The Poetry Corner

The Iliad Of Homer: Translated Into English Blank Verse: Book XIX.

By William Cowper

Argument Of The Nineteenth Book. Achilles is reconciled to Agamemnon, and clothed in new armor forged by Vulcan, leads out the Myrmidons to battle. Now rose the morn in saffron vest attired From ocean, with new day for Gods and men, When Thetis at the fleet of Greece arrived, Bearing that gift divine. She found her son All tears, and close enfolding in his arms Patroclus, while his Myrmidons around Wept also;[1] she amid them, graceful, stood, And seizing fast his hand, him thus bespake. Although our loss be great, yet, oh my son! Leave we Patroclus lying on the bier To which the Gods ordain'd him from the first. Receive from Vulcan's hands these glorious arms, Such as no mortal shoulders ever bore. So saying, she placed the armor on the ground Before him, and the whole bright treasure rang. A tremor shook the Myrmidons; none dared Look on it, but all fled. Not so himself. In him fresh vengeance kindled at the view, And, while he gazed, a splendor as of fire Flash'd from his eyes. Delighted, in his hand He held the glorious bounty of the God, And, wondering at those strokes of art divine, His eager speech thus to his mother turn'd.[2] The God, my mother! hath bestow'd in truth Such armor on me as demanded skill Like his, surpassing far all power of man. Now, therefore, I will arm. But anxious fears Trouble me, lest intrusive flies, meantime, Breed worms within the spear-inflicted wounds Of Menoetiades, and fill with taint Of putrefaction his whole breathless form.[3] But him the silver-footed Goddess fair Thus answer'd. Oh, my son! chase from thy mind All such concern. I will, myself, essay To drive the noisome swarms which on the slain In battle feed voracious. Should he lie The year complete, his flesh shall yet be found Untainted, and, it may be, fragrant too. But thou the heroes of Achaia's host Convening, in their ears thy wrath renounce Against the King of men, then, instant, arm For battle, and put on thy glorious might. So saying, the Goddess raised his courage high. Then, through the nostrils of the dead she pour'd Ambrosia, and the ruddy juice divine Of nectar, antidotes against decay. And now forth went Achilles by the side Of ocean, calling with a dreadful shout To council all the heroes of the host.[4] Then, even they who in the fleet before Constant abode, helmsmen and those who held In stewardship the food and public stores, All flock'd to council, for that now at length After long abstinence from dread exploits Of war, Achilles had once more appear'd. Two went together, halting on the spear, (For still they felt the anguish of their wounds) Noble Ulysses and brave Diomede, And took an early seat; whom follow'd last The King of men, by Con in the field Of furious battle wounded with a lance. The Grecians all assembled, in the midst Upstood the swift Achilles, and began. Atrides! we had doubtless better sped Both thou and I, thus doing, when at first With cruel rage we burn'd, a girl the cause. I would that Dian's shaft had in the fleet Slain her that self-same day when I destroy'd Lyrnessus, and by conquest made her mine! Then had not many a Grecian, lifeless now, Clench'd with his teeth the ground, victim, alas! Of my revenge; whence triumph hath accrued To Hector and his host, while ours have cause For long remembrance of our mutual strife. But evils past let pass, yielding perforce To sad necessity. My wrath shall cease Now; I resign it; it hath burn'd too long. Thou therefore summon forth the host to fight, That I may learn meeting them in the field, If still the Trojans purpose at our fleet To watch us this night also. But I judge That driven by my spear to rapid flight, They shall escape with weary limbs[5] at least. He ended, and the Grecians brazen-greaved Rejoiced that Peleus' mighty son had cast His wrath aside. Then not into the midst Proceeding, but at his own seat, upstood King Agamemnon, and them thus bespake. Friends! Grecian heroes! Ministers of Mars! Arise who may to speak, he claims your ear; All interruption wrongs him, and distracts, Howe'er expert the speaker. Who can hear Amid the roar of tumult, or who speak? The clearest voice, best utterance, both are vain I shall address Achilles. Hear my speech Ye Argives, and with understanding mark. I hear not now the voice of your reproach[6] First; ye have oft condemn'd me. Yet the blame Rests not with me; Jove, Destiny, and she Who roams the shades, Erynnis, caused the offence. She fill'd my soul with fury on that day In council, when I seized Achilles' prize. For what could I? All things obey the Gods. Ate, pernicious Power, daughter of Jove, By whom all suffer, challenges from all Reverence and fear. Delicate are her feet Which scorn the ground, and over human heads She glides, injurious to the race of man, Of two who strive, at least entangling one. She injured, on a day, dread Jove himself Most excellent of all in earth or heaven, When Juno, although female, him deceived, What time Alcmena should have brought to light In bulwark'd Thebes the force of Hercules. Then Jove, among the gods glorying, spake. Hear all! both Gods and Goddesses, attend! That I may make my purpose known. This day Birth-pang-dispensing Ilithya brings An hero forth to light, who, sprung from those That sprang from me, his empire shall extend Over all kingdoms bordering on his own. To whom, designing fraud, Juno replied. Thou wilt be found false, and this word of thine Shall want performance. But Olympian Jove! Swear now the inviolable oath, that he Who shall, this day, fall from between the feet Of woman, drawing his descent from thee, Shall rule all kingdoms bordering on his own. She said, and Jove, suspecting nought her wiles, The great oath swore, to his own grief and wrong. At once from the Olympian summit flew Juno, and to Achaian Argos borne, There sought the noble wife[7] of Sthenelus, Offspring of Perseus. Pregnant with a son Six months, she now the seventh saw at hand, But him the Goddess premature produced, And check'd Alcmena's pangs already due. Then joyful to have so prevail'd, she bore Herself the tidings to Saturnian Jove. Lord of the candent lightnings! Sire of all! I bring thee tidings. The great prince, ordain'd To rule the Argive race, this day is born, Eurystheus, son of Sthenelus, the son Of Perseus; therefore he derives from thee, Nor shall the throne of Argos shame his birth. She spake; then anguish stung the heart of Jove Deeply, and seizing by her glossy locks The Goddess Ate, in his wrath he swore That never to the starry skies again And the Olympian heights he would permit The universal mischief to return. Then, whirling her around, he cast her down To earth. She, mingling with all works of men, Caused many a pang to Jove, who saw his son Laborious tasks servile, and of his birth Unworthy, at Eurystheus' will enjoin'd. So when the hero Hector at our ships Slew us, I then regretted my offence Which Ate first impell'd me to commit. But since, infatuated by the Gods I err'd, behold me ready to appease With gifts of price immense whom I have wrong'd. Thou, then, arise to battle, and the host Rouse also. Not a promise yesternight Was made thee by Ulysses in thy tent On my behalf, but shall be well perform'd. Or if it please thee, though impatient, wait Short season, and my train shall bring the gifts Even now; that thou may'st understand and know That my peace-offerings are indeed sincere. To whom Achilles, swiftest of the swift. Atrides! Agamemnon! passing all In glory! King of men! recompense just By gifts to make me, or to make me none, That rests with thee. But let us to the fight Incontinent. It is no time to play The game of rhetoric, and to waste the hours In speeches. Much remains yet unperform'd. Achilles must go forth. He must be seen Once more in front of battle, wasting wide With brazen spear, the crowded ranks of Troy. Mark him--and as he fights, fight also ye. To whom Ulysses ever-wise replied. Nay--urge not, valiant as thou art thyself, Achaia's sons up to the battlements Of Ilium, by repast yet unrefresh'd, Godlike Achilles!--For when phalanx once Shall clash with phalanx, and the Gods with rage Both hosts inspire, the contest shall not then Prove short. Bid rather the Achaians take Both food and wine, for they are strength and might. To stand all day till sunset to a foe Opposed in battle, fasting, were a task Might foil the best; for though his will be prompt To combat, yet the power must by degrees Forsake him; thirst and hunger he must feel, And his limbs failing him at every step. But he who hath his vigor to the full Fed with due nourishment, although he fight All day, yet feels his courage unimpair'd, Nor weariness perceives till all retire. Come then--dismiss the people with command That each prepare replenishment. Meantime Let Agamemnon, King of men, his gifts In presence here of the assembled Greeks Produce, that all may view them, and that thou May'st feel thine own heart gladden'd at the sight. Let the King also, standing in the midst, Swear to thee, that he renders back the maid A virgin still, and strange to his embrace, And let thy own composure prove, the while, That thou art satisfied. Last, let him spread A princely banquet for thee in his tent, That thou may'st want no part of just amends. Thou too, Atrides, shalt hereafter prove More just to others; for himself, a King, Stoops not too low, soothing whom he hath wrong'd. Him Agamemnon answer'd, King of men. Thou hast arranged wisely the whole concern, O Lertiades, and I have heard Thy speech, both words and method with delight. Willing I am, yea more, I wish to swear As thou hast said, for by the Gods I can Most truly. Let Achilles, though of pause Impatient, suffer yet a short delay With all assembled here, till from my tent The gifts arrive, and oaths of peace be sworn. To thee I give it in peculiar charge That choosing forth the most illustrious youths Of all Achaia, thou produce the gifts from my own ship, all those which yesternight We promised, nor the women leave behind. And let Talthybius throughout all the camp Of the Achaians, instant, seek a boar For sacrifice to Jove and to the Sun. Then thus Achilles matchless in the race. Atrides! most illustrious! King of men! Expedience bids us to these cares attend Hereafter, when some pause, perchance, of fight Shall happen, and the martial rage which fires My bosom now, shall somewhat less be felt. Our friends by Priameian Hector slain, Now strew the field mangled, for him hath Jove Exalted high, and given him great renown. But haste, now take refreshment; though, in truth Might I direct, the host should by all means Unfed to battle, and at set of sun All sup together, this affront revenged. But as for me, no drop shall pass my lips Or morsel, whose companion lies with feet Turn'd to the vestibule, pierced by the spear, And compass'd by my weeping train around. No want of food feel I. My wishes call For carnage, blood, and agonies and groans. But him, excelling in all wisdom, thus Ulysses answer'd. Oh Achilles! son Of Peleus! bravest far of all our host! Me, in no scanty measure, thou excell'st Wielding the spear, and thee in prudence, I Not less. For I am elder, and have learn'd What thou hast yet to learn. Bid then thine heart Endure with patience to be taught by me. Men, satiate soon with battle, loathe the field On which the most abundant harvest falls, Reap'd by the sword; and when the hand of Jove Dispenser of the great events of war, Turns once the scale, then, farewell every hope Of more than scanty gleanings. Shall the Greeks Abstain from sustenance for all who die? That were indeed severe, since day by day No few expire, and respite could be none. The dead, die whoso may, should be inhumed. This, duty bids, but bids us also deem One day sufficient for our sighs and tears. Ourselves, all we who still survive the war, Have need of sustenance, that we may bear The lengthen'd conflict with recruited might, Case in enduring brass.--Ye all have heard Your call to battle; let none lingering stand In expectation of a farther call, Which if it sound, shall thunder prove to him Who lurks among the ships. No. Rush we all Together forth, for contest sharp prepared, And persevering with the host of Troy. So saying, the sons of Nestor, glorious Chief, He chose, with Meges Phyleus' noble son, Thoas, Meriones, and Melanippus And Lycomedes. These, together, sought The tent of Agamemnon, King of men. They ask'd, and they received. Soon they produced The seven promised tripods from the tent, Twice ten bright caldrons, twelve high-mettled steeds, Seven lovely captives skill'd alike in arts Domestic, of unblemish'd beauty rare, And last, Brisis with the blooming cheeks. Before them went Ulysses, bearing weigh'd Ten golden talents, whom the chosen Greeks Attended laden with the remnant gifts. Full in the midst they placed them. Then arose King Agamemnon, and Talthybius The herald, clear in utterance as a God, Beside him stood, holding the victim boar. Atrides, drawing forth his dagger bright, Appendant ever to his sword's huge sheath, Sever'd the bristly forelock of the boar, A previous offering. Next, with lifted hands To Jove he pray'd, while, all around, the Greeks Sat listening silent to the Sovereign's voice. He look'd to the wide heaven, and thus he pray'd. First, Jove be witness! of all Powers above Best and supreme; Earth next, and next the Sun! And last, who under Earth the guilt avenge Of oaths sworn falsely, let the Furies hear! For no respect of amorous desire Or other purpose, have I laid mine hand On fair Brisis, but within my tent Untouch'd, immaculate she hath remain'd. And if I falsely swear, then may the Gods The many woes with which they mark the crime Of men forsworn, pour also down on me! So saying, he pierced the victim in his throat And, whirling him around, Talthybius, next, Cast him into the ocean, fishes' food.[8] Then, in the centre of Achaia's sons Uprose Achilles, and thus spake again. Jove! Father! dire calamities, effects Of thy appointment, fall on human-kind. Never had Agamemnon in my breast Such anger kindled, never had he seized, Blinded by wrath, and torn my prize away, But that the slaughter of our numerous friends Which thence ensued, thou hadst, thyself, ordained. Now go, ye Grecians, eat, and then to battle. So saying, Achilles suddenly dissolved The hasty council, and all flew dispersed To their own ships. Then took the Myrmidons Those splendid gifts which in the tent they lodged Of swift Achilles, and the damsels led Each to a seat, while others of his train Drove forth the steeds to pasture with his herd. But when Brisis, bright as Venus, saw Patroclus lying mangled by the spear, Enfolding him around, she shriek'd and tore Her bosom, her smooth neck and beauteous cheeks. Then thus, divinely fair, with tears she said. Ah, my Patroclus! dearest friend of all To hapless me, departing from this tent I left thee living, and now, generous Chief! Restored to it again, here find thee dead. How rapid in succession are my woes! I saw, myself, the valiant prince to whom My parents had betroth'd me, slain before Our city walls; and my three brothers, sons Of my own mother, whom with long regret I mourn, fell also in that dreadful field. But when the swift Achilles slew the prince Design'd my spouse, and the fair city sack'd Of noble Mynes, thou by every art Of tender friendship didst forbid my tears, Promising oft that thou would'st make me bride Of Peleus' godlike son, that thy own ship Should waft me hence to Phthia, and that thyself Would'st furnish forth among the Myrmidons Our nuptial feast. Therefore thy death I mourn Ceaseless, for thou wast ever kind to me. She spake, and all her fellow-captives heaved Responsive sighs, deploring each, in show, The dead Patroclus, but, in truth, herself.[9] Then the Achaian Chiefs gather'd around Achilles, wooing him to eat, but he Groan'd and still resolute, their suit refused-- If I have here a friend on whom by prayers I may prevail, I pray that ye desist, Nor longer press me, mourner as I am, To eat or drink, for till the sun go down I am inflexible, and will abstain. So saying, the other princes he dismiss'd Impatient, but the sons of Atreus both, Ulysses, Nestor and Idomeneus, With Phoenix, hoary warrior, in his tent Abiding still, with cheerful converse kind Essay'd to soothe him, whose afflicted soul All soothing scorn'd till he should once again Rush on the ravening edge of bloody war. Then, mindful of his friend, groaning he said Time was, unhappiest, dearest of my friends! When even thou, with diligent dispatch, Thyself, hast spread a table in my tent, The hour of battle drawing nigh between The Greeks and warlike Trojans. But there lies Thy body now, gored by the ruthless steel, And for thy sake I neither eat nor drink, Though dearth be none, conscious that other wo Surpassing this I can have none to fear. No, not if tidings of my father's death Should reach me, who, this moment, weeps, perhaps, In Phthia tears of tenderest regret For such a son; while I, remote from home Fight for detested Helen under Troy. Nor even were he dead, whom, if he live, I rear in Scyros, my own darling son, My Neoptolemus of form divine.[10] For still this hope I cherish'd in my breast Till now, that, of us two, myself alone Should fall at Ilium, and that thou, restored To Phthia, should'st have wafted o'er the waves My son from Scyros to his native home, That thou might'st show him all his heritage, My train of menials, and my fair abode. For either dead already I account Peleus, or doubt not that his residue Of miserable life shall soon be spent, Through stress of age and expectation sad That tidings of my death shall, next, arrive. So spake Achilles weeping, around whom The Chiefs all sigh'd, each with remembrance pain'd Of some loved object left at home. Meantime Jove, with compassion moved, their sorrow saw, And in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake. Daughter! thou hast abandon'd, as it seems, Yon virtuous Chief for ever; shall no care Thy mind engage of brave Achilles more? Before his gallant fleet mourning he sits His friend, disconsolate; the other Greeks Sat and are satisfied; he only fasts. Go then--instil nectar into his breast, And sweets ambrosial, that he hunger not. So saying, he urged Minerva prompt before. In form a shrill-voiced Harpy of long wing Through ether down she darted, while the Greeks In all their camp for instant battle arm'd. Ambrosial sweets and nectar she instill'd Into his breast, lest he should suffer loss Of strength through abstinence, then soar'd again To her great Sire's unperishing abode. And now the Grecians from their gallant fleet All pour'd themselves abroad. As when thick snow From Jove descends, driven by impetuous gusts Of the cloud-scattering North, so frequent shone Issuing from the fleet the dazzling casques, Boss'd bucklers, hauberks strong, and ashen spears. Upwent the flash to heaven; wide all around The champain laugh'd with beamy brass illumed, And tramplings of the warriors on all sides Resounded, amidst whom Achilles arm'd. He gnash'd his teeth, fire glimmer'd in his eyes, Anguish intolerable wrung his heart And fury against Troy, while he put on His glorious arms, the labor of a God. First, to his legs his polish'd greaves he clasp'd Studded with silver, then his corselet bright Braced to his bosom, his huge sword of brass Athwart his shoulder slung, and his broad shield Uplifted last, luminous as the moon. Such as to mariners a fire appears, Kindled by shepherds on the distant top Of some lone hill; they, driven by stormy winds, Reluctant roam far off the fishy deep, Such from Achilles' burning shield divine A lustre struck the skies; his ponderous helm He lifted to his brows; starlike it shone, And shook its curling crest of bushy gold, By Vulcan taught to wave profuse around. So clad, godlike Achilles trial made If his arms fitted him, and gave free scope To his proportion'd limbs; buoyant they proved As wings, and high upbore his airy tread. He drew his father's spear forth from his case, Heavy and huge and long. That spear, of all Achaia's sons, none else had power to wield; Achilles only could the Pelian spear Brandish, by Chiron for his father hewn From Pelion's top for slaughter of the brave. His coursers, then, Automedon prepared And Alcimus, adjusting diligent The fair caparisons; they thrust the bits Into their mouths, and to the chariot seat Extended and made fast the reins behind. The splendid scourge commodious to the grasp Seizing, at once Automedon upsprang Into his place; behind him, arm'd complete Achilles mounted, as the orient sun All dazzling, and with awful tone his speech Directed to the coursers of his Sire. Xanthus, and Balius of Podarges' blood Illustrious! see ye that, the battle done, Ye bring whom now ye bear back to the host Of the Achaians in far other sort, Nor leave him, as ye left Patroclus, dead.[11] Him then his steed unconquer'd in the race, Xanthus answer'd from beneath his yoke, But, hanging low his head, and with his mane Dishevell'd all, and streaming to the ground. Him Juno vocal made, Goddess white-arm'd. And doubtless so we will. This day at least We bear thee safe from battle, stormy Chief! But thee the hour of thy destruction swift Approaches, hasten'd by no fault of ours, But by the force of fate and power divine. For not through sloth or tardiness on us Aught chargeable, have Ilium's sons thine arms Stript from Patroclus' shoulders, but a God Matchless in battle, offspring of bright-hair'd Latona, him contending in the van Slew, for the glory of the Chief of Troy. We, Zephyrus himself, though by report Swiftest of all the winds of heaven, in speed Could equal, but the Fates thee also doom By human hands to fall, and hands divine. The interposing Furies at that word Suppress'd his utterance,[12] and indignant, thus, Achilles, swiftest of the swift, replied. Why, Xanthus, propheciest thou my death? It ill beseems thee. I already know That from my parents far remote my doom Appoints me here to die; yet not the more Cease I from feats if arms, till Ilium's host Shall have received, at length, their fill of war. He said, and with a shout drove forth to battle.