ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK.
BOOK I.
Achilles sing, O Goddess! Peleus' son; His wrath pernicious, who ten thousand woes Caused to Achaia's host, sent many a soul Illustrious into Ades premature, And Heroes gave (so stood the will of Jove) To dogs and to all ravening fowls a prey, When fierce dispute had separated once The noble Chief Achilles from the son Of Atreus, Agamemnon, King of men.
Who them to strife impell'd? What power divine? Latona's son and Jove's. For he, incensed Against the King, a foul contagion raised In all the host, and multitudes destroy'd, For that the son of Atreus had his priest Dishonored, Chryses. To the fleet he came Bearing rich ransom glorious to redeem His daughter, and his hands charged with the wreath And golden sceptre of the God shaft-arm'd.
His supplication was at large to all
The host of Greece, but most of all to two, The sons of Atreus, highest in command.
Ye gallant Chiefs, and ye their gallant host, (So may the Gods who in Olympus dwell Give Priam's treasures to you for a spoil And ye return in safety,) take my gifts And loose my child, in honor of the son Of Jove, Apollo, archer of the skies.
At once the voice of all was to respect
The priest, and to accept the bounteous price; But so it pleased not Atreus' mighty son, Who with rude threatenings stern him thence dismiss'd.
Beware, old man! that at these hollow barks
I find thee not now lingering, or henceforth
Returning, lest the garland of thy God
And his bright sceptre should avail thee nought. I will not loose thy daughter, till old age Steal on her. From her native country far, In Argos, in my palace, she shall ply The loom, and shall be partner of my bed. Move me no more. Begone; hence while thou may'st.
He spake, the old priest trembled and obey'd. Forlorn he roamed the ocean's sounding shore, And, solitary, with much prayer his King Bright-hair'd Latona's son, Phœbus, implored.
God of the silver bow, who with thy power
Encirclest Chrysa, and who reign'st supreme
In Tenedos and Cilla the divine, Sminthian Apollo! If I e'er adorned Thy beauteous fane, or on the altar burn'd The fat acceptable of bulls or goats, Grant my petition. With thy shafts avenge On the Achaian host thy servant's tears.
Such prayer he made, and it was heard. The God, Down from Olympus with his radiant bow And his full quiver o'er his shoulder slung, Marched in his anger; shaken as he moved His rattling arrows told of his approach. Gloomy he came as night; sat from the ships Apart, and sent an arrow. Clang'd the cord Dread-sounding, bounding on the silver bow. Mules first and dogs he struck, but at themselves Dispatching soon his bitter arrows keen, Smote them. Death-piles on all sides always blazed. Nine days throughout the camp his arrows flew; The tenth, Achilles from all parts convened The host in council. Juno the white-armed Moved at the sight of Grecians all around Dying, imparted to his mind the thought. The full assembly, therefore, now convened, Uprose Achilles ardent, and began.
Atrides! Now, it seems, no course remains
For us, but that the seas roaming again, We hence return; at least if we survive; But haste, consult we quick some prophet here Or priest, or even interpreter of dreams, (For dreams are also of Jove,) that we may learn By what crime we have thus incensed Apollo, What broken vow, what hecatomb unpaid He charges on us, and if soothed with steam Of lambs or goats unblemish'd, he may yet Be won to spare us, and avert the plague.
He spake and sat, when Thestor's son arose
Calchas, an augur foremost in his art, Who all things, present, past, and future knew, And whom his skill in prophecy, a gift Conferred by Phœbus on him, had advanced To be conductor of the fleet to Troy; He, prudent, them admonishing, replied.
Jove-loved Achilles! Wouldst thou learn from me
What cause hath moved Apollo to this wrath, The shaft-arm'd King? I shall divulge the cause. But thou, swear first and covenant on thy part That speaking, acting, thou wilt stand prepared To give me succor; for I judge amiss, Or he who rules the Argives, the supreme O'er all Achaia's host, will be incensed. Wo to the man who shall provoke the King For if, to-day, he smother close his wrath, He harbors still the vengeance, and in time Performs it. Answer, therefore, wilt thou save me?