Classic Poem

Achilles' banefull wrath resound, O Goddesse, that imposd
Infinite sorrowes on the Greekes, and many brave soules losd
From breasts Heroique—sent them farre, to that invisible cave
That no light comforts; and their lims to dogs and vultures gave.
To all which Jove's will gave effect; from whom first strife begunne
Betwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis' godlike Sonne.
What God gave Eris their command, and op't that fighting veine?
Jove's and Latona's Sonne, who, fir'd against the king of men
For contumelie showne his Priest, infectious sicknesse sent
To plague the armie; and to death, by troopes, the souldiers went.
Occasiond thus: Chryses, the Priest, came to the fleete to buy,
For presents of unvalued price, his daughter's libertie—
The golden scepter and the crowne of Phœbus in his hands
Proposing—and made suite to all, but most to the Commands
Of both th' Atrides, who most rulde. ‘Great Atreus' sonnes,’ said he,
‘And all ye wel-griev'd Greekes, the Gods, whose habitations be
In heavenly houses, grace your powers with Priam's razed towne,
And grant ye happy conduct home! To winne which wisht renowne
Of Jove, by honouring his sonne (farre-shooting Phœbus), daine
For these fit presents to dissolve the ransomeable chaine
Of my lov'd daughter's servitude.’ The Greekes entirely gave
Glad acclamations, for signe that their desires would have
The grave Priest reverenc'd, and his gifts of so much price embrac'd.
The Generall yet bore no such mind, but viciously disgrac'd
With violent termes the Priest, and said: ‘Doterd, avoid our fleete,
Where lingring be not found by me, nor thy returning feete
Let ever visite us againe, lest nor thy Godhead's crowne
Nor scepter save thee. Her thou seekst I still will hold mine owne
Till age defloure her. In our court at Argos (farre transferd
From her lov'd countrie) she shall plie her web, and see prepard
(With all fit ornaments) my bed. Incense me then no more,
But (if thou wilt be safe) be gone.’ This said, the sea-beate shore
(Obeying his high will) the Priest trod off with haste and feare.
And, walking silent till he left farre off his enemie's eare,
Phœbus (faire-haird Latona's sonne) he stird up with a vow
To this sterne purpose: ‘Heare, thou God that bear'st the silver bow,
That Chrysa guard'st, rulest Tenedos with strong hand, and the round
Of Cilla most divine dost walke! O Smintheus, if crownd
With thankfull offerings thy rich Phane I ever saw, or fir'd
Fat thighs of oxen and of goates to thee, this grace desir'd
Vouchsafe to me: paines for my teares let these rude Greekes repay,
Forc'd with thy arrowes.’ Thus he praid, and Phœbus heard him pray
And, vext at heart, downe from the tops of steepe heaven stoopt: his bow,
And quiver coverd round, his hands did on his shoulders throw,
And of the angrie deitie the arrowes as he mov'd
Ratl'd about him. Like the night he rang'd the host and rov'd
(Athwart the fleete set) terribly; with his hard-loosing hand
His silver bow twang'd, and his shafts did first the Mules command,
And swift hounds; then the Greekes themselves his deadly arrowes shot.
The fires of death went never out; nine daies his shafts flew hot
About the armie, and the tenth Achilles cald a court
Of all the Greeks: heaven's white-arm'd Queene (who everywhere cut short
Beholding her lov'd Greeks by death) suggested it: and he
(All met in one) arose and said: ‘Atrides, now I see
We must be wandering againe, flight must be still our stay
(If flight can save us now), at once sicknesse and battell lay
Such strong hand on us. Let us aske some Prophet, Priest, or prove
Some dreame interpreter (for dreames are often sent from Jove)
Why Phœbus is so much incenst; if unperformed vowes
He blames in us, or Hecatombs; and if these knees he bowes
To death may yeeld his graves no more, but offering all supply
Of savours burnt from lambes and goates avert his fervent eye
And turne his temperate.’ Thus he sate: and then stood up to them
Calchas, sirnam'd Thestorides, of Augures the supreme;
He knew things present, past, to come, and rulde the Equipage
Of th'Argive fleete to Ilion, for his Prophetique rage
Given by Apollo; who, well scene in th'ill they felt, proposd
This to Achilles: ‘Jove's belov'd, would thy charge see disclosd
The secret of Apollo's wrath? Then covenant, and take oth
To my discoverie, that with words and powrefull actions both
Thy strength will guard the truth in me, because I well conceive
That he whose Empire governs all, whom all the Grecians give
Confirm'd obedience, will be mov'd—and then you know the state
Of him that moves him. When a king hath once markt for his hate
A man inferior, though that day his wrath seemes to digest
Th'offence he takes, yet evermore he rakes up in his brest
Brands of quicke anger till revenge hath quencht to his desire
The fire reserved. Tell me then, if, whatsoever ire
Suggests in hurt of me to him, thy valour will prevent?’
Achilles answerd: ‘All thou know'st speake, and be confident:
For by Apollo, Jove's belov'd (to whom performing vowes,
O Calchas, for the state of Greece thy spirit Prophetique showes
Skils that direct us) not a man of all these Grecians here
(I living and enjoying the light shot through this flowrie sphere)
Shall touch thee with offensive hands—though Agamemnon be
The man in question, that doth boast the mightiest Emperie
Of all our armie.’ Then tooke heart the Prophet unreprov'd
And said: ‘They are not unpaid vowes, nor Hecatombs, that mov'd
The God against us: his offence is for his Priest empair'd
By Agamemnon, that refusd the present he preferd
And kept his daughter. This is cause why heaven's farre-darter darts
These plagues amongst us, and this still will emptie in our hearts
His deathfull quiver uncontaind till to her loved sire
The blacke-eyd damsell be resign'd, no redemptorie hire
Tooke for her freedome, not a gift, but all the ransome quit,
And she convaide, with sacrifice, till her enfranchisd feete
Treade Chrysa under: then the God (so pleasd) perhaps we may
Move to remission.’ Thus he sate: and up the great in sway,
Heroique Agamemnon, rose, eagerly bearing all,
His mind's seate overcast with fumes; an anger generall
Fill'd all his faculties; his eyes sparckl'd like kindling fire—
Which sternly cast upon the Priest, thus vented he his ire:
‘Prophet of ill! For never good came from thee towards me—
Not to a word's worth. Evermore thou tookst delight to be
Offensive in thy Auguries; which thou continuest still,
Now casting thy prophetique gall and vouching all our ill
(Shot from Apollo) is imposd since I refusd the prise
Of faire Chryseis' libertie—which would in no worth rise
To my rate of her selfe, which moves my vowes to have her home,
Past Clytemnestra loving her, that grac't my nuptiall roome
With her virginitie and flowre. Nor aske her merits lesse
For person, disposition, wit and skill in housewiferies.
And yet, for all this, she shall go, if more conducible
That course be than her holding here. I rather wish the weale
Of my lov'd armie than the death. Provide yet, instantly,
Supplie for her, that I alone of all our royaltie
Lose not my winnings: tis not fit, ye see all, I lose mine
Forc't by another—see as well some other may resigne
His Prise to me.’ To this replied the swift-foote God-like sonne
Of Thetis thus: ‘King of us all, in all ambition
Most covetouse of all that breathe, why should the great-soul'd Greekes
Supply thy lost prise out of theirs? Nor what thy avarice seekes
Our common treasurie can find, so little it doth guard
Of what our rac'd towns yeelded us—of all which, most is shar'd
And given our souldiers, which againe to take into our hands
Were ignominious and base. Now then, since God commands,
Part with thy most-lov'd prise to him: not any one of us
Exacts it of thee, yet we all, all loss thou sufferst thus
Will treble, quadruple in gaine when Jupiter bestowes
The sacke of well-wall'd Troy on us—which by his word he owes.’
‘Do not deceive your selfe with wit,’ he answerd, ‘God-like man,
Though your good name may colour it; tis not your swift foote can
Outrunne me here; nor shall the glosse set on it with the God
Perswade me to my wrong. Wouldst thou maintaine in sure abode
Thine owne prise and sleight me of mine? Resolve this: if our friends
(As fits in equitie my worth) will right me with amends,
So rest it; otherwise, my selfe will enter personally
On thy prise, that of Ithacus or Ajax for supply;
Let him on whom I enter rage. But come, we'le order these
Hereafter, and in other place. Now put to sacred seas
Our blacke saile; in it rowers put, in it fit sacrifise;
And to these I will make ascend my so much envied prise,
Bright-cheekt Chryseis. For conduct of all which we must chuse
A chiefe out of our counsellors. Thy service we must use,
Idomeneus—Ajax, thine, or thine, wise Ithacus,
Or thine, thou terriblest of men, thou sonne of Peleus—
Which fittest were that thou mightst see these holy acts performd
For which thy cunning zeale so pleades, and he whose bow thus stormd
For our offences may be calmd.’ Achilles with a frowne
Thus answerd: ‘O thou impudent! of no good but thine owne
Ever respectfull—but of that with all craft covetous—
With what heart can a man attempt a service dangerous,
Or at thy voice be spirited to flie upon a foe,
Thy mind thus wretched? For my selfe, I was not injur'd so
By any Troyan that my powers should bid them any blowes.
In nothing beare they blame of me. Phthia, whose bosome flowes
With corne and people, never felt empaire of her increase
By their invasion; hils enow and farre-resounding seas
Powre out their shades and deepes betweene. But thee, thou frontlesse man,
We follow and thy triumphs make with bonfires of our bane—
Thine and thy brother's vengeance sought (thou dog's eyes) of this Troy
By our exposd lives—whose deserts thou neither dost employ
With honour nor with care. And now thou threatst to force from me
The fruite of my sweate, which the Greekes gave all; and though it be
(Compar'd with thy part then snatcht up) nothing—nor ever is
At any sackt towne—but of fight (the fetcher-in of this)
My hands have most share; in whose toyles when I have emptied me
Of all my forces, my amends in liberalitie
(Though it be little) I accept and turne pleasd to my tent—
And yet that little thou esteemst too great a continent
In thy incontinent avarice. For Phthia therefore now
My course is, since tis better farre than here endure that thou
Shouldst still be ravishing my right, draw my whole treasure drie
And adde dishonor.’ He replied: ‘If thy heart serve thee, flie.
Stay not for my cause; others here will aid and honor me.
If not, yet Jove I know is sure; that counsellor is he
That I depend on. As for thee, of all our Jove-kept kings
Thou still art most my enemie; strifes, battles, bloodie things
Make thy blood-feasts still. But if strength, that these moods build upon,
Flow in thy nerves, God gave thee it, and so tis not thine owne
But in his hands still. What then lifts thy pride in this so hie?
Home with thy fleete and Myrmidons. Use there their Emperie;
Command not here. I weigh thee not, nor meane to magnifie
Thy rough-hewne rages, but in stead I thus farre threaten thee:
Since Phœbus needs will force from me Chryseis, she shall go;
My ships and friends shall waft her home. But I will imitate so
His pleasure that mine owne shall take, in person, from thy tent
Bright-cheekt Briseis, and so tell thy strength how eminent
My powre is, being compar'd with thine—all other making feare
To vaunt equalitie with me, or in this proud kind beare
Their beards against me.’ Thetis' sonne at this stood vext. His heart
Bristled his bosome and two waies drew his discursive part—
If, from his thigh his sharpe sword drawne, he should make roome about
Atrides' person, slaughtring him, or sit his anger out
And curb his spirit. While these thoughts striv'd in his bloud and mind
And he his sword drew, downe from heaven Athenia stoopt and shind
About his temples, being sent by th'Ivorie-wristed queene
Saturnia, who out of her heart had ever loving bene
And carefull for the good of both. She stood behind, and tooke
Achilles by the yellow curles, and onely gave her looke
To him apparance—not a man of all the rest could see.
He, turning backe his eye, amaze strooke everie facultie,
Yet straight he knew her by her eyes, so terrible they were
Sparkling with ardor, and thus spake: ‘Thou seed of Jupiter,
Why com'st thou? To behold his pride, that bosts our Emperie?
Then witnesse, with it, my revenge, and see that insolence die
That lives to wrong me.’ She replied: ‘I come from heaven to see
Thy anger settled, if thy soule will use her soveraigntie
In fit reflection. I am sent from Juno, whose affects
Stand heartily inclind to both. Come, give us both respects
And ceasse contention. Draw no sword. Use words, and such as may
Be bitter to his pride, but just. For, trust in what I say,
A time shall come when thrice the worth of that he forceth now
He shall propose for recompence of these wrongs. Therefore throw
Reines on thy passions, and serve us.’ He answerd: ‘Though my heart
Burne in just anger, yet my soule must conquer th'angrie part
And yeeld you conquest. Who subdues his earthly part for heaven,
Heaven to his prayres subdues his wish.’ This said, her charge was given
Fit honor. In his silver hilt he held his able hand
And forc't his broad sword up. And up to heaven did reascend
Minerva, who in Jove's high roofe that beares the rough shield tooke
Her place with other deities. She gone, againe forsooke
Patience his passion, and no more his silence could confine
His wrath, that this broad language gave: ‘Thou ever steep't in wine,
Dog's face, with heart but of a Hart, that nor in th'open eye
Of fight dar'st thrust into a prease, nor with our noblest lie
In secret ambush. These works seeme too full of death for thee.
Tis safer farre, in th'open host, to dare an injurie
To any crosser of thy lust. Thou subject-eating king,
Base spirits thou governst—or this wrong had bene the last fowle thing
Thou ever author'dst. Yet I vow, and by a great oath sweare,
Even by this scepter—that, as this never againe shall beare
Greene leaves or branches, nor increase with any growth his sise,
Nor did since first it left the hils and had his faculties
And ornaments bereft with iron, which now to other end
Judges of Greece beare and their lawes receiv'd from Jove defend
(For which my oath to thee is great), so, whensoever need
Shall burne with thirst of me thy host, no prayres shall ever breed
Affection in me to their aid, though well-deserved woes
Afflict thee for them, when to death man-slaughtring Hector throwes
Whole troopes of them, and thou torment'st thy vext mind with conceit
Of thy rude rage now and his wrong, that most deserv'd the right
Of all thy armie.’ Thus he threw his scepter gainst the ground,
With golden studs stucke, and took seate. Atrides' breast was drownd
In rising choler. Up to both sweet-spoken Nestor stood,
The cunning Pylian Orator whose tongue powrd foorth a flood
Of more-than-hony-sweet discourse: two ages were increast
Of diverse-languag'd men, all borne in his time and deceast
In sacred Pylos, where he reignd amongst the third-ag'd men.
He (well seene in the world) advisd, and thus exprest it then:
‘O Gods! Our Greeke earth will be drownd in just teares; rapefull Troy,
Her king and all his sonnes will make as just a mocke and joy
Of these disjunctions, if of you, that all our host excell
In counsell and in skill of fight, they heare this. Come, repell
These yong men's passions. Y'are not both (put both your yeares in one)
So old as I: I liv'd long since and was companion
With men superior to you both, who yet would ever heare
My counsels with respect. My eyes yet never witnesse were,
Nor ever will be, of such men as then delighted them—
Perithous, Exadius and god-like Polypheme,
Ceneus and Dryas prince of men, Ægean Theseus,
A man like heaven's immortals formd, all, all most vigorous
Of all men that even those daies bred, most vigorous men, and fought
With beasts most vigorous, mountain beasts (for men in strength were nought
Matcht with their forces), fought with them, and bravely fought them downe.
Yet even with these men I converst, being cald to the renowne
Of their societies, by their suites, from Pylos farre, to fight
In th'Apian kingdome; and I fought, to a degree of might
That helpt even their mights, against such as no man now would dare
To meete in conflict. Yet even these my counsels still would heare,
And with obedience crowne my words. Give you such palme to them—
Tis better than to wreath your wraths. Atrides, give not streame
To all thy powre, nor force his prise, but yeeld her still his owne,
As all men else do. Nor do thou encounter with thy crowne,
Great sonne of Peleus, since no king that ever Jove allowd
Grace of a scepter equals him. Suppose thy nerves endowd
With strength superior, and thy birth a verie Goddesse gave,
Yet he of force is mightier since what his owne nerves have
Is amplified with just command of many other. King of men,
Command thou then thy selfe, and I with my prayres will obtaine
Grace of Achilles to subdue his furie; whose parts are
Worth our intreatie, being chiefe checke to all our ill in warre.’
‘All this, good father,’ said the king, ‘is comely and good right.
But this man breakes all such bounds; he affects, past all men, height;
All would in his powre hold, all make his subjects, give to all
His hote will for their temperate law—all which he never shall
Perswade at my hands. If the Gods have given him the great stile
Of ablest souldier, made they that his licence to revile
Men with vile language?’ Thetis' sonne prevented him, and said:
‘Fearefull and vile I might be thought if the exactions laid
By all meanes on me I should beare. Others command to this:
Thou shalt not me—or, if thou dost, farre my free spirit is
From serving thy command. Beside, this I affirme (affoord
Impression of it in thy soule) I will not use my sword
On thee or any for a wench, unjustly though thou tak'st
The thing thou gav'st; but all things else that in my ship thou mak'st
Greedie survey of, do not touch without my leave—or do
Adde that act's wrong to this that these may see that outrage too:
And then comes my part: then be sure thy bloud upon my lance
Shall flow in vengeance.’ These high termes these two at variance
Usd to each other, left their seates, and after them arose
The whole court. To his tents and ships, with friends and souldiers, goes
Angrie Achilles. Atreus' sonne the swift ship lancht and put
Within it twentie chosen row'rs; within it likewise shut
The Hecatomb, t'appease the God. Then causd to come abord
Faire cheekt Chryseis. For the chiefe, he in whom Pallas pourd
Her store of counsels, Ithacus, aboord went last, and then
The moist waies of the sea they saild. And now the king of men
Bad all the hoast to sacrifice. They sacrific'd and cast
The offall of all to the deepes; the angrie God they grac't
With perfect Hecatombs—some buls, some goates along the shore
Of the unfruitfull sea inflam'd. To heaven the thicke fumes bore
Enwrapped savours. Thus though all the politique king made shew
Respects to heaven, yet he himselfe all that time did pursue
His owne affections. The late jarre, in which he thunderd threats
Against Achilles, still he fed, and his affections' heats
Thus vented to Talthybius and grave Eurybates,
Heralds and ministers of trust to all his messages:
‘Haste to Achilles' tent, where take Briseis' hand and bring
Her beauties to us. If he faile to yeeld her, say your king
Will come himselfe with multitudes that shall the horribler
Make both his presence and your charge that so he dares deferre.’
This said, he sent them with a charge of hard condition.
They went unwillingly and trod the fruitlesse sea's shore. Soone
They reacht the navie and the tents in which the quarter lay
Of all the Myrmidons, and found the chiefe Chiefe in their sway
Set at his blacke barke in his tent. Nor was Achilles glad
To see their presence, nor themselves in any glorie had
Their message, but with reverence stood and fear'd th'offended king—
Askt not the dame nor spake a word. He yet, well knowing the thing
That causd their coming, grac'd them thus: ‘Heralds, ye men that beare
The messages of men and Gods, y'are welcome, come ye neare.
I nothing blame you, but your king. Tis he, I know, doth send
You for Briseis: she is his. Patroclus, honourd friend,
Bring foorth the damsell, and these men let leade her to their Lord.
But, Heralds, be you witnesses, before the most ador'd,
Before us mortals and before your most ungentle king,
Of what I suffer—that, if warre ever hereafter bring
My aide in question, to avert any severest bane
It brings on others, I am scusde to keepe my aide in wane,
Since they mine honour. But your king, in tempting mischiefe, raves,
Nor sees at once by present things the future—how like waves
Ils follow ils, injustices, being never so secure
In present times, but after-plagues, even then, are seene as sure.
Which yet he sees not and so sooths his present lust—which, checkt,
Would checke plagues future, and he might, in succouring right, protect
Such as fight for his right at fleete. They still in safetie fight
That fight still justly.’ This speech usd, Patroclus did the rite
His friend commanded and brought forth Briseis from her tent
Gave her the heralds, and away to th'Achive ships they went.
She, sad, and scarce for griefe could go. Her love all friends forsooke
And wept for anger. To the shore of th'old sea he betooke
Himselfe alone and, casting forth upon the purple sea
His wet eyes and his hands to heaven advancing, this sad plea
Made to his mother: ‘Mother, since you brought me forth to breath
So short a life, Olympius had good right to bequeath
My short life honor; yet that right he doth in no degree,
But lets Atrides do me shame and force that prise from me
That all the Greekes gave.’ This with teares he utterd, and she heard,
Set with her old sire in his deepes, and instantly appeard
Up from the gray sea like a cloud, sate by his side, and said:
‘Why weepes my sonne? What grieves thee? Speake, conceale not what hath laid
Such hard hand on thee: let both know.’ He (sighing like a storme)
Replied: ‘Thou dost know. Why should I things knowne againe informe?
We marcht to Thebes, the sacred towne of King Eetion,
Sackt it and brought to fleete the spoile, which everie valiant sonne
Of Greece indifferently shar'd. Atrides had for share
Faire-cheekt Chryseis, after which his priest that shoots so farre,
Chryses, the faire Chryseis' sire, arriv'd at th'Achive fleete
With infinite ransome to redeeme the deare imprison'd feete
Of his faire daughter. In his hands he held Apollo's crowne
And golden scepter, making suite to everie Grecian sonne
But most the sonnes of Atreus (the others' orderers).
Yet they least heard him; all the rest receiv'd with reverend eares
The motion, both the Priest and gifts gracing and holding worth
His wisht acceptance. Atreus' sonne yet (vext) commanded forth
With rude termes Phœbus' reverend Priest, who, angrie, made retreat
And prayd to Phœbus, in whose grace he standing passing great,
Got his petition. The God an ill shaft sent abrode
That tumbl'd downe the Greekes in heapes. The host had no abode
That was not visited. We askt a Prophet that well knew
The cause of all, and from his lips Apollo's prophecies flew,
Telling his anger. First my selfe exhorted to appease
The angerd God, which Atreus sonne did at the heart displease,
And up he stood, usde threats, performd. The blacke-eyd Greeks sent home
Chryseis to her sire and gave his God a Hecatome;
Then for Briseis to my tents Atrides' Heralds came
And tooke her, that the Greekes gave all. If then thy powres can frame
Wreake for thy sonne, affoord it; scale Olympus and implore
Jove (if by either word or fact thou ever didst restore
Joy to his greev'd heart) now to helpe. I oft have heard thee vant
In court of Peleus that alone thy hand was conversant
In rescue from a cruell spoile the blacke-clowd-gathering Jove,
Whom other Godheads would have bound (the powre whose pace doth move
The round earth, heaven's great Queene and Pallas) to whose bands
Thou cam'st with rescue, bringing up him with the hundred hands
To great Olympus, whom the Gods call Briareus, men
Ægæon, who his sire surpast and was as strong againe
And in that grace sat glad by Jove. Th'immortals stood dismaid
At his ascension and gave free passage to his aid.
Of all this tell Jove. Kneele to him, embrace his knee and pray
(If Troy's aide he will ever deigne) that now their forces may
Beate home the Greeks to fleete and sea, embruing their retreat
In slaughter, their pains paying the wreake of their proud Soveraign's heart—
And that farre-ruling king may know from his poore souldiers' harms
His owne harme fals, his owne and all in mine, his best in arms.’
Her answer she powr'd out in teares: ‘O me, my sonne,’ said she,
‘Why brought I up thy being at all, that brought thee forth to be
Sad subject of so hard a fate? O would to heaven that, since
Thy fate is little and not long, thou mightst without offence
And teares performe it. But to live thrall to so sterne a fate
As grants thee least life, and that least so most unfortunate,
Grieves me t'have given thee any life. But what thou wishest now
(If Jove will grant) I'le up and aske. Olympus crownd with snow
I'le clime; but sit thou fast at fleete, renounce all warre, and feed
Thy heart with wrath and hope of wreake—till which come, thou shalt need
A little patience. Jupiter went yesterday to feast
Amongst the blamelesse Æthiops in th'Ocean's deepned breast,
All Gods attending him; the twelfth high heaven againe he sees,
And then his brasse-pav'd court I'le skale, cling to his powrefull knees,
And doubt not but to winne thy wish.’ Thus made she her remove
And left wrath tyring on her sonne for his enforced love.
Ulysses, with the Hecatomb, arriv'd at Chrysa's shore;
And when amids the haven's deepe mouth they came to use the oare
They straite stroke saile, then rold them up and on the hatches threw.
The top mast to the kelsine then with haleyards downe they drew,
Then brought the ship to Port with oares, then forked anchor cast
And gainst the violence of stormes for drifting made her fast.
All come ashore, they all exposd the holy Hecatomb
To angrie Phœbus, and with it Chryseis welcomd home
Whom to her sire wise Ithacus, that did at th'altar stand,
For honour led, and (spoken thus) resignd her to his hand:
‘Chryses, the mightie king of men, great Agamemnon, sends
Thy lov'd seed by my hands to thine, and to thy God commends
A Hecatomb which my charge is to sacrifice, and seeke
Our much-sigh-mixt-woe his recure, invokt by everie Greeke.’
Thus he resignd her, and her sire receiv'd her highly joyd.
About the well-built altar then they orderly emploide
The sacred offring, washt their hands, tooke salt cakes, and the Priest
(With hands held up to heaven) thus praid: ‘O thou that all things seest,
Fautour of Chrysa, whose faire hand doth guardfully dispose
Celestiall Cilla, governing in all powre Tenedos,
O heare thy Priest, and as thy hand, in free grace to my prayers,
Shot fervent plague-shafts through the Greekes, now hearten their affaires
With health renewd and quite remove th'infection from their blood.’
He praid: and to his prairs againe the God propitious stood.
All, after prayre, cast on salt cakes, drew back, kild, flaid the beeves,
Cut out and dubd with fat their thighes, faire drest with doubled leaves,
And on them all the sweet-breads prickt. The Priest with small sere wood
Did sacrifice, powr'd on red wine, by whom the yong men stood
And turnd (in five ranks) spits; on which (the legs on those) they eate
The inwards, then in giggots cut the other fit for meate
And put to fire, which (rosted well) they drew. The labour done,
They serv'd the feast in, that fed all to satisfaction.
Desire of meate and wine thus quencht, the youths crownd cups of wine,
Drunke off and fild againe to all. That day was held divine
And spent in Pæans to the Sunne, who heard with pleased eare,
When whose bright chariot stoopt to sea and twilight hid the cleare.
All soundly on their cables slept even till the night was worne;
And, when the Lady of the light, the rosie-fingerd morne,
Rose from the hils, all fresh arose and to the campe retir'd.
Apollo with a fore-right wind their swelling barke inspir'd.
The top-mast hoisted, milke-white sailes on his round breast they put.
The Misens strooted with the gale, the ship her course did cut
So swiftly that the parted waves against her ribs did rore,
Which coming to the campe, they drew aloft the sandie shore,
Where laid on stocks, each souldier kept his quarter as before.
But Peleus' sonne, swift-foote Achilles, at his swift ships sate,
Burning in wrath, nor ever came to Councels of estate
That make men honord, never trod the fierce embattaild field,
But kept close and his lov'd heart pin'd—what fight and cries could yeeld
Thirsting, at all parts, to the hoast. And now since first he told
His wrongs to Thetis twelve faire mornes their ensignes did unfold.
And then the everliving Gods mounted Olympus, Jove
First in ascension. Thetis then remembred well to move
Achilles' motion, rose from sea, and by the morne's first light
The great heaven and Olympus climbd, where, in supremest height
Of all that many-headed hill, she saw the farre-seene sonne
Of Saturne set from all the rest, in his free seate alone.
Before whom (on her owne knees falne) the knees of Jupiter
Her left hand held, her right his chinne, and thus she did prefer
Her sonne's petition: ‘Father Jove, if ever I have stood
Aidfull to thee in word or worke, with this implored good
Requite my aide: renowne my sonne, since in so short a race
(Past others) thou confin'st his life. An insolent disgrace
Is done him by the king of men: he forc't from him a prise
Wonne with his sword. But thou, O Jove, that art most strong, most wise,
Honour my sonne for my sake. Adde strength to the Troyans' side
By his side's weaknesse in his want, and see Troy amplifide
In conquest so much, and so long, till Greece may give againe
The glorie reft him, and the more illustrate the free raigne
Of his wrongd honour.’ Jove at this sate silent: not a word
In long space past him. Thetis still hung on his knee, implor'd
The second time his helpe, and said: ‘Grant or deny my suite.
Be free in what thou doest. I know thou canst not sit thus mute
For feare of any. Speake, denie, that so I may be sure
Of all heaven's Goddesses tis I that onely must endure
Dishonor by thee.’ Jupiter, the great cloud-gatherer, griev'd
With thought of what a world of griefs this suite askt, being atchiev'd,
Sweld, sigh'd, and answerd: ‘Works of death thou urgest. O, at this
Juno will storme and all my powers inflame with contumelies.
Ever she wrangles, charging me in eare of all the Gods
That I am partiall still, that I adde the displeasing oddes
Of my aide to the Ilians. Be gone then, lest she see.
Leave thy request to my care. Yet, that trust may hearten thee
With thy desire's grant, and my powre to give it act approve
How vaine her strife is, to thy praire my eminent head shall move—
Which is the great signe of my will with all th'immortall states—
Irrevocable, never failes, never without the rates
Of all powers else: when my head bowes, all heads bow with it still
As their first mover, and gives powre to any worke I will.’
He said, and his blacke eyebrows bent; above his deathlesse head
Th'Ambrosian curls flowed. Great heaven shooke, and both were severed,
Their counsels broken. To the depth of Neptune's kingdome div'd
Thetis from heaven's height. Jove arose, and all the Gods receiv'd
(All rising from their thrones) their sire, attending to his court.
None sate when he rose; none delaid the furnishing his port
Till he came neare; all met with him and brought him to his throne.
Nor sate great Juno ignorant, when she beheld alone
Old Nereus' silver-footed seed with Jove, that she had brought
Counsels to heaven; and straight her tongue had teeth in it, that wrought
This sharpe invective: ‘Who was that, thou craftiest counsellor
Of all the Gods, that so apart some secret did implore?
Ever, apart from me, thou lov'st to counsell and decree
Things of more close trust than thou thinkst are fit t'impart to me.
What ever thou determin'st, I must ever be denied
The knowledge of it, by thy will.’ To her speech, thus replied
The Father both of men and Gods: ‘Have never hope to know
My whole intentions, though my wife. It fits not, nor would show
Well to thine owne thoughts; but what fits thy woman's eare to heare,
Woman nor God shall know before it grace thine eare.
Yet, what, apart from men and Gods, I please to know, forbeare
T'examine or enquire of that.’ She with the cowe's faire eyes,
Respected Juno, this returned: ‘Austere king of the skies,
What hast thou utterd? When did I, before this time, enquire
Or sift thy counsels? Passing close you are still. Your desire
Is serv'd with such care that I feare you can scarce vouch the deed
That makes it publike, being seduc't by this old sea-God's seed
That could so early use her knees, embracing thine. I doubt
The late act of thy bowed head was for the working out
Of some boone she askt, that her sonne thy partiall hand would please
With plaguing others.’ ‘Wretch!’ said he, ‘Thy subtle jelousies
Are still exploring; my designes can never scape thine eye,
Which yet thou never canst prevent. Thy curiositie
Makes thee lesse car'd for at my hands, and horrible the end
Shall make thy humor. If it be what thy suspects intend,
What then? Tis my free will it should—to which let way be given
With silence. Curbe your tongue in time, lest all the Gods in heaven
Too few be, and too weake, to helpe thy punisht insolence
When my inaccessible hands shall fall on thee.’ The sence
Of this high threatning made her feare, and silent she sate downe,
Humbling her great heart. All the Gods in court of Jove did frowne
At this offence given, amongst whom heaven's famous Artizan,
Ephaistus, in his mother's care this comely speech began:
‘Beleeve it, these words will breed wounds beyond our powres to beare
If thus for mortals ye fall out. Ye make a tumult here
That spoiles our banquet. Evermore worst matters put downe best.
But, mother, though your selfe be wise, yet let your sonne request
His wisdome audience. Give good termes to our lov'd father Jove,
For feare he take offence againe, and our kind banquet prove
A wrathfull battell. If he will, the heavenly lightner can
Take you and tosse you from your throne, his power Olympian
Is so surpassing. Soften then with gentle speech his splene
And drinke to him. I know his heart will quickly downe againe.’
This said, arising from his throne, in his lov'd mother's hand
He put the double-handeld cup, and said: ‘Come, do not stand
On these crosse humors. Suffer, beare, though your great bosome grieve,
And lest blowes force you—all my aide not able to relieve
Your hard condition, though these eyes behold it and this heart
Sorrow to thinke it. Tis a taske too dangerous to take part
Against Olympius. I my selfe the proofe of this still feele:
When other Gods would faine have helpt, he tooke me by the heele
And hurld me out of heaven. All day I was in falling downe;
At length in Lemnos I strooke earth; the likewise falling Sunne
And I together set. My life almost set too, yet there
The Sintii cheard and tooke me up.’ This did to laughter cheare
White-wristed Juno, who now tooke the cup of him and smil'd.
The sweete-peace-making draught went round, and lame Ephaistus fild
Nectar to all the other Gods. A laughter never left
Shooke all the blessed deities to see the lame so deft
At that cup service. All that day, even till the Sunne went downe,
They banqueted and had such cheere as did their wishes crowne.
Nor had they musicke lesse divine; Apollo there did touch
His most sweete harpe, to which with voice the Muses pleasd as much.
But when the Sun's faire light was set, each Godhead to his house
Addrest for sleepe, where everie one with art most curious
(By heaven's great both-foote-halting God) a severall roofe had built.
Even he to sleepe went by whose hand heaven is with lightning guilt,
High Jove, where he had usd to rest when sweet sleepe seisd his eyes.
By him the golden-thron'd Queene slept, the Queene of deities.