Iliad

if any other man of the Achaeans had told us of this dream we should have declared it false, and would have had nothing to do with it. But he who has seen it is the foremost man among us; we must therefore set about getting the people under arms." With this he led the way from the assembly,

and the other sceptered kings rose with him in obedience to the word of Agamemnon; but the people pressed forward to hear. They swarmed like bees that sally from some hollow cave and flit in countless throng among the spring flowers,

bunched in knots and clusters; even so did the mighty multitude pour from ships and tents to the assembly, and range themselves upon the wide-watered shore, while among them ran Wildfire Rumor, messenger of Zeus, urging them ever to the fore.

Thus they gathered in a pell-mell of mad confusion, and the earth groaned under the tramp of men as the people sought their places. Nine heralds went crying about among them to stay their tumult and bid them listen to the kings, till at last they were got into their several places and ceased their clamor.

Then King Agamemnon rose, holding his scepter. This was the work of Hephaistos, who gave it to Zeus the son of Kronos. Zeus gave it to Hermes, slayer of Argos, guide and guardian. King Hermes gave it to Pelops, the mighty charioteer, and

Pelops to Atreus, shepherd of his people. Atreus, when he died, left it to Thyestes, rich in flocks, and Thyestes in his turn left it to be borne by Agamemnon, that he might be lord of all Argos and of the isles. Leaning, then, on his scepter, he addressed the Argives.

"My friends," he said, "heroes, squires [therapontes] of Ares, Zeus the son of Kronos has tied me down with atê. Cruel, he gave me his solemn promise that I should sack the city of Priam before returning, but he has played me false, and is now bidding me

go ingloriously back to Argos with the loss of many people. Such is the will of Zeus, who has laid many a proud city in the dust, as he will yet lay others, for his power is above all. It will be a sorry tale hereafter that an

Achaean host, at once so great and valiant, battled in vain against men fewer in number than themselves; but as yet the end is not in sight. Think that the Achaeans and Trojans have sworn to a solemn covenant, and that they have each been numbered -

the Trojans by the roll of their householders, and we by companies of ten; think further that each of our companies desired to have a Trojan householder to pour out their wine; we are so greatly more in number that full many a company would have to go without its cup-bearer.

But they have in the town allies from other places, and it is these that hinder me from being able to sack the rich city of Ilion. Nine of Zeus years are gone;

the timbers of our ships have rotted; their tackling is sound no longer. Our wives and little ones at home look anxiously for our coming, but the work that we came hither to do has not been done. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say:

let us sail back to our own land, for we shall not take Troy." With these words he moved the hearts of the multitude, so many of them as knew not the cunning counsel of Agamemnon. They surged to and fro like the waves

of the Ikarian Sea [pontos], when the east and south winds break from heaven's clouds to lash them; or as when the west wind sweeps over a field of grain and the ears bow beneath the blast, even so were they swayed as they flew with loud cries

towards the ships, and the dust from under their feet rose heavenward. They cheered each other on to draw the ships into the sea; they cleared the channels in front of them; they began taking away the stays from underneath them, and the welkin rang with their glad cries, so eager were they to return.

Then surely the Argives would have had a return [nostos] after a fashion that was not fated. But Hera said to Athena, "Alas, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, unweariable, shall the Argives flee home to their own land over the broad sea,

and leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keeping Helen, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have died at Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among the host, and speak fairly to them, man by man,

that they draw not their ships into the sea." Athena was not slack to do her bidding. Down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, and in a moment she was at the ships of the Achaeans. There she found Odysseus, peer of Zeus in counsel,

standing alone. He had not as yet laid a hand upon his ship, for he felt grief [akhos] and was sorry; so she went close up to him and said, "Odysseus, noble son of Laertes,

are you going to fling yourselves into your ships and be off home to your own land in this way? Will you leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keeping Helen, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have died at Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among the host,

and speak fairly to them, man by man, that they draw not their ships into the sea." Odysseus knew the voice as that of the goddess: he flung his cloak from him and set off to run. His squire Eurybates, a man of Ithaca, who waited on him, took charge of the cloak,

whereon Odysseus went straight up to Agamemnon and received from him his ancestral, imperishable staff. With this he went about among the ships of the Achaeans. Whenever he met a king or chieftain, he stood by him and spoke him fairly.

"Sir," said he, "this flight is cowardly and unworthy. Stand to your post, and bid your people also keep their places. You do not yet know the full mind [noos] of Agamemnon; he was sounding us, and ere long will visit the Achaeans with his displeasure. We were not all of us at the council to hear what he then said;

see to it lest he be angry and do us a mischief; for the timê of kings is great, and the hand of Zeus is with them." But when he came across some man from some locale [dêmos] who was making a noise, he struck him with his staff and rebuked him, saying,

"What kind of daimôn has possessed you? Hold your peace, and listen to better men than yourself. You are a coward and no warrior; you are nobody either in fight or council; we cannot all be kings; it is not well that there should be many masters; one man must be supreme -

one king to whom the son of scheming Kronos has given the scepter and divine laws to rule over you all." Thus masterfully did he go about among the host, and the people hurried back to the council from their tents and ships with a sound as the thunder of surf when it comes crashing down upon the shore,

and all the sea [pontos] is in an uproar. The rest now took their seats and kept to their own several places, but Thersites still went on wagging his unbridled tongue - a man of many words, and those unseemly; a monger of sedition, a railer against all who were in authority [kosmos], who cared not what he said,

so that he might set the Achaeans in a laugh. He was the ugliest man of all those that came before Troy - bandy-legged, lame of one foot, with his two shoulders rounded and hunched over his chest. His head ran up to a point, but there was little hair on the top of it.

Achilles and Odysseus hated him worst of all, for it was with them that he was most wont to wrangle; now, however, with a shrill squeaky voice he began heaping his abuse on Agamemnon. The Achaeans were angry and disgusted, yet none the less he kept on brawling and bawling at the son of Atreus.

"Agamemnon," he cried, "what ails you now, and what more do you want? Your tents are filled with bronze and with fair women, for whenever we take a town we give you the pick of them. Would you have yet more gold,

which some Trojan is to give you as a ransom for his son, when I or another Achaean has taken him prisoner? or is it some young girl to hide and lie with? It is not well that you, the ruler of the Achaeans, should bring them into such misery.

Weakling cowards, women rather than men, let us sail home, and leave this man here at Troy to stew in his own prizes of honor, and discover whether we were of any service to him or no. Achilles is a much better man than he is, and see how he has treated him -

robbing him of his prize and keeping it himself. Achilles takes it meekly and shows no fight; if he did, son of Atreus, you would never again insult him." Thus railed Thersites, but Odysseus at once went up to him

and rebuked him sternly. "Check your glib tongue, Thersites," said be, "and babble not a word further. Chide not with princes when you have none to back you. There is no viler creature come before Troy with the sons of Atreus.

Drop this chatter about kings, and neither revile them nor keep harping about homecoming [nostos]. We do not yet know how things are going to be, nor whether the Achaeans are to return with good success or evil. How dare you gibe at Agamemnon

because the Danaans have awarded him so many prizes? I tell you, therefore - and it shall surely be - that if I again catch you talking such nonsense, I will either forfeit my own head

and be no more called father of Telemakhos, or I will take you, strip away from you all respect [aidôs], and whip you out of the assembly till you go blubbering back to the ships."

On this he beat him with his staff about the back and shoulders till he dropped and fell a-weeping. The golden scepter raised a bloody weal on his back, so he sat down frightened and in pain, looking foolish as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

The people were sorry for him, yet they laughed heartily, and one would turn to his neighbor saying, "Odysseus has done many a good thing ere now in fight and council, but he never did the Argives a better turn

than when he stopped this man's mouth from prating further. He will give the kings no more of his insolence." Thus said the people. Then Odysseus rose, scepter in hand, and Athena

in the likeness of a herald bade the people be still, that those who were far off might hear him and consider his council. He therefore with all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: - "King Agamemnon, the Achaeans are for

making you a by-word among all humankind. They forget the promise they made you when they set out from Argos, that you should not return till you had sacked the town of Troy, and, like children or widowed women,

they murmur and would set off homeward. True it is that they have had toil [ponos] enough to be disheartened. A man chafes at having to stay away from his wife even for a single month, when he is on shipboard, at the mercy of wind and sea,

but it is now nine long years that we have been kept here; I cannot, therefore, blame the Achaeans if they turn restive; still we shall be shamed if we go home empty after so long a stay - therefore, my friends, be patient yet a little longer that we may learn

whether the prophesyings of Kalkhas were false or true. "All who have not since perished must remember as though it were yesterday or the day before, how the ships of the Achaeans were detained in Aulis when we were on our way hither to make war on Priam and the Trojans.

We were ranged round about a fountain offering hecatombs to the gods upon their holy altars, and there was a fine plane-tree from beneath which there welled a stream of pure water. Then we saw a sign [sêma]; for Zeus sent a fearful serpent out of the ground, with blood-red stains upon its back,

and it darted from under the altar on to the plane-tree. Now there was a brood of young sparrows, quite small, upon the topmost bough, peeping out from under the leaves, eight in all, and their mother that hatched them made nine. The serpent ate the poor cheeping things,

while the old bird flew about lamenting her little ones; but the serpent threw his coils about her and caught her by the wing as she was screaming. Then, when he had eaten both the sparrow and her young, the god who had sent him made him become a sign; for the son of scheming Kronos turned him into stone,