The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (56 page)

As well as with renowned arms to fit his goodly limb;

Which thy hands shall convey to him, and all eyes shall admire,

See, and desire again to see thy satisfied desire.’

This said, he left her there, and forth did to his bellows go,

Appos’d them to the fire again, commanding them to blow.

Through twenty holes made to his hearth at once blew twenty pair,

That fir’d his coals, sometimes with soft, sometimes with vehement air

As he will’d, and his work requir’d. Amidst the flame he cast

Tin, silver, precious gold, and brass; and in the stock he plac’d

A mighty anvil; his right hand a weighty hammer held,

His left his tongs. And first he forg’d a strong and spacious shield

Adorn’d with twenty several hues, about whose verge he beat

A ring, three-fold and radiant; and on the back he set

A silver handle; five-fold were the equal lines he drew

About the whole circumference, in which his hand did shew

(Directed with a knowing mind) a rare variety:

For in it he represented earth; in it, the sea and sky;

In it, the never-wearied sun, the moon exactly round,

And all those stars with which the brows of ample heaven are crown’d –

Orion, all the Pleiades, and those seven Atlas got,

The close-beam’d Hyades, the Bear, surnam’d the Chariot,

That turns about heaven’s axle-tree, holds ope a constant eye

Upon Orion, and of all the cressets in the sky

His golden forehead never bows to th’ Ocean empery.

Two cities in the spacious field he built with goodly state,

Of divers-languag’d men: the one did nuptials celebrate,

Observing at them solemn feasts; the brides from forth their bow’rs

With torches usher’d through the streets; a world of paramours

Excited by them, youths and maids, in lovely circles danc’d,

To whom the merry pipe and harp the spriteful sounds advanc’d,

The matrons standing in their doors admiring. Other where

A solemn court of law was kept, where throngs of people were:

The case in question was a fine impos’d on one that slew

The friend of him that follow’d it, and for the fine did sue,

Which th’ other pleaded he had paid. The adverse part denied,

And openly affirm’d he had no penny satisfied.

Both put it to arbiterment; the people cried ’twas best

For both parts, and th’ assistants too gave their dooms like the rest.

The heralds made the people peace: the seniors then did bear

The voiceful heralds’ sceptres, sate within a sacred sphere,

On polish’d stones, and gave by turns their sentence. In the court

Two talents of gold were cast, for him that judg’d in justest sort.

The other city other wars employ’d as busily.

Two armies glittering in arms, of one confederacy,

Besieg’d it; and a parley had with those within the town;

Two ways they stood resolv’d: to see the city overthrown,

Or that the citizens should heap in two parts all their wealth,

And give them half. They neither lik’d, but arm’d themselves by stealth;

Left all their old men, wives, and boys behind to man their walls,

And stole out to their enemy’s town. The queen of martials

And Mars himself conducted them; both which, being forg’d of gold,

Must needs have golden furniture, and men might so behold

They were presented deities. The people Vulcan forg’d

Of meaner metal. When they came where that was to be urg’d

For which they went, within a vale close to a flood, whose stream

Us’d to give all their cattle drink, they there enambush’d them,

And sent two scouts out to descry when th’ enemy’s herds and sheep

Were setting out: they straight came forth, with two that us’d to keep

Their passage always; both which pip’d, and went on merrily,

Nor dream’d of ambuscados there. The ambush then let fly,

Slew all their white-fleec’d sheep and neat, and by them laid their guard.

When those in siege before the town so strange an uproar heard,

Behind, amongst their flocks and herds (being then in counsel set),

They then start up, took horse, and soon their subtle enemy met,

Fought with them on the river’s shore, where both gave mutual blows

With well-pil’d darts. Amongst them all, perverse Contention rose,

Amongst them Tumult was enrag’d; amongst them ruinous Fate

Had her red finger; some they took in an unhurt estate,

Some hurt, yet living, some quite slain: and those they tugg’d to them

By both the feet, stripp’d off and took their weeds, with all the stream

Of blood upon them, that their steels had manfully let out.

They far’d as men alive indeed, drew dead indeed about.

To these the fiery artisan did add a new-ear’d field,

Large and thrice plough’d, the soil being soft and of a wealthy yield;

And many men at plough he made, that drave earth here and there,

And turn’d up stitches orderly; at whose end when they were,

A fellow ever gave their hands full cups of luscious wine,

Which emptied, for another stitch the earth they undermine,

And long till th’ utmost bound be reach’d of all the ample close:

The soil turn’d up behind the plough all black like earth arose,

Though forg’d of nothing else but gold, and lay in show as light

As if it had been plough’d indeed, miraculous to sight.

There grew by this a field of corn: high, ripe, where reapers wrought,

And let thick handfuls fall to earth; for which some other brought

Bands, and made sheaves. Three binders stood, and took the handfuls reap’d

From boys that gather’d quickly up; and by them armfuls heap’d.

Amongst these at a furrow’s end the king stood pleas’d at heart,

Said no word, but his sceptre show’d. And from him, much apart,

His harvest-bailiffs underneath an oak a feast prepar’d:

And having kill’d a mighty ox, stood there to see him shar’d,

Which women for their harvest folks (then come to sup) had dress’d,

And many white wheat cakes bestow’d, to make it up a feast.

He set near this a vine of gold, that crack’d beneath the weight

Of bunches, black with being ripe, to keep which at the height,

A silver rail ran all along, and round about it flow’d

An azure moat; and to this guard a quickset was bestow’d

Of tin, one only path to all, by which the pressmen came

In time of vintage: youths and maids, that bore not yet the flame

Of manly Hymen, baskets bore of grapes and mellow fruit.

A lad that sweetly touch’d a harp, to which his voice did suit,

Center’d the circles of that youth, all whose skill could not do

The wanton’s pleasure to their minds, that danced, sung, whistled too.

A herd of oxen then he carv’d, with high rais’d heads, forg’d all

Of gold and tin (for colour mix’d), and bellowing from their stall,

Rush’d to their pastures at a flood that echo’d all their throats,

Exceeding swift and full of reeds; and all in yellow coats

Four herdsmen follow’d, after whom nine mastiffs went. In head

Of all the herd, upon a bull, that deadly bellowed,

Two horrid lions rampt, and seiz’d, and tugg’d off bellowing still;

Both men and dogs came, yet they tore the hide, and lapp’d their fill

Of black blood, and the entrails ate. In vain the men assay’d

To set their dogs on: none durst pinch, but cur-like stood and bay’d

In both the faces of their kings, and all their onsets fled.

Then in a passing pleasant vale the famous artsman fed

(Upon a goodly pasture ground) rich flocks of white-fleec’d sheep,

Built stables, cottages, and cotes, that did the shepherds keep

From wind and weather. Next to these he cut a dancing place,

All full of turnings, that was like the admirable maze

For fair-hair’d Ariadne made by cunning Daedalus;

And in it youths and virgins danc’d, all young and beauteous,

And glewed in another’s palms. Weeds that the wind did toss

The virgins wore, the youths wov’n coats, that cast a faint dim gloss,

Like that of oil. Fresh garlands too the virgins’ temples crown’d;

The youths gilt swords wore at their thighs, with silver bawdrics bound.

Sometimes all wound close in a ring, to which as fast they spun

As any wheel a turner makes, being tried how it will run,

While he is set, and out again as full of speed they wound,

Not one left fast, or breaking hands. A multitude stood round,

Delighted with their nimble sport: to end which two begun

(Midst all) a song, and turning sung the sport’s conclusion.

All this he circled in the shield, with pouring round about

(In all his rage) the ocean, that it might never out.

This shield thus done, he forg’d for him such curets as outshin’d

The blaze of fire; a helmet then (through which no steel could find

Forc’d passage) he compos’d, whose hue a hundred colours took,

And in the crest a plume of gold, that each breath stirr’d, he stuck.

All done, he all to Thetis brought, and held all up to her;

She took them all, and, like the hawk surnam’d the osspringer,

From Vulcan to her mighty son, with that so glorious show,

Stoop’d from the steep Olympian hill, hid in eternal snow.

The end of the eighteenth book

Book 19

The Argument

Thetis presenting armour to her son,

He calls a court, with full reflection

Of all his wrath; takes of the king of men

Free-offer’d gifts. All take their breakfast then;

He (only fasting) arms, and brings abroad

The Grecian host. And (hearing the abode

Of his near death by Xanthus prophesied)

The horse for his so bold presage doth chide.

Another Argument

Tau
gives the anger period,

And great Achilles comes abroad.

Book 19

The moon arose, and from the ocean in her saffron robe

Gave light to all, as well to gods as men of th’ under globe.

Thetis stoop’d home, and found the prostrate person of her son

About his friend, still pouring out himself in passion,

A number more being heavy consorts to him in his cares:

Amongst them all Thetis appear’d, and (sacred comforters)

Made these short words: ‘Though we must grieve, yet bear it thus, my son:

It was no man that prostrated in this sad fashion

Thy dearest friend; it was a god that first laid on his hand,

Whose will is law: the gods’ decrees no human must withstand.

Do thou embrace this fabric of a god, whose hand before

Ne’er forg’d the like, and such as yet no human shoulder wore.’

Thus (setting down), the precious metal of the arms was such

That all the room rung with the weight of every slend’rest touch.

Cold tremblings took the Myrmidons; none durst sustain, all fear’d

T’ oppose their eyes. Achilles yet, as soon as they appear’d,

Stern Anger enter’d. From his eyes (as if the day-star rose)

A radiance, terrifying men, did all the state enclose.

At length he took into his hands the rich gift of the god,

And (much pleas’d to behold the art that in the shield he show’d)

He brake forth into this applause: ‘O mother, these right well

Show an immortal finger’s touch; man’s hand must never deal

With arms again. Now I will arm; yet (that no honour make

My friend forgotten) I much fear, lest with the blows of flies

His brass-inflicted wounds are fil’d; life gone, his person lies

All apt to putrefaction.’ She bade him doubt no harm

Of those offences; she would care to keep the petulant swarm

Of flies (that usually taint the bodies of the slain)

From his friend’s person: though a year the earth’s top should sustain

His slaughter’d body, it should still rest sound, and rather hold

A better state than worse, since time that death first made him cold.

And so bade call a council, to dispose of new alarms,

Where (to the king that was the pastor of that flock in arms)

He should depose all anger, and put on a fortitude

Fit for his arms. All this his pow’rs with dreadful strength indu’d.

She, with her fair hand, still’d into the nostrils of his friend

Red nectar and ambrosia, with which she did defend

The corse from putrefaction. He trod along the shore,

And summon’d all th’ heroic Greeks, with all that spent before

The time in exercise with him; the masters, pilots too,

Vict’lers, and all: all, when they saw Achilles summon so,

Swarm’d to the council, having long left the laborious wars.

To all these came two halting kings, true servitors of Mars,

Tydides and wise Ithacus, both leaning on their spears,

Their wound still painful, and both these sate first of all the peers.

The last come was the king of men, sore wounded with the lance

Of Coon Antenorides. All set, the first in utterance

Was Thetis’ son, who rose and said: ‘Atrides, had not this

Conferr’d most profit to us both, when both our enmities

Consum’d us so, and for a wench – whom when I choos’d for prize

(In laying Lyrnessus’ ruin’d walls amongst our victories),

I would to heav’n (as first she set her dainty foot aboard)

Diana’s hand had tumbled off, and with a javelin gor’d.

For then th’ unmeasurable earth had not so thick been gnawn

(In death’s convulsions) by our friends, since my affects were drawn

To such distemper. To our foe, and to our foe’s chief friend,

Our jar brought profit: but the Greeks will never give an end

To thought of what it prejudic’d them: past things, yet past our aid.

Fit grief for what wrath rul’d in them, must make th’ amends repaid

With that necessity of love that now forbids our ire,

Which I with free affects obey. ’Tis for the senseless fire

Still to be burning, having stuff; but men must curb rage still,

Being fram’d with voluntary pow’rs as well to check the will

As give it reins. Give you then charge, that for our instant fight

The Greeks may follow me to field, to try if still the night

Will bear out Trojans at our ships. I hope there is some one

Amongst their chief encouragers will thank me to be gone,

And bring his heart down to his knees in that submission.’

The Greeks rejoic’d to hear the heart of Peleus’ mighty son

So qualified. And then the king (not rising from his throne,

For his late hurt), to get good ear, thus order’d his reply:

‘Princes of Greece, your states shall suffer no indignity,

If (being far of
f
) ye stand and hear, nor fits it such as stand

At greater distance, to disturb the counsel now in hand

By uproar, in their too much care of hearing. Some, of force,

Must lose some words: for hard it is in such a great concourse

(Though hearers’ ears be ne’er so sharp) to touch at all things spoke.

And in assemblies of such trust, how can a man provoke

Fit pow’r to hear, or leave to speak? Best auditors may there

Lose fittest words, and the most vocal orator fit ear.

My main end, then, to satisfy Pelides with reply,

My words shall prosecute. To him my speech especially

Shall bear direction. Yet I wish the court in general

Would give fit ear; my speech shall need attention of all.

Oft have our peers of Greece much blam’d my forcing of the prize

Due to Achilles, of which act not I, but destinies,

And Jove himself, and black Erinys (that casts false mists still

Betwixt us and our actions done, both by her pow’r and will)

Are authors: what could I do then? The very day and hour

Of our debate that Fury stole in that act on my pow’r.

And more: all things are done by Strife; that ancient seed of Jove,

Ate, that hurts all, perfects all: her feet are soft, and move

Not on the earth; they bear her still aloft men’s heads, and there

She harmful hurts them. Nor was I alone her prisoner –

Jove (best of men and gods) hath been. Not he himself hath gone

Beyond her fetters: no, she made a woman put them on.

For when Alcmena was to vent the force of Hercules

In well-wall’d Thebes, thus Jove triumph’d: “Hear, gods and goddesses,

The words my joys urg’d: in this day, Lucina (bringing pain

To labouring women) shall produce into the light of men

A man that all his neighbour kings shall in his empire hold,

And vaunt that more than manly race, whose honour’d veins enfold

My eminent blood.” Saturnia conceiv’d a present sleight,

And urg’d confirmance of his vaunt, t’ infringe it; her conceit

In this sort urg’d: “Thou wilt not hold thy word with this rare man,

Or if thou wilt, confirm it with the oath Olympian,

That whosoever falls this day betwixt a woman’s knees,

Of those men’s stocks that from thy blood derive their pedigrees,

Shall all his neighbour towns command.” Jove (ignorant of fraud)

Took that great oath, which his great ill gave little cause t’ applaud.

Down from Olympus top she stoop’d, and quickly reach’d the place

In Argos, where the famous wife of Sthenelus (whose race

He fetch’d from Jove, by Perseus) dwelt. She was but seven months gone

With issue, yet she brought it forth; Alcmena’s matchless son

Delay’d from light, Saturnia repress’d the teeming throes

Of his great mother. Up to heav’n she mounts again, and shows

(In glory) her deceit to Jove. “Bright-lightning Jove,” said she,

“Now th’ Argives have an emperor; a son deriv’d from thee

Is born to Persean Sthenelus; Eurystheus his name,

Noble and worthy of the rule thou swor’st to him.” This came

Close to the heart of Jupiter, and Ate that had wrought

This anger by Saturnia, by her bright hair he caught,

Held down her head, and over her made this infallible vow:

That never to the cope of stars should reascend that brow,

Being so infortunate to all. Thus, swinging her about,

He cast her from the fiery heav’n, who ever since thrust out

Her fork’d sting in th’ affairs of men. Jove ever since did grieve,

Since his dear issue Hercules did by his vow achieve

The unjust toils of Eurystheus: thus fares it now with me,

Since under Hector’s violence the Grecian progeny

Fell so unfitly by my spleen, whose falls will ever stick

In my griev’d thoughts. My weakness yet (Saturnius making sick

The state my mind held) now recur’d, th’ amends shall make ev’n weight

With my offence, and therefore rouse thy spirits to the fight

With all thy forces; all the gifts propos’d thee at thy tent

(Last day) by royal Ithacus, my officers shall present;

And (if it like thee) strike no stroke (though never so on thorns

Thy mind stands to thy friend’s revenge) till my command adorns

Thy tents and coffers with such gifts as well may let thee know

How much I wish thee satisfied.’ He answer’d: ‘Let thy vow,

Renown’d Atrides, at thy will be kept (as justice would),

Or keep thy gifts; ’tis all in thee. The council now we hold

Is for repairing our main field with all our fortitude.

My fair show made brooks no retreat, nor must delays delude

Our deed’s expectance. Yet undone the great work is, all eyes

Must see Achilles in first fight, depeopling enemies,

As well as counsel it in court, that every man set on

May choose his man to imitate my exercise upon.’

Ulysses answer’d: ‘Do not yet, thou man made like the gods,

Take fasting men to field: suppose, that whatsoever odds

It brings against them, with full men, thy boundless eminence

Can amply answer; yet refrain to tempt a violence.

The conflict wearing out our men was late, and held as long;

Wherein, though most Jove stood for Troy, he yet made our part strong

To bear that most. But ’twas to bear, and that breeds little heart.

Let wine and bread then add to it; they help the twofold part,

The soul and body in a man, both force and fortitude.

All day men cannot fight, and fast, though never so indu’d

With minds to fight; for that suppos’d, there lurks yet secretly

Thirst, hunger, in th’ oppressed joints; which no mind can supply.

They take away a marcher’s knees. Men’s bodies throughly fed,

Their minds share with them in their strength; and (all day combated)

One stirs not, till you call off all. Dismiss them then to meat,

And let Atrides tender here, in sight of all his seat,

The gifts he promis’d. Let him swear before us all, and rise

To that oath, that he never touch’d in any wanton wise

The lady he enforc’d. Besides, that he remains in mind

As chastely satisfied, not touch’d or privily inclin’d

With future vantages. And last, ’tis fit he should approve

All these rites at a solemn feast, in honour of your love,

That so you take no mangled law for merits absolute.

And thus the honours you receive, resolving the pursuit

Of your friend’s quarrel, well will quit your sorrow for your friend.

And thou, Atrides, in the taste of so severe an end,

Hereafter may on others hold a juster government.

Nor will it aught impair a king to give a sound content

To any subject soundly wrong’d.’ ‘I joy,’ replied the king,

‘O Laertiades, to hear thy liberal counselling;

In which is all decorum kept, nor any point lacks touch,

That might be thought on to conclude a reconcilement such

As fits example, and us two. My mind yet makes me swear,

Not your impulsion. And that mind shall rest so kind and clear,

That I will not forswear to god. Let then Achilles stay

(Though never so inflam’d for fight), and all men here I pray

To stay, till from my tents these gifts be brought here, and the truce

At all parts finish’d before all. And thou of all I choose,

Divine Ulysses, and command to choose of all your host

Youths of most honour, to present to him we honour most

The gifts we late vow’d, and the dames. Mean space about our tents

Talthybius shall provide a boar, to crown these kind events

With thankful sacrifice to Jove, and to the god of light.’

Achilles answer’d: ‘These affairs will show more requisite,

Great king of men, some other time, when our more free estates

Yield fit cessation from the war, and when my spleen abates;

But now (to all our shames besides) our friends by Hector slain

(And Jove to friend) lie unfetch’d off. Haste, then, and meat your men,

Though I must still say, my command would lead them fasting forth,

And all together feast at night. Meat will be something worth

When stomachs first have made it way with venting infamy

(And other sorrows late sustain’d) with long’d-for wreaks, that lie

Heavy upon them, for right’s sake. Before which load be got

From off my stomach, meat nor drink, I vow, shall down my throat,

My friend being dead, who digg’d with wounds, and bor’d through both his feet,

Lies in the entry of my tent, and in the tears doth fleet

Of his associates. Meat and drink have little merit then

To comfort me, but blood and death, and deadly groans of men.’

The great in counsels yet made good his former counsels thus:

‘O Peleus’ son, of all the Greeks by much most valorous,