The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (57 page)

Better and mightier than myself, no little, with thy lance,

I yield thy worth; in wisdom yet no less I dare advance

My right above thee, since above in years, and knowing more.

Let then thy mind rest in thy words, we quickly shall have store,

And all satiety of fight; whose steel heaps store of straw,

And little corn upon a floor, when Jove (that doth withdraw,

And join all battles) once begins t’ incline his balances

In which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not press

To mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that

In healthful men that mourn for friends. His steel we stumble at,

And fall at, every day you see sufficient store, and fast.

What hour is it that any breathes? We must not use more haste

Than speed holds fit for our revenge: nor should we mourn too much.

Who dead is, must be buried; men’s patience should be such

That one day’s moan should serve one man: the dead must end with death,

And life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their breath

From death in fight, the more should eat, that so they may supply

Their fellows that have stuck in field, and fight incessantly.

Let none expect reply to this, nor stay; for this shall stand

Or fall with some offence to him that looks for new command,

Whoever in dislike holds back. All join then, all things fit

Allow’d for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.’

This said, he chose (for noblest youths to bear the presents) these:

The sons of Nestor, and with them renown’d Meriones,

Phylidas, Thoas, Lycomed, and Meges, all which went

(And Melanippus following Ulysses) to the tent

Of Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed

Had join’d effect: the fitness well was answer’d in the speed.

The presents added to the dame the general did enforce,

Were twenty cauldrons, tripods seven, twelve young and goodly horse;

Seven ladies excellently seen in all Minerva’s skill;

The eighth, Briseis, who had pow’r to ravish every will;

Twelve talents of the finest gold, all which Ulysses weigh’d,

And carried first; and after him the other youths convey’d

The other presents, tender’d all in face of all the court.

Up rose the king. Talthybius (whose voice had a report

Like to a god) call’d to the rites; there, having brought the boar,

Atrides with his knife took sey upon the part before;

And lifting up his sacred hands to Jove, to make his vows,

Grave silence struck the complete court, when (casting his high brows

Up to the broad heav’n) thus he spake: ‘Now witness Jupiter,

First, highest and thou best of gods, thou earth, that all dost bear,

Thou sun, ye Furies under earth, that every soul torment

Whom impious perjury distains – that nought incontinent

In bed, or any other act, to any slend’rest touch

Of my light vows hath wrong’d the dame; and let my plagues be such

As are inflicted by the gods in all extremity

On whomsoever perjur’d men, if godless perjury

In least degree dishonour me.’ This said, the bristled throat

Of the submitted sacrifice with ruthless steel he cut;

Which straight into the hoary sea Talthybius cast, to feed

The sea-born nation. Then stood up the half-celestial seed

Of fair-hair’d Thetis, strength’ning thus Atrides’ innocence:

‘O father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence

Of all man’s ill; for now I see the mighty king of men

At no hand forc’d away my prize, nor first inflam’d my spleen

With any set ill in himself; but thou, the king of gods

(Incens’d with Greece) made that the mean to all their periods,

Which now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages

To what wise Ithacus advis’d. Take breakfasts, and address

For instant conflict.’ Thus he rais’d the court, and all took way

To several ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convey

T’ Achilles fleet, and in his tents dispos’d them, doing grace

Of seat and all rites to the dames, the horses put in place

With others of Aeacides. When (like love’s golden queen)

Briseis all in ghastly wounds had dead Patroclus seen,

She fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore

Her hair, breasts, radiant cheeks; and, drown’d in warm tears, did deplore

His cruel destiny. At length she gat pow’r to express

Her violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:

‘O good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,

I (wretched dame) departing hence, enforc’d and dying sad,

Left thee alive, when thou hadst cheer’d my poor captivity;

And now return’d, I find thee dead, misery on misery

Ever increasing with my steps. The lord to whom my sire

And dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life’s fire

I saw before our city gates extinguish’d; and his fate

Three of my worthy brothers’ lives, in one womb generate,

Felt all in that black day of death. And when Achilles’ hand

Had slain all these, and ras’d the town Mynetes did command

(All cause of never-ending griefs presented), thou took’st all

On thy endeavour to convert to joy as general,

Affirming he that hurt should heal, and thou wouldst make thy friend

(Brave captain that thou wert) supply my vowed husband’s end,

And in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,

Our nuptial banquets; for which grace, with these most worthy moans

I never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,

Ever delightsome, one sweet grace fed still with one sweet mind.’

Thus spake she weeping, and with her did th’ other ladies moan

Patroclus’ fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their own.

About Aeacides himself the kings of Greece were plac’d,

Entreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast

(Still intermixing words and sighs), if any friend were there

Of all his dearest, they would cease, and offer him no cheer

But his due sorrows; for before the sun had left that sky

He would not eat, but of that day sustain th’ extremity.

Thus all the kings (in resolute grief and fasting) he dismiss’d;

But both th’ Atrides, Ithacus, and war’s old martialist,

Idomenaeus and his friend, and Phoenix, these remain’d

Endeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow’d woe restrain’d –

Nor could, till that day’s bloody fight had calm’d his blood; he still

Remember’d something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.

Their urging meat, the diligent fashion of his friend renew’d

In that excitement: ‘Thou,’ said he, ‘when this speed was pursued

Against the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent

A pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,

Thou mad’st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe,

But now to me, thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow.

For which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.

Nothing could more afflict me: fame relating the foul deed

Of my dear father’s slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son’s heart,

No more could wound me. Cursed man, that in this foreign part

(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire and son,

I thus should part with. Scyros now gives education,

O Neoptelemus, to thee (if living yet), from whence

I hop’d, dear friend, thy longer life (safely return’d from hence,

And my life quitting thine) had pow’r to ship him home, and show

His young eyes Phthia, subjects, court – my father being now

Dead, or most short-liv’d, troublous age oppressing him, and fear

Still of my death’s news.’ These sad words he blew into the ear

Of every visitant, with sighs, all echo’d by the peers,

Rememb’ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears

Jove pitied: and since they all would in the good of one

Be much reviv’d, he thus bespake Minerva: ‘Thetis’ son

Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles ’care

Extinguish’d in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare

He lies before his high-sail’d fleet, for his dead friend; the rest

Are strength’ning them with meat, but he lies desperately oppress’d

With heartless fasting: go thy ways, and to his breast instil

Red nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill

To his near enterprise.’ This spur he added to the free;

And like a harpy (with a voice that shrieks so dreadfully,

And feathers that like needles prick) she stoop’d through all the stars

Amongst the Grecians; all whose tents were now fill’d for the wars.

Her seres struck through Achilles’ tent, and closely she instill’d

Heaven’s most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill’d

His sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast

Should creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas’t.

The host set forth, and pour’d his steel waves far out of the fleet.

And as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet

That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending:

So thick helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending,

Flow’d from the navy’s hollow womb; their splendours gave heav’n’s eye

His beams again; earth laugh’d to see her face so like the sky,

Arms shin’d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast –

She thunder’d, feet of men and horse importun’d her so fast.

In midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm’d,

His teeth gnash’d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm’d,

Unsuffer’d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin’d.

His greaves first us’d, his goodly curets on his bosom, shin’d,

His sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon:

And as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire, let run

By herdsmen’s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrastling flame,

Which being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came

To give it quench; at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends

Driv’n off with tempests: such a fire from his bright shield extends

His ominous radiance, and in heav’n impress’d his fervent blaze.

His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place

On his curl’d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray,

About which a bright thick’ned bush of golden hair did play,

Which Vulcan forg’d him for his plume. Thus complete arm’d, he tried

How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide

Their brave instruction: and so far they were from hind’ring it,

That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit

That from the earth the princely captain they took up to air.

Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father’s spear,

Huge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone

Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion,

From whose height Chiron hew’d it for his sire, and fatal ’twas

To great-soul’d men – of Pelion surnamed Pelias.

Then from the stable their bright horse Automedon withdraws,

And Alcymus put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws

Their bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat.

The fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get

To guide the horse: the fight’s seat last Achilles took behind,

Who look’d so arm’d as if the sun there fall’n from heaven had shin’d,

And terribly thus charg’d his steeds: ‘Xanthus and Balius,

Seed of the harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us,

Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field,

But when with blood, for this day’s fast observ’d, revenge shall yield

Our heart satiety, bring us off.’ Thus, since Achilles spake

As if his aw’d steeds understood, ’twas Juno’s will to make

Vocal the palate of the one, who shaking his fair head

(Which in his mane, let fall to earth, he almost buried),

Thus Xanthus spake: ‘Ablest Achilles, now (at least) our care

Shall bring thee off; but not far hence the fatal minutes are

Of thy grave ruin. Nor shall we be then to be reprov’d,

But mightiest fate, and the great god. Nor was thy best belov’d

Spoil’d so of arms by our slow pace, or courage’s impair;

The best of gods, Latona’s son, that wears the golden hair,

Gave him his death’s wound, through the grace he gave to Hector’s hand.

We, like the spirit of the west that all spirits can command

For pow’r of wing, could run him off: but thou thyself must go,

So fate ordains; god and a man must give thee overthrow.’

This said, the Furies stopp’d his voice. Achilles, far in rage,

Thus answer’d him: ‘It fits not thee thus proudly to presage

My overthrow; I know myself it is my fate to fall

Thus far from Phthia; yet that fate shall fail to vent her gall

Till mine vent thousands.’ These words us’d, he fell to horrid deeds,

Gave dreadful signal, and forthright made fly his one-hoo
f
’
d steeds.

The end of the nineteenth book

Book 20

The Argument

By Jove’s permission, all the gods descend

To aid on both parts. For the Greeks contend

Juno, Minerva, Neptune, Mulciber,

And Mercury. The deities that prefer

The Trojan part are Phoebus, Cyprides,

Phoebe, Latona, and the foe to peace,

With bright Scamander. Neptune in a mist

Preserves Aeneas, daring to resist

Achilles, by whose hand much scathe is done,

Besides the slaughter of old Priam’s son

(Young Polydor), whose rescue Hector makes;

Him (flying) Phoebus to his rescue takes,

The rest (all shunning their importun’d fates)

Achilles beats ev’n to the Ilian gates.

Another Argument

In
Upsilon
Strife stirs in heav’n.

The day’s grace to the Greeks is giv’n.