Iliad on Desire

Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke: “O monster! mix’d of insolence and fear, Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer! When wert thou known in ambush’d fights to dare, Or nobly face the horrid front of war? ’Tis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try; Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die: So much ’tis safer through the camp to go, And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. Scourge of thy people, violent and base! Sent in Jove’s anger on a slavish race; Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past, Are tamed to wrongs;—or this had been thy last. Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear, Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, Which sever’d from the trunk (as I from thee) On the bare mountains left its parent tree; This sceptre, form’d by temper’d steel to prove An ensign of the delegates of Jove, From whom the power of laws and justice springs (Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings); By this I swear:—when bleeding Greece again Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. When, flush’d with slaughter, Hector comes to spread The purpled shore with mountains of the dead, Then shalt thou mourn the affront thy madness gave, Forced to deplore when impotent to save: Then rage in bitterness of soul to know This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.”

Then thus the god: “O restless fate of pride, That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide; Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr’d, Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord. Let this suffice: the immutable decree No force can shake: what is, that ought to be. Goddess, submit; nor dare our will withstand, But dread the power of this avenging hand: The united strength of all the gods above In vain resists the omnipotence of Jove.”

Then thus incensed, the Paphian queen replies: “Obey the power from whom thy glories rise: Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye. Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more The world’s aversion, than their love before; Now the bright prize for which mankind engage, Than, the sad victim, of the public rage.”

When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia’s spleen, Thus waked the fury of his partial queen, “Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid, Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;[125] But high in heaven they sit, and gaze from far, The tame spectators of his deeds of war. Not thus fair Venus helps her favour’d knight, The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight, Each danger wards, and constant in her care, Saves in the moment of the last despair. Her act has rescued Paris’ forfeit life, Though great Atrides gain’d the glorious strife. Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits To crown this deed, and finish all the fates! Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms spare, Or rouse the furies, and awake the war? Yet, would the gods for human good provide, Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride, Still Priam’s walls in peaceful honours grow, And through his gates the crowding nations flow.”

“What frenzy goddesses! what rage can move Celestial minds to tempt the wrath of Jove? Desist, obedient to his high command: This is his word; and know his word shall stand: His lightning your rebellion shall confound, And hurl ye headlong, flaming, to the ground; Your horses crush’d beneath the wheels shall lie, Your car in fragments scatter’d o’er the sky; Yourselves condemn’d ten rolling years to weep The wounds impress’d by burning thunder deep. So shall Minerva learn to fear his ire, Nor dare to combat hers and nature’s sire. For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, She claims some title to transgress his will: But thee, what desperate insolence has driven To lift thy lance against the king of heaven?”

Next Erymas was doom’d his fate to feel, His open’d mouth received the Cretan steel: Beneath the brain the point a passage tore, Crash’d the thin bones, and drown’d the teeth in gore: His mouth, his eyes, his nostrils, pour a flood; He sobs his soul out in the gush of blood.

“Unhappy coursers of immortal strain, Exempt from age, and deathless, now in vain; Did we your race on mortal man bestow, Only, alas! to share in mortal woe? For ah! what is there of inferior birth, That breathes or creeps upon the dust of earth; What wretched creature of what wretched kind, Than man more weak, calamitous, and blind? A miserable race! but cease to mourn: For not by you shall Priam’s son be borne High on the splendid car: one glorious prize He rashly boasts: the rest our will denies. Ourself will swiftness to your nerves impart, Ourself with rising spirits swell your heart. Automedon your rapid flight shall bear Safe to the navy through the storm of war. For yet ’tis given to Troy to ravage o’er The field, and spread her slaughters to the shore; The sun shall see her conquer, till his fall With sacred darkness shades the face of all.”

“What, goddess! this unusual favour draws? All hail, and welcome! whatsoe’er the cause; Till now a stranger, in a happy hour Approach, and taste the dainties of the bower.”

So spake he, threatening: but the gods made vain His threat, and guard inviolate the slain: Celestial Venus hover’d o’er his head, And roseate unguents, heavenly fragrance! shed: She watch’d him all the night and all the day, And drove the bloodhounds from their destined prey. Nor sacred Phœbus less employ’d his care; He pour’d around a veil of gather’d air, And kept the nerves undried, the flesh entire, Against the solar beam and Sirian fire.

“How long, unhappy! shall thy sorrows flow, And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe: Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing reign Soothes weary life, and softens human pain? O snatch the moments yet within thy power; Not long to live, indulge the amorous hour! Lo! Jove himself (for Jove’s command I bear) Forbids to tempt the wrath of heaven too far. No longer then (his fury if thou dread) Detain the relics of great Hector dead; Nor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance vain, But yield to ransom, and restore the slain.”

“Alas, what weight of anguish hast thou known, Unhappy prince! thus guardless and alone To pass through foes, and thus undaunted face The man whose fury has destroy’d thy race! Heaven sure has arm’d thee with a heart of steel, A strength proportion’d to the woes you feel. Rise, then: let reason mitigate your care: To mourn avails not: man is born to bear. Such is, alas! the gods’ severe decree: They, only they are blest, and only free. Two urns by Jove’s high throne have ever stood, The source of evil one, and one of good; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, Blessings to these, to those distributes ill; To most he mingles both: the wretch decreed To taste the bad unmix’d, is cursed indeed; Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven. The happiest taste not happiness sincere; But find the cordial draught is dash’d with care. Who more than Peleus shone in wealth and power What stars concurring bless’d his natal hour! A realm, a goddess, to his wishes given; Graced by the gods with all the gifts of heaven. One evil yet o’ertakes his latest day: No race succeeding to imperial sway; An only son; and he, alas! ordain’d To fall untimely in a foreign land. See him, in Troy, the pious care decline Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine! Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld; In riches once, in children once excell’d; Extended Phrygia own’d thy ample reign, And all fair Lesbos’ blissful seats contain, And all wide Hellespont’s unmeasured main. But since the god his hand has pleased to turn, And fill thy measure from his bitter urn, What sees the sun, but hapless heroes’ falls? War, and the blood of men, surround thy walls! What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, nor shed These unavailing sorrows o’er the dead; Thou canst not call him from the Stygian shore, But thou, alas! may’st live to suffer more!”

“Permit me now, beloved of Jove! to steep My careful temples in the dew of sleep: For, since the day that number’d with the dead My hapless son, the dust has been my bed; Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes; My only food, my sorrows and my sighs! Till now, encouraged by the grace you give, I share thy banquet, and consent to live.”