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

For in that day he vainly hop’d to take The town of Priam; ignorant what Jove

Design’d in secret, or what woes, what groans, What lengthen’d labours in the stubborn fight, Were yet for Trojans and for Greeks in store.

He woke from sleep; but o’er his senses spread Dwelt still the heavenly voice; he sat upright; He donn’d his vest of texture fine, new-wrought, Then o’er it threw his ample robe, and bound His sandals fair around his well-turn’d feet; And o’er his shoulders flung his sword, adorn’d With silver studs; and bearing in his hand His royal staff, ancestral, to the ships Where lay the brass-clad warriors, bent his way.

Aurora now was rising up the steep

Of great Olympus, to th’ immortal Gods Pure light diffusing; when Atrides bade The clear-voic’d heralds to th’ Assembly call The gen’ral host; they gave the word, and straight From ev’ry quarter throng’d the eager crowd.

But first, of all the Elders, by the side Of Nestor’s ship, the aged Pylian chief, A secret conclave Agamemnon call’d;

And, prudent, thus the chosen few address’d: “Hear me, my friends! In the still hours of night I saw a heav’nly Vision in my sleep:

Most like it seemed in stature, form, and face To rev’rend Nestor; at my head it stood, And with these words address’d me—‘Sleep’st thou, son Of Atreus, valiant warrior, horseman bold?

To sleep all night but ill becomes a chief, Charg’d with the public weal, and cares of state.

Hear now the words I bear: to thee I come A messenger from Jove, who from on high Looks down on thee with eyes of pitying love.

He bids thee arm in haste the long-hair’d Greeks To combat: since the wide-built streets of Troy Thou now may’st capture; for th’ immortal Gods Watch over her no longer: all are gain’d By Juno’s pray’rs, and woes impend o’er Troy.

Bear thou my words in mind.’ Thus as he spoke He vanish’d; and sweet sleep forsook mine eyes.

Seek we then straight to arm the sons of Greece: But first, as is our wont, myself will prove The spirit of the army; and suggest

Their homeward voyage; ye, throughout the camp Restore their courage, and restrain from flight.”

Thus having said, he sat; and next arose Nestor, the chief of Pylos’ sandy shore.

Who thus with prudent speech replied, and said: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, If any other had this Vision seen,

We should have deem’d it false, and laugh’d to scorn The idle tale; but now it hath appear’d, Of all our army, to the foremost man:

Seek we then straight to arm the sons of Greece.”

He said, and from the council led the way.

Uprose the sceptred monarchs, and obey’d Their leader’s call, and round them throng’d the crowd.

As swarms of bees, that pour in ceaseless stream From out the crevice of some hollow rock, Now clust’ring, and anon ‘mid vernal flow’rs, Some here, some there, in busy numbers fly; So to th’ Assembly from their tents and ships The countless tribes came thronging; in their midst, By Jove enkindled, Rumour urged them on.

Great was the din; and as the mighty mass Sat down, the solid earth beneath them groan’d; Nine heralds rais’d their voices loud, to quell The storm of tongues, and bade the noisy crowd Be still, and listen to the Heav’n-born Kings.

At length they all were seated, and awhile Their clamours sank to silence; then uprose The monarch Agamemnon, in his hand

His royal staff, the work of Vulcan’s art; Which Vulcan to the son of Saturn gave; To Hermes he, the heav’nly messenger;

Hermes to Pelops, matchless charioteer; Pelops to Atreus; Atreus at his death

Bequeath’d it to Thyestes, wealthy Lord Of num’rous herds; to Agamemnon last

Thyestes left it; token of his sway

O’er all the Argive coast, and neighbouring isles.

On this the monarch leant, as thus he spoke: “Friends, Grecian Heroes, Ministers of Mars!

Grievous, and all unlook’d for, is the blow Which Jove hath dealt me; by his promise led I hop’d to raze the strong-built walls of Troy, And home return in safety; but it seems He falsifies his word, and bids me now Return to Argos, frustrate of my hope, Dishonour’d, and with grievous loss of men.

Such now appears th’ o’erruling sov’reign will Of Saturn’s son; who oft hath sunk the heads Of many a lofty city in the dust,

And yet will sink; for mighty is his hand.

‘Tis shame indeed that future days should hear How such a force as ours, so great, so brave, Hath thus been baffled, fighting, as we do, ‘Gainst numbers far inferior to our own, And see no end of all our warlike toil.

For should we choose, on terms of plighted truce, Trojans and Greeks, to number our array; Of Trojans, all that dwell within the town, And we, by tens disposed, to every ten, To crown our cups, one Trojan should assign, Full many a ten no cupbearer would find: So far the sons of Greece outnumber all That dwell within the town; but to their aid Bold warriors come from all the cities round, Who greatly harass me, and render vain My hope to storm the strong-built walls of Troy.

Already now nine weary years have pass’d; The timbers of our ships are all decay’d, The cordage rotted; in our homes the while Our wives and helpless children sit, in vain Expecting our return; and still the work, For which we hither came, remains undone.

Hear then my counsel; let us all agree Home to direct our course, since here in vain We strive to take the well-built walls of Troy.”

Thus as he spoke, the crowd, that had not heard The secret council, by his words was mov’d; So sway’d and heav’d the multitude, as when O’er the vast billows of th’ Icarian sea Eurus and Notus from the clouds of Heav’n Pour forth their fury; or as some deep field Of wavy corn, when sweeping o’er the plain The ruffling west wind sways the bending ears; So was th’ Assembly stirr’d; and tow’rd the ships With clam’rous joy they rush’d; beneath, their feet Rose clouds of dust, while one to other call’d To seize the ships and drag them to the main.

They clear’d the channels, and with shouts of “home”

That rose to Heav’n, they knock’d the shores away.

Then had the Greeks in shameful flight withdrawn, Had Juno not to Pallas thus appeal’d:

“Oh Heav’n! brave child of aegis-bearing Jove, Shall thus the Greeks, in ignominious flight, O’er the wide sea their homeward course pursue, And as a trophy to the sons of Troy

The Argive Helen leave, on whose account, Far from their home, so many valiant Greeks Have cast their lives away? Go quickly thou Amid the brass-clad Greeks, and man by man Address with words persuasive, nor permit To launch their well-trimm’d vessels on the deep.”

She said, nor did Minerva not obey,

But swift descending from Olympus’ heights With rapid flight she reach’d the Grecian ships.

Laertes’ son, in council sage as Jove

There found she standing; he no hand had laid On his dark vessel, for with bitter grief His heart was filled; the blue-ey’d Maid approach’d, And thus address’d him: “Great Laertes’ son, Ulysses, sage in council, can it be

That you, the men of Greece, embarking thus On your swift ships, in ignominious flight, O’er the wide sea will take your homeward way, And as a trophy to the sons of Troy

The Argive Helen leave, on whose account Far from their homes so many valiant Greeks Have cast their lives away? Go quickly thou Among the multitude, and man by man

Address with words persuasive, nor permit To launch their well-trimm’d vessels on the deep.”

She said; the heav’nly voice Ulysses knew; Straight, springing to the course, he cast aside, And to Eurybates of Ithaca,

His herald and attendant, threw his robe; Then to Atrides hasten’d, and by him

Arm’d with his royal staff ancestral, pass’d With rapid step amid the ships of Greece.

Each King or leader whom he found he thus With cheering words encourag’d and restrain’d: “O gallant friend, ‘tis not for thee to yield, Like meaner men, to panic; but thyself Sit quiet, and the common herd restrain.

Thou know’st not yet Atrides’ secret mind: He tries us now, and may reprove us soon.

His words in council reach’d not all our ears: See that he work us not some ill; for fierce His anger; and the Lord of counsel, Jove, From whom proceeds all honour, loves him well.”

But of the common herd whome’er he found Clam’ring, he check’d with staff and threat’ning words: “Good friend, keep still, and hear what others say, Thy betters far: for thou art good for nought, Of small account in council or in fight.

All are not sovereigns here: ill fares the state Where many masters rule; let one be Lord, One King supreme; to whom wise Saturn’s son In token of his sov’reign power hath giv’n The sceptre’s sway and ministry of law.”

Such were his words, as through the ranks he pass’d: They from the vessels and the tents again Throng’d to th’ Assembly, with such rush of sound, As when the many-dashing ocean’s wave

Breaks on the shore, and foams the frothing sea.

The others all were settled in their seats: Only Thersites, with unmeasur’d words, Of which he had good store, to rate the chiefs, Not over-seemly, but wherewith he thought To move the crowd to laughter, brawl’d aloud.

The ugliest man was he who came to Troy: With squinting eyes, and one distorted foot, His shoulders round, and buried in his breast His narrow head, with scanty growth of hair.

Against Achilles and Ulysses most

His hate was turn’d; on them his venom pour’d; Anon, at Agamemnon’s self he launch’d

His loud-tongued ribaldry; ‘gainst him he knew Incensed the public mind; and bawling loud, [1]

With scurril words, he thus address’d the King: “What more, thou son of Atreus, would’st thou have?

Thy tents are full of brass; and in those tents Many fair women, whom, from all the spoil, We Greeks, whene’er some wealthy town we take, Choose first of all, and set apart for thee.

Or dost thou thirst for gold, which here perchance Some Trojan brings, the ransom of his son Captur’d by me, or by some other Greek?

Or some new girl, to gratify thy lust, Kept for thyself apart? a leader, thou Shouldst not to evil lead the sons of Greece.

Ye slaves! ye coward souls! Women of Greece!

I will not call you men! why go we not Home with our ships, and leave this mighty chief To gloat upon his treasures, and find out Whether in truth he need our aid, or no; Who on Achilles, his superior far,

Foul scorn hath cast, and robb’d him of his prize, Which for himself he keeps? Achilles, sure, Is not intemperate, but mild of mood;

Else, Atreus’ son, this insult were thy last.”

On Agamemnon, leader of the host,

With words like these Thersites pour’d his hate; But straight Ulysses at his side appear’d, And spoke, with scornful glance, in stern rebuke: “Thou babbling fool, Thersites, prompt of speech, Restrain thy tongue, nor singly thus presume The Kings to slander; thou, the meanest far Of all that with the Atridae came to Troy.

Ill it beseems, that such an one as thou Should lift thy voice against the Kings, and rail With scurril ribaldry, and prate of home.

How these affairs may end, we know not yet; Nor how, or well or ill, we may return.

Cease then against Atrides, King of men, To pour thy spite, for that the valiant Greeks To him, despite thy