Better and mightier than myself, no little, with thy lance,
I yield thy worth; in wisdom yet no less I dare advance
My right above thee, since above in years, and knowing more.
Let then thy mind rest in thy words, we quickly shall have store,
And all satiety of fight; whose steel heaps store of straw,
And little corn upon a floor, when Jove (that doth withdraw,
And join all battles) once begins t’ incline his balances
In which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not press
To mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that
In healthful men that mourn for friends. His steel we stumble at,
And fall at, every day you see sufficient store, and fast.
What hour is it that any breathes? We must not use more haste
Than speed holds fit for our revenge: nor should we mourn too much.
Who dead is, must be buried; men’s patience should be such
That one day’s moan should serve one man: the dead must end with death,
And life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their breath
From death in fight, the more should eat, that so they may supply
Their fellows that have stuck in field, and fight incessantly.
Let none expect reply to this, nor stay; for this shall stand
Or fall with some offence to him that looks for new command,
Whoever in dislike holds back. All join then, all things fit
Allow’d for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.’
This said, he chose (for noblest youths to bear the presents) these:
The sons of Nestor, and with them renown’d Meriones,
Phylidas, Thoas, Lycomed, and Meges, all which went
(And Melanippus following Ulysses) to the tent
Of Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed
Had join’d effect: the fitness well was answer’d in the speed.
The presents added to the dame the general did enforce,
Were twenty cauldrons, tripods seven, twelve young and goodly horse;
Seven ladies excellently seen in all Minerva’s skill;
The eighth, Briseis, who had pow’r to ravish every will;
Twelve talents of the finest gold, all which Ulysses weigh’d,
And carried first; and after him the other youths convey’d
The other presents, tender’d all in face of all the court.
Up rose the king. Talthybius (whose voice had a report
Like to a god) call’d to the rites; there, having brought the boar,
Atrides with his knife took sey upon the part before;
And lifting up his sacred hands to Jove, to make his vows,
Grave silence struck the complete court, when (casting his high brows
Up to the broad heav’n) thus he spake: ‘Now witness Jupiter,
First, highest and thou best of gods, thou earth, that all dost bear,
Thou sun, ye Furies under earth, that every soul torment
Whom impious perjury distains – that nought incontinent
In bed, or any other act, to any slend’rest touch
Of my light vows hath wrong’d the dame; and let my plagues be such
As are inflicted by the gods in all extremity
On whomsoever perjur’d men, if godless perjury
In least degree dishonour me.’ This said, the bristled throat
Of the submitted sacrifice with ruthless steel he cut;
Which straight into the hoary sea Talthybius cast, to feed
The sea-born nation. Then stood up the half-celestial seed
Of fair-hair’d Thetis, strength’ning thus Atrides’ innocence:
‘O father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence
Of all man’s ill; for now I see the mighty king of men
At no hand forc’d away my prize, nor first inflam’d my spleen
With any set ill in himself; but thou, the king of gods
(Incens’d with Greece) made that the mean to all their periods,
Which now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages
To what wise Ithacus advis’d. Take breakfasts, and address
For instant conflict.’ Thus he rais’d the court, and all took way
To several ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convey
T’ Achilles fleet, and in his tents dispos’d them, doing grace
Of seat and all rites to the dames, the horses put in place
With others of Aeacides. When (like love’s golden queen)
Briseis all in ghastly wounds had dead Patroclus seen,
She fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore
Her hair, breasts, radiant cheeks; and, drown’d in warm tears, did deplore
His cruel destiny. At length she gat pow’r to express
Her violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:
‘O good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,
I (wretched dame) departing hence, enforc’d and dying sad,
Left thee alive, when thou hadst cheer’d my poor captivity;
And now return’d, I find thee dead, misery on misery
Ever increasing with my steps. The lord to whom my sire
And dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life’s fire
I saw before our city gates extinguish’d; and his fate
Three of my worthy brothers’ lives, in one womb generate,
Felt all in that black day of death. And when Achilles’ hand
Had slain all these, and ras’d the town Mynetes did command
(All cause of never-ending griefs presented), thou took’st all
On thy endeavour to convert to joy as general,
Affirming he that hurt should heal, and thou wouldst make thy friend
(Brave captain that thou wert) supply my vowed husband’s end,
And in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,
Our nuptial banquets; for which grace, with these most worthy moans
I never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,
Ever delightsome, one sweet grace fed still with one sweet mind.’
Thus spake she weeping, and with her did th’ other ladies moan
Patroclus’ fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their own.
About Aeacides himself the kings of Greece were plac’d,
Entreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast
(Still intermixing words and sighs), if any friend were there
Of all his dearest, they would cease, and offer him no cheer
But his due sorrows; for before the sun had left that sky
He would not eat, but of that day sustain th’ extremity.
Thus all the kings (in resolute grief and fasting) he dismiss’d;
But both th’ Atrides, Ithacus, and war’s old martialist,
Idomenaeus and his friend, and Phoenix, these remain’d
Endeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow’d woe restrain’d –
Nor could, till that day’s bloody fight had calm’d his blood; he still
Remember’d something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.
Their urging meat, the diligent fashion of his friend renew’d
In that excitement: ‘Thou,’ said he, ‘when this speed was pursued
Against the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent
A pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,
Thou mad’st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe,
But now to me, thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow.
For which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.
Nothing could more afflict me: fame relating the foul deed
Of my dear father’s slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son’s heart,
No more could wound me. Cursed man, that in this foreign part
(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire and son,
I thus should part with. Scyros now gives education,
O Neoptelemus, to thee (if living yet), from whence
I hop’d, dear friend, thy longer life (safely return’d from hence,
And my life quitting thine) had pow’r to ship him home, and show
His young eyes Phthia, subjects, court – my father being now
Dead, or most short-liv’d, troublous age oppressing him, and fear
Still of my death’s news.’ These sad words he blew into the ear
Of every visitant, with sighs, all echo’d by the peers,
Rememb’ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears
Jove pitied: and since they all would in the good of one
Be much reviv’d, he thus bespake Minerva: ‘Thetis’ son
Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles ’care
Extinguish’d in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare
He lies before his high-sail’d fleet, for his dead friend; the rest
Are strength’ning them with meat, but he lies desperately oppress’d
With heartless fasting: go thy ways, and to his breast instil
Red nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill
To his near enterprise.’ This spur he added to the free;
And like a harpy (with a voice that shrieks so dreadfully,
And feathers that like needles prick) she stoop’d through all the stars
Amongst the Grecians; all whose tents were now fill’d for the wars.
Her seres struck through Achilles’ tent, and closely she instill’d
Heaven’s most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill’d
His sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast
Should creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas’t.
The host set forth, and pour’d his steel waves far out of the fleet.
And as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet
That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending:
So thick helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending,
Flow’d from the navy’s hollow womb; their splendours gave heav’n’s eye
His beams again; earth laugh’d to see her face so like the sky,
Arms shin’d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast –
She thunder’d, feet of men and horse importun’d her so fast.
In midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm’d,
His teeth gnash’d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm’d,
Unsuffer’d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin’d.
His greaves first us’d, his goodly curets on his bosom, shin’d,
His sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon:
And as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire, let run
By herdsmen’s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrastling flame,
Which being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came
To give it quench; at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends
Driv’n off with tempests: such a fire from his bright shield extends
His ominous radiance, and in heav’n impress’d his fervent blaze.
His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place
On his curl’d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray,
About which a bright thick’ned bush of golden hair did play,
Which Vulcan forg’d him for his plume. Thus complete arm’d, he tried
How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide
Their brave instruction: and so far they were from hind’ring it,
That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit
That from the earth the princely captain they took up to air.
Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father’s spear,
Huge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone
Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion,
From whose height Chiron hew’d it for his sire, and fatal ’twas
To great-soul’d men – of Pelion surnamed Pelias.
Then from the stable their bright horse Automedon withdraws,
And Alcymus put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws
Their bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat.
The fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get
To guide the horse: the fight’s seat last Achilles took behind,
Who look’d so arm’d as if the sun there fall’n from heaven had shin’d,
And terribly thus charg’d his steeds: ‘Xanthus and Balius,
Seed of the harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us,
Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field,
But when with blood, for this day’s fast observ’d, revenge shall yield
Our heart satiety, bring us off.’ Thus, since Achilles spake
As if his aw’d steeds understood, ’twas Juno’s will to make
Vocal the palate of the one, who shaking his fair head
(Which in his mane, let fall to earth, he almost buried),
Thus Xanthus spake: ‘Ablest Achilles, now (at least) our care
Shall bring thee off; but not far hence the fatal minutes are
Of thy grave ruin. Nor shall we be then to be reprov’d,
But mightiest fate, and the great god. Nor was thy best belov’d
Spoil’d so of arms by our slow pace, or courage’s impair;
The best of gods, Latona’s son, that wears the golden hair,
Gave him his death’s wound, through the grace he gave to Hector’s hand.
We, like the spirit of the west that all spirits can command
For pow’r of wing, could run him off: but thou thyself must go,
So fate ordains; god and a man must give thee overthrow.’
This said, the Furies stopp’d his voice. Achilles, far in rage,
Thus answer’d him: ‘It fits not thee thus proudly to presage
My overthrow; I know myself it is my fate to fall
Thus far from Phthia; yet that fate shall fail to vent her gall
Till mine vent thousands.’ These words us’d, he fell to horrid deeds,
Gave dreadful signal, and forthright made fly his one-hoo
f
’
d steeds.
The end of the nineteenth book
Book 20
The Argument
By Jove’s permission, all the gods descend
To aid on both parts. For the Greeks contend
Juno, Minerva, Neptune, Mulciber,
And Mercury. The deities that prefer
The Trojan part are Phoebus, Cyprides,
Phoebe, Latona, and the foe to peace,
With bright Scamander. Neptune in a mist
Preserves Aeneas, daring to resist
Achilles, by whose hand much scathe is done,
Besides the slaughter of old Priam’s son
(Young Polydor), whose rescue Hector makes;
Him (flying) Phoebus to his rescue takes,
The rest (all shunning their importun’d fates)
Achilles beats ev’n to the Ilian gates.
Another Argument
In
Upsilon
Strife stirs in heav’n.
The day’s grace to the Greeks is giv’n.