Kitabı oku: «The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12», sayfa 20

THE SECOND EPODE OF HORACE

 
How happy in his low degree,
How rich in humble poverty, is he,
Who leads a quiet country life,
Discharged of business, void of strife,
And from the griping scrivener free?
Thus, ere the seeds of vice were sown,
Lived men in better ages born,
Who ploughed, with oxen of their own,
Their small paternal field of corn.
Nor trumpets summon him to war,
Nor drums disturb his morning sleep,
Nor knows he merchants' gainful care,
Nor fears the dangers of the deep.
The clamours of contentious law,
And court and state, he wisely shuns,
Nor bribed with hopes, nor dared with awe,
To servile salutations runs;
But either to the clasping vine
Does the supporting poplar wed,
Or with his pruning-hook disjoin
Unbearing branches from their head,
And grafts more happy in their stead:
Or, climbing to a hilly steep,
He views his herds in vales afar,
Or sheers his overburthened sheep,
Or mead for cooling drink prepares,
Or virgin honey in the jars.
Or in the now declining year,
When bounteous autumn rears his head,
He joys to pull the ripened pear,
And clustering grapes with purple spread.
The fairest of his fruit he serves,
Priapus, thy rewards:
Sylvanus too his part deserves,
Whose care the fences guards.
Sometimes beneath an ancient oak,
Or on the matted grass he lies;
No god of sleep he need invoke;
The stream, that o'er the pebbles flies,
With gentle slumber crowns his eyes.
The wind, that whistles through the sprays,
Maintains the concert of the song;
And hidden birds, with native lays,
The golden sleep prolong.
But when the blast of winter blows,
And hoary frost inverts the year,
Into the naked woods he goes,
And seeks the tusky boar to rear,
With well-mouthed hounds and pointed spear:
Or spreads his subtle nets from sight
With twinkling glasses, to betray
The larks that in the meshes light,
Or makes the fearful hare his prey.
Amidst his harmless easy joys
No anxious care invades his health,
Nor love his peace of mind destroys,
Nor wicked avarice of wealth.
But if a chaste and pleasing wife,
To ease the business of his life,
Divides with him his household care,
Such as the Sabine matrons were,
Such as the swift Apulian's bride,
Sun-burnt and swarthy though she be,
Will fire for winter nights provide,
And without noise will oversee
His children and his family,
And order all things till he come,
Sweaty and overlaboured, home;
If she in pens his flocks will fold,
And then produce her dairy store,
With wine to drive away the cold,
And unbought dainties of the poor;
Not oysters of the Lucrine lake
My sober appetite would wish,
Nor turbot, or the foreign fish
That rolling tempests overtake,
And hither waft the costly dish.
Not heath-pout, or the rarer bird,
Which Phasis or Ionia yields,
More pleasing morsels would afford
Than the fat olives of my fields;
Than shards or mallows for the pot,
That keep the loosened body sound,
Or than the lamb, that falls by lot
To the just guardian of my ground.
Amidst these feasts of happy swains,
The jolly shepherd smiles to see
His flock returning from the plains;
The farmer is as pleased as he,
To view his oxen sweating smoke,
Hear on their necks the loosened yoke;
To look upon his menial crew,
That sit around his cheerful hearth,
And bodies spent in toil renew
With wholesome food and country mirth. —
This Morecraft said within himself:
Resolved to leave the wicked town,
And live retired upon his own,
He called his money in:
But the prevailing love of pelf
Soon split him on the former shelf, —
He put it out again.
 

TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER

THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD

THE ARGUMENT

Chryses, priest of Apollo, brings presents to the Grecian princes, to ransom his daughter Chryseis, who was prisoner in the fleet. Agamemnon, the general, whose captive and mistress the young lady was, refuses to deliver her, threatens the venerable old man, and dismisses him with contumely. The priest craves vengeance of his God, who sends a plague among the Greeks; which occasions Achilles, their great champion, to summon a council of the chief officers: he encourages Calchas, the high priest and prophet, to tell the reason, why the Gods were so much incensed against them. Calchas is fearful of provoking Agamemnon, till Achilles engages to protect him: then, emboldened by the hero, he accuses the general as the cause of all, by detaining the fair captive, and refusing the presents offered for her ransom. By this proceeding, Agamemnon is obliged, against his will, to restore Chryseis, with gifts, that he might appease the wrath of Phœbus; but, at the same time, to revenge himself on Achilles, sends to seize his slave Briseis. Achilles, thus affronted, complains to his mother Thetis; and begs her to revenge his injury, not only on the general, but on all the army, by giving victory to the Trojans, till the ungrateful king became sensible of his injustice. At the same time, he retires from the camp into his ships, and withdraws his aid from his countrymen. Thetis prefers her son's petition to Jupiter, who grants her suit. Juno suspects her errand, and quarrels with her husband for his grant; till Vulcan reconciles his parents with a bowl of nectar, and sends them peaceably to bed.

 
The wrath of Peleus' son, O muse, resound,
Whose dire effects the Grecian army found,
And many a hero, king, and hardy knight,
Were sent, in early youth, to shades of night:
Their limbs a prey to dogs and vultures made;
So was the sovereign will of Jove obeyed:
From that ill-omened hour when strife begun,
Betwixt Atrides great, and Thetis' godlike son.
What power provoked, and for what cause, relate,
Sowed in their breasts the seeds of stern debate:
Jove's and Latona's son his wrath expressed,
In vengeance of his violated priest,
Against the king of men; who, swoln with pride,
Refused his presents, and his prayers denied.
For this the God a swift contagion spread
Amid the camp, where heaps on heaps lay dead.
For venerable Chryses came to buy,
With gold and gifts of price, his daughter's liberty.
Suppliant before the Grecian chiefs he stood,
Awful, and armed with ensigns of his God:
Bare was his hoary head; one holy hand
Held forth his laurel crown, and one his sceptre of command.
His suit was common; but above the rest,
To both the brother-princes thus addressed: —
Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Grecian powers,
So may the Gods, who dwell in heavenly bowers,
Succeed your siege, accord the vows you make,
And give you Troy's imperial town to take;
So, by their happy conduct, may you come
With conquest back to your sweet native home;
As you receive the ransom which I bring,
Respecting Jove, and the far-shooting king,
And break my daughter's bonds, at my desire,
And glad with her return her grieving sire. —
With shouts of loud acclaim the Greeks decree
To take the gifts, to set the damsel free.
The king of men alone with fury burned,
And haughty, these opprobrious words returned: —
Hence, holy dotard! and avoid my sight,
Ere evil intercept thy tardy flight;
Nor dare to tread this interdicted strand, }
Lest not that idle sceptre in thy hand, }
Nor thy god's crown, my vowed revenge withstand.}
Hence, on thy life! the captive maid is mine,
Whom not for price or prayers I will resign;
Mine she shall be, till creeping age and time
Her bloom have withered, and consumed her prime.
Till then my royal bed she shall attend,
And, having first adorned it, late ascend;
This, for the night; by day, the web and loom, }
And homely household-task, shall be her doom, }
Far from thy loved embrace, and her sweet native home. – }
He said: the helpless priest replied no more,
But sped his steps along the hoarse-resounding shore.
Silent he fled; secure at length he stood,
Devoutly cursed his foes, and thus invoked his God: —
O source of sacred light, attend my prayer,
God with the silver bow, and golden hair,
Whom Chrysa, Cilla, Tenedos obeys,
And whose broad eye their happy soil surveys!
If, Smintheus, I have poured before thy shrine
The blood of oxen, goats, and ruddy wine,
And larded thighs on loaded altars laid,
Hear, and my just revenge propitious aid!
Pierce the proud Greeks, and with thy shafts attest
How much thy power is injured in thy priest. —
He prayed; and Phœbus, hearing, urged his flight,
With fury kindled, from Olympus' height;
His quiver o'er his ample shoulders threw,
His bow twanged, and his arrows rattled as they flew.
Black as a stormy night, he ranged around
The tents, and compassed the devoted ground;
Then with full force his deadly bow he bent,
And feathered fates among the mules and sumpters sent,
The essay of rage; on faithful dogs the next;
And last, in human hearts his arrows fixed.
The God nine days the Greeks at rovers killed,
Nine days the camp with funeral fires was filled;
The tenth, Achilles, by the queen's command,
Who bears heaven's awful sceptre in her hand,
A council summoned; for the goddess grieved
Her favoured host should perish unrelieved.
The kings, assembled, soon their chief inclose;
Then from his seat the goddess-born arose,
And thus undaunted spoke: – What now remains,
But that once more we tempt the watery plains,
And, wandering homeward, seek our safety hence,
In flight at least, if we can find defence?
Such woes at once encompass us about,
The plague within the camp, the sword without.
Consult, O king, the prophets of the event; }
And whence these ills, and what the God's intent, }
Let them by dreams explore, for dreams from Jove are sent.}
What want of offered victims, what offence
In fact committed could the Sun incense,
To deal his deadly shafts? What may remove
His settled hate, and reconcile his love?
That he may look propitious on our toils,
And hungry graves no more be glutted with our spoils.
Thus to the king of men the hero spoke,
Then Calchas the desired occasion took;
Calchas, the sacred seer, who had in view
Things present and the past, and things to come foreknew;
Supreme of augurs, who, by Phœbus taught,
The Grecian powers to Troy's destruction brought.
Skilled in the secret causes of their woes,
The reverend priest in graceful act arose,
And thus bespoke Pelides: – Care of Jove,
Favoured of all the immortal powers above,
Wouldst thou the seeds deep sown of mischief know,
And why, provoked, Apollo bends his bow,
Plight first thy faith, inviolably true,
To save me from those ills that may ensue.
For I shall tell ungrateful truths to those,
Whose boundless powers of life and death dispose;
And sovereigns, ever jealous of their state,
Forgive not those whom once they mark for hate:
Even though the offence they seemingly digest,
Revenge, like embers raked within their breast,
Bursts forth in flames, whose unresisted power
Will seize the unwary wretch, and soon devour.
Such, and no less, is he, on whom depends
The sum of things, and whom my tongue of force offends.
Secure me then from his foreseen intent,
That what his wrath may doom, thy valour may prevent. —
To this the stern Achilles made reply: —
Be bold, (and on my plighted faith rely,)
To speak what Phœbus has inspired thy soul
For common good, and speak without controul.
His godhead I invoke; by him I swear,
That while my nostrils draw this vital air,
None shall presume to violate those bands, }
Or touch thy person with unhallowed hands; }
Even not the king of men, that all commands.}
At this, resuming heart, the prophet said: —
Nor hecatomb unslain, nor vows unpaid,
On Greeks accursed this dire contagion bring;
Or call for vengeance from the bowyer king;
But he the tyrant, whom none dares resist,
Affronts the godhead in his injured priest;
He keeps the damsel captive in his chain,
And presents are refused, and prayers preferred in vain.
For this the avenging power employs his darts,
And empties all his quiver in our hearts;
Thus will persist, relentless in his ire,
Till the fair slave be rendered to her sire,
And ransom-free restored to his abode,
With sacrifice to reconcile the God;
Then he, perhaps, atoned by prayer, may cease
His vengeance justly vowed, and give the peace. —
Thus having said, he sate: – Thus answered then,
Upstarting from his throne, the king of men,
His breast with fury filled, his eyes with fire,
Which rolling round, he shot in sparkles on the sire:
Augur of ill, whose tongue was never found
Without a priestly curse, or boding sound!
For not one blessed event foretold to me
Passed through that mouth, or passed unwillingly;
And now thou dost with lies the throne invade,
By practice hardened in thy slandering trade;
Obtending heaven, for whate'er ills befall,
And sputtering under specious names thy gall.
Now Phœbus is provoked, his rites and laws
Are in his priest profaned, and I the cause;
Since I detain a slave, my sovereign prize,
And sacred gold, your idol-god, despise.
I love her well; and well her merits claim,
To stand preferred before my Grecian dame:
Not Clytemnestra's self in beauty's bloom
More charmed, or better plied the various loom:
Mine is the maid, and brought in happy hour,
With every household-grace adorned, to bless my nuptial bower.
Yet shall she be restored, since public good }
For private interest ought not to be withstood,}
To save the effusion of my people's blood. }
But right requires, if I resign my own,
I should not suffer for your sakes alone;
Alone excluded from the prize I gained,
And by your common suffrage have obtained.
The slave without a ransom shall be sent,
It rests for you to make the equivalent.
To this the fierce Thessalian prince replied: —
O first in power, but passing all in pride,
Griping, and still tenacious of thy hold,
Would'st thou the Grecian chiefs, though largely souled,
Should give the prizes they had gained before,
And with their loss thy sacrilege restore?
Whate'er by force of arms the soldier got,
Is each his own, by dividend of lot;
Which to resume were both unjust and base,
Not to be borne but by a servile race.
But this we can; if Saturn's son bestows
The sack of Troy, which he by promise owes,
Then shall the conquering Greeks thy loss restore,
And with large interest make the advantage more.
To this Atrides answered: – Though thy boast
Assumes the foremost name of all our host,
Pretend not, mighty man, that what is mine,
Controuled by thee, I tamely should resign.
Shall I release the prize I gained by right,
In taken towns, and many a bloody fight,
While thou detain'st Briseis in thy bands,
By priestly glossing on the God's commands?
Resolve on this, (a short alternative,)
Quit mine, or, in exchange, another give;
Else I, assure thy soul, by sovereign right
Will seize thy captive in thy own despite;
Or from stout Ajax, or Ulysses, bear
What other prize my fancy shall prefer:
Then softly murmur, or aloud complain,
Rage as you please, you shall resist in vain.
But more of this, in proper time and place;
To things of greater moment let us pass.
A ship to sail the sacred seas prepare, }
Proud in her trim, and put on board the fair, }
With sacrifice and gifts, and all the pomp of prayer.}
The crew well chosen, the command shall be }
In Ajax; or if other I decree, }
In Creta's king, or Ithacus, or, if I please, in thee:}
Most fit thyself to see performed the intent, }
For which my prisoner from my sight is sent, }
(Thanks to thy pious care,) that Phœbus may relent.}
At this Achilles rolled his furious eyes,
Fixed on the king askant, and thus replies: —
O, impudent, regardful of thy own,
Whose thoughts are centered on thyself alone,
Advanced to sovereign sway for better ends
Than thus like abject slaves to treat thy friends!
What Greek is he, that, urged by thy command,
Against the Trojan troops will lift his hand?
Not I; nor such enforced respect I owe,
Nor Pergamus I hate, nor Priam is my foe.
What wrong from Troy remote could I sustain,}
To leave my fruitful soil and happy reign, }
And plough the surges of the stormy main? }
Thee, frontless man, we followed from afar,
Thy instruments of death, and tools of war.
Thine is the triumph; ours the toil alone;
We bear thee on our backs, and mount thee on the throne.
For thee we fall in fight; for thee redress
Thy baffled⁶⁵ brother, – not the wrongs of Greece.
And now thou threaten'st, with unjust decree,
To punish thy affronting heaven on me;
To seize the prize which I so dearly bought,
By common suffrage given, confirmed by lot.
Mean match to thine; for, still above the rest,
Thy hooked rapacious hands usurp the best;
Though mine are first in fight, to force the prey,
And last sustain the labours of the day.
Nor grudge I thee the much the Grecians give,
Nor murmuring take the little I receive;
Yet even this little, thou, who wouldst ingross
The whole, insatiate, enviest as thy loss.
Know, then, for Phthia fixed is my return; }
Better at home my ill-paid pains to mourn, }
Than from an equal here sustain the public scorn.}
The king, whose brows with shining gold were bound,
Who saw his throne with sceptered slaves encompassed round,
Thus answered stern: – Go, at thy pleasure, go;
We need not such a friend, nor fear we such a foe.
There will not want to follow me in fight;
Jove will assist, and Jove assert my right:
But thou of all the kings (his care below)
Art least at my command, and most my foe.
Debates, dissensions, uproars are thy joy;
Provoked without offence, and practised to destroy.
Strength is of brutes, and not thy boast alone;
At least 'tis lent from heaven, and not thy own.
Fly then, ill-mannered, to thy native land,
And there thy ant-born Myrmidons command.
But mark this menace; since I must resign
My black-eyed maid, to please the Powers divine;
A well-rigged vessel in the port attends,
Manned at my charge, commanded by my friends;
The ship shall waft her to her wished abode,
Full fraught with holy bribes to the far-shooting God.
This thus dispatched, I owe myself the care,
My fame and injured honour to repair;
From thy own tent, proud man, in thy despite,
This hand shall ravish thy pretended right.
Briseis shall be mine, and thou shalt see }
What odds of awful power I have on thee, }
That others at thy cost may learn the difference of degree. – }
At this the impatient hero sourly smiled;
His heart impetuous in his bosom boiled,
And, jostled by two tides of equal sway,
Stood for a while suspended in his way.
Betwixt his reason and his rage untamed,
One whispered soft, and one aloud reclaimed;
That only counselled to the safer side,
This to the sword his ready hand applied.
Unpunished to support the affront was hard,
Nor easy was the attempt to force the guard;
But soon the thirst of vengeance fired his blood,
Half shone his faulchion, and half sheathed it stood.
In that nice moment, Pallas, from above,
Commissioned by the imperial wife of Jove,
Descended swift; (the white-armed Queen was loath
The fight should follow, for she favoured both;)
Just as in act he stood, in clouds enshrined,
Her hand she fastened on his hair behind;
Then backward by his yellow curls she drew;
To him, and him alone, confessed in view.
Tamed by superior force, he turned his eyes,
Aghast at first, and stupid with surprise;
But by her sparkling eyes, and ardent look,
The virgin-warrior known, he thus bespoke.
Com'st thou, Celestial, to behold my wrongs?
To view the vengeance which to crimes belongs?
Thus he. – The blue-eyed Goddess thus rejoined:
I come to calm thy turbulence of mind,
If reason will resume her sovereign sway,
And, sent by Juno, her commands obey.
Equal she loves you both, and I protect;
Then give thy guardian Gods their due respect,
And cease contention; be thy words severe,
Sharp as he merits; but the sword forbear.
An hour unhoped already wings her way,
When he his dire affront shall dearly pay;
When the proud king shall sue, with treble gain,
To quit thy loss, and conquer thy disdain.
But thou, secure of my unfailing word,
Compose thy swelling soul, and sheath the sword. —
The youth thus answered mild: – Auspicious maid,
Heaven's will be mine, and your commands obeyed.
The Gods are just, and when, subduing sense,
We serve their Powers, provide the recompence. —
He said; with surly faith believed her word,
And in the sheath, reluctant, plunged the sword.
Her message done, she mounts the blessed abodes,
And mixed among the senate of the Gods.
At her departure his disdain returned;
The fire she fanned with greater fury burned,
Rumbling within till thus it found a vent: —
Dastard and drunkard, mean and insolent!
Tongue-valiant hero, vaunter of thy might,
In threats the foremost, but the lag in fight!
When didst thou thrust amid the mingled preace,
Content to bide the war aloof in peace?
Arms are the trade of each plebeian soul;
'Tis death to fight, but kingly to controul;
Lord-like at ease, with arbitrary power,
To peel the chiefs, the people to devour.
These, traitor, are thy talents; safer far
Than to contend in fields, and toils of war.
Nor couldst thou thus have dared the common hate,
Were not their souls as abject as their state.
But, by this sceptre solemnly I swear,
(Which never more green leaf or growing branch shall bear;
Torn from the tree, and given by Jove to those
Who laws dispense, and mighty wrongs oppose,)
That when the Grecians want my wonted aid,
No gift shall bribe it, and no prayer persuade.
When Hector comes, the homicide, to wield
His conquering arms, with corpse to strew the field,
Then shalt thou mourn thy pride, and late confess
My wrong, repented when 'tis past redress. —
He said; and with disdain, in open view,
Against the ground his golden sceptre threw,
Then sate; with boiling rage Atrides burned,
And foam betwixt his gnashing grinders churned.
But from his seat the Pylian prince arose,
With reasoning mild, their madness to compose;
Words, sweet as honey, from his mouth distilled;
Two centuries already he fulfilled,
And now began the third; unbroken yet,
Once famed for courage, still in council great.
What worse, he said, can Argos undergo,
What can more gratify the Phrygian foe,
Than these distempered heats, if both the lights
Of Greece their private interest disunites?
Believe a friend, with thrice your years increased,
And let these youthful passions be repressed.
I flourished long before your birth; and then}
Lived equal with a race of braver men, }
Than these dim eyes shall e'er behold again. }
Ceneus and Dryas, and, excelling them,
Great Theseus, and the force of greater Polypheme.
With these I went, a brother of the war,
Their dangers to divide, their fame to share;
Nor idle stood with unassisting hands,
When savage beasts, and men's more savage bands,
Their virtuous toil subdued: yet those I swayed,
With powerful speech; I spoke, and they obeyed.
If such as those my counsels could reclaim,
Think not, young warriors, your diminished name
Shall lose of lustre, by subjecting rage
To the cool dictates of experienced age.
Thou, king of men, stretch not thy sovereign sway
Beyond the bounds free subjects can obey;
But let Pelides in his prize rejoice,
Atchieved in arms, allowed by public voice.
Nor thou, brave champion, with his power contend,
Before whose throne even kings their lowered sceptres bend;
The head of action he, and thou the hand,
Matchless thy force, but mightier his command.
Thou first, O king, release the rights of sway;
Power, self-restrained, the people best obey.
Sanctions of law from thee derive their source;
Command thyself, whom no commands can force.
The son of Thetis, rampire of our host,
Is worth our care to keep, nor shall my prayers be lost.
Thus Nestor said, and ceased. – Atrides broke
His silence next, but pondered ere he spoke: —
Wise are thy words, and glad I would obey,
But this proud man affects imperial sway,
Controuling kings, and trampling on our state;
His will is law, and what he wills is fate.
The Gods have given him strength; but whence the style
Of lawless power assumed, or licence to revile?
Achilles cut him short, and thus replied: —
My worth, allowed in words, is, in effect, denied;
For who but a poltroon, possessed with fear,
Such haughty insolence can tamely bear?
Command thy slaves; my freeborn soul disdains
A tyrant's curb, and, restiff, breaks the reins.
Take this along, that no dispute shall rise
(Though mine the woman) for my ravished prize;
But, she excepted, as unworthy strife,
Dare not, I charge thee dare not, on thy life,
Touch aught of mine beside, by lot my due,
But stand aloof, and think profane to view;
This faulchion else, not hitherto withstood,
These hostile fields shall fatten with thy blood. —
He said, and rose the first; the council broke,
And all their grave consults dissolved in smoke.
The royal youth retired, on vengeance bent;
Patroclus followed silent to his tent.
Meantime, the king with gifts a vessel stores,
Supplies the banks with twenty chosen oars;
And next, to reconcile the shooter God,
Within her hollow sides the sacrifice he stowed;
Chryseis last was set on board, whose hand }
Ulysses took, entrusted with command; }
They plow the liquid seas, and leave the lessening land.}
Atrides then, his outward zeal to boast,
Bade purify the sin-polluted host.
With perfect hecatombs the God they graced,
Whose offered entrails in the main were cast;
Black bulls and bearded goats on altars lie,
And clouds of savoury stench involve the sky.
These pomps the royal hypocrite designed
For show, but harboured vengeance in his mind;
Till holy malice, longing for a vent,
At length discovered his concealed intent,
Talthybius, and Eurybates the just,
Heralds of arms, and ministers of trust,
He called, and thus bespoke: – Haste hence your way,
And from the Goddess-born demand his prey.
If yielded, bring the captive; if denied,
The king (so tell him) shall chastise his pride;
And with armed multitudes in person come
To vindicate his power, and justify his doom. —
This hard command unwilling they obey, }
And o'er the barren shore pursue their way, }
Where quartered in their camp the fierce Thessalians lay.}
Their sovereign seated on his chair they find,}
His pensive cheek upon his hand reclined, }
And anxious thoughts revolving in his mind. }
With gloomy looks he saw them entering in }
Without salute; nor durst they first begin,}
Fearful of rash offence and death foreseen.}
He soon, the cause divining, cleared his brow,
And thus did liberty of speech allow:
Interpreters of Gods and men, be bold;
Awful your character, and uncontrouled:
Howe'er unpleasing be the news you bring,
I blame not you, but your imperious king.
You come, I know, my captive to demand;
Patroclus, give her to the herald's hand.
But you authentic witnesses I bring
Before the Gods, and your ungrateful king,
Of this my manifest, that never more
This hand shall combat on the crooked shore:
No; let the Grecian powers, oppressed in fight,
Unpitied perish in their tyrant's sight.
Blind of the future, and by rage misled,
He pulls his crimes upon his people's head;
Forced from the field in trenches to contend,
And his insulted camp from foes defend. —
He said, and soon, obeying his intent,
Patroclus brought Briseis from her tent,
Then to the entrusted messengers resigned:
She wept, and often cast her eyes behind.
Forced from the man she loved, they led her thence,
Along the shore, a prisoner to their prince.
Sole on the barren sands the suffering chief
Roared out for anguish, and indulged his grief;
Cast on his kindred seas a stormy look,
And his upbraided mother thus bespoke:
Unhappy parent of a short-lived son, —
Since Jove in pity by thy prayers was won
To grace my small remains of breath with fame,
Why loads he this embittered life with shame,
Suffering his king of men to force my slave,
Whom, well deserved in war, the Grecians gave? —
Set by old Ocean's side the Goddess heard,
Then from the sacred deep her head she reared;
Rose like a morning mist, and thus begun
To sooth the sorrows of her plaintive son: —
Why cries my care, and why conceals his smart?
Let thy afflicted parent share her part. —
Then, sighing from the bottom of his breast,
To the Sea-Goddess thus the Goddess-born addressed:
Thou know'st my pain, which telling but recals;
By force of arms we razed the Theban walls;
The ransacked city, taken by our toils,
We left, and hither brought the golden spoils:
Equal we shared them; but before the rest,
The proud prerogative had seized the best.
Chryseis was the greedy tyrant's prize,
Chryseis, rosy-cheeked, with charming eyes.
Her sire, Apollo's priest, arrived to buy,
With proffered gifts of price, his daughter's liberty.
Suppliant before the Grecian chiefs he stood,
Awful, and armed with ensigns of his God;
Bare was his hoary head; one holy hand
Held forth his laurel-crown, and one his sceptre of command.
His suit was common, but, above the rest,
To both the brother-princes was addressed.
With shouts of loud acclaim the Greeks agree
To take the gifts, to set the prisoner free.
Not so the tyrant, who with scorn the priest
Received, and with opprobrious words dismissed.
The good old man, forlorn of human aid,
For vengeance to his heavenly patron prayed:
The Godhead gave a favourable ear,
And granted all to him he held so dear;
In an ill hour his piercing shafts he sped,
And heaps on heaps of slaughtered Greeks lay dead,
While round the camp he ranged: at length arose
A seer, who well divined, and durst disclose
The source of all our ills: I took the word;
And urged the sacred slave to be restored,
The God appeased: the swelling monarch stormed,
And then the vengeance vowed he since performed.
The Greeks, 'tis true, their ruin, to prevent,
Have to the royal priest his daughter sent;
But from their haughty king his heralds came,
And seized, by his command, my captive dame,
By common suffrage given; – but thou be won,
If in thy power, to avenge thy injured son!
Ascend the skies, and supplicating move
Thy just complaint to cloud-compelling Jove.
If thou by either word or deed hast wrought
A kind remembrance in his grateful thought,
Urge him by that; for often hast thou said
Thy power was once not useless in his aid,
When he, who high above the highest reigns,
Surprised by traitor Gods, was bound in chains;
When Juno, Pallas, with ambition fired,
And his blue brother of the seas conspired,
Thou freed'st the sovereign from unworthy bands,
Thou brought'st Briareus with his hundred hands,
(So called in heaven, but mortal men below
By his terrestrial name, Ægeon, know;
Twice stronger than his sire, who sate above
Assessor to the throne of thundering Jove.)
The Gods, dismayed at his approach, withdrew,
Nor durst their unaccomplished crime pursue.
That action to his grateful mind recal,
Embrace his knees, and at his footstool fall;
That now, if ever, he will aid our foes;
Let Troy's triumphant troops the camp inclose;
Ours, beaten to the shore, the siege forsake,
And what their king deserves, with him partake;
That the proud tyrant, at his proper cost,
May learn the value of the man he lost. —
To whom the Mother-goddess thus replied,
Sighed ere she spoke, and while she spoke she cried, —
Ah wretched me! by fates averse decreed
To bring thee forth with pain, with care to breed!
Did envious heaven not otherwise ordain, }
Safe in thy hollow ships thou should'st remain,}
Nor ever tempt the fatal field again; }
But now thy planet sheds his poisonous rays,
And short and full of sorrow are thy days.
For what remains, to heaven I will ascend,
And at the Thunderer's throne thy suit commend.
Till then, secure in ships, abstain from fight;
Indulge thy grief in tears, and vent thy spite.
For yesterday the court of heaven with Jove
Removed; 'tis dead vacation now above.
Twelve days the Gods their solemn revels keep,
And quaff with blameless Ethiops in the deep.
Returned from thence, to heaven my flight I take,
Knock at the brazen gates, and Providence awake;
Embrace his knees, and suppliant to the sire,
Doubt not I will obtain the grant of thy desire. —
She said, and, parting, left him on the place,
Swoln with disdain, resenting his disgrace:
Revengeful thoughts revolving in his mind,
He wept for anger, and for love he pined.
Meantime, with prosperous gales Ulysses brought
The slave, and ship, with sacrifices fraught,
To Chrysa's port; where, entering with the tide,
He dropped his anchors, and his oars he plyed,
Furled every sail, and, drawing down the mast,
His vessel moored, and made with haulsers fast.
Descending on the plain, ashore they bring
The hecatomb to please the shooter king.
The dame before an altar's holy fire
Ulysses led, and thus bespoke her sire:
Reverenced be thou, and be thy God adored!
The king of men thy daughter has restored,
And sent by me with presents and with prayer.
He recommends him to thy pious care,
That Phœbus at thy suit his wrath may cease,
And give the penitent offenders peace. —
He said; and gave her to her father's hands,
Who glad received her, free from servile bands.
This done, in order they, with sober grace,
Their gifts around the well-built altar place.
Then washed, and took the cakes, while Chryses stood
With hands upheld, and thus invoked his God.
God of the silver bow, whose eyes survey }
The sacred Cilla! thou, whose awful sway }
Chrysa the blessed, and Tenedos obey! }
Now hear, as thou before my prayer hast heard,
Against the Grecians, and their prince, preferred.
Once thou hast honoured, honour once again
Thy priest, nor let his second vows be vain;
But from the afflicted host and humbled prince
Avert thy wrath, and cease thy pestilence! —
Apollo heard, and, conquering his disdain,
Unbent his bow, and Greece respired again.
Now when the solemn rites of prayer were past,
Their salted cakes on crackling flames they cast;
Then, turning back, the sacrifice they sped,
The fatted oxen slew, and flayed the dead;
Chopped off their nervous thighs, and next prepared
To involve the lean in cauls, and mend with lard.
Sweet-breads and collops were with skewers pricked
About the sides, imbibing what they decked.
The priest with holy hands was seen to tine
The cloven wood, and pour the ruddy wine.
The youth approached the fire, and, as it burned,
On five sharp broachers ranked, the roast they turned;
These morsels stayed their stomachs, then the rest
They cut in legs and fillets for the feast;
Which drawn and served, their hunger they appease
With savoury meat, and set their minds at ease.
Now when the rage of eating was repelled,
The boys with generous wine the goblets filled:
The first libations to the gods they pour,
And then with songs indulge the genial hour.
Holy debauch! Till day to night they bring,
With hymns and pæans to the bowyer king.
At sun-set to their ship they make return,
And snore secure on decks till rosy morn.
The skies with dawning day were purpled o'er;
Awaked, with labouring oars they leave the shore;
The Power appeased, with wind sufficed the sail,
The bellying canvas strutted with the gale;
The waves indignant roar with surly pride,
And press against the sides, and, beaten off, divide.
They cut the foamy way, with force impelled
Superior, till the Trojan port they held;
Then, hauling on the strand, their galley moor,
And pitch their tents along the crooked shore.
Meantime the goddess-born in secret pined,
Nor visited the camp, nor in the council joined;
But, keeping close, his gnawing heart he fed
With hopes of vengeance on the tyrant's head;
And wished for bloody wars and mortal wounds,
And of the Greeks oppressed in fight to hear the dying sounds.
Now when twelve days complete had run their race,
The gods bethought them of the cares belonging to their place.
Jove at their head ascending from the sea,
A shoal of puny Powers attend his way.
Then Thetis, not unmindful of her son,
Emerging from the deep to beg her boon,
Pursued their track, and wakened from his rest,
Before the sovereign stood, a morning guest.
Him in the circle, but apart, she found;
The rest at awful distance stood around.
She bowed, and, ere she durst her suit begin,
One hand embraced his knees, one prop'd his chin;
Then thus. – If I, celestial sire, in aught
Have served thy will, or gratified thy thought,
One glimpse of glory to my issue give,
Graced for the little time he has to live!
Dishonoured by the king of men he stands;
His rightful prize is ravished from his hands.
But thou, O father, in my son's defence,
Assume thy power, assert thy providence.
Let Troy prevail, till Greece the affront has paid
With doubled honours, and redeemed his aid. —
She ceased; but the considering God was mute,
Till she, resolved to win, renewed her suit,
Nor loosed her hold, but forced him to reply: —
Or grant me my petition, or deny;
Jove cannot fear; then tell me to my face
That I, of all the gods, am least in grace.
This I can bear. – The cloud-compeller mourned,
And, sighing first, this answer he returned.
Know'st thou what clamours will disturb my reign,
What my stunned ears from Juno must sustain?
In council she gives licence to her tongue,
Loquacious, brawling, ever in the wrong;
And now she will my partial power upbraid,
If, alienate from Greece, I give the Trojans aid.
But thou depart, and shun her jealous sight,
The care be mine to do Pelides right.
Go then, and on the faith of Jove rely,
When, nodding to thy suit, he bows the sky.
This ratifies the irrevocable doom;
The sign ordained, that what I will shall come;
The stamp of heaven, and seal of fate. – He said,
And shook the sacred honours of his head:
With terror trembled heaven's subsiding hill,
And from his shaken curls ambrosial dews distil.
The Goddess goes exulting from his sight,
And seeks the seas profound, and leaves the realms of light.
He moves into his hall; the Powers resort,
Each from his house, to fill the sovereign's court;
Nor waiting summons, nor expecting stood,
But met with reverence, and received the God.
He mounts the throne; and Juno took her place,
But sullen discontent sate lowering on her face.
With jealous eyes, at distance she had seen,
Whispering with Jove, the silver-footed queen;
Then, impotent of tongue, her silence broke,
Thus turbulent, in rattling tone, she spoke.
Author of ills, and close contriver Jove,
Which of thy dames, what prostitute of love,
Has held thy ear so long, and begged so hard,
For some old service done, some new reward?
Apart you talked, for that's your special care;
The consort never must the council share.
One gracious word is for a wife too much;
Such is a marriage vow, and Jove's own faith is such.
Then thus the sire of Gods, and men below: —
What I have hidden, hope not thou to know.
Even goddesses are women; and no wife
Has power to regulate her husband's life.
Counsel she may; and I will give thy ear
The knowledge first of what is fit to hear.
What I transact with others, or alone,
Beware to learn, nor press too near the throne.
To whom the Goddess, with the charming eyes: —
What hast thou said, O tyrant of the skies!
When did I search the secrets of thy reign,
Though privileged to know, but privileged in vain?
But well thou dost, to hide from common sight
Thy close intrigues, too bad to bear the light.
Nor doubt I, but the silver-footed dame,
Tripping from sea, on such an errand came,
To grace her issue at the Grecians' cost,
And, for one peevish man, destroy an host. —
To whom the Thunderer made this stern reply: – }
My household curse! my lawful plague! the spy }
Of Jove's designs! his other squinting eye! }
Why this vain prying, and for what avail?
Jove will be master still, and Juno fail.
Should thy suspicious thoughts divine aright,
Thou but becom'st more odious to my sight
For this attempt; uneasy life to me,
Still watched and importuned, but worse for thee.
Curb that impetuous tongue, before too late
The Gods behold, and tremble at thy fate;
Pitying, but daring not, in thy defence,
To lift a hand against Omnipotence. —
This heard, the imperious queen sate mute with fear,
Nor further durst incense the gloomy Thunderer:
Silence was in the court at this rebuke;
Nor could the Gods abashed sustain their sovereign's look.
The limping Smith observed the saddened feast,
And, hopping here and there, himself a jest,
Put in his word, that neither might offend,
To Jove obsequious, yet his mother's friend. —
What end in heaven will be of civil war,
If Gods of pleasure will for mortals jar?
Such discord but disturbs our jovial feast;
One grain of bad embitters all the best.
Mother, though wise yourself, my counsel weigh;
'Tis much unsafe my sire to disobey;
Not only you provoke him to your cost,
But mirth is marred, and the good chear is lost.
Tempt not his heavy hand, for he has power
To throw you headlong from his heavenly tower;
But one submissive word, which you let fall,
Will make him in good humour with us all. —
He said no more, but crowned a bowl unbid,
The laughing nectar overlooked the lid;
Then put it to her hand, and thus pursued:
This cursed quarrel be no more renewed:
Be, as becomes a wife, obedient still;
Though grieved, yet subject to her husband's will.
I would not see you beaten; yet afraid
Of Jove's superior force, I dare not aid.
Too well I know him, since that hapless hour
When I, and all the Gods, employed our power
To break your bonds; me by the heel he drew,
And o'er heaven's battlements with fury threw.
All day I fell; my flight at morn begun,
And ended not but with the setting sun.
Pitched on my head, at length the Lemnian ground
Received my battered skull, the Sinthians healed my wound. —
At Vulcan's homely mirth his mother smiled,
And, smiling, took the cup the clown had filled.
The reconciler-bowl went round the board,
Which, emptied, the rude skinker still restored.
Loud fits of laughter seized the guests, to see
The limping God so deft⁶⁶ at his new ministry.
The feast continued till declining light;
They drank, they laughed, they loved, and then 'twas night.
Nor wanted tuneful harp, nor vocal quire,
The Muses sung, Apollo touched the lyre.
Drunken at last, and drowsy, they depart
Each to his house, adorned with laboured art
Of the lame architect. The thundering God,
Even he, withdrew to rest, and had his load;
His swimming head to needful sleep applied,
And Juno lay unheeded by his side.