The Iliad of Homer Translated into English Blank Verse by...

Such mourning was in Troy; meantime the Greeks Their galleys and the shores of Hellespont Regaining, each to his own ship retired. But not the Myrmidons; Achilles them Close rank’d in martial order still detain’d,5 And thus his fellow-warriors brave address’d.

Ye swift-horsed Myrmidons, associates dear! Release not from your chariots yet your steeds Firm-hoof’d, but steeds and chariots driving near, Bewail Patroclus, as the rites demand10 Of burial; then, satiate with grief and tears, We will release our steeds, and take repast.

He ended, and, himself leading the way, His numerous band all mourn’d at once the dead. Around the body thrice their glossy steeds,15 Mourning they drove, while Thetis in their hearts The thirst of sorrow kindled; they with tears The sands bedew’d, with tears their radiant arms, Such deep regret of one so brave they felt. Then, placing on the bosom of his friend20 His homicidal hands, Achilles thus The shade of his Patroclus, sad, bespake.

Hail, oh Patroclus, even in Ades hail! For I will now accomplish to the full My promise pledged to thee, that I would give25 Hector dragg’d hither to be torn by dogs Piecemeal, and would before thy funeral pile The necks dissever of twelve Trojan youths Of noblest rank, resentful of thy death.

He said, and meditating foul disgrace30 To noble Hector, stretch’d him prone in dust Beside the bier of Menœtiades. Then all the Myrmidons their radiant arms Put off, and their shrill-neighing steeds released. A numerous band beside the bark they sat35 Of swift Æacides, who furnish’d forth Himself a feast funereal for them all. Many a white ox under the ruthless steel Lay bleeding, many a sheep and blatant goat, With many a saginated boar bright-tusk’d,40 Amid fierce flames Vulcanian stretch’d to roast. Copious the blood ran all around the dead.

And now the Kings of Greece conducted thence To Agamemnon’s tent the royal son Of Peleus, loth to go, and won at last45 With difficulty, such his anger was And deep resentment of his slaughter’d friend. Soon then as Agamemnon’s tent they reach’d, The sovereign bade his heralds kindle fire Around an ample vase, with purpose kind50 Moving Achilles from his limbs to cleanse The stains of battle; but he firm refused That suit, and bound refusal with an oath—

No; by the highest and the best of all, By Jove I will not. Never may it be55 That brazen bath approach this head of mine, Till I shall first Patroclus’ body give To his last fires, till I shall pile his tomb, And sheer my locks in honor of my friend; For, like to this, no second wo shall e’er60 My heart invade, while vital breath I draw. But, all unwelcome as it is, repast Now calls us. Agamemnon, King of men! Give thou command that at the dawn they bring Wood hither, such large portion as beseems65 The dead, descending to the shades, to share, That hungry flames consuming out of sight His body soon, the host may war again.

He spake; they, hearing, readily obey’d. Then, each his food preparing with dispatch,70 They ate, nor wanted any of the guests Due portion, and their appetites sufficed To food and wine, all to their tents repair’d Seeking repose; but on the sands beside The billowy deep Achilles groaning lay75 Amidst his Myrmidons, where space he found With blood unstain’d beside the dashing wave.[1] There, soon as sleep, deliverer of the mind, Wrapp’d him around (for much his noble limbs With chase of Hector round the battlements80 Of wind-swept Ilium wearied were and spent) The soul came to him of his hapless friend, In bulk resembling, in expressive eyes And voice Patroclus, and so clad as he. Him, hovering o’er his head, the form address’d.85

Sleep’st thou, Achilles! of thy friend become Heedless? Him living thou didst not neglect Whom thou neglectest dead. Give me a tomb Instant, that I may pass the infernal gates. For now, the shades and spirits of the dead90 Drive me afar, denying me my wish To mingle with them on the farthest shore, And in wide-portal’d Ades sole I roam. Give me thine hand, I pray thee, for the earth I visit never more, once burnt with fire;95 We never shall again close council hold As we were wont, for me my fate severe, Mine even from my birth, hath deep absorb’d. And oh Achilles, semblance of the Gods! Thou too predestined art beneath the wall100 To perish of the high-born Trojan race. But hear my last injunction! ah, my friend! My bones sepulchre not from thine apart, But as, together we were nourish’d both Beneath thy roof (what time from Opoëis105 Menœtius led me to thy father’s house, Although a child, yet fugitive for blood, Which, in a quarrel at the dice, I spilt, Killing my playmate by a casual blow, The offspring of Amphidamas, when, like110 A father, Peleus with all tenderness Received and cherish’d me, and call’d me thine) So, let one vase inclose, at last, our bones, The golden vase, thy Goddess mother’s gift.[2]

To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.115 Ah, loved and honor’d! wherefore hast thou come! Why thus enjoin’d me? I will all perform With diligence that thou hast now desired. But nearer stand, that we may mutual clasp Each other, though but with a short embrace,120 And sad satiety of grief enjoy.

Ah then, ye Gods! there doubtless are below The soul and semblance both, but empty forms; For all night long, mourning, disconsolate, The soul of my Patroclus, hapless friend!130 Hath hover’d o’er me, giving me in charge His last requests, just image of himself.

So saying, he call’d anew their sorrow forth, And rosy-palm’d Aurora found them all Mourning afresh the pitiable dead.135 Then royal Agamemnon call’d abroad Mules and mule-drivers from the tents in haste To gather wood. Uprose a valiant man, Friend of the virtuous Chief Idomeneus, Meriones, who led them to the task.140 They, bearing each in hand his sharpen’d axe And twisted cord, thence journey’d forth, the mules Driving before them; much uneven space They measured, hill and dale, right onward now, And now circuitous; but at the groves145 Arrived at length, of Ida fountain-fed, Their keen-edged axes to the towering oaks Dispatchful they applied; down fell the trees With crash sonorous. Splitting, next, the trunks, They bound them on the mules; they, with firm hoofs150 The hill-side stamping, through the thickets rush’d Desirous of the plain. Each man his log (For so the armor-bearer of the King Of Crete, Meriones, had them enjoin’d) Bore after them, and each his burthen cast155 Down on the beach regular, where a tomb Of ample size Achilles for his friend Patroclus had, and for himself, design’d.

Much fuel thrown together, side by side There down they sat, and his command at once160 Achilles issued to his warriors bold, That all should gird their armor, and the steeds Join to their chariots; undelaying each Complied, and in bright arms stood soon array’d. Then mounted combatants and charioteers.165 First, moved the chariots, next, the infantry Proceeded numerous, amid whom his friends, Bearing the body of Patroclus, went. They poll’d their heads, and cover’d him with hair Shower’d over all his body, while behind170 Noble Achilles march’d, the hero’s head Sustaining sorrowful, for to the realms Of Ades a distinguish’d friend he sent.

And now, arriving on the ground erewhile Mark’d by Achilles, setting down the dead,175 They heap’d the fuel quick, a lofty pile.[3] But Peleus’ son, on other thoughts intent, Retiring from the funeral pile, shore off His amber ringlets,[4] whose exuberant growth Sacred to Sperchius he had kept unshorn,180 And looking o’er the gloomy deep, he said.

Sperchius! in vain Peleus my father vow’d That, hence returning to my native land, These ringlets shorn I should present to thee[5] With a whole hecatomb, and should, beside,185 Rams offer fifty at thy fountain head In thy own field, at thy own fragrant shrine. So vow’d the hoary Chief, whose wishes thou Leavest unperform’d. Since, therefore, never more I see my native home, the hero these190 Patroclus takes down with him to the shades.

He said, and filling with his hair the hand Of his dead friend, the sorrows of his train Waken’d afresh. And now the lamp of day Westering[6] apace, had left them still in tears,195 Had not Achilles suddenly address’d King Agamemnon, standing at his side.

Atrides! (for Achaia’s sons thy word Will readiest execute) we may with grief Satiate ourselves hereafter; but, the host200 Dispersing from the pile, now give command That they prepare repast; ourselves,[7] to whom These labors in peculiar appertain Will finish them; but bid the Chiefs abide.

Which when imperial Agamemnon heard,205 He scatter’d instant to their several ships The people; but the burial-dressers thence Went not; they, still abiding, heap’d the pile. A hundred feet of breadth from side to side They gave to it, and on the summit placed210 With sorrowing hearts the body of the dead. Many a fat sheep, with many an ox full-horn’d They flay’d before the pile, busy their task Administering, and Peleus’ son the fat Taking from every victim, overspread215 Complete the body with it of his friend[8] Patroclus, and the flay’d beasts heap’d around. Then, placing flagons on the pile, replete With oil and honey, he inclined their mouths Toward the bier, and slew and added next,220 Deep-groaning and in haste, four martial steeds. Nine dogs the hero at his table fed, Of which beheading two, their carcases He added also. Last, twelve gallant sons Of noble Trojans slaying (for his heart225 Teem’d with great vengeance) he applied the force Of hungry flames that should devour the whole, Then, mourning loud, by name his friend invoked.

Rejoice, Patroclus! even in the shades, Behold my promise to thee all fulfill’d!230 Twelve gallant sons of Trojans famed in arms, Together with thyself, are all become Food for these fires: but fire shall never feed On Hector; him I destine to the dogs.

So threaten’d he; but him no dogs devour’d;235 Them, day and night, Jove’s daughter Venus chased Afar, and smooth’d the hero o’er with oils Of rosy scent ambrosial, lest his corse, Behind Achilles’ chariot dragg’d along So rudely, should be torn; and Phœbus hung240 A veil of sable clouds from heaven to earth, O’ershadowing broad the space where Hector lay, Lest parching suns intense should stiffen him.

But the pile kindled not. Then, Peleus’ son Seeking a place apart, two Winds in prayer245 Boreas invoked and Zephyrus, to each Vowing large sacrifice. With earnest suit (Libation pouring from a golden cup) Their coming he implored, that so the flames Kindling, incontinent might burn the dead.250 Iris, his supplications hearing, swift Convey’d them to the Winds; they, in the hall Banqueting of the heavy-blowing West Sat frequent. Iris, sudden at the gate Appear’d; they, at the sight upstarting all,255 Invited each the Goddess to himself. But she refused a seat and thus she spake.[9]

I sit not here. Borne over Ocean’s stream Again, to Æthiopia’s land I go Where hecatombs are offer’d to the Gods,260 Which, with the rest, I also wish to share. But Peleus’ son, earnest, the aid implores Of Boreas and of Zephyrus the loud, Vowing large sacrifice if ye will fan Briskly the pile on which Patroclus lies265 By all Achaia’s warriors deep deplored.

She said, and went. Then suddenly arose The Winds, and, roaring, swept the clouds along. First, on the sea they blew; big rose the waves Beneath the blast. At fruitful Troy arrived270 Vehement on the pile they fell, and dread On all sides soon a crackling blaze ensued. All night, together blowing shrill, they drove The sheeted flames wide from the funeral pile, And all night long, a goblet in his hand275 From golden beakers fill’d, Achilles stood With large libations soaking deep the soil, And calling on the spirit of his friend. As some fond father mourns, burning the bones Of his own son, who, dying on the eve280 Of his glad nuptials, hath his parents left O’erwhelm’d with inconsolable distress, So mourn’d Achilles, his companion’s bones Burning, and pacing to and fro the field Beside the pile with many a sigh profound.285 But when the star, day’s harbinger, arose, Soon after whom, in saffron vest attired The morn her beams diffuses o’er the sea, The pile, then wasted, ceased to flame, and then Back flew the Winds over the Thracian deep290 Rolling the flood before them as they pass’d. And now Pelides lying down apart From the funereal pile, slept, but not long, Though weary; waken’d by the stir and din Of Agamemnon’s train. He sat erect,295 And thus the leaders of the host address’d.

Atrides, and ye potentates who rule The whole Achaian host! first quench the pile Throughout with generous wine, where’er the fire Hath seized it. We will then the bones collect300 Of Menœtiades, which shall with ease Be known, though many bones lie scatter’d near, Since in the middle pile Patroclus lay, But wide apart and on its verge we burn’d The steeds and Trojans, a promiscuous heap.305 Them so collected in a golden vase We will dispose, lined with a double cawl, Till I shall, also, to my home below. I wish not now a tomb of amplest bounds, But such as may suffice, which yet in height310 The Grecians and in breadth shall much augment Hereafter, who, survivors of my fate, Shall still remain in the Achaian fleet.

So spake Pelides, and the Chiefs complied. Where’er the pile had blazed, with generous wine315 They quench’d it, and the hills of ashes sank. Then, weeping, to a golden vase, with lard Twice lined, they gave their gentle comrade’s bones Fire-bleach’d, and lodging safely in his tent The relics, overspread them with a veil.320 Designing, next, the compass of the tomb, They mark’d its boundary with stones, then fill’d The wide enclosure hastily with earth, And, having heap’d it to its height, return’d. But all the people, by Achilles still325 Detain’d, there sitting, form’d a spacious ring, And he the destined prizes from his fleet Produced, capacious caldrons, tripods bright, Steeds, mules, tall oxen, women at the breast Close-cinctured, elegant, and unwrought[10] iron.330 First, to the chariot-drivers he proposed A noble prize; a beauteous maiden versed In arts domestic, with a tripod ear’d, Of twenty and two measures. These he made The conqueror’s meed. The second should a mare335 Obtain, unbroken yet, six years her age, Pregnant, and bearing in her womb a mule. A caldron of four measures, never smirch’d By smoke or flame, but fresh as from the forge The third awaited; to the fourth he gave340 Two golden talents, and, unsullied yet By use, a twin-ear’d phial[11] to the fifth. He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.

Atrides, and ye chiefs of all the host! These prizes, in the circus placed, attend345 The charioteers. Held we the present games In honor of some other Grecian dead, I would myself bear hence the foremost prize; For ye are all witnesses well-inform’d Of the superior virtue of my steeds.350 They are immortal; Neptune on my sire Peleus conferr’d them, and my sire on me. But neither I this contest share myself, Nor shall my steeds; for they would miss the force And guidance of a charioteer so kind355 As they have lost, who many a time hath cleansed Their manes with water of the crystal brook, And made them sleek, himself, with limpid oil. Him, therefore, mourning, motionless they stand With hair dishevell’d, streaming to the ground.360 But ye, whoever of the host profess Superior skill, and glory in your steeds And well-built chariots, for the strife prepare!

So spake Pelides, and the charioteers, For speed renown’d arose. Long ere the rest365 Eumelus, King of men, Admetus’ son Arose, accomplish’d in equestrian arts. Next, Tydeus’ son, brave Diomede, arose; He yoked the Trojan coursers by himself In battle from Æneas won, what time370 Apollo saved their master. Third, upstood The son of Atreus with the golden locks, Who to his chariot Agamemnon’s mare Swift Æthe and his own Podargus join’d. Her Echepolus from Anchises sprung375 To Agamemnon gave; she was the price At which he purchased leave to dwell at home Excused attendance on the King at Troy; For, by the gift of Jove, he had acquired Great riches, and in wide-spread Sicyon dwelt.380 Her wing’d with ardor, Menelaus yoked. Antilochus, arising fourth, his steeds Bright-maned prepared, son of the valiant King Of Pylus, Nestor Neleïades. Of Pylian breed were they, and thus his sire,385 With kind intent approaching to his side, Advised him, of himself not uninform’d.[12]

Antilochus! Thou art, I know, beloved By Jove and Neptune both, from whom, though young Thou hast received knowledge of every art390 Equestrian, and hast little need to learn. Thou know’st already how to trim the goal With nicest skill, yet wondrous slow of foot Thy coursers are, whence evil may ensue. But though their steeds be swifter, I account395 Thee wise, at least, as they. Now is the time For counsel, furnish now thy mind with all Precaution, that the prize escape thee not. The feller of huge trees by skill prevails More than by strength; by skill the pilot guides400 His flying bark rock’d by tempestuous winds, And more by skill than speed the race is won. But he who in his chariot and his steeds Trusts only, wanders here and wanders there Unsteady, while his coursers loosely rein’d405 Roam wide the field; not so the charioteer Of sound intelligence; he though he drive Inferior steeds, looks ever to the goal Which close he clips, not ignorant to check His coursers at the first but with tight rein410 Ruling his own, and watching those before. Now mark; I will describe so plain the goal That thou shalt know it surely. A dry stump Extant above the ground an ell in height Stands

yonder; either oak it is, or pine415 More likely, which the weather least impairs. Two stones, both white, flank it on either hand. The way is narrow there, but smooth the course On both sides. It is either, as I think, A monument of one long since deceased,420 Or was, perchance, in ancient days design’d, As now by Peleus’ mighty son, a goal. That mark in view, thy steeds and chariot push Near to it as thou may’st; then, in thy seat Inclining gently to the left, prick smart425 Thy right-hand horse challenging him aloud, And give him rein; but let thy left-hand horse Bear on the goal so closely, that the nave And felly[13] of thy wheel may seem to meet. Yet fear to strike the stone, lest foul disgrace430 Of broken chariot and of crippled steeds Ensue, and thou become the public jest. My boy beloved! use caution; for if once Thou turn the goal at speed, no man thenceforth Shall reach, or if he reach, shall pass thee by,435 Although Arion in thy rear he drove Adrastus’ rapid horse of race divine, Or those, Troy’s boast, bred by Laomedon.

So Nestor spake, inculcating with care On his son’s mind these lessons in the art,440 And to his place retiring, sat again. Meriones his coursers glossy-maned Made ready last. Then to his chariot-seat Each mounted, and the lots were thrown; himself Achilles shook them. First, forth leap’d the lot445 Of Nestor’s son Antilochus, after whom The King Eumelus took his destined place. The third was Menelaus spear-renown’d; Meriones the fourth; and last of all, Bravest of all, heroic Diomede450 The son of Tydeus took his lot to drive. So ranged they stood; Achilles show’d the goal Far on the champain, nigh to which he placed The godlike Phœnix servant of his sire, To mark the race and make a true report.455

All raised the lash at once, and with the reins At once all smote their steeds, urging them on Vociferous; they, sudden, left the fleet Far, far behind them, scouring swift the plain. Dark, like a stormy cloud, uprose the dust460 Their chests beneath, and scatter’d in the wind Their manes all floated; now the chariots swept The low declivity unseen, and now Emerging started into view; erect The drivers stood; emulous, every heart465 Beat double; each encouraged loud his steeds; They, flying, fill’d with dust the darken’d air. But when returning to the hoary deep They ran their last career, then each display’d Brightest his charioteership, and the race470 Lay stretch’d, at once, into its utmost speed. Then, soon the mares of Pheretiades[14] Pass’d all, but Diomede behind him came, Borne by his unemasculated steeds Of Trojan pedigree; they not remote,475 But close pursued him; and at every pace Seem’d entering both; the chariot at their head, For blowing warm into Eumelus’ neck Behind, and on his shoulders broad, they went, And their chins rested on him as they flew.480 Then had Tydides pass’d him, or had made Decision dubious, but Apollo struck, Resentful,[15] from his hand the

glittering scourge. Fast roll’d the tears indignant down his cheeks, For he beheld the mares with double speed,485 Flying, and of the spur deprived, his own Retarded steeds continual thrown behind. But not unnoticed by Minerva pass’d The art by Phœbus practised to impede The son of Tydeus, whom with winged haste490 Following, she gave to him his scourge again, And with new force his lagging steeds inspired. Eumelus, next, the angry Goddess, swift Pursuing, snapt his yoke; wide flew the mares Asunder, and the pole fell to the ground.495 Himself, roll’d from his seat, fast by the wheel With lacerated elbows, nostrils, mouth, And batter’d brows lay prone; sorrow his eyes Deluged, and disappointment chok’d his voice. Then, far outstripping all, Tydides push’d500 His steeds beyond, which Pallas fill’d with power That she might make the glorious prize his own. Him follow’d Menelaus amber-hair’d, The son of Atreus, and his father’s steeds Encouraging, thus spake Antilochus.505

Away—now stretch ye forward to the goal. I bid you not to an unequal strife With those of Diomede, for Pallas them Quickens that he may conquer, and the Chief So far advanced makes competition vain.510 But reach the son of Atreus, fly to reach His steeds, incontinent; ah, be not shamed For ever, foil’d by Æthe, by a mare! Why fall ye thus behind, my noblest steeds? I tell you both, and ye shall prove me true,515 No favor shall ye find at Nestor’s hands, My valiant sire, but he will thrust his spear Right through you, should we lose, for sloth of yours, Or by your negligence, the nobler prize. Haste then—pursue him—reach the royal Chief—520 And how to pass him in yon narrow way Shall be my care, and not my care in vain.

He ended; they, awhile, awed by his voice, With more exertion ran, and Nestor’s son Now saw the hollow strait mark’d by his sire.525 It was a chasm abrupt, where winter-floods, Wearing the soil, had gullied deep the way. Thither Atrides, anxious to avoid A clash of chariots drove, and thither drove Also, but somewhat devious from his track,530 Antilochus. Then Menelaus fear’d, And with loud voice the son of Nestor hail’d.

He said; but still more rapid and the scourge Plying continual, as he had not heard, Antilochus came on. Far as the quoit540 By some broad-shoulder’d youth for trial hurl’d Of manhood flies, so far Antilochus Shot forward; but the coursers fell behind Of Atreus’ son, who now abated much By choice his driving, lest the steeds of both545 Jostling, should overturn with sudden shock Both chariots, and themselves in dust be roll’d, Through hot ambition of the foremost prize. Him then the hero golden-hair’d reproved.

So he; and springing at his voice, his steeds Regain’d apace the vantage lost. Meantime560 The Grecians, in full circus seated, mark’d The steeds; they flying, fill’d with dust the air. Then, ere the rest, Idomeneus discern’d The foremost pair; for, on a rising ground Exalted, he without the circus sat,565 And hearing, though remote, the driver’s voice Chiding his steeds, knew it, and knew beside The leader horse distinguish’d by his hue, Chestnut throughout, save that his forehead bore A splendid blazon white, round as the moon.570