»
Archives
»
Critical Analysis #1
»
THE ILIAD OF HOMER #5 Had enough?
| Critical Analysis #1 |
|
THE ILIAD OF HOMER #5 Had enough? |
|
|
Kurt Rhys Junior Member
since 2001-05-08
Posts 23 |
Yes he indeed spoke thus and sat down once again, and among those, Atreus's hero son, wide-ruling Agamemnon rose In anguish, possessing a heart wholly black, greatly filled with ire, And his eyes appeared in resemblance to a blazing fire. Kalkhas he evilly eyed foremost and to him he stated: "Seer of evil, never good have you to me related. Always the the bad thing is most dear to your heart in portending, But no good thing have you said nor brought to fav'rable ending. And now you prophesy among the Danaans, addressing 'em, How with woes he, the shooter from afar, is oppressing 'em, For I would not take for the girl Khryseis that shining prize, Because I prefer to keep her in my own house anywise; Truly I prefer her to Klytaimestre my lawful mate, Seeing that she is not in the least of an inferior rate, Not least in proportion, nor height, nor thinking, nor work that is due, But even so, I'm willing to give her back if that's what's best to do. I would prefer that my folk be shielded than suffer extinction. But anyway, quickly prepare me another gift of distinction, Lest of the Argives I alone have no prize, which beseems unfair. All of you see this, of course, about how my reward now goes elsewhere." And so, bright Akhilleus of the speedy feet responded then: "Son of Atreus, lordliest and cherishing greed most of all men, How can the generous-hearted Akhaians give you a prize? We don't notice lying around immense common supplies. But indeed what we sacked out of the cities has been divided, And it's unbecoming to recall from the folk things provided. But no, right at this moment, if you please, give the god back the maid, And by us Akhaians you'll three and four times be repaid, Any time that Zeus gives us Troytown the well-walled for gutting." Then did the almighty Agamemnon answer him, rebutting: "No don't in this way, godsome Akhilleus, courageous though you're made, Thieve in mind, inasmuch as you won't overtake me, nor will persuade. What's your wish? To keep your own prize but have me deprived here sitting? Are you intending for me to return the girl at your bidding? If the great-hearted Akhaians will give me an honor-prize Suiting my desire, and make it equal valuewise-- Though I will take it nevertheless, whether or not they hand it; Be the prize yours, Aias's, or for Odysseus, I'll command it; And whomsoever it is that I visit will surely be fuming. But we'll indeed go into these affairs, later resuming. And now come on, let's go and launch a black ship on the salt-sea sparkling With a sacrifice put aboard and rowers enough and embarking Khryseis of the beautiful cheeks herself inside it, And allow that one counsel-bearing man as commander guide it, Like Aias or Idomeneus, or Odysseus renowned, Or else you, son of Peleus, fearsomest of men to be found, And by sacred sacrifice appease the far-off shooter for us." Then speedy-footed Akhilleus eyed him darkly while answering thus: "Ah me, you arrayed in a lack of shame with thoughts of greed in you, How fast will any zealous Akhaian be heeding you, Whether it's to go on a journey or to battle men by might? It's not against Trojan spearmen that I traveled here to fight, Seeing that they haven't done a thing to me that can be deemed astray. No they've never yet driven my horses and cattle away, Nor ever did Phtia's man-sustaining rich crops decimate, Because what is lying in between us is indeed very great, From the shadowy mountains, down to the echoey-sounding sea; Ah but you, O great lack of shame, we went with you for how glad you'd be, For Menelaos's and your gain from Trojans, mongrel-eyes! T'wards none of these things do you direct your thoughts nor sympathize; And now you threaten yourself to deprive me of my reward: A gift by the Akhaians's sons to me for which I struggled hard. At no time do I ever have a prize matching yours in renown When the Akhaians sack a well-established Trojan town. Although my hands carry on the brunt of the fierce fighting, Nevertheless when it comes time for the booty's dividing, Your own prize is the far greater, and I some trifle, yet dear to me, Carry coming aboard ship any time the battle wearies me. |
||
| © Copyright 2001 Kurt Rhys - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
