Still unrevenged a thousand heroes bleed?
Haste, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame,
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own resistless eloquence employ,
And to the immortals trust the fall of Troy."
The voice divine confessed the warlike Maid,
Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obeyed:
Then, meeting first Atrides, from his hand
Received the imperial sceptre of command.
Thus graced, attention and respect to gain,
He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train;
Each prince of name, or chief in arms approved,
He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved:
"Warriors like you, with strength and wisdom blest,
By brave examples should confirm the rest.
The monarch's will not yet revealed appears;
He tries our courage, but resents our fears.
The unwary Greeks his fury may provoke;
Not thus the king in secret council spoke.
Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs,
Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings."
But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose,
Him with reproof he checked, or tamed with blows.
"Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield;
Unknown alike in council and in field:
Ye gods, what dastards would our host command,
Swept to the war, the lumber of a land?
Be silent, wretch, and think not here allowed
That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd;
To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway;
His are the laws, and him let all obey."
With words like these the troops Ulysses ruled,
The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cooled.
Back to the assembly roll the thronging train,
Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain.
Murmuring they move, as when old ocean roars,
And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores:
The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound,
The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound.
At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease,
And a still silence lulls the camp to peace.
Thersites only clamoured in the throng,
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue:
Awed by no shame, by no respect controlled,
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold;
With witty malice, studious to defame,
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim.
But chief he gloried with licentious style
Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/57
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214—262
BOOK II
55
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7c/Homer_-_Iliad%2C_translation_Pope%2C_1909.djvu/page57-1024px-Homer_-_Iliad%2C_translation_Pope%2C_1909.djvu.jpg)