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    The Iliad
    The Iliad
    The Iliad
    Ebook923 pages10 hours

    The Iliad

    By Homer

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    The tenth and final year of the Trojan War comes to its climactic end in this infamous Greek epic. With the mighty Achilles brooding on the sidelines of the battle, the Greek army faces almost certain defeat. At the mercy of the intervening gods of Mount Olympus, the legendary warriors of Greece and Troy fight to the death in the name of honor, love, and vengeance. Originally written around 750 BCE, the authorship of this epic poem remains uncertain, but most scholars ascribe it to a blind Greek poet named Homer. William Cowper first published his translation in 1791; this unabridged edition comes from the work edited by Robert Southey, LL.D., with notes by M. A. Dwight, which was published in 1860.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLerner Publishing
    Release dateAug 1, 2014
    ISBN9781467775601
    Author

    Homer

    Although recognized as one of the greatest ancient Greek poets, the life and figure of Homer remains shrouded in mystery. Credited with the authorship of the epic poems Iliad and Odyssey, Homer, if he existed, is believed to have lived during the ninth century BC, and has been identified variously as a Babylonian, an Ithacan, or an Ionian. Regardless of his citizenship, Homer’s poems and speeches played a key role in shaping Greek culture, and Homeric studies remains one of the oldest continuous areas of scholarship, reaching from antiquity through to modern times.

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    Reviews for The Iliad

    4/5

    5,618 ratings121 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Translated into English Prose by Andrew Lang, Walter Leaf and Ernest Myers
    • 5/5
      Brilliant.
    • 4/5
      At long last! The Illiad by Homer DIfficult to rate a literary epic. However, the entire book takes place in the 10th and last year of the Trojan War. Achilles’ wrath at Agamemnon for taking his war prize, the maiden Briseis, forms the main subject of this book. It seemed as if there were a lot of introductions to characters we never hear from again. The word refulgent was used dozen of times. All in all I'm glad I slogged my way through this. The novelized from of Song of Achilles was more satisfactory to me than the Illiad. I read the translation by Caroline Alexander because that's the one the library had. 3 1/2 stars 604 pages
    • 3/5
      Stanley Lombardo's translation of Homer's Iliad is wonderful and very readable, better evoking the grittiness and rage of warfare than most other translations. I think of it as the "Vietnam War version of the Iliad." However, there are also parts where Homer's humor shines through, particularly when the Greek warriors are ribbing each other.Though the translation is excellent, I only got through about half of the book. The plot moves quite slowly, and the long lists of characters and backstory become tiresome. Also, there also is a lot of conversation between the various warriors, which illuminates Greek values (such as what makes for heroism or cowardice) but does not advance the storyline. Parts can get repetitious. I preferred the Odyssey, which I read in the Robert Fagles translation.
    • 3/5
      Important in the history of literature and classical Greek thought.
    • 5/5
      Better than the movie! Once you get the rhythm it sucks you in like a time machine. Amazing.
    • 5/5
      Gory, long, and strangely moving. The action is pretty much nonstop, and the characters felt like real people. This is the only translation I've read, so I can't compare to others, but it was pretty smooth reading.
    • 3/5
      I read this -at last- some months ago. I was a bit disappointed; I think the battle scenes, which appeal so much to many male readers, tend to leave the women readers cold, though, as a one time champion Sportsfighter, I was once a bit attracted to the adrenalin rush of battle myself. Still, I found these gruesome without being riveting.I felt for many of the characters and for Achilles, a demi god and isolated in the human world, but so alien is the culture, so oppressed the women that I couldn't really get absorbed by the story.
    • 5/5
      This version was quite the tome and I suffered from RSI just from holding the book. I have embarked upon the Great Books series as set out by Hutchins and Adler at the University of Chicago and this great tale is number 1. This is no small task but it is essential. Time and again I have seen movies about Achilles and the fall of Troy but there is something to be said about the various translations and notes that direct the reader to a long history of debates, arguments, and disagreements over Homer (or whether it was Homers), and then the translations that incorporate the Latin amendments (such as Samuel Butler's), and then how the "folk tradition" has twisted and turned this nation-building epic to suit different times. The movies have it that Hector was simply out-classed, not that he ran three laps around the walls of Troy trying to escape Achilles, not that the gods intervened time and again, even helping to kill other soldiers and so on. I like the introduction's idea of Hector as a complete man, husband, father, prince, warrior; whereas Achilles is the unbalanced warrior, hell-bent on death and glory. I have now started on The Odyssey and I did not know that the Trojan horse was not of the first book, I had suspicions but I did not know that Ulysses was the Latin name, and so on. Even the unpacking of these issues helps with my reading of Plato and Aristotle. I felt I had arrived at a place where reading more of the classic scholars made no sense unless I had at least a working grasp of Homer. But the manly ideal that has been bastardised by Hollywood and others has set me thinking deeply. Honour didn't mean masculine aggression at all costs, or that any man could do anything, or that class could not hold one back and so on. In the translation (rather than bastardisation) of the original, an entirely different view of masculinity emerges. These people were all fallible, all helped or thwarted by fortune, the gods played a major role in the plot (religion is all but excluded from the Brad Pitt version of the story), and Paris, a snivelling coward, is not helped out by Hector. Hector hates him! So much to unlearn from reading one of the oldest "western" texts. I shirk at this title - much like the re-writing of Greek ideas about masculinity, all of a sudden the Eastern Europeans get a guernsey in the Great Race Race because they were so brilliant. But it really does set me at ease to now see the portrayals of the Greek ideal and be able to see it for what it was meant to be. This does not help me to feel more secure in the world, but it does help me to see the world differently, and, maybe, more accurately.
    • 4/5
      As much as I love the Greeks in general, the Illiad is never as good a read as the Odyssey mostly because it's 80% horrible violent fighting and despair at a neverending war and then 20% interesting characters, speeches, and god/mortal interaction. I'll admit, I always end up doing a fair bit of skimming. The emotional resonance and epic descriptions are still as strong as the Odyssey, it just doesn't have the same fluid narrative. And then there's the fact that hearing how hundreds of people die in excruciating detail over and over again might be a good lesson against glorifying war, but it's just depressing. Personally, Achilles is just less likable a character. The really enjoyable part of this book is the relations between the gods and the mortals and the question of the inevitability of Fate.
    • 5/5
      The back cover of lombardo's translation of the Iliad boldly states "this is as good as Homer gets in English". I don't doubt it. The language is clearly more modern than other translations I have sampled and its pace is gripping.

      Obviously, the are tons if ink spilled in reviewing the Iliad, so I will not even attempt to add to it in describing Homer's story.

      But, I will say it is, at essence a war story and Lombardo has captured it in English incredibly well. The average reader may dread the suggestion of reading Homer as it has a reputation as dense ancient poetry. Not so with Lombardo.

      Highly recommended.
    • 5/5
      Comments on just finishing the Robert Fagles translation:oPeople say it is a book about anger, but it is certainly also about killing, getting killed, grasping for glory or fame, as well as loving.oFor someone like myself who finds cultural historiography fascinating, the book is an excellent resource.oOne obvious thing is that while all humans have an emotional natures it becomes equally apparent that different cultures in different times respond radically different to age old basic situations like love and death. In the book, the Greeks respond to love or loss of a loved one without any inhibition or effort at self control. By comparison, in our time the practice of keeping a stiff upper lip and a measured middle way would look anemic by comparison. It is strange that this view toward loving and loss are not covered in any of the books of criticism cited at the back of the book.oOn the topic of loss also, it is apparent that it was a totally acceptable custom and even expected for one to give oneself up to publicly and totally grieving-for as long as it takes. The men and women both are expected to weep uncontrollably.When was the last time any of us ever did that?In summary, I loved it and was amazed that I found it so entrancing through out.Would obviously love to hear how those with military background respond to the book.
    • 5/5
      After reading W. H. D. Rouse's delightful prose translation of Homer's Odyssey, I was excited to pick up his translation of the Iliad. Having never read this classic before, I was expecting something similar to the Odyssey, which of course I did not get! Instead I read an incredibly bloody account of the Trojan War. The story line was very addicting; indeed, I kept waiting and waiting for Achilles to make peace with Agamemnon and get into the fighting. I was impressed with the true manliness and might of Hector. My heart grew heavy reading the account of Patrocles' death. I even felt for poor Hector's dad when he, an old man, had to risk his own life to claim the body of his slain son. I also appreciated the strong emphasis on the importance of morals and ethics, even on the battlefield (and even if they don't quite match my own). In today's American society, where for so many people the idea of ethical behavior or objective morals is foreign, it was refreshing to see men willing to die for their beliefs in an honorable way. Indeed, I kept getting the distinct impression that this story was crafted, in part, to teach young Greek boys how to be upstanding men in their culture. (Perhaps someone with more of a background in Homer than I have can confirm or deny this thought.)All in all, this was a compelling, instructive, manly, bloody, and difficult read. I'm glad I read it, and I can see why it has endured throughout the millennia. Like many classics, I think it will take me several more readings and a lot of contemplation, though, to really understand all that is going on in this story; and in so doing, I have no doubt that it will help me to understand myself better, as well.
    • 5/5
      I have read Homer before but reread it recently to rediscover the wonder of the Greeks and Trojans, Achilles, Agamemnon and Hector. It is a delight to wonder at the Gods and mortals and the role of fate in their enterprise. This mythic epic still speaks to us more than twenty-five hundred years after it first began to be recited by the poet Homer. After withstanding the rage of Achilles, the Greeks go up against the Trojans led by Achilles friend Patroclus. But, fate has decreed and with Apollo's help Hector brings the final blow down on Patroclus. At this point you realize why this poem has been read for millenia and loved by many. But just as touching, perhaps more moving are moments like the one described in the epigraph above. For in the next book as Menelaus leads the Greeks to retrieve Patroclus body and the Trojans battle the Argives we are told of Achilles' horses who "wept from the time they had first sensed their driver's death," (lines 493-4, p. 456). This brings home the momentous occasion of Patroclus' death in a way that transcends the battle scenes and suggests it is the fabric of their life that has been rent - not just another battle death.Achilles takes his fight to the Trojans as Book 21 of the Iliad begins with the Trojans routed, one half blocked by Hera with the other half "packed in the silver-whirling river," (line 9). Achilles slays Lycaon, son of Priam, and Asteropaeus, son of Pelegon. Then he goes after the Trojan's allies from Paeona, beating and hacking them "in a blur of kills" (line 235). The blood of the men is so thick that the river rose. But Achilles proceeds to attack and fight the river itself. Continuing until the gods recognize that this cannot stay. Poseidon and Athena come to him and advise him, "It's not your fate to be swallowed by a river:" (line 328). The gods take over from this point and the book chronicles the spectacle of battles among the gods, mirroring the battles of the men below. even through this the river remains a thread that cannot be forgotten. The Trojan's and Hector's days in particular are numbered from this point onward.The final book of The Iliad begins with the games over and the armies scattered, but Achilles remains in grief over the death of his friend Patrocles. He slowly is persuaded that he must return Hector's body to Priam. Even as his mother Thetis mourns the future fate of her son who is also doomed to die, the gods gather and continue to argue over the situation.
    • 3/5
      not sure i would have got through this without the image of Brad Pitt in that leather miniskirt. Basically first half is just Achilles acting like a petulant child, but then it gets going and is still slow going but gets better.
    • 4/5
      Although I've long been a fan of these stories, I've never read Homer himself. I enjoyed this in parts, and the Fagles translation seems readable. However, narrative styles have changed so much over the centuries that this is somewhat hard work for the unaccustomed modern reader, at least me. The long battle scenes and the many tangential stories are sometimes challenging for the reader. I hadn't quite realised what a small portion of the Trojan War the Iliad covers. I was surprised quite how much it is really a study of the character of Achilles.
    • 2/5
      I read this too quickly and passively. One day I'll give it another shot.
    • 1/5
      An extremely clumsy translation by an otherwise capable poet. I cannot critique the scholarship. but the word choice is ugly.
    • 3/5
      I ended up following the dimly-remembered advice of a high school teacher from long ago: "Read The Iliad in prose first to understand the story, then re-read it in a good verse translation to appreciate the language." I didn't set out that way—I started with the Richmond Lattimore verse translation. However, I found it very hard to follow the story and the myriad relationships between the characters while struggling with some of the difficult passages that were (according to the introduction) rendered rather literally. So, I switched.All in all, I liked The Odyssey better, preferring its "adventure story" style to the "history roll call" style of The Iliad. I felt that the latter was a fast-moving action story that, unfortunately, found itself embedded within a rather repetitious and verbose structure that diminished the excitement. I don't know if I'll take the second part of the advice and try another verse translation.
    • 5/5
      Three things about The Iliad. 1. There are quite a few metaphors about lions, who either kill cattle or sheep or are hunted in turn. 3,000 years ago Greece was overrun with lions.2. It's interesting that one of the first long narratives in human has no suspense. The sack of Troy is a foregone conclusion. Even Achilles knows his fate. 3. I read Fagles' translation. I love it, but I think Fitzgerald is slightly better at conveying the strangeness of this world even if that does lead him astray sometimes.
    • 3/5
      I'm actually not sure which translation of this I read, but what fun. I studied this in class in high school and the teacher did an excellent job of bringing in other sources to explain the allusions and make it more compelling.
    • 5/5
      My favourite book/poem ever. I read the Robert Fagles edition (Penguin Classics) of both the Iliad and Odyssey and highly recommend it. I had no problem following the story and enjoying the style.
    • 5/5
      I believe I've read all of the major western classical epics. This is the best.
    • 4/5
      If over 600 pages of lyrically-rendered death, blood, and mayhem sound like your cup of tea, than you'll definitely want to read this. People get eviscerated, skewered, decapitated, hewed, trampled, hacked, cleaved, etc, and it's all really very poetic. I just wasn't wildly enthusiastic about it.
    • 4/5
      Fagles' editions will always stand as the epitome of Homeric translations. However, this book does a very good job at re-presenting a very old and very well-known story. There are some tangles in the translation, and some weaknesses, but far less than other attempts; and to be honest, a lot of those tangles are inherent to the Homeric text itself. What I really loved was the introductory material. Powell has put together maps, charts, and timelines to help contextualize the text for the uninitiated reader. And the introduction itself was fabulous, focusing on the humanistic value of reading and rereading a text that is already over a thousand years old and known by most everyone already.
    • 4/5
      This review is of the New American Library (Mentor) edition, published as a paperback in the 1950s. If you are to tackle Homer, you need a used paperback for the actual slogging, as you'll be turning pages and all but tearing the binding by the time you're done. You should also have a real book, leatherbound with excellent typeset, which will proudly stand on your bookshelf as the first-masterpiece-among-masterpieces. If you need to make notes, get the ebook and start the highlighting.

      This translation is by Rouse, which is why my review is not five stars. Granted, it's THE ILIAD, but not my favorite version. Here it is set up almost as a novel, albeit a very clustered novel. Since Achilles is rather angry throughout the entire expedition, I would hope for more rage but you'll have to turn to Lattimore for that angle.

      Still, it all starts with Homer, doesn't it? For me, I recall having a job in the law courts and scurrying to the office of the "Elder Judge" after a day's work was completed, where we would sit spellbound before him as he orated the Homeric saga to us. "The King prefers a good warhorse to a conscientious objector." Wonder of wonders.

      Book Season = Year Round
    • 4/5
      A cornerstone of Western literature that remains hugely influential. Read it for that reason, and because the poetry is still enjoyable enough to be read aloud with panache. The story itself is mostly a catalog of slaughter with very little human drama, although the interaction between the gods and the human characters is fascinating and tragic.
    • 4/5
      What is this story? Timeless themes tangled in archaic notions that try the patience, but then wild and rhythmic passages that would hold up against any great poet of the modern age. It's a conundrum. At times so difficult I feared I wouldn't be able to pound through it, at other times stealing nights away until 4 a.m., full maddening fevered reading that left me nervy and with the chants of Greek names going through my dreams. My relationship to The Iliad is far different to my late-summer, torpid tale-spinning romance with The Odyssey. It's full of things that sit funny with me: Achilles, the anti-heroic hero, spiteful, vengeful, unmoved; Zeus, tyrant yet yielding; Athena, a mysteriously fierce female in a time of spurned and maligned women. The span of events is peculiar. We see neither the actions and consequences that launched the Achaean onslaught of Troy, nor do we get to hear the legends of Troy's end (i.e. Trojan Horse) or Achilles downfall (Paris' winged arrow to the ankle). It's assumed we already know that.In fact, you go in already knowing everything. The weight of fate, and the way the characters--knowing full well how things are going to come out--respond is the source of the pathos. Achilles: winding tighter in rage as his days are numbered; the gods batting at Achaeans like bored housecats though they know ultimate victory goes against Troy. Yes, the petty spats of the gods echoing out in massacre of mortals and changing tides of gruesome war. Gore and detailed guts. Rhythm. Ritual. Timelessness.As an aside: the Fagles translation is wonderful. Recommended.
    • 5/5
      Robust, violent, magnificent. I love ancient Greek and Roman literature and this (along with the Odyssey) is the crowning jewel of the time period. Never gets old for me.
    • 2/5
      What exactly was the point? War sucks? Yeah, we already knew that. Really depressing, unrelenting testosterone-ridden crap.

    Book preview

    The Iliad - Homer

    volume.

    BOOK I

    Argument:

    The book opens with an account of a pestilence that prevailed in the Grecian camp, and the cause of it is assigned. A council is called, in which fierce altercation takes place between Agamemnon and Achilles. The latter solemnly renounces the field. Agamemnon, by his heralds, demands Brisëis, and Achilles resigns her. He makes his complaint to Thetis, who undertakes to plead his cause with Jupiter. She pleads it, and prevails. The book concludes with an account of what passed in Heaven on that occasion.

    [The reader will please observe, that by Achaians, Argives, Danaï, are signified Grecians. Homer himself having found these various appellatives both graceful and convenient, it seemed unreasonable that a Translator of him should be denied the same advantage.—TR.]

    Achilles sing, O Goddess! Peleus’ son;

    His wrath pernicious, who ten thousand woes

    Caused to Achaia’s host, sent many a soul

    Illustrious into Ades premature,

    And Heroes gave (so stood the will of Jove)

    5

    To dogs and to all ravening fowls a prey,

    When fierce dispute had separated once

    The noble Chief Achilles from the son

    Of Atreus, Agamemnon, King of men.

    Who them to strife impell’d? What power divine?

    10

    Latona’s son and Jove’s.[1] For he, incensed

    Against the King, a foul contagion raised

    In all the host, and multitudes destroy’d,

    For that the son of Atreus had his priest

    Dishonored, Chryses. To the fleet he came

    15

    Bearing rich ransom glorious to redeem

    His daughter, and his hands charged with the wreath

    And golden sceptre[2] of the God shaft-arm’d.

    His supplication was at large to all

    The host of Greece, but most of all to two,

    20

    The sons of Atreus, highest in command.

    Ye gallant Chiefs, and ye their gallant host,

    (So may the Gods who in Olympus dwell

    Give Priam’s treasures to you for a spoil

    And ye return in safety,) take my gifts

    25

    And loose my child, in honor of the son

    Of Jove, Apollo, archer of the skies.[3]

    At once the voice of all was to respect

    The priest, and to accept the bounteous price;

    But so it pleased not Atreus’ mighty son,

    30

    Who with rude threatenings stern him thence dismiss’d.

    Beware, old man! that at these hollow barks

    I find thee not now lingering, or henceforth

    Returning, lest the garland of thy God

    And his bright sceptre should avail thee nought.

    35

    I will not loose thy daughter, till old age

    Steal on her. From her native country far,

    In Argos, in my palace, she shall ply

    The loom, and shall be partner of my bed.

    Move me no more. Begone; hence while thou may’st.

    40

    He spake, the old priest trembled and obey’d.

    Forlorn he roamed the ocean’s sounding shore,

    And, solitary, with much prayer his King

    Bright-hair’d Latona’s son, Phoebus, implored.[4]

    God of the silver bow, who with thy power

    45

    Encirclest Chrysa, and who reign’st supreme

    In Tenedos and Cilla the divine,

    Sminthian[5] Apollo![6] If I e’er adorned

    Thy beauteous fane, or on the altar burn’d

    The fat acceptable of bulls or goats,

    50

    Grant my petition. With thy shafts avenge

    On the Achaian host thy servant’s tears.

    Such prayer he made, and it was heard.[7] The God,

    Down from Olympus with his radiant bow

    And his full quiver o’er his shoulder slung,

    55

    Marched in his anger; shaken as he moved

    His rattling arrows told of his approach.

    Gloomy he came as night; sat from the ships

    Apart, and sent an arrow. Clang’d the cord

    [8]Dread-sounding, bounding on the silver bow.[9]

    60

    Mules first and dogs he struck,[10] but at themselves

    Dispatching soon his bitter arrows keen,

    Smote them. Death-piles on all sides always blazed.

    Nine days throughout the camp his arrows flew;

    The tenth, Achilles from all parts convened

    65

    The host in council. Juno the white-armed

    Moved at the sight of Grecians all around

    Dying, imparted to his mind the thought.[11]

    The full assembly, therefore, now convened,

    Uprose Achilles ardent, and began.

    70

    Atrides! Now, it seems, no course remains

    For us, but that the seas roaming again,

    We hence return; at least if we survive;

    But haste, consult we quick some prophet here

    Or priest, or even interpreter of dreams,

    75

    (For dreams are also of Jove,) that we may learn

    By what crime we have thus incensed Apollo,

    What broken vow, what hecatomb unpaid

    He charges on us, and if soothed with steam

    Of lambs or goats unblemish’d, he may yet

    80

    Be won to spare us, and avert the plague.

    He spake and sat, when Thestor’s son arose

    Calchas, an augur foremost in his art,

    Who all things, present, past, and future knew,

    And whom his skill in prophecy, a gift

    85

    Conferred by Phoebus on him, had advanced

    To be conductor of the fleet to Troy;

    He, prudent, them admonishing, replied.[12]

    Jove-loved Achilles! Wouldst thou learn from me

    What cause hath moved Apollo to this wrath,

    90

    The shaft-arm’d King? I shall divulge the cause.

    But thou, swear first and covenant on thy part

    That speaking, acting, thou wilt stand prepared

    To give me succor; for I judge amiss,

    Or he who rules the Argives, the supreme

    95

    O’er all Achaia’s host, will be incensed.

    Wo to the man who shall provoke the King

    For if, to-day, he smother close his wrath,

    He harbors still the vengeance, and in time

    Performs it. Answer, therefore, wilt thou save me?

    100

    To whom Achilles, swiftest of the swift.

    What thou hast learn’d in secret from the God

    That speak, and boldly. By the son of Jove,

    Apollo, whom thou, Calchas, seek’st in prayer

    Made for the Danaï, and who thy soul

    105

    Fills with futurity, in all the host

    The Grecian lives not, who while I shall breathe,

    And see the light of day, shall in this camp

    Oppress thee; no, not even if thou name

    Him, Agamemnon, sovereign o’er us all.

    110

    Then was the seer embolden’d, and he spake.

    Nor vow nor hecatomb unpaid on us

    He charges, but the wrong done to his priest

    Whom Agamemnon slighted when he sought

    His daughter’s freedom, and his gifts refused.

    115

    He is the cause. Apollo for his sake

    Afflicts and will afflict us, neither end

    Nor intermission of his heavy scourge

    Granting, ’till unredeem’d, no price required,

    The black-eyed maid be to her father sent,

    120

    And a whole hecatomb in Chrysa bleed.

    Then, not before, the God may be appeased.

    He spake and sat; when Atreus’ son arose,

    The Hero Agamemnon, throned supreme.

    Tempests of black resentment overcharged

    125

    His heart, and indignation fired his eyes.

    On Calchas lowering, him he first address’d.

    Prophet of mischief! from whose tongue no note

    Of grateful sound to me, was ever heard;

    Ill tidings are thy joy, and tidings glad

    130

    Thou tell’st not, or thy words come not to pass.

    And now among the Danaï thy dreams

    Divulging, thou pretend’st the Archer-God

    For his priest’s sake, our enemy, because

    I scorn’d his offer’d ransom of the maid

    135

    Chrysëis, more desirous far to bear

    Her to my home, for that she charms me more

    Than Clytemnestra, my own first espoused,

    With whom, in disposition, feature, form,

    Accomplishments, she may be well compared.

    140

    Yet, being such, I will return her hence

    If that she go be best. Perish myself—

    But let the people of my charge be saved

    Prepare ye, therefore, a reward for me,

    And seek it instant. It were much unmeet

    145

    That I alone of all the Argive host

    Should want due recompense, whose former prize

    Is elsewhere destined, as ye all perceive.

    To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.

    Atrides, glorious above all in rank,

    150

    And as intent on gain as thou art great,

    Whence shall the Grecians give a prize to thee?

    The general stock is poor; the spoil of towns

    Which we have taken, hath already passed

    In distribution, and it were unjust

    155

    To gather it from all the Greeks again.

    But send thou back this Virgin to her God,

    And when Jove’s favor shall have given us Troy,

    A threefold, fourfold share shall then be thine.

    To whom the Sovereign of the host replied.

    160

    Godlike Achilles, valiant as thou art,

    Wouldst thou be subtle too? But me no fraud

    Shall overreach, or art persuade, of thine.

    Wouldst thou, that thou be recompensed, and I

    Sit meekly down, defrauded of my due?

    165

    And didst thou bid me yield her? Let the bold

    Achaians give me competent amends,

    Such as may please me, and it shall be well.

    Else, if they give me none, I will command

    Thy prize, the prize of Ajax, or the prize

    170

    It may be of Ulysses to my tent,

    And let the loser chafe. But this concern

    Shall be adjusted at convenient time.

    Come—launch we now into the sacred deep

    A bark with lusty rowers well supplied;

    175

    Then put on board Chrysëis, and with her

    The sacrifice required. Go also one

    High in authority, some counsellor,

    Idomeneus, or Ajax, or thyself,

    Thou most untractable of all mankind;

    180

    And seek by rites of sacrifice and prayer

    To appease Apollo on our host’s behalf.

    Achilles eyed him with a frown, and spake.

    Ah! clothed with impudence as with a cloak,

    And full of subtlety, who, thinkest thou—

    185

    What Grecian here will serve thee, or for thee

    Wage covert war, or open? Me thou know’st,

    Troy never wronged; I came not to avenge

    Harm done to me; no Trojan ever drove

    My pastures, steeds or oxen took of mine,

    190

    Or plunder’d of their fruits the golden fields

    Of Phthia[13] the deep-soil’d. She lies remote,

    And obstacles are numerous interposed,

    Vale-darkening mountains, and the dashing sea.

    No, [14]Shameless Wolf! For thy good pleasure’s sake

    195

    We came, and, [15]Face of flint! to avenge the wrongs

    By Menelaus and thyself sustain’d,

    On the offending Trojan—service kind,

    But lost on thee, regardless of it all.

    And now—What now? Thy threatening is to seize

    200

    Thyself, the just requital of my toils,

    My prize hard-earn’d, by common suffrage mine.

    I never gain, what Trojan town soe’er

    We ransack, half thy booty. The swift march

    And furious onset—these I largely reap,

    205

    But, distribution made, thy lot exceeds

    Mine far; while I, with any pittance pleased,

    Bear to my ships the little that I win

    After long battle, and account it much.

    But I am gone, I and my sable barks

    210

    (My wiser course) to Phthia, and I judge,

    Scorn’d as I am, that thou shalt hardly glean

    Without me, more than thou shalt soon consume.[16]

    He ceased, and Agamemnon thus replied

    Fly, and fly now; if in thy soul thou feel

    215

    Such ardor of desire to go—begone!

    I woo thee not to stay; stay not an hour

    On my behalf, for I have others here

    Who will respect me more, and above all

    All-judging Jove. There is not in the host

    220

    King or commander whom I hate as thee,

    For all thy pleasure is in strife and blood,

    And at all times; yet valor is no ground

    Whereon to boast, it is the gift of Heaven

    Go, get ye back to Phthia, thou and thine!

    225

    There rule thy Myrmidons.[17] I need not thee,

    Nor heed thy wrath a jot. But this I say,

    Sure as Apollo takes my lovely prize

    Chrysëis, and I shall return her home

    In mine own bark, and with my proper crew,

    230

    So sure the fair Brisëis shall be mine.

    I shall demand her even at thy tent.

    So shalt thou well be taught, how high in power

    I soar above thy pitch, and none shall dare

    Attempt, thenceforth, comparison with me.

    235

    He ended, and the big, disdainful heart

    Throbbed of Achilles; racking doubt ensued

    And sore perplex’d him, whether forcing wide

    A passage through them, with his blade unsheathed

    To lay Atrides breathless at his foot,

    240

    Or to command his stormy spirit down.

    So doubted he, and undecided yet

    Stood drawing forth his falchion huge; when lo!

    Down sent by Juno, to whom both alike

    Were dear, and who alike watched over both,

    245

    Pallas descended. At his back she stood

    To none apparent, save himself alone,

    And seized his golden locks. Startled, he turned,

    And instant knew Minerva. Flashed her eyes

    Terrific;[18] whom with accents on the wing

    250

    Of haste, incontinent he questioned thus.

    Daughter of Jove, why comest thou? that thyself

    May’st witness these affronts which I endure

    From Agamemnon? Surely as I speak,

    This moment, for his arrogance, he dies.

    255

    To whom the blue-eyed Deity. From heaven

    Mine errand is, to sooth, if thou wilt hear,

    Thine anger. Juno the white-arm’d alike

    To him and thee propitious, bade me down:

    Restrain thy wrath. Draw not thy falchion forth.

    260

    Retort, and sharply, and let that suffice.

    For I foretell thee true. Thou shalt receive,

    Some future day, thrice told, thy present loss

    For this day’s wrong. Cease, therefore, and be still.

    To whom Achilles. Goddess, although much

    265

    Exasperate, I dare not disregard

    Thy word, which to obey is always best.[19]

    Who hears the Gods, the Gods hear also him.

    He said; and on his silver hilt the force

    Of his broad hand impressing, sent the blade

    270

    Home to its rest, nor would the counsel scorn

    Of Pallas. She to heaven well-pleased return’d,

    And in the mansion of Jove Ægis[20]-armed

    Arriving, mingled with her kindred Gods.

    But though from violence, yet not from words

    275

    Abstained Achilles, but with bitter taunt

    Opprobrious, his antagonist reproached.

    Oh charged with wine, in steadfastness of face

    Dog unabashed, and yet at heart a deer!

    Thou never, when the troops have taken arms,

    280

    Hast dared to take thine also; never thou

    Associate with Achaia’s Chiefs, to form

    The secret ambush.[21] No. The sound of war

    Is as the voice of destiny to thee.

    Doubtless the course is safer far, to range

    285

    Our numerous host, and if a man have dared

    Dispute thy will, to rob him of his prize.

    King! over whom? Women and spiritless—

    Whom therefore thou devourest; else themselves

    Would stop that mouth that it should scoff no more.

    290

    But hearken. I shall swear a solemn oath.

    By this same sceptre,[22] which shall never bud,

    Nor boughs bring forth as once, which having left

    Its stock on the high mountains, at what time

    The woodman’s axe lopped off its foliage green,

    295

    And stript its bark, shall never grow again;

    Which now the judges of Achaia bear,

    Who under Jove, stand guardians of the laws,

    By this I swear (mark thou the sacred oath)

    Time shall be, when Achilles shall be missed;

    300

    When all shall want him, and thyself the power

    To help the Achaians, whatsoe’er thy will;

    When Hector at your heels shall mow you down:

    The Hero-slaughtering Hector! Then thy soul,

    Vexation-stung, shall tear thee with remorse,

    305

    That thou hast scorn’d, as he were nothing worth,

    A Chief, the soul and bulwark of your cause.

    So saying, he cast his sceptre on the ground

    Studded with gold, and sat. On the other side

    The son of Atreus all impassion’d stood,

    310

    When the harmonious orator arose

    Nestor, the Pylian oracle, whose lips

    Dropped eloquence—the honey not so sweet.

    Two generations past of mortals born

    In Pylus, coëtaneous with himself,

    315

    He govern’d now the third—amid them all

    He stood, and thus, benevolent, began.

    Ah! what calamity hath fall’n on Greece!

    Now Priam and his sons may well exult,

    Now all in Ilium shall have joy of heart

    320

    Abundant, hearing of this broil, the prime

    Of Greece between, in council and in arms.

    But be persuaded; ye are younger both

    Than I, and I was conversant of old

    With Princes your superiors, yet from them

    325

    No disrespect at any time received.

    Their equals saw I never; never shall;

    Exadius, Coeneus, and the Godlike son

    Of Ægeus, mighty Theseus; men renown’d

    For force superior to the race of man,

    330

    Brave Chiefs they were, and with brave foes they fought,

    With the rude dwellers on the mountain-heights

    The Centaurs,[23] whom with havoc such as fame

    Shall never cease to celebrate, they slew.

    With these men I consorted erst, what time

    335

    From Pylus, though a land from theirs remote,

    They called me forth, and such as was my strength,

    With all that strength I served them. Who is he?

    What Prince or Chief of the degenerate race

    Now seen on earth who might with these compare?

    340

    Yet even these would listen and conform

    To my advice in consultation given,

    Which hear ye also; for compliance proves

    Oft times the safer and the manlier course.

    Thou, Agamemnon! valiant as thou art,

    345

    Seize not the maid, his portion from the Greeks,

    But leave her his; nor thou, Achilles, strive

    With our imperial Chief; for never King

    Had equal honor at the hands of Jove

    With Agamemnon, or was throned so high.

    350

    Say thou art stronger, and art Goddess-born,

    How then? His territory passes thine,

    And he is Lord of thousands more than thou.

    Cease, therefore, Agamemnon; calm thy wrath;

    And it shall be mine office to entreat

    355

    Achilles also to a calm, whose might

    The chief munition is of all our host.

    To whom the sovereign of the Greeks replied,

    The son of Atreus. Thou hast spoken well,

    Old Chief, and wisely. But this wrangler here—

    360

    Nought will suffice him but the highest place:

    He must control us all, reign over all,

    Dictate to all; but he shall find at least

    One here, disposed to question his commands.

    If the eternal Gods have made him brave,

    365

    Derives he thence a privilege to rail?

    Whom thus Achilles interrupted fierce.

    Could I be found so abject as to take

    The measure of my doings at thy lips,

    Well might they call me coward through the camp,

    370

    A vassal, and a fellow of no worth.

    Give law to others. Think not to control

    Me, subject to thy proud commands no more.

    Hear yet again! And weigh what thou shalt hear.

    I will not strive with thee in such a cause,

    375

    Nor yet with any man; I scorn to fight

    For her, whom having given, ye take away.

    But I have other precious things on board;

    Of those take none away without my leave.

    Or if it please thee, put me to the proof

    380

    Before this whole assembly, and my spear

    Shall stream that moment, purpled with thy blood.

    Thus they long time in opposition fierce

    Maintained the war of words; and now, at length,

    (The grand consult dissolved,) Achilles walked

    385

    (Patroclus and the Myrmidons his steps

    Attending) to his camp and to his fleet.

    But Agamemnon order’d forth a bark,

    A swift one, manned with twice ten lusty rowers;

    He sent on board the Hecatomb:[24] he placed

    390

    Chrysëis with the blooming cheeks, himself,

    And to Ulysses gave the freight in charge.

    So all embarked, and plow’d their watery way.

    Atrides, next, bade purify the host;

    The host was purified, as he enjoin’d,

    395

    And the ablution cast into the sea.

    Then to Apollo, on the shore they slew,

    Of the untillable and barren deep,

    Whole Hecatombs of bulls and goats, whose steam

    Slowly in smoky volumes climbed the skies.

    400

    Thus was the camp employed; nor ceased the while

    The son of Atreus from his threats denounced

    At first against Achilles, but command

    Gave to Talthybius and Eurybates

    His heralds, ever faithful to his will.

    405

    Haste—Seek ye both the tent of Peleus’ son

    Achilles. Thence lead hither by the hand

    Blooming Brisëis, whom if he withhold,

    Not her alone, but other spoil myself

    Will take in person—He shall rue the hour.

    410

    With such harsh message charged he them dismissed

    They, sad and slow, beside the barren waste

    Of Ocean, to the galleys and the tents

    Moved of the Myrmidons. Him there they found

    Beneath the shadow of his bark reclined,

    415

    Nor glad at their approach. Trembling they stood,

    In presence of the royal Chief, awe-struck,

    Nor questioned him or spake. He not the less

    Knew well their embassy, and thus began.

    Ye heralds, messengers of Gods and men,

    420

    Hail, and draw near! I bid you welcome both.

    I blame not you; the fault is his alone

    Who sends you to conduct the damsel hence

    Brisëis. Go, Patroclus, generous friend!

    Lead forth, and to their guidance give the maid.

    425

    But be themselves my witnesses before

    The blessed Gods, before mankind, before

    The ruthless king, should want of me be felt

    To save the host from havoc[25]—Oh, his thoughts

    Are madness all; intelligence or skill,

    430

    Forecast or retrospect, how best the camp

    May be secured from inroad, none hath he.

    He ended, nor Patroclus disobey’d,

    But leading beautiful Brisëis forth

    Into their guidance gave her; loth she went

    435

    From whom she loved, and looking oft behind.

    Then wept Achilles, and apart from all,

    With eyes directed to the gloomy Deep

    And arms outstretch’d, his mother suppliant sought.

    Since, mother, though ordain’d so soon to die,

    440

    I am thy son, I might with cause expect

    Some honor at the Thunderer’s hands, but none

    To me he shows, whom Agamemnon, Chief

    Of the Achaians, hath himself disgraced,

    Seizing by violence my just reward.

    445

    So prayed he weeping, whom his mother heard

    Within the gulfs of Ocean where she sat

    Beside her ancient sire. From the gray flood

    Ascending sudden, like a mist she came,

    Sat down before him, stroked his face, and said.

    450

    Why weeps my son? and what is thy distress?

    Hide not a sorrow that I wish to share.

    To whom Achilles, sighing deep, replied.

    Why tell thee woes to thee already known?

    At Thebes, Eëtion’s city we arrived,

    455

    Smote, sack’d it, and brought all the spoil away.

    Just distribution made among the Greeks,

    The son of Atreus for his lot received

    Blooming Chrysëis. Her, Apollo’s priest

    Old Chryses followed to Achaia’s camp,

    460

    That he might loose his daughter. Ransom rich

    He brought, and in his hands the hallow’d wreath

    And golden sceptre of the Archer God

    Apollo, bore; to the whole Grecian host,

    But chiefly to the foremost in command

    465

    He sued, the sons of Atreus; then, the rest

    All recommended reverence of the Seer,

    And prompt acceptance of his costly gifts.

    But Agamemnon might not so be pleased,

    Who gave him rude dismission; he in wrath

    470

    Returning, prayed, whose prayer Apollo heard,

    For much he loved him. A pestiferous shaft

    He instant shot into the Grecian host,

    And heap’d the people died. His arrows swept

    The whole wide camp of Greece, ’till at the last

    475

    A Seer, by Phoebus taught, explain’d the cause.

    I first advised propitiation. Rage

    Fired Agamemnon. Rising, he denounced

    Vengeance, and hath fulfilled it. She, in truth,

    Is gone to Chrysa, and with her we send

    480

    Propitiation also to the King

    Shaft-arm’d Apollo. But my beauteous prize

    Brisëis, mine by the award of all,

    His heralds, at this moment, lead away.

    But thou, wherein thou canst, aid thy own son!

    485

    Haste hence to Heaven, and if thy word or deed

    Hath ever gratified the heart of Jove,

    With earnest suit press him on my behalf.

    For I, not seldom, in my father’s hall

    Have heard thee boasting, how when once the Gods,

    490

    With Juno, Neptune, Pallas at their head,

    Conspired to bind the Thunderer, thou didst loose

    His bands, O Goddess! calling to his aid

    The Hundred-handed warrior, by the Gods

    Briareus, but by men, Ægeon named.[26]

    495

    For he in prowess and in might surpassed

    His father Neptune, who, enthroned sublime,

    Sits second only to Saturnian Jove,

    Elate with glory and joy. Him all the Gods

    Fearing from that bold enterprise abstained.

    500

    Now, therefore, of these things reminding Jove,

    Embrace his knees; entreat him that he give

    The host of Troy his succor, and shut fast

    The routed Grecians, prisoners in the fleet,

    That all may find much solace[27] in their King,

    505

    And that the mighty sovereign o’er them all,

    Their Agamemnon, may himself be taught

    His rashness, who hath thus dishonor’d foul

    The life itself, and bulwark of his cause.

    To him, with streaming eyes, Thetis replied.

    510

    Born as thou wast to sorrow, ah, my son!

    Why have I rear’d thee! Would that without tears,

    Or cause for tears (transient as is thy life,

    A little span) thy days might pass at Troy!

    But short and sorrowful the fates ordain

    515

    Thy life, peculiar trouble must be thine,

    Whom, therefore, oh that I had never borne!

    But seeking the Olympian hill snow-crown’d,

    I will myself plead for thee in the ear

    Of Jove, the Thunderer. Meantime at thy fleet

    520

    Abiding, let thy wrath against the Greeks

    Still burn, and altogether cease from war.

    For to the banks of the Oceanus,[28]

    Where Æthiopia holds a feast to Jove,[29]

    He journey’d yesterday, with whom the Gods

    525

    Went also, and the twelfth day brings them home.

    Then will I to his brazen-floor’d abode,

    That I may clasp his knees, and much misdeem

    Of my endeavor, or my prayer shall speed.

    So saying, she went; but him she left enraged

    530

    For fair Brisëis’ sake, forced from his arms

    By stress of power. Meantime Ulysses came

    To Chrysa with the Hecatomb in charge.

    Arrived within the haven[30] deep, their sails

    Furling, they stowed them in the bark below.

    535

    Then by its tackle lowering swift the mast

    Into its crutch, they briskly push’d to land,

    Heaved anchors out, and moor’d the vessel fast.

    Forth came the mariners, and trod the beach;

    Forth came the victims of Apollo next,

    540

    And, last, Chrysëis. Her Ulysses led

    Toward the altar, gave her to the arms

    Of her own father, and him thus address’d.

    O Chryses! Agamemnon, King of men,

    Hath sent thy daughter home, with whom we bring

    545

    A Hecatomb on all our host’s behalf

    To Phoebus, hoping to appease the God

    By whose dread shafts the Argives now expire.

    So saying, he gave her to him, who with joy

    Received his daughter. Then, before the shrine

    550

    Magnificent in order due they ranged

    The noble Hecatomb.[31] Each laved his hands

    And took the salted meal, and Chryses made

    His fervent prayer with hands upraised on high.

    God of the silver bow, who with thy power

    555

    Encirclest Chrysa, and who reign’st supreme

    In Tenedos, and Cilla the divine!

    Thou prov’dst propitious to my first request,

    Hast honor’d me, and punish’d sore the Greeks;

    Hear yet thy servant’s prayer; take from their host

    560

    At once the loathsome pestilence away!

    So Chryses prayed, whom Phoebus heard well-pleased;

    Then prayed the Grecians also, and with meal

    Sprinkling the victims, their retracted necks

    First pierced, then flay’d them; the disjointed thighs

    565

    They, next, invested with the double caul,

    Which with crude slices thin they overspread.

    The priest burned incense, and libation poured

    Large on the hissing brands, while, him beside,

    Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youth

    570

    Trained to the task. The thighs with fire consumed,

    They gave to each his portion of the maw,

    Then slashed the remnant, pierced it with the spits,

    And managing with culinary skill

    The roast, withdrew it from the spits again.

    575

    Their whole task thus accomplish’d, and the board

    Set forth, they feasted, and were all sufficed.

    When neither hunger more nor thirst remained

    Unsatisfied, boys crown’d the beakers high

    With wine delicious, and from right to left

    580

    Distributing the cups, served every guest.

    Thenceforth the youths of the Achaian race

    To song propitiatory gave the day,

    Pæans[32] to Phoebus, Archer of the skies,

    Chaunting melodious. Pleased, Apollo heard.

    585

    But, when, the sun descending, darkness fell,

    They on the beach beside their hawsers slept;

    And, when the day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d

    Aurora look’d abroad, then back they steer’d

    To the vast camp. Fair wind, and blowing fresh,

    590

    Apollo sent them; quick they rear’d the mast,

    Then spread the unsullied canvas to the gale,

    And the wind filled it. Roared the sable flood

    Around the bark, that ever as she went

    Dash’d wide the brine, and scudded swift away.

    595

    Thus reaching soon the spacious camp of Greece,

    Their galley they updrew sheer o’er the sands

    From the rude surge remote, then propp’d her sides

    With scantlings long,[33] and sought their several tents.

    But Peleus’ noble son, the speed-renown’d

    600

    Achilles, he, his well-built bark beside,

    Consumed his hours, nor would in council more,

    Where wise men win distinction, or in fight

    Appear, to sorrow and heart-withering wo

    Abandon’d; though for battle, ardent, still

    605

    He panted, and the shout-resounding field.

    But when the twelfth fair morrow streak’d the East,

    Then all the everlasting Gods to Heaven

    Resorted, with the Thunderer at their head,

    And Thetis, not unmindful of her son,

    610

    Prom the salt flood emerged, seeking betimes

    Olympus and the boundless fields of heaven.

    High, on the topmost eminence sublime

    Of the deep-fork’d Olympian she perceived

    The Thunderer seated, from the Gods apart.

    615

    She sat before him, clasp’d with her left hand

    His knees, her right beneath his chin she placed,

    And thus the King, Saturnian Jove, implored.

    Father of all, by all that I have done

    Or said that ever pleased thee, grant my suit.

    620

    Exalt my son, by destiny short-lived

    Beyond the lot of others. Him with shame

    The King of men hath overwhelm’d, by force

    Usurping his just meed; thou, therefore, Jove,

    Supreme in wisdom, honor him, and give

    625

    Success to Troy, till all Achaia’s sons

    Shall yield him honor more than he hath lost!

    She spake, to whom the Thunderer nought replied,

    But silent sat long time. She, as her hand

    Had grown there, still importunate, his knees

    630

    Clasp’d as at first, and thus her suit renew’d.[34]

    Or grant my prayer, and ratify the grant,

    Or send me hence (for thou hast none to fear)

    Plainly refused; that I may know and feel

    By how much I am least of all in heaven.

    635

    To whom the cloud-assembler at the last

    Spake, deep-distress’d. Hard task and full of strife

    Thou hast enjoined me; Juno will not spare

    For gibe and taunt injurious, whose complaint

    Sounds daily in the ears of all the Gods,

    640

    That I assist the Trojans; but depart,

    Lest she observe thee; my concern shall be

    How best I may perform thy full desire.

    And to assure thee more, I give the sign

    Indubitable, which all fear expels

    645

    At once from heavenly minds. Nought, so confirmed,

    May, after, be reversed or render’d vain.

    He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod

    Vouchsafed of confirmation. All around

    The Sovereign’s everlasting head his curls

    650

    Ambrosial shook,[35] and the huge mountain reeled.

    Their conference closed, they parted. She, at once,

    From bright Olympus plunged into the flood

    Profound, and Jove to his own courts withdrew.

    Together all the Gods, at his approach,

    655

    Uprose; none sat expectant till he came,

    But all advanced to meet the Eternal Sire.

    So on his throne he sat. Nor Juno him

    Not understood; she, watchful, had observed,

    In consultation close with Jove engaged

    660

    Thetis, bright-footed daughter of the deep,

    And keen the son of Saturn thus reproved.

    Shrewd as thou art, who now hath had thine ear?

    Thy joy is ever such, from me apart

    To plan and plot clandestine, and thy thoughts,

    665

    Think what thou may’st, are always barred to me.

    To whom the father, thus, of heaven and earth.

    Expect not, Juno, that thou shalt partake

    My counsels at all times, which oft in height

    And depth, thy comprehension far exceed,

    670

    Jove’s consort as thou art. When aught occurs

    Meet for thine ear, to none will I impart

    Of Gods or men more free than to thyself.

    But for my secret thoughts, which I withhold

    From all in heaven beside, them search not thou

    675

    With irksome curiosity and vain.

    Him answer’d then the Goddess ample-eyed.[36]

    What word hath passed thy lips, Saturnian Jove,

    Thou most severe! I never search thy thoughts,

    Nor the serenity of thy profound

    680

    Intentions trouble; they are safe from me:

    But now there seems a cause. Deeply I dread

    Lest Thetis, silver-footed daughter fair

    Of Ocean’s hoary Sovereign, here arrived

    At early dawn to practise on thee, Jove!

    685

    I noticed her a suitress at thy knees,

    And much misdeem or promise-bound thou stand’st

    To Thetis past recall, to exalt her son,

    And Greeks to slaughter thousands at the ships.

    To whom the cloud-assembler God, incensed.

    690

    Ah subtle! ever teeming with surmise,

    And fathomer of my concealed designs,

    Thy toil is vain, or (which is worse for thee,)

    Shall but estrange thee from mine heart the more.

    And be it as thou sayest,—I am well pleased

    695

    That so it should be. Be advised, desist,

    Hold thou thy peace. Else, if my glorious hands

    Once reach thee, the Olympian Powers combined

    To rescue thee, shall interfere in vain.

    He said,—whom Juno, awful Goddess, heard

    700

    Appall’d, and mute submitted to his will.

    But through the courts of Jove the heavenly Powers

    All felt displeasure; when to them arose

    Vulcan, illustrious artist, who with speech

    Conciliatory interposed to sooth

    705

    His white-armed mother Juno, Goddess dread.

    Hard doom is ours, and not to be endured,

    If feast and merriment must pause in heaven

    While ye such clamor raise tumultuous here

    For man’s unworthy sake: yet thus we speed

    710

    Ever, when evil overpoises good.

    But I exhort my mother, though herself

    Already warn’d, that meekly she submit

    To Jove our father, lest our father chide

    More roughly, and confusion mar the feast.

    715

    For the Olympian Thunderer could with ease

    Us from our thrones precipitate, so far

    He reigns to all superior. Seek to assuage

    His anger therefore; so shall he with smiles

    Cheer thee, nor thee alone, but all in heaven.

    720

    So Vulcan, and, upstarting, placed a cup

    Full-charged between his mother’s hands, and said,

    My mother, be advised, and, though aggrieved,

    Yet patient; lest I see thee whom I love

    So dear, with stripes chastised before my face,

    725

    Willing, but impotent to give thee aid.[37]

    Who can resist the Thunderer? Me, when once

    I flew to save thee, by the foot he seized

    And hurl’d me through the portal of the skies.

    From morn to eve I fell, a summer’s day,

    730

    And dropped, at last, in Lemnos. There half-dead

    The Sintians found me, and with succor prompt

    And hospitable, entertained me fallen.

    So He; then Juno smiled, Goddess white-arm’d,

    And smiling still, from his unwonted hand[38]

    735

    Received the goblet. He from right to left

    Rich nectar from the beaker drawn, alert

    Distributed to all the powers divine.

    Heaven rang with laughter inextinguishable

    Peal after peal, such pleasure all conceived

    740

    At sight of Vulcan in his new employ.

    So spent they in festivity the day,

    And all were cheered; nor was Apollo’s harp

    Silent, nor did the Muses spare to add

    Responsive melody of vocal sweets.

    745

    But when the sun’s bright orb had now declined,

    Each to his mansion, wheresoever built

    By the lame matchless Architect, withdrew.[39]

    Jove also, kindler of the fires of heaven,

    His couch ascending as at other times

    750

    When gentle sleep approach’d him, slept serene,

    With golden-sceptred Juno at his side.

    The first book contains the preliminaries to the commencement of serious action. First, the visit of the priest of Apollo to ransom his captive daughter, the refusal of Agamemnon to yield her up, and the pestilence sent by the god upon the Grecian army in consequence. Secondly, the restoration, the propitiation of Apollo, the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles, and the withdrawing of the latter from the Grecian army. Thirdly, the intercession of Thetis with Jupiter; his promise, unwillingly given, to avenge Achilles; and the assembly of the gods, in which the promise is angrily alluded to by Juno, and the discussion peremptorily checked by Jupiter. The poet, throughout this book, maintains a simple, unadorned style, but highly descriptive, and happily adapted to the nature of the subject.—Felton.

    Footnotes:

    1.   Latona’s son and Jove’s, was Apollo, the tutelary deity of the Dorians. The Dorians had not, however, at this early age, become the predominant race in Greece proper. They had spread along the eastern shores of the Archipelago into the islands, especially Crete, and had every where signalized themselves by the Temples of Apollo, of which there seems to have been many in and about Troy. These temples were schools of art, and prove the Dorians to have been both intellectual and powerful. Homer was an Ionian, and therefore not deeply acquainted with the nature of the Dorian god. But to a mind like his, the god of a people so cultivated, and associated with what was most grand in art, must have been an imposing being, and we find him so represented. Throughout the Iliad, he appears and acts with splendor and effect, but always against the Greeks from mere partiality to Hector. It would perhaps be too much to say, that in this partiality to Hector, we detect the spirit of the Dorian worship, the only Paganism of antiquity that tended to perfect the individual—Apollo being the expression of the moral harmony of the universe, and the great spirit of the Dorian culture being to make a perfect man, an incarnation of the κοσμος (kosmos). This Homer could only have known intuitively.

    In making Apollo author of the plague, he was confounded with Helios, which was frequent afterwards, but is not seen elsewhere in Homer. The arrows of Apollo were silent as light, and their emblem the sun’s rays. The analogies are multitudinous between the natural and intellectual sun; but Helios and Apollo were two.—E.P.P.

    2.   There is something exceedingly venerable in this appearance of the priest. He comes with the ensigns of the gods to whom he belongs, with the laurel wreath, to show that he was a suppliant, and a golden sceptre, which the ancients gave in particular to Apollo, as they did one of silver to Diana.

    3.   The art of this speech is remarkable. Chryses considers the army of Greeks, as made up of troops, partly from the kingdoms and partly from democracies, and therefore begins with a distinction that includes all. Then, as priest of Apollo, he prays that they may obtain the two blessings they most desire—the conquest of Troy and a safe return. As he names his petition, he offers an extraordinary ransom, and concludes with bidding them fear the god if they refuse it; like one who from his office seems to foretell their misery, and exhorts them to shun it. Thus he endeavors to work by the art of a general application, by religion, by interest, and the insinuation of danger.

    4.   Homer is frequently eloquent in his silence. Chryses says not a word in answer to the insults of Agamemnon, but walks pensively along the shore. The melancholy flowing of the verse admirably expresses the condition of the mournful and deserted father.

    5.   [So called on account of his having saved the people of Troas from a plague of mice, sminthos in their language meaning a mouse.—TR.]

    6.   Apollo had temples at Chrysa, Tenedos, and Cilla, all of which lay round the bay of Troas. Müller remarks, that the temple actually stood in the situation referred to, and that the appellation of Smintheus was still preserved in the district. Thus far actual circumstances are embodied in the mythus. On the other hand, the action of the deity as such, is purely ideal, and can have no other foundation than the belief that Apollo sternly resents ill usage of his priests, and that too in the way here represented, viz., by sending plagues. This belief is in perfect harmony with the idea generally entertained of the power and agency of Apollo; and it is manifest that the idea placed in combination with certain events, gave birth to the story so far as relates to the god. We have not yet the means of ascertaining whether it is to be regarded as a historical tradition, or an invention, and must therefore leave that question for the present undecided.

    7.   The poet is careful to leave no prayer unanswered that has justice on its side. He who prays either kills his enemy, or has signs given him that he has been heard.

    8.   [For this singular line the Translator begs to apologize, by pleading the strong desire he felt to produce an English line, if possible, somewhat resembling in its effect the famous original one.

    εοιο βιοιο (Deinê de klangê genet argyreôio Bioio).—TR.]

    9.   The plague in the Grecian camp was occasioned perhaps by immoderate heats and gross exhalations. Homer takes occasion from it, to open the scene with a beautiful allegory. He supposes that such afflictions are sent from Heaven for the punishment of evil actions; and because the sun was the principal agent, he says it was sent to punish Agamemnon for despising that god, and injuring his priest.

    10. Hippocrates observes two things of plagues; that their cause is in the air, and that different animals are differently affected by them, according to their nature and nourishment. This philosophy is referred to the plagues here mentioned. First, the cause is in the air by means of the darts or beams of Apollo; second, the mules and dogs are said to die sooner than the men, partly from their natural quickness of smell, and partly from their feeding so near the earth whence the exhalations arise.

    11. Juno, queen of Olympus, sides with the Grecians. Mr. Coleridge (in his disquisition upon the Prometheus of Æschylus, published in his Remains) shows very clearly by historical criticism, that Juno, in the Grecian religion, expressed the spirit of conservatism. Without going over his argument we assume it here, for Homer always attributes to Juno every thing that may be predicated of this principle. She is persistent, obstinate, acts from no idea, but often uses a superficial reasoning, and refers to Fate, with which she upbraids Jupiter. Jupiter is the intellectual power or Free Will, and by their union, or rather from their antagonism, the course of things proceeds with perpetual vicissitude, but with a great deal of life.—E.P.P.

    12. Observe this Grecian priest. He has no political power, and commands little reverence. In Agamemnon’s treatment of him, as well as Chryses, is seen the relation of the religion to the government. It was neither master nor slave.—E.P.P.

    13. A district of Thessaly forming a part of the larger district of Phthiotis. Phthiotis, according to Strabo, included all the southern portion of that country as far as Mount OEta and the Maliac Gulf. To the west it bordered on Dolopia, and on the east reached the confines of Magnesia. Homer comprised within this extent of territory the districts of Phthia and Hellas properly so called, and, generally speaking, the dominions of Achilles, together with those of Protesilaus and Eurypylus.

    14. Κυνωπα (Kynôpa).

    15. μεγαναιδες (meganaides).

    16. Agamemnon’s anger is that of a lover, and Achilles’ that of a warrior. Agamemnon speaks of Chrysëis as a beauty whom he values too much to resign. Achilles treats Brisëis as a slave, whom he is anxious to preserve in point of honor, and as a testimony of his glory. Hence he mentions her only as his spoil, the reward of war, etc.; accordingly he relinquishes her not in grief for a favorite whom he loses, but in sullenness for the injury done him.—Dacier.

    μηξ [myrmêx], an ant), and was regarded as the ancestor of the Myrmidons in Thessaly.—Smith.

    18. According to the belief of the ancients, the gods were supposed to have a peculiar light in their eyes. That Homer was not ignorant of this opinion appears from his use of it in other places.

    19. Minerva is the goddess of the art of war rather than of war itself. And this fable of her descent is an allegory of Achilles restraining his wrath through his consideration of martial law and order. This law in that age, prescribed that a subordinate should not draw his sword upon the commander of all, but allowed a liberty of speech which appears to us moderns rather out of order.—E.P.P.

    20. [The shield of Jupiter, made by Vulcan, and so called from its covering, which was the skin of the goat that suckled him.—TR.]

    21. Homer magnifies the ambush as the boldest enterprise of war. They went upon those parties with a few only, and generally the most daring of the army, and on occasions of the greatest hazard, when the exposure was greater than in a regular battle. Idomeneus, in the 13th book, tells Meriones that the greatest courage appears in this way of service, each man being in a manner singled out to the proof of it.

    22. In the earlier ages of the world, the sceptre of a king was nothing more than his walking-staff, and thence had the name of sceptre. Ovid, in speaking of Jupiter, describes him as resting on his sceptre.—SPENCE.

    From the description here given, it would appear to have been a young tree cut from the root and stripped of its branches. It was the custom of Kings to swear by their sceptres.

    23. For an account of the contest between the Centaurs and Lapiths here referred to, see Grecian and Roman Mythology.

    24. In antiquity, a sacrifice of a hundred oxen, or beasts of the same kind; hence sometimes indefinitely, any sacrifice of a large number of victims.

    25. [The original is here abrupt, and expresses the precipitancy of the speaker by a most beautiful aposiopesis.—TR.]

    26. The Iliad, in its connection, is, we all know, a glorification of Achilles by Zeus; for the Trojans only prevail because Zeus wishes to show that the reposing hero who sits in solitude, can alone conquer them. But to leave him this glorification entirely unmixed with sorrow, the Grecian sense of moderation forbids. The deepest anguish must mingle with his consciousness of fame, and punish his insolence. That glorification is the will of Zeus; and in the spirit of the ancient mythus, a motive for it is assigned in a divine legend. The sea-goddess Thetis, who was, according to the Phthiotic mythus, wedded to the mortal Peleus, saved Zeus, by calling up the giant Briareus or Ægæon to his rescue. Why it was Ægæon, is explained by the fact that this was a great sea-demon, who formed the subject of fables at Poseidonian Corinth, where even the sea-god himself was called Ægæon; who, moreover, was worshipped at several places in Euboea, the seat of Poseidon Ægæus; and whom the Theogony calls the son-in-law of Poseidon, and most of the genealogists, especially Eumelus in the Titanomachy, brought into relation with the sea. There is therefore good reason to be found in ancient belief, why Thetis called up Ægæon of all others to Jove’s assistance. The whole of the story, however, is not detailed—it is not much more than indicated—and therefore it would be difficult even now to interpret it in a perfectly satisfactory manner. It bears the same relation to the Iliad, that the northern fables of the gods, which serve as a back-ground to the legend of Nibelungen, bear to our German ballad, only that here the separation is much greater still—MULLER.

    Homer makes use of this fable, without reference to its meaning as an allegory. Briareus seems to symbolize a navy, and the fable refers to some event in remote history, when the reigning power was threatened in his autocracy, and strengthened by means of his association with the people against some intermediate class.—E.P.P.

    ωνται (epaurôntai).

    28. [A name by which we are frequently to understand the Nile in Homer.—TR.]

    29. Around the sources of the Nile, and thence south-west into the very heart of Africa, stretching away indefinitely over its mountain plains, lies the country which the ancients called Ethiopia, rumors of whose wonderful people found their way early into Greece, and are scattered over the pages of her poets and historians. Homer wrote at least eight hundred years before Christ, and his poems are well ascertained to be a most faithful mirror of the manners of his times and the knowledge of his age.

    * * * * * *

    Homer never wastes an epithet. He often alludes to the Ethiopians elsewhere, and always in terms of admiration and praise, as being the most just of men, and the favorites of the gods. The same allusions glimmer through the Greek mythology, and appear in the verses of almost all the Greek poets, ere yet the countries of Italy and Sicily were even discovered. The Jewish Scriptures and Jewish literature abound in allusions to this distant and mysterious people, the annals of the Egyptian priests are full of them, and uniformly, the Ethiopians are there lauded as among the best, the most religious, and most civilized of men.—CHRISTIAN EXAMINER.

    The Ethiopians, says Diodorus, are said to be the inventors of pomps, sacrifices, solemn meetings, and other honors paid to the gods. From hence arose their character of piety, which is here celebrated by Homer. Among these there was an annual feast at Diospolis, which Eustathius mentions, when they carried about the statues of Jupiter and other gods, for twelve days, according to their number; to which, if we add the ancient custom of setting meat before statues, it will appear to be a rite from which this fable might easily have arisen.

    30. [The original word (πολυβενθεος [polybentheos]) seems to express variety of soundings, an idea probably not to be conveyed in an English epithet.—TR.]

    31. The following passage gives the most exact account of the ancient sacrifices that we have left us. There is first, the purification by the washing of hands; second, the offering up of prayers; third, the barley-cakes thrown upon the victim; fourth, the manner of killing it, with the head turned upwards; fifth, selecting the thighs and fat for their gods, as the best of the sacrifice, and disposing about them pieces cut from every part for a representation of the whole (hence the thighs are frequently spoken of in Homer and the Greek poets as the whole victim); sixth, the libation of wine; seventh, consuming the thighs in the fire of the altar; eighth, the sacrificers dressing and feasting on the rest, with joy and hymns to the gods.

    32. The Pæan (originally sung in honor of Apollo) was a hymn to propitiate the god, and also a song of thanksgiving, when freed from danger. It was always of a joyous nature. Both tune and sound expressed hope and confidence. It was sung by several persons, one of whom probably led the others, and the singers either marched onward, or sat together at table.

    33. It was the custom to draw the ships entirely upon the shore, and to secure them by long props.—FELTON

    34. Suppliants threw themselves at the feet of the person to whom the supplication was addressed, and embraced his knees.—FELTON.

    35. Ambrosia, the food of the gods, conferred upon them eternal youth and immortality, and was brought to Jupiter by pigeons. It was also used by the gods for anointing the body and hair. Hence the expression, ambrosial locks.

    36. The original says, the ox-eyed goddess, which furnishes Coleridge with one of the hints on which he proceeds in historically identifying the Argive Juno with Io and Isis, &c. There is real wit in Homer’s making her say to Jupiter, I never search thy thoughts, &c. The principle of conservatism asks nothing of the intellectual power, but blindly contends, reposing upon the

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