The Iliad by Homer (ebooks children's books free TXT) đ
Some other spoil? no common fund have we
Of hoarded treasures; what our arms have won
From captur'd towns, has been already shar'd,
Nor can we now resume th' apportion'd spoil.
Restore the maid, obedient to the God!
And if Heav'n will that we the strong-built walls
Of Troy should raze, our warriors will to thee
A threefold, fourfold recompense assign."
To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:
"Think not, Achilles, valiant though thou art
In fight, and godlike, to defraud me thus;
Thou shalt not so persuade me, nor o'erreach.
Think'st thou to keep thy portion of the spoil,
While I with empty hands sit humbly down?
The bright-ey'd girl thou bidd'st me to restore;
If then the valiant Greeks for me seek out
Some other spoil, some compensation just,
'Tis well: if not, I with my own right hand
Will from some other chief, from thee perchance,
Or Ajax, or Ulysses, wrest his prey;
And woe to him, on whomsoe'er I call
Read free book «The Iliad by Homer (ebooks children's books free TXT) đ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Homer
- Performer: -
Read book online «The Iliad by Homer (ebooks children's books free TXT) đ». Author - Homer
And ye, who after death beneath the earth Your vengeance wreak on souls of men forsworn, Be witness ye, and this our covânant guard.
If Menelaus fall by Parisâ hand,
Let him retain both Helen and the spoil, While in our ships we take our homeward way; If Paris be by Menelaus slain,
Troy shall surrender Helen and the spoil, With compensation due to Greece, that so A record may to future days remain.
But, Paris slain, if Priam and his sons The promisâd compensation shall withhold, Then here, my rights in battle to assert, Will I remain, till I the end achieve.â
Thus as he spoke, across the victimsâ throats He drew the pitiless blade, and on the ground He laid them gasping, as the stream of life Pourâd forth, their vigour by the blade subdued.
Then, from the flagon drawn, from out the cups The wine they pourâd; and to thâ eternal Gods They prayâd; and thus from Trojans and from Greeks Arose the joint petition; âGrant, O Jove!
Most great! most glorious! grant, ye heavânly powârs, That whosoeâer this solemn truce shall break, Evân as this wine we pour, their heartsâ best blood, Theirs and their childrenâs, on the earth be pourâd, And strangers in subjection take their wives!â
Thus they; but Jove, unyielding, heard their prayâr.
The rites performâd, then aged Priam spoke: âHear me, ye Trojans, and ye well-greavâd Greeks!
To Iliumâs breezy heights I now withdraw, For that mine eyes will not endure the sight Of warlike Menelaus and my son
Engagâd in deadly combat; of the two
Which may be doomâd to death, is only known To Jove, and to thâ immortal powârs of Heavân.â
Thus spoke the godlike King; and on the car He placâd the consecrated lambs; himself Ascending then, he gatherâd up the reins, And with Antenor by his side, the twain To Iliumâs walls retracâd their homeward way.
Then Hector, son of Priam, measurâd out, With sage Ulysses joinâd, thâ allotted space; Next, in the brass-bound helmet cast the lots, Which of the two the first should throw the spear.
The crowd, with hands uplifted, to the Gods, Trojans and Greeks alike, addressâd their prayâr: âO Father Jove! who rulâst from Idaâs height, Most great! most glorious! grant that whosoeâer On both our armies hath this turmoil brought May undergo the doom of death, and we, The rest, firm peace and lasting friendship swear.â
Thus they; great Hector of the glancing helm, With eyes averted, shook the casque; and forth Was cast the lot of Paris; on the ground The rest lay down by ranks, where near to each Were rangâd his active steeds, and glittâring arms.
Then oâer his shoulders fair-hairâd Helenâs Lord, The godlike Paris, donnâd his armour bright: First on his legs the well-wrought greaves he fixâd, Fastenâd with silver clasps; his ample chest A breastplate guarded, by Lycaon lent, His brother, but which fitted well his form.
Around his shoulders slung, his sword he bore, Brass-bladed, silver-studded; then his shield Weighty and strong; and on his firm-set head A helm he wore, well wrought, with horsehair plume That nodded, fearful, oâer his brow; his hand Graspâd the firm spear, familiar to his hold.
Preparâd alike the adverse warrior stood.
They, from the crowd apart their armour donnâd, Came forth: and each, with eyes of mutual hate, Regarded each: admiring wonder seizâd
The Trojan warriors and the well-greavâd Greeks, As in the centre of the measurâd ground They stood opposâd, and poisâd their quivâring spears.
First Paris threw his weighty spear, and struck Fair in the midst Atridesâ buckler round, But broke not through; upon the stubborn targe Was bent the lanceâs point; then thus to Jove, His weapon hurling, Menelaus prayâd:
âGreat King, on him who wrought me causeless wrong, On Paris, grant that retribution due
My arm may bring; that men in days to come May fear their host to injure, and repay With treachârous wile his hospitable cares.â
He said, and poising, hurlâd his weighty spear: Full in the midst it struck the buckler round; Right through the buckler passâd the sturdy spear, And through the gorgeous breastplate, and within Cut through the linen vest; but Paris, back Inclining, stoopâd, and shunnâd the doom of death.
Atrides then his silver-studded sword
Rearing on high, a mighty blow let fall On Parisâ helm; but shivâring in his hand In countless fragments new the faithless blade.
Then thus to Jove, with eyes uplift to Heavân, Atrides made his moan: âO Father Jove!
Of all the Gods, the most unfriendly thou!
On Parisâ head I hopâd for all his crimes To wreak my vengeance due; but in my grasp My faithless sword is shatterâd, and my spear Hath bootless left my hand, nor reached my foe.â
Then onward rushing, by the horsehair plume He seizâd his foemanâs helm, and wrenching round Draggâd by main force amid the well-greavâd Greeks.
The broiderâd strap, that, passâd beneath his beard, The helmet held, the warriorâs throat compressâd: Then had Atrides draggâd him from the field, And endless fame acquirâd; but Venus, child Of Jove, her favâriteâs peril quickly saw.
And broke the throttling strap of tough bullâs hide.
In the broad hand the empty helm remained.
The trophy, by their champion whirlâd amid The well-greavâd Greeks, his eager comrades seizâd; While he, infuriate, rushâd with murdârous aim On Priamâs son; but him, the Queen of Love (As Gods can only) from the field conveyâd, Wrapt in a misty cloud; and on a couch, Sweet perfumes breathing, gently laid him down; Then went in search of Helen; her she found, Circled with Trojan dames, on Iliumâs towâr: Her by her airy robe the Goddess held, And in the likeness of an aged dame
Who oft for her, in Sparta when she dwelt, Many a fair fleece had wrought, and lovâd her well, Addressâd her thus: âCome, Helen, to thy house; Come, Paris calls thee; in his chamber he Expects thee, resting on luxurious couch, In costly garb, with manly beauty gracâd: Not from the fight of warriors wouldst thou deem He late had come, but for the dance preparâd, Or resting from the danceâs pleasing toil.â
She said, and Helenâs spirit within her movâd; And when she saw the Goddessâ beauteous neck, Her lovely bosom, and her glowing eyes, She gazâd in wonder, and addressâd her thus: âOh why, great Goddess, make me thus thy sport?
Seekâst thou to bear me far away from hence To some fair Phrygian or Maeonian town, If there some mortal have thy favour gainâd?
Or, for that Menelaus in the field
Hath vanquishâd Paris, and is willing yet That I, his bane, should to his home return; Here art thou found, to weave again thy wiles!
Go then thyself! thy godship abdicate!
Renounce Olympus! lavish here on him
Thy pity and thy care! he may perchance Make thee his wifeâat least his paramour!
But thither go not I! foul shame it were Again to share his bed; the dames of Troy Will for a byword hold me; and eâen now My soul with endless sorrow is possessâd.â
To whom in anger heavânly Venus spoke: âIncense me not, poor fool! lest I in wrath Desert thee quite, and as I heretofore Have lovâd, so make thee object of my hate; And kindle, âtwixt the Trojans and the Greeks, Such bitter feuds, as both shall wreak on thee.â
She said; and trembled Helen, child of Jove; She rose in silence; in a snow-white veil All glittâring, shrouded; by the Goddess led She passâd, unnoticâd by the Trojan dames.
But when to Parisâ splendid house they came, Thronging around her, her attendants gave Their duteous service; through the lofty hall With queenly grace the godlike woman passâd.
A seat the laughter-loving Goddess placâd By Parisâ side; there Helen sat, the child Of aegis-bearing Jove, with downcast eyes, Yet with sharp words she thus addressâd her Lord: âBack from the battle? would thou there hadst died Beneath a warriorâs arm, whom once I callâd My husband! vainly didst thou boast erewhile Thine arm, thy dauntless courage, and thy spear The warlike Menelaus should subdue!
Go now again, and challenge to the fight The warlike Menelaus. Be thou ware!
I warn thee, pause, ere madly thou presume With fair-hairâd Menelaus to contend!
Soon shouldst thou fall beneath his conquâring spear.â
To whom thus Paris: âWring not thus my soul With keen reproaches: now, with Pallasâ aid, Hath Menelaus conquerâd; but my day
Will come: I too can boast my guardian Gods.
But turn we now to love, and loveâs delights; For never did thy beauty so inflame
My sense; not when from Lacedaemon first I bore thee in my ocean-going ships,
And revellâd in thy love on Cranaeâs isle, As now it fills my soul with fond desire.â
He said, and led her to the nuptial couch; Her Lord she followâd; and while there reclinâd Upon the richly-inlaid couch they lay, Atrides, like a lion baffled, rushâd
Amid the crowd, if haply he might find The godlike Paris; but not one of all
The Trojans and their brave allies could aid The warlike Menelaus in his search;
Not that, for love, would any one that knew Have screenâd him from his anger, for they all Abhorrâd him as the shade of death: then thus Outspoke great Agamemnon, King of men: âHear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and Allies!
With warlike Menelaus rests, âtis plain, The prize of victâry: then surrender ye The Argive Helen and the spoils of war, With compensation due to Greece, that so A record may to future days remain.â
Thus he; the Greeks, assenting, cheerâd his words.
ARGUMENT.
THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE.
The Gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon. In the mean time some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises, and others by reproofs. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides.
The same day continues through this, as through the last book; as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book. The scene is wholly in the field before Troy.
BOOK IV.
On golden pavement, round the board of Jove, The Gods were gatherâd; Hebe in the midst Pourâd the sweet nectar; they, in golden cups, Each other pledgâd, as down they lookâd on Troy.
Then Jove, with cutting words and taunting tone, Began the wrath of Juno to provoke:
âTwo Goddesses for Menelaus fight,
Thou, Juno, Queen of Argos, and with thee Minerva, shield of warriors; but ye two Sitting aloof, well-pleased it seems, look on; While laughter-loving Venus, at the side Of Paris standing, still averts his fate, And rescues, when, as now, expecting death.
To warlike Menelaus we decree,
Of right, the victâry; but consult we now What may the issue be; if we shall light Again the name of war and discord fierce, Or the two sides in peace and friendship join.
For me, if thus your genâral voice incline, Let Priamâs city stand, and Helen back To warlike Menelaus be restorâd.â
So spoke the God; but seated side by side, Juno and Pallas glances interchangâd
Of ill portent for Troy; Pallas indeed Sat silent; and, though inly wroth with Jove, Yet answerâd not a word; but Junoâs breast Could not contain her rage, and thus she spoke:
Comments (0)