The Iliad. Гомер

      The shining monuments of Vulcan’s art:

      Jove on his couch reclined his awful head,

      And Juno slumber’d on the golden bed.

BOOK II

      Argument

      The Trial of the Army, and Catalogue

      of the Forces

      Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a deceitful vision to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the army to battle, in order to make the Greeks sensible of their want of Achilles. The general, who is deluded with the hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army was discouraged by his absence, and the late plague, as well as by the length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposition by a stratagem. He first communicates his design to the princes in council, that he would propose a return to the soldiers, and that they should put a stop to them if the proposal was embraced. Then he assembles the whole host, and upon moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to it, and run to prepare the ships. They are detained by the management of Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Thersites. The assembly is recalled, several speeches made on the occasion, and at length the advice of Nestor followed, which was to make a general muster of the troops, and to divide them into their several nations, before they proceeded to battle. This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate all the forces of the Greeks and Trojans, and in a large catalogue.

      The time employed in this book consists not entirely of one day. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, and upon the sea-shore; towards the end it removes to Troy.

      Now pleasing sleep had seal’d each mortal eye,

      Stretch’d in the tents the Grecian leaders lie:

      The immortals slumber’d on their thrones above;

      All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.

      To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care,

      And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war:

      Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,

      And thus commands the vision of the night.

      “Fly hence, deluding Dream! and light as air,

      To Agamemnon’s ample tent repair.

      Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,

      Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain.

      Declare, e’en now ’tis given him to destroy

      The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.

      For now no more the gods with fate contend,

      At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.

      Destruction hangs o’er yon devoted wall,

      And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.”

      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.

      “Canst thou, with all a monarch’s cares oppress’d,

      O Atreus’ son! canst thou indulge the rest?

      Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,

      Directs in council, and in war presides,

      To whom its safety a whole people owes,

      To waste long nights in indolent repose.

      Monarch, awake! ’tis Jove’s command I bear;

      Thou, and thy glory, claim his heavenly care.

      In just array draw forth the embattled train,

      Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain;

      E’en now, O king! ’tis given thee to destroy

      The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.

      For now no more the gods with fate contend,

      At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.

      Destruction hangs o’er yon devoted wall,

      And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.

      Awake, but waking this advice approve,

      And trust the vision that descends from Jove.”

      The phantom said; then vanish’d from his sight,

      Resolves to air, and mixes with the night.

      A thousand schemes the monarch’s mind employ;

      Elate in thought he sacks untaken Troy:

      Vain as he was, and to the future blind,

      Nor saw what Jove and secret fate design’d,

      What mighty toils to either host remain,

      What scenes of grief, and numbers of the slain!

      Eager he rises, and in fancy hears

      The voice celestial murmuring in his ears.

      First on his limbs a slender vest he drew,

      Around him next the regal mantle threw,

      The embroider’d sandals on his feet were tied;

      The starry falchion glitter’d at his side;

      And last, his arm the massy sceptre loads,

      Unstain’d, immortal, and the gift of gods.

      Now rosy Morn ascends the court of Jove,

      Lifts up her light, and opens day above.

      The king despatch’d his heralds with commands

      To range the camp and summon all the bands:

      The gathering hosts the monarch’s word obey;

      While to the fleet Atrides bends his way.

      In his black ship the Pylian prince he found;

      There calls a senate of the peers around:

      The assembly placed, the king of men express’d

      The counsels labouring in his artful breast.

      “Friends and confederates! with attentive ear

      Receive my words, and credit what you hear.

      Late as I slumber’d in the shades of night,

      A dream divine appear’d before my sight;

      Whose visionary form like Nestor came,

      The same in habit, and in mien the same.

      The heavenly phantom hover’d o’er my head,

      ‘And, dost thou sleep, O Atreus’ son? (he said)

      Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,

      Directs in council, and in war presides;

      To whom its safety a whole people owes,

      To waste long nights in indolent repose.

      Monarch, awake! ’tis Jove’s command I bear,

      Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.

      In just array draw forth the embattled train,

      And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain;

      E’en now, O king! ’tis given thee to destroy

      The