Complete works of homer, p.348
Complete Works of Homer, page 348
But hear ye all, and do as I advise:
Share now the meal, by ranks, throughout the host;
Then set your watch, and each keep careful guard;
And whom his spoils o'erload, if such there be,
Let him divide them with the gen'ral crowd;
Better that they should hold them than the Greeks:
And with the morn, in arms, beside the ships,
Will we again awake the furious war.
But if indeed Achilles by the ships
Hath reappear'd, himself, if so he choose,
Shall be the suff'rer; from the perilous strife
I will not shrink, but his encounter meet:
So he, or I, shall gain immortal fame;
Impartial Mars hath oft the slayer slain."
Thus Hector spoke; the Trojans cheer'd aloud:
Fools, and by Pallas of their sense bereft,
Who all applauded Hector's ill advice,
None the sage counsel of Polydamas!
Then through the camp they shar'd the ev'ning meal.
Meantime the Greeks all night with tears and groans
Bewail'd Patroclus: on his comrade's breast
Achilles laid his murder-dealing hands,
And led with bitter groans the loud lament.
As when the hunters, in the forest's depth,
Have robb'd a bearded lion of his cubs;
Too late arriving, he with anger chafes;
Then follows, if perchance he may o'ertake,
Through many a mountain glen, the hunters' steps,
With grief and fury fill'd; so Peleus' son,
With bitter groans, the Myrmidons address'd:
"Vain was, alas! the promise which I gave,
Seeking the brave Menoetius to console,
To bring to Opus back his gallant son,
Rich with his share of spoil from Troy o'erthrown;
But Jove fulfils not all that man designs:
For us hath fate decreed, that here in Troy
We two one soil should redden with our blood;
Nor me, returning to my native land,
Shall aged Peleus in his halls receive,
Nor Thetis; here must earth retain my bones.
But since, Patroclus, I am doom'd on earth
Behind thee to remain, thy fun'ral rites
I will not celebrate, till Hector's arms,
And head, thy haughty slayer's, here I bring;
And on thy pyre twelve noble sons of Troy
Will sacrifice, in vengeance of thy death.
Thou by our beaked ships till then must lie;
And weeping o'er thee shall deep-bosom'd dames,
Trojan and Dardan, mourn both night and day;
The prizes of our toil, when wealthy towns
Before our valour and our spears have fall'n."
He said, and bade his comrades on the fire
An ample tripod place, without delay
To cleanse Patroclus from the bloody gore:
They on the burning fire the tripod plac'd,
With water fill'd, and kindled wood beneath.
Around the bellying tripod rose the flames,
Heating the bath; within the glitt'ring brass
Soon as the water boil'd, they wash'd the corpse,
With lissom oils anointing, and the wounds
With fragrant ointments fill'd, of nine years old;
Then in fine linen they the body wrapp'd
From head to feet, and laid it on a couch.
And cover'd over with a fair white sheet.
All night around Achilles swift of foot
The Myrmidons with tears Patroclus mourn'd.
To Juno then, his sister and his wife,
Thus Saturn's son: "At length thou hast thy will,
Imperial Juno, who hast stirr'd to war
Achilles swift of foot; well might one deem
These long-hair'd Greeks from thee deriv'd their birth."
To whom in answer thus the stag-ey'd Queen:
"What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak?
E'en man, though mortal, and inferior far
To us in wisdom, might so much effect
Against his fellow-man; then how should I,
By double title chief of Goddesses,
First by my birth, and next because thy wife
I boast me, thine, o'er all the Gods supreme,
Not work my vengeance on the Trojan race?"
Such, converse while they held, to Vulcan's house,
Immortal, starlike bright, among the Gods
Unrivall'd, all of brass, by Vulcan's self
Constructed, sped the silver-footed Queen.
Him swelt'ring at his forge she found, intent
On forming twenty tripods, which should stand
The wall surrounding of his well-built house;
With golden wheels beneath he furnish'd each,
And to th' assembly of the Gods endued
With pow'r to move spontaneous, and return,
A marvel to behold! thus far his work
He had completed; but not yet had fix'd
The rich-wrought handles; these his labour now
Engag'd, to fit them, and to rivet fast.
While thus he exercis'd his practis'd skill,
The silver-footed Queen approach'd the house.
Charis, the skilful artist's wedded wife,
Beheld her coming, and advanc'd to meet;
And, as her hand she clasp'd, address'd her thus:
"Say, Thetis of the flowing robe, belov'd
And honour'd, whence this visit to our house,
An unaccustom'd guest? but come thou in,
That I may welcome thee with honour due."
Thus, as she spoke, the Goddess led her in,
And on a seat with silver studs adorn'd,
Fair, richly wrought, a footstool at her feet,
She bade her sit; then thus to Vulcan call'd:
"Haste hither, Vulcan; Thetis asks thine aid."
Whom answer'd thus the skill'd artificer:
"An honour'd and a venerated guest
Our house contains; who sav'd me once from woe,
When by my mother's act from Heav'n I fell,
Who, for that I was crippled in my feet,
Deem'd it not shame to hide me: hard had then
My fortune been, had not Eurynome
And Thetis in their bosoms shelter'd me;
Eurynome, from old Oceanus
Who drew her birth, the ever-circling flood.
Nine years with them I dwelt, and many a work
I fashion'd there of metal, clasps, and chains
Of spiral coil, rich cups, and collars fair,
Hid in a cave profound; where th' ocean stream
With ceaseless murmur foam'd and moan'd around;
Unknown to God or man, but to those two
Who sav'd me, Thetis and Eurynome.
Now to my house hath fair-hair'd Thetis come;
To her, my life preserv'd its tribute owes:
Then thou the hospitable rites perform.
While I my bellows and my tools lay by."
He said, and from the anvil rear'd upright
His massive strength; and as he limp'd along,
His tottering knees were bow'd beneath his weight.
The bellows from the fire he next withdrew,
And in a silver casket plac'd his tools;
Then with a sponge his brows and lusty arms
He wip'd, and sturdy neck and hairy chest.
He donn'd his robe, and took his weighty staff;
Then through the door with halting step he pass'd;
There waited on their King the attendant maids;
In form as living maids, but wrought in gold;
Instinct with consciousness, with voice endued,
And strength, and skill from heav'nly teachers drawn.
These waited, duteous, at the Monarch's side,
His steps supporting; he, with halting gait,
Pass'd to a gorgeous chair by Thetis' side,
And, as her hand he clasp'd, address'd her thus:
"Say, Thetis of the flowing robe, belov'd
And honour'd, whence this visit to our house.
An unaccustom'd guest? say what thy will,
And, if within my pow'r, esteem it done."
To whom in answer Thetis, weeping, thus:
"Vulcan, of all the Goddesses who dwell
On high Olympus, lives there one whose soul
Hath borne such weight of woe, so many griefs,
As Saturn's son hath heap'd on me alone?
Me, whom he chose from all the sea-born nymphs,
And gave to Peleus, son of AEacus,
His subject; I endur'd a mortal's bed,
Though sore against my will; he now, bent down
By feeble age, lies helpless in his house.
Now adds he farther grief; he granted me
To bear, and rear, a son, of heroes chief;
Like a young tree he throve; I tended him,
In a rich vineyard as the choicest plant:
Till in the beaked ships I sent him forth
To war with Troy; him ne'er shall I receive,
Returning home, in aged Peleus' house.
E'en while he lives, and sees the light of day,
He lives in sorrow; nor, to soothe his grief,
My presence can avail; a girl, his prize,
Selected for him by the sons of Greece,
Great Agamemnon wrested from his arms:
In grief and rage he pin'd his soul away;
Then by the Trojans were the Greeks hemm'd in
Beside their ships, and from within their camp
No outlet found; the Grecian Elders then
Implor'd his aid, and promis'd costly gifts.
With his own hand to save them he refus'd;
But, in his armour clad, to battle sent
His friend Patroclus, with a num'rous band.
All day they fought before the Scaean* gates;
And in that day had Ilium been destroy'd,
But in the van, Menoetius' noble son.
After great deeds achiev'd, Apollo slew,
And crown'd with glory Hector, Priam's son.
Therefore a suppliant to thy knees I come,
If to my son, to early death condemn'd,
Thou wilt accord the boon of shield and helm,
And well-wrought greaves with silver clasps secur'd,
And breastplate; for his own, his faithful friend,
By Trojan hands subdued, hath lost; and he,
O'erwhelm'd with grief, lies prostrate on the earth."
Whom answer'd thus the skill'd artificer:
"Take comfort, nor let this disturb thy mind;
Would that as surely, when his hour shall come,
I could defend him from the stroke of death,
As I can undertake that his shall be
Such arms as they shall marvel who behold."
He left her thus, and to his forge return'd;
The bellows then directing to the fire,
He bade them work; through twenty pipes at once
Forthwith they pour'd their diverse-temper'd blasts;
Now briskly seconding his eager haste,
Now at his will, and as the work requir'd.
The stubborn brass, and tin, and precious gold,
And silver, first he melted in the fire,
Then on its stand his weighty anvil plac'd;
And with one hand the hammer's pond'rous weight
He wielded, while the other grasp'd the tongs.
And first a shield he fashion'd, vast and strong,
With rich adornment; circled with a rim,
Threefold, bright-gleaming, whence a silver belt
Depended; of five folds the shield was form'd;
And on its surface many a rare design
Of curious art his practis'd skill had wrought.
Thereon were figur'd earth, and sky, and sea,
The ever-circling sun, and full-orb'd moon,
And all the signs that crown the vault of Heav'n;
Pleiads and Hyads, and Orion's might,
And Arctos, call'd the Wain, who wheels on high
His circling course, and on Orion waits;
Sole star that never bathes in th' ocean wave.
And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;
In one were marriage pomp and revelry.
And brides, in gay procession, through the streets
With blazing torches from their chambers borne,
While frequent rose the hymeneal song.
Youths whirl'd around in joyous dance, with sound
Of flute and harp; and, standing at their doors,
Admiring women on the pageant gaz'd.
Meanwhile a busy throng the forum fill'd:
There between two a fierce contention rose,
About a death-fine; to the public one
Appeal'd, asserting to have paid the whole;
While one denied that he had aught receiv'd.
Both were desirous that before the Judge
The issue should be tried; with noisy shouts
Their several partisans encourag'd each.
The heralds still'd the tumult of the crowd:
On polish'd chairs, in solemn circle, sat
The rev'rend Elders; in their hands they held
The loud-voic'd heralds' sceptres; waving these,
They heard th' alternate pleadings; in the midst
Two talents lay of gold, which he should take
Who should before them prove his righteous cause.
Before the second town two armies lay,
In arms refulgent; to destroy the town
Th' assailants threaten'd, or among themselves
Of all the wealth within the city stor'd
An equal half, as ransom, to divide.
The terms rejecting, the defenders mann'd
A secret ambush; on the walls they plac'd
Women and children muster'd for defence,
And men by age enfeebled; forth they went,
By Mars and Pallas led; these, wrought in gold,
In golden arms array'd, above the crowd
For beauty and stature, as befitting Gods,
Conspicuous shone; of lesser height the rest.
But when the destin'd ambuscade was reach'd,
Beside the river, where the shepherds drove
Their flocks and herds to water, down they lay,
In glitt'ring arms accoutred; and apart
They plac'd two spies, to notify betimes
Th' approach of flocks of sheep and lowing herds.
These, in two shepherds' charge, ere long appear'd,
Who, unsuspecting as they mov'd along,
Enjoy'd the music of their past'ral pipes.
They on the booty, from afar discern'd,
Sprang from their ambuscade; and cutting off
The herds, and fleecy flocks, their guardians slew.
Their comrades heard the tumult, where they sat
Before their sacred altars, and forthwith
Sprang on their cars, and with fast-stepping steeds
Pursued the plund'rers, and o'ertook them soon.
There on the river's bank they met in arms,
And each at other hurl'd their brazen spears.
And there were figur'd Strife, and Tumult wild,
And deadly Fate, who in her iron grasp
One newly-wounded, one unwounded bore,
While by the feet from out the press she dragg'd
Another slain: about her shoulders hung
A garment crimson'd with the blood of men.
Like living men they seem'd to move, to fight,
To drag away the bodies of the slain.
And there was grav'n a wide-extended plain
Of fallow land, rich, fertile, mellow soil,
Thrice plough'd; where many ploughmen up and down
Their teams were driving; and as each attain'd
The limit of the field, would one advance,
And tender him a cup of gen'rous wine:
Then would he turn, and to the end again
Along the furrow cheerly drive his plough.
And still behind them darker show'd the soil,
The true presentment of a new-plough'd field,
Though wrought in gold; a miracle of art.
There too was grav'n a corn-field, rich in grain,
Where with sharp sickles reapers plied their task,
And thick, in even swathe, the trusses fell;
The binders, following close, the bundles tied:
Three were the binders; and behind them boys
In close attendance waiting, in their arms
Gather'd the bundles, and in order pil'd.
Amid them, staff in hand, in silence stood
The King, rejoicing in the plenteous swathe.
A little way remov'd, the heralds slew
A sturdy ox, and now beneath an oak
Prepar'd the feast; while women mix'd, hard by,
White barley porridge for the lab'rers' meal.
And, with rich clusters laden, there was grav'n
A vineyard fair, all gold; of glossy black
The bunches were, on silver poles sustain'd;
Around, a darksome trench; beyond, a fence
Was wrought, of shining tin; and through it led
One only path, by which the bearers pass'd,
Who gather'd in the vineyard's bounteous store.
There maids and youths, in joyous spirits bright,
In woven baskets bore the luscious fruit.
A boy, amid them, from a clear-ton'd harp
Drew lovely music; well his liquid voice
The strings accompanied; they all with dance
And song harmonious join'd, and joyous shouts,
As the gay bevy lightly tripp'd along.
Of straight-horn'd cattle too a herd was grav'n;
Of gold and tin the heifers all were wrought:
They to the pasture, from the cattle-yard,
With gentle lowings, by a babbling stream,
Where quiv'ring reed-beds rustled, slowly mov'd.
Four golden shepherds walk'd beside the herd,
By nine swift dogs attended; then amid
The foremost heifers sprang two lions fierce
Upon the lordly bull: he, bellowing loud,
Was dragg'd along, by dogs and youths pursued.
The tough bull's-hide they tore, and gorging lapp'd
Th' intestines and dark blood; with vain attempt
The herdsmen following closely, to the attack
Cheer'd their swift dogs; these shunn'd the lions' jaws,
And close around them baying, held aloof.
And there the skilful artist's hand had trac'd
