The Iliads of Homer. Homer
son? Why wouldst thou render still
My labours idle, and the sweat of my industrious will
Dishonour with so little pow'r? My chariot-horse are tir'd
With posting to and fro for Greece, and bringing banes desir'd
To people must'ring Priamus, and his perfidious sons;
Yet thou protect'st, and join'st with them whom each just Deity
shuns.
Go on, but ever go resolv'd all other Gods have vow'd
To cross thy partial course for Toy, in all that makes it proud."
At this, the cloud-compelling Jove a far-fetch'd sigh let fly,
And said: "Thou fury! What offence of such impiety
Hath Priam or his sons done thee, that, with so high a hate,
Thou shouldst thus ceaselessly desire to raze and ruinate
So well a builded town as Troy? I think, hadst thou the pow'r,
Thou wouldst the ports and far-stretch'd walls fly over, and devour
Old Priam and his issue quick, and make all Troy thy feast,
And then at length I hope thy wrath and tiréd spleen would rest;
To which run on thy chariot, that nought be found in me
Of just cause to our future jars. In this yet strengthen thee,
And fix it in thy memory fast, this if I entertain
As peremptory a desire to level with the plain
A city where thy lovéd live, stand not betwixt my ire
And what it aims at, but give way, when thou hast thy desire;
Which now I grant thee willingly, although against my will.
For not beneath the ample sun, and heav'n's star-bearing hill,
There is a town of earthly men so honour'd in my mind
As sacred Troy; nor of earth's kings as Priam and his kind,
Who never let my altars lack rich feast of off'rings slain,
And their sweet savours; for which grace I honour them again."
Dread Juno, with the cow's fair eyes, replied: "Three towns there
are
Of great and eminent respect, both in my love and care;
Mycene, with the broad highways; and Argos, rich in horse;
And Sparta; all which three destroy, when thou envi'st their force,
I will not aid them, nor malign thy free and sov'reign will,
For if I should be envious, and set against their ill,
I know my envy were in vain, since thou art mightier far.
But we must give each other leave, and wink at either's war.
I likewise must have pow'r to crown my works with wishéd end,
Because I am a Deity, and did from thence descend
Whence thou thyself, and th' elder born; wise Saturn was our sire;
And thus there is a two-fold cause that pleads for my desire,
Being sister, and am call'd thy wife; and more, since thy command
Rules all Gods else, I claim therein a like superior hand.
All wrath before then now remit, and mutually combine
In either's empire; I, thy rule, and thou, illustrate, mine;
So will the other Gods agree, and we shall all be strong.
And first (for this late plot) with speed let Pallas go among
The Trojans, and some one of them entice to break the truce
By off'ring in some treach'rous wound the honour'd Greeks abuse."
The Father both of men and Gods agreed, and Pallas sent,
With these wing'd words, to both the hosts: "Make all haste, and
invent
Some mean by which the men of Troy, against the truce agreed,
May stir the glorious Greeks to arms with some inglorious deed."
Thus charg'd he her with haste that did, before, in haste abound,
Who cast herself from all the heights, with which steep heav'n is
crown'd.
And as Jove, brandishing a star, which men a comet call,
Hurls out his curled hair abroad, that from his brand exhals
A thousand sparks, to fleets at sea, and ev'ry mighty host,
Of all presages and ill-haps a sign mistrusted most;
So Pallas fell 'twixt both the camps, and suddenly was lost,
When through the breasts of all that saw, she strook a strong amaze
With viewing, in her whole descent, her bright and ominous blaze.
When straight one to another turn'd, and said: "Now thund'ring Jove
(Great Arbiter of peace and arms) will either stablish love
Amongst our nations, or renew such war as never was."
Thus either army did presage, when Pallas made her pass
Amongst the multitude of Troy; who now put on the grace
Of brave Laodocus, the flow'r of old Antenor's race,
And sought for Lycian Pandarus, a man that, being bred
Out of a faithless family, she thought was fit to shed
The blood of any innocent, and break the cov'nant sworn;
He was Lycaon's son, whom Jove into a wolf did turn
For sacrificing of a child, and yet in arms renown'd
As one that was inculpable. Him Pallas standing found,
And round about him his strong troops that bore the shady shields;
He brought them from Æsepus' flood, let through the Lycian fields;
Whom standing near, she whisper'd thus: "Lycaon's warlike son,
Shall I despair at thy kind hands to have a favour done?
Nor dar'st thou let an arrow fly upon the Spartan king?
It would be such a grace to Troy, and such a glorious thing,
That ev'ry man would give his gift; but Alexander's hand
Would load thee with them, if he could discover from his stand
His foe's pride strook down with thy shaft, and he himself ascend
The flaming heap of funeral. Come, shoot him, princely friend;
But first invoke the God of Light, that in thy land was born,
And is in archers' art the best that ever sheaf hath worn,
To whom a hundred first-ew'd lambs vow thou in holy fire,
When safe to sacred Zelia's tow'rs thy zealous steps retire."
With this the mad gift-greedy man Minerva did persuade,
Who instantly drew forth a bow, most admirably made
Of th' antler of a jumping goat bred in a steep upland,
Which archer-like (as long before he took his hidden stand,
The evicke skipping from a rock) into the breast he smote,
And headlong fell'd him from his cliff. The forehead of the goat
Held out a wondrous goodly palm, that sixteen branches brought;
Of all which join'd, an useful bow a skilful bowyer wrought,
Which pick'd and polish'd, both the ends