Iliad on Leadership

Swift as the word the vain illusion fled, Descends, and hovers o’er Atrides’ head; Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage, Renown’d for wisdom, and revered for age: Around his temples spreads his golden wing, And thus the flattering dream deceives the king.

While round the prince the Greeks employ their care, The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; Once more they glitter in refulgent arms, Once more the fields are fill’d with dire alarms. Nor had you seen the king of men appear Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear; But fond of glory, with severe delight, His beating bosom claim’d the rising fight. No longer with his warlike steeds he stay’d, Or press’d the car with polish’d brass inlaid But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; The fiery coursers snorted at his side. On foot through all the martial ranks he moves And these encourages, and those reproves. “Brave men!” he cries, (to such who boldly dare Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war), “Your ancient valour on the foes approve; Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove. ’Tis not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head; Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains, And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains.”

He added not: the listening kings obey, Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way. The god of ocean (to inflame their rage) Appears a warrior furrowed o’er with age; Press’d in his own, the general’s hand he took, And thus the venerable hero spoke:

Unseen by these, the king his entry made: And, prostrate now before Achilles laid, Sudden (a venerable sight!) appears; Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands in tears; Those direful hands his kisses press’d, embrued Even with the best, the dearest of his blood!

“How dear, O kings! this fatal day has cost, What Greeks are perish’d! what a people lost! What tides of blood have drench’d Scamander’s shore! What crowds of heroes sunk to rise no more! Then hear me, chief! nor let the morrow’s light Awake thy squadrons to new toils of fight: Some space at least permit the war to breathe, While we to flames our slaughter’d friends bequeath, From the red field their scatter’d bodies bear, And nigh the fleet a funeral structure rear; So decent urns their snowy bones may keep, And pious children o’er their ashes weep. Here, where on one promiscuous pile they blazed, High o’er them all a general tomb be raised; Next, to secure our camp and naval powers, Raise an embattled wall, with lofty towers; From space to space be ample gates around, For passing chariots; and a trench profound. So Greece to combat shall in safety go, Nor fear the fierce incursions of the foe.” ’Twas thus the sage his wholesome counsel moved; The sceptred kings of Greece his words approved.

The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare, The priest to reverence, and release the fair. Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride, Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied: “Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains:

The king of men, on public counsels bent, Convened the princes in his ample tent, Each seized a portion of the kingly feast, But stay’d his hand when thirst and hunger ceased. Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approved, And slowly rising, thus the council moved.

The god obeys, his golden pinions binds,[294] And mounts incumbent on the wings of winds, That high, through fields of air, his flight sustain, O’er the wide earth, and o’er the boundless main; Then grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly, Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye: Thus arm’d, swift Hermes steers his airy way, And stoops on Hellespont’s resounding sea. A beauteous youth, majestic and divine, He seem’d; fair offspring of some princely line! Now twilight veil’d the glaring face of day, And clad the dusky fields in sober grey; What time the herald and the hoary king (Their chariots stopping at the silver spring, That circling Ilus’ ancient marble flows) Allow’d their mules and steeds a short repose, Through the dim shade the herald first espies A man’s approach, and thus to Priam cries: “I mark some foe’s advance: O king! beware; This hard adventure claims thy utmost care! For much I fear destruction hovers nigh: Our state asks counsel; is it best to fly? Or old and helpless, at his feet to fall, Two wretched suppliants, and for mercy call?”

“Such griefs, O king! have other parents known; Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own. The care of heaven thy Hector has appear’d, Nor shall he lie unwept, and uninterr’d; Soon may thy aged cheeks in tears be drown’d, And all the eyes of Ilion stream around.”

This said, he stalk’d with ample strides along, To Crete’s brave monarch and his martial throng; High at their head he saw the chief appear, And bold Meriones excite the rear. At this the king his generous joy express’d, And clasp’d the warrior to his armed breast. “Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow? To thee the foremost honours are decreed, First in the fight and every graceful deed. For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls Restore our blood, and raise the warriors’ souls, Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, Unmix’d, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown’d. Be still thyself, in arms a mighty name; Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.” To whom the Cretan thus his speech address’d: “Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest. Fix’d to thy side, in every toil I share, Thy firm associate in the day of war. But let the signal be this moment given; To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven. The field shall prove how perjuries succeed, And chains or death avenge the impious deed.”

Then he: “O prince! allied in blood and fame, Dearer than all that own a brother’s name; Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore, Long tried, long loved: much loved, but honoured more! Since you, of all our numerous race alone Defend my life, regardless of your own.”

“Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme, O king of nations! all thy Greeks proclaim; In every martial game thy worth attest, And know thee both their greatest and their best. Take then the prize, but let brave Merion bear This beamy javelin in thy brother’s war.”

“And must I then (said she), O sire of floods! Bear this fierce answer to the king of gods? Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent; A noble mind disdains not to repent. To elder brothers guardian fiends are given, To scourge the wretch insulting them and heaven.”

Oft hast thou triumph’d in the glorious boast, That thou stood’st forth of all the ethereal host, When bold rebellion shook the realms above, The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove: When the bright partner of his awful reign, The warlike maid, and monarch of the main, The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven, Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven. Then, call’d by thee, the monster Titan came (Whom gods Briareus, men Ægeon name), Through wondering skies enormous stalk’d along; Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong: With giant-pride at Jove’s high throne he stands, And brandish’d round him all his hundred hands: The affrighted gods confess’d their awful lord, They dropp’d the fetters, trembled, and adored.[64] This, goddess, this to his remembrance call, Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall; Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train, To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main, To heap the shores with copious death, and bring The Greeks to know the curse of such a king. Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head O’er all his wide dominion of the dead, And mourn in blood that e’er he durst disgrace The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.”

“Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,[226] Where Xanthus’ streams enrich the Lycian plain, Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field, And hills where vines their purple harvest yield, Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown’d, Our feasts enhanced with music’s sprightly sound? Why on those shores are we with joy survey’d, Admired as heroes, and as gods obey’d, Unless great acts superior merit prove, And vindicate the bounteous powers above? ’Tis ours, the dignity they give to grace; The first in valour, as the first in place; That when with wondering eyes our martial bands Behold our deeds transcending our commands, Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, Whom those that envy dare not imitate! Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, For lust of fame I should not vainly dare In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. But since, alas! ignoble age must come, Disease, and death’s inexorable doom, The life, which others pay, let us bestow, And give to fame what we to nature owe; Brave though we fall, and honour’d if we live, Or let us glory gain, or glory give!”

Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain, Of those Calydnæ’s sea-girt isles contain; With them the youth of Nisyrus repair, Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair; Cos, where Eurypylus possess’d the sway, Till great Alcides made the realms obey: These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring, Sprung from the god by Thessalus the king.

The Œchalian race, in those high towers contain’d Where once Eurytus in proud triumph reign’d, Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears, Or where Ithome, rough with rocks, appears, In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide, Which Podalirius and Machaon guide. To these his skill their parent-god imparts, Divine professors of the healing arts.

Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replies, While anger flash’d from his disdainful eyes: “What shameful words (unkingly as thou art) Fall from that trembling tongue and timorous heart? Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner powers, And thou the shame of any host but ours! A host, by Jove endued with martial might, And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight: Adventurous combats and bold wars to wage, Employ’d our youth, and yet employs our age. And wilt thou thus desert the Trojan plain? And have whole streams of blood been spilt in vain? In such base sentence if thou couch thy fear, Speak it in whispers, lest a Greek should hear. Lives there a man so dead to fame, who dares To think such meanness, or the thought declares? And comes it even from him whose sovereign sway The banded legions of all Greece obey? Is this a general’s voice that calls to flight, While war hangs doubtful, while his soldiers fight? What more could Troy? What yet their fate denies Thou givest the foe: all Greece becomes their prize. No more the troops (our hoisted sails in view, Themselves abandon’d) shall the fight pursue; But thy ships flying, with despair shall see; And owe destruction to a prince like thee.”

“O reverend prince! (Tydides thus replies) Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector boast I fled inglorious to the guarded coast. Before that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, O’erwhelm me, earth; and hide a warrior’s shame!” To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:[194] “Gods! can thy courage fear the Phrygian’s pride? Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed the boast? Not those who felt thy arm, the Dardan host, Nor Troy, yet bleeding in her heroes lost; Not even a Phrygian dame, who dreads the sword That laid in dust her loved, lamented lord.” He said, and, hasty, o’er the gasping throng Drives the swift steeds: the chariot smokes along; The shouts of Trojans thicken in the wind; The storm of hissing javelins pours behind. Then with a voice that shakes the solid skies, Pleased, Hector braves the warrior as he flies. “Go, mighty hero! graced above the rest In seats of council and the sumptuous feast: Now hope no more those honours from thy train; Go less than woman, in the form of man! To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in flames, To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames, Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous prince! are fled; This arm shall reach thy heart, and stretch thee dead.”

This said, Pisander from the car he cast, And pierced his breast: supine he breathed his last. His brother leap’d to earth; but, as he lay, The trenchant falchion lopp’d his hands away; His sever’d head was toss’d among the throng, And, rolling, drew a bloody train along. Then, where the thickest fought, the victor flew; The king’s example all his Greeks pursue. Now by the foot the flying foot were slain, Horse trod by horse, lay foaming on the plain. From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise, Shade the black host, and intercept the skies. The brass-hoof’d steeds tumultuous plunge and bound, And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground, Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds; The distanced army wonders at his deeds, As when the winds with raging flames conspire, And o’er the forests roll the flood of fire, In blazing heaps the grove’s old honours fall, And one refulgent ruin levels all: Before Atrides’ rage so sinks the foe, Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low. The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword, And many a car, now lighted of its lord, Wide o’er the field with guideless fury rolls, Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls; While his keen falchion drinks the warriors’ lives; More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives!

Next, eighty barks the Cretan king commands, Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna’s bands; And those who dwell where Rhytion’s domes arise, Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies, Or where by Phæstus silver Jardan runs; Crete’s hundred cities pour forth all her sons. These march’d, Idomeneus, beneath thy care, And Merion, dreadful as the god of war.

Yet more—three daughters in his court are bred, And each well worthy of a royal bed: Laodice and Iphigenia fair, And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve; He asks no presents, no reward for love: Himself will give the dower; so vast a store As never father gave a child before. Seven ample cities shall confess thy sway, The Enope and Pheræ thee obey, Cardamyle with ample turrets crown’d, And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown’d: Æpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, And rich Antheia with her flowery fields; The whole extent to Pylos’ sandy plain, Along the verdant margin of the main. There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; Bold are the men, and generous is the soil. There shalt thou reign, with power and justice crown’d, And rule the tributary realms around. Such are the proffers which this day we bring, Such the repentance of a suppliant king. But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, If honour and if interest plead in vain, Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford, And be, amongst her guardian gods, adored. If no regard thy suffering country claim, Hear thy own glory, and the voice of fame: For now that chief, whose unresisted ire Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire, Proud Hector, now, the unequal fight demands, And only triumphs to deserve thy hands.”

Meantime, to mix in more than mortal fight, The god of ocean dares the god of light. “What sloth has seized us, when the fields around Ring with conflicting powers, and heaven returns the sound: Shall, ignominious, we with shame retire, No deed perform’d, to our Olympian sire? Come, prove thy arm! for first the war to wage, Suits not my greatness, or superior age: Rash as thou art to prop the Trojan throne, (Forgetful of my wrongs, and of thy own,) And guard the race of proud Laomedon! Hast thou forgot, how, at the monarch’s prayer, We shared the lengthen’d labours of a year? Troy walls I raised (for such were Jove’s commands), And yon proud bulwarks grew beneath my hands: Thy task it was to feed the bellowing droves Along fair Ida’s vales and pendant groves. But when the circling seasons in their train Brought back the grateful day that crown’d our pain, With menace stern the fraudful king defied Our latent godhead, and the prize denied: Mad as he was, he threaten’d servile bands, And doom’d us exiles far in barbarous lands.[273] Incensed, we heavenward fled with swiftest wing, And destined vengeance on the perjured king. Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion grace, And not, like us, infest the faithless race; Like us, their present, future sons destroy, And from its deep foundations heave their Troy?”

The voice divine confess’d the warlike maid, Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey’d: Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand Received the imperial sceptre of command. Thus graced, attention and respect to gain, He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train; Each prince of name, or chief in arms approved, He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved.

He said: Automedon at his command The corslet brought, and gave it to his hand. Distinguish’d by his friend, his bosom glows With generous joy: then Menelaus rose; The herald placed the sceptre in his hands, And still’d the clamour of the shouting bands. Not without cause incensed at Nestor’s son, And inly grieving, thus the king begun:

With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies; Through the thick files he darts his searching eyes, And finds Machaon, where sublime he stands[132] In arms incircled with his native bands. Then thus: “Machaon, to the king repair, His wounded brother claims thy timely care; Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.”

“Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms, If e’er thy bosom felt fair honour’s charms. Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend; Come, and the warrior’s loved remains defend. Beneath his cares thy early youth was train’d, One table fed you, and one roof contain’d. This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe; Haste, and revenge it on th’ insulting foe.”

She spoke, and vanish’d. Priam bids prepare His gentle mules and harness to the car; There, for the gifts, a polish’d casket lay: His pious sons the king’s command obey. Then pass’d the monarch to his bridal-room, Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs perfume, And where the treasures of his empire lay; Then call’d his queen, and thus began to say:

At this, the sire embraced the maid again, So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. Then near the altar of the darting king, Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring; With water purify their hands, and take The sacred offering of the salted cake; While thus with arms devoutly raised in air, And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:

He spoke; and pass’d: Latona, stooping low, Collects the scatter’d shafts and fallen bow, That, glittering on the dust, lay here and there Dishonour’d relics of Diana’s war: Then swift pursued her to her blest abode, Where, all confused, she sought the sovereign god; Weeping, she grasp’d his knees: the ambrosial vest Shook with her sighs, and panted on her breast.

So spoke Antilochus; and at the word The mare contested to the king restored. Joy swells his soul: as when the vernal grain Lifts the green ear above the springing plain, The fields their vegetable life renew, And laugh and glitter with the morning dew; Such joy the Spartan’s shining face o’erspread, And lifted his gay heart, while thus he said:

“Unhappy consort of a king distress’d! Partake the troubles of thy husband’s breast: I saw descend the messenger of Jove, Who bids me try Achilles’ mind to move; Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts obtain The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain. Tell me thy thought: my heart impels to go Through hostile camps, and bears me to the foe.”

The host to expiate next the king prepares, With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers. Wash’d by the briny wave, the pious train[59] Are cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the main. Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid, And bulls and goats to Phœbus’ altars paid; The sable fumes in curling spires arise, And waft their grateful odours to the skies.

Far from the deep recesses of the main, Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide; And like a mist she rose above the tide; Beheld him mourning on the naked shores, And thus the sorrows of his soul explores. “Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share; Reveal the cause, and trust a parent’s care.”

“O chief! too daring in thy friend’s defence Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence. This day, averse, the sovereign of the skies Assists great Hector, and our palm denies. Some other sun may see the happier hour, When Greece shall conquer by his heavenly power. ’Tis not in man his fix’d decree to move: The great will glory to submit to Jove.”

The hero said. His friend obey’d with haste, Through intermingled ships and tents he pass’d; The chiefs descending from their car he found: The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. The warriors standing on the breezy shore, To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, Here paused a moment, while the gentle gale Convey’d that freshness the cool seas exhale; Then to consult on farther methods went, And took their seats beneath the shady tent. The draught prescribed, fair Hecamede prepares, Arsinous’ daughter, graced with golden hairs: (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, Greece, as the prize of Nestor’s wisdom gave:) A table first with azure feet she placed; Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced; Honey new-press’d, the sacred flour of wheat, And wholesome garlic, crown’d the savoury treat, Next her white hand an antique goblet brings, A goblet sacred to the Pylian kings From eldest times: emboss’d with studs of gold, Two feet support it, and four handles hold; On each bright handle, bending o’er the brink, In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to drink: A massy weight, yet heaved with ease by him, When the brisk nectar overlook’d the brim. Temper’d in this, the nymph of form divine Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine; With goat’s-milk cheese a flavourous taste bestows, And last with flour the smiling surface strows: This for the wounded prince the dame prepares: The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares: Salubrious draughts the warriors’ thirst allay, And pleasing conference beguiles the day.

“What power, O prince! with force inferior far, Urged thee to meet Achilles’ arm in war? Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, Defrauding fate of all thy fame to come. But when the day decreed (for come it must) Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, Let then the furies of that arm be known, Secure no Grecian force transcends thy own.”

He said, then took the chariot at a bound, And snatch’d the reins, and whirl’d the lash around: Before the inspiring god that urged them on, The coursers fly with spirit not their own. And now they reach’d the naval walls, and found The guards repasting, while the bowls go round; On these the virtue of his wand he tries, And pours deep slumber on their watchful eyes: Then heaved the massy gates, removed the bars, And o’er the trenches led the rolling cars. Unseen, through all the hostile camp they went, And now approach’d Pelides’ lofty tent. On firs the roof was raised, and cover’d o’er With reeds collected from the marshy shore; And, fenced with palisades, a hall of state, (The work of soldiers,) where the hero sat: Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength A solid pine-tree barr’d of wondrous length: Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty weight, But great Achilles singly closed the gate. This Hermes (such the power of gods) set wide; Then swift alighted the celestial guide, And thus reveal’d—”Hear, prince! and understand Thou ow’st thy guidance to no mortal hand: Hermes I am, descended from above, The king of arts, the messenger of Jove, Farewell: to shun Achilles’ sight I fly; Uncommon are such favours of the sky, Nor stand confess’d to frail mortality. Now fearless enter, and prefer thy prayers; Adjure him by his father’s silver hairs, His son, his mother! urge him to bestow Whatever pity that stern heart can know.”

“Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown’d, And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground. May Jove restore you when your toils are o’er Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. But, oh! relieve a wretched parent’s pain, And give Chryseïs to these arms again; If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, And dread avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.”

The rites now finish’d, reverend Priam rose, And thus express’d a heart o’ercharged with woes: “Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, But spare the weakness of my feeble age: In yonder walls that object let me shun, Nor view the danger of so dear a son. Whose arms shall conquer and what prince shall fall, Heaven only knows; for heaven disposes all.”

To him Tydides thus: “My friend, forbear; Suppress thy passion, and the king revere: His high concern may well excuse this rage, Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage: His the first praise, were Ilion’s towers o’erthrown, And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, ’Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight.”

“A city stands on Argos’ utmost bound, (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown’d,) Æolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless’d, In ancient time the happy wall possess’d, Then call’d Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, Who o’er the sons of men in beauty shined, Loved for that valour which preserves mankind. Then mighty Praetus Argos’ sceptre sway’d, Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey’d. With direful jealousy the monarch raged, And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. For him Antaea burn’d with lawless flame, And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: In vain she tempted the relentless youth, Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled, And begg’d revenge for her insulted bed: Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate; But hospitable laws restrain’d his hate: To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, With tablets seal’d, that told his dire intent.[168] Now bless’d by every power who guards the good, The chief arrived at Xanthus’ silver flood: There Lycia’s monarch paid him honours due, Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. But when the tenth bright morning orient glow’d, The faithful youth his monarch’s mandate show’d: The fatal tablets, till that instant seal’d, The deathful secret to the king reveal’d. First, dire Chimaera’s conquest was enjoin’d; A mingled monster of no mortal kind! Behind, a dragon’s fiery tail was spread; A goat’s rough body bore a lion’s head; Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.

He said; and all approved. The heralds bring The cleansing water from the living spring. The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown’d, And large libations drench’d the sands around. The rite perform’d, the chiefs their thirst allay, Then from the royal tent they take their way; Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye, Forbids to offend, instructs them to apply; Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, To deprecate the chief, and save the host. Through the still night they march, and hear the roar Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore. To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound, Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless, And calm the rage of stern Æacides. And now, arrived, where on the sandy bay The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay; Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, Pleased with the solemn harp’s harmonious sound. (The well wrought harp from conquered Thebae came; Of polish’d silver was its costly frame.) With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings The immortal deeds of heroes and of kings. Patroclus only of the royal train, Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: Full opposite he sat, and listen’d long, In silence waiting till he ceased the song. Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads. Achilles starting, as the chiefs he spied, Leap’d from his seat, and laid the harp aside. With like surprise arose Menoetius’ son: Pelides grasp’d their hands, and thus begun:

Tydides cut him short, and thus began: “Such counsel if you seek, behold the man Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say, Young though he be, disdain not to obey: A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus springs, May speak to councils and assembled kings. Hear then in me the great OEnides’ son, Whose honoured dust (his race of glory run) Lies whelm’d in ruins of the Theban wall; Brave in his life, and glorious in his fall. With three bold sons was generous Prothous bless’d, Who Pleuron’s walls and Calydon possess’d; Melas and Agrius, but (who far surpass’d The rest in courage) Œneus was the last. From him, my sire. From Calydon expell’d, He pass’d to Argos, and in exile dwell’d; The monarch’s daughter there (so Jove ordain’d) He won, and flourish’d where Adrastus reign’d; There, rich in fortune’s gifts, his acres till’d, Beheld his vines their liquid harvest yield, And numerous flocks that whiten’d all the field. Such Tydeus was, the foremost once in fame! Nor lives in Greece a stranger to his name. Then, what for common good my thoughts inspire, Attend, and in the son respect the sire. Though sore of battle, though with wounds oppress’d, Let each go forth, and animate the rest, Advance the glory which he cannot share, Though not partaker, witness of the war. But lest new wounds on wounds o’erpower us quite, Beyond the missile javelin’s sounding flight, Safe let us stand; and, from the tumult far, Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war.”

And now the chiefs approach the nightly guard; A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared: The unwearied watch their listening leaders keep, And, couching close, repel invading sleep. So faithful dogs their fleecy charge maintain, With toil protected from the prowling train; When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold, Springs from the mountains toward the guarded fold: Through breaking woods her rustling course they hear; Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear Of hounds and men: they start, they gaze around, Watch every side, and turn to every sound. Thus watch’d the Grecians, cautious of surprise, Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes: Each step of passing feet increased the affright; And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey’d, And thus accosted through the gloomy shade. “’Tis well, my sons! your nightly cares employ; Else must our host become the scorn of Troy. Watch thus, and Greece shall live.” The hero said; Then o’er the trench the following chieftains led. His son, and godlike Merion, march’d behind (For these the princes to their council join’d). The trenches pass’d, the assembled kings around In silent state the consistory crown’d. A place there was, yet undefiled with gore, The spot where Hector stopp’d his rage before; When night descending, from his vengeful hand Reprieved the relics of the Grecian band: (The plain beside with mangled corps was spread, And all his progress mark’d by heaps of dead:) There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus’ son, The council opening, in these words begun:

“Think of thy father, and this face behold! See him in me, as helpless and as old! Though not so wretched: there he yields to me, The first of men in sovereign misery! Thus forced to kneel, thus grovelling to embrace The scourge and ruin of my realm and race; Suppliant my children’s murderer to implore, And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore!”

“O heroes! worthy such a dauntless train, Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain, (Exclaim’d the king), who raise your eager bands With great examples, more than loud commands. Ah! would the gods but breathe in all the rest Such souls as burn in your exalted breast, Soon should our arms with just success be crown’d, And Troy’s proud walls lie smoking on the ground.”

Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, The king insults the goddess as she flies: “Ill with Jove’s daughter bloody fights agree, The field of combat is no scene for thee: Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair. Taught by this stroke renounce the war’s alarms, And learn to tremble at the name of arms.”

“Oh, dear as life! did I for this agree The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee! Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train, To fight for Greece, and conquer, to be slain! The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, And faith is scorn’d by all the perjured line. Not thus our vows, confirm’d with wine and gore, Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore, Shall all be vain: when Heaven’s revenge is slow, Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow. The day shall come, that great avenging day, When Troy’s proud glories in the dust shall lay, When Priam’s powers and Priam’s self shall fall, And one prodigious ruin swallow all. I see the god, already, from the pole Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; I see the Eternal all his fury shed, And shake his ægis o’er their guilty head. Such mighty woes on perjured princes wait; But thou, alas! deserv’st a happier fate. Still must I mourn the period of thy days, And only mourn, without my share of praise? Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore; Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast; While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries, (And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies,) ‘Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings, And such the conquest of her king of kings! Lo his proud vessels scatter’d o’er the main, And unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.’ Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, O’erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch’s shame.”

Ulysses heard: the hero’s warmth o’erspread His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said: “Take back the unjust reproach! Behold we stand Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command. If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, Behold me plunging in the thickest fight. Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior’s due, Who dares to act whate’er thou dar’st to view.” Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies:

“Witness thou first! thou greatest power above, All-good, all-wise, and all-surveying Jove! And mother-earth, and heaven’s revolving light, And ye, fell furies of the realms of night, Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! The black-eyed maid inviolate removes, Pure and unconscious of my manly loves. If this be false, heaven all its vengeance shed, And levell’d thunder strike my guilty head!”

“O first and greatest! heaven’s imperial lord! On lofty Ida’s holy hill adored! To stern Achilles now direct my ways, And teach him mercy when a father prays. If such thy will, despatch from yonder sky Thy sacred bird, celestial augury! Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race Tower on the right of yon ethereal space; So shall thy suppliant, strengthen’d from above, Fearless pursue the journey mark’d by Jove.”

Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies: “Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice, But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest, Apollo’s vengeance for his injured priest. Nor will the god’s awaken’d fury cease, But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase, Till the great king, without a ransom paid, To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.[54] Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer, The priest may pardon, and the god may spare.”

The king of men his hardy host inspires With loud command, with great example fires! Himself first rose, himself before the rest His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress’d, And first he cased his manly legs around In shining greaves with silver buckles bound; The beaming cuirass next adorn’d his breast, The same which once king Cinyras possess’d: (The fame of Greece and her assembled host Had reach’d that monarch on the Cyprian coast; ’Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain, This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain:) Ten rows of azure steel the work infold, Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold; Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise, Whose imitated scales against the skies Reflected various light, and arching bow’d, Like colour’d rainbows o’er a showery cloud (Jove’s wondrous bow, of three celestial dies, Placed as a sign to man amidst the skies). A radiant baldric, o’er his shoulder tied, Sustain’d the sword that glitter’d at his side: Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased The shining blade, and golden hangers graced. His buckler’s mighty orb was next display’d, That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade; Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround, And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown’d: Tremendous Gorgon frown’d upon its field, And circling terrors fill’d the expressive shield: Within its concave hung a silver thong, On which a mimic serpent creeps along, His azure length in easy waves extends, Till in three heads the embroider’d monster ends. Last o’er his brows his fourfold helm he placed, With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; And in his hands two steely javelins wields, That blaze to heaven, and lighten all the fields.

The Trojan heard; uncertain or to meet, Alone, with venturous arms the king of Crete, Or seek auxiliar force; at length decreed To call some hero to partake the deed, Forthwith Æneas rises to his thought: For him in Troy’s remotest lines he sought, Where he, incensed at partial Priam, stands, And sees superior posts in meaner hands. To him, ambitious of so great an aid, The bold Deiphobus approach’d, and said:

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.

Thus having said, he vanish’d from his eyes, And in a moment shot into the skies: The king, confirm’d from heaven, alighted there, And left his aged herald on the car, With solemn pace through various rooms he went, And found Achilles in his inner tent: There sat the hero: Alcimus the brave, And great Automedon, attendance gave: These served his person at the royal feast; Around, at awful distance, stood the rest.

To calm their passion with the words of age, Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill’d; Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distill’d:[58] Two generations now had pass’d away, Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway; Two ages o’er his native realm he reign’d, And now the example of the third remain’d. All view’d with awe the venerable man; Who thus with mild benevolence began:—

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.

“O sire! can no resentment touch thy soul? Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll? What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain, What rash destruction! and what heroes slain! Venus, and Phœbus with the dreadful bow, Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind No god can govern, and no justice bind. Say, mighty father! shall we scourge this pride, And drive from fight the impetuous homicide?”