The Iliad by Homer (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

of Saturn’s son, could fly, By fate and Juno’s bitter wrath subdued.

I too, since such my doom, must lie in death; Yet, ere I die, immortal fame will win; And from their delicate cheeks, deep-bosom’d dames, Dardan and Trojan, bitter tears shall wipe, And groan in anguish; then shall all men know How long I have been absent from the field; Then, though thou love me, seek not from the war To stay my steps; for bootless were thy speech.”

 

Whom answer’d thus the silver-footed Queen: “True are thy words, my son; and good it is, And commendable, from the stroke of death To save a worsted comrade; but thine arms, Thy brazen, flashing arms, the Trojans hold: Them Hector of the glancing helm himself Bears on his breast, exulting; yet not long Shall be his triumph, for his doom is nigh.

But thou, engage not in the toils of war, Until thine eyes again behold me here; For with to-morrow’s sun will I return With arms of heav’nly mould, by Vulcan wrought.”

 

Thus saying, from her son she turn’d away, And turning, to her sister Nereids spoke: “Back to the spacious bosom of the deep Retire ye now; and to my father’s house, The aged Ocean God, your tidings bear; While I to high Olympus speed, to crave At Vulcan’s hand, the skill’d artificer, A boon of dazzling armour for my son.”

 

She said; and they beneath the ocean wave Descended, while to high Olympus sped

The silver-footed Goddess, thence in hope To bear the dazzling armour to her son.

She to Olympus sped; the Greeks meanwhile Before the warrior-slayer Hector fled

With wild, tumultuous uproar, till they reach’d Their vessels and the shore of Hellespont.

Nor had the well-greav’d Greets Achilles’ friend, Patroclus, from amid the fray withdrawn; For close upon him follow’d horse and man, And Hector, son of Priam, fierce as flame; Thrice noble Hector, seizing from behind, Sought by the feet to drag away the dead, Cheering his friends; thrice, clad in warlike might, The two Ajaces drove him from his prey.

Yet, fearless in his strength, now rushing on He dash’d amid the fray; now, shouting loud, Stood firm; but backward not a step retir’d.

As from a carcase herdsmen strive in vain To scare a tawny lion, hunger-pinch’d; E’en so th’ Ajaces, mail-clad warriors, fail’d The son of Priam from the corpse to scare.

And now the body had he borne away,

With endless fame; but from Olympus’ height Came storm-swift Iris down to Peleus’ son, And bade him don his arms; by Juno sent, Unknown to Jove, and to th’ Immortals all.

She stood beside him, and address’d him thus: “Up, son of Peleus! up, thou prince of men!

Haste to Patroclus’ rescue; whom, around, Before the ships, is wag’d a fearful war, With mutual slaughter; these the dead defending, And those to Ilium’s breezy heights intent To bear the body; noble Hector chief,

Who longs to sever from the tender neck, And fix upon the spikes, thy comrade’s head.

Up then! delay no longer; deem it shame Patroclus’ corpse should glut the dogs of Troy, Dishon’ring thee, if aught dishonour him.”

 

Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Say, heav’nly Iris, of th’ immortal Gods Who bade thee seek me, and this message bring?”

 

To whom swift Iris thus: “To thee I come By Juno sent, th’ imperial wife of Jove; Unknown to Saturn’s son, and all the Gods Who on Olympus’ snowy summit dwell.”

 

To whom again Achilles, swift of foot: “How in the battle toil can I engage?

My arms are with the Trojans; and to boot My mother warn’d me not to arm for fight, Till I again should see her; for she hop’d To bring me heav’nly arms by Vulcan wrought: Nor know I well whose armour I could wear, Save the broad shield of Ajax Telamon

And he, methinks, amid the foremost ranks Ev’n now is fighting o’er Patroclus’ corpse.”

 

Whom answer’d storm-swift Iris: “Well we know Thy glorious arms are by the Trojans held; But go thou forth, and from above the ditch Appear before them; daunted at the sight, Haply the Trojans may forsake the field, And breathing-time afford the sons of Greece, Toil-worn; for little pause has yet been theirs.”

 

Swift Iris said, and vanish’d; then uprose Achilles, dear to Jove; and Pallas threw Her tassell’d aegis o’er his shoulders broad; His head encircling with a coronet

Of golden cloud, whence fiery flashes gleam’d.

As from an island city up to Heav’n

The smoke ascends, which hostile forces round Beleaguer, and all day with cruel war

From its own state cut off; but when the sun Hath set, blaze frequent forth the beacon fires; High rise the flames, and to the dwellers round Their signal flash, if haply o’er the sea May come the needful aid; so brightly flash’d That fiery light around Achilles’ head.

He left the wall, and stood above the ditch, But from the Greeks apart, rememb’ring well His mother’s prudent counsel; there he stood, And shouted loudly; Pallas join’d her voice, And fill’d with terror all the Trojan host.

Clear as the trumpet’s sound, which calls to arms Some town, encompass’d round with hostile bands, Rang out the voice of great AEacides.

But when Achilles’ voice of brass they heard, They quail’d in spirit; the sleek-skin’d steeds themselves, Conscious of coming ill, bore back the cars: Their charioteers, dismay’d, beheld the flame Which, kindled by the blue-ey’d Goddess, blaz’d Unquench’d around the head of Peleus’ son.

Thrice shouted from the ditch the godlike chief; Thrice terror struck both Trojans and Allies; And there and then beside their chariots fell Twelve of their bravest; while the Greeks, well pleas’d, Patroclus’ body from the fray withdrew, And on a litter laid; around him stood His comrades mourning; with them, Peleus’ son, Shedding hot tears, as on his friend he gaz’d, Laid on the bier, and pierc’d with deadly wounds: Him to the war with horses and with cars He sent; but ne’er to welcome his return.

By stag-ey’d Juno sent, reluctant sank Th’ unwearied sun beneath the ocean wave; The sun had set, and breath’d awhile the Greeks From the fierce labours of the balanc’d field; Nor less the Trojans, from the stubborn fight Retiring, from the chariots loos’d their steeds: But ere they shar’d the ev’ning meal, they met In council; all stood up; none dar’d to sit; For fear had fallen on all, when reappear’d Achilles, from the battle long withdrawn.

First Panthous’ son, the sage Polydamas, Address’d th’ assembly; his sagacious mind Alone beheld the future and the past;

The friend of Hector, born the selfsame night; One in debate, the other best in arms; Who thus with prudent speech began, and said: “Be well advis’d, my friends! my counsel is That we regain the city, nor the morn

Here in the plain, beside the ships, await, So far remov’d from our protecting walls.

While fiercely burn’d ‘gainst Atreus’ godlike son That mighty warrior’s wrath, ‘twas easier far With th’ other Greeks to deal; and I rejoic’d When by the ships we pass’d the night, in hopes We soon might call them ours; but now, I own Achilles, swift of foot, excites my fear.

His proud, impetuous spirit will spurn the plain, Where Greeks and Trojans oft in warlike strife Their balanc’d strength exert; if he come forth, Our fight will be to guard our homes and wives.

Gain we the city; trust me, so ‘twere best.

Now, for a while, ambrosial night detains The son of Peleus; but at early morn

If issuing forth in arms he find us here, His prowess we shall know; and happy he Who, flying, shall in safety reach the walls Of sacred Troy; for many a Trojan slain Shall feed the vultures; Heav’n avert such fate!

But if, though loth, ye will by me be rul’d, This night in council husband we our strength; While tow’rs, and lofty gates, and folding doors Close join’d, well-fitting, shall our city guard: Then issuing forth in arms at early morn Man we the tow’rs; so harder were his task If, from the ships advancing, round the wall He offer battle; bootless to return,

His strong-neck’d horses worn with labour vain In coursing, purposeless, around the town.

To force an entrance, or the town destroy, Is not his aim; and ere that end be gain’d, The dogs of Troy upon his flesh shall feed.”

 

To whom thus Hector of the glancing helm With stern regard: “Polydamas, thy words Are such as grate unkindly on mine ear, Who fain wouldst have us to the walls retire.

What? have ye not already long enough

Been coop’d within the tow’rs? the wealth of Troy, Its brass, its gold, were once the common theme Of ev’ry tongue; our hoarded treasures now Are gone, to Phrygian and Maeonian shores For sale exported, costly merchandise, Since on our city fell the wrath of Jove.

And now, when deep-designing Saturn’s son Such glory gives me as to gain the ships, And, crowded by the sea, hem in the Greeks, Fool! put not thou these timid counsels forth, Which none will follow, nor will I allow.

But hear ye all, and do as I advise:

Share now the meal, by ranks, throughout the host; Then set your watch, and each keep careful guard; And whom his spoils o’erload, if such there be, Let him divide them with the gen’ral crowd; Better that they should hold them than the Greeks: And with the morn, in arms, beside the ships, Will we again awake the furious war.

But if indeed Achilles by the ships

Hath reappear’d, himself, if so he choose, Shall be the suff’rer; from the perilous strife I will not shrink, but his encounter meet: So he, or I, shall gain immortal fame; Impartial Mars hath oft the slayer slain.”

 

Thus Hector spoke; the Trojans cheer’d aloud: Fools, and by Pallas of their sense bereft, Who all applauded Hector’s ill advice, None the sage counsel of Polydamas!

Then through the camp they shar’d the ev’ning meal.

 

Meantime the Greeks all night with tears and groans Bewail’d Patroclus: on his comrade’s breast Achilles laid his murder-dealing hands, And led with bitter groans the loud lament.

As when the hunters, in the forest’s depth, Have robb’d a bearded lion of his cubs; Too late arriving, he with anger chafes; Then follows, if perchance he may o’ertake, Through many a mountain glen, the hunters’ steps, With grief and fury fill’d; so Peleus’ son, With bitter groans, the Myrmidons address’d: “Vain was, alas! the promise which I gave, Seeking the brave Menoetius to console, To bring to Opus back his gallant son, Rich with his share of spoil from Troy o’erthrown; But Jove fulfils not all that man designs: For us hath fate decreed, that here in Troy We two one soil should redden with our blood; Nor me, returning to my native land,

Shall aged Peleus in his halls receive, Nor Thetis; here must earth retain my bones.

But since, Patroclus, I am doom’d on earth Behind thee to remain, thy fun’ral rites I will not celebrate, till Hector’s arms, And head, thy haughty slayer’s, here I bring; And on thy pyre twelve noble sons of Troy Will sacrifice, in vengeance of thy death.

Thou by our beaked ships till then must lie; And weeping o’er thee shall deep-bosom’d dames, Trojan and Dardan, mourn both night and day; The prizes of our toil, when wealthy towns Before our valour and our spears have fall’n.”

 

He said, and bade his comrades on the fire An ample tripod place, without delay

To cleanse Patroclus from the bloody gore: They on the burning fire the tripod plac’d, With water fill’d, and kindled wood beneath.

Around the bellying tripod rose the flames, Heating the bath; within the