and we

  (The decks and benches clear’d) untoiling sat,

  While managed gales sped swift the bark along. 10

  All day, with sails distended, e’er the Deep

  She flew, and when the sun, at length, declined,

  And twilight dim had shadow’d all the ways,

  Approach’d the bourn of Ocean’s vast profound.

  The city, there, of the Cimmerians stands

  With clouds and darkness veil’d, on whom the sun

  Deigns not to look with his beam-darting eye,

  Or when he climbs the starry arch, or when

  Earthward he slopes again his west’ring wheels,

  But sad night canopies the woeful race. 20

  We haled the bark aground, and, landing there

  The ram and sable ewe, journey’d beside

  The Deep, till we arrived where Circe bade.

  Here, Perimedes’ son Eurylochus

  Held fast the destined sacrifice, while I

  Scoop’d with my sword the soil, op’ning a trench

  Ell-broad on ev’ry side, then pour’d around

  Libation consecrate to all the dead,

  First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine,

  Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all. 30

  This done, adoring the unreal forms

  And shadows of the dead, I vow’d to slay,

  (Return’d to Ithaca) in my own abode,

  An heifer barren yet, fairest and best

  Of all my herds, and to enrich the pile

  With delicacies, such as please the shades.

  But, in peculiar, to the Theban seer

  I vow’d a sable ram, largest and best

  Of all my flocks. When thus I had implored

  With vows and pray’r, the nations of the dead, 40

  Piercing the victims next, I turn’d them both

  To bleed into the trench; then swarming came

  From Erebus the shades of the deceased,

  Brides, youths unwedded, seniors long with woe

  Oppress’d, and tender girls yet new to grief.

  Came also many a warrior by the spear

  In battle pierced, with armour gore-distain’d,

  And all the multitude around the foss

  Stalk’d shrieking dreadful; me pale horror seized.

  I next, importunate, my people urged, 50

 

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