The Iliad. Гомер

wise through time, and narrative with age,

      In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice,

      A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.

      These, when the Spartan queen approach’d the tower,

      In secret own’d resistless beauty’s power:

      They cried, “No wonder such celestial charms

      For nine long years have set the world in arms;

      What winning graces! what majestic mien!

      She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen!

      Yet hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal face,

      And from destruction save the Trojan race.”

      The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried,

      “Approach, my child, and grace thy father’s side.

      See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears,

      The friends and kindred of thy former years.

      No crime of thine our present sufferings draws,

      Not thou, but Heaven’s disposing will, the cause

      The gods these armies and this force employ,

      The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy.

      But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he

      (Far as from hence these aged orbs can see)

      Around whose brow such martial graces shine,

      So tall, so awful, and almost divine!

      Though some of larger stature tread the green,

      None match his grandeur and exalted mien:

      He seems a monarch, and his country’s pride.”

      Thus ceased the king, and thus the fair replied:

      “Before thy presence, father, I appear,

      With conscious shame and reverential fear.

      Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled,

      False to my country, and my nuptial bed;

      My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind,

      False to them all, to Paris only kind!

      For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease

      Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please!

      The king of kings, Atrides, you survey,

      Great in the war, and great in arts of sway:

      My brother once, before my days of shame!

      And oh! that still he bore a brother’s name!”

      With wonder Priam view’d the godlike man,

      Extoll’d the happy prince, and thus began:

      “O bless’d Atrides! born to prosperous fate,

      Successful monarch of a mighty state!

      How vast thy empire! Of your matchless train

      What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain!

      In Phrygia once were gallant armies known,

      In ancient time, when Otreus fill’d the throne,

      When godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse,

      And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force:

      Against the manlike Amazons we stood,

      And Sangar’s stream ran purple with their blood.

      But far inferior those, in martial grace,

      And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race.”

      This said, once more he view’d the warrior train;

      “What’s he, whose arms lie scatter’d on the plain?

      Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread,

      Though great Atrides overtops his head.

      Nor yet appear his care and conduct small;

      From rank to rank he moves, and orders all.

      The stately ram thus measures o’er the ground,

      And, master of the flock, surveys them round.”

      Then Helen thus: “Whom your discerning eyes

      Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise;

      A barren island boasts his glorious birth;

      His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth.”

      Antenor took the word, and thus began:

      “Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man

      When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws,

      To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause;

      (Great Menelaus urged the same request;)

      My house was honour’d with each royal guest:

      I knew their persons, and admired their parts,

      Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts.

      Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view;

      Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew.

      When Atreus’ son harangued the listening train,

      Just was his sense, and his expression plain,

      His words succinct, yet full, without a fault;

      He spoke no more than just the thing he ought.

      But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,

      His modest eyes he fix’d upon the ground;

      As one unskill’d or dumb, he seem’d to stand,

      Nor raised his head, nor stretch’d his sceptred hand;

      But, when he speaks, what elocution flows!

      Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,

      The copious accents fall, with easy art;

      Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!

      Wondering we hear, and fix’d in deep surprise,

      Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.”

      The king then ask’d (as yet the camp he view’d)

      “What chief is that, with giant strength endued,

      Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest,

      And lofty stature, far exceed the rest?”

      “Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen replied,)

      Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride.

      See! bold Idomeneus superior towers

      Amid yon circle of his Cretan powers,

      Great as a god! I saw him once before,

      With Menelaus on the Spartan shore.

      The rest I know, and could in order name;

      All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame.

      Yet two are wanting of the numerous train,

      Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain:

      Castor and Pollux, first in martial force,

      One bold on foot, and one renown’d for horse.

      My brothers these; the same our native shore,

      One house contain’d us, as one mother bore.

      Perhaps