To help the Achaians, whatsoe’er thy will;
When Hector at your heels shall mow you down:
The Hero-slaughtering Hector! Then thy soul,
Vexation-stung, shall tear thee with remorse, 305
That thou hast scorn’d, as he were nothing worth,
A Chief, the soul and bulwark of your cause.
So saying, he cast his sceptre on the ground
Studded with gold, and sat. On the other side
The son of Atreus all impassion’d stood, 310
When the harmonious orator arose
Nestor, the Pylian oracle, whose lips
Dropped eloquence — the honey not so sweet.
Two generations past of mortals born
In Pylus, coëtaneous with himself, 315
He govern’d now the third — amid them all
He stood, and thus, benevolent, began.
Ah! what calamity hath fall’n on Greece!
Now Priam and his sons may well exult,
Now all in Ilium shall have joy of heart 320
Abundant, hearing of this broil, the prime
Of Greece between, in council and in arms.
But be persuaded; ye are younger both
Than I, and I was conversant of old
With Princes your superiors, yet from them 325
No disrespect at any time received.
Their equals saw I never; never shall;
Exadius, Cœneus, and the Godlike son
Of Ægeus, mighty Theseus; men renown’d
For force superior to the race of man, 330
Brave Chiefs they were, and with brave foes they fought,
With the rude dwellers on the mountain-heights
The Centaurs, whom with havoc such as fame
015 Shall never cease to celebrate, they slew.
With these men I consorted erst, what time 335
From Pylus, though a land from theirs remote,
They called me forth, and such as was my strength,
With all that strength I served them. Who is he?
What Prince or Chief of the degenerate race
Now seen on earth who might with these compare? 340
Yet even these would listen and conform
To my advice in consultation given,
Which hear ye also; for compliance proves
Oft times the safer and the manlier course.
Thou, Agamemnon! valiant as thou art, 345
Seize not the maid, his portion from the Greeks,
But leave her his; nor thou, Achilles, strive
With our imperial Chief; for never King
Had equal honor at the hands of Jove
With Agamemnon, or was throned so high. 350
Say thou art stronger, and art Goddess-born,
How then? His territory passes thine,
And he is Lord of thousands more than thou.
Cease, therefore, Agamemnon; calm thy wrath;
And it shall be mine office to entreat 355
Achilles also to a calm, whose might
The chief munition is of all our host.
To whom the sovereign of the Greeks replied,
The son of Atreus. Thou hast spoken well,
Old Chief, and wisely. But this wrangler here — 360
Nought will suffice him but the highest place:
He must control us all, reign over all,
Dictate to all; but he shall find at least
One here, disposed to question his commands.
If the eternal Gods have made him brave, 365
Derives he thence a privilege to rail?
Whom thus Achilles interrupted fierce.
Could I be found so abject as to take
The measure of my doings at thy lips,
Well might they call me coward through the camp, 370
A vassal, and a fellow of no worth.
016 Give law to others. Think not to control
Me, subject to thy proud commands no more.
Hear yet again! And weigh what thou shalt hear.
I will not strive with thee in such a cause, 375
Nor yet with any man; I scorn to fight
For her, whom having given, ye take away.
But I have other precious things on board;
Of those take none away without my leave.
Or if it please thee, put me to the proof 380
Before this whole assembly, and my spear
Shall stream that moment, purpled with thy blood.
Thus they long time in opposition fierce
Maintained the war of words; and now, at length,
(The grand consult dissolved,) Achilles walked 385
(Patroclus and the Myrmidons his steps
Attending) to his camp and to his fleet.
But Agamemnon order’d forth a bark,
A swift one, manned with twice ten lusty rowers;
He sent on board the Hecatomb: he placed 390
Chrysëis with the blooming cheeks, himself,
And to Ulysses gave the freight in charge.
So all embarked, and plow’d their watery way.
Atrides, next, bade purify the host;
The host was purified, as he enjoin’d, 395
And the ablution cast into the sea.
Then to Apollo, on the shore they slew,
Of the untillable and barren deep,
Whole Hecatombs of bulls and goats, whose steam
Slowly in smoky volumes climbed the skies. 400
Thus was the camp employed; nor ceased the while
The son of Atreus from his threats denounced
At first against Achilles, but command
Gave to Talthybius and Eurybates
His heralds, ever faithful to his will. 405
Haste — Seek ye both the tent of Peleus’ son
Achilles. Thence lead hither by the hand
017 Blooming Brisëis, whom if he withhold,
Not her alone, but other spoil myself
Will take in person — He shall rue the hour. 410
With such harsh message charged he them dismissed
They, sad and slow, beside the barren waste
Of Ocean, to the galleys and the tents
Moved of the Myrmidons. Him there they found
Beneath the shadow of his bark reclined, 415
Nor glad at their approach. Trembling they stood,
In presence of the royal Chief, awe-struck,
Nor questioned him or spake. He not the less
Knew well their embassy, and thus began.
Ye heralds, messengers of Gods and men, 420
Hail, and draw near! I bid you welcome both.
I blame not you; the fault is his alone
Who sends you to conduct the damsel hence
Brisëis. Go, Patroclus, generous friend!
Lead forth, and to their guidance give the maid. 425
But be themselves my witnesses before
The blessed Gods, before mankind, before
The ruthless king, should want of me be felt
To save the host from havoc — Oh, his thoughts
Are madness all; intelligence or skill, 430
Forecast or retrospect, how best the camp
May be secured from inroad, none hath he.
He ended, nor Patroclus disobey’d,
But leading beautiful Brisëis forth
Into their guidance gave her; loth she went 435
From whom she loved, and looking oft behind.
Then wept Achilles, and apart from all,
With eyes directed to the gloomy Deep
And arms outstretch’d, his mother suppliant sought.
Since, mother, though ordain’d so soon to die, 440
I am thy son, I might with cause expect
Some honor at the Thunderer’s hands, but none
To me he shows, whom Agamemnon, Chief
018 Of the Achaians, hath himself disgraced,
Seizing by violence my just reward. 445
So prayed he weeping, whom his mother heard
Within the gulfs of Ocean where she sat
Beside her ancient sire. From the gray flood
Ascending sudden, like a mist she came,
Sat down before him, stroked his face, and said. 450
Why weeps my son? and what is thy distress?
Hide not a sorrow that I wish to share.
To whom Achilles, sighing deep, replied.
Why tell thee woes to thee already known?
At Thebes, Eëtion’s city we arrived, 455
Smote, sack’d it, and brought all the spoil away.
Just distribution made among the Greeks,
The son of Atreus for his lot received
Blooming Chrysëis. Her, Apollo’s priest
Old Chryses followed to Achaia’s camp, 460
That he might loose his daughter. Ransom rich
He brought, and in his hands the hallow’d wreath
And golden sceptre of the Archer God
Apollo, bore; to the whole Grecian host,
But chiefly to the foremost in command 465
He sued, the sons of Atreus; then, the rest
All recommended reverence of the Seer,
And prompt acceptance of his costly gifts.
But Agamemnon might not so be pleased,
Who gave him rude dismission; he in wrath 470
Returning, prayed, whose prayer Apollo heard,
For much he loved him. A pestiferous shaft
He instant shot into the Grecian host,
And heap’d the people died. His arrows swept
The whole wide camp of Greece, ‘till at the last 475
A Seer, by Phœbus taught, explain’d the cause.
I first advised propitiation. Rage
Fired Agamemnon. Rising, he denounced
Vengeance, and hath fulfilled it. She, in truth,
Is gone to Chrysa, and with her we send 480
Propitiation also to the King
019 Shaft-arm’d Apollo. But my beauteous prize
Brisëis, mine by the award of all,
His heralds, at this moment, lead away.
But thou, wherein thou canst, aid thy own son! 485
Haste hence to Heaven, and if thy word or deed
Hath ever gratified the heart of Jove,
With earnest suit press him on my behalf.
For I, not seldom, in my father’s hall
Have heard thee boasting, how when once the Gods, 490
With Juno, Neptune, Pallas at their head,
Conspired to bind the Thunderer, thou didst loose
His bands, O Goddess! calling to his aid
The Hundred-handed warrior, by the Gods
Briareus, but by men, Ægeon named. 495
For he in prowess and in might surpassed
020 His father Neptune, who, enthroned sublime,
Sits second only to Saturnian Jove,
Elate with glory and joy. Him all the Gods
Fearing from that bold enterprise abstained. 500
Now, therefore, of these things reminding Jove,
Embrace his knees; entreat him that he give
The host of Troy his succor, and shut fast
The routed Grecians, prisoners in the fleet,
That all may find much solace in their King, 505
And that the mighty sovereign o’er them all,
Their Agamemnon, may himself be taught
His rashness, who hath thus dishonor’d foul
The life itself, and bulwark of his cause.
To him, with streaming eyes, Thetis replied. 510
Born as thou wast to sorrow, ah, my son!
Why have I rear’d thee! Would that without tears,
Or cause for tears (transient as is thy life,
A little span) thy days might pass at Troy!
But short and sorrowful the fates ordain 515
Thy life, peculiar trouble must be thine,
Whom, therefore, oh that I had never borne!
But seeking the Olympian hill snow-crown’d,
I will myself plead for thee in the ear
Of Jove, the Thunderer. Meantime at thy fleet 520
Abiding, let thy wrath against the Greeks
Still burn, and altogether cease from war.
For to the banks of the Oceanus,
Where Æthiopia holds a feast to Jove,
021 He journey’d yesterday, with whom the Gods 525
Went also, and the twelfth day brings them home.
Then will I to his brazen-floor’d abode,
That I may clasp his knees, and much misdeem
Of my endeavor, or my prayer shall speed.
So saying, she went; but him she left enraged 530
For fair Brisëis’ sake, forced from his arms
By stress of power. Meantime Ulysses came
To Chrysa with the Hecatomb in charge.
Arrived within the haven deep, their sails
Furling, they stowed them in the bark below. 535
Then by its tackle lowering swift the mast
Into its crutch, they briskly push’d to land,
Heaved anchors out, and moor’d the vessel fast.
Forth came the mariners, and trod the beach;
Forth came the victims of Apollo next, 540
And, last, Chrysëis. Her Ulysses led
Toward the altar, gave her to the arms
Of her own father, and him thus address’d.
O Chryses! Agamemnon, King of men,
Hath sent thy daughter home, with whom we bring 545
A Hecatomb on all our host’s behalf
To Phœbus, hoping to appease the God
022 By whose dread shafts the Argives now expire.
So saying, he gave her to him, who with joy
Received his daughter. Then, before the shrine 550
Magnificent in order due they ranged
The noble Hecatomb. Each laved his hands
And took the salted meal, and Chryses made
His fervent prayer with hands upraised on high.
God of the silver bow, who with thy power 555
Encirclest Chrysa, and who reign’st supreme
In Tenedos, and Cilla the divine!
Thou prov’dst propitious to my first request,
Hast honor’d me, and punish’d sore the Greeks;
Hear yet thy servant’s prayer; take from their host 560
At once the loathsome pestilence away!
So Chryses prayed, whom Phœbus heard well-pleased;
Then prayed the Grecians also, and with meal
Sprinkling the victims, their retracted necks
First pierced, then flay’d them; the disjointed thighs 565
They, next, invested with the double caul,
Which with crude slices thin they overspread.
The priest burned incense, and libation poured
Large on the hissing brands, while, him beside,
Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youth 570
Trained to the task. The thighs with fire consumed,
They gave to each his portion of the maw,
Then slashed the remnant, pierced it with the spits,
And managing with culinary skill
The roast, withdrew it from the spits again. 575
Their whole task thus accomplish’d, and the board
023 Set forth, they feasted, and were all sufficed.
When neither hunger more nor thirst remained
Unsatisfied, boys crown’d the beakers high
With wine delicious, and from right to left 580
Distributing the cups, served every guest.
Thenceforth the youths of the Achaian race
To song propitiatory gave the day,
Pæans to Phœbus, Archer of the skies,
Chaunting melodious. Pleased, Apollo heard. 585
But, when, the sun descending, darkness fell,
They on the beach beside their hawsers sl
ept;
And, when the day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Aurora look’d abroad, then back they steer’d
To the vast camp. Fair wind, and blowing fresh, 590
Apollo sent them; quick they rear’d the mast,
Then spread the unsullied canvas to the gale,
And the wind filled it. Roared the sable flood
Around the bark, that ever as she went
Dash’d wide the brine, and scudded swift away. 595
Thus reaching soon the spacious camp of Greece,
Their galley they updrew sheer o’er the sands
From the rude surge remote, then propp’d her sides
With scantlings long, and sought their several tents.
But Peleus’ noble son, the speed-renown’d 600
Achilles, he, his well-built bark beside,
Consumed his hours, nor would in council more,
Where wise men win distinction, or in fight
Appear, to sorrow and heart-withering wo
Abandon’d; though for battle, ardent, still 605
He panted, and the shout-resounding field.
But when the twelfth fair morrow streak’d the East,
024 Then all the everlasting Gods to Heaven
Resorted, with the Thunderer at their head,
And Thetis, not unmindful of her son, 610
Prom the salt flood emerged, seeking betimes
Olympus and the boundless fields of heaven.
High, on the topmost eminence sublime
Of the deep-fork’d Olympian she perceived
The Thunderer seated, from the Gods apart. 615
She sat before him, clasp’d with her left hand
His knees, her right beneath his chin she placed,
And thus the King, Saturnian Jove, implored.
Father of all, by all that I have done
Or said that ever pleased thee, grant my suit. 620
Exalt my son, by destiny short-lived
Beyond the lot of others. Him with shame
The King of men hath overwhelm’d, by force
Usurping his just meed; thou, therefore, Jove,
Supreme in wisdom, honor him, and give 625
Success to Troy, till all Achaia’s sons
Shall yield him honor more than he hath lost!
She spake, to whom the Thunderer nought replied,
But silent sat long time. She, as her hand
Had grown there, still importunate, his knees 630
Clasp’d as at first, and thus her suit renew’d.
Or grant my prayer, and ratify the grant,
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 88
