Complete works of homer, p.143
Complete Works of Homer, page 143
In Hellas and in Phthia may be found
Fair damsels many, daughters of the Chiefs
Who guard our cities; I may choose of them,
And make the loveliest of them all my own.
There, in my country, it hath ever been
My dearest purpose, wedded to a wife
Of rank convenient, to enjoy in peace
Such wealth as ancient Peleus hath acquired.
For life, in my account, surpasses far
In value all the treasures which report
Ascribed to populous Ilium, ere the Greeks
Arrived, and while the city yet had peace;
Those also which Apollo's marble shrine
In rocky Pytho boasts. Fat flocks and beeves
May be by force obtain'd, tripods and steeds
Are bought or won, but if the breath of man
Once overpass its bounds, no force arrests
Or may constrain the unbodied spirit back.
Me, as my silver-footed mother speaks
Thetis, a twofold consummation waits.
If still with battle I encompass Troy,
I win immortal glory, but all hope
Renounce of my return. If I return
To my beloved country, I renounce
The illustrious meed of glory, but obtain
Secure and long immunity from death.
And truly I would recommend to all
To voyage homeward, for the fall as yet
Ye shall not see of Ilium's lofty towers,
For that the Thunderer with uplifted arm
Protects her, and her courage hath revived.
Bear ye mine answer back, as is the part
Of good ambassadors, that they may frame
Some likelier plan, by which both fleet and host
May be preserved; for, my resentment still
Burning, this project is but premature.
Let Phœnix stay with us, and sleep this night
Within my tent, that, if he so incline,
He may to-morrow in my fleet embark,
And hence attend me; but I leave him free.
He ended; they astonish'd at his tone
(For vehement he spake) sat silent all,
Till Phœnix, aged warrior, at the last
Gush'd into tears (for dread his heart o'erwhelm'd
Lest the whole fleet should perish) and replied.
If thou indeed have purposed to return,
Noble Achilles! and such wrath retain'st
That thou art altogether fixt to leave
The fleet a prey to desolating fires,
How then, my son! shall I at Troy abide
Forlorn of thee? When Peleus, hoary Chief,
Sent thee to Agamemnon, yet a child,
Unpractised in destructive fight, nor less
Of councils ignorant, the schools in which
Great minds are form'd, he bade me to the war
Attend thee forth, that I might teach thee all,
Both elocution and address in arms.
Me therefore shalt thou not with my consent
Leave here, my son! no, not would Jove himself
Promise me, reaping smooth this silver beard,
To make me downy-cheek'd as in my youth;
Such as when erst from Hellas beauty-famed
I fled, escaping from my father's wrath
Amyntor, son of Ormenus, who loved
A beauteous concubine, and for her sake
Despised his wife and persecuted me.
My mother suppliant at my knees, with prayer
Perpetual importuned me to embrace
The damsel first, that she might loathe my sire.
I did so; and my father soon possess'd
With hot suspicion of the fact, let loose
A storm of imprecation, in his rage
Invoking all the Furies to forbid
That ever son of mine should press his knees.
Tartarian Jove and dread Persephone
Fulfill'd his curses; with my pointed spear
I would have pierced his heart, but that my wrath
Some Deity assuaged, suggesting oft
What shame and obloquy I should incur,
Known as a parricide through all the land.
At length, so treated, I resolved to dwell
No longer in his house. My friends, indeed,
And all my kindred compass'd me around
With much entreaty, wooing me to stay;
Oxen and sheep they slaughter'd, many a plump
Well-fatted brawn extended in the flames,
And drank the old man's vessels to the lees.
Nine nights continual at my side they slept,
While others watch'd by turns, nor were the fires
Extinguish'd ever, one, beneath the porch
Of the barr'd hall, and one that from within
The vestibule illumed my chamber door.
But when the tenth dark night at length arrived,
Sudden the chamber doors bursting I flew
That moment forth, and unperceived alike
By guards and menial woman, leap'd the wall.
Through spacious Hellas flying thence afar,
I came at length to Phthia the deep-soil'd,
Mother of flocks, and to the royal house
Of Peleus; Peleus with a willing heart
Receiving, loved me as a father loves
His only son, the son of his old age,
Inheritor of all his large demesnes.
He made me rich; placed under my control
A populous realm, and on the skirts I dwelt
Of Phthia, ruling the Dolopian race.
Thee from my soul, thou semblance of the Gods,
I loved, and all illustrious as thou art,
Achilles! such I made thee. For with me,
Me only, would'st thou forth to feast abroad,
Nor would'st thou taste thy food at home, 'till first
I placed thee on my knees, with my own hand
Thy viands carved and fed thee, and the wine
Held to thy lips; and many a time, in fits
Of infant frowardness, the purple juice
Rejecting thou hast deluged all my vest,
And fill'd my bosom. Oh, I have endured
Much, and have also much perform'd for thee,
Thus purposing, that since the Gods vouchsaf'd
No son to me, thyself shouldst be my son,
Godlike Achilles! who shouldst screen perchance
From a foul fate my else unshelter'd age.
Achilles! bid thy mighty spirit down.
Thou shouldst not be thus merciless; the Gods,
Although more honorable, and in power
And virtue thy superiors, are themselves
Yet placable; and if a mortal man
Offend them by transgression of their laws,
Libation, incense, sacrifice, and prayer,
In meekness offer'd turn their wrath away.
Prayers are Jove's daughters, wrinkled, lame, slant-eyed,
Which though far distant, yet with constant pace
Follow Offence. Offence, robust of limb,
And treading firm the ground, outstrips them all,
And over all the earth before them runs
Hurtful to man. They, following, heal the hurt.
Received respectfully when they approach,
They help us, and our prayers hear in return.
But if we slight, and with obdurate heart
Resist them, to Saturnian Jove they cry
Against us, supplicating that Offence
May cleave to us for vengeance of the wrong.
Thou, therefore, O Achilles! honor yield
To Jove's own daughters, vanquished, as the brave
Have ofttimes been, by honor paid to thee.
For came not Agamemnon as he comes
With gifts in hand, and promises of more
Hereafter; burn'd his anger still the same,
I would not move thee to renounce thy own,
And to assist us, howsoe'er distress'd.
But now, not only are his present gifts
Most liberal, and his promises of more
Such also, but these Princes he hath sent
Charged with entreaties, thine especial friends,
And chosen for that cause, from all the host.
Slight not their embassy, nor put to shame
Their intercession. We confess that once
Thy wrath was unreprovable and just.
Thus we have heard the heroes of old times
Applauded oft, whose anger, though intense,
Yet left them open to the gentle sway
Of reason and conciliatory gifts.
I recollect an ancient history,
Which, since all here are friends, I will relate.
The brave Ætolians and Curetes met
Beneath the walls of Calydon, and fought
With mutual slaughter; the Ætolian powers
In the defence of Calydon the fair,
And the Curetes bent to lay it waste:
That strife Diana of the golden throne
Kindled between them, with resentment fired
That Oeneus had not in some fertile spot
The first fruits of his harvest set apart
To her; with hecatombs he entertained
All the Divinities of heaven beside,
And her alone, daughter of Jove supreme,
Or through forgetfulness, or some neglect,
Served not; omission careless and profane!
She, progeny of Jove, Goddess shaft-arm'd,
A savage boar bright-tusk'd in anger sent,
Which haunting Oeneus' fields much havoc made.
Trees numerous on the earth in heaps he cast
Uprooting them, with all their blossoms on.
But Meleager, Oeneus' son, at length
Slew him, the hunters gathering and the hounds
Of numerous cities; for a boar so vast
Might not be vanquish'd by the power of few,
And many to their funeral piles he sent.
Then raised Diana clamorous dispute,
And contest hot between them, all alike,
Curetes and Ætolians fierce in arms
The boar's head claiming, and his bristly hide.
So long as warlike Meleager fought,
Ætolia prosper'd, nor with all their powers
Could the Curetes stand before the walls.
But when resentment once had fired the heart
Of Meleager, which hath tumult oft
Excited in the breasts of wisest men,
(For his own mother had his wrath provoked
Althæa) thenceforth with his wedded wife
He dwelt, fair Cleopatra, close retired.
She was Marpessa's daughter, whom she bore
To Idas, bravest warrior in his day
Of all on earth. He fear'd not 'gainst the King
Himself Apollo, for the lovely nymph
Marpessa's sake, his spouse, to bend his bow.
Her, therefore, Idas and Marpessa named
Thenceforth Alcyone, because the fate
Of sad Alcyone Marpessa shared,
And wept like her, by Phœbus forced away.
Thus Meleager, tortured with the pangs
Of wrath indulged, with Cleopatra dwelt,
Vex'd that his mother cursed him; for, with grief
Frantic, his mother importuned the Gods
To avenge her slaughter'd brothers on his head.
Oft would she smite the earth, while on her knees
Seated, she fill'd her bosom with her tears,
And call'd on Pluto and dread Proserpine
To slay her son; nor vain was that request,
But by implacable Erynnis heard
Roaming the shades of Erebus. Ere long
The tumult and the deafening din of war
Roar'd at the gates, and all the batter'd towers
Resounded. Then the elders of the town
Dispatch'd the high-priests of the Gods to plead
With Meleager for his instant aid,
With strong assurances of rich reward.
Where Calydon afforded fattest soil
They bade him choose to his own use a farm
Of fifty measured acres, vineyard half,
And half of land commodious for the plow.
Him Oeneus also, warrior grey with age,
Ascending to his chamber, and his doors
Smiting importunate, with earnest prayers
Assay'd to soften, kneeling to his son.
Nor less his sisters woo'd him to relent,
Nor less his mother; but in vain; he grew
Still more obdurate. His companions last,
The most esteem'd and dearest of his friends,
The same suit urged, yet he persisted still
Relentless, nor could even they prevail.
But when the battle shook his chamber-doors
And the Curetes climbing the high towers
Had fired the spacious city, then with tears
The beauteous Cleopatra, and with prayers
Assail'd him; in his view she set the woes
Numberless of a city storm'd — the men
Slaughter'd, the city burnt to dust, the chaste
Matrons with all their children dragg'd away.
That dread recital roused him, and at length
Issuing, he put his radiant armor on.
Thus Meleager, gratifying first
His own resentment from a fatal day
Saved the Ætolians, who the promised gift
Refused him, and his toils found no reward.
But thou, my son, be wiser; follow thou
No demon who would tempt thee to a course
Like his; occasion more propitious far
Smiles on thee now, than if the fleet were fired.
Come, while by gifts invited, and receive
From all the host, the honors of a God;
For shouldst thou, by no gifts induced, at last
Enter the bloody field, although thou chase
The Trojans hence, yet less shall be thy praise.
Then thus Achilles, matchless in the race.
Phœnix, my guide, wise, noble and revered!
I covet no such glory! the renown
Ordain'd by Jove for me, is to resist
All importunity to quit my ships
While I have power to move, or breath to draw.
Hear now, and mark me well. Cease thou from tears.
Confound me not, pleading with sighs and sobs
In Agamemnon's cause; O love not him,
Lest I renounce thee, who am now thy friend.
Assist me rather, as thy duty bids,
Him to afflict, who hath afflicted me,
So shalt thou share my glory and my power.
These shall report as they have heard, but here
Rest thou this night, and with the rising morn
We will decide, to stay or to depart.
He ceased, and silent, by a nod enjoin'd
Patroclus to prepare an easy couch
For Phœnix, anxious to dismiss the rest
Incontinent; when Ajax, godlike son
Of Telamon, arising, thus began.
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd:
Depart we now; for I perceive that end
Or fruit of all our reasonings shall be none.
It is expedient also that we bear
Our answer back (unwelcome as it is)
With all dispatch, for the assembled Greeks
Expect us. Brave Achilles shuts a fire
Within his breast; the kindness of his friends,
And the respect peculiar by ourselves
Shown to him, on his heart work no effect.
Inexorable man! others accept
Even for a brother slain, or for a son
Due compensation; the delinquent dwells
Secure at home, and the receiver, soothed
And pacified, represses his revenge.
But thou, resentful of the loss of one,
One virgin (such obduracy of heart
The Gods have given thee) can'st not be appeased
Yet we assign thee seven in her stead,
The most distinguish'd of their sex, and add
Large gifts beside. Ah then, at last relent!
Respect thy roof; we are thy guests; we come
Chosen from the multitude of all the Greeks,
Beyond them all ambitious of thy love.
To whom Achilles, swiftest of the swift.
My noble friend, offspring of Telamon!
Thou seem'st sincere, and I believe thee such.
But at the very mention of the name
Of Atreus' son, who shamed me in the sight
Of all Achaia's host, bearing me down
As I had been some vagrant at his door,
My bosom boils. Return ye and report
Your answer. I no thought will entertain
Of crimson war, till the illustrious son
Of warlike Priam, Hector, blood-embrued,
Shall in their tents the Myrmidons assail
Themselves, and fire my fleet. At my own ship,
And at my own pavilion it may chance
That even Hector's violence shall pause.
He ended; they from massy goblets each
Libation pour'd, and to the fleet their course
Resumed direct, Ulysses at their head.
Patroclus then his fellow-warriors bade,
And the attendant women spread a couch
For Phœnix; they the couch, obedient, spread
With fleeces, with rich arras, and with flax
Of subtlest woof. There hoary Phœnix lay
In expectation of the sacred dawn.
Meantime Achilles in the interior tent,
With beauteous Diomeda by himself
From Lesbos brought, daughter of Phorbas, lay.
Patroclus opposite reposed, with whom
Slept charming Iphis; her, when he had won
The lofty towers of Scyros, the divine
Achilles took, and on his friend bestow'd.
But when those Chiefs at Agamemnon's tent
Arrived, the Greeks on every side arose
With golden cups welcoming their return.
All question'd them, but Agamemnon first.
Oh worthy of Achaia's highest praise,
And her chief ornament, Ulysses, speak!
Will he defend the fleet? or his big heart
Indulging wrathful, doth he still refuse?
To whom renown'd Ulysses thus replied.
Atrides, Agamemnon, King of men!
He his resentment quenches not, nor will,
But burns with wrath the more, thee and thy gifts
Rejecting both. He bids thee with the Greeks
Consult by what expedient thou may'st save
