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

still Mourn’d o’er his lov’d companion; not on him Lighted all-conqu’ring sleep, but to and fro Restless he toss’d, and on Patroclus thought, His vigour and his courage; all the deeds They two together had achiev’d; the toils, The perils they had undergone, amid

The strife of warriors, and the angry waves.

Stirr’d by such mem’ries, bitter tears he shed; Now turning on his side, and now again Upon his back; then prone upon his face; Then starting to his feet, along the shore All objectless, despairing, would he roam; Nor did the morn, above the sea appearing, Unmark’d of him arise; his flying steeds He then would harness, and, behind the car The corpse of Hector trailing in the dust, Thrice make the circuit of Patroclus’ tomb; Then would he turn within his tent to rest, Leaving the prostrate corpse with dust defil’d; But from unseemly marks the valiant dead Apollo guarded, who with pity view’d

The hero, though in death; and round him threw His golden aegis; nor, though dragg’d along, Allow’d his body to receive a wound.

 

Thus foully did Achilles in his rage

Misuse the mighty dead; the blessed Gods With pitying grief beheld the sight, and urg’d That Hermes should by stealth the corpse remove.

The counsel pleas’d the rest; but Juno still, And Neptune, and the blue-ey’d Maid, retain’d The hatred, unappeas’d, with which of old Troy and her King and people they pursued; Since Paris to the rival Goddesses,

Who to his sheepfold came, gave deep offence, Preferring her who brought him in return The fatal boon of too successful love.

But when the twelfth revolving day was come, Apollo thus th’ assembled Gods address’d: “Shame on ye, Gods, ungrateful! have ye not, At Hector’s hand, of bulls and choicest goats Receiv’d your off’rings meet? and fear ye now E’en his dead corpse to save, and grant his wife, His mother, and his child, his aged sire And people, to behold him, and to raise His fun’ral pile, and with due rites entomb?

But fell Achilles all your aid commands; Of mind unrighteous, and inflexible

His stubborn heart; his thoughts are all of blood; E’en as a lion, whom his mighty strength And dauntless courage lead to leap the fold, And ‘mid the trembling flocks to seize his prey; E’en so Achilles hath discarded ruth,

And conscience, arbiter of good and ill.

A man may lose his best-lov’d friend, a son, Or his own mother’s son, a brother dear: He mourns and weeps, but time his grief allays, For fate to man a patient mind hath giv’n: But godlike Hector’s body, after death, Achilles, unrelenting, foully drags,

Lash’d to his car, around his comrade’s tomb.

This is not to his praise; though brave he be, Yet thus our anger he may justly rouse, Who in his rage insults the senseless clay.”

 

To whom, indignant, white-arm’d Juno thus: “Some show of reason were there in thy speech, God of the silver bow, could Hector boast Of equal dignity with Peleus’ son.

A mortal one, and nurs’d at woman’s breast; The other, of a Goddess born, whom I

Nurtur’d and rear’d, and to a mortal gave In marriage; gave to Peleus, best belov’d By all th’ Immortals, of the race of man.

Ye, Gods, attended all the marriage rites; Thou too, companion base, false friend, wast there, And, playing on thy lyre, didst share the feast.”

 

To whom the Cloud-compeller answer’d thus: “Juno, restrain thy wrath; they shall not both Attain like honour; yet was Hector once, Of all the mortals that in Ilium dwell, Dearest to all the Gods, and chief to me; For never did he fail his gifts to bring.

And with, burnt-off ‘rings and libations due My altars crown; such worship I receiv’d.

Yet shall bold Hector’s body, not without The knowledge of Achilles, be remov’d; For day and night his Goddess-mother keeps Her constant watch beside him. Then, some God Bid Thetis hither to my presence haste; And I with prudent words will counsel her, That so Achilles may at Priam’s hand

Large ransom take, and set brave Hector free.”

 

He said; and promptly on his errand sprang The storm-swift Iris; in the dark-blue sea She plung’d, midway ‘twixt Imbros’ rugged shore And Samos’ isle; the parting waters plash’d.

As down to ocean’s lowest depths she dropp’d, Like to a plummet, which the fisherman Lets fall, encas’d in wild bull’s horn, to bear Destruction to the sea’s voracious tribes.

There found she Thetis in a hollow cave, Around her rang’d the Ocean Goddesses: She, in the midst, was weeping o’er the fate Her matchless son awaiting, doom’d to die Far from his home, on fertile plains of Troy.

Swift-footed Iris at her side appear’d, And thus address’d her: “Hasten, Thetis; Jove, Lord of immortal counsel, summons thee.”

To whom the silver-footed Goddess thus: “What would with me the mighty King of Heav’n?

Press’d as I am with grief, I am asham’d To mingle with the Gods; yet will I go: Nor shall he speak in vain, whate’er his words.”

 

Thus as she spoke, her veil the Goddess took, All black, than which none deeper could be found; She rose to go; the storm-swift Iris led The way before her; ocean’s parted waves Around their path receded; to the beach Ascending, upwards straight to Heav’n they sprang.

Th’ all-seeing son of Saturn there they found, And rang’d around him all th’ immortal Gods.

Pallas made way; and by the throne of Jove Sat Thetis, Juno proff’ring to her hand A goblet fair of gold, and adding words Of welcome; she the cup receiv’d, and drank.

Then thus began the sire of Gods and men: “Thou, Thetis, sorrowing to Olympus com’st, Borne down by ceaseless grief; I know it well; Yet hear the cause for which I summon’d thee.

About Achilles, thy victorious son,

And valiant Hector’s body, for nine days Hath contest been in Heav’n; and some have urg’d That Hermes should by stealth the corpse remove.

This to Achilles’ praise I mean to turn, And thus thy rev’rence and thy love retain.

Then haste thee to the camp, and to thy son My message bear; tell him that all the Gods Are fill’d with wrath; and I above the rest Am angry, that beside the beaked ships, He, mad with rage, the corpse of Hector keeps: So may he fear me, and restore the dead.

Iris meantime to Priam I will send,

And bid him seek the Grecian ships, and there Obtain his son’s release: and with him bring Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart.”

 

He said; the silver-footed Queen obey’d; Down from Olympus’ heights in haste she sped, And sought her son; him found she in his tent, Groaning with anguish, while his comrades round, Plying their tasks, prepar’d the morning meal.

For them a goodly sheep, full-fleec’d, was slain.

Close by his side his Goddess-mother stood, And gently touch’d him with her hand, and said, “How long, my son, wilt thou thy soul consume With grief and mourning, mindful nor of food Nor sleep? nor dost thou wisely, to abstain From woman’s love; for short thy time on earth: Death and imperious fate are close at hand.

Hear then my words; a messenger from Jove To thee I come, to tell thee that the Gods Are fill’d with wrath, and he above the rest Is angry, that beside the beaked ships Thou, mad with rage, the corpse of Hector keep’st.

Then ransom take, and liberate the dead.”

 

To whom Achilles, swift of foot, replied: “So be it; ransom let him bring, and bear His dead away, if such the will of Jove.”

 

Thus, in the concourse of the ships, they two, Mother and son, their lengthen’d converse held.

 

Then Saturn’s son to Iris gave command: “Haste thee, swift Iris, from Olympus’ height, To Troy, to royal Priam bear my words; And bid him seek the Grecian ships, and there Obtain his son’s release; and with him take Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart.

Alone, no Trojan with him, must he go; Yet may a herald on his steps attend,

Some aged man, his smoothly-rolling car And mules to drive; and to the city back To bring his dead, whom great Achilles slew.

Nor let the fear of death disturb his mind: Hermes shall with him, as his escort, go, And to Achilles’ presence safely bring.

Arriv’d within the tent, nor he himself Will slay him, but from others will protect.

Not ignorant is he, nor void of sense, Nor disobedient to the Gods’ behest

But will with pitying eyes his suppliant view.”

 

He said; and on his errand sped in haste The storm-swift Iris; when to Priam’s house She came, the sounds of wailing met her ear.

Within the court, around their father, sat His sons, their raiment all bedew’d with tears; And in the midst, close cover’d with his robe, Their sire, his head and neck with dirt defil’d, Which, wallowing on the earth, himself had heap’d, With his own hands, upon his hoary head.

Throughout the house his daughters loudly wail’d In mem’ry of the many and the brave

Who lay in death, by Grecian warriors slain.

Beside him stood the messenger of Jove, And whisper’d, while his limbs with terror shook: “Fear nothing, Priam, son of Dardanus, Nor let thy mind be troubled; not for ill, But here on kindly errand am I sent:

To thee I come, a messenger from Jove, Who from on high looks down on thee with eyes Of pitying love; he bids thee ransom home The godlike Hector’s corpse; and with thee take Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart.

Alone, no Trojan with thee, must thou go; Yet may a herald on thy steps attend,

Some aged man, thy smoothly-rolling car And mules to drive, and to the city back To bring thy dead, whom great Achilles slew.

Nor let the fear of death disturb thy mind: Hermes shall with thee, as thine escort, go, And to Achilles’ presence safely bring.

Arriv’d within the tent, nor he himself Will slay thee, but from others will protect; Not ignorant is he, nor void of sense, Nor disobedient to the Gods’ behest,

But will with pitying eyes his suppliant view.”

 

Swift-footed Iris said, and vanish’d straight: He to his sons commandment gave, the mules To yoke beneath the smoothly-rolling car, And on the axle fix the wicker seat.

Himself the lofty cedar chamber sought, Fragrant, high-roof’d, with countless treasures stor’d; And call’d to Hecuba his wife, and said, “Good wife, a messenger from Jove hath come, Who bids me seek the Grecian ships, and there Obtain my son’s release; and with me take Such presents as may melt Achilles’ heart.

Say then, what think’st thou? for my mind inclines To seek the ships within the Grecian camp.”

 

So he; but Hecuba lamenting cried,

“Alas, alas! where are thy senses gone?

And where the wisdom, once of high repute ‘Mid strangers, and ‘mid those o’er whom thou reign’st?

How canst thou think alone to seek the ships, Ent’ring his presence, who thy sons hath slain, Many and brave? an iron heart is thine!

Of that bloodthirsty and perfidious man, If thou within the sight and reach shalt come, No pity will he feel, no rev’rence show: Rather remain we here apart and mourn; For him, when at his birth his thread of life Was spun by fate, ‘twas destin’d that afar From home and parents, he should glut the maw Of rav’ning dogs, by that stern warrior’s tent, Whose inmost heart I would I could devour: Such for my son were adequate revenge, Whom not in ignominious flight he slew; But standing, thoughtless of escape or flight, For Trojan men and Troy’s deep-bosom’d dames.”

 

To whom in answer Priam, godlike sire: “Seek not to hinder me; nor