Гомер – The Iliad (страница 34)

Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,

All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!

Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasur’d height,

And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight,

(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,

But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,)

O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,

Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came.

To count them all, demands a thousand tongues,

A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs.

Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you

The mighty labour dauntless I pursue;

What crowded armies, from what climes they bring,

Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing.

THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.

The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred,

Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led:

With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand,

Equal in arms, and equal in command.

These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields,

And Eteon’s hills, and Hyrie’s watery fields,

And Schoenos, Scholos, Graea near the main,

And Mycalessia’s ample piny plain;

Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell,

Or Harma where Apollo’s prophet fell;

Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o’erflow;

And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low;

Or in the meads of Haliartus stray,

Or Thespia sacred to the god of day:

Onchestus, Neptune’s celebrated groves;

Copae, and Thisbe, famed for silver doves;

For flocks Erythrae, Glissa for the vine;

Platea green, and Nysa the divine;

And they whom Thebe’s well-built walls inclose,

Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose;

And Arne rich, with purple harvests crown’d;

And Anthedon, Boeotia’s utmost bound.

Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys

Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.

To these succeed Aspledon’s martial train,

Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain.

Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng,

Ialmen and Ascalaphus the strong:

Sons of Astyoche, the heavenly fair,

Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war:

(In Actor’s court as she retired to rest,

The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress’d)

Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep,

With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep.

The Phocians next in forty barks repair;

Epistrophus and Schedius head the war:

From those rich regions where Cephisus leads

His silver current through the flowery meads;

From Panopea, Chrysa the divine,

Where Anemoria’s stately turrets shine,

Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood,

And fair Lilaea views the rising flood.

These, ranged in order on the floating tide,

Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians’ side.

Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on,

Ajax the less, Oileus’ valiant son;

Skill’d to direct the flying dart aright;

Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight.

Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend,

Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send;