The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  So many mis’ries, and so long? In her sweet count’nance shine

  Looks like the Goddesses. And yet (though never so divine)

  Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforcéd prise,

  And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,

  Labour and ruin, let her go; the profit of our land

  Must pass the beauty.” Thus, tough these could bear so fit a hand

  On their affections, yet, when all their gravest powers were us’d,

  They could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus’d

  The Gods than beauty; for thus spake the most-fam’d king of Troy:

  “Come, lovéd daughter, sit by me and take the worthy joy

  Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends, and princes near allied,

  And name me some of these brave Greeks, so manly beautified.

  Come, do not think I lay the wars, endur’d by us, on thee,

  The Gods have sent them, and the tears in which they swum to me.

  Sit then, and name this goodly Greek, so tall, and broadly spread,

  Who than the rest, that stand by him, is higher by the head;

  The bravest man I ever saw, and most majestical,

  His only presence makes me think him king amongst them all.”

  The fairest of her sex replied: Most rev’rend father-in-law,

  Most lov’d, most fear’d, would some ill death had seiz’d me, when I saw

  The first mean why I wrong’d you thus: that I had never lost

  The sight of these my ancient friends, of him that lov’d me most,

  Of my sole daughter, brothers both, with all those kindly mates,

  Of one soil, one age, born with me, though under diff’rent fates!

  But these boons envious stars deny; the memory of these

  In sorrow pines those beauties now, that then did too much please;

  Nor satisfy they your demand, to which I thus reply:

  That’s Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, the great in empery;

  A king, whom double royalty doth crown, being great and good,

  And one that was my brother-in-law, when I contain’d my blood,

  And was more worthy; if at all I might be said to be,

  My being being lost so soon in all that honour’d me.”

  The good old king admir’d, and said: “O Atreus’ blesséd son,

  Born unto joyful destinies, that hast the empire won

  Of such a world of Grecian youths, as I discover here!

  I once march’d into Phrygia, that many vines doth bear,

  Where many Phrygians I beheld, well-skill’d in use of horse,

  That of the two men, like two Gods, were the commanded force,

  Otrëus, and great Mygdonus, who on Sangarius’ sands

  Set down their tents with whom myself, for my assistant bands,

  Was number’d as a man in chief; the cause of war was then

  Th’ Amazon dames, that in their facts affected to be men.

  In all there was a mighty pow’r, which yet did never rise

  To equal these Achaian youths, fat have the sable eyes.”

  Then (seeing Ulysses next) he said: “Lov’d daughter, what is he

  That, lower than great Atreus’ son; seems by the head to me,

  Yet, in his shoulders and big breast, presents a broader show?

  His armour lies upon the earth; he up and down doth go,

  To see his soldiers keep their ranks, and ready have their arms,

  If, in this truce, they should be tried by any false alarms.

  Much like a well-grown bell-wether, or feltred ram, he shows,

  That walks before a wealthy flock of fair white-fleeced ewes.”

  High Jove and Leda’s fairest seed to Priam thus replies:

  “This is the old Laertes’ son, Ulysses, call’d the wise;

  Who, though unfruitful Ithaca was made his nursing seat,

  Yet knows he ev’ry sort of sleight, and is in counsels great.”

  The wise Antenor answer’d her: “’Tis true, renownéd dame;

  For, some times past, wise Ithacus to Troy a legate came,

  With Menelaus, for your cause; to whom I gave receipt

  As guests, and welcom’d to my house, with all the love I might.

  I learn’d the wisdom of their souls, and humours of their blood;

  For when the Trojan council met, and these together stood,

  By height of his broad shoulders had Atrides eminence,

  Yet, set, Ulysses did exceed, and bred more reverence.

  And when their counsels and their words they wove in one, the speech

  Of Atreus’ son was passing loud, small, fast, yet did not reach

  To much, being naturally born Laconical; nor would

  His humour lie for anything, or was, like th’ other, old;

  But when the prudent Ithacus did to his counsels rise,

  He stood a little still, and fix’d upon the earth his eyes,

  His sceptre moving neither way, but held it formally,

  Like one that vainly doth affect. Of wrathful quality,

  And frantic (rashly judging him) you would have said he was,

  But when, out of his ample breast he gave his great voice pass,

  And words that flew about our ears, like drifts of winter’s snow,

  None thenceforth might contend with him, tho’ nought admir’d for show.”

  The third man, aged Priam mark’d, was Ajax Telamon,

  Of whom he ask’d: “What lord is that, so large of limb and bone,

  So rais’d in height, that to his breast I see there reacheth none?”

  To him the Goddess of her sex, the large-veil’d Helen, said:

  “That Lord is Ajax Telamon, a bulwark in their aid.

  On th’ other side stands Idomen, in Crete of most command,

  And round about his royal sides his Cretan captains stand;

  Oft hath the warlike Spartan king giv’n hospitable due

  To him within our Lacene court, and all his retinue.

  And now the other Achive dukes I gen’rally discern;

  All which I know, and all their names could make thee quickly learn.

  Two princes of the people yet, I nowhere can behold,

  Castor, the skilful knight on horse and Pollux, uncontroll’d

  For all stand-fights, and force of hand; both at a burthen bred;

  My natural brothers; either here they have not followéd

  From lovely Sparta, or, arriv’d within the sea-born fleet,

  In fear of infamy for me, in broad field shame to meet.”

  Nor so; for holy Tellus’ womb inclos’d those worthy men

  In Sparta, their belovéd soil. The voiceful heralds then

  The firm agreement of the Gods through all the city ring;

  Two lambs, and spirit-refreshing wine (the fruit of earth) they bring,

  Within a goat-skin bottle clos’d; Idæus also brought

  A massy glitt’ring bowl, and cups, that all of gold were wrought;

  Which bearing to the king, they cried: “Son of Laomedon

  Rise, for the well-rode peers of Troy, and brass-arm’d Greeks, in one,

  Send to thee to descend the field, that they firm vows may make;

  For Paris, and the Spartan king, must fight for Helen’s sake,

  With long-arm’d lances; and the man that proves victorious,

  The woman, and the wealth she brought, shall follow to his house;

  The rest knit friendship, and firm leagues; we safe in Troy shall dwell,

  In Argos and Achaia they, that do in dames excel.”

  He said; and Priam’s aged joints with chilléd fear did shake,

  Yet instantly he bade his men his chariot ready make.

  Which soon they did, and he ascends. He takes the reins, and guide

  Antenor calls; who instantly mounts to his royal side,

  And, through the Scæan ports to field, th
e swift-foot horse they drive.

  And when at them of Troy and Greece the aged lords arrive,

  From horse, on Troy’s well-feeding soil, ‘twixt both the hosts they go.

  When straight up-rose the king of men, up-rose Ulysses too,

  The heralds in their richest coats repeat (as was the guise)

  The true vows of the Gods (term’d theirs, since made before their eyes)

  Then in a cup of gold they mix the wine that each side brings,

  And next pour water on the hands of both the kings of kings.

  Which done, Atrides drew his knife, that evermore he put

  Within the large sheath of his sword; with which away he cut

  The wool from both fronts of the lambs, which (as a rite in use

  Of execration to their heads, that brake the plighted truce)

  The heralds of both hosts did give the peers of both; and then,

  With hands and voice advanc’d to heav’n, thus pray’d the king of men:

  “O Jove, that Ida dost protect, and hast the titles won

  Most glorious, most invincible; aid thou all-seeing Sun,

  All-hearing, all-recomforting; Floods; Earth; and Pow’rs beneath,

  That all the perjuries of men chastise ev’n after death!

  Be witnesses, and see perform’d the hearty vows we make. —

  If Alexander shall the life of Menelaus take,

  He shall from henceforth Helena, with all her wealth, retain,

  And we will to our household Gods, hoise sail, and home again.

  If, by my honour’d brother’s hand, be Alexander slain,

  The Trojans then shall his forc’d queen, with all her wealth, restore,

  And pay convenient fine to us, aid ours for evermore.

  If Priam and his sons deny to pay his, thus agreed,

  When Alexander shall be slain; or that perfidious deed,

  And for the fine, will I fight here, till dearly they repay,

  By death and ruin, the amends, that falsehood keeps away.”

  This said, the throats of both the lambs cut with his royal knife,

  He laid them panting on the earth, till, quite depriv’d of life,

  The steel had robb’d them of their strength; then golden cups they crown’d,

  With wine out of a cistern drawn; which pour’d upon the ground,

  They fell upon their humble knees to all the Deities,

  And thus pray’d one of both the hosts, that might do sacrifice:

  “O Jupiter, most high, most great, and all the deathless Pow’rs!

  Who first shall dare to violate the late sworn oaths of ours,

  So let the bloods and brains of them, and all they shall produce,

  Flow on the stain’d face of the earth, as now this sacred juice;

  And let their wives with bastardice brand all their future race.”

  Thus pray’d they; but, with wish’d effects, their pray’rs Jove did not grace;

  When Priam said: “Lords of both hosts, I can no longer stay

  To see my lov’d son try his life, and so must take my way

  To wind-exposéd Ilion. Jove yet and heav’n’s high States

  Know only, which of these must now pay tribute to the Fates.”

  Thus, putting in his coach the lambs, he mounts and reins his horse;

  Antenor to him; and to Troy, both take their speedy course.

  Then Hector, Priam’s martial son, stepp’d forth, and met the ground,

  With wise Ulysses, where the blows of combat must resound;

  Which done, into a helm they put two lots, to let them know

  Which of the combatants should first his brass-pil’d jav’lin throw;

  When all the people standing by, with hands held up to heav’n,

  Pray’d Jove the conquest might not be by force or fortune giv’n,

  But that the man, who was in right the author of most wrong,

  Might feel his justice, and no more these tedious wars prolong,

  But, sinking to the house of death, leave them (as long before)

  Link’d fast in leagues of amity, that might dissolve no more.

  Then Hector shook the helm that held the equal dooms of chance,

  Look’d back, and drew; and Paris first had lot to hurl his lance,

  The soldiers all sat down enrank’d, each by his arms and horse

  That then lay down and cool’d their hoofs. And now th’ allotted course

  Bids fair-hair’d Helen’s husband arm; who first makes fast his greaves

  With silver buckles to his legs; then on his breast receives

  The curets that Lycaon wore (his brother) but made fit

  For his fair body; next his sword he took, and fasten’d it,

  All damask’d, underneath his arm; his shield then grave and great

  His shoulders wore; and on his head his glorious helm he set,

  Topp’d with a plume of horse’s hair, that horribly did dance,

  And seem’d to threaten as he mov’d; at last he takes his lance,

  Exceeding big, and full of weight, which he with ease could use.

  In like sort, Sparta’s warlike king himself with arms indues.

  Thus arm’d at either army both, they both stood bravely in,

  Possessing both hosts with amaze, they came so chin to chin,

  And, with such horrible aspécts, each other did salute.

  A fair large field was made for them; where wraths, for hugeness mute,

  And mutual, made them mutually at either shake their darts

  Before they threw. Then Paris first with his long jav’lin parts;

  It smote Atrides’ orby targe, but ran not through the brass,

  For in it (arming well the shield) the head reflected was.

  Then did the second combatant apply him to his spear,

  Which ere he threw, he thus besought almighty Jupiter:

  “O Jove! Vouchsafe me now revenge, and that my enemy,

  For doing wrong so undeserv’d, may pay deservedly

  The pains he forfeited; and let these hands inflict those pains,

  By conqu’ring, ay, by conqu’ring dead, him on whom life complains;

  That any now, or anyone of all the brood of men

  To live hereafter, may with fear from all offence abstain,

  Much more from all such foul offence to him that was his host,

  And entertain’d him as the man whom he affected most.”

  This said, he shook and threw his lance; which strook through

  Paris’ shield,

  And, with the strength he gave to it, it made the curets yield,

  His coat of mail, his breast, and all, and drove his entrails in,

  In that low region where the guts in three small parts begin;

  Yet he, in bowing of his breast, prvented sable death.

  This taint he follow’d with his sword, drawn from a silver sheath,

  Which lifting high, he strook his helm full where his plume did stand,

  On which it piecemeal brake, and fell from his unhappy hand.

  At which he sighing stood, and star’d upon the ample sky,

  And said: “O Jove, there is no God giv’n more illiberally

  To those that serve thee than thyself, why have I pray’d in vain?

  I hop’d my hand should have reveng’d, the wrongs I still sustain,

  On him that did them, and still dares their foul defence pursue;

  And now my lance hath miss’d his end, my sword in shivers flew,

  And he ‘scapes all.” With this, again he rush’d upon his guest,

  And caught him by the horse-hair plume, that dangled on his crest,

  With thought to drag him to the Greeks; which he had surely done,

  And so, besides the victory, had wondrous glory won,

  (Because the needle-painted lace, with which his helm was tied

  Beneath his chin, and so about his dainty throat implied,

  Had strangle
d him;) but that, in time, the Cyprian seed of Jove

  Did brake the string, with which was lin’d that which the needle wove,

  And was the tough thong of a steer; and so the victor’s palm

  Was, for so full a man-at-arms, only an empty helm.

  That then he swung about his head, and cast among his friends,

  Who scrambled, and took ‘t up with shouts. Again then he intends

  To force the life-blood of his foe, and ran on him amain,

  With shaken jav’lin; when the Queen, that lovers loves, again 1

  Attended, and now ravish’d him from that encounter quite,

  With ease, and wondrous suddenly; for she, a Goddess, might.

  She hid him in a cloud of gold, and never made him known,

  Till in his chamber, fresh and sweet, she gently set him down,

  And went for Helen; whom she found in Scæa’s utmost height,

  To which whole swarms of city dames had climb’d to see the sight.

  To give her errand good success, she took on her the shape

  Of beldame Græa, who was brought by Helen, in her rape,

  From Lacedæmon, and had trust in all her secrets still,

  Being old, and had (of all her maids) the main bent of her will,

  And spun for her her finest wool. Like her, Love’s Empress came,

  Pull’d Helen by the heav’nly veil, and softly said: “Madame,

  My lord calls for you, you must needs make all your kind haste home;

  He’s in your chamber, stays, and longs; sits by your bed; pray come,

  ’Tis richly made, and sweet; but he more sweet, and looks so clear,

  So fresh, and movingly attir’d, that, seeing, you would swear

  He came not from the dusky fight, but from a courtly dance,

  Or would to dancing.” This she made a charm for dalliance;

  Whose virtue Helen felt, and knew, by her so radiant eyes,

  White neck, and most enticing breasts, the deified disguise.

  At which amaz’d, she answer’d her: “Unhappy Deity!

  Why lov’st thou still in these deceits to wrap my phantasy?

  Or whither yet, of all the towns giv’n to their lust beside,

  In Phrygia, or Mæonia, com’st thou to be my guide,

  If there (of divers-languag’d men thou hast, as here in Troy,

  Some other friend to be my shame; since here thy latest joy

  By Menelaus now subdu’d, by him shall I be borne

  Home to his court, and end my life in triumphs of his scorn?

  And, to this end, would thy deceits my wanton life allure?

  Hence, go thyself to Priam’s son and all the ways abjure