The Iliad of Homer

Old man, if void of fallacy or art,
Thy words express the purpose of thy heart,
Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast given;
But wisdom has its date, assign'd by heaven.

Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name!
Their treasures I'll restore, but not the dame;
My treasures too, for peace, I will resign;
But be this bright possession ever mine."

'Twas then, the growing discord to compose,
Slow from his seat the reverend Priam rose:
His godlike aspect deep attention drew:
He paused, and these pacific words ensue:

"Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar bands!
Now take refreshment as the hour demands;
Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of night.
Till the new sun restores the cheerful light.

Then shall our herald, to the Atrides sent,
Before their ships proclaim my son's intent.
Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy may burn
Her slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn;

That done, once more the fate of war be tried,
And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!"
The monarch spoke: the warriors snatch'd with haste
(Each at his post in arms) a short repast.

Soon as the rosy morn had waked the day,
To the black ships Idaeus bent his way;
There, to the sons of Mars, in council found,
He raised his voice: the host stood listening round.

"Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, give ear!
The words of Troy, and Troy's great monarch, hear.
Pleased may ye hear (so heaven succeed my prayers)
What Paris, author of the war, declares.

The spoils and treasures he to Ilion bore
(Oh had he perish'd ere they touch'd our shore!)
He proffers injured Greece: with large increase
Of added Trojan wealth to buy the peace.

But to restore the beauteous bride again,
This Greece demands, and Troy requests in vain.
Next, O ye chiefs! we ask a truce to burn
Our slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn.

That done, once more the fate of war be tried,
And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!"
The Greeks gave ear, but none the silence broke;
At length Tydides rose, and rising spoke:

"Oh, take not, friends! defrauded of your fame,
Their proffer'd wealth, nor even the Spartan dame.
Let conquest make them ours: fate shakes their wall,
And Troy already totters to her fall."

The admiring chiefs, and all the Grecian name,
With general shouts return'd him loud acclaim.
Then thus the king of kings rejects the peace:
"Herald! in him thou hear'st the voice of Greece

For what remains; let funeral flames be fed
With heroes' corps: I war not with the dead:
Go search your slaughtered chiefs on yonder plain,
And gratify the manes of the slain.

Be witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on high!"
He said, and rear'd his sceptre to the sky.
To sacred Troy, where all her princes lay
To wait the event, the herald bent his way.

He came, and standing in the midst, explain'd
The peace rejected, but the truce obtain'd.
Straight to their several cares the Trojans move,
Some search the plains, some fell the sounding grove:

Nor less the Greeks, descending on the shore,
Hew'd the green forests, and the bodies bore.
And now from forth the chambers of the main,
To shed his sacred light on earth again,

Arose the golden chariot of the day,
And tipp'd the mountains with a purple ray.
In mingled throngs the Greek and Trojan train
Through heaps of carnage search'd the mournful plain.

Scarce could the friend his slaughter'd friend explore,
With dust dishonour'd, and deformed with gore.
The wounds they wash'd, their pious tears they shed,
And, laid along their cars, deplored the dead.

Sage Priam check'd their grief: with silent haste
The bodies decent on the piles were placed:
With melting hearts the cold remains they burn'd,
And, sadly slow, to sacred Troy return'd.

Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows shed,
And decent on the pile dispose the dead;
The cold remains consume with equal care;
And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair.

Now, ere the morn had streak'd with reddening light
The doubtful confines of the day and night,
About the dying flames the Greeks appear'd,
And round the pile a general tomb they rear'd.

Then, to secure the camp and naval powers,
They raised embattled walls with lofty towers:^[186]
From space to space were ample gates around,
For passing chariots, and a trench profound

Of large extent; and deep in earth below,
Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to the foe.
So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the gods above,
In shining circle round their father Jove,

Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man:
Then he, whose trident shakes the earth, began:
"What mortals henceforth shall our power adore,
Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore,

If the proud Grecians thus successful boast
Their rising bulwarks on the sea–beat coast?
See the long walls extending to the main,
No god consulted, and no victim slain!

Their fame shall fill the world's remotest ends,
Wide as the morn her golden beam extends;
While old Laomedon's divine abodes,
Those radiant structures raised by labouring gods,

Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion sleep."
Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep.
The almighty Thunderer with a frown replies,
That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies:

"Strong god of ocean! thou, whose rage can make
The solid earth's eternal basis shake!
What cause of fear from mortal works could move^[187]
The meanest subject of our realms above?

Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast,
Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last.
But yon proud work no future age shall view,
No trace remain where once the glory grew.

The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall fall,
And, whelm'd beneath the waves, drop the huge walclass="underline"
Vast drifts of sand shall change the former shore:
The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more."

Thus they in heaven: while, o'er the Grecian train,
The rolling sun descending to the main
Beheld the finish'd work. Their bulls they slew;
Back from the tents the savoury vapour flew.

186

—Embattled walls. "Another essential basis of mechanical unity in the poem is the construction of the rampart. This takes place in the seventh book. The reason ascribed for the glaring improbability that the Greeks should have left their camp and fleet unfortified during nine years, in the midst of a hostile country, is a purely poetical one: 'So long as Achilles fought, the terror of his name sufficed to keep every foe at a distance.' The disasters consequent on his secession first led to the necessity of other means of protection. Accordingly, in the battles previous to the eighth book, no allusion occurs to a rampart; in all those which follow it forms a prominent feature. Here, then, in the anomaly as in the propriety of the Iliad, the destiny of Achilles, or rather this peculiar crisis of it, forms the pervading bond of connexion to the whole poem."—Mure, vol. i., p. 257.

187

—What cause of fear, etc.

"Seest thou not this? Or do we fear in vain Thy boasted thunders, and thy thoughtless reign?"

Dryden's Virgil, iv. 304.