The First Book of Homer's Iliad

The wrath of Peleus' son, O Muse, resound;
Whose dire effects the Grecian army found,
And many a hero, king, and hardy knight,
Were sent, in early youth, to shades of night;
Their limbs a prey to dogs and vultures made:
So was the sov'reign will of Jove obey'd:
From that ill-omen'd hour when strife begun
Betwixt Atrides great and Thetis' godlike son.
What pow'r provok'd, and for what cause, relate,
Sow'd in their breasts the seeds of stern debate:
Jove's and Latona's son his wrath express'd,
In vengeance of his violated priest,
Against the King of Men; who, swoln with pride,
Refus'd his presents, and his pray'rs denied.
For this the god a swift contagion spread
Amid the camp, where heaps on heaps lay dead.
For venerable Chryses came to buy,
With gold and gifts of price, his daughter's liberty.
Suppliant before the Grecian chiefs he stood;
Awful, and arm'd with ensigns of his god:
Bare was his hoary head; one holy hand
Held forth his laurel crown, and one his scepter of command.
His suit was common; but, above the rest,
To both the brother princes thus address'd:
"Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Grecian pow'rs,
So may the gods who dwell in heav'nly bow'rs
Succeed your siege, accord the vows you make,
And give you Troy's imperial town to take;
So, by their happy conduct, may you come
With conquest back to your sweet native home,
As you receive the ransom which I bring,
(Respecting Jove, and the far-shooting king,)
And break my daughter's bonds, at my desire,
And glad with her return her grieving sire.—
With shouts of loud acclaim the Greeks decree
To take the gifts, to set the damsel free.
The King of Men alone with fury burn'd;
And, haughty, these opprobrious words return'd:
"Hence, holy dotard, and avoid my sight,
Ere evil intercept thy tardy flight;
Nor dare to tread this interdicted strand,
Lest not that idle scepter in thy hand,
Nor thy god's crown, my vow'd revenge withstand.
Hence on thy life: the captive maid is mine;
Whom not for price or pray'rs I will resign.
Mine she shall be, till creeping age and time
Her bloom have wither'd, and consum'd her prime:
Till then my royal bed she shall attend;
And, having first adorn'd it, late ascend.
This, for the night; by day, the web and loom,
And homely household task, shall be her doom,
Far from thy lov'd embrace, and her sweet native home.—
He said; the helpless priest replied no more,
But sped his steps along the hoarse-resounding shore:
Silent he fled; secure at length he stood,
Devoutly curs'd his foes, and thus invok'd his god:
"O source of sacred light, attend my pray'r,
God with the silver bow and golden hair,
Whom Chrysa, Cilla, Tenedos obeys,
And whose broad eye their happy soil surveys.
If, Smintheus, I have pour'd before thy shrine
The blood of oxen, goats, and ruddy wine,
And larded thighs on loaded altars laid,
Hear, and my just revenge propitious aid!
Pierce the proud Greeks, and with thy shafts attest
How much thy pow'r is injur'd in thy priest.—
He pray'd, and Phœbus, hearing, urg'd his flight,
With fury kindled, from Olympus' height;
His quiver o'er his ample shoulders threw;
His bow twang'd, and his arrows rattled as they flew.
Black as a stormy night, he rang'd around
The tents, and compass'd the devoted ground.
Then with full force his deadly bow he bent,
And feather'd fates among the mules and sumpters sent:
Th' essay of rage; on faithful dogs the next;
And last, in human hearts his arrows fix'd.
The god nine days the Greeks at rovers kill'd,
Nine days the camp with fun'ral fires was fill'd;
The tenth, Achilles, by the queen's command,
Who bears heav'n's awful scepter in her hand,
A council summon'd; for the goddess griev'd
Her favor'd host should perish unreliev'd.
The kings, assembled, soon their chief inclose;
Then from his seat the goddess-born arose,
And thus undaunted spoke: "What now remains,
But that once more we tempt the wat'ry plains,
And, wand'ring homeward, seek our safety hence,
In flight at least, if we can find defense?
Such woes at once encompass us about,
The plague within the camp, the sword without.
Consult, O king, the prophets of th' event:
And whence these ills, and what the god's intent,
Let them by dreams explore; for dreams from Jove are sent.
What want of offer'd victims, what offense
In fact committed could the Sun incense,
To deal his deadly shafts? What may remove
His settled hate, and reconcile his love,
That he may look propitious on our toils,
And hungry graves no more be glutted with our spoils?—
Thus to the King of Men the hero spoke;
Then Calchas the desir'd occasion took:
Calchas the sacred seer, who had in view
Things present and the past, and things to come foreknew;
Supreme of augurs, who, by Phœbus taught,
The Grecian pow'rs to Troy's destruction brought.
Skill'd in the secret causes of their woes,
The reverend priest in graceful act arose,
And thus bespoke Pelides: "Care of Jove,
Favor'd of all th' immortal pow'rs above,
Wouldst thou the seeds deep sown of mischief know,
And why, provok'd, Apollo bends his bow?
Plight first thy faith, inviolably true,
To save me from those ills that may ensue.
For I shall tell ungrateful truths to those
Whose boundless pow'r of life and death dispose;
And sov'reigns, ever jealous of their state,
Forgive not those whom once they mark for hate:
Ev'n tho' th' offense they seemingly digest,
Revenge, like embers, rak'd within their breast,
Bursts forth in flames; whose unresisted pow'r
Will seize th' unwary wretch, and soon devour.
Such and no less is he, on whom depends
The sum of things, and whom my tongue of force offends.
Secure me then from his foreseen intent,
That what his wrath may doom, thy valor may prevent.—
To this the stern Achilles made reply:
"Be bold, and on my plighted faith rely,
To speak what Phœbus has inspir'd thy soul
For common good; and speak without control.
His godhead I invoke, by him I swear,
That while my nostrils draw this vital air,
None shall presume to violate those bands,
Or touch thy person with unhallow'd hands;
Ev'n not the King of Men, that all commands.—
At this, resuming heart, the prophet said:
"Nor hecatombs unslain, nor vows unpaid,
On Greeks, accurst, this dire contagion bring,
Or call for vengeance from the bowyer king;
But he the tyrant, whom none dares resist,
Affronts the godhead in his injur'd priest:
He keeps the damsel captive in his chain,
And presents are refus'd, and pray'rs preferr'd in vain,
For this th' avenging pow'r employs his darts,
And empties all his quiver in our hearts;
Thus will persist, relentless in his ire,
Till the fair slave be render'd to her sire,
And ransom-free restor'd to his abode,
With sacrifice to reconcile the god:
Then he, perhaps, aton'd by pray'r, may cease
His vengeance justly vow'd, and give the peace.—
Thus having said, he sate. Thus answer'd then,
Upstarting from his throne, the King of Men,
His breast with fury fill'd, his eyes with fire:
Which rolling round, he shot in sparkles on the sire:
"Augur of ill, whose tongue was never found
Without a priestly curse, or boding sound!
For not one blest event foretold to me
Pass'd thro' that mouth, or pass'd unwillingly.
And now thou dost with lies the throne invade,
By practice harden'd in thy sland'ring trade;
Obtending heav'n for whate'er ills befall,
And sputt'ring under specious names thy gall.
Now Phœbus is provok'd, his rites and laws
Are in his priest profan'd, and I the cause;
Since I detain a slave, my sov'reign prize,
And sacred gold, your idol god, despise.
I love her well, and well her merits claim
To stand preferr'd before my Grecian dame:
Not Clytemnestra's self in beauty's bloom
More charm'd, or better plied the various loom:
Mine is the maid, and brought in happy hour,
With every household grace adorn'd, to bless my nuptial bow'r.
Yet shall she be restor'd, since public good
For private int'rest ought not be withstood,
To save th' effusion of my people's blood.
But right requires, if I resign my own,
I should not suffer for your sakes alone;
Alone excluded from the prize I gain'd,
And by your common suffrage have obtain'd.
The slave without a ransom shall be sent:
It rests for you to make th' equivalent.—
To this the fierce Thessalian prince replied:
"O first in pow'r, but passing all in pride,
Griping, and still tenacious of thy hold,
Wouldst thou the Grecian chiefs, tho' largely soul'd,
Should give the prizes they had gain'd before,
And with their loss thy sacrilege restore?
Whate'er by force of arms the soldier got,
Is each his own, by dividend of lot:
Which to resume were both unjust and base;
Not to be borne but by a servile race.
But this we can: if Saturn's son bestows
The sack of Troy, which he by promise owes,
Then shall the conqu'ring Greeks thy loss restore,
And with large int'rest make th' advantage more.—
To this Atrides answer'd: "Tho' thy boast
Assumes the foremost name of all our host,
Pretend not, mighty man, that what is mine,
Controll'd by thee, I tamely should resign.
Shall I release the prize I gain'd by right,
In taken towns, and many a bloody fight,
While thou detain'st Briseis in thy bands,
By priestly glossing on the god's commands?
Resolve on this, (a short alternative,)
Quit mine, or, in exchange, another give;
Else I, assure thy soul, by sov'reign right
Will seize thy captive in thy own despite;
Or from stout Ajax, or Ulysses, bear
What other prize my fancy shall prefer.
Then softly murmur, or aloud complain;
Rage as you please, you shall resist in vain.
But more of this, in proper time and place;
To things of greater moment let us pass.
A ship to sail the sacred seas prepare,
Proud in her trim, and put on board the fair,
With sacrifice and gifts, and all the pomp of pray'r.
The crew well chosen, the command shall be
In Ajax; or, if other I decree,
In Creta's king, or Ithacus, or, if I please, in thee:
Most fit thyself to see perform'd th' intent
For which my pris'ner from my sight is sent,
(Thanks to thy pious care,) that Phœbus may relent.—
At this, Achilles roll'd his furious eyes,
Fix'd on the king askant, and thus replies:
"O impudent, regardful of thy own,
Whose thoughts are center'd on thyself alone,
Advanc'd to sovereign sway for better ends
Than thus like abject slaves to treat thy friends;
What Greek is he, that, urg'd by thy command,
Against the Trojan troops will lift his hand?
Not I: nor such inforc'd respect I owe;
Nor Pergamus I hate, nor Priam is my foe.
What wrong from Troy remote could I sustain,
To leave my fruitful soil and happy reign,
And plow the surges of the stormy main?
Thee, frontless man, we follow'd from afar;
Thy instruments of death, and tools of war.
Thine is the triumph; ours the toil alone:
We bear thee on our backs, and mount thee on the throne.
For thee we fall in fight; for thee redress
Thy baffled brother, not the wrongs of Greece.
And now thou threaten'st with unjust decree,
To punish thy affronting Heav'n, on me;
To seize the prize which I so dearly bought,
By common suffrage giv'n, confirm'd by lot;
Mean match to thine: for still, above the rest,
Thy hook'd rapacious hands usurp the best;
Tho' mine are first in fight, to force the prey,
And last sustain the labors of the day.
Nor grudge I thee the much the Grecians give,
Nor murm'ring take the little I receive.
Yet ev'n this little, thou, who wouldst ingross
The whole, insatiate, envy'st as thy loss.
Know, then, for Phthia fix'd is my return:
Better at home my ill-paid pains to mourn,
Than from an equal here sustain the public scorn.—
The king, whose brows with shining gold were bound,
Who saw his throne with scepter'd slaves incompass'd round,
Thus answer'd stern: "Go, at thy pleasure, go:
We need not such a friend, nor fear we such a foe.
There will not want to follow me in fight;
Jove will assist, and Jove assert my right.
But thou of all the kings (his care below)
Art least at my command, and most my foe.
Debates, dissensions, uproars are thy joy;
Provok'd without offense, and practic'd to destroy.
Strength is of brutes, and not thy boast alone;
At least 'tis lent from heav'n, and not thy own.
Fly then, ill-manner'd, to thy native land,
And there thy ant-born Myrmidons command.
But mark this menace; since I must resign
My black-ey'd maid, to please the pow'rs divine—
A well-rigg'd vessel in the port attends,
Mann'd at my charge, commanded by my friends!—
The ship shall waft her to her wish'd abode,
Full fraught with holy bribes to the far-shooting god.
This thus dispatch'd, I owe myself the care,
My fame and injur'd honor to repair:
From thy own tent, proud man, in thy despite,
This hand shall ravish thy pretended right.
Briseis shall be mine, and thou shalt see
What odds of awful pow'r I have on thee,
That others at thy cost may learn the diff'rence of degree.—
At this th' impatient hero sourly smil'd:
His heart, impetuous, in his bosom boil'd,
And, justled by two tides of equal sway,
Stood for a while suspended in his way,
Betwixt his reason and his rage untam'd;
One whisper'd soft, and one aloud reclaim'd:
That only counsel'd to the safer side;
This to the sword his ready hand applied.
Unpunish'd to support th' affront was hard.
Nor easy was th' attempt to force the guard.
But soon the thirst of vengeance fir'd his blood:
Half shone his falchion, and half sheath'd it stood.
In that nice moment, Pallas, from above,
Commission'd by th' imperial wife of Jove,
Descended swift: (the white-arm'd queen was loth
The fight should follow, for she favor'd both:)
Just as in act he stood, in clouds inshrin'd,
Her hand she fasten'd on his hair behind;
Then backward by his yellow curls she drew;
To him, and him alone, confess'd in view.
Tam'd by superior force, he turn'd his eyes
Aghast at first, and stupid with surprise;
But by her sparkling eyes, and ardent look
The virgin warrior known, he thus bespoke:
"Com'st thou, celestial, to behold my wrongs?
Then view the vengeance which to crimes belongs.—
Thus he. The blue-ey'd goddess thus rejoin'd:
"I come to calm thy turbulence of mind,
If Reason will resume her sovereign sway,
And, sent by Juno, her commands obey.
Equal she loves you both, and I protect:
Then give thy guardian gods their due respect;
And cease contention; be thy words severe,
Sharp as he merits, but the sword forbear.
An hour unhop'd already wings her way,
When he his dire affront shall dearly pay;
When the proud king shall sue, with treble gain,
To quit thy loss, and conquer thy disdain.
But thou, secure of my unfailing word,
Compose thy swelling soul, and sheathe the sword.—
The youth thus answer'd mild: "Auspicious maid,
Heav'n's will be mine, and your commands obey'd.
The gods are just, and when, subduing sense,
We serve their pow'rs, provide the recompense.—
He said; with surly faith believ'd her word,
And in the sheath, reluctant, plung'd the sword.
Her message done, she mounts the blest abodes,
And mix'd among the senate of the gods.
At her departure his disdain return'd:
The fire she fann'd, with greater fury burn'd;
Rumbling within, till thus it found a vent:
"Dastard, and drunkard, mean and insolent;
Tongue-valiant hero, vaunter of thy might,
In threats the foremost, but the lag in fight;
When didst thou thrust amid the mingled prease,
Content to bide the war aloof in peace?
Arms are the trade of each plebeian soul;
'Tis death to fight, but kingly to control;
Lord-like at ease, with arbitrary pow'r,
To peel the chiefs, the people to devour.
These, traitor, are thy talents; safer far
Than to contend in fields, and toils of war.
Nor couldst thou thus have dar'd the common hate,
Were not their souls as abject as their state.
But, by this scepter, solemnly I swear,
(Which never more green leaf or growing branch shall bear;
Torn from the tree, and giv'n by Jove to those
Who laws dispense, and mighty wrongs oppose,)
That when the Grecians want my wonted aid,
No gift shall bribe it, and no pray'r persuade.
When Hector comes, the homicide, to wield
His conquering arms, with corps to strow the field;
Then shalt thou mourn thy