Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/180

178 Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood,

And sweat laborious days in dust and blood;

I sacked twelve ample cities on the main,

And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain;

Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid

The wealth I gathered, and the spoils I made.

Your mighty monarch these in peace possessed;

Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest.

Some present too to every prince was paid;

And every prince enjoys the gift he made;

I only must refund of all his train;

See what pre-eminence our merits gain!

My spoil alone his greedy soul delights;

My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights:

The woman, let him, as he may, enjoy;

But what's the quarrel then of Greece to Troy?

What to these shores the assembled nations draws,

What calls for vengeance but a woman's cause?

Are fair endowments and a beauteous face

Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race?

The wife whom choice and passion both approve,

Sure every wise and worthy man will love.

Nor did my fair one less distinction claim;

Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame.

Wronged in my love, all proffers I disdain;

Deceived for once, I trust not kings again.

Ye have my answer. What remains to do,

Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you.

What needs he the defence this arm can make?

Has he not walls no human force can shake?

Has he not fenced his guarded navy round

With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound?

And will not these, the wonders he has done,

Repel the rage of Priam's single son?

There was a time—'twas when for Greece I fought—

When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought;

He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait

Achilles' fury at the Scæan gate;

He tried it once, and scarce was saved by Fate.

But now those ancient enmities are o'er;

To-morrow we the favouring gods implore;

Then shall you see our parting vessels crowned,

And hear with oars the Hellespont resound.

The third day hence, shall Pthia greet our sails,

If mighty Neptune send propitious gales;

Pthia to her Achilles shall restore

The wealth he left for this detested shore:

Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass,

The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass;