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

And cover’d over with a fair white sheet.

All night around Achilles swift of foot The Myrmidons with tears Patroclus mourn’d.

To Juno then, his sister and his wife, Thus Saturn’s son: “At length thou hast thy will, Imperial Juno, who hast stirr’d to war Achilles swift of foot; well might one deem These long-hair’d Greeks from thee deriv’d their birth.”

To whom in answer thus the stag-ey’d Queen: “What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak?

E’en man, though mortal, and inferior far To us in wisdom, might so much effect

Against his fellow-man; then how should I, By double title chief of Goddesses,

First by my birth, and next because thy wife I boast me, thine, o’er all the Gods supreme, Not work my vengeance on the Trojan race?”

Such, converse while they held, to Vulcan’s house, Immortal, starlike bright, among the Gods Unrivall’d, all of brass, by Vulcan’s self Constructed, sped the silver-footed Queen.

Him swelt’ring at his forge she found, intent On forming twenty tripods, which should stand The wall surrounding of his well-built house; With golden wheels beneath he furnish’d each, And to th’ assembly of the Gods endued With pow’r to move spontaneous, and return, A marvel to behold! thus far his work

He had completed; but not yet had fix’d The rich-wrought handles; these his labour now Engag’d, to fit them, and to rivet fast.

While thus he exercis’d his practis’d skill, The silver-footed Queen approach’d the house.

Charis, the skilful artist’s wedded wife, Beheld her coming, and advanc’d to meet; And, as her hand she clasp’d, address’d her thus: “Say, Thetis of the flowing robe, belov’d And honour’d, whence this visit to our house, An unaccustom’d guest? but come thou in, That I may welcome thee with honour due.”

Thus, as she spoke, the Goddess led her in, And on a seat with silver studs adorn’d, Fair, richly wrought, a footstool at her feet, She bade her sit; then thus to Vulcan call’d: “Haste hither, Vulcan; Thetis asks thine aid.”

Whom answer’d thus the skill’d artificer: “An honour’d and a venerated guest

Our house contains; who sav’d me once from woe, When by my mother’s act from Heav’n I fell, Who, for that I was crippled in my feet, Deem’d it not shame to hide me: hard had then My fortune been, had not Eurynome

And Thetis in their bosoms shelter’d me; Eurynome, from old Oceanus

Who drew her birth, the ever-circling flood.

Nine years with them I dwelt, and many a work I fashion’d there of metal, clasps, and chains Of spiral coil, rich cups, and collars fair, Hid in a cave profound; where th’ ocean stream With ceaseless murmur foam’d and moan’d around; Unknown to God or man, but to those two Who sav’d me, Thetis and Eurynome.

Now to my house hath fair-hair’d Thetis come; To her, my life preserv’d its tribute owes: Then thou the hospitable rites perform.

While I my bellows and my tools lay by.”

He said, and from the anvil rear’d upright His massive strength; and as he limp’d along, His tottering knees were bow’d beneath his weight.

The bellows from the fire he next withdrew, And in a silver casket plac’d his tools; Then with a sponge his brows and lusty arms He wip’d, and sturdy neck and hairy chest.

He donn’d his robe, and took his weighty staff; Then through the door with halting step he pass’d; There waited on their King the attendant maids; In form as living maids, but wrought in gold; Instinct with consciousness, with voice endued, And strength, and skill from heav’nly teachers drawn.

These waited, duteous, at the Monarch’s side, His steps supporting; he, with halting gait, Pass’d to a gorgeous chair by Thetis’ side, And, as her hand he clasp’d, address’d her thus: “Say, Thetis of the flowing robe, belov’d And honour’d, whence this visit to our house.

An unaccustom’d guest? say what thy will, And, if within my pow’r, esteem it done.”

To whom in answer Thetis, weeping, thus: “Vulcan, of all the Goddesses who dwell On high Olympus, lives there one whose soul Hath borne such weight of woe, so many griefs, As Saturn’s son hath heap’d on me alone?

Me, whom he chose from all the sea-born nymphs, And gave to Peleus, son of AEacus,

His subject; I endur’d a mortal’s bed, Though sore against my will; he now, bent down By feeble age, lies helpless in his house.

Now adds he farther grief; he granted me To bear, and rear, a son, of heroes chief; Like a young tree he throve; I tended him, In a rich vineyard as the choicest plant: Till in the beaked ships I sent him forth To war with Troy; him ne’er shall I receive, Returning home, in aged Peleus’ house.

E’en while he lives, and sees the light of day, He lives in sorrow; nor, to soothe his grief, My presence can avail; a girl, his prize, Selected for him by the sons of Greece, Great Agamemnon wrested from his arms: In grief and rage he pin’d his soul away; Then by the Trojans were the Greeks hemm’d in Beside their ships, and from within their camp No outlet found; the Grecian Elders then Implor’d his aid, and promis’d costly gifts.

With his own hand to save them he refus’d; But, in his armour clad, to battle sent His friend Patroclus, with a num’rous band.

All day they fought before the Scaean* gates; And in that day had Ilium been destroy’d, But in the van, Menoetius’ noble son.

After great deeds achiev’d, Apollo slew, And crown’d with glory Hector, Priam’s son.

Therefore a suppliant to thy knees I come, If to my son, to early death condemn’d, Thou wilt accord the boon of shield and helm, And well-wrought greaves with silver clasps secur’d, And breastplate; for his own, his faithful friend, By Trojan hands subdued, hath lost; and he, O’erwhelm’d with grief, lies prostrate on the earth.”

Whom answer’d thus the skill’d artificer: “Take comfort, nor let this disturb thy mind; Would that as surely, when his hour shall come, I could defend him from the stroke of death, As I can undertake that his shall be

Such arms as they shall marvel who behold.”

He left her thus, and to his forge return’d; The bellows then directing to the fire, He bade them work; through twenty pipes at once Forthwith they pour’d their diverse-temper’d blasts; Now briskly seconding his eager haste, Now at his will, and as the work requir’d.

The stubborn brass, and tin, and precious gold, And silver, first he melted in the fire, Then on its stand his weighty anvil plac’d; And with one hand the hammer’s pond’rous weight He wielded, while the other grasp’d the tongs.

And first a shield he fashion’d, vast and strong, With rich adornment; circled with a rim, Threefold, bright-gleaming, whence a silver belt Depended; of five folds the shield was form’d; And on its surface many a rare design

Of curious art his practis’d skill had wrought.

Thereon were figur’d earth, and sky, and sea, The ever-circling sun, and full-orb’d moon, And all the signs that crown the vault of Heav’n; Pleiads and Hyads, and Orion’s might,

And Arctos, call’d the Wain, who wheels on high His circling course, and on Orion waits; Sole star that never bathes in th’ ocean wave.

And two fair populous towns were sculptur’d there; In one were marriage pomp and revelry.

And brides, in gay procession, through the streets With blazing torches from their chambers borne, While frequent rose the hymeneal song.

Youths whirl’d around in joyous dance, with sound Of flute and harp; and, standing at their doors, Admiring women on the pageant gaz’d.

Meanwhile a busy throng the forum fill’d: There between two a fierce contention rose, About a death-fine; to the public one

Appeal’d, asserting to have paid the whole; While one denied that he had aught receiv’d.

Both were desirous that before the Judge The issue should be tried; with noisy shouts Their several partisans encourag’d each.

The heralds still’d the tumult of the crowd: On polish’d chairs, in solemn circle, sat The rev’rend Elders; in their hands they held The loud-voic’d heralds’ sceptres; waving these, They heard th’ alternate pleadings; in the midst Two talents lay of gold, which he should take Who should before them prove his righteous cause.

Before the second town two armies lay, In arms refulgent; to destroy the town Th’ assailants threaten’d, or among themselves Of all the wealth within the city stor’d An equal half, as ransom, to divide.

The terms rejecting, the defenders mann’d A secret ambush; on the walls they plac’d Women and children muster’d for defence, And men by age enfeebled; forth they went, By Mars and Pallas led; these, wrought in gold, In golden arms array’d, above the crowd For beauty and stature, as befitting Gods, Conspicuous shone; of lesser height the rest.

But when the destin’d ambuscade was reach’d, Beside the river, where the shepherds drove Their flocks and herds to water, down they lay, In glitt’ring arms accoutred; and apart They plac’d two spies, to notify betimes Th’ approach of flocks of sheep and lowing herds.

These, in two shepherds’ charge, ere long appear’d, Who, unsuspecting as they mov’d along, Enjoy’d the music of their past’ral pipes.

They on the booty, from afar discern’d, Sprang from their ambuscade; and cutting off The herds, and fleecy flocks, their guardians slew.

Their comrades heard the tumult, where they sat Before their sacred altars, and forthwith Sprang on their cars, and with fast-stepping steeds Pursued the plund’rers, and o’ertook them soon.

There on the river’s bank they met in arms, And each at other hurl’d their brazen spears.

And there were figur’d Strife, and Tumult wild, And deadly Fate, who in her iron grasp One newly-wounded, one unwounded bore, While by the feet from out the press she dragg’d Another slain: about her shoulders hung A garment crimson’d with the blood of men.

Like living men they seem’d to move, to fight, To drag away the bodies of the slain.

And there was grav’n a wide-extended plain Of fallow land, rich, fertile, mellow soil, Thrice plough’d; where many ploughmen up and down Their teams were driving; and as each attain’d The limit of the field, would one advance, And tender him a cup of gen’rous wine: Then would he turn, and to the end again Along the furrow cheerly drive his plough.

And still behind them darker show’d the soil, The true presentment of a new-plough’d field, Though wrought in gold; a miracle of art.

There too was grav’n a corn-field, rich in grain, Where with sharp sickles reapers plied their task, And thick, in even swathe, the trusses fell; The binders, following close, the bundles tied: Three were the binders; and behind them boys In close attendance waiting, in their arms Gather’d the bundles, and in order pil’d.

Amid them, staff in hand, in silence stood The King, rejoicing in the plenteous swathe.

A little way remov’d, the heralds slew A sturdy ox, and now beneath an oak

Prepar’d the feast; while women mix’d, hard by, White barley porridge for the lab’rers’ meal.

And, with rich clusters laden, there was grav’n A vineyard fair, all gold; of glossy black The bunches were, on silver poles sustain’d; Around, a darksome trench; beyond, a fence Was wrought, of shining tin; and through it led One only path, by which the bearers pass’d, Who gather’d in the vineyard’s bounteous store.

There maids and youths, in joyous spirits