Complete works of homer, p.154
Complete Works of Homer, page 154
Imperial Agamemnon, who had each
Bled in the battle, met him on his way.
For from the war remote they had updrawn
Their galleys on the shore of the gray Deep,
The foremost to the plain, and at the sterns
Of that exterior line had built the wall.
For, spacious though it were, the shore alone
That fleet sufficed not, incommoding much
The people; wherefore they had ranged the ships
Line above line gradual, and the bay
Between both promontories, all was fill'd.
They, therefore, curious to survey the fight,
Came forth together, leaning on the spear,
When Nestor met them; heavy were their hearts,
And at the sight of him still more alarm'd,
Whom royal Agamemnon thus bespake.
Neleian Nestor, glory of the Greeks!
What moved thee to forsake yon bloody field,
And urged thee hither? Cause I see of fear,
Lest furious Hector even now his threat
Among the Trojans publish'd, verify,
That he would never enter Ilium more
Till he had burn'd our fleet, and slain ourselves.
So threaten'd Hector, and shall now perform.
Alas! alas! the Achaians brazen-greaved
All, like Achilles, have deserted me
Resentful, and decline their fleet's defence.
To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.
Those threats are verified; nor Jove himself
The Thunderer can disappoint them now;
For our chief strength in which we trusted most
That it should guard impregnably secure
Our navy and ourselves, the wall hath fallen.
Hence all this conflict by our host sustain'd
Among the ships; nor could thy keenest sight
Inform thee where in the Achaian camp
Confusion most prevails, such deaths are dealt
Promiscuous, and the cry ascends to heaven.
But come — consult we on the sum of all,
If counsel yet may profit. As for you,
Ye shall have exhortation none from me
To seek the fight; the wounded have excuse.
Whom Agamemnon answer'd, King of men.
Ah Nestor! if beneath our very sterns
The battle rage, if neither trench nor wall
Constructed with such labor, and supposed
Of strength to guard impregnably secure
Our navy and ourselves, avail us aught,
It is because almighty Jove hath will'd
That the Achaian host should perish here
Inglorious, from their country far remote.
When he vouchsafed assistance to the Greeks,
I knew it well; and now, not less I know
That high as the immortal Gods he lifts
Our foes to glory, and depresses us.
Haste therefore all, and act as I advise.
Our ships — all those that nearest skirt the Deep,
Launch we into the sacred flood, and moor
With anchors safely, till o'ershadowing night
(If night itself may save us) shall arrive.
Then may we launch the rest; for I no shame
Account it, even by 'vantage of the night
To fly destruction. Wiser him I deem
Who 'scapes his foe, than whom his foe enthralls.
But him Ulysses, frowning stern, reproved.
What word, Atrides, now hath pass'd thy lips?
Counsellor of despair! thou should'st command
(And would to heaven thou didst) a different host,
Some dastard race, not ours; whom Jove ordains
From youth to hoary age to weave the web
Of toilsome warfare, till we perish all.
Wilt thou the spacious city thus renounce
For which such numerous woes we have endured?
Hush! lest some other hear; it is a word
Which no man qualified by years mature
To speak discreetly, no man bearing rule
O'er such a people as confess thy sway,
Should suffer to contaminate his lips.
I from my soul condemn thee, and condemn
Thy counsel, who persuad'st us in the heat
Of battle terrible as this, to launch
Our fleet into the waves, that we may give
Our too successful foes their full desire,
And that our own prepondering scale
May plunge us past all hope; for while they draw
Their galleys down, the Grecians shall but ill
Sustain the fight, seaward will cast their eyes
And shun the battle, bent on flight alone.
Then, shall they rue thy counsel, King of men!
To whom the imperial leader of the Greeks.
Thy sharp reproof, Ulysses, hath my soul
Pierced deeply. Yet I gave no such command
That the Achaians should their galleys launch,
Would they, or would they not. No. I desire
That young or old, some other may advice
More prudent give, and he shall please me well.
Then thus the gallant Diomede replied.
That man is near, and may ye but be found
Tractable, our inquiry shall be short.
Be patient each, nor chide me nor reproach
Because I am of greener years than ye,
For I am sprung from an illustrious Sire,
From Tydeus, who beneath his hill of earth
Lies now entomb'd at Thebes. Three noble sons
Were born to Portheus, who in Pleuro dwelt,
And on the heights of Calydon; the first
Agrius; the second Melas; and the third
Brave Oeneus, father of my father, famed
For virtuous qualities above the rest.
Oeneus still dwelt at home; but wandering thence
My father dwelt in Argos; so the will
Of Jove appointed, and of all the Gods.
There he espoused the daughter of the King
Adrastus, occupied a mansion rich
In all abundance; many a field possess'd
Of wheat, well-planted gardens, numerous flocks,
And was expert in spearmanship esteem'd
Past all the Grecians. I esteem'd it right
That ye should hear these things, for they are true.
Ye will not, therefore, as I were obscure
And of ignoble origin, reject
What I shall well advise. Expedience bids
That, wounded as we are, we join the host.
We will preserve due distance from the range
Of spears and arrows, lest already gall'd,
We suffer worse; but we will others urge
To combat, who have stood too long aloof,
Attentive only to their own repose.
He spake, whom all approved, and forth they went,
Imperial Agamemnon at their head.
Nor watch'd the glorious Shaker of the shores
In vain, but like a man time-worn approach'd,
And, seizing Agamemnon's better hand,
In accents wing'd the monarch thus address'd.
Atrides! now exults the vengeful heart
Of fierce Achilles, viewing at his ease
The flight and slaughter of Achaia's host;
For he is mad, and let him perish such,
And may his portion from the Gods be shame!
But as for thee, not yet the powers of heaven
Thee hate implacable; the Chiefs of Troy
Shall cover yet with cloudy dust the breadth
Of all the plain, and backward from the camp
To Ilium's gates thyself shalt see them driven.
He ceased, and shouting traversed swift the field.
Loud as nine thousand or ten thousand shout
In furious battle mingled, Neptune sent
His voice abroad, force irresistible
Infusing into every Grecian heart,
And thirst of battle not to be assuaged.
But Juno of the golden throne stood forth
On the Olympian summit, viewing thence
The field, where clear distinguishing the God
Of ocean, her own brother, sole engaged
Amid the glorious battle, glad was she.
Seeing Jove also on the topmost point
Of spring-fed Ida seated, she conceived
Hatred against him, and thenceforth began
Deliberate how best she might deceive
The Thunderer, and thus at last resolved;
Attired with skill celestial to descend
On Ida, with a hope to allure him first
Won by her beauty to a fond embrace,
Then closing fast in balmy sleep profound
His eyes, to elude his vigilance, secure.
She sought her chamber; Vulcan her own son
That chamber built. He framed the solid doors,
And to the posts fast closed them with a key
Mysterious, which, herself except, in heaven
None understood. Entering she secured
The splendid portal. First, she laved all o'er
Her beauteous body with ambrosial lymph,
Then polish'd it with richest oil divine
Of boundless fragrance; oil that in the courts
Eternal only shaken, through the skies
Breathed odors, and through all the distant earth.
Her whole fair body with those sweets bedew'd,
She passed the comb through her ambrosial hair,
And braided her bright locks streaming profuse
From her immortal brows; with golden studs
She made her gorgeous mantle fast before,
Ethereal texture, labor of the hands
Of Pallas beautified with various art,
And braced it with a zone fringed all around
A hundred fold; her pendants triple-gemm'd
Luminous, graceful, in her ears she hung,
And covering all her glories with a veil
Sun-bright, new-woven, bound to her fair feet
Her sandals elegant. Thus full attired,
In all her ornaments, she issued forth,
And beckoning Venus from the other powers
Of heaven apart, the Goddess thus bespake.
Daughter beloved! shall I obtain my suit,
Or wilt thou thwart me, angry that I aid
The Grecians, while thine aid is given to Troy?
To whom Jove's daughter Venus thus replied.
What would majestic Juno, daughter dread
Of Saturn, sire of Jove? I feel a mind
Disposed to gratify thee, if thou ask
Things possible, and possible to me.
Then thus with wiles veiling her deep design
Imperial Juno. Give me those desires,
That love-enkindling power by which thou sway'st
Immortal hearts and mortal, all alike;
For to the green earth's utmost bounds I go,
To visit there the parent of the Gods,
Oceanus, and Tethys his espoused,
Mother of all. They kindly from the hands
Of Rhea took, and with parental care
Sustain'd and cherish'd me, what time from heaven
The Thunderer hurled down Saturn, and beneath
The earth fast bound him and the barren Deep.
Them go I now to visit, and their feuds
Innumerable to compose; for long
They have from conjugal embrace abstain'd
Through mutual wrath, whom by persuasive speech
Might I restore into each other's arms,
They would for ever love me and revere.
Her, foam-born Venus then, Goddess of smiles,
Thus answer'd. Thy request, who in the arms
Of Jove reposest the omnipotent,
Nor just it were nor seemly to refuse.
So saying, the cincture from her breast she loosed
Embroider'd, various, her all-charming zone.
It was an ambush of sweet snares, replete
With love, desire, soft intercourse of hearts,
And music of resistless whisper'd sounds
That from the wisest steal their best resolves;
She placed it in her hands and thus she said.
Take this — this girdle fraught with every charm.
Hide this within thy bosom, and return,
Whate'er thy purpose, mistress of it all.
She spake; imperial Juno smiled, and still
Smiling complacent, bosom'd safe the zone.
Then Venus to her father's court return'd,
And Juno, starting from the Olympian height,
O'erflew Pieria and the lovely plains
Of broad Emathia; soaring thence she swept
The snow-clad summits of the Thracian hills
Steed-famed, nor printed, as she passed, the soil.
From Athos o'er the foaming billows borne
She came to Lemnos, city and abode
Of noble Thoas, and there meeting Sleep,
Brother of Death, she press'd his hand, and said,
Sleep, over all, both Gods and men, supreme!
If ever thou hast heard, hear also now
My suit; I will be grateful evermore.
Seal for me fast the radiant eyes of Jove
In the instant of his gratified desire.
Thy recompense shall be a throne of gold,
Bright, incorruptible; my limping son,
Vulcan, shall fashion it himself with art
Laborious, and, beneath, shall place a stool
For thy fair feet, at the convivial board.
Then answer thus the tranquil Sleep returned
Great Saturn's daughter, awe-inspiring Queen!
All other of the everlasting Gods
I could with ease make slumber, even the streams
Of Ocean, Sire of all. Not so the King
The son of Saturn: him, unless himself
Give me command, I dare not lull to rest,
Or even approach him, taught as I have been
Already in the school of thy commands
That wisdom. I forget not yet the day
When, Troy laid waste, that valiant son of his
Sail'd homeward: then my influence I diffused
Soft o'er the sovereign intellect of Jove;
While thou, against the Hero plotting harm,
Didst rouse the billows with tempestuous blasts,
And separating him from all his friend,
Brought'st him to populous Cos. Then Jove awoke,
And, hurling in his wrath the Gods about,
Sought chiefly me, whom far below all ken
He had from heaven cast down into the Deep,
But Night, resistless vanquisher of all,
Both Gods and men, preserved me; for to her
I fled for refuge. So the Thunderer cool'd,
Though sore displeased, and spared me through a fear
To violate the peaceful sway of Night.
And thou wouldst now embroil me yet again!
To whom majestic Juno thus replied.
Ah, wherefore, Sleep! shouldst thou indulge a fear
So groundless? Chase it from thy mind afar.
Think'st thou the Thunderer as intent to serve
The Trojans, and as jealous in their cause
As erst for Hercules, his genuine son?
Come then, and I will bless thee with a bride;
One of the younger Graces shall be thine,
Pasithea, day by day still thy desire.
She spake; Sleep heard delighted, and replied.
By the inviolable Stygian flood
Swear to me; lay thy right hand on the glebe
All-teeming, lay thy other on the face
Of the flat sea, that all the Immortal Powers
Who compass Saturn in the nether realms
May witness, that thou givest me for a bride
The younger Grace whom thou hast named, divine
Pasithea, day by day still my desire.
He said, nor beauteous Juno not complied,
But sware, by name invoking all the powers
Titanian call'd who in the lowest gulf
Dwell under Tartarus, omitting none.
Her oath with solemn ceremonial sworn,
Together forth they went; Lemnos they left
And Imbrus, city of Thrace, and in dark clouds
Mantled, with gliding ease swam through the air
To Ida's mount with rilling waters vein'd,
Parent of savage beasts; at Lectos first
They quitted Ocean, overpassing high
The dry land, while beneath their feet the woods
Their spiry summits waved. There, unperceived
By Jove, Sleep mounted Ida's loftiest pine
Of growth that pierced the sky, and hidden sat
Secure by its expanded boughs, the bird
Shrill-voiced resembling in the mountains seen,
Chalcis in heaven, on earth Cymindis named.
But Juno swift to Gargarus the top
Of Ida, soar'd, and there Jove saw his spouse.
— Saw her — and in his breast the same love felt
Rekindled vehement, which had of old
Join'd them, when, by their parents unperceived,
They stole aside, and snatch'd their first embrace.
Soon he accosted her, and thus inquired.
Juno! what region seeking hast thou left
The Olympian summit, and hast here arrived
With neither steed nor chariot in thy train?
To whom majestic Juno thus replied
Dissembling. To the green earth's end I go,
To visit there the parent of the Gods
Oceanus, and Tethys his espoused,
Mother of all. They kindly from the hands
Of Rhea took, and with parental care
Sustain'd and cherish'd me; to them I haste
Their feuds innumerable to compose,
Who disunited by intestine strife
Long time, from conjugal embrace abstain.
My steeds, that lightly over dank and dry
Shall bear me, at the rooted base I left
Of Ida river-vein'd. But for thy sake
From the Olympian summit I arrive,
Lest journeying remote to the abode
Of Ocean, and with no consent of thine
Entreated first, I should, perchance, offend.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
Juno! thy journey thither may be made
Hereafter. Let us turn to dalliance now.
For never Goddess pour'd, nor woman yet
So full a tide of love into my breast;
I never loved Ixion's consort thus
