The Iliad. Homer

the brass-clad Greeks, and man by man

       Address with words persuasive, nor permit

       To launch their well-trimm'd vessels on the deep."

      She said, nor did Minerva not obey,

       But swift descending from Olympus' heights

       With rapid flight she reach'd the Grecian ships.

       Laertes' son, in council sage as Jove

       There found she standing; he no hand had laid

       On his dark vessel, for with bitter grief

       His heart was filled; the blue-ey'd Maid approach'd,

       And thus address'd him: "Great Laertes' son,

       Ulysses, sage in council, can it be

       That you, the men of Greece, embarking thus

       On your swift ships, in ignominious flight,

       O'er the wide sea will take your homeward way,

       And as a trophy to the sons of Troy

       The Argive Helen leave, on whose account

       Far from their homes so many valiant Greeks

       Have cast their lives away? Go quickly thou

       Among the multitude, and man by man

       Address with words persuasive, nor permit

       To launch their well-trimm'd vessels on the deep."

      She said; the heav'nly voice Ulysses knew;

       Straight, springing to the course, he cast aside,

       And to Eurybates of Ithaca,

       His herald and attendant, threw his robe;

       Then to Atrides hasten'd, and by him

       Arm'd with his royal staff ancestral, pass'd

       With rapid step amid the ships of Greece.

       Each King or leader whom he found he thus

       With cheering words encourag'd and restrain'd:

       "O gallant friend, 'tis not for thee to yield,

       Like meaner men, to panic; but thyself

       Sit quiet, and the common herd restrain.

       Thou know'st not yet Atrides' secret mind:

       He tries us now, and may reprove us soon.

       His words in council reach'd not all our ears:

       See that he work us not some ill; for fierce

       His anger; and the Lord of counsel, Jove,

       From whom proceeds all honour, loves him well."

      But of the common herd whome'er he found

       Clam'ring, he check'd with staff and threat'ning words:

       "Good friend, keep still, and hear what others say,

       Thy betters far: for thou art good for nought,

       Of small account in council or in fight.

       All are not sovereigns here: ill fares the state

       Where many masters rule; let one be Lord,

       One King supreme; to whom wise Saturn's son

       In token of his sov'reign power hath giv'n

       The sceptre's sway and ministry of law."

      Such were his words, as through the ranks he pass'd:

       They from the vessels and the tents again

       Throng'd to th' Assembly, with such rush of sound,

       As when the many-dashing ocean's wave

       Breaks on the shore, and foams the frothing sea.

       The others all were settled in their seats:

       Only Thersites, with unmeasur'd words,

       Of which he had good store, to rate the chiefs,

       Not over-seemly, but wherewith he thought

       To move the crowd to laughter, brawl'd aloud.

       The ugliest man was he who came to Troy:

       With squinting eyes, and one distorted foot,

       His shoulders round, and buried in his breast

       His narrow head, with scanty growth of hair.

       Against Achilles and Ulysses most

       His hate was turn'd; on them his venom pour'd;

       Anon, at Agamemnon's self he launch'd

       His loud-tongued ribaldry; 'gainst him he knew

       Incensed the public mind; and bawling loud, [1]

       With scurril words, he thus address'd the King:

       "What more, thou son of Atreus, would'st thou have?

       Thy tents are full of brass; and in those tents

       Many fair women, whom, from all the spoil,

       We Greeks, whene'er some wealthy town we take,

       Choose first of all, and set apart for thee.

       Or dost thou thirst for gold, which here perchance

       Some Trojan brings, the ransom of his son

       Captur'd by me, or by some other Greek?

       Or some new girl, to gratify thy lust,

       Kept for thyself apart? a leader, thou

       Shouldst not to evil lead the sons of Greece.

       Ye slaves! ye coward souls! Women of Greece!

       I will not call you men! why go we not

       Home with our ships, and leave this mighty chief

       To gloat upon his treasures, and find out

       Whether in truth he need our aid, or no;

       Who on Achilles, his superior far,

       Foul scorn hath cast, and robb'd him of his prize,

       Which for himself he keeps? Achilles, sure,

       Is not intemperate, but mild of mood;

       Else, Atreus' son, this insult were thy last."

      On Agamemnon, leader of the host,

       With words like these Thersites pour'd his hate;

       But straight Ulysses at his side appear'd,

       And spoke, with scornful glance, in stern rebuke:

       "Thou babbling fool, Thersites, prompt of speech,

       Restrain thy tongue, nor singly thus presume

       The Kings to slander; thou, the meanest far

       Of all that with the Atridae came to Troy.

       Ill it beseems, that such an one as thou

       Should lift thy voice against the Kings, and rail

       With scurril ribaldry, and prate of home.

       How these affairs may end, we know not yet;

       Nor how, or well or ill, we may return.

       Cease then against Atrides, King of men,

       To pour thy spite, for that the valiant Greeks

       To him, despite thy railing, as of right

       An ample portion of the spoils assign.

       But this I tell thee, and will make it good,

       If e'er I find thee play the fool, as now,

       Then may these shoulders cease this head to bear,

       And may my son Telemachus no more

       Own me his father, if I strip not off

       Thy mantle and thy garments, aye, expose

       Thy nakedness, and flog thee to the ships