Volume 2

Book 9

The Embassy to Achilles

Agamemnon’s Proposal to raise the siege opposed by Diomed and Nestor—A council—Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix sent to Achilles to request a reconciliation—Their reception, their persuasions, and their ill success.

The Trojans thus kept watch; while through the night
The power of Flight, companion of cold Fear,
Wrought on the Greeks, and all their bravest men
Were bowed beneath a sorrow hard to bear.
As when two winds upturn the fishy deep—
The north wind and the west, that suddenly
Blow from the Thracian coast; the black waves rise
At once, and fling the sea-weed to the shore—
Thus were the Achaians troubled in their hearts.

Atrides, deeply grieving, walked the camp,
And bade the clear-voiced heralds call by name
To council all the chiefs, but not aloud.
The king himself among the foremost gave
The summons. Sadly that assembly took
Their seats; and Agamemnon in the midst
Rose, shedding tears—as down a lofty rock,
Darkening its face, a fountain’s waters flow—
And, deeply sighing, thus addressed the Greeks:—

“O friends! the chiefs and princes of the Greeks!
Saturnian Jove hath in an evil snare
Most cruelly entangled me. He gave
His promise once that I should overthrow
This strong-walled Ilium, and return; but now
He meditates a fraud, and sends me back
To Argos without glory, and with loss
Of many warriors. Thus doth it seem good
Doubtless to Jove Almighty, who hath cast
The towers of many a city down to earth,
And will cast others down—his might excels
All other might. But let us now obey,
As I shall counsel you, and in our ships
Haste to our own dear country; for I see
That Troy with its broad streets can ne’er be ours.”

He spake; and all were silent. Silent long
Remained the sorrow-stricken sons of Greece,
Till Diomed, the brave in battle, spake:—

“First of the chiefs I speak, to disapprove,
Atrides, thy rash purpose: ’tis my right
In council; nor, O king, be thou displeased.
Thou first among the Greeks hast taunted me
With lack of valor, calling me unapt
For war and weak of arm. The young and old
Have heard the taunt. One of two gifts the son
Of wily Saturn hath bestowed on thee:
High rank and rule o’er all the rest he gave,
But gave thee not the nobler quality
Of fortitude. Dost thou then truly deem
The Greeks unapt for war and weak of arm,
As thou hast said? Thou longest to return:
Go, then; the way is open; by the sea
The barques that brought thee from Mycenae lie,
A numerous fleet. Yet others will remain—
Long haired Achaians—till we overthrow
The city. Should they also pine for home,
Then let them flee, with all their ships; while I
With Sthenelus fight on until we make
An end of Troy—for with the gods we came.”

He spake. The Greeks applauded; all admired
The words of the horse-tamer Diomed.
Nestor the knight then rose, and thus he spake:—

“O son of Tydeus, eminently brave
Art thou among thy comrades in the field,
And great in council. No one here condemns
The sentence thou hast given; among the Greeks
Is no one who denies what thou hast said;
Yet hast thou not said all. Thy years are few—
So few, thou mightest be my youngest son;
And yet thou speakest wisely to the kings
Of Greece, and thy discourse is just and right.
Now I, who boast of far more years than thou,
Will speak of this that yet remains, and none—
Not even Agamemnon—will gainsay
What I advise. A wretch without a tie
Of kin, a lawless man without a home,
Is he who takes delight in civil strifes.
But let us now give way to the dark night,
And make our banquets ready. Let the guards
Lie down within the trenches which we digged
Without the wall: be this the young men’s charge.
And thou, Atrides, do thou now begin,
Who art supreme, and make a feast for all
The elder chiefs; it shall become thee well:
Thy tents are full of wine, which ships from Thrace
Bring every day across the mighty deep,
And thou hast all things ready, and a host
Of menials. Then, when many throng the board,
Thou shalt defer to him who counsels thee
Most wisely; for the Greeks have urgent need
Of prudent counsels, when the foe so close
Beside our galleys lights his multitude
Of watch-fires. Who that sees them can rejoice?
This night will rescue or destroy our host.”

He spake. They listened all, and willingly
Obeyed him. Forth in armor went the guards,
Led by the chieftain Thrasymedes, son
Of Nestor, by Ascalaphus, who claimed
His birth from Mars, and by Ialmenus
His brother, and Deipyrus, with whom
There followed Aphareus, Meriones,
And Lycomedes, Creon’s noble son.
Seven were the leaders of the guards; with each
A hundred youths in warlike order marched,
Bearing long spears; and when they reached the space
Between the trench and wall they sat them down,
And kindled fires and made their evening meal.

Atrides brought the assembled elder chiefs
To his pavilion, and before them set
A generous banquet. They put forth their hands
And shared the feast; and when the calls of thirst
And hunger ceased, the aged Nestor first
Began to counsel them; the chief, whose words
Had lately seemed of wisest import, now
Addressed the assembly with well-ordered speech:—

“Atrides Agamemnon, glorious king!
What I shall say begins and ends with thee,
For thou dost rule o’er many nations. Jove
Hath given to thee the sceptre, and the power
To make their laws, that thou mayst seek their good.
Thou, therefore, of all men, shouldst speak and hear
In council, and shouldst follow willingly
Another’s judgment when it best promotes
The general weal; for all depends on thee.
Now let me say what seems to me most wise;
For better counsel none can give than this
Which now I meditate, and which to give
I purposed from the hour when thou, great king,
Didst bear the maid Briseis from the tent
Of the enraged Achilles, unapproved
By me, who strove to change thy rash design.
Then didst thou yield thee to thy haughty will,
And didst dishonor a most valiant man,
Whom the immortals honor. Thou didst take
And still dost keep the prize he fairly won.
Let it be now our study to appease
The hero with large gifts and soothing words.”

Then Agamemnon, king of men, replied:—
“O ancient man, most truly hast thou named
My faults. I erred, and I deny it not.
That man indeed is equal to a host
Whom Jupiter doth love and honor thus,
Humbling the Achaian people for his sake.
And now, since, yielding to my wayward mood
I erred, let me appease him, if I may,
With gifts of priceless worth. Before you all
I number them—seven tripods which the fire
Hath never touched, six talents of pure gold,
And twenty shining cauldrons, and twelve steeds
Of hardy frame, victorious in the race,
Whose feet have won me prizes in the games.
No beggar would he be, nor yet with store
Of gold unfurnished, in whose coffers lay
The prizes those swift steeds have brought to me.
Seven faultless women, skilled in household arts,
I give moreover—Lesbians, whom I chose
When he o’erran the populous Lesbian isle—
Damsels in beauty who excel their sex.
These I bestow, and with them I will send
Her whom I took away—Briseis, pure—
I swear it with a mighty oath—as pure
As when she left his tent. All these I give
At once; and if by favor of the gods
We lay the mighty city of Priam waste,
He shall load down his galley with large store
Of gold and silver, entering first when we,
The Greeks, divide the spoil. Then may he choose
Twice ten young Trojan women, beautiful
Beyond their sex save Helen. If we come
Safe to Achaian Argos, richly stocked
With milky kine, he may become to me
A son-in-law, and cherished equally
With my sole son Orestes, who is reared
Most royally. Three daughters there, within
My stately palace-walls—Chrysothemis,
Laodice, and Iphianassa—dwell,
And he may choose among them, and may lead
Home to the house of Peleus her who best
Deserves his love. Nor need he to endow
The bride, for I will give an ampler dower
Than ever father to his daughter gave—
Seven cities with thronged streets—Cardamyle,
Enope, grassy Hira, Pherae famed
Afar, Antheia with rich pasture-fields,
Aepeia beautiful, and Pedasus
With all its vineyards; all are near the sea,
And stand the last before you reach the coast
Of sandy Pylos. Rich in flocks and herds
Their dwellers are, and they will honor him
As if he were a god, and, ruled by him,
Will pay large tribute. These will I bestow,
Let but his anger cool and his resolve
Give way. ’Tis Pluto who is deaf to prayer
And ne’er relents, and he, of all the gods,
Most hateful is to men. Now let the son
Of Peleus yield at length to me, who stand
Above him in authority and years.”

Then answered Nestor the Gerenian knight:—
“Atrides Agamemnon! Glorious king!
Gifts not to be contemned thou offerest
To Prince Achilles. Let us now despatch
A chosen embassy, who shall proceed
At once to where Pelides holds his tent.
I name the men; and cheerfully will they
Perform the duty: Phoenix, dear to Jove,
Shall be their leader, mighty Ajax next,
And then high-born Ulysses; heralds twain
Shall follow—Hodius and Eurybates.
And now be water brought to cleanse our hands,
And charge be given that no ill-omened word
Be uttered, while we pray that Jupiter,
The son of Saturn, will assist our need.”

He spake; and all approved the words he said.
Then poured the heralds water on the hands
Of those who sat. The young men crowned with wine
The goblets, and in seemly order passed
The brimming cups, distributing to each.
Part to the gods they poured, and next they drank
As each might choose, and then the embassy
Hastened from Agamemnon’s tent. To each
Gerenian Nestor spake in turn, and fixed
His eyes on each intently—most of all
Upon Ulysses—and with many a charge
To turn Pelides from his angry mood.
Along the edge of the resounding deep
They went, and as they walked they offered prayer
To earth-embracing Neptune, that their words
Might move the great soul of Aeacides.
And now they came where lay the Myrmidons
Among their tents and ships. Achilles there
Drew solace from the music of a harp
Sweet-toned and shapely, in a silver frame,
Part of the spoil he took when he o’erthrew
Eëtion’s town. To soothe his mood he sang
The deeds of heroes. By him sat alone
Patroclus, silent till the song should cease.
On moved the messengers—before them walked
High-born Ulysses—till they stood beside
Achilles. He beheld, and with the harp
Sprang from his seat, surprised. Patroclus saw
The heroes also, and arose. Their hands
The swift Achilles took in his, and said:—

“Welcome! Ye come as friends. Some pressing cause
Must surely bring you hither, whom I prize,
Wronged as I am, beyond all other Greeks.”

Thus speaking, the great son of Peleus led
His guests still farther on, and seated them
On couches spread with purple coverings,
And thus addressed Patroclus, who was near:—

“Son of Menoetius, bring a larger vase,
And mingle purer wine, and place a cup
For each, since these are most beloved friends—
These warriors who now sit beneath my roof.”

He spake. Patroclus hearkened, and obeyed
His well-beloved friend, who meantime placed
A block beside the fire, and on it laid
Chines of a sheep and of a fatling goat,
And of a sow, the fattest of her kind.
Automedon stood by and held them fast;
Achilles took the knife and skilfully
Carved them in portions, and transfixed the parts
With spits. Patroclus, the divine in form,
Woke to a blaze the fire; and when the flame
Had ceased to rise he raked the glowing coals
Apart, and o’er them stretched the spits, and strewed,
Raising the flesh, the sacred salt o’er all.
And when he had made ready and had spread
The banquet on the board, Patroclus took
The bread and offered it to all the guests
In shapely canisters. Achilles served
The meats, and took his seat against the wall,
In front of great Ulysses. There he bade
His friend Patroclus offer sacrifice,
Casting the first rich morsels to the flames.
The guests put forth their hands and shared the feast;
And when the calls of hunger and of thirst
Were felt no longer, Ajax gave a nod
To Phoenix, which divine Ulysses saw,
And filled his cup and drank to Peleus’ son:—

“Thy health, Achilles! Princely feasts like this
Attend us both in Agamemnon’s tent
And here—for here is all that makes a feast
Complete; yet now is not the time to think
Of pleasant banquets, for our thoughts are turned—
O Jove-born warrior!—to a fearful time
Of slaughter, and the fate of our good ships—
Whether we save them harmless, or the foe
Destroy them, if thou put not on thy might.
For now the haughty Trojans, and the troops
Who come from far to aid them, pitch their camp
Close to our fleet and wall, and all around
Kindle their many fires, and boast that we
No longer have the power to drive them back
From our black galleys. Jupiter, the son
Of Saturn, shows them favorable signs
With lightnings from above; and, terrible
In aspect and in valor, Hector makes
Sad havoc, trusting in the aid of Jove,
And neither reverences gods nor men—
Such rage possesses him. He prays that soon
The morn may rise, that he may hew the prows
From all our ships and give them to the flames,
And slay the Greeks, bewildered with the smoke.
For me, I greatly fear the gods will grant
That he fulfil his threat, and that our doom
Will be to perish on the Trojan coast,
And far away from Argos, famed for steeds.
Rise, then, though late—rise with a resolute mind,
And from the hard-pressed sons of Greece drive back
The assailing Trojans. Thou wilt else lament
Hereafter, when the evil shall be done
And shall admit no cure. Bethink thee well
How from the Greeks thou mayst avert the day
Of their destruction. O my friend, when first
He sent thee forth to Agamemnon’s help
From Phthia’s coast, thy father Peleus said:—

“ ‘My child, from Juno and Minerva comes
The gift of valor, if they choose to give.
But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast,
For gentle ways are best, and keep aloof
From sharp contentions, that the old and young
Among the Greeks may honor thee the more.’

“Such was the old man’s charge, forgotten now.
Yield, then, and lay thy wrath aside. Large gifts
Doth Agamemnon offer, to appease
Thy wounded spirit. Hear me, if thou wilt,
Recount what gifts the monarch in his tent
Hath promised thee:—Seven tripods which the fire
Hath never touched; six talents of pure gold;
And twenty shining cauldrons; and twelve steeds
Of hardy frame, victorious in the race,
Whose feet have won him prizes in the games.
No beggar would he be, nor yet with store
Of gold unfurnished, in whose coffers lay
The prizes those swift-footed steeds have won.
Seven faultless women, skilled in household arts,
He offers—Lesbians, whom he chose when thou
Didst overrun the populous Lesbian isle—
In beauty eminent among their sex.
These he bestows, and with them he will send
Her whom he took away—Briseis, pure
He swears it with a mighty oath—as pure
As when she left thy tent. All these he gives
At once; and if, by favor of the gods,
We lay the mighty city of Priam waste,
Thou shalt load down thy galley with large store
Of gold and silver, entering first when we,
The Greeks, divide the spoil. Then mayst thou choose
Twice ten young Trojan women, beautiful
Beyond their sex save Helen. If we come
Safe to Achaian Argos, richly stocked
With milky kine, thou mayst become to him
A son-in-law, and cherished equally
With his sole son Orestes, who is reared
Right royally. Three daughters there, within
The monarch’s stately halls—Chrysothemis,
Laodice, and Iphianassa—dwell,
And thou mayst choose among them, and mayst lead
Home to the house of Peleus her who best
Deserves thy love. Nor needest thou endow
The bride, for he will give an ampler dower
Than ever father to his daughter gave—
Seven cities with thronged streets—Cardamyle,
Enope, grassy Hira, Pherae famed
Afar, Antheia with rich pasture-grounds,
Aepeia beautiful, and Pedasus
With all its vineyards; all are near the sea,
And stand the last before you reach the coast
Of sandy Pylos. Rich in flocks and herds
Their dwellers are, and they will honor thee
As if thou wert a god, and, ruled by thee,
Will pay large tribute. These will he bestow,
Let but thine anger cease. But if the son
Of Atreus and his gifts still move thy hate,
At least have pity on the afflicted Greeks,
Pent in their camp, who now would honor thee
As if thou wert a god; and thou shalt gain
Great glory as their champion, and shalt slay
This Hector, who even now is close at hand,
And in a murderous frenzy makes his boast
That none of all the chieftains whom the fleet
Of Greece brought hither equals him in might.”

The swift Achilles answered him and said:—
“Son of Laertes, nobly born, and versed
In wise devices, let me frankly speak
Just as I think, and just as I shall act,
And then ye will not importune me more.
Hateful to me, as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
Utters another. I shall speak as seems
To me the best; nor deem I that the son
Of Atreus or the other Greeks can move
My settled purpose, since no thanks are paid
To him who with the enemy maintains
A constant battle: equal is the meed
Of him who stands aloof and him who fights
Manfully; both the coward and the brave
Are held in equal honor, and they die
An equal death—the idler and the man
Of mighty deeds. For me there is no store
Of wealth laid up from all that I have borne,
Exposing life in battle. As a bird
Brings to her unfledged young the food she finds,
Though she herself be fasting, so have I
Had many a night unvisited by sleep,
And passed in combat many a bloody day,
Fighting beside these warriors for their wives.
Twelve cities have I with my fleet laid waste,
And with my Myrmidons have I o’erthrown
Eleven upon this fertile Trojan coast.
Full many a precious spoil from these I bore,
And to Atrides Agamemnon gave.
He, loitering in his fleet, received them all;
Few he distributed, and many kept.
To chiefs and princes he indeed assigned
Prizes, which now they hold. From me alone
Of all the Greeks he takes my prize; he takes
My bride, whom well I loved;—and let him keep
The damsel. But what need is there that Greeks
Wage war against the Trojans? For what cause
Did Agamemnon, gathering from our realms
An army, lead it hither? Was it not
Because of fair-haired Helen? Are the sons
Of Atreus, then, the only men on earth
Who love their wives? Nay, every good man loves
And cherishes his spouse; and mine I loved
Tenderly, though the captive of my spear:
And now, since he hath taken my reward
Away and treacherously dealt with me,
Let him not try again, for I am warned,
And he will not persuade me. Let him take
Counsel with thee, Ulysses, and the rest,
How to drive back the enemy and save
The fleet from flames. Already has he done
Much without me; a rampart he has raised,
And round it dug a deep, broad trench, and filled
The trench with palisades. Yet can he not
Resist the man-destroyer Hector thus.
This Hector, when I fought among the Greeks,
Never would fight at distance from the walls,
And ventured not beyond the Scaean gates
And beechen tree. There waited he for me
Upon a time, and scarce escaped with life
From my assault. Now, since I do not choose
To fight with noble Hector, I shall pay,
Tomorrow, sacrifice to Jupiter
And all the gods, and load my galleys well,
And draw them to the water. Then shalt thou
See—if thou care for such a sight—my ships
Sailing upon the fishy Hellespont
At early morning, with their crews on board
Eager to pull the oar; and if the god
Of ocean grant a prosperous voyage, then
On the third day we reach the fertile coast
Of Phthia. Large possessions left I there
When I came hither in an evil hour;
And thither I shall carry with me gold
And ruddy brass, and women of fair forms,
And burnished steel—the spoils I won in war.
The prize he gave me, Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus, takes, with many insults, back.
Bear him this message—give it openly,
That others of the Greeks may be like me
Indignant should he impudently dare
To wrong them also:—Let him ne’er again,
Though shameless, dare to look me in the face.
I will not join in council or in act
With him: he has deceived and wronged me once,
And now he cannot wheedle me with words.
Let once suffice. I leave him to himself,
To perish. All-providing Jupiter
Hath made him mad. I hate his gifts; I hold
In utter scorn the giver. Were his gifts
Tenfold—nay, twenty-fold—the worth of all
That he possesses, and with added wealth
From others—all the riches that flow in
Upon Orchomenus, or Thebes, the pride
Of Egypt, where large treasures are laid up,
And through whose hundred gates rush men and steeds,
Two hundred through each gate;—nay, should he give
As many gifts as there are sands and dust
Of earth—not even then shall Atreus’ son
Persuade me, till I reap a just revenge
For his foul contumelies. I will wed
No child of Agamemnon. Even though
She vied with golden Venus in her charms,
And with the blue-eyed Pallas in her skill,
I would not wed her. Let him choose among
The Greeks a fitter husband—one whose rule
Is wider than my own. For if the gods
Preserve me, and I reach my home again,
My father, Peleus, will bestow on me
A consort. Many are the Achaian maids,
Daughters of chiefs who hold our citadels
In Hellas, and in Phthia, and of these,
Her who shall most delight me I will make
My well-beloved wife. My soul has longed
Earnestly, with a fitting spouse betrothed
Duly, to make my dwelling there, and there
Enjoy the wealth which aged Peleus won;
For not to be compared with life is all
The wealth which, as men say, was treasured up
In Ilium’s populous town in time of peace,
Ere the Greeks came, nor all the stores contained
Within the stony threshold of the god
Who bears the bow, Apollo, on the coast
Of rocky Pytho. We may gather spoil
Of oxen and of fatling sheep, and bring
Tripods from war, and yellow-manèd steeds:
The breath of man no force can seize or hold,
And when it leaves the enclosure of the teeth
It comes not back. My mother said to me—
The goddess, silver-footed Thetis, said—
A twofold fate conducts me to my death;—
If I remain to fight beneath the walls
Of Ilium, my return will be cut off,
But deathless my renown; if I return
To the dear land in which my fathers dwell,
My glory will be nought, but long my life,
And late will come to me the stroke of death.
And now I counsel all to sail for home,
For never will ye see the overthrow
Of lofty Ilium. Jove the Thunderer
Stretches his great hand o’er her, and her sons
Take courage. Go ye now, and take with you
This message to the princes of the Greeks—
As is the office of an embassy—
And bid them meditate some wiser plan
To save their galleys and the host of Greeks
Within the hollow barques. The plan which brought
You hither cannot serve you while I keep
My anger unappeased. Let Phoenix stay
To pass the night with us, that he may sail
Tomorrow, if it please him, to the land
We love; I take him not against his will.”

He ceased; and silent were the ambassadors,
Astonished at his passionate words. At last
Phoenix, the aged knight, with many tears
And sighs, took up the word, in grief and fear
Lest Hector should destroy the Grecian fleet:—

“Illustrious son of Peleus, if indeed
Thou wilt return, nor carest to repel
From our swift galleys the consuming fire,
Because thou art offended, how shall I,
Dear child, remain without thee? When at first
Peleus, the aged knight, from Phthia sent
Thee, yet a boy, to Agamemnon’s aid,
Unskilled as then thou wert in cruel war
And martial councils—where men also gain
A great renown—he sent me with thee, charged
To teach thee both, that so thou mightst become
In words an orator, in warlike deeds
An actor. Therefore, my beloved child,
Not willingly shall I remain behind;
Not even though a god should promise me
That, overcoming the decays of age,
I might become a beardless youth again,
As when from Hellas and its companies
Of lovely maids I came a fugitive,
And left Amyntor, son of Ormenus—
My father—angry with me for the sake
Of a fair-tressed wanton, whom he loved,
Treating my mother basely. To my knees
My mother came and prayed me ceaselessly,
First, to possess the woman, that she then
Might loathe the elder one; and I obeyed.
My father knew it, and with many a curse
Invoked the hateful furies to forbid
That any child who owed his birth to me
Should ever sit upon his knees. The gods—
The Jove of Hades and dread Proserpine—
Confirmed his curse. To slay him with the sword
Was my first thought. Some god subdued my wrath,
Reminding me of what the public voice
Would say, and infamy that would ensue—
Lest I among the Achaians should be called
A parricide. I could not brook to dwell
Within my father’s palace while he thus
Was wroth with me. My kindred and my friends
Came round me, and besought me to remain,
And stayed beside me. Many a fatling ewe
And many a slow-paced ox with curving horns
They slew, and many a fattened swine they stretched
Over the flame of Vulcan. From the casks
Of the old chief his wine was freely drawn.
Nine nights they slept surrounding me, while each
Kept watch in turn: nor ever were the fires
Put out; one blazed beneath the portico
Of the fair hall, and near the chamber-door
Another glimmered in the vestibule.
But when upon me rose the tenth dark night,
I broke my aptly-jointed chamber-doors,
And issued forth, and easily o’erleaped
The wall around the palace, quite unseen
Of watching men and of the serving maids.
I fled through spacious Hellas to the fields
Of Phthia, nurse of flocks, and to her king,
Peleus, who kindly welcomed me, and loved
Me as a father loves his only son,
Born to large wealth in his declining years.
He made me rich, and gave me sovereign rule
Over much people. My abode was fixed
In farthest Phthia, where I was the prince
Of the Dolopians. As for thee, my care,
Godlike Achilles, made thee what thou art.
I loved thee from my soul: thou wouldst not go
With any other to the feast, nor take
Thy food at home until upon my knees
I placed thee, carved thy meats, and gave them thee,
And poured thy wine. The tunic on my breast
Was often wetted by thee when the wine
Gushed in thy petulant childhood from thy lips.
Thus many things did I endure for thee,
And many toils perform; and since the gods
Vouchsafed no son to me, it was my thought
To train thee as a son, that thou mightst be,
O godlike man! the bulwark of my age.
And now subdue that mighty spirit of thine:
Ill it becomes thee to be merciless:
The gods themselves are placable, though far
Above us all in honor and in power
And virtue. We propitiate them with vows,
Incense, libations, and burnt-offerings,
And prayers for those who have offended. Prayers
Are daughters of almighty Jupiter—
Lame, wrinkled, and squint-eyed—that painfully
Follow Misfortune’s steps; but strong of limb
And swift of foot Misfortune is, and, far
Outstripping all, comes first to every land,
And there wreaks evil on mankind, which prayers
Do afterwards redress. Whoe’er receives
Jove’s daughters reverently when they approach,
Him willingly they aid, and to his suit
They listen. Whosoever puts them by
With obstinate denial, they appeal
To Jove, the son of Saturn, and entreat
That he will cause Misfortune to attend
The offender’s way in life, that he in turn
May suffer evil and be punished thus.
Wherefore, Achilles! do thou also yield
The honor due Jove’s daughters, freely given
By other valiant men. If Atreus’ son
Brought thee no gifts, nor promised others still,
But kept his anger, I would never ask
That thou shouldst lay aside thy wrath and come
To help the Argives in their bitter need.
But he bestows large gifts, and adds a pledge
Of others yet in store, and he hath sent
The best men of the army, who to thee
Are dearest, to entreat thee. Spurn thou not
These, nor their embassy, although at first
Thine anger was not causeless. We have heard
The praise of heroes of the elder time,
Inflamed to vehement anger, yet appeased
By gifts, and yielding to persuasive words.
One instance I remember: long ago
It happened, and I will relate it here
Among my friends. Around the city-walls
Of Calydon did the Curetes strive
In battle with the Aetolians; they destroyed
Each other fearfully. The Aetolians fought
To save the pleasant town of Calydon,
And the Curetes warred to lay it waste.
Diana of the golden throne had caused
The war, displeased with Oeneus, who withheld
From her the first-fruits of his fertile field:
While hecatombs were burnt in sacrifice
To feast the other gods, to her alone—
Daughter of Jove—no offering was brought;
For either he forgot, or thought the rite
Of little moment; but he greatly erred.
And now the child of Jove, the archer-queen,
Incensed, sent forth against him from the wood
A white-tusked wild boar, which upon his lands
Entered, and ravaged them, and brought to earth
Many tall trees: tree after tree they fell,
With roots uptorn, and all the blossoms on,
That promised fruit. Him Meleager, son
Of Oeneus, slew, with many hunters called
From neighboring cities, bringing many hounds.
A few could not subdue him: he had made
Many already mount the funeral pile.
Diana kindled round the boar a strife
For the beast’s head and bristly hide—a war
’Twixt the Curetes and the Aetolian band
Of braves. The war, while Meleager fought,
Went not with the Curetes, nor could they,
Though many, keep the field. But wrath at last
Seized Meleager—wrath, which rages oft
Even in prudent minds. Incensed against
Althaea, his own mother, he remained
At home with Cleopatra, his young wife,
The beauteous, whom a delicate-footed dame
Marpessa, daughter of Evenus, bore
To Idas, bravest in his time among
The sons of men—so brave that once he drew
A bow against Apollo for the sake
Of his neat-footed bride. The honored pair
Within the palace used to call their child
Alcyone; for when the archer-god,
Apollo, from her husband bore away
The mother, Cleopatra sadly wailed,
As wails the halcyon. So beside his spouse
Dwelt Meleager, brooding ever o’er
The violent anger which his mother’s curse
Had kindled. Grieving for a brother’s death,
She supplicated heaven, and often struck
Her hands against the teeming earth, and called—
Kneeling, her bosom all bedewed with tears—
On Pluto and the cruel Proserpine,
To put her son to death. From Erebus
The pitiless Erinnys, wandering
In darkness, heard the prayer. Then straightway rose
A sound of fearful tumult at the gates:
The towers were battered, and the elder chiefs
Of the Aetolians hastened to entreat
The aid of Meleager, and they sent
Priests of the gods, a chosen band, to pray
That he would come to their defence. Large gifts
They promised. Where the soil of Calydon
Was best, they bade him choose a fruitful field
Of fifty acres, half for vines, and half,
Cleared of the trees, for tillage. Earnestly
Did aged Oeneus, famed for horsemanship,
Beseech him; to the chamber of his son,
High-roofed, he climbed, and at the threshold shook
The massive doors with knocking as he sued.
His sisters and his reverend mother joined
Their supplications: he resisted still.
And much his friends, the dearest and most prized,
Besought him, but they vainly strove to swerve
His steadfast mind, till his own chamber felt
The assault, and the Curetes climbed the walls
To fire the populous city. Then the nymph,
His graceful wife, entreated him with tears,
And spake of all the horrors which o’ertake
A captured city—all the men cut off
By massacre, the houses given to flames,
The children and deep-bosomed women dragged
Into captivity. Her sorrowful words
He heard; his spirit was disturbed; he went
To gird his glittering armor on, and thus
He saved the Aetolians from a fearful doom,
Obeying his own impulse. The reward
Of rare and costly gifts they gave him not,
Though thus he rescued them. Be not thy thought
Like his, my friend; let no invisible power
Persuade thee thus to act. Far worse it were
To wait, and when our fleet is all on fire
Offer thy aid. Accept the gifts at once:
Then will the Greeks, as if thou wert a god,
Hold thee in honor. If without the gifts
Thou enter later on the field of fight,
Thou wilt not have like honor with the host,
Although thou turn the assault of battle back.”

Then did Achilles, swift of foot, reply:—
“O ancient Phoenix, father, loved of Jove,
Such honor need I not; for the decree
Of Jove, I deem, already honors me,
And will detain me by my beakèd ships
While breath is in my lungs, and I have power
To move these knees. Yet one thing I would say—
And bear it thou in mind—vex not my soul
With weeping and lamenting for the sake
Of Agamemnon; it becomes thee not—
Thou who art loved by me—to yield thy love
To him, unless thou wouldst incur my hate.
And thou shouldst be the enemy of him
Who wrongs me. Reign thou equally with me,
And share my honors. These will carry back
My answer. Thou remain, and, softly couched,
Sleep here: with early morn will we consult
Whether to leave this region or remain.”

He spake, and, nodding to Patroclus, gave
A signal to prepare an ample couch
For Phoenix, while the other chiefs prepared
To leave the tent. Then Ajax Telamon,
The godlike chief, addressed his comrades thus:—

“Son of Laertes, nobly born, and skilled
In sage devices, let us now depart,
Since, as it seems, the end for which we came
Cannot be compassed thus, and we must bear
With speed the unwelcome answer to the Greeks,
Who sit expecting us; while in his breast
The implacable Achilles bears a fierce
And haughty heart, nor doth he heed the claim
Of that close friendship of his fellow-chiefs,
Which at the Grecian fleet exalted him
Above all others. Unrelenting one!
Even for a brother’s death a price is paid,
Or when a son is slain: the slayer dwells
At home among his people, having made
The appointed expiation. He to whom
The fine is offered takes it, and his thirst
Of vengeance is appeased. But in thy heart
The gods have kindled an unquenchable rage,
All for a single damsel—and behold,
Seven more we offer, passing beautiful,
With many gifts beside. Let, then, thy mood
Be softened: have respect to thine own roof;
For we are guests beneath it, sent from all
The assembled host, and strong is our desire
To be thy dearest and most cherished friends
Of all the Achaians, many as they are.”

Achilles the swift-footed answered thus:—
“Illustrious Ajax, son of Telamon,
Prince of the people! All that thou hast said,
I well perceive, is prompted by thy heart.
Mine swells with indignation when I think
How King Atrides mid the assembled Greeks
Heaped insults on me, as if I had been
A wretched vagabond. But go ye now
And bear my message. I shall never think
Of bloody war till noble Hector, son
Of Priam, slaughtering in his way the Greeks,
Shall reach the galleys of the Myrmidons,
To lay the fleet in flames. But when he comes
To my own tent and galley, he, I think,
Though eager for the combat, will desist.”

He spake. Each raised a double cup and poured
Libations to the gods; they then returned
Beside the fleet. Ulysses led the way.

Patroclus bade the attendant men and maids
Strew with all speed a soft and ample bed
For Phoenix. They obeyed, and spread the couch
With skins of sheep, dyed coverlets, and sheets
Of lawn; and there the old man lay to wait
The glorious morn. Meantime Achilles slept
Within the tent’s recess, and by him lay
Phorbas’s daughter, whom he carried off
From Lesbos—Diomede, rosy-cheeked.
Upon the other side Patroclus lay,
With slender-waisted Iphis by his side,
Given by the great Achilles when he took
Scyros the tall, where Enyeus ruled.

Now when the ambassadors were come within
The tent of Agamemnon, all the chiefs
Rose, one by one, and, lifting up to them
Their golden goblets, asked the news they brought;
And first Atrides, king of men, inquired:—

“Renowned Ulysses, glory of the Greeks!
Tell me, will he protect our fleet from flames,
Or does he, in his wrath and pride, refuse?”

Then spake the hardy chief Ulysses thus:—
“Atrides Agamemnon, glorious king
Of men! He will not let his wrath abate,
But rages yet more fiercely, and contemns
Thee and thy gifts. He leaves thee to consult
With thine Achaians by what means to save
The fleet and army; for himself he means
Tomorrow, with the early dawn, to launch
His well-appointed galleys on the sea,
And will advise the other Greeks to spread
The sails for home, since they will never see
The overthrow of lofty Troy, for Jove
The Thunderer stretches his protecting hand
Above her, and her sons have taken heart.
Such are his words; and those who went with me
Are present—Ajax and the heralds both,
Sage men—the witnesses to what I say.
The aged Phoenix stays behind to sleep,
And on the morrow to attend his chief
To their beloved country—if he will,
For else by no means will he take him hence.”

He spake; and all were silent, all amazed
At what they heard, for these were bitter words.
Long sat the sons of Greece in silent thought,
Till Diomed, the great in battle, spake:—
“Atrides Agamemnon, glorious king
Of men! I would thou hadst not deigned to ask
The illustrious son of Peleus for his aid,
With offer of large gifts; for arrogant
He is at all times: thou hast made him now
More insolent. Now leave him to himself,
To go or to remain: he yet will fight
When his mood changes, or some god within
Shall move him. Let us do what I advise:—
Betake we all ourselves to rest, but first
Refresh ourselves with food and wine; in them
Is strength and spirit. When the rosy morn
Shall shine, command thou that the foot and horse
Be speedily drawn up before the fleet,
And thou encourage them with cheerful words,
And fight among them in the foremost rank.”

He spake. The kings assented, and admired
The words of the horse-tamer Diomed;
And, pouring out libations, to their tents
They all departed, and lay down to rest,
And took into their souls the balm of sleep.

Book 10

The Night-Adventure of Diomed and Ulysses

Agamemnon’s distress at the obstinacy of Achilles—Consults with Menelaus, Nestor, Ulysses, and Diomed—A council—Diomed and Ulysses set out for the enemy’s camp to learn his designs—Death of Dolon, the Trojan Spy—Rhesus the Thracian killed in his tent and his horses taken.

All the night long the captains of the Greeks
Slept at the ships, and pleasant was their sleep—
Save only Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
The shepherd of the people. Not to him—
Vexed with a thousand cares—came gentle sleep.
As when the husband of the light-haired queen
Of heaven sends forth his thunders, ushering in
Some wide-involving shower—rain, hail, or snow
Whitening the fields—or opening o’er some land
The ravenous jaws of unrelenting war—
So frequent were the groans which from his heart
Atrides uttered; for within his breast
His heart was troubled. Looking toward the plain
Of Troy, he wondered at the many fires
Blazing before the city, and the sound
Of flutes and fifes, and tumult of the crowd.
But when he turned him toward the fleet and host
Of Greece, he tore his hair, and flung it up
To Jove, and vented his great heart in groans.
And now at length it seemed to him most wise
To seek Neleian Nestor, and with him
Devise some plan by which to turn aside
The threatened evil from the Greeks. He rose,
And drew his tunic o’er his breast, and laced
The graceful sandals to his well-shaped feet;
And o’er his shoulders threw the blood-stained hide
Of a huge tawny lion, that reached down
Even to the ground; and took in hand his spear.
Meantime with like uneasy thoughts oppressed
Was Menelaus, to whose eyes there came
No slumber—dreading lest calamity
Should light upon the Greeks, who for his sake
Had crossed the sea to carry war to Troy.
And first he threw a leopard’s spotted hide
O’er his broad back, and placed the brazen helm
Upon his head, and took in his strong grasp
A spear, and went to bid his brother wake—
His brother, the chief ruler over all
The men of Greece, and honored like a god.
He found him at his galley’s prow in act
To sheath his shoulders in the shining mail,
And pleased to greet his coming. To the king
Thus Menelaus, great in battle, spake:—

“Why arm thyself, my brother? Wouldst thou send
A warrior to explore the Trojan camp?
None will accept the task, I fear, to creep
Alone at dead of night, a spy, within
The hostile lines;—a bold man must he be.”

Then answered Agamemnon, king of men:—
“Most noble Menelaus, much we need
Wise counsel—thou and I—to save our men
And galleys from destruction, since the will
Of Jove is changed. Now hath the God respect
To Hector’s sacrifices; for in truth
I never saw—I never heard of one
Who in one day performed such mighty deeds
As Hector, dear to Jove, just now hath wrought,
Though not the son of goddess or of god.
Those deeds will be, I deem, for many a day
A cause of bitter sorrow to the Greeks—
Such evil hath he wrought. Now go at once,
And from their galleys call Idomeneus
And Ajax; while to noble Nestor’s tent
I go, and pray that he will rise and give
Their orders to the sacred band of guards;—
For they will hearken to him, since his son
Commands them jointly with Meriones,
The armor-bearer of Idomeneus—
Both named by us to that important trust.”

Then Menelaus, great in battle, said:—
“What wilt thou, then, and what dost thou command—
That I remain with them until thou come,
Or, having given the message, seek thee here?”

Again the monarch Agamemnon spake:—
“Wait there, lest as we go I meet thee not,
For many ways are through the camp. But thou,
In going, shout aloud and bid them all
Be vigilant, accosting everyone
By his paternal name, and giving each
Due honor: bear thyself not haughtily:
We too must labor; for when we were born
Jove laid this hard condition on us all.”

So spake he, and, dismissing with that charge
His brother, hastened to where Nestor lay,
The shepherd of his people. Him he found
On his soft couch within his tent beside
His dark-brown ship. Around him scattered shone
His arms—a shield, two spears, a gleaming helm,
And pliant belt, with which the ancient man
Girded himself when arming to lead on
His men to murderous fight;—for not to age
The warrior yielded yet. He raised his head,
And, leaning on his elbow, questioned thus
Atrides: “Who art thou that traversest
The camp beside the fleet at dead of night,
Alone, while others sleep? Com’st thou to find
One of the guardsmen, or a comrade? Speak;
Come not in silence thus: what wouldst thou have?”

Then answered Agamemnon, king of men:—
“O Nestor, son of Neleus, whom the Greeks
All glory in! Thou certainly wilt know
Atrides Agamemnon, whom the will
Of Jove hath visited with hardships great
Beyond what others bear, to last while breath
Is in my lungs, and while my knees can move.
I wander thus abroad because sweet sleep
Comes not to close my eyelids, and the war
And slaughter of the Greeks distress me sore.
For them I greatly fear, my heart is faint,
My mind confounded. In my breast the heart
Pants, and my limbs all tremble. If thou wilt—
For, as I see, thou also dost not sleep—
Come with me to the guards, that we may know
Whether, o’ercome by toil and weariness,
They give themselves to slumber and forget
Their watch. The foe is near us in his camp,
And how know we that even now by night
He plans not, to attack us in our tents?”

Then Nestor, the Gerenian knight, replied:—
“Atrides Agamemnon, glorious king
Of men, almighty Jove will not perform
For Hector all that Hector plans and hopes;
And heavier cares, I think, will yet be his
When once Achilles’ wrath is turned away.
Yet willingly I join thee. Let us call
The other chiefs—Ulysses, Diomed,
Both mighty spearmen; Ajax, swift of foot;
And the brave son of Phyleus. It were well
To send and bid the mightier Ajax come,
And King Idomeneus, for farthest off
The ships of both are stationed. I shall chide
Thy brother Menelaus—though he be
Honored and dear, and though it please thee not—
For sleeping, while he leaves such toils as these
To thee alone. He should be here among
The chiefs, exhorting them to valiant deeds;
For now the hour of bitter need is come.”

Again spake Agamemnon, king of men:—
“At other times, old chief, I would have begged
That thou shouldst blame him: he is oft remiss,
And late to act; but not because of sloth,
Or want of spirit, but he looks to me
And waits for my example. Yet tonight
He rose before me, sought me, and is sent
To call the chiefs whom thou hast named; and now
Let us go on, and meet them where they wait,
Among the guards and just before the gates—
For I appointed that the trysting-place.”

And Nestor, the Gerenian knight, replied:—
“Then let no Greek condemn him, or refuse
To heed and to obey when he shall speak.”

He spake, and drew his tunic o’er his breast,
Laced the fair sandals to his shapely feet,
And round him fastened, with a clasp, his cloak—
A double web of purple, with full folds
And flowing pile. He grasped a massive spear,
Its blade of trenchant brass. And first he sought
The galleys of the Achaians brazen-mailed.
There shouted Nestor the Gerenian knight,
To raise Ulysses, best of counsellors,
Jove-like in wisdom; who perceived the voice,
And issued from his tent in haste, and said:—

“What brings you forth to walk the camp at night,
Beside the ships alone; what urgent cause?”

Then answered Nestor, the Gerenian knight:—
“Son of Laertes, nobly born, and skilled
In wise devices, be thou not displeased:
A fearful woe impends above the Greeks:
Come, then, and call the other chiefs, to give
Their counsel whether we shall flee or fight.”

He spake; and wise Ulysses, entering
His tent again, upon his shoulders laid
His well-wrought shield, and joined them as they went,
Till, coming to Tydides Diomed,
They found him by his tent among his arms,
His comrades sleeping round him with their shields
Beneath their heads. Their spears were set upright,
The nether points in earth. The polished brass
Gleamed like the lightnings of All-Father Jove.
In sleep the hero lay; a wild bull’s hide
Was spread beneath him, and a carpet dyed
With glowing colors propped his head. The knight,
Gerenian Nestor, touched him with his foot
And roused him, and addressed him chidingly:—

“O son of Tydeus! Wilt thou calmly sleep
All the night long? And hast thou, then, not heard
That on a height amidst the plain the sons
Of Troy are stationed, near the ships, and small
The space that parts the enemy’s camp from ours?”

He spake. The son of Tydeus sprang from sleep
At once, and answered him with wingèd words:

“Thy labors are too constant, aged man;
Thou shrinkest from no hardship. Are there not
Young men among the Greeks to walk the camp
And call the kings? Thou never takest rest.”

And Nestor, the Gerenian knight, replied:—
“Well hast thou said, my friend, for I have sons
Without reproach, and I have many troops;
And any one of these might walk the camp
And give the summons. But tonight there lies
A hard necessity upon the Greeks,
And their destruction and their rescue hang
Balanced on a knife’s edge. Come then, since thou
Art younger, call swift Ajax and the son
Of Phyleus, if thou wouldst relieve my age.”

He spake; and Diomed around him flung
A tawny lion’s ample hide, that reached
Down to his feet, and took his spear and went
And summoned the two kings, and brought them forth.

Now when they came among the assembled guard,
Its leaders were not slumbering; every man
Sat watchful and in arms. As dogs that guard
Flocks in a sheepfold hear some savage beast
That comes through thickets down the mountainside;
Loud is the clamor of the dogs and men,
And sleep is frightened thence—so gentle sleep
Fled from the eyes of those who watched, that night,
Sadly, with eyes turned ever toward the plain,
Intently listening for the foe’s approach.
The aged Nestor saw them, and rejoiced,
And thus encouraged them with wingèd words:—

“Watch thus, dear youths, let no one yield to sleep,
Lest we become the mockery of the foe.”

He spake, and crossed the trench; and with him went
The Grecian leaders, they who had been called
To council. With them went Meriones
And Nestor’s eminent son, for they had both
Been summoned. Crossing to the other side
Of that deep trench, they found an open space
Clear of the dead, in which they sat them down—
Just where the fiery Hector, having slain
Many Achaians, turned him back when night
Came o’er him. There they sat to hold debate
And thus spake Nestor the Gerenian knight:—

“Friends! Is there none among you who so far
Trusts his own valor that he will tonight
Venture among the Trojans? He perchance
Might capture on the borders of the camp
Some foeman wandering, or might bring report
Of what they meditate, and whether still
They mean to keep their station far from Troy
And near our ships, or, since their late success,
Return to Ilium. Could he safely bring
This knowledge back to us, his meed were great,
Glory among all men beneath the sky,
And liberal recompense. As many chiefs
As now command our galleys, each would give
A black ewe with a suckling lamb—such gifts
No one hath yet received—and he should sit
A guest at all our banquets and our feasts.”

He spake; and all were silent for a space.
Then Diomed, the great in battle, said:—

“Nestor, my resolute spirit urges me
To explore the Trojan camp, that lies so near;
Yet, were another warrior by my side,
I should go forth with a far surer hope,
And greater were my daring. For when two
Join in the same adventure, one perceives
Before the other how they ought to act;
While one alone, however prompt, resolves
More tardily and with a weaker will.”

He spake; and many a chief made suit to share
The risk with Diomed. The ministers
Of Mars, the chieftains Ajax, asked to go;
Meriones desired it; Nestor’s son
Greatly desired to join the enterprise;
Atrides Menelaus, skilled to wield
The spear, desired it; and that hardy chief,
Ulysses, longed to explore the Trojan camp,
For full of daring aims was the great soul
Within his bosom. Agamemnon then,
The king of men, took up the word and said:—

“Tydides Diomed, most dear of men,
Choose from the many chiefs, who ask to bear
A part with thee, the bravest. Be not moved
By deference to take the worse and leave
The abler warrior. Pay no heed to rank,
Or race, or wide extent of kingly rule.”

Thus spake the king; for in his heart he feared
For fair-haired Menelaus. Diomed,
The great in battle, then addressed them all:—

“Ye bid me choose: how, then, can I o’erlook
Godlike Ulysses, prudent in resolve,
And firm in every danger, well beloved
By Pallas. Give me him, and our return
Is sure, though from consuming flames; for he
Is wise to plan beyond all other men.”

Ulysses, nobly born and hardy, spake
In turn: “Tydides, praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks,
Who know me. Meantime let us haste to go,
For the night wears away, and morn is near.
The stars are high, two thirds of night are past—
The greater part—and scarce a third remains.”

He spake; and both arrayed themselves for fight.
The mighty warrior Thrasymedes gave
The two-edged sword he wore to Diomed—
Whose own was at the galleys—and a shield.
The hero then put on his helmet, made
Of tough bull-hide, with neither cone nor crest—
Such as is worn by beardless youths. A bow,
Quiver, and sword Meriones bestowed
Upon Ulysses, placing on his brows
A leathern helmet, firmly laced within
By many a thong, and on the outer side
Set thickly with a tusky boar’s white teeth,
Which fenced it well and skilfully. A web
Of woollen for the temples lined the work.
This helm Autolycus once bore away
From Eleon, the city where he sacked
The stately palace of Amyntor, son
Of Ormenus. The captor gave the prize
To the Cytheran chief, Amphidamas,
Who bore it to Scandeia, and in turn
Bestowed it upon Molus as his guest,
And Molus gave it to Meriones,
His son, to wear in battle. Now at last
It crowned Ulysses’ temples. When the twain
Were all accoutred in their dreadful arms,
Forward they went, and left the assembled chiefs,
While, sent by Pallas forth, upon their right
A heron flew beside their path. The bird
They saw not, for the night was dark, but heard
Its rustling wings. Ulysses at the sound
Rejoiced, and supplicated Pallas thus:—

“Hear! daughter of the Aegis-bearer Jove!
Thou who art near me in all dangers, thou
Whose eye is on me wheresoe’er I go,
Befriend me, Pallas, yet again, and grant
That, laden with great glory, we return
Safe to the galleys, mighty deeds performed,
And woe inflicted on the Trojan race.”

Next Diomed, the great in battle, prayed:—
“Daughter invincible of Jove, give ear
Also to me. Be with me now, as once
Thou didst attend on Tydeus nobly born,
My father, when he bore an embassy
To Thebé from the Achaians. He beside
The Asopus left the Achaians mailed in brass,
And bore a friendly message to the sons
Of Cadmus, and on his return performed
Full many a mighty deed with aid from thee,
Great goddess! for thou stoodest by his side.
Stand now by me; be thou my shield and guard;
And I, in turn, will offer up to thee
A yearling heifer, broad between the horns,
Which never ploughman yet hath tamed to bear
The yoke. Her to thine altar will I bring,
With gilded horns, to be a sacrifice.”

So prayed they. Pallas listened to their prayers;
And, having supplicated thus the child
Of Jove Almighty, the two chiefs went on Like lions through the darkness of the night, Through slaughter, heaps of corses, and black blood.

Nor now had Hector suffered the brave sons
Of Troy to sleep, but summoned all the chiefs,
Leaders, and princes of the host, and thus
Addressed the assembly with well-ordered words:—

“Who of you all will promise to perform
The task I set him, for a large reward?
For ample shall his meed be. I will give
A chariot and two steeds with lofty necks,
Swifter than the swift galleys of the Greeks.
Great glory will be his whoever dares
Approach those ships and bring the knowledge thence
Whether the fleet is guarded as before,
Or whether, yielding to our arms, the foe
Is meditating flight, and, through the night
O’ercome with weariness, keeps watch no more.”

He spake; and all were silent for a space.
Now there was one, among the Trojan chiefs,
Whose father was Eumedes, of the train
Of reverend heralds. Dolon was his name,
And he was rich in gold and brass, deformed
In face but swift of foot, an only son
Among five sisters. He stood forth among
The Trojans, and replied to Hector thus:—

“My daring spirit, Hector, urges me
To visit the swift ships and learn the state
Of the Greek host. But hold thy sceptre forth,
And solemnly attest the gods that thou
Wilt give to me the horses, and the car
Engrailed with brass, which bear the illustrious son
Of Peleus. I shall not explore in vain,
Nor balk thy hope of me; for I will pass
Into the camp until I reach the ship
Of Agamemnon, where the chiefs are now
Debating whether they shall fly or fight.”

He spake; and Hector held the sceptre forth,
And swore: “Be Jupiter the Thunderer,
Husband of Juno, witness, that those steeds
Shall bear no other Trojan than thyself.
That honor I confirm to thee alone.”

He spake. It was an idle oath, yet gave
New courage to the spy, who instantly
Upon his shoulders hung his crooked bow,
And round him flung a gray wolf’s hide, and placed
A casque of otter-skin upon his head,
And took his pointed javelin, and made haste
To reach the Grecian fleet. Yet was he doomed
Never to leave that fleet again, nor bring
Tidings to Hector. Soon was he beyond
The crowd of men and steeds, and eagerly
Held on his way. Ulysses first perceived
His coming, and thus spake to Diomed:—

“Someone, Tydides, from the enemy’s camp
Is coming, either as a spy, or else
To spoil the dead. First let us suffer him
To pass us by a little on the plain,
Then let us rush and seize him. Should his speed
Be greater than our own, let us attack
The fugitive with spears, and drive him on
To where our ships are lying, from his camp,
Lest, flying townward, he escape our hands.”

He spake; and both lay down without the path
Among the dead, while he unwarily
Passed by them. When he now had gone as far
As two yoked mules might at the furrow’s end
Precede a pair of oxen—for by mules
The plough is drawn more quickly through the soil
Of the deep fallow—then they rose, and rushed
To seize him. As he heard their steps he stopped.
In hope that his companions had been sent
From Troy by Hector to conduct him back.
But when they came within a javelin’s cast,
Or haply less, he saw that they were foes,
And moved his nimble knees, and turned to flee,
While rapidly they followed. As two hounds,
Sharp-toothed, and trained to track their prey, pursue
Through forest-grounds some fawn or hare that runs
Before them panting, so did Diomed
And terrible Ulysses without stop
Follow the fugitive, to cut him off
From his own people. In his flight he came
Where soon he would have mingled with the guards,
Close to the fleet. Then Pallas breathed new strength
Into Tydides, that no other Greek
Might boast that he had wounded Dolon first,
And steal the honor. Therefore, with his spear
Uplifted, Diomed rushed on and spake:—

“Stop, or my spear o’ertakes thee, nor wilt thou
Escape a certain death from this right hand.”

He spake, and hurled his spear—but not to smite—
At Dolon, over whose right shoulder passed
The polished weapon, and, descending, pierced
The ground. Then Dolon, pale and fear-struck, stopped,
And quaked, with chattering teeth and stammering speech.
They, breathless with the chase, came up and seized
His hands, while, bursting into tears, he spake:—

“Take me alive, and ye shall have from me
A ransom: there is store of brass and gold
And well-wrought steel, of which a princely share
My father will bestow when he shall hear
Of me alive and at the Grecian fleet.”

The crafty chief Ulysses answered thus:—
“Take heart, and cease to think of death, but tell,
And truly, why thou camest to our fleet:
Was it to strip the bodies of the dead?
Camest thou, sent by Hector, as a spy
Among our ships, or of thine own accord?”

And Dolon answered, trembling still with fear:—
“Hector, against my will and to my hurt,
Persuaded me. He promised to bestow
On me the firm-paced coursers, and the car
Engrailed with brass, which bear the illustrious son
Of Peleus, and enjoined me by the aid
Of darkness to approach the foe and learn
Whether ye guard your galleys as before,
Or, overcome by us, consult on flight,
And, wearied with the hardships of the day,
Have failed to set the accustomed nightly watch.”

The man of craft, Ulysses, smiled, and said:—
“Truly, thy hope was set on princely gifts—
The steeds of war-renowned Aeacides,
Hard to be reined by mortal hands, or driven as
By any, save by Peleus’ son himself,
Whom an immortal mother bore. But come,
Tell me—and tell the truth—where hast thou left
Hector, the leader of the host, and where
Are laid his warlike arms; where stand his steeds;
Where are the sentinels, and where the tents
Of other chiefs? On what do they consult?
Will they remain beside our galleys here,
Or do they meditate, since, as they say,
The Greeks are beaten, a return to Troy?”

Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:—
“What thou requirest I will truly tell.
Hector is with his counsellors, and now,
Apart from all the bustle, at the tomb
Of Ilus the divine, he plans the war.
Sentries, of whom thou speakest, there are none;
No chosen band, O hero! has in charge
To guard the camp. By all their blazing fires,
Constrained by need, the Trojans keep awake,
And each exhorts his fellow to maintain
The watch: not so the auxiliar troops who came
From far: they sleep, and since they have no wives
Nor children near, they let the Trojans watch.”

Then thus the man of wiles, Ulysses, spake:—
“How sleep they—mingled with the knights of Troy
Or by themselves? Tell me, that I may know.”

Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:—
“What thou requirest I will truly tell.
On one hand, toward the sea, the bowmen lie
Of Caria and Paeonia, and with them
Lelegans, Caucons, and the gallant tribe
Of the Pelasgians. On the other hand,
Toward Thymbra, are the Lycians, the proud race
Of Mysia, Phrygia’s knights, and cavalry
Of the Maeonians. Why should ye inquire
The place of each? If ye design tonight
To penetrate into the Trojan camp,
There are the Thracians, newly come, apart
From all the others: with them is their king,
Rhesus, the son of Eioneus; his steeds
Are far the largest and most beautiful
I ever saw—the snow is not so white,
The wind is not so swift. His chariot shines
With gold and silver, and the coat of mail
In which he came to Troy is all of gold,
And gloriously and marvellously bright,
Such as becomes not mortal men to wear,
But the gods only. Now to your swift Ships
Lead me; or bind me fast with thongs, and here
Leave me till your return; and ye shall know
Whether the words I speak be true or false.”

Then sternly spake the gallant Diomed:—
“Once in our hands a prisoner, do not think,
O Dolon! to escape, though thou hast told
Things that shall profit us. For if we now
Release thee thou wilt surely come again
To the Greek fleet, a spy, or openly
To fight against us. If I take thy life,
’Tis certain thou wilt harm the Greeks no more.”

He spake. And as the suppliant took his chin
In his large hand, and had begun a prayer,
He smote him with his sword at the mid-neck,
And cut the tendons both; the severed head,
While yet he spake, fell, rolling in the dust.
And then they took his helm of otter-skin
The wolf’s-hide, sounding bow, and massive spear.
The nobly born Ulysses in his hand
Lifted the trophies high, devoting them
To Pallas, deity of spoil, and prayed:—

“Delight thyself, O goddess, in these arms,
For thee we first invoke, of all the gods
Upon Olympus. Guide us now to find
The camp and coursers of the sons of Thrace.”

He spake; and, raising them aloft, he hung
The spoils upon a tamarisk, and brake
Reeds and the spreading branches of the tree
To form a mark, that so on their return
They might not, in the darkness, miss the spot.
Then onward, mid strewn arms and pools of blood,
They went, and soon were where the Thracians lay.
There slept the warriors, overpowered with toil;
Their glittering arms were near them, fairly ranged
In triple rows, and by each suit of arms
Two coursers. Rhesus slumbered in the midst.
Near him were his fleet horses, which were made
Fast to the chariot’s border by the reins.
Ulysses saw them first, and, pointing, said:—

“This is the man, O Diomed, and these
The steeds, described by Dolon whom we slew.
Come, then; put forth thy strength of arm, for ill
Doth it become thee to stand idle here,
Armed as thou art. Loose thou the steeds; or else
Slay thou the men, and leave the steeds to me.”

He spake. The blue-eyed Pallas straightway gave
Strength to Tydides, who on every side
Dealt slaughter. From the smitten by the sword
Rose fearful groans; the ground was red with blood.
As when a ravening lion suddenly
Springs on a helpless flock of goats or sheep,
So fell Tydides on the Thracian band,
Till twelve were slain. Whomever Diomed
Approached and smote, the sage Ulysses seized,
And drew him backward by the feet, that thus
The flowing-maned coursers might pass forth
Unhindered, nor, by treading on the dead,
Be startled; for they yet were new to war.
Now when the son of Tydeus reached the king—
The thirteenth of his victims—him he slew
As he breathed heavily; for on that night
A fearful dream, in shape Oenides’ son,
Stood o’er him, sent by Pallas. Carefully
Ulysses meantime loosed the firm-paced steeds,
And, fastening them together, drave them forth,
Urging them with his bow: he had not thought
To take the showy lash that lay in sight
On the fair chariot-seat. In going thence
He whistled, as a sign to Diomed,
Who lingered, pondering on his next exploit—
Whether to seize the chariot where was laid
The embroidered armor, dragging it away;
Or, lifting it aloft, to bear it thence;
Or take more Thracian lives. As thus his thoughts
Were busy, Pallas, standing near him, spake:—

“O son of large-souled Tydeus, think betimes
Of thy return to where the galleys lie;
Else may some god arouse the sons of Troy,
And thou be forced to reach the ships by flight.”

She spake. He knew the goddess by her voice,
And leaped upon a steed. Ulysses lashed
The horses with his bow, and on they flew
Toward the swift galleys of the Grecian host.

Apollo, bearer of the silver bow,
Kept no vain watch, and, angry when he saw
Minerva at the side of Diomed,
Down to the mighty host of Troy he came,
And roused from sleep a Thracian counsellor—
Hippocoön, a kinsman of the house
Of Rhesus. Leaping from his couch, he saw
The vacant spot where the swift steeds had stood,
And, weltering in their blood, the dying chiefs,
He saw, and wept aloud, and called by name
His dear companion. Then a clamor rose,
And boundless tumult, as the Trojans came
All rushing to the spot, and marvelling
At what the daring warriors, who were now
Returning to the hollow ships, had done.

And when these warriors now had reached the spot
Where Hector’s spy was slain, Ulysses, dear
To Jupiter, reined in the fiery steeds,
And Diomed leaped down and took the spoil
Blood-stained, and gave it to Ulysses’ hands,
And mounted. Then again they urged the steeds,
Which, not unwilling, flew along the way.
First Nestor heard the approaching sound, and said:—

“Friends, chiefs and princes of the Greeks, my heart—
Truly or falsely—urges me to speak.
The trampling of swift steeds is in my ears.
O that Ulysses and the gallant son
Of Tydeus might be bringing at this hour
Firm-footed coursers from the enemy’s camp!
Yet must I fear that these, our bravest chiefs,
Have met disaster from the Trojan crew.”

While he was speaking yet, the warriors came.
They sprang to earth; their friends, rejoicing, flocked
Around them, greeting them with grasp of hands
And with glad words, while the Gerenian knight,
Nestor, inquired: “Declare, illustrious chief,
Glory of Greece, Ulysses, how ye took
These horses: from the foe;—or did some god
Bestow them? They are glorious as the sun.
Oft am I midst the Trojans, for, though old,
I lag not idly at the ships; yet ne’er
Have my eyes looked on coursers like to these.
Some god, no doubt, has given them, for to Jove,
The God of storms, and Pallas, blue-eyed child
Of aegis-bearing Jove, ye both are dear.”

Then sage Ulysses answered: “Pride of Greece!
Neleian Nestor, truly might a god
Have given us nobler steeds than even these.
All power is with the gods. But these of which
Thou askest, aged man, are brought from Thrace,
And newly come. Brave Diomed hath slain
Their lord, and twelve companions by his side—
All princes. Yet another victim fell—
A spy whom, near our ships, we put to death—
A man whom Hector and his brother chiefs
Sent forth by midnight to explore our camp.”

He spake, and gayly caused the firm-paced steeds
To pass the trench; the other Greeks, well pleased,
Went with him. When they reached the stately tent
Of Diomed, they led the coursers on
To stalls where Diomed’s fleet horses stood
Champing the wholesome corn, and bound them there
With halters neatly shaped. Ulysses placed
Upon his galley’s stern the bloody spoil
Of Dolon, to be made an offering
To Pallas. Then, descending to the sea,
They washed from knees and neck and thighs the grime
Of sweat; and when in the salt wave their limbs
Were cleansed, and all the frame refreshed, they stepped
Into the polished basins of the bath,
And, having bathed and rubbed with fragrant oil
Their limbs, they sat them down to a repast,
And from a brimming jar beside them drew,
And poured to Pallas first, the pleasant wine.

Book 11

The Third Battle, and Exploits of Agamemnon

Renewal of the fight by Agamemnon—His prowess—Hector warned by Iris not to fight till Agamemnon is wounded—Agamemnon disabled—Hector makes great havoc till checked by Ulysses and Diomed—Diomed wounded by Paris, and rescued by Ajax, who rallies the Greeks—Machaon wounded—Conversations of Nestor and Patroclus.

Now did the Morning from her couch beside
Renowned Tithonus rise, that she might bring
The light to gods and men, when Jupiter
To the swift galleys of the Grecian host
Sent baleful Strife, who bore in hand aloft
War’s ensigns. On the huge black ship that brought
Ulysses, in the centre of the fleet,
She stood, where she might shout to either side—
To Telamonian Ajax in his tents
And to Achilles, who had ranged their ships
At each extreme of the Achaian camp,
Relying on their valor and strong arms.
Loud was the voice, and terrible, in which
She shouted from her station to the Greeks,
And into every heart it carried strength
And the resolve to combat manfully
And never yield. The battle now to them
Seemed more to be desired than the return
To their dear country in their roomy ships.
Atrides called aloud, exhorting them
To gird themselves for battle. Then he clad
Himself in glittering brass. First to his thighs
He bound the beautiful greaves with silver clasps,
Then fitted to his chest the breastplate given
By Cinyras, a pledge of kind intent;—
For, when he heard in Cyprus that the Greeks
Were bound for Ilium in their ships, he sent
This gift, a homage to the king of men;—
Ten were its bars of tawny bronze, and twelve
Were gold, and twenty tin; and on each side
Were three bronze serpents stretching toward the neck,
Curved like the colored bow which Saturn’s son
Sets in the clouds, a sign to men. He hung
His sword, all glittering with its golden studs,
About his shoulders. In a silver sheath
It nestled, which was slung on golden rings.
And then he took his shield, a mighty orb,
And nobly wrought and strong and beautiful,
Bound with ten brazen circles. On its disk
Were twenty bosses of white tin, and one
Of tawny bronze just in the midst, where glared
A Gorgon’s-head with angry eyes, round which
Were sculptured Fear and Flight. Along its band
Of silver twined a serpent wrought in bronze,
With three heads springing from one neck and formed
Into an orb. Upon his head he placed
A helmet rough with studs on every side,
And with four bosses, and a horse-hair plume
That nodded fearfully on high. He took
In hand two massive spears, brass-tipped and sharp,
That shone afar and sent their light to heaven,
Where Juno and Minerva made a sound
Like thunder in mid-sky, as honoring
The sovereign of Mycenae rich in gold.

Each chief gave orders to his charioteer
To stay his horses firmly by the trench,
While they rushed forth in arms. At once arose,
Ere yet the sun was up, a mighty din.
They marshalled by the trench the men on foot;
The horse came after, with short space between.
The son of Saturn sent among their ranks
Confusion, and dropped down upon the host
Dews tinged with blood, in sign that he that day
Would send to Hades many a valiant chief.

The Trojans, on their side, in the mid-plain
Drew up their squadrons on a hill, around
The mighty Hector, and Polydamas
The blameless, and Aeneas, who among
The sons of Troy was honored like a god,
And three sons of Antenor, who were named
Agenor and the noble Polybus
And the young Acamas of godlike bloom,
There Hector in the van uplifted bore
His broad round shield. As some portentous star
Breaks from the clouds and shines, and then again
Enters their shadow, Hector thus appeared
Among the foremost, issuing his commands,
Then sought the hindmost. All in brass, he shone
Like lightnings of the Aegis-bearer, Jove.

As when two lines of reapers, face to face,
In some rich landlord’s field of barley or wheat
Move on, and fast the severed handfuls fall,
So, springing on each other, they of Troy
And they of Argos smote each other down,
And neither thought of ignominious flight.
They met each other man to man; they rushed
Like wolves to combat. Cruel Strife looked on
Rejoicing; she alone of all the gods
Was present in the battle; all the rest,
Far off, sat quiet in their palaces,
The glorious mansions built for them along
The summits of Olympus. Yet they all
Blamed Saturn’s son that he should honor thus
The Trojans. The All-Father heeded not
Their murmurings, but, seated by himself
Apart, exulting in his sovereignty,
Looked on the city of Troy, the ships of Greece,
The gleam of arms, the slayers, and the slain.

While yet ’twas morn, and still the holy light
Of day was brightening, fast the weapons smote
On either side, and fast the people fell;
But at the hour when on the mountain-slope
The wood cutter makes ready his repast,
Weary with felling lofty trees, and glad
To rest, and eager for the grateful meal,
The Greeks, encouraging each other, charged
And broke the serried phalanxes of Troy.
First Agamemnon, springing forward, slew
The shepherd of his people and their chief,
Bienor, and his trusty comrade next—
The charioteer Oileus, who had leaped
Down from his chariot to confront the king.
Him Agamemnon with his trenchant spear
Smote in the forehead as he came. The helm
Of massive brass was vain to stay the blow:
The weapon pierced it and the bone, and stained
The brain with blood; it felled him rushing on.
The monarch stripped the slain, and, leaving them
With their white bosoms bare, went on to slay
Isus and Antiphus, King Priam’s sons—
One born in wedlock, one of baser birth—
Both in one chariot. Isus held the reins
While Antiphus, the high-born brother, fought.
These had Achilles once on Ida’s height
Made prisoners, as they fed their flocks; he bound
Their limbs with osier bands, but gave them up
For ransom to the Trojans. Now the king
Of men, Atrides Agamemnon, pierced
Isus above the nipple with his spear,
And with his falchion smiting Antiphus
Beside the ear, he hurled him from his car.
Then hastening up, and stripping from the dead
Their shining mail, he knew them; he had seen
Both at the ships to which the fleet of foot,
Achilles, brought them bound from Ida’s side.
As when a lion comes upon the haunt
Of a swift hind, to make an easy prey
Of her young fawns, and, with his powerful teeth
Seizing them, takes their tender lives; while she,
Though nigh, can bring no aid but yields herself
To mortal fear, and, to escape his rage,
Flies swiftly through the wood of close-grown oaks,
With sweaty sides—thus none of all the host
Of Trojans could avert from Priam’s sons
Their fate, but fled in terror from the Greeks.
Next on Pisander and Hippolochus
Atrides rushed—brave warriors both, and sons
Of brave Antimachus, the chief who took
Gold and rich gifts from Paris, and refused
To let the Trojans render Helen back
To fair-haired Menelaus. His two sons,
Both in one car, and reining their fleet steeds,
Atrides intercepted; they let fall
The embroidered reins, dismayed, as, lion-like,
Forward he came; and, cowering, thus they prayed:—

“Take us alive, Atrides, and accept
A worthy ransom, for Antimachus
Keeps in his halls large treasures—brass and gold.
And well-wrought steel; and he will send, from these,
Large ransom, hearing we are at the fleet
Alive.” So prayed they with bland words, and met
Harsh answer: “Since ye call Antimachus
Your father, who in Trojan council once
Proposed that Menelaus, whom we sent
A legate with Ulysses the divine,
Should not return to Greece, but suffer death,
Your blood must answer for your father’s guilt.”

So spake the king, and, striking with his spear
Pisander’s breast, he dashed him from the car.
Prone on the ground he lay. Hippolochus
Leaped down and met the sword. Atrides lopped
His hands and drave the weapon through his neck,
And sent the head to roll among the crowd.
And then he left the dead, and rushed to where
The ranks were in disorder; with him went
His-well-armed Greeks; there they who fought on foot
Slaughtered the flying foot; the horsemen there
Clove horsemen down: the coursers’ trampling feet
Raised the thick dust to shadow all the plain;
While Agamemnon cheered the Achaians on,
And chased and slew the foe. As when a fire
Seizes a thick-grown forest, and the wind
Drives it along in eddies, while the trunks
Fall with the boughs amid devouring flames,
So fell the flying Trojans by the hand
Of Agamemnon. Many high-maned steeds
Dragged noisily their empty cars among
The ranks of battle, never more to bear
Their charioteers, who lay upon the earth
The vulture’s feast, a sorrow to their wives.

But Jove beyond the encountering arms, the dust,
The carnage, and the bloodshed and the din
Bore Hector, while Atrides in pursuit
Was loudly cheering the Achaians on.
Meantime the Trojans fled across the plain
Toward the wild fig-tree growing near the tomb
Of ancient Ilus, son of Dardanus—
Eager to reach the town; and still the son
Of Atreus followed, shouting, and with hands
Blood-stained and dust-begrimed. And when they reached
The Scaean portals and the beechen tree,
They halted, waiting for the rear, like beeves
Chased panting by a lion who has come
At midnight on them, and has put the herd
To flight, and one of them to certain death—
Whose neck he breaks with his strong teeth and then
Devours the entrails, lapping up the blood.
Thus did Atrides Agamemnon chase
The Trojans; still he slew the hindmost; still
They fled before him. Many by his hand
Fell from their chariots prone, for terrible
Beyond all others with the spear was he.
But when he now was near the city-wall,
The Father of immortals and of men
Came down from the high heaven, and took his seat
On many-fountained Ida. In his grasp
He held a thunderbolt, and this command
He gave to Iris of the golden wings:—

“Haste, Iris fleet of wing, and bear my words
To Hector:—While he sees the king of men,
Atrides, in the van and dealing death
Among the ranks of warriors, let him still
Give way, encouraging his men to hold
Unflinching battle with the enemy.
But when Atrides, wounded by a spear
Or arrow, shall ascend his chariot, then
Will I nerve Hector’s arm with strength to slay
Until he come to the good ships of Greece,
And the sun set, and hallowed night come down.”

He spake; and she, whose feet are like the wind
In swiftness, heeded the command, and flew
From Ida’s summit to the sacred town
Of Troy, and found the noble Hector, son
Of warlike Priam, standing mid the steeds
And the strong chariots, and, approaching, said:—

“O Hector, son of Priam, and like Jove
In council! Jove the All-Father bids me say,
As long as thou shalt see the king of men,
Atrides, in the van, and dealing death
Among the ranks of warriors, thou shalt still
Give way, encouraging thy men to hold
Unflinching battle with the enemy;
But when Atrides, wounded by a spear
Or arrow, shall ascend his chariot, then
Will Jove endue thy arm with strength to slay
Until thou come to the good ships of Greece,
And the sun set, and hallowed night come down.”

So the fleet Iris spake, and went her way;
While Hector, leaping from his car in arms,
And wielding his sharp spears, went everywhere
Among the Trojan ranks, exhorting them
To combat, and renewed the stubborn fight.
They rallied and stood firm against the Greeks.
The Greeks, in turn, made strong their phalanxes.
The battle raged again, as front to front
They stood, while Agamemnon eagerly
Pressed forward, proud to lead the van in fight.

Say, Muses, dwellers of Olympus! Who
First of the Trojans or their brave allies
Encountered Atreus’ son? Iphidamas,
Son of Antenor, strong and daring, bred
On the rich soil of Thrace, the nurse of flocks.
His grandsire Cisseus, from whose loins the fair
Theano sprang, had reared him from a child
Within his palace; and, when he attained
Youth’s glorious prime, still kept him, giving him
His child to wife. He wedded her, but left
At once the bridal chamber when he heard
Of the Greek war on Ilium, and set sail
With twelve beaked galleys. These he afterward
Left at Percope—marching on to Troy.
And he it was who came to meet the son
Of Atreus. As the heroes now drew near
Each other, Agamemnon missed his aim;
His thrust was parried. Then Iphidamas
Dealt him beneath the breastplate on the belt
A vigorous blow, and urged the spear with all
His strength of arm; yet through the plated belt
It could not pierce, for there it met a plate
Of silver, and its point was turned like lead.
With lion strength, Atrides seized and drew
The weapon toward him, plucked it from the hand
That held it, and let fall his falchion’s edge
Upon the Trojan’s neck and laid him dead.
Unhappy youth! He slept an iron sleep—
Slain fighting for his country, far away
From the young virgin bride yet scarcely his,
For whom large marriage-gifts he made—of beeves
A hundred—and had promised from the flocks
That thronged his fields a thousand sheep and goats.
Atrides Agamemnon spoiled the slain,
And bore his glorious armor off among
The Argive host. Antenor’s elder son,
Illustrious Coön, saw, and bitter grief
For his slain brother dimmed his eyes. He stood
Aside, with his spear couched, while unaware
The noble Agamemnon passed, and pierced
The middle of the monarch’s arm below
The elbow; through the flesh the shining point
Passed to the other side. The king of men,
Atrides, shuddered, yet refrained not then
From combat; but with his wind-seasoned spear
He rushed on Coön, who, to drag away
His father’s son Iphidamas, had seized
The body by the feet, and called his friends,
The bravest, to his aid. Atrides thrust
His brazen spear below the bossy shield,
And slew him as he drew the corpse, and o’er
The dead Iphidamas struck off his head.
Thus were Antenor’s sons—their doom fulfilled—
Sent by Atrides to the realm of death.
And then he ranged among the enemy’s ranks
With wielded lance and sword and ponderous stones,
While yet the warm blood issued from his wound.
But when the wound grew dry, and ceased to flow
With blood, keen anguish seized his vigorous frame
As when a woman feels the piercing pangs
Of travail brought her by the Ilythian maids,
Daughters of Juno, who preside at births,
And walk the ministers of bitter pains—
Such anguish seized on Agamemnon’s frame;
And, leaping to his chariot-seat, he bade
The guider of the steeds make haste to reach
The roomy ships, for he was overcome
With pain; but first he shouted to the Greeks:—

“O friends, the chiefs and princes of the Greeks!
Yours is the duty to drive back the war
From our good ships, since all-disposing Jove
Forbids me, for this day, to lead the fight.”

He spake. The charioteer applied the lash,
And not unwillingly the long-maned steeds
Flew toward the hollow ships; upon their breasts
Gathered the foam; beneath their rapid feet
Arose the dust, as from the battle’s din
They bore the wounded warrior. Hector saw
The flight of Agamemnon, and aloud
Called to the Trojans and the Lycians thus:—

“Trojan and Lycian warriors, and ye sons
Of Dardanus, who combat hand to hand,
Be men; be mindful of your fame in war.
Our mightiest foe withdraws; Saturnian Jove
Crowns me with glory. Urge your firm-paced steeds
On the brave Greeks, and win yet nobler fame.”

He spake. His words gave courage and new strength
To every heart. As when a hunter cheers
His white-toothed dogs against some lioness
Or wild boar from the forest, Hector thus,
The son of Priam, terrible as Mars
The slayer of men, cheered on the gallant sons
Of Troy against the Greeks. Himself, inspired
With fiery valor, rushed among the foes
In the mid-battle foremost, like a storm
That swoops from heaven, and on the dark-blue sea
Falls suddenly, and stirs it to its depths.

Who then was slain the first, and who the last,
By Hector, Priam’s son, whom Jove designed
To honor? First, Asaeus; Uolops, son
Of Clytis; and Autonoüs; and then
Opites and Opheltius; next to whom
Aesymnus, Agelaus, Orus fell,
And resolute Hipponous the last.
All these, the princes of the Greeks, he slew,
Then smote the common crowd. As when a gale
Blows from the west upon the mass of cloud
Piled up before the south-wind’s powerful breath,
And tears it with a mighty hurricane,
While the swol’n billows tumble, and their foam
Is flung on high before the furious blast,
So by the sword of Hector fell the heads
Of the Greek soldiery; and there had been
Ruin and ravage not to be repaired,
And the defeated Greeks had flung themselves
Into their ships, had not Ulysses then
Exhorted thus Tydides Diomed:—

“Tydides! What has quenched within our hearts
Their fiery valor? Come, my friend, and take
Thy stand beside me: foul disgrace were ours
Should crested Hector make our fleet his prize.”

And thus the valiant Diomed replied:—
“Most willingly I stand, and bear my part
In battle; but with little hope, for Jove,
The God of storms, awards the day to Troy.”

He spake, and pierced Thymbraeus with his spear
Through the left breast, and dashed him from his car.
Meanwhile Ulysses struck Molion down,
The prince’s stately comrade. These they left
Never to fight again, and made their way
Through the thick squadrons, carrying, as they went,
Confusion with them. As two fearless boars
Rush on the hounds, so, mingling in the war,
They bore the foe before them, and the Greeks
Welcomed a respite from the havoc made
By noble Hector. Next they seized a car
Which bore two chiefs, the bravest of their host—
Sons of Percosian Merops, who was skilled
Beyond all men in portents. He enjoined
His sons to keep aloof from murderous war.
Yet did they not obey him, for the fate
That doomed the twain to death impelled them on;
And Diomed, the mighty with the spear,
Spoiled them of life, and bore their armor off,
A glittering prize. Meantime Ulysses slew
Hippodamus, and next Hypirochus.
The son of Saturn looked from Ida’s height,
And bade the battle rage on either side
With equal fury: both the encountering hosts
Slew and were slain. Tydides with his spear
Smote on the hip the chief Agastrophus,
The son of Paeon, thoughtless wretch, whose steeds
Were not at hand for flight; his charioteer
Held them at distance, while their master rushed
Among the foremost warriors till he fell.
Hector perceived his fall, as through the files
He looked, and straightway hastened to the spot
With shouts; and after him came rapidly
The phalanxes of Trojans. Diomed,
The great in battle, shuddered as he saw,
And thus addressed Ulysses, who was near:—

“Lo! The destroyer, furious Hector, comes!
Let us stand firm, and face and drive him back.”

He said, and cast his brandished lance, nor missed
The mark: it smote the helm on Hector’s head.
The brass glanced from the brass; it could not pierce
To the fair skin; the high and threefold helm—
A gift from Phoebus—turned the point aside.
The chief fell back, and, mingling with the throng,
Dropped on one knee, and yet upheld himself
With one broad palm upon the ground, while night
Darkened his eyes. The son of Tydeus sprang
To seize his spear, which now stood fixed in earth
Among the foremost warriors. In that time
Did Hector breathe again, and, having leaped
Into his chariot, he avoided death,
By mingling with the crowd; while, spear in hand,
Brave Diomed pursued him, shouting thus:—

“This time, thou cur, hast thou escaped thy doom,
Though it was nigh thee. Phoebus rescues thee—
The god to whom thou dost address thy prayers—
Whene’er thou venturest mid the clash of spears.
Yet will I surely slay thee when we meet,
If any god be on my side; and now
I go to strike where’er I find a foe.”

He spake, and struck the son of Paeon down,
Skilful to wield the spear. But now the spouse
Of fair-haired Helen—Alexander—stood
Leaning against a pillar by the tomb
Of the Dardanian Ilus, who had been
An elder of the people; and he bent
His bow against the monarch Diomed,
Who at that moment knelt to strip the slain
Of the rich breastplate, and the shield that hung
Upon his shoulders, and the massive casque.
The Trojan drew the bow’s elastic horn,
And sent an arrow that not vainly flew,
But, striking the right foot, pierced through, and reached
The ground beneath. Then Paris, with a laugh,
Sprang from his ambush, shouting boastfully:—

“Lo, thou art smitten! Not in vain my shaft
Has flown; and would that it had pierced thy groin
And slain thee! Then the Trojans had obtained
Reprieve from slaughter—they who dread thee now
As bleating goats a lion.” Undismayed,
The valiant Diomed made answer thus:—

“Archer and railer! Proud of thy smart bow,
And ogler of the women! Wouldst thou make
Trial of valor hand to hand with me,
Thy bow should not avail thee, nor thy sheaf
Of many arrows. Thou dost idly boast
That thou hast hit my foot. I heed it not.
It is as if a woman or a child
Had struck me. Lightly falls the weapon-stroke
Of an unwarlike weakling. ’Tis not so
With me, for when one feels my weapon’s touch,
It passes through him, and he dies; his wife
Tears with her hands her cheeks; his little ones
Are orphans; earth is crimsoned with his blood;
And flocking round his carcass in decay,
More numerous than women, are the birds.”

He spake. Ulysses, mighty with the spear,
Came near and stood before him while he sat
Concealed, and drew the arrow from his foot.
Keen was the agony that suddenly
Shot through his frame: he leaped into his car,
And bade his charioteer make haste to reach
The roomy ships: the pain had reached his heart.
Ulysses, the great spearman, now was left
Alone, no Greek remaining by his side;
For fear had seized them all. With inward grief
The hero thus addressed his mighty soul:—

“What will become of me? A great disgrace
Will overtake me if I flee in fear
Before this multitude; and worse will be
My fate if I am taken here alone,
While Jove has driven away the other Greeks
In terror. Why these questions, since I know
That cowards skulk from combat, while the brave,
Wounded or wounding others, keeps his ground?”

While thus he reasoned with himself, the ranks
Of Trojans armed with bucklers came and closed
Around their dreaded enemy. As when
A troop of vigorous dogs and youths assail
From every side a wild boar issuing forth
From a deep thicket, whetting the white tusks
Within his crooked jaws; they press around,
And hear his gnashings, yet beware to come
Too nigh the terrible animal—so rushed
The Trojans round Ulysses, the beloved
Of Jupiter. Then first the hero smote
Deïopites on the shoulder-blade,
And next struck Thoön down, and Ennomus,
And in the navel pierced Chersidamas
With his sharp spear, below the bossy shield,
When leaping from his chariot. In the dust
He fell, and grasped the earth with dying hands.
Ulysses left them there, and with his spear
He wounded Charops, son of Hippasus,
And brother of brave Socus. Socus saw,
And hastened to his aid, and, standing near,
The godlike chief bespake Ulysses thus:—

“Renowned Ulysses! of whose arts and toils
There is no end, thou either shalt today
Boast to have slain two sons of Hippasus,
Brave as they are, and stripped them of their arms,
Or, smitten by my javelin, lose thy life.”

He spake, and smote the Grecian’s orbèd shield.
The swift spear, passing through the shining disk,
And fixed in the rich breastplate, tore the skin
From all his side; yet Pallas suffered not
The blade to reach the inner parts. At once
The chief perceived that Socus had not given
A mortal wound, and, falling back a step,
Thus spake: “Unhappy youth, thy doom will soon
O’ertake thee. Though thou forcest me to pause
From combat with the Trojans, I declare,
This day thou sufferest the black doom of death.
Thou, smitten by my spear, shalt bring to me
Increase of glory, and shalt yield thy soul
To the grim horseman Pluto.” Thus he spake,
While Socus turned to flee; and as he turned,
Ulysses with the spear transfixed his back,
And drave the weapon through his breast: he fell,
With armor clashing, to the earth, while thus
The great Ulysses gloried over him:—

“O Socus! son of warlike Hippasus
The horseman! Death has overtaken thee,
And thou couldst not escape. Unhappy one!
Now thou art dead thy father will not come
To close thy eyes, nor she, the honored one
Who gave thee birth; but birds of prey shall flap
Their heavy wings above thee, and shall tear
Thy flesh, while I in dying shall receive
Due funeral honors from the noble Greeks.”

He spake, and from his wounded side drew forth,
And from his bossy shield, the ponderous spear
Which warlike Socus threw. A gush of blood
Followed, and torturing pain. Now, when they saw
Ulysses bleed, the gallant sons of Troy
Called to each other, rushing in a crowd
To where he stood. Retreating as they came,
He shouted to his comrades. Thrice he raised
His voice as loud as human lungs could shout;
Thrice warlike Menelaus heard the cry,
And spake at once to Ajax at his side:—

“Most noble Ajax, son of Telamon,
Prince of thy people! To my ear is brought
The cry of that unconquerable man,
Ulysses, seemingly as if the foe
Had hemmed him round alone, and pressed him sore
In combat. Break we through the crowd, and bring
Succor, lest harm befall him, though so brave—
Fighting among the Trojans thus alone—
And lest the Greeks should lose their mighty chief.”

He spake, and led the way; his godlike friend
Followed. They found Ulysses, dear to Jove—
The Trojans thronging round him like a troop
Of ravening jackals round an antlered stag
Which one who hunts upon the mountain-side
Hath stricken with an arrow from his bow:
By flight the stag escapes, while yet the blood
Is warm and easily the limbs are moved;
But when at last the shaft hath quelled his strength,
The hungry jackals in the forest shade
Among the hills attack him, till by chance
The dreaded lion comes; alarmed, they flee,
And he devours the prey. So in that hour,
Many and brave, the sons of Troy pursued
Ulysses, skilled in war and wiles; while he
Wielded the spear and warded off the day
Of death. Then Ajax, coming near him, stood,
With his tall buckler, like a tower of strength
Beside him, and the Trojans fled in fear
On all sides. Warlike Menelaus took
Ulysses by the hand, and led him forth
From the thronged spot, while his attendant brought
The chariot near him. Ajax sprang upon
The Trojans, slaying Doryclus, a son
Of Priam basely born. Then Pandorus
He wounded; next he struck Lysander down,
Pyrasus and Pylartes. As a stream,
Swol’n to a torrent by the showers of Jove
Sweeps down, from hill to plain, dry oaks and pines,
And pours into the sea a muddy flood,
So mighty Ajax routed and pursued
The Trojans o’er the plain, and cut his way
Through steeds and warriors. Hector knew not this.
He fought where, on the battle’s left, beside
The Xanthus, fastest fell the slain, and round
Great Nestor and the brave Idomeneus
Arose a mighty tumult. In that throng
Did Hector mingle with his spear and steeds,
Performing feats of valor, and laid waste
The ranks of youthful warriors. Yet the Greeks
Would not have yielded ground, if Paris, spouse
Of fair-haired Helen, had not forced the chief
Machaon, fighting gallantly, to pause;
For with an arrow triple-barbed he pierced
The chiefs right shoulder, and the valiant Greeks
Feared lest the battle turn and he be slain.
And thus Idomeneus to Nestor said:—

“Neleian Nestor, glory of the Greeks,
Haste, mount thy chariot; let Machaon take
A place beside thee; urge thy firm-paced steeds
Rapidly toward the fleet; a leech like him,
Who cuts the arrow from the wound and soothes
The pain with balms, is worth a host to us.”

He spake; and the Gerenian knight obeyed,
And climbed the car in haste. Machaon, son
Of Aesculapius the peerless leech,
Mounted beside him; Nestor lashed the steeds,
And toward the roomy ships, which well they knew,
And longed to reach, they flew with eager speed.

Meantime Cebriones, who had his seat
By Hector in the chariot, saw the ranks
Of Troy disordered, and addressed the chief:—

“While we, O Hector, here are mid the Greeks
Just in the skirts of the tumultuous fray,
The other Trojans, men and steeds, are thrown
Into confusion where the warriors throng,
For Telamonian Ajax puts their ranks
To rout; I know him well by that broad shield
Borne on his shoulders. Thither let us drive
Our steeds and chariot, where in desperate strife
Meet horse and foot and hew each other down,
And a perpetual clamor fills the air.”

He spake; and with the whistling lash he struck
The long-maned steeds, and, as they felt the stroke,
Forward they flew with the swift car among
The Greeks and Trojans, trampling in their way
Corpses and shields. The axle underneath
Was steeped in blood; the rim of the chariot-seat
Was foul with the red drops which from their hoofs
The coursers sprinkled and the wheels threw up.
Then Hector strove, by rushing on the crowd,
To pierce it and break through it. To the Greeks
His coming brought destruction and dismay;
And well his spear was wielded. Through the ranks
Of other warriors with the spear he ranged,
With sword and ponderous stones; yet warily
He shunned the fight with Ajax Telamon.

Then Father Jove Almighty touched with fear
The heart of Ajax. All amazed he stood,
And cast his sevenfold buckler of bull’s-hide
Upon his back, and, terrified, withdrew.
Now casting glances like a beast of prey
From side to side, he turned to right and left,
And, slowly yielding, moved knee after knee.
As when the rustics with their hounds drive off
A hungry lion from their stalls of kine,
Whom, watching all the night, they suffer not
To make their herd a prey; but he, intent
On ravin, rushes forward, yet in vain;
For many a javelin flies from daring hands
Against him, many a blazing torch is swung,
At which, though fierce, he trembles, and at morn
Stalks off in sullen mood;—so Ajax, sad
At heart, and fearing for the Grecian fleet,
Unwillingly fell back before the foe.
And as, when entering in a field, an ass
Slow-paced, whose flanks have broken many a shaft
To splinters, crops the harvest as it grows,
And boys attack him with their rods—though small
Their strength—but scarce, till he has browsed his fill,
Can drive him forth—so did the gallant sons
Of Troy, and their allies from distant lands,
Continually pursue the mighty son
Of Telamon, and hurl their spears against
The centre of his shield. And now he wheeled,
As conscious of great valor, and repulsed
The crowding phalanxes; and now again
He turned to flee. And thus he kept the foe
From reaching the swift galleys, while he stood
Between the Greeks and Trojans, terrible
In wrath. The javelins hurled by daring hands
Against him—some hung fixed in his broad shield;
And many, ere they came to his fair skin,
Fell midway—eager though they were to pierce
The warrior’s side—and plunged into the earth.

Eurypylus, Evaemon’s noble son,
Saw Ajax sorely pressed with many darts,
And came and stood beside him, taking aim
With his bright spear, and in the liver smote,
Beneath the midriff, Apisaon, son
Of Phausias, and a prince among his tribe.
His knees gave way, and down he sank in death.
But godlike Alexander, who beheld
The slayer stripping Apisaon’s corpse
Of armor, at that moment bent his bow,
And pierced Eurypylus in the right thigh.
The reed brake in the wound. He writhed with pain,
And mingled with his fellows in the ranks,
Avoiding death, yet shouting to the Greeks:—

“O friends, the chiefs and leaders of the Greeks,
Rally and keep your ground; ward off the fate
Of death from Ajax, who is sorely pressed
With darts, and, much I fear, may not escape
Safe from this stormy conflict. Stand ye firm
Around the mighty son of Telamon.”

So spake the wounded warrior; while his friends
Rallied around him, with their shields inclined
Against their shoulders, and with lifted spears.
And Ajax came and joined them; then he turned,
And firmly faced the foe. The Greeks renewed
The combat with a rage like that of fire.

Now meantime the Neleian coursers, steeped
In sweat, were bearing Nestor and the prince
Machaon from the battle. On the prow
Of his great ship, Achilles, swift of foot,
Looked forth, and, gazing on the hard-fought fray
And the sad rout, beheld them. Then he called
His friend Patroclus, shouting from the ship.
Patroclus heard, within the tent, and came,
Glorious as Mars;—yet with that day began
His woes. The gallant Menoetiades
Made answer thus: “Why callest thou my name,
Achilles, and what needest thou of me?”

And thus rejoined Achilles, swift of foot:—
“Son of Menoetius, nobly born, and well
Beloved by me, the Greeks, I deem, will soon
Be at my knees, imploring aid; for now
A hard necessity besets their host.
But go, Patroclus, dear to Jove, and ask
Of Nestor who it is that he hath brought
Thus wounded from the field. Seen from behind,
His form was like Machaon—wholly like
That son of Aesculapius; but the face
I saw not, as the rapid steeds flew by.”

He spake. Patroclus hearkened to his friend,
And hastened to the Grecian tents and ships.

Now when they reached the tent of Neleus’ son,
The warriors in the chariot set their feet
Upon the nourishing earth. Eurymedon,
The old man’s charioteer, took from the mares
Their harness; while the chieftains cooled themselves,
And dried their sweaty garments in the breeze,
Facing the border of the sea, and then,
Entering the tent of Nestor, sat them down
On couches. Hecamede, bright of hair,
Prepared for them a mingled draught; the maid,
A daughter of the great Arsinoüs, came
From Tenedos with Nestor, when the town
Was ravaged by Achilles, and the Greeks
Gave her to Nestor, chosen from the rest
For him, as wisest of their counsellors.
First she drew forth a table fairly wrought,
Of polished surface, and with steel-blue feet,
And on it placed a brazen tray which bore
A thirst-provoking onion, honeycomb,
And sacred meal of wheat. Near these she set
A noble beaker which the ancient chief
Had brought from home, embossed with studs of gold.
Four were its handles, and each handle showed
Two golden turtles feeding, while below
Two others formed the base. Another hand
Could scarce have raised that beaker from its place,
But Nestor lifted it with ease. The maid,
Fair as a goddess, mingled Pramnian wine,
And grated o’er it, with a rasp of brass,
A goat’s-milk cheese, and, sprinkling the white flour
Upon it, bade them drink. With this they quenched
Their parching thirst, and then amused the time
With pleasant talk. Patroclus to the door
Meantime, a godlike presence, came, and stood.
The old man, as he saw him, instantly
Rose from his princely seat and seized his hand,
And led him in and bade him sit; but he
Refused the proffered courtesy, and said:—

“Nay, ’tis no time to sit: persuade me not,
Nursling of Jove; for he is to be feared,
And prone to wrath, who sent me to inquire
What wounded man is with thee; but I know—
Now that I see Machaon sitting here,
The shepherd of the people. I must haste
Back to Achilles, bearing my report.
Thou knowest, ancient chief, how quick he is
To take offence and blame the innocent.”

Then Nestor, the Gerenian knight, rejoined:—
“Why does Achilles pity thus the sons
Of Greece when wounded? Little can he know
What sorrow reigns throughout the Grecian host
While, smitten in the close or distant fight,
Our bravest lie disabled in their ships.
The valiant son of Tydeus—Diomed—
Is wounded—wounded Agamemnon lies,
And the great wielder of the javelin,
Ulysses. By an arrow in the thigh
Eurypylus is smitten, and I now
Bring home this warrior with an arrow-wound.
Yet doth Achilles, valiant as he is,
Care nothing for the Greeks. Will he then wait
Till our swift galleys, moored upon the shore,
After a vain defence shall feed the flames
Lit by the enemy’s hand, and we be slain,
And perish, heaps on heaps? My strength is now
Not that which dwelt in these once active limbs.
Would I were strong and vigorous as of yore,
When strife arose between our men and those
Of Elis for our oxen driven away,
And, driving off their beeves in turn, I slew
The Elean chief, the brave Itymoneus,
Son of Hypirochus! For, as he sought
To save his herd, a javelin from my arm
Smote him the first among his band. He fell;
His rustic followers fled on every side;
And mighty was the spoil we took: of beeves
We drave off fifty herds, as many flocks
Of sheep, of swine as many, and of goats
An equal number, and of yellow steeds
Thrice fifty;—these were mares, and by their sides
Ran many a colt. We drave them all within
Neleian Pylos in the night. Well pleased
Was Neleus, that so large a booty fell
To me, who entered on the war so young.
When morning brake, the heralds’ cry was heard
Summoning all the citizens to meet
To whom from fruitful Elis debts were due;
And then the princes of the Pyleans came,
And made division of the spoil. For much
The Epeians owed us: we were yet but few
In Pylos, and had suffered grievously.
The mighty Hercules in former years
Had made us feel his wrath, and of our men
Had slain the bravest: of the twelve who drew
Their birth from Neleus, I alone am left;
The others fell. The Epeians brazen-mailed
Saw this, delighted, and insulted us
And did us wrong. When now the spoil was shared
The old man for himself reserved a herd
Of oxen, and a numerous flock of sheep—
Three hundred, with their shepherds—for to him
Large debts were due in Elis. He had sent
Four horses once, of peerless speed, with cars,
To win a tripod, the appointed prize.
Augeias, king of men, detained them there,
And sent the grieving charioteer away.
My father, angered at the monarch’s words
And acts, took large amends, and gave the rest
To share among the people, that no one
Might leave the ground, defrauded of his right.
All this was justly done, and we performed
Due sacrifices to the gods, throughout
The city;—when the third day came, and brought
The Epeians all at once, in all their strength—
Both men on foot and prancing steeds. With these
Came the Molions twain, well armed, though young
And yet untrained to war. There is a town
Named Thryoëssa, on a lofty hill
Far off beside Alpheius, on the edge
Of sandy Pylos. They beleaguered this,
And sought to overthrow it. As they crossed
The plain, Minerva came, a messenger,
By night from Mount Olympus, bidding us
Put on our armor. Not unwillingly
The Pyleans mustered, but in eager haste
For battle. Yet did Neleus not consent
That I should arm myself—he hid my steeds;
For still he deemed me inexpert in war.
Yet even then, although I fought on foot,
I won great honor even among the knights;
For so had Pallas favored me. A stream
Named Minyeius pours into the sea
Near to Arena, where the Pylean knights
Waited the coming of the holy morn,
While those who fought on foot came thronging
Thence, with our host complete, and all in arms,
We marched, and reached at noon the sacred stream at
Alpheius, where to Jove Omnipotent
We offered chosen victims, and a bull
To the river-god, another to the god
Of ocean, and a heifer yet unbroke
To blue-eyed Pallas. Then we banqueted,
In bands, throughout the army, and lay down
In armor by the river-side to sleep.
Meantime the brave Epeians stood around
The city, resolute to lay it waste.
But first was to be done a mighty work
Of war; for as the glorious sun appeared
Above the earth we dashed against the foe,
Praying to Jove and Pallas. When the fight
Between the Eleans and the Pylean host
Was just begun, I slew a youthful chief—
Mulius—and bore away his firm-paced steeds.
The fair-haired Agamedé, eldest-born
Of King Augeias’ daughters, was his spouse;
And well to her each healing herb was known
That springs from the great earth. As he drew near,
I smote him with my brazen lance: he fell
To earth: I sprang into his car, and stood
Among the foremost warriors; while, around,
The brave Epeians, as they saw him fall—
The leader of their knights, their mightiest
In battle—turned and, panic-stricken, fled,
Each his own way. I followed on their flight
Like a black tempest; fifty cars I took,
And from each car I dashed two warriors down,
Pierced by my spear. And now I should have slain
The young Molions also, Actor’s sons,
Had not their father, he who shakes the earth,
Enshrouded them in mist, and hidden them
From all pursuit. Then with victorious might
Did Jove endue our arms, while we pursued
The foe across a region strewn with shields—
Slaying, and gathering spoil—until our steeds
Came to Buprasium, rich in fields of wheat,
And to the Olenian rock, and to the hill
Alesium in Coloné. Pallas there
Stayed our pursuit, and bade our host return.
There slew I the last man, and left him there.
And then the Achaians, guiding their swift steeds
Homeward to Pylos from Euprasium, gave
Great thanks to Jupiter among the gods,
And Nestor among men. Such was I then
Among the heroes; but Achilles keeps
His valor for himself alone—and yet
Bitterly must he grieve when he beholds
Our people perish. O my friend! How well
Menoetius charged thee when he sent thee forth,
From Phthia, to Atrides! We were both—
The nobly born Ulysses and myself—
Within the palace, and we clearly heard
What he commanded thee. For we had come
To Peleus’ stately dwelling, on our way
Gathering a host in fertile Greece, and saw
The great Menoetius there, and there we found
Achilles with thee. There the aged knight
Peleus was burning, in the palace-court,
A steer’s fat thighs to Jove the Thunderer,
And lifted up a golden cup and poured
Dark wine upon the blazing sacrifice.
And both of you were busy with the flesh
When we were at the threshold. As he saw
Our coming, in surprise Achilles sprang
Toward us, and took our hands and led us in,
Bade us be seated, and before us placed
The generous banquet due to stranger-guests.
Then, having feasted, I began discourse,
Exhorting you to join us. Both of you
At once consented, and your fathers gave
Their admonitions. Aged Peleus charged
His son Achilles to excel the rest
In valor, while Menoetius, in his turn,
The son of Actor, gave thee this command:—

“ ‘My son, Achilles is the nobler born,
But thou art elder. He surpasses thee
By far in warlike might, but thou must prompt
His mind with prudent counsels; thou must warn
And guide him; he will hearken to thy words
Meant for his good.’ The old man charged thee thus.
Thou hast forgotten it. Yet speak thou now
To Peleus’ warlike son; and haply he
May heed thy counsels. Thou perchance mayst bend
His will—who knows?—by thy persuasive words
For wholesome are the warnings of a friend.
Yet, if he shrink from some predicted doom,
Or if his goddess-mother have revealed
Aught of Jove’s counsels to him, then, at least
Let him send thee to war, and let his troop
Of Myrmidons go with thee, so that thou
Mayst carry succor to the Greeks. Yet more—
Let him permit thee in the field to wear
His glorious armor, that the Trojan host,
Beholding thee so like to him, may shun
The combat, and the warlike sons of Greece,
Hard-pressed, may breathe again, and find at length
A respite from the conflict. Ye, who still
Are fresh and vigorous, shall assault and drive
Townward the weary foe from camp and fleet.”

He spake. The spirit of the youth took fire,
And instantly he hastened toward the ships
Of Peleus’ son. But when he came where lay
The galleys of Ulysses the divine,
Where was the assembly-place and judgment-seat,
And where the altars of the immortals stood,
Evaemon’s noble son, Eurypylus,
Met him as from the battle-field he came
Halting, and with an arrow in his thigh.
The sweat ran down his shoulders and his brow,
And the black blood was oozing from his wound,
Yet was his spirit untamed. The gallant youth,
Son of Menoetius, saw with grief, and said:—

“Unhappy chiefs and princes of the Greeks!
Are ye then doomed to feast with your fair limbs
The famished dogs of Ilium, far away
From friends and country? Tell me, child of Jove,
Gallant Eurypylus, will yet the Greeks
Withstand the mighty Hector, or give way
And perish, overtaken by his spear?”

And thus the wise Eurypylus replied:—
“Nursling of Jove, Patroclus! For the Greeks
There is no help, and all at their black ships
Must perish; for within them even now
All those who were our bravest warriors lie,
Wounded in close encounter, or from far,
By Trojan hands, whose strength with every hour
Becomes more terrible. Give now thine aid
And take me to my ship, and cut away
The arrow from my thigh, and from the part
Cleanse with warm water the dark blood, and shed
Soothing and healing balms upon the wound,
As taught thee by Achilles, who had learned
The art from Chiron, righteous in his day
Beyond all other Centaurs. Now the leech
Machaon lies, I think, among the tents,
Wounded, and needs the aid of others’ skill,
And Podalirius out upon the plain
Helps stem the onset of the Trojan host.”

Then spake the valiant Menoetiades:—
“O brave Eurypylus! What yet will be
The end of this, and what are we to do?
Even now I bear a message on my way
From reverend Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,
To the great warrior, Peleus’ son; and yet
I must not leave thee in thine hour of need.”

He spake; and, lifting in his arms the prince,
He bore him to his tent. A servant spread,
Upon his entering, hides to form a couch;
And there Patroclus laid him down and cut
The rankling arrow from his thigh, and shed
Warm water on the wound to cleanse away
The purple blood, and last applied a root
Of bitter flavor to assuage the smart,
Bruising it first within his palms: the pangs
Ceased; the wound dried; the blood no longer flowed.

Book 12

The Battle at the Grecian Wall

Division of the Trojan army, by advice of Polydamas, into five bodies, to storm the Greek entrenchments—A breach in the wall made by Sarpedon—One of the gates beaten open by Hector with a stone—His entrance at the head of his troops.

Thus in the camp Menoetius’ valiant son
Tended Eurypylus, and dressed his wounds;
While yet in mingled throngs the warriors fought—
Trojans and Greeks. Nor longer was the trench
A barrier for the Greeks, nor the broad wall
Which they had built above it to defend
Their fleet; for all around it they had drawn
The trench, yet not with chosen hecatombs
Paid to the gods, that so it might protect
The galleys and the heaps of spoil they held.
Without the favor of the gods it rose,
And therefore was not long to stand entire.
As long as Hector lived, and Peleus’ son
Was angered, and King Priam’s city yet
Was not o’erthrown, so long the massive wall
Built by the Greeks stood firm. But when at length
The bravest of the Trojans had been slain,
And many of the Greeks were dead—though still
Others survived—and when in the tenth year
The city of Priam fell, and in their ships
The Greeks went back to their beloved land,
Then did Apollo and the god of sea
Consult together to destroy the wall
By turning on it the resistless might
Of rivers, all that from the Idaean heights
Flow to the ocean—Rhesus, Granicus,
Heptaporus, Caresus, Rhodius,
Aesepus, and Scamander’s hallowed stream,
And Simoïs, in whose bed lay many shields
And helms and bodies of slain demigods.
Phoebus Apollo turned the mouths of these
All toward one spot; nine days against the wall
He bade their currents rush, while Jupiter
Poured constant rain, that floods might overwhelm
The rampart; and the god who shakes the earth,
Wielding his trident, led the rivers on.
He flung among the billows the huge beams
And stones which, with hard toil, the Greeks had laid
For the foundations. Thus he levelled all
Beside the hurrying Hellespont, destroyed
The bulwarks utterly, and overspread
The long broad shore with sand; and then he brought
Again the rivers to the ancient beds
In which their gently flowing waters ran.

This yet was to be done in time to come
By Neptune and Apollo. Meanwhile raged
Battle and tumult round that strong-built wall.
The towers in all their timbers rang with blows;
And, driven as by the scourge of Jove, the Greeks,
Hemmed closely in beside their roomy ships,
Trembled at Hector, the great scatterer
Of squadrons, fighting, as he did before,
With all a whirlwind’s might. As when a boar
Or lion mid the hounds and huntsmen stands,
Fearfully strong, and fierce of eye, and they
In square array assault him, and their hands
Fling many a javelin;—yet his noble heart
Fears not, nor does he fly, although at last
His courage cause his death; and oft he turns,
And tries their ranks; and where he makes a rush
The ranks give way;—so Hector moved and turned
Among the crowd, and bade his followers cross
The trench. The swift-paced horses ventured not
The leap, but stood upon the edge and neighed
Aloud, for the wide space affrighted them;
And hard it was to spring across, or pass
From side to side, for on each side the brink
Was steep, and bristled with sharp stakes, close set
And strong, which there the warrior sons of Greece
Had planted, a defence against the foe.
No steed that whirled the rapid car along
Could enter, but the soldiery on foot
Eagerly sought to pass, and in these words
Polydamas to daring Hector spake:—

“Hector, and ye who lead the troops of Troy
And our auxiliars! Rashly do we seek
To urge our rapid steeds across the trench
So hard to pass, beset with pointed stakes—
And the Greek wall so near. The troops of horse
Cannot descend nor combat there: the space
Is narrow: they would all be slain. If Jove,
The Thunderer of the skies, design to crush
The Greeks and succor Troy, I should rejoice
Were the design at once fulfilled, and all
The sons of Greece ingloriously cut off,
Far from their Argos. But if they should turn
Upon us, and repulse us from their fleet,
And we become entangled in the trench,
I deem no messenger would e’er go back
To Troy from fighting with the rallied Greeks.
Heed, then, my words, and let the charioteers
Stay with the coursers at the trench, while we,
Armed, and on foot, and all in close array,
Follow our Hector. For the Greeks in vain
Will strive to stem our onset if, in truth,
The hour of their destruction be at hand.”

So spake Polydamas; and Hector, pleased
To hear the prudent counsel, leaped to earth
With all his arms, and left his car. The rest
Rode with their steeds no more, but, hastily
Dismounting, as they saw their noble chief,
Each bade his charioteer hold back his steeds,
Reined at the trench, in ranks. And then, apart,
They mustered in five columns, following close
Their leaders. First, the largest, bravest band,
Those who, with resolute daring, longed to break
The rampart and to storm the fleet, were led
By Hector and the good Polydamas,
Joined with Cebriones—for Hector left
His chariot to the care of one who held
An humbler station than Cebriones.
Paris, Alcathoüs, and Agenor led
A second squadron. Helenus, a son
Of Priam, and Deïphobus, a youth
Of godlike form, his brother, took command
Of yet a third—with whom in rank was joined
The hero Asius, son of Hyrtacus,
Whose bright-haired coursers, of majestic size,
Had borne him from Arisba and the banks
Of Selleis. Aeneas led the fourth—
The brave son of Anchises; and with him
Were joined Archilochus and Acamas,
Sons of Antenor, skilled in arts of war.
The band of Troy’s illustrious allies
Followed Sarpedon, who from all the rest
Had chosen, to partake in the command,
Glaucus and brave Asteropoeus. These
He deemed the bravest under him; yet he
Stood foremost of them all in warlike might.

Then all, with their stout bucklers of bull’s-hide
Adjusted to each other, bravely marched
Against the Greeks, who, as they deemed, must fly
Before them, and must fall by their black ships.
Then all the other Trojans, and the allies
From foreign shores, obeyed the counsel given
By good Polydamas; but Asius, son
Of Hyrtacus, and prince of men, chose not
To leave his chariot and his charioteer,
But drave with them against the roomy ships.
Vain youth!—he was not destined to return,
Borne by his steeds and chariot, from the fleet,
And from the fate he braved, to wind-swept Troy.
His evil fate o’ertook him from the spear
Of great Idomeneus, Deucalion’s son;
For toward the galleys moored upon the left
He hastened by the way in which the Greeks,
With steeds and cars, retreated from the plain.
Thither he drave his coursers; there he found
The gates not closed, nor the long bar across,
But warriors held them open to receive
In safety their companions as they fled
From battle to the fleet. Exultingly
He turned his coursers thither, and his men
Followed him, shouting; for they thought the Greeks
Could not abide their onset, but must yield,
And perish by their ships. Deluded men!—
They met two mighty warriors at the gate—
The brave descendants of the Lapithae,
That warlike tribe: Pirithoüs’ gallant son
Was one, named Polypoetes; with him stood
Leonteus, strong as Mars the slayer of men.
By the tall gates they stood, as giant oaks
Stand on the mountains and abide the wind
And the tempestuous rains of all the year,
Firm-planted on their strong and spreading roots.
So they, confiding in their strength of arm,
Waited for mighty Asius hasting on,
And fled not. Onward came the hostile troop,
With their tough shields uplifted, and with shouts:
All rushing toward the massive wall they came,
Following King Asius, and Iamenus,
Orestes, Thoön, Acamas the son
Of Asius, and Oenomaüs. Meanwhile
Leonteus and his comrade had retired
Within, encouraging the well-armed Greeks
To combat for the fleet; but when they saw
The rout and panic of their flying host,
They darted forth and fought before the gates—
Fought like wild boars that in the mountains meet
A clamorous troop of men and dogs, and dart
Sideway at their assailants, break the trees
Close to the root, and fiercely gnash their tusks,
Until some javelin strikes them, and they die.
So on the breasts of the two warriors rang
The shining brass, oft smitten; for they fought
Fearlessly, trusting in the aid of those
Who held the wall, and their own valiant arms.
And they who stood on the strong towers hurled down
Stones, to defend the Achaians and their tents
And their swift ships. As snow-flakes fall to earth
When strong winds, driving on the shadowy cloud,
Shower them upon the nourishing glebe, so thick
Were showered the weapons from the hands of Greeks
And Trojans; and the helms and bossy shields,
Beaten by stones, resounded. Asius then—
The son of Hyrtacus—in anger groaned,
And smote his thighs impatiently, and said:—

“O Father Jove! Thou then art wholly false.
I did not look to see the men of Greece
Stand thus before our might and our strong arms;
Yet they, like pliant-bodied wasps or bees,
That build their cells beside the rocky way,
And quit not their abode, but, waiting there
The hunter, combat for their young—so these,
Although but two, withdraw not from the gates,
Nor will, till they be slain or seized alive.”

He spake; but moved not thus the will of Jove,
Who planned to give the glory of the day
To Hector. Meanwhile, at the other gates
Fought other warriors—but ’twere hard for me,
Were I a god, to tell of all their deeds;
For round the wall on every side there raged,
Fierce as consuming fire, a storm of stones.
The Greeks, in bitter anguish, yet constrained,
Fought for their fleet; and sorrowful were all
The gods who in the battle favored Greece.

Now the two Lapithae began the fight.
Pirithoüs’ son, brave Polypoetes, cast
His spear at Damasus; it broke its way
Through the helm’s brazen cheek—nor that alone:
Right through the temple went the brazen blade,
And crushed the brain within. He left him slain,
And next struck Pylon down, and Ormenus.
Leonteus, of the stock of Mars, assailed
Hippomachus, who from Antimachus
Derived his birth; he pierced him at the belt,
And, drawing forth his trenchant sword, hewed down,
In combat hand-to-hand, Antiphates;
He dashed him backward to the ground, and next
Smote Menon and Iamenus; and last
He slew Orestes: at his feet they lay,
A pile of dead, upon their mother Earth.

Then, as the twain were stripping from the dead
Their glittering arms, the largest, bravest band
Of those who eagerly desired to break
The rampart and to burn the ships with fire,
Following Polydamas and Hector, stood
Consulting at the trench. An augury,
Just as they were in act to cross, appeared
Upon the left: an eagle high in air,
Between the armies, in his talons bore
A monstrous serpent, bleeding, yet alive
And palpitating—nor disabled yet
For combat; for it turned, and on the breast
Wounded the eagle, near the neck. The bird
In pain let fall his prize amid the host,
And flew away, with screams, upon the wind.
The Trojans shuddered at the spotted snake
Lying among them, and Polydamas
Said thus to fearless Hector, standing near:—

“Hector, thou almost ever chidest me
In council, even when I judge aright.
I know it ill becomes the citizen
To speak against the way that pleases thee,
In war or council—he should rather seek
To strengthen thy authority; yet now
I will declare what seems to me the best:
Let us not combat with the Greeks, to take
Their fleet; for this, I think, will be the end,
If now the omen we have seen be meant
For us of Troy who seek to cross the trench;
This eagle, flying high upon the left,
Between the hosts, that in his talons bore
A monstrous serpent, bleeding, yet alive,
Hath dropped it mid our host before he came
To his dear nest, nor brought it to his brood;
So we, although by force we break the gates
And rampart, and although the Greeks fall back,
Shall not as happily retrace our way;
For many a Trojan shall we leave behind,
Slain by the weapons of the Greeks, who stand
And fight to save their fleet. Thus will the seer,
Skilled in the lore of prodigies, explain
The portent, and the people will obey.”

Sternly the crested Hector looked, and spake:—
“Polydamas, the thing that thou hast said
Pleases me not, and easily couldst thou
Frame better counsels. If thy words convey
Thy earnest thought, the gods assuredly
Have made thee lose thy senses. Thou dost ask
That I no longer reverence the decree
Of Jove, the Thunderer of the sky, who gave
His promise, and confirmed it. Thou dost ask
That I be governed by the flight of birds,
Which I regard not, whether to the right
And toward the morning and the sun they fly,
Or toward the left and evening. We should heed
The will of mighty Jupiter, who bears
Rule over gods and men. One augury
There is, the surest and the best—to fight
For our own land. Why dreadest thou the war
And conflict? Though we all should fall beside
The galleys of the Greeks, there is no fear
That thou wilt perish, for thou hast no heart
To stand against the foe;—no warrior thou!
Yet, if thou dare to stand aloof, or seek
By words to turn another from the fight,
The spear I wield shall take thy life at once.”

He spake, and went before; and all his band
Followed with fearful clamor. Jupiter,
The God of thunders, sending a strong wind
From the Idaean summits, drave the dust
Full on the galleys, and made faint the hearts
Of the Greek warriors, and gave new renown
To Hector and the men of Troy. For these,
Trusting in portents sent from Jupiter,
And their own valor, labored to break through
The massive rampart of the Greeks: they tore
The galleries from the towers, and levelled down
The breastworks, heaved with levers from their place
The jutting buttresses which Argive hands
Had firmly planted to support the towers,
And brought them to the ground; and thus they hoped
To force a passage to the Grecian camp.
Not yet did they of Greece give way: they fenced
The rampart with their ox-hide shields, and smote
The enemy from behind them as he came
Under the wall. The chieftains Ajax flew
From tower to tower, and cheered the Achaians on,
And roused their valor—some with gentle words,
And some with harsh rebuke—whome’er they saw
Skulk from the toils and dangers of the fight.
“O friends!” they said, “ye great in war, and ye
Of less renown, and ye of little note!—
For all are not alike in war—the time
Demands the aid of all, as well ye know:
And now let no man turn him toward the fleet
Before the threats of Hector, but press on,
And each exhort his fellow: so may Jove,
Who flings the lightning from Olympus, grant
That, driving back their onset, we may chase
The enemy to the very walls of Troy.”

Thus in the van they shouted, and awoke
New courage in the Greeks. As when the flakes
Of snow fall thick upon a winter-day,
When Jove the Sovereign pours them down on men,
Like arrows, from above;—he bids the wind
Breathe not; continually he pours them down,
And covers every mountaintop and peak,
And flowery mead, and field of fertile tilth,
And sheds them on the havens and the shores
Of the gray deep; but there the waters bound
The covering of snows—all else is white
Beneath that fast-descending shower of Jove;—
So thick the shower of stones from either side
Flew toward the other—from the Greeks against
The Trojans, and from them against the Greeks;
And fearful was the din along the wall.

Yet would illustrious Hector and the men
Of Troy have failed to force the gates and burst
The bar within, had not all-seeing Jove
Impelled his son Sarpedon to attack
The Greeks as falls a lion on a herd
Of horned beeves. The warrior held his shield,
A brazen orb, before him—beautiful,
And fenced with metal; for the armorer laid
Broad plates without, while under these he sewed
Bull’s-hides the toughest, edged with golden wires
Upon the rim. With this the warrior came,
Wielding two spears. As when a lion, bred
Among the mountains, fasting long from flesh,
Comes into the fenced pastures, without fear,
To prey upon the flock; and though he meet
The shepherds keeping watch with dogs and spears,
Yet will he not be driven thence until
He makes a spring into the fold and bears
A sheep away, or in the act is slain,
Struck by a javelin from some ready hand;—
Sarpedon, godlike warrior, thus was moved
By his great heart to storm the wall and break
Through the strong barrier; and to Glaucus, son
Of Lycia’s king Hippolochus, he said:—

“Why, Glaucus, are we honored, on the shores
Of Lycia, with the highest seat at feasts,
And with full cups? Why look men up to us
As to the gods? And why do we possess
Broad, beautiful enclosures, full of vines
And wheat, beside the Xanthus? Then it well
Becomes us, foremost in the Lycian ranks
To stand against the foe, where’er the fight
Is hottest; so our well-armed Lycian men
Shall say, and truly: ‘Not ingloriously
Our kings bear rule in Lycia, where they feast
On fatlings of the flock, and drink choice wine;
For they excel in valor, and they fight
Among our foremost.’ O my friend, if we,
Leaving this war, could flee from age and death,
I should not here be fighting in the van,
Nor would I send thee to the glorious war
But now, since many are the modes of death
Impending o’er us, which no man can hope
To shun, let us press on and give renown
To other men, or win it for ourselves!”

He spake; and Glaucus not unwillingly
Heard and obeyed. Right on the warriors pressed,
Leading the Lycian host. Menestheus, son
Of Peteus, saw, and trembled; for they came
With evil menace toward his tower. He looked
Along the Grecian lines in hope to see
Some chieftain there whose ready help might save
His comrades from their danger. He beheld
The rulers Ajax, never tired of war,
Standing with Teucer, who just then had left
His tent; and yet they could not hear his shout,
So fearful was the din that rose to heaven
From all the shields, and crested helms, and gates,
Smitten with missiles—for at all the gates
The Lycians thundered, struggling hard to break
A passage through them. Then Menestheus called
A herald near, and bade Thoötes bear
A message to the leaders Ajax, thus:—

“Go, nobly born Thoötes, and in haste
Call Ajax—call them both, for that were best—
Since terrible will be the slaughter here,
So fiercely are the Lycians pressing on,
Impetuous ever in assault. If there
The fight be also urgent, then at least
Let the brave Telamonian Ajax come,
And Teucer, the great archer, follow him.

He spake. The herald listened and obeyed,
And flew along the summit of the wall
Built by the Greeks. He reached, and stood beside,
The chieftains Ajax, and addressed them thus:—

“Ajaces, leaders of the warlike Greeks,
The honored son of noble Peteus asks
That ye will come, though for a little space,
To aid him and to share his warlike toils;
For terrible will be the slaughter there,
So fiercely are the Lycians pressing on,
Impetuous ever in assault. If here
The fight be also urgent, then at least
Let the brave Telamonian Ajax come.
And Teucer, the great archer, follow him.”

He ended. Ajax, son of Telamon,
Hearkened, and to his fellow-warrior said:—

“Here, where the gallant Lycomedes stands,
Ajax! remain, and, cheering on the Greeks,
Lead them to combat valiantly. I go
To stem the battle there, and when our friends
Are succored I will instantly return.”

So speaking, Ajax, son of Telamon,
Departed thence, and with him Teucer, sprung
From the same father. With them also went
Pandion, carrying Teucer’s crooked bow.
They came to brave Menestheus at his tower,
And went within the wall and met their friends,
Hard-pressed—for gallantly the Lycian chiefs
And captains, like a gloomy tempest, rushed
Up the tall breastworks; while the Greeks withstood
Their onset, and a mighty clamor rose.

Then Telamonian Ajax smote to death
Epicles, great of soul, Sarpedon’s friend:
Against that chief he cast a huge, rough stone,
That lay high up beside a pinnacle
Within the wall. No man with both his hands—
Such men as now are—though in prime of youth,
Could lift its weight; and yet he wielded it
Aloft, and flung it. Through the four-coned helm
It crashed, and brake the skull within. Down plunged
The Lycian, like a diver, from his place
On the high tower, and life forsook his limbs.
Then Teucer also wounded with a shaft
Glaucus, the brave son of Hippolochus,
As he leaped forth to scale the lofty wall—
Wounded him where the naked arm was seen,
And made him leave the combat. Back he sprang,
Hiding amid the crowd, that so the Greeks
Might not behold the wounded limb, and scoff.
With grief Sarpedon saw his friend withdraw,
Yet paused not from the conflict, but took aim
At Thestor’s son, Alcmaon, with his spear;
Pierced him; and drew the weapon out. The Greek,
Following the spear, fell headlong; and his arms,
Studded with brass, clashed round him as he fell.
Then did Sarpedon seize, with powerful hands,
The battlement; he wrenched it, and it came
To earth, and laid the rampart’s summit bare,
To make a passage for the assailing host.
Ajax and Teucer saw, and both took aim
Together at Sarpedon: Teucer’s shaft
Struck in the midst the buckler’s glittering belt,
Just at the bosom; but Jove warded off
The death-stroke from his son, lest he should fall
Beside the galleys. Ajax, springing, struck
The buckler with his spear, and pierced its folds,
And checked the eager warrior, who gave way
A little, yet retreated not, but turned,
Encouraging the godlike Lycians thus:—

“Where, Lycians, is your fiery valor now?
Were I the bravest, it were hard, alone,
For me to force a passage to the fleet,
Though I have cleared the way. Come on with me!
Light is the task when many share the toil.”
He spake; and they who reverenced his words
Of exhortation drew more closely round
Their counsellor and sovereign, while the Greeks
Above them made their phalanxes more strong
Within the wall—for urgent was the need;
Since neither could the gallant Syrians break
The barrier of the Greeks, and cut their way
Through to the fleet, nor could the warlike Greeks
Drive back the Lycians when they once had reached
The rampart. As two men upon a field,
With measuring-rods in hand, disputing stand
Over the common boundary, in small space,
Each one contending for the right he claims,
So, kept asunder by the breastwork, fought
The warriors over it, and fiercely struck
The orbèd bull’s-hide shields held up before
The breast, and the light targets. Many a one
Was smitten when he turned and showed the back
Unarmed, and many wounded through the shield.
The towers and battlements were steeped in blood
Of heroes—Greeks and Trojans. Yet were not
The Greeks thus put to flight; but, as the scales
Are held by some just woman, who maintains,
By spinning wool, her household—carefully
She poises both the wool and weights, to make
The balance even, that she may provide
A pittance for her babes—thus equally
Were matched the warring hosts, till Jupiter
Conferred the eminent glory of the day
On Hector, son of Priam. He it was
Who first leaped down into the space within
The Grecian wall, and, with far-reaching voice,
Thus shouted, calling to the men of Troy:—

“Rush on, ye knights of Troy! Rush boldly on,
And break your passage through the Grecian wall,
And hurl consuming flames against their fleet!”

So spake he, cheering on his men. They heard,
And rushed in mighty throngs against the wall,
And climbed the battlements, to charge the foe
With spears. Then Hector stooped, and seized a stone
Which lay before the gate, broad at the base
And sharp above, which two, the strongest men—
As men are now—could hardly heave from earth
Into a wain. With ease he lifted it,
Alone, and brandished it: such strength the son
Of Saturn gave him, that it seemed but light.
As when a shepherd carries home with ease
A wether’s fleece—he bears it in one hand,
And little is he cumbered with its weight—
So Hector bore the lifted stone, to break
The beams that strengthened the tall folding-gates.
Two bars within, laid crosswise, hold them firm—
Both fastened with one bolt. He came and stood
Before them; with wide-parted feet he stood,
And put forth all his strength, that so his arm
Might drive the missile home; and in the midst
He smote the folding-gates. The blow tore off
The hinges; heavily the great stone fell
Within: the portals crashed; nor did the bars
Withstand the blow: the shattered beams gave way
Before it; and illustrious Hector sprang
Into the camp. His look was stern as night;
And terribly the brazen armor gleamed
That swathed him. With two spears in hand he came,
And none except the gods—when once his foot
Was on the ground—could stand before his might.
His eyes shot fire, and, turning to his men,
He bade them mount the wall; and they obeyed:
Some o’er the wall, some through the sculptured gate,
Poured in. The Achaians to their roomy ships
Fled, and a fearful uproar filled the air.

Book 13

The Continuation of the Fourth Battle

Descent of Neptune in aid of the Greeks—His exhortations addressed to the Chiefs—The Trojans harangued by Hector, and the battle renewed with great fury—Hector’s advance checked by the Ajaxes, who rally the Greeks—Exploits of Meriones and Idomeneus—Idomeneus forced to retire by Deïphobus and Aeneas—The Trojans, hard pressed on their left, are rallied by Hector—Reproof of Paris by Hector, and mutual defiance of Hector and Ajax.

When Jove had brought the Trojans and their chief,
Hector, beside the ships, he left them there
To toil and struggle and endure, while he
Turned his resplendent eyes upon the land
Of Thracian horsemen, and the Mysians, skilled
To combat hand to hand, and the famed tribe
Of long-lived Hippomulgi, reared on milk,
And the most just of men. On Troy no more
He turned those glorious eyes, for now he deemed
That none of all the gods would seek to aid
Either the Greeks or Trojans in the strife.

The monarch Neptune kept no idle watch;
For he in Thracian Samos, dark with woods,
Aloft upon the highest summit sat
O’erlooking thence the tumult of the war;
For thence could he behold the Idaean mount,
And Priam’s city, and the Grecian fleet.
There, coming from the ocean-deeps, he sat,
And pitied the Greek warriors put to rout
Before the Trojans, and was wroth with Jove.
Soon he descended from those rugged steeps,
And trod the earth with rapid strides; the hills
And forests quaked beneath the immortal feet
Of Neptune as he walked. Three strides he took,
And at the fourth reached Aegae, where he stopped,
And where his sumptuous palace-halls were built,
Deep down in ocean, golden, glittering, proof
Against decay of time. These when he reached,
He yoked his swift and brazen-footed steeds,
With manes of flowing gold, to draw his car,
And put on golden mail, and took his scourge,
Wrought of fine gold, and climbed the chariot-seat,
And rode upon the waves. The whales came forth
From their deep haunts, and frolicked round his way:
They knew their king. The waves rejoicing smoothed
A path, and rapidly the coursers flew;
Nor was the brazen axle wet below.
And thus they brought him to the Grecian fleet.

Deep in the sea there is a spacious cave,
Between the rugged Imbrus and the isle
Of Tenedos. There Neptune, he who shakes
The shores, held back his steeds, took off their yoke,
Gave them ambrosial food, and, binding next
Their feet with golden fetters which no power
Might break or loosen, so that they might wait
Their lord’s return, he sought the Grecian host.

Still did the Trojans, rushing on in crowds,
Like flames or like a tempest, follow close
Hector, the son of Priam; still their rage
Abated not; with stormy cries they came;
They hoped to seize the fleet and slay the Greeks
Beside it. But the power who swathes the earth
And shakes it, Neptune, coming from the deep,
Revived the valor of the Greeks. He took
The shape of Calchas and his powerful voice,
And thus to either Ajax, who yet stemmed
The battle with a resolute heart, he spake:—

“O chieftains! Yours it is to save the host,
Recalling your old valor, with no thought
Of fatal flight. Elsewhere I feel no dread
Of what the daring sons of Troy may do
Who climb the wall in throngs; the well-greaved Greeks
Will meet them bravely. But where Hector leads,
Fierce as a flame, his squadrons, he who boasts
To be a son of sovereign Jove, I fear
Lest we should sorely suffer. May the gods
Strengthen your hearts to stand against the foe,
And flinch not, and exhort the rest to stand,
And drive him back, audacious as he is,
From the swift ships, though Jove should urge him on.”

Thus earth-surrounding Neptune said, and touched
Each hero with his sceptre, filled their hearts
With valor, gave new lightness to their limbs
And feet and hands, and then, as when a hawk
Shoots swiftly from some lofty precipice
And chases o’er the plain another bird,
So swiftly Neptune, shaker of the shores,
Darted from them away. Oileus’ son
Perceived the immortal presence first, and thus
At once to Telamonian Ajax spake:—

“Some god, O Ajax, from the Olympian hill,
Wearing the augur’s form, hath bid us fight
Beside the ships; nor can it be the seer
Calchas, for well I marked his feet and legs
As he departed; easily by these
The gods are known. I feel a spirit roused
In my own bosom eager to engage
In the fierce strife; my very feet below,
And hands above, take part in the desire.”

And thus the son of Telamon replied:—
“So also these strong hands that grasp the spear
Burn eagerly to wield it, and my heart
Is full of courage. I am hurried on
By both my feet, and vehemently long
To try alone the combat with this chief
Of boundless valor, Hector, Priam’s son.”

Thus they conferred, rejoicing as they felt
That ardor for the battle which the god
Had breathed into their hearts. Meantime he roused
The Achaians at the rear, who in their ships too
Sought respite, and whose limbs were faint with toil,
And their hearts sad to see the Trojan host
With tumult pouring o’er the lofty wall.
As they beheld, the tears came gushing forth
From underneath their lids; they little hoped
For rescue from destruction; but when came
The power that shakes the shores, he woke anew
The spirit of their valiant phalanxes.
Teucer he first addressed, and Leitus,
The hero Peneleus and Thoas next,
Deipyrus, Meriones expert
In battle, and Antilochus his peer,
And thus exhorted them with wingèd words:—

“Shame on you, Argive youths! I put my trust
In your tried valor to defend our fleet;
But if ye fear to face the perilous fight,
The day has risen which shall behold us fall
Vanquished before the Trojans. O ye gods!
These eyes have seen a marvel, a strange sight
And terrible, which I had never thought
Could be—the Trojans close upon our ships,
They who, erewhile, were like the timid deer
That wander in the wood an easy prey
To jackals, pards, and wolves—weak things, unapt
For combat, fleeing, but without an aim.
Such were the Trojans, who till now ne’er dared
Withstand the might and prowess of the Greeks
Even for an hour. But now, afar from Troy
They give us battle at the hollow ships,
All through our general’s fault, and through the sloth
Of the Greek warriors, who, displeased with him,
Fight not for their swift galleys, but are slain
Beside them. Yet although our sovereign chief,
Atrides Agamemnon, may have done
Foul wrong, dishonoring the swift-footed son
Of Peleus, still ye cannot without blame
Decline the combat. Let us then repair
The mischief done; the hearts of valiant men
Are soon appeased. And not without the loss
Of honor can your fiery courage sleep,
Since ye are known the bravest of the host.
I would not chide the weak, unwarlike man
For shrinking from the combat; but for you—
I look on you with anger in my heart.
Weaklings! Ye soon will bring upon yourselves
Some sorer evil if ye loiter thus.
Let each of you bethink him of the shame
And infamy impending. Terrible
The struggle is before us. Hector storms
The ships, loud-shouting Hector; he has burst
The gate and broken the protecting bar.”

So Neptune spake, encouraging the Greeks.
While firmly stood the serried phalanxes
Round either Ajax, nor could Mars himself,
Nor Pallas, musterer of armèd hosts,
Reprove their order. There the flower of Greece
Waited the Trojans and their noble chief,
Spear beside spear, and shield by shield, so close
That buckler pressed on buckler, helm on helm,
And man on man. The plumes of horse-hair touched
Each other as they nodded on the crests
Of the bright helms, so close the warriors stood.
The lances quivered in the fearless hands
Of warriors eager to advance and strike
The enemy. But the men of Troy began
The assault; the fiery Hector was the first
To rush against the Greeks. As when a stone
Rolls from a cliff before a wintry flood
That sweeps it down the steep, when mighty rains
Have worn away the props that held it fast;
It rolls and bounds on high; the woods around
Crash, as it tears its unresisted way
Along the slope until it reach the plain,
And there, however urged, moves on no more;—
So Hector, menacing to cut his way
Through tents and galleys to the very sea,
Slaying as he went forward, when he now
Met the firm phalanxes and pressed them close,
Stopped suddenly; the sons of Greece withstood
His onset and repulsed it, striking him
With swords and two-edged spears, and made the chief
Give way before the shock. He lifted up
His voice and shouted to the Trojans thus:—

“Trojans and Lycians and Dardanians skilled
In fighting hand to hand, stand firm. Not long
Will the Greeks bide my onset, though drawn up
Square as a tower in close array. My spear,
I trust, will scatter them, if true it be
That Juno’s husband, Sovereign of the gods,
And Lord of thunders, prompts my arm today.”

He spake, and kindled in the breasts of all
Fresh courage. In the band Deïphobus
Marched proudly, Priam’s son, with his round shield
Before him, walking with a quick, light step
Behind its shelter. Then Meriones
Aimed at the chief his glittering spear; the point
Missed not; it struck the orb of bullock’s hide,
Yet did not pierce it, for the weapon broke
Just at the neck. Deïphobus held forth
His shield far from him, dreading to receive
A spear-thrust from the brave Meriones.
Vexed thus to lose the victory, and the spear
Snapped by the blow, Meriones fell back
Into the column of his friends, and passed
Hastily toward the camp and ships, to bring
A powerful spear that stood within his tent,
While others fought, and fearful was the din.

Then Teucer first, the son of Telamon,
Smote gallant Imbrius, son of Mentor, lord
Of many steeds. He, ere the Greeks had come
To Troy, dwelt at Pedaeum and espoused
Medesicasta, Priam’s spurious child.
But when the well-oared galleys of the Greeks
Mustered at Troy, he also came, and there
Was eminent among her chiefs, and dwelt
With Priam, and was honored as his son.
The son of Telamon beneath the ear
Pierced him with his long javelin, and drew forth
The weapon. Headlong to the earth he fell.
As on a mountain height, descried from far,
Hewn by a brazen axe, an ash is felled
And lays its tender sprays upon the ground,
Thus Imbrius fell, and round him in his fall
Clashed his bright armor. Teucer sprang in haste
To spoil the dead, but Hector hurled at him
His shining spear; the wary Teucer stepped
Aside, and just escaped the brazen blade.
It struck Amphiniachus, Cteatus’ son,
And Actor’s grandson; as he came to join
The battle, he was smitten in the breast,
And fell, his armor clashing round his limbs.
Then Hector flew in haste to tear away
From the large-souled Amphimachus the helm
That cased his temples. Ajax saw, and hurled
His glittering spear at Hector as he came:
It made no wound; for Hector stood equipped
All o’er in formidable brass. The spear
Struck on the bossy shield with such a shock
As forced him to recoil, and leave unspoiled
The bodies, which the Achaians dragged away.
For Stichius and Menestheus, chief among
The Athenians, bore the dead Amphimachus
To the Greek camp, while the two men of might,
The chieftains Ajax, lifted Imbrius up;
And as two lions, bearing off among
The close-grown shrubs a goat, which they have snatched
From sharp-toothed dogs, uplift it in their jaws
Above the ground, so the two warriors raised
The corpse of Imbrius, and stripped off the mail,
While, angered that Amphilochus was slain,
Oileus’ son struck from the tender neck
The head, and sent it far among the crowd,
Whirled like a ball, to fall at Hector’s feet.

Meantime was Neptune moved with grief to see
His grandson perish in that desperate fray,
And passed among the Achaian tents and ships
Encouraging the men, and planning woes
For Ilium. There he met Idomeneus,
Expert to wield the spear, as he returned
From caring for a comrade who had left
The battle, wounded in the knee, and whom
His friends had carried in. Idomeneus
Had called the surgeons to his aid, and now
Was hastening to the field, intent to bear
His part in battle. Him the monarch god
Of ocean thus addressed, but first he took
The voice of Thoas, King Andraemon’s son,
Whose father ruled the Aetolians through the bounds
Of Pleuron, and in lofty Calydon,
And like a god was honored in the land.

“O counsellor of Crete, Idomeneus!
Where are the threats which late the sons of Greece
Uttered against the Trojans?” Promptly came
The Cretan leader’s answer: “No man here,
O Thoas, seems blameworthy, for we all
Are skilled in war, nor does unmanly fear
Hold any back; nor from the difficult strife
Does sloth detain one warrior. So it is
Doubtless that it seems good to Saturn’s son,
The All-disposer, that the Greeks, afar
From Argos, should ingloriously fall
And perish. Thoas, thou wert ever brave,
And didst exhort the laggards. Cease not now
To combat, cease not to exhort the rest.”

And Neptune, he who shakes the earth, rejoined:—
“Idomeneus, whoever keeps aloof
From battle, willingly, today, may he
Never return from Troy, but be the prey
Of dogs. Take thou thy arms and come with me,
For we must quit ourselves like men, and strive
To aid our cause, although we be but two.
Great is the strength of feeble arms combined,
And we can combat even with the brave.”

So speaking, Neptune turned to share the toils
Of war. Idomeneus, who now had reached
His princely tent, put on his glorious mail,
And seized two spears, and flew upon his way,
Like lightning grasped by Saturn’s son and flung
Quivering above Olympus’ gleaming peak,
A sign to mortals, dazzled by the blaze,
So glittered, as he ran, his brazen mail.
His fellow-warrior, good Meriones,
Met him beside the tent, for he had come
To fetch a brazen javelin thence, and thus
The stout Idomeneus addressed his friend:—

“O son of Molus, swift Meriones,
Dearest of all my comrades! Why hast thou
Thus left the battle-field? Hast thou a wound—
A weapon’s point that galls thee? Dost thou bring
A message to me? Think not that I sit
Within my tent an idler: I must fight.”

Discreetly did Meriones reply:—
“Idomeneus, whose sovereign counsels rule
The well-armed Cretans, I am come to seek
A spear if one be left within thy tents.
I broke the one I bore, in hurling it
Against the shield of fierce Deïphobus.”

The Cretan chief, Idomeneus, rejoined:—
“If spears thou seek, there stand within my tent
Twenty and one against the shining walls.
I took them from slain Trojans. ’Tis my wont
Never to fight at distance from the foe,
And therefore have I spears, and bossy shields,
And helms, and body-mail of polished brass.”

Then spake in turn discreet Meriones:—
“Within my tent are also many spoils
Won from the Trojans, and in my black ship;
But they are far away. I do not think
That I forget what valor is. I fight
Among the foremost in the glorious strife
Where’er the battle calls me. Other men
Among the well-armed Greeks may not have seen
What I perform, but thou must know me well.”

Idomeneus, the Cretan leader, spake:—
“I know thy courage well. What need hast thou
To speak as thou hast done? If all of us,
The bravest of the Greeks, were set apart
To form an ambush;—for an ambush tries
And shows men’s valor; there the craven, there
The brave, is known; the coward’s color comes
And goes; his spirit is not calm within
His bosom, so that he can rest awhile
And tremble not; he shifts his place; he sits
On both his feet; his heart beats audibly
Within his breast; his teeth at thought of death
Chatter; the brave man’s color changes not,
Nor when with other warriors he sits down
In ambush is he troubled, but he longs
To rise and mingle in the desperate fray;—
For thee, in such an ambush, none could blame
Thy courage or thy skill. If there the foe
Should wound thee from afar, or smite thee near,
The weapon would not strike thy neck behind,
Or pierce thy back, but enter at thy breast
Or stomach, as thou wert advancing fast
Among the foremost. But enough of this.
Come! Stand we here no longer, idiot-like,
Lest someone chide us sharply. Hasten thou,
And bring a sturdy javelin from the tent.”

He spake. Meriones, like Mars in port
And swiftness, hastened to the tent and brought
A brazen spear, and joined Idomeneus,
Eager for battle. As the god of war,
The man-destroyer, comes into the field,
With Terror, his strong-limbed and dauntless son,
Following and striking fear into the heart
Of the most resolute warrior, when from Thrace
They issue armed against the Ephyri,
Or else against the Phlegyans large of soul,
And hearken not to both the hosts, but give
To one the victory; so Meriones
Advanced to battle with Idomeneus,
Leaders of heroes both, and both equipped
In glittering helms. And first Meriones
Spake and addressed his fellow-warrior thus:—

“Son of Deucalion, at which point wilt thou
Enter the throng? Upon the army’s right,
Its centre, or its left? The long haired Greeks
Seem most to need our aid upon the left.”

Then spoke Idomeneus, in turn, the prince
Of Cretans: “At the centre of the fleet
Are others who will guard it. Posted there
Are either Ajax and the most expert
Of Grecian archers, Teucer, not less skilled
In standing fight, and amply will they task
The arm of Hector, Priam’s son, though bent
On desperate conflict, and though passing fierce.
With all his fierceness, he will find it hard
To quell their prowess, never yet o’ercome,
And fire the ships, unless Saturnian Jove
Himself should cast on them the flaming torch.
Nor yet will Telamonian Ajax yield
To any man of mortal birth, or reared
Upon the grains of Ceres, or whom brass
Or ponderous stones can wound. He would not own
The warlike son of Peleus mightier
Than he in standing fight, although in speed
He vies not with him. Lead us then to join
The army’s left, that we may learn at once
Whether our fate in battle shall confer
Glory on other men, or theirs on us.”

So spake the chief. Meriones, the peer
Of Mars in swiftness, hastened till he joined
The army where his comrade bade. The foe
Beheld Idomeneus, who like a flame
Swept on with his companion all in arms
Gloriously wrought; they raised from rank to rank
The battle-cry, and met him as he came,
And hand to hand, before the galleys’ sterns
Was waged the combat. As when storms arise,
Blown up by piping winds, when dust lies loose
Along the roads, a spreading cloud of dust
Fills the wide air, so came the battle on
Between the bands that struggled eagerly
To slay each other. All along the line
The murderous conflict bristled with long spears
That tore the flesh; the brazen splendor, shot
From gleaming helmets and from burnished mail
And shining bucklers, all in narrow space
Dazzled the eyes. Brave-hearted would he be,
The man who, gazing on it, could have seen
The furious strife rejoicing or unmoved.

Meantime the potent sons of Saturn each
Favored a different side, and planned new toils
For all the warriors, Jupiter had willed
That Hector and the Trojans should prevail,
Yet had he not decreed the Achaian host
To perish before Troy; he only sought
To honor Thetis and her large-souled son.
But Neptune, mingling with the Greeks, aroused
Their martial spirit. From the hoary deep
He came unmarked, for deeply was he grieved
To see the Greeks give way before the host
Of Troy, and he was wroth with Jupiter.
Both gods were of one race, and owed their birth
To the same parents; but the elder-born
Was Jupiter, and wiser. For that cause
Not openly did Neptune aid the Greeks,
But, as by stealth, disguised in human form,
Moved through their army and encouraged them
To combat. Thus it was the potent twain
Each drew, with equal hand, the net of strife
And fearful havoc, which no power could break
Or loosen, stretched o’er both the warring hosts,
And laying many a warrior low in death.
And now, although his brows were strewn with gray.
Idomeneus, encouraging the Greeks,
Rushed on the Trojans, and revived the fight.
He slew Orthryoneus, who just before,
Drawn by the rumor of the war, had left
Cabesus, and now made a lover’s suit
For Priam’s fairest daughter. Without dower
He sought to wed Cassandra, promising
A vast exploit—to drive the Greeks from Troy,
In spite of all their valor. The old king
Consented that the maiden should be his;
And now he fought, and trusted to fulfil
His promise. But Idomeneus took aim,
And cast his glittering javelin at the youth.
It struck him marching proudly on, nor stopped
The weapon at the brazen mail, but pierced
The stomach. With a clash the warrior fell,
And thus the victor boasted over him:—

“Orthryoneus, I deem thee worthy of praise
Beyond all other men, if thou perform
What thou hast undertaken—to defend
Dardanian Priam, who has promised thee
His daughter. We would make a compact too,
And will perform it—to bestow on thee
A spouse, the fairest daughter of the house
Of Atreus’ son, and we will send for her
To Argos, if thou join us, and lay waste
The well built Ilium. Now, then, follow me,
And at the ships which brought us we will treat
Of marriage, and will make no niggard terms.”

So spake Idomeneus, and dragged the slain
Through the sharp conflict by the foot. He met
Asius, who walked before his car, and came
To avenge his friend. The attending charioteer
Behind him reined the steeds, that they should breathe
Over the shoulders of their lord, who sought
To smite Idomeneus. The Greek was first
To strike; he plunged the spear into his throat
Below the chin, and drave the weapon through.
The Trojan fell to earth as falls an oak,
Poplar, or stately pine, which woodmen fell
With their sharp axes on the mountain-side,
To form a galley’s beam. So there he lay
Stretched out before his coursers and his car,
And gnashed his teeth, and clenched the bloody dust.
The charioteer, amazed, and losing power
Of action, dared not turn the horses back
To bear him from the foe. Antilochus
The warlike cast his spear, and in the midst
Transfixed him. Little did the brazen mail
Avail to stay the blade, which cleft its way
Into the stomach. With a sudden gasp
He toppled from the sumptuous chariot-seat,
And large-souled Nestor’s son, Antilochus,
Drave with the chariot to the well-armed Greeks.
Deïphobus, who sorrowed for the fate
Of Asius, drawing near Idomeneus,
Hurled at him his bright spear. The Greek beheld,
As face to face they stood, and scaped the stroke,
Covered by his round shield, two-handled, strong,
With bullocks’ hides and glittering brass. With this
He hid himself, close couched within, and turned
The brazen point aside. The buckler rang
Shrilly; the weapon glanced away, yet flew
Not vainly from the Trojan’s powerful hand:
It struck Hypsenor, son of Hippasus,
The shepherd of the people, on the side
Where lies the liver, just below the breast.
His knees gave way; he fell; Deïphobus
Thus shouted o’er the dead his empty boast:—

“Not unavenged lies Asius, and no doubt,
In journeying to the massy gates and wall
Of Hades, will rejoice that I have sent
A soul to be companion of his way.”

He spake; and at his boast the Greeks were moved
With anger—most of all Antilochus
The warlike; yet he left not to the foe
His slain companion, but made haste to hold
His shield above him. His beloved friends,
Mecisteus, son of Echius, and the prince
Alastor, lifted up, with many a groan,
The corpse, and bore it to the roomy ships.

Meantime the valor of Idomeneus
Remitted not; he vehemently longed
To cover many a Trojan with the night
Of death, or fall himself with clashing arms,
In warring to defend the ships of Greece.
The brave Alcathoüs, the beloved son
Of Aesyetus, whom Anchises made
His son-in-law—for he had given to him
Hippodameia, eldest-born of all
His daughters, whom her parents, while she dwelt
With them, loved dearly, fair and wise beyond
All other maidens of her age, and skilled
In household arts; so that the noblest prince
Of the broad Trojan kingdom made her his;—
Him, by the weapon of Idomeneus,
Did Neptune bring to death. The sparkling eyes
Grew dim, and stiffened were the shapely limbs,
For neither could he flee nor turn aside;
But as he stood before him, column-like,
Or like a towering tree, Idomeneus
Transfixed him in the bosom with his spear
The brazen coat of mail gave way, which oft
Had saved him, breaking with a sharp, shrill sound
Before the severing blade. He fell to earth
With noise; the spear stood planted in his heart,
And as he panted quivered through its length,
Yet soon its murderous force was spent and still.
And then the victor boasted thus aloud:—

“Deïphobus, does this appear to thee
A fair return, when three are slain for one,
Or hast thou boasted idly? Yet do thou,
Vain as thou art, stand forth and face me here,
And I will teach thee of what race I am—
An offshoot of the stock of Jove, whose son
Was Minos, guardian of our Crete, and he
Was father of the good Deucalion.
Deucalion’s son am I, and I am king
O’er many men in the broad isle of Crete.
My galleys brought me thence to be the dread
Of thee, thy father, and the men of Troy.”

He spake. Deïphobus, irresolute,
Stood doubting whether to retreat and bring
Some other of the heroic sons of Troy
To aid him, or to try the fight alone.
As thus he mused, it seemed most wise to seek
Aeneas. Him he found withdrawn among
The rear of the army, for he was displeased
With noble Priam, who had paid his worth
With light esteem. Deïphobus approached,
And thus with wingèd words accosted him:—

“Aeneas, counsellor of Troy, if thou
Hadst ever a regard to him who was
Thy sister’s husband, it becomes thee now
To avenge him. Follow me, and help avenge
Alcathoüs, guardian of thy tender years,
Slain by the spear of famed Idomeneus.”

He spake; and at his words Aeneas felt
His courage rise. Impatient for the fight,
He went to meet Idomeneus; yet fear
Fell not upon the Greek as if he were
A puny boy: he stood and kept his ground.
As, when a mountain boar, unterrified,
Waits in the wilderness the hunter-crew,
That come with mighty din, his bristly back
Rises, his eyes shoot fire, he whets his tusks,
And fiercely keeps both dogs and men at bay—
So did Idomeneus, expert to wield
The spear, await Aeneas hastening on
With fury. Not a backward step he made,
But called upon his warrior-friends aloud,
Looking at Aphareus, Ascalaphus,
Deipyrus, Meriones, and last
Antilochus, all skilled in arts of war,
And thus exhorted them with wingèd words:—

“Haste hither, O my friends, and bring me aid.
I stand alone, in dread of the approach
Of swift Aeneas, who comes fiercely on,
Powerful to slay, and in his prime of youth,
The highest vigor of the human frame.
Yet, were our years the same, that chief or I
Would quickly triumph at the other’s cost.”

He spake, and all with one accord drew near
And stood by him, with shields obliquely held
Upon their shoulders. On the other side
Aeneas cheered his comrades on. He fixed
His look on Paris, and Deïphobus,
And nobly born Agenor, who, like him,
Were leaders of the Trojans. After these
The soldiers followed, as the thronging flock
Follow the ram that leads them to the fount
From pasture, and the shepherd’s heart is pleased.
So was Aeneas glad at heart to see
The multitude of warriors following him.

Then mingled they in battle hand to hand
Around Alcathoüs, with their ponderous spears,
And fearfully upon their bosoms rang
The brass, as through the struggling crowd they aimed
Their weapons at each other. Two brave men,
Aeneas and Idomeneus, the peers
Of Mars, conspicuous o’er their fellows, strove
With cruel brass to rend each other’s limbs.
And first Aeneas cast his spear to smite
Idomeneus, who saw it as it came,
And shunned it. Plunging in the earth beyond,
It stood and quivered; it had left in vain
The Trojan’s powerful hand. Idomeneus
Next smote Oenomaüs: the spear brake through
His hollow corselet at the waist; it pierced
And drank the entrails: down amid the dust
He fell, and grasped the earth with dying hand.
Idomeneus plucked forth the massy spear,
But, pressed by hostile weapons, ventured not
To strip the sumptuous armor from the dead;
Since now no more the sinews of his feet
Were firm to bear him rushing to retake
His spear, or start aside from hostile spears.
Wherefore in standing fight he warded off
The evil hour, nor trusted to his feet
To bear him fleetly from the field. He moved
Slowly away, and now Deïphobus,
Who long had hated him and bitterly,
Aimed at him his bright spear; it missed its mark,
And struck Ascalaphus, the son of Mars.
The weapon cleft the shoulder of the Greek,
Who fell amid the dust, and clenched the earth.

Not yet the clamorous Mars, of passionate mood,
Had heard that in the fray his son was slain;
But on the summit of the Olympian mount
He sat, o’ercanopied by golden clouds,
Restrained from combat by the will of Jove,
With other gods, forbidden, like himself,
To aid the combatants. Meantime around
Ascalaphus the combat hand to hand
Still raged. Deïphobus had torn away
The slain man’s shining helm, when suddenly
Meriones sprang forward, spear in hand,
And smote him on the arm; the wounded limb
Let fall the helm, resounding as it fell,
And with a vulture’s leap Meriones
Rushed toward him, plucking out from the torn flesh
The spear, and falling back among the crowd.
Polites, brother of the wounded, threw
Both arms around his waist, and bore him off
From the loud din of conflict, till he reached
His swift-paced steeds, that waited in the rear
Of battle, with their chariot nobly wrought
And charioteer. These took him back to Troy,
Heavily groaning and in pain, the blood
Yet gushing from the newly wounded limb.

Still fought the other warriors, and the noise
Of a perpetual tumult filled the air.
Aeneas, rushing upon Aphareus,
Caletor’s son, who turned to face him, thrust
A sharp spear through his throat. With drooping head,
And carrying shield and helmet to the ground,
He fell, and rendered up his soul in death.
Antilochus, as Thoön turned away,
Attacked and smote him, cutting off the vein
That passes through the body to the neck.
This he divided sheer; the warrior fell
Backward, and lay in dust, with hands outstretched
To his beloved friends. Antilochus
Flew to the slain, and from his shoulders stripped
The armor, casting cautious glances round;
While toward him pressed the Trojans on all sides,
Striking the fair broad buckler with their darts,
Yet could not even score with pointed brass
The tender skin of Nestor’s son; for still
Neptune, the shaker of the sea-coast, kept
Watch o’er him while the weapons round him showered.
Yet he withdrew not from his foes, but moved
Among the crowd, nor idle was his spear,
But wielded right and left, and still he watched
With resolute mind the time to strike the foe
At distance, or assault him near at hand.

The son of Asius, Adamas, beheld
The hero meditating thus, and struck,
In close attack, the middle of his shield
With a sharp brazen spear. The dark-haired god
Who rules the deep denied to Adamas
The life he sought, and weakened the hard stroke.
Part of the Trojan’s weapon, like a stake
Hardened by fire, stood fixed within the shield,
Part lay on earth, and he who cast it slunk
Among his comrades to avoid his fate.
Meriones, pursuing with his spear,
Smote him between the navel and the groin,
Where deadliest are the wounds in battle given
To man’s unhappy race. He planted there
The cruel blade, and Adamas, who fell,
Writhed panting round it, as a bullock bound
By cowherds on the mountain with strong cords
Pants as they lead him off against his will.
So wounded, Adamas drew heavy breath,
And yet not long. The brave Meriones,
Approaching, plucked the weapon forth, and night
Came o’er the eyes of Adamas. At hand
Stood Helenus, and struck Deipyrus
Upon the temple with his ponderous sword,
Of Thracian make, and cut the three-coned helm
Away, and dashed it to the ground; it rolled
Between a Grecian warrior’s feet, who stooped
And took it up, while o’er its owner’s eyes
The darkness gathered. Grieved at this, the son
Of Atreus, Menelaus great in war,
Rushed forward, threatening royal Helenus.
He brandished his sharp spear; the Trojan drew
His bow; advancing, one to hurl a lance,
And one to send an arrow. Priam’s son
Let fly a shaft at Menelaus’ breast.
The bitter missile from the hollow mail
Glanced off. As when from the broad winnowing-fan
On some wide threshing-floor the swarthy beans,
Or vetches, bound before the whistling wind
And winnower’s force, so, bounding from the mail
Of gallant Menelaus, flew afar
The bitter shaft. Then Menelaus, great
In battle, smote the hand of Helenus
That held the polished bow; the brazen spear
Passed through the hand, and reached the bow, and there
Stood fixed, while Helenus, avoiding death,
Drew back among his comrades, with his hand
Held low, and trailing still the ashen stem.
Magnanimous Agenor from the wound
Drew forth the blade, and wrapped the hand in wool,
Carefully twisted, taken from a sling
Carried by an attendant of the chief.

To meet the glorious Menelaus sprang
Pisander, led by his unhappy fate
To perish, Menelaus! by thy hand
In that fierce conflict. When the two were near,
Advancing toward each other, Atreus’ son
Took aim amiss; his spear flew far aside.
Pisander smote the buckler on the arm
Of mighty Menelaus, yet drave not
The weapon through. The broad shield stopped its force,
And broke it at the neck; yet hoped he still
For victory, and exulted. Then the son
Of Atreus drew his silver-studded sword
And sprang upon his foe, who from beneath
His buckler took a brazen battle-axe,
With a long stem of polished olive-wood.
Both struck at once. Pisander hewed away,
Below the crest, the plumèd helmet-cone
Of Atreus’ son, who smote, above the nose,
Pisander’s forehead, crashing through the bones.
Both bleeding eyes dropped to the ground amid
The dust; he fell; he writhed; the conqueror,
Advancing, set his heel upon his breast,
And stripped the armor off, and, boasting, said:—

“Thus shall ye leave unharmed the fleet that brought
The knights of Greece, ye treaty-breaking sons
Of Ilium, never satisfied with war!
Yet lack ye not still other guilt and shame—
Wrong done to me, ye dogs! Ye have not feared
The wrath of Hospitable Jove, who flings
The thunder, and will yet destroy your town,
With all its towers—ye who, without a cause,
Bore off my youthful bride, and heaps of wealth,
When she had given you welcome as our guests.
And now ye seek to burn with fire the fleet
With which we cross the ocean, and to slay
The Grecian heroes. Ye shall yet be forced,
Eager for battle as ye are, to pause.
O Father Jupiter, who hast the praise
Of highest wisdom among gods and men!
All this is of thy ordering. How hast thou
Favored this arrogant crew of Troy, in love
With violence, who never have enough
Of war and all its many miseries!
All other things soon satisfy desire—
Sleep, love, and song, and graceful dance, which most
Delight in more than warlike toils—yet they
Of Troy are never satisfied with war.”
So spake the illustrious man, and, having stripped
The bloody armor from the dead, he gave
The spoil to his companions, and rejoined
The warriors in the van. Harpalion then,
A son of King Pytemenes, with whom
He left his home to join the war at Troy,
Assaulted him. He never saw again
His native land. Close to Atrides’ shield,
He struck it in the centre with his lance,
Yet could not drive the weapon through the brass,
And backward shrank, in fear of death, among
His comrades, looking round him lest some foe
Should wound him with the spear. Meriones
Let fly a brazen arrow after him,
Which, entering his right flank below the bone,
Passed through and cleft the bladder. Down he sank
Where the shaft struck him, breathing out his life
In the arms of his companions. Like a worm
He lay extended on the earth; his blood
Gushed forth, a purple stream, and steeped the soil.
The large-souled Paphlagonians came around,
And placed him in a chariot, sorrowing,
And bore him to the gates of sacred Troy.
The father followed weeping, but no hand
Was raised to avenge the slaughter of his son.

Yet deeply moved was Paris at his death,
For he had been Harpalion’s guest among
The Paphlagonians. Grieving for the slain,
He sent a brazen arrow from his bow.
Now there was one Euchenor, rich and brave,
The son of Polyidus, hoary seer;
His dwelling was in Corinth, and he came,
Forewarned and conscious of his fate, to Troy;
For often Polyidus, good old man,
Warned him that he within his palace halls
Should perish by a grievous malady,
Or else be slain by Trojan hands beside
The Grecian fleet. So, to escape at once
The censure of the Achaians and disease,
He came, lest he in after times might rue
His choice. And now between the jaw and ear
Did Paris smite him; from the warrior’s limbs
Life fled, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.

And then they fought; like a devouring fire
That battle was; but Hector, dear to Jove,
Had not yet learned that on the left the Greeks
Made havoc of his men; for in that hour
The Greeks had almost made the victory theirs,
So greatly had the god who shakes the shores
Kindled their courage, and with his own arm
Brought timely aid. Still Hector, pressing on
Where first he leaped within the gates and wall,
Broke the close phalanxes of shielded Greeks.
There, ranged beside the hoary deep, the ships
Of Ajax and Protesilaüs lay.
The wall that guarded them was low, and there
Warriors and steeds in fiercest conflict met;
There the Boeotians, there in their long robes
The Iaonians, there the Locrians, there
The men of Phthia, and the Epeians famed
For valor, held back Hector, struggling on
To reach the ships, yet found they had no power
To drive the noble warrior from the ground,
For he was like a flame. The chosen men
Of Athens formed the van. Menestheus, son
Of Peteus, was their leader, after whom
Phidas and Stichius followed, and with them
The gallant Bias. Meges, Phyleus’ son,
With Dracius and Amphion, marshalled there
The Epeians; while the Phthian band were led
By Medon and Podarces, warlike chief.
And Medon was the great Oileus’ son,
And brother of the lesser Ajax, born
Without the tie of wedlock, and he dwelt
Far from his native land, in Phylacè;
For by his violent hand the brother died
Of Eryopis, whom Oileus made
His lawful spouse. Podarces was the son
Of Iphiclus, and dwelt in Phylacè.
These, at the head of Phthia’s valiant youth,
And cased in massive armor, fought beside
Boeotia’s warriors for the Grecian fleet.

But Ajax swift of foot, Oileus’ son,
From him of Telamon departed not as
Even for an instant. As when two black steers
Of equal vigor o’er a fallow draw
The strongly jointed plough, till near their horns
Streams the warm sweat; the polished yoke alone
Holds them asunder, as they move along
The furrow, and the share divides the soil
That lies between them;—so the heroic twain
Kept near each other. Many men and brave
Followed to Troy the son of Telamon
As his companions, and, when weariness
Came o’er his sweaty limbs, relieved their chief
Of his broad buckler. But the Locrian host
Attended not Oileus’ great-souled son,
Nor could they ever venture to engage
In combat hand to hand. No brazen helms
Were theirs, with horse-hair plumes, no orbèd shields,
Nor ashen spears. They came with him to Troy,
Trusting in their good bows, and in their slings
Of twisted wool, from which they showered afar
Stones that dispersed the phalanxes of Troy.
The chieftains Ajax, warring in the van,
Clad in their shining armor, fought to check
The Trojans and their leader, brazen-mailed,
While in the rear the Locrians lurked unseen,
And sent their shafts, so that the men of Troy,
All order lost, were fain to cease from fight.

Then had the Trojans from the ships and tents
Turned back, and fled, with fearful loss of life,
To lofty Ilium, if Polydamas
Had not accosted valiant Hector thus:—

“Hector, thou hearkenest not to warning words.
Deem’st thou, because a god has given thee strength
Beyond all other men for feats of war,
That therefore thou art wiser than they all
In council? Think not for thyself to claim
All gifts at once. On one the god bestows
Prowess in war, upon another grace
In dance, upon another skill to touch
The harp and sing. In yet another, Jove
The Thunderer implants the prudent mind,
By which the many profit, and by which
Communities are saved; and well doth he
Who hath it know its worth. Now let me speak
What seems to me the wisest. Round thee flames
The encircling war; the valiant sons of Troy,
Since they have crossed the ramparts, stand aloof,
Armed as they are, or fight against large odds
Scattered among the galleys. Yield thou now
The ground, and, summoning the chiefs, decide
What plan to follow—whether we shall storm
The well-oared galleys, should the God vouchsafe
The victory to us—or else depart
In safety from the fleet. I greatly fear
The Achaians may repay to us the debt
Of yesterday. There yet is at the fleet
One who, I think, no longer will refrain
Wholly from battle.” Thus Polydamas
Spake, and the sage advice pleased Hector well,
Who, leaping from his chariot to the ground,
With all his weapons, said these wingèd words:—

“Remain with all the bravest warriors here,
Polydamas, while I depart to give
The due commands, and instantly return.”

He spake, and with a shout he rushed away,
Seen from afar, like a snow-mountain’s peak,
And flew among the Trojans and allies,
Who crowded round the brave Polydamas,
The son of Panthoüs, at Hector’s call.
Among the foremost combatants he sought
Deïphobus, and mighty Helenus,
The king; he looked for Adamas, the son
Of Asius, and for Asius of the house
Of Hyrtacus. Some not unharmed he found,
Yet not o’ercome; while others lay in death
Beneath the galley sterns, where Grecian hands
Had slain them; others on the wall, struck down
By missiles, or in combat hand to hand.
There on the left of that disastrous fray
He met the noble Alexander, spouse
Of fair-haired Helen, as he cheered his men,
And rallied them to battle. Hector thus
Addressed his brother with reproachful words:—

“Accursed Paris! Noble but in form,
Effeminate seducer! Where are now
Deïphobus, and mighty Helenus?
And Adamas, the son of Asius, where?
And Asius, son of Hyrtacus? and where
Orthryoneus? Now towering Ilium sinks
From her high summit, and thy fate is sure.”
And then the godlike Paris answered thus:—

“Since it hath pleased thee, Hector, thus to cast
Reproach on me, though innocent, I may
Another day neglect the toils of war,
Although in truth my mother brought me forth
Not quite unapt for combat. Since the hour
When thou didst lead the battle to the ships
With thy companions, we have held our ground,
Here on this spot, contending with the Greeks.
Three chiefs for whom thou askest have been slain.
Deïphobus and mighty Helenus,
Both wounded in the hand by massive spears,
Have left the field; the son of Saturn saved
Their lives. Now lead us wheresoe’er thou wilt,
And we will follow thee with resolute hearts,
Nor deem that thou wilt find in us a lack
Of valor while our strength of arm remains.
The boldest cannot fight beyond his strength.”

With such persuasive words the warrior calmed
His brother’s anger, and they went where raged
The hottest conflict round Cebriones,
Phalces, Ortbasus, and the excellent
Polydamas, with Palmys at his side,
And Polyphoetes, godlike in his form,
And where Ascanius and Morys fought,
Sons of Hippotion. They the day before
Came marching from Ascania’s fertile fields,
Moved by the will of Jove to share the war.
All these swept on, as when a hurricane,
A thunder-gust, from Father Jupiter
Buffets the plain, and mingles with the deep,
In mighty uproar, and the billows rise
All over the resounding brine, and swell,
Whitening with foam, and chase each other on.
So moved the Trojans on, man after man,
In close array, all armed in glittering brass,
Following their generals. Hector, Priam’s son,
And peer of Mars in battle, led the van,
His round shield held before him, tough with hides
And overlaid with brass. Upon his brow
The gleaming helmet nodded as he moved.
On every side he tried the phalanxes,
If haply they might yield to his assault,
Made from beneath that buckler; but the Greeks
In spirit or in order wavered not.
And Ajax, striding forth, defied him thus:—

“Draw nearer, friend! Think’st thou to frighten thus
The Greeks? We are not quite so inexpert
In war, although so cruelly chastised
By Jupiter. Thou thinkest in thy heart
That thou shalt make our ships thy spoil; but we
Have also our strong arms to drive thee back,
And far more soon the populous town of Troy,
Captured and sacked, shall fall by Grecian hands.
And now I warn thee that the hour is near
When, fleeing, thou shalt pray to Father Jove
And all the immortals, that thy long-maned steeds,
Bearing thee townward mid a cloud of dust
Along the plain, may be more swift than hawks.”

As thus he spake, an eagle, to the right,
High in the middle heaven, flew over him,
And, gladdened by the omen, all the Greeks
Shouted; but then illustrious Hector spake:—

“Babbler and boaster, what wild words are these?
O Ajax! Would that I were but as sure
To be the child of aegis-bearing Jove,
Brought forth by Juno the august, and held
In honor everywhere like that which crowns
Apollo and Minerva, as I know
That to the Greeks this very day will bring
Destruction, and that thou shalt also lie
Slain with the others, if thou dare abide
The stroke of my long spear, which yet shall tear
Thy dainty flesh, and thou, with thy full limbs,
Shalt be the feast of Trojan dogs and birds,
Unburied by the galleys of the Greeks.”

So Hector spake, and led his warriors on.
They followed with a mighty shout; the rear
Sent up as loud a cry. On the other side
Shouted the Greeks, nor intermitted now
Their wonted valor, but stood firm to breast
The onset of the chosen men of Troy.
The mingled clamor of both hosts went up
To heaven, and to the shining seat of Jove.

Book 14

The Fraud Practised on Jupiter by Juno

Consultation of Agamemnon with Nestor, Diomed, and Ulysses—Proposal of Agamemnon to withdraw from Troy by night opposed by Ulysses—Visit made by these wounded chiefs to the battlefield, in order to encourage the army—The cestus of Venus borrowed by Juno, who decoys Jupiter to her chamber, where he falls asleep—Neptune meanwhile actively aids the Greeks, who commit great slaughter—Hector wounded by Ajax.

The mighty uproar was not unperceived
By Nestor’s ear, who, sitting at the wine,
Addressed the son of Aesculapius thus:—

“Noble Machaon, what will happen now?
Bethink thee: for the clamor grows more loud
From our young warriors at the ships. Stay here
And drink the purple wine, while for thy limbs
The fair-haired Hecamede warms the bath
And washes the dark blood away, and I
Will climb the watch-tower, and will know the worst.

He spake, and took a buckler, fairly wrought,
Glittering with brass, and left within the tent
By Thrasymedes, his own knightly son,
Who to the war had borne his father’s shield;
He grasped a ponderous spear, with brazen blade,
And stood without the tent, and saw a sight
Of shame—the routed Greeks, and close behind
The haughty Trojans putting them to flight,
And the Greek wall o’erthrown. As when the face
Of the great deep grows dark with weltering waves,
That silently forbode the swift descent
Of the shrill blast, the yet uncertain seas
Roll not to either side, till from the seat
Of Jupiter comes down the violent wind—
So paused the aged chief, uncertain yet
Of purpose—whether he should join the throng
Of Greeks, with their swift coursers, or repair
To sovereign Agamemnon, Atreus’ son.
This to his thought seemed wiser, and he went
To seek Atrides. Meantime both the hosts
Urged on the work of slaughter; still they fought,
And still the solid brass upon their limbs
Rang, smitten with the swords and two-edged spears.

Then, coming from the fleet, the wounded kings,
Nurslings of Jove, met Nestor; toward him came
Tydides, and Ulysses, and the son
Of Atreus, Agamemnon. On the beach
Of the gray deep their ships were ranged afar
From that fierce conflict. There the Greeks had drawn,
To the plain’s edge, the first that touched the land,
And built a rampart at their sterns. Though long
The shore-line, it sufficed not to contain
The galleys, and the host had scanty room;
Wherefore they drew the galleys up in rows,
Row behind row, and filled the shore’s wide mouth
Between the promontories. There the kings
Walked, leaning on their lances, to behold
The tumult and the fight, and inly grieved.
The sight of aged Nestor startled them,
And thus the royal Agamemnon spake:—

“Neleian Nestor, glory of the Greeks,
Why hast thou left the murderous fray, and why
Come hither? Much I fear the fiery chief,
Hector, will make the menace good which once
He uttered, speaking to the men of Troy—
Not to return to Ilium from the fleet
Till he had burned our ships with fire, and slain
Us also; thus he spake, and now fulfils
His menace. O ye gods! The other Greeks,
And not Achilles only, cherish hate
Against me in their hearts, and now refuse
To combat even where our galleys lie.”

And Nestor, the Gerenian knight, replied:—
“Thus is the threat accomplished, nor can Jove
The Thunderer reverse the event. The wall
In which we trusted as impregnable,
Our fleet’s defence and ours, is overthrown;
But obstinately still the Greeks maintain
The combat at the ships, nor couldst thou now
Distinguish with thy sharpest sight where most
The ranks are routed, so confusedly
They fall, and the wild uproar reaches heaven.
Meantime consult we what may yet be done,
If counsel aught avail; yet can I not
Advise to mingle in the strife again.
It is not meet that wounded men should fight.”

And then the royal Agamemnon said:—
“Since at our ships, beneath their very sterns,
The combat rages; since the wall we built
Avails not, nor the trench, at which the Greeks
Labored and suffered, hoping it might be
A sure defence for us and for our fleet,
Certain it is that to Almighty Jove
It hath seemed good that here the Greeks, afar
From Argos, should be shamefully cut off;
For well was I aware when he designed
To aid the Greeks, and well can I perceive
That he is honoring now the men of Troy
Like to the blessed gods, and fettering
Our valor and our hands. Hear my advice,
And follow it. Let us draw down the ships
Nearest the sea, and launch them on the deep,
And moor them, anchored, till the lonely night
Shall come, when, if the Trojans pause from war,
Haply we may draw down the other barques;
For he who flees from danger, even by night,
Deserves no blame; and better is his fate
Who flees from harm than his whom harm o’ertakes.”

Then wise Ulysses, with stern look, replied:—
“What words, Atrides, have escaped thy lips?
Unhappy man, thou shouldst have held command
O’er some effeminate army, and not ours—
Ours to whom Jupiter, from youth to age,
Hath granted to accomplish difficult wars,
Until we pass away. And wouldst thou then
Depart from Troy, the city of broad streets,
For which we have endured so much and long?
Nay, be thou silent, lest the other Greeks
Hear words that never should be said by one
Who knows to speak with wisdom, and who bears
The sceptre, and who rules so many Greeks
As thou dost. I contemn with my whole soul
The counsel thou hast given, commanding us,
While yet the battle rages, to draw down
Our good ships to the sea, that so the foe
May see his wish more easily fulfilled,
Even in the hour of triumph, and our fate
Be certain ruin; for the Greeks no more
Will combat when they draw their galleys down,
But, looking backward to the shore, will leave
The battle there; and thus, O king of men!
Will mischief flow from what thou counsellest.”

And Agamemnon, king of men, rejoined:—
“Thou touchest me, Ulysses, to the heart
With thy harsh censure; yet I did not give
Command to drag our good ships to the sea,
Against the will of the Greeks. And would there were
Some other, young or old, to counsel them
More prudently, for that would please me well.”

Then spake the great in battle, Diomed:—
“The man is here, nor have ye far to look
If ye will be persuaded, and refrain
To blame me angrily, because my years
Are fewest midst you all. I too can boast
Of noble birth; my father, Tydeus, lies
Buried beneath a mound of earth at Thebes.
To Portheus three illustrious sons were born,
Who dwelt in Pleuron, and in Calydon
The lofty—Agrius, Melas, and the knight,
My father’s father, Oeneus, eminent
Among the rest for valor; he remained
At home, but, wandering thence, my father went
To Argos, for the will of Jove was such—
Jove and the other gods. He wedded there
A daughter of Adrastus, and he dwelt
Within a mansion filled with wealth; broad fields
Fertile in corn were his, and many rows
Of trees and vines around him; large his flocks,
And great his fame as one expert to wield,
Beyond all other Greeks, the spear in war.
This should ye know, for this is true; nor yet
Contemn my counsel given with careful thought
And for your good, nor deem it comes from one
Unwarlike and low-born. Now let us join
The battle, wounded as we are, for much
It needs our presence, keeping carefully
Beyond the reach of weapons, to avoid
Wound upon wound, and, cheering on the rest,
Send back into the combat those who stand
Apart, indulgent to their weariness.”

He spake: they hearkened, and with hasty steps
Went on, King Agamemnon at their head.

Nor was the glorious power that shakes the earth
Unmindful of his charge. He went among
The warriors in the semblance of a man
Stricken in years, and, seizing the right hand
Of Agamemnon, spake these wingèd words:—

“O son of Atreus, the revengeful heart
Of Peleus’ son must leap within his breast
For joy, to see the slaughter and the rout
Of the Achaians, since with him there dwells
No touch of pity. May he perish too,
Like us, and may some god o’erwhelm his name
With infamy. With thee the blessed gods
Are not so far incensed, and thou shalt see
The Trojan chiefs and princes of their host
Raising the dust-clouds on the spacious plain
In fleeing from our ships and tents to Troy.”

He spake, and, shouting, strode across the field.
As loud a cry as from nine thousand men,
Or from ten thousand hurrying to engage
In battle, such the cry that ocean’s king
Uttered from his deep lungs. It woke anew
Invincible resolve in every heart
Among the Greeks to combat to the end.

Now, Juno of the golden throne beheld
As, standing on the Olympian height, she cast
Downward her eyes to where her brother moved,
Bearing his part with glory in the fray;
And inly she rejoiced. She also saw
Jove on the peak of Ida, down whose side
Glide many brooks, and greatly was displeased.
Then the majestic goddess with large eyes
Mused how to occupy the mind of him
Who bears the aegis. This at length seemed best:
To deck herself in fair array, and haste
To Ida, that the God might haply yield
To amorous desire, and in that hour
Her hand might pour into his lids, and o’er
His watchful mind, a soft and pleasant sleep.
She went to her own chamber, which her son
Vulcan had framed, with massive portals made
Fast to the lintels by a secret bolt,
Which none but she could draw. She entered in
And closed the shining doors; and first she took
Ambrosial water, washing every stain
From her fair limbs, and smoothed them with rich oil,
Ambrosial, soft, and fragrant, which, when touched
Within Jove’s brazen halls, perfumed the air
Of earth and heaven. When thus her shapely form
Had been anointed, and her hands had combed
Her tresses, she arranged the lustrous curls,
Ambrosial, beautiful, that clustering hung
Round her immortal brow. And next she threw
Around her an ambrosial robe, the work
Of Pallas, all its web embroidered o’er
With forms of rare device. She fastened it
Over the breast with clasps of gold, and then
She passed about her waist a zone which bore
Fringes an hundred-fold, and in her ears
She hung her three-gemmed ear-rings, from whose gleam
She won an added grace. Around her head
The glorious goddess drew a flowing veil,
Just from the loom, and shining like the sun;
And, last, beneath her bright white feet she bound
The shapely sandals. Gloriously arrayed
In all her ornaments, she left her bower,
And calling Venus to herself, apart
From all the other gods, addressed her thus:—

“Wilt thou, dear child, comply with what I ask?
Or, angered that I aid the Greeks, while thou
Dost favor Troy, wilt thou deny my suit?”

And thus Jove’s daughter, Venus, made reply:—
“O Juno, whom I reverence, speak thy thought,
Daughter of mighty Saturn! For my heart
Commands me to obey thy wish in all
That I can do, and all that can be done.”

And thus imperial Juno, planning guile,
Rejoined: “Give me the charm and the desire
With which thou overcomest gods and men.
I go to the far end of this green earth,
To visit Ocean, father of the gods,
And Mother Tethys, who, receiving me
From Rhea, cherished me, and brought me up
In their abodes, when Jove the Thunderer
Cast Saturn down to lie beneath the earth
And barren sea. I go to visit them,
And end their hateful quarrel. For too long
Have they been strangers to the marriage-bed.
But if my words persuade them, and bring back
Their hearts to their old love, my name will be
Honored by them, and dear throughout all time.”

And laughter-loving Venus answered thus:—
“What thou desirest should not be denied,
And shall not, for thou sleepest in the arms
Of Jupiter, the mightiest of the gods.”

She spake, and from her bosom drew the zone,
Embroidered, many-colored, and instinct
With every winning charm—with love, desire,
Dalliance, and gentle speech—that stealthily
O’ercomes the purpose of the wisest mind,
And, placing it in Juno’s hands, she said:—

“This many-colored zone, and all that dwells
Within it, take, and in thy bosom hide,
And thou, I deem, wilt not return and leave
Thy purpose unfulfilled.” As thus she spake,
The large-eyed stately Juno smiled and took,
And, smiling, in her bosom placed the zone,
While Venus, daughter of the Thunderer,
Went to the palace. Juno took her way
From high Olympus o’er Pieria’s realm
And rich Emathia, o’er equestrian Thrace,
With snowy peaks exceeding high; her feet
Touched not the ground. From Athos suddenly
She stooped upon the tossing deep, and came
To Lemnos, seat of Thoas the divine.
And there she met Death’s brother, Sleep, and took
His hand in hers, and thus accosted him:—

“O Sleep, whose sway is over all the gods
And all mankind, if ever thou didst heed
My supplication, hearken to me now,
And I shall be forever grateful. Close
The glorious eyes of Jove beneath his lids
Midst our embracings, and for thy reward
Thou shalt possess a sumptuous throne of gold
Imperishable. Vulcan, my lame son,
Shall forge it for thee, and adorn its sides,
And place below a footstool, upon which
Thy shining feet shall rest in banqueting.”

Then gentle Sleep made answer, speaking thus:—
“Great Saturn’s daughter, Juno the august,
On any other of the deathless gods
Could I bring slumber—even on the tides
Of the swift Ocean, parent of them all;
Yet may I not approach Saturnian Jove
If he command me not. Already once
He made me quail with fright before his threats,
When his magnanimous son, Alcides, sailed
From Troy, which he had ravaged. Then I lulled
The senses of the Aegis-bearer, Jove,
Wrapping myself around him, while thy mind
Was planning mischiefs for his son, and thou
Didst wake the blasts of all the bitter winds
To sweep the ocean, and to bear away
The hero on its billows from his friends
To populous Cos. When Jupiter awoke
His anger rose; he seized and flung the gods
Hither and thither; me he chiefly sought,
And would have cast me to destruction, down
From the great heavens into the deep, if Night,
Whose power o’ercomes the might of gods and men,
Had not preserved me, fleeing to her shade.
So Jove refrained, indignant as he was,
For much he feared to offend the swift-paced Night.
And now thou bid’st me tempt my fate again.”

Imperial, large-eyed Juno thus rejoined:—
“Why rise such thoughts, O Sleep, within thy heart?
Deem’st thou that Jove the Thunderer favors Troy
As much as he was angered for the sake
Of Hercules, his son? Do what I ask,
And thou shalt have from me a wedded spouse.
One of the younger Graces shall be thine—
Pasithea, whom thou hast desired so long.”

She spake, and Sleep, delighted, answered thus:—
“Swear now to me, O goddess, by the Styx,
The inviolable river. Lay one hand
Upon the food-producing earth, and place
The other on the glimmering sea, that all
The gods below, round Saturn, may attest
Thy promise—that thou wilt bestow on me
One of the younger Graces for my bride—
Pasithea, whom I have desired so long.”

He spake, and white-armed Juno willingly
Complied; she took the oath, and called on all
The gods who dwell in Tartarus below,
And bear the name of Titans. When the oath
Was taken, and the accustomed rites performed,
From Lemnos and from Imbrus forth they went,
Shrouded in mist; and swiftly moving on
Toward Ida, seamed with rivulets and nurse
Of savage beasts, they came to Lectos first,
And there they left the sea. Their way was now
Over the land, and underneath their feet
The forest summits shook. Sleep halted there
Ere yet the eye of Jupiter descried
His coming, and upon a lofty fir,
The tallest growing on the Idaean mount,
High in the air among the clouds of heaven,
Springing from earth, he took his perch within
The screen of branches, like the shrill-voiced bird,
Called Chalcis by the immortals, and by men
Cymindis, haunting the high mountain-side.

And Juno hastened on to Gargarus,
The peak of lofty Ida. Jupiter,
The Cloud-compeller, saw her, and at once
Love took possession of his mighty heart,
As when they first were wedded, and withdrew
From their dear parents’ sight. The God drew near
And stood before her, and addressed her thus:—

“Why art thou hastening from Olympus thus,
And whither; yet without thy steeds and car?”

And Juno answered with dissembled guile:—
“To the far ends of the green earth I go,
To visit Ocean, father of the gods,
And Mother Tethys, in whose palace halls
They nourished me, and brought me up. I go
To end their hateful quarrels, for too long
Have they been strangers to the marriage-bed,
Incensed against each other. Now my steeds,
Waiting to bear me over land and sea,
Stand at the foot of Ida seamed with rills,
And now I come to thee, lest thou perchance
Be wroth if I unknown to thee repair
To where old Ocean dwells amid his deeps.”

The Cloud-compeller, Jupiter, rejoined:—
“Hereafter, Juno, there will be a time
For such a journey; meantime let us give
This hour to rest and dalliance. Never yet
Did love of goddess or of mortal maid
Possess and overcome my heart as now;
Not even when I loved Ixion’s dame,
Who bore Pirithoüs, prudent as a god
Among the counsellors; nor when I loved
Acrisius’ daughter with the dainty feet,
Danae, who brought forth Perseus, eminent
Above the other warrior-chiefs; nor when
I carried off from Phoenix the renowned
His daughter, who bore Minos afterward,
And Rhadamanthus. Never so I loved
Semele, nor Alcmena who in Thebes
Brought forth to me the great-souled Hercules,
My valiant son, while Bacchus, the delight
Of men, was born of Semele; nor yet
So loved I Ceres, fair-haired queen, nor yet
Latona, gloriously beautiful,
Nor even thee, as now I love, and yield
My spirit to the sweetness of desire.”

Imperial Juno artfully replied:—
“Importunate Saturnius, what is this
That thou hast said? If on this summit height
Of Ida we recline, where all around
Is open to the sight, how will it be
Should any of the ever-living gods
Behold us sleeping, and to all the rest
Declare it? I could never, rising thence,
Enter again thy palace, save with shame.
Yet if thou truly speakest thy desire,
Thou hast a marriage-chamber of thine own,
Which Vulcan, thy beloved son, for thee
Framed, fitting to its posts the solid doors;
And thither let us go to take our rest
Within it, since thou hast declared thy will.”

Then spake again the Cloud-compeller Jove:—
“O Juno! Fear thou not that any god
Or man will look upon us. I shall throw
A golden cloud around us, which the Sun
Himself cannot look through, although his eye
Is piercing, far beyond all other eyes.”

The son of Saturn spake, and took his wife
Into his arms, while underneath the pair
The sacred Earth threw up her freshest herbs—
The dewy lotus, and the crocus-flower,
And thick and soft the hyacinth. All these
Upbore them from the ground. Upon this couch
They lay, while o’er them a bright golden cloud
Gathered, and shed its drops of glistening dew.

So slumbered on the heights of Gargarus
The All-Father, overcome by sleep and love,
And held his consort in his arms. Meanwhile
The gentle Sleep made haste to seek the fleet
Of Greece. He bore a message to the god
Neptune, who shakes the shores, and, drawing near,
He thus accosted him with wingèd words:—

“Now, Neptune, give the Greeks thy earnest aid,
And though it be but for a little space,
While Jupiter yet slumbers, let them win
The glory of the day; for I have wrapt
His senses in a gentle lethargy,
To which he is betrayed by Juno’s wiles.”

He spake, and took his way, departing thence
Among the tribes of men. These words inflamed
The god’s desire to aid the Greeks; he sprang
Far on among the foremost, and exclaimed:—

“O Greeks! Do ye again submit to yield
The victory to Hector, Priam’s son.
That he may seize our fleet and bear away
The glory of the day? This is his hope,
And this his boast, since now Achilles lies
Inactive at his ships, in sullen wrath.
Yet little should we need him, if the rest
Stood bravely by each other. Hear me now,
And do what I advise. Let all of us,
The best and bravest, bearing shields, and capped
With glittering helms, and wielding in our hands
The longest spears, advance, and I will lead
The charge; nor do I think that Hector, son
Of Priam, daring as he seems, will yet
Abide our onset. Who so has the heart
To make a stand with me, and yet who bears
A narrow shield, let it be given to one
Less warlike, and a broader shield be found.”

He spake; they hearkened and obeyed. The kings
Tydides, and Ulysses, and the son
Of Atreus, Agamemnon, though their wounds
Still galled them, marshalled and reviewed the ranks,
And changed their arms; they made the braver wear
The better armor, and the worse they gave
To the less warlike. Now, when o’er their breasts
The burnished mail was girded, they began
Their march; the great earth-shaker, Neptune, led
The onset, grasping in his sinewy hand
A sword of fearful length and flashing blade,
Like lightning. No man dared encounter it
In combat; every arm was stayed by fear.

Right opposite, illustrious Hector ranged
His Trojans. Dark-haired Neptune and the son
Of Priam now engaged in desperate strife,
One on the side of Troy, and one for Greece.
The sea swelled upward toward the Grecian tents
And fleet, while both the armies flung themselves
Against each other with a loud uproar.
Not with such noise the ocean-billows lash
The mainland, when the violent north wind
Tumbles them shoreward; not with such a noise
Roar the fierce flames within the mountain glen,
When leaping upward to consume the trees;
And not so loudly howls the hurricane
Among the lofty branches of the oaks
When in its greatest fury, as now rose
The din of battle from the hosts that rushed
Against each other with terrific cries.

At Ajax glorious Hector cast his spear,
As face to face they stood. It missed him not,
But struck him where two belts upon his breast
O’erlapped each other—that which held the shield
And that which bore the silver-studded sword.
These saved the tender muscles. Hector, vexed
That thus his weapon should have flown in vain,
Retreated toward his comrades, shunning death.
As he drew back, the Telamonian hurled
A stone—for stones in multitude, that propped
The galleys, lay around, and rolled among
The feet of those who struggled. One of these
He lifted, smiting Hector on the breast,
Above the buckler’s orb and near the neck.
He sent it spinning like a top; it fell
And whirled along the ground. As when beneath
The stroke of Father Jupiter an oak
Falls broken at the root, and from it fumes
A stifling smell of sulphur, and the heart
Of him who stands and sees it sinks with dread—
For fearful is the bolt of mighty Jove—
So dropped the valiant Hector to the earth
Amid the dust; his hand let fall the spear;
His shield and helm fell with him, and his mail
Of shining brass clashed round him. Then the Greeks
Rushed toward him, yelling fiercely, for they hoped
To drag him thence; and many a lance they cast;
But none by javelin or by thrust could wound
The shepherd of the people, for there came
Around him all the bravest of his host—
Polydamas, Aeneas, and the great
Agenor, and Sarpedon, he who led
The Lycian bands, and Glaucus the renowned;
These flung themselves into the strife, while none
Of all the rest refrained, but firmly held
Their broad round shields before him. Then his friends
Lifted him in their arms, and bore him off,
Out of the conflict, to his fiery steeds
That waited for him in the battle’s rear,
With charioteer and sumptuous car; and these
Bore him to Ilium, sorely suffering.

But when they now had reached the crossing-place
Of Xanthus, full of eddies, pleasant stream,
The progeny of ever-living Jove,
They lifted out the hero from the car,
And laid him on the ground, and on him poured
Water, at which his breath and sight returned.
He sat upon his knees, and from his throat
Gave forth the purple blood, and then he fell
Back to the ground, and darkness veiled his eyes,
For still his senses felt the stunning blow.

The Greeks saw Hector leave the field, and pressed
The foe more hotly, and bethought themselves
Of their old valor. Then the swift of foot,
Oilean Ajax, darted to the van,
And with his fir-tree spear smote Satnius, son
Of Enops, whom a Naiad eminent
For beauty among all the nymphs brought forth
To Enops, when on Satnio’s banks he kept
His flocks. Oileus’ son, expert to wield
The spear, drew near, and pierced him in the flank.
Prostrate he fell, and suddenly the Greeks
And Trojans gathered round in desperate fray.
Polydamas, the mighty spearman, son
Of Panthoüs, coming to avenge him, smote
On the right shoulder Prothoenor, son
Of Areilochus. The pitiless spear
Passed through, and falling in the dust he grasped
The earth with dying hands. Polydamas
Shouted aloud, exulting over him:—

“Not vainly, as I think, hath flown the spear
From the strong hand of the magnanimous son
Of Panthoüs. Some Achaian hath received
The weapon in his side, to lean upon
In going down to Pluto’s dim abode.”

He spake; the Achaians chafed to hear his boast,
And most the warlike son of Telamon;
For the slain Greek fell near him. Instantly,
Just as the Trojan moved away, he hurled
His shining lance. Polydamas, to escape
The death-stroke, sprang aside. Archilochus,
Antenor’s son, received the blow: the gods
Had doomed him to be slain. It pierced the spine
Where the head joins the neck, and severed there
The tendons on each side. His head and mouth
And nostrils struck the ground before his knees.

And thus to excellent Polydamas
Did Ajax shout in turn: “Bethink thee now,
And tell me truly, was not this a man
Worthy to die for Prothoenor’s sake?
No man of mean repute or meanly born
He seems, but either brother to the knight
Antenor, or his son; for certainly
His looks declare him of Antenor’s race.”

He spake; but well he knew the slain. Meanwhile
The Trojans heard and grieved. Then Acamas,
Stalking around his fallen brother, slew
Promachus, the Boeotian, with his spear,
While dragging off the dead man by the feet.

Then o’er the fallen warrior, Acamas
Boasted aloud: “O measureless in threats!
Bowmen of Argos! Not to us alone
Shall woe and mourning come; ye also yet
Will perish. See your Promachus o’erthrown,
And by my spear, that so my brother’s death
May not be unrequited. Every man
Should wish a brother left to avenge his fall.”

He ended, and the Greeks were vexed to hear
His boast; the brave Peneleus most of all
Was angered, and he rushed on Acamas,
Who waited not the onset of the king,
And in his stead was Ilioneus slain,
The son of Phorbas, who was rich in flocks,
Whom Mercury, of all the sons of Troy,
Loved most, and gave him ample wealth; his wife
Brought Ilioneus forth, and only him;
And him Peneleus smote beneath the brow
In the eye’s socket, forcing out the ball;
The spear passed through, and reappeared behind.
Down sat the wounded man with arms outstretched,
While, drawing his sharp sword, Peneleus smote
The middle of his neck, and lopped away
The helmèd head, which fell upon the ground,
The spear still in the eye. He lifted it
As one would lift a poppy up, and thus
He shouted, boasting, to the Trojan host:—

“Go now, ye Trojans, and inform from me
The father and the mother of the slain
That they may mourn within their palace walls
Illustrious Ilioneus. After this
Shall the sad wife of Promachus, the son
Of Alegenor, never hasten forth
To meet her husband with glad looks, when we
The Greeks return from Ilium with our fleet.”

He spake; the Trojans all grew pale with fear,
And gazed around for an escape from death.

Say, Muses, ye who on the Olympian height
Inhabit, who was first among the Greeks
To gather bloody spoil, when now the power
That shakes the shores had turned the tide of war.

First, Ajax, son of Telamon, struck down
Hyrtius, the leader of the Mysian band,
And son of Gyrtias, while Antilochus
Spoiled Mermerus and Phalces. Morys next,
Slain by the weapon of Meriones,
Fell with Hippotion. Teucer overthrew
Prothous and Periphoetes. Atreus’ son
Smote Hyperenor, prince among his tribe,
Upon the flank; the trenchant weapon drank
The entrails, and the soul, driven forth, escaped
Through the deep wound, and darkness veiled his eyes.
But Ajax swift of foot, Oileus’ son,
O’erthrew the most, for none could equal him
In swift pursuit when Jove ordained a flight.

Book 15

The Fifth Battle at the Ships

The anger of Jupiter on awaking appeased by Juno’s denial that she had instigated Neptune to aid the Greeks—Iris despatched to recall Neptune from the field—Mars, enraged at the death of his son Ascalaphus and arming to aid the Trojans, is restrained by Minerva—Hector healed by Apollo—His return to the field—The Greeks driven back to the ships by the Trojans, who attempt to set the fleet on fire—Defence of the ships by Ajax.

Now when the Trojans in their flight had crossed
Rampart and trench, and many had been slain
By the pursuing Greeks, they made a halt
Beside their chariots, in despair and pale
With terror. Meanwhile Jupiter awoke,
On Ida’s height, from slumber by the side
Of Juno, goddess of the golden throne.
At once he rose and saw the Trojan host
Routed, and, following close upon their flight,
The Argive warriors putting them to rout,
Aided by Neptune, sovereign of the sea,
And Hector lying on the field among
His fellow-warriors, breathing painfully,
Vomiting blood, and senseless, for the arm
That smote was not the feeblest of the Greeks.
The Father of immortals and of men
Beheld and pitied him, and terribly
Frowned upon Juno, and bespake her thus:—

“O evil minded Juno, full of guile!
Thy arts have made the noble Hector leave
The combat, and have forced his troops to flee.
I know not whether’t were not well that thou
Shouldst taste the fruit of thy pernicious wiles,
Chastised by me with stripes. Dost thou forget
When thou didst swing suspended, and I tied
Two anvils to thy feet, and bound a chain
Of gold that none could break around thy wrists?
Then didst thou hang in air amid the clouds,
And all the gods of high Olympus saw
With pity. They stood near, but none of them
Were able to release thee. Whoso came
Within my reach I seized, and hurled him o’er
Heaven’s threshold, and he fell upon the earth
Scarce breathing. Yet the passion of my wrath,
Caused by the wrongs of godlike Hercules,
Was not to be so calmed; for craftily
Hadst thou called up the violent northern blast,
To chase him far across the barren deep,
And drive him from his course to populous Cos.
I rescued him at length, and brought him back
To Argos famed for steeds, though after long
And many hardships. I remind thee now
Of this, that thou mayst see of what avail
Hereafter thy dissembled love and all
Thy cunning strategies will be to thee.”

He spake, and Juno, large-eyed and august,
Shuddered, and answered Jove with wingèd words:—

“Be witness, Earth, and the great Heavens above,
And waters of the Styx that glide beneath—
That dreadful oath which most the blessed gods
Revere—be witness, too, that sacred head
Of thine, and our own nuptial couch, by which
I would not rashly swear at any time,
That not by my persuasion Neptune went—
The shaker of the shores—to harass Troy
And Hector, and to aid the cause of Greece.
He went self-counselled; he had seen the Greeks
Pressed grievously beside their fleet, and took
Compassion on them. Yet would I advise
That he obey thy word, and take his place
Where thou, the Cloud compeller, bid’st him go.”

She ended, and the Father of the gods
And mortals smiled, and said, in wingèd words:—

“Large-eyed, imperial Juno, wouldst thou sit
In council with the immortals, and assist
My purposes, then Neptune, though at heart
He were averse, would yet conform his will
To mine and thine. If thou dost truly speak,
And from thy heart, go now to where the gods
Assemble, summon Iris, and with her
The archer-god Apollo. Give in charge
To Iris that she hasten to the host
Of the mailed Greeks, and bid king Neptune leave,
The battle for his palace. Let the god
Phoebus, preparing Hector for the fight,
Breathe strength into his frame, that so he lose
The sense of pain which bows his spirit now,
And he shall force the Greeks again to flee
In craven fear. Then shall their flying host
Fall back upon the galleys of the son
Of Peleus, who shall send into the fight
His friend Patroclus. Him the mighty spear
Of Hector shall o’erthrow before the walls
Of Ilium, after many a Trojan youth
Shall by his hand have fallen, and with them
My noble son, Sarpedon. Roused to rage,
Then shall the great Achilles take the life
Of Hector. Be it from this time my care
That all the assaults of Trojans in the fleet
Be beaten back, till by Minerva’s aid
The Greeks possess the lofty town of Troy.
Still am I angry, nor will I allow
One of the ever-living gods to aid
The Greeks, until the prayer of Peleus’ son
Shall fully be accomplished, as my word
And nod were given, when Thetis clasped my knees,
Entreating me to honor, signally,
Her son, Achilles, spoiler of walled towns.”

He spake; the white-armed goddess willingly
Obeyed him, and from Ida’s summit flew
To high Olympus. As the thought of man
Flies rapidly, when, having travelled far,
He thinks, “Here would I be, I would be there,”
And flits from place to place, so swiftly flew
Imperial Juno to the Olympian mount,
And there she found the ever-living gods
Assembled in the halls of Jupiter.
These, as they saw her, starting from their seats,
Reached forth their cups to greet her. All the rest
She overlooked, and took the beaker held
By blooming Themis, who in haste had run
To meet her, and in wingèd accents said:—

“Why comest thou, O Juno! with the look
Of one o’ercome with fear. Hath Saturn’s son,
Thy lord, disquieted thy soul with threats?”

The white-armed goddess Juno answered her:—
“Ask me not, heavenly Themis—thou dost know
The cruel, arrogant temper that is his—
But sit presiding at the common feast,
In this fair palace of the gods, and thou
And all in heaven shall hear what evils Jove
Has threatened. All, I think, will not rejoice
To hear the tidings, be they gods or men,
Though some contentedly are feasting now.”

Thus having said, imperial Juno took
Her place, and all the gods within the halls
Of Jupiter were grieved. The goddess smiled,
But only with the lips; her forehead wore
Above the jetty brows no sign of joy,
While thus she spake in anger to the rest:—

“Vainly, and in our madness, do we strive
With Father Jove. We come and seek by craft
Or force to move his stubborn will; he sits
Apart, unyielding, unregarding, proud
Of the vast strength and power in which he stands
Above all other of the deathless gods.
Bear therefore patiently whatever ill
He sends to each. Already, as I learn,
Hath Mars his share of sorrow. In the war
Ascalaphus hath perished, whom he loved
Dearly, beyond all other men, and whom
The fiery god acknowledged as his son.”

As thus she spake, Mars smote his sinewy thighs
With his dropped hands, and sorrowfully said:—

“Be not offended with me, ye who make
Your dwelling on Olympus, if I go
Down to the Achaian fleet, and there avenge
The slaughter of my son, though I be doomed
To fall before the thunderbolt of Jove,
And lie in blood and dust among the dead.”

He spake, and summoned Fear and Flight to yoke
His steeds, and put his glorious armor on.
Then greater and more terrible had been
The avenging wrath of Jupiter inflamed
Against the gods, if Pallas in her fear
For all the heavenly dwellers had not left
Her throne, and, rushing through the portals, snatched
The helmet from his head, and from his arm
The shield, and from his brawny hand the spear,
And laid the brazen weapon by, and thus
Rebuked the fiery temper of the god:—

“Thou madman, thou art frantic, thou art lost!
Hast thou not ears to hear, nor any shame
Nor reason left? Hast thou not heard the words
Of white-armed Juno, who so lately left
Olympian Jupiter? Wouldst thou return
In pain and sorrow to the Olympian heights,
Driven back ingloriously, and made the cause
Of many miseries to all the gods?—
For Jove would leave the Trojans and their foes,
The gallant Greeks, and turn on us, and bring
Ruin upon Olympus. He would seize
Guilty and guiltless in his rage alike.
Wherefore I counsel thee to lay aside
Resentment for the slaughter of thy son,
Since braver men and stronger have been slain,
And will be slain hereafter. Vain it were
To seek from death to save the race of man.”

She said, and, leading back the fiery Mars,
Seated him on his throne, while Juno called
Apollo forth, with Iris, messenger
Of heaven, and thus in wingèd accents spake:—

“Jove calls you both to Ida. When ye reach
Its heights, and look upon his countenance,
Receive his sovereign mandate and obey.”

So spake imperial Juno, and withdrew
And took her seat again, while they in haste
Flew toward the mount of Ida, seamed with rills
And nurse of savage beasts. Upon the top
Of Gargarus they found the Thunderer,
The son of Saturn, sitting. In a cloud
Of fragrant haze he sat concealed; the twain
Entered and stood before the God of Storms,
Who saw them not displeased, so speedily
Had they obeyed his consort. First he turned
To Iris, and in wingèd accents said:—

“Haste thee, swift Iris, and report my words
To royal Neptune, and report them right.
Bid him, withdrawing from the battle-field,
Repair to the assembly of the gods,
Or the great ocean. If he disobey,
Contemning my command, then bid him think
Maturely, whether, mighty though he be,
He can withstand when I put forth my power
Against him. Greater is my strength than his,
And elder-born am I. Yet in his pride
Of heart he dares to call himself my peer,
Though all the others look on me with awe.”

Thus spake the god, and Iris, whose swift feet
Are like the wind, obeyed, and downward plunged
From Ida’s height to sacred Troy. As when
Snow-flakes or icy hail are dropped to earth
From clouds before the north wind when it sweeps
The sky, so darted Iris to the ground,
And stood by mighty Neptune’s side, and said:—

“O dark-haired shaker of the shores, I bring
A message from the Aegis-bearer, Jove,
That thou, withdrawing from the battle-field,
Repair to the assembly of the gods,
Or the great ocean. If thou disobey,
Contemning his command, then hear his threat:
He will come hither and put forth his power
Against thee, and he warns thee not to tempt
The strife; for greater is his power than thine,
And he is elder-born, though in thy pride
Of heart thou dost declare thyself the peer
Of him whom all the rest regard with awe.”

Illustrious Neptune answered with disdain:—
“In truth an arrogant speech; he seeks by force
To bar me from my purpose, who can claim
Rights equal to his own, though great his power.
We are three brothers—Rhea brought us forth—
The sons of Saturn—Jupiter, and I,
And Pluto, regent of the realm below.
Three parts were made of all existing things,
And each of us received his heritage.
The lots were shaken; and to me it fell
To dwell forever in the hoary deep,
And Pluto took the gloomy realm of night,
And, lastly, Jupiter the ample heaven
And air and clouds. Yet doth the earth remain,
With high Olympus, common to us all.
Therefore I yield me not to do his will,
Great as he is; and let him be content
With his third part. He cannot frighten me
With gestures of his arm. Let him insult
With menaces the daughters and the sons
Of his own loves, and give them law, since they
Perforce must hear, and patiently submit.”

Then the fleet-footed Iris spake again:—
“O dark-haired Neptune, shall I bear from thee
This harsh, defiant answer back to Jove,
Or shall it yet be changed? The prudent mind
Yields to the occasion, and thou knowest well
The Furies wait upon the elder-born.”

Then spake in turn the god who shakes the shores:—
“O goddess Iris, thou hast wisely said.
An excellent thing it is when messengers
Know how to counsel well. But in my heart
And soul a wrathful sense of injury
Arises when he chides with insolent words
Me, who was equal with him in my lot,
And born to equal destinies. Yet now,
Although offended, I give way; but this
I tell thee, and ’tis from my heart—if he,
In spite of me and Pallas, spoiler-queen,
And Juno, Mercury, and Vulcan, spare
The towers of Troy—if he refuse to bring
Ruin on her, and glory on the Greeks,
Then let him know that hatred without end
Or intermission is between us two.”

As thus he spake, the shaker of the shores
Quitted the Grecian army, took his way
Seaward, and plunged into the deep. The host
Perceived their loss. Then Cloud-compelling Jove
Turned to Apollo and addressed him thus:—

“Now go at once to Hector, mailed in brass,
Beloved Phoebus, for the god who shakes
The earth, departing to the ocean-deeps,
Avoids our wrath; else had the other gods,
Even they who far beneath the earth surround
Old Saturn, heard our quarrel. Well it is
For both of us that he, although enraged,
Braved not my arm, for otherwise the strife
Had not been ended without sweat. Now take
The fringèd aegis in thy hands, and shake
Its orb before the warrior Greeks, to fill
Their hearts with fear. I give, O archer-god,
Illustrious Hector to thy charge. Revive
The might that dwelt within him, till the Greeks
Reach, in their flight, the fleet and Hellespont;
Then shall it be my care, by word and deed,
To give them rest and respite from their toils.”

He spake: Apollo hearkened and obeyed
His father, darting down from Ida’s height
Like the fleet falcon, chaser of the dove,
And swiftest of the race of birds. He found
Hector, the warlike Priam’s noble son,
No longer on his bed. He sat upright;
The life was coming back; he knew again
His friends; the heavy breathing ceased; the sweat
Was stanched; the will of aegis-bearing Jove
Revived the warrior’s strength. The archer-god,
Phoebus, approached, and, standing by him, said:—

“Why, Hector, son of Priam, dost thou sit
Languishing thus, apart from all the host?
Has aught of evil overtaken thee?”

And then the crested Hector feebly said:
“Who mayst thou be, O kindest of the gods,
That thus dost question me? Hast thou not heard
That the great warrior Ajax, with a stone,
Smote me upon the breast, and made me leave
The battle-field, where I o’ertook and slew
His comrades by the galleys of the Greeks?
I thought to be this day among the dead
In Pluto’s mansion; even now it seemed
That I was breathing my dear life away.”

Then spake again Apollo, archer-god:—
“Take courage, for the son of Saturn sends
From Ida’s summit one who will attend
And aid thee—Phoebus of the golden sword,
Long practised to defend thy Troy and thee.
Rise now, encouraging thy numerous host
Of charioteers to press with their swift steeds
Straight toward the roomy galleys of the Greeks,
I go before to smooth for them the way,
And turn the Achaian bands, and make them flee.”

He spake, and into the great ruler’s breast
Breathed strength and courage. As a stabled horse,
Fed at his crib with barley, breaks the thong
That fastened him, and, issuing, scours the plain
Where he was wont in some smooth-flowing stream
To bathe his sides—he holds his head aloft
Proudly, and o’er his shoulders streams the mane—
Consciously beautiful, he darts away
On nimble knees, that bear him to the fields
He knows so well, and pastures of the mares;—
So after he had hearkened to the god
Moved the swift feet of Hector, and he flew
To cheer his horsemen on. As peasant men
Rush with their dogs in chase of horned stag
Or mountain goat, whose refuge is among
Thickets and lofty rocks, nor can they take
Their prey, for at their clamor there appears
A maned lion in the way, and turns
The chasers back, although in hot pursuit—
Thus did the Greeks embattled close pursue
The men of Ilium, striking with their swords
And two-edged spears; but when at length they saw
Hector among the ranks of armèd men,
Their hearts were troubled, and their courage sank.

Thoas, Andrannon’s son, the bravest far
Among the Aetolians, skilled to cast the spear
And combat hand to hand, addressed the Greeks.
In council few excelled him, when the youths
Assembled for debate. With prudent speech
Thoas bespake his fellow-warriors thus:—
“Gods! What a marvel do mine eyes behold;
Hector has risen from death! We fully thought,
Each one of us, that, smitten by the hand
Of Telamonian Ajax, he had died.
Some god hath rescued and restored to strength
This Hector who hath slain, and yet will slay,
I fear, so many Greeks. He comes not thus
Leading the charge without the aid of Jove,
The God of Thunders. Now let all of us
Follow this counsel: bid the multitude
Retreat upon the ships, and let the rest,
Who boast ourselves the bravest of the host,
Stand firm and breast his onset, and so break
Its fury with our lifted spears. I think,
With all his rage, he will be slow to fling
Himself into a band of armèd Greeks.”

He spake; they hearkened and at once complied;
The Ajaxes, the Prince Idomeneus,
Teucer, Meriones, and Meges, peer
Of Mars, assembled all the chiefs, and ranked
Their files to encounter Hector and his band
Of Trojans, while the multitude fell back
To the Greek galleys. Then, in close array,
The Trojan host moved forward. Hector led
The van in rapid march. Before him walked
Phoebus, the terrible aegis in his hands
Dazzlingly bright within its shaggy fringe,
By Vulcan forged, the great artificer,
And given to Jupiter, with which to rout
Armies of men. With this in hand he led
The assailants on. The Achaians kept their ground
In serried ranks, and a sharp yell arose
From Greeks and Trojans. Arrows from the string
Flew through the air, and spears from valiant hands.
Some pierced the breasts of warrior-youths, but more
Fell half-way ere they reached their aim, and plunged
Into the ground, still hungering for their prey.
As long as Phoebus held the aegis still,
The weapons reached and wounded equally
Both armies, and in both the people fell;
But ever when the god looked face to face
On the Greek knights, and shook the orb, and gave
A mighty shout, he made their hearts to sink
Within their bosoms, and their courage fled.
As when two beasts of prey at dead of night
Suddenly, while their keeper is away,
Scatter a herd of beeves or flock of sheep,
So the disheartened Greeks were put to rout
For Phoebus sent among them fear, and gave
Victory to Hector and the men of Troy.

Then, as the lines were broken, man slew man.
First Stichius fell by Hector’s hand, and next
Arcesilaus; one was chief among
The mailed Boeotians, one the trusty friend
Of brave Menestheus. Medon fell before
Aeneas, and with him Iasus died.
Medon was great Otleus’ base-born son,
And Ajax was his brother, and he dwelt
In Phylacè, an exile, for his hand
Had slain the brother of his father’s wife,
The step-dame Eriopis, late espoused.
Iasus was appointed to command
The warriors sent from Athens, and he claimed
His birth from Sphelus, son of Bucolus.
Mecistes fell before Polydamas.
Polites struck down Echius in the van,
And Clonius died by great Agenor’s hand;
And Paris, when Deiochus had turned
To flee, among the foremost combatants,
Smote him upon the shoulder from behind,
And drave the brazen weapon through his heart.

Then, while the Trojans stripped the dead, the Greeks
Fled every way, and, falling as they ran
Into the trench and on the stakes, were driven
Back o’er the rampart. Hector lifted up
His mighty voice, and bade the Trojans leave
The bloody spoil and hasten to the ships.
“And whomsoever I shall find apart
In any place, at distance from the ships,
There will I slay him. None of all his kin,
Women or men, shall build his funeral pile,
But dogs shall tear his limbs in sight of Troy.”

He spake; and on the shoulders of his steeds
He laid the lash, and urged them toward the foe,
And cheered the Trojans on. They joined their shouts
To his, and charged with all their steeds and cars;
And fearful was the din. Apollo marched
Before them, treading down with mighty feet
The banks of the deep ditch, and casting them
Back to the middle, till a causey rose,
Broad, and of length like that to which a spear
Reaches when thrown by one who tries his strength.
O’er this the Trojans poured into the camp
By squadrons, with Apollo still in front,
Holding the marvellous aegis. He with ease
O’erthrew the rampart. As a boy at play
Among the sea-shore sands in childish sport
Scatters with feet and hands the little mounds
He reared, thus didst thou cause the mighty work,
O archer Phoebus, which the Greeks had reared
With so much toil, to crumble. Thou didst fill
Their hearts with eager thoughts of flight, till, hemmed
Between the assailants and their ships, they stopped
And bade each other stand, and raised their hands
To all the gods, and offered vows aloud.
Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,
With arms extended toward the starry skies,
Prayed earnestly: “O Father Jove, if e’er
In fruitful Argos there were burned to thee
The thighs of fattened oxen or of sheep,
By one who asked a safe return to Greece,
And thou didst promise it, remember him,
God of Olympus, and avert from us
The day of evil. Suffer not the Greeks
To perish, slaughtered by the sons of Troy.”

So spake he supplicating. Jupiter
The All-disposer thundered as he heard
The old man’s prayer. The Trojans by that voice
Of aegis-bearing Jove were moved to press
The Greeks more resolutely, and were filled
With fiercer valor. As a mighty wave
On the great ocean, driven before a gale
Such as rolls up the hugest billow, sweeps
O’er the ship’s side, so swept the Trojan host
With dreadful tumult o’er the wall. They drave
Their steeds into the camp, and there they fought
Beside the galley-sterns, and hand to hand,
With two-edged spears—they from their cars, the Greeks
From their black ships on high with long-stemmed poles
Which lay upon the decks, prepared for fight
At sea, and strongly joined to blades of brass.

Patroclus, while the Greeks and Trojans fought
Around the wall, at distance from the fleet
Sat with the brave Eurypylus in his tent,
Amusing him with pleasant talk, and dressed
His wound with balms that calmed the bitter pain.
But when he saw the Trojans bursting in
Over the wall, and heard the din, and saw
The Achaians put to rout, he gave a cry
Of sudden grief, and with his open hands
Smote both his thighs, and sorrowfully said:—

“Eurypylus, I cannot stay with thee,
Much as thou needest me, for desperate grows
The struggle. Now let thine attendant take
The charge of thee. I hasten to persuade
Achilles to the field. Who knows but I,
With Jove’s good help, may change his purpose yet?
For potent are the counsels of a friend.”

The hero spake, and instantly his feet
Bore him away. Meanwhile the Achaian host
Firmly withstood the onset of their foes.
And yet, though greater was their multitude,
They could not drive the Trojans from the fleet,
Nor could the Trojans break, with all their power,
The serried lines, and reach the tents and ships.
As when a plumb-line, in the skilful hands
Of shipwright well instructed in his art
By Pallas, squares the beam that builds a barque,
So even was the fortune of the fray.

While some beside one galley waged the war,
And others round another, Hector came
To encounter Ajax the renowned, and both
Fought for one ship. The Trojan could not drive
The Greek away, and burn his ship with fire,
Nor the Greek drive the Trojan, for a god
Had brought him thither. Then did Ajax smite
Caletor, son of Clytius, with his spear
Upon the breast, as he was bringing fire
To burn the ship; he dropped the torch, and fell,
With clashing armor. Hector, as he saw
His kinsman lying slain amid the dust
By the black galley, raised his voice, and thus
Called to the Lycians and the men of Troy:—

“Hear, men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sons
Of Dardanus, who combat hand to hand,
Stand firm, and never yield this narrow ground.
Rescue the son of Clytius, who has fallen
Before the ships, nor let the Achaians make
His arms their spoil.” The hero spake, and aimed
His shining spear at Ajax, whom it missed,
But smote Lycophron, Master’s son, who served
Ajax, and dwelt with him, for he had left
His native land, Cythera, having slain
One of the gallant Cytherean race.
Him Hector smote upon the head beneath
The ear with his keen weapon, as he stood
Near Ajax; from the galley’s stern he fell
Headlong upon the ground, with lifeless limbs.
Then to his brother Teucer Ajax spake:—

“Dear Teucer, see, our faithful friend is gone,
The son of Mastor, from Cythera’s isle,
Whom we had learned to honor equally
With our own parents in our palaces.
He falls before the great-souled Hector’s hand.
Where, then, are now thy shafts that carry death,
And where the bow that Phoebus gave to thee?”

He spake, and Teucer, hearkening, came in haste,
With his bent bow, and quiver full of shafts,
And, standing near him, sent his arrows forth
Among the Trojan warriors. There he smote
Clitus, Pisenor’s eminent son, the friend
Of the renowned Polydamas, who claimed
His birth from Panthoüs. Clitus held the reins,
Guiding the coursers of Polydamas
Where most the crowded Grecian phalanxes
Wavered and broke, that so he might support
Hector and his companions. Soon he met,
Brave as he was, disaster which no hand
Had power to avert: the bitter arrow struck
His neck behind, and from the chariot-seat
He fell to earth; the startled steeds sprang back;
The empty chariot rattled. This the king
Polydamas perceived, and came to meet
His steeds, and gave them to Astinous,
The son of Protiaon, charging him
To keep them ever near, and in his sight,
While he, returning, mingled with the throng
That struggled in the van. Then Teucer aimed
Another shaft at Hector mailed in brass,
Which, had it reached him fighting gallantly,
Had made him leave the battle, for his life
Had ended there. The act was not unseen
By All-disposing Jupiter, whose power
Protected Hector, and denied the Greek
The glory hoped for; for he snapped in twain
The firmly twisted cord as Teucer drew
That perfect bow; the brazen arrow flew
Aside; the warrior’s hands let fall the bow,
And, shuddering, he bespake his brother thus:—

“Now woe is me! Some deity, no doubt,
Brings all our plans to nought. ’Tis he whose touch
Strikes from my hand the bow, and snaps in twain
The cord just twisted, which I bound myself
This morning to the bow, that it might bear
The frequent arrow bounding toward the foe.”

He spake, and thus replied the man of might,
The Telamonian Ajax: “Lay aside
Thy bow, my brother, and thy store of shafts,
Since, in displeasure with the Greeks, a god
Has made them useless. Haste to arm thy hand
With a long spear, and on thy shoulders lay
A buckler, and with these attack the foe,
And bid thy fellows stand. Let Trojans see
That, even though the day thus far be theirs,
They cannot lay their hands on our good ships
Without a mighty struggle. Let us all
Be mindful of our fame for gallant deeds.”

He spake, and Teucer went to place the bow
Within the tents, and on his shoulders hung
A fourfold shield, and placed on his grand brows
A stately helmet with a horse-hair crest
That nodded fearfully. He took in hand
A ponderous spear with brazen blade, and sprang
Forward with hasty steps, and stood beside
His brother Ajax. Hector, when he saw
That Teucer’s shafts had failed him, called aloud
Upon the men of Lycia and of Troy:—

“Ye men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sons
Of Dardanus who combat hand to hand,
Acquit yourselves like men, my friends, and prove
Your fiery valor by these roomy ships;
For I have seen with mine own eyes the shafts
Of their chief warrior rendered impotent
By Jupiter. His hand is plainly seen
Among the sons of men; to some he gives
Glory above the rest; from some he takes
The glory, and withdraws from their defence.
He withers now the courage of the Greeks,
And succors us. Press closely round the fleet,
And combat. Whosoe’er among you all,
Wounded or beaten down, shall meet his death,
So let him die; ’tis no inglorious fate
To perish fighting in his country’s cause;
And he shall leave his wife and children safe,
His home and household store inviolate,
If now the Greeks depart to their own land.”

With words like these he filled their hearts anew
With strength and courage. On the other side
Ajax exhorted thus his warrior friends:—

“Shame on you, Greeks! We perish here, unless
We rescue with strong arms our host and fleet.
Think ye that, should the crested Hector seize
Our galleys, ye may reach your homes on foot?
Hear ye not Hector’s voice, who, fiercely bent
To burn our ships with fire, is cheering on
His warriors? To no dance he summons them,
But to the battle. Nought is left for us,
And other counsel there is none, save this:
Close with the foe; let every hand put forth
Its strength; far better’t were to die at once,
Or make at once our safety sure, than thus
To waste away, in lingering fight, beside
Our ships, destroyed by weaker arms than ours.”

So spake the chief, and all who heard received
Courage and strength. Then Hector put to death
Schedius, the son of Perimedes, prince
Of the Phocaeans. Ajax also slew
Laodamas, Antenor’s honored son,
A chief of infantry. Polydamas
Struck down Cyllenian Otus, who had come,
The comrade of Phylides, at the head
Of the high-souled Epeians. Meges saw,
And rushed upon Polydamas, who sprang
Aside unharmed, for Phoebus suffered not
The son of Panthoüs thus to be o’erthrown,
Fighting among the foremost. But the spear
Of Meges wounded Croesmus in the breast;
He fell with clanging arms. The slayer stripped
The corpse; but Dolops, son of Lampus, skilled
To wield the spear, leaped on him in the act.
Lampus, the father, best of men, was son
Of king Laomedon, and eminent
For warlike prowess. Dolops struck the shield
Of Meges in the midst; the corselet stayed
The blade with its close jointed plates, and saved
The warrior’s life. That corselet Phyleus brought
From Ephyrè, beside the Selleis,
Given by his host, Euphetes, king of men,
For his defence in battle, and it now
Preserved his son from death. Then Meges smote
With his sharp spear the helm that Dolops wore,
And from its summit struck the horse-hair crest,
New-tinged with purple, and the cone entire
Fell midst the dust. While Meges, standing firm,
Fought thus, and hoped the victory, to his aid
Came warlike Menelaus, unobserved,
And, standing near, smote Dolops from behind,
Beneath the shoulder, and drave through the spear
Till it appeared beyond. The Trojan fell
Upon his face, and both the Greeks rushed on
To wrench the brazen armor from his limbs,
When Hector saw his fall and called aloud
Upon the kindred of the slain. He first
Rebuked the valiant Melanippus, son
Of Hicetaon, who but lately fed
His slow-paced beeves at Percote, while yet
The enemy was far from Troy; but when
The Achaians landed from their well-oared barques,
He came to Troy, and took an eminent place
Among the Trojans. Near to Priam’s halls
He had his dwelling, honored equally
With Priam’s sons. Him Hector thus rebuked:—

“Why, Melanippus, are we loitering thus?
Grievest thou not to see thy kinsman slain?
And see’st thou not how eagerly the Greeks
Are spoiling Dolops of his arms? Come on
With me. No time is this for distant fight,
But either we must rout the Greeks, or they
Will level to the ground the lofty towers
Of Ilium, and will slay its citizens.”

He spake, and led the way; his godlike friend
Followed him, while the son of Telamon,
Ajax, exhorted thus the sons of Greece:—

“Be men, my friends, and let a noble dread
Of shame possess your hearts, and jealously
Look to each other’s honor in the heat
Of battle; for to men who flee there comes
No glory, and that way no safety lies.”

He spake, and all were eager to drive back
The assaulting foe; they heeded well his words,
And drew around their barques a fence of mail,
While Jove urged on the Trojans. Then it was
That Menelaus, brave in battle, spake
To rouse the courage of Antilochus:—

“Antilochus, there is no other Greek
Younger than thou, or fleeter; none so strong
For combat. Would that, springing on the foe,
Thou mightest strike some Trojan warrior down.”

So speaking, he drew back; but he had roused
The courage of his friend, who, springing forth
From midst the foremost combatants, took aim,
First looking keenly round, with his bright spear,
From which the Trojans shrank as they beheld
The hero cast it. Not in vain he threw
The weapon, for it struck upon the breast
Brave Melanippus, Hicetaon’s son;
Beneath the pap it smote him as he came.
He fell with ringing arms; Antilochus
Sprang toward him like a hound that springs to seize
A wounded fawn, which, leaping from its lair,
Is stretched disabled by the hunter’s dart.
So sprang the stout Antilochus on thee,
O Melanippus!—sprang to spoil thy limbs
Of armor; but the noble Hector saw,
And, hastening through the thick of battle, came
Against him. Mighty as he was in war,
Yet ventured not Antilochus to wait
His coming; but as flees a savage beast,
Conscious of guilty deed, when, having slain
Herdsman or hound, that kept the pastured kine,
He steals away before a crowd of men,
So fled the son of Nestor. On his rear
The Trojans under Hector poured a storm
Of weapons, and the din was terrible.
Yet when he reached the serried ranks of Greece
He turned and stood. Meanwhile the Trojan host,
Like ravening lions, fiercely rushed against
The galleys, that the will of Jupiter
Might be fulfilled; for now he nerved their limbs
With vigor ever new, while he denied
Stout hearts and victory to the Greeks, and cheered
Their foes with hope. His purpose was to give
The victory to Hector, Priam’s son,
Till he should cast upon the beaked ships
The fierce, devouring fire, and bring to pass
The end for which the cruel Thetis prayed.

Therefore did Jove the All-disposer wait
Till from a burning galley he should see
The flames arise. Then must the Trojan host—
Such was his will—retreating from the fleet,
Yield to the Greeks the glory of the day.
For this he moved the already eager heart
Of Hector, son of Priam, to attack
The roomy ships. The hero was aroused
To fury fierce as Mars when brandishing
His spear, or as a desolating flame
That rages on a mountain-side among
The thickets of a close-grown wood. His lips
Were white with foam; his eyes from underneath
His frowning brows streamed fire; and as he fought,
Upon the hero’s temples fearfully
The helmet nodded. Jupiter himself
Sent aid from his high seat, and heaped on him
Honor and fame beyond the other chiefs—
And they were many—for his term of life
Was to be short. Minerva even now
Was planning to bring on its closing day,
Made fatal by the might of Peleus’ son.
And now he strove to break the Grecian ranks,
Assaulting where he saw the thickest crowd
And the best weapons; yet in vain he strove
With all his valor. Through the serried lines
He could not break; the Greeks in solid squares
Resisted, like a rock that huge and high
By the gray deep abides the buffetings
Of the shrill winds and swollen waves that beat
Against it. Firmly thus the Greeks withstood
The Trojan host, and fled not. In a blaze
Of armor, Hector, rushing toward their ranks,
Fell on them like a mighty billow raised
By the strong cloud-born winds, that flings itself
On a swift ship, and whelms it in its spray,
While fearfully among the cordage howls
The blast; the sailors tremble and are faint
With fear, as men who deem their death-hour nigh.
So the Greek warriors were dismayed at heart.

As when a hungry lion suddenly
Springs on a herd of kine that crop the grass
By hundreds in the broad moist meadow-grounds,
Beneath the eye of one who never learned
To guard his hornèd charge from beasts of prey,
But ever walks before them or behind,
While the grim spoiler bounds into the midst
And makes a prey of one, and all the rest
Are scattered in affright, so all the Greeks
Were scattered by the will of heaven before
Hector and Father Jove. Yet only one,
Young Periphoetes of Mycenae, fell,
The son of Copreus. Once his father went
An envoy from Eurystheus to the court
Of mighty Hercules. The son excelled
The father in all gifts of form and mind,
In speed, in war, in council eminent
Among the noblest of his land. His death
Brought Hector new renown; for as he turned,
Stepping by chance upon his buckler’s rim,
That reached the ground—the buckler which had been
His fence against the enemy’s darts—he fell
Backward, his helmet clashing fearfully
Around his temples. Hector saw, and came
In haste, and pierced his bosom with his spear,
Among his fellow-warriors, who with grief
Beheld, yet dared not aid him, such their awe
Of noble Hector. Now the Greeks retired
Among that row of galleys which were first
Drawn up the beach; the foe poured after them,
In hot pursuit; again the Greeks fell back,
Constrained, and left that foremost row behind,
And stood beside their tents in close array,
And not dispersed throughout the camp, for shame
And fear restrained them, and unceasingly
With shouts they bade each other bravely stand.
Chiefly Gerenian Nestor, wise to guide
The counsels of the Greeks, adjured them all,
And in their parents’ name, to keep their ground.

“O friends, be men; so act that none may feel
Ashamed to meet the eyes of other men.
Think each one of his children and his wife,
His home, his parents, living yet or dead.
For them, the absent ones, I supplicate,
And bid you rally here, and scorn to fly.”

He spake, and his brave words to every heart
Carried new strength and courage. Pallas then
Lifted the heaven-sent cloud that veiled the fight,
And all things in the clear full light were seen
On either side, both where the galleys lay
And where the warriors struggled. They beheld
Hector the great in war, and all his host,
Both those who formed the rear and wielded not
Their arms, and those who combated in front
Beside the ships. And now it pleased no more
The soul of valiant Ajax to remain
In the thick squadrons with the other Greeks,
But, striding on the galley-decks, he bore
A sea-pike two and twenty cubits long,
Huge, and beset with iron nails. As when
One who is skilled to vault on running steeds
Chooses four horses from a numerous herd,
And on the highway to a populous town
Drives them, while men and women in a crowd
Behold his feats with wonder, as he leaps
Boldly, without a fall, from steed to steed,
And back again, and all the while they run,
So on the lofty decks of those good ships
From ship to ship flew Ajax, lifting up
His mighty voice—a shout that reached to heaven—
And bade the Greeks defend their fleet and tents.
Nor loitered Hector in those armèd throngs
Of Troy, but as a tawny eagle swoops
Upon a flock of birds that seek their food
Along a river’s border—geese or cranes,
Or long-necked swans—so Hector in hot haste
Sprang toward a galley with an azure prow,
While mightily the power of Jove impelled
The hero onward, and inflamed his train
With courage. Fiercely then around the ships
The struggle was renewed. Thou wouldst have said
No toils of war could tire those resolute arms,
So stubbornly they fought. In every mind
The thought was this: the Greeks were in despair
Of rescue, and believed their hour had come
To perish; every Trojan hoped to give
The fleet to flames, and slay the sons of Greece.
With thoughts like these the hostile warriors closed.

Then Hector laid his hand upon the stern
Of a stanch galley, beautiful and swift,
In which Protesilaüs came to Troy—
It never bore him back. Around its keel
The Trojans and the Greeks fought hand to hand,
And slew each other. For no more they sent
The arrow or the javelin from afar,
Waiting to see the wound it gave, but each
With equal fury pressed upon his foe
With halberd and with trenchant battle-axe,
Huge sword and two-edged spear. Upon the ground
Had fallen many a fair black-hilted sword
With solid handles, some from slain men’s hands,
Some from lopped arms of warriors; the dark earth
Ran red with blood. But Hector, having laid
His hand upon the galley’s stern, held fast
To the carved point, and called upon his men:—

“Bring fire, and press in throngs upon the foe;
For now doth Jove vouchsafe to us a day
Worth all the past—a day on which we make
The ships our prey. Against the will of Heaven
They landed on our coast, and brought on us
Disasters many, through the coward fears
Of our own elders, who denied my wish
To combat at the galleys, and held back
The people. But if then the Thunderer
Darkened our minds, his spirit moves us now
In what we do, and we obey his will.”

He spake; and they with fiercer valor fell
Upon the Greeks. Even Ajax could no more
Withstand the charge, but, fearing to be slain,
Amid a storm of darts withdrew a space,
To where the seven-foot bench of rowers lay,
And left the galley’s stern. There, as he stood,
He watched the assailants keenly, and beat back
With thrusts of his long spear whoever brought
The firebrand. With terrific shouts he called
Upon the Greeks to combat manfully:—

“O friends, Achaian heroes, ministers
Of Mars, be men, be mindful of your fame
For valor. Do ye dream that in your rear
Are succors waiting us, or firmer walls
That may protect us yet? Nay, no fenced town
Have we for refuge, flanked with towers from which
Fresh troops may take our place. Between the sea
And country of the well-armed Trojans lie
Our tents; our native land is far away;
And now our only hope of safety left
Is in our weapons: there is no retreat.”

He spake, and mightily with his sharp spear
Thrust at whoever of the men of Troy
At Hector’s bidding came with fire to burn
The galleys. On the blade of that long spear
The hero took them as they came, and slew
In close encounter twelve before the fleet.

Book 16

The Sixth Battle—Death of Patroclus

Patroclus permitted by Achilles to take part in the war, on condition that he will return after repulsing the Trojans from the fleet—His preparations for the battle, putting on the armor of Achilles, and summoning the Myrmidons to follow him—Alarm of the Trojans on seeing him, supposing him to be Achilles—His exploits—The Trojans driven back from the fleet—Death of Sarpedon—The Trojans pursued by Patroclus, contrary to the command of Achilles, to the walls of Troy—Patroclus disarmed by Apollo, wounded by Euphorbus, and slain by Hector.

Such was the struggle for that gallant barque.
Meanwhile Patroclus stood beside his friend
The shepherd of the people, Peleus’ son,
And shed hot tears, as when a fountain sheds
Dark waters streaming down a precipice.
The great Achilles, swift of foot, beheld
And pitied him, and spake these wingèd words:—

“Why weepest thou, Patroclus, like a girl—
A little girl that by her mother’s side
Runs, importuning to be taken up,
And plucks her by the robe, and stops her way,
And looks at her, and cries, until at last
She rests within her arms? Thou art like her,
Patroclus, with thy tears. Dost thou then bring
Sad tidings to the Myrmidons or me?
Or hast thou news from Phthia? It is said
That still Menoetius, son of Actor, lives,
And Peleus also, son of Aeacus,
Among the Myrmidons. Full bitterly
Should we lament to hear that either died.
Or mournest thou because the Achaians fall
Through their own folly by the roomy ships?
Speak, and hide nothing, for I too would know.”

And thou, O knight Patroclus, with a sigh
Deep drawn, didst answer thus: “Be not displeased,
Achilles, son of Peleus, bravest far
Of all the Achaian army! For the Greeks
Endure a bitter lot. The chiefs who late
Were deemed their mightiest are within the ships,
Wounded or stricken down. There Diomed,
The gallant son of Tydeus, lies, and there
Ulysses, the great spearman, wounded both;
And Agamemnon; and Eurypylus,
Driven from the field, an arrow in his thigh.
Round them the healers, skilled in remedies,
Attend and dress their painful wounds, while thou,
Achilles, sittest here implacable.
O, never be such fierce resentments mine
As thou dost cherish, who art only brave
For mischief! Whom wilt thou hereafter aid,
If now thou rescue not the perishing Greeks?
O merciless! It cannot surely be
That Peleus was thy father, or the queen
Thetis thy mother; the green sea instead
And rugged precipices brought thee forth,
For savage is thy heart. But if thou heed
The warning of some god, if thou hast heard
Aught which thy goddess-mother has received
From Jove, send me at least into the war,
And let me lead thy Myrmidons, that thus
The Greeks may have some gleam of hope. And give
The armor from thy shoulders. I will wear
Thy mail, and then the Trojans, at the sight,
May think I am Achilles, and may pause
From fighting, and the warlike sons of Greece,
Tired as they are, may breathe once more, and gain
A respite from the conflict. Our fresh troops
May easily drive back upon their town
The weary Trojans from our tents and fleet.”

So spake he, sighing; rash and blind, he asked
Death for himself and evil destiny.
Achilles the swift-footed also drew
A heavy sigh, and thus in turn he spake:—

“What, O divine Patroclus, hast thou said?
I fear no omen yet revealed to me;
Nor has my goddess-mother told me aught
From Jove; but ever in my heart and soul
Rankles the painful sense of injury done
By one who, having greater power, deprives
An equal of his right, and takes away
The prize he won. This is my wrong, and this
The cause of all my bitterness of heart.
Her whom the sons of Greece bestowed on me
As my reward, a trophy of my spear,
After the sack of a fenced city—her
Did Agamemnon, son of Atreus, take
Out of my hands, as if I were a wretch,
A worthless outcast. But let that affront
Be with the things that were. It is not well
To bear a grudge forever. I have said
My anger should not cease to burn until
The clamor of the battle and the assault
Should reach the fleet. But go thou and put on
My well-known armor; lead into the field
My Myrmidons, men that rejoice in war,
Since like a lowering cloud the men of Troy
Surround the fleet, and the Achaians stand
In narrow space close pressed beside the sea,
And all the city of Ilium flings itself
Against them, confident of victory,
Now that the glitter of my helm no more
Flashes upon their eyes. Yet very soon
Their flying host would fill the trenches here
With corpses, had but Agamemnon dealt
Gently with me; and now their squadrons close
Around our army. Now no more the spear
Is wielded by Tydides Diomed
In rescue of the Greeks; no more the shout
Of Agamemnon’s hated throat is heard;
But the man-queller Hector, lifting up
His voice, exhorts the Trojans, who, in throngs,
Raising the war-cry, fill the plain, and drive
The Greeks before them. Gallantly lead on
The charge, Patroclus; rescue our good ships;
Let not the enemy give them to the flames,
And cut us off from our desired return.
Follow my counsel; bear my words in mind;
So shalt thou win for me among the Greeks
Great honor and renown, and they shall bring
The beautiful maiden back with princely gifts.
When thou hast driven the assailants from the fleet,
Return thou hither. If the Thunderer,
Husband of Juno, suffer thee to gain
That victory, seek no further to prolong
The combat with the warlike sons of Troy,
Apart from me, lest I be brought to shame,
Nor, glorying in the battle and pursuit,
Slaying the Trojans as thou goest, lead
Thy men to Troy, lest from the Olympian mount
One of the ever-living gods descend
Against thee: Phoebus loves the Trojans well.
But come as soon as thou shalt see the ships
In safety; leave the foes upon the plain
Contending with each other. Would to Jove
The All-Father, and to Pallas, and the god
Who bears the bow, Apollo, that of all
The Trojans, many as they are, and all
The Greeks, not one might be reprieved from death,
While thou and I alone were left alive
To overthrow the sacred walls of Troy.”

So talked they with each other. Ajax, whelmed
Beneath a storm of darts, meantime but ill
Endured the struggle, for the will of Jove
And the fierce foe prevailed. His shining helm
Rang fearfully, as on his temples fell,
Stroke following after stroke, the weapons hurled
Against its polished studs. The buckler borne
Firmly on his left arm, and shifted oft
From side to side, had wearied it, and yet
The Trojans, pressing round him, could not drive,
With all their darts, the hero from his place.
Heavily heaved his panting chest; his limbs
Streamed with warm sweat; there was no breathing time;
On danger danger followed, toil on toil.

Now, Muses, dwellers of Olympus, tell
How first the galleys of the Greeks were fired.

Hector drew near, and smote with his huge sword
The ashen spear of Ajax just below
The socket of the blade, and cut the stem
In two. The son of Telamon in vain
Brandished the severed weapon, while afar
The brazen blade flew off, and ringing fell
To earth. Then Ajax in his mighty mind
Acknowledged that the gods were in the war,
And shuddered, knowing that the Thunderer
Was thwarting all his warlike purposes,
And willed the victory to Troy. The chief
Withdrew beyond the reach of spears, while fast
The eager enemy hurled the blazing brands
At the swift ship, and wrapped the stern in flames
Unquenchable. Achilles saw, and smote
His thigh, and spake: “Patroclus, noble friend
And knight, make haste: already I behold
The flames that rage with fury at the fleet.
Now, lest the enemy seize our ships and we
Be barred of our return, put quickly on
Thy armor; be my task to call the troops.”

He spake: Patroclus then in glittering brass
Arrayed himself; and first around his thighs
He put the beautiful greaves, and fastened them
With silver clasps; around his chest he bound
The breastplate of the swift Aeacides,
With star-like points, and richly chased; he hung
The sword with silver studs and blade of brass
Upon his shoulders, and with it the shield
Solid and vast; upon his gallant head
He placed the glorious helm with horse-hair plume,
That grandly waved on high. Two massive spears
He took, that fitted well his grasp, but left
The spear which great Achilles only bore,
Heavy and huge and strong, and which no arm
Among the Greeks save his could poise; his strength
Alone sufficed to wield it. ’Twas an ash
Which Chiron felled in Pelion’s top, and gave
To Peleus, that it yet might be the death
Of heroes. Then he called, to yoke with speed
The steeds, Automedon, whom he esteemed
Next to Achilles, that great scatterer
Of armies; for he found him ever firm
In battle, breasting faithfully its shock.
Automedon led forth to take the yoke
Xanthus and Balius, coursers that in speed
Were like the wind. Podargè brought them forth
To Zephyrus, while she, the Harpy, grazed
By ocean’s streams. Upon the outer side
He joined to them the noble Pedasus,
Brought by Achilles from the captured town
Where ruled Eëtion. Though of mortal stock,
Well might he match with those immortal steeds.

Meanwhile Achilles armed the Myrmidons,
Passing from tent to tent. Like ravening wolves,
Terribly strong, that, having slain among
The hills an antlered stag of mighty size,
Tear and devour it, while their jaws are stained
With its red blood, then gather in a herd
About some darkly flowing stream, and lap
The sullen water with their slender tongues,
And drop the clots of blood from their grim mouths
And, although gorged, are fierce and fearless still—
So came the leaders of the Myrmidons,
In rushing crowds, about the valiant friend
Of swift Aeacides. Among them stood
Achilles, great in war, encouraging
The charioteers and warriors armed with shields.

Achilles, dear to Jupiter, had led
Fifty swift barques to Ilium, and in each
Were fifty men, companions at the oar.
O’er these he gave command to five; himself,
Supreme in power, was ruler over all.
One band the nobly armed Menestheus led,
Son of Spercheius. To that river-god,
Beautiful Polydora brought him forth,
Daughter of Peleus; she, a mortal maid,
Met an immortal’s love. Yet Borus, son
Of Periëres, owned the boy and took
The mother for his bride, with princely dower
Eudorus led the second band, a youth
Of warlike mould, whom Polymela bore,
Daughter of Phylas, graceful in the dance.
In secrecy she brought him forth, for once
The mighty Argus-queller saw the maid
Among the choir of those who danced and sang
At Dian’s festival, the huntress-queen,
Who bears the golden shafts; he saw and loved
And, climbing to her chamber, met by stealth
The damsel, and she bore a gallant son,
Eudorus, swift of foot and brave in war.
When Ilithyia, midwife goddess, gave
The boy to see the pleasant light of day,
The stout Echecleus, son of Actor, brought
The mother to his house, with liberal dower.
The aged Phylas reared the child she left
Tenderly as a son, and loved him well.
Pisander, warlike son of Msemalus,
Commanded the third squadron; none like him
Among the Myrmidons could wield the spear
Except Pelides. Phoenix, aged knight,
Led the fourth squadron. With the fifth and last
There came Alcimedon, Laerceus’ son,
As leader. When their ranks were duly formed,
Achilles spake to them in earnest words:—

“Now, Myrmidons, forget no single word
Of all the threats ye uttered against Troy
Since first my wrath began. Ye blame me much,
And say: ‘Hard-hearted son of Peleus, sure
Thy mother must have suckled thee on gall;
For sternly thou dost keep us in the ships,
Unwilling as we are. We might, at least,
Crossing the sea, return in our good ships,
If thus thine anger is to last.’ These words
Ye utter oft when our assemblies meet,
And now the great occasion is at hand
Which ye have longed for; now let him whose heart
Is fearless meet the Trojans valiantly.”

He spake, and roused their courage and their might,
And as they heard their king they brought their rank
To closer order. As an architect
Builds up, with closely fitting stones, the wall
Of some tall mansion, proof against the blast,
So close were now the helms and bossy shields,
Shield leaned on shield, and helm on helm, and man
On man, and on the glittering helmet-cones
The horse-hair plumes with every motion touched
Each other, so compact the squadrons stood.
Two heroes, nobly armed, were at their head, to
Patroclus and Automedon, and both
Had but one thought—to combat in the van.

Entering his tent, Achilles raised the lid
Of a fair coffer, beautifully wrought,
Which silver-footed Thetis placed on board
His barque, and filled with tunics, cloaks well lined,
And fleecy carpets. There he also kept
A goblet richly chased, from which no lip
Of man, save his, might drink the dark red wine,
Nor wine be poured to any god save Jove,
The mighty Father. This he took in hand
And purified with sulphur first, and then
Rinsed with clear water. Next, with washen hands,
He drew the dark red wine, and stood without,
In the open space, and, pouring out the wine,
Prayed with his eyes turned heavenward, not unheard
By Jupiter, who wields the thunderbolt.

“Dodonian Jove, Pelasgian, sovereign King,
Whose dwelling is afar, and who dost rule
Dodona winter-bound, where dwell thy priests,
The Selli, with unwashen feet, who sleep
Upon the ground! Thou once hast heard my prayer,
And thou hast honored me, and terribly
Avenged me on the Greeks. Accomplish yet
This one request of mine. I shall remain
Among the rows of ships, but in my stead
I send my comrade, who will lead to war
My vast array of Myrmidons. With him,
O God of Thunders, send the victory.
Make his heart bold; let even Hector learn
Whether my follower, though alone, can wage
Successful war, or conquer only then
When I go forth with him into the field
Of slaughter. When he shall have beaten back
The assailants from the fleet, let him return
Unharmed to my good galleys and to me.
With all his arms and all his valiant men.”

So spake he, offering prayer, and Jupiter,
The Great Disposer, hearkened. Half the prayer
The All-Father granted him, and half denied:
To drive the storm of battle from the fleet
He granted, but denied his friend’s return
In safety. When the warrior thus had prayed,
And poured the wine to Father Jove, he went
Into his tent again, and there replaced
The goblet in the coffer. Coming forth,
He stood before the entrance to behold
The terrible encounter of the hosts.

The newly armed, led by their gallant chief,
Patroclus, marched in warlike order forth,
And in high hope, to fall upon the foe.
As wasps, that by the wayside build their cells,
Angered from time to time by thoughtless boys—
Whence mischief comes to many—if by chance
Some passing traveller should unwittingly
Disturb them, all at once are on the wing,
And all attack him, to defend their young
So fearless and so fierce the Myrmidons
Poured from their fleet, and mighty was the din.
Patroclus with loud voice exhorted them:—

“O Myrmidons, companions of the son
Of Peleus, bear in mind, my friends, your fame
For valor, and be men, that we who serve
Achilles, we who combat hand to hand,
May honor him by our exploits, and teach
Wide-ruling Agamemnon how he erred
Slighting the bravest warrior of the Greeks.”

These words awoke the courage and the might
Of all who heard them, and in close array
They fell upon the Trojans. Fearfully
The fleet around them echoed to the sound
Of Argives shouting. When the Trojans saw,
In glittering arms, Menoetius’ gallant son
And his attendant, every heart grew faint
With fear; the close ranks wavered; for they thought
That the swift son of Peleus at the fleet
Had laid aside his wrath, and was again
The friend of Agamemnon. Eagerly
They looked around for an escape from death.

Then first Patroclus cast his shining displeasure
Into the crowd before him, where they fought
Most fiercely round the stern of the good ship
Of brave Protesilaüs. There it smote
Pyraechmes, who had led from Amydon,
On the broad Axius, his Paeonian knights.
Through his right shoulder went the blade; he fell,
Heavily groaning, to the earth. His band
Of warriors from Paeonia, panic-struck,
Fled from Patroclus as they saw their chief
Cut off, their bravest in the battle-field.
So from the ship he drave the foe, and quenched
The blazing fire. There lay the half-burnt barque,
While with a mighty uproar fled the host
Of Troy, and from between the beaked ships
Poured after them with tumult infinite
The Greeks. As when from some high mountaintop
The God of Lightnings, Jupiter, sweeps off
The overshadowing cloud, at once appear
The watch-lowers and the headland heights and lawns
All in full light, and all the unmeasured depth
Of ether opens, so the Greeks, when thus
Their fleet was rescued from the hostile flame,
Breathed for a space; and yet they might not cease
From battle, for not everywhere alike
Were chased the Trojans from the dark-hulled ships
Before the Greeks, but struggled still to keep
The mastery, and yielded but to force.

Then in that scattered conflict of the chiefs
Each Argive slew a warrior. With his spear
The brave son of Menoetius made a thrust
At Areilochus, and pierced his thigh,
Just as he turned away, and through the part
Forced the keen weapon, splintering as it went
The bone, and brought the Trojan to the ground;
And warlike Menelaus pierced the breast
Of Thoas where the buckler left it bare,
And took his life. The son of Phyleus saw
Amphiclus rushing on, and with his spear
Met him and pierced his leg below the knee,
Where brawniest is the limb. The blade cut through
The sinews, and his eyes were closed in night.
There fought the sons of Nestor. One of these,
Antilochus, transfixed with his good spear
Atymnius through the flank, and brought him down
At his own feet. With sorrow Maris saw
His brother fall, and toward Antilochus
Flew to defend the corpse; but ere he strook,
The godlike Thrasymedes, with a blow
That missed not, smote his shoulder, tearing off
With the spear’s blade upon the upper arm
The muscles from the bone. With ringing arms
He fell, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.
Thus were two brothers by two brothers slain,
And sent to Erebus; two valiant friends
Were they of King Sarpedon, and the sons
Of Amisodarus, who reared and fed
Chimera, the destroyer of mankind.

Oilean Ajax, springing forward, seized
On Cleobulus, for the struggling crowd
Hindered his flight. He took the Trojan’s life,
Smiting the neck with his huge-handled sword;
The blade grew warm with blood, and cruel fate
Brought darkness o’er the dying warrior’s eyes.
Peneleus fought with Lycon; each had cast
His spear and missed his aim, and now with swords
The twain encountered. Lycon dealt a stroke
Upon the crested helmet of his foe,
And the blade failed him, breaking at the hilt.
Meantime Peneleus smote beneath the ear
The neck of Lycon: deep the weapon went;
The severed head, held only by the skin,
Dropped to one side, and life forsook the limbs.
Meriones, o’ertaking Acamas,
In rapid flight, discharged a mighty blow
On his left shoulder as he climbed his car;
He fell, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.
Then plunged Idomeneus the cruel spear
Into the mouth of Erymas. The blade
Passed on beneath the brain, and pierced the neck,
And there divided the white bones. It dashed
The teeth out; both the eyes were filled with blood,
Which gushed from mouth and nostrils as he breathed;
And the black cloud of death came over him.
Thus every Grecian leader slew his man.

As ravening wolves that spring on lambs and kids,
And seize them, wandering wide among the hills
Beyond the keeper’s care, and bear them off,
And rend with cruel fangs their helpless prey,
So fiercely did the Achaians fling themselves
Upon the men of Troy, who only thought
Of flight from that tumultuous strife, and quite
Forgot their wonted valor. All the while
The greater Ajax sought to hurl his spear
At Hector, clad in brazen mail, who yet,
Expert in battle, kept his ample chest
Hid by his bull’s-hide shield, and, though he heard
The hiss of darts and clash of spears, and saw
The fortune of the field deserting him,
Lingered to rescue his beloved friends.

As from the summit of Olympus spreads
A cloud into the sky that late was clear,
When Jove brings on the tempest, with such speed
In clamorous flight the Trojans left the fleet,
Yet passed they not the trench in seemly plight.
The rapid steeds of Hector bore him safe
Across with all his arms, while, left between
The high banks of the trench, the Trojan host
Struggled despairingly. The fiery steeds,
Harnessed to many a chariot, left it there
With broken pole. Patroclus followed close,
With mighty voice encouraging the Greeks,
And meditating vengeance on the foe,
That noisily ran on, and right and left
Were scattered, filling all the ways. The dust
Rose thick and high, and spread, and reached the clouds,
As with swift feet the Trojan coursers held
Their way to Ilium from the tents and ships.
Patroclus where he saw the wildest rout
Drave thither, shouting threats. Full many a chief
Fell under his own axle from his car,
And chariots with a crash were overthrown.
The swift, immortal horses which the gods
Bestowed on Peleus leaped the trench at once,
Eager to reach the plain. As eagerly
Patroclus longed to overtake and smite
Hector, whose steeds were hurrying him away.

As when, in autumn time, the dark-brown earth
Is whelmed with water from the stormy clouds,
When Jupiter pours down his heaviest rains,
Offended at men’s crimes who override
The laws by violence, and drive justice forth
From the tribunals, heedless of the gods
And their displeasure—all the running streams
Are swelled to floods—the furious torrents tear
The mountain slopes, and, plunging from the heights
With mighty roar, lay waste the works of men,
And fling themselves into the dark-blue sea—
Thus with loud tumult fled the Trojan horse.

Patroclus, having cut the nearest bands
Of Troy in pieces, made his warriors turn
Back to the fleet, and, eager as they were,
Stopped the pursuit that led them toward the town.
Then, in the area bounded by the sea,
River, and lofty wall, he chased and smote
And took full vengeance. With his glittering spear
He wounded Pronoüs where the buckler left
The breast exposed; the Trojan with a clash
Fell to the earth, and life forsook his limbs.
Advancing in his might, Patroclus smote
Thestor, the son of Enops, as he sat
Cowering upon his sumptuous seat, o’ercome
With fear, and dropped the reins. Through his right cheek
Among the teeth Patroclus thrust his spear,
And o’er the chariot’s border drew him forth
With the spear’s stem. As when an angler sits
Upon a jutting rock, and from the sea
Draws a huge fish with line and gleaming hook,
So did Patroclus, with his shining spear,
Draw forth the panting Trojan from his car,
And shook him clear: he fell to earth and died.

As Eryalus then came swiftly on,
Patroclus flung a stone, and on the brow
Smote him; the Trojan’s head, beneath the blow,
Parted in two within the helm; he fell
Headlong to earth, a prey to ghastly death.
Then slew he Erymas, Amphoterus,
Epaltes, Pyris, Ipheus, Echius,
Tlepolemus, Damastor’s son, and next
Euippus; nor was Polymelus spared,
The son of Argias—smitten all, and thrown,
Slain upon slain, along their mother earth.

And now Sarpedon, as he saw his friends,
The unbelted Lycians, falling by the hand
Of Menoetiades, exhorted thus
The gallant Lycians: “Shame upon you all,
My Lycians! Whither do you flee? Be bold!
For I myself will meet this man, and learn
Who walks the field in triumph thus, and makes
Such havoc in our squadrons; for his hand
Has laid full many a gallant warrior low.”

He spake, and from his car with all his arms
Sprang to the ground, while on the other side
Patroclus, as he saw him come, leaped down
And left his chariot. As on some tall rock
Two vultures, with curved talons and hooked beaks,
Fight screaming, so these two with furious cries
Advanced against each other. When the son
Of crafty Saturn saw them meet, his heart
Was touched with pity, and he thus bespake
His spouse and sister Juno: “Woe is me!
Sarpedon, most beloved of men, is doomed
To die, o’ercome by Menoetiades.
And now I halt between two purposes—
Whether to bear him from this fatal fight,
Alive and safe, to Lycia’s fertile fields,
Or let him perish by his enemy’s hand.”

Imperial, large-eyed Juno answered thus:—
“What words, dread son of Saturn, hast thou said!
Wouldst thou deliver from the common lot
Of death a mortal doomed long since by fate?
Do as thou wilt, but be thou sure of this—
The other gods will not approve. And bear
In mind these words of mine. If thou shouldst send
Sarpedon home to Lycia safe, reflect
Some other god may claim the right, like thee,
To rescue his beloved son from death
In battle; for we know that in the war
Round Priam’s noble city are many sons
Of gods, who will with vehement anger see
Thy interposing hand. Yet if he be
So dear to thee, and thou dost pity him,
Let him in mortal combat be o’ercome
By Menoetiades, and when the breath
Of life has left his frame, give thou command
To Death and gentle Sleep to bear him hence
To the broad realm of Lycia. There his friends
And brethren shall perform the funeral rites;
There shall they build him up a tomb, and rear
A column—honors that become the dead.”

She ceased, nor did the All-Father disregard
Her words. He caused a bloody dew to fall
Upon the earth in sorrow for the son
Whom well he loved, and whom Patroclus soon
Should slay upon the fertile plain of Troy,
Far from the pleasant land that saw his birth.

The warriors now drew near. Patroclus slew
The noble Thrasymelus, who had been
Sarpedon’s valiant comrade in the war.
Below the belt he smote him, and he fell
Lifeless. Sarpedon threw his shining lance;
It missed, but struck the courser Pedasus
In the right shoulder. With a groan he fell
In dust, and, moaning, breathed his life away.
Then the two living horses sprang apart,
And the yoke creaked, and the entangled reins
Were useless, fastened to the fallen horse.
Automedon, the mighty spearman, saw
The remedy, and from his brawny thigh
He drew his sword, and cut the outside horse
Loose from his fellows. They again were brought
Together, and obeyed the reins once more;
And the two chiefs renewed the mortal fight.

And now, again, Sarpedon’s shining spear
Was vainly flung; the point, in passing o’er
Patroclus’s left shoulder, gave no wound.
In turn, Patroclus, hurling not in vain
His weapon, smote him where the midriff’s web
Holds the tough heart. He fell as falls an oak
Or poplar or tall pine, which workmen hew
Among the mountains with their sharpened steel
To frame a ship. So he before his steeds
And chariot fell upon the bloody dust,
And grasped it with his hands, and gnashed his teeth.
As when a lion coming on a herd
Seizes, amid the crowd of stamping beeves,
A tawny and high-mettled bull, that dies
Bellowing in fury in the lion’s jaws—
Like him, indignant to be overcome,
The leader of the bucklered Lycian host,
Laid prostrate by Patroclus, called by name
His dear companion, and addressed him thus:—

“Beloved Glaucus, mighty among men!
Now prove thyself a hero, now be bold.
Now, if thou have a warrior’s spirit, think
Of nought but battle. Go from rank to rank,
Exhorting all the Lycian chiefs to fight
Around Sarpedon. Combat thou for me
With thy good spear, for I shall be to thee
A shame and a reproach through all thy days,
If here the Greeks, beside whose ships I fall,
Bear off my armor. Stand thou firm, and stir
Thy people up to combat valiantly.”

While he was speaking, death crept o’er his sight
And stopped his breath. Patroclus set his heel
Against his bosom, and plucked out the spear;
The midriff followed it, and thus he drew
The life and weapon forth at once. Meantime
The Myrmidons held fast the snorting steeds,
That, loosened from the Lycian’s car, were bent
On flight. The grief of Glaucus as he heard
His comrade’s voice was bitter, and his heart
Ached at the thought that he could bring no aid.
He seized his arm and pressed it in his grasp,
For there the wound which Teucer’s arrow left,
When Glaucus stormed the wall and Teucer’s shafts
Defended it, still pained him grievously,
And thus he prayed to Phoebus, archer-god:—

“Give ear, O king! wherever thou abide,
In the opulent realm of Lycia, or in Troy;
For everywhere thou nearest those who cry
To thee in sorrow, and great sorrow now
Is on me. Grievous is the wound I bear;
Sharp are the pains that pierce my hand; the blood
Cannot be stanched; my very arm becomes
A burden; I can wield the spear no more
With a firm grasp, nor combat with the foe.
A mighty chief—Sarpedon, son of Jove—
Has perished, and the father came not nigh
To aid his son. Yet come thou to my aid,
O monarch-god! and heal this painful wound,
And give me strength to rally to the fight
The Lycian warriors, and myself contend
Valiantly for the rescue of the dead.”

So prayed he: Phoebus hearkened, and at once
Assuaged the pain, and stanched the purple blood
In the deep wound, and filled his frame with strength.
The warrior felt the change, rejoiced to know
That with such friendly speed the mighty god
Granted his prayer. And first he went among
The Lycian chiefs, exhorting them to wage
Fierce battle for Sarpedon. Then he sought,
Walking with rapid strides, the Trojan chiefs,
Agenor, nobly born, Polydamas,
The son of Panthoüs, Aeneas next,
And Hector mailed in brass. By him he stood,
And thus accosted him with wingèd words:—

“O Hector, thou art careless of the fate
Of thine allies, who for thy sake, afar
From those they love, and from their native land,
Pour out their lives; thou bringest them no aid.
Sarpedon lies in death, the chief who led
The bucklered Lycians, who with justice swayed
The realm of Lycia, and defended it
With valor. Him hath brazen Mars beneath
The weapon of Patroclus smitten down.
Come then, my friends, repulse we gallantly
These Myrmidons; else will they bear away
His armor and insult his corpse, to avenge
The havoc we have made among the Greeks
Who perished by our weapons at the fleet.”

He spake, and grief immitigable seized
The Trojans; for the slain, though stranger-born,
Had been a pillar of the realm of Troy,
And many were the troops that followed him,
And he was bravest of them all in war.

Then rushed the Trojans fiercely on the Greeks,
With Hector, sorrowing for Sarpedon’s fall,
Leading them on, while the bold-hearted chief,
Patroclus Menoetiades, aroused
The courage of the Greeks. He thus addressed
The warriors Ajax, eager like himself
For combat: “Be it now your welcome task,
O warriors Ajax, to drive back the foe;
He who first sprang across the Grecian wall,
Sarpedon, lies a corpse, and we must now
Dishonor the dead chief, and strip from him
His armor, and strike down with our good spears
Whoever of his comrades shall resist.”

He spake, and all were resolute to beat
The enemy back; and when, on either side,
Trojans and Lycians, Myrmidons and Greeks,
Had put their phalanxes in firm array,
They closed, with dreadful shouts and horrid clash
Of arms, in fight around the dead, while Jove
Drew o’er that deadly fray an awful veil
Of darkness, that the struggle for the corpse
Of his dear son might rage more furiously.
The Trojans first drave back the dark-eyed Greeks,
For one was in the onset smitten down,
Not the least valiant of the Myrmidons—
The son of brave Agacles, nobly born
Epeigeus, who aforetime, when he ruled
The populous Budeium, having slain
A noble kinsman, fled a suppliant
To Peleus and the silver-footed queen,
Thetis, his consort, and by them was sent,
With terrible Achilles, to the coast
Of courser-breeding Ilium and the siege
Of Troy. As now he stooped to seize the dead,
Illustrious Hector smote him with a stone
Upon the forehead, cleaving it in two
In the strong helmet; headlong on the corse
He fell, and cruel death crept over him.
With grief Patroclus saw his comrade slain,
And broke his way among the foremost ranks.
As a swift hawk that chases through the air
Starlings and daws, so didst thou dart among
Trojans and Lycians, for thy wrath was roused,
O knight Patroclus! by thy comrade’s death.
And now his hand struck Sthenelaüs down,
The dear son of Ithaemenes; he flung
A stone that crushed the sinews of the neck.
Back drew illustrious Hector, and with him
The warriors who were fighting in the van.
As far as one can send a javelin,
When men contend in martial games, or meet
Their deadly enemies in war, so far
Withdrew the Trojans, and the Greeks pursued.
The leader of the bucklered Lycian host,
Glaucus, was first to turn against his foes.
He slew the brave Bathycles, the dear son
Of Chalcon, who in Hellas had his home,
And was the richest of the Myrmidons.
The Lycian, turning on him suddenly
As he drew near pursuing, sent his spear
Right through his breast, and with a clash he fell.
Great was the sorrow of the Greeks to see
That valiant warrior fall; the men of Troy
Exulted, and pressed round him in a crowd.
Nor lacking was the valor of the Greeks,
Who met them manfully. Meriones
Struck down a Trojan chief, Laogonus,
Onetor’s valiant son. His father stood
Priest at the altar of Idaean Jove,
And like a god was honored by the realm.
Below the jaw and ear Meriones
Smote him, and instantly the life forsook
His limbs, and fearful darkness shrouded him.
Straight at Meriones Aeneas aimed
His brazen spear to smite him, as he came,
Beneath his buckler; but the Greek beheld
The weapon in the air, and, stooping low,
Escaped it; over him it passed, and stood
Fixed in the earth behind him, where its stem
Trembled, for now the rapid steel had spent
Its force. As thus it quivered in the ground,
Aeneas, who perceived that it had left
His powerful hand in vain, was vexed, and said:
“Had I but struck thee, dancer as thou art,
Meriones, my spear had suddenly
Ended thy dancing.” Then Meriones,
The skilful spearman, answered: “Thou art brave,
But thou wilt find it hard to overcome
The might of all who gather to repulse
Thy onset. Thou art mortal, and if I,
Aiming at thee with my good spear, should pierce
Thy bosom, valiant as thou art and proud
Of thy strong arm, thy death would bring me praise,
And send thy soul where gloomy Pluto dwells.”

He spake; the brave Patroclus heard, and thus
Rebuked him: “Why wilt thou, Meriones,
With all thy valor, stand to make a speech?
The foe, my friend, will not be forced to leave
The corpse by insults; some of them must die.
In deeds the issue of a battle lies;
Words are for counsel. Now is not the time
To utter swelling phrases, but to fight.”

He ended, and went on; the godlike man
Followed his steps. As when from mountain dells
Rises, and far is heard, a crashing sound
Where woodmen fell the trees, such was the noise
From those who fought on that wide plain—the din
Of brass, of leather, and of tough bull’s-hide
Smitten with swords and two-edged spears. No eye,
Although of keenest sight, would then have known
Noble Sarpedon, covered as he lay,
From head to foot, with weapons, blood, and dust;
And still the warriors thronged around the dead.
As when in spring-time at the cattle-stalls
Flies gather, humming, when the milk is drawn,
Round the full pails, so swarmed around the corpse
The combatants; nor once did Jove withdraw
His bright eyes from the stubborn fray, but still
Gazed, planning how Patroclus should be slain.
Uncertain whether, in the desperate strife
Over the great Sarpedon, to permit
Illustrious Hector with his spear to lay
The hero dead, and make his arms a spoil,
Or spare him yet a while, to make the war
More bloody. As he pondered, this seemed best:
That the brave comrade of Achilles first
Should put to flight the Trojans and their chief,
Hector the brazen-mailed, pursuing them
Toward Troy with slaughter. To this end he sent
Into the heart of Hector panic fear,
Who climbed his car and fled, and bade the rest
Flee also, for he saw how Jove had weighed
The fortunes of the day. Now none remained,
Not even the gallant Lycians, when they saw
Their monarch lying wounded to the heart
Among a heap of slain; for Saturn’s son
In that day’s strife had caused a multitude
To fall in death. Now when the Greeks had stripped
Sarpedon of the glittering brazen mail,
The brave son of Menoetius bade his friends
Convey it to the hollow ships. Meanwhile
The Cloud-compeller spake to Phoebus thus:—

“Go now, beloved Phoebus, and withdraw
Sarpedon from the weapons of the foe;
Cleanse him from the dark blood, and bear him thence,
And lave him in the river-stream, and shed
Ambrosia o’er him. Clothe him then in robes
Of heaven, consigning him to Sleep and Death,
Twin brothers, and swift bearers of the dead,
And they shall lay him down in Lycia’s fields,
That broad and opulent realm. There shall his friends
And kinsmen give him burial, and shall rear
His tomb and column—honors due the dead.”

He spake: Apollo instantly obeyed
His father, leaving Ida’s mountain height,
And sought the field of battle, and bore off
Noble Sarpedon from the enemy’s spears,
And laved him in the river-stream, and shed
Ambrosia o’er him. Then in robes of heaven
He clothed him, giving him to Sleep and Death,
Twin brothers, and swift bearers of the dead,
And they, with speed conveying it, laid down
The corpse in Lycia’s broad and opulent realm.

Meantime Patroclus, urging on his steeds
And charioteer, pursued, to his own hurt,
Trojans and Lycians. Madman! Had he then
Obeyed the counsel which Pelides gave,
The bitter doom of death had not been his.
But stronger than the purposes of men
Are those of Jove, who puts to flight the brave,
And takes from them the victory, though he
Impelled them to the battle; and he now
Urged on Patroclus to prolong the fight.

Who first, when thus the gods decreed thy death,
Fell by thy hand, Patroclus, and who last?
Adrastus first, Autonoüs next, and then
Echeclus; then died Perimus, the son
Of Meges; then with Melanippus fell
Epistor; next was Elasus o’ercome,
And Mulius, and Pylartes. These he slew,
While all the rest betook themselves to flight.

Then had the Greeks possessed themselves of Troy,
With all its lofty portals, by the hand
And valor of Patroclus, for his rage
Was terrible beyond the rage of all
Who bore the spear, had not Apollo stood
On a strong tower to menace him with ill,
And aid the Trojans. Thrice Patroclus climbed
A shoulder of the lofty wall, and thrice
Apollo, striking his immortal hands
Against the glittering buckler, thrust him down;
And when, for the fourth time, the godlike man
Essayed to mount the wall, the archer-god,
Phoebus, encountered him with fearful threats:
“Noble Patroclus, hold thy hand, nor deem
The city of the warlike Trojans doomed
To fall beneath thy spear, nor by the arm
Of Peleus’ son, though mightier far than thou.”

He spake; Patroclus, fearful of the wrath
Of the archer-god, withdrew, and stood afar,
While Hector, at the Scaean gates, restrained
His coursers, doubtful whether to renew
The fight by mingling with the crowd again,
Or gather all his host within the walls
By a loud summons. As he pondered thus,
Apollo stood beside him in the form
Of Asius, a young warrior and a brave,
Uncle of Hector, the great horse-tamer,
And brother of Queen Hecuba, and son
Of Dymas, who in Phrygia dwelt beside
The streams of the Sangarius. Putting on
His shape and aspect, thus Apollo said:—

“Why, Hector, dost thou pause from battle thus?
Nay, it becomes thee not. Were I in might
Greater than thou, as I am less, full soon
Wouldst thou repent this shrinking from the war.
Come boldly on, and urge thy firm-paced steeds
Against Patroclus; slay him on the field,
And Phoebus will requite thee with renown.”

He spake, and mingled in the hard-fought fray,
While noble Hector bade his charioteer,
The brave Cebriones, ply well the lash,
And join the battle. Phoebus went before,
Entering the crowd, and spread dismay among
The Greeks, and gave the glory of the hour
To Hector and the Trojans. Little heed
Paid Hector to the rest, nor raised his arm
To slay them, but urged on his firm-paced steeds
To meet Patroclus, who, beholding him,
Leaped from his car. In his left hand he held
A spear, and with the other lifting up
A white, rough stone, the largest he could grasp,
Flung it with all its force. It flew not wide,
Nor flew in vain, but smote Cebriones,
The warlike chief who guided Hector’s steeds,
A spurious son of Priam the renowned.
The sharp stone smote his forehead as he held
The reins, and crushed both eyebrows in; the bone
Resisted not the blow; the warrior’s eyes
Fell in the dust before his very feet.
Down from the sumptuous seat he plunged, as dives
A swimmer, and the life forsook his limbs.
And this, Patroclus, was thy cruel jest:—

“Truly a nimble man is this who dives
With such expertness. Were this, now, the sea,
Where fish are bred, and he were searching it
For oysters, he might get an ample store
For many men, in leaping from a ship,
Though in a storm, so skilfully he dives
Even from the chariot to the plain. No doubt
There must be divers in the town of Troy.”

He spake, and sprang upon Cebriones.
With all a lion’s fury, which attacks
The stables and is wounded in the breast,
And perishes through his own daring; thus,
Patroclus, didst thou fall upon the slain,
While Hector, hastening also, left his steeds,
And both contended for Cebriones.
As lions for the carcass of a deer
Fight on a mountain summit, hungry both,
And both unyielding, thus two mighty men
Of war, Patroclus Menoetiades
And glorious Hector, eager each to smite
His adversary with the cruel spear,
Fought for Cebriones. The slain man’s head
Was seized by Hector’s powerful hand, whose grasp
Relaxed not, while Patroclus held the foot;
And, thronging to the spot, the other Greeks
And Trojans mingled in the desperate strife.

As when the east wind and the south contend
In the open mountain grounds, and furiously
Assail the deep old woods of beech and ash
And barky cornel, flinging their long boughs
Against each other with a mighty roar,
And crash of those that break, so did the Greeks
And Trojans meet with mutual blows, and slay
Each other; nor had either host a thought
Of shameful flight. Full many a trenchant spear
Went to its mark beside Cebriones,
And many a wingèd arrow that had left
The bowstring; many a massive stone was hurled
Against the ringing bucklers, as they fought
Around the dead, while he, the mighty, lay
Stretched on the ground amid the eddying dust,
Forgetful of his art of horsemanship.

While yet the sun was climbing to his place
In middle heaven, the men of either host
Were smitten by the weapons, and in both
The people fell; but when he stooped to the west
The Greeks prevailed, and from that storm of darts
And tumult of the Trojans they drew forth
Cebriones, and stripped him of his arms.
Still rushed Patroclus onward, bent to wreak
His fury on the Trojans. Fierce as Mars,
He charged their squadrons thrice with fearful shouts,
And thrice he laid nine warriors in the dust.
But as with godlike energy he made
The fourth assault, then clearly was it seen,
Patroclus, that thy life was near its end,
For Phoebus terribly in that fierce strife
Encountered thee. Patroclus saw him not
Advancing in the tumult, for he moved
Unseen in darkness. Coming close behind,
He smote, with open palm, the hero’s back
Between the ample shoulders, and his eyes
Reeled with the blow, while Phoebus from his head
Struck the tall helm, that, clanking, rolled away
Under the horses’ feet; its crest was soiled
With blood and dust, though never till that hour
Had dust defiled its horse-hair plume; for once
That helmet guarded an illustrious head,
The glorious brows of Peleus’ son, and now
Jove destined it for Hector, to be worn
In battle; and his death was also near.
The spear Patroclus wielded, edged with brass,
Long, tough, and huge, was broken in his hands,
And his broad buckler, dropping with its band,
Lay on the ground, while Phoebus, son of Jove,
Undid the fastenings of his mail. With mind
Bewildered, and with powerless limbs, he stood
As thunderstruck. Then a Dardanian named
Euphorbus, son of Panthoüs, who excelled
His comrades in the wielding of the spear,
The race, and horsemanship, approaching, smote
Patroclus in the back with his keen spear,
Between the shoulder-blades. Already he
Had dashed down twenty warriors from their cars,
Guiding his own, a learner in the art
Of war. The first was he who threw a lance
At thee, Patroclus, yet o’ercome thee not;
For, plucking from thy back its ashen stem,
He fled, and mingled with the crowd, nor dared
Await thy coming, though thou wert unarmed,
While, weakened by that wound and by the blow
Given by the god, Patroclus turned and sought
Shelter from danger in the Grecian ranks;
But Hector, when he saw the gallant Greek
Thus wounded and retreating, left his place
Among the squadrons, and, advancing, pierced
Patroclus with his spear, below the belt,
Driving the weapon deep. The hero fell
With clashing mail, and all the Greeks beheld
His fall with grief. As when a lion bears
A stubborn boar to earth, what time the twain
Fight on the mountains for a slender spring,
Both thirsty and both fierce, the lion’s strength
Lays prone his panting foe, so Priam’s son
Slew, fighting hand to hand, the valiant Greek,
Son of Menoetius, who himself had slain
So many. Hector gloried over him
With wingèd words: “Patroclus, thou didst think
To lay our city waste, and carry off
Our women captive in thy ships to Greece.
Madman! In their defence the fiery steeds
Of Hector sweep the battle-field, and I,
Mightiest of all the Trojans, with the spear
Will guard them from the doom of slavery.
Now vultures shall devour thee, wretched youth!
Achilles, mighty though he be, has brought
No help to thee, though doubtless when he sent
Thee forth to battle, and remained within,
He charged thee thus: ‘Patroclus, flower of knights,
Return not to the fleet until thy hand
Hath torn the bloody armor from the corpse
Of the man-queller Hector.’ So he spake,
And filled with idle hopes thy foolish heart.”

Then thou, Patroclus, with a faltering voice,
Didst answer thus: “Now, Hector, while thou mayst,
Utter thy boast in swelling words, since Jove
And Phoebus gave the victory to thee.
Easily have they vanquished me; ’twas they
Who stripped the armor from my limbs, for else,
If twenty such as thou had met me, all
Had perished by my spear. A cruel fate
O’ertakes me, aided by Latona’s son,
The god, and by Euphorbus among men.
Thou who shalt take my spoil art but the third;
Yet hear my words, and keep them in thy thought.
Not long shalt thou remain alive; thy death
By violence is at hand, and thou must fall,
Slain by the hand of great Aeacides.”

While he was speaking, death stole over him
And veiled his senses, while the soul forsook
His limbs and flew to Hades, sorrowing
For its sad lot, to part from life in youth
And prime of strength. Illustrious Hector thus
Answered the dying man: “Why threaten me,
Patroclus, with an early death? Who knows
That he, thy friend, whom fair-haired Thetis bore,
Achilles, may not sooner lose his life,
Slain by my spear?” He spake, and set his heel
Upon the slain, and from the wound drew forth
His brazen spear and pushed the corpse aside,
And with the weapon hurried on to smite
Godlike Automedon, the charioteer
Of swift Aeacides; but him the steeds
Fleet-footed and immortal, which the gods
Bestowed on Peleus, swiftly bore away.