The Iliad Part 11

Paris alone and Sparta's king advance, In single fight to toss the beamy lance; Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries, Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize."

This said, the many-coloured maid inspires Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires; Her country, parents, all that once were dear, Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear, O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw, And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew.

Her handmaids, Clymene and aethra, wait Her silent footsteps to the Scaean gate.

There sat the seniors of the Trojan race: (Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace,) The king the first; Thymoetes at his side; Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried; Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; And next, the wisest of the reverend throng, Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon, Lean'd on the walls and bask'd before the sun: Chiefs, who no more in b.l.o.o.d.y fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer days, like gra.s.shoppers rejoice, A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.

These, when the Spartan queen approach'd the tower, In secret own'd resistless beauty's power: They cried, "No wonder such celestial charms(113) For nine long years have set the world in arms; What winning graces! what majestic mien!

She moves a G.o.ddess, and she looks a queen!

Yet hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race."

The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried, "Approach, my child, and grace thy father's side.

See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears, The friends and kindred of thy former years.

No crime of thine our present sufferings draws, Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, the cause The G.o.ds these armies and this force employ, The hostile G.o.ds conspire the fate of Troy.

But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he (Far as from hence these aged orbs can see) Around whose brow such martial graces s.h.i.+ne, So tall, so awful, and almost divine!

Though some of larger stature tread the green, None match his grandeur and exalted mien: He seems a monarch, and his country's pride."

Thus ceased the king, and thus the fair replied:

"Before thy presence, father, I appear, With conscious shame and reverential fear.

Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled, False to my country, and my nuptial bed; My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, False to them all, to Paris only kind!

For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please!

The king of kings, Atrides, you survey, Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: My brother once, before my days of shame!

And oh! that still he bore a brother's name!"

With wonder Priam view'd the G.o.dlike man, Extoll'd the happy prince, and thus began: "O bless'd Atrides! born to prosperous fate, Successful monarch of a mighty state!

How vast thy empire! Of your matchless train What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain!

In Phrygia once were gallant armies known, In ancient time, when Otreus fill'd the throne, When G.o.dlike Mygdon led their troops of horse, And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force: Against the manlike Amazons we stood,(114) And Sangar's stream ran purple with their blood.

But far inferior those, in martial grace, And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race."

This said, once more he view'd the warrior train; "What's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain?

Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, Though great Atrides overtops his head.

Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; From rank to rank he moves, and orders all.

The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground, And, master of the flock, surveys them round."

Then Helen thus: "Whom your discerning eyes Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise; A barren island boasts his glorious birth; His fame for wisdom fills the s.p.a.cious earth."

Antenor took the word, and thus began:(115) "Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws, To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause; (Great Menelaus urged the same request;) My house was honour'd with each royal guest: I knew their persons, and admired their parts, Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts.

Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view; Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew.

When Atreus' son harangued the listening train, Just was his sense, and his expression plain, His words succinct, yet full, without a fault; He spoke no more than just the thing he ought.

But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,(116) His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground; As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand, Nor raised his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred hand; But, when he speaks, what elocution flows!

Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,(117) The copious accents fall, with easy art; Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!

Wondering we hear, and fix'd in deep surprise, Our ears refute the censure of our eyes."

The king then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd) "What chief is that, with giant strength endued, Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, And lofty stature, far exceed the rest?

"Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen replied,) Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride.

See! bold Idomeneus superior towers Amid yon circle of his Cretan powers, Great as a G.o.d! I saw him once before, With Menelaus on the Spartan sh.o.r.e.

The rest I know, and could in order name; All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame.

Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain: Castor and Pollux, first in martial force, One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse.

My brothers these; the same our native sh.o.r.e, One house contain'd us, as one mother bore.

Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease, For distant Troy refused to sail the seas; Perhaps their swords some n.o.bler quarrel draws, Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause."

So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' doom;(118) Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb; Adorn'd with honours in their native sh.o.r.e, Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more.

Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town.

Bring the rich wine and destined victims down.

Idaeus' arms the golden goblets press'd,(119) Who thus the venerable king address'd: "Arise, O father of the Trojan state!

The nations call, thy joyful people wait To seal the truce, and end the dire debate.

Paris, thy son, and Sparta's king advance, In measured lists to toss the weighty lance; And who his rival shall in arms subdue, His be the dame, and his the treasure too.

Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease, And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace: So shall the Greeks review their native sh.o.r.e, Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more."

With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare To join his milk-white coursers to the car; He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side; The gentle steeds through Scaea's gates they guide:(120) Next from the car descending on the plain, Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train, Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then Arose, and with him rose the king of men.

On either side a sacred herald stands, The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord His cutla.s.s sheathed beside his ponderous sword; From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair;(121) The heralds part it, and the princes share; Then loudly thus before the attentive bands He calls the G.o.ds, and spreads his lifted hands:

"O first and greatest power! whom all obey, Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway, Eternal Jove! and you bright orb that roll From east to west, and view from pole to pole!

Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods!

Infernal furies, and Tartarean G.o.ds, Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear!

Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain, Great Menelaus press the fatal plain; The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep, And Greece returning plough the watery deep.

If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed, Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed: The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, And every age record the signal day.

This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield, Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field."

With that the chief the tender victims slew, And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw; The vital spirit issued at the wound, And left the members quivering on the ground.

From the same urn they drink the mingled wine, And add libations to the powers divine.

While thus their prayers united mount the sky, "Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye G.o.ds on high!

And may their blood, who first the league confound, Shed like this wine, disdain the thirsty ground; May all their consorts serve promiscuous l.u.s.t, And all their l.u.s.t be scatter'd as the dust!"

Thus either host their imprecations join'd, Which Jove refused, and mingled with the wind.

The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam rose, And thus express'd a heart o'ercharged with woes: "Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, But spare the weakness of my feeble age: In yonder walls that object let me shun, Nor view the danger of so dear a son.

Whose arms shall conquer and what prince shall fall, Heaven only knows; for heaven disposes all."

This said, the h.o.a.ry king no longer stay'd, But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid: Then seized the reins his gentle steeds to guide, And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side.

Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose The lists of combat, and the ground inclose: Next to decide, by sacred lots prepare, Who first shall launch his pointed spear in air.

The people pray with elevated hands, And words like these are heard through all the bands: "Immortal Jove, high Heaven's superior lord, On lofty Ida's holy mount adored!

Whoe'er involved us in this dire debate, O give that author of the war to fate And shades eternal! let division cease, And joyful nations join in leagues of peace."

With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn The lots of fight and shakes the brazen urn.

Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal chance Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance.

Both armies sat the combat to survey.

Beside each chief his azure armour lay, And round the lists the generous coursers neigh.

The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight, In gilded arms magnificently bright: The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around, With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles bound: Lycaon's corslet his fair body dress'd, Braced in and fitted to his softer breast; A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread; The waving horse-hair nodded on his head: His figured s.h.i.+eld, a s.h.i.+ning orb, he takes, And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes.

With equal speed and fired by equal charms, The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms.

Now round the lists the admiring armies stand, With javelins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band.

Amidst the dreadful vale, the chiefs advance, All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance.

The Trojan first his s.h.i.+ning javelin threw; Full on Atrides' ringing s.h.i.+eld it flew, Nor pierced the brazen orb, but with a bound(122) Leap'd from the buckler, blunted, on the ground.

Atrides then his ma.s.sy lance prepares, In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers:

"Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless l.u.s.t, And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust: Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause, Avenge the breach of hospitable laws!

Let this example future times reclaim, And guard from wrong fair friends.h.i.+p's holy name."

Be said, and poised in air the javelin sent, Through Paris' s.h.i.+eld the forceful weapon went, His corslet pierces, and his garment rends, And glancing downward, near his flank descends.

The wary Trojan, bending from the blow, Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and strook Full on his casque: the crested helmet shook; The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand.