by Homer
Atrides with his knife took sey upon the part before;
And lifting up his sacred hands to Jove, to make his vows,
Grave silence struck the complete court, when (casting his high brows
Up to the broad heav’n) thus he spake: ‘Now witness Jupiter,
First, highest and thou best of gods, thou earth, that all dost bear,
Thou sun, ye Furies under earth, that every soul torment
Whom impious perjury distains – that nought incontinent
In bed, or any other act, to any slend’rest touch
Of my light vows hath wrong’d the dame; and let my plagues be such
As are inflicted by the gods in all extremity
On whomsoever perjur’d men, if godless perjury
In least degree dishonour me.’ This said, the bristled throat
Of the submitted sacrifice with ruthless steel he cut;
Which straight into the hoary sea Talthybius cast, to feed
The sea-born nation. Then stood up the half-celestial seed
Of fair-hair’d Thetis, strength’ning thus Atrides’ innocence:
‘O father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence
Of all man’s ill; for now I see the mighty king of men
At no hand forc’d away my prize, nor first inflam’d my spleen
With any set ill in himself; but thou, the king of gods
(Incens’d with Greece) made that the mean to all their periods,
Which now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages
To what wise Ithacus advis’d. Take breakfasts, and address
For instant conflict.’ Thus he rais’d the court, and all took way
To several ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convey
T’ Achilles fleet, and in his tents dispos’d them, doing grace
Of seat and all rites to the dames, the horses put in place
With others of Aeacides. When (like love’s golden queen)
Briseis all in ghastly wounds had dead Patroclus seen,
She fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore
Her hair, breasts, radiant cheeks; and, drown’d in warm tears, did deplore
His cruel destiny. At length she gat pow’r to express
Her violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:
‘O good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,
I (wretched dame) departing hence, enforc’d and dying sad,
Left thee alive, when thou hadst cheer’d my poor captivity;
And now return’d, I find thee dead, misery on misery
Ever increasing with my steps. The lord to whom my sire
And dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life’s fire
I saw before our city gates extinguish’d; and his fate
Three of my worthy brothers’ lives, in one womb generate,
Felt all in that black day of death. And when Achilles’ hand
Had slain all these, and ras’d the town Mynetes did command
(All cause of never-ending griefs presented), thou took’st all
On thy endeavour to convert to joy as general,
Affirming he that hurt should heal, and thou wouldst make thy friend
(Brave captain that thou wert) supply my vowed husband’s end,
And in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,
Our nuptial banquets; for which grace, with these most worthy moans
I never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,
Ever delightsome, one sweet grace fed still with one sweet mind.’
Thus spake she weeping, and with her did th’ other ladies moan
Patroclus’ fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their own.
About Aeacides himself the kings of Greece were plac’d,
Entreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast
(Still intermixing words and sighs), if any friend were there
Of all his dearest, they would cease, and offer him no cheer
But his due sorrows; for before the sun had left that sky
He would not eat, but of that day sustain th’ extremity.
Thus all the kings (in resolute grief and fasting) he dismiss’d;
But both th’ Atrides, Ithacus, and war’s old martialist,
Idomenaeus and his friend, and Phoenix, these remain’d
Endeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow’d woe restrain’d –
Nor could, till that day’s bloody fight had calm’d his blood; he still
Remember’d something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.
Their urging meat, the diligent fashion of his friend renew’d
In that excitement: ‘Thou,’ said he, ‘when this speed was pursued
Against the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent
A pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,
Thou mad’st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe,
But now to me, thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow.
For which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.
Nothing could more afflict me: fame relating the foul deed
Of my dear father’s slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son’s heart,
No more could wound me. Cursed man, that in this foreign part
(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire and son,
I thus should part with. Scyros now gives education,
O Neoptelemus, to thee (if living yet), from whence
I hop’d, dear friend, thy longer life (safely return’d from hence,
And my life quitting thine) had pow’r to ship him home, and show
His young eyes Phthia, subjects, court – my father being now
Dead, or most short-liv’d, troublous age oppressing him, and fear
Still of my death’s news.’ These sad words he blew into the ear
Of every visitant, with sighs, all echo’d by the peers,
Rememb’ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears
Jove pitied: and since they all would in the good of one
Be much reviv’d, he thus bespake Minerva: ‘Thetis’ son
Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles ’care
Extinguish’d in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare
He lies before his high-sail’d fleet, for his dead friend; the rest
Are strength’ning them with meat, but he lies desperately oppress’d
With heartless fasting: go thy ways, and to his breast instil
Red nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill
To his near enterprise.’ This spur he added to the free;
And like a harpy (with a voice that shrieks so dreadfully,
And feathers that like needles prick) she stoop’d through all the stars
Amongst the Grecians; all whose tents were now fill’d for the wars.
Her seres struck through Achilles’ tent, and closely she instill’d
Heaven’s most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill’d
His sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast
Should creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas’t.
The host set forth, and pour’d his steel waves far out of the fleet.
And as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet
That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending:
So thick helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending,
Flow’d from the navy’s hollow womb; their splendours gave heav’n’s ey
e
His beams again; earth laugh’d to see her face so like the sky,
Arms shin’d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast –
She thunder’d, feet of men and horse importun’d her so fast.
In midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm’d,
His teeth gnash’d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm’d,
Unsuffer’d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin’d.
His greaves first us’d, his goodly curets on his bosom, shin’d,
His sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon:
And as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire, let run
By herdsmen’s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrastling flame,
Which being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came
To give it quench; at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends
Driv’n off with tempests: such a fire from his bright shield extends
His ominous radiance, and in heav’n impress’d his fervent blaze.
His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place
On his curl’d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray,
About which a bright thick’ned bush of golden hair did play,
Which Vulcan forg’d him for his plume. Thus complete arm’d, he tried
How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide
Their brave instruction: and so far they were from hind’ring it,
That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit
That from the earth the princely captain they took up to air.
Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father’s spear,
Huge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone
Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion,
From whose height Chiron hew’d it for his sire, and fatal ’twas
To great-soul’d men – of Pelion surnamed Pelias.
Then from the stable their bright horse Automedon withdraws,
And Alcymus put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws
Their bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat.
The fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get
To guide the horse: the fight’s seat last Achilles took behind,
Who look’d so arm’d as if the sun there fall’n from heaven had shin’d,
And terribly thus charg’d his steeds: ‘Xanthus and Balius,
Seed of the harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us,
Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field,
But when with blood, for this day’s fast observ’d, revenge shall yield
Our heart satiety, bring us off.’ Thus, since Achilles spake
As if his aw’d steeds understood, ’twas Juno’s will to make
Vocal the palate of the one, who shaking his fair head
(Which in his mane, let fall to earth, he almost buried),
Thus Xanthus spake: ‘Ablest Achilles, now (at least) our care
Shall bring thee off; but not far hence the fatal minutes are
Of thy grave ruin. Nor shall we be then to be reprov’d,
But mightiest fate, and the great god. Nor was thy best belov’d
Spoil’d so of arms by our slow pace, or courage’s impair;
The best of gods, Latona’s son, that wears the golden hair,
Gave him his death’s wound, through the grace he gave to Hector’s hand.
We, like the spirit of the west that all spirits can command
For pow’r of wing, could run him off: but thou thyself must go,
So fate ordains; god and a man must give thee overthrow.’
This said, the Furies stopp’d his voice. Achilles, far in rage,
Thus answer’d him: ‘It fits not thee thus proudly to presage
My overthrow; I know myself it is my fate to fall
Thus far from Phthia; yet that fate shall fail to vent her gall
Till mine vent thousands.’ These words us’d, he fell to horrid deeds,
Gave dreadful signal, and forthright made fly his one-hoof’d steeds.
The end of the nineteenth book
Book 20
The Argument
By Jove’s permission, all the gods descend
To aid on both parts. For the Greeks contend
Juno, Minerva, Neptune, Mulciber,
And Mercury. The deities that prefer
The Trojan part are Phoebus, Cyprides,
Phoebe, Latona, and the foe to peace,
With bright Scamander. Neptune in a mist
Preserves Aeneas, daring to resist
Achilles, by whose hand much scathe is done,
Besides the slaughter of old Priam’s son
(Young Polydor), whose rescue Hector makes;
Him (flying) Phoebus to his rescue takes,
The rest (all shunning their importun’d fates)
Achilles beats ev’n to the Ilian gates.
Another Argument
In Upsilon Strife stirs in heav’n.
The day’s grace to the Greeks is giv’n.
Book 20
The Greeks thus arm’d, and made insatiate with desire of fight,
About thee, Peleus’ son, the foe, in ground of greatest height,
Stood opposite rang’d. Then Jove charg’d Themis from Olympus’ top
To call a court; she every way dispers’d, and summon’d up
All deities: not any flood (besides Oceanus)
But made appearance; not a nymph (that arbours odorous,
The heads of floods and flow’ry meadows make their sweet abodes)
Was absent there; but all at his court that is king of gods
Assembled, and in lightsome seats of admirable frame
(Perform’d for Jove by Vulcan) sat. Ev’n angry Neptune came,
Nor heard the goddess with unwilling ear, but with the rest
Made free ascension from the sea, and did his state invest
In midst of all, began the council, and inquir’d of Jove
His reason for that session, and on what point did move
His high intention for the foes; he thought the heat of war
Was then near breaking out in flames. To him the Thunderer:
‘Thou know’st this council by the rest of those fore-purposes
That still inclin’d me; my cares still must succour the distress
Of Troy, though in the mouth of Fate, yet vow I not to stir
One step from off this top of heav’n, but all th’ affair refer
To any one. Here I’ll hold state, and freely take the joy
Of either’s fate: help whom ye please, for ’tis assur’d that Troy
Not one day’s conflict can sustain against Aeacides,
If heav’n oppose not. His mere looks threw darts enow t’ impress
Their pow’rs with trembling, but when blows sent from his fiery hand
(Thrice heat by slaughter of his friend) shall come and countermand
Their former glories, we have fear, that though Fate keep their wall,
He’ll overturn it. Then descend, and cease not till ye all
Add all your aids; mix earth and heav’n together with the fight
Achilles urgeth.’ These his words did such a war excite
As no man’s pow’r could wrastle down; the gods with parted hearts
Departed heav’n, and made earth war. To guide the Grecian darts,
Juno and Pallas, with the god that doth the earth embrace,
And most-for-man’s-use Mercury (whom good wise inwards grace)
Were partially and all employ’d; and with them halted down
(Proud of his strength) lame Mulciber, his walkers quite misgrown,
But made him tread exceeding sure. To aid the Ilian side,
The changeable-in-arms went (Mars), and him accompanied
Diana, that delights in shafts, and Phoebus never shorn,
And Aphrodite, laughter-pleas’d, and she of whom was born
Still young Apollo, and the flood that runs on golden sands,
Bright Xanthus. All these aided Troy, and till these lent their hands
The Grecians triumph’d in the aid Aeacides did add,
The Trojans trembling with his sight, so gloriously clad
He overshin’d the field, and Mars no harmfuller than he.
He bore the iron stream on clear, but when Jove’s high decree
Let fall the gods amongst their troops, the field swell’d, and the light
Grew fierce and horrible. The dame that armies doth excite
Thunder’d with clamour, sometimes set at dike without the wall,
And sometimes on the bellowing shore. On th’ other side, the call
Of Mars to fight was terrible, he cried out like a storm,
Set on the city’s pinnacles; and there he would inform
Sometimes his heart’nings; other times, where Simois pours on
His silver current, at the foot of high Callicolon.
And thus the bless’d gods both sides urg’d; they all stood in the mids,
And brake contention to the hosts. And over all their heads
The gods’ king in abhorred claps his thunder rattled out,
Beneath them Neptune toss’d the earth, the mountains round about
Bow’d with affright, and shook their heads: Jove’s hill the earthquake felt
(Steep Ida), trembling at her roots, and all her fountains spilt,
Their brows all crannied. Troy did nod, the Grecian navy play’d
(As on the sea): th’ infernal king, that all things frays, was fray’d,
And leap’d affrighted from his throne; cried out, lest over him
Neptune should rend in two the earth; and so his house, so dim,
So loathsome, filthy, and abhorr’d of all the gods beside,
Should open both to gods and men. Thus all things shook and cried
When this black battle of the gods was joining, thus array’d:
