Museum of Antiquity Part 44

(_By Homer._)

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of h.e.l.l.

_Pope_, _Iliad_, ix.

SHOWERS OF ARROWS.

(_By Homer._)

As the feathery snows Fall frequent on some wintry day, when Jove Hath risen to shed them on the race of man, And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the wind Then shakes them down continual, covering thick Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads, And cultured valleys rich, and ports and sh.o.r.es Along the margined deep; but there the wave Their further progress stays; while all besides Lies whelm'd beneath Jove's fast-descending shower; So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurled Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks returned, The stony volleys flew.

_Cowper_, _Iliad_, xii.

PRIAM BEGGING THE BODY OF HECTOR.

(_By Homer._)

"Think, O Achilles, semblance of the G.o.ds, On thine own father, full of days like me.

And trembling on the gloomy verge of life.

Some neighbor chief, it may be, even now Oppresses him, and there is none at hand, No friend to succor him in his distress.

Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives, He still rejoices, hoping day by day, That one day he shall see the face again Of his own son, from distant Troy returned.

But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons, So late the flowers of Ilium, are all slain.

When Greece came hither, I had fifty sons; But fiery Mars hath thinn'd them. One I had, One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy, Whom, standing for his country, thou hast slain-- Hector. His body to redeem I come Into Achaia's fleet, bringing myself, Ransom inestimable to thy tent.

Rev'rence the G.o.ds, Achilles! recollect Thy father; for his sake compa.s.sion show To me, more pitiable still, who draw Home to my lips (humiliation yet Unseen on earth) his hand who slew my son!"

So saying, he waken'd in his soul regret Of his own sire; softly he placed his hand On Priam's hand, and pushed him gently away, Remembrance melted both. Rolling before Achilles' feet, Priam his son deplored, Wide-slaughtering Hector, and Achilles wept By turns his father, and by turns his friend Patroclus: sounds of sorrow fill'd the tent.

_Cowper_, _Iliad_, xxiv.

HELEN'S LAMENTATION OVER HECTOR.

(_By Homer._)

Grief fell on all around; Then Helen thus breathed forth her plaintive sound:-- "Hector, to Helen's soul more lov'd than all Whom I in Ilion's walls dare brother call, Since Paris here to Troy his consort led, Who in the grave had found a happier bed.

'Tis now, since here I came, the twentieth year, Since left my land, and all I once held dear: But never from that hour has Helen heard From thee a harsh reproach or painful word; But if thy kindred blam'd me, if unkind The queen e'er glanc'd at Helen's fickle mind-- (For Priam, still benevolently mild, Look'd on me as a father views his child)-- Thy gentle speech, thy gentleness of soul, Would by thine own, their harsher minds control.

Hence, with a heart by torturing misery rent, Thee and my hapless self I thus lament; For no kind eye in Troy on Helen rests, But who beholds me shudders and detests."

_Sotheby_, _Iliad_, xxi.

We will here give a few pages of the history of the Trojan war, giving some of the characters, subjects, etc., referred to in the preceding poems in a prose story.

PARIS.

There was sorrow, instead of gladness, in the halls of Priam, because a son was born unto him, and because the lady Hecuba had dreamed a dream, from which the seers knew that the child should bring ruin on the Ilion land. So his mother looked with cold, unloving eyes on the babe as he lay weak and helpless in his cradle, and Priam bade them take the child and leave him on rugged Ida, for the fountain of his love was closed against him.

For five days the dew fell on the babe by night, and the sun shone fiercely on him by day, as he lay on the desolate hill-side, and the shepherd who placed him there to sleep the sleep of death looked upon the child and said, "He sleeps as babes may slumber on silken couches; the G.o.ds will it not that he should die." So he took him to his home, and the child grew up with ruddy cheek and nimble feet, brave and hardy, so that none might be matched with him for strength and beauty.

The fierce wolves came not near the flocks while Paris kept guard near the fold, the robber lurked not near the homestead when Paris sat by the hearth. So all sang of his strength and his great deeds, and they called him Alexandros, the helper of men.

Many years he tended the flocks on woody Ida, but Priam, his father, dwelt in Ilion, and thought not to see his face again, and he said within himself, "Surely my child is long since dead, and no feast has been given to the G.o.ds that Paris may dwell in peace in the dark kingdom of Hades." Then he charged his servants to fetch him a bull from the herd, which might be given to the man who should conquer in the games, and they chose out one which Paris loved above all others that he drove out to pasture. So he followed the servants of Priam in grief and anger, and he stood forth and strove with his brethren in the games, and in all of them Paris was the conqueror. Then one of his brothers was moved with wrath, and lifted up his sword against him, but Paris fled to the altar of Zeus, and the voice of Ca.s.sandra, his sister, was heard saying, "O blind of eye and heart, see ye not that this is Paris, whom ye sent to sleep the sleep of death on woody Ida?"

But Paris would not dwell in the sacred Ilion, for he loved not those who sought to slay him while he was yet a helpless child, and again he tended the flocks on the wide plains and up the rough hillsides.

Strong he was of limb and stout of heart, and his face shone with a marvelous beauty, so that they who saw it thought him fair as the bright heroes. There, as he wandered in the woody dells of Ida, he saw and wooed the beautiful none, the child of the river-G.o.d, Kebren.

Many a time he sat with the maiden by the side of the stream, and the sound of their voices was mingled with the soft murmur of the waters.

He talked to her of love, and none looked up with a wondrous joy into his beautiful face, when the morning dew glistened white upon the gra.s.s and when the evening star looked out upon the pale sky.

So was Paris wedded to none, and the heart of the maiden was full of happiness, for none was braver or more gentle--none so stout of heart, so lithe of limb, so tender and loving as Paris. Thus pa.s.sed the days away in a swift dream of joy, for none thought not of the change that was coming.

There was feasting and mirth among the G.o.ds and men, for the brave Peleus had won Thetis, the maiden of the sea, for his bride; and she rose from the depths of her coral caves to go to his home in Phthia.

The banquet was spread in his ancient hall, and the goblets sparkled with the dark wine, for all the G.o.ds had come down from Olympus to share the feast in the house of Peleus. Only Eris was not bidden, for she was the child of War and Hatred, and they feared to see her face in the hours of laughter and mirth; but her evil heart rested not till she found a way to avenge herself for the wrong which they had done to her.

The G.o.ds were listening to the song of Phbus Apollo as he made sweet music on the strings of his harp, when a golden apple was cast upon the table before them. They knew not whence it came, only they saw that it was to be a gift for the fairest in that great throng, for so was it written on the apple. Then the joy of the feast was gone, and the music of the song ceased, for there was a strife which should have the golden prize; and Here, the Queen, said, "The G.o.ds themselves do obeisance to me when I enter the halls of Olympus, and men sing of the glory of my majesty; therefore must the gift be mine." But Athene answered, and said, "Knowledge and goodness are better things than power; mine is the worthier t.i.tle." Then the fair Aphrodite lifted her white arm, and a smile of triumph pa.s.sed over her face as she said, "I am the child of love and beauty, and the stars danced in the heaven for joy as I sprang from the sea foam; I dread not the contest, for to me alone must the golden gift be given."

So the strife waxed hot in the banquet hall, till Zeus spake with a loud voice, and said, "It needs not to strive now. Amid the pine forest of Ida dwells Paris, the fairest of the sons of men; let him be judge, and the apple shall be hers to whom he shall give it." Then Hermes rose and led them quickly over land and sea, to go to the rough hillside where Paris wooed and won none.

Presently the messenger of Zeus stood before Paris, and said, "Fairest of the sons of men, there is strife among the undying G.o.ds, for Here and Aphrodite and Athene seek each to have the golden apple which must be given to her who is most fair. Judge thou, therefore, between them when they come, and give peace again to the halls of Zeus."

In a dream of joy and love none sate by the river-side, and she looked on her own fair face, which was shown to her in a still calm pool where the power of the stream came not, and she said to herself, "The G.o.ds are kind, for they have given to me a better gift than that of beauty, for the love of Paris sheds for me a wondrous beauty over the heaven above and the broad earth beneath." Then came Paris, and said, "See, none, dearest child of the bright waters, Zeus hath called me to be judge in a weighty matter. Hither are coming Here, the Queen, and Aphrodite and Athene, seeking each the golden apple which must be given to her alone who is the fairest. Yet go not away, none; the broad vine leaves have covered our summer bower; there tarry and listen to the judgment, where none may see thee."

So Paris sat in judgment, and Here spake to him, and said, "I know I am the fairest, for none other has beauty and majesty like mine.

Hearken, then, to me, and I will give thee power to do great deeds among the sons of men, and a name which the minstrels shall sing of among those who shall be born in long time to come." But Athene answered, "Heed not her words, O Paris. Thy hand is strong and thy heart is pure, and the men among whom thou dwellest honor thee even now because thou hast done them good. There are better things than power and high renown; and if thou wilt hearken to me, I will give thee wisdom and strength; and pure love shall be thine, and the memory of happy days when thou drawest near to the dark land of Hades."

Then Paris thought that he heard the voice of none, and it seemed to whisper to him, "Wisdom and right are better than power, give it to Athene." But Aphrodite gazed upon him with laughing eyes, as she came up closer to his side. Her dark curls fell waving over his shoulder, and he felt the breath from her rosy lips, as she laid her hand on his arm and whispered softly in his ear, "I talk not to thee of my beauty, for it may be thou seest that I am very fair, but hearken to me, and I will give thee for thy wife the fairest of all the daughters of men."

But Paris answered, "I need not thy gift, O child of the bright sea foam, for fairer wife than none no mortal man may hope to have. Yet art thou the fairest of all the daughters of the undying G.o.ds, and the gift of the fairest is thine."

So he placed the golden apple in the palm of her snow-white hand, and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through the heart of Paris as she parted from him with smiling lip and laughing eye. But Here, the Queen, and Athene, the virgin child of Zeus, went away displeased, and evermore their wrath lay heavy on the city and land of Ilion.

Then went Paris to none, and he twined his arms around her and said, "Didst thou see the dark countenance of the lady Here when I gave to the fairest the gift which the fairest alone may have? Yet what care I for the wrath of Here and Athene? One smile from the lips of Aphrodite is better than their favor for a whole life long." But none answered sadly, "I would that thou mayest speak truly, Paris; yet in my eyes the lady Athene is fairer far, and Aphrodite is ever false as fair."

Then Paris clasped her closer in his arms and kissed her pale cheek, and said nothing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIBRARY OF HERCULANEUM.]

But the fierce wrath of Eris was not ended yet. Far away in the western land, there was sore famine in the kingdom of the mighty Menelaus, the people died by the wayside, and the warriors had no strength to go forth to the battle or the huntsmen to the chase. Many times they sought to know the will of the G.o.ds, but they heard only dark words for answers, till Phbus Apollo said that the famine should never cease from the land until they brought from Ilion the bones of the children of Prometheus, whom Zeus bound on the desolate crags of Caucasus. So Menelaus, the King, departed from his home and went to the city of Priam. There he saw the beautiful Paris, and took him to the Spartan land, for he said that Paris should return home rich and wealthy. So Paris believed his words, and sailed with him over the wide sea. Long time he abode in Sparta, and day by day he saw the lady Helen in the halls of Menelaus. At the first he thought within himself, "I would that none were here to see the wife of Menelaus, for surely she is fairer than aught else on the earth." But soon he thought less and less of none, who was sorrowing for his long sojourn in the strange land, as she wandered amid the pine forests of woody Ida.

Quickly sped the days for Paris, for his heart was filled with a strange love, and the will of Eris was being accomplished within him.

He thought not of none and her lonely wanderings on heathy Ida; he cared not for the kindly deeds of Menelaus; and so it came to pa.s.s that, when Menelaus was far away, Paris spoke words of evil love to Helen and beguiled her to leave her home. Stealthily they fled away, and sailed over the sea till they came to the Ilion land; and Helen dwelt with Paris in the house of his father, Priam.

But none mourned for the love which she had lost, and her tears fell into the gentle stream of Kebren as she sat on its gra.s.sy banks. "Ah me," she said, "my love hath been stung by Aphrodite. O Paris, Paris!

hast thou forgotten all thy words? Here thine arms were clasped around me, and here, as thy lips were pressed to mine, thou didst say that the wide earth had for thee no living thing so fair as none. Sure am I that Helen hath brought to thee only a false joy; for her heart is not thine as the heart of a maiden when it is given to her first love; and sure am I, too, that Helen is not a fairer wife than I, for my heart is all thine, and the beauty of woman is marred when she yields herself to a lawless love. But the cloud is gathering round thee; and I am sprung from the race of the G.o.ds, and mine eyes are opened to behold the things that willingly I would not see. I see the waters black with ships, and the hosts of the Achaians gathered round the walls of Ilion. I see the moons roll round, while thy people strive in vain against the wrath of Here and the might of the son of Peleus; and far away I see the flames that shall burn the sacred Ilion. I see thy father smitten down in his own hall, and the spear that shall drink thy life-blood. Ah me! for the doom that is coming, and for the pleasant days when we loved and wandered among the dells of Ida."

So Paris dwelt with Helen in the house of Priam; but men said, "This is no more the brave Alexandros," for he lay at ease on silken couches, and his spear and shield hung idle on the wall. For him the wine sparkled in the goblet while the sun rose high in the heavens, and he cared only to listen to the voice of Helen, or the minstrels who sang of the love and the bowers of laughter-loving Aphrodite. And Helen sat by his side in sullen mood, for she thought of the former days and of the evil which she had done to the good King Menelaus.

Then there came into her heart a deep hatred for Paris, and she loathed him for his false words and his fond looks, as he lay quaffing the wine and taking his rest by day and by night upon the silken couches.

But throughout the streets of Ilion there was hurrying and shouting of armed men, and terror and cries of women and children; for the hosts of the Achaians were come to take vengeance for the wrongs of Menelaus. Yet Paris heeded not the prayers of his brethren, that he should send back Helen; so she tarried by his side in his gilded chambers, and he went not forth to the battle, till all men reviled him for his evil love, because he had forsaken the fair none.

So for Paris fell the mighty Hector; for him died the brave Sarpedon; and the women of Ilion mourned for their husbands who were smitten down by the Achaian warriors. Fiercer and fiercer grew the strife, for Here and Athene fought against the men of Troy, and no help came from the laughter-loving Aphrodite.