To whom with smiles answer’d cloud-gatherer Jove.
Fear not, my child! stern as mine accent was,45
I forced a frown—no more. For in mine heart
Nought feel I but benevolence to thee.
He said, and to his chariot join’d his steeds
Swift, brazen-hoof’d, and mailed with wavy gold;
He put on golden raiment, his bright scourge50
Of gold receiving rose into his seat,
And lash’d his steeds; they not unwilling flew
Midway the earth between and starry heaven.
To spring-fed Ida, mother of wild beasts,
He came, where stands in Gargarus[3] his shrine55
Breathing fresh incense! there the Sire of all
Arriving, loosed his coursers, and around
Involving them in gather’d clouds opaque,
Sat on the mountain’s head, in his own might
Exulting, with the towers of Ilium all60
Beneath his eye, and the whole fleet of Greece.
In all their tents, meantime, Achaia’s sons
Took short refreshment, and for fight prepared.
On the other side, though fewer, yet constrain’d
By strong necessity, throughout all Troy,65
In the defence of children and wives
Ardent, the Trojans panted for the field.
Wide flew the city gates: forth rush’d to war
Horsemen and foot, and tumult wild arose.
They met, they clash’d; loud was the din of spears70
And bucklers on their bosoms brazen-mail’d
Encountering, shields in opposition from
Met bossy shields, and tumult wild arose.[4]
There many a shout and many a dying groan
Were heard, the slayer and the maim’d aloud75
Clamoring, and the earth was drench’d with blood.
Till sacred morn[5] had brighten’d into noon,
The vollied weapons on both sides their task
Perform’d effectual, and the people fell.
But when the sun had climb’d the middle skies,80
The Sire of all then took his golden scales;[6]
Doom against doom he weigh’d, the eternal fates
In counterpoise, of Trojans and of Greeks.
He rais’d the beam; low sank the heavier lot
Of the Achaians; the Achaian doom85
Subsided, and the Trojan struck the skies.
Then roar’d the thunders from the summit hurl’d
of Ida, and his vivid lightnings flew
Into Achaia’s host. They at the sight
Astonish’d stood; fear whiten’d every cheek.[7]90
Idomeneus dared not himself abide
That shock, nor Agamemnon stood, nor stood
The heroes Ajax, ministers of Mars.
Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,
Alone fled not, nor he by choice remain’d,95
But by his steed retarded, which the mate
Of beauteous Helen, Paris, with a shaft
Had stricken where the forelock grows, a part
Of all most mortal. Tortured by the wound
Erect he rose, the arrow in his brain,100
And writhing furious, scared his fellow-steeds.
Meantime, while, strenuous, with his falchion’s edge
The hoary warrior stood slashing the reins,
Through multitudes of fierce pursuers borne
On rapid wheels, the dauntless charioteer105
Approach’d him, Hector. Then, past hope, had died
The ancient King, but Diomede discern’d
His peril imminent, and with a voice
Like thunder, called Ulysses to his aid.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!110
Art thou too fugitive, and turn’st thy back
Like the base multitude? Ah! fear a lance
Implanted ignominious in thy spine.
Stop—Nestor dies. Fell Hector is at hand.
So shouted Diomede, whose summons loud,115
Ulysses yet heard not, but, passing, flew
With headlong haste to the Achaian fleet.
Then, Diomede, unaided as he was,
Rush’d ardent to the vanward, and before
The steeds of the Neleian sovereign old120
Standing, in accents wing’d, him thus address’d.
Old Chief! these youthful warriors are too brisk
For thee, press’d also by encroaching age,
Thy servant too is feeble, and thy steeds
Are tardy. Mount my chariot. Thou shalt see125
With what rapidity the steeds of Troy,
Pursuing or retreating, scour the field.
I took them from that terror of his foes,
Æneas. Thine to our attendants leave,
While these against the warlike powers of Troy130
We push direct; that Hector’s self may know
If my spear rage not furious as his own.
He said, nor the Gerenian Chief refused.
Thenceforth their servants, Sthenelus and good
Eurymedon, took charge of Nestor’s steeds,135
And they the chariot of Tydides both
Ascended; Nestor seized the reins, plied well
The scourge, and soon they met. Tydides hurl’d
At Hector first, while rapid he advanced;
But missing Hector, wounded in the breast140
Eniopeus his charioteer, the son
Of brave Thebæus, managing the steeds.
He fell; his fiery coursers at the sound
Startled, recoil’d, and where he fell he died.
Deep sorrow for his charioteer o’erwhelm’d145
The mind of Hector; yet, although he mourn’d
He left him, and another sought as brave.
Nor wanted long his steeds a charioteer,
For finding soon the son of Iphitus,
Bold Archeptolemus, he bade him mount150
His chariot, and the reins gave to his hand.
Then deeds of bloodiest note should have ensued,
Penn’d had the Trojans been, as lambs, in Troy,
But for quick succor of the sire of all.
Thundering, he downward hurled his candent bolt155
To the horse-feet of Diomede; dire fumed
The flaming sulphur, and both horses drove
Under the axle, belly to the ground.
Forth flew the splendid reins from Nestor’s hand,
And thus to Diomede, appall’d, he spake.160
Back to the fleet, Tydides! Can’st not see
That Jove ordains not, now, the victory thine?
The son of Saturn glorifies to-day
This Trojan, and, if such his will, can make
The morrow ours; but vain it is to thwart165
The mind of Jove, for he is Lord of all.