Quotes by Homer

The sacred sun, above the waters raised, Through heaven’s eternal brazen portals blazed; And wide o’er earth diffused his cheering ray, To gods and men to give the golden day. Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls, Before old Neleus’ venerable walls. There suppliant to the monarch of the flood, At nine green theatres the Pylians stood, Each held five hundred (a deputed train), At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain. They taste the entrails, and the altars load With smoking thighs, an offering to the god. Full for the port the Ithacensians stand, And furl their sails, and issue on the land. Telemachus already press’d the shore; Not first, the power of wisdom march’d before, And ere the sacrificing throng he join’d, Admonish’d thus his well-attending mind: “Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel; An honest business never blush to tell. To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain, We pass’d the wide immeasurable main. Meet then the senior far renown’d for sense With reverend awe, but decent confidence: Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies; And sure he will; for wisdom never lies.” “Oh tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide (The youth with prudent modesty replied), How shall I meet, or how accost the sage, Unskill’d in speech, nor yet mature of age? Awful th’approach, and hard the task appears, To question wisely men of riper years.” To whom the martial goddess thus rejoin’d: “Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind; And others, dictated by heavenly power, Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour. For nought unprosperous shall thy ways attend, Born with good omens, and with heaven thy friend.” She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed; As swift, the youth pursued the way she led; and join’d the band before the sacred fire, Where sate, encompass’d with his sons, the sire. The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood Transfix’d the fragments, some prepared the food: In friendly throngs they gather to embrace Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place, Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands, And spread soft hides upon the yellow sands; Along the shore the illustrious pair he led, Where Nestor sate with youthful Thrasymed, To each a portion of the feast he bore, And held the golden goblet foaming o’er; Then first approaching to the elder guest, The latent goddess in these words address’d: “Whoe’er thou art, whom fortune brings to keep These rites of Neptune, monarch of the deep, Thee first it fits, O stranger!

Joy touched my soul; my soul was joy’d in vain, For angry Neptune roused the raging main; The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar; The splitting raft the furious tempest tore; And storms vindictive intercept the shore. Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I brave With naked force, and shoot along the wave, To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost, The surge impell’d me on a craggy coast. I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find A river’s mouth impervious to the wind, And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood; Then took the shelter of the neighbouring wood. ’Twas night, and, covered in the foliage deep, Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep. All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: Aurora dawned and Phœbus shined in vain, Nor, till oblique he sloped his evening ray, Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. Then female voices from the shore I heard: A maid amidst them, goddess-like appear’d; To her I sued, she pitied my distress; Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. Who from such youth could hope considerate care? In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! She gave me life, relieved with just supplies My wants, and lent these robes that strike your eyes. This is the truth: and oh, ye powers on high! Forbid that want should sink me to a lie.” To this the king: “Our daughter but express’d Her cares imperfect to our godlike guest. Suppliant to her, since first he chose to pray, Why not herself did she conduct the way, And with her handmaids to our court convey?” “Hero and king (Ulysses thus replied) Nor blame her faultless nor suspect of pride: She bade me follow in the attendant train; But fear and reverence did my steps detain, Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind: Man’s of a jealous and mistaken kind.” “Far from my soul (he cried) the gods efface All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base! Whate’er is honest, stranger, I approve, And would to Phœbus, Pallas, and to Jove, Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one, Nor thou unwilling to be called my son. In such alliance couldst thou wish to join, A palace stored with treasures should be thine.

Seek not this day the Grecian ships to gain; For sure, to warn us, Jove his omen sent, And thus my mind explains its clear event: The victor eagle, whose sinister flight Retards our host, and fills our hearts with fright, Dismiss’d his conquest in the middle skies, Allow’d to seize, but not possess the prize; Thus, though we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, Though these proud bulwalks tumble at our feet, Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; More woes shall follow, and more heroes bleed. So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; For thus a skilful seer would read the skies.” To him then Hector with disdain return’d: (Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury burn’d:) “Are these the faithful counsels of thy tongue? Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, Sure heaven resumes the little sense it lent. What coward counsels would thy madness move Against the word, the will reveal’d of Jove? The leading sign, the irrevocable nod, And happy thunders of the favouring god, These shall I slight, and guide my wavering mind By wandering birds that flit with every wind? Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, Or where the suns arise, or where descend; To right, to left, unheeded take your way, While I the dictates of high heaven obey. Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country’s cause. But why should’st thou suspect the war’s success? None fears it more, as none promotes it less: Though all our chiefs amidst yon ships expire, Trust thy own cowardice to escape their fire. Troy and her sons may find a general grave, But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave. Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests Spread their cold poison through our soldiers’ breasts, My javelin can revenge so base a part, And free the soul that quivers in thy heart.” Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, Calls on his host; his host obey the call; With ardour follow where their leader flies: Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, And gives great Hector the predestined day. Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, Close to the works their rigid siege they laid. In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, While these they undermine, and those they rend; Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall.

Nay, though thou slay me, not for that will Priam lay his kingdom in thy hands, for he hath sons, and is sound and of unshaken mind. Or have the Trojans allotted thee some lot of ground more choice than all the rest, fair land of tilth and orchard, that thou mayest dwell therein, if thou slay me? But methinks thou wilt find the slaying hard; for once before, I ween, have I made thee flee before my spear. Host thou forgotten the day when thou wert alone with the kine, and I made thee run swift-footed down Ida’s steeps in haste?—then didst thou not look behind thee in thy flight. Thence fleddest thou to Lernessos, but I wasted it, having fought against it with the help of Athene and of father Zeus, and carried away women captive, bereaving them of their day of freedom: only thee Zeus shielded, and other gods. But not this time, methinks, shall they shield thee, as thou imaginest in thy heart: therefore I bid thee go back into the throng and come not forth against me, while as yet thou art unhurt—after the event even a fool is wise.” Then to him in answer again Aineias spake: “Son of Peleus, think not with words to affright me as a child, since I too well know myself how to speak taunts and unjust speech. We know each other’s race and lineage in that we have heard the fame proclaimed by mortal men, but never hast thou set eyes on my parents, or I on thine. Thou, they say, art son of nobie Peleus, and of Thetis of the fair tresses, the daughter of the sea: the sire I boast is Anchises great of heart, and my mother is Aphrodite. Of these shall one pair or the other mourn their dear son today; for verily not with idle words shall we two satisfy our strife and depart out of the battle. But, if thou wilt, learn also this, that thou mayest well know our lineage, known to full many men: First Zeus the cloud-gatherer begat Dardanos, and he stablished Dardania, for not yet was holy Ilios built upon the plain to be a city of mortal men, but still they dwelt on slopes of many-fountained Ida. Then Dardanos begat a son, king Erichthonios, who became richest of mortal men.

A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain’d, Till he the lines and Argive fleet regain’d, To keep his stay conceal’d; the chief declared The plans of war against the town prepared. Exploring then the secrets of the state, He learn’d what best might urge the Dardan fate; And, safe returning to the Grecian host, Sent many a shade to Pluto’s dreary coast. Loud grief resounded through the towers of Troy, But my pleased bosom glow’d with secret joy: For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame I view’d the effects of that disastrous flame, Which, kindled by the imperious queen of love, Constrain’d me from my native realm to rove: And oft in bitterness of soul deplored My absent daughter and my dearer lord; Admired among the first of human race, For every gift of mind and manly grace.” “Right well (replied the king) your speech displays The matchless merit of the chief you praise: Heroes in various climes myself have found, For martial deeds and depth of thought renown’d; But Ithacus, unrivall’d in his claim, May boast a title to the loudest fame: In battle calm he guides the rapid storm, Wise to resolve, and patient to perform. What wondrous conduct in the chief appear’d, When the vast fabric of the steed we rear’d! Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom, Urged you with great Deiphobus to come, To explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile. Slow-pacing thrice around the insidious pile, Each noted leader’s name you thrice invoke, Your accent varying as their spouses spoke! The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm’d, But most Tydides’ and my heart alarm’d: To quit the steed we both impatient press Threatening to answer from the dark recess. Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain’d; And the vain ardours of our love restrain’d; But Anticlus, unable to control, Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul: Ulysses straight, with indignation fired (For so the common care of Greece required), Firm to his lips his forceful hands applied, Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died. Meantime Minerva, from the fraudful horse, Back to the court of Priam bent your course.” “Inclement fate!

So go your way and tell my answer to the princes of the Achaians, even as is the office of elders, that they may devise in their hearts some other better counsel, such as shall save them their ships and the host of the Achaians amid the hollow ships: since this counsel availeth them naught that they have now devised, by reason of my fierce wrath. But let Phoinix now abide with us and lay him to rest, that he may follow with me on my ships to our dear native land to-morrow, if he will; for I will not take him perforce.” So spake he, and they all held their peace and were still, and marvelled at his saying; for he denied them very vehemently. But at the last spake to them the old knight Phoinix, bursting into tears, because he was sore afraid for the ships of the Achaians: “If indeed thou ponderest departure in thy heart, glorious Achilles, and hast no mind at all to save the fleet ships from consuming fire, because that wrath hath entered into thy heart; how can I be left of thee, dear son, alone thereafter? To thee did the old knight Peleus send me the day he sent thee to Agamemnon forth from Phthia, a stripling yet unskilled in equal war and in debate wherein men wax pre-eminent. Therefore sent he me to teach thee all these things, to be both a speaker of words and a doer of deeds. So would I not be left alone of thee, dear son, not even if god himself should take on him to strip my years from me, and make me fresh and young as in the day when first I left Hellas the home of fair women, fleeing from strife against my father Amyntor son of Ormenos: for he was sore angered with me by reason of his lovely-haired concubine, whom he ever cherished and wronged his wife my mother. So she besought me continually by my knees to go in first unto the concubine, that the old man might be hateful to her. I hearkened to her and did the deed; but my sire was ware thereof forthwith and cursed me mightily, and called the dire Erinyes to look that never should any dear son sprung of my body sit upon my* knees: and the gods fulfilled his curse, even Zeus of the underworld and dread Persephone. [Then took I counsel to slay him with the keen sword; but some immortal stayed mine anger, bringing to my mind the people’s voice and all the reproaches of men, lest I should be called a father-slayer amid the Achaians.

A place there was, yet undefiled with gore, The spot where Hector stopp’d his rage before; When night descending, from his vengeful hand Reprieved the relics of the Grecian band: (The plain beside with mangled corps was spread, And all his progress mark’d by heaps of dead:) There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus’ son, The council opening, in these words begun: “Is there (said he) a chief so greatly brave, His life to hazard, and his country save? Lives there a man, who singly dares to go To yonder camp, or seize some straggling foe? Or favour’d by the night approach so near, Their speech, their counsels, and designs to hear? If to besiege our navies they prepare, Or Troy once more must be the seat of war? This could he learn, and to our peers recite, And pass unharm’d the dangers of the night; What fame were his through all succeeding days, While Phœbus shines, or men have tongues to praise! What gifts his grateful country would bestow! What must not Greece to her deliverer owe? A sable ewe each leader should provide, With each a sable lambkin by her side; At every rite his share should be increased, And his the foremost honours of the feast.” Fear held them mute: alone, untaught to fear, Tydides spoke—“The man you seek is here. Through yon black camps to bend my dangerous way, Some god within commands, and I obey. But let some other chosen warrior join, To raise my hopes, and second my design. By mutual confidence and mutual aid, Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made; The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, And one brave hero fans another’s fire.” Contending leaders at the word arose; Each generous breast with emulation glows; So brave a task each Ajax strove to share, Bold Merion strove, and Nestor’s valiant heir; The Spartan wish’d the second place to gain, And great Ulysses wish’d, nor wish’d in vain. Then thus the king of men the contest ends: “Thou first of warriors, and thou best of friends, Undaunted Diomed! what chief to join In this great enterprise, is only thine. Just be thy choice, without affection made; To birth, or office, no respect be paid; Let worth determine here.” The monarch spake, And inly trembled for his brother’s sake. “Then thus (the godlike Diomed rejoin’d) My choice declares the impulse of my mind. How can I doubt, while great Ulysses stands To lend his counsels and assist our hands? A chief, whose safety is Minerva’s care; So famed, so dreadful, in the works of war: Bless’d in his conduct, I no aid require; Wisdom like his might pass through flames of fire.

thou be silent, nor reveal thy state; Yield to the force of unresisted Fate, And bear unmoved the wrongs of base mankind, The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.” “Goddess of wisdom! (Ithacus replies,) He who discerns thee must be truly wise, So seldom view’d and ever in disguise! When the bold Argives led their warring powers, Against proud Ilion’s well-defended towers, Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid! Graced with thy sight, and favoured with thy aid. But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay, And bound for Greece we plough’d the watery way; Our fleet dispersed, and driven from coast to coast, Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost; Till I beheld thy radiant form once more, And heard thy counsels on Phæacia’s shore. But, by the almighty author of thy race, Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place? For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea Divide this coast from distant Ithaca; The sweet delusion kindly you impose, To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.” Thus he. The blue-eyed goddess thus replies; “How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show, And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow. The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires, And guard the wisdom which herself inspires. Others long absent from their native place, Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace To their wives’ arms, and children’s dear embrace. Not thus Ulysses; he decrees to prove His subjects’ faith, and queen’s suspected love; Who mourn’d her lord twice ten revolving years, And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears. But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost) Once more ’twas given thee to behold thy coast; Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage, And mighty Neptune’s unrelenting rage? Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore The pleasing prospect of thy native shore. Bebold the port of Phorcys! fenced around With rocky mountains, and with olives crown’d, Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas; Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign Blush’d with the blood of sheep and oxen slain, Behold!