The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (31 page)

He laid the spit low, near the coals, to make it brown at last:

Then sprinkled it with sacred salt, and took it from the racks:

This roasted, and on dresser set, his friend Patroclus takes

Bread in fair baskets; which set on, Achilles brought the meat,

And to divinest Ithacus took his opposed seat

Upon the bench. Then did he will his friend to sacrifice,

Who cast sweet incense in the fire to all the deities.

Thus fell they to their ready food. Hunger and thirst allay’d,

Ajax to Phoenix made a sign as if too long they stay’d

Before they told their legacy. Ulysses saw him wink,

And filling the great bowl with wine did to Achilles drink:

‘Health to Achilles! But our plights stand not in need of meat,

Who late supp’d at Atrides’ tent, though for thy love we eat

Of many things, whereof a part would make a complete feast.

Nor can we joy in these kind rites, that have our hearts oppress’d,

O Prince, with fear of utter spoil: ’tis made a question now

If we can save our fleet or not, unless thyself endow

Thy powers with wonted fortitude. Now Troy and her consorts,

Bold of thy want, have pitch’d their tents close to our fleet and forts,

And made a firmament of fires, and now no more they say

Will they be prison’d in their walls, but force their violent way

Ev’n to our ships; and Jove himself hath with his lightnings show’d

Their bold adventures happy signs; and Hector grows so proud

Of his huge strength, borne out by Jove, that fearfully he raves,

Presuming neither men nor gods can interrupt his braves.

Wild rage invades him, and he prays that soon the sacred morn

Would light his fury, boasting then our streamers shall be torn,

And all our naval ornaments fall by his conquering stroke;

Our ships shall burn, and we ourselves lie stifled in the smoke.

And I am seriously afraid heav’n will perform his threats,

And that ’tis fatal to us all, far from our native seats,

To perish in victorious Troy. But rise, though it be late,

Deliver the afflicted Greeks from Troy’s tumultuous hate.

It will hereafter be thy grief, when no strength can suffice

To remedy th’ effected threats of our calamities;

Consider these affairs in time, while thou mayst use thy pow’r,

And have the grace to turn from Greece fate’s unrecover’d hour.

O friend, thou know’st thy royal sire forewarn’d what should be done,

That day he sent thee from his court, to honour Atreus’ son.

“My son,” said he, “the victory let Jove and Pallas use

At their high pleasures, but do thou no honour’d means refuse

That may advance her; in fit bounds contain thy mighty mind,

Nor let the knowledge of thy strength be factiously inclin’d,

Contriving mischiefs; be to fame and general good profess’d:

The more will all sorts honour thee; benignity is best.”

Thus charg’d thy sire, which thou forgett’st: yet now those thoughts appease

That torture thy great spirit with wrath; which if thou wilt surcease,

The king will merit it with gifts; and if thou wilt give ear,

I’ll tell how much he offers thee – yet thou sitt’st angry here.

Seven tripods that no fire must touch, twice ten pans fit for flame;

Ten talents of fine gold, twelve horse that ever overcame,

And brought huge prizes from the field with swiftness of their feet.

That man should bear no poor account, nor want gold’s quick’ning sweet,

That had but what he won with them; seven worthiest Lesbian dames,

Renown’d for skill in housewifery, and bear the sovereign fames

For beauty, from their general sex; which at thy overthrow

Of well-built Lesbos he did choose, and these he will bestow.

And with these her he took from thee, whom by his state, since then,

He swears he touch’d not, as fair dames use to be touch’d by men.

All these are ready for thee now: and if at length we take,

By helps of gods, this wealthy town, thy ships shall burthen make

Of gold and brass at thy desires, when we the spoil divide;

And twenty beauteous Trojan dames thou shalt select beside –

Next Helen, the most beautiful – and when return’d we be

To Argos, be his son-in-law: for he will honour thee

Like his Orestes, his sole son, maintain’d in height of bliss.

Three daughters beautify his court, the fair Chrysothemis,

Laodice, and Iphianesse; of all the fairest take

To Peleus, thy grave father’s court, and never jointure make;

He will the jointure make himself, so great, as never sire

Gave to his daughter’s nuptials: seven cities left entire,

Cardamile, and Enope, and Hyla full of flowers,

Anthaea for sweet meadows prais’d, and Phera deck’d with towers,

The bright Epea, Pedassus that doth god Bacchus please;

All, on the sandy Pylos soil, are seated near the seas.

Th’ inhabitants in droves and flocks exceeding wealthy be,

Who, like a god, with worthy gifts will gladly honour thee,

And tribute of especial rate to thy high sceptre pay.

All this he freely will perform, thy anger to allay.

But if thy hate to him be more than his gifts may repress,

Yet pity all the other Greeks, in such extreme distress,

Who with religion honour thee: and to their desperate ill

Thou shalt triumphant glory bring, and Hector thou mayst kill,

When pride makes him encounter thee, fill’d with a baneful sprite,

Who vaunts our whole fleet brought not one equal to him in fight.’

Swift-foot Aeacides replied: ‘Divine Laertes’ son,

’Tis requisite I should be short, and show what place hath won

Thy serious speech, affirming nought but what you shall approve

Establish’d in my settled heart, that in the rest I move

No murmur nor exception: for like hell mouth I loathe

Who holds not in his words and thoughts one indistinguish’d troth.

What fits the freeness of my mind, my speech shall make display’d:

Nor Atreus’ son nor all the Greeks shall win me to their aid.

Their suit is wretchedly enforc’d to free their own despairs,

And my life never shall be hir’d with thankless desperate pra
y
’rs;

For never had I benefit, that ever foil’d the foe:

Ev’n share hath he that keeps his tent and he to field doth go;

With equal honour cowards die, and men most valiant,

The much performer, and the man that can of nothing vaunt.

No overplus I ever found, when with my mind’s most strife,

To do them good, to dangerous fight I have expos’d my life.

But ev’n as to unfeather’d birds the careful dam brings meat,

Which when she hath bestow’d, herself hath nothing left to eat:

So when my broken sleeps have drawn the nights t’ extremest length,

And ended many bloody days with still-employed strength,

To guard their weakness, and preserve their wives’ contents infract,

I have been robb’d before their eyes. Twelve cities I have sack’d,

Assail’d by sea, eleven by land, while this siege held at Troy:

And of all these, what was most dear, and most might crown the joy

Of Agamemnon, he enjoy’d, who here behind remain’d;

Which when he took, a few he gave, and many things retain’d:

Other to optimates and kings he gave, who hold them fast,

Yet mine he forceth: only I sit with my loss disgrac’d.

But so he gain a lovely dame to be his bed’s delight,

It is enough; for what cause else do Greeks and Trojans fight?

Why brought he hither such an host? Was it not for a dame?

For fair-hair’d Helen? And doth love alone the hearts inflame

Of the Atrides to their wives, of all the men that move?

Every discreet and honest mind cares for his private love,

As much as they, as I myself lov’d Brisis as my life,

Although my captive, and had will to take her for my wife.

Whom since he forc’d, preventing me, in vain he shall prolong

Hopes to appease me, that know well the deepness of my wrong.

But, good Ulysses, with thyself, and all you other kings,

Let him take stomach to repel Troy’s fiery threatenings.

Much hath he done without my help: built him a goodly fort,

Cut a dike by it, pitch’d with pales broad, and of deep import;

And cannot all these helps repress this kill-man Hector’s fright?

When I was arm’d among the Greeks he would not offer fight

Without the shadow of his walls, but to the Scaean ports,

Or to the holy beech of Jove come back’d with his consorts,

Where once he stood my charge alone, and hardly made retreat:

And to make new proof of our pow’rs, the doubt is not so great.

To-morrow then, with sacrifice perform’d t’ imperial Jove

And all the gods, I’ll launch my fleet, and all my men remove:

Which, if thou wilt use so thy sight, or think’st it worth respect,

In forehead of the morn thine eyes shall see, with sails erect

Amidst the fishy Hellespont, help’d with laborious oars.

And if the sea-god send free sail, the fruitful Phthian shores

Within three days we shall attain, where I have store of prize,

Left, when with prejudice I came to these indignities.

There have I gold as well as here, and store of ruddy brass,

Dames slender, elegantly girt, and steel as bright as glass.

These will I take as I retire, as shares I firmly save,

Though Agamemnon be so base to take the gifts he gave.

Tell him all this, and openly – I on your honours charge –

That others may take shame to hear his lusts command so large.

And if there yet remain a man he hopeth to deceive

(Being dyed in endless impudence), that man may learn to leave

His trust and empire. But alas, though like a wolf he be

Shameless and rude, he durst not take my prize, and look on me.

I never will partake his works, nor counsels, as before.

He once deceiv’d and injur’d me, and he shall never more

Tie my affections with his words; enough is the increase

Of one success in his deceits: which let him joy in peace,

And bear it to a wretched end. Wise Jove hath reft his brain,

To bring him plagues, and these his gifts, I (as my foes) disdain:

Even in the numbness of calm death, I will revengeful be,

Though ten or twenty times so much he would bestow on me –

All he hath here, or any where; or Orchomen contains,

To which men bring their wealth for strength; or all the store remains

In circuit of Egyptian Thebes, where much hid treasure lies,

Whose walls contain an hundred ports of so admir’d a size,

Two hundred soldiers may a-front with horse and chariots pass.

Nor, would he amplify all this like sand or dust or grass,

Should he reclaim me, till his wreak pay’d me for all the pains

That with his contumely burn’d like poison in my veins.

Nor shall his daughter be my wife, although she might contend

With golden Venus for her form, or if she did transcend

Blue-ey’d Minerva for her works: let him a Greek select

Fit for her, and a greater king. For if the gods protect

My safety to my father’s court, he shall choose me a wife.

Many fair Achive princesses of unimpeached life

In Helle and in Pthia live, whose sires do cities hold,

Of whom I can have whom I will. And more – an hundred fold –

My true mind in my country likes to take a lawful wife

Than in another nation, and there delight my life

With those goods that my father got, much rather than die here.

Not all the wealth of well-built Troy, possess’d when peace was there,

All that Apollo’s marble fane in stony Pythos holds,

I value equal with the life that my free breast enfolds.

Sheep, oxen, tripods, crest-deck’d horse, though lost, may come again:

But when the white guard of our teeth no longer can contain

Our human soul, away it flies; and once gone never more

To her frail mansion any man can her lost pow’rs restore.

And therefore since my mother-queen (fam’d for her silver feet)

Told me two fates about my death in my direction meet:

The one, that if I here remain t’assist our victory,

My safe return shall never live, my fame shall never die:

If my return obtain success, much of my fame decays,

But death shall linger his approach, and I live many days.

This being reveal’d, ’twere foolish pride t’ abridge my life for praise.

Then with myself I will advise others to hoist their sail,

For ’gainst the height of Ilion you never shall prevail:

Jove with his hand protecteth it, and makes the soldiers bold.

This tell the king in every part, for so grave legates should,

That they may better counsels use, to save their fleet and friends

By their own valours, since this course drown’d in my anger, ends.

Phoenix may in my tent repose, and in the morn steer course

For Phthia, if he think it good; if not, I’ll use no force.’

All wond’red at his stern reply: and Phoenix, full of fears

His words would be more weak than just, supplied their wants with tears.

‘If thy return incline thee thus, Peleus’ renowned joy,

And thou wilt let our ships be burn’d with harmful fire of Troy,

Since thou art angry, O my son, how shall I after be

Alone in these extremes of death, relinquished by thee?

I, whom thy royal father sent as orderer of thy force,

When to Atrides from his court he left thee for this course,

Yet young, and when in skill of arms thou didst not so abound,