by Homer
But straight Ulysses at his side appear'd,
And spoke, with scornful glance, in stern rebuke:
"Thou babbling fool, Thersites, prompt of speech,
Restrain thy tongue, nor singly thus presume
The Kings to slander; thou, the meanest far
Of all that with the Atridae came to Troy.
Ill it beseems, that such an one as thou
Should lift thy voice against the Kings, and rail
With scurril ribaldry, and prate of home.
How these affairs may end, we know not yet;
Nor how, or well or ill, we may return.
Cease then against Atrides, King of men,
To pour thy spite, for that the valiant Greeks
To him, despite thy railing, as of right
An ample portion of the spoils assign.
But this I tell thee, and will make it good,
If e'er I find thee play the fool, as now,
Then may these shoulders cease this head to bear,
And may my son Telemachus no more
Own me his father, if I strip not off
Thy mantle and thy garments, aye, expose
Thy nakedness, and flog thee to the ships
Howling, and scourg'd with ignominious stripes."
Thus as he spoke, upon Thersites' neck
And back came down his heavy staff; the wretch
Shrank from the blow, and scalding tears let fall.
Where struck the golden-studded staff, appear'd
A bloody weal: Thersites quail'd, and down,
Quiv'ring with pain, he sat, and wip'd away.
With horrible grimace, the trickling tears.
The Greeks, despite their anger, laugh'd aloud,
And one to other said, "Good faith, of all
The many works Ulysses well hath done,
Wise in the council, foremost in the fight,
He ne'er hath done a better, than when now
He makes this scurril babbler hold his peace.
Methinks his headstrong spirit will not soon
Lead him again to vilify the Kings."
Thus spoke the gen'ral voice: but, staff in hand,
Ulysses rose; Minerva by his side,
In likeness of a herald, bade the crowd
Keep silence, that the Greeks, from first to last,
Might hear his words, and ponder his advice.
He thus with prudent phrase his speech began:
"Great son of Atreus, on thy name, O King,
Throughout the world will foul reproach be cast,
If Greeks forget their promise, nor make good
The vow they took to thee, when hitherward
We sailed from Argos' grassy plains, to raze,
Ere our return, the well-built walls of Troy.
But now, like helpless widows, or like babes,
They mourn their cruel fate, and pine for home.
'Tis hard indeed defeated to return;
The seaman murmurs, if from wife and home,
Ev'n for one month, his well-found bark be stay'd,
Toss'd by the wint'ry blasts and stormy sea;
But us the ninth revolving year beholds
Still ling'ring here: I cannot therefore blame
Our valiant Greeks, if by the ships I hear
Their murmurs; yet 'twere surely worst of all
Long to remain, and bootless to return.
Bear up, my friends, remain awhile, and see
If Calchas truly prophesy, or no.
For this ye all have seen, and can yourselves
Bear witness, all who yet are spar'd by fate,
Not long ago, when ships of Greece were met
At Aulis, charg'd with evil freight for Troy,
And we, around a fountain, to the Gods
Our altars rear'd, with faultless hecatombs,
Near a fair plane-tree, where bright water flow'd,
Behold a wonder! by Olympian Jove
Sent forth to light, a snake, with burnish'd scales,
Of aspect fearful, issuing from beneath
The altars, glided to the plane-tree straight.
There, on the topmost bough, beneath the leaves
Cow'ring, a sparrow's callow nestlings lay;
Eight fledglings, and the parent bird the ninth.
All the eight nestlings, utt'ring piercing cries,
The snake devour'd; and as the mother flew,
Lamenting o'er her offspring, round and round,
Uncoiling, caught her, shrieking, by the wing.
Then, when the sparrow's nestlings and herself
The snake had swallowed, by the God, who first
Sent him to light, a miracle was wrought:
For Jove, the deep-designing Saturn's son,
Turn'd him to stone; we stood, and wond'ring gaz'd.
But when this prodigy befell our rites,
Calchas, inspir'd of Heaven, took up his speech:
'Ye long-haired sons of Greece, why stand ye thus
In mute amaze? to us Olympian Jove,
To whom be endless praise, vouchsafes this sign,
Late sent, of late fulfilment: as ye saw
The snake devour the sparrow and her young,
Eight nestlings, and the parent bird the ninth:
So, for so many years, are we condemn'd
To wage a fruitless war; but in the tenth
The wide-built city shall at last be ours.'
Thus he foretold, and now the time is come.
Here then, ye well-greav'd Greeks, let all remain,
Till Priam's wealthy city be our own."
He said, and loudly cheer'd the Greeks — and loud
From all the hollow ships came back the cheers —
In admiration of Ulysses' speech.
Gerenian Nestor next took up the word:
"Like children, Grecian warriors, ye debate;
Like babes to whom unknown are feats of arms.
Where then are now our solemn covenants,
Our plighted oaths? Go, cast we to the fire
Our councils held, our warriors' plans matur'd,
Our absolute pledges, and our hand-plight giv'n,
In which our trust was placed; since thus in vain
In words we wrangle, and how long soe'er
We here remain, solution none we find.
Atrides, thou, as is thy wont, maintain
Unchang'd thy counsel; for the stubborn fight
Array the Greeks; and let perdition seize
Those few, those two or three among the host,
Who hold their separate counsel — (not on them
Depends the issue!) — rather than return
To Argos, ere we prove if Jove indeed
Will falsify his promis'd word, or no.
For well I ween, that on the day when first
We Grecians hitherward our course address'd,
To Troy the messengers of blood and death,
Th' o'er-ruling son of Saturn, on our right
His lightning flashing, with auspicious sign
Assur'd us of his favour; let not then
The thoughts of home be breath'd, ere Trojan wives
Given to our warriors, retribution pay
For wrongs by us, in Helen's cause, sustain'd.
But whoso longs, if such an one there be,
To make his homeward voyage, let him take
His well-rigg'd bark, and go; before the rest
To meet the doom of death! But thou, O King!
Be well advis'd thyself, and others lead
By wholesome counsel; for the words I speak
Are not to be despis'd; by tribes and clans,
O Agamemnon! range thy troops, that so
Tribe may to tribe give aid, and clan to clan.
If thus thou do, and Greeks thy words obey,
Then shalt thou see, of chiefs and troops alike,
The good and bad; for on their own behoof
They all shall fight; and if thou fail, shalt know
Whether thy failure be of Heav'n's decree,
Or man's default and ignorance of war."
To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:
"Father, in council, of the sons of Greece,
None can compare with thee; and would to Jove
To Pallas, and Apollo, at my side
I had but ten such counsellors as thee!
Then soon should royal Priam's city fall,
Tak'n and destroy'd by our victorious hands.
But now on me hath aegis-bearing Jove,
The son of Saturn, fruitless toil impos'd,
And hurtful quarrels; for in wordy war
About a girl, Achilles and myself
Engag'd; and I, alas! the strife began:
Could we be friends again, delay were none,
How short soe'er, of Ilium's final doom.
But now to breakfast, ere we wage the fight.
Each sharpen well his spear, his shield prepare,
Each to his fiery steeds their forage give,
Each look his chariot o'er, that through the day
We may unwearied stem the tide of war;
For respite none, how short soe'er, shall be
Till night shall bid the storm of battle cease.
With sweat shall reek upon each warrior's breast
The leathern belt beneath the cov'ring shield;
And hands shall ache that wield the pond'rous spear:
With sweat shall reek the fiery steeds that draw
Each warrior's car; but whomsoe'er I find
Loit'ring beside the beaked ships, for him
'Twere hard to'scape the vultures and the dogs."
He said; and from th' applauding ranks of Greece
Rose a loud sound, as when the ocean wave,
Driv'n by the south wind on some lofty beach,
Dashes against a prominent crag, expos'd
To blasts from every storm that roars around.
Uprising then, and through the camp dispers'd
They took their sev'ral ways, and by their tents
The fires they lighted, and the meal prepar'd;
And each to some one of the Immortal Gods
His off'ring made, that in the coming fight
He might escape the bitter doom of death.
But to the o'erruling son of Saturn, Jove,
A sturdy ox, well-fatten'd, five years old,
Atrides slew; and to the banquet call'd
The aged chiefs and councillors of Greece;
Nestor the first, the King Idomeneus,
The two Ajaces next, and Tydeus' son,
Ulysses sixth, as Jove in council sage.
But uninvited Menelaus came,
Knowing what cares upon his brother press'd.
Around the ox they stood, and on his head
The salt cake sprinkled; then amid them all
The monarch Agamemnon pray'd aloud:
"Most great, most glorious Jove! who dwell'st on high,
In clouds and darkness veil'd, grant Thou that ere
This sun shall set, and night o'erspread the earth,
I may the haughty walls of Priam's house
Lay prostrate in the dust; and burn with fire
His lofty gates; and strip from Hector's breast
His sword-rent tunic, while around his corpse
Many brave comrades, prostrate, bite the dust."
Thus he; but Saturn's son his pray'r denied;
Receiv'd his off'rings, but his toils increas'd.
Their pray'rs concluded, and the salt cake strewed
Upon the victim's head, they drew him back,
And slew, and flay'd; then cutting from the thighs
The choicest pieces, and in double layers
O'erspreading them with fat, above them plac'd
The due meat-off'rings; these they burnt with logs
Of leafless timber; and the inward parts,
First to be tasted, o'er the fire they held.
The thighs consum'd with fire, the inward parts
They tasted first; the rest upon the spits
Roasted with care, and from the fire withdrew.
Their labours ended, and the feast prepar'd,
They shared the social meal, nor lacked there aught.
The rage of thirst and hunger satisfied,
Gerenian Nestor thus his speech began:
"Most mighty Agamemnon, King of men,
Great Atreus' son, no longer let us pause,
The work delaying which the pow'rs of Heav'n
Have trusted to our hands; do thou forthwith
Bid that the heralds proclamation make,
And summon through the camp the brass-clad Greeks;
While, in a body, through the wide-spread ranks
We pass, and stimulate their warlike zeal."
He said; and Agamemnon, King of men,
Obedient to his counsel, gave command
That to the war the clear-voic'd heralds call
The long-hair'd Greeks: they gave the word, and straight
From ev'ry quarter throng'd the eager crowd.
The Heav'n-born Kings, encircling Atreus' son,
The troops inspected: Pallas, blue-ey'd Maid,
Before the chiefs her glorious aegis bore,
By time untouch'd, immortal: all around
A hundred tassels hung, rare works of art,
All gold, each one a hundred oxen's price.
With this the Goddess pass'd along the ranks,
Exciting all; and fix'd in every breast
The firm resolve to wage unwearied war;
And dearer to their hearts than thoughts of home
Or wish'd return, became the battle-field.
As when a wasting fire, on mountain tops,
Hath seized the blazing woods, afar is seen
The glaring light; so, as they mov'd, to Heav'n
Flash'd the bright glitter of their burnish'd arms.
As when a num'rous flock of birds, or geese,
Or cranes, or long-neck'd swans, on Asian mead,
Beside Cayster's stream, now here, now there,
Disporting, ply their wings; then settle down
With clam'rous noise, that all the mead resounds;
So to Scamander's plain, from tents and ships,
Pour'd forth the countless tribes; the firm earth groan'd
Beneath the tramp of steeds and armed men.
Upon Scamander's flow'ry mead they stood,
Unnumber'd as the vernal leaves and flow'rs.
Or as the multitudinous swarms of flies,
That round the cattle-sheds in spring-tide pour,
While the warm milk is frothing in the pail:
So numberless upon the plain, array'd
For Troy's destruction, stood the long-hair'd Greeks.
And as experienced goat-herds, when their flocks
Are mingled in the pasture, portion out
Their sev'ral charges, so the chiefs array'd
Their squadrons for the fight; while in the midst
The mighty monarch Agamemnon mov'd:
His eye, and lofty brow, the counterpart
Of Jove, the Lord of thunder; in his girth
Another Mars, with Neptune's ample chest.
As 'mid the thronging heifers in a herd
Stands, proudly eminent, the lordly bull;
So, by Jove's will, stood eminent that day,
'Mid many heroes, Atreus' godlike son.
Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell,
Muses (for ye are Goddesses, and ye
Were present, and know all things: we ourselves
But hear from Rumour's voice, and nothing know),
Who were the chiefs and mighty Lords of Greece.
But should I seek the multitude to name,
Not if ten tongues were mine, ten mouths to speak,
Voice inexhaustible, and heart of brass,
Should I succeed, unless, Olympian maids,
The progeny of aegis-bearing Jove,
Ye should their names record, who came to Troy.
The chiefs, and all the ships, I now rehearse.
Boeotia's troops by Peneleus were led,
And Leitus, and Prothoenor bold,
Arcesilas and Clonius: they who dwelt
In Hyria, and on Aulis' rocky coast,
Scoenus, and Scolus, and the highland range
Of Eteonus; in Thespeia's vale,
Graia, and Mycalessus' wide-spread plains:
And who in Harma and Eilesium dwelt,
And in Erythrae, and in Eleon,
Hyle, and Peteon, and Ocalea,
In Copae, and in Medeon's well-built fort,
Eutresis, Thisbe's dove-frequented woods,
And Coronca, and the grassy meads
Of Haliartus; and Plataea's plain,
In Glissa, and the foot of Lower Thebes,
And in Anchestus, Neptune's sacred grove;
And who in viny-cluster'd Arne dwelt,
And in Mideia, and the lovely site
Of Nissa, and Anthedon's utmost bounds.
With these came fifty vessels; and in each
Were six score youths, Boeotia's noblest flow'r.
Who in Aspledon dwelt, and in Minyas' realm
Orehomenus, two sons of Mars obey'd,
Ascalaphus, and bold Ialmenus;
In Actor's house, the son of Azeus, born
Of fair Astyoche, a maiden pure,
Till in the upper chamber, where she slept,
Stout Mars by stealth her virgin bed assail'd:
Of these came thirty ships in order due.
By Schedius and Epistrophus, the sons
Of great Iphitus, son of Naubolus,
Were led the Phocian forces; these were they
Who dwelt in Cyparissus, and the rock
Of Python, and on Crissa's lovely plain;
And who in Daulis, and in Panope,
Anemorea and IIyampolis,
And by Cephisus' sacred waters dwelt,
Or in Lilaea, by Cephisus' springs.
In their command came forty dark-ribb'd ships.
These were the leaders of the Phocian bands,
And on Boeotia's left their camp was pitch'd.
Ajax, Oileus' son, the Locrians led;
Swift-footed, less than Ajax Telamon,
Of stature low, with linen breastplate arm'd:
But skill'd to throw the spear o'er all who dwell
In Hellas or Achaia: these were they
From Cynos, Opus, and Calliarus,
Bessa, and Scarpha, and Augaea fair,
Tarpha, and Thronium, by Boagrius' stream.
Him from beyond Euboea's sacred isle,
Of Locrians follow'd forty dark-ribb'd ships.
Breathing firm courage high, th' Abantian host,
Who from Euboea and from Chalcis came,
Or who in vine-clad Histiaea dwelt,
