The Iliad. Homer

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СКАЧАТЬ Jupiter to render them sensible of the wrong done to her son, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter granting her suit, incenses Juno, between whom the debate runs high, till they are reconciled by the address of Vulcan.

      The time of two-and-twenty days is taken up in this book; nine during the plague, one in the council and quarrel of the Princes, and twelve for Jupiter's stay among the Ethiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers her petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and lastly to Olympus.

BOOK I.

       Table of Contents

      Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse,

       The vengeance, deep and deadly; whence to Greece

       Unnumbered ills arose; which many a soul

       Of mighty warriors to the viewless shades

       Untimely sent; they on the battle plain

       Unburied lay, a prey to rav'ning dogs,

       And carrion birds; but so had Jove decreed,

       From that sad day when first in wordy war,

       The mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

       Confronted stood by Peleus' godlike son.

      Say then, what God the fatal strife provok'd?

       Jove's and Latona's son; he, filled with wrath

       Against the King, with deadly pestilence

       The camp afflicted—and the people died—

       For Chryses' sake, his priest, whom Atreus' son

       With scorn dismiss'd, when to the Grecian ships

       He came, his captive daughter to redeem,

       With costly ransom charg'd; and in his hand

       The sacred fillet of his God he bore,

       And golden staff; to all he sued, but chief

       To Atreus' sons, twin captains of the host:

       "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye well-greav'd Greeks,

       May the great Gods, who on Olympus dwell,

       Grant you yon hostile city to destroy,

       And home return in safety; but my child

       Restore, I pray; her proffer'd ransom take,

       And in his priest, the Lord of Light revere."

      Then through the ranks assenting murmurs ran,

       The priest to rev'rence, and the ransom take:

       Not so Atrides; he, with haughty mien,

       And bitter speech, the trembling sire address'd:

       "Old man, I warn thee, that beside our ships

       I find thee not, or ling'ring now, or back

       Returning; lest thou prove of small avail

       Thy golden staff, and fillet of thy God.

       Her I release not, till her youth be fled;

       Within my walls, in Argos, far from home,

       Her lot is cast, domestic cares to ply,

       And share a master's bed. For thee, begone!

       Incense me not, lest ill betide thee now."

      He said: the old man trembled, and obeyed;

       Beside the many-dashing Ocean's shore

       Silent he pass'd; and all apart, he pray'd

       To great Apollo, fair Latona's son:

      "Hear me, God of the silver bow! whose care

       Chrysa surrounds, and Cilia's lovely vale;

       Whose sov'reign sway o'er Tenedos extends;

       O Smintheus, hear! if e'er my offered gifts

       Found favour in thy sight; if e'er to thee

       I burn'd the fat of bulls and choicest goats,

       Grant me this boon—upon the Grecian host

       Let thine unerring darts avenge my tears."

      Thus as he pray'd, his pray'r Apollo heard:

       Along Olympus' heights he pass'd, his heart

       Burning with wrath; behind his shoulders hung

       His bow, and ample quiver; at his back

       Rattled the fateful arrows as he mov'd;

       Like the night-cloud he pass'd, and from afar

       He bent against the ships, and sped the bolt;

       And fierce and deadly twang'd the silver bow.

       First on the mules and dogs, on man the last,

       Was pour'd the arrowy storm; and through the camp,

       Constant and num'rous, blaz'd the fun'ral fires.

      Nine days the heav'nly Archer on the troops

       Hurl'd his dread shafts; the tenth, th' assembled Greeks

       Achilles call'd to council; so inspir'd

       By Juno, white-arm'd Goddess, who beheld

       With pitying eyes the wasting hosts of Greece.

       When all were met, and closely throng'd around,

       Rose the swift-footed chief, and thus began:

      "Great son of Atreus, to my mind there seems,

       If we would 'scape from death, one only course,

       Home to retrace our steps: since here at once

       By war and pestilence our forces waste.

       But seek we first some prophet, or some priest,

       Or some wise vision-seer (since visions too

       From Jove proceed), who may the cause explain,

       Which with such deadly wrath Apollo fires:

       If for neglected hecatombs or pray'rs

       He blame us; or if fat of lambs and goats

       May soothe his anger and the plague assuage."

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