Homer's Iliad (eBook)

ARGUMENT. [Footnote: The following argument of the Iliad, corrected in

a few particulars, is translated from Bitaube, and is, perhaps, the

neatest summary that has ever been drawn up:--"A hero, injured by his

general, and animated with a noble resentment, retires to his tent; and

for a season withdraws himself and his troops from the war. During this

interval, victory abandons the army, which for nine years has been

occupied in a great enterprise, upon the successful termination of

which the honour of their country depends. The general, at length

opening his eyes to the fault which he had committed, deputes the

principal officers of his army to the incensed hero, with commission to

make compensation for the injury, and to tender magnificent presents.

The hero, according to the proud obstinacy of his character, persists

in his animosity; the army is again defeated, and is on the verge of

entire destruction. This inexorable man has a friend; this friend weeps

before him, and asks for the hero's arms, and for permission to go to

the war in his stead. The eloquence of friendship prevails more than

the intercession of the ambassadors or the gifts of the general. He

lends his armour to his friend, but commands him not to engage with the

chief of the enemy's army, because he reserves to himself the honour of

that combat, and because he also fears for his friend's life. The

prohibition is forgotten; the friend listens to nothing but his

courage; his corpse is brought back to the hero, and the hero's arms

become the prize of the conqueror. Then the hero, given up to the most

lively despair, prepares to fight; he receives from a divinity new

armour, is reconciled with his general and, thirsting for glory and

revenge, enacts prodigies of valour, recovers the victory, slays the

enemy's chief, honours his friend with superb funeral rites, and

exercises a cruel vengeance on the body of his destroyer; but finally

appeased by the tears and prayers of the father of the slain warrior,

restores to the old man the corpse of his son, which he buries with due

solemnities.'--Coleridge, p. 177, sqq.]

In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neighbouring

towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chryseis and

Briseis, allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles.

Chryses, the father of Chryseis, and priest of Apollo, comes to the

Grecian camp to ransom her; with which the action of the poem opens, in

the tenth year of the siege. The priest being refused, and insolently

dismissed by Agamemnon, entreats for vengeance from his god; who

inflicts a pestilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and

encourages Chalcas to declare the cause of it; who attributes it to the

refusal of Chryseis. The king, being obliged to send back his captive,

enters into a furious contest with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies;

however, as he had the absolute command of the army, he seizes on

Briseis in revenge. Achilles in discontent withdraws himself and his

forces from the rest of the Greeks; and complaining to Thetis, she

supplicates 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 with the AEthiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers

her petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to

Chrysa, and lastly to Olympus.

Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring

Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!

That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign

The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;

Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,

Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.                          

Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!           

Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour                           

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power

Latona's son a dire contagion spread,                            

And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;

The king of men his reverent priest defied,                      

And for the king's offence the people died.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain

His captive daughter from the victor's chain.

Suppliant the venerable father stands;

Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands

By these he begs; and lowly bending down,

Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown

He sued to all, but chief implored for grace

The brother-kings, of Atreus' royal race                         

"Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown'd,

And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground.

May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er

Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,

And give Chryseis to these arms again;

If mercy fail, yet let my presents move,

And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove."

The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare,

The priest to reverence, and release the fair.

Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,

Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied:

"Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains,

Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains

Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod,

Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god.

Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain;

And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain;

Till time shall rifle every youthful grace,

And age dismiss her from my cold embrace,

In daily labours of the loom employ'd,

Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy'd

Hence then; to Argos shall the maid retire,

Far from her native soil and weeping sire."

The trembling priest along the shore return'd,

And in the anguish of a father mourn'd.

Disconsolate, not daring to complain,

Silent he wander'd by the sounding main;

Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays,

The god who darts around the world his rays.

"O Smintheus! sprung from fair Latona's line,                    

Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,                         

Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores,

And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores.

If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,                     

Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain;

God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,

Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy."

Thus Chryses pray'd.--the favouring power attends,

And from Olympus' lofty tops descends.

Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;                    

Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound.

Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread,

And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head.

The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow,

And hissing fly the feather'd fates below.

On mules and dogs the infection first began;                      

And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man.

For nine long nights, through all the dusky air,

The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare.

But ere the tenth revolving day was run,

Inspired by Juno, Thetis' godlike son

Convened to council all the Grecian train;

For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain.                    

The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest,

Achilles thus the king of men address'd:

"Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,

And measure back the seas we cross'd before?

The plague destroying whom the sword...