The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (43 page)

By Meges’ and Philides’ cares, Amphion, Dracius.

Before the Phthians Medon march’d, and Meneptolemus;

And these, with the Boeotian pow’rs, bore up the fleet’s defence.

Oïleus, by his brother’s side, stood close, and would not thence

For any moment of that time: but as through fallow fields

Black oxen draw a well-join’d plough, and either ev’nly yields

His thrifty labour; all heads couch’d so close to earth, they plow

The fallow with their horns, till out the sweat begins to flow,

The stretch’d yokes crack, and yet at last the furrow forth is driv’n:

So toughly stood these to their task, and made their work as ev’n.

But Ajax Telamonius had many helpful men,

That when sweat ran about his knees, and labour flow’d, would then

Help bear his mighty seven-fold shield: when swift Oïleades

The Locrians left, and would not make those murthrous fights of prease,

Because they wore no bright steel casks, nor bristled plumes for show,

Round shields, nor darts of solid ash, but with the trusty bow,

And jacks well quilted with soft wool, they came to Troy, and were,

In their fit place, as confident as those that fought so near,

And reach’d their foes so thick with shafts, that these were they that brake

The Trojan orders first, and then the brave-arm’d men did make

Good work with their close fights before. Behind whom, having shot,

The Locrians hid still; and their foes all thought of fight forgot

With shows of those far-striking shafts, their eyes were troubled so:

And then, assur’dly, from the ships and tents th’ insulting foe

Had miserably fled to Troy, had not Polydamas

Thus spake to Hector: ‘Hector, still impossible ’tis to pass

Good counsel upon you: but say some god prefers thy deeds,

In counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds.

To some god gives the power of war; to some the sleight to dance;

To some the art of instruments; some doth for voice advance:

And that far-seeing god grants some the wisdom of the mind,

Which no man can keep to himself: that, though but few can find,

Doth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state,

And that, who hath, he best can prize: but, for me, I’ll relate

Only my censure what’s our best. The very crown of war

Doth burn about thee; yet our men, when they have reach’d thus far,

Suppose their valours crown’d, and cease. A few still stir their feet,

And so a few with many fight, spers’d thinly through the fleet.

Retire then, leave speech to the rout, and all thy princes call,

That here in counsels of most weight, we may resolve of all –

If having likelihood to believe that god will conquest give,

We shall charge through, or with this grace, make our retreat, and live:

For I must needs affirm, I fear the debt of yesterday

(Since war is such a god of change) the Grecians now will pay.

And since th’ insatiate man of war remains at fleet, if there

We tempt his safety, no hour more his hot soul can forbear.’

This sound stuff Hector lik’d, approv’d, jump’d from his chariot,

And said: ‘Polydamas, make good this place, and suffer not

One prince to pass it; I myself will there go, where you see

Those friends in skirmish, and return (when they have heard from me

Command that your advice obeys) with utmost speed.’ This said,

With day-bright arms, white plume, white scarf, his goodly limbs array’d,

He parted from them, like a hill removing, all of snow:

And to the Trojan peers and chiefs he flew, to let them know

The counsel of Polydamas. All turn’d, and did rejoice,

To haste to Panthus’ gentle son, being call’d by Hector’s voice.

Who, through the forefights making way, look’d for Deiphobus,

King Hellenus, Asiades, Hyrtasian Asius:

Of whom, some were not to be found unhurt, or undeceas’d,

Some only hurt, and gone from field. As further he address’d,

He found within the fight’s left wing the fair-hair’d Helen’s love,

By all means moving men to blows; which could by no means move

Hector’s forbearance, his friends’ miss so put his pow’rs in storm,

But thus in wonted terms he chid: ‘You with the finest form,

Impostor, woman’s man, where are (in your care mark’d) all these?

Deiphobus, King Hellenus, Asius Hyrtacides,

Othryoneus, Acamas? Now haughty Ilion

Shakes to his lowest groundwork: now just ruin falls upon

Thy head. past rescue.’ He replied: ‘Hector, why chid’st thou now

When I am guiltless? Other times there are for ease, I know,

Than these: for she that brought thee forth not utterly left me

Without some portion of thy spirit, to make me brother thee.

But since thou first brought’st in thy force to this our naval fight,

I and my friends have ceaseless fought, to do thy service right.

But all those friends thou seek’st are slain, excepting Hellenus,

(Who parted wounded in his hand) and so Deiphobus;

Jove yet averted death from them. And now lead thou as far

As thy great heart affects; all we will second any war

That thou endurest. And I hope my own strength is not lost;

Though least, I’ll fight it to his best; not further fights the most.’

This calm’d hot Hector’s spleen; and both turn’d where they saw the face

Of war most fierce: and that was where their friends made good the place

About renown’d Polydamas and god-like Polyphet,

Palmus, Ascanius, Morus, that Hippotion did beget,

And from Ascania’s wealthy fields but even the day before

Arriv’d at Troy, that with their aid they kindly might restore

Some kindness they receiv’d from thence: and in fierce fight with these

Phalces and tall Orthaeus stood, and bold Cebriones.

And then the doubt that in advice Polydamas disclos’d,

To fight or fly, Jove took away, and all to fight dispos’d.

And as the floods of troubled air to pitchy storms increase

That after thunder sweeps the fields, and ravish up the seas,

Encount’ring with abhorred roars, when the engrossed waves

Boil into foam, and endlessly one after other raves:

So rank’d and guarded th’ Ilians march’d, some now, more now, and then

More upon more, in shining steel; now captains, then their men.

And Hector, like man-killing Mars, advanc’d before them all,

His huge round target before him, through thicken’d like a wall,

With hides well couch’d, with store of brass; and on his temples shin’d

His bright helm, on which danc’d his plume: and in this horrid kind,

All hid within his world-like shield, he every troop assay’d

For entry, that in his despite stood firm and undismay’d.

Which when he saw, and kept more off, Ajax came stalking then,

And thus provok’d him: ‘O good man, why fright’st thou thus our men?

Come nearer; not art’s want in war makes us thus navy-bound,

But Jove’s direct scourge; his arm’d hand makes our hands give you ground:

Yet thou hop’st, of thyself, our spoil: but we have likewise hands

To hold our own, as you to spoil: and ere thy countermands

Stand good against our ransack’d fleet, your hugely-peopled town

Our hands shall take in, and her tow’rs from all their heights pull down.

And I must tell thee, time draws on, when flying thou shalt cry

To Jove and all the gods to make thy fair-man’d horses fly

More swift than falcons, that their hoofs may rouse the dust, and bear

Thy body, hid, to Ilion.’ This said, his bold words were

Confirm’d as soon as spoke; Jove’s bird, the high-flown eagle, took

The right hand of their host, whose wings high acclamations strook

From forth the glad breasts of the Greeks. Then Hector made reply:

‘Vain-spoken man, and glorious, what hast thou said? Would I

As surely were the son of Jove, and of great Juno born,

Adorn’d like Pallas, and the god that lifts to earth the morn,

As this day shall bring harmful light to all your host; and thou

(If thou dar’st stand this lance) the earth before the ships shalt strow,

Thy bosom torn up; and the dogs, with all the fowl of Troy,

Be satiate with thy fat and flesh.’ This said, with shouting joy

His first troops follow’d, and the last their shouts with shouts repell’d:

Greece answer’d all, nor could her spirits from all show rest conceal’d.

And to so infinite a height all acclamations strove,

They reach’d the splendours stuck about the unreach’d throne of Jove.

The end of the thirteenth book

Book 14

The Argument

Atrides, to behold the skirmish, brings

Old Nestor, and the other wounded kings.

Juno (receiving of the Cyprian dame

Her Cestus, whence her sweet enticements came)

Descends to Somnus, and gets him to bind

The pow’rs of Jove with sleep, to free her mind.

Neptune assists the Greeks, and of the foe

Slaughter inflicts a mighty overthrow.

Ajax so sore strikes Hector with a stone,

It makes him spit blood, and his sense sets gone.

Another Argument

In
Xi
with sleep and bed, heav’n’s queen

Ev’n Jove himself makes overseen.

Book 14

Nor wine
,
nor feasts, could lay their soft chains on old Nestor’s ear

To this high clamour: who requir’d Machaon’s thoughts to bear

His care in part, about the cause: ‘For methink still,’ said he,

‘The cry increases. I must needs the watchtow’r mount to see

Which way the flood of war doth drive. Still drink thou wine, and eat

Till fair-hair’d Hecamed hath giv’n a little water heat,

To cleanse the quitture from thy wound.’ This said, the goodly shield

Of warlike Thrasimed his son (who had his own in field)

He took, snatch’d up a mighty lance, and so stept forth to view

Cause of that clamour. Instantly, th’ unworthy cause he knew –

The Grecians wholly put in rout, the Trojans routing still,

Close at the Greeks’ backs, their wall raz’d: the old man mourn’d this ill.

And as when with unwieldy waves the great sea forefeels winds,

That both ways murmur, and no way her certain current finds,

But pants and swells confusedly, here goes, and there will stay,

Till on it air casts one firm wind, and then it rolls away:

So stood old Nestor in debate, two thoughts at once on wing

In his discourse, if first to take direct course to the king,

Or to the multitude in fight. At last he did conclude

To visit Agamemnon first: mean time both hosts imbru’d

Their steel in one another’s blood, nought wrought their healths but harms,

Swords, huge stones, double-headed darts, still thumping on their arms.

And now the Jove-kept kings, whose wounds were yet in cure, did meet

Old Nestor: Diomed, Ithacus, and Atreus’ son from fleet,

Bent for the fight, which was far off, the ships being drawn to shore

On heaps at first, till all their sterns a wall was rais’d before;

Which (though not great) it yet sufficed to hide them, though their men

Were something straited; for whose scope, in form of battle then,

They drew them through the spacious shore, one by another still,

Till all the bosom of the strand their sable bulks did fill,

Ev’n till they took up all the space ’twixt both the promontories.

These kings, like Nestor, in desire to know for what those cries

Became so violent, came along (all leaning on their darts)

To see, though not of power to fight; sad and suspicious hearts

Distemp’ring them, and (meeting now Nestor) the king in fear

Cried out: ‘O Nestor our renown! Why shows thy presence here,

The harmful fight abandoned? Now Hector will make good

The threatening vow he made (I fear) that, till he had our blood,

And fir’d our fleet, he never more would turn to Ilion.

Nor is it long, I see, before his whole will will be done.

O gods, I now see all the Greeks put on Achilles’ ire

Against my honour: no mean left to keep our fleet from fire.’

He answer’d: ‘Tis an evident truth, not Jove himself can now

(With all the thunder in his hands) prevent our overthrow.

The wall we thought invincible, and trusted more than Jove,

Is scal’d, raz’d, enter’d, and our pow’rs (driven up) past breathing, prove

A most inevitable fight, both slaughters so commix’d,

That for your life you cannot put your diligent’st thought betwixt

The Greeks and Trojans; and as close their throats cleave to the sky.

Consult we then (if that will serve), for fight advise not I;

It fits not wounded men to fight.’ Atrides answer’d him:

‘If such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tired limb,

And such a dike be past, and raz’d, that (as yourself said well)

We all esteem’d invincible, and would past doubt repell

The world from both our fleet and us, it doth directly show

That here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know

His hand from ours, when he help’d us: and now I see as clear

That (like the blessed gods) he holds our hated enemies dear,

Supports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, ’tis in vain

To strive with him. Our ships drawn up now let us launch again,

And keep at anchor till calm night; that then, perhaps, our foes

May calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose:

“It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night:

Known ill, he better does that flies than he it takes in fight.” ’

Ulysses frown’d on him, and said: ‘Accurst, why talk’st thou thus?

Would thou hadst led some barbarous host, and not commanded us

Whom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly

From any charge it undertakes, and every dazzled eye

The honour’d hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this town

For which our many miseries felt entitle it our own?

Peace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such

As no man’s palate should profane – at least that knew how much

His own right weigh’d, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears

Rule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears –

Let others toil in light and cries, and we so light of heels

Upon their very noise and groans to hoise away our keels.

Thus we should fit the wish of Troy, that being something near

The victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear

A slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain

A stroke, the fleet gone, but at that look still, and wish him slain:

And therefore (prince of men) be sure, thy censure is unfit.’

‘O Ithacus!’ replied the king, ‘thy bitter terms have smit

My heart in sunder. At no hand, ’gainst any prince’s will

Do I command this; would to god that any man of skill

To give a better counsel would, or old or younger man;

My voice should gladly go with his.’ Then Diomed began:

‘The man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in,

That willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win

Fit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them,

Being youngest of you – since my sire that heir’d a diadem

May make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he

Lies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree:

Portheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calidon

And Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitation.

Agrius, Melus, and the third, the horseman Oeneus,

My father’s father, that excell’d in actions generous

The other two; but these kept home, my father being driv’n

With wand’ring and advent’rous spirits; for so the king of heav’n

And th’ other gods set down their wills: and he to Argos came,

Where he began the world, and dwelt; there marrying a dame,

One of Adrastus’ female race, he kept a royal house,

For he had great demesnes, good land, and being industrious,

He planted many orchard-grounds about his house, and bred

Great store of sheep. Besides all this, he was well qualitied,

And past all Argives for his spear: and these digressive things

Are such as you may well endure, since (being derived from kings,

And kings not poor, nor virtueless) you cannot hold me base,

Nor scorn my words: which oft, though true, in mean men meet disgrace.

However, they are these in short. Let us he seen at fight,

And yield to strong necessity, though wounded, that our sight

May set those men on, that of late have to Achilles’ spleen

Been too indulgent, and left blows: but be we only seen,

Not come within the reach of darts, lest wound on wound we lay

(Which reverend Nestor’s speech implied), and so far him obey.

This counsel gladly all observ’d, went on, Atrides led.

Nor Neptune this advantage lost, but closely followed,

And like an aged man appear’d t’ Atrides, whose right hand

He seiz’d, and said: ‘Atrides, this doth passing fitly stand

With stern Achilles’ wreakful spirit, that he can stand astern

His ship, and both in fight and death the Grecian bane discern,

Since not in his breast glows one spark of any human mind:

But be that his own bane; let god by that loss make him find

How vile a thing he is; for know, the blest gods have not giv’n

Thee ever over, but perhaps the Trojans may from heav’n

Receive that justice. Nay, ’tis sure, and thou shalt see their falls,

Your fleet soon freed, and for fights here, they glad to take their walls.’

This said, he made known who he was, and parted with a cry,

As if ten thousand men had join’d in battle then, so high

His throat flew through the host: and so this great Earth-shaking god

Cheer’d up the Greek hearts, that they wish their pains no period.

Saturnia from Olympus’ top saw her great brother there,

And her great husband’s brother, too, exciting everywhere

The glorious spirits of the Greeks, which as she joy’d to see,

So, on the fountful Ida’s top, Jove’s sight did disagree

With her contentment, since she fear’d that his hand would descend,

And check the Sea-god’s practices. And this she did contend

How to prevent, which thus seem’d best: to deck her curiously,

And visit the Idalian hill, so that the Lightner’s eye

She might enamour with her looks, and his high temples steep

(Even to his wisdom) in the kind and golden juice of sleep.

So took she chamber which her son, the god of ferrary,

With firm doors made, being joined close, and with a privy key

That no god could command but Jove, where, enter’d, she made fast

The shining gates, and then upon her lovely body cast

Ambrosia, that first made it clear, and after laid on it

An odorous, rich and sacred oil, that was so wondrous sweet

That ever, when it was but touch’d, it sweeten’d heav’n and earth.

Her body being cleans’d with this, her tresses she let forth,

And comb’d (her comb dipp’d in the oil), then wrapp’d them up in curls:

And thus, her deathless head adorn’d, a heavenly veil she hurls

On her white shoulders, wrought by her that rules in housewi
f
’
ries,

Who wove it full of antique works, of most divine device.

And this with goodly clasps of gold she fasten’d to her breast,

Then with a girdle, whose rich sphere a hundred studs impress’d,

She girt her small waist. In her ears, tenderly pierc’d, she wore

Pearls, great and orient: on her head, a wreath not worn before

Cast beams out like the sun. At last, she to her feet did tie

Fair shoes, and thus entire attir’d she shin’d in open sky,

Call’d the fair Paphian queen apart from th’ other gods, and said:

‘Lov’d daughter, should I ask a grace, should I or be obey’d

Or wouldst thou cross me, being incens’d, since I cross thee, and take

The Greeks’ part, thy hand helping Troy?’ She answer’d, ‘That shall make

No difference in a different cause: ask, ancient deity,

What most contents thee; my mind stands inclin’d as liberally

To grant it as thine own to ask, provided that it be

A favour fit and in my pow’r.’ She, giv’n deceitfully,

Thus said: ‘Then give me those two pow’rs, with which both men and gods

Thou vanquishest, Love and Desire. For now the periods

Of all the many-feeding earth, and the original

Of all the gods, Oceanus, and Thetis, whom we call

Our mother, I am going to greet: they nurst me in their court,

And brought me up, receiving me in most respectful sort

From Phaea, when Jove under earth and the unfruitful seas

Cast Saturn. These I go to see, intending to appease

Jars grown betwixt them, having long abstain’d from speech and bed.

Which jars could I so reconcile, that in their anger’s stead

I could place love, and so renew their first society,

I should their best lov’d be esteem’d, and honour’d endlessly.’

She answer’d: ‘Tis not fit nor just thy will should be denied,

Whom Jove in his embraces holds.’ This spoken, she untied

And from her odorous bosom took her Ceston, in whose sphere

Were all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,

Kind conference, fair speech, whose pow’r the wisest doth inflame:

This, she resigning to her hands, thus urg’d her by her name:

‘Receive this bridle, thus fair wrought, and put it ’twixt thy breasts,

Where all things to be done are done; and whatsoever rests

In thy desire, return with it.’ The great-ey’d Juno smil’d,

And put it ’twixt her breasts. Love’s queen, thus cunningly beguil’d,

To Jove’s court flew. Saturnia (straight stooping from heaven height)

Pieria and Emathia (those countries of delight)

Soon reach’d, and to the snowy mounts where Thracian soldiers dwell

Approaching, pass’d their tops untouch’d. From Athos then she fell,

Pass’d all the broad sea, and arriv’d in Lemnos, at the tow’rs

Of godlike Thoas; where she met the prince of all men’s pow’rs,

Death’s brother Sleep, whose hand she took, and said: ‘Thou king of men,

Prince of the gods too, if before thou heard’st my suits, again

Give helpful ear, and through all times I’ll offer thanks to thee.

Lay slumber on Jove’s fiery eyes, that I may comfort me

With his embraces: for which grace I’ll grace thee with a throne

Incorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done

By Mulciber, to which he forg’d a footstool for the ease

Of thy soft feet, when wine and feasts thy golden humours please.’

Sweet Sleep replied: ‘Saturnia, there lives not any god

(Besides Jove) but I would becalm: ay, if it were the flood