Iliad on Contentment

“Enough, my son; from further slaughter cease, Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy, Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy.”

The effect succeeds the speech. Pelides cries, “Thy artful praise deserves a better prize. Nor Greece in vain shall hear thy friend extoll’d; Receive a talent of the purest gold.” The youth departs content. The host admire The son of Nestor, worthy of his sire.

“O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon’s line, And great Æneas, sprung from race divine! Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car! And save a life, the bulwark of our war.”

To whom great Ajax his high soul express’d: “O sage! to Hector be these words address’d. Let him, who first provoked our chiefs to fight, Let him demand the sanction of the night; If first he ask’d it, I content obey, And cease the strife when Hector shows the way.”

He spoke, and transport fill’d Tydides’ heart; In earth the generous warrior fix’d his dart, Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address’d: “Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old; Œneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold: Our ancient seat his honour’d presence graced, Where twenty days in genial rites he pass’d. The parting heroes mutual presents left; A golden goblet was thy grandsire’s gift; Œneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow’d. (This from his pledge I learn’d, which, safely stored Among my treasures, still adorns my board: For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe’s wall Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.) Mindful of this, in friendship let us join; If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline, My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, In the full harvest of yon ample field; Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; But thou and Diomed be foes no more. Now change we arms, and prove to either host We guard the friendship of the line we boast.”

Then ceased for ever, by the Furies tied, His fateful voice. The intrepid chief replied With unabated rage—“So let it be! Portents and prodigies are lost on me. I know my fate: to die, to see no more My much-loved parents, and my native shore— Enough—when heaven ordains, I sink in night: Now perish Troy!” He said, and rush’d to fight.

“Though great in all, thou seem’st averse to lend Impartial audience to a faithful friend; To gods and men thy matchless worth is known, And every art of glorious war thy own; But in cool thought and counsel to excel, How widely differs this from warring well! Content with what the bounteous gods have given, Seek not alone to engross the gifts of Heaven. To some the powers of bloody war belong, To some sweet music and the charm of song; To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assign’d A wise, extensive, all-considering mind; Their guardians these, the nations round confess, And towns and empires for their safety bless. If Heaven have lodged this virtue in my breast, Attend, O Hector! what I judge the best, See, as thou mov’st, on dangers dangers spread, And war’s whole fury burns around thy head. Behold! distress’d within yon hostile wall, How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall! What troops, out-number’d, scarce the war maintain! And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain! Here cease thy fury: and, the chiefs and kings Convoked to council, weigh the sum of things. Whether (the gods succeeding our desires) To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires; Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away, Contented with the conquest of the day. I fear, I fear, lest Greece, not yet undone, Pay the large debt of last revolving sun; Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains On yonder decks, and yet o’erlooks the plains!”

“O first of mortals! (for the gods are thine) In valour matchless, and in force divine! If Jove have given thee every Trojan head, ’Tis not on me thy rage should heap the dead. See! my choked streams no more their course can keep, Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. Turn then, impetuous! from our injured flood; Content, thy slaughters could amaze a god.”

“Thy sire, O prince! o’erturn’d the Trojan state, Whose perjured monarch well deserved his fate; Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far, False he detain’d, the just reward of war. Nor so content, the generous chief defied, With base reproaches and unmanly pride. But you, unworthy the high race you boast, Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost: Now meet thy fate, and by Sarpedon slain, Add one more ghost to Pluto’s gloomy reign.”

To whom the white-arm’d goddess thus replies: “Enough thou know’st the tyrant of the skies, Severely bent his purpose to fulfil, Unmoved his mind, and unrestrain’d his will. Go thou, the feasts of heaven attend thy call; Bid the crown’d nectar circle round the hall: But Jove shall thunder through the ethereal dome Such stern decrees, such threaten’d woes to come, As soon shall freeze mankind with dire surprise, And damp the eternal banquets of the skies.”

To whom the king: “With reverence we allow Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them now: My generous brother is of gentle kind, He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; Through too much deference to our sovereign sway, Content to follow when we lead the way: But now, our ills industrious to prevent, Long ere the rest he rose, and sought my tent. The chiefs you named, already at his call, Prepare to meet us near the navy-wall; Assembling there, between the trench and gates, Near the night-guards, our chosen council waits.”

“Brother, ’tis just, (replied the beauteous youth,) Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth: Yet charge my absence less, O generous chief! On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief: Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate, And mourn’d, in secret, his and Ilion’s fate. ’Tis now enough; now glory spreads her charms, And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. Conquest to-day my happier sword may bless, ’Tis man’s to fight, but heaven’s to give success. But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind.”

“Seek not to stay me, nor my soul affright With words of omen, like a bird of night, (Replied unmoved the venerable man;) ’Tis heaven commands me, and you urge in vain. Had any mortal voice the injunction laid, Nor augur, priest, nor seer, had been obey’d. A present goddess brought the high command, I saw, I heard her, and the word shall stand. I go, ye gods! obedient to your call: If in yon camp your powers have doom’d my fall, Content—By the same hand let me expire! Add to the slaughter’d son the wretched sire! One cold embrace at least may be allow’d, And my last tears flow mingled with his blood!”

“Enough, O son of Peleus! Troy has view’d Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursued. But now some god within me bids me try Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die. Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, And for a moment’s space suspend the day; Let Heaven’s high powers be call’d to arbitrate The just conditions of this stern debate, (Eternal witnesses of all below, And faithful guardians of the treasured vow!) To them I swear; if, victor in the strife, Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life, No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue; Stripp’d of its arms alone (the conqueror’s due) The rest to Greece uninjured I’ll restore: Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more.”

He said; and pleased his passion to command, Resign’d the courser to Noemon’s hand, Friend of the youthful chief: himself content, The shining charger to his vessel sent. The golden talents Merion next obtain’d; The fifth reward, the double bowl, remain’d. Achilles this to reverend Nestor bears. And thus the purpose of his gift declares: “Accept thou this, O sacred sire! (he said) In dear memorial of Patroclus dead; Dead and for ever lost Patroclus lies, For ever snatch’d from our desiring eyes! Take thou this token of a grateful heart, Though ’tis not thine to hurl the distant dart, The quoit to toss, the ponderous mace to wield, Or urge the race, or wrestle on the field: Thy pristine vigour age has overthrown, But left the glory of the past thy own.”

And now succeed the gifts ordain’d to grace The youths contending in the rapid race: A silver urn that full six measures held, By none in weight or workmanship excell’d: Sidonian artists taught the frame to shine, Elaborate, with artifice divine; Whence Tyrian sailors did the prize transport, And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian port: From him descended, good Eunaeus heir’d The glorious gift; and, for Lycaon spared, To brave Patroclus gave the rich reward: Now, the same hero’s funeral rites to grace, It stands the prize of swiftness in the race. A well-fed ox was for the second placed; And half a talent must content the last. Achilles rising then bespoke the train: “Who hope the palm of swiftness to obtain, Stand forth, and bear these prizes from the plain.”

These words scarce spoke, with generous ardour press’d, His manly limbs in azure arms he dress’d. That day, Atrides! a superior hand Had stretch’d thee breathless on the hostile strand; But all at once, thy fury to compose, The kings of Greece, an awful band, arose; Even he their chief, great Agamemnon, press’d Thy daring hand, and this advice address’d: “Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun? Grieved though thou art, forbear the rash design; Great Hector’s arm is mightier far than thine: Even fierce Achilles learn’d its force to fear, And trembling met this dreadful son of war. Sit thou secure, amidst thy social band; Greece in our cause shall arm some powerful hand. The mightiest warrior of the Achaian name, Though bold and burning with desire of fame, Content the doubtful honour might forego, So great the danger, and so brave the foe.”

Thoas with grief observed his dreadful course, Thoas, the bravest of the Ætolian force; Skill’d to direct the javelin’s distant flight, And bold to combat in the standing fight, Not more in councils famed for solid sense, Than winning words and heavenly eloquence. “Gods! what portent (he cried) these eyes invades? Lo! Hector rises from the Stygian shades! We saw him, late, by thundering Ajax kill’d: What god restores him to the frighted field; And not content that half of Greece lie slain, Pours new destruction on her sons again? He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still! Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand: The Greeks’ main body to the fleet command; But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm. Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear.”

Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of the Greeks with Achilles’ troops and armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without further pursuit of the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers are described. Achilles offers a libation for the success of his friend, after which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus in Achilles’ armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the uttermost consternation; he beats them off from the vessels, Hector himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the walls of Troy, where Apollo repulses and disarms him, Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him, which concludes the book.

Then to the next the general bends his course; (His heart exults, and glories in his force); There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands, And with inspiring eloquence commands; With strictest order sets his train in arms, The chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms. Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, round him wait, Bias the good, and Pelagon the great. The horse and chariots to the front assign’d, The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind; The middle space suspected troops supply, Inclosed by both, nor left the power to fly; He gives command to “curb the fiery steed, Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed: Before the rest let none too rashly ride; No strength nor skill, but just in time, be tried: The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein, But fight, or fall; a firm embodied train. He whom the fortune of the field shall cast From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste; Nor seek unpractised to direct the car, Content with javelins to provoke the war. Our great forefathers held this prudent course, Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserved their force; By laws like these immortal conquests made, And earth’s proud tyrants low in ashes laid.”

Then thus the king: “Shall I my prize resign With tame content, and thou possess’d of thine? Great as thou art, and like a god in fight, Think not to rob me of a soldier’s right. At thy demand shall I restore the maid? First let the just equivalent be paid; Such as a king might ask; and let it be A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. Or grant me this, or with a monarch’s claim This hand shall seize some other captive dame. The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign;[55] Ulysses’ spoils, or even thy own, be mine. The man who suffers, loudly may complain; And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. But this when time requires.—It now remains We launch a bark to plough the watery plains, And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa’s shores, With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars. Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, And some deputed prince the charge attend: This Creta’s king, or Ajax shall fulfil, Or wise Ulysses see perform’d our will; Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, Achilles’ self conduct her o’er the main; Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, The god propitiate, and the pest assuage.”

With that, he left him wondering as he lay, Then from Achilles chased the mist away: Sudden, returning with a stream of light, The scene of war came rushing on his sight. Then thus, amazed; “What wonders strike my mind! My spear, that parted on the wings of wind, Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord, That fell this instant, vanish’d from my sword! I thought alone with mortals to contend, But powers celestial sure this foe defend. Great as he is, our arms he scarce will try, Content for once, with all his gods, to fly. Now then let others bleed.” This said, aloud He vents his fury and inflames the crowd: “O Greeks! (he cries, and every rank alarms) Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms! ’Tis not in me, though favour’d by the sky, To mow whole troops, and make whole armies fly: No god can singly such a host engage, Not Mars himself, nor great Minerva’s rage. But whatsoe’er Achilles can inspire, Whate’er of active force, or acting fire; Whate’er this heart can prompt, or hand obey; All, all Achilles, Greeks! is yours to-day. Through yon wide host this arm shall scatter fear, And thin the squadrons with my single spear.”

“O first of Greeks, (Ulysses thus rejoin’d,) The best and bravest of the warrior kind! Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine, But old experience and calm wisdom mine. Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield, The bravest soon are satiate of the field; Though vast the heaps that strow the crimson plain, The bloody harvest brings but little gain: The scale of conquest ever wavering lies, Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies! The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall, And endless were the grief, to weep for all. Eternal sorrows what avails to shed? Greece honours not with solemn fasts the dead: Enough, when death demands the brave, to pay The tribute of a melancholy day. One chief with patience to the grave resign’d, Our care devolves on others left behind. Let generous food supplies of strength produce, Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice, Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow, And pour new furies on the feebler foe. Yet a short interval, and none shall dare Expect a second summons to the war; Who waits for that, the dire effects shall find, If trembling in the ships he lags behind. Embodied, to the battle let us bend, And all at once on haughty Troy descend.”

“Return! (said Hector, fired with stern disdain) What! coop whole armies in our walls again? Was’t not enough, ye valiant warriors, say, Nine years imprison’d in those towers ye lay? Wide o’er the world was Ilion famed of old For brass exhaustless, and for mines of gold: But while inglorious in her walls we stay’d, Sunk were her treasures, and her stores decay’d; The Phrygians now her scatter’d spoils enjoy, And proud Mæonia wastes the fruits of Troy. Great Jove at length my arms to conquest calls, And shuts the Grecians in their wooden walls, Darest thou dispirit whom the gods incite? Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his flight. To better counsel then attention lend; Take due refreshment, and the watch attend. If there be one whose riches cost him care, Forth let him bring them for the troops to share; ’Tis better generously bestow’d on those, Than left the plunder of our country’s foes. Soon as the morn the purple orient warms, Fierce on yon navy will we pour our arms. If great Achilles rise in all his might, His be the danger: I shall stand the fight. Honour, ye gods! or let me gain or give; And live he glorious, whosoe’er shall live! Mars is our common lord, alike to all; And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall.”

Thus o’er Patroclus while the hero pray’d, On his cold hand the sacred lock he laid. Once more afresh the Grecian sorrows flow: And now the sun had set upon their woe; But to the king of men thus spoke the chief: “Enough, Atrides! give the troops relief: Permit the mourning legions to retire, And let the chiefs alone attend the pyre; The pious care be ours, the dead to burn—” He said: the people to their ships return: While those deputed to inter the slain Heap with a rising pyramid the plain.[288] A hundred foot in length, a hundred wide, The growing structure spreads on every side; High on the top the manly corse they lay, And well-fed sheep and sable oxen slay: Achilles covered with their fat the dead, And the piled victims round the body spread; Then jars of honey, and of fragrant oil, Suspends around, low-bending o’er the pile. Four sprightly coursers, with a deadly groan Pour forth their lives, and on the pyre are thrown. Of nine large dogs, domestic at his board, Fall two, selected to attend their lord, Then last of all, and horrible to tell, Sad sacrifice! twelve Trojan captives fell.[289] On these the rage of fire victorious preys, Involves and joins them in one common blaze. Smear’d with the bloody rites, he stands on high, And calls the spirit with a dreadful cry:[290]

To this Anchises’ son: “Such words employ To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy; Such we disdain; the best may be defied With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride; Unworthy the high race from which we came Proclaim’d so loudly by the voice of fame: Each from illustrious fathers draws his line; Each goddess-born; half human, half divine. Thetis’ this day, or Venus’ offspring dies, And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: For when two heroes, thus derived, contend, ’Tis not in words the glorious strife can end. If yet thou further seek to learn my birth (A tale resounded through the spacious earth) Hear how the glorious origin we prove From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove: Dardania’s walls he raised; for Ilion, then, (The city since of many-languaged men,) Was not. The natives were content to till The shady foot of Ida’s fountful hill.[264] From Dardanus great Erichthonius springs, The richest, once, of Asia’s wealthy kings; Three thousand mares his spacious pastures bred, Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed. Boreas, enamour’d of the sprightly train, Conceal’d his godhead in a flowing mane, With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh’d, And coursed the dappled beauties o’er the mead: Hence sprung twelve others of unrivall’d kind, Swift as their mother mares, and father wind. These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain, Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain; And when along the level seas they flew,[265] Scarce on the surface curl’d the briny dew. Such Erichthonius was: from him there came The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. Three sons renown’d adorn’d his nuptial bed, Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, Whom heaven, enamour’d, snatch’d to upper air, To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, The grace and glory of the ambrosial feast).

Then tell him: loud, that all the Greeks may hear, And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear; (For arm’d in impudence, mankind he braves, And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes Is what he dares not: if he dares he dies;) Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline, Nor share his council, nor his battle join; For once deceiv’d, was his; but twice were mine, No—let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives; His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind Stand but as slaves before a noble mind, Not though he proffer’d all himself possess’d, And all his rapine could from others wrest: Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown The many-peopled Orchomenian town;[209] Not all proud Thebes’ unrivall’d walls contain, The world’s great empress on the Egyptian plain (That spreads her conquests o’er a thousand states, And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars From each wide portal issuing to the wars);[210] Though bribes were heap’d on bribes, in number more Than dust in fields, or sands along the shore; Should all these offers for my friendship call, ’Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all. Atrides’ daughter never shall be led (An ill-match’d consort) to Achilles’ bed; Like golden Venus though she charm’d the heart, And vied with Pallas in the works of art; Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace, I hate alliance with a tyrant’s race. If heaven restore me to my realms with life, The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife; Thessalian nymphs there are of form divine, And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine. Bless’d in kind love, my years shall glide away, Content with just hereditary sway; There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold.

“Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, What moves the great Atrides to complain? ’Tis thine whate’er the warrior’s breast inflames, The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o’erflow. Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll’d, What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? Say, shall we march with our unconquer’d powers (The Greeks and I) to Ilion’s hostile towers, And bring the race of royal bastards here, For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? But safer plunder thy own host supplies; Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader’s prize? Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? Whate’er our master craves submit we must, Plagued with his pride, or punish’d for his lust. Oh women of Achaia; men no more! Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. We may be wanted on some busy day, When Hector comes: so great Achilles may: From him he forced the prize we jointly gave, From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave: And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.”

“O spare my youth, and for the life I owe Large gifts of price my father shall bestow. When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain, Thy hollow ships his captive son detain: Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,[163] And steel well-temper’d, and persuasive gold.”

Shouts of acclaim the listening heroes raise, Then each to Heaven the due libations pays; Till sleep, descending o’er the tents, bestows The grateful blessings of desired repose.[214]

“What glorious man, for high attempts prepared, Dares greatly venture for a rich reward? Of yonder fleet a bold discovery make, What watch they keep, and what resolves they take? If now subdued they meditate their flight, And, spent with toil, neglect the watch of night? His be the chariot that shall please him most, Of all the plunder of the vanquish’d host; His the fair steeds that all the rest excel, And his the glory to have served so well.”

“And is it thou? (he answers) To my sight[283] Once more return’st thou from the realms of night? O more than brother! Think each office paid, Whate’er can rest a discontented shade; But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy! Afford at least that melancholy joy.”

“Still may our souls, O generous youth! agree ’Tis now Atrides’ turn to yield to thee. Rash heat perhaps a moment might control, Not break, the settled temper of thy soul. Not but (my friend) ’tis still the wiser way To waive contention with superior sway; For ah! how few, who should like thee offend, Like thee, have talents to regain the friend! To plead indulgence, and thy fault atone, Suffice thy father’s merit and thy own: Generous alike, for me, the sire and son Have greatly suffer’d, and have greatly done. I yield; that all may know, my soul can bend, Nor is my pride preferr’d before my friend.”

“Your noble vigour, O my friends, restrain; Nor weary out your generous strength in vain. Ye both have won: let others who excel, Now prove that prowess you have proved so well.”

“Permit me now, beloved of Jove! to steep My careful temples in the dew of sleep: For, since the day that number’d with the dead My hapless son, the dust has been my bed; Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes; My only food, my sorrows and my sighs! Till now, encouraged by the grace you give, I share thy banquet, and consent to live.”