The Iliad Part 5

But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, Witness to G.o.ds above, and men below!

But first, and loudest, to your prince declare (That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear), Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain, Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein: The raging chief in frantic pa.s.sion lost, Blind to himself, and useless to his host, Unskill'd to judge the future by the past, In blood and slaughter shall repent at last."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES.]

THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES.

Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought; She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought, Pa.s.s'd silent, as the heralds held her hand, And of look'd back, slow-moving o'er the strand.

Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore; But sad, retiring to the sounding sh.o.r.e, O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung, That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:(61) There bathed in tears of anger and disdain, Thus loud lamented to the stormy main:

"O parent G.o.ddess! since in early bloom Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom; Sure to so short a race of glory born, Great Jove in justice should this span adorn: Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed; And ill he pays the promise of a G.o.d, If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies, Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize."

Far from the deep recesses of the main, Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, The G.o.ddess-mother heard. The waves divide; And like a mist she rose above the tide; Beheld him mourning on the naked sh.o.r.es, And thus the sorrows of his soul explores.

"Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share; Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care."

He deeply sighing said: "To tell my woe Is but to mention what too well you know.

From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name(62) (Aetion's realm), our conquering army came, With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils; But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led, By vote selected, to the general's bed.

The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down, Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown, Intreating all; but chief implored for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: The generous Greeks their joint consent declare, The priest to reverence, and release the fair; Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride, The sire insulted, and his gifts denied: The insulted sire (his G.o.d's peculiar care) To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the prayer: A dreadful plague ensues: the avenging darts Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.

A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose, And points the crime, and thence derives the woes: Myself the first the a.s.sembled chiefs incline To avert the vengeance of the power divine; Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd; Incensed he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd: The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent, With offer'd gifts to make the G.o.d relent; But now he seized Briseis' heavenly charms, And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms, Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;(63) And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.

But, G.o.ddess! thou thy suppliant son attend.

To high Olympus' s.h.i.+ning court ascend, Urge all the ties to former service owed, And sue for vengeance to the thundering G.o.d.

Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast, That thou stood'st forth of all the ethereal host, When bold rebellion shook the realms above, The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove: When the bright partner of his awful reign, The warlike maid, and monarch of the main, The traitor-G.o.ds, by mad ambition driven, Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven.

Then, call'd by thee, the monster t.i.tan came (Whom G.o.ds Briareus, men aegeon name), Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along; Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong: With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands, And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands: The affrighted G.o.ds confess'd their awful lord, They dropp'd the fetters, trembled, and adored.(64) This, G.o.ddess, this to his remembrance call, Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall; Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train, To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main, To heap the sh.o.r.es with copious death, and bring The Greeks to know the curse of such a king.

Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head O'er all his wide dominion of the dead, And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace The boldest warrior of the Grecian race."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE a.s.sISTANCE OF JUPITER.]

THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE a.s.sISTANCE OF JUPITER.

"Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies, While tears celestial trickle from her eyes) Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes, To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes?(65) So short a s.p.a.ce the light of heaven to view!

So short a s.p.a.ce! and fill'd with sorrow too!

O might a parent's careful wish prevail, Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail, And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son.

Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow.

Meantime, secure within thy s.h.i.+ps, from far Behold the field, not mingle in the war.

The sire of G.o.ds and all the ethereal train, On the warm limits of the farthest main, Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace The feasts of aethiopia's blameless race,(66) Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite, Returning with the twelfth revolving light.

Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move The high tribunal of immortal Jove."

The G.o.ddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose; Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose, And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast, In wild resentment for the fair he lost.

In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode; Beneath the deck the destined victims stow'd: The sails they furl'd, they lash the mast aside, And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace tied.

Next on the sh.o.r.e their hecatomb they land; Chryseis last descending on the strand.

Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane; Where at his solemn altar, as the maid He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said:

"Hail, reverend priest! to Phoebus' awful dome A suppliant I from great Atrides come: Unransom'd, here receive the spotless fair; Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare; And may thy G.o.d who scatters darts around, Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound."(67)

At this, the sire embraced the maid again, So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.

Then near the altar of the darting king, Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring; With water purify their hands, and take The sacred offering of the salted cake; While thus with arms devoutly raised in air, And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:

"G.o.d of the silver bow, thy ear incline, Whose power incircles Cilla the divine; Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys, And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays!

If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's request, Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest: Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe, And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow."

So Chryses pray'd. Apollo heard his prayer: And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare; Between their horns the salted barley threw, And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew:(68) The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide; The thighs, selected to the G.o.ds, divide: On these, in double cauls involved with art, The choicest morsels lay from every part.

The priest himself before his altar stands, And burns the offering with his holy hands.

Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire; The youth with instruments surround the fire: The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd, The a.s.sistants part, transfix, and roast the rest: Then spread the tables, the repast prepare; Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.

When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, With pure libations they conclude the feast; The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd, And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around;(69) With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends, The paeans lengthen'd till the sun descends: The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong; Apollo listens, and approves the song.

'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie, Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky: Then launch, and hoist the mast: indulgent gales, Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, The parted ocean foams and roars below: Above the bounding billows swift they flew, Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view.

Far on the beach they haul their bark to land, (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,) Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay, The s.h.i.+ps and tents in mingled prospect lay.

But raging still, amidst his navy sat The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate; Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.

Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light The G.o.ds had summon'd to the Olympian height: Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers, Leads the long order of ethereal powers.

When, like the morning-mist in early day, Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea: And to the seats divine her flight address'd.

There, far apart, and high above the rest, The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds.

Suppliant the G.o.ddess stood: one hand she placed Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced.

"If e'er, O father of the G.o.ds! (she said) My words could please thee, or my actions aid, Some marks of honour on my son bestow, And pay in glory what in life you owe.

Fame is at least by heavenly promise due To life so short, and now dishonour'd too.

Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise!

Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; Till the proud king and all the Achaian race Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES.]

THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES.

Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence held The sacred counsels of his breast conceal'd.

Not so repulsed, the G.o.ddess closer press'd, Still grasp'd his knees, and urged the dear request.

"O sire of G.o.ds and men! thy suppliant hear; Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?

Or oh! declare, of all the powers above, Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?"

She said; and, sighing, thus the G.o.d replies, Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies:

"What hast thou ask'd? ah, why should Jove engage In foreign contests and domestic rage, The G.o.ds' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms, While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?

Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway With jealous eyes thy close access survey; But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped: Witness the sacred honours of our head, The nod that ratifies the will divine, The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign; This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows--"

He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,(70) Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, The stamp of fate and sanction of the G.o.d: High heaven with trembling the dread signal took, And all Olympus to the centre shook.(71)

Swift to the seas profound the G.o.ddess flies, Jove to his starry mansions in the skies.

The s.h.i.+ning synod of the immortals wait The coming G.o.d, and from their thrones of state Arising silent, wrapp'd in holy fear, Before the majesty of heaven appear.

Trembling they stand, while Jove a.s.sumes the throne, All, but the G.o.d's imperious queen alone: Late had she view'd the silver-footed dame, And all her pa.s.sions kindled into flame.

"Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries), Who now partakes the secrets of the skies?

Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, In vain the partner of imperial state.

What favourite G.o.ddess then those cares divides, Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?"

To this the thunderer: "Seek not thou to find The sacred counsels of almighty mind: Involved in darkness likes the great decree, Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee.

What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know; The first of G.o.ds above, and men below; But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll Deep in the close recesses of my soul."

Full on the sire the G.o.ddess of the skies Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, And thus return'd:--"Austere Saturnius, say, From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway?

Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force, And all thy counsels take the destined course.