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Complete Works of Homer

Page 131

by Homer


  BOOK IV.

  Now, on the golden floor of Jove's abode

  The Gods all sat consulting; Hebe them,

  Graceful, with nectar served; they pledging each

  His next, alternate quaff'd from cups of gold,

  And at their ease reclined, look'd down on Troy,

  When, sudden, Jove essay'd by piercing speech

  Invidious, to enkindle Juno's ire.

  Two Goddesses on Menelaus' part

  Confederate stand, Juno in Argos known,

  Pallas in Alalcomene; yet they

  Sequester'd sit, look on, and are amused.

  Not so smile-loving Venus; she, beside

  Her champion station'd, saves him from his fate,

  And at this moment, by her aid, he lives.

  But now, since victory hath proved the lot

  Of warlike Menelaus, weigh ye well

  The matter; shall we yet the ruinous strife

  Prolong between the nations, or consent

  To give them peace? should peace your preference win,

  And prove alike acceptable to all,

  Stand Ilium, and let Menelaus bear

  Helen of Argos back to Greece again.

  He ended; Juno and Minerva heard,

  Low-murmuring deep disgust; for side by side

  They forging sat calamity to Troy.

  Minerva through displeasure against Jove

  Nought utter'd, for with rage her bosom boil'd;

  But Juno check'd not hers, who thus replied.

  What word hath pass'd thy lips, Jove most severe!

  How? wouldst thou render fruitless all my pains?

  The sweat that I have pour'd? my steeds themselves

  Have fainted while I gather'd Greece in arms

  For punishment of Priam and his sons.

  Do it. But small thy praise shall be in heaven.

  Then her the Thunderer answer'd sore displeased.

  Ah shameless! how have Priam and his sons

  So much transgress'd against thee, that thou burn'st

  With ceaseless rage to ruin populous Troy?

  Go, make thine entrance at her lofty gates,

  Priam and all his house, and all his host

  Alive devour; then, haply, thou wilt rest;

  Do even as thou wilt, that this dispute

  Live not between us a consuming fire

  For ever. But attend; mark well the word.

  When I shall also doom in future time

  Some city to destruction, dear to thee,

  Oppose me not, but give my fury way

  As I give way to thine, not pleased myself,

  Yet not unsatisfied, so thou be pleased.

  For of all cities of the sons of men,

  And which the sun and stars from heaven behold,

  Me sacred Troy most pleases, Priam me

  Most, and the people of the warrior King.

  Nor without cause. They feed mine altar well;

  Libation there, and steam of savory scent

  Fail not, the tribute which by lot is ours.

  Him answer'd, then, the Goddess ample-eyed,

  Majestic Juno: Three fair cities me,

  Of all the earth, most interest and engage,

  Mycenæ for magnificence renown'd,

  Argos, and Sparta. Them, when next thy wrath

  Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste;

  I will not interpose on their behalf;

  Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail

  Complaint or force against thy matchless arm?

  Yet were it most unmeet that even I

  Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth

  Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire,

  Is also mine; our origin is one.

  Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account

  Myself entitled by a twofold claim

  To veneration both from Gods and men,

  The daughter of Jove's sire, and spouse of Jove.

  Concession mutual therefore both thyself

  Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive

  Disposed to peace, they also shall accord.

  Come then. — To yon dread field dispatch in haste

  Minerva, with command that she incite

  The Trojans first to violate their oath

  By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.

  So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,

  But in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake.

  Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite

  The Trojans first to violate their oath

  By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.

  The Goddess heard, and what she wish'd, enjoin'd,

  Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,

  In form a meteor, such as from his hand

  Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright

  And breaking into stars, an omen sent

  To mariners, or to some numerous host.

  Such Pallas seem'd, and swift descending, dropp'd

  Full in the midst between them. They with awe

  That sign portentous and with wonder view'd,

  Achaians both and Trojans, and his next

  The soldier thus bespake. Now either war

  And dire hostility again shall flame,

  Or Jove now gives us peace. Both are from Jove.

  So spake the soldiery; but she the form

  Taking of brave Laodocus, the son

  Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks

  Sought godlike Pandarus. Ere long she found

  The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon,

  Standing encompass'd by his dauntless troops,

  Broad-shielded warriors, from Æsepus' stream

  His followers; to his side the Goddess came,

  And in wing'd accents ardent him bespake.

  Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope

  That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip

  A shaft at Menelaus? much renown

  Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,

  But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy.

  From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive

  Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see

  The martial son of Atreus by a shaft

  Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile.

  Come. Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!

  But vow to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown'd

  A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,

  To fair Zeleia's walls once safe restored.

  So Pallas spake, to whom infatuate he

  Listening, uncased at once his polished bow.

  That bow, the laden brows of a wild goat

  Salacious had supplied; him on a day

  Forth-issuing from his cave, in ambush placed

  He wounded with an arrow to his breast

  Dispatch'd, and on the rock supine he fell.

  Each horn had from his head tall growth attain'd,

  Full sixteen palms; them shaven smooth the smith

  Had aptly join'd, and tipt their points with gold.

  That bow he strung, then, stooping, planted firm

  The nether horn, his comrades bold the while

  Screening him close with shields, lest ere the prince

  Were stricken, Menelaus brave in arms,

  The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose.

  He raised his quiver's lid; he chose a dart

  Unflown, full-fledged, and barb'd with pangs of death.

  He lodged in haste the arrow on the string,

  And vow'd to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown'd

  A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,

  To fair Zeleia's walls once safe restored.

  Compressing next nerve and notch'd arrow-head

  He drew back both together, to his pap

  Drew home the nerve, the barb home to his bow,

  And when the horn was curved to a wide arch,

  He twang'd it. Whi
zz'd the bowstring, and the reed

  Leap'd off, impatient for the distant throng.

  Thee, Menelaus, then the blessed Gods

  Forgat not; Pallas huntress of the spoil,

  Thy guardian then, baffled the cruel dart.

  Far as a mother wafts the fly aside

  That haunts her slumbering babe, so far she drove

  Its course aslant, directing it herself

  Against the golden clasps that join'd his belt;

  For there the doubled hauberk interposed.

  The bitter arrow plunged into his belt.

  It pierced his broider'd belt, stood fixt within

  His twisted hauberk, nor the interior quilt,

  Though penetrable least to arrow-points

  And his best guard, withheld it, but it pass'd

  That also, and the Hero's skin inscribed.

  Quick flowed a sable current from the wound.

  As when a Carian or Mæonian maid

  Impurples ivory ordain'd to grace

  The cheek of martial steed; safe stored it lies,

  By many a Chief desired, but proves at last

  The stately trapping of some prince, the pride

  Of his high pamper'd steed, nor less his own;

  Such, Menelaus, seem'd thy shapely thighs,

  Thy legs, thy feet, stained with thy trickling blood.

  Shudder'd King Agamemnon when he saw

  The blood fast trickling from the wound, nor less

  Shudder'd himself the bleeding warrior bold.

  But neck and barb observing from the flesh

  Extant, he gather'd heart, and lived again.

  The royal Agamemnon, sighing, grasp'd

  The hand of Menelaus, and while all

  Their followers sigh'd around them, thus began.

  I swore thy death, my brother, when I swore

  This truce, and set thee forth in sight of Greeks

  And Trojans, our sole champion; for the foe

  Hath trodden underfoot his sacred oath,

  And stained it with thy blood. But not in vain,

  The truce was ratified, the blood of lambs

  Poured forth, libation made, and right hands join'd

  In holy confidence. The wrath of Jove

  May sleep, but will not always; they shall pay

  Dear penalty; their own obnoxious heads

  Shall be the mulct, their children and their wives.

  For this I know, know surely; that a day

  Shall come, when Ilium, when the warlike King

  Of Ilium and his host shall perish all.

  Saturnian Jove high-throned, dwelling in heaven,

  Resentful of this outrage, then shall shake

  His storm-clad Ægis over them. He will;

  I speak no fable. Time shall prove me true.

  But, oh my Menelaus, dire distress

  Awaits me, if thy close of life be come,

  And thou must die. Then ignominy foul

  Shall hunt me back to Argos long-desired;

  For then all here will recollect their home,

  And, hope abandoning, will Helen yield

  To be the boast of Priam, and of Troy.

  So shall our toils be vain, and while thy bones

  Shall waste these clods beneath, Troy's haughty sons

  The tomb of Menelaus glory-crown'd

  Insulting barbarous, shall scoff at me.

  So may Atrides, shall they say, perform

  His anger still as he performed it here,

  Whither he led an unsuccessful host,

  Whence he hath sail'd again without the spoils,

  And where he left his brother's bones to rot.

  So shall the Trojan speak; then open earth

  Her mouth, and hide me in her deepest gulfs!

  But him, the hero of the golden locks

  Thus cheer'd. My brother, fear not, nor infect

  With fear the Grecians; the sharp-pointed reed

  Hath touch'd no vital part. The broider'd zone,

  The hauberk, and the tough interior quilt,

  Work of the armorer, its force repress'd.

  Him answer'd Agamemnon, King of men.

  So be it brother! but the hand of one

  Skilful to heal shall visit and shall dress

  The wound with drugs of pain-assuaging power.

  He ended, and his noble herald, next,

  Bespake, Talthybius. Haste, call hither quick

  The son of Æsculapius, leech renown'd,

  The prince Machaon. Bid him fly to attend

  The warlike Chieftain Menelaus; him

  Some archer, either Lycian or of Troy,

  A dexterous one, hath stricken with a shaft

  To his own glory, and to our distress.

  He spake, nor him the herald disobey'd,

  But through the Greeks bright-arm'd his course began

  The Hero seeking earnest on all sides

  Machaon. Him, ere long, he station'd saw

  Amid the shielded-ranks of his brave band

  From steed-famed Tricca drawn, and at his side

  With accents ardor-wing'd, him thus address'd.

  Haste, Asclepiades! The King of men

  Calls thee. Delay not. Thou must visit quick

  Brave Menelaus, Atreus' son, for him

  Some archer, either Lycian or of Troy,

  A dexterous one, hath stricken with a shaft

  To his own glory, and to our distress.

  So saying, he roused Machaon, who his course

  Through the wide host began. Arriving soon

  Where wounded Menelaus stood, while all

  The bravest of Achaia's host around

  The godlike hero press'd, he strove at once

  To draw the arrow from his cincture forth.

  But, drawing, bent the barbs. He therefore loosed

  His broider'd belt, his hauberk and his quilt,

  Work of the armorer, and laying bare

  His body where the bitter shaft had plow'd

  His flesh, he suck'd the wound, then spread it o'er

  With drugs of balmy power, given on a time

  For friendship's sake by Chiron to his sire.

  While Menelaus thus the cares engross'd

  Of all those Chiefs, the shielded powers of Troy

  'Gan move toward them, and the Greeks again

  Put on their armor, mindful of the fight.

  Then hadst thou not great Agamemnon seen

  Slumbering, or trembling, or averse from war,

  But ardent to begin his glorious task.

  His steeds, and his bright chariot brass-inlaid

  He left; the snorting steeds Eurymedon,

  Offspring of Ptolemy Piraïdes

  Detain'd apart; for him he strict enjoin'd

  Attendance near, lest weariness of limbs

  Should seize him marshalling his numerous host.

  So forth he went, and through the files on foot

  Proceeding, where the warrior Greeks he saw

  Alert, he roused them by his words the more.

  Argives! abate no spark of all your fire.

  Jove will not prosper traitors. Them who first

  Transgress'd the truce the vultures shall devour,

  But we (their city taken) shall their wives

  Lead captive, and their children home to Greece.

  So cheer'd he them. But whom he saw supine,

  Or in the rugged work of war remiss,

  In terms of anger them he stern rebuked.

  Oh Greeks! The shame of Argos! Arrow-doom'd!

  Blush ye not? Wherefore stand ye thus aghast,

  Like fawns which wearied after scouring wide

  The champain, gaze and pant, and can no more?

  Senseless like them ye stand, nor seek the fight.

  Is it your purpose patient here to wait

  Till Troy invade your vessels on the shore

  Of the grey deep, that ye may trial make

 
Of Jove, if he will prove, himself, your shield?

  Thus, in discharge of his high office, pass'd

  Atrides through the ranks, and now arrived

  Where, hardy Chief! Idomeneus in front

  Of his bold Cretans stood, stout as a boar

  The van he occupied, while in the rear

  Meriones harangued the most remote.

  Them so prepared the King of men beheld

  With joyful heart, and thus in courteous terms

  Instant the brave Idomeneus address'd.

  Thee fighting, feasting, howsoe'er employed,

  I most respect, Idomeneus, of all

  The well-horsed Danäi; for when the Chiefs

  Of Argos, banqueting, their beakers charge

  With rosy wine the honorable meed

  Of valor, thou alone of all the Greeks

  Drink'st not by measure. No — thy goblet stands

  Replenish'd still, and like myself thou know'st

  No rule or bound, save what thy choice prescribes.

  March. Seek the foe. Fight now as heretofore,

  To whom Idomeneus of Crete replied,

  Atrides! all the friendship and the love

  Which I have promised will I well perform.

  Go; animate the rest, Chief after Chief

  Of the Achaians, that the fight begin.

  For Troy has scatter'd to the winds all faith,

  All conscience; and for such her treachery foul

  Shall have large recompence of death and wo.

  He said, whom Agamemnon at his heart

  Exulting, pass'd, and in his progress came

  Where stood each Ajax; them he found prepared

  With all their cloud of infantry behind.

  As when the goat-herd on some rocky point

  Advanced, a cloud sees wafted o'er the deep

  By western gales, and rolling slow along,

  To him, who stands remote, pitch-black it seems,

  And comes with tempest charged; he at the sight

  Shuddering, his flock compels into a cave;

  So moved the gloomy phalanx, rough with spears,

  And dense with shields of youthful warriors bold,

  Close-following either Ajax to the fight.

  Them also, pleased, the King of men beheld,

  And in wing'd accents hail'd them as he pass'd.

  Brave leaders of the mail-clad host of Greece!

  I move not you to duty; ye yourselves

  Move others, and no lesson need from me.

  Jove, Pallas, and Apollo! were but all

  Courageous as yourselves, soon Priam's towers

  Should totter, and his Ilium storm'd and sack'd

  By our victorious bands, stoop to the dust.

  He ceased, and still proceeding, next arrived

  Where stood the Pylian orator, his band

  Marshalling under all their leaders bold

  Alastor, Chromius, Pelagon the vast,

  Hæmon the prince, and Bias, martial Chief.

 

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