last one of their number began to speak to me in Arabic.
"Peace be to thee!' he said. 'Who art thou, and whence hast thou come?
We are the people of this country, and were working in our fields when
we found thee asleep upon the raft. Tell us, then, how thou hast come
to this place.'
"I pray thee, by Allah." I cried, 'give me food, and then I will tell
thee all.'
"Then the men gave me food, and I ate until my strength returned and
my soul was refreshed, and I could tell them of all my adventures.
"'We must take him to the King,' they cried with one voice.
"Then they told me that the King of Serendib was the richest and
greatest king on earth, and I went with them willingly, taking with me
my bales and treasures.
"Never had I seen such splendor and richness as at the court of the
King of Serendib, and great was his kindness towards me. He listened
to the tale of my adventures with interest, and when I begged to be
allowed to return home, he ordered that a ship should be made ready at
once. Then he wrote a letter with his own hand to the Caliph, our
sovereign lord, and loaded me with costly gifts.
"Thus, when I arrived at Bagdad, I went at once to the court of the
Caliph, and presented the letter and the gift which the King had sent.
"This gift was a cup made out of a single ruby lined inside with
precious stones, also a skin of the serpent that swallows elephants,
which had spots upon its back like pieces of gold, and which could
cure all illnesses.
"The Caliph was delighted with the letter and the gift.
"'Tell me, O Sindbad,' he said, 'is this King as great and rich as it
is reported of him?'
"'O my Lord,' I said, 'no words can give you an idea of his riches.
His throne is set upon a huge elephant and a thousand horsemen ride
around him, clad in cloth of gold. His mace is of gold studded with
emeralds, and indeed his splendor is as great as that of King
Solomon.'
"The Caliph listened attentively to my words, and then, giving me a
present, he allowed me to depart. I returned home swiftly to my family
and friends, and when I had sold my treasures and given much to the
poor, I lived in such peace and happiness that my evil adventures soon
seemed like a far-off dream."
So Sindbad finished the story, and bade his guests return the next
evening as usual. And next day, when all the guests were once more
seated at the table and had finished their feasting, Sindbad began the
story of his last voyage.
"I had now made up my mind that nothing would tempt me to leave my
home again, and that I would seek for no more adventures.
"One day, however, as I was feasting with my friends, one of my
servants came to tell me that a messenger from the Caliph awaited my
pleasure.
"'What is thy errand?' I asked when the messenger was presented to me.
"'The Caliph desires thy presence at once,' answered the messenger.
"Thus was I obliged to set out immediately for the palace.
"'Sindbad,' said the Caliph, when I had bowed myself to the ground
before him, 'I have need of thy services. I desire to send a letter
and a gift to the King of Serendib, and thou shalt be the bearer of
them.'
"Then indeed did my face fall, and I became pale as death.
"'Commander of the Faithful,' I cried, 'do with me as thou wilt, but I
have made a vow never to leave my home again.'
"Then I told him all my adventures, which caused him much
astonishment. Nevertheless, he urged me to do as he wished, and seeing
that there was no escape, I consented.
"I set sail at the Caliph's command, and after a good voyage I at last
reached the island of Serendib, where I received a hearty welcome. I
told the officers of the court what my errand was, and they led me to
the palace, where I bowed myself to the ground before the great King.
"'Sindbad,' he said kindly, 'thou art welcome. I have often thought of
thee, and wished to see thy face again.'
"So I presented the Caliph's letter, and the rich present he had sent,
which pleased the King well. When a few days had passed, I begged to
be allowed to depart, and after receiving many gifts I once more set
sail for home.
"But alas! the return journey began badly. We had not sailed many
days, when we were pursued by pirates, who captured the ship, and took
prisoners all those who were not killed. I, among others, was carried
ashore and sold by a pirate to a rich merchant.
"'What is thy trade?' asked the merchant when he had bought me.
"'I am a merchant,' I answered, 'and know no trade.'
"'Canst thou shoot with a bow and arrow?' asked my master.
"This I said I could do, and putting one in my hand he led me out to a
great forest and bade me climb into a high tree.
"'Watch there,' he said, 'until thou shalt see a herd of elephants
pass by. Then try to shoot one, and if thou art fortunate, come at
once and tell me.'
"All night I watched, and saw nothing, but in the morning a great
number of elephants came thundering by, and I shot several arrows
among them. One big elephant fell to the ground, and lay there while
the rest passed on; so, as soon as it was safe, I climbed down and
carried the news to my master. Together we buried the huge animal and
marked the place, so that we might return to fetch the tusks.
"I continued this work for some time, and killed many elephants, until
one night I saw to my horror that the elephants, instead of passing
on, had surrounded the tree in which I sat, and were stamping and
trumpeting, until the very earth shook. Then one of them seized the
tree with his trunk, and tore it up by the roots, laying it flat on
the ground.
"I was almost senseless with terror, but the next moment I felt myself
gently lifted up by an elephant's trunk, and placed on his back. I
clung on with all my might, as the elephant carried me through the
forest, until at last we came to the slope of a hill, which was
covered with bleached bones and tusks.
"Here the elephant gently laid me down, and left me alone. I gazed
around on this great treasure of ivory, and I could not help wondering
at the wisdom of these animals. They had evidently brought me here to
show me that I could get ivory without killing any more of their
number. For this, I felt sure, was the elephants' burying-place.
"I did not stay long on the hill, but gathering a few tusks together I
sped back to the town, that I might tell my tale to the merchant. 'My
poor Sindbad,' he cried, when he saw me, I thought thou wert dead, for
I found the uprooted tree, and never expected to look upon thy face
again.'
"Great was his delight when I told him of the Hill of Ivory, and when
we had gone there together, and he saw for himself the wonders I had
described, he was filled with astonishment.
"'Sindbad,' he cried, 'thou too shalt have a share of this great
wealth. And first of all I shall give thee thy, freedom. Until now,
year by year have all my slaves been killed by the elephants, but now
we need no longer run any risks, for here is ivory enough to enrich
the whole island.'
"So I was set free, and loaded with honors, and when the trade winds
brought the ships that traded in ivory, I bade good-by to the island,
and set sail for home, carrying with me a great cargo of ivory and
other treasures.
"As soon as I landed I went to the Caliph, who was overjoyed to see
me.
"'Great has been my anxiety, O Sindbad,' he said, 'for I feared some
evil had befallen thee.'
"When, therefore, I had told him of my adventures, he was the more
astonished, and ordered that all my story should be written in letters
of gold, and placed among his treasures.
"Then I returned to my own house, and ever since have remained at home
in peace and safety."
Thus Sindbad finished the story of his voyages, and turning to
Hindbad, he said: "And now, friend Hindbad, what dost thou think of
the way I have earned my riches? Is it not just that I should live in
enjoyment and ease?"
"O my lord," cried Hindbad, bowing before Sindbad, and kissing his
hand, "great have been thy labors and perils, and truly dost thou
deserve thy riches. My troubles are as nothing compared to thine. Long
mayest thou live and prosper!"
Sindbad was well pleased with this answer, and he ordered that Hindbad
should dine every day at his table, and receive his golden pieces, so
that all his life he might have reason to remember the adventures of
Sindbad the Sailor.
THE ILIAD OF HOMER
ADAPTED BY JEANIE LANG
I
THE STORY OF WHAT LED TO THE SIEGE OF TROY
In the deep forest that clothes Mount Ida, not far from the strong
city of Troy, Paris, son of King Priam, watched his father's flocks by
night.
Suddenly through the dim woods he saw a light, as if the golden sun
and silver moon shone both together.
And, lo! in the radiance of this light there stood before him the
three fairest of the godesses--queenly Hera, wise Athene, and lovely
Aphrodite.
Like music stealing through the trees came the soft voice of Hera:
"Of all mortal men thou art the most beautiful, Paris, and to thee do
we come for judgment. Tell us which of us is the fairest of all, and
to that one whom thou so deemest, give this golden apple."
So spake Hera, and placed in the hand of Paris an apple of purest
gold.
Again she spake: "If to me, Hera, queen of goddesses, and wife of
mighty Zeus, king of all the gods, thou dost grant the prize of
loveliness, Power immeasurable shall be thine. King shalt thou be of
the lands where the gray dawn rises, and king even to where the red
sun goes down. A hundred peoples shall call thee lord."
She was silent, and the voice of Athene, fair and pure as a silver
moonbeam, broke the stillness of the starless night.
"To me award the prize," she said, "and wise as the gods shalt thou
be. With me as thy friend and guide, all things will be possible to
thee."
Last of all, standing in a rosy light, as of the dawning sunlight in
the spring, spoke Aphrodite.
"What are Power and Wisdom, fair Paris?" she pled. "Wisdom and Power
bring no joy at last. I will give thee Love, and for thy wife thou
shalt have the fairest woman in all the world."
And Paris, the melody of her voice still in his ears, as he gazed
spellbound on her face of wondrous beauty, handed to Aphrodite the
golden prize.
So was it that the wrath of the gods came upon Paris, son of Priam.
For Hera and Athene, filled with rage, vowed to be revenged upon Paris
and all his race, and made all the gods pledge themselves to aid them
in their vengeance.
Across far seas sailed Paris, with Aphrodite as his guide, to Sparta,
where Menelaus was king.
A brave king was Menelaus, and happily he lived in his kingdom with
Helen, his queen, fairest of all women. One child they had, a little
maid, Hermione.
When to Sparta there came Paris, with eyes blue as the sea, and hair
that gleamed like gold on his purple robe, gallant and brave, and more
beautiful than any mortal man, glad was the welcome that he had from
Menelaus.
And when Paris gazed on Helen's face, he knew that in all the world
there was no woman half so fair as the wife of Menelaus.
Then did Aphrodite cast her magic upon Helen.
No longer did she love her husband, nor did she remember little
Hermione, her own dear child.
When Paris spoke to her words of love, and begged her to flee with
him, and to be his wife, she knew only that she loved Paris more than
all else. Gladly she went with him, and in his red-prowed ship
together they sailed across the green waves to Troyland, where Mount
Ida showed her snowy crown high above the forests.
An angry man was Menelaus when he found that Paris had stolen from him
the fair wife who was to him as his own heart.
To his elder brother Agamemnon, overlord of all the Greeks, he went
and told his grievous tale.
And from far and wide did the Greek hosts gather, until a hundred
thousand men and eleven hundred fourscore and six ships were ready to
cross the seas to Troyland.
Many were the heroes who sailed away from Greece to punish Paris and
his kin, and to bring back fair Helen to her own land.
Few there were who came home, for ten long years of woe and of
spilling of blood came to the men of Greece and of Troy from the fatal
beauty of Helen the queen.
II
THE COUNCIL
That night both gods and men slept long; only Zeus, king of the gods,
lay wakeful, pondering in his heart how best he might do honor to
Achilles. "I shall send a Dream to beguile Agamemnon," at length he
resolved.
Then did he call to a Dream, for by Dreams the gods sent their
messages to mortal men.
"Go now, thou evil Dream," said Zeus, "go to where Agamemnon sleeps in
his tent near to his fleet ships, and tell him every word as I shall
tell it thee. Bid him call to arms with speed his warriors, for now he
shall take the strong city of Troy."
To the tent of Agamemnon sped the Dream. Taking the form of the old
warrior who had striven to make peace between Agamemnon and Achilles,
the Dream stooped over the sleeping warrior, and thus to him it spoke:
"Sleepest thou, Agamemnon? Ill fits it for the overlord of so mighty a
host to sleep all through the night. From Zeus I come, and to thee he
sends this message: 'Call to arms with speed thy warriors, Agamemnon,
for now shalt thou take the strong city of Troy.'"
Off then sped the Dream, winging its way like a strip of gray mist
aloft to Mount Olympus.
Then Agamemnon awoke from sleep, and the voice of the Dream still rang
in his ears.
Speedily he arose from his bed, donned his fair tunic, cast around him
his great cloak, and bound his sandals on his feet. Then over his
shoulder he cast his silver-studded sword, and with the scepter of his
house, token of his overlordship, in his hand, he went down to where
the Greek ships lay, and called a council together.
To his lords he told what had befallen him as they slept.
"Call to arms!" had been the message from Zeus. "Call to arms! for
victory shall be thine."
Then said the old warrior in whose likeness the Dream had come:
"My friends, had any other told us this dream we might deem it false;
but to our overlord the Dream hath come. Let us then call our men to
arms."
So did all the lords follow his counsel, and quickly did the Greeks
obey their summons. Like bees that pour from out their nests in some
hollow rock, and fly to where the spring flowers grow most sweet, even
so did the warriors pour forth from their ships and their huts by the
sea. Loudly they shouted as they came, till all the earth echoed. Nine
heralds sought to quiet them, but it was long before they would cease
their noise, and sit silent to listen to the voice of Agamemnon their
lord.
Then did Agamemnon prove his people. "Ill hath Zeus dealt with us, my
friends," he said. "To us he promised ere we sailed hither that
victory should be ours. But nine years have passed away, and our
ships' timbers have rotted, and the rigging is worn. In our halls our
wives and children still sit awaiting us, yet are we no nearer victory
than we were on the day that we came hither. Come then, let us flee
with our ships to our dear native land, for never shall Troy be ours."
So spake Agamemnon, and stirred the hearts of all that had not heard
his secret council.
As the high sea-waves are swayed by the winds that rush upon them from
the east and from the south, even so the Greek host was swayed. And
even as the west wind sweeps over a cornfield and all the ears bow
down before the blast, so were the warriors stirred.
Shouting, they hastened down to their ships. And the dust rose up in
clouds from under their hurrying feet.
Quickly did they prepare their ships, and gladly did they make them
ready to sail homeward across the bright salt sea.
Then would the Greeks have returned, even though fate willed it not.
But Hera spoke to Athene.
"Shall we indeed allow the Greeks thus to flee homeward?" she cried.
"Shame it will be to us if Helen is left, in Troy, and Paris goes
unpunished. Haste, then, and with thy gentle words hold back the men
from setting forth in their ships for their own homeland."
Down from the peaks of Olympus darted the bright-eyed Athene, clown to
where the dark ships were being dragged to the launching ways.
By his ship stood Odysseus of the many devices, and heavy of heart was
he.
As one who speaks aloud the thoughts of another, so then to Odysseus
spake the fair goddess who was ever his guide.
"Will ye indeed fling yourselves upon your ships and flee homeward to
your own land?" she said. "Will brave Odysseus leave Helen, for whose
sake so many Greeks have died, to be the boast of the men of Troy?
Hasten, then, and suffer not the Greeks to drag their ships down to
the sea."
At the sound of the voice of Athene, Odysseus cast away his mantle and
ran to meet Agamemnon. From him he received the scepter of
overlordship, and bearing it he went among the ships.
Whenever he saw a chief, he would say to him with gentle words:
"Good sir, it fits thee ill to be a coward. Stay, now, for thou
knowest not what is the will of Agamemnon. He is only making trial of
thee. Hold back then thy people, and anger him not."
But when Odysseus met a common man hasting to the ships, with his
scepter he smote him, saying:
"Sit still, sir, and listen to the words of thy betters. No warrior
art thou, but a weakling. One king only hath Zeus given to us. Hearken
then to the will of Agamemnon!"
Thus did Odysseus rule the people, driving them back from the ships to
where sat Agamemnon.
And the noise they made in returning was as the noise of mighty waves
of the sea, when they crash upon the beach and drive their roaring
echoes far abroad.
Silence came upon them as they sat themselves down before Agamemnon
and their lords. Upon all but one did silence fall. Thersites,
bandy-legged, round-shouldered, lame of one foot, with ugly head
covered with scanty stubble, most ill-favored of all men in the host,
would not hold his peace.
Shrilly he poured his upbraidings upon Agamemnon.
"What lackest thou now?" he cried. "Surely thy huts are full of the
spoils we have brought to thee each time we have taken a town. What
more dost thou want? Soft fools, women, not men, are ye Greeks, else
would ye return home now with the ships, and leave this fellow here in
Troyland gorging himself on the spoils for which he himself hath never
fought. To brave Achilles hath he done dishonor, a far better man than
he!"
Straight to the side of Thersites came the goodly Odysseus.
"Hold thy peace," he sternly said. "Plainly I tell thee that if ever
again I find thee raving as thou hast raved now, I myself will strip
off thy mantle and tunic, with shameful blows beat thee out of the
assembly, and send thee back weeping to the ships."
So spake Odysseus, and with his scepter smote Thersites on his back
and shoulders. And Thersites bowed down, and big tears fell from his
eyes, and a bloody weal from the golden scepter stood up from his
back. Amazed he sat down, and in pain and amazement he wiped away a
tear. The others, though they were sorry, laughed at his bewilderment.
"Many are the good deeds of Odysseus," said they, "but never did he do
a better deed than when he stopped the tongue of this prating railer."
Then spake Odysseus, scepter in hand.
"Surely it is the wish of the Greeks to make thee the most despised of
all kings, great Agamemnon," he said, "for like young children or
mourning women do they wail that they must go home. Nine years have
we stayed in this land, and small wonder is it that we long for our
homes again. Yet shameful would it be to wait so long and to return
with empty hands. Be of good heart, my friends, and wait a little, for
surely Troy shall be ours. Do ye forget, on the day that we set sail
for Troyland, the mighty portent that we saw? As we offered sacrifices
to the gods beneath a fair plane-tree whence flowed clear water, a
snake, blood-red on the back and dreadful to look upon, glided from
beneath the altar and darted to the tree. On the tree's topmost bough
was a sparrow's nest, and in it eight tender nestlings, over which the
mother bird spread her wings. Pitifully did the little ones cheep as
the snake swallowed them all, and pitifully cried the mother as she
fluttered over her nestlings. But of her, too, did the snake lay hold,
coiling himself round her and crushing her life out. Then did the god
who sent this sign show us that a sign from the gods in truth it was,
for he turned the snake into stone. And Chalcas, our soothsayer, told
us then the meaning of the sign. 'Nine years,' said he--for nine birds
did the snake slay--'shall ye fight in Troyland, but in the tenth year
the city shall fall before you.' So then, let us abide here, until we
have taken the great city!"
When Odysseus had ceased to speak, the Greeks shouted aloud, until the
ships echoed the praises of the goodly Odysseus.
Then said Agamemnon:
"Go now, all of you, and eat, that ye may be ready for battle. Let
each man sharpen well his spear and see to his shield, and see to it
that the horses are well fed and the chariots prepared. And whomsoever
I see minded to stay far away from the fight, beside the ships here by
the sea, for him shall there be no hope hereafter, but he shall be
food for dogs and for birds of prey."
And when Agamemnon had spoken, the shouts of the Greeks were as the
thunder of mighty breakers on a reef when the winds blow high.
Quickly then they scattered, and kindled fires, and made their evening
meal, and offered sacrifices to the gods, praying for escape from
death in the coming battle.
To Zeus did Agamemnon offer his sacrifice and to the mighty god he
prayed:
"Great Zeus, god of the storm-cloud, let not the sun set nor the
darkness fall until I have laid low the palaces of Troy and burned
down its walls with fire."
So he prayed, but as yet Zeus heeded not his prayer. Then did the
Greeks gather themselves together to battle, and among them went the
bright-eyed Athene, urging on each one, and rousing in each man's
heart the joy of strength and of battle.
As the red and golden blaze of a fire that devours a mighty forest is
seen from afar, so was seen from afar the dazzling gleam of their
bronze armor as they marched.
Like wild geese and cranes and swans that in long-drawn strings fly
tirelessly onward, so poured they forth, while the earth echoed
terribly under the tread of men and horses.
As flies that swarm in the spring when the herdsmen's milk-pails are
full, so did the Greeks throng to battle, unnumbered as the leaves and
the flowers upon which they trod in the flowery plain by the banks of
the river Scamander.
III
THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS
To meet the great Greek host came the men of Troy. With loud shouting
and clamor they came, noisy as the flocks of cranes that fly to
far-off seas before the coming of winter and sudden rain.
But in silence marched the Greeks, shoulder to shoulder, their hearts
full of courage.
Like the mist that rolls from the crest of the mountains until no man
can see in front of him further than the cast of a stone, so did the
dust rise in clouds under the tread of the warriors' feet as they
marched across the plain.
Front to front did the two armies stand at last, and from the Trojan
ranks strode forth Paris the godlike, he who robbed Menelaus of her
who was to him most dear.
From the shoulders of Paris swung a panther's skin. He bore a curved
bow and sword, and, brandishing two bronze-headed spears, he
challenged all the chieftains of the Greek host to fight him, man to
man, in mortal fight.
As a hungry lion rejoices to see a great-horned stag coming to be his
prey, even so did Menelaus rejoice when he saw Paris, the
golden-haired and blue-eyed, stride proudly forth.
Straightway, in his armor, did Menelaus leap from his chariot to the
ground.
But when Paris saw him to whom he had done so sore a wrong, his heart
was smitten.
As a man who, in a mountain glen, suddenly sees a deadly snake and
shrinks away from it with shaking limbs, even so did Paris shrink back
among his comrades.
Scornfully did Hector his brother behold him.
"Fair in face thou art!" said Hector, "but shamed I am by thee! I ween
these long-haired Greeks make sport of us because we have for champion
one whose face and form are beautiful, but in whose heart is neither
strength nor courage. Art thou a coward? and yet thou daredst to sail
across the sea and steal from her husband the fair woman who hath
brought us so much harm. Thou shalt see what sort of warrior is he
whose lovely wife thou hast taken. Thy harp and thy golden locks and
fair face, and all the graces given to thee by Aphrodite, shall count
for little when thou liest in the dust! Cowards must we Trojans be,
else thou hadst been stoned to death ere this, for all the evil thou
hast wrought."
Then answered Paris: