Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/78

76 "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands! What Paris, author of the war, demands. Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. Here, in the midst, in either army's sight, He dares the Spartan king to single fight; And wills, that Helen and the ravished spoil, That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, And differing nations part in leagues of peace." He spoke; in still suspense on either side Each army stood. The Spartan chief replied: "Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right A world engages in the toils of fight. To me the labour of the field resign; Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms, And live the rest secure of future harms. Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite, To earth a sable, to the sun a white, Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring, Select to Jove, the inviolable king. Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, And add the sanction of considerate age; His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, And youth itself an empty wavering state: Cool age advances, venerably wise, Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes; Sees what befell, and what may yet befall, Concludes from both, and best provides for all." The nations hear, with rising hopes possessed, And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast. Within the lines they drew their steeds around, And from their chariots issued on the ground: Next all, unbuckling the rich mail they wore, Laid their bright arms along the sable shore. On either side the meeting hosts are seen With lances fixed, and close the space between. Two heralds now, despatched to Troy, invite The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite; Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring The lamb for Jove, the inviolable king. Meantime, to beauteous Helen, from the skies The various goddess of the rainbow flies, Like fair Laodicè in form and face, The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race. Her in the palace, at her loom she found; The golden web her own sad story crowned.