The Iliad. Homer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ said, he sat; and Thestor's son arose,

       Calchas, the chief of seers, to whom were known

       The present, and the future, and the past;

       Who, by his mystic art, Apollo's gift,

       Guided to Ilium's shore the Grecian fleet.

       Who thus with cautious speech replied, and said;

       "Achilles, lov'd of Heav'n, thou bidd'st me say

       Why thus incens'd the far-destroying King;

       Therefore I speak; but promise thou, and swear,

       By word and hand, to bear me harmless through.

       For well I know my speech must one offend,

       The Argive chief, o'er all the Greeks supreme;

       And terrible to men of low estate

       The anger of a King; for though awhile

       He veil his wrath, yet in his bosom pent

       It still is nurs'd, until the time arrive;

       Say, then, wilt thou protect me, if I speak?"

      Him answer'd thus Achilles, swift of foot:

       "Speak boldly out whate'er thine art can tell;

       For by Apollo's self I swear, whom thou,

       O Calchas, serv'st, and who thy words inspires,

       That, while I live, and see the light of Heav'n,

       Not one of all the Greeks shall dare on thee,

       Beside our ships, injurious hands to lay:

       No, not if Agamemnon's self were he,

       Who 'mid our warriors boasts the foremost place."

      Embolden'd thus, th' unerring prophet spoke:

       "Not for neglected hecatombs or pray'rs,

       But for his priest, whom Agamemnon scorn'd,

       Nor took his ransom, nor his child restor'd;

       On his account the Far-destroyer sends

       This scourge of pestilence, and yet will send;

       Nor shall we cease his heavy hand to feel,

       Till to her sire we give the bright-ey'd girl,

       Unbought, unransom'd, and to Chrysa's shore

       A solemn hecatomb despatch; this done,

       The God, appeas'd, his anger may remit."

      This said, he sat; and Atreus' godlike son,

       The mighty monarch, Agamemnon, rose,

       His dark soul fill'd with fury, and his eyes

       Flashing like flames of fire; on Calchas first

       A with'ring glance he cast, and thus he spoke;

      "Prophet of ill! thou never speak'st to me

       But words of evil omen; for thy soul

       Delights to augur ill, but aught of good

       Thou never yet hast promis'd, nor perform'd.

       And now among the Greeks thou spread'st abroad

       Thy lying prophecies, that all these ills

       Come from the Far-destroyer, for that I

       Refus'd the ransom of my lovely prize,

       And that I rather chose herself to keep,

       To me not less than Clytemnestra dear,

       My virgin-wedded wife; nor less adorn'd

       In gifts of form, of feature, or of mind.

       Yet, if it must he so, I give her back;

       I wish my people's safety, not their death.

       But seek me out forthwith some other spoil,

       Lest empty-handed I alone appear

       Of all the Greeks; for this would ill beseem;

       And how I lose my present share, ye see."

      To whom Achilles, swift of foot, replied:

       "Haughtiest of men, and greediest of the prey!

       How shall our valiant Greeks for thee seek out

       Some other spoil? no common fund have we

       Of hoarded treasures; what our arms have won

       From captur'd towns, has been already shar'd,

       Nor can we now resume th' apportion'd spoil.

       Restore the maid, obedient to the God!

       And if Heav'n will that we the strong-built walls

       Of Troy should raze, our warriors will to thee

       A threefold, fourfold recompense assign."

      To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:

       "Think not, Achilles, valiant though thou art

       In fight, and godlike, to defraud me thus;

       Thou shalt not so persuade me, nor o'erreach.

       Think'st thou to keep thy portion of the spoil,

       While I with empty hands sit humbly down?

       The bright-ey'd girl thou bidd'st me to restore;

       If then the valiant Greeks for me seek out

       Some other spoil, some compensation just,

       'Tis well: if not, I with my own right hand

       Will from some other chief, from thee perchance,

       Or Ajax, or Ulysses, wrest his prey;

       And woe to him, on whomsoe'er I call!

       But this for future counsel we remit:

       Haste we then now our dark-ribb'd bark to launch,

       Muster a fitting crew, and place on board

       The sacred hecatomb; then last embark

       The fair Chryseis; and in chief command

       Let some one of our councillors be plac'd,

       Ajax, Ulysses, СКАЧАТЬ