Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) by William Shakespeare, Homer Read Free Book Online Page B

cutting offBeeves from the herd, or driving flocks away,Or fighting for Achaia’s daughters, shutWithin some city’s bulwarks close besieged?   I ceased, when Agamemnon thus replied.    490 Ulysses, noble Chief, Laertes’ sonFor wisdom famed! I neither perish’d sunkBy howling tempests irresistibleWhich Neptune raised, nor on dry land receivedFrom hostile multitudes the fatal blow,But me Ægisthus slew; my woeful deathConfed’rate with my own pernicious wifeHe plotted, with a show of love sincereBidding me to his board, where as the oxIs slaughter’d at his crib, he slaughter’d me .    500 Such was my dreadful death; carnage ensuedContinual of my friends slain all around,Num’rous as boars bright-tusk’d at nuptial feast,Or feast convivial of some wealthy Chief.Thou hast already witness’d many a fieldWith warriors overspread, slain one by one,But that dire scene had most thy pity moved,For we, with brimming beakers at our side,And underneath full tables bleeding lay.Blood floated all the pavement. Then the cries    510 Of Priam’s daughter sounded in my earsMost pitiable of all. Cassandra’s cries,Whom Clytemnestra close beside me slew.Expiring as I lay, I yet essay’dTo grasp my faulchion, but the trayt’ress quickWithdrew herself, nor would vouchsafe to closeMy languid eyes, or prop my drooping chinEv’n in the moment when I sought the shades.So that the thing breathes not, ruthless and fellAs woman once resolv’d on such a deed    520 Detestable, as my base wife contrived,The murther of the husband of her youth.I thought to have return’d welcome to all,To my own children and domestic train;But she, past measure profligate, hath pouredShame on herself, on women yet unborn,And even on the virtuous of her sex.   He ceas’d, to whom, thus, answer I return’d.Gods! how severely hath the thund’rer plaguedThe house of Atreus even from the first,    530 By female counsels! we for Helen’s sakeHave num’rous died, and Clytemnestra framed,While thou wast far remote, this snare for thee!   So I, to whom Atrides thus replied.Thou, therefore, be not pliant overmuchTo woman; trust her not with all thy mind,But half disclose to her, and half conceal.Yet, from thy consort’s hand no bloody death,My friend, hast thou to fear; for passing wiseIcarius’ daughter is, far other thoughts,    540 Intelligent, and other plans, to frame.Her, going to the wars we left a brideNew-wedded, and thy boy hung at her breast,Who, man himself, consorts ere now with menA prosp’rous youth; his father, safe restoredTo his own Ithaca, shall see him soon,And he shall clasp his father in his armsAs nature bids; but me, my cruel oneIndulged not with the dear delight to gazeOn my Orestes, for she slew me first.    550 But listen; treasure what I now impart.Steer secret to thy native isle; avoidNotice; for woman merits trust no more.Now tell me truth. Hear ye in whose abodeMy son resides? dwells he in Pylus, say,Or in Orchomenos, or else beneathMy brother’s roof in Sparta’s wide domain?For my Orestes is not yet a shade.   So he, to whom I answer thus return’d.Atrides, ask not me. Whether he live,    560 Or have already died, I nothing know;Mere words are vanity, and better spared.   Thus we discoursing mutual stood, and tearsShedding disconsolate. The shade, meantime,Came of Achilles, Peleus’ mighty son;Patroclus also, and AntilochusAppear’d, with Ajax, for proportion justAnd stature tall, (Pelides sole except)Distinguish’d above all Achaia’s sons.The soul of swift Æacides at once    570 Knew me, and in wing’d accents thus began.   Brave Laertiades, for wiles renown’d!What mightier enterprise than all the pastHath made thee here a guest? rash as thou art!How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloomOf Ades, dwelling of the shadowy dead,Semblances only of what once they were?   He spake, to whom I, answ’ring, thus replied.O Peleus’ son! Achilles! bravest farOf all Achaia’s race! I here