Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/37

 God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,

Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy."

Thus Chryses prayed: the favouring Power attends,

And from Olympus' lofty tops descends.

Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;

Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound.

Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread,

And gloomy darkness rolled around his head.

The fleet in view, he twanged his deadly bow,

And hissing fly the feathered fates below.

On mules and dogs the infection first began;

And last, the vengeful arrows fixed in man.

For nine long nights, through all the dusky air

The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal glare.

But ere the tenth revolving day was run,

Inspired by Juno, Thetis' god-like son

Convened to council all the Grecian train;

For much the goddess mourned her heroes slain.

The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest,

Achilles thus the king of men addressed:

"Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,

And measure back the seas we crossed before?

The plague destroying whom the sword would spare,

'Tis time to save the few remains of war.

But let some prophet or some sacred sage

Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage,

Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove

By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove;

If broken vows this heavy curse have laid,

Let altars smoke and hecatombs be paid.

So heaven atoned shall dying Greece restore,

And Phœbus dart his burning shafts no more."

He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied,

Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide,

That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view

The past, the present, and the future knew:

Uprising slow the venerable sage

Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age:

"Beloved of Jove, Achilles! would'st thou know

Why angry Phœbus bends his fatal bow?

First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word

Of sure protection, by the power and sword,

For I must speak what wisdom would conceal,

And truths, invidious to the great, reveal.

Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise,

Instruct a monarch where his error lies;

For though we deem the short-lived fury past,

'Tis sure, the mighty will revenge at last."

To whom Pelides: "From thy inmost soul