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

by Homer

  No love, no new desire, constrained his soul:

  By snow-bound Tanais and the icy north,

  Far steppes to frost Rhipaean forever wed,

  Alone he wandered, lost Eurydice

  Lamenting, and the gifts of Dis ungiven.

  Scorned by which tribute the Ciconian dames,

  Amid their awful Bacchanalian rites

  And midnight revellings, tore him limb from limb,

  And strewed his fragments over the wide fields.

  Then too, even then, what time the Hebrus stream,

  Oeagrian Hebrus, down mid-current rolled,

  Rent from the marble neck, his drifting head,

  The death-chilled tongue found yet a voice to cry

  ‘Eurydice! ah! poor Eurydice!’

  With parting breath he called her, and the banks

  From the broad stream caught up ‘Eurydice!’”

  So Proteus ending plunged into the deep,

  And, where he plunged, beneath the eddying whirl

  Churned into foam the water, and was gone;

  But not Cyrene, who unquestioned thus

  Bespake the trembling listener: “Nay, my son,

  From that sad bosom thou mayst banish care:

  Hence came that plague of sickness, hence the nymphs,

  With whom in the tall woods the dance she wove,

  Wrought on thy bees, alas! this deadly bane.

  Bend thou before the Dell-nymphs, gracious powers:

  Bring gifts, and sue for pardon: they will grant

  Peace to thine asking, and an end of wrath.

  But how to approach them will I first unfold-

  Four chosen bulls of peerless form and bulk,

  That browse to-day the green Lycaean heights,

  Pick from thy herds, as many kine to match,

  Whose necks the yoke pressed never: then for these

  Build up four altars by the lofty fanes,

  And from their throats let gush the victims’ blood,

  And in the greenwood leave their bodies lone.

  Then, when the ninth dawn hath displayed its beams,

  To Orpheus shalt thou send his funeral dues,

  Poppies of Lethe, and let slay a sheep

  Coal-black, then seek the grove again, and soon

  For pardon found adore Eurydice

  With a slain calf for victim.”

  No delay:

  The self-same hour he hies him forth to do

  His mother’s bidding: to the shrine he came,

  The appointed altars reared, and thither led

  Four chosen bulls of peerless form and bulk,

  With kine to match, that never yoke had known;

  Then, when the ninth dawn had led in the day,

  To Orpheus sent his funeral dues, and sought

  The grove once more. But sudden, strange to tell

  A portent they espy: through the oxen’s flesh,

  Waxed soft in dissolution, hark! there hum

  Bees from the belly; the rent ribs overboil

  In endless clouds they spread them, till at last

  On yon tree-top together fused they cling,

  And drop their cluster from the bending boughs.

  So sang I of the tilth of furrowed fields,

  Of flocks and trees, while Caesar’s majesty

  Launched forth the levin-bolts of war by deep

  Euphrates, and bare rule o’er willing folk

  Though vanquished, and essayed the heights of heaven.

  I Virgil then, of sweet Parthenope

  The nursling, wooed the flowery walks of peace

  Inglorious, who erst trilled for shepherd-wights

  The wanton ditty, and sang in saucy youth

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Aeneid

  Opening of the Epic: Book I

  Translated by John Dryden

  Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc’d by fate,

  And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate,

  Expell’d and exil’d, left the Trojan shore.

  Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,

  And in the doubtful war, before he won

  The Latian realm, and built the destin’d town;

  His banish’d gods restor’d to rites divine,

  And settled sure succession in his line,

  From whence the race of Alban fathers come,

  And the long glories of majestic Rome.

  O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;

  What goddess was provok’d, and whence her hate;

  For what offense the Queen of Heav’n began

  To persecute so brave, so just a man;

  Involv’d his anxious life in endless cares,

  Expos’d to wants, and hurried into wars!

  Can heav’nly minds such high resentment show,

  Or exercise their spite in human woe?

  Against the Tiber’s mouth, but far away,

  An ancient town was seated on the sea;

  A Tyrian colony; the people made

  Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:

  Carthage the name; belov’d by Juno more

  Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.

  Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav’n were kind,

  The seat of awful empire she design’d.

  Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,

  (Long cited by the people of the sky,)

  That times to come should see the Trojan race

  Her Carthage ruin, and her tow’rs deface;

  Nor thus confin’d, the yoke of sov’reign sway

  Should on the necks of all the nations lay.

  She ponder’d this, and fear’d it was in fate;

  Nor could forget the war she wag’d of late

  For conqu’ring Greece against the Trojan state.

  Besides, long causes working in her mind,

  And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;

  Deep graven in her heart the doom remain’d

  Of partial Paris, and her form disdain’d;

  The grace bestow’d on ravish’d Ganymed,

  Electra’s glories, and her injur’d bed.

  Each was a cause alone; and all combin’d

  To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.

  For this, far distant from the Latian coast

  She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;

  And sev’n long years th’ unhappy wand’ring train

  Were toss’d by storms, and scatter’d thro’ the main.

  Such time, such toil, requir’d the Roman name,

  Such length of labor for so vast a frame.

  Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,

  Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,

  Ent’ring with cheerful shouts the wat’ry reign,

  And plowing frothy furrows in the main;

  When, lab’ring still with endless discontent,

  The Queen of Heav’n did thus her fury vent:

  “Then am I vanquish’d? must I yield?” said she,

  “And must the Trojans reign in Italy?

  So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force;

  Nor can my pow’r divert their happy course.

  Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,

  The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?

  She, for the fault of one offending foe,

  The bolts of Jove himself presum’d to throw:

  With whirlwinds from beneath she toss’d the ship,

  And bare expos’d the bosom of the deep;

  Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,

  The wretch, yet hissing with her father’s flame,

  She strongly seiz’d, and with a burning wound

  Transfix’d, and naked, on a rock she bound.

  But I, who walk in awful state above,

  The majesty of heav’n, the sister wife of Jove,

  For length of years my
fruitless force employ

  Against the thin remains of ruin’d Troy!

  What nations now to Juno’s pow’r will pray,

  Or off’rings on my slighted altars lay?”

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Sack of Troy: Book II

  All were attentive to the godlike man,

  When from his lofty couch he thus began:

  “Great queen, what you command me to relate

  Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:

  An empire from its old foundations rent,

  And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;

  A peopled city made a desart place;

  All that I saw, and part of which I was:

  Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,

  Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.

  And now the latter watch of wasting night,

  And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;

  But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,

  And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,

  I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell

  What in our last and fatal night befell.

  “By destiny compell’d, and in despair,

  The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,

  And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,

  Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d:

  The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made

  For their return, and this the vow they paid.

  Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side

  Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:

  With inward arms the dire machine they load,

  And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.

  In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle

  (While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)

  Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,

  Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay.

  There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece

  Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.

  The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,

  Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,

  Like swarming bees, and with delight survey

  The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:

  The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;

  Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;

  Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.

  Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ:

  The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.

  Thymoetes first (‘t is doubtful whether hir’d,

  Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)

  Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,

  To lodge the monster fabric in the town.

  But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,

  The fatal present to the flames designed,

  Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore

  The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.

  The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,

  With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.

  Laocoon, follow’d by a num’rous crowd,

  Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:

  ‘O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?

  What more than madness has possess’d your brains?

  Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?

  And are Ulysses’ arts no better known?

  This hollow fabric either must inclose,

  Within its blind recess, our secret foes;

  Or ‘t is an engine rais’d above the town,

  T’ o’erlook the walls, and then to batter down.

  Somewhat is sure design’d, by fraud or force:

  Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.’

  Thus having said, against the steed he threw

  His forceful spear, which, hissing as flew,

  Pierc’d thro’ the yielding planks of jointed wood,

  And trembling in the hollow belly stood.

  The sides, transpierc’d, return a rattling sound,

  And groans of Greeks inclos’d come issuing thro’ the wound

  And, had not Heav’n the fall of Troy design’d,

  Or had not men been fated to be blind,

  Enough was said and done t’inspire a better mind.

  Then had our lances pierc’d the treach’rous wood,

  And Ilian tow’rs and Priam’s empire stood.

  Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring

  A captive Greek, in bands, before the king;

  Taken to take; who made himself their prey,

  T’ impose on their belief, and Troy betray;

  Fix’d on his aim, and obstinately bent

  To die undaunted, or to circumvent.

  About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;

  All press to see, and some insult the foe.

  Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis’d;

  Behold a nation in a man compris’d.

  Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm’d and bound;

  He star’d, and roll’d his haggard eyes around,

  Then said: ‘Alas! what earth remains, what sea

  Is open to receive unhappy me?

  What fate a wretched fugitive attends,

  Scorn’d by my foes, abandon’d by my friends?’

  He said, and sigh’d, and cast a rueful eye:

  Our pity kindles, and our passions die.

  We cheer youth to make his own defense,

  And freely tell us what he was, and whence:

  What news he could impart, we long to know,

  And what to credit from a captive foe.

  “His fear at length dismiss’d, he said: ‘Whate’er

  My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere:

  I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim;

  Greece is my country, Sinon is my name.

  Tho’ plung’d by Fortune’s pow’r in misery,

  ‘T is not in Fortune’s pow’r to make me lie.

  If any chance has hither brought the name

  Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,

  Who suffer’d from the malice of the times,

  Accus’d and sentenc’d for pretended crimes,

  Because these fatal wars he would prevent;

  Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament-

  Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare

  Of other means, committed to his care,

  His kinsman and companion in the war.

  While Fortune favor’d, while his arms support

  The cause, and rul’d the counsels, of the court,

  I made some figure there; nor was my name

  Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.

  But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,

  Had made impression in the people’s hearts,

  And forg’d a treason in my patron’s name

  (I speak of things too far divulg’d by fame),

  My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,

  In private mourn’d his loss, and left the court.

  Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate

  With silent grief, but loudly blam’d the state,

  And curs’d the direful author of my woes.

  ‘T was told again; and hence my ruin rose.

  I threaten’d, if indulgent Heav’n once more

  Would land me safely on my native shore,

  His death with double vengeance to restore.

  This mov’d the murderer’s hate; and soon ensued

  Th’ effects of malice from a man so proud.

  Ambiguous rumors thro’ the camp he spread,

  And sought, by treason, my devoted head;

  New crimes invented; left unturn’d no stone,

  To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;

  Till Calchas was by force and threat’ni
ng wrought-

  But why- why dwell I on that anxious thought?

  If on my nation just revenge you seek,

  And ‘t is t’ appear a foe, t’ appear a Greek;

  Already you my name and country know;

  Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow:

  My death will both the kingly brothers please,

  And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.’

  This fair unfinish’d tale, these broken starts,

  Rais’d expectations in our longing hearts:

  Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.

  His former trembling once again renew’d,

  With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:

  “‘Long had the Grecians (tir’d with fruitless care,

  And wearied with an unsuccessful war)

  Resolv’d to raise the siege, and leave the town;

  And, had the gods permitted, they had gone;

  But oft the wintry seas and southern winds

  Withstood their passage home, and chang’d their minds.

  Portents and prodigies their souls amaz’d;

  But most, when this stupendous pile was rais’d:

  Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,

  And thunders rattled thro’ a sky serene.

  Dismay’d, and fearful of some dire event,

  Eurypylus t’ enquire their fate was sent.

  He from the gods this dreadful answer brought:

  “O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought,

  Your passage with a virgin’s blood was bought:

  So must your safe return be bought again,

  And Grecian blood once more atone the main.”

  The spreading rumor round the people ran;

  All fear’d, and each believ’d himself the man.

  Ulysses took th’ advantage of their fright;

  Call’d Calchas, and produc’d in open sight:

  Then bade him name the wretch, ordain’d by fate

  The public victim, to redeem the state.

  Already some presag’d the dire event,

  And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.

  For twice five days the good old seer withstood

  Th’ intended treason, and was dumb to blood,

  Till, tir’d, with endless clamors and pursuit

  Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute;

  But, as it was agreed, pronounc’d that I

  Was destin’d by the wrathful gods to die.

  All prais’d the sentence, pleas’d the storm should fall

  On one alone, whose fury threaten’d all.

  The dismal day was come; the priests prepare