man to honor the gods; for indeed, as my son never forgot the dwellers
on Olympus, so have they not forgotten him, even in death. But do thou
take this fair cup and do kindness to him, and lead me to the tent of
Achilles.”
“Nay,” answered Mercury, “thou speakest this in vain. No gift would I
take from thy hand unknown to Achilles; for I honor him much, and fear to
rob him, lest some evil happen to me afterwards. But thee I will guide
to Argos itself, if thou wilt, whether by land or sea, and no one shall
blame my guiding.”
Then he leapt into the chariot of the king and caught the reins in his
hand, and gave the horses and the mules a strength that was not their
own. And when they came to the ditch and the trench that guarded the
ships, lo! the guards were busy with their meals; but Mercury made sleep
descend upon them, and opened the gates and brought in Priam with his
treasures. And when they came to the tent of Achilles, Mercury lighted
down from the chariot and said—
“Lo! I am Mercury, whom my father Jupiter hath sent to be thy guide. And
now I shall depart, for I would not that Achilles should see me. But
go thou in, and clasp his knees, and beseech him by his father and his
mother and his child. So shalt thou move his heart with pity.”
So Mercury departed to Olympus, and King Priam leapt down from the
chariot, leaving the herald to care for the horses and the mules, and
went to the tent. There he found Achilles sitting; his comrades sat
apart, but two waited on him, for he had but newly ended his meal, and
the table was yet at his hand. But no man saw King Priam till he was
close to Achilles, and he caught his knees and kissed his hands, the
dreadful murderous hands that had slain so many of his sons. As a man who
slays another by mishap flies to some stranger land, to some rich man’s
home, and all wonder to see him, so Achilles wondered to see King Priam,
and his comrades wondered, looking one at another. Then King Priam spake—
“Think of thy father, godlike Achilles, and pity me. He is old, as I
am, and, it may be, his neighbors trouble him, seeing that he has no
defender; yet so long as he knows that thou art alive, it is well with
him, for every day he hopes to see his dear son return from Troy. But
as for me, I am altogether wretched. Many a valiant son I had—nineteen
born to me of one mother—and most of them are dead, and he that was the
best of all, who kept our city safe, he has been slain by thee. He it is
whom I have come to ransom. Have pity on him and on me, thinking of thy
father. Never, surely, was lot so sad as this, to kiss the hands that
slew a son.”
The words so stirred the heart of Achilles that he wept, thinking now of
Patroclus, and now of his old father at home; and Priam wept, thinking of
his dead Hector. But at last Achilles stood up from his seat and raised
King Priam, having pity on his white hair and his white beard, and spake—
“How didst thou dare to come to the ships of the Greeks, to the man
who slew thy sons? Surely thou must have a heart of iron. But sit thou
down: let our sorrows rest in our hearts, for there is no profit in
lamentation. It is the will of the gods that men should suffer woe,
but they are themselves free from care. Two chests are set by the side
of Father Jupiter, one of good and one of evil gifts, and he mixes the
lot of men, taking out of both. Many noble gifts did the gods give to
King Peleus, my father; wealth and bliss beyond that of other men, and
kingship over the Myrmidons. Ay! and they gave him a goddess to be his
wife. But they gave also this evil, that he had no stock of stalwart
children in his house, but one son only, and I cannot help him at all in
his old age, for I tarry here far away in Troy. Thou, too, old man, hadst
wealth and power of old, and lordship over all that lies between Lesbos
and Phrygia and the stream of Hellespont. And to thee the gods have given
this ill, that there is ever battle and slaughter about thy city walls.
But as for thy son, wail not for him, for thou canst not raise him up.”
But Priam answered, “Make me not to sit, great Achilles, while Hector
lies unhonored. Let me ransom him, and look upon him with my eyes, and
do thou take the gifts. And the gods grant thee to return safe to thy
fatherland.”
But Achilles frowned and said, “Vex me not; I am minded myself to give
thee back thy Hector. My mother came from the sea, bearing the bidding of
Jupiter and thou, methinks, hast not come hither without some guidance
from the gods. But trouble me no more, lest I do thee some hurt.”
And King Priam feared and held his peace. Then Achilles hastened from his
tent, and two comrades with him. First they loosed the horses from the
chariot and the mules from the wagon; then they brought in the herald
Idæus, and took the gifts. Only they left of them two cloaks and a tunic,
wherein they might wrap the dead. And Achilles bade the women wash and
anoint the body, but away from the tent, lest perchance Priam should see
his son and cry aloud, and so awaken the fury in his heart. But when it
was washed and anointed, Achilles himself lifted it in his arms and put
it on the litter, and his comrades lifted the litter on the wagon.
And when all was finished, Achilles groaned and cried to his dead friend,
saying—
“Be not wroth, Patroclus, if thou shouldst hear in the unknown land that
I have ransomed Hector to his father: a noble ransom hath he paid me, and
of this, too, thou shalt have thy share.”
Then he went back to his tent, and set himself down opposite Priam, and
spake: “Thy son is ransomed, old man, and to-morrow shalt thou see him
and take him back to Troy. But now let us eat. Did not Niobe eat when she
lost her twelve children, six daughters and six sons, whom Apollo and
Diana slew because she likened herself to the fair Latona? So let us eat,
old man. To-morrow shalt thou weep for Hector; many tears, I trow, shall
be shed for him.”
So they ate and drank. And when the meal was ended, Achilles sat and
marvelled at King Priam’s noble look, and King Priam marvelled at
Achilles, so strong he was and fair.
Then Priam said, “Let me sleep, great Achilles. I have not slept since my
son fell by thy hand. Now I have eaten and drunk, and my eyes are heavy.”
So the comrades of Achilles made him a bed outside, where no one might
see him, should it chance that any of the chiefs should come to the tent
of Achilles to take counsel, and should espy him, and tell it to King
Agamemnon.
But before he slept King Priam said, “If thou art minded to let me bury
Hector, let there be a truce between my people and the Greeks. For nine
days let us mourn for Hector, and on the tenth will we bury him and feast
the people, and on the eleventh raise a great tomb above him, and on the
twelfth we will fight again, if fight we must.”
And Achilles answered, “Be it so: I will stay the war for so long.”
But while Priam slept there came to him Mercury, the messenger of
Jupiter, and said: “Sleepest thou, Priam, among thy foes? Achilles has
taken ransom for thy Hector; but thy sons that are left would pay thrice
as much for thee should Agamemnon hear that thou wert among the ships.”
The old man heard and trembled, and roused the herald, and the two yoked
the horses and the mules. So they passed through the army, and no man
knew. And when they came to the river, Mercury departed to Olympus, and
the morning shone over all the earth. Wailing and weeping, they carried
the body to the city.
It was Cassandra who first espied them as they came. Her father she saw,
and the herald, and then the dead body on the litter, and she cried,
“Sons and daughters of Troy, go to meet Hector, if ever ye have met him,
with joy as he came back from the battle.”
And straightway there was not man or woman left in the city. They met
the wagon when it was close to the gates; his wife led the way, and his
mother and all the multitude followed. And in truth they would have kept
it thus till evening, weeping and wailing, but King Priam spake—“Let us
pass; ye shall have enough of wailing when we have taken him to his home.”
So they took him to his home and laid him on his bed. And the minstrels
lamented, and the women wailed.
Then first of all came Andromaché, his wife, and cried—“O my husband,
thou hast perished in thy youth, and I am left in widowhood, and our
child, thy child and mine, is but an infant. I fear me he will not grow
to manhood. Ere that day this city will fall, for thou art gone who wast
its defender. Soon will they carry us away, mothers and children, in
the ships, and thou, my son, perchance wilt be with us, and serve the
stranger in unseemly bondage; or, it may be, some Greek will slay thee,
seizing thee and dashing thee from the wall; some Greek whose brother, or
father, or son, Hector has slain in the battle. Many a Greek did Hector
slay; no gentle hand was his in the fray. Therefore do the people wail
for him to-day. Sore is thy parents’ grief, O Hector, but sorest mine.
Thou didst stretch no hands of farewell to me from thy bed, nor speak any
word of comfort for me to muse on while I weep night and day.”
Next spake Hecuba, his mother. “Dear wast thou, my son, in life to the
immortal gods, and dear in death. Achilles dragged thee about the tomb
of his dear Patroclus, but could not bring him back, and now thou liest
fresh and fair as one whom the god of the silver bow has slain with
sudden stroke.”
And last of all came Helen, and cried, “Many a year has passed since I
came to Troy—would that I had died before! And never have I heard from
thy lips one bitter word, and if ever husband’s sister, or sister-in-law,
or mother-in-law—for Priam was ever gentle as a father—spake harshly to
me, thou wouldst check them with thy grace and gracious words. Therefore
I weep for thee; no one is left to be my friend in all the broad streets
of Troy. All shun and hate me now.”
And all the people wailed reply.
Then Priam spake. “Go, my people, gather wood for the burial, and fear
not any ambush of the Greeks, for Achilles promised that he would stay
the war until the twelfth day should come.”
So for nine days the people gathered much wood, and on the tenth they
laid Hector upon the pile, and lit fire beneath it. And when it was
burnt they quenched the embers with wine. Then his brethren and comrades
gathered together the white bones, and laid them in a chest of gold; and
this they covered with purple robes and put in a great coffin, and laid
upon it stones many and great. And over all they raised a mighty mound;
and all the while the watchers watched, lest the Greeks should arise and
slay them. Last of all was a great feast held in the palace of King Priam.
So they buried Hector, the tamer of horses.
THE WOODEN HORSE
By Grace Bigelow Patten
For nine long years the Greeks besieged Troy, but for all their plans and
manœuvres the city held out against them. They pillaged and overran the
neighboring towns but Troy stood fast.
Never were brave men pitted against a braver enemy. The lives of many
heroes were sacrificed, Hector’s, the greatest of the Trojan champions,
and the valiant Achilles among them, at whose loss the Greeks almost
despaired. Force had failed. Their leader had fallen. They must outwit
their enemy. With the aid of Ulysses they worked out an admirable plan.
Down came the tents of the main body of the army, there was clatter and
jangle of departure and the Greeks swept down the slope to the sea and
their ships, as though homeward bound. Afloat, they soon sailed out of
sight behind a neighboring island and came to anchor.
The remainder of the army set to work with a will to build a gigantic
wooden horse, his sides planked with pine, a huge, hollow horse, as full
of peek holes as a colander and with ample room for a band of men to lie
hidden within. When it was finished, Ulysses, Menelaus, Pyrrhus and a
company of armed warriors entered the horse by means of a secret door and
the remainder of the Grecian army sailed away.
On seeing them depart, the Trojans believed the Greeks had at last lost
heart, and, with victorious, headlong delight they burst through the
gates and swarmed over the plain into the abandoned camp. Looming down
on them stood the great horse. Approaching it first with caution, they
soon grew bolder and youths and maidens joined hands and danced around
it. Many urged that it be drawn into the city. Others were afraid and
said, “Burn it, sink it into the sea.” The priest Laocoön begged them to
have nothing to do with it. “Are you mad? Have you not learned enough of
Grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part, I fear the
Greeks even when they offer gifts.” With that he threw his great spear at
the horse’s side, which gave forth a hollow sound.
At that moment there was an outcry, as some herdsmen brought before the
chiefs a miserable, sullen-looking man whose hands were bound behind
his back. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the Grecian army. With
the assurance that his life would be spared if he spoke the truth, he
tremblingly told them of his sufferings; that he was Sinon, a Greek,
who, because of some grudge of Ulysses had been condemned to die as a
sacrifice to the gods, of his escape and of his having hidden all night
in a weedy lake and until his people were well at sea. All hearts warmed
to him. The king ordered his hands unbound and bade him forget the Greeks
and “be one of us.” “But tell me,” said the king, “why did you build
this great horse?” The treacherous Sinon replied, “That is an offering
to Minerva and made so huge to prevent its being carried into the city,
for Calchas, the prophet, told us that if the Trojans took possession of
it they would surely triumph over the Greeks.” Hearing this, the people
were overjoyed, and, in spite of Laocoön’s pleading, began to plan how
they might drag the horse into the city. Suddenly a shudder went through
the crowd. Out from the surf tumbling along the beach, appeared two
immense serpents; breast to breast, on they came, with heads reared high,
hissing jaws and blazing blood-red eyes. Many fled in terror. Some were
transfixed and stood with haggard faces as the great creatures swept up
to Laocoön and his two young sons, enfolded them in their hideous coils,
crushed them to earth, devoured them, then glided on to the citadel of
Minerva and slipped beneath the feet of the goddess. Here was their
omen! “The priest Laocoön has been judged according to his deeds!” they
said, “for he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods
have slain him!” They at once began making a great opening in the wall.
Hoisting levers were adjusted, wheels fastened to the great feet, and
after wreathing the horse with green branches and flowers they began
tugging and pushing it over the plain and into the city.
The day was given over to merrymaking and feasting; so secure did they
feel that the great gates were left unguarded and that night while they
slept deeply, care free for the first time in ten years, Sinon, the
spy, unlocked the hidden door of the great horse. Cautiously, Ulysses,
Menelaus and their men crept out, opened the gates of the city and gave
the signal to their army. Silently the ships drew up and anchored and
an armed multitude poured out into the night. Spears clashed, torches
flared as the Greeks went plunging through the city in a hot frenzy of
triumph. King Priam and many of his followers fell by the sword. Houses
were ransacked of their jewels, golden bowls taken from the altars. The
city was stripped of its treasures and then burned to its foundations.
Sinon with his tale of suffering and false tears had touched the hearts
of the Trojans and accomplished by strategy what a thousand ships and ten
years’ siege had failed to do.
THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE OF THE GREEK HERO ULYSSES
FROM HOMER
THE LOTUS-EATERS
By Sir George W. Cox
Among the chiefs of the Greeks who fought before the walls of Troy, there
was none who gained for himself a greater glory than Ulysses the son of
Laertes.
Brave he was in battle, and steadfast in danger; but most of all did the
Greeks seek his aid and counsel, when great things must be weighed and
fixed. In every peril where there was need of the wise heart and the
ready tongue, all hastened to Ulysses, and men felt that he did more to
throw down the kingdom of Priam than the mightiest chieftains who fought
only with sword and spear.
Yet, in the midst of all his toil and all his great exploits, the heart
of Ulysses was far away in rocky Ithaca, where his wife Penelope dwelt
with his young son Telemachus. Many a time, as the weary years of the war
rolled on, he said within himself, “Ah, when will the strife be ended,
and when shall we spread our sails to the breeze, and speed on our way
homewards?”
At last the doom of Paris was accomplished, and the hosts of Agamemnon
gave the city of Troy to fire and sword. Then Ulysses hastened to gather
his men together, that they might go to their home in Ithaca; and they
dragged the ships down to the sea from the trenches where they had so
long lain idle.
But before they sat down to row the ship out to the deep water, Ulysses
spake to them and said, “O friends, think now, each one of you, of his
home, of his wife, and of his children. Ten times have summer and winter
passed over us since we left them with cheerful hearts, thinking that in
but a little time we should come back to them laden with glory and booty.
Ten years have they mourned for us at home; and we, who set out for Troy
in the vigor of our manhood, go back now with gray hairs, or bowed down
with weary labor. Yet faint not, O friends, neither be dismayed. Think
how they wait and long for you still at home, as we go from land to land
in our voyage to rocky Ithaca, let not weariness weigh down your hearts,
or things fair and beautiful lead you to seek for rest, till our ships
are moored in the haven which we left ten years ago.”
With shouts of joy they sat down to their long oars; and when they had
rowed the ships out into the open sea, they spread the white sails to the
breeze, and watched the Ilian land as it faded away from their sight in
the far distance.
For many a day they went towards the land of the setting sun, until a
mighty wind from the north drove them to a strange country far out of
their course to Ithaca. Fair it was and peaceful beyond all lands which
they had seen. The sun looked down out of the cloudless heaven on fruits
and flowers which covered the laughing earth. Far away beyond the lotus
plains the blue hills glimmered in a dreamy haze. The trees bowed their
heads in a peaceful slumber; and the lagging waves sank lazily to sleep
upon the seashore. The summer breeze breathed its gentle whisper through
the air, and the birds sang listlessly of their loves from the waving
groves. Then said the men of Ulysses to one another, “Would that our
wives and our children were here! Truly Ithaca is but a rough and barren
land, and a sore grief it is to leave this happy shore to go home, and
there find, it may be, that our children remember us no more.”
And Ulysses said within himself, “Surely some strange spell is on this
fair land; almost might I long to sit down and sleep on the shore for
ever; but Penelope waits for me in my home, and I cannot rest till I see
her face once more.”
Then he bade three of his men go forth and ask the name of the land and
of the men who lived in it. So they went slowly from the beach where the
waves sang their lulling song to the sleepy flowers; and they wandered
along the winding stream which came from the glimmering hills far away,
till, deep down in a glen where the sun shed but half its light, they saw
men and maidens under the shade of pleasant palm-trees. Before them was
spread a banquet of rich and rosy fruit, and some were eating, and others
lay asleep.
The men of Ulysses went up to them, and sat down by their side, for
they feared them not, as men are wont to fear the people of a strange
land. They asked not their name, for they remembered not the bidding of
Ulysses; but they drank the dark wine and ate of the rosy fruit which the
fair maidens held out to them. “Eat,” they said, “O strangers, of the
fruit which kills all pain: surely ye are weary and your hearts are faint
with sorrow, and your eyes are dim as with many tears. Eat of our fruit
and forget your labors; for all who eat of it remember no more weary toil
and strife and war.” So they ate of the fruit, and then over their senses
stole softly a strange and wondrous sleep, so that they saw and heard and
spake even while they slumbered. On their ears fell the echo of a dreamy
music, and forms of maidens, fair as Venus when she rose from the sea
foam, passed before their eyes; and they said one to another, “Here let
us sit, and feast, and dream for ever.”
Long time Ulysses waited on the seashore, and less and less he marvelled
that they came not back, for he felt that over his own heart the strange
spell was falling: and he said, “Ah, Penelope, dearer to me than aught
else on the wide earth, the gods envy me thy love; else would they not
seek to beguile me thus in this strange land of dreams and slumber.”
He rose up, as one rises to go forth to battle, and went quickly on the
path by which his men had gone before him. Presently he saw them in the
deep dell, and the rich fruit of the lotus was in their hand. They called
to Ulysses and said, “We have come to the land of the Lotus-eaters; sit
thou down with us and eat of their fruit, and forget all thy cares for
ever.”
But Ulysses answered not; and hastening back, he bade the others come
with him and bind the three men, and carry them to the ship. “Heed not
the people of the land,” he said, “nor touch their rosy fruit. It were
a shame for men who have fought at Troy to slumber here like swine
fattening for the slaughter.”
So they hastened and bound the three men who sat at the banquet of the
Lotus-eaters; and they heeded not their words as they besought them to
taste of the fruit and forget all their misery and trouble. And Ulysses
hurried them back to the shore and made them drag down the ships into the
sea and sit down to their long oars. “Hasten, friends, hasten,” he said,
“from this land of dreams. Hither come the Lotus-eaters, and their soft
voices will beguile our hearts if we tarry longer. They will tempt us to
taste of their fruit; and then we shall seek no more to go back again to
the land of toiling men.”
The dash of their oars broke the calm of the still air, and roused the
waters from their slumber, as they toiled on their weary way.
ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS
By Sir George W. Cox
When the blue hills of the Lotus-land had faded away in the far distance,
the ships of Ulysses went on merrily with a fresh breeze: and the men
thought that they would soon come to rocky Ithaca, where their homes
were. But Minerva was angry with Ulysses, and she asked Neptune, the lord
of the sea, to send a great storm and scatter his ships. So the wind
arose, and the waters of the sea began to heave and swell, and the sky
was black with clouds and rain.
Many days and many nights the storm raged fiercely; and when it was over,
Ulysses could only see four or five of all the ships which had sailed
with him from Troy. The ships were drenched with the waves which had
broken over them, and the men were wet and cold and tired; and they were
glad indeed when they saw an island far away. So they sat down on the
benches, and took the great oars and rowed the ships towards the shore;
and as they came near, they saw that the island was very beautiful with
cliffs and rocks, and bays for ships to take shelter from the sea.
They rowed into one of these quiet bays, where the water was always calm,
and where there was no need to let down an anchor, or to tie the ship
by ropes to the seashore, for the ship lay there quite still of itself.
At the head of the bay a stream of fresh water trickled down from the
cliffs, and ran close to the opening of a large cave, and near the cave
some willow trees drooped their branches over the stream which ran down
towards the sea.
So they made haste to go on shore; and when they had landed, they saw
fine large plains on which corn might grow, but no one had taken the
trouble to sow the seed; and sloping hills for the grapes to ripen on the
vines, but none were planted on them. Ulysses marvelled at the people who
lived there, because they had no corn and no vines, and he could see no
houses, but only sheep and goats feeding on the hill-sides. So he took
his bows and arrows, and shot many of the goats, and he and his men lay
down on the ground and had a merry meal. When they had finished they fell
asleep, and did not wake up till the morning showed its rosy light in the
eastern sky.