The Iliad. Гомер

to the experienced prince Atrides cried;

      He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied:

      “Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew

      That strength which once in boiling youth I knew;

      Such as I was, when Ereuthalion, slain

      Beneath this arm, fell prostrate on the plain.

      But heaven its gifts not all at once bestows,

      These years with wisdom crowns, with action those:

      The field of combat fits the young and bold,

      The solemn council best becomes the old:

      To you the glorious conflict I resign,

      Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine.”

      He said. With joy the monarch march’d before,

      And found Menestheus on the dusty shore,

      With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands;

      And next Ulysses, with his subject bands.

      Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far

      The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war;

      The tumult late begun, they stood intent

      To watch the motion, dubious of the event.

      The king, who saw their squadrons yet unmoved,

      With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reproved:

      “Can Peleus’ son forget a warrior’s part.

      And fears Ulysses, skill’d in every art?

      Why stand you distant, and the rest expect

      To mix in combat which yourselves neglect?

      From you ’twas hoped among the first to dare

      The shock of armies, and commence the war;

      For this your names are call’d before the rest,

      To share the pleasures of the genial feast:

      And can you, chiefs! without a blush survey

      Whole troops before you labouring in the fray?

      Say, is it thus those honours you requite?

      The first in banquets, but the last in fight.”

      Ulysses heard: the hero’s warmth o’erspread

      His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said:

      “Take back the unjust reproach! Behold we stand

      Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command.

      If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight,

      Behold me plunging in the thickest fight.

      Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior’s due,

      Who dares to act whate’er thou dar’st to view.”

      Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies:

      “O great in action, and in council wise!

      With ours, thy care and ardour are the same,

      Nor need I to commend, nor aught to blame.

      Sage as thou art, and learn’d in human kind,

      Forgive the transport of a martial mind.

      Haste to the fight, secure of just amends;

      The gods that make, shall keep the worthy, friends.”

      He said, and pass’d where great Tydides lay,

      His steeds and chariots wedged in firm array;

      (The warlike Sthenelus attends his side;)

      To whom with stern reproach the monarch cried:

      “O son of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame

      The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name)

      Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry,

      With hands unactive, and a careless eye?

      Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear’d;

      Still first in front the matchless prince appear’d:

      What glorious toils, what wonders they recite,

      Who view’d him labouring through the ranks of fight?

      I saw him once, when gathering martial powers,

      A peaceful guest, he sought Mycenae’s towers;

      Armies he ask’d, and armies had been given,

      Not we denied, but Jove forbade from heaven;

      While dreadful comets glaring from afar,

      Forewarn’d the horrors of the Theban war.

      Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows,

      A fearless envoy, he approach’d the foes;

      Thebes’ hostile walls unguarded and alone,

      Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne.

      The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found,

      And dared to combat all those chiefs around:

      Dared, and subdued before their haughty lord;

      For Pallas strung his arm and edged his sword.

      Stung with the shame, within the winding way,

      To bar his passage fifty warriors lay;

      Two heroes led the secret squadron on,

      Mason the fierce, and hardy Lycophon;

      Those fifty slaughter’d in the gloomy vale.

      He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale,

      Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire;

      Gods! how the son degenerates from the sire!”

      No words the godlike Diomed return’d,

      But heard respectful, and in secret burn’d:

      Not so fierce Capaneus’ undaunted son;

      Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun:

      “What needs, O monarch! this invidious praise,

      Ourselves to lessen, while our sire you raise?

      Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess

      Our value equal, though our fury less.

      With fewer troops we storm’d the Theban wall,

      And happier saw the sevenfold city fall,

      In impious acts the guilty father died;

      The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side.

      Far more than heirs of all our parents’ fame,

      Our glories darken their diminish’d name.”

      To him Tydides thus: “My friend, forbear;

      Suppress thy passion, and the king revere:

      His high concern may well excuse this rage,

      Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage:

      His the first praise, were Ilion’s towers o’erthrown,

      And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own.

      Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite,

      ’Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight.”

      He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling ground