The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Of storms and tempests, us’d to hurt things or that noble kind,

  The short life yet my mother liv’d he sav’d, and serv’d his mind

  With all the riches of the realm; which not enough esteem’d

  He kept her pris’ner; whom small time, but much more wealth, redeem’d,

  And she, in sylvan Hypoplace, Cilicia rul’d again,

  But soon was over-rul’d by death; Diana’s chaste disdain

  Gave her a lance, and took her life. Yet, all these gone from me,

  Thou amply render’st all; thy life makes still my father be,

  My mother, brothers; and besides thou art my husband too,

  Most lov’d, most worthy. Pity them, dear love, and do not go,

  For thou gone, all these go again; pity our common joy,

  Lest, of a father’s patronage, the bulwark of all Troy,

  Thou leav’st him a poor widow’s charge. Stay, stay then, in this tow’r,

  And call up to the wild fig-tree all thy retiréd pow’r;

  For there the wall is easiest scal’d, and fittest for surprise,

  And there, th’ Ajaces, Idomen, th’ Atrides, Diomed, thrice

  Have both survey’d and made attempt; I know not if induc’d

  By some wise augury, or the fact was naturally infus’d

  Into their wits, or courages.” To this, great Hector said:

  “Be well assur’d, wife, all these things in my kind cares are weigh’d.

  But what a shame, and fear, it is to think how Troy would scorn

  (Both in her husbands, and her wives, whom long-train’d gowns adorn)

  That I should cowardly fly off! The spirit I first did breath

  Did never teach me that; much less, since the contempt of death

  Was settled in me, and my mind knew what a worthy was,

  Whose office is to lead in fight, and give no danger pass

  Without improvement. In this fire must Hector’s trial shine;

  Here must his country, father, friends, be, in him, made divine.

  And such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know)

  When sacred Troy shall shed her tow’rs, for tears of overthrow;

  When Priam, all his birth and pow’r, shall in those tears be drown’d.

  But neither Troy’s posterity so much my soul doth wound,

  Priam, nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brothers’ woes,

  (Who though so many, and so good, must all be food for foes)

  As thy sad state; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence,

  These free days clouded, and a night of captive violence

  Loading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,

  But spin the Greek wives’ webs of task, and their fetch water be

  To Argos, from Messeides, or clear Hyperia’s spring; 6

  Which howsoever thou abhorr’st, Fate’s such a shrewish thing

  She will be mistress; whose curs’d hands, when they shall crush out cries

  From thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies)

  Thus they will nourish thy extremes: ‘This dame was Hector’s wife,

  A man that, at the wars of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life

  Of all their army.’ This again will rub thy fruitful wounds,

  To miss the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds.

  But that day shall not wound mine eyes; the solid heap of night

  Shall interpose, and stop mine ears against thy plaints, and plight.”

  This said, he reach’d to take his son; who, of his arms afraid,

  And then the horse-hair plume, with which he was so overlaid,

  Nodded so horribly, he cling’d back to his nurse, and cried.

  Laughter affected his great sire, who doff’d, and laid aside

  His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about it light;

  Then took and kiss’d his loving son, and (balancing his weight

  In dancing him) these loving vows to living Jove he us’d

  And all the other bench of Gods: “O you that have infus’d

  Soul to this infant, now set down this blessing on his star; —

  Let his renown be clear as mine; equal his strength in war;

  And make his reign so strong in Troy, that years to come may yield

  His facts this fame, when, rich in spoils, he leaves the conquer’d field

  Sown with his slaughters: ‘These high deeds exceed his father’s worth.’

  And let this echo’d praise supply the comforts to come forth

  Of his kind mother with my life.” This said, th’ heroic sire

  Gave him his mother; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love’s salt fire

  Billow’d on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector’s speech,

  In which his vows compris’d the sum of all he did beseech

  In her wish’d comfort. So she took into her od’rous breast

  Her husband’s gift; who, mov’d to see her heart so much oppress’d,

  He dried her tears, and thus desir’d: “Afflict me not, dear wife,

  With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life

  And this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate, whose wings can fly?

  Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die,

  Go home, and set thy housewif’ry on these extremes of thought;

  And drive war from them with thy maids; keep them from doing nought.

  These will be nothing; leave the cares of war to men, and me

  In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high’st degree.”

  On went his helm; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears;

  When ev’ry fear turn’d back her looks, and ev’ry look shed tears.

  Foe-slaught’ring Hector’s house soon reach’d, her many women there

  Wept all to see her: in his life great Hector’s fun’rals were;

  Never look’d any eye of theirs to see their lord safe home,

  ‘Scap’d from the gripes and pow’rs of Greece. And now was Paris come

  From his high tow’rs; who made no stay, when once he had put on

  His richest armour, but flew forth; the flints he trod upon

  Sparkled with lustre of his arms; his long-ebb’d spirits now flow’d

  The higher for their lower ebb. And as a fair steed, proud 7

  With full-giv’n mangers, long tied up, and now, his head stall broke,

  He breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke

  Measures the centre, neighs, and lifts aloft his wanton head,

  About his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed,

  Or in some calm flood wash’d, or, stung with his high plight, he flies

  Amongst his females, strength put forth, his beauty beautifies,

  And, like life’s mirror, bears his gait; so Paris from the tow’r

  Of lofty Pergamus came forth; he show’d a sun-like pow’r

  In carriage of his goodly parts, address’d now to the strife;

  And found his noble brother near the place he left his wife.

  Him thus respected he salutes: “Right worthy, I have fear

  That your so serious haste to field, my stay hath made forbear,

  And that I come not as you wish.” He answer’d: “Honour’d man,

  Be confident, for not myself, nor any others, can

  Reprove in thee the work of fight, at least, not any such

  As is an equal judge of things; for thou hast strength as much

  As serves to execute a mind very important, but

  Thy strength too readily flies off, enough will is not put

  To thy ability. My heart is in my mind’s strife sad,

  When Troy (out of her much distress, she and her friends have had

  By thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine ears.

  But come, hereafter we shall calm these hard conceits of theirs
,

  When, from their ports the foe expuls’d, high Jove to them hath giv’n

  Wish’d peace, and us free sacrifice to all the Powers of heav’n.”

  THE END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

  ENDNOTES.

  1 This Virgil imitates.

  2 Bellerophontis literæ. Ad Eras. This long speech many critics tax as untimely, being, as they take it, in the heat of fight; Hier. Vidas, a late observer, being eagerest against Homer. Whose ignorance in this I cannot but note, and prove to you; for, besides the authority and office of a poet, to vary and quicken his poem with these episodes, sometimes beyond the leisure of their actions, the critic notes not how far his forerunner prevents his worst as far; and sets down his speech at the sudden and strange turning of the Trojan field, set on a little before by Hector; and that so fiercely, it made an admiring stand among the Grecians, and therein gave fit time for these great captains to utter their admirations, the whole field in that part being to stand like their commanders. And then how full of decorum this gallant show and speech was to sound understandings, I leave only to such, and let our critics go cavil.

  3 Φρένας ἐξέλετο Ζεύς, Mentem ademit Jup., the text hath it; which only I alter of all Homer’s original, since Plutarch against the Stoics excuses this supposed folly in Glaucus. Spondanus likewise encouraging my alterations, which I use for the loved and simple nobility of the free exchange in Glaucus, contrary to others that, for the supposed folly in Glaucus, turned his change into a proverb, χρύσεα χαλχείων, golden for brazen.

  4 Hector dissembles the cowardice he finds in Paris turning it, as if he chid him for his anger at the Trojans for hating him, being conquered by Menelaus, when it is for his effeminacy. Which is all paraphrastical in my translation.

  5 Thebes, a most rich city of Cilicia.

  6 The names of two fountains: of which one in Thessaly, the other near Argos, or, according to others, in Peloponnesus or Lacedæmon.

  7 His simile, high and expressive; which Virgil almost word for word hath translated, Æn. xi. (v. 492).

  THE SEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS 1

  THE ARGUMENT

  Hector, by Helenus’ advice, doth seek

  Advent’rous combat on the boldest Greek,

  Nine Greeks stand up, acceptants ev’ry one,

  But lot selects strong Ajax Telamon.

  Both, with high honour, stand th’ important fight,

  Till heralds part them by approached night.

  Lastly, they grave the dead. The Greeks erect

  A mighty wall, their navy to protect;

  Which angers Neptune. Jove, by hapless signs,

  In depth of night, succeeding woes divines.

  ANOTHER ARGUMENT

  In Eta, Priam’s strongest son

  Combats with Ajax Telamon.

  This said, brave Hector through the Troy’s bane-bringing knight;

  Made issue to th’ insatiate field, resolv’d to fervent fight.

  And as the Weather-wielder sends to seamen prosp’rous gales,

  When with their sallow polish’d oars, long lifted from their falls,

  Their wearied arms, dissolv’d with toil, can scarce strike one stroke more;

  Like those sweet winds appear’d these lords, to Trojans tir’d before.

  Then fell they to the works of death. By Paris’ valour fell

  King Arëithous’ hapless son, that did in Arna dwell,

  Menesthius, whose renownéd sire a club did ever bear,

  And of Phylomedusa gat, that had her eyes so clear,

  This slaughter’d issue. Hector’s dart strook Eionëus dead;

  Beneath his good steel casque it pierc’d, above his gorget-stead.

  Glaucus, Hippolochus’s son, that led the Lycian crew,

  Iphinous-Dexiades with sudden jav’lin slew,

  As he was mounting to his horse; his shoulders took the spear,

  And ere he sate, in tumbling, down, his powers dissolvéd were.

  When gray-ey’d Pallas had perceiv’d the Greeks so fall in fight,

  From high Olympus’ top she stoop’d, and did on Ilion light.

  Apollo, to encounter her, to Pergamus did fly,

  From whence he, looking to the field, wish’d Trojans’ victory.

  At Jove’s broad beech these Godheads met; and first Jove’s son objects;

  “Why, burning in contention thus, do thy extreme affects

  Conduct thee from our peaceful hill? Is it to oversway

  The doubtful victory of fight, and give the Greeks the day?

  Thou never pitiest perishing Troy. Yet now let me persuade,

  That this day no more mortal wounds may either side invade.

  Hereafter, till the end of Troy, they shall apply the fight,

  Since your immortal wills resolve to overturn it quite.”

  Pallas replied: “It likes me well; for this came I from heav’n;

  But to make either armies cease, what order shall be giv’n?”

  He said: “We will direct the spirit, that burns in Hector’s breast,

  To challenge any Greek to wounds, with single pow’rs impress’d;

  Which Greeks, admiring, will accept, and make some one stand out

  So stout a challenge to receive, with a defence as stout.”

  It is confirm’d; and Helenus (king Priam’s lovéd seed)

  By augury discern’d th’ event that these two pow’rs decreed,

  And greeting Hector ask’d him this: “Wilt thou be once advis’d?

  I am thy brother, and thy life with mine is ev’nly prized.

  Command the rest of Troy and Greece; to cease this public fight,

  And, what Greek bears the greatest mind, to single strokes excite.

  I promise thee that yet thy soul shall not descend to fates;

  So heard I thy survival cast, by the celestial States.”

  Hector with glad allowance gave his brother’s counsel ear,

  And, fronting both the hosts, advanc’d just in the midst his spear.

  The Trojans instantly surcease; the Greeks Atrides stay’d.

  The God that bears the silver bow, and war’s triumphant Maid,

  On Jove’s beech like two vultures sat, pleas’d to behold both parts

  Flow in to hear, so sternly arm’d with huge shields, helms, and darts.

  And such fresh horror as you see, driv’n through the wrinkled waves

  By rising Zephyr, under whom the sea grows black, and raves;

  Such did the hasty gath’ring troops’ of both hosts make to hear;

  Whose tumult settled, ‘twixt them both, thus spake the challenger:

  “Hear, Trojans, and ye well-arm’d Greeks, what my strong mind, diffus’d

  Through all my spirits, commands me speak: Saturnius hath not us’d

  His promis’d favour for our truce, but, studying both our ills,

  Will never cease, till Mars, by you, his rav’nous stomach fills.

  With ruin’d Troy, or we consume your mighty sea-borne fleet.

  Since then the gen’ral peers of Greece in reach of one voice meet,

  Amongst you all, whose breast includes the most impulsive mind,

  Let him stand forth as combatant, by all the rest design’d.

  Before whom thus I call high Jove, to witness of our strife: —

  If he with home-thrust iron can reach th’ exposure of my life,

  Spoiling my arms, let him at will convey them to his tent,

  But let my body be return’d, that Troy’s two-sex’d descent

  May waste it in the fun’ral pile. If I can slaughter him,

  Apollo honouring me so much, I’ll spoil his conquer’d limb,

  And bear his arms to Ilion, where in Apollo’s shrine

  I’ll hang them, as my trophies due; his body I’ll resign

  To be disposed by his friends in flamy funerals,

  And honour’d with erected tomb, where Hellespontus falls

  Into Ægæ
um, and doth reach ev’n to your naval road,

  That, when our beings in the earth shall hide their period,

  Survivors, sailing the black sea, may thus his name renew:

  ‘This is his monument whose blood long since did fates imbrue,

  Whom, passing far in fortitude illustrate Hector slew.’

  This shall posterity report, and my fame never die.”

  This said, dumb silence seiz’d them all; they shaméd to deny,

  And fear’d to undertake. At last did Menelaus speak,

  Check’d their remissness, and so sigh’d, as if his heart would break:

  “Ah me! But only threat’ning Greeks, not worthy Grecian names! 2

  This more and more, not to be borne, makes grow our huge defames,

  If Hector’s honourable proof be entertain’d by none.

  But you are earth and water all, which, symboliz’d in one,

  Have fram’d your faint unfi’ry spirits; ye sit without your hearts,

  Grossly inglorious; but myself will use acceptive darts,

  And arm against him, though you think I arm ‘gainst too much odds;

  But conquest’s garlands hang aloft, amongst th’ Immortal Gods.”

  He arm’d, and gladly would have fought; but Menelaus, then,

  By Hector’s far more strength, thy soul had fled th’ abodes of men,

  Had not the kings of Greece stood up, and thy attempt restrain’d;

  And ev’n the king of men himself, that in such compass reign’d,

  Who took him by the bold right hand, and sternly pluck’d him back:

  “Mad brother, ’tis no work for thee, thou seek’st thy wilful wrack!

  Contain, though it despite thee much, nor for this strife engage

  Thy person with a man more strong, and whom all fear t’ enrage;

  Yea whom Æacides himself, in men-renowning war,

  Makes doubt t’ encounter, whose huge strength surpasseth thine by far.

  Sit thou then by thy regiment; some other Greek will rise

  (Though he be dreadless, and no war will his desires suffice,

  That makes this challenge to our strength) our valours to avow;

  To whom, if he can ‘scape with life, he will be glad to bow.”

  This drew his brother from his will, who yielded, knowing it true,

  And his glad soldiers took his arms; when Nestor did pursue

  The same reproof he set on foot, and thus supplied his turn:

  “What huge indignity is this! How will our country mourn!