The Iliad by Homer (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📕

As thus the King the serried ranks review’d, He came where thronging round their skilful chief Idomeneus, the warlike bands of Crete

Were arming for the fight; Idomeneus,

Of courage stubborn as the forest boar, The foremost ranks array’d; Meriones

The rearmost squadrons had in charge; with joy The monarch Agamemnon saw, and thus

With accents bland Idomeneus address’d: “Idomeneus, above all other Greeks,

In battle and elsewhere, I honour thee; And in the banquet, where the noblest mix The ruddy wine for chiefs alone reserved, Though others drink their share, yet by thy side Thy cup, like mine, still new replenished stands To drink at pleasure. Up then to the fight, And show thyself the warrior that thou art.”

To whom the Cretan King, Idomeneus:

“In me, Atrides, thou shalt ever find, As at the first I promis’d, comrade true; But go, and stir the other long-haired Greeks To speedy battle; since the Trojans now The truce have broken; and defeat and death Must wait on those who have their oaths forsworn.”

He said, and Agamemnon went his way

Rejoicing; through the crowd he pass’d, and came Where stood th’ Ajaces; them, in act to arm, Amid a cloud of infantry he found;

And as a goat-herd from his watch-tow’r crag Beholds a cloud advancing o’er the sea, By Zephyr’s breath impell’d; as from afar He gazes, black as pitch, it sweeps along O’er the dark ocean’s face, and with it brings A hurricane of rain; he, shudd’ring, sees, And drives his flock beneath the shelt’ring cave: So thick and dark, about th’ Ajaces stirr’d, Impatient for the war, the stalwart youths, Black masses, bristling close with spear and shield.

Well pleas’d, the monarch Agamemnon saw, And thus address’d them: “Valiant chiefs, to you, The leaders of the brass-clad Greeks, I give (‘Twere needless and unseemly) no commands; For well ye understand your troops to rouse To deeds of dauntless courage; would to Jove, To Pallas and Apollo, that such mind

As is in you, in all the camp were found; Then soon should Priam’s lofty city fall, Tak’n and destroy’d by our victorious hands.”

Thus saying, them he left, and onward mov’d.

Nestor, the smooth-tongu’d Pylian chief, he found The troops arraying, and to valiant deeds His friends encouraging; stout Pelagon, Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, warlike Prince, And Bias bold, his people’s sure defence.

In the front rank, with chariot and with horse, He plac’d the car-borne warriors; in the rear, Num’rous and brave, a cloud of infantry, Compactly mass’d, to stem the tide of war, Between the two he plac’d th’ inferior troops, That e’en against their will they needs must fight.

The horsemen first he charg’d, and bade them keep Their horses well in hand, nor wildly rush Amid the tumult: “See,” he said, “that none, In skill or valour over-confident,

Advance before his comrades, nor alone Retire; for so your lines were easier forc’d; But ranging each beside a hostile car, Thrust with your spears; for such the better way; By men so disciplin’d, in elder days

Were lofty walls and fenced towns destroy’d.”

Thus he, experienc’d in the wars of old; Well pleas’d, the monarch Agamemnon saw, And thus address’d him; “Would to Heav’n, old man, That, as thy spirit, such too were thy strength And vigour of thy limbs; but now old age, The common lot of mortals, weighs thee down; Would I could see some others in thy place, And thou couldst still be numbered with the young!”

To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:

“Atrides, I too fain would see restor’d The strength I once possess’d, what time I slew The godlike Ereuthalion; but the Gods

On man bestow not all their gifts at once; I then was young, and now am bow’d with age, Yet with the chariots can I still go forth, And aid with sage advice: for such the right And privilege of age; to hurl the spear Belongs to younger men, who after me

Were born, who boast their vigour unimpair’d.”

He said; and Agamemnon went his way,

Rejoicing: to Menestheus next he came, The son of Peteus, charioteer renown’d; Him found he, circled by th’ Athenian bands, The raisers of the war-cry; close beside The sage Ulysses stood, around him rang’d, Not unrenown’d, the Cephalonian troops: The sound of battle had not reach’d their ears; For but of late the Greek and Trojan hosts Were set in motion; they expecting stood, Till other Grecian columns should advance, Assail the Trojans, and renew the war.

Atrides saw, and thus, reproachful, spoke: “O son of Peteus, Heav’n-descended King!

And thou too, master of all tricky arts, Why, ling’ring, stand ye thus aloof, and wait For others coming? ye should be the first The hot assault of battle to confront; For ye are first my summons to receive, Whene’er the honour’d banquet we prepare: And well ye like to eat the sav’ry meat, And, at your will, the luscious wine-cups drain: Now stand ye here, and unconcern’d would see Ten columns pass before you to the fight.”

To whom, with stern regard, Ulysses thus: “What words have pass’d the barrier of thy lips, Atrides? how with want of warlike zeal Canst thou reproach us? when the Greeks again The furious war shall waken, thou shalt see (If that thou care to see) amid the ranks Of Troy, the father of Telemachus

In the fore-front: thy words are empty wind.”

Atrides saw him chafed, and smiling, thus Recalled his former words: “Ulysses sage, Laertes’ highborn son, not over-much

I give thee blame, or orders; for I know Thy mind to gentle counsels is inclin’d; Thy thoughts are one with mine; then come, henceforth Shall all be well; and if a hasty word Have pass’d, may Heaven regard it as unsaid.”

Thus saying, them he left, and onward mov’d.

The son of Tydeus, valiant Diomed,

Standing he found amid his warlike steeds And well-built cars; beside him, Sthenelus, The son of Capaneus; Atrides saw,

And thus address’d him with reproachful words: “Alas! thou son of Tydeus, wise and bold, Why crouch with fear? why thus appall’d survey The pass of war? not so had Tydeus crouch’d; His hand was ever ready from their foes To guard his comrades; so, at least, they say Whose eyes beheld his labours; I myself Nor met him e’er, nor saw; but, by report, Thy father was the foremost man of men.

A stranger to Mycenae once he came,

With godlike Polynices; not at war,

But seeking succour for the troops that lay Encamp’d before the sacred walls of Thebes; For reinforcements earnestly they sued; The boon they ask’d was granted them, but Jove With unpropitious omens turn’d them back.

Advancing on their journey, when they reach’d Asopus’ grassy banks and rushes deep,

The Greeks upon a mission Tydeus sent: He went; and many Thebans there he found Feasting in Eteocles’ royal hall:

Amid them all, a stranger and alone,

He stood unterrified, and challeng’d all To wrestle with him, and with ease o’erthrew: So mighty was the aid that Pallas gave.

Whereat indignant, they, on his return, An ambush set, of fifty chosen youths; Two were their leaders; Haemon’s godlike son, Maeon, and Lycophontes, warrior brave, Son of Autophonus; and these too far’d But ill at Tydeus’ hand; he slew them all: Maeon alone, obedient to the Gods,

He spar’d, and bade him bear the tidings home.

Such Tydeus was: though greater in debate, His son will never rival him in arms.”

He said: brave Diomed in silence heard, Submissive to the monarch’s stern rebuke; Then answer’d thus the son of Capaneus: “Atrides, speak not falsely: well thou know’st The truth, that we our fathers far surpass.

The seven-gated city, Thebes, we took, With smaller force beneath the wall of Mars, Trusting to heav’nly signs, and fav’ring Jove, Where they by blind, presumptuous folly fail’d; Then equal not our fathers’ deeds with ours.”

To whom thus Diomed, with stern regard: “Father, be silent; hearken to my words: I blame not Agamemnon, King of men,

Who thus to battle stirs the well-greav’d Greeks: His will the glory be if we o’ercome

The valiant Trojans, and their city take; Great too his loss if they o’er us prevail: Then come, let us too for the fight prepare.”

He said; and from the car leap’d down in arms: Fierce rang the armour on the warrior’s breast, That ev’n the stoutest heart might quail with fear.

As by the west wind driv’n, the ocean waves Dash forward on the far-resounding shore, Wave upon wave; first curls the ruffled sea With whit’ning crests; anon with thund’ring roar It breaks upon the beach, and from the crags Recoiling flings in giant curves its head Aloft, and tosses high the wild sea-spray: Column on column, so the hosts of Greece Pour’d, ceaseless, to the war; to each the chiefs Their orders gave; the rest in silence mov’d: Nor would ye deem that mighty mass endued With power of speech, so silently they moved In awe of their great captains: far around Flashed the bright armour they were girt withal.

On th’ other hand, the Trojans, as the flocks That in the court-yard of some wealthy Lord In countless numbers stand, at milking-time, Incessant bleating, as their lambs they hear; So rose their mingled clamours through the camp; For not one language nor one speech was there, But many nations call’d from distant lands: These Mars inspir’d, and those the blue-ey’d Maid; And Fear, and Flight, and Discord unappeas’d, Of blood-stain’d Mars the sister and the friend: “With humble crest at first, anon her head, “While yet she treads the earth, affronts the skies.

The gage of battle in the midst she threw, Strode through the crowd, and woe to mortals wrought.

When to the midst they came, together rush’d Bucklers and lances, and the furious might Of mail-clad warriors; bossy shield on shield Clatter’d in conflict; loud the clamour rose.

Then rose too mingled shouts and groans of men Slaying and slain; the earth ran red with blood.

As when, descending from the mountain’s brow, Two wintry torrents, from their copious source Pour downward to the narrow pass, where meet Their mingled waters in some deep ravine, Their weight of flood; on the far mountain’s side The shepherd hears the roar; so loud arose The shouts and yells of those commingling hosts.

First ‘mid the foremost ranks Antilochus A Trojan warrior, Echepolus, slew,

A crested chief, Thalesius’ noble son.

Beneath his horsehair-plumed helmet’s peak The sharp spear struck; deep in his forehead fix’d It pierc’d the bone; then darkness veil’d his eyes, And, like a tow’r, amid the press he fell.

Him Elephenor, brave Abantian chief,

Son of Chalcodon, seizing by the feet, Dragg’d from beneath the darts, in haste to strip His armour off; but short-liv’d was th’ attempt; For bold Agenor mark’d him as he drew

The corpse aside, and with his brass-tipp’d spear Thrust through his flank, unguarded, as he stoop’d, Beside his shield; and slack’d his limbs in death.

The spirit was fled; but hotly o’er him rag’d The war of Greeks and Trojans; fierce as wolves They fought, man struggling hand to hand with man.

Then Ajax Telamon a stalwart youth,

Son of Anthemion, Simoisius, slew;

Whose mother gave him birth on Simois’ banks, When with her parents down from Ida’s heights She drove her flock; thence Simoisius nam’d: Not destined he his parents to repay

Their early care; for short his term of life, By godlike Ajax’ mighty spear subdued.

Him, to the front advancing, in the breast, By the right nipple, Ajax struck; right through, From front to back, the brass-tipp’d spear was driv’n, Out through the