Their way exploring, to the chamber came. The door was ope, they blindly grope their way, Where dark in bed th' expecting monarch lay: Thus far her courage held, but here forsakes; Her faint knees knock at ev'ry step she makes. The nearer to her crime, the more within The fatal secret might at length betray) 290 Pull'd forward, to complete the work begun, And said to Cinyras: "Receive thy own." Thus saying, she deliver'd kind to kind, Accurst, and their devoted bodies join'd. The sire, unknowing of the crime, admits His bowels, and profanes the hallow'd sheets: He found she trembled, but believ'd she (Because the title suited with her years;) And, "Father," she might whisper him again, That names might not be wanting to the sin. Another, and another night she came; With travel weary, unsupplied with strength, And with the burden of her womb oppress'd, Sabæan fields afford her needful rest. A middle state your mercy may bestow, Betwixt the realms above and those below: Some other form to wretched Myrrha give, And gather'd round her feet, her legs and thighs: Her toes in roots descend, and, spreading wide, 340 A firm foundation for the trunk provide; And tho' with outward shape she lost her 350 sense, With bitter tears she wept her last offense; And still she weeps, nor sheds her tears in vain; For still the precious drops her name retain. Meantime the misbegotten infant grows, And late the yawning bark to life expos'd; A babe, a boy, a beauteous youth appears; And lovelier than himself at riper years. Now to the Queen of Love he gave desires, And, with her pains, reveng'd his mother's fires. And, ripe for birth, distends with deadly THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S 369 The bark divides, the living load to free, They swath'd him with their scarfs; beneath him spread The ground with herbs; with roses rais'd his head. The lovely babe was born with ev'ry grace; Ev'n envy must have prais'd so fair a face. Such was his form, as painters, when they show Their utmost art, on naked Loves bestow; And, that their arms no diff'rence might betray, Give him a bow, or his from Cupid take ILIAS THE ARGUMENT By Chryses, priest of Apollo, brings presents to the Grecian princes, to ransom his daughter Chryseis, who was prisoner in the fleet. Agamemnon, the general, whose captive and mistress the young lady was, refuses to deliver her, threatens the venerable old man, and dismisses him with contumely. The priest craves vengeance of his god; who sends a plague among the Greeks: which occasions Achilles, their great champion, to summon a council of the chief officers: he encourages Calchas, the high priest and prophet, to tell the reason why the gods were so much incens'd against them. Calchas is fearful of provoking Agamemnon, till Achilles engages to protect him; then, embolden'd by the hero, he accuses the general as the cause of all, by detaining the fair captive and refusing the presents offer'd for her ransom. this proceeding, Agamemnon is oblig'd, against his will, to restore Chryseis, with gifts, that he might appease the wrath of Phoebus; but at the same time, to revenge himself on Achilles, sends to seize his slave Briseis. Achilles, thus affronted, complains to his mother Thetis; and begs her to revenge his injury, not only on the general, but on all the army, by giving victory to the Trojans, till the ungrateful king became sensible of his injustice. At the same time, he retires from the camp into bis ships, and withdraws his aid from his countrymen. Thetis prefers her son's petition to Jupiter, who grants her suit. Juno suspects her errand, and quarrels with her husband for his grant; till Vulcan reconciles his parents with a bowl of nectar, and sends them peaceably to bed. THE wrath of Peleus' son, O Muse, resound; Whose dire effects the Grecian army found, And many a hero, king, and hardy knight, Were sent, in early youth, to shades of night; Their limbs a prey to dogs and vultures made: liberty. Suppliant before the Grecian chiefs he stood; Awful, and arm'd with ensigns of his god: 20 Bare was his hoary head; one holy hand Held forth his laurel crown, and one his scepter of command. His suit was common; but, above the rest, To both the brother princes thus address'd: "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Grecian pow'rs, So may the gods who dwell in heav'nly bow'rs Succeed your siege, accord the vows you make, And give you Troy's imperial town to take; So, by their happy conduct, may you come With conquest back to your sweet native home, 30 As you receive the ransom which I bring, (Respecting Jove, and the far-shooting king,) And break my daughter's bonds, at my desire, And glad with her return her grieving sire." With shouts of loud acclaim the Greeks decree To take the gifts, to set the damsel free. The King of Men alone with fury burn'd; And, haughty, these opprobrious words return'd: Hence, holy dotard, and avoid my sight, Ere evil intercept thy tardy flight; Nor dare to tread this interdicted strand, Lest not that idle scepter in thy hand, Nor thy god's crown, my vow'd revenge withstand. 40 130 His godhead I invoke, by him I swear, That while my nostrils draw this vital air, None shall presume to violate those bands, Or touch thy person with unhallow'd hands; Ev'n not the King of Men, that all commands." At this, resuming heart, the prophet said: "Nor hecatombs unslain, nor vows unpaid, On Greeks, accurst, this dire contagion bring, Or call for vengeance from the bowyer king; But he the tyrant, whom none dares resist, Affronts the godhead in his injur'd priest: 140 He keeps the damsel captive in his chain, And presents are refus'd, and pray'rs preferr'd in vain. For this th' avenging pow'r employs his darts, And empties all his quiver in our hearts; Mine is the maid, and brought in happy hour, With every household grace adorn'd, to bless my nuptial bow'r. Yet shall she be restor'd, since public good For private int'rest ought not be withstood, To save th' effusion of my people's blood. The slave without a ransom shall be sent: 180 To this the fierce Thessalian prince replied: "O first in pow'r, but passing all in pride, Griping, and still tenacious of thy hold, Wouldst thou the Grecian chiefs, tho' largely soul'd, Should give the prizes they had gain'd be The sack of Troy, which he by promise owes, Then shall the conqu'ring Greeks thy loss restore, And with large int'rest make th' advantage more. To this Atrides answer'd: "Tho' thy boast Assumes the foremost name of all our host, Resolve on this, (a short alternative,) With sacrifice and gifts, and all the pomp The crew well chosen, the command shall be In Ajax; or, if other I decree, In Creta's king, or Ithacus, or, if I please, in thee: Most fit thyself to see perform'd th' in tent 220 For which my pris'ner from my sight is sent, (Thanks to thy pious care,) that Phœbus may relent." At this, Achilles roll'd his furious eyes, Fix'd on the king askant, and thus replies: "O impudent, regardful of thy own, Whose thoughts are center'd on thyself alone, Advanc'd to sovereign sway for better ends Than thus like abject slaves to treat thy friends; What Greek is he, that, urg'd by thy com mand, Against the Trojan troops will lift his hand? Not I: nor such inforc'd respect I owe; 230 |