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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
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Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » The Iliad of Homer by Homer (ebook reader online free .TXT) 📖
  • Author: Homer
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the rites demand10
Of burial; then, satiate with grief and tears,
We will release our steeds, and take repast.

He ended, and, himself leading the way,
His numerous band all mourn'd at once the dead.
Around the body thrice their glossy steeds,15
Mourning they drove, while Thetis in their hearts
The thirst of sorrow kindled; they with tears
The sands bedew'd, with tears their radiant arms,
Such deep regret of one so brave they felt.
Then, placing on the bosom of his friend20
His homicidal hands, Achilles thus
The shade of his Patroclus, sad, bespake.

Hail, oh Patroclus, even in Ades hail!
For I will now accomplish to the full
My promise pledged to thee, that I would give25
Hector dragg'd hither to be torn by dogs
556 Piecemeal, and would before thy funeral pile
The necks dissever of twelve Trojan youths
Of noblest rank, resentful of thy death.

He said, and meditating foul disgrace30
To noble Hector, stretch'd him prone in dust
Beside the bier of Menœtiades.
Then all the Myrmidons their radiant arms
Put off, and their shrill-neighing steeds released.
A numerous band beside the bark they sat35
Of swift Æacides, who furnish'd forth
Himself a feast funereal for them all.
Many a white ox under the ruthless steel
Lay bleeding, many a sheep and blatant goat,
With many a saginated boar bright-tusk'd,40
Amid fierce flames Vulcanian stretch'd to roast.
Copious the blood ran all around the dead.

And now the Kings of Greece conducted thence
To Agamemnon's tent the royal son
Of Peleus, loth to go, and won at last45
With difficulty, such his anger was
And deep resentment of his slaughter'd friend.
Soon then as Agamemnon's tent they reach'd,
The sovereign bade his heralds kindle fire
Around an ample vase, with purpose kind50
Moving Achilles from his limbs to cleanse
The stains of battle; but he firm refused
That suit, and bound refusal with an oath—

No; by the highest and the best of all,
By Jove I will not. Never may it be55
That brazen bath approach this head of mine,
Till I shall first Patroclus' body give
To his last fires, till I shall pile his tomb,
And sheer my locks in honor of my friend;
For, like to this, no second wo shall e'er60
My heart invade, while vital breath I draw.
But, all unwelcome as it is, repast
Now calls us. Agamemnon, King of men!
Give thou command that at the dawn they bring
557 Wood hither, such large portion as beseems65
The dead, descending to the shades, to share,
That hungry flames consuming out of sight
His body soon, the host may war again.

He spake; they, hearing, readily obey'd.
Then, each his food preparing with dispatch,70
They ate, nor wanted any of the guests
Due portion, and their appetites sufficed
To food and wine, all to their tents repair'd
Seeking repose; but on the sands beside
The billowy deep Achilles groaning lay75
Amidst his Myrmidons, where space he found
With blood unstain'd beside the dashing wave.[1]
There, soon as sleep, deliverer of the mind,
Wrapp'd him around (for much his noble limbs
With chase of Hector round the battlements80
Of wind-swept Ilium wearied were and spent)
The soul came to him of his hapless friend,
In bulk resembling, in expressive eyes
And voice Patroclus, and so clad as he.
Him, hovering o'er his head, the form address'd.85

Sleep'st thou, Achilles! of thy friend become
Heedless? Him living thou didst not neglect
Whom thou neglectest dead. Give me a tomb
Instant, that I may pass the infernal gates.
For now, the shades and spirits of the dead90
Drive me afar, denying me my wish
To mingle with them on the farthest shore,
And in wide-portal'd Ades sole I roam.
Give me thine hand, I pray thee, for the earth
I visit never more, once burnt with fire;95
We never shall again close council hold
As we were wont, for me my fate severe,
Mine even from my birth, hath deep absorb'd.
And oh Achilles, semblance of the Gods!
Thou too predestined art beneath the wall100
558 To perish of the high-born Trojan race.
But hear my last injunction! ah, my friend!
My bones sepulchre not from thine apart,
But as, together we were nourish'd both
Beneath thy roof (what time from Opoëis105
Menœtius led me to thy father's house,
Although a child, yet fugitive for blood,
Which, in a quarrel at the dice, I spilt,
Killing my playmate by a casual blow,
The offspring of Amphidamas, when, like110
A father, Peleus with all tenderness
Received and cherish'd me, and call'd me thine)
So, let one vase inclose, at last, our bones,
The golden vase, thy Goddess mother's gift.[2]

To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.115
Ah, loved and honor'd! wherefore hast thou come!
Why thus enjoin'd me? I will all perform
With diligence that thou hast now desired.
But nearer stand, that we may mutual clasp
Each other, though but with a short embrace,120
And sad satiety of grief enjoy.

He said, and stretch'd his arms toward the shade,
But him seized not; shrill-clamoring and light
As smoke, the spirit pass'd into the earth.
Amazed, upsprang Achilles, clash'd aloud125
His palms together, and thus, sad, exclaim'd.

Ah then, ye Gods! there doubtless are below
The soul and semblance both, but empty forms;
For all night long, mourning, disconsolate,
The soul of my Patroclus, hapless friend!130
Hath hover'd o'er me, giving me in charge
His last requests, just image of himself.

So saying, he call'd anew their sorrow forth,
559 And rosy-palm'd Aurora found them all
Mourning afresh the pitiable dead.135
Then royal Agamemnon call'd abroad
Mules and mule-drivers from the tents in haste
To gather wood. Uprose a valiant man,
Friend of the virtuous Chief Idomeneus,
Meriones, who led them to the task.140
They, bearing each in hand his sharpen'd axe
And twisted cord, thence journey'd forth, the mules
Driving before them; much uneven space
They measured, hill and dale, right onward now,
And now circuitous; but at the groves145
Arrived at length, of Ida fountain-fed,
Their keen-edged axes to the towering oaks
Dispatchful they applied; down fell the trees
With crash sonorous. Splitting, next, the trunks,
They bound them on the mules; they, with firm hoofs150
The hill-side stamping, through the thickets rush'd
Desirous of the plain. Each man his log
(For so the armor-bearer of the King
Of Crete, Meriones, had them enjoin'd)
Bore after them, and each his burthen cast155
Down on the beach regular, where a tomb
Of ample size Achilles for his friend
Patroclus had, and for himself, design'd.

Much fuel thrown together, side by side
There down they sat, and his command at once160
Achilles issued to his warriors bold,
That all should gird their armor, and the steeds
Join to their chariots; undelaying each
Complied, and in bright arms stood soon array'd.
Then mounted combatants and charioteers.165
First, moved the chariots, next, the infantry
Proceeded numerous, amid whom his friends,
Bearing the body of Patroclus, went.
They poll'd their heads, and cover'd him with hair
Shower'd over all his body, while behind170
Noble Achilles march'd, the hero's head
560 Sustaining sorrowful, for to the realms
Of Ades a distinguish'd friend he sent.

And now, arriving on the ground erewhile
Mark'd by Achilles, setting down the dead,175
They heap'd the fuel quick, a lofty pile.[3]
But Peleus' son, on other thoughts intent,
Retiring from the funeral pile, shore off
His amber ringlets,[4] whose exuberant growth
Sacred to Sperchius he had kept unshorn,180
And looking o'er the gloomy deep, he said.

Sperchius! in vain Peleus my father vow'd
That, hence returning to my native land,
These ringlets shorn I should present to thee[5]
With a whole hecatomb, and should, beside,185
Rams offer fifty at thy fountain head
In thy own field, at thy own fragrant shrine.
So vow'd the hoary Chief, whose wishes thou
Leavest unperform'd. Since, therefore, never more
I see my native home, the hero these190
Patroclus takes down with him to the shades.

He said, and filling with his hair the hand
Of his dead friend, the sorrows of his train
Waken'd afresh. And now the lamp of day
Westering[6] apace, had left them still in tears,195
Had not Achilles suddenly address'd
King Agamemnon, standing at his side.

Atrides! (for Achaia's sons thy word
Will readiest execute) we may with grief
Satiate ourselves hereafter; but, the host200
561 Dispersing from the pile, now give command
That they prepare repast; ourselves,[7] to whom
These labors in peculiar appertain
Will finish them; but bid the Chiefs abide.

Which when imperial Agamemnon heard,205
He scatter'd instant to their several ships
The people; but the burial-dressers thence
Went not; they, still abiding, heap'd the pile.
A hundred feet of breadth from side to side
They gave to it, and on the summit placed210
With sorrowing hearts the body of the dead.
Many a fat sheep, with many an ox full-horn'd
They flay'd before the pile, busy their task
Administering, and Peleus' son the fat
Taking from every victim, overspread215
Complete the body with it of his friend[8]
Patroclus, and the flay'd beasts heap'd around.
Then, placing flagons on the pile, replete
With oil and honey, he inclined their mouths
Toward the bier, and slew and added next,220
Deep-groaning and in haste, four martial steeds.
Nine dogs the hero at his table fed,
Of which beheading two, their carcases
He added also. Last, twelve gallant sons
Of noble Trojans slaying (for his heart225
Teem'd with great vengeance) he applied the force
Of hungry flames that should devour the whole,
Then, mourning loud, by name his friend invoked.

Rejoice, Patroclus! even in the shades,
Behold my promise to thee all fulfill'd!230
Twelve gallant sons of Trojans famed in arms,
Together with thyself, are all become
Food for these fires: but fire shall never feed
On Hector; him I destine to the dogs.

So threaten'd he; but him no dogs devour'd;235
562 Them, day and night, Jove's daughter Venus chased
Afar, and smooth'd the hero o'er with oils
Of rosy scent ambrosial, lest his corse,
Behind Achilles' chariot dragg'd along
So rudely, should be torn; and Phœbus hung240
A veil of sable clouds from heaven to earth,
O'ershadowing broad the space where Hector lay,
Lest parching suns intense should stiffen him.

But the pile kindled not. Then, Peleus' son
Seeking a place apart, two Winds in prayer245
Boreas invoked and Zephyrus, to each
Vowing large sacrifice. With earnest suit
(Libation pouring from a golden cup)
Their coming he implored, that so the flames
Kindling, incontinent might burn the dead.250
Iris, his supplications hearing, swift
Convey'd them to the Winds; they, in the hall
Banqueting of the heavy-blowing West
Sat frequent. Iris, sudden at the gate
Appear'd; they, at the sight upstarting all,255
Invited each the Goddess to himself.
But she refused a seat and thus she spake.[9]

I sit not here. Borne over Ocean's stream
Again, to Æthiopia's land I go
Where hecatombs are offer'd to the Gods,260
Which, with the rest, I also wish to share.
But Peleus' son, earnest, the aid implores
Of Boreas and of Zephyrus the loud,
Vowing large sacrifice if ye will fan
Briskly the pile on which Patroclus lies265
By all Achaia's warriors deep deplored.

She said, and went. Then suddenly arose
The Winds, and, roaring, swept the clouds along.
First, on the sea they blew; big rose the waves
Beneath the blast. At fruitful Troy arrived270
Vehement on the pile they fell, and dread
563 On all sides soon a crackling blaze ensued.
All night, together blowing shrill, they drove
The sheeted flames wide from the funeral pile,
And all night long, a goblet in his hand275
From golden beakers fill'd, Achilles stood
With large libations soaking deep the soil,
And calling on the spirit of his friend.
As some fond father mourns, burning the bones
Of his own son, who, dying on the eve280
Of his glad nuptials, hath his parents left
O'erwhelm'd with inconsolable distress,
So mourn'd Achilles, his companion's bones
Burning, and pacing to and fro the field
Beside the pile with many a sigh profound.285
But when the star, day's harbinger, arose,
Soon after whom, in saffron vest attired
The morn her beams diffuses o'er the sea,
The pile, then wasted, ceased to flame, and then
Back flew the Winds over the Thracian deep290
Rolling the flood before them as they pass'd.
And now Pelides lying down apart
From the funereal pile, slept, but not long,
Though weary; waken'd by the stir and din
Of Agamemnon's train. He sat erect,295
And thus the leaders of the host address'd.

Atrides, and ye potentates who rule
The whole Achaian host! first quench the pile
Throughout with generous wine, where'er the fire
Hath seized it. We will then the bones collect300
Of Menœtiades, which shall with ease
Be known, though many bones lie scatter'd near,
Since in the middle pile Patroclus lay,
But wide apart and on its verge we burn'd
The steeds and Trojans, a promiscuous heap.305
Them so collected in a golden vase
We will

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