The Iliad

Whate’er our master craves submit we must,

Plagued with his pride, or punish’d for his lust.

Oh women of Achaia; men no more!

Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store

In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore.

We may be wanted on some busy day,

When Hector comes: so great Achilles may:

From him he forced the prize we jointly gave,

From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave:

And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong,

This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.”

Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,

In generous vengeance of the king of kings.

With indignation sparkling in his eyes,

He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies:

“Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state,

With wrangling talents form’d for foul debate:

Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain,

And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign.

Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host,

The man who acts the least, upbraids the most?

Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring,

Nor let those lips profane the name of king.

For our return we trust the heavenly powers;

Be that their care; to fight like men be ours.

But grant the host with wealth the general load,

Except detraction, what hast thou bestow’d?

Suppose some hero should his spoils resign,

Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?

Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore,

And let these eyes behold my son no more;

If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear

To strip those arms thou ill deserv’st to wear,

Expel the council where our princes meet,

And send thee scourged and howling through the fleet.”

He said, and cowering as the dastard bends,

The weighty sceptre on his bank descends.

On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise:

The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes;

Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears,

From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears;

While to his neighbour each express’d his thought:

“Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought!

What fruits his conduct and his courage yield!

Great in the council, glorious in the field.

Generous he rises in the crown’s defence,

To curb the factious tongue of insolence,

Such just examples on offenders shown,

Sedition silence, and assert the throne.”

’Twas thus the general voice the hero praised,

Who, rising, high the imperial sceptre raised:

The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend,

(In form a herald,) bade the crowds attend.

The expecting crowds in still attention hung,

To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue.

Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke,

His silence thus the prudent hero broke:

“Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian race

With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace.

Not such at Argos was their generous vow:

Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now:

Ne’er to return, was then the common cry,

Till Troy’s proud structures should in ashes lie.

Behold them weeping for their native shore;

What could their wives or helpless children more?

What heart but melts to leave the tender train,

And, one short month, endure the wintry main?

Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat,

When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat:

Then well may this long stay provoke their tears,

The tedious length of nine revolving years.

Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame;

But vanquish’d! baffled! oh, eternal shame!

Expect the time to Troy’s destruction given.

And try the faith of Chalcas and of heaven.

What pass’d at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,

And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air.

Beside a fountain’s sacred brink we raised

Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed:

’Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around,

The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground

A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent;

From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent.

Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll’d,

And curl’d around in many a winding fold;

The topmost branch a mother-bird possess’d;

Eight callow infants fill’d the mossy nest;

Herself the ninth; the serpent, as he hung,

Stretch’d his black jaws and crush’d the crying young;

While hovering near, with miserable moan,

The drooping mother wail’d her children gone.

The mother last, as round the nest she flew,

Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew;

Nor long survived: to marble turn’d, he stands

A lasting prodigy on Aulis’ sands.

Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare

Trust in his omen, and support the war.

For while around we gazed with wondering eyes,

And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice,

Full of his god, the reverend Chalcas cried,

‘Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside.

This wondrous signal Jove himself displays,

Of long, long labours, but eternal praise.

As many birds as by the snake were slain,

So many years the toils of Greece remain;

But wait the tenth, for Ilion’s fall decreed:’

Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed.

Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait,

Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate.”

He said: the shores with loud applauses sound,

The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound.

Then Nestor thus—“These vain debates forbear,

Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare.

Where now are all your high resolves at last?

Your leagues concluded, your engagements past?

Vow’d with libations and with victims then,

Now vanish’d like their smoke: the faith of men!

While useless words consume the unactive hours,

No wonder Troy so long resists our powers.

Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway;

We march to war, if thou direct the way.

But leave the few that dare resist thy laws,

The mean deserters of the Grecian cause,

To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares,

And view with envy our successful wars.

On that great day, when first the martial train,

Big with the fate of Ilion, plough’d the main,

Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent,

And thunder rolling shook the firmament.

Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious strife,

Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife,

Till Helen’s woes at full revenged appear,

And Troy’s proud matrons render tear for tear.

Before that day, if any Greek invite

His country’s troops to base, inglorious flight,

Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly,

And die the dastard first, who dreads to die.

But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise:

Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise.

Among those counsels, let not mine be vain;

In tribes and nations to divide thy train:

His separate troops let every leader call,

Each strengthen each, and all encourage all.

What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band,

Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command,

When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known

And what the cause of Ilion not o’erthrown;

If fate resists, or if our arms are slow,

If gods above prevent, or men below.”

To him the king: “How much thy years excel

In arts of counsel, and in speaking well!

O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree

But ten such sages as they grant in thee;

Such wisdom soon should Priam’s force destroy,

And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy!

But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates

In fierce contention and in vain debates:

Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws,

By me provoked; a captive maid the cause:

If e’er as friends we join, the Trojan wall

Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall!

But now, ye warriors, take a short repast;

And, well refresh’d, to bloody conflict haste.

His sharpen’d spear let every Grecian wield,

And every Grecian fix his brazen shield,

Let all excite the fiery steeds of war,

And all for combat fit the rattling car.

This day, this dreadful day, let each contend;

No rest, no respite, till the shades descend;

Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all:

Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall;

Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast,

With the huge shield each brawny arm depress’d,

Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw,

And each spent courser at the chariot blow.

Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay,

Who dares to tremble on this signal day;

That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power,

The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour.”

The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose,

Loud as the surges when the tempest blows,

That dash’d on broken rocks tumultuous roar,

And foam and thunder on the stony shore.

Straight to the tents the troops dispersing bend,

The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend;

With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray,

To avert the dangers of the doubtful day.

A steer of five years’ age, large limb’d, and fed,

To Jove’s high altars Agamemnon led:

There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers;

And Nestor first, as most advanced in years.

Next came Idomeneus,

and Tydeus’ son,

Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;

Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed;

And Menelaus came, unbid, the last.

The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take

The sacred offering of the salted cake:

When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer;

“O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air,

Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne,

Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone!

Hear! and before the burning sun descends,

Before the night her gloomy veil extends,

Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires,

Be Priam’s palace sunk in Grecian fires.

In Hector’s breast be plunged this shining sword,

And slaughter’d heroes groan around their lord!”

Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer

Great Jove refused, and toss’d in empty air:

The God averse, while yet the fumes arose,

Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes.

Their prayers perform’d the chiefs the rite pursue,

The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew.

The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide,

The thighs, selected to the gods, divide.

On these, in double cauls involved with art,

The choicest morsels lie from every part,

From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspire

While the fat victims feed the sacred fire.

The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress’d

The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest;

Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,

Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.

Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress’d,

The generous Nestor thus the prince address’d.

“Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms,

And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms;

Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey,

And lead to war when heaven directs the way.”

He said; the monarch issued his commands;

Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands

The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide,

In tribes and nations rank’d on either side.

High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies;

From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes;

The dreadful aegis, Jove’s immortal shield,

Blazed on her arm, and lighten’d all the field:

Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll’d,

Form’d the bright fringe, and seem’d to burn in gold,

With this each Grecian’s manly breast she warms,

Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms,

No more they sigh, inglorious, to return,

But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.

As on some mountain, through the lofty grove,

The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above;

The fires expanding, as the winds arise,

Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies:

So from the polish’d arms, and brazen shields,

A gleamy splendour flash’d along the fields.

Not less their number than the embodied cranes,

Or milk-white swans in Asius’ watery plains.

That, o’er the windings of Cayster’s springs,

Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings,

Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds,

Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds.

Thus numerous and confused, extending wide,

The legions crowd Scamander’s flowery side;

With rushing troops the plains are cover’d o’er,

And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore.

Along the river’s level meads they stand,

Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land,

Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play,

The wandering nation of a summer’s day:

That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours,

In gather’d swarms surround the rural bowers;

From pail to pail with busy murmur run

The gilded legions, glittering in the sun.

So throng’d, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood

In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood.

Each leader now his scatter’d force conjoins

In close array, and forms the deepening lines.

Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain

Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain.

The king of kings, majestically tall,

Towers o’er his armies, and outshines them all;

Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads

His subject herds, the monarch of the meads,

Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen,

His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;

Jove o’er his eyes celestial glories spread,

And dawning conquest played around his head.

Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,

All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!

Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasur’d height,

And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight,

(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,

But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,)

O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,

Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came.

To count them all, demands a thousand tongues,

A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs.

Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you

The mighty labour dauntless I pursue;

What crowded armies, from what climes they bring,

Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing.

THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.

The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred,

Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led:

With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand,

Equal in arms, and equal in command.

These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields,

And Eteon’s hills, and Hyrie’s watery fields,

And Schoenos, Scholos, Graea near the main,

And Mycalessia’s ample piny plain;

Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell,

Or Harma where Apollo’s prophet fell;

Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o’erflow;

And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low;

Or in the meads of Haliartus stray,

Or Thespia sacred to the god of day:

Onchestus, Neptune’s celebrated groves;

Copae, and Thisbe, famed for silver doves;

For flocks Erythrae, Glissa for the vine;

Platea green, and Nysa the divine;

And they whom Thebe’s well-built walls inclose,

Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose;

And Arne rich, with purple harvests crown’d;

And Anthedon, Boeotia’s utmost bound.

Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys

Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.

To these succeed Aspledon’s martial train,

Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain.

Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng,

Ialmen and Ascalaphus the strong:

Sons of Astyoche, the heavenly fair,

Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war:

(In Actor’s court as she retired to rest,

The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress’d)

Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep,

With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep.

The Phocians next in forty barks repair;

Epistrophus and Schedius head the war:

From those rich regions where Cephisus leads

His silver current through the flowery meads;

From Panopea, Chrysa the divine,

Where Anemoria’s stately turrets shine,

Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood,

And fair Lilaea views the rising flood.

These, ranged in order on the floating tide,

Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians’ side.

Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on,

Ajax the less, Oileus’ valiant son;

Skill’d to direct the flying dart aright;

Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight.

Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend,

Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send;

Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe’s bands;

And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands,

And where Boagrius floats the lowly lands,

Or in fair Tarphe’s sylvan seats reside:

In forty vessels cut the yielding tide.

Euboea next her martial sons prepares,

And sends the brave Abantes to the wars:

Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way

From Chalcis’ walls, and strong Eretria;

The Isteian fields for generous vines renown’d,

The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground;

Where Dios from her towers o’erlooks the plain,

And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main.

Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair;

Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air;

But with protended spears in fighting fields

Pierce the tough corslets and the brazen shields.

Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands,

Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands.

Full fifty more from Athens stem the main,

Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain.

(Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway’d,

That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,

But from the teeming furrow took his birth,

The mighty offspring of the foodful earth.

Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane,

Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain;

Where, as the years revolve, her altars blaze,

And all the tribes resound the goddess’ praise.)

No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could yield,

To marshal armies in the dusty field,

The extended wings of battle to display,

Or close the embodied host in firm array.

Nestor alone, improved by length of days,

For martial conduct bore an equal praise.

With these appear the Salaminian bands,

Whom the gigantic Telamon commands;

In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course,

And with the great Athenians join their force.

Next move to war the generous Argive train,

From high Troezene, and Maseta’s plain,

And fair Ægina circled by the main:

Whom strong Tyrinthe’s lofty walls surround,

And Epidaure with viny harvests crown’d:

And where fair Asinen and Hermoin show

Their cliffs above, and ample bay below.

These by the brave Euryalus were led,

Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed;

But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway:

In fourscore barks they plough the watery way.

The proud Mycene arms her martial powers,

Cleone, Corinth, with imperial towers,

Fair Araethyrea, Ornia’s fruitful plain,

And Ægion, and Adrastus’ ancient reign;

And those who dwell along the sandy shore,

And where Pellene yields her fleecy store,

Where Helice and Hyperesia lie,

And Gonoessa’s spires salute the sky.

Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band,

A hundred vessels in long order stand,

And crowded nations wait his dread command.

High on the deck the king of men appears,

And his refulgent arms in triumph wears;

Proud of his host, unrivall’d in his reign,

In silent pomp he moves along the main.

His brother follows, and to vengeance warms

The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms:

Phares and Brysia’s valiant troops, and those

Whom Lacedaemon’s lofty hills inclose;

Or Messe’s towers for silver doves renown’d,

Amyclae, Laas, Augia’s happy ground,

And those whom OEtylos’ low walls contain,

And Helos, on the margin of the main:

These, o’er the bending ocean, Helen’s cause,

In sixty ships with Menelaus draws:

Eager and loud from man to man he flies,

Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes;

While vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears

The fair one’s grief, and sees her falling tears.

In ninety sail, from Pylos’ sandy coast,

Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host:

From Amphigenia’s ever-fruitful land,

Where Æpy high, and little Pteleon stand;

Where beauteous Arene her structures shows,

And Thryon’s walls Alpheus’ streams inclose:

And Dorion, famed for Thamyris’ disgrace,

Superior once of all the tuneful race,

Till, vain of mortals’ empty praise, he strove

To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove!

Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride

The immortal Muses in their art defied.

The avenging Muses of the light of day

Deprived his eyes, and snatch’d his voice away;

No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing,

His hand no more awaked the silver string.

Where under high Cyllene, crown’d with wood,

The shaded tomb of old Æpytus stood;

From Ripe, Stratie, Tegea’s bordering towns,

The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs,

Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove;

And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove;

Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined,

And high Enispe shook by wintry wind,

And fair Mantinea’s ever-pleasing site;

In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite.

Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head,

(Ancaeus’ son) the mighty squadron led.

Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon’s care,

Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear;

The first to battle on the appointed plain,

But new to all the dangers of the main.

Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium join;

Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus confine,

And bounded there, where o’er the valleys rose

The Olenian rock; and where Alisium flows;

Beneath four chiefs (a numerous army) came: