THE ARGUMENT

To Agamemnon, urging hopeless flight,
Stand Diomed, and Nestor, opposite.
By Nestor’s counsel, legates are dismiss’d
To Thetis’ son; who still denies t’ assist.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Iota sings the Ambassy,
And great Achilles’ stern reply.

So held the Trojans sleepless guard; the Greeks to flight were giv’n,
The feeble consort of cold fear, strangely infus’d from heav’n;
Grief, not to be endur’d, did wound all Greeks of greatest worth.
And as two lateral-sited winds, the west wind and the north,
Meet at the Thracian sea’s black breast, join in a sudden blore,
Tumble together the dark waves, and pour upon the shore
A mighty deal of froth and weed, with which men manure ground;
So Jove, and Troy did drive the Greeks, and all their minds confound.
But Agamemnon most of all was tortur’d at his heart,
Who to the voiceful heralds went, and bade them cite, apart,
Each Grecian leader sev’rally, not openly proclaim.
In which he labour’d with the first; and all together came.
They sadly sate. The king arose, and pour’d out tears as fast
As from a lofty rock a spring doth his black waters cast,
And, deeply sighing, thus bespake the Achives: “O my friends,
Princes, and leaders of the Greeks, heav’n’s adverse King extends
His wrath, with too much detriment, to my so just design,
Since he hath often promis’d me, and bound it with the sign
Of his bent forehead, that this Troy our vengeful hands should race,
And safe return; yet, now engag’d, he plagues us with disgrace,
When all our trust to him hath drawn so much blood from our friends.
My glory, nor my brother’s wreak, were the proposéd ends,
For which he drew you to these toils, but your whole countries’ shame,
Which had been huge to bear the rape of so divine a dame,
Made in despite of our revenge. And yet not that had mov’d
Our pow’rs to these designs, if Jove had not our drifts approv’d;
Which since we see he did for blood, ’tis desp’rate fight in us
To strive with him; then let us fly; ’tis flight he urgeth thus.”
Long time still silence held them all; at last did Diomed rise:
“Atrides, I am first must cross thy indiscreet advice,1
As may become me, being a king, in this our martial court.
Be not displeas’d then; for thyself didst broadly misreport
In open field my fortitude, and call’d me faint and weak,
Yet I was silent, knowing the time, loth any rites to break
That appertain’d thy public rule, yet all the Greeks knew well,
Of ev’ry age, thou didst me wrong. As thou then didst refell
My valour first of all the host, as of a man dismay’d;
So now, with fit occasion giv’n, I first blame thee afraid.
Inconstant Saturn’s son hath giv’n inconstant spirits to thee,
And, with a sceptre over all, an eminent degree;
But with a sceptre’s sov’reign grace, the chief pow’r, fortitude,
(To bridle thee) he thought not best thy breast should be endu’d.
Unhappy king, think’st thou the Greeks are such a silly sort,
And so excessive impotent, as thy weak words import?
If thy mind move thee to be gone, the way is open, go;
Mycenian ships enow ride near, that brought thee to this woe;
The rest of Greece will stay, nor stir till Troy be overcome
With full eversion; or if not, but (doters of their home)
Will put on wings to fly with thee. Myself and Sthenelus
Will fight till (trusting favouring Jove) we bring home Troy with us.”
This all applauded, and admir’d the spirit of Diomed;
When Nestor, rising from the rest, his speech thus seconded:
“Tydides, thou art, questionless, our strongest Greek in war,
And gravest in thy counsels too, of all that equal are
In place with thee, and stand on strength; nor is there any one
Can blame, or contradict thy speech; and yet thou hast not gone
So far, but we must further go. Thou’rt young, and well mightst be
My youngest son, though still I yield thy words had high degree
Of wisdom in them to our king, since well they did become
Their right in question, and refute inglorious going home.
But I (well known thy senior far) will speak, and handle all
Yet to propose, which none shall check; no, not our general.
A hater of society, unjust, and wild, is he
That loves intestine war, being stuff’d with manless cruelty.
And therefore in persuading peace, and home-flight, we the less
May blame our gen’ral, as one loth to wrap in more distress
His lovéd soldiers. But because they bravely are resolv’d
To cast lives after toils, before they part in shame involv’d,
Provide we for our honour’d stay; obey black night, and fall
Now to our suppers; then appoint our guards without the wall,
And in the bottom of the dike; which guard I wish may stand
Of our brave youth. And, Atreus’ son, since thou art in command
Before our other kings, be first in thy command’s effect.
It well becomes thee; since ’tis both what all thy peers expect,
And in the royal right of things is no impair to thee.
Nor shall it stand with less than right, that they invited be
To supper by thee; all thy tents are amply stor’d with wine,
Brought daily in Greek ships from Thrace; and to this grace of thine
All necessaries thou hast fit, and store of men to wait;
And, many meeting there, thou may’st hear ev’ry man’s conceit,
And take the best. It much concerns all Greeks to use advice
Of gravest nature, since so near our ships our enemies
Have lighted such a sort of fires, with which what man is joy’d?
Look, how all bear themselves this night; so live, or be destroy’d.”
All heard, and follow’d his advice. There was appointed then
Sev’n captains of the watch, who forth did march with all their men.
The first was famous Thrasymed, adviceful Nestor’s son;
Ascalaphus; and Ialmen; and mighty Merion;
Alphareus; and Deipyrus; and lovely Lycomed,
Old Creon’s joy. These sev’n bold lords an hundred soldiers led,
In ev’ry sever’d company, and ev’ry man his pike,
Some placéd on the rampire’s top, and some amidst the dike.
All fires made, and their suppers took. Atrides to his tent
Invited all the peers of Greece, and food sufficient
Appos’d before them, and the peers appos’d their hands to it.
Hunger and thirst being quickly quench’d, to counsel still they sit.
And first spake Nestor, who they thought of late advis’d so well,
A father grave, and rightly wise, who thus his tale did tell:
“Most high Atrides, since in thee I have intent to end,
From thee will I begin my speech, to whom Jove doth commend
The empire of so many men, and puts into thy hand
A sceptre, and establish’d laws, that thou mayst well command,
And counsel all men under thee. It therefore doth behove
Thyself to speak most, since of all thy speeches most will move;
And yet to hear, as well as speak; and then perform as well
A free just counsel; in thee still must stick what others tell.
For me, what in my judgment stands the most convenient
I will advise, and am assur’d advice more competent
Shall not be giv’n; the gen’ral proof, that hath before been made
Of what I speak, confirms me still, and now may well persuade,
Because I could not then, yet ought, when thou, most royal king,
Ev’n from the tent, Achilles’ love didst violently bring,
Against my counsel, urging thee by all means to relent;
But you, obeying your high mind, would venture the event,
Dishonouring our ablest Greek, a man th’ Immortals grace.
Again yet let’s deliberate, to make him now embrace
Affection to our gen’ral good, and bring his force to field;
Both which kind words and pleasing gifts must make his virtues yield.”
“O father,” answeréd the king, “my wrongs thou tell’st me right.
Mine own offence mine own tongue grants. One man must stand in fight
For our whole army; him I wrong’d; him Jove loves from his heart,
He shows it in thus honouring him; who, living thus apart,
Proves us but number, for his want makes all our weakness seen.
Yet after my confess’d offence, soothing my hum’rous spleen,
I’ll sweeten his affects again with presents infinite,
Which, to prove my firm intent, I’ll openly recite:
Sev’n sacred tripods free from fire; ten talents of fine gold;
Twenty bright cauldrons; twelve young horse, well-shap’d, and well-controll’d,
And victors too, for they have won the prize at many a race,
That man should not be poor that had but what their wingéd pace
Hath added to my treasury, nor feel sweet gold’s defect.
Sev’n Lesbian ladies he shall have, that were the most select,
And in their needles rarely skill’d, whom, when he took the town
Of famous Lesbos, I did choose; who won the chief renown
For beauty from their whole fair sex; amongst whom I’ll resign
Fair Brisis, and I deeply swear (for any fact of mine
That may discourage her receipt) she is untouch’d, and rests
As he resign’d her. To these gifts (if Jove to our requests
Vouchsafe performance, and afford the work, for which we wait,
Of winning Troy) with brass and gold he shall his navy freight;
And, ent’ring when we be at spoil, that princely hand of his
Shall choose him twenty Trojan dames, excepting Tyndaris,
The fairest Pergamus enfolds; and, if we make retreat
To Argos, call’d of all the world the Navel, or chief seat,
He shall become my son-in-law, and I will honour him
Ev’n as Orestes, my sole son, that cloth in honours swim.
Three daughters in my well-built court unmarried are, and fair;
Laodice, Chrysothemis that hath the golden hair,
And Iphianassa; of all three the worthiest let him take
All-jointureless to Peleus’ court; I will her jointure make,
And that so great as never yet did any maid prefer,
Sev’n cities right magnificent, I will bestow on her;
Enope, and Cardamyle, Mira for herbs renown’d,
The fair Æpea, Pedasus that doth with grapes abound,
Anthæa girded with green meads, Phera surnam’d Divine;
All whose bright turrets on the sea, in sandy Pylos, shine.
Th’ inhabitants in flocks and herds are wondrous confluent,
Who like a God will honour him, and him with gifts present,
And to his throne will contribute what tribute he will rate.
All this I gladly will perform, to pacify his hate.
Let him be mild and tractable; ’tis for the God of ghosts
To be unrul’d, implacable, and seek the blood of hosts,
Whom therefore men do much abhor; then let him yield to me,
I am his greater, being a king, and more in years than he
“Brave king,” said Nestor, “these rich gifts must make him needs relent,
Choose then fit legates instantly to greet him at his tent,
But stay; admit my choice of them, and let them straight be gone.
Jove-lovéd Phœnix shall be chief, then Ajax Telamon,
And prince Ulysses; and on them let these two heralds wait,
Grave Odius and Eurybates, Come, lords, take water straight,
Make pure your hand, and with sweet words appease Achilles’ mind,
Which we will pray the king of Gods may gently make inclin’d.”
All lik’d his speech; and on their hands the heralds water shed,
The youths crown’d cups of sacred wine to all distributed.
But having sacrific’d, and drunk to ev’ry man’s content,
With many notes by Nestor giv’n, the legates forward went.
With courtship in fit gestures us’d he did prepare them well,
But most Ulysses, for his grace did not so much excel.
Such rites beseem ambassadors; and Nestor urgéd these,
That their most honours might reflect enrag’d Æacides.
They went along the shore, and pray’d the God, that earth doth bind
In brackish chains, they might not fail, but bow his mighty mind.
The quarter of the Myrmidons they reach’d, and found him set
Delighted with his solemn harp, which curiously was fret
With works conceited, through the verge; the bawdrick that embrac’d
His lofty neck was silver twist; this, when his hand laid waste
Aëtion’s city, he did choose as his especial prise,
And, loving sacred music well, made it his exercise.
To it he sung the glorious deeds of great heroës dead,
And his true mind, that practice fail’d, sweet contemplation fed.
With him alone, and opposite, all silent sat his friend,
Attentive, and beholding him, who now his song did end.
Th’ ambassadors did forwards press, renown’d Ulysses led,
And stood in view. Their sudden sight his admiration bred,
Who with his harp and all arose; so did Menœtius’ son
When he beheld them. Their receipt Achilles thus begun:
“Health to my lords! Right welcome men, assure yourselves you be,
Though some necessity, I know, doth make you visit me,
Incens’d with just cause ’gainst the Greeks.” This said, a sev’ral seat
With purple cushions he set forth, and did their ease intreat,
And said: “Now, friend, our greatest bowl, with wine unmix’d and neat,
Appose these lords, and of the depth let every man make proof,
These are my best esteeméd friends, and underneath my roof.”
Patroclus did his dear friend’s will; and he that did desire
To cheer the lords, come faint from fight, set on a blazing fire
A great brass pot, and into it a chine of mutton put,
And fat goat’s flesh. Automedon held, while he pieces cut,
To roast and boil, right cunningly; then of a well-fed swine
A huge fat shoulder he cuts out, and spits it wondrous fine.
His good friend made a goodly fire; of which the force once past,
He laid the spit low, near the coals, to make it brown at last,
Then sprinkled it with sacred salt, and took it from the racks.
This roasted and on dresser set, his friend Patroclus takes
Bread in fair baskets; which set on, Achilles brought the meat,
And to divinest Ithacus took his opposéd seat
Upon the bench. Then did he will his friend to sacrifice,
Who cast sweet incense in the fire to all the Deities.
Thus fell they to their ready food. Hunger and thirst allay’d,
Ajax to Phœnix made a sign, as if too long they stay’d
Before they told their legacy. Ulysses saw him wink,
And, filling the great bowl with wine, did to Achilles drink:
“Health to Achilles! But our plights stand not in need of meat,
Who late supp’d at Atrides’ tent, though for thy love we eat
Of many things, whereof a part would make a cómplete feast.
Nor can we joy in these kind rites, that have our hearts oppress’d,
O prince, with fear of utter spoil. ’Tis made a question now,
If we can save our fleet or not, unless thyself endow
Thy pow’rs with wonted fortitude. Now Troy and her consórts,
Bold of thy want, have pitch’d their tents close to our fleet and forts,
And made a firmament of fires; and now no more, they say,
Will they be prison’d in their walls, but force their violent way
Ev’n to our ships; and Jove himself hath with his lightnings show’d
Their bold adventures happy signs; and Hector grows so proud
Of his huge strength, borne out by Jove, that fearfully he raves,
Presuming neither men nor Gods can interrupt his braves.
Wild rage invades him, and he prays that soon the sacred Morn
Would light his fury; boasting then our streamers shall be torn,
And all our naval ornaments fall by his conqu’ring stroke,
Our ships shall burn, and we ourselves lie stifled in the smoke.
And I am seriously afraid, Heav’n will perform his threats,
And that ’tis fatal to us all, far from our native seats,
To perish in victorious Troy. But rise, though it be late,
Deliver the afflicted Greeks from Troy’s tumultuous hate;
It will hereafter be thy grief, when no strength can suffice
To remedy th’ effected threats of our calamities.
Consider these affairs in time, while thou mayst use thy pow’r.
And have the grace to turn from Greece fate’s unrecover’d hour.
O friend, thou know’st thy royal sire forewarn’d what should be done,
That day he sent thee from his court to honour Atreus’ son:
‘My son,’ said he, ‘the victory let Jove and Pallas use
At their high pleasures, but do thou no honour’d means refuse
That may advance her. In fit bounds contain thy mighty mind,
Nor let the knowledge of thy strength be factiously inclin’d,
Contriving mischiefs. Be to fame and gen’ral good profess’d.
The more will all sorts honour thee. Benignity is best.’
Thus charg’d thy sire, which thou forgett’st. Yet now those thoughts appease,
That torture thy great spirit with wrath; which if thou wilt surcease,
The king will merit it with gifts; and, if thou wilt give ear,
I’ll tell how much he offers thee yet thou sitt’st angry here:
Sev’n tripods that no fire must touch; twice-ten pans, fit for flame;
Ten talents of fine gold; twelve horse that ever overcame,
And brought huge prises from the field, with swiftness of their feet,
That man should bear no poor account, nor want gold’s quick’ning sweet,
That had but what he won with them; sev’n worthiest Lesbian dames,
Renown’d for skill in housewif’ry, and bear the sov’reign fames
For beauty from their gen’ral sex, which, at thy overthrow
Of well-built Lesbos, he did choose; and these he will bestow,
And with these her he took from thee, whom, by his state, since then,
He swears he touch’d not, as fair dames use to be touch’d by men.
All these are ready for thee now. And, if at length we take,
By helps of Gods, this wealthy town, thy ships shall burthen make
Of gold and brass at thy desires, when we the spoil divide;
And twenty beauteous Trojan dames thou shalt select beside,
Next Helen, the most beautiful; and, when return’d we be
To Argos, be his son-in-law, for he will honour thee
Like his Orestes, his sole son, maintained in height of bliss.
Three daughters beautify his court, the fair Chrysothemis,
Laodice, and Iphianesse; of all the fairest take
To Peleus’ thy grave father’s court, and never jointure make;
He will the jointure make himself, so great, as never sire
Gave to his daughter’s nuptials. Sev’n cities left entire;
Cardamyle, and Enope, and Hira full of flow’rs,
Anthæa for sweet meadows prais’d, and Phera deck’d with tow’rs,
The bright Epea, Pedasus that doth God Bacchus please;
All, on the sandy Pylos’ soil, are seated near the seas;
Th’ inhabitants in droves and flocks exceeding wealthy be,
Who, like a God, with worthy gifts will gladly honour thee,
And tribute of especial rate to thy high sceptre pay.
All this he freely will perform, thy anger to allay.
But if thy hate to him be more than his gifts may repress,
Yet pity all the other Greeks, in such extreme distress,
Who with religion honour thee; and to their desp’rate ill
Thou shalt triumphant glory bring; and Hector thou may’st kill,
When pride makes him encounter thee, fill’d with a baneful sprite,
Who vaunts our whole fleet brought not one, equal to him in fight.”
Swift-foot Æacides replied: “Divine Laertes’ son,
’Tis requisite I should be short, and show what place hath won
Thy serious speech, affirming nought but what you shall approve
Establish’d in my settled heart, that in the rest I move
No murmur nor exceptión; for, like hell mouth I loath,
Who holds not in his words and thoughts one indistinguish’d troth.
What fits the freeness of my mind, my speech shall make display’d.
Nor Atreus’ son, nor all the Greeks, shall win me to their aid,
Their suit is wretchedly enforc’d, to free their own despairs,
And my life never shall be hir’d with thankless desp’rate pray’rs;
For never had I benefit, that ever foil’d the foe;
Ev’n share hath he that keeps his tent, and he to field doth go,
With equal honour cowards die, and men most valiant,
The much performer, and the man that can of nothing vaunt.
No overplus I ever found, when, with my mind’s most strife
To do them good, to dang’rous fight I have expos’d my life.
But ev’n as to unfeather’d birds the careful dam brings meat,
Which when she hath bestow’d, herself hath nothing left to eat;
So, when my broken sleeps have drawn the nights t’ extremest length,
And ended many bloody days with still-employéd strength,
To guard their weakness, and preserve their wives’ contents infract,
I have been robb’d before their eyes: Twelve cities I have sack’d
Assail’d by sea, elev’n by land, while this siege held at Troy;
And of all these, what was most dear, and most might crown the joy
Of Agamemnon, he enjoy’d, who here behind remain’d:
Which when he took, a few he gave, and many things retain’d,
Other to optimates and kings he gave, who hold them fast,
Yet mine he forceth; only I sit with my loss disgrac’d.
But so he gain a lovely dame, to be his bed’s delight,
It is enough; for what cause else do Greeks and Trojans fight?
Why brought he hither such an host? Was it not for a dame?
For fair-hair’d Helen? And doth love alone the hearts inflame
Of the Atrides to their wives, of all the men that move?
Ev’ry discreet and honest mind cares for his private love,
As much as they; as I myself lov’d Brisis as my life,
Although my captive, and had will to take her for my wife.
Whom since he forc’d, preventing me, in vain he shall prolong
Hopes to appease me that know well the deepness of my wrong.
But, good Ulysses, with thyself, and all you other kings,
Let him take stomach to repel Troy’s fi’ry threatenings.
Much hath he done without my help, built him a goodly fort,
Cut a dike by it, pitch’d with pales, broad and of deep import;
And cannot all these helps repress this kill-man Hector’s fright?
When I was arm’d among the Greeks, he would not offer fight
Without the shadow of his walls; but to the Scæan ports,
Or to the holy beach of Jove, come back’d with his consorts;
Where once he stood my charge alone, and hardly made retreat,
And to make new proof of our pow’rs, the doubt is not so great.
To-morrow then, with sacrifice perform’d t’ imperial Jove
And all the Gods, I’ll launch my fleet, and all my men remove;
Which (if thou wilt use so thy sight, or think’st it worth respect)
In forehead of the morn, thine eyes shall see, with sails erect
Amidst the fishy Hellespont, help’d with laborious oars.
And, if the Sea-god send free sail, the fruitful Phthian shores
Within three days we shall attain, where I have store of prise
Left, when with prejudice I came to these indignities.
There have I gold as well as here, and store of ruddy brass,
Dames slender, elegantly girt, and steel as bright as glass.
These will I take as I retire, as shares I firmly save,
Though Agamemnon be so base to take the gifts he gave.
Tell him all this, and openly, I on your honours charge,
That others may take shame to hear his lusts command so large,
And, if there yet remain a man he hopeth to deceive
(Being dyed in endless impudence) that man may learn to leave
His trust and empire. But alas, though, like a wolf he be,
Shameless and rude, he durst not take my prise, and look on me.
I never will partake his works, nor counsels, as before,
He once deceiv’d and injur’d me, and he shall never more
Tye my affections with his words. Enough is the increase
Of one success in his deceits; which let him joy in peace,
And bear it to a wretched end. Wise Jove hath reft his brain
To bring him plagues, and these his gifts I, as my foes, disdain.
Ev’n in the numbness of calm death I will revengeful be,
Though ten or twenty times so much he would bestow on me,
All he hath here, or any where, or Orchomen contains,
To which men bring their wealth for strength, or all the store remains
In circuit of Egyptian Thebes, where much hid treasure lies,
Whose walls contain an hundred ports, of so admir’d a size
Two hundred soldiers may a-front with horse and chariots pass.
Nor, would he amplify all this like sand, or dust, or grass,
Should he reclaim me, till this wreak pay’d me for all the pains
That with his contumely burn’d, like poison, in my veins.
Nor shall his daughter be my wife, although she might contend
With golden Venus for her form, or if she did transcend
Blue-ey’d Minerva for her works; let him a Greek select
Fit for her, and a greater king. For if the Gods protect
My safety to my father’s court, he shall choose me a wife.
Many fair Achive princesses of unimpeachéd life
In Helle and in Phthia live, whose sires do cities hold,
Of whom I can have whom I will. And, more an hundred fold
My true mind in my country likes to take a lawful wife
Than in another nation; and there delight my life
With those goods that my father got, much rather than die here.
Not all the wealth of well-built Troy, possess’d when peace was there,
All that Apollo’s marble fane in stony Pythos holds,
I value equal with the life that my free breast enfolds.
Sheep, oxen, tripods, crest-deck’d horse, though lost, may come again,
But when the white guard of our teeth no longer can contain
Our human soul, away it flies, and, once gone, never more
To her frail mansion any man can her lost pow’rs restore.
And therefore since my mother-queen, fam’d for her silver feet,
Told me two fates about my death in my direction meet:
The one, that, if I here remain t’ assist our victory,
My safe return shall never live, my fame shall never die;
If my return obtain success, much of my fame decays,
But death shall linger his approach, and I live many days,
This being reveal’d, ’twere foolish pride, t’ abridge my life for praise.
Then with myself, I will advise, others to hoise their sail,
For, ’gainst the height of Ilion, you never shall prevail,
Jove with his hand protecteth it, and makes the soldiers bold.
This tell the kings in ev’ry part, for so grave legates should,
That they may better counsels use, to save their fleet and friends
By their own valours; since this course, drown’d in my anger, ends.
Phœnix may in my tent repose, and in the morn steer course
For Phthia, if he think it good; if not, I’ll use no force.”
All wonder’d at his stern reply; and Phœnix, full of fears
His words would be more weak than just, supplied their wants with tears.
“If thy return incline thee thus, Peleus’ renownéd joy,
And thou wilt let our ships be burn’d with harmful fire of Troy,
Since thou art angry, O my son, how shall I after be
Alone in these extremes of death, relinquishéd by thee?
I, whom thy royal father sent as ord’rer of thy force,
When to Atrides from his court he left thee for this course,
Yet young, and when in skill of arms thou didst not so abound,
Nor hadst the habit of discourse, that makes men so renown’d.
In all which I was set by him, t’ instruct thee as my son,
That thou might’st speak, when speech was fit, and do, when deeds were done,
Not sit as dumb, for want of words, idle, for skill to move,
I would not then be left by thee, dear son, begot in love,
No, not if God would promise me, to raze the prints of time
Carv’d in my bosom and my brows, and grace me with the prime
Of manly youth, as when at first I left sweet Helle’s shore
Deck’d with fair dames, and fled the grudge my angry father bore;
Who was the fair Amyntor call’d, surnam’d Ormenides,
And for a fair-hair’d harlot’s sake, that his affects could please,
Contemn’d my mother, his true wife, who ceaseless urgéd me
To use his harlot Clytia, and still would clasp my knee
To do her will, that so my sire might turn his love to hate
Of that lewd dame, converting it to comfort her estate.
At last I was content to prove to do my mother good,
And reconcile my father’s love; who straight suspicious stood,
Pursuing me with many a curse, and to the Furies pray’d
No dame might love, nor bring me seed. The Deities obey’d
That govern hell; infernal Jove, and stern Persephone.
Then durst I in no longer date with my stern father be.
Yet did my friends, and near allies, inclose me with desires
Not to depart; kill’d sheep, boars, beeves; roast them at solemn fires;
And from my father’s tuns we drunk exceeding store of wine.
Nine nights they guarded me by turns, their fires did ceaseless shine,
One in the porch of his strong hall, and in the portal one,
Before my chamber; but when day beneath the tenth night shone,
I brake my chamber’s thick-fram’d doors, and through the hall’s guard pass’d,
Unseen of any man or maid. Through Greece then, rich and vast,
I fled to Phthia, nurse of sheep, and came to Peleus’ court;
Who entertain’d me heartily, and in as gracious sort
As any sire his only son, born when his strength is spent,
And bless’d with great possessions to leave to his descent.
He made me rich, and to my charge did much command commend.
I dwelt in th’ utmost region rich Phthia doth extend,
And govern’d the Dolopians, and made thee what thou art,
O thou that like the Gods art fram’d. Since, dearest to my heart,
I us’d thee so, thou lov’dst none else; nor anywhere wouldst eat,
Till I had crown’d my knee with thee, and carv’d thee tend’rest meat,
And giv’n thee wine so much, for love, that, in thy infancy
(Which still discretion must protect, and a continual eye)
My bosom lovingly sustain’d the wine thine could not bear.
Then, now my strength needs thine as much, be mine to thee as dear,
Much have I suffer’d for thy love, much labour’d, wishéd much,
Thinking, since I must have no heir (the Gods’ decrees are such)
I would adopt thyself my heir. To thee my heart did give
What any sire could give his son. In thee I hop’d to live.
O mitigate thy mighty spirits. It fits not one that moves
The hearts of all, to live unmov’d, and succour hates for loves.
The Gods themselves are flexible; whose virtues, honours, pow’rs,
Are more than thine, yet they will bend their breasts as we bend ours.
Perfumes, benign devotions, savours of off’rings burn’d,
And holy rites, the engines are with which their hearts are turn’d,
By men that pray to them, whose faith their sins have falsified.
For Pray’rs are daughters of great Jove, lame, wrinkled, ruddy-ey’d,
And ever following injury, who, strong and sound of feet,
Flies through the world, afflicting men. Believing Prayers yet,
To all that love that Seed of Jove, the certain blessing get
To have Jove hear, and help them too; but if he shall refuse,
And stand inflexible to them, they fly to Jove, and use
Their pow’rs against him, that the wrongs he doth to them may fall
On his own head, and pay those pains whose cure he fails to call.
Then, great Achilles, honour thou this sacred Seed of Jove,
And yield to them, since other men of greatest minds they move.
If Agamemnon would not give the self-same gifts he vows,
But offer other afterwards, and in his still-bent brows
Entomb his honour and his word, I would not thus exhort,
With wrath appeas’d, thy aid to Greece, though plagu’d in heaviest sort;
But much he presently will give, and after yield the rest.
T’ assure which he hath sent to thee the men thou lovest best,
And most renown’d of all the host, that they might soften thee.
Then let not both their pains and pray’rs lost and despiséd be,
Before which none could reprehend the tumult of thy heart,
But now to rest inexpiate were much too rude a part.
Of ancient worthies we have heard, when they were more displeas’d,
To their high fames, with gifts and pray’rs they have been still appeas’d.
For instance, I remember well a fact perform’d of old,
Which to you all, my friends, I’ll tell: The Curets wars did hold
With the well-fought Ætolians, where mutual lives had end
About the city Calydon. Th’ Ætolians did defend
Their flourishing country, which to spoil the Curets did contend.
Diana with-the-golden-throne, with Oeneus much incens’d,
Since with his plenteous land’s first fruits she was not reverenc’d,
(Yet other Gods, with hecatombs, had feasts, and she alone,
Great Jove’s bright daughter, left unserv’d, or by oblivion,
Or undue knowledge of her dues) much hurt in heart she swore;
And she, enrag’d, excited much, she sent a sylvan boar
From their green groves, with wounding tusks; who usually did spoil
King Oeneus’ fields, his lofty woods laid prostrate on the soil,
Rent by the roots trees fresh, adorn’d with fragrant apple flow’rs.
Which Meleager (Oeneus’ son) slew, with assembl’d pow’rs
Of hunters, and of fiercest hounds, from many cities brought;
For such he was that with few lives his death could not be bought,
Heaps of dead humans, by his rage, the fun’ral piles applied.
Yet, slain at last, the Goddess stirr’d about his head, and hide,
A wondrous tumult, and a war betwixt the Curets wrought
And brave Ætolians. All the while fierce Meleager fought,
Ill-far’d the Curets; near the walls none durst advance his crest,
Though they were many. But when wrath inflam’d his haughty breast
(Which oft the firm mind of the wise with passion doth infest)
Since ’twixt his mother-queen and him arose a deadly strife,
He left the court, and privately liv’d with his lawful wife,
Fair Cleopatra, female birth of bright Marpessa’s pain,
And of Ideus; who of all terrestrial men did reign,
At that time, king of fortitude, and for Marpessa’s sake,
‘Gainst wanton Phœbus, king of flames; his bow in hand did take,
Since he had ravish’d her, his joy; whom her friends after gave
The surname of Alcyone, because they could not save
Their daughter from Alcyone’s fate. In Cleopatra’s arms
Lay Meleager, feeding on his anger, for the harms
His mother pray’d might fall on him; who, for her brother slain
By Meleager, griev’d, and pray’d the Gods to wreak her pain
With all the horror could be pour’d upon her furious birth.
Still knock’d she with her impious hands the many-feeding earth,
To urge stern Pluto and his Queen t’ incline their vengeful ears,
Fell on her knees, and all her breast dew’d with her fi’ry tears,
To make them massacre her son, whose wrath enrag’d her thus.
Erinnys, wand’ring through the air, heard, out of Erebus,
Pray’rs fit for her unpleaséd mind. Yet Meleager lay
Obscur’d in fury. Then the bruit of the tumultuous fray
Rung through the turrets as they scal’d; then came th’ Ætolian peers
To Meleager with low suits, to rise and free their fears;
Then sent they the chief priests of Gods, with offer’d gifts t’ atone
His diff’ring fury, bade him choose, in sweet-soil’d Calydon,
Of the most fat and yieldy soil, what with an hundred steers
Might in a hundred days be plough’d, half that rich vintage bears,
And half of naked earth to plough; yet yielded not his ire.
Then to his lofty chamber-door, ascends his royal sire
With ruthful plaints, shook the strong bars; then came his sisters’ cries;
His mother then; and all intreat;—yet still more stiff he lies;—
His friends, most rev’rend, most esteem’d; yet none impression took,
Till the high turrets where he lay, and his strong chamber, shook
With the invading enemy, who now forced dreadful way
Along the city. Then his wife, in pitifil dismay,
Besought him, weeping; telling him the miseries sustain’d
By all the citizens, whose town the enemy had gain’d;
Men slaughter’d; children bondslaves made; sweet ladies forc’d with lust;
Fires climbing tow’rs, and turning them to heaps of fruitless dust.
These dangers soften’d his steel heart. Up the stout prince arose,
Indu’d his body with rich arms, and freed th’ Ætolian’s woes,
His smother’d anger giving air; which gifts did not assuage,
But his own peril. And because he did not disengage
Their lives for gifts, their gifts he lost. But for my sake, dear friend,
Be not thou bent to see our plights to these extremes descend,
Ere thou assist us; be not so by thy ill angel turn’d
From thine own honour. It were shame to see our navy burn’d,
And then come with thy timeless aid. For offer’d presents, come,
And all the Greeks will honour thee, as of celestial room.
But if without these gifts thou fight, forc’d by thy private woe,
Thou wilt be nothing so renown’d, though thou repel the foe.”
Achilles answer’d the last part of this oration thus:
“Phœnix, renown’d and reverend, the honours urg’d on us
We need not, Jove doth honour me, and to my safety sees,
And will, whiles I retain a spirit, or can command my knees.
Then do not thou with tears and woes impassion my affects,
Becoming gracious to my foe. Nor fits it the respects
Of thy vow’d love to honour him that hath dishonour’d me,
Lest such loose kindness lose his heart that yet is firm to thee.
It were thy praise to hurt with me the hurter of my state,
Since half my honour and my realm thou mayst participate.
Let these lords then return th’ event, and do thou here repose,
And, when dark sleep breaks with the day, our counsels shall disclose
The course of our return or stay.” This said, he with his eye
Made to his friend a covert sign, to hasten instantly
A good soft bed, that the old prince, soon as the peers were gone,
Might take his rest; when, soldier-like, brave Ajax Telamon
Spake to Ulysses, as with thought Achilles was not worth
The high direction of his speech, that stood so sternly forth
Unmov’d with th’ other orators, and spake, not to appease
Pelides’ wrath, but to depart. His arguments were these:
“High-issu’d Laertiades, let us insist no more
On his persuasion. I perceive the world would end before
Our speeches end in this affair. We must with utmost haste
Return his answer, though but bad. The peers are elsewhere plac’d,
And will not rise till we return. Great Thetis’ son hath stor’d
Proud wrath within him, as his wealth, and will not be implor’d,
Rude that he is, nor his friends’ love respects, do what they can,
Wherein past all, we honour’d him. O unremorseful man!
Another for his brother slain, another for his son,
Accepts of satisfaction; and he the deed hath done
Lives in belov’d society long after his amends,
To which his foe’s high heart, for gifts, with patience condescends;
But thee a wild and cruel spirit the Gods for plague have giv’n,
And for one girl, of whose fair sex we come to offer sev’n,
The most exempt for excellence, and many a better prise.
Then put a sweet mind in thy breast, respect thy own allies,
Though others make thee not remiss. A multitude we are,
Sprung of thy royal family, and our supremest care
Is to be most familiar, and hold most love with thee
Of all the Greeks, how great an host soever here there be.”
He answer’d: “Noble Telamon, prince of our soldiers here,
Out of thy heart I know thou speak’st, and as thou hold’st me dear;
But still as often as I think, how rudely I was us’d,
And, like a stranger, for all rites, fit for our good, refus’d
My heart doth swell against the man, that durst be so profane
To violate his sacred place; not for my private bane,
But since wrack’d virtue’s gen’ral laws he shameless did infringe;
For whose sake I will loose the reins, and give mine anger swinge,
Without my wisdom’s least impeach. He is a fool, and base,
That pities vice-plagu’d minds, when pain, not love of right, gives place.
And therefore tell your king, my lords, my just wrath will not care
For all his cares, before my tents and navy chargéd are
By warlike Hector, making way through flocks of Grecian lives,
Enlighten’d by their naval fire; but when his rage arrives
About my tent, and sable bark, I doubt not but to shield
Them and myself, and make him fly the there strong-bounded field.”
This said, each one but kiss’d the cup, and to the ships retir’d;
Ulysses first. Patroclus then the men and maids requir’d
To make grave Phœnix’ bed with speed, and see he nothing lacks.
They straight obey’d, and thereon laid the subtile fruit of flax,
And warm sheep-fells for covering; and there the old man slept,
Attending till the golden Morn her usual station kept.
Achilles lay in th’ inner room of his tent richly wrought,
And that fair lady by his side, that he from Lesbos brought,
Bright Diomeda, Phorbas’ seed. Patroclus did embrace
The beauteous Iphis, giv’n to him, when his bold friend did race
The lofty Scyrus that was kept in Enyeius’ hold.
Now at the tent of Atreus’ son, each man with cups of gold
Receiv’d th’ ambassadors return’d. All cluster’d near to know
What news they brought; which first the king would have Ulysses show:
“Say, most praiseworthy Ithacus, the Grecians’ great renown,
Will he defend us? Or not yet will his proud stomach down?”
Ulysses made reply: “Not yet will he appeaséd be,
But grows more wrathful, prizing light thy offer’d gifts and thee,
And wills thee to consult with us, and take some other course
To save our army and our fleet, and says, ‘with all his force,
The morn shall light him on his way to Phthia’s wishéd soil,
For never shall high-seated Troy be sack’d with all our toil,
Jove holds his hand ’twixt us and it, the soldiers gather heart.’
Thus he replies, which Ajax here can equally impart,
And both these heralds. Phœnix stays, for so was his desire,
To go with him, if he thought good; if not, he might retire.”
All wonder’d he should be so stern; at last bold Diomed spake:
“Would God, Atrides, thy request were yet to undertake,
And all thy gifts unoffer’d him! He’s proud enough beside,
But this ambassage thou hast sent will make him burst with pride.
But let us suffer him to stay, or go, at his desire,
Fight when his stomach serves him best, or when Jove shall inspire.
Meanwhile, our watch being strongly held, let us a little rest
After our food; strength lives by both, and virtue is their guest.
Then when the rosy-finger’d Morn holds out her silver light,
Bring forth thy host, encourage all, and be thou first in fight.”
The kings admir’d the fortitude, that so divinely mov’d
The skilful horseman Diomed, and his advice approv’d.
Then with their nightly sacrifice each took his sev’ral tent,
Where all receiv’d the sov’reign gifts soft Somnus did present.
THE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.

1 Diomed takes fit time to answer his wrong done by Agamemnon in the fourth book.