Iliad Book 1
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Transcript of Iliad Book 1
The Iliad (Book 1)
by Homer(Translated by Alexander Pope)
Book 1ā¢ Achillesā wrath, to Greece the direful springā¢ Of woes unnumberād, heavenly goddess, sing!ā¢ That wrath which hurlād to Plutoās gloomy reignā¢ The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;ā¢ Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,ā¢ Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.ā¢ Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,ā¢ Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!ā¢ Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour ā¢ Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power
Book 1ā¢ Latonaās son a dire contagion spread,ā¢ And heapād the camp with mountains of the dead;ā¢ The king of men his reverent priest defied,ā¢ And for the kingās offence the people died.ā¢ For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gainā¢ His captive daughter from the victorās chain.ā¢ Suppliant the venerable father stands;ā¢ Apolloās awful ensigns grace his handsā¢ By these he begs; and lowly bending down,ā¢ Extends the sceptre and the laurel crownā¢ He sued to all, but chief implored for grace
Book 1ā¢ The brother-kings, of Atreusā royal raceā¢ āYe kings and warriors! may your vows be crownād,ā¢ And Troyās proud walls lie level with the ground.ā¢ May Jove restore you when your toils are oāerā¢ Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.ā¢ But, oh! relieve a wretched parentās pain,ā¢ And give Chryseis to these arms again;ā¢ If mercy fail, yet let my presents move,ā¢ And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.āā¢ The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare,ā¢ The priest to reverence, and release the fair.
Book 1ā¢ Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,ā¢ Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied:ā¢ āHence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains,ā¢ Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detainsā¢ Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod,ā¢ Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god.ā¢ Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain;ā¢ And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain;ā¢ Till time shall rifle every youthful grace,ā¢ And age dismiss her from my cold embrace,ā¢ In daily labours of the loom employād,
Book 1ā¢ Or doomād to deck the bed she once enjoyādā¢ Hence then; to Argos shall the maid retire,ā¢ Far from her native soil and weeping sire.āā¢ The trembling priest along the shore returnād,ā¢ And in the anguish of a father mournād.ā¢ Disconsolate, not daring to complain,ā¢ Silent he wanderād by the sounding main;ā¢ Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays,ā¢ The god who darts around the world his rays.ā¢ āO Smintheus! sprung from fair Latonaās line,ā¢ Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,
Book 1ā¢ Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores,ā¢ And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysaās shores.ā¢ If eāer with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane, ā¢ Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain;ā¢ God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,ā¢ Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy.āā¢ Thus Chryses prayād.ā the favouring power attends,ā¢ And from Olympusā lofty tops descends.ā¢ Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound; ā¢ Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound.ā¢ Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread,
Book 1ā¢ And gloomy darkness rollād about his head.ā¢ The fleet in view, he twangād his deadly bow,ā¢ And hissing fly the featherād fates below.ā¢ On mules and dogs the infection first began; ā¢ And last, the vengeful arrows fixād in man.ā¢ For nine long nights, through all the dusky air,ā¢ The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare.ā¢ But ere the tenth revolving day was run,ā¢ Inspired by Juno, Thetisā godlike sonā¢ Convened to council all the Grecian train;ā¢ For much the goddess mournād her heroes slain.
Book 1ā¢ The assembly seated, rising oāer the rest,ā¢ Achilles thus the king of men addressād:ā¢ āWhy leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,ā¢ And measure back the seas we crossād before?ā¢ The plague destroying whom the sword would spare,ā¢ āTis time to save the few remains of war.ā¢ But let some prophet, or some sacred sage,ā¢ Explore the cause of great Apolloās rage;ā¢ Or learn the wasteful vengeance to removeā¢ By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove. ā¢ If broken vows this heavy curse have laid,
Book 1ā¢ Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid.ā¢ So Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece restore,ā¢ And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more.āā¢ He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied;ā¢ Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide,ā¢ That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view,ā¢ The past, the present, and the future knew:ā¢ Uprising slow, the venerable sageā¢ Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age:ā¢ āBeloved of Jove, Achilles! wouldāst thou knowā¢ Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow?
Book 1ā¢ First give thy faith, and plight a princeās wordā¢ Of sure protection, by thy power and sword:ā¢ For I must speak what wisdom would conceal,ā¢ And truths, invidious to the great, reveal,ā¢ Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise,ā¢ Instruct a monarch where his error lies;ā¢ For though we deem the short-lived fury past,ā¢ āTis sure the mighty will revenge at last.āā¢ To whom Pelides:āāFrom thy inmost soulā¢ Speak what thou knowāst, and speak without control.ā¢ Eāen by that god I swear who rules the day,
Book 1ā¢ To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey.ā¢ And whose blessād oracles thy lips declare;ā¢ Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,ā¢ No daring Greek, of all the numerous band,ā¢ Against his priest shall lift an impious hand;ā¢ Not eāen the chief by whom our hosts are led,ā¢ The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head.āā¢ Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies:ā¢ āNor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice,ā¢ But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest,ā¢ Apolloās vengeance for his injured priest.
Book 1ā¢ Nor will the godās awakenād fury cease,ā¢ But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,ā¢ Till the great king, without a ransom paid,ā¢ To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid. ā¢ Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer,ā¢ The priest may pardon, and the god may spare.āā¢ The prophet spoke: when with a gloomy frownā¢ The monarch started from his shining throne;ā¢ Black choler fillād his breast that boilād with ire,ā¢ And from his eye-balls flashād the living fire:ā¢ āAugur accursed! denouncing mischief still,
Book 1ā¢ Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill!ā¢ Still must that tongue some wounding message bring,ā¢ And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king?ā¢ For this are Phoebusā oracles explored,ā¢ To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord?ā¢ For this with falsehood is my honour stainād,ā¢ Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned;ā¢ Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold,ā¢ And heavenly charms prefer to profferād gold?ā¢ A maid, unmatchād in manners as in face,ā¢ Skillād in each art, and crownād with every grace;
Book 1ā¢ Not half so dear were Clytaemnestraās charms,ā¢ When first her blooming beauties blessād my arms.ā¢ Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail;ā¢ Our cares are only for the public weal:ā¢ Let me be deemād the hateful cause of all,ā¢ And suffer, rather than my people fall.ā¢ The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign,ā¢ So dearly valued, and so justly mine.ā¢ But since for common good I yield the fair,ā¢ My private loss let grateful Greece repair;ā¢ Nor unrewarded let your prince complain,ā¢ That he alone has fought and bled in vain.āā¢ āInsatiate king (Achilles thus replies),ā¢ Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize!ā¢ Wouldāst thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield,ā¢ The due reward of many a well-fought field?ā¢ The spoils of cities razed and warriors slain,ā¢ We share with justice, as with toil we gain;ā¢ But to resume whateāer thy avarice cravesā¢ (That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves.ā¢ Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,ā¢ The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite,ā¢ Wheneāer, by Joveās decree, our conquering powersā¢ Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers.āā¢ Then thus the king: āShall I my prize resignā¢ With tame content, and thou possessād of thine?ā¢ Great as thou art, and like a god in fight,ā¢ Think not to rob me of a soldierās right.ā¢ At thy demand shall I restore the maid?ā¢ First let the just equivalent be paid;ā¢ Such as a king might ask; and let it beā¢ A treasure worthy her, and worthy me.ā¢ Or grant me this, or with a monarchās claimā¢ This hand shall seize some other captive dame.ā¢ The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign;
Book 1ā¢ Ulyssesā spoils, or even thy own, be mine.ā¢ The man who suffers, loudly may complain;ā¢ And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain.ā¢ But this when time requires.ā It now remainsā¢ We launch a bark to plough the watery plains,ā¢ And waft the sacrifice to Chrysaās shores,ā¢ With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars.ā¢ Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend,ā¢ And some deputed prince the charge attend:ā¢ This Cretaās king, or Ajax shall fulfil,ā¢ Or wise Ulysses see performād our will;
Book 1ā¢ Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,ā¢ Achillesā self conduct her oāer the main;ā¢ Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,ā¢ The god propitiate, and the pest assuage.āā¢ At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied:ā¢ āO tyrant, armād with insolence and pride!ā¢ Inglorious slave to interest, ever joinādā¢ With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind!ā¢ What generous Greek, obedient to thy word,ā¢ Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword?ā¢ What cause have I to war at thy decree?
Book 1ā¢ The distant Trojans never injured me;ā¢ To Phthiaās realms no hostile troops they led:ā¢ Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed;ā¢ Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main,ā¢ And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,ā¢ Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace,ā¢ Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.ā¢ Hither we sailād, a voluntary throng,ā¢ To avenge a private, not a public wrong:ā¢ What else to Troy the assembled nations draws,ā¢ But thine, ungrateful, and thy brotherās cause?
Book 1ā¢ Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve;ā¢ Disgraced and injured by the man we serve?ā¢ And darest thou threat to snatch my prize away,ā¢ Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day?ā¢ A prize as small, O tyrant! matchād with thine,ā¢ As thy own actions if compared to mine.ā¢ Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey,ā¢ Though mine the sweat and danger of the day.ā¢ Some trivial present to my ships I bear:ā¢ Or barren praises pay the wounds of war.ā¢ But know, proud monarch, Iām thy slave no more;
Book 1ā¢ My fleet shall waft me to Thessaliaās shore:ā¢ Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain,ā¢ What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?āā¢ To this the king: āFly, mighty warrior! fly;ā¢ Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy.ā¢ There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight,ā¢ And Jove himself shall guard a monarchās right.ā¢ Of all the kings (the godās distinguishād care)ā¢ To power superior none such hatred bear:ā¢ Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,ā¢ And wars and horrors are thy savage joy,
Book 1ā¢ If thou hast strength, ātwas Heaven that strength bestowād;ā¢ For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.ā¢ Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away;ā¢ Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway;ā¢ I heed thee not, but prize at equal rateā¢ Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate.ā¢ Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:ā but here ā¢ āTis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear.ā¢ Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand,ā¢ My bark shall waft her to her native land;ā¢ But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare,
Book 1ā¢ Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair:ā¢ Even in thy tent Iāll seize the blooming prize,ā¢ Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes.ā¢ Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hourā¢ Thou stoodāst a rival of imperial power;ā¢ And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known,ā¢ That kings are subject to the gods alone.āā¢ Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppressād,ā¢ His heart swellād high, and labourād in his breast;ā¢ Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled;ā¢ Now fired by wrath, and now by reason coolād:
Book 1ā¢ That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword,ā¢ Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord;ā¢ This whispers soft his vengeance to control,ā¢ And calm the rising tempest of his soul.ā¢ Just as in anguish of suspense he stayād,ā¢ While half unsheathed appearād the glittering blade, ā¢ Minerva swift descended from above,ā¢ Sent by the sister and the wife of Joveā¢ (For both the princes claimād her equal care);ā¢ Behind she stood, and by the golden hairā¢ Achilles seized; to him alone confessād;
Book 1ā¢ A sable cloud concealād her from the rest.ā¢ He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries,ā¢ Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes:ā¢ āDescends Minerva, in her guardian care,ā¢ A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bearā¢ From Atreusā son?ā Then let those eyes that viewā¢ The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.āā¢ āForbear (the progeny of Jove replies)ā¢ To calm thy fury I forsake the skies:ā¢ Let great Achilles, to the gods resignād,ā¢ To reason yield the empire oāer his mind.
Book 1ā¢ By awful Juno this command is given;ā¢ The king and you are both the care of heaven.ā¢ The force of keen reproaches let him feel;ā¢ But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel.ā¢ For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power)ā¢ Thy injured honour has its fated hour,ā¢ When the proud monarch shall thy arms imploresā¢ And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store.ā¢ Then let revenge no longer bear the sway;ā¢ Command thy passions, and the gods obey.āā¢ To her Pelides:āāWith regardful ear,
Book 1ā¢ āTis just, O goddess! I thy dictates hear.ā¢ Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress:ā¢ Those who revere the gods the gods will bless.āā¢ He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid;ā¢ Then in the sheath returnād the shining blade.ā¢ The goddess swift to high Olympus flies,ā¢ And joins the sacred senate of the skies.ā¢ Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook,ā¢ Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke:ā¢ āO monster! mixād of insolence and fear,ā¢ Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer!
Book 1ā¢ When wert thou known in ambushād fights to dare,ā¢ Or nobly face the horrid front of war?ā¢ āTis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try;ā¢ Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die:ā¢ So much ātis safer through the camp to go,ā¢ And rob a subject, than despoil a foe.ā¢ Scourge of thy people, violent and base!ā¢ Sent in Joveās anger on a slavish race;ā¢ Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past,ā¢ Are tamed to wrongs;ā or this had been thy last.ā¢ Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear,
Book 1ā¢ Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear,ā¢ Which severād from the trunk (as I from thee)ā¢ On the bare mountains left its parent tree;ā¢ This sceptre, formād by temperād steel to proveā¢ An ensign of the delegates of Jove,ā¢ From whom the power of laws and justice springsā¢ (Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings);ā¢ By this I swear:ā when bleeding Greece againā¢ Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain.ā¢ When, flushād with slaughter, Hector comes to spreadā¢ The purpled shore with mountains of the dead,
Book 1ā¢ Then shall thou mourn the affront thy madness gave,ā¢ Forced to deplore when impotent to save:ā¢ Then rage in bitterness of soul to knowā¢ This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.āā¢ He spoke; and furious hurlād against the groundā¢ His sceptre starrād with golden studs around:ā¢ Then sternly silent sat. With like disdainā¢ The raging king returnād his frowns again.ā¢ To calm their passion with the words of age,ā¢ Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage,ā¢ Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skillād;
Book 1ā¢ Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distillād: ā¢ Two generations now had passād away,ā¢ Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway;ā¢ Two ages oāer his native realm he reignād,ā¢ And now the example of the third remainād.ā¢ All viewād with awe the venerable man;ā¢ Who thus with mild benevolence began:āā¢ āWhat shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joyā¢ To Troyās proud monarch, and the friends of Troy!ā¢ That adverse gods commit to stern debateā¢ The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state.
Book 1ā¢ Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain,ā¢ Nor think your Nestorās years and wisdom vain.ā¢ A godlike race of heroes once I knew,ā¢ Such as no more these aged eyes shall view!ā¢ Lives there a chief to match Pirithousā fame,ā¢ Dryas the bold, or Ceneusā deathless name;ā¢ Theseus, endued with more than mortal might,ā¢ Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight?ā¢ With these of old, to toils of battle bred,ā¢ In early youth my hardy days I led;ā¢ Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds,ā¢ And smit with love of honourable deeds,ā¢ Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar,ā¢ Ranged the wild deserts red with monstersā gore,ā¢ And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore:ā¢ Yet these with soft persuasive arts I swayād;ā¢ When Nestor spoke, they listenād and obeyād.ā¢ If in my youth, even these esteemād me wise;ā¢ Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.ā¢ Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave;ā¢ That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave:ā¢ Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride;ā¢ Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside.ā¢ Thee, the first honours of the war adorn,ā¢ Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born;ā¢ Him, awful majesty exalts aboveā¢ The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove.ā¢ Let both unite with well-consenting mind,ā¢ So shall authority with strength be joinād.ā¢ Leave me, O king! to calm Achillesā rage;ā¢ Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age.ā¢ Forbid it, gods! Achilles should be lost,ā¢ The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host.āā¢ This said, he ceased. The king of men replies:ā¢ āThy years are awful, and thy words are wise.
Book 1ā¢ But that imperious, that unconquerād soul,ā¢ No laws can limit, no respect control.ā¢ Before his pride must his superiors fall;ā¢ His word the law, and he the lord of all?ā¢ Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey?ā¢ What king can bear a rival in his sway?ā¢ Grant that the gods his matchless force have given;ā¢ Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven?āā¢ Here on the monarchās speech Achilles broke,ā¢ And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke:ā¢ āTyrant, I well deserved thy galling chain,
Book 1ā¢ To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain,ā¢ Should I submit to each unjust decree:āā¢ Command thy vassals, but command not me.ā¢ Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doomādā¢ My prize of war, yet tamely see resumed;ā¢ And seize secure; no more Achilles drawsā¢ His conquering sword in any womanās cause.ā¢ The gods command me to forgive the past:ā¢ But let this first invasion be the last:ā¢ For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade,ā¢ Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade.ā
Book 1ā¢ At this they ceased: the stern debate expired:ā¢ The chiefs in sullen majesty retired.ā¢ Achilles with Patroclus took his wayā¢ Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay.ā¢ Meantime Atrides launchād with numerous oarsā¢ A well-riggād ship for Chrysaās sacred shores:ā¢ High on the deck was fair Chryseis placed,ā¢ And sage Ulysses with the conduct graced:ā¢ Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stowād,ā¢ Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road.ā¢ The host to expiate next the king prepares,
Book 1ā¢ With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers.ā¢ Washād by the briny wave, the pious train ā¢ Are cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the main.ā¢ Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid,ā¢ And bulls and goats to Phoebusā altars paid;ā¢ The sable fumes in curling spires arise,ā¢ And waft their grateful odours to the skies.ā¢ The army thus in sacred rites engaged,ā¢ Atrides still with deep resentment raged.ā¢ To wait his will two sacred heralds stood,ā¢ Talthybius and Eurybates the good.
Book 1ā¢ āHaste to the fierce Achillesā tent (he cries),ā¢ Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize:ā¢ Submit he must; or if they will not part,ā¢ Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart.āā¢ The unwilling heralds act their lordās commands;ā¢ Pensive they walk along the barren sands:ā¢ Arrived, the hero in his tent they find,ā¢ With gloomy aspect on his arm reclined.ā¢ At awful distance long they silent stand,ā¢ Loth to advance, and speak their hard command;ā¢ Decent confusion! This the godlike man
Book 1ā¢ Perceived, and thus with accent mild began:ā¢ āWith leave and honour enter our abodes,ā¢ Ye sacred ministers of men and gods! ā¢ I know your message; by constraint you came;ā¢ Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.ā¢ Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring;ā¢ Conduct my captive to the haughty king.ā¢ But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow,ā¢ Witness to gods above, and men below!ā¢ But first, and loudest, to your prince declareā¢ (That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear),
Book 1ā¢ Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain,ā¢ Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein:ā¢ The raging chief in frantic passion lost,ā¢ Blind to himself, and useless to his host,ā¢ Unskillād to judge the future by the past,ā¢ In blood and slaughter shall repent at last.āā¢ Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought;ā¢ She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought,ā¢ Passād silent, as the heralds held her hand,ā¢ And of lookād back, slow-moving oāer the strand.ā¢ Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore;
Book 1ā¢ But sad, retiring to the sounding shore,ā¢ Oāer the wild margin of the deep he hung,ā¢ That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung: ā¢ There bathed in tears of anger and disdain,ā¢ Thus loud lamented to the stormy main:ā¢ āO parent goddess! since in early bloomā¢ Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom;ā¢ Sure to so short a race of glory born,ā¢ Great Jove in justice should this span adorn:
Book 1ā¢ Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed;ā¢ And ill he pays the promise of a god,ā¢ If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies,ā¢ Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize.āā¢ Far from the deep recesses of the main,ā¢ Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,ā¢ The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide;ā¢ And like a mist she rose above the tide;ā¢ Beheld him mourning on the naked shores,
Book 1ā¢ And thus the sorrows of his soul explores.ā¢ āWhy grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share;ā¢ Reveal the cause, and trust a parentās care.āā¢ He deeply sighing said: āTo tell my woeā¢ Is but to mention what too well you know.ā¢ From Thebe, sacred to Apolloās name ā¢ (Aetionās realm), our conquering army came,ā¢ With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils,ā¢ Whose just division crownād the soldierās toils;ā¢ But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led,
Book 1ā¢ By vote selected, to the generalās bed.ā¢ The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gainā¢ His beauteous daughter from the victorās chain;ā¢ The fleet he reachād, and, lowly bending down,ā¢ Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown,ā¢ Intreating all; but chief implored for graceā¢ The brother-kings of Atreusā royal race:ā¢ The generous Greeks their joint consent declare,ā¢ The priest to reverence, and release the fair;ā¢ Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride,
Book 1ā¢ The sire insulted, and his gifts denied:ā¢ The insulted sire (his godās peculiar care)ā¢ To Phoebus prayād, and Phoebus heard the prayer:ā¢ A dreadful plague ensues: the avenging dartsā¢ Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.ā¢ A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose,ā¢ And points the crime, and thence derives the woes:ā¢ Myself the first the assembled chiefs inclineā¢ To avert the vengeance of the power divine;ā¢ Then rising in his wrath, the monarch stormād;
Book 1ā¢ Incensed he threatenād, and his threats performād:ā¢ The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent,ā¢ With offerād gifts to make the god relent;ā¢ But now he seized Briseisā heavenly charms,ā¢ And of my valourās prize defrauds my arms,ā¢ Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train; ā¢ And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.ā¢ But, goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend.ā¢ To high Olympusā shining court ascend,ā¢ Urge all the ties to former service owed,
Book 1ā¢ And sue for vengeance to the thundering god.ā¢ Oft hast thou triumphād in the glorious boast,ā¢ That thou stoodāst forth of all the ethereal host,ā¢ When bold rebellion shook the realms above,ā¢ The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove:ā¢ When the bright partner of his awful reign,ā¢ The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,ā¢ The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven,ā¢ Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven.ā¢ Then, callād by thee, the monster Titan came
Book 1ā¢ (Whom gods Briareus, men AEgeon name),ā¢ Through wondering skies enormous stalkād along;ā¢ Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong:ā¢ With giant-pride at Joveās high throne he stands,ā¢ And brandishād round him all his hundred hands:ā¢ The affrighted gods confessād their awful lord,ā¢ They droppād the fetters, trembled, and adored. ā¢ This, goddess, this to his remembrance call,ā¢ Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall;ā¢ Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
Book 1ā¢ To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,ā¢ To heap the shores with copious death, and bringā¢ The Greeks to know the curse of such a king.ā¢ Let Agamemnon lift his haughty headā¢ Oāer all his wide dominion of the dead,ā¢ And mourn in blood that eāer he durst disgraceā¢ The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.āā¢ āUnhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies,ā¢ While tears celestial trickle from her eyes)ā¢ Why have I borne thee with a motherās throes,
Book 1ā¢ To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes? ā¢ So short a space the light of heaven to view!ā¢ So short a space! and fillād with sorrow too!ā¢ might a parentās careful wish prevail,ā¢ Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail,ā¢ And thou, from camps remote, the danger shunā¢ Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son.ā¢ Yet (what I can) to move thy suit Iāll goā¢ To great Olympus crownād with fleecy snow.ā¢ Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far
Book 1ā¢ Behold the field, not mingle in the war.ā¢ The sire of gods and all the ethereal train,ā¢ On the warm limits of the farthest main,ā¢ Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to graceā¢ The feasts of AEthiopiaās blameless race, ā¢ Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,ā¢ Returning with the twelfth revolving light.ā¢ Then will I mount the brazen dome, and moveā¢ The high tribunal of immortal Jove.āā¢ The goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose;
Book 1ā¢ Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose,ā¢ And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast,ā¢ In wild resentment for the fair he lost.ā¢ In Chrysaās port now sage Ulysses rode;ā¢ Beneath the deck the destined victims stowād:ā¢ The sails they furlād, they lash the mast aside,ā¢ And droppād their anchors, and the pinnace tied.ā¢ Next on the shore their hecatomb they land;ā¢ Chryseis last descending on the strand.ā¢ Her, thus returning from the furrowād main,
Book 1ā¢ Ulysses led to Phoebusā sacred fane;ā¢ Where at his solemn altar, as the maidā¢ He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said:ā¢ āHail, reverend priest! to Phoebusā awful domeā¢ A suppliant I from great Atrides come:ā¢ Unransomād, here receive the spotless fair;ā¢ Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare;ā¢ And may thy god who scatters darts around,ā¢ Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound.ā ā¢ At this, the sire embraced the maid again,
Book 1ā¢ So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.ā¢ Then near the altar of the darting king,ā¢ Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring;ā¢ With water purify their hands, and takeā¢ The sacred offering of the salted cake;ā¢ While thus with arms devoutly raised in air,ā¢ And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:ā¢ āGod of the silver bow, thy ear incline,ā¢ Whose power incircles Cilla the divine;ā¢ Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys,
Book 1ā¢ And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguishād rays!ā¢ If, fired to vengeance at thy priestās request,ā¢ Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest:ā¢ Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe,ā¢ And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.āā¢ So Chryses prayād. Apollo heard his prayer:ā¢ And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare;ā¢ Between their horns the salted barley threw,ā¢ And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew: ā¢ The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide;
Book 1ā¢ The thighs, selected to the gods, divide:ā¢ On these, in double cauls involved with art,ā¢ The choicest morsels lay from every part.ā¢ The priest himself before his altar stands,ā¢ And burns the offering with his holy hands.ā¢ Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire;ā¢ The youth with instruments surround the fire:ā¢ The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dressād,ā¢ The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest:ā¢ Then spread the tables, the repast prepare;
Book 1ā¢ Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.ā¢ When now the rage of hunger was repressād,ā¢ With pure libations they conclude the feast;ā¢ The youths with wine the copious goblets crownād,ā¢ And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around; ā¢ With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,ā¢ The paeans lengthenād till the sun descends:ā¢ The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong;ā¢ Apollo listens, and approves the song.ā¢ āTwas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie,
Book 1ā¢ Till rosy morn had purpled oāer the sky:ā¢ Then launch, and hoist the mast: indulgent gales,ā¢ Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails;ā¢ The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow,ā¢ The parted ocean foams and roars below:ā¢ Above the bounding billows swift they flew,ā¢ Till now the Grecian camp appearād in view.ā¢ Far on the beach they haul their bark to land,ā¢ (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,)ā¢ Then part, where stretchād along the winding bay,
Book 1ā¢ The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.ā¢ But raging still, amidst his navy satā¢ The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate;ā¢ Nor mixād in combat, nor in council joinād;ā¢ But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind:ā¢ In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll,ā¢ And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.ā¢ Twelve days were past, and now the dawning lightā¢ The gods had summonād to the Olympian height:ā¢ Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers,
Book 1ā¢ Leads the long order of ethereal powers.ā¢ When, like the morning-mist in early day,ā¢ Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea:ā¢ And to the seats divine her flight addressād.ā¢ There, far apart, and high above the rest,ā¢ The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shroudsā¢ His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds.ā¢ Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placedā¢ Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced.ā¢ āIf eāer, O father of the gods! (she said)
Book 1ā¢ My words could please thee, or my actions aid,ā¢ Some marks of honour on my son bestow,ā¢ And pay in glory what in life you owe.ā¢ Fame is at least by heavenly promise dueā¢ To life so short, and now dishonourād too.ā¢ Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise!ā¢ Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise;ā¢ Till the proud king and all the Achaian raceā¢ Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.āā¢ Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence held
Book 1ā¢ The sacred counsels of his breast concealād.ā¢ Not so repulsed, the goddess closer pressād,ā¢ Still graspād his knees, and urged the dear request.ā¢ āO sire of gods and men! thy suppliant hear;ā¢ Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?ā¢ Or oh! declare, of all the powers above,ā¢ Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?āā¢ She said; and, sighing, thus the god replies,ā¢ Who rolls the thunder oāer the vaulted skies:ā¢ āWhat hast thou askād? ah, why should Jove engage
Book 1ā¢ In foreign contests and domestic rage,ā¢ The godsā complaints, and Junoās fierce alarms,ā¢ While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?ā¢ Go, lest the haughty partner of my swayā¢ With jealous eyes thy close access survey;ā¢ But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped:ā¢ Witness the sacred honours of our head,ā¢ The nod that ratifies the will divine,ā¢ The faithful, fixād, irrevocable sign;ā¢ This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows āā
Book 1
ā¢ He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows, ā¢ Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,ā¢ The stamp of fate and sanction of the god:ā¢ High heaven with trembling the dread signal
took,ā¢ And all Olympus to the centre shook. ā¢ Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies,ā¢ Jove to his starry mansions in the skies.ā¢ The shining synod of the immortals wait
Book 1ā¢ The coming god, and from their thrones of stateā¢ Arising silent, wrappād in holy fear,ā¢ Before the majesty of heaven appear.ā¢ Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne,ā¢ All, but the godās imperious queen alone:ā¢ Late had she viewād the silver-footed dame,ā¢ And all her passions kindled into flame.ā¢ āSay, artful manager of heaven (she cries),ā¢ Who now partakes the secrets of the skies?
Book 1ā¢ Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate,ā¢ In vain the partner of imperial state.ā¢ What favourite goddess then those cares divides,ā¢ Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?āā¢ To this the thunderer: āSeek not thou to findā¢ The sacred counsels of almighty mind:ā¢ Involved in darkness likes the great decree,ā¢ Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee.ā¢ What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know;ā¢ The first of gods above, and men below;
Book 1ā¢ But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that rollā¢ Deep in the close recesses of my soul.āā¢ Full on the sire the goddess of the skiesā¢ Rollād the large orbs of her majestic eyes,ā¢ And thus returnād:āāAustere Saturnius, say,ā¢ From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway?ā¢ Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force,ā¢ And all thy counsels take the destined course.ā¢ But ātis for Greece I fear: for late was seen,ā¢ In close consult, the silver-footed queen.
Book 1ā¢ Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny,ā¢ Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky.ā¢ What fatal favour has the goddess won,ā¢ To grace her fierce, inexorable son?ā¢ Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,ā¢ And glut his vengeance with my people slain.āā¢ Then thus the god: āO restless fate of pride,ā¢ That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide;ā¢ Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorrād,ā¢ Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord.
Book 1ā¢ Let this suffice: the immutable decreeā¢ No force can shake: what is, that ought to be.ā¢ Goddess, submit; nor dare our will withstand,ā¢ But dread the power of this avenging hand:ā¢ The united strength of all the gods aboveā¢ In vain resists the omnipotence of Jove.āā¢ The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply;ā¢ A reverent horror silenced all the sky.ā¢ The feast disturbād, with sorrow Vulcan sawā¢ His mother menaced, and the gods in awe;
Book 1ā¢ Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design,ā¢ Thus interposed the architect divine:ā¢ āThe wretched quarrels of the mortal stateā¢ Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate:ā¢ Let men their days in senseless strife employ,ā¢ We, in eternal peace and constant joy.ā¢ Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply,ā¢ Nor break the sacred union of the sky:ā¢ Lest, roused to rage, he shake the blessād abodes,ā¢ Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods.
Book 1ā¢ If you submit, the thunderer stands appeased;ā¢ The gracious power is willing to be pleased.āā¢ Thus Vulcan spoke: and rising with a bound,ā¢ The double bowl with sparkling nectar crownād, ā¢ Which held to Juno in a cheerful way,ā¢ āGoddess (he cried), be patient and obey.ā¢ Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend,ā¢ I can but grieve, unable to defendā¢ What god so daring in your aid to move,ā¢ Or lift his hand against the force of Jove?
Book 1ā¢ Once in your cause I felt his matchless might,ā¢ Hurlād headlong down from the ethereal height; ā¢ Tossād all the day in rapid circles round,ā¢ Nor till the sun descended touchād the ground.ā¢ Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost;ā¢ The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast; ā¢ He said, and to her hands the goblet heaved,ā¢ Which, with a smile, the white-armād queen receivedā¢ Then, to the rest he fillād; and in his turn,ā¢ Each to his lips applied the nectarād urn,
Book 1ā¢ Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies,ā¢ And unextinguishād laughter shakes the skies.ā¢ Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong,ā¢ In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song. ā¢ Apollo tuned the lyre; the Muses roundā¢ With voice alternate aid the silver sound.ā¢ Meantime the radiant sun to mortal sightā¢ Descending swift, rollād down the rapid light:ā¢ Then to their starry domes the gods depart,ā¢ The shining monuments of Vulcanās art:
Book 1
ā¢ Jove on his couch reclined his awful head,ā¢ And Juno slumberād on the golden bed.
End of Book 1