The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
The God an ill shaft sent abroad That tumbled down the Greeks in heaps. The host had no abode That was not visited. We ask’d a prophet that well knew The cause of all; and from his lips Apollo’s prophecies flew, Telling his anger. First myself exhorted to appease The anger’d God; which Atreus’ son did at the heart displease, And up he stood, us’d threats, perform’d. The black-eyed Greeks sent home Chryseis to her sire, and gave his God a hecatomb. Then, for Briseis, to my tents Atrides’ heralds came, And took her that the Greeks gave all. If then thy pow’rs can frame Wreak for thy son, afford it. Scale Olympus, and implore Jove (if by either word, or fact, thou ever didst restore Joy to his griev’d heart) now to help. I oft have heard thee vaunt, In court of Peleus, that alone thy hand was conversant In rescue from a cruel spoil the black-cloud-gath’ring Jove, Whom other Godheads would have bound (the Pow’r whose pace doth move The round earth, heav’n’s great Queen, and Pallas); to whose bands Thou cam’st with rescue, bringing up him with the hundred hands To great Olympus, whom the Gods call Briarëus, men Ægæon, who his sire surpass’d, and was as strong again, And in that grace sat glad by Jove.
Th’ immortals stood dismay’d At his ascension, and gave free passage to his aid. Of all this tell Jove; kneel to him, embrace his knee, and pray, If Troy’s aid he will ever deign, that now their forces may Beat home the Greeks to fleet and sea; embruing their retreat In slaughter; their pains pay’ng the wreak of their proud sov’reign’s heat; And that far-ruling king may know, from his poor soldier’s harms His own harm falls; his own and all in mine, his best in arms.” Her answer she pour’d out in tears: “O me, my son,” said she, “Why brought I up thy being at all, that brought thee forth to be Sad subject of so hard a fate? O would to heav’n, that since Thy fate is little, and not long, thou might’st without offence And tears perform it! But to live, thrall to so stern a fate As grants thee least life, and that least so most unfortunate, Grieves me t’ have giv’n thee any life. But what thou wishest now, If Jove will grant, I’ll up and ask; Olympus crown’d with snow I’ll climb; but sit thou fast at fleet, renounce all war, and feed Thy heart with wrath, and hope of wreak; till which come, thou shalt need A little patience.
Jupiter went yesterday to feast Amongst the blameless Æthiops, in th’ ocean’s deepen’d breast, All Gods attending him; the twelfth, high heav’n again he sees, And then his brass-paved court I’ll scale, cling to his pow’rful knees, And doubt not but to win thy wish.” Thus, made she her remove, And left wrath tyring on her son, for his enforcèd love. Ulysses, with the hecatomb, arriv’d at Chrysa’s shore; And when amidst the hav’n’s deep mouth, they came to use the oar, They straight strook sail, then roll’d them up, and on the hatches threw; The top-mast to the kelsine then, with halyards down they drew; Then brought the ship to port with oars; then forked anchor cast; And, ’gainst the violence of storm, for drifting made her fast. All come ashore, they all expos’d the holy hecatomb To angry Phœbus, and, with it, Chryseis welcom’d home; Whom to her sire, wise Ithacus, that did at th’ altar stand, For honour led, and, spoken thus, resign’d her to his hand: “Chryses, the mighty king of men, great Agamemnon, sends Thy lov’d seed by my hands to thine; and to thy God commends A hecatomb, which my charge is to sacrifice, and seek Our much-sigh-mix’d woe his recure, invok’d by ev’ry Greek.”
Thus he resign’d her, and her sire receiv’d her highly joy’d. About the well-built altar, then, they orderly employ’d The sacred off’ring, wash’d their hands, took salt cakes; and the priest, With hands held up to heav’n, thus pray’d: “O thou that all things seest, Fautour of Chrysa, whose fair hand doth guard fully dispose Celestial Cilia, governing in all pow’r Tenedos, O hear thy priest, and as thy hand, in free grace to my pray’rs, Shot fervent plague-shafts through the Greeks, now hearten their affairs With health renew’d, and quite remove th’ infection from their blood.” He pray’d; and to his pray’rs again the God propitious stood. All, after pray’r, cast on salt cakes, drew back, kill’d, flay’d the beeves, Cut out and dubb’d with fat their thighs, fair dress’d with doubled leaves, And on them all the sweetbreads’ prick’d, The priest, with small sere wood, Did sacrifice, pour’d on red wine; by whom the young men stood, And turn’d, in five ranks, spits; on which (the legs enough) they eat The inwards; then in giggots cut the other fit for meat, And put to fire; which roasted well they drew. The labour done, They serv’d the feast in, that fed all to satisfaction.
Desire of meat and wine thus quench’d, the youths crown’d cups of wine Drunk off, and fill’d again to all. That day was held divine, And spent in pæans to the Sun, who heard with pleaséd ear; When whose bright chariot stoop’d to sea, and twilight hid the clear, All soundly on their cables slept, ev’n till the night was worn. And when the lady of the light, the rosy-finger’d Morn, Rose from the hills, all fresh arose, and to the camp retir’d. Apollo with a fore-right wind their swelling bark inspir’d. The top-mast hoisted, milk-white sails on his round breast they put, The mizens strooted with the gale, the ship her course did cut So swiftly that the parted waves against her ribs did roar; Which, coming to the camp, they drew aloft the sandy shore, Where, laid on stocks, each soldier kept his quarter as before.
But Peleus’ son, swift-foot Achilles, at his swift ships sate, Burning in wrath, nor ever came to councils of estate That make men honour’d, never trod the fierce embattled field, But kept close, and his lov’d heart pin’d, what fight and cries could yield Thirsting at all parts to the host, And now, since first he told His wrongs to Thetis, twelve fair morns their ensigns did unfold, And then the ever-living gods mounted Olympus, Jove First in ascension. Thetis then, remember’d well to move Achilles’ motion, rose from sea, and, by the morn’s first light, The great heav’n and Olympus climb’d; where, in supremest height Of all that many-headed hill, she saw the far-seen son Of Saturn, set from all the rest, in his free seat alone. Before whom, on her own knees fall’n, the knees of Jupiter Her left hand held, her right his chin, and thus she did prefer Her son’s petition: “Father Jove! If ever I have stood Aidful to thee in word or work, with this imploréd good, Requite my aid, renown my son, since in so short a race (Past others) thou confin’st his life. An insolent disgrace Is done him by the king of men; he forc’d from him a prise Won with his sword.
But thou, O Jove, that art most strong, most wise, Honour my son for my sake; add strength to the Trojans’ side By his side’s weakness in his want; and see Troy amplified In conquest, so much, and so long, till Greece may give again The glory reft him, and the more illustrate the free reign Of his wrong’d honour.” Jove at this sate silent; not a word In long space pass’d him. Thetis still hung on his knee, implor’d The second time his help, and said: “Grant, or deny my suit, Be free in what thou dost; I know, thou canst not sit thus mute For fear of any; speak, deny, that so I may be sure, Of all heav’n’s Goddesses ’tis I, that only must endure Dishonour by thee.” Jupiter, the great cloud-gath’rer, griev’d With thought of what a world of griefs this suit ask’d, being achiev’d, Swell’d, sigh’d, and answer’d: “Works of death thou urgest. O, at this Juno will storm, and all my pow’rs inflame with contumelies. Ever she wrangles, charging me in ear of all the Gods That I am partial still, that I add the displeasing odds Of my aid to the Ilians.
Begone then, lest she see; Leave thy request to my care; yet, that trust may hearten thee With thy desire’s grant, and my pow’r to give it act approve How vain her strife is, to thy pray’r my eminent head shall move; Which is the great sign of my will with all th’ immortal states; Irrevocable; never fails; never without the rates Of all pow’rs else; when my head bows, all heads bow with it still As their first mover; and gives pow’r to any work I will.” He said; and his black eyebrows bent; above his deathless head Th’ ambrosian curls flow’d; great heav’n shook: and both were severéd, Their counsels broken. To the depth of Neptune’s kingdom div’d Thetis from heav’n’s height; Jove arose; and all the Gods receiv’d (All rising from their thrones) their Sire, attending to his court. None sate when he rose, none delay’d the furnishing his port Till he came near; all met with him, and brought him to his throne. Nor sate great Juno ignorant, when she beheld alone Old Nereus’ silver-footed seed with Jove, that she had brought Counsels to heav’n; and straight her tongue had teeth in it, that wrought This sharp invective: “Who was that (thou craftiest counsellor Of all the Gods) that so apart some secret did implore?
Ever, apart from me, thou lov’st to counsel and decree Things of more close trust than thou think’st are fit t’ impart to me. Whatever thou determin’st, I must ever be denied The knowledge of it by thy will.” To her speech thus replied The Father both of men and Gods: “Have never hope to know My whole intentions, though my wife; it fits not, nor would show Well to thine own thoughts; but what fits thy woman’s ear to hear, Woman, nor man, nor God, shall know before it grace thine ear. Yet what, apart from men and Gods, I please to know, forbear T’ examine, or inquire of that.” She with the cow’s fair eyes, Respected Juno, this return’d: “Austere king of the skies, What hast thou utter’d? When did I before this time inquire, Or sift thy counsels? Passing close you are still. Your desire Is serv’d with such care, that I fear you can scarce vouch the deed That makes it public, being seduc’d by this old sea-god’s seed, That could so early use her knees, embracing thine. I doubt, The late act of thy bowéd head was for the working out Of some boon she ask’d; that her son thy partial hand would please With plaguing others.”
“Wretch!” said he, “thy subtle jealousies Are still exploring; my designs can never ’scape thine eye, Which yet thou never canst prevent. Thy curiosity Makes thee less car’d for at my hands, and horrible the end Shall make thy humour. If it be what thy suspects intend, What then? ’Tis my free will it should; to which let way be giv’n With silence. Curb your tongue in time; lest all the Gods in heav’n Too few be and too weak to help thy punish’d insolence, When my inaccessible hands shall fall on thee.” The sense Of this high threat’ning made her fear, and silent she sate down, Humbling her great heart. All the Gods in court of Jove did frown At this offence giv’n; amongst whom heav’n’s famous artizan, Ephaistus, in his mother’s care, this comely speech began: “Believe it, these words will breed wounds, beyond our pow’rs to bear, If thus for mortals ye fall out. Ye make a tumult here That spoils our banquet. Evermore worst matters put down best. But, mother, though yourself be wise, yet let your son request His wisdom audience. Give good terms to our lov’d father Jove, For fear he take offence again, and our kind banquet prove A wrathful battle.
If he will, the heav’nly Light’ner can Take you and toss you from your throne; his pow’r Olympian Is so surpassing. Soften then with gentle speech his spleen, And drink to him; I know his heart will quickly down again.” This said, arising from his throne, in his lov’d mother’s hand He put the double-handed cup, and said: “Come, do not stand On these cross humours, suffer, bear, though your great bosom grieve, And lest blows force you; all my aid not able to relieve Your hard condition, though these eyes behold it, and this heart Sorrow to think it. ’Tis a task too dang’rous to take part Against Olympius. I myself the proof of this still feel. When other Gods would fain have help’d, he took me by the heel, And hurl’d me out of heav’n. All day I was in falling down; At length in Lemnos I strook earth. The likewise-falling sun And I, together, set; my life almost set too; yet there The Sintii cheer’d and took me up.” This did to laughter cheer White-wristed Juno, who now took the cup of him, and smil’d. The sweet peace-making draught went round, and lame Ephaistus fill’d Nectar to all the other Gods.
A laughter never left Shook all the blesséd deities, to see the lame so deft At that cup service. All that day, ev’n till the sun went down, They banqueted, and had such cheer as did their wishes crown. Nor had they music less divine; Apollo there did touch His most sweet harp, to which, with voice, the Muses pleas’d as much. But when the sun’s fair light was set, each Godhead to his house Address’d for sleep, where ev’ry one, with art most curious, By heav’n’s great both-foot-halting God a sev’ral roof had built. Ev’n he to sleep went, by whose hand heav’n is with lightning gilt, High Jove, where he had us’d to rest when sweet sleep seiz’d his eyes; By him the golden-thron’d Queen slept, the Queen of deities. [1] “_See my bed made_,” it may be Englished. The word is _ἀντιόωσαν_, which signifies _contra stantem_ as _standing of one side opposite to another on the other side_; which yet others translate _capessentem et adornantem_; which since it shows best to a reader, I follow. [2] This simile Virgil directly translates. Jove calls a vision up from Somnus’ den To bid Atrides muster up his men. The King, to Greeks dissembling his desire, Persuades them to their country to retire. By Pallas’ will, Ulysses stays their flight: And wise old Nestor heartens them to fight. They take their meat; which done, to arms they go, And march in good array against the foe. So those of Troy; when Iris, from the sky, Of Saturn’s son performs the embassy.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.