Homer

The Iliad


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gone,

       And valiant Menelaus left behind;'

       Thus when men speak, gape, earth, and hide my shame."

      To whom the fair-hair'd Menelaus thus

       With, cheering words: "Fear not thyself, nor cause

       The troops to fear: the arrow hath not touch'd

       A vital part: the sparkling belt hath first

       Turn'd it aside, the doublet next beneath,

       And coat of mail, the work of arm'rer's hands."

      To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:

       "Dear Menelaus, may thy words be true!

       The leech shall tend thy wound, and spread it o'er

       With healing ointments to assuage the pain."

      He said, and to the sacred herald call'd:

       "Haste thee, Talthybius! summon with all speed

       The son of AEsculapius, peerless leech,

       Machaon; bid him hither haste to see

       The warlike Menelaus, chief of Greeks,

       Who by an arrow from some practis'd hand,

       Trojan or Lycian, hath receiv'd a wound;

       A cause of boast to them, to us of grief."

      He said, nor did the herald not obey,

       But through the brass-clad ranks of Greece he pass'd,

       In search of brave Machaon; him he found

       Standing, by buckler'd warriors bold begirt,

       Who follow'd him from Trica's grassy plains.

       He stood beside him, and address'd him thus:

       "Up, son of AEsculapius! Atreus' son,

       The mighty monarch, summons thee to see

       The warlike Menelaus, chief of Greeks,

       Who by an arrow from some practis'd hand,

       Trojan or Lycian, hath receiv'd a wound;

       A cause of boast to them, to us of grief."

      Thus he; and not unmov'd Machaon heard:

       They thro' the crowd, and thro' the wide-spread host,

       Together took their way; but when they came

       Where fair-hair'd Menelaus, wounded, stood,

       Around him in a ring the best of Greece,

       And in the midst the godlike chief himself,

       From the close-fitting belt the shaft he drew,

       Breaking the pointed barbs; the sparkling belt

       He loosen'd, and the doublet underneath,

       And coat of mail, the work of arm'rer's hand.

       But when the wound appear'd in sight, where struck

       The stinging arrow, from the clotted blood

       He cleans'd it, and applied with skilful hand

       The herbs of healing power, which Chiron erst

       In friendly guise upon his sire bestowed.

      While round the valiant Menelaus they

       Were thus engag'd, advanc'd the Trojan hosts:

       They donn'd their arms, and for the fight prepar'd.

       In Agamemnon then no trace was seen

       Of laggard sloth, no shrinking from the fight,

       But full of ardour to the field he rush'd.

       He left his horses and brass-mounted car

       (The champing horses by Eurymedon,

       The son of Ptolemy, Peiraeus' son,

       Were held aloof), but with repeated charge

       Still to be near at hand, when faint with toil

       His limbs should fail him marshalling his host.

       Himself on foot the warrior ranks array'd;

       With cheering words addressing whom he found

       With zeal preparing for the battle-field:

       "Relax not, valiant friends, your warlike toil;

       For Jove to falsehood ne'er will give his aid;

       And they who first, regardless of their oaths,

       Have broken truce, shall with their flesh themselves

       The vultures feed, while we, their city raz'd,

       Their wives and helpless children bear away."

      But whom remiss and shrinking from the war

       He found, with keen rebuke lie thus assail'd;

       "Ye wretched Greeks, your country's foul reproach,

       Have ye no sense of shame? Why stand ye thus

       Like timid fawns, that in the chase run down,

       Stand all bewildered, spiritless and tame?

       So stand ye now, nor dare to face the fight.

       What! will ye wait the Trojans' near approach,

       Where on the beach, beside the hoary deep,

       Our goodly ships are drawn, and see if Jove

       Will o'er you his protecting hand extend?"

      As thus the King the serried ranks review'd,

       He came where thronging round their skilful chief

       Idomeneus, the warlike bands of Crete

       Were arming for the fight; Idomeneus,

       Of courage stubborn as the forest boar,

       The foremost ranks array'd; Meriones

       The rearmost squadrons had in charge; with joy

       The monarch Agamemnon saw, and thus

       With accents bland Idomeneus address'd:

      "Idomeneus, above all other Greeks,

       In battle and elsewhere, I honour thee;

       And in the banquet, where the noblest mix

       The ruddy wine for chiefs alone reserved,

       Though others drink their share, yet by thy side

       Thy cup, like mine, still new replenished stands

       To drink at pleasure. Up then to the fight,

       And show thyself the warrior that thou art."

      To whom the Cretan King, Idomeneus:

       "In me, Atrides, thou shalt ever find,

       As at the first I promis'd, comrade true;

       But go, and stir the other long-haired Greeks

       To speedy battle; since the Trojans now

       The truce have broken; and defeat and death

       Must wait on those who have their oaths forsworn."

      He said, and Agamemnon went his way

       Rejoicing; through the crowd he pass'd, and came

       Where stood th' Ajaces; them, in act to arm,

       Amid a cloud of infantry he found;

       And as a goat-herd from his watch-tow'r crag

       Beholds a cloud advancing o'er the sea,

       By Zephyr's breath impell'd; as from afar

       He gazes, black as pitch, it sweeps along

       O'er the dark ocean's face, and with it brings

       A hurricane of rain; he, shudd'ring, sees,

       And drives his flock beneath the shelt'ring cave:

       So thick and dark,