The Iliad Part 56

Wrath and revenge from men and G.o.ds remove: Far, far too dear to every mortal breast, Sweet to the soul, as honey to the taste: Gathering like vapours of a noxious kind From fiery blood, and darkening all the mind.

Me Agamemnon urged to deadly hate; 'Tis past--I quell it; I resign to fate.

Yes--I will meet the murderer of my friend; Or (if the G.o.ds ordain it) meet my end.

The stroke of fate the strongest cannot shun: The great Alcides, Jove's unequall'd son, To Juno's hate, at length resign'd his breath, And sunk the victim of all-conquering death.

So shall Achilles fall! stretch'd pale and dead, No more the Grecian hope, or Trojan dread!

Let me, this instant, rush into the fields, And reap what glory life's short harvest yields.

Shall I not force some widow'd dame to tear With frantic hands her long dishevell'd hair?

Shall I not force her breast to heave with sighs, And the soft tears to trickle from her eyes?

Yes, I shall give the fair those mournful charms-- In vain you hold me--Hence! my arms! my arms!-- Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so wide, That all shall know Achilles swells the tide."

"My son (coerulean Thetis made reply, To fate submitting with a secret sigh,) The host to succour, and thy friends to save, Is worthy thee; the duty of the brave.

But canst thou, naked, issue to the plains?

Thy radiant arms the Trojan foe detains.

Insulting Hector bears the spoils on high, But vainly glories, for his fate is nigh.

Yet, yet awhile thy generous ardour stay; a.s.sured, I meet thee at the dawn of day, Charged with refulgent arms (a glorious load), Vulcanian arms, the labour of a G.o.d."

Then turning to the daughters of the main, The G.o.ddess thus dismiss'd her azure train:

"Ye sister Nereids! to your deeps descend; Haste, and our father's sacred seat attend; I go to find the architect divine, Where vast Olympus' starry summits shine: So tell our h.o.a.ry sire"--This charge she gave: The sea-green sisters plunge beneath the wave: Thetis once more ascends the bless'd abodes, And treads the brazen threshold of the G.o.ds.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA.]

THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA.

And now the Greeks from furious Hector's force, Urge to broad h.e.l.lespont their headlong course; Nor yet their chiefs Patroclus' body bore Safe through the tempest to the tented sh.o.r.e.

The horse, the foot, with equal fury join'd, Pour'd on the rear, and thunder'd close behind: And like a flame through fields of ripen'd corn, The rage of Hector o'er the ranks was borne.

Thrice the slain hero by the foot he drew; Thrice to the skies the Trojan clamours flew: As oft the Ajaces his a.s.sault sustain; But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks again.

With fiercer shouts his lingering troops he fires, Nor yields a step, nor from his post retires: So watchful shepherds strive to force, in vain, The hungry lion from a carcase slain.

Even yet Patroclus had he borne away, And all the glories of the extended day, Had not high Juno from the realms of air, Secret, despatch'd her trusty messenger.

The various G.o.ddess of the showery bow, Shot in a whirlwind to the sh.o.r.e below; To great Achilles at his ships she came, And thus began the many-colour'd dame:

"Rise, son of Peleus! rise, divinely brave!

a.s.sist the combat, and Patroclus save: For him the slaughter to the fleet they spread, And fall by mutual wounds around the dead.

To drag him back to Troy the foe contends: Nor with his death the rage of Hector ends: A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, And marks the place to fix his head on high.

Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) Thy friend's disgrace, thy own eternal shame!"

"Who sends thee, G.o.ddess, from the ethereal skies?"

Achilles thus. And Iris thus replies:

"I come, Pelides! from the queen of Jove, The immortal empress of the realms above; Unknown to him who sits remote on high, Unknown to all the synod of the sky."

"Thou comest in vain (he cries, with fury warm'd); Arms I have none, and can I fight unarm'd?

Unwilling as I am, of force I stay, Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of day Vulcanian arms: what other can I wield, Except the mighty Telamonian shield?

That, in my friend's defence, has Ajax spread, While his strong lance around him heaps the dead: The gallant chief defends Menoetius' son, And does what his Achilles should have done."

"Thy want of arms (said Iris) well we know; But though unarm'd, yet clad in terrors, go!

Let but Achilles o'er yon trench appear, Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to fear; Greece from one glance of that tremendous eye Shall take new courage, and disdain to fly."

She spoke, and pa.s.s'd in air. The hero rose: Her aegis Pallas o'er his shoulder throws; Around his brows a golden cloud she spread; A stream of glory flamed above his head.

As when from some beleaguer'd town arise The smokes, high curling to the shaded skies; (Seen from some island, o'er the main afar, When men distress'd hang out the sign of war;) Soon as the sun in ocean hides his rays, Thick on the hills the flaming beacons blaze; With long-projected beams the seas are bright, And heaven's high arch reflects the ruddy light: So from Achilles' head the splendours rise, Reflecting blaze on blaze against the skies.

Forth march'd the chief, and distant from the crowd, High on the rampart raised his voice aloud; With her own shout Minerva swells the sound; Troy starts astonish'd, and the sh.o.r.es rebound.

As the loud trumpet's brazen mouth from far With shrilling clangour sounds the alarm of war, Struck from the walls, the echoes float on high, And the round bulwarks and thick towers reply; So high his brazen voice the hero rear'd: Hosts dropp'd their arms, and trembled as they heard: And back the chariots roll, and coursers bound, And steeds and men lie mingled on the ground.

Aghast they see the living lightnings play, And turn their eyeb.a.l.l.s from the flashing ray.

Thrice from the trench his dreadful voice he raised, And thrice they fled, confounded and amazed.

Twelve in the tumult wedged, untimely rush'd On their own spears, by their own chariots crush'd: While, shielded from the darts, the Greeks obtain The long-contended carcase of the slain.

A lofty bier the breathless warrior bears: Around, his sad companions melt in tears.

But chief Achilles, bending down his head, Pours unavailing sorrows o'er the dead, Whom late triumphant, with his steeds and car, He sent refulgent to the field of war; (Unhappy change!) now senseless, pale, he found, Stretch'd forth, and gash'd with many a gaping wound.

Meantime, unwearied with his heavenly way, In ocean's waves the unwilling light of day Quench'd his red orb, at Juno's high command, And from their labours eased the Achaian band.

The frighted Trojans (panting from the war, Their steeds unharness'd from the weary car) A sudden council call'd: each chief appear'd In haste, and standing; for to sit they fear'd.

'Twas now no season for prolong'd debate; They saw Achilles, and in him their fate.

Silent they stood: Polydamas at last, Skill'd to discern the future by the past, The son of Panthus, thus express'd his fears (The friend of Hector, and of equal years; The self-same night to both a being gave, One wise in council, one in action brave):

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET.]

JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET.

"In free debate, my friends, your sentence speak; For me, I move, before the morning break, To raise our camp: too dangerous here our post, Far from Troy walls, and on a naked coast.

I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while engaged In mutual feuds her king and hero raged; Then, while we hoped our armies might prevail We boldly camp'd beside a thousand sail.

I dread Pelides now: his rage of mind Not long continues to the sh.o.r.es confined, Nor to the fields, where long in equal fray Contending nations won and lost the day; For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the strife, And the hard contest not for fame, but life.

Haste then to Ilion, while the favouring night Detains these terrors, keeps that arm from fight.

If but the morrow's sun behold us here, That arm, those terrors, we shall feel, not fear; And hearts that now disdain, shall leap with joy, If heaven permit them then to enter Troy.

Let not my fatal prophecy be true, Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue.

Whatever be our fate, yet let us try What force of thought and reason can supply; Let us on counsel for our guard depend; The town her gates and bulwarks shall defend.

When morning dawns, our well-appointed powers, Array'd in arms, shall line the lofty towers.

Let the fierce hero, then, when fury calls, Vent his mad vengeance on our rocky walls, Or fetch a thousand circles round the plain, Till his spent coursers seek the fleet again: So may his rage be tired, and labour'd down!

And dogs shall tear him ere he sack the town."

"Return! (said Hector, fired with stern disdain) What! coop whole armies in our walls again?

Was't not enough, ye valiant warriors, say, Nine years imprison'd in those towers ye lay?

Wide o'er the world was Ilion famed of old For bra.s.s exhaustless, and for mines of gold: But while inglorious in her walls we stay'd, Sunk were her treasures, and her stores decay'd; The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils enjoy, And proud Maeonia wastes the fruits of Troy.

Great Jove at length my arms to conquest calls, And shuts the Grecians in their wooden walls, Darest thou dispirit whom the G.o.ds incite?

Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his flight.

To better counsel then attention lend; Take due refreshment, and the watch attend.

If there be one whose riches cost him care, Forth let him bring them for the troops to share; 'Tis better generously bestow'd on those, Than left the plunder of our country's foes.

Soon as the morn the purple orient warms, Fierce on yon navy will we pour our arms.

If great Achilles rise in all his might, His be the danger: I shall stand the fight.

Honour, ye G.o.ds! or let me gain or give; And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live!

Mars is our common lord, alike to all; And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall."

The shouting host in loud applauses join'd; So Pallas robb'd the many of their mind; To their own sense condemn'd, and left to choose The worst advice, the better to refuse.

While the long night extends her sable reign, Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian train.

Stern in superior grief Pelides stood; Those slaughtering arms, so used to bathe in blood, Now clasp his clay-cold limbs: then gushing start The tears, and sighs burst from his swelling heart.

The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung, Roars through the desert, and demands his young; When the grim savage, to his rifled den Too late returning, snuffs the track of men, And o'er the vales and o'er the forest bounds; His clamorous grief the bellowing wood resounds.

So grieves Achilles; and, impetuous, vents To all his Myrmidons his loud laments.

"In what vain promise, G.o.ds! did I engage, When to console Menoetius' feeble age, I vowed his much-loved offspring to restore, Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's sh.o.r.e?(252) But mighty Jove cuts short, with just disdain, The long, long views of poor designing man!