LITMIR.BIZ

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Let therefore none once dream of coward flight,

       Till (for his own) some wife of Troy he sleeps withal, the rape

       Of Helen wreaking, and our sighs enforc'd for her escape.

       If any yet dare dote on home, let his dishonour'd haste

       His black and well-built bark but touch, that (as he first

       disgrac'd

       His country's spirit) fate, and death, may first his spirit let go.

       But be thou wise, king, do not trust thyself, but others. Know

       I will not use an abject word. See all thy men array'd

       In tribes and nations, that tribes tribes, nations may nations,

       aid.

       Which doing, thou shalt know what chiefs, what soldiers, play the

       men,

       And what the cowards; for they all will fight in sev'ral then,

       Easy for note. And then shalt thou, if thou destroy'st not Troy,

       Know if the prophecy's defect, or men thou dost employ

       In their approv'd arts want in war, or lack of that brave heat

       Fit for the vent'rous spirits of Greece, was cause to thy defeat."

       To this the king of men replied: "O father, all the sons

       Of Greece thou conquer'st in the strife of consultations.

       I would to Jove, Athenia, and Phœbus, I could make,

       Of all, but ten such counsellors; then instantly would shake

       King Priam's city, by our hands laid hold on and laid waste.

       But Jove hath order'd I should grieve, and to that end hath cast

       My life into debates past end. Myself, and Thetis' son,

       Like girls, in words fought for a girl, and I th' offence begun.

       But if we ever talk as friends, Troy's thus deferréd fall

       Shall never vex us more one hour. Come then, to victuals all,

       That strong Mars all may bring to field. Each man his lance's steel

       See sharpen'd well, his shield well lin'd, his horses meated well,

       His chariot carefully made strong, that these affairs of death

       We all day may hold fiercely out. No man must rest, or breath;

       The bosoms of our targeteers must all be steeped in sweat;

       The lancer's arm must fall dissolv'd; our chariot-horse with heat

       Must seem to melt. But if I find one soldier take the chace,

       Or stir from fight, or fight not still fix'd in his enemy's face,

       Or hid a-ship-board, all the world, for force, nor price, shall

       save

       His hated life, but fowls and dogs be his abhorréd grave."

       He said; and such a murmur rose, as on a lofty shore

       The waves make, when the south wind comes, and tumbles them before

       Against a rock, grown near the strand which diversely beset

       Is never free, but, here and there, with varied uproars beat.

       All rose then, rushing to the fleet, perfum'd their tents, and eat;

       Each off'ring to th' immortal gods, and praying to 'scape the heat

       Of war and death. The king of men an ox of five years' spring

       T' almighty Jove slew, call'd the peers; first Nestor; then the

       king

       Idomenëus; after them th' Ajaces; and the son

       Of Tydeus; Ithacus the sixth, in counsel paragon

       To Jove himself. All these he bade; but at-a-martial-cry

       Good Menelaus, since he saw his brother busily

       Employ'd at that time, would not stand on invitation,

       But of himself came. All about the off'ring over-thrown

       Stood round, took salt-cakes, and the king himself thus pray'd for

       all:

       "O Jove, most great, most glorious, that, in that starry hall,

       Sitt'st drawing dark clouds up to air, let not the sun go down,

       Darkness supplying it, till my hands the palace and the town

       Of Priam overthrow and burn; the arm, on Hector's breast

       Dividing, spoiling with my sword thousands, in interest

       Of his bad quarrel, laid by him in dust, and eating earth."

       He pray'd; Jove heard him not, but made more plentiful the birth

       Of his sad toils, yet took his gifts. Pray'rs past, cakes on they

       threw;

       The ox then, to the altar drawn, they kill'd, and from him drew

       His hide, then cut him up, his thighs; in two hewn, dubb'd with

       fat,

       Prick'd on the sweetbreads, and with wood, leaveless, and kindled

       at

       Apposéd fire, they burn the thighs; which done, the inwards, slit,

       They broil'd on coals and eat; the rest, in giggots cut, they spit,

       Roast cunningly, draw, sit, and feast; nought lack'd to leave

       allay'd

       Each temp'rate appetite; which serv'd, Nestor began and said:

       "Atrides, most grac'd king of men, now no more words allow,

       Nor more defer the deed Jove vows. Let heralds summon now

       The brazen-coated Greeks, and us range ev'rywhere the host,

       To stir a strong war quickly up." This speech no syllable lost;

       The high-voic'd heralds instantly he, charg'd to call to arms

       The curl'd-head Greeks; they call'd; the Greeks straight answer'd

       their alarms.

       The Jove-kept kings, about the king all gather'd, with their aid

       Rang'd all in tribes and nations. With them the gray-eyed Maid

       Great Ægis (Jove's bright shield) sustain'd, that can be never old,

       Never corrupted, fring'd about with serpents forg'd of gold,

       As many all suffic'd to make an hundred fringes, worth

       An hundred oxen, ev'ry snake all sprawling, all set forth

       With wondrous spirit. Through the host with this the Goddess ran,

       In fury casting round her eyes, and furnish'd ev'ry man

       With strength, exciting all to arms, and fight incessant. None

       Now lik'd their lov'd homes like the wars. And as a fire upon

       A huge wood, on the heights of hills, that far off hurls his light;

       So the divine brass shin'd on these thus thrusting on for fight,

       Their splendour through the air reach'd heav'n. And as about the

       flood

       Caïster, in an Asian mead, flocks of the airy brood,

       Cranes, geese, or long-neck'd swans, here, there, proud of their

       pinions fly,

       And in their falls layout such throats, that with their spiritful

       cry

       The meadow shrieks again; so here, these many-nation'd men

       Flow'd over the Scamandrian field, from tents and ships; the din

      

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