The Iliad
With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray,
To avert the dangers of the doubtful day.
A steer of five years’ age, large limb’d, and fed,[92]
To Jove’s high altars Agamemnon led:
There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers;
And Nestor first, as most advanced in years.
Next came Idomeneus,[93] and Tydeus’ son,[94]
Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;[95]
Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed;
And Menelaus came, unbid, the last.[96]
The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take
The sacred offering of the salted cake:
When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer;
“O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air,
Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne,
Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone!
Hear! and before the burning sun descends,
Before the night her gloomy veil extends,
Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires,
Be Priam’s palace sunk in Grecian fires.
In Hector’s breast be plunged this shining sword,
And slaughter’d heroes groan around their lord!”
Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer
Great Jove refused, and toss’d in empty air:
The God averse, while yet the fumes arose,
Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes.
Their prayers perform’d the chiefs the rite pursue,
The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew.
The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide,
The thighs, selected to the gods, divide.
On these, in double cauls involved with art,
The choicest morsels lie from every part,
From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspire
While the fat victims feed the sacred fire.
The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress’d
The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest;
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,
Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.
Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress’d,
The generous Nestor thus the prince address’d.
“Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms,
And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms;
Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey,
And lead to war when heaven directs the way.”
He said; the monarch issued his commands;
Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands;
The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide,
In tribes and nations rank’d on either side.
High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies;
From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes;
The dreadful ægis, Jove’s immortal shield,
Blazed on her arm, and lighten’d all the field:
Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll’d,
Form’d the bright fringe, and seem’d to burn in gold,
With this each Grecian’s manly breast she warms,
Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms,
No more they sigh, inglorious, to return,
But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.
As on some mountain, through the lofty grove,
The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above;
The fires expanding, as the winds arise,
Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies:
So from the polish’d arms, and brazen shields,
A gleamy splendour flash’d along the fields.
Not less their number than the embodied cranes,
Or milk-white swans in Asius’ watery plains.
That, o’er the windings of Cayster’s springs,[97]
Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings,
Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds,
Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds.
Thus numerous and confused, extending wide,
The legions crowd Scamander’s flowery side;[98]
With rushing troops the plains are cover’d o’er,
And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore.
Along the river’s level meads they stand,
Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land,
Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play,
The wandering nation of a summer’s day:
That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours,
In gather’d swarms surround the rural bowers;
From pail to pail with busy murmur run
The gilded legions, glittering in the sun.
So throng’d, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood
In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood.
Each leader now his scatter’d force conjoins
In close array, and forms the deepening lines.
Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain
Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain.
The king of kings, majestically tall,
Towers o’er his armies, and outshines them all;
Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads
His subject herds, the monarch of the meads,
Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen,
His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;[99]
Jove o’er his eyes celestial glories spread,
And dawning conquest played around his head.
Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine![100]
Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s umneasur’d height,
And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight,
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,)
O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,
Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came.
To count them all, demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs.
Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you
The mighty labour dauntless I pursue;
What crowded armies, from what climes they bring,
Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing.
THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.[101]
[Illustration: ] NEPTUNE
The hardy warriors whom Bœotia bred,
Penelius, Leitus, Prothoënor, led:
With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand,
Equal in arms, and equal in command.
These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields,
And Eteon’s hills, and Hyrie’s watery fields,
And Schoenos, Scholos, Græa near the main,
And Mycalessia’s ample piny plain;
Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell,
Or Harma where Apollo’s prophet fell;
Heleon and Hylè, which the springs o’erflow;
And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low;
Or in the meads of Haliartus stray,
Or Thespia sacred to the god of day:
Onchestus, Neptune’s celebrated groves;
Copæ, and Thisbè, famed for silver doves;
For flocks Erythræ, Glissa for the vine;
Platea green, and Nysa the divine;
And they whom Thebé’s well-built walls inclose,
Where Mydè, Eutresis, Coronè, rose;
And Arnè rich, with purple harvests crown’d;
And Anthedon, Bœotia’s utmost bound.
Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys
Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.[102]
To these succeed Aspledon’s martial train,
Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain.
Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng,
Iälmen and Ascalaphus the strong:
Sons of Astyochè, the heavenly fair,
Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war:
(In Actor’s court as she retired to rest,
The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress’d)
Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep,
With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep.
The Phocians next in forty barks repair;
Epistrophus and Schedius head the war:
From those rich regions where Cephisus leads
His silver current through the flowery meads;
From Panopëa, Chrysa the divine,
Where Anemoria’s stately turrets shine,
Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood,
And fair Lilæ views the rising flood.
These, ranged in order on the floating tide,
Close, on the left, the bold Bœotians’ side.
Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on,
Ajax the less, Oïleus’ valiant son;
Skill’d to direct the flying dart aright;
Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight.
Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend,
Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send;
Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe’s bands;
And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands,
And where Boägrius floats the lowly lands,
Or in fair Tarphe’s sylvan seats reside:
In forty vessels cut the yielding tide.
Eubœa next her martial sons prepares,
And sends the brave Abantes to the wars:
Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way
From Chalcis’ walls, and strong Eretria;
The Isteian fields for generous vines renown’d,
The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground;
Where Dios from her towers o’erlooks the plain,
And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main.
Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair;
Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air;
But with protended spears in fighting fields
Pierce the tough corslets and the brazen shields.
Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands,
Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands.
Full fifty more from Athens stem the main,
Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain.
(Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway’d,
That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,
But from the teeming furrow took his birth,
The mighty offspring of the foodful earth.
Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane,
Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain;
Where, as the years revolve, her altars blaze,
And all the tribes resound the goddess’ praise.)
No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could yield,
To marshal armies in the dusty field,
The extended wings of battle to display,
Or close the embodied host in firm array.
Nestor alone, improved by length of days,
For martial conduct bore an equal praise.
With these appear the Salaminian bands,
Whom the gigantic Telamon commands;
In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course,
And with the great Athenians join their force.
Next move to war the generous Argive train,
From high Trœzenè, and Maseta’s plain,
And fair Ægina circled by the main:
Whom strong Tyrinthe’s lofty walls surround,
And Epidaure with viny harvests crown’d:
And where fair Asinen and Hermoin show
Their cliffs above, and ample bay below.
These by the brave Euryalus were led,
Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed;
But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway:
In fourscore barks they plough the watery way.
The proud Mycenè arms her martial powers,
Cleonè, Corinth, with imperial towers,[103]
Fair Aræthyrea, Ornia’s fruitful plain,
And Ægion, and Adrastus’ ancient reign;
And those who dwell along the sandy shore,
And where Pellenè yields her fleecy store,
Where Helicè and Hyperesia lie,
And Gonoëssa’s spires salute the sky.
Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band,
A hundred vessels in long order stand,
And crowded nations wait his dread command.
High on the deck the king of men appears,
And his refulgent arms in triumph wears;
Proud of his host, unrivall’d in his reign,
In silent pomp he moves along the main.
His brother follows, and to vengeance warms
The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms:
Phares and Brysia’s valiant troops, and those
Whom Lacedæmon’s lofty hills inclose;
Or Messé’s towers for silver doves renown’d,
Amyclæ, Laäs, Augia’s happy ground,
And those whom Œtylos’ low walls contain,
And Helos, on the margin of the main.
These, o’er the bending ocean, Helen’s cause,
In sixty ships with Menelaus draws:
Eager and loud from man to man he flies,
Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes;
While vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears
The fair one’s grief, and sees her falling tears.
In ninety sail, from Pylos’ sandy coast,
Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host:
From Amphigenia’s ever-fruitful land,
Where Æpy high, and little Pteleon stand;
Where beauteous Arene her structures shows,
And Thryon’s walls Alpheus’ streams inclose:
And Dorion, famed for Thamyris’ disgrace,
Superior once of all the tuneful race,
Till, vain of mortals’ empty praise, he strove
To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove!
Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride
The immortal Muses in their art defied.
The avenging Muses of the light of day
Deprived his eyes, and snatch’d his voice away;
No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing,
His hand no more awaked the silver string.
Where under high Cyllenè, crown’d with wood,
The shaded tomb of old Æpytus stood;
From Ripè, Stratie, Tegea’s bordering towns,
The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs,
Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove;
And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove;
Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined,
And high Enispè shook by wintry wind,
And fair Mantinea’s ever-pleasing site;
In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite.