No More Learning

tioned. Take the case of Ithaca in the absence of its king : we are told repeatedly that he treated his people like a father, and yet only a few old servants seem to side with him against the worthless aspirants to the throne.
The ezperimentum cruris, however, is the picture of the gods in Olympus. We have here Zeus, a sort of easy-going but all- powerful Agamemnon, ruling over a number of turbulent self- willed lesser gods, who are perpetually trying to evade and thwart his commands. At intervals he wakes up and terrifies them into submission by threats, but it is evident that he can count on no higher principle. Here, Poseidon, Ares, Aphro dite, Pallas, all are thoroughly insubordinate, and loyal to one thing only, that is, their party. Faction, as among the Greeks of Thucydides, had clearly usurped the place of principle ; and we are actually presented with the strange picture of a city of gods more immoral, more faithless, and more depraved than the world of men.
This curious feature has much exercised critics, and caused many conjectures as to the real moral attitude of the epic poets. I think the most natural explanation is based upon the notorious levity and recklessness of the Ionic character, as developed in Asia Minor. We know from the lyric poets, we know from the course of history, how the pleasure-loving Ionians of Asia Minor seem to have lost all the stronger fiber that marked the Greeks of Hellas. Reveling in plenty, associating with Asiatic splendor and luxury, they very soon lost those sterner fea tures — love of liberty, self-denying heroism, humble submission to the gods — which still survived in Greece ; and thus I con ceive the courts at which the bards sang, enjoyed a very free and even profane handling of the gods as a racy and piquant entertainment, so that presently it was extended even to the so-called Homeric hymns, which of all Greek poetry treat the gods in the most homely and even sensual way. The Hymn to Aphrodite, detailing her amour with Anchises, and that to Hermes, detailing his theft and perjury, are exact counterparts to the lay of Demodocus, which treats both Ares and Aphrodite in the same way.
This bold and familiar attitude was narrowly connected with another leading feature in the Greeks — their realism in art. There is nothing vague, or exaggerated, or incompre hensible, tolerated by their chaste judgment and their correct taste. The figures of dogs or men, cast by Hephsestus, are
LIFE IN THE HOMERIC TIME. Ill
specially remarked for being lifelike throughout the Homeric poems. They actually walk about, and are animated by his peculiar cunning. This, as Overbeck has well observed, is merely the strong expression of the object proposed to himself by the Greek artist, in contrast to the cold repose and mute deadness of Egyptian sculpture. The Egyptians seldom meant to imitate life in action. The Greeks, from their very first rude essays, set before them this higher goal. Like the statu ary, so the poet did not waste his breath in the tiresome and vague adoration of the Egyptian psalmist, but clothed his gods in the fairest and best human form, and endowed them with a human intellect and human will.
Homer's gods are therefore too human to embody an abstract principle ; and so this side of their religion the poets relegated to certain personified abstractions, which seldom appear, and which seem to stand apart from the life of the Olympic gods. Perhaps Zeus himself, in his Dodonean character, has this im personal aspect as the Father of light and of good. But Zeus of Olympus is quite a different conception. So there is a per sonified or semipersonified Ai'Stu? and an "Atj; and Acrai and an 'E/jiVw, which represent stern and lasting moral ideas, and which relieve the Olympic gods from the necessity of doing so, except when the poet finds it suitable to his purpose. But as these moral ideas restrained and checked men, so the special privilege of the gods seems to be the almost total freedom from such control. The society of Olympus, therefore, is only an ideal Greek society in the lowest sense, — the ideal of the schoolboy, who thinks all control irksome, and its absence the summum bonum, —the ideal of a voluptuous man, who has strong passions, and longs for the power to indulge them with out unpleasant consequences.
It appears to me, therefore, that the Homeric picture of Olympus is very valuable as disclosing to us the poet's notion of a society freed from the restraints of religion. For the rhapsodists were dealing a deathblow (perhaps unconsciously) to their religion by these very pictures of sin and crime among their gods. Their idea is a sort of semimonarchical aristoc racy, where a number of persons have the power to help favor ites, and thwart the general progress of affairs ; where love of faction overpowers every other consideration, and justifies violence or deceit. It will quite satisfy our present object to select the one typical character which both the poems place in
112 LIFE IN THE HOMERIC TIME.
the foreground as the Greek ideal of intelligence and power of the highest order.
The leading personage in Homer's world of men and gods is undoubtedly Pallas Athene. She embodies all the qualities which were most highly esteemed in those days. She is evi dently meant to be the greatest and most admirable of the deities that concern themselves with men. Yet, as Mr. Hay- man has truly observed, she is rather infra-human than super human. There is no touch of any kindly feeling, no affection or respect for either God or man. There is not even a trace of sex, except in her occasional touches of spite. " Her character is without tenderness or tie of any sort ; it never owns obliga tion, it never feels pain or privation, it is pitiless ; with no gross appetites, its activity is busy and restless, its partisanship unscrupulous, its policy astute, and its dissimulation profound. It is keenly satirical, crafty, whispering base motives of the good (indeed she comprehends no others), beating down the strong, mocking the weak, and exulting over them ; heart less — yet stanch to a comrade ; touched by a sense of liking and admiration for its like, [she accounts expressly for her love of Ulysses by his roguery and cunning,] of truth to its party ; ready to prompt and back a friend through every hazard. " Such is Mr. Hayman's picture, verified by citations for each and every statement.
This very disagreeable picture is not, as he would have it, an impersonation of what we call the world. Surely the modern world at least professes some high motives, and is touched by some compassion. But it is the impersonation of the Greek world, as conceived by Thucydides in his famous reflections on the Corcyraean massacre. He was mistaken in deed, profoundly mistaken, as we shall often see in the sequel, in considering this hard and selfish type a special outcome of the civil wars. No doubt they stimulated and multiplied it. But here, in the Iliad and Odyssey, in the days of Greek chiv alry and Greek romance, even here we have the poet creating his ideal type — intellect and energy unshackled by restraints ; and we obtain a picture which, but for the total absence of sex, might be aptly described as a female Antiphon. The great
historian, despite of his moral reflections, speaks of Antiphon, the political assassin, the public traitor to his constitution, as " in general merit second to none. " The great epic poet silently expresses the same judgment on his own Pallas Athene.
THE GREEK FUTURE LIFE. 113
THE GREEK FUTURE LIFE.
By PINDAB.
(Translation of John Conington. )
I.
They from whom Persephone
Due atonement shall receive
For the things that made to grieve,
To the upper sunlight she
Sendeth back their souls once more, Soon as winters eight are o'er.
From those blessed spirits spring Many a great and goodly king, Many a man of glowing might, Many a wise and learned wight: And while after days endure,
Men esteem them heroes pure.
Shines for them the sun's warm glow When 'tis darkness here below:
And the ground before their towers, Meadow land with purple flowers, Teems with incense-bearing treen, Teems with fruit of golden sheen. Some in steed and wrestling feat, Some in dice take pleasure sweet, Some in harping: at their side Blooms the spring in all her pride. Fragrance all about is blown
O'er that country of desire. Ever as rich gifts are thrown Freely on the far-seen fire
Blazing from the altar stone.
But the souls of the profane,
Far from heaven removed below,
Flit on earth in murderous pain 'Neath the unyielding yoke of woe; While pious spirits tenanting the sky
Chant praises to the mighty one on high. VOL. II. —8
THE GREEK FUTURE LIFE.
ii.
For them the night all through,
In that broad realm below,
The splendor of the sun spreads endless light;
'Mid rosy meadows bright,
Their city of the tombs with incense trees,
And golden chalices
Of flowers, and fruitage fair, Scenting the breezy air,
Is laden. There with horses and with play,
With games and lyres, they while the hours away.
On every side around
Pure happiness is found,
With all the blooming beauty of the world;
There fragrant smoke, upcurled From altars where the blazing fire is dense
With perfumed frankincense,
Burned unto gods in heaven,
Through all the land is driven,
Making its pleasant place odorous
With scented gales and sweet airs amorous.
m.
(Translation of A. Moore. )
The day comes fast when all men must depart,
And pay for present pride in future woes.
The deeds that frantic mortals do
In this disordered nook of Jove's domain,
All meet their meed; and there's a Judge below Whose hateful doom inflicts th' inevitable pain.
O'er the Good soft suns the while Through the mild day, the night serene,
Alike with cloudless luster smile, Tempering all the tranquil scene. Theirs is leisure ; vex not they Stubborn soil or watery way,
To wring from toil want' s worthless bread : No ills they know, no tears they shed,
But with the glorious Gods below
Ages of peace contented share.
Meanwhile the Bad with bitterest woe
Eye-startling tasks and endless tortures wear.
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA. 115
All, whose steadfast virtue thrice
Each side the grave unchanged hath stood
Still unseduced, unstained with vice, They by Jove's mysterious road
Pass to Saturn's realm of rest,
Happy isle that holds the blest;
Where sea-born breezes gently blow
O'er blooms of gold that round them glow, Which Nature boon from stream or strand
Or goodly tree profusely pours;
Whence pluck they many a fragrant band,
And braid their locks with never-fading flowers.
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA. (From the Iliad of Homer : translated by Alexander Pope. )
[Homer : His date, instead of being somewhat cleared up by recent archae ological discoveries, is rendered more obscure than ever. The reality and remote date of the Trojan war prove nothing, because he certainly lived long enough after it for the exact site to have been forgotten, for the city and plain he de scribes do not correspond at all with those of Hissarlik. Professor Sayce has shown that the dialect of our Iliad is a later one ; yet Homer lived early enough for his personality to be mere guesswork, even in the sixth century.
Alexander Pope : An English poet ; born May 22, 1688. His whole career was one of purely poetic work and the personal relations it brought him into. He published the "Essay on Criticism" in 1710, the "Rape of the Lock" in 1711, the "Messiah" in 1712, his translation of the Iliad in 1718- 1720, and of the Odyssey in 1725. His " Essay on Man," whose thoughts were mainly suggested by Bolingbroke, appeared in 1733. His "Satires," modeled on Horace's manner, but not at all in his spirit, are among his best-known works. He died May 30, 1744. ]
Book I.
Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring
Of woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess, sing !
That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain ;
Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore :
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jovel
Declare, O Muse ! in what ill-fated hour Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA
Latona's son a dire contagion spread,
And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead. The king of men his reverent priest defied,
And for the king's offense the people died.
For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain His captive daughter from the victor's chain. Suppliant the venerable father stands ;
Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands :
By these he begs ; and lowly bending down, Extends the scepter and the laurel crown.
He sued to all, but chief implored for grace
The brother kings, of Atreus' royal race : —
"Ye kings and warriors ! may your vows be crowned And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground.
May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.
But, oh I relieve a wretched parent's pain, And give Chrysels to these arms again ;
If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove. "
The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare, The priest to reverence, and release the fair.
Not so Atrides : he, with kingly pride, — Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied :
" Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains : Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod ;
Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god.
Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain ;
And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain Till time shall rifle every youthful grace,
And age dismiss her from my cold embrace.
In daily labors of the loom employed,
Or doomed to deck the bed she once enjoyed.
Hence then ; to Argos shall the maid retire,
Far from her native soil or weeping sire. "
The trembling priest along the shore returned, And in the anguish of a father mourned. Disconsolate, not daring to complain,
Silent he wandered by the sounding main ;
Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays, — The god who darts around the world his rays :
" O Smintheus ! sprung from fair Latona's line, Thou guardian power of Cilia the divine,
Thou source of light ! whom Tenedos adores,
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA 117
And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,
Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain ;
God of the silver bow ! thy shafts employ,
Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy. "
Thus Chryses prayed: —the favoring power attends,
And from Olympus' lofty tops descends.
Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound ; Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound. Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, And gloomy darkness rolled about his head.
The fleet in view, he twanged his deadly bow, And hissing fly the feathered fates below.
On mules and dogs the infection first began ; And last, the vengeful arrows fixed in man.
For nine long nights, through all the dusky air, The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare. But ere the tenth revolving day was run, Inspired by Juno, Thetis' godlike son
Convened to council all the Grecian train ;
For much the goddess mourned her heroes slain. The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, — Achilles thus the king of men addressed :
" Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,
And measure back the seas we crossed before ?
The plague destroying whom the sword would spare, 'Tis time to save the few remains of war.
But let some prophet, or some sacred sage,
Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage ;
Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove
By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove. If broken vows this heavy curse have laid,
Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid.
So Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece restore,
And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more. "
He said, and sat: when Calchas thus replied; Calchas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide, That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view, The past, the present, and the future knew: Uprising slow, the venerable sage
Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age : —
" Beloved of Jove, Achilles ! wouldst thou know
Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow ?
First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word Of sure protection, by thy power and sword :
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DBAMA.
For I must speak what wisdom would conceal, And truths, invidious to the great, reveal.
Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise, Instruct a monarch where his error lies ;
To whom Pelides : " From thy inmost soul
Speak what thou know'st, and speak without controL E'en by that god I swear who rules the day,
To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey,
And whose blessed oracles thy lips declare ;
Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
No daring Greek, of all the numerous band,
Against his priest shall lift an impious hand ;
Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led,
The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head. "
Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies : — "Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice,
But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest, Apollo's vengeance for his injured priest.
Nor will the god's awakened fury cease,
But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase, Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid. Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer,
The priest may pardon, and the god may spare. "
The prophet spoke : when with a gloomy frown The monarch started from his shining throne; Black choler filled his breast that boiled with ire, And from his eyeballs flashed the living fire.
" Augur accursed ! denouncing mischief still,
Prophet of plagues, forever boding ill I
Still must that tongue some wounding message bring, And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king ?
For this are Phoebus' oracles explored,
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord ?
For this with falsehood is my honor stained,
Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned ;
Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold,
And heavenly charms prefer to proffered gold ?
A maid unmatched in manners as in face,
Skilled in each art, and crowned with every grace ; Not half so dear were Clytaemnestra's charms,
When first her blooming beauties blessed my arms. Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail ;
For though we deem the short-lived fury past, 'Tis sure the mighty will revenge at last. "
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA 119
Our cares are only for the public weal :
Let me be deemed the hateful cause of all, And suffer, rather than my people fall.
The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign, So dearly valued, and so justly mine.
But since for common good I yield the fair, My private loss let grateful Greece repair ; Nor unrewarded let your prince complain, That he alone has fought and bled in vain. "
" Insatiate king (Achilles thus replies),
Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize !
Wouldst thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield, The due reward of many a well-fought field ?
The spoils of cities razed and warriors slain,
We share with justice, as with toil we gain ;
But to resume whate'er thy avarice craves
(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves.
Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,
The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite,
Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers
Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers. "
Then thus the king : " Shall I my prize resign With tame content, and thou possessed of thine ? Great as thou art, and like a god in fight,
Think not to rob me of a soldier's right.
At thy demand shall I restore the maid :
First let the just equivalent be paid ;
Such as a king might ask ; and let it be
A treasure worthy her, and worthy me.
Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim This hand shall seize some other captive dame. The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign; Ulysses' spoils, or even thy own, be mine.
The man who suffers, loudly may complain ; And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. But this when time requires. — It now remains We launch a bark to plow the watery plains, And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, With chosen pilots, and with laboring oars. Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend,
And some deputed prince the charge attend: This Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfill,
Or wise Ulysses see performed our will ;
Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,
Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main ;
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,
The god propitiate, and the pest assuage. " — " At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied :
O tyrant, armed with insolence and pride ! Inglorious slave to interest, ever joined
With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind !
What generous Greek, obedient to thy word, Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword ? What cause have I to war at thy decree ?
The distant Trojans never injured me;
To Pythia's realms no hostile troops they led :
Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed ;
Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main, And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,
Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace,
Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.
Hither we sailed, a voluntary throng,
To avenge a private, not a public wrong :
What else to Troy the assembled nations draws, But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause ?
Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve ; Disgraced and injured by the man we serve ?
And darest thou threat to snatch my prize away, Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day ?
A prize as small, O tyrant ! matched with thine, As thy own actions if compared to mine.
Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey, Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. Some trivial present to my ships I bear :
Or barren praises pay the wounds of war.
But now, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more ; My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore :
Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain, " What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain ?
To this the king : " Fly, mighty warrior ! fly ; Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy.
There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right. Of all the kings (the god's distinguished care)
To power superior none such hatred bear;
Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,
And wars and horrors are thy savage joy.
If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestowed For know, vain man ! thy valor is from God.
Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away !
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA 121
Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway ;
I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate
Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate. Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons : — but here 'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand,
My bark shall waft her to her native land;
But then prepare, imperious prince ! prepare,
Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair :
Even in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize,
Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes.
Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power ;
And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known,
That kings are subject to the gods alone. "
Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppressed,
His heart swelled high, and labored in his breast ; Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled ;
Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cooled :
That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword,
Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord ; This whispers soft his vengeance to control
And calm the rising tempest of his soul.
Just as in anguish of suspense he stayed,
While half unsheathed appeared the glittering blade, Minerva swift descended from above,
Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove
(For both the princes claimed her equal care) ; Behind she stood, and by the golden hair Achilles seized ; to him alone confessed ;
A sable cloud concealed her from the rest.
He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries, — Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes :
" Descends Minerva, in her guardian care,
A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear
From Atreus' son ? — Then let those eyes that view The daring crime, behold the vengeance too. "
" Forbear (the progeny of Jove replies), To calm thy fury I forsake the skies :
Let great Achilles, to the gods resigned,
To reason yield the empire o'er his mind.
By awful Juno this command is given :
The king and you are both the care of heaven. The force of keen reproaches let him feel ; But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel.
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power) Thy injured honor has its fated hour,
When the proud monarch shall thy arms implore, And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store. Then let revenge no longer bear the sway ; Command thy passions, and the gods obey. "
To her Pelides : " With regardful ear,
I thy dictates hear. Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress :
'Tis just, O goddess !
Those who revere the gods the gods will bless. " He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid ; Then in the sheath returned the shining blade. The goddess swift to high Olympus flies,
And joins the sacred senate of the skies.
Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook,
Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke : —
" O monster ! mixed of insolence and fear,
Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer I
When wert thou known in ambushed fights to dare, Or nobly face, the horrid front of war ?
'Tis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try ; Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die :
So much 'tis safer through the camp to go, And rob a subject, than despoil a foe.
Scourge of thy people, violent and base !
Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race ;
Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past,
Are tamed to wrongs ; — or this had been thy last. Now by this sacred scepter hear me swear,
Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, Which severed from the trunk (as I from thee)
On the bare mountains left its parent tree ;
This scepter, formed by tempered steel to prove
An ensign of the delegates of Jove,
From whom the power of laws and justice springs (Tremendous oath ! inviolate to kings) ;
By this I swear : — when bleeding Greece again
Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain.
When, flushed with slaughter, Hector comes to spread The purpled shore with mountains of the dead,
Then shalt thou mourn the affront thy madness gave, Forced to implore when impotent to save :
Then rage in bitterness of soul to know
This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe. "
He spoke ; and furious hurled against the ground
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA
flis scepter starred with golden studs around : Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain The raging king returned his frowns again.
To calm their passion with the words of age, Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skilled : Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distilled: Two generations now had passed away,
Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway ; Two ages o'er his native realm he reigned, And now the example of the third remained. All viewed with awe the venerable man ;— Who thus with mild benevolence began :
" What shame, what woe is this to Greece ! what To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of Troy ! That adverse gods commit to stern debate
The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state.
Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain,
Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain.
I knew,
Such as no more these aged eyes shall view I
A godlike race of heroes once
Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame, Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name ; Theseus, endued with more than mortal might, Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight ?
With these of old, to toils of battle bred,
In early youth my hardy days I led;
Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds, And smit with love of honorable deeds,
Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar, Ranged the wild deserts red with monsters' gore, And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore : Yet these with soft persuasive arts I swayed ; When Nestor spoke, they listened and obeyed.
If in my youth, even these esteemed me wise,
Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave ;
That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave : Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride ; Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside. Thee the first honors of the war adorn,
Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born;
Him awful majesty exalts above
The powers of earth, and sceptered sons of Jove Let both unite with well-consenting mind,
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA
So shall authority with strength be joined.
Leave me, O king ! to calm Achilles' rage ;
Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age.
Forbid gods Achilles should be lost,
The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host. " — " This said, he ceased. The king of men replies
Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. But that imperious, that unconquered soul, No laws can limit, no respect control.
Before his pride must his superiors fall,
His word the law, and he the lord of all
Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey
What king can bear rival in his sway
Grant that the gods his matchless force have"given Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven
Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke, And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke — "Tyrant, well deserve thy galling chain,
To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain, Should submit to each unjust decree — Command thy vassals, but command not me. Seize on Brise'is, whom the Grecians doomed
My prize of war, yet tamely see resumed
And seize secure no more Achilles draws
His conquering sword in any woman's cause.
The gods command me to forgive the past
But let this first invasion be the last
For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade, Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade. "
At this they ceased the stern debate expired The chiefs in sullen majesty retired.
Achilles with Patroclus took his way
Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. Meantime Atrides launched with numerous oars A well-rigged ship for Chrysa's sacred shores High on the deck was fair Chryse'is placed, And sage Ulysses with the conduct graced
Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stowed, Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road.
The host to expiate next the king prepares, With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers. Washed by the briny wave, the pious train
Are cleansed and cast the ablutions in the main. Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid,
And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid
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OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA
The sable fumes in curling spires arise, And waft their grateful odors to the skies.
The army thus in sacred rites engaged, Atrides still with deep resentment raged.
To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, Talthybius and Eurybates the good.
" Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries), Thence bear Brise'is as our royal prize ;
Submit he must ; or if they will not part, Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart. "
The unwilling heralds act their lord's commands, Pensive they walk along the barren sands ;
Arrived, the hero in his tent they find,
With gloomy aspect on his arm reclined.
At awful distance long they silent stand,
Loth to advance, and speak their hard command; Decent confusion ! This the godlike man Perceived and thus with accent mild began : —
" With leave and honor enter our abodes,
Ye sacred ministers of men and gods !
Iknow your message ; by constraint you came ; Not you, but your imperious lord I blame. Patroclus, haste, the fair Brise'is bring ;
Conduct my captive to the haughty king.
But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, Witness to gods above, and men below !
But first, and loudest, to your prince declare
(That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear), Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain,
Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein; The raging chief in frantic passion lost,
Blind to himself, and useless to his host, Unskilled to judge the future by the past,
In blood and slaughter shall repent at last. "
Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought ; She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought, Passed silent, as the heralds held her hand,
And oft looked back, slow-moving o'er the strand. Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore ;
But sad, retiring to the sounding shore.
O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung,
That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung: There bathed in tears of anger and disdain,
Thus loud lamented to the stormy main : —
" O parent goddess ! since in early bloom
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom ; Sure to so short a race of glory born,
Great Jove in justice should this span adorn : Honor and fame at least the thunderer owed ; And ill he pays the promise of a god,
If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies, Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize. "
Far from the deep recesses of the main,
Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,
The goddess mother heard. The waves divide ; And like a mist she rose above the tide ;
Beheld him mourning on the naked shores,
And thus the sorrows of his soul explores.
" Why grieves my son ? Thy anguish let me share Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care. "
He deeply sighing said: "To tell my woe
Is but to mention what too well you know.
From Thebe', sacred to Apollo's name
(Action's realm), our conquering army came,
With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils,
Whose just division crowned the soldier's toils ; But bright Chryse'is, heavenly prize ! was led,
By vote selected, to the general's bed.
The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain
His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain ; The fleet he reached, and, lowly bending down, Held forth the scepter and the laurel crown, Entreating all ; but chief implored for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race :
The generous Greeks their joint consent declare, The priest to reverence, and release the fair ;
Not so Atrides : he, with wonted pride,
The sire insulted, and his gifts denied :
The insulted sire (his god's peculiar care)
To Phoebus prayed, and Phcebus heard the prayer ; A dreadful plague ensues : the avenging darts Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.
A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose,
And points the crime, and thence derives the woes : Myself the first the assembled chiefs incline
To avert the vengeance of the power divine ;
Then, rising in his wrath, the monarch stormed ; Incensed he threatened, and his threats performed : The fair Chryse'is to her sire was sent,
With offered gifts to make the god relent ;
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
But now he seized Brise'is' heavenly charms, And of my valor's prize defrauds my arms, Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train ; And service, faith, and justice plead in vain. But, goddess ! thou thy suppliant son attend. To high Olympus' shining court ascend,
Urge all the ties to former service owed,
And sue for vengeance to the thundering god.
Oft hast thou triumphed in the glorious boast,
That thou stood'st forth of all the ethereal host, When bold rebellion shook the realms above,
The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove; When the bright partner of his awful reign,
The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,
The traitor gods, by mad ambition driven,
Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven. Then, called by thee, the monster Titan came
(Whom gods Briareus, men iEgeon name),
Through wondering skies enormous stalked along ; Not he that shakes tJhe solid earth so strong :
The affrighted gods confessed their awful lord, They dropped the fetters, trembled, and adored. This, goddess, this to his remembrance call, Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall ; Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main, To heap the shores with copious death, and bring The Greeks to know the curse of such a king : Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head
O'er all his wide dominion of the dead,
And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace The "boldest warrior of the Grecian race. "
Unhappy son ! (fair Thetis thus replies, While tears celestial trickle from her eyes) Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes ? So short a space the light of heaven to view! So short a space ! and filled with sorrow too !
O might a parent's careful wish prevail,
Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail,
And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun Which now, alas ! too nearly threats my son.
With giant pride at
ove's high throne he stands, And brandished round him all his hundred hands :
Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
To great Olympus crowned with fleecy snow. Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far Behold the field, nor mingle in the war.
The sire of gods and all the ethereal train,
On the warm limits of the farthest main,
Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace
The feasts of ^Ethiopia's blameless race ;
Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite, Returning with the twelfth revolving light. Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move The high tribunal of immortal Jove. "
The goddess spoke : the rolling waves unclose ; Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose, And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast,
In wild resentment for the fair he lost.
In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode ; Beneath the deck the destined victims stowed : The sails they furled, they lash the mast aside, And dropped their anchors, and the pinnace tied. Next on the shore their hecatomb they land ; Chrye'is last descending on the strand.
Her, thus returning from the furrowed main, Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane ;
Where at his solemn altar, as the maid —
He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said :
" Hail, reverend priest ! to Phoebus' awful dome A suppliant I from great Atrides come : Unransomed, here receive the spotless fair ;
Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare ;
And may thy god who scatters darts around, Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound. "
At this, the sire embraced the maid again, So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.
Then near the altar of the darting king, Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring ; With water purify their hands, and take
The sacred offering of the salted cake ;
While thus with arms devoutly raised in air, — And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer :
" God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, Whose power encircles Cilia the divine ;
Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys,
And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguished rays I If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's request, Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest :
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
Once more attend ! avert the wasteful woe, And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow. "
So Chryses prayed. Apollo heard his prayer : And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare ; Between their horns the salted barley threw,
And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew ; The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide
The thighs, selected to the gods, divide :
On these, in double cauls involved with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part.
The priest himself before his altar stands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands,
Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire ; The youth with instruments surround the fire :
The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dressed,
The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest : Then spread the tables, the repast prepare ;
Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. When now the rage of hunger was repressed,
With pure libations they conclude the feast ;
The youths with wine the copious goblets crowned, And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around ; With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The paeans lengthened till the sun descends :
The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong ; Apollo listens, and approves the song.
'Twas night ; the chiefs beside their vessel lie, Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky :
Then launch, and hoist the mast; indulgent gales, Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails ;
The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow,
The parted ocean foams and roars below :
Above the bounding billows swift they flew,
Till now the Grecian camp appeared in view.
Far on the beach they haul their bark to land,
(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,)
Then part, where stretched along the winding bay, The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.
But raging still, amidst his navy sat
The stern Achilles, steadfast in his hate ;
Nor mixed in combat, nor in council joined;
But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind :
In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.
Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light VOL. II. — 9
OPENING OF THE ILIAD'S DRAMA.
The gods had summoned to the Olympian height : Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers, Leads the long order of ethereal powers.
When, like the morning mist in early day,
Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea ;
And to the seats divine her flight addressed.
There, far apart, and high above the rest,
The thunderer sat ; where old Olympus shrouds His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds. Suppliant the goddess stood : one hand she placed Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced.
" If e'er, O father of the gods I (she said) My words could please thee, or my actions aid, Some marks of honor on my son bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe.
Fame is at least by heavenly promise due
To life so short, and now dishonored too. Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise !
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; Till the proud king and all the Achaian race Shall heap with honors him they now disgrace. "
Thus Thetis spoke ; but Jove in silence held The sacred counsels of his breast concealed.
Not so repulsed, the goddess closer pressed,
Still grasped his knees, and urged the dear request. " O sire of gods and men ! thy suppliant hear ; Refuse, or grant ; for what has Jove to fear ?
Or oh ! declare, of all the powers above, " Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove ?
She said : and, sighing, thus the god replies, Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies : —
" What hast thou asked ? ah, why should Jove engage In foreign contests and domestic rage,
The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms ?
Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway With jealous eyes thy close access survey ; But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped : Witness the sacred honors of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fixed, irrevocable sign ;
This seals thy suit, and this fulfills thy vows He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows, Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, The stamp of fate and sanction of the god.
"
THE DEATH OF HECTOR. 131
THE DEATH OF HECTOR. (From the "Iliad " : translated by W. E. Aytoun. )
[William Edmosstoitne Aytods, Scotch poet, man of letters, and humorist, was born in 1813 and died in 1805. He was son-in-law of John Wilson ; one of the editors of Blackwood'' a, and professor of rhetoric and belles-lettres in the University of Edinburgh. He is best remembered by the " Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers" and the " Bon Gaultier Ballads. "]
Pnoira he fell, and thus Achilles triumphed o'er his fallen foe : — " So thou thoughtest, haughty Hector, when thou didst Patroclus
slay,
That no vengeance should o'ertake thee, and that I was far away ! Fool ! a stronger far was lying at the hollow ships that day —
An avenger — who hath made thee his dear blood with thine repay ; I was left, and I have smote thee. To the ravenous hounds and
kites
Art thou destined, whilst thy victim shall receive the funeral rites !
"
Him thus answered helmed Hector, and his words were faint and " slow : —
By thy soul, thy knees, thy parents — let them not entreat me so ! Suffer not the dogs to rend me by the vessels on the shore,
But accept the gold and treasure sent to thee in ample store
By my father and my mother. O, give back my body, then, " That the funeral rites may grace offered by my countrymen
—
Then the swift Achilles, sternly glancing, answered him again "Speak not of my knees or parents — dog! thou dost implore in
vain;
For would my rage and hatred could so far transport me on,
That might myself devour thee, for the murders thou hast done Therefore know that from thy carcass none shall drive the dogs
away, —
Not although thy wretched parents ten and twenty ransoms pay, And should promise others also — not though Dardan Priam brought Gold enough to weigh thee over, shall thy worthless corpse be bought Never shall thy aged mother, of her eldest hope bereft,
Mourn above thee — to the mercies of the dog and vulture left "
" Then the helmed Hector, dying, once again essayed to speak —
'Tis but what my heart foretold me of thy nature, ruthless Greek Vain indeed my entreaty, for thou hast an iron heart
Yet bethink thee for moment, lest the gods should take my part, When Apollo and my brother Paris shall avenge my fate, " Stretching thee, thou mighty warrior, dead before the Scaean gate
Scarcely had the hero spoken, ere his eyes were fixed in death, And his soul, the body leaving, glided to the shades beneath;
!
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132 THE DEATH OF HECTOR.
Its hard fate lamenting sorely, from so fair a mansion fled ; And the noble chief Achilles spoke again above the dead : —
"Meanwhile, die thou! I am ready, when 'tis Jove's eternal will, And the other heavenly deities, their appointment to fulfil. "
This he said, and tore the weapon from the body where it lay, Flung it down, and stooping o'er him, rent the bloody spoils away : And the other Grecian warriors crowded round the fatal place, Hector's noble form admiring, and his bold and manly face ;
Yet so bitter was their hatred, that they gashed the senseless dead ; And each soldier that beheld him, turning to his neighbor, said : — " By the gods ! 'tis easier matter now to handle Hector's frame,
Than when we beheld him flinging on the ships devouring flame. " . . .
The wife of Hector knew Nothing of this great disaster — none had brought her tidings true,
How her spouse had rashly tarried all without the city gate. Weaving of a costly garment, in an inner room she sate,
With a varied wreath of blossoms broidering the double border ; And unto the fair-haired maidens of her household gave she order On the fire to place a tripod, and to make the fuel burn,
For a welcome bath for Hector, when from fight he should return. Hapless woman ! and she knew not that from all these comforts far, Blue-eyed Pallas had subdued him, by Achilles, first in war ;
But she heard the voice of weeping from the turrets, and the wail And the cry of lamentation ; then her limbs began to fail,
And she shook with dread all over, dropped the shuttle on the ground,
And bespoke her fair-haired maidens, as they stood in order round : — "Two of ye make haste and follow — what may all this tumult
mean ?
Sure that cry of bitter anguish came from Hecuba the queen, [ing, Wildly leaps my heart within me, and my limbs are faint and bend- Much I fear some dire misfortune over Priam's sons impending : Would to heaven my words were folly ; yet my terror I must own, Lest Achilles, having hasted 'twixt my Hector and the town,
O'er the open plain hath chased him, all alone and sore distressed — Lest his hot and fiery valor should at last be laid to rest ;
For amidst the throng of warriors never yet made Hector one — Onward still he rushed before them, yielding in his pride to none. "
Thus she spoke, and like a Maenad frantic through the halls she flew;
Wildly beat her heart within her : and her maidens followed too. OhI but when she reached the turret, and the crowd were forced
aside,
How she gazed! and oh, how dreadful was the sight she there
espied ! —
A Reading from Homer From the painting by Alma-Tadema
THE DEATH OF HECTOR. 133
Hector dragged before the city ; and the steeds with hasty tramp, Hurling him, in foul dishonor, to the sea-beat Grecian camp. Darkness fell upon her vision — darkness like the mist of death — Nerveless sank her limbs beneath her, and her bosom ceased to
breathe.
All the ornamental tissue dropped from her wild streaming hair, Both the garland, and the fillet, and the veil, so wondrous fair, Which the golden Venus gave her on that well-remembered day When the battle-hasting Hector led her as his bride away
From the palace of Aetion — noble marriage gifts were they ! Thronging round her came her sisters, and her kindred held her fast, For she called on death to free her, ere that frantic fit was past. When the agony was over, and her mind again had found her,
Thus she faltered, deeply sobbing, to the Trojan matrons round
Born, alas ! to equal fortunes — thou in Priam's ancient towers,
I in Thebes, Action's dwelling in the woody Poplacus.
Hapless father ! hapless daughter ! better had it been for us
That he never had begot me — doomed to evil from my birth.
Thou art gone to Hades, husband, far below the caves of earth,
And thou leavest me a widow in thy empty halls to mourn,
And thy son an orphan infant — better had he ne'er been born ! Thou wilt never help him, Hector — thou canst never cheer thy boy, Nor can he unto his father be a comfort and a joy !
Even though this war that wastes us pass away and harm him not, Toil and sorrow, never ending, still must be his future lot.
Others will remove his landmarks, and will take his fields away, Neither friend nor comrade left him by this orphan-making day ; And he looks so sad already, and his cheeks are wet with tears ! Then the boy in want shall wander to his father's old compeers, Grasping by the cloak one warrior, and another by the vest ;
Then perhaps some one amongst them, less forgetful than the rest, Shall bestow a cup upon him — yet that cup shall be so small
That his lips will scarce be moistened, nor his thirst assuaged at
all;
Then shall some one, blessed with parents, thrust him rudely from
the hall,
Loading him with blows and scorning, which perforce the boy must
bear —
Saying, ' Get thee gone, thou beggar ! lo, thy father feasts not here ! ' Weeping at this harsh denial, back shall he return to me —
He, Astyanax, the infant, who upon his father's knee
Feasted on the richest marrow, and the daintiest meats that be ; Who, when slumber fell upon him, and his childish crying ceased,
" her:—
Oh, my Hector ! me unhappy ! equal destinies were ours ;
134 PRIAM RECLAIMS HECTOR'S BODY.
Went to sleep in ease and plenty, cradled on his nurse's breast. Now, Astyanax — the Trojans by that name the infant call ;
Since 'twas thou, my Hector, only that didst keep the gates and
wall —
Many a wrong shall feel and suffer, since his father is no more.
Now the creeping worm shall waste thee, lying naked on the shore, Neither friend nor parent near thee — when the dogs have ta'en their
fill. —
Naked ! and thy graceful garments lie within thy palace still ;
Iwill burn,
For thou never more shalt wear them, and thou never canst return ;
These, the skillful work of women, all to ashes
Yet the Trojans will revere them, relics of their chief so true! " — Thus she spoke in tears, and round her all the women sorrowed too.
PRIAM RECLAIMS HECTOR'S BODY. (From the " Iliad " : translated by John Gibson Lockhart. )
[John Gibson Lockhart, Scotch poet and man of letters, was born 1794, died 1854. He became the son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott. He joined the staff of Blackwood's in 1818, and was editor of the Quarterly Beview, 1826-58. ]
On did the old man pass ; and he entered, and found the Peleides Seated apart from his train : two only of Myrmidons trustful,
Hero Automedon only, and Alkimus, sapling of Ares,
Near to him minist'ring stood ; he reposed him but now from the
meal-time,
Sated with food and with wine, nor removed from him yet was the
table.
All unobserved of them entered the old man stately, and forthwith Grasped with his fingers the knees and was kissing the hands of
Achilles —
Terrible, murderous hands, by which son upon son had been slaugh
tered.
As when a man who has fled from his home with the curse of the
blood-guilt,
Kneels in a far-off land, at the hearth of some opulent stranger, Begging to shelter his head, there is stupor on them that behold
him; —
So was Achilles dumb at the sight of majestical Priam
He and his followers all, each gazing on other bewildered.
But he uplifted his voice in their silence, and made supplication : " Think of thy father at home " (he began), " O godlike Achilles ! Him, my coeval, like me within age's calamitous threshold.
Haply this day there is trouble upon him, some insolent neighbors
PRIAM RECLAIMS HECTOR'S BODY. 135
Round him in arms, nor a champion at hand to avert the disaster : Yet even so there is comfort for him, for he hears of thee living ; Day unto day there is hope for his heart amid worst tribulation, That yet again he shall see his beloved from Troia returning. Misery only is mine ; for of all in the land of my fathers,
Bravest and best were the sons I begat, and not one is remaining. Fifty were mine in the hour that the host of Achaia descended : Nineteen granted to me out of one womb, royally mothered,
Stood by my side ; but the rest were of handmaids born in my dwell
ing.
Soon were the limbs of the many unstrung in the fury of Ares :
But one peerless was left, sole prop of the realm and the people ; And now at last he too, the protector of Ilion, Hector,
Dies by thy hand. For his sake have I come to the ships of Achaia, Eager to ransom the body with bountiful gifts of redemption.
Thou have respect for the gods, and on me, O Peleides ! have pity, Calling thy father to mind ; but more piteous is my desolation, — Mine, who alone of mankind have been humbled to this of endurance Pressing my mouth to the hand that is red with the blood of my
children. "
Hereon Achilles, awaked to a yearning remembrance of Peleus,
Rose up, took by the hand, and removed from him gently the old man.
Sadness possessing the twain — one, mindful of valorous Hector, Wept with o'erflowing tears, low laid at the feet of Achilles ;
He, sometime for his father, anon at the thought of Patroclus,
Wept, and aloft in the dwelling their long lamentation ascended.
But when the bursting of grief had contented the godlike Peleides, And from his heart and his limbs irresistible yearning departed, Then from his seat rose he, and with tenderness lifted the old man, Viewing the hoary head and the hoary beard with compassion ;
And he addressed him, and these were the air-winged words that he
uttered : —
"Ah unhappy ! thy spirit in truth has been burdened with evils. How could the daring be thine to come forth to the ships of Achaia Singly, to stand in the eyes of the man by whose weapon thy chil
dren,
Many and gallant, have died ? full surely thy heart is of iron.
But now seat thee in peace, old man, and let mourning entirely Pause for a space in our minds, although heavy on both be affliction ; For without profit and vain is the fullness of sad lamentation,
Since it was destined so of the gods for unfortunate mortals
Ever in trouble to live, but they only partake not of sorrow ;
For by the threshold of Zeus two urns have their station of old time, Whereof the one holds dolings of good, but the other of evil ;
136 PRIAM RECLAIMS HECTOR'S BODY.
And to whom mixt are the doles of the thunder-delighting Kronion, He sometime is of blessing partaker, of misery sometime ;
But if he gives him the ill, he has fixed him the mark of disaster, And over bountiful earth the devouring Necessity drives him, Wandering ever forlorn, unregarded of gods and of mortals.