Part 7

When ev’ry least commander’s will best soldiers had obey’d, And both the hosts were rang’d for fight, the Trojans would have fray’d The Greeks with noises, crying out, in coming rudely on; At all parts like the cranes that fill, with harsh confusion, Of brutish clangés all the air, and in ridiculous war (Eschewing the unsuffer’d storms, shot from the winter’s star) Visit the ocean, and confer the Pygmei soldiers’ death. The Greeks charg’d silent, and like men, bestow’d their thrifty breath In strength of far-resounding blows, still entertaining care Of either’s rescue, when their strength did their engagements dare. And as, upon a hill’s steep tops, the south wind pours a cloud, To shepherds thankless, but by thieves that love the night, allow’d, A darkness letting down, that blinds a stone’s cast off men’s eyes; Such darkness from the Greeks’ swift feet (made all of dust) did rise. But, ere stern conflict mix’d both strengths, fair Paris stept before The Trojan host; athwart his back a panther’s hide he wore, A crookéd bow, and sword, and shook two brazen-headed darts; With which well-arm’d, his tongue provok’d the best of Grecian hearts To stand with him in single fight. Whom when the man, wrong’d most Of all the Greeks, so gloriously saw stalk before the host; As when a lion is rejoic’d, (with hunger half forlorn,) That finds some sweet prey, as a hart, whose grace lies in his horn, Or sylvan goat, which he devours, though never so pursu’d With dogs and men; so Sparta’s king exulted, when he viewed The fair-fac’d Paris so expos’d to his so thirsted wreak, Whereof his good cause made him sure. The Grecian front did break, And forth he rush’d, at all parts arm’d, leapt from his chariot, And royally prepar’d for charge. Which seen, cold terror shot The heart of Paris, who retir’d as headlong from the king As in him he had shunn’d his death. And as a hilly spring Presents a serpent to a man, full underneath his feet, Her blue neck, swoln with poison, rais’d, and her sting out, to greet His heedless entry, suddenly his walk he altereth, Starts back amaz’d, is shook with fear, and looks as pale as death; So Menelaus Paris scar’d; so that divine-fac’d foe Shrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go This bitter check at him; “Accurs’d, made but in beauty’s scorn, Impostor, woman’s man! O heav’n, that thou hadst ne’er been born, Or, being so manless, never liv’d to bear man’s noblest state, The nuptial honour! Which I wish, because it were a fate Much better for thee than this shame. This spectacle doth make A man a monster. Hark! how loud the Greeks laugh, who did take Thy fair form for a continent of parts as fair. A rape Thou mad’st of nature, like their queen. No soul, an empty shape, Takes up thy being; yet how spite to ev’ry shade of good Fills it with ill! for as thou art, thou couldst collect a brood Of others like thee, and far hence fetch ill enough to us, Ev’n to thy father; all these friends make those foes mock them thus In thee, for whose ridiculous sake so seriously they lay All Greece, and fate, upon their necks. O wretch! Not dare to stay Weak Menelaus? But ’twas well; for in him thou hadst tried What strength lost beauty can infuse, and with the more grief died To feel thou robb’dst a worthier man, to wrong a soldier’s right. Your harp’s sweet touch, curl’d locks, fine shape, and gifts so exquisite, Giv’n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good, When blood and dust had ruffled them, and had as little stood Thyself in stead; but what thy care of all these in thee flies We should inflict on thee ourselves. Infectious cowardice In thee hath terrified our host; for which thou well deserv’st A coat of tombstone, not of steel in which, for form, thou serv’st.” To this thus Paris spake, (for form, that might inhabit heav’n) “Hector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv’n, I take it well; but though thy heart, inur’d to these affrights, Cuts through them as an axe through oak, that more us’d more excites The workman’s faculty, whose art can make the edge go far, Yet I, less practis’d than thyself in these extremes of war, May well be pardon’d, though less bold; in these your worth exceeds, In others mine. Nor is my mind of less force to the deeds Requir’d in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace. Reproach not, therefore, the kind gifts of golden Cyprides. All heav’n’s gifts have their worthy price; as little to be scorn’d As to be won with strength, wealth, state; with which to be adorn’d, Some men would change state, wealth, or strength. But, if your martial heart Wish me to make my challenge good, and hold it such a part Of shame to give it over thus, cause all the rest to rest, And, ’twixt both hosts, let Sparta’s king and me perform our best For Helen and the wealth she brought; and he that overcomes, Or proves superior any way, in all your equal dooms, Let him enjoy her utmost wealth, keep her, or take her home; The rest strike leagues of endless date, and hearty friends become; You dwelling safe in gleby Troy, the Greeks retire their force T’ Achaia, that breeds fairest dames, and Argos, fairest horse.” He said, and his amendsful words did Hector highly please, Who rush’d betwixt the fighting hosts, and made the Trojans cease, By holding up in midst his lance. The Grecians noted not The signal he for parley used, but at him fiercely shot, Hurl’d stones, and still were leveling darts. At last the king of men, Great Agamemnon, cried aloud: “Argives! for shame, contain; Youths of Achaia, shoot no more; the fair-helm’d Hector shows As he desir’d to treat with us.” This said, all ceas’d from blows, And Hector spake to both the hosts: “Trojans, and hardy Greeks, Hear now what he that stirr’d these wars, for their cessation seeks. He bids us all, and you, disarm, that he alone may fight With Menelaus, for us all, for Helen and her right, With all the dow’r she brought to Troy; and he that wins the day, Or is, in all the art of arms, superior any way, The queen, and all her sorts of wealth, let him at will enjoy; The rest strike truce, and let love seal firm leagues ’twixt Greece and Troy.” The Greek host wonder’d at this brave; silence flew ev’rywhere; At last spake Sparta’s warlike king: “Now also give me ear, Whom grief gives most cause of reply. I now have hope to free The Greeks and Trojans of all ills, they have sustain’d for me, And Alexander, that was cause I stretch’d my spleen so far. Of both then, which is nearest fate, let his death end the war; The rest immediately retire, and greet all homes in peace. Go then (to bless your champion, and give his pow’rs success) Fetch for the Earth, and for the Sun (the Gods on whom ye call) Two lambs, a black one and a white, a female and a male; And we another, for ourselves, will fetch, and kill to Jove. To sign which rites bring Priam’s force, because we well approve His sons perfidious, envious, and (out of practis’d bane To faith, when she believes in them) Jove’s high truce may profane. All young men’s hearts are still unstaid; but in those well-weigh’d deeds An old man will consent to pass things past, and what succeeds He looks into, that he may know, how best to make his way Through both the fortunes of a fact, and will the worst obey.” This granted, a delightful hope both Greeks and Trojans fed, Of long’d-for rest from those long toils, their tedious war had bred. Their horses then in rank they set, drawn from their chariots round, Descend themselves, took off their arms, and plac’d them on the ground, Near one another; for the space ’twixt both the hosts was small. Hector two heralds sent to Troy, that they from thence might call King Priam, and to bring the lambs, to rate the truce they swore. But Agamemnon to the fleet Talthybius sent before, To fetch their lamb; who nothing slack’d the royal charge was giv’n. Iris, the rain-bow, then came down, ambassadress from heav’n, To white-arm’d Helen. She assum’d at ev’ry part the grace Of Helen’s last love’s sister’s shape, who had the highest place In Helen’s love, and had to name Laodice, most fair Of all the daughters Priam had, and made the nuptial pair With Helicaon, royal sprout of old Antenor’s seed. She found queen Helena at home, at work about a weed, Wov’n for herself; it shin’d like fire, was rich, and full of size, The work of both sides being alike; in which she did comprise The many labours warlike Troy and brass-arm’d Greece endur’d For her fair sake, by cruel Mars and his stern friends procur’d. Iris came in in joyful haste, and said; “O come with me, Lov’d nymph, and an admiréd sight of Greeks and Trojans see, Who first on one another brought a war so full of tears, Ev’n thirsty of contentious war. Now ev’ry man forbears, And friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield, Their long and shining lances pitch’d fast by them in the field, Paris, and Sparta’s king, alone must take up all the strife; And he that conquers only call fair Helena his wife.” Thus spake the thousand-colour’d Dame, and to her mind commends The joy to see her first espous’d, her native tow’rs, and friends; Which stirr’d a sweet desire in her: to serve the which she hied, Shadow’d her graces with white veils, and (though she took a pride To set her thoughts at gaze, and see, in her clear beauty’s flood, What choice of glory swum to her yet tender womanhood) Season’d with tears her joys to see more joys the more offence, And that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence.

Thus went she forth, and took with her her women most of name, Æthra, Pitthëus’ lovely birth, and Clymene, whom fame Hath for her fair eyes memoris’d. They reach’d the Scæan Tow’rs, Where Priam sat, to see the fight, with all his counsellors; Panthous, Lampus, Clytius, and stout Hicetaon, Thymœtes, wise Antenor, and profound Ucalegon; All grave old men; and soldiérs they had been, but for age Now left the wars; yet counsellors they were exceeding sage. And as in well-grown woods, or trees, cold spiny grasshoppers Sit chirping, and send voices out, that scarce can pierce our ears For softness, and their weak faint sounds; so, talking on the tow’r, These seniors of the people sat; who when they saw the pow’r Of beauty, in the queen, ascend ev’n those cold-spirited peers, Those wise and almost wither’d men, found this heat in their years, That they were forc’d (though whispéring) to say: “What man can blame The Greeks and Trojans to endure, for so admir’d a dame, So many mis’ries, and so long? In her sweet count’nance shine Looks like the Goddesses. And yet (though never so divine) Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforcéd prise, And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies, Labour and ruin, let her go; the profit of our land Must pass the beauty.” Thus, though these could bear so fit a hand On their affections, yet, when all their gravest powers were us’d, They could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus’d The Gods than beauty; for thus spake the most-fam’d king of Troy: “Come, lovéd daughter, sit by me and take the worthy joy Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends, and princes near allied, And name me some of these brave Greeks, so manly beautified. Come, do not think I lay the wars, endur’d by us, on thee, The Gods have sent them, and the tears in which they swum to me. Sit then, and name this goodly Greek, so tall, and broadly spread, Who than the rest, that stand by him, is higher by the head; The bravest man I ever saw, and most majestical, His only presence makes me think him king amongst them all.”

The fairest of her sex replied: “Most rev’rend father-in-law, Most lov’d, most fear’d, would some ill death had seiz’d me, when I saw The first mean why I wrong’d you thus: that I had never lost The sight of these my ancient friends, of him that lov’d me most, Of my sole daughter, brothers both, with all those kindly mates, Of one soil, one age, born with me, though under diff’rent fates! But these boons envious stars deny; the memory of these In sorrow pines those beauties now, that then did too much please; Nor satisfy they your demand, to which I thus reply: That’s Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, the great in empery; A king, whom double royalty doth crown, being great and good, And one that was my brother-in-law, when I contain’d my blood, And was more worthy; if at all I might be said to be, My being being lost so soon in all that honour’d me.”

The good old king admir’d, and said: “O Atreus’ blesséd son, Born unto joyful destinies, that hast the empire won Of such a world of Grecian youths, as I discover here! I once march’d into Phrygia, that many vines doth bear, Where many Phrygians I beheld, well-skill’d in use of horse, That of the two men, like two Gods, were the commanded force, Otrëus, and great Mygdonus, who on Sangarius’ sands Set down their tents with whom myself, for my assistant bands, Was number’d as a man in chief; the cause of war was then Th’ Amazon dames, that in their facts affected to be men. In all there was a mighty pow’r, which yet did never rise To equal these Achaian youths, that have the sable eyes.” Then (seeing Ulysses next) he said: “Lov’d daughter, what is he That, lower than great Atreus’ son; seems by the head to me, Yet, in his shoulders and big breast, presents a broader show? His armour lies upon the earth; he up and down doth go, To see his soldiers keep their ranks, and ready have their arms, If, in this truce, they should be tried by any false alarms. Much like a well-grown bell-wether, or feltred ram, he shows, That walks before a wealthy flock of fair white-fleeced ewes.”

High Jove and Leda’s fairest seed to Priam thus replies: “This is the old Laertes’ son, Ulysses, call’d the wise; Who, though unfruitful Ithaca was made his nursing seat, Yet knows he ev’ry sort of sleight, and is in counsels great.”

The wise Antenor answer’d her: “’Tis true, renownéd dame; For, some times past, wise Ithacus to Troy a legate came, With Menelaus, for your cause; to whom I gave receipt As guests, and welcom’d to my house, with all the love I might. I learn’d the wisdom of their souls, and humours of their blood; For when the Trojan council met, and these together stood, By height of his broad shoulders had Atrides eminence, Yet, set, Ulysses did exceed, and bred more reverence. And when their counsels and their words they wove in one, the speech Of Atreus’ son was passing loud, small, fast, yet did not reach To much, being naturally born Laconical; nor would His humour lie for anything, or was, like th’ other, old; But when the prudent Ithacus did to his counsels rise, He stood a little still, and fix’d upon the earth his eyes, His sceptre moving neither way, but held it formally, Like one that vainly doth affect. Of wrathful quality, And frantic (rashly judging him) you would have said he was, But when, out of his ample breast he gave his great voice pass, And words that flew about our ears, like drifts of winter’s snow, None thenceforth might contend with him, tho’ nought admir’d for show.”

The third man, aged Priam mark’d, was Ajax Telamon, Of whom he ask’d: “What lord is that, so large of limb and bone, So rais’d in height, that to his breast I see there reacheth none?”

To him the Goddess of her sex, the large-veil’d Helen, said: “That Lord is Ajax Telamon, a bulwark in their aid. On th’ other side stands Idomen, in Crete of most command, And round about his royal sides his Cretan captains stand; Oft hath the warlike Spartan king giv’n hospitable due To him within our Lacene court, and all his retinue. And now the other Achive dukes I gen’rally discern; All which I know, and all their names could make thee quickly learn. Two princes of the people yet, I nowhere can behold, Castor, the skilful knight on horse and Pollux, uncontroll’d For all stand-fights, and force of hand; both at a burthen bred; My natural brothers; either here they have not followéd From lovely Sparta, or, arriv’d within the sea-born fleet, In fear of infamy for me, in broad field shame to meet.”

Nor so; for holy Tellus’ womb inclos’d those worthy men In Sparta, their belovéd soil. The voiceful heralds then The firm agreement of the Gods through all the city ring; Two lambs, and spirit-refreshing wine (the fruit of earth) they bring, Within a goat-skin bottle clos’d; Idæus also brought A massy glitt’ring bowl, and cups, that all of gold were wrought; Which bearing to the king, they cried: “Son of Laomedon Rise, for the well-rode peers of Troy, and brass-arm’d Greeks, in one, Send to thee to descend the field, that they firm vows may make; For Paris, and the Spartan king, must fight for Helen’s sake, With long-arm’d lances; and the man that proves victorious, The woman, and the wealth she brought, shall follow to his house; The rest knit friendship, and firm leagues; we safe in Troy shall dwell, In Argos and Achaia they, that do in dames excel.”

He said; and Priam’s aged joints with chilled fear did shake, Yet instantly he bade his men his chariot ready make. Which soon they did, and he ascends. He takes the reins, and guide Antenor calls; who instantly mounts to his royal side, And, through the Scæan ports to field, the swift-foot horse they drive. And when at them of Troy and Greece the aged lords arrive, From horse, on Troy’s well-feeding soil, ’twixt both the hosts they go. When straight up-rose the king of men, up-rose Ulysses too, The heralds in their richest coats repeat (as was the guise) The true vows of the Gods (term’d theirs, since made before their eyes) Then in a cup of gold they mix the wine that each side brings, And next pour water on the hands of both the kings of kings. Which done, Atrides drew his knife, that evermore he put Within the large sheath of his sword; with which away he cut The wool from both fronts of the lambs, which (as a rite in use Of execration to their heads, that brake the plighted truce) The heralds of both hosts did give the peers of both; and then, With hands and voice advanc’d to heav’n, thus pray’d the king of men: