Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/150

148 From space to space be ample gates around,

For passing chariots, and a trench profound.

So Greece to combat shall in safety go,

Nor fear the fierce incursions of the foe."

'Twas thus the sage his wholesome counsel moved;

The sceptred kings of Greece his words approved.

Meanwhile, convened at Priam's palace gate.

The Trojan peers in nightly council sat:

A senate void of order, as of choice,

Their hearts were fearful, and confused their voice.

Antenor rising, thus demands their ear:

"Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliars, hear!

'Tis heaven the counsel of my breast inspires,

And I but move what every god requires:

Let Sparta's treasures be this hour restored,

And Argive Helen own her ancient lord.

The ties of faith, the sworn alliance broke,

Our impious battles the just gods provoke.

As this advice ye practise, or reject,

So hope success, or dread the dire effect."

The senior spoke, and sat. To whom replied

The graceful husband of the Spartan bride:

"Cold counsels, Trojan, may become thy years,

But sound ungrateful in a warrior's ears:

Old man, if void of fallacy or art,

Thy words express the purpose of thy heart,

Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast given;

But wisdom has its date, assigned by heaven.

Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name!

Their treasures I'll restore, but not the dame;

My treasures, too, for peace I will resign;

But be this bright possession ever mine."

'Twas then, the growing discord to compose,

Slow from his seat the reverend Priam rose;

His godlike aspect deep attention drew:

He paused, and these pacific words ensue:

"Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar bands,

Now take refreshment as the hour demands;

Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of night,

Till the new sun restores the cheerful light:

Then shall our herald, to the Atrides sent,

Before their ships proclaim my son's intent.

Next let a truce be asked, that Troy may burn

Her slaughtered heroes, and their bones inurn;

That done, once more the fate of war be tried,

And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!"

The monarch spoke: the warriors snatched with haste,

Each at his post in arms, a short repast.

Soon as the rosy morn had waked the day,