<h3> BOOK I </h3>
<p class="intro">
The quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles—Achilles withdraws from
the war, and sends his mother Thetis to ask Jove to help the Trojans—Scene
between Jove and Juno on Olympus.</p>
<p>Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought
countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying
down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures,
for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son
of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one
another.</p>
<p>And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son
of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence
upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had
dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the
Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom:
moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a
suppliant's wreath, and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two
sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs.</p>
<p>"Sons of Atreus," he cried, "and all other Achaeans, may the gods who
dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your
homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in
reverence to Apollo, son of Jove."</p>
<p>On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the
priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who
spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. "Old man," said he, "let
me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your
sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not
free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home,
busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not
provoke me or it shall be the worse for you."</p>
<p>The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke, but went by the
shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart to King Apollo whom lovely Leto
had borne. "Hear me," he cried, "O god of the silver bow, that protectest
Chryse and holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh thou
of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands, or burned
your thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your
arrows avenge these my tears upon the Danaans."</p>
<p>Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came down furious from
the summits of Olympus, with his bow and his quiver upon his shoulder, and
the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within him. He
sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night, and his
silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them. First he
smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his shafts at
the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead were
burning.</p>
<p>For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people, but upon the
tenth day Achilles called them in assembly—moved thereto by Juno,
who saw the Achaeans in their death-throes and had compassion upon them.
Then, when they were got together, he rose and spoke among them.</p>
<p>"Son of Atreus," said he, "I deem that we should now turn roving home if
we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by war and
pestilence at once. Let us ask some priest or prophet, or some reader of
dreams (for dreams, too, are of Jove) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo
is so angry, and say whether it is for some vow that we have broken, or
hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he will accept the savour
of lambs and goats without blemish, so as to take away the plague from
us."</p>
<p>With these words he sat down, and Calchas son of Thestor, wisest of
augurs, who knew things past present and to come, rose to speak. He it was
who had guided the Achaeans with their fleet to Ilius, through the
prophesyings with which Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all
sincerity and goodwill he addressed them thus:—</p>
<p>"Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid me tell you about the anger of King
Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will
stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall offend one
who rules the Argives with might, to whom all the Achaeans are in
subjection. A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a king, who if
he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked
it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect me."</p>
<p>And Achilles answered, "Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you
from heaven, for by Apollo, Calchas, to whom you pray, and whose oracles
you reveal to us, not a Danaan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you,
while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth—no, not though
you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Achaeans."</p>
<p>Thereon the seer spoke boldly. "The god," he said, "is angry neither about
vow nor hecatomb, but for his priest's sake, whom Agamemnon has
dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for
her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others.
He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has
restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy
hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him."</p>
<p>With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was
black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled on Calchas and
said, "Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me,
but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me
neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans,
and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom
for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her
in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra,
whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and
accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the
people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone
among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold,
all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhither."</p>
<p>And Achilles answered, "Most noble son of Atreus, covetous beyond all
mankind, how shall the Achaeans find you another prize? We have no common
store from which to take one. Those we took from the cities have been
awarded; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already. Give
this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Jove grants us to sack the
city of Troy we will requite you three and fourfold."</p>
<p>Then Agamemnon said, "Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus
outwit me. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you
to keep your own prize, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the
girl at your bidding? Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to
my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of
Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming. But of this
we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us draw a ship into
the sea, and find a crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb on
board, and let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among us
be in command, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, son of Peleus,
mighty warrior that you are, that we may offer sacrifice and appease the
anger of the god."</p>
<p>Achilles scowled at him and answered, "You are steeped in insolence and
lust of gain. With what heart can any of the Achaeans do your bidding,
either on foray or in open fighting? I came not warring here for any ill
the Trojans had done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided
my cattle nor my horses, nor cut down my harvests on the rich plains of
Phthia; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and
sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not
ours—to gain satisfaction from the Trojans for your shameless self
and for Menelaus. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the prize for
which I have toiled, and which the sons of the Achaeans have given me.
Never when the Achaeans sack any rich city of the Trojans do I receive so
good a prize as you do, though it is my hands that do the better part of
the fighting. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and
I, forsooth, must go back to my ships, take what I can get and be
thankful, when my labour of fighting is done. Now, therefore, I shall go
back to Phthia; it will be much better for me to return home with my
ships, for I will not stay here dishonoured to gather gold and substance
for you."</p>
<p>And Agamemnon answered, "Fly if you will, I shall make you no prayers to
stay you. I have others here who will do me honour, and above all Jove,
the lord of counsel. There is no king here so hateful to me as you are,
for you are ever quarrelsome and ill-affected. What though you be brave?
Was it not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your ships and
comrades to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care neither for you nor for
your anger; and thus will I do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis
from me, I shall send her with my ship and my followers, but I shall come
to your tent and take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how much
stronger I am than you are, and that another may fear to set himself up as
equal or comparable with me."</p>
<p>The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his shaggy breast was
divided whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son
of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While he was thus
in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard, Minerva
came down from heaven (for Juno had sent her in the love she bore to them
both), and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible to him
alone, for of the others no man could see her. Achilles turned in amaze,
and by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she was
Minerva. "Why are you here," said he, "daughter of aegis-bearing Jove? To
see the pride of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you—and it
shall surely be—he shall pay for this insolence with his life."</p>
<p>And Minerva said, "I come from heaven, if you will hear me, to bid you
stay your anger. Juno has sent me, who cares for both of you alike. Cease,
then, this brawling, and do not draw your sword; rail at him if you will,
and your railing will not be vain, for I tell you—and it shall
surely be—that you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as
splendid by reason of this present insult. Hold, therefore, and obey."</p>
<p>"Goddess," answered Achilles, "however angry a man may be, he must do as
you two command him. This will be best, for the gods ever hear the prayers
of him who has obeyed them."</p>
<p>He stayed his hand on the silver hilt of his sword, and thrust it back
into the scabbard as Minerva bade him. Then she went back to Olympus among
the other gods, and to the house of aegis-bearing Jove.</p>
<p>But the son of Peleus again began railing at the son of Atreus, for he was
still in a rage. "Wine-bibber," he cried, "with the face of a dog and the
heart of a hind, you never dare to go out with the host in fight, nor yet
with our chosen men in ambuscade. You shun this as you do death itself.
You had rather go round and rob his prizes from any man who contradicts
you. You devour your people, for you are king over a feeble folk;
otherwise, son of Atreus, henceforward you would insult no man. Therefore
I say, and swear it with a great oath—nay, by this my sceptre which
shalt sprout neither leaf nor shoot, nor bud anew from the day on which it
left its parent stem upon the mountains—for the axe stripped it of
leaf and bark, and now the sons of the Achaeans bear it as judges and
guardians of the decrees of heaven—so surely and solemnly do I swear
that hereafter they shall look fondly for Achilles and shall not find him.
In the day of your distress, when your men fall dying by the murderous
hand of Hector, you shall not know how to help them, and shall rend your
heart with rage for the hour when you offered insult to the bravest of the
Achaeans."</p>
<p>With this the son of Peleus dashed his gold-bestudded sceptre on the
ground and took his seat, while the son of Atreus was beginning fiercely
from his place upon the other side. Then uprose smooth-tongued Nestor, the
facile speaker of the Pylians, and the words fell from his lips sweeter
than honey. Two generations of men born and bred in Pylos had passed away
under his rule, and he was now reigning over the third. With all sincerity
and goodwill, therefore, he addressed them thus:—</p>
<p>"Of a truth," he said, "a great sorrow has befallen the Achaean land.
Surely Priam with his sons would rejoice, and the Trojans be glad at heart
if they could hear this quarrel between you two, who are so excellent in
fight and counsel. I am older than either of you; therefore be guided by
me. Moreover I have been the familiar friend of men even greater than you
are, and they did not disregard my counsels. Never again can I behold such
men as Pirithous and Dryas shepherd of his people, or as Caeneus, Exadius,
godlike Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, peer of the immortals.
These were the mightiest men ever born upon this earth: mightiest were
they, and when they fought the fiercest tribes of mountain savages they
utterly overthrew them. I came from distant Pylos, and went about among
them, for they would have me come, and I fought as it was in me to do. Not
a man now living could withstand them, but they heard my words, and were
persuaded by them. So be it also with yourselves, for this is the more
excellent way. Therefore, Agamemnon, though you be strong, take not this
girl away, for the sons of the Achaeans have already given her to
Achilles; and you, Achilles, strive not further with the king, for no man
who by the grace of Jove wields a sceptre has like honour with Agamemnon.
You are strong, and have a goddess for your mother; but Agamemnon is
stronger than you, for he has more people under him. Son of Atreus, check
your anger, I implore you; end this quarrel with Achilles, who in the day
of battle is a tower of strength to the Achaeans."</p>
<p>And Agamemnon answered, "Sir, all that you have said is true, but this
fellow must needs become our lord and master: he must be lord of all, king
of all, and captain of all, and this shall hardly be. Granted that the
gods have made him a great warrior, have they also given him the right to
speak with railing?"</p>
<p>Achilles interrupted him. "I should be a mean coward," he cried, "were I
to give in to you in all things. Order other people about, not me, for I
shall obey no longer. Furthermore I say—and lay my saying to your
heart—I shall fight neither you nor any man about this girl, for
those that take were those also that gave. But of all else that is at my
ship you shall carry away nothing by force. Try, that others may see; if
you do, my spear shall be reddened with your blood."</p>
<p>When they had quarrelled thus angrily, they rose, and broke up the
assembly at the ships of the Achaeans. The son of Peleus went back to his
tents and ships with the son of Menoetius and his company, while Agamemnon
drew a vessel into the water and chose a crew of twenty oarsmen. He
escorted Chryseis on board and sent moreover a hecatomb for the god. And
Ulysses went as captain.</p>
<p>These, then, went on board and sailed their ways over the sea. But the son
of Atreus bade the people purify themselves; so they purified themselves
and cast their filth into the sea. Then they offered hecatombs of bulls
and goats without blemish on the sea-shore, and the smoke with the savour
of their sacrifice rose curling up towards heaven.</p>
<p>Thus did they busy themselves throughout the host. But Agamemnon did not
forget the threat that he had made Achilles, and called his trusty
messengers and squires Talthybius and Eurybates. "Go," said he, "to the
tent of Achilles, son of Peleus; take Briseis by the hand and bring her
hither; if he will not give her I shall come with others and take her—which
will press him harder."</p>
<p>He charged them straightly further and dismissed them, whereon they went
their way sorrowfully by the seaside, till they came to the tents and
ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles sitting by his tent and his
ships, and ill-pleased he was when he beheld them. They stood fearfully
and reverently before him, and never a word did they speak, but he knew
them and said, "Welcome, heralds, messengers of gods and men; draw near;
my quarrel is not with you but with Agamemnon who has sent you for the
girl Briseis. Therefore, Patroclus, bring her and give her to them, but
let them be witnesses by the blessed gods, by mortal men, and by the
fierceness of Agamemnon's anger, that if ever again there be need of me to
save the people from ruin, they shall seek and they shall not find.
Agamemnon is mad with rage and knows not how to look before and after that
the Achaeans may fight by their ships in safety."</p>
<p>Patroclus did as his dear comrade had bidden him. He brought Briseis from
the tent and gave her over to the heralds, who took her with them to the
ships of the Achaeans—and the woman was loth to go. Then Achilles
went all alone by the side of the hoar sea, weeping and looking out upon
the boundless waste of waters. He raised his hands in prayer to his
immortal mother, "Mother," he cried, "you bore me doomed to live but for a
little season; surely Jove, who thunders from Olympus, might have made
that little glorious. It is not so. Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has done me
dishonour, and has robbed me of my prize by force."</p>
<p>As he spoke he wept aloud, and his mother heard him where she was sitting
in the depths of the sea hard by the old man her father. Forthwith she
rose as it were a grey mist out of the waves, sat down before him as he
stood weeping, caressed him with her hand, and said, "My son, why are you
weeping? What is it that grieves you? Keep it not from me, but tell me,
that we may know it together."</p>
<p>Achilles drew a deep sigh and said, "You know it; why tell you what you
know well already? We went to Thebe the strong city of Eetion, sacked it,
and brought hither the spoil. The sons of the Achaeans shared it duly
among themselves, and chose lovely Chryseis as the meed of Agamemnon; but
Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the ships of the Achaeans to free his
daughter, and brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his
hand the sceptre of Apollo, wreathed with a suppliant's wreath, and he
besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus who were
their chiefs.</p>
<p>"On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the
priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who
spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. So he went back in anger,
and Apollo, who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god sent a
deadly dart upon the Argives, and the people died thick on one another,
for the arrows went everywhither among the wide host of the Achaeans. At
last a seer in the fulness of his knowledge declared to us the oracles of
Apollo, and I was myself first to say that we should appease him. Whereon
the son of Atreus rose in anger, and threatened that which he has since
done. The Achaeans are now taking the girl in a ship to Chryse, and
sending gifts of sacrifice to the god; but the heralds have just taken
from my tent the daughter of Briseus, whom the Achaeans had awarded to
myself.</p>
<p>"Help your brave son, therefore, if you are able. Go to Olympus, and if
you have ever done him service in word or deed, implore the aid of Jove.
Ofttimes in my father's house have I heard you glory in that you alone of
the immortals saved the son of Saturn from ruin, when the others, with
Juno, Neptune, and Pallas Minerva would have put him in bonds. It was you,
goddess, who delivered him by calling to Olympus the hundred-handed
monster whom gods call Briareus, but men Aegaeon, for he is stronger even
than his father; when therefore he took his seat all-glorious beside the
son of Saturn, the other gods were afraid, and did not bind him. Go, then,
to him, remind him of all this, clasp his knees, and bid him give succour
to the Trojans. Let the Achaeans be hemmed in at the sterns of their
ships, and perish on the sea-shore, that they may reap what joy they may
of their king, and that Agamemnon may rue his blindness in offering insult
to the foremost of the Achaeans."</p>
<p>Thetis wept and answered, "My son, woe is me that I should have borne or
suckled you. Would indeed that you had lived your span free from all
sorrow at your ships, for it is all too brief; alas, that you should be at
once short of life and long of sorrow above your peers: woe, therefore,
was the hour in which I bore you; nevertheless I will go to the snowy
heights of Olympus, and tell this tale to Jove, if he will hear our
prayer: meanwhile stay where you are with your ships, nurse your anger
against the Achaeans, and hold aloof from fight. For Jove went yesterday
to Oceanus, to a feast among the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with
him. He will return to Olympus twelve days hence; I will then go to his
mansion paved with bronze and will beseech him; nor do I doubt that I
shall be able to persuade him."</p>
<p>On this she left him, still furious at the loss of her that had been taken
from him. Meanwhile Ulysses reached Chryse with the hecatomb. When they
had come inside the harbour they furled the sails and laid them in the
ship's hold; they slackened the forestays, lowered the mast into its
place, and rowed the ship to the place where they would have her lie;
there they cast out their mooring-stones and made fast the hawsers. They
then got out upon the sea-shore and landed the hecatomb for Apollo;
Chryseis also left the ship, and Ulysses led her to the altar to deliver
her into the hands of her father. "Chryses," said he, "King Agamemnon has
sent me to bring you back your child, and to offer sacrifice to Apollo on
behalf of the Danaans, that we may propitiate the god, who has now brought
sorrow upon the Argives."</p>
<p>So saying he gave the girl over to her father, who received her gladly,
and they ranged the holy hecatomb all orderly round the altar of the god.
They washed their hands and took up the barley-meal to sprinkle over the
victims, while Chryses lifted up his hands and prayed aloud on their
behalf. "Hear me," he cried, "O god of the silver bow, that protectest
Chryse and holy Cilla, and rulest Tenedos with thy might. Even as thou
didst hear me aforetime when I prayed, and didst press hardly upon the
Achaeans, so hear me yet again, and stay this fearful pestilence from the
Danaans."</p>
<p>Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. When they had done praying
and sprinkling the barley-meal, they drew back the heads of the victims
and killed and flayed them. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them
round in two layers of fat, set some pieces of raw meat on the top of
them, and then Chryses laid them on the wood fire and poured wine over
them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits in their
hands. When the thigh-bones were burned and they had tasted the inward
meats, they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon the spits, roasted
them till they were done, and drew them off: then, when they had finished
their work and the feast was ready, they ate it, and every man had his
full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to
eat and drink, pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine and water and handed
it round, after giving every man his drink-offering.</p>
<p>Thus all day long the young men worshipped the god with song, hymning him
and chaunting the joyous paean, and the god took pleasure in their voices;
but when the sun went down, and it came on dark, they laid themselves down
to sleep by the stern cables of the ship, and when the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they again set sail for the host of the
Achaeans. Apollo sent them a fair wind, so they raised their mast and
hoisted their white sails aloft. As the sail bellied with the wind the
ship flew through the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her
bows as she sped onward. When they reached the wide-stretching host of the
Achaeans, they drew the vessel ashore, high and dry upon the sands, set
her strong props beneath her, and went their ways to their own tents and
ships.</p>
<p>But Achilles abode at his ships and nursed his anger. He went not to the
honourable assembly, and sallied not forth to fight, but gnawed at his own
heart, pining for battle and the war-cry.</p>
<p>Now after twelve days the immortal gods came back in a body to Olympus,
and Jove led the way. Thetis was not unmindful of the charge her son had
laid upon her, so she rose from under the sea and went through great
heaven with early morning to Olympus, where she found the mighty son of
Saturn sitting all alone upon its topmost ridges. She sat herself down
before him, and with her left hand seized his knees, while with her right
she caught him under the chin, and besought him, saying:—</p>
<p>"Father Jove, if I ever did you service in word or deed among the
immortals, hear my prayer, and do honour to my son, whose life is to be
cut short so early. King Agamemnon has dishonoured him by taking his prize
and keeping her. Honour him then yourself, Olympian lord of counsel, and
grant victory to the Trojans, till the Achaeans give my son his due and
load him with riches in requital."</p>
<p>Jove sat for a while silent, and without a word, but Thetis still kept
firm hold of his knees, and besought him a second time. "Incline your
head," said she, "and promise me surely, or else deny me—for you
have nothing to fear—that I may learn how greatly you disdain me."</p>
<p>At this Jove was much troubled and answered, "I shall have trouble if you
set me quarrelling with Juno, for she will provoke me with her taunting
speeches; even now she is always railing at me before the other gods and
accusing me of giving aid to the Trojans. Go back now, lest she should
find out. I will consider the matter, and will bring it about as you wish.
See, I incline my head that you may believe me. This is the most solemn
promise that I can give to any god. I never recall my word, or deceive, or
fail to do what I say, when I have nodded my head."</p>
<p>As he spoke the son of Saturn bowed his dark brows, and the ambrosial
locks swayed on his immortal head, till vast Olympus reeled.</p>
<p>When the pair had thus laid their plans, they parted—Jove to his
house, while the goddess quitted the splendour of Olympus, and plunged
into the depths of the sea. The gods rose from their seats, before the
coming of their sire. Not one of them dared to remain sitting, but all
stood up as he came among them. There, then, he took his seat. But Juno,
when she saw him, knew that he and the old merman's daughter,
silver-footed Thetis, had been hatching mischief, so she at once began to
upbraid him. "Trickster," she cried, "which of the gods have you been
taking into your counsels now? You are always settling matters in secret
behind my back, and have never yet told me, if you could help it, one word
of your intentions."</p>
<p>"Juno," replied the sire of gods and men, "you must not expect to be
informed of all my counsels. You are my wife, but you would find it hard
to understand them. When it is proper for you to hear, there is no one,
god or man, who will be told sooner, but when I mean to keep a matter to
myself, you must not pry nor ask questions."</p>
<p>"Dread son of Saturn," answered Juno, "what are you talking about? I? Pry
and ask questions? Never. I let you have your own way in everything.
Still, I have a strong misgiving that the old merman's daughter Thetis has
been talking you over, for she was with you and had hold of your knees
this self-same morning. I believe, therefore, that you have been promising
her to give glory to Achilles, and to kill much people at the ships of the
Achaeans."</p>
<p>"Wife," said Jove, "I can do nothing but you suspect me and find it out.
You will take nothing by it, for I shall only dislike you the more, and it
will go harder with you. Granted that it is as you say; I mean to have it
so; sit down and hold your tongue as I bid you for if I once begin to lay
my hands about you, though all heaven were on your side it would profit
you nothing."</p>
<p>On this Juno was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn will and sat down
in silence. But the heavenly beings were disquieted throughout the house
of Jove, till the cunning workman Vulcan began to try and pacify his
mother Juno. "It will be intolerable," said he, "if you two fall to
wrangling and setting heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If such
ill counsels are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at our banquet. Let
me then advise my mother—and she must herself know that it will be
better—to make friends with my dear father Jove, lest he again scold
her and disturb our feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants to hurl us all
from our seats, he can do so, for he is far the strongest, so give him
fair words, and he will then soon be in a good humour with us."</p>
<p>As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar, and placed it in his mother's
hand. "Cheer up, my dear mother," said he, "and make the best of it. I
love you dearly, and should be very sorry to see you get a thrashing;
however grieved I might be, I could not help, for there is no standing
against Jove. Once before when I was trying to help you, he caught me by
the foot and flung me from the heavenly threshold. All day long from morn
till eve, was I falling, till at sunset I came to ground in the island of
Lemnos, and there I lay, with very little life left in me, till the
Sintians came and tended me."</p>
<p>Juno smiled at this, and as she smiled she took the cup from her son's
hands. Then Vulcan drew sweet nectar from the mixing-bowl, and served it
round among the gods, going from left to right; and the blessed gods
laughed out a loud applause as they saw him bustling about the heavenly
mansion.</p>
<p>Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun they feasted,
and every one had his full share, so that all were satisfied. Apollo
struck his lyre, and the Muses lifted up their sweet voices, calling and
answering one another. But when the sun's glorious light had faded, they
went home to bed, each in his own abode, which lame Vulcan with his
consummate skill had fashioned for them. So Jove, the Olympian Lord of
Thunder, hied him to the bed in which he always slept; and when he had got
on to it he went to sleep, with Juno of the golden throne by his side.</p>
<p><br/><br/><br/> <SPAN name="chap02"></SPAN></p>
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