The Iliad. Homer

chains to bind him; then, O Goddess, thou

       Didst set him free, invoking to his aid

       Him of the hundred arms, whom Briareus

       Th' immortal Gods, and men AEgeon call.

       He, mightier than his father, took his seat

       By Saturn's side, in pride of conscious strength:

       Fear seiz'd on all the Gods, nor did they dare

       To bind their King: of this remind him now,

       And clasp his knees, and supplicate his aid

       For Troy's brave warriors, that the routed Greeks

       Back to their ships with slaughter may be driv'n;

       That all may taste the folly of their King,

       And Agamemnon's haughty self may mourn

       The slight on Grecia's bravest warrior cast."

      Thus he; and Thetis, weeping, thus replied:

       "Alas, my child, that e'er I gave thee birth!

       Would that beside thy ships thou could'st remain

       From grief exempt, and insult! since by fate

       Few years are thine, and not a lengthened term;

       At once to early death and sorrows doom'd

       Beyond the lot of man! in evil hour

       I gave thee birth! But to the snow-clad heights

       Of great Olympus, to the throne of Jove,

       Who wields the thunder, thy complaints I bear.

       Thou by thy ships, meanwhile, against the Greeks

       Thine anger nurse, and from the fight abstain.

       For Jove is to a solemn banquet gone

       Beyond the sea, on AEthiopia's shore,

       Since yesternight; and with him all the Gods.

       On the twelfth day he purpos'd to return

       To high Olympus; thither then will I,

       And to his feet my supplication make;

       And he, I think, will not deny my suit."

      This said, she disappear'd; and left him there

       Musing in anger on the lovely form

       Tom from his arms by violence away.

      Meantime, Ulysses, with his sacred freight,

       Arriv'd at Chrysa's strand; and when his bark

       Had reach'd the shelter of the deep sea bay,

       Their sails they furl'd, and lower'd to the hold;

       Slack'd the retaining shrouds, and quickly struck

       And stow'd away the mast; then with their sweeps

       Pull'd for the beach, and cast their anchors out,

       And made her fast with cables to the shore.

       Then on the shingly breakwater themselves

       They landed, and the sacred hecatomb

       To great Apollo; and Chryseis last.

       Her to the altar straight Ulysses led,

       The wise in counsel; in her father's hand

       He plac'd the maiden, and address'd him thus:

       "Chryses, from Agamemnon, King of men,

       To thee I come, thy daughter to restore;

       And to thy God, upon the Greeks' behalf,

       To offer sacrifice, if haply so

       We may appease his wrath, who now incens'd

       With grievous suff'ring visits all our host."

       Then to her sire he gave her; he with joy

       Receiv'd his child; the sacred hecatomb

       Around the well-built altar for the God

       In order due they plac'd; their hands then washed,

       And the salt cake prepar'd, before them all

       With hands uplifted Chryses pray'd aloud:

      "Hear me, God of the silver bow! whose care

       Chrysa surrounds, and Cilla's lovely vale,

       Whose sov'reign sway o'er Tenedos extends!

       Once hast thou heard my pray'r, aveng'd my cause,

       And pour'd thy fury on the Grecian host.

       Hear yet again, and grant what now I ask;

       Withdraw thy chast'ning hand, and stay the plague."

      Thus, as he pray'd, his pray'r Apollo heard.

       Their pray'rs concluded, and the salt cake strew'd

       Upon the victims' heads, they drew them back,

       And slew, and flay'd; then cutting from the thighs

       The choicest pieces, and in double layers

       O'erspreading them with fat, above them plac'd

       The due meat-off'rings; then the aged priest

       The cleft wood kindled, and libations pour'd

       Of ruddy wine; arm'd with the five-fork'd prongs

       Th' attendant ministers beside him stood.

       The thighs consum'd with fire, the inward parts

       They tasted first; the rest upon the spits

       Roasted with care, and from the fire withdrew.

       Their labours ended, and the feast prepar'd,

       They shared the social meal, nor lacked there aught.

       The rage of thirst and hunger satisfied,

       Th' attendant youths the flowing goblets crown'd,

       And in fit order serv'd the cups to all.

       All day they sought the favour of the God,

       The glorious paeans chanting, and the praise

       Of Phoebus: he, well pleas'd, the strain receiv'd

       But when the sun was set, and shades of night

       O'erspread the sky, upon the sandy beach

       Close to their ship they laid them down to rest.

       And when the rosy-finger'd morn appear'd,

       Back to the camp they took their homeward way

       A fav'ring breeze the Far-destroyer sent:

       They stepp'd the mast, and spread the snowy sail:

       Full in the midst the bellying sail receiv'd

       The gallant breeze; and round the vessel's prow

       The dark waves loudly roar'd, as on she rush'd

       Skimming the seas, and cut her wat'ry way.

       Arriv'd where lay the wide-spread host of Greece,

       Their dark-ribb'd vessel on the beach they drew

       High on the sand, and strongly shor'd her up;

       Then through the camp they took their sev'ral ways.

      Meantime, beside the ships Achilles sat,

       The Heav'n-born son of Peleus, swift of foot,

       Chafing with rage repress'd; no more he sought

       The honour'd council, nor the battle-field;

       But wore his soul away, and inly pin'd

       For the fierce joy and tumult of the fight.

       But when the twelfth revolving day was come,

       Back to Olympus' heights th' immortal Gods,

       Jove at their head, together all return'd.

       Then Thetis,