The Iliad. Homer
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу The Iliad - Homer страница 31

Название: The Iliad

Автор: Homer

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

Серия:

isbn: 4057664186300

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ aegis dark and dread, this treach'rous deed

       Avenging; this shall surely come to pass.

       But, Menelaus, deep will be my grief,

       If thou shouldst perish, meeting thus thy fate.

       To thirsty Argos should I then return

       By foul disgrace o'erwhelm'd; for, with thy fall,

       The Greeks will mind them of their native land;

       And as a trophy to the sons of Troy

       The Argive Helen leave; thy bones meanwhile

       Shall moulder here beneath a foreign soil.

       Thy work undone; and with insulting scorn

       Some vaunting Trojan, leaping on the tomb

       Of noble Menelaus, thus shall say:

       'On all his foes may Agamemnon so

       His wrath accomplish, who hath hither led

       Of Greeks a mighty army, all in vain;

       And bootless home with empty ships hath gone,

       And valiant Menelaus left behind;'

       Thus when men speak, gape, earth, and hide my shame."

      To whom the fair-hair'd Menelaus thus

       With, cheering words: "Fear not thyself, nor cause

       The troops to fear: the arrow hath not touch'd

       A vital part: the sparkling belt hath first

       Turn'd it aside, the doublet next beneath,

       And coat of mail, the work of arm'rer's hands."

      To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:

       "Dear Menelaus, may thy words be true!

       The leech shall tend thy wound, and spread it o'er

       With healing ointments to assuage the pain."

      He said, and to the sacred herald call'd:

       "Haste thee, Talthybius! summon with all speed

       The son of AEsculapius, peerless leech,

       Machaon; bid him hither haste to see

       The warlike Menelaus, chief of Greeks,

       Who by an arrow from some practis'd hand,

       Trojan or Lycian, hath receiv'd a wound;

       A cause of boast to them, to us of grief."

      He said, nor did the herald not obey,

       But through the brass-clad ranks of Greece he pass'd,

       In search of brave Machaon; him he found

       Standing, by buckler'd warriors bold begirt,

       Who follow'd him from Trica's grassy plains.

       He stood beside him, and address'd him thus:

       "Up, son of AEsculapius! Atreus' son,

       The mighty monarch, summons thee to see

       The warlike Menelaus, chief of Greeks,

       Who by an arrow from some practis'd hand,

       Trojan or Lycian, hath receiv'd a wound;

       A cause of boast to them, to us of grief."

      Thus he; and not unmov'd Machaon heard:

       They thro' the crowd, and thro' the wide-spread host,

       Together took their way; but when they came

       Where fair-hair'd Menelaus, wounded, stood,

       Around him in a ring the best of Greece,

       And in the midst the godlike chief himself,

       From the close-fitting belt the shaft he drew,

       Breaking the pointed barbs; the sparkling belt

       He loosen'd, and the doublet underneath,

       And coat of mail, the work of arm'rer's hand.

       But when the wound appear'd in sight, where struck

       The stinging arrow, from the clotted blood

       He cleans'd it, and applied with skilful hand

       The herbs of healing power, which Chiron erst

       In friendly guise upon his sire bestowed.

      While round the valiant Menelaus they

       Were thus engag'd, advanc'd the Trojan hosts:

       They donn'd their arms, and for the fight prepar'd.

       In Agamemnon then no trace was seen

       Of laggard sloth, no shrinking from the fight,

       But full of ardour to the field he rush'd.

       He left his horses and brass-mounted car

       (The champing horses by Eurymedon,

       The son of Ptolemy, Peiraeus' son,

       Were held aloof), but with repeated charge

       Still to be near at hand, when faint with toil

       His limbs should fail him marshalling his host.

       Himself on foot the warrior ranks array'd;

       With cheering words addressing whom he found

       With zeal preparing for the battle-field:

       "Relax not, valiant friends, your warlike toil;

       For Jove to falsehood ne'er will give his aid;

       And they who first, regardless of their oaths,

       Have broken truce, shall with their flesh themselves

       The vultures feed, while we, their city raz'd,

       Their wives and helpless children bear away."

      But whom remiss and shrinking from the war

       He found, with keen rebuke lie thus assail'd;

       "Ye wretched Greeks, your country's foul reproach,

       Have ye no sense of shame? Why stand ye thus

       Like timid fawns, that in the chase run down,

       Stand СКАЧАТЬ