Classic Poem

The Morne arose and from the Ocean, in her saffron robe,
Gave light to all, as well to gods as men of th' under globe.
Thetis stoopt home, and found the prostrate person of her sonne
About his friend, still pouring out himselfe in passion,
A number more being heavy consorts to him in his cares.
Amongst them all Thetis appear'd, and, sacred comforters,
Made these short words: ‘Though we must grieve, yet beare it thus, my son:
It was no man that prostrated in this sad fashion
Thy dearest friend; it was a god that first laid on his hand,
Whose will is law: the gods' decrees no humane must withstand.
Do thou embrace this Fabricke of a god, whose hand before
Nere forg'd the like, and such as yet no humane shoulder wore.’
Thus (setting downe) the precious mettall of the armes was such
That all the roome rung with the weight of every slendrest touch.
Cold tremblings tooke the Myrmidons; none durst sustaine, all fear'd
T' oppose their eyes. Achilles, yet, as soone as they appear'd,
Sterne Anger enterd. From his eyes (as if the day-starre rose)
A radiance terrifying men did all the state enclose.
At length he tooke into his hands the rich gift of the god,
And (much pleasd to behold the art that in the shield he show'd)
He brake forth into this applause: ‘O mother, these right well
Shew an immortall finger's touch; man's hand must never deale
With armes againe. Now I will arme, yet (that no honour make
My friend forgotten) I much feare lest with the blowes of flies
His brasse-inflicted wounds are filde; life gone, his person lies
All apt to putrifaction.’ She bad him doubt no harme
Of those offences: she would care to keepe the petulant swarme
Of flies (that usually taint the bodies of the slaine)
From his friend's person: though a yeare the earth's top should sustaine
His slaughterd body, it should still rest sound, and rather hold
A better state than worse since time that death first made him cold.
And so bad call a Councell to dispose of new alarmes,
Where (to the king, that was the Pastor of that flocke in armes)
He should depose all anger and put on a fortitude
Fit for his armes. All this his powres with dreadfull strength indude.
She with her faire hand still'd into the nostrils of his friend
Red Nectar and Ambrosia, with which she did defend
The Corse from putrifaction. He trod along the shore
And summon'd all th' Heroique Greekes, with all that spent before
The time in exercise with him, the Maisters, Pilots too,
Victlers, and all. All, when they saw Achilles summon so,
Swarm'd to the Councell, having long left the laborious wars.
To all these came two halting kings, true servitors of Mars,
Tydides and wise Ithacus, both leaning on their speares,
Their wounds still painefull, and both these sat first of all the Peeres.
The last come was the king of men, sore wounded with the lance
Of Coon Antenorides. All set, the first in utterance
Was Thetis' sonne, who rose and said: ‘Atrides, had not this
Conferd most profite to us both, when both our enmities
Consum'd us so, and for a wench, whom, when I chusde for prise
(In laying Lyrnessus' ruin'd walls amongst our victories),
I would to heaven (as first she set her daintie foote abord)
Diana's hand had tumbl'd off and with a javelin gor'd?
For then th' unmeasurable earth had not so thick bene gnawne
(In death's convulsions) by our friends, since my affects were drawne
To such distemper. To our foe and to our foe's chiefe friend
Our jarre brought profite, but the Greeks will never give an end
To thought of what it prejudic't them. Past things yet past our aide;
Fit griefe for what wrath rulde in them must make th' amends repaid
With that necessitie of love that now forbids our ire—
Which I with free affects obey. Tis for the senslesse fire
Still to be burning, having stuffe, but men must curbe rage still,
Being fram'd with voluntarie powres, as well to checke the will
As gives it raines. Give you then charge that for our instant fight
The Greeks may follow me to field, to trie if still the Night
Will beare out Troyans at our ships. I hope there is some one,
Amongst their chiefe encouragers, will thanke me to be gone,
And bring his heart downe to his knees in that submission.’
The Greeks rejoyc't to heare the heart of Peleus' mightie sonne
So quallified. And then the king (not rising from his throne,
For his late hurt), to get good eare, thus orderd his replie:
‘Princes of Greece, your states shall suffer no indignitie,
If (being farre off) ye stand and heare, nor fits it such as stand
At greater distance to disturbe the counsell now in hand
By uprore, in their too much care of hearing. Some, of force,
Must lose some words: for hard it is, in such a great concourse,
(Though hearers' eares be nere so sharpe) to touch at all things spoke.
And, in assemblies of such thrust, how can a man provoke
Fit powre to heare, or leave to speake? Best auditors may there
Lose fittest words, and the most vocall Orator fit eare.
My maine end, then, to satisfie Pelides with replie,
My words shall prosecute. To him my speech especially
Shall beare direction. Yet I wish the court in generall
Would give fit eare; my speech shall need attention of all.
Oft have our Peeres of Greece much blam'd my forcing of the prise
Due to Achilles; of which act not I, but destinies
And Jove himselfe and blacke Erinys (that casts false mists still
Betwixt us and our actions done, both by her powre and will)
Are authors. What could I do then? The very day and howre
Of our debate that furie stole, in that act, on my powre.
And more:—all things are done by strife; that ancient seed of Jove,
Ate, that hurts all, perfects all. Her feete are soft and move
Not on the earth; they beare her still aloft men's heads, and there
She harmefull hurts them. Nor was I alone her prisoner:
Jove (best of men and gods) hath bene. Not he himselfe hath gone
Beyond her fetters: no, she made a woman put them on.
For when Alcmena was to vent the force of Hercules
In well-wall'd Thebes, thus Jove triumpht: “Heare, gods and goddesses,
The words my joyes urg'd. In this day, Lucina (bringing paine
To labouring women) shall produce into the light of men
A man that all his neighbour kings shall in his Empire hold,
And vant that more than manly race whose honor'd veines enfold
My eminent blood.” Saturnia conceiv'd a present sleight,
And urg'd confirmance of his vant, t' infringe it; her conceipt
In this sort urg'd: “Thou wilt not hold thy word with this rare man:
Or if thou wilt, confirme it with the oath Olympian,
That whosoever fals this day betwixt a woman's knees
Of those men's stockes that from thy blood derive their pedigrees
Shall all his neighbour townes command.” Jove (ignorant of fraude)
Tooke that great oth, which his great ill gave little cause t'applaude.
Downe from Olympus top she stoopt, and quickly reacht the place
In Argos where the famous wife of Sthenelus (whose race
He fetch'd from Jove by Perseus) dwelt. She was but seven months gone
With issue, yet she brought it forth; Alcmena's matchlesse sonne
Delaide from light, Saturnia represt the teeming throwes
Of his great mother. Up to heaven she mounts againe, and showes
(In glorie) her deceipt to Jove. “Bright-lightning Jove,” said she,
“Now th' Argives have an Emperour; a sonne deriv'd from thee
Is borne to Persean Sthenelus, Eurystheus his name,
Noble and worthy of the rule thou swor'st to him.” This came
Close to the heart of Jupiter, and Ate, that had wrought
This anger by Saturnia, by her bright haire he caught,
Held downe her head, and over her made this infallible vow:
That never to the cope of starres should reascend that brow,
Being so infortunate to all. Thus, swinging her about,
He cast her from the fierie heaven, who ever since thrust out
Her forkt sting in th' affaires of men. Jove ever since did grieve,
Since his deare issue Hercules did by his vow atchieve
Th' unjust toyles of Eurystheus. Thus fares it now with me,
Since under Hector's violence the Grecian progenie
Fell so unfitly by my splene, whose fals will ever sticke
In my griev'd thoughts. My weaknesse yet (Saturnius making sicke
The state my mind held) now recur'd, th' amends shall make even weight
With my offence: and therefore rouse thy spirits to the fight
With all thy forces. All the gifts proposde thee at thy tent
(Last day) by royall Ithacus, my officers shall present;
And (if it like thee) strike no stroke (though never so on thornes
Thy mind stands to thy friend's revenge) till my command adornes
Thy tents and cofers with such gifts as well may let thee know
How much I wish thee satisfied.’ He answerd: ‘Let thy vow,
Renown'd Atrides, at thy will be kept (as justice would),
Or keepe thy gifts; tis all in thee. The counsell now we hold
Is for repairing our maine field with all our fortitude.
My faire shew made brookes no retreat; nor must delaies delude
Our deed's expectance. Yet undone the great worke is; all eyes
Must see Achilles in first fight, depeopling enemies—
As well as counsell it in court—that every man set on
May chuse his man, to imitate my exercise upon.’
Ulysses answerd: ‘Do not yet (thou man made like the gods)
Take fasting men to field. Suppose that whatsoever ods
It brings against them, with full men, thy boundlesse eminence
Can amplie answer, yet refraine to tempt a violence.
The conflict wearing out our men was late, and held as long,
Wherein, though most Jove stood for Troy, he yet made our part strong
To beare that most. But twas to beare, and that breeds little heart.
Let wine and bread then adde to it: they helpe the twofold part,
The soule and body in a man, both force and fortitude.
All day men cannot fight and fast, though never so indude
With minds to fight, for, that supposde, there lurks yet secretly
Thirst, hunger, in th' oppressed joynts, which no mind can supply.
They take away a marcher's knees. Men's bodyes throughly fed,
Their minds share with them in their strength, and (all day combatted)
One stirres not till you call off all. Dismisse them then to meate,
And let Atrides tender here, in sight of all this seate,
The gifts he promist. Let him sweare before us all, and rise
To that oath—that he never toucht in any wanton wise
The Ladie he enforc't. Besides, that he remaines in mind
As chastly satisfied, not toucht or privily enclind
With future vantages. And last, tis fit he should approve
All these rites at a solemne feast in honour of your love,
That so you take no mangl'd law for merites absolute.
And thus the honours you receive, resolving the pursuite
Of your friend's quarrell, well will quit your sorrow for your friend.
And thou, Atrides, in the tast of so severe an end,
Hereafter may on others hold a juster government.
Nor will it ought empaire a king to give a sound content
To any subject, soundly wrong'd.’ ‘I joy,’ replide the king,
‘O Laertiades, to heare thy liberall counselling.
In which is all decorum kept; nor any point lackes touch
That might be thought on, to conclude a reconcilement such
As fits example, and us two. My mind yet makes me sweare,
Not your impulsion. And that mind shall rest so kind and cleare
That I will not forsweare to God. Let then Achilles stay
(Though never so inflam'd for fight), and all men here I pray
To stay till from my tents these gifts be brought here, and the truce
At all parts finisht before all. And thou, of all I chuse,
Divine Ulysses, and command, to chuse of all your host
Youths of most honour, to present to him we honour most
The gifts we late vow'd, and the Dames. Meane space, about our tents
Talthybius shall provide a Bore, to crowne these kind events
With thankfull sacrifice to Jove and to the God of light.’
Achilles answerd: ‘These affaires will shew more requisite,
Great king of men, some other time, when our more free estates
Yeeld fit cessation from the warre, and when my splene abates.
But now (to all our shames besides) our friends by Hector slaine
(And Jove to friend) lie unfetch'd off. Haste then, and meate your men—
Though I must still say, my command would leade them fasting forth,
And all together feast at night. Meate will be something worth,
When stomacks first have made it way with venting infamie
(And other sorrowes late sustain'd) with long'd-for wreakes, that lie
Heavie upon them for right's sake. Before which lode be got
From off my stomacke, meate nor drinke, I vow, shall downe my throte,
My friend being dead, who, digd with wounds, and bor'd through both his feet,
Lies in the entrie of my tent, and in the teares doth fleete
Of his associates. Meate and drinke have litle merit then
To comfort me, but bloud and death and deadly grones of men.’
The great in counsels yet made good his former counsels thus:
‘O Peleus' sonne, of all the Greeks by much most valorous;
Better and mightier than my selfe, no little, with thy lance
I yeeld thy worth. In wisedome yet no lesse I dare advance
My right above thee, since above in yeares, and knowing more.
Let then thy mind rest in my words: we quickly shall have store
And all satietie of fight, whose steele heapes store of straw
And little corne upon a floore, when Jove (that doth withdraw
And joyne all battels) once begins t' encline his ballances
In which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not presse
To mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that
In healthfull men that mourne for friends. His steele we stumble at
And fall at every day, you see, sufficient store and fast.
What houre is it that any breathes? We must not use more hast
Than speed holds fit for our revenge, nor should we mourne too much.
Who dead is, must be buried; men's patience should be such
That one daye's mone should serve one man: the dead must end with Death,
And life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their breath
From death in fight the more should eate, that so they may supply
Their fellowes that have stucke in field, and fight incessantly.
Let none expect reply to this nor stay; for this shall stand
Or fall with some offence to him that lookes for new command,
Who ever in dislike holds backe. All joyne then, all things fit
Allow'd for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.’
This said, he chusde (for noblest youths, to beare the presents) these—
The sonnes of Nestor, and with them renowm'd Meriones,
Phylides, Thoas, Lycomed and Meges, all which went
(And Melanippus following Ulysses) to the tent
Of Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed
Had joynt effect: the fitnesse well was answerd in the speed.
The presents, added to the Dame the Generall did enforce,
Were twentie Caldrons, Tripods seven, twelve yong and goodly horse,
Seven Ladies excellently seene in all Minerva's skill,
The eighth Briseis, who had powre to ravish every will,
Twelve talents of the finest gold. All which Ulysses weyd
And caried first, and after him the other youths conveyd
The other presents, tenderd all in face of all the Court.
Up rose the King. Talthybius (whose voice had a report
Like to a god) cald to the rites. There, having brought the Bore,
Atrides with his knife tooke sey upon the part before,
And lifting up his sacred hands to Jove to make his vowes.
Grave Silence strooke the compleate Court, when (casting his high browes
Up to the broad heaven) thus he spake: ‘Now witnesse, Jupiter
(First, highest, and thou best of gods), thou Earth that all doest beare,
Thou Sunne, ye Furies under earth that every soule torment
Whom impious perjury distaines—that nought incontinent
In bed, or any other act, to any slendrest touch
Of my light vowes hath wrong'd the Dame; and let my plagues be such
As are inflicted by the gods in all extremitie
On whomsoever perjur'd men, if godlesse perjurie
In least degree dishonor me.’ This said, the bristl'd throte
Of the submitted sacrifice with ruthlesse steele he cut.
Which straight into the horie sea Talthybius cast, to feed
The sea-borne nation. Then stood up the halfe-celestiall seed
Of faire-hair'd Thetis, strengthning thus Atrides' innocence:
‘O father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence
Of all man's ill; for now I see the mightie king of men
At no hand forc't away my prise, nor first inflam'd my splene
With any set ill in himselfe, but thou, the king of gods,
(Incenst with Greece) made that the meane to all their periods.
Which now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages
To what wise Ithacus advisde. Take breakfasts, and addresse
For instant conflict.’ Thus he raisd the Court, and all tooke way
To severall ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convay
T' Achilles' fleete and in his tents disposde them, doing grace
Of seate and all rites to the Dames—the horses put in place
With others of Æacides. When (like Love's golden Queene)
Briseis (all in ghastly wounds) had dead Patroclus seene,
She fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore
Her haire, breasts, radiant cheekes, and, drown'd in warme teares, did deplore
His cruell destinie. At length she gat powre to expresse
Her violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:
‘O good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,
I (wretched dame) departing hence enforc't, and dying sad,
Left thee alive when thou hadst chear'd my poore captivitie,
And, now return'd, I find thee dead, misery on miserie
Ever increasing with my steps. The Lord to whom my Sire
And dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life's fire
I saw before our citie gates extinguisht, and his fate
Three of my worthy brothers' lives in one wombe generate,
Felt all in that blake day of death. And when Achilles' hand
Had slaine all these and rac't the towne Mynetes did command,
(All cause of never-ending griefes presented) thou took'st all
On thy endevour to convert to joy as Generall,
Affirming he that hurt should heale, and thou wouldst make thy friend
(Brave Captaine that thou wert) supply my vowed husband's end,
And in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,
Our nuptiall banquets—for which grace, with these most worthy mones
I never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,
Ever delightsome, one sweete grace fed still with one sweete mind.’
Thus spake she weeping, and with her did th' other Ladies mone,
Patroclus' fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their owne.
About Æacides himselfe the kings of Greece were plac't,
Entreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast
(Still intermixing words and sighes), if any friend were there
Of all his dearest, they would ceasse and offer him no cheare
But his due sorrowes, for before the Sunne had left that skie
He would not eate, but of that day sustaine th' extremitie.
Thus all the kings (in resolute griefe and fasting) he dismist;
But both th' Atrides, Ithacus and warre's old Martialist,
Idomeneus and his friend, and Phœnix, these remain'd
Endevoring comfort, but no thought of his vow'd woe restrain'd—
Nor could, till that daye's bloudie fight had calm'd his bloud; he still
Rememberd something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.
Their urging meate the diligent fashion of his friend renew'd
In that excitement: ‘Thou,’ said he, ‘when this speed was pursu'd
Against the Troyans, evermore apposedst in my tent
A pleasing breakfast; being so free and sweetly diligent,
Thou mad'st all meate sweete. Then the warre was tearefull to our foe,
But now to me, thy wounds so wound me and thy overthrow.
For which my readie food I flie and on thy longings feed.
Nothing could more afflict me: Fame, relating the foule deed
Of my deare father's slaughter, bloud drawne from my sole sonne's heart,
No more could wound me. Cursed man, that in this forrein part
(For hatefull Helen), my true love, my countrey, Sire and son,
I thus should part with. Scyros now gives education,
O Neoptolemus, to thee (if living yet): from whence
I hop't, deare friend, thy longer life (safely return'd from hence
And my life quitting thine) had powre to ship him home, and show
His yong eyes Phthia, subjects, court—my father being now
Dead, or most short-liv'd, troublous age oppressing him and feare
Still of my death's newes.’ These sad words he blew into the eare
Of every visitant with sighs, all eccho'd by the Peeres,
Remembring who they left at home. All whose so humane teares
Jove pitied: and, since they all would in the good of one
Be much reviv'd, he thus bespake Minerva: ‘Thetis' sonne
Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles' care
Extinguisht in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare,
He lies before his high-sail'd fleet for his dead friend; the rest
Are strengthning them with meate, but he lies desperatly opprest
With heartlesse fasting. Go thy wayes, and to his brest instill
Red Nectar and Ambrosia, that Fast procure no ill
To his neare enterprise.’ This spurre he added to the free;
And like a Harpye (with a voice that shriekes so dreadfully,
And feathers that like needles pricke) she stoopt through all the starres
Amongst the Grecians, all whose tents were now fill'd for the warres.
Her seres strooke through Achilles' tent, and closely she instill'd
Heaven's most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill'd
His sinewes with that sweete supply, for feare unsavorie Fast
Should creepe into his knees. Her selfe the skies againe enchac't.
The host set forth, and pour'd his steele waves farre out of the fleete
And as from aire the frostie Northwind blowes a cold thicke sleete
That dazels eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending:
So thicke helmes, curets, ashen darts and round shields, never ending,
Flow'd from the navie's hollow wombe: their splendors gave heaven's eye
His beames againe; Earth laught to see her face so like the skie—
Armes shin'd so hote, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast,
She thunderd, feete of men and horse importun'd her so fast.
In midst of all divine Achilles his faire person arm'd;
His teeth gnasht as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm'd,
Unsufferd griefe and anger at the Troyans so combin'd.
His greaves first usde, his goodly curets on his bosome shin'd,
His sword, his shield, that cast a brightnesse from it like the Moone.
And as from sea sailers discerne a harmfull fire, let runne
By herdsmen's faults, till all their stall flies up in wrastling flame;
Which being on hils is seene farre off, but being alone, none came
To give it quench, at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends
Driven off with tempests: such a fire from his bright shield extends
His ominous radiance, and in heaven imprest his fervent blaze.
His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place
On his curl'd head: and like a starre it cast a spurrie ray,
About which a bright thickned bush of golden haire did play,
Which Vulcan forg'd him for his plume. Thus compleate arm'd, he tride
How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide
Their brave instruction; and so farre they were from hindring it
That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit
That from the earth the princely Captaine they tooke up to aire.
Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father's speare,
Huge, weightie, firme, that not a Greeke but he himselfe alone
Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountaine Pelion,
From whose height Chiron hew'd it for his Sire, and fatall twas
To great-soul'd men, of Pelion surnamed Pelias.
Then from the stable their bright horse Automedon withdrawes
And Alcimus, put Poitrils on and cast upon their jawes
Their bridles, hurling backe the raines, and hung them on the seate.
The faire scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get
To guide the horse. The fight's seate last Achilles tooke behind,
Who lookt so arm'd as if the Sunne, there falne from heaven, had shin'd—
And terribly thus charg'd his steeds: ‘Xanthus and Balius,
Seed of the Harpye, in the charge ye undertake of us,
Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field.
But when with bloud, for this daye's fast observ'd, Revenge shall yeeld
Our heart satietie, bring us off.’ Thus since Achilles spake
As if his aw'd steeds understood, twas Juno's will to make
Vocall the pallat of the one, who, shaking his faire head
(Which in his mane (let fall to earth) he almost buried),
Thus Xanthus spake: ‘Ablest Achilles, now (at least) our care
Shall bring thee off; but not farre hence the fatall minutes are
Of thy grave ruine. Nor shall we be then to be reprov'd,
But mightiest Fate and the great God. Nor was thy best belov'd
Spoil'd so of armes by our slow pace or courage's empaire.
The best of gods, Latona's sonne that weares the golden haire,
Gave him his death's wound through the grace he gave to Hector's hand.
We, like the spirit of the West that all spirits can command
For powre of wing, could runne him off. But thou thy selfe must go;
So Fate ordaines; God and a man must give thee overthrow.’
This said, the Furies stopt his voice. Achilles, farre in rage,
Thus answerd him: ‘It fits not thee thus proudly to presage
My overthrow. I know my selfe it is my fate to fall
Thus farre from Phthia; yet that Fate shall faile to vent her gall
Till mine vent thousands.’ These words usde, he fell to horrid deeds,
Gave dreadfull signall, and forthright made flie his one-hov'd steeds.