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    Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

    Page 83
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      See! what a blaze from hostile tents aspires,

      How near our fleet approach the Trojan fires!

      Who can, unmov’d, behold the dreadful light? 105

      What eye beholds them, and can close to-night?

      This dreadful interval determines all;

      To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece must fall.’

      Thus spoke the hoary Sage: the rest obey;

      Swift thro’ the gates the guards direct their way. 110

      His son was first to pass the lofty mound,

      The gen’rous Thrasymed, in arms renown’d:

      Next him Ascalaphus, Ialmen, stood,

      The double offspring of the Warrior-God.

      Deïpyrus, Aphareus, Merion join, 115

      And Lycomed, of Creon’s noble line.

      Sev’n were the leaders of the nightly bands,

      And each bold Chief a hundred spears commands.

      The fires they light, to short repasts they fall,

      Some line the trench, and others man the wall. 120

      The King of Men, on public counsels bent,

      Convened the Princes in his ample tent;

      Each seiz’d a portion of the kingly feast,

      But stay’d his hand when thirst and hunger ceas’d.

      Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approv’d, 125

      And, slowly rising, thus the council mov’d:

      ‘Monarch of nations! whose superior sway

      Assembled states and lords of earth obey,

      The laws and sceptres to thy hand are giv’n,

      And millions own the care of thee and Heav’n. 130

      O King! the counsels of my age attend;

      With thee my cares begin, with thee must end;

      Thee, Prince! it fits alike to speak and hear,

      Pronounce with judgment, with regard give ear,

      To see no wholesome motion be withstood, 135

      And ratify the best for public good.

      Nor, tho’ a meaner give advice, repine,

      But follow it, and make the wisdom thine.

      Hear then a thought, not now conceiv’d in haste,

      At once my present judgment, and my past: 140

      When from Pelides’ tent you forced the Maid,

      I first opposed, and, faithful, durst dissuade;

      But, bold of soul, when headlong fury fired,

      You wrong’d the man, by men and Gods admired:

      Now seek some means his fatal wrath to end, 145

      With prayers to move him, or with gifts to bend.’

      To whom the King: ‘With justice hast thou shewn

      A Prince’s faults, and I with reason own.

      That happy man whom Jove still honours most,

      Is more than armies, and himself a host. 150

      Bless’d in his love, this wondrous Hero stands;

      Heav’n fights his war, and humbles all our bands.

      Fain would my heart, which err’d thro’ frantic rage,

      The wrathful Chief and angry Gods assuage.

      If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow, 155

      Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I vow:

      Ten weighty talents of the purest gold,

      And twice ten vases of refulgent mould;

      Sev’n sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame

      Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame: 160

      Twelve steeds unmatch’d in fleetness and in force,

      And still victorious in the dusty course

      (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed

      The prizes purchas’d by their winged speed):

      Sev’n lovely captives of the Lesbian line, 165

      Skill’d in each art, unmatch’d in form divine,

      The same I chose for more than vulgar charms,

      When Lesbos sunk beneath the hero’s arms:

      All these, to buy his friendship, shall be paid,

      And join’d with these the long-contested maid; 170

      With all her charms, Briseës I resign,

      And solemn swear those charms were never mine;

      Untouch’d she staid, uninjured she removes,

      Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my loves.

      These instant shall be his; and if the Powers 175

      Give to our arms proud Ilion’s hostile towers,

      Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil divides)

      With gold and brass his loaded navy’s sides.

      Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race

      With copious love shall crown his warm embrace; 180

      Such as himself will choose; who yield to none,

      Or yield to Helen’s heav’nly charms alone.

      Yet hear me farther: when our wars are o’er,

      If safe we land on Argos’ fruitful shore,

      There shall he live my son, our honours share, 185

      And with Orestes’ self divide my care.

      Yet more — three daughters in my court are bred,

      And each well worthy of a royal bed,

      Laodice and Iphigenia fair,

      And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: 190

      Her let him choose whom most his eyes approve,

      I ask no presents, no reward for love;

      Myself will give the dower; so vast a store,

      As never father gave a child before.

      Sev’n ample cities shall confess his sway, 195

      Him Enopé, and Pheræ him obey,

      Cardamylé with ample turrets crown’d,

      And sacred Pedasus for vines renown’d;

      Æpea fair, the pastures Hira yields,

      And rich Antheia with her flowery fields: 200

      The whole extent to Pylos’ sandy plain,

      Along the verdant margin of the main.

      There heifers graze, and lab’ring oxen toil;

      Bold are the men, and gen’rous is the soil;

      There shall he reign with power and justice crown’d, 205

      And rule the tributary realms around.

      All this I give, his vengeance to control,

      And sure all this may move his mighty soul.

      Pluto, the grisly God, who never spares,

      Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, 210

      Lives dark and dreadful in deep Hell’s abodes,

      And mortals hate him as the worst of Gods.

      Great tho’ he be, it fits him to obey:

      Since more than his my years, and more my sway.’

      The Monarch thus: the rev’rend Nestor then: 215

      ‘Great Agamemnon! glorious King of Men!

      Such are thy offers as a Prince may take,

      And such as fits a gen’rous King to make.

      Let chosen delegates this hour be sent

      (Myself will name them) to Pelides’ tent: 220

      Let Phænix lead, revered for hoary age,

      Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage.

      Yet more to sanctify the word you send,

      Let Hodius and Eurybates attend.

      Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece demands; 225

      Pray, in deep silence, and with purest hands.’

      He said, and all approv’d. The heralds bring

      The cleansing water from the living spring,

      The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown’d,

      And large libations drench’d the sands around. 230

      The rite perform’d, the Chiefs their thirst allay,

      Then from the royal tent they take their way;

      Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye,

      Forbids t’ offend, instructs them to apply:

      Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, 235

      To deprecate the Chief, and save the host.

      Thro’ the still night they march, and hear the roar

      Of murm’ring billows on the sounding shore.

      To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound,

      Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, 240

      They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless,

      And calm the rage
    of stern Æacides.

      And now arrived, where, on the sandy bay

      The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay,

      Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, 245

      Pleas’d with the solemn harp’s harmonious sound

      (The well-wrought harp from conquer’d Thebæ came,

      Of polish’d silver was its costly frame);

      With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings

      Th’ immortal deeds of heroes and of Kings. 250

      Patroclus only of the royal train,

      Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain:

      Full opposite he sat, and listen’d long

      In silence waiting till he ceas’d the song.

      Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds 255

      To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads.

      Achilles starting, as the Chiefs he spied,

      Leap’d from his seat, and laid the harp aside.

      With like surprise arose Menætius’ son:

      Pelides grasp’d their hands, and thus begun: 260

      ‘Princes, all hail! whatever brought you here,

      Or strong necessity, or urgent fear;

      Welcome, tho’ Greeks! for not as foes ye came;

      To me more dear than all that bear the name.’

      With that, the Chiefs beneath his roof he led, 265

      And placed in seats with purple carpets spread.

      Then thus: ‘Patroclus, crown a larger bowl,

      Mix purer wine, and open every soul.

      Of all the warriors yonder host can send,

      Thy friend most honours these, and these thy friend.’ 270

      He said: Patroclus, o’er the blazing fire

      Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire:

      The brazen vase Automedon sustains,

      Which flesh of porket, sheep, and goat contains:

      Achilles at the genial feast presides, 275

      The parts transfixes, and with skill divides.

      Meanwhile Patroclus sweats the fire to raise;

      The tent is brighten’d with the rising blaze:

      Then, when the languid flames at length subside,

      He strews a bed of glowing embers wide, 280

      Above the coals the smoking fragments turns,

      And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns;

      With bread the glitt’ring canisters they load,

      Which round the board Menætius’ son bestow’d:

      Himself, opposed t’ Ulysses full in sight, 285

      Each portion parts, and orders every rite.

      The first fat off’rings, to th’ immortals due,

      Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw;

      Then each indulging in the social feast,

      His thirst and hunger soberly repress’d. 290

      That done, to Phænix Ajax gave the sign;

      Not unperceiv’d; Ulysses crown’d with wine

      The foaming bowl, and instant thus began,

      His speech addressing to the godlike man:

      ‘Health to Achilles! happy are thy guests! 295

      Not those more honour’d whom Atrides feasts:

      Tho’ gen’rous plenty crown thy loaded boards,

      That, Agamemnon’s regal tent affords;

      But greater cares sit heavy on our souls,

      Not eased by banquets or by flowing bowls. 300

      What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear!

      The dead we mourn, and for the living fear;

      Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands,

      And owns no help but from thy saving hands:

      Troy and her aids for ready vengeance call; 305

      Their threat’ning tents already shade our wall:

      Hear how with shouts their conquest they proclaim,

      And point at ev’ry ship their vengeful flame!

      For them the Father of the Gods declares,

      Theirs are his omens, and his Thunder theirs. 310

      See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise!

      See! Heav’n and Earth the raging Chief defies;

      What fury in his breast, what lightning in his eyes!

      He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame

      The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name. 315

      Heav’ns! how my country’s woes distract my mind,

      Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design’d.

      And must we, Gods! our heads inglorious lay

      In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day?

      Return, Achilles! oh return, tho’ late, 320

      To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate;

      If in that heart or grief or courage lies,

      Rise to redeem; ah yet, to conquer, rise!

      The day may come, when, all our warriors slain,

      That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain. 325

      Regard in time, O Prince divinely brave!

      Those wholesome counsels which thy father gave.

      When Peleus in his aged arms embraced

      His parting son, these accents were his last:

      “My child! with strength, with glory and success, 330

      Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless!

      Trust that to Heav’n: but thou thy cares engage

      To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage:

      From gentler manners let thy glory grow,

      And shun contention, the sure source of woe; 335

      That young and old may in thy praise combine,

      The virtues of humanity be thine.”

      This now despised advice thy father gave;

      Ah! check thy anger, and be truly brave.

      If thou wilt yield to great Atrides’ prayers, 340

      Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares;

      If not —— but hear me, while I number o’er

      The proffer’d presents, an exhaustless store.

      Ten weighty talents of the purest gold;

      And twice ten vases of refulgent mould; 345

      Sev’n sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame

      Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame:

      Twelve steeds unmatch’d in fleetness and in force,

      And still victorious in the dusty course

      (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed 350

      The prizes purchas’d by their winged speed):

      Sev’n lovely captives of the Lesbian line,

      Skill’d in each art, unmatch’d in form divine,

      The same he chose more than vulgar charms,

      When Lesbos sunk beneath thy conquering arms; 355

      All these, to buy thy friendship, shall be paid,

      And join’d with these the long-contested maid;

      With all her charms, Briseïs he ‘ll resign,

      And solemn swear those charms were only thine;

      Untouch’d she stay’d, uninjured she removes, 360

      Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves.

      These instant shall be thins: and if the Powers

      Give to our arms proud Ilion’s hostile towers,

      Then shalt thou store (when Greece the spoil divides)

      With gold and brass thy loaded navy’s sides. 365

      Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race

      With copious love shall crown thy warm embrace;

      Such as thyself shalt choose; who yield to none,

      Or yield to Helen’s heav’nly charms alone.

      Yet hear me father: when our wars are o’er 370

      If safe we land on Argos’s fruitful shore,

      There shalt thou live his son, his honours share,

      And with Orestes’ self divide his care.

      Yet more — three daughters in his court are bred,

      And each well worthy of a royal bed; 375

      Laodice and Iphigenia fair,

      And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair;

      Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve;

      He asks no presents, no reward for love:

      Himself will give the dower: so vast a store, 380

    &
    nbsp; As never father gave a child before.

      Sev’n ample cities shall confess thy sway,

      Thee Enopé, and Pheræ thee obey,

      Cardamyle with ample turrets crown’d,

      And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown’d: 385

      Æpea fair, the pastures Hira yields,

      And rich Antheia with her flowery fields:

      The whole extent to Pylos’ sandy plain

      Along the verdant margin of the main.

      There heifers graze, and lab’ring oxen toil; 390

      Bold are the men, and gen’rous is the soil.

      There shalt thou reign with power and justice crown’d,

      And rule the tributary realms around.

      Such are the proffers which this day we bring,

      Such the repentance of a suppliant King. 395

      But if all this, relentless, thou disdain,

      If honour and if int’rest plead in vain;

      Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford,

      And be, amongst her guardian Gods, ador’d.

      If no regard thy suffer’ing country claim, 400

      Hear thy own glory, and the voice of Fame:

      For now that Chief, whose unresisted ire

      Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire,

      Proud Hector, now, th’ unequal fight demands,

      And only triumphs to deserve thy hands.’ 405

      Then thus the Goddess-born: ‘Ulysses, hear

      A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor fear;

      What in my secret soul is understood,

      My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good.

      Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain, 410

      Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain.

      Who dares think one thing, and another tell,

      My heart detests him as the gates of Hell.

      ‘Then thus in short my fix’d resolves attend,

      Which nor Atrides, nor his Greeks, can bend: 415

      Long toils, long perils, in their cause I bore;

      But now th’ unfruitful glories charm no more.

      Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim,

      The wretch hero find their prize the same,

      Alike regretted in the dust he lies, 420

      Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies.

      Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains,

      A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains?

      As the bold bird her helpless young attends,

      From danger guards them, and from want defends; 425

      In search of prey she wings the spacious air,

      And with th’ untasted food supplies her care:

      For thankless Greece such hardships have I braved,

      Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved;

      Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood, 430

      And sweat laborious days in dust and blood.

      I sack’d twelve ample cities on the main,

     


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