But thou the while, lone sitting by the main,
Rage an thou wilt, yet shun the battle-plain.
For Jove yestreen, by Ocean's sunny spring 34,
Join'd the blest Ethiops' blameless banqueting,
Jove and the gods, but to his mountain-home
On the twelfth morrow will the godhead come:
Then to his halls of brass myself I speed,
And clasp his knees,-perchance the god will heed."
She spake and left him :-from his inmost heart
Swell'd deadliest rage, to part, and thus to part,
From the fair maiden, in his wrath's despite,
Mock'd by the Greeks and bearded of his right.
Meanwhile to Chrysa's shore the bark is come,
Fraught with the maid and holy hecatomb,
Now far within the many-winding bay
The sails they furl, and lower on deck away,
Then, slack'd the forestay, on its crutch they stow
The mast, and onward to their station row;
Out moorings 35 then-the stern-ropes fast to land,—
Forth fare the shipmen up the ridgy strand,
Forth-the fat kine to Phoebus doomed to bleed,
And forth Chryseïs from the bark they lead;
Then at the altar, to her sire's caress
The chieftain yields her with this mild address:
"Chryses, the king of warriors bade me bring
To thee thy child, and offerings to thy king.
Have mercy then, and sooth his soul to peace,
For deep the anguish he hath wrought on Greece."
He spake, and gave her. He, with rapture wild,
Strains to his heart his lost, his much-lov'd child,
Meanwhile the crew their votive herd drove on,
And ranged around the well-wrought altar-stone,
Then lav'd their hands, and grasp'd the salted cake,
When thus, with arms uplifted, Chryses spake;
“ Hear me, Oh! thou with bow of silver bright-
Thou who dost circuit Chrysa in thy might,
Lord of bright Tenedos, and Cilla fair,
If erst thine ear vouchsaf'd mine humble prayer,
If thou, O king, in vengeance honouring me,
Didst smite the Danaan host right fearfully,
Once more arise, once more my prayer accord,
Hear, and from Greece this grim destroyer ward.”
Praying he spake, his prayer the godhead won;
Then pray'd the Greeks and flung the salt meal on,
Backward the kine they wrench'd, then stabb'd and flay'd,
The thighs carved off, a double cawl they made,
Then in rich folds of fat the limbs they wound,
And layers, unseeth'd, the well-pil'd viands crown'd,
The' hoar elder straight, on brands of cloven pine,
Broils the choice food, and pours the blood-red wine,
While round the venerable priest a throng
Of youths stands rang'd, with each a five-branch'd
The thighs well broil'd, the inward parts they taste,
Then, sliced, the rest is on their flesh-prongs plac'd,
Meanwhile, with passing skill they roast and broil,
Then, all drawn off, they rest them from their toil,
And deck the board, the holy feast prepare,
Nor lack'd one soul his just-apportioned fare.
-now young hands brim up The bowl, and crown with wine the wreathed cup, Then round to each, the due libation made,
Full beakers bare, and fitting service paid,
-Sons of the Greeks-thro' all the livelong day,
With hymns of peace and chaunted roundelay
The god they soothed,-in notes of praise address'd,
Heaven's archer heard, he heard them and he bless'd.
The sun went down-'twas darkness on the deep-
Fast by the stern-ropes each lay down to sleep,
But when the springing morn with rosy feet
Tripp'd forth-they weigh'd for Grecia's long drawn
By Phoebus sent, the west-wind freshly blew,
Up went the mast, and forth the white sails flew
Fill'd by the gale, the tumbling surge and dark
Roar'd round her keel, beneath the bounding bark:
She, with wing'd speed, the paths of ocean crost,
And gain'd right soon the Grecians' wide-ranged host.
Straight up the beach they haul their bark, and stow
High on the sands, and stretch stout warps below:
This done, the ready crew dispersing went
To seek, as each beseem'd, his ship or tent.
Fast by his fleet, meanwhile, with vengeance stung, Sat the stern chief, from Jove-born Peleus sprung: To council throng'd the kings-he went not there-The battle bray'd-his heart in lone despair Prey'd on itself, yet lingering far away, Throbb'd at the shout, and panted for the fray.
But when the twelfth glad morn relum'd the sky,
Back sped the immortals to their bowers on high,
And Jove their leader :-of her son's request
Forgetful not, from Ocean's wavy breast
Fair Thetis rose, at early dawn, and went
Thro' the thin air and golden firmament ;
Olympus gain'd, upon his topmost throne
The god she found, high seated and alone;
Couch'd at his feet, her white hands trembling seize-
His beard her right 37,—her left his hallowed knees;
Then thus with prayer bespeaks Saturnian Jove:
All-mighty sire! if aught for thee I strove
By word or deed, when heaven conspir'd thy fall,
Bow down thine ear, and hear me when I call.
Lift up my son-most fleet, of mortal race,
And few his years, yet darken'd by disgrace-
For lo from out his arms yon tyrant king
Dares his rich guerdon, aye, himself, dares wring.
Then glorify my son, Olympian sire,
And rallying Troy with tenfold vigour fire,
Till Greece, repentant Greece, his name adorn,
With deathless praise and glory yet unborn."
She said no word the cloud-compeller spake,
Silent he sat, nor long the silence brake:
Yet still his knees she clasp'd, and to his side
Still clinging, thus again the goddess cried,
Plight me thy promise straight! my prayer approve—
Or straight deny-for terror binds not Jove :
Thus shall myself of all the gods descry
How far the meanest in thy sight am I."
Then, greatly grieved, spake cloud-compelling Jove :
"The deed were death-again why bid me prove
The stings of anger, when my jealous queen
Chafes my worn soul with biting taunts and keen.
Before all heaven 'tis thus with fresh annoy
She galls, and brands me as the friend of Troy;
Hence, then! lest Juno fathom thy design,
Hence the fulfilment of the deed be mine:
But mark, so thou believe, mine head I bow,
Heaven's holiest token, Jove's supernal vow,
For ne'er reversed, unratified, or dead,
Falls the deep issue, if I bow mine head."
He spake and darkly his black eyebrows bent :-
Then from the head of Heaven's omnipotent
His locks ambrosial, waving to and fro,
Stream'd forth-and vast Olympus rock'd below 38.
The conference o'er, they part: her own deep wave
From heaven's far-beaming hill the goddess clave,
Jove sought his high pavilion: from his seat
Rose every god their coming sire to meet,
For none at Jove's approach dare thron'd remain,
But forth and meet him, all the immortal train.
High thron'd he sate-nor Juno's ken erewhile
O'erlook'd that stealthy interchange of guile,
When to old Ocean's silvery-footed child
Jove bow'd assent,—she saw, and thus revil'd;
"O full of craft! what power now shares thy heart?—
'Tis ever thus; from me, thy wife, apart,
Still teems thy bosom with some dark design,
Free to all ears, but never food for mine."
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