The Iliads of Homer / Translated according to the Greek

by Homer

Thus fighting for this well-built ship; Patroclus all that space
Stood by his friend, preparing words to win the Greeks his grace,
With pow’r of uncontainéd tears; and, like a fountain pour’d
In black streams from a lofty rock, the Greeks so plagu’d deplor’d.
Achilles, ruthful for his tears, said: “Wherefore weeps my friend
So like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend
Her childish humours, hangs on her, and would be taken up,
Still viewing her with tear-drown’d eyes, when she hath made her stoop,
To nothing liker I can shape thy so unseemly tears.
What causeth them? Hath any ill solicited thine ears
Befall’n my Myrmidons? Or news from lovéd Phthia brought,
Told only thee, lest I should grieve, and therefore thus hath wrought
On thy kind spirit? Actor’s son, the good Menœtius,
Thy father, lives, and Peleus, mine, great son of Æacus,
Amongst his Myrmidons; whose deaths, in duty we should mourn,
Or is it what the Greeks sustain, that doth thy stomach turn,
On whom, for their injustice’ sake, plagues are so justly laid?
Speak, man, let both know either’s heart.” Patroclus, sighing, said:
“O Peleus’ son, thou strongest Greek by all degrees that lives,
Still be not angry, our sad state such cause of pity gives,
Our greatest Greeks lie at their ships sore wounded; Ithacus,
King Agamemnon, Diomed, and good Eurypylus;
But these much-med’cine-knowing men, physicians, can recure,
Thou yet unmed’cinable still, though thy wound all endure,
Heav’n bless my bosom from such wrath as thou sooth’st as thy bliss,
Unprofitably virtuous. How shall our progenies,
Born in thine age, enjoy thine aid, when these friends, in thy flow’r,
Thou leav’st to such unworthy death? O idle, cruel pow’r!
Great Peleus never did beget, nor Thetis bring forth thee,
Thou from the blue sea, and her rocks, deriv’st thy pedigree,
What so declines thee? If thy mind shuns any augury,
Related by thy mother-queen from heav’n’s foreseeing eye,
And therefore thou forsak’st thy friends, let me go ease their moans
With those brave relics of our host, thy mighty Myrmidons,
That I may bring to field more light to conquest than hath been.
To which end grace me with thine arms, since, any shadow seen
Of thy resemblance, all the pow’r of perjur’d Troy will fly,
And our so-tiréd friend’s will breathe; our fresh-set-on supply
Will eas’ly drive their wearied off.” Thus, foolish man, he sued
For his sure death; of all whose speech Achilles first renew’d
The last part thus: “O worthy friend, what have thy speeches been?
I shun the fight for oracles, or what my mother queen
Hath told from Jove? I take no care, nor note of one such thing!
But this fit anger stings me still, that the insulting king
Should from his equal take his right, since he exceeds in pow’r.
This, still his wrong, is still my grief: He took my paramour
That all men gave, and whom I won by virtue of my spear,
That, for her, overturn’d a town. This rape he made of her,
And used me like a fugitive, an inmate in a town,
That is no city libertine, nor capable of their gown.
But bear we this as out of date; ’tis past, nor must we still
Feed anger in our noblest parts; yet thus, I have my will
As well as our great king of men, for I did ever vow
Never to cast off my disdain till, as it falls out now,
Their miss of me knock’d at my fleet, and told me in their cries
I was reveng’d, and had my wish of all my enemies.
And so of this repeat enough. Take thou my fame-blaz’d arms,
And my fight-thirsty Myrmidons lead to these hot alarms.
Whole clouds of Trojans circle us with hateful eminence;
The Greeks shut in a little shore, a sort of citizens
Skipping upon them; all because their proud eyes do not see
The radiance of my helmet there, whose beams had instantly
Thrust back, and all these ditches fill’d with carrion of their flesh,
If Agamemnon had been kind; where now they fight as fresh,
As thus far they had put at ease, and at our tents contend.
And may; for the repulsive hand of Diomed doth not spend
His raging darts there, that their death could fright out of our fleet;
Nor from that head of enmity, can my poor hearers meet
The voice of great Atrides now. Now Hector’s only voice
Breaks all the air about both hosts, and, with the very noise
Bred by his loud encouragements, his forces fill the field,
And fight the poor Achaians down. But on, put thou my shield
Betwixt the fire-plague and our fleet. Rush bravely on, and turn
War’s tide as headlong on their throats. No more let them ajourn
Our sweet home-turning. But observe the charge I lay on thee
To each least point, that thy rul’d hand may highly honour me,
And get such glory from the Greeks, that they may send again
My most sweet wench, and gifts to boot, when thou hast cast a rein
On these so headstrong citizens, and forc’d them from our fleet.
With which grace if the God of sounds thy kind egression greet;[1]
Retire, and be not tempted on (with pride to see thy hand
Rain slaughter’d carcasses on earth) to run forth thy command
As far as Ilion, lest the Gods, that favour Troy, come forth
To thy encounter, for the Sun much loves it; and my worth,
In what thou suffer’st, will be wrong’d, that I would let my friend
Assume an action of such weight without me, and transcend
His friend’s prescription. Do not then affect a further fight
Than I may strengthen. Let the rest, when thou hast done this right,
Perform the rest. O would to Jove, thou Pallas, and thou Sun,
That not a man hous’d underneath those tow’rs of Ilion,
Nor anyone of all the Greeks, how infinite a sum
Soever all together make, might live unovercome;
But only we two, ’scaping death, might have the thund’ring down
Of ev’ry stone stuck in the walls of this so sacred town!”
Thus spake they only ’twixt themselves. And now the foe no more
Could Ajax stand, being so oppress’d with all the iron store
The Trojans pour’d on; with whose darts, and with Jove’s will beside,
His pow’rs were cloy’d, and his bright helm did deaf’ning blows abide,
His plume, and all bead-ornaments, could never hang in rest.
His arm yet labour’d up his shield, and having done their best,
They could not stir him from his stand, although he wrought it out
With short respirings, and with sweat, that ceaseless flow’d about
His reeking limbs; no least time giv’n to take in any breath;
Ill strengthen’d ill; when one was up, another was beneath.
Now, Muses, you that dwell in heav’n, the dreadful mean inspire,
That first enforc’d the Grecian fleet, to take in Trojan fire.
First Hector, with his huge broad sword, cut off, at setting on,
The head of Ajax’ ashen lance; which Ajax seeing gone,
And that he shook a headless spear, a little while unware,
His wary spirits told him straight the hand of Heav’n was there;
And trembling under his conceit, which was that ’twas Jove’s deed,
Who, as be poll’d off his dart’s heads, so sure he had decreed
That all the counsels of their war, he would poll off like it,
And give the Trojans victory; so trusted he his wit,
And left his darts. And then the ship was heap’d with horrid brands
Of kindling fire; which instantly was seen through all the strands
In unextinguishable flames, that all the ship embrac’d.
And then Achilles beat his thighs, cried out, “Patroclus, haste,
Make way with horse. I see at fleet, a fire of fearful rage.
Arm, arm, lest all our fleet it fire, and all our pow’r engage.
Arm quickly, I’ll bring up the troops.” To these so dreadful wars
Patroclus, in Achilles’ arms, enlighten’d all with stars,
And richly amell’d, all haste made. He wore his sword, his shield,
His huge-plum’d helm, and two such spears, as he could nimbly wield.
But the most fam’d Achilles’ spear, big, solid, full of weight,
He only left of all his arms; for that far pass’d the might
Of any Greek to shake but his; Achilles’ only ire
Shook that huge weapon, that was giv’n by Chiron to his sire,
Cut from the top of Pelion, to be heroës’ deaths.
His steeds Automedon straight join’d; like whom no man that breathes,
Next Peleus’ son, Patroclus lov’d; for, like him, none so great
He found in faith at ev’ry fight, nor to out-look a threat,
Automedon did therefore guide for him Achilles’ steeds,
Xanthius and Balius swift as wind, begotten by the seeds
Of Zephyr, and the Harpy born, Podarge, in a mead
Close to the wavy oceán, where that fierce Harpy fed.
Automedon join’d these before, and with the hindmost gears
He fasten’d famous Pedasus, whom, from the massacres
Made by Achilles, when he took Eëtion’s wealthy town,
He brought, and, though of mortal race, yet gave him the renown
To follow his immortal horse. And now, before his tents,
Himself had seen his Myrmidons, in all habiliments
Of dreadful war. And when ye see, upon a mountain bred,[2]
A den of wolves, about whose hearts unmeasur’d strengths are fed,
New come from currie of a stag, their jaws all blood-besmear’d,
And when from some black-water fount they all together herd,
There having plentifully lapp’d, with thin and thrust out tongues,
The top and clearest of the spring, go belching from their lungs
The clotter’d gore, look dreadfully, and entertain no dread,
Their bellies gaunt all taken up, with being so rawly fed;
Then say, that such, in strength and look, were great Achilles’ men
Now order’d for the dreadful fight; and so with all them then
Their princes and their chiefs did show, about their Gen’ral’s friend;
His friend, and all, about himself; who chiefly did intend
Th’ embattelling of horse and foot. To that siege, held so long,
Twice-five-and-twenty sail he brought, twice-five-and-twenty strong
Of able men was ev’rv sail. Five colonels he made
Of all those forces; trusty men, and all of pow’r to lead,
But he of pow’r beyond them all. Menesthius was one,
That ever wore discolour’d arms; he was a river’s son
That fell from heav’n, and good to drink was his delightful stream,
His name unwearied Sperchius, he lov’d the lovely dame
Fair Polydora, Peleus’ seed, and dear in Borus’ sight,
And she to that celestial Flood gave this Menesthius light,
A woman mixing with a God. Yet Borus bore the name
Of father to Menesthius, he marrying the dame,
And giving her a mighty dow’r; he was the kind descent
Of Perieres. The next man, renown’d with regiment,
Was strong Eudorus, brought to life by one suppos’d a maid,
Bright Polymela, Phylas’ seed, but had the wanton play’d
With Argus-killing Mercury; who (fir’d with her fair eyes,
As she was singing in the quire of Her that makes the cries
In clam’rous hunting, and doth bear the crooked bow of gold)
Stole to her bed in that chaste room, that Phœbe chaste did hold,
And gave her that swift-warlike son, Eudorus, brought to light
As she was dancing; but as soon, as She that rules the plight
Of labouring women eas’d her throes, and show’d her son the sun,
Strong Echecæus, Actor’s heir, woo’d earnestly, and won
Her second favour, feeing her with gifts of infinite prize;
And after brought her to his house, where, in his grandsire’s eyes,
Old Phylas, Polymela’s son obtain’d exceeding grace,
And found as careful bringing up, as of his natural race
He had descended. The third chief was fair Mæmalides
Pisandrus, who in skill of darts obtain’d supremest praise
Of all the Myrmidons, except their lord’s companion.
The fourth charge, aged Phœnix had. The fifth, Alcimedon,
Son of Laerces, and much fam’d. All these digested thus
In fit place by the mighty son of royal Peleüs,
This stern remembrance he gave all: “You, Myrmidons,” said he,
“Lest any of you should forget his threat’nings us’d to me
In this place, and, through all the time, that my just anger reign’d,
Attempting me with bitter words, for being so restrain’d,
For my hot humour, from the fight, remember them as these:
‘Thou cruel son of Peleüs, whom She that rules the seas
Did only nourish with her gall, thou dost ungently hold
Our hands against our wills from fight. We will not be controll’d,
But take our ships, and sail for home, before we loiter here
And feed thy fury.’ These high words exceeding often were
The threats that, in your mutinous troops, ye us’d to me for wrath
To be detain’d so from the field. Now then, your spleens may bathe
In sweat of those great works ye wish’d; now, he that can employ
A gen’rous heart, go fight, and fright these bragging sons of Troy.”
This set their minds and strengths on fire, the speech enforcing well,
Being us’d in time; but, being their king’s, it much more did impell,
And closer rush’d in all the troops. And as, for buildings high,
The mason lays his stones more thick, against th’ extremity
Of wind and weather, and ev’n then, if any storm arise,
He thickens them the more for that, the present act so plies
His honest mind to make sure work; so, for the high estate
This work was brought to, these men’s minds, according to the rate,
Were rais’d, and all their bodies join’d; but their well-spoken king,
With his so timely-thought-on speech, more sharp made valour’s sting,
And thicken’d so their targets boss’d, so all their helmets then,
That shields propp’d shields, helms helmets knock’d, and men encourag’d men.
Patroclus and Automedon did arm before them all,
Two bodies with one mind inform’d; and then the General
Betook him to his private tent, where from a coffer wrought
Most rich and curiously, and giv’n by Thetis to be brought
In his own ship, top-fill’d with vests, warm robes to check cold wind,
And tapestries all gold’n-fring’d, and curl’d with thrumbs behind,
He took a most unvalu’d bowl, in which none drank but he;
Nor he but to the Deities, nor any Deity
But Jove himself was serv’d with that; and that he first did cleanse
With sulphur, then with fluences of sweetest water rense;
Then wash’d his hands, and drew himself a mighty bowl of wine,
Which (standing midst the place enclos’d for services divine,
And looking up to heav’n and Jove, who saw him well) he pour’d
Upon the place of sacrifice, and humbly thus implor’d:
“Great Dodonæus, president of cold Dodone’s tow’rs,
Divine Pelasgicus, that dwellest far hence; about whose bow’rs
Th’ austere prophetic Selli dwell, that still sleep on the ground,
Go bare, and never cleanse their feet; as I before have found
Grace to my vows, and hurt to Greece, so now my pray’rs intend.
I still stay in the gather’d fleet, but have dismiss’d my friend,
Amongst my many Myrmidons, to danger of the dart;
O grant his valour my renown, arm with my mind his heart!
That Hector’s self may know my friend can work in single war,
And not then only show his hands, so hot and singular,
When my kind presence seconds him. But, fight he ne’er so well,
No further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repell
Clamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat
To him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.”
He pray’d, and heav’n’s great Counsellor gave satisfying ear
To one part of his orisons, but left the other there;
He let him free the fleet of foes, but safe retreat denied.
Achilles left that utter part where he his zeal applied,
And turn’d into his inner tent, made fast his cup, and then
Stood forth, and with his mind beheld the foes fight; and his men,
That follow’d his great-minded friend, embattled till they brake
With gallant spirit upon the foe. And as fell wasps, that make
Their dwellings in the broad high-way, which foolish children use
(Their cottages being near their nests) to anger and abuse
With ever vexing them, and breed (to soothe their childish war)
A common ill to many men, since if a traveller
(That would his journey’s end apply, and pass them unassay’d)
Come near and vex them, upon him the children’s faults are laid,
For on they fly as he were such, and still defend their own;
So far’d it with the fervent mind of ev’ry Myrmidon,
Who pour’d themselves out of their fleet upon their wanton foes,
That needs would stir them, thrust so near, and cause the overthrows
Of many others, that had else been never touch’d by them,
Nor would have touch’d. Patroclus then put his wind to the stream,
And thus exhorted: “Now, my friends, remember you express
Your late-urg’d virtue, and renown our great Æacides.
That, he being strong’st of all the Greeks, his eminence may dim
All others likewise in our strengths, that far off imitate him:
And Agamemnon now may see his fault as general
As his place high, dishonouring him that so much honours all.”
Thus made he sparkle their fresh fire, and on they rush’d; the fleet
Fill’d full her hollow sides with sounds, that terribly did greet
Th’ amazed Trojans; and their eyes did second their amaze
When great Menœtius’ son they saw, and his friend’s armour blaze.
All troops stood troubled, with conceit that Peleus’ son was there,
His anger cast off at the ships; and each look’d ev’rywhere
For some authority to lead the then preparéd flight.
Patroclus greeted with a lance the region where the fight
Made strongest tumult, near the ship Protesilaus brought,
And strook Pyræchmen; who before the fair-helmed Pæons fought,
Led from Amydon, near whose walls the broad-stream’d Axius flows.
Through his right shoulder flew the dart, whose blow strook all the blows
In his pow’r from his pow’rless arm, and down he groaning fell;
His men all flying, their leader fled. This one dart did repell
The whole guard plac’d about the ship, whose fire extinct, half burn’d
The Pæons left her, and full cry to clam’rous flight return’d.
Then spread the Greeks about their ships; triumphant tumult flow’d:
And, as from top of some steep hill the Lightner strips a cloud,
And lets a great sky out from heav’n, in whose delightsome light
All prominent foreheads, forests, tow’rs, and temples cheer the sight;
So clear’d these Greeks this Trojan cloud, and at their ships and tents
Obtain’d a little time to breathe, but found no present vents
To their inclusions; nor did Troy, though these Pæonians fled,
Lose any ground, but from this ship they needfully turn’d head.
Then ev’ry man a man subdu’d. Patroclus in the thigh
Strook Areilycus; his dart the bone did break, and fly
Quite through, and sunk him to the earth. Good Menelaus slew
Accomplish’d Thoas, in whose breast, being nak’d, his lance he threw
Above his shield, and freed his soul. Phylides, taking note
That bold Amphiclus bent at him, prevented him, and smote
His thigh’s extreme part, where of man his fattest muscle lies,
The nerves torn with his lance’s pile, and darkness clos’d his eyes.
Antilochus Atymnius seiz’d, his steel lance did impress
His first three guts, and loos’d his life. At young Nestorides,
Maris, Atymnius’ brother, flew; and at him Thrasymed
The brother to Antilochus; his eager jav’lin’s head
The muscles of his arm cut out, and shiver’d all the bone;
Night clos’d his eyes, his lifeless corse his brother fell upon.
And so by two kind brothers’ hands, did two kind brothers bleed;
Both being divine Sarpedon’s friends, and were the darting seed
Of Amisodarus, that kept the bane of many men
Abhorr’d Chimæra; and such bane now caught his childeren.
Ajax Oïliades did take Cleobulus alive,
Invading him stay’d by the press; and at him then let drive
With his short sword that cut his neck; whose blood warm’d all the steel,
And cold Death with a violent fate his sable eyes did seel.
Peneleüs, and Lycon cast together off their darts;
Both miss’d, and both together then went with their swords; in parts
The blade and hilt went, laying on upon the helmet’s height.
Peneleus’ sword caught Lycon’s neck, and cut it thorough quite.
His head hung by the very skin. The swift Meriones,
Pursuing flying Acamas, just as he got access
To horse and chariot overtook, and took him such a blow
On his right shoulder, that he left his chariot, and did strow
The dusty earth; life left his limbs, and night his eyes possess’d.
Idomenæus his stern dart at Erymas address’d,
As, like to Acamas, he fled; it cut the sundry bones
Beneath his brain, betwixt his neck, and foreparts; and so runs,
Shaking his teeth out, through his mouth, his eyes all drown’d in blood,
So through his nostrils and his mouth, that now dart-open stood,
He breath’d his spirit. Thus had death from ev’ry Grecian chief
A chief of Troy. For, as to kids, or lambs, their cruell’st thief,
The wolf, steals in, and, when he sees that by the shepherd’s sloth
The dams are spers’d about the hills, then serves his rav’nous tooth
With ease, because his prey is weak; so serv’d the Greeks their foes,
Discerning well how shrieking flight did all their spirits dispose,
Their biding virtues quite forgot. And now the natural spleen
That Ajax bore to Hector still, by all means, would have been
Within his bosom with a dart; but he that knew the war,
Well-cover’d in a well-lin’d shield, did well perceive how far
The arrows and the jav’lins reach’d, by being within their sounds
And ominous singings; and observ’d the there-in-clining bounds
Of Conquest in her aid of him, and so obey’d her change,
Took safest course for him and his, and stood to her as strange.
And as, when Jove intends a storm, he lets out of the stars,
From steep Olympus, a black cloud, that all heav’n’s splendour bars
From men on earth; so from the hearts of all the Trojan host
All comfort lately found from Jove, in flight and cries was lost.
Nor made they any fair retreat. Hector’s unruly horse
Would needs retire him, and he left engag’d his Trojan force,
Forc’d by the steepness of the dike, that in ill place they took,
And kept them that would fain have gone. Their horses quite forsook
A number of the Trojan kings, and left them in the dike;
Their chariots in their foreteams broke. Patroclus then did strike
While steel was hot, and cheer’d his friends; nor meant his enemies good,
Who, when they once began to fly, each way receiv’d a flood,
And chok’d themselves with drifts of dust. And now were clouds begot
Beneath the clouds; with flight and noise the horse neglected not
Their home intendments; and, where rout was busiest, there pour’d on
Patroclus most exhorts and threats; and then lay overthrown
Numbers beneath their axle-trees; who, lying in flight’s stream,
Made th’ after chariots jot and jump, in driving over them.
Th’ immortal horse Patroclus rode, did pass the dike with ease,
And wish’d the depth and danger more; and Menœtiades
As great a spirit had to reach, retiring Hector’s haste,
But his fleet horse had too much law, and fetch’d him off too fast.
And as in Autumn the black earth is loaden with the storms
That Jove in gluts of rain pours down, being angry with the forms
Of judgment in authoriz’d men, that in their courts maintain,
With violent office, wrested laws, and (fearing Gods, nor men)
Exile all justice; for whose fault, whole fields are overflown,
And many valleys cut away with torrents headlong thrown
From neighbour mountains, till the sea receive them roaring in,
And judg’d men’s labours then are vain, plagu’d for their judge’s sin;
So now the foul defaults of some all Troy were laid upon;
So like those torrents roar’d they back to windy Ilion;
And so like tempests blew the horse with ravishing back again
Those hot assailants, all their works at fleet now render’d vain.
Patroclus, when he had dispers’d the foremost phalanxes,
Call’d back his forces to the fleet, and would not let them prease,
As they desir’d, too near the town; but ’twixt the ships and flood,
And their steep rampire, his hand steep’d Revenge in seas of blood.
Then Pronous was first that fell beneath his fi’ry lance,
Which strook his bare breast, near his shield. The second Thestor’s chance,
Old Enops’ son, did make himself; who shrinking, and set close
In his fair seat, ev’n with th’ approach Patroclus made, did lose
All manly courage, insomuch that from his hands his reins
Fell flowing down, and his right jaw Patroclus’ lance attains,
Strock through his teeth, and there it stuck, and by it to him drew
Dead Thestor to his chariot. It show’d, as when you view
An angler from some prominent rock draw with his line and hook
A mighty fish out of the sea; for so the Greek did pluck
The Trojan gaping from his seat, his jaws op’d with the dart;
Which when Patroclus drew, he fell; his life and breast did part.
Then rush’d he on Erylaus; at whom he hurl’d a stone,
Which strake his head so in the midst, that two was made of one;
Two ways it fell, cleft through his casque. And then Tlepolemus,
Epaltes, Damastorides, Evippus, Echius,
Ipheas, bold Amphoterus, and valiant Erymas,
And Polymelus, by his sire surnam’d Argeadas,
He heap’d upon the much-fed earth. When Jove’s most worthy son,
Divine Sarpedon, saw these friends thus stay’d, and others run,
“O shame! Why fly ye?” then he cried, “Now show ye feet enow.
On, keep your way, myself will meet the man that startles you,
To make me understand his name that flaunts in conquest thus,
And hath so many able knees so soon dissolv’d to us.”
Down jump’d he from his chariot; down leap’d his foe as light.
And as, on some far-looking rock, a cast of vultures fight,
Fly on each other, strike and truss, part, meet, and then stick by,
Tug both with crooked beaks and seres, cry, fight, and fight and cry;
So fiercely fought these angry kings, and show’d as bitter galls.
Jove, turning eyes to this stern fight, his wife and sister calls,
And much mov’d for the Lycian Prince, said: “O that to my son
Fate, by this day and man, should cut a thread so nobly spun!
Two minds distract me; if I should now ravish him from fight,
And set him safe in Lycia; or give the Fates their right.”
“Austere Saturnius,” she replied, “what unjust words are these?
A mortal, long since mark’d by fate, wouldst thou immortalize?
Do, but by no God be approv’d. Free him, and numbers more,
Sons of Immortals, will live free, that death must taste before
These gates of Ilion; ev’ry God will have his son a God,
Or storm extremely. Give him then an honest period
In brave fight by Patroclus’ sword, if he be dear to thee,
And grieves thee for his danger’d life; of which when he is free,
Let Death and Somnus bear him hence, till Lycia’s natural womb
Receive him from his brother’s hands, and citizens’; a tomb
And column rais’d to him. This is the honour of the dead.”
She said, and her speech rul’d his pow’r; but in his safety’s stead,
For sad ostent of his near death, he steep’d his living name
In drops of blood heav’n swet for him, which earth drunk to his fame.
And now, as this high combat grew to this too humble end,
Sarpedon’s death had this state more; ’twas usher’d by his friend
And charioteer, brave Thrasymed; whom in his belly’s rim
Patroclus wounded with his lance, and endless ended him.
And then another act of name foreran his princely fate.
His first lance missing, he let fly a second that gave date
Of violent death to Pedasus; who, as he joy’d to die
By his so honourable hand, did ev’n in dying neigh.
His ruin startled th’ other steeds, the gears crack’d, and the reins
Strappled his fellows; whose misrule Automedon restrains
By cutting the intangling gears, and so dissund’ring quite
The brave slain beast; when both the rest obey’d, and went foreright.
And then the royal combatants fought for the final stroke;
When Lycia’s Gen’ral miss’d again, his high-rais’d jav’lin took
Above his shoulder empty way. But no such speedless flight
Patroclus let his spear perform, that on the breast did light
Of his brave foe, where life’s strings close about the solid heart,
Impressing a recureless wound; his knees then left their part,
And let him fall; when like an oak, a poplar, or a pine,
New fell’d by arts-men on the hills, he stretch’d his form divine
Before his horse and chariot. And as a lion leaps
Upon a goodly yellow bull, drives all the herd in heaps,
And, under his unconquer’d jaws, the brave beast sighing dies;
So sigh’d Sarpedon underneath this prince of enemies,
Call’d Glaucus to him, his dear friend, and said: “Now, friend, thy hands
Much duty owe to fight and arms; now for my love it stands
Thy heart in much hand to approve that war is harmful; now
How active all thy forces are, this one hour’s act must show.
First call our Lycian captains up, look round, and bring up all,
And all exhort to stand, like friends, about Sarpedon’s fall,
And spend thyself thy steel for me; for be assur’d no day
Of all thy life, to thy last hour, can clear thy black dismay
In woe and infamy for me, if I be taken hence
Spoil’d of mine arms, and thy renown despoil’d of my defence.
Stand firm then, and confirm thy men.” This said, the bounds of death
Concluded all sight to his eyes, and to his nosthrils breath.
Patroclus, though his guard was strong, forc’d way through ev’ry doubt,
Climb’d his high bosom with his foot, and pluck’d his jav’lin out,
And with it drew the film and strings of his yet panting heart;
And last, together with the pile, his princely soul did part.
His horse, spoil’d both of guide and king, thick snoring and amaz’d,
And apt to flight, the Myrmidons made nimbly to, and seiz’d.
Glaucus, to hear his friend ask aid, of him past all the rest,
Though well he knew his wound uncur’d, confusion fill’d his breast
Not to have good in any pow’r, and yet so much good will.
And (laying his hand upon his wound, that pain’d him sharply still,
And was by Teucer’s hand set on from their assail’d steep wall,
In keeping hurt from other men) he did on Phœbus call,
The God of med’cines, for his cure: “Thou King of cures,” said he,
“That art perhaps in Lycia with her rich progeny,
Or here in Troy; but any where, since thou hast pow’r to hear,
O give a hurt and woeful man, as I am now, thine ear.
This arm sustains a cruel wound, whose pains shoot ev’ry way,
Afflict this shoulder, and this hand, and nothing long can stay
A flux of blood still issuing; nor therefore can I stand
With any enemy in fight, nor hardly make my hand
Support my lance; and here lies dead the worthiest of men,
Sarpedon, worthy son to Jove, whose pow’r could yet abstain
From all aid in this deadly need; give thou then aid to me,
O King of all aid to men hurt; assuage th’ extremity
Of this arm’s anguish, give it strength, that by my precedent
I may excite my men to blows, and this dead corse prevent
Of further violence.” He pray’d, and kind Apollo heard,
Allay’d his anguish, and his wound of all the black blood clear’d
That vex’d it so, infus’d fresh pow’rs into his weaken’d mind;
And all his spirits flow’d with joy that Phœbus stood inclin’d,
In such quick bounty, to his pray’rs. Then, as Sarpedon will’d,
He cast about his greedy eye; and first of all instill’d
To all his captains all the stings, that could inflame their fight
For good Sarpedon. And from them, he stretch’d his speedy pace
T’ Agenor, Hector, Venus’ son, and wise Polydamas;
And (only naming Hector) said: “Hector, you now forget
Your poor auxiliary friends, that in your toils have swet
Their friendless souls out far from home. Sarpedon, that sustain’d
With justice, and his virtues all, broad Lycia, hath not gain’d
The like guard for his person here; for yonder dead he lies
Beneath the great Patroclus’ lance. But come, let your supplies,
Good friends, stand near him. O disdain to see his corse defil’d
With Grecian fury; and his arms, by their oppressions spoil’d.
These Myrmidons are come enrag’d, that such a mighty boot
Of Greeks Troy’s darts have made at fleet.” This said, from head to foot
Grief strook their pow’rs past patience, and not to be restrain’d,
To hear news of Sarpedon’s death; who, though he appertain’d
To other cities, yet to theirs he was the very fort,
And led a mighty people there, of all whose better sort
Himself was best. This made them run in flames upon the foe;
The first man Hector, to whose heart Sarpedon’s death did go.
Patroclus stirr’d the Grecian spirits; and first th’ Ajaces, thus:
“Now, brothers, be it dear to you, to fight and succour us,
As ever heretofore ye did, with men first excellent.
The man lies slain that first did scale, and raze the battlement
That crown’d our wall, the Lycian prince. But if we now shall add
Force to his corse, and spoil his arms, a prise may more be had
Of many great ones, that for him will put on to the death.”
To this work these were prompt enough; and each side ordereth
Those phalanxes that most had rate of resolutions;
The Trojans and the Lycian pow’rs; the Greeks and Myrmidons.
These ran together for the corse, and clos’d with horrid cries,
Their armours thund’ring with the claps laid on about the prise.
And Jove, about th’ impetuous broil, pernicious night pour’d out,
As long as for his lovéd son, pernicious Labour fought.
The first of Troy the first Greeks foil’d; when, not the last indeed
Amongst the Myrmidons, was slain, the great Agacleus’ seed,
Divine Epigeus, that before had exercis’d command
In fair Budeiüs; but because he laid a bloody hand
On his own sister’s valiant son, to Peleus and his queen
He came for pardon, and obtain’d; his slaughter being the mean
He came to Troy, and so to this. He ventur’d ev’n to touch
The princely carcass; when a stone did more to him by much,
Sent out of able Hector’s hand; it cut his skull in twain,
And strook him dead. Patroclus, griev’d to see his friend so slain,
Before the foremost thrust himself. And as a falcon frays
A flock of stares or caddesses; such fear brought his assays
Amongst the Trojans and their friends; and, angry at the heart,
As well as griev’d, for him so slain, another stony dart
As good as Hector’s he let fly, that dusted in the neck
Of Sthenelaus, thrust his head to earth first, and did break
The nerves in sunder with his fall; off fell the Trojans too,
Ev’n Hector’s self, and all as far as any man can throw
(Provok’d for games, or in the wars to shed an enemy’s soul)
A light long dart. The first that turn’d, was he that did control
The targeteers of Lycia, prince Glaucus; who to hell
Sent Bathyclæus, Chalcon’s son; he did in Hellas dwell,
And shin’d for wealth and happiness amongst the Myrmidons;
His bosom’s midst the jav’lin strook, his fall gat earth with groans.
The Greeks griev’d, and the Trojans joy’d, for so renown’d a man;
About whom stood the Grecians firm. And then the death began
On Troy’s side by Meriones; he slew one great in war,
Laogonus, Onetor’s son, the priest of Jupiter,
Created in th’ Idæan hill. Betwixt his jaw and ear
The dart stuck fast, and loos’d his soul; sad mists of hate and fear
Invading him. Anchises’ son despatch’d a brazen lance
At bold Meriones; and hop’d to make an equal chance
On him with bold Laogonus, though under his broad shield
He lay so close. But he discern’d, and made his body yield
So low, that over him it flew, and trembling took the ground,
With which Mars made it quench his thirst; and since the head could wound
No better body, and yet thrown from ne’er the worse a hand,
It turn’d from earth, and look’d awry. Æneas let it stand,
Much angry at the vain event, and told Meriones
He scap’d but hardly, nor had cause to hope for such success
Another time, though well he knew his dancing faculty,
By whose agility he scap’d; for, had his dart gone by
With any least touch, instantly he had been ever slain.
He answer’d: “Though thy strength be good, it cannot render vain
The strength of others with thy jests; nor art thou so divine,
But when my lance shall touch at thee, with equal speed to thine,
Death will share with it thy life’s pow’rs; thy confidence can shun
No more than mine what his right claims.” Menœtius’ noble son
Rebuk’d Meriones, and said: “What need’st thou use this speech?
Nor thy strength is approv’d with words, good friend, nor can we reach
The body, nor make th’ enemy yield, with these our counterbraves.
We must enforce the binding earth, to hold them in her graves.
If you will war, fight. Will you speak? Give counsel Counsel, blows,
Are th’ ends of wars and words. Talk here, the time in vain bestows.”
He said, and led; and, nothing less for any thing he said,
(His speech being season’d with such right) the worthy seconded.
And then, as in a sounding vale, near neighbour to a hill,
Wood-fellers make a far-heard noise, with chopping, chopping still,
And laying on, on blocks and trees; so they on men laid load,
And beat like noises into air, both as they strook and trode.
But, past their noise, so full of blood, of dust, of darts, lay smit
Divine Sarpedon, that a man must have an excellent wit
That could but know him, and might fail, so from his utmost head,
Ev’n to the low plants of his feet, his form was alteréd.
All thrusting near it ev’ry way, as thick as flies in spring,
That in a sheep-cote, when new milk assembles them, make wing,
And buzz about the top-full pails. Nor ever was the eye
Of Jove averted from the fight; he view’d, thought, ceaselessly
And diversly upon the death of great Achilles’ friend,
If Hector there, to wreak his son, should with his jav’lin end
His life, and force away his arms, or still augment the field;
He then concluded that the flight of much more soul should yield
Achilles’ good friend more renown, and that ev’n to their gates
He should drive Hector and his host; and so disanimates
The mind of Hector that he mounts his chariot, and takes Flight
Up with him, tempting all to her; affirming his insight
Knew evidently that the beam of Jove’s all-ord’ring scoles
Was then in sinking on their side, surcharg’d with flocks of souls.
Then not the noble Lycians stay’d, but left their slaughter’d lord
Amongst the corses’ common heap; for many more were pour’d
About and on him, while Jove’s hand held out the bitter broil.
And now they spoil’d Sarpedon’s arms, and to the ships the spoil
Was sent by Menœtiades. Then Jove thus charg’d the Sun:
“Haste, honour’d Phœbus, let no more Greek violence be done
To my Sarpedon; but his corse of all the sable blood
And jav’lins purg’d; then carry him, far hence to some clear flood,
With whose waves wash, and then embalm each thorough-cleanséd limb
With our ambrosia; which perform’d, divine weeds put on him,
And then to those swift mates and twins, sweet Sleep and Death, commit
His princely person, that with speed they both may carry it
To wealthy Lycia; where his friends and brothers will embrace,
And tomb it in some monument, as fits a prince’s place.”
Then flew Apollo to the fight, from the Idalian hill,
At all parts putting into act his great Commander’s will;
Drew all the darts, wash’d, balm’d the corse; which, deck’d with ornament,
By Sleep and Death, those feather’d twins, he into Lycia sent.
Patroclus then Automedon commands to give his steeds
Large reins, and all way to the chace; so madly he exceeds
The strict commission of his friend; which had he kept had kept
A black death from him. But Jove’s mind hath evermore outstept
The mind of man; who both affrights, and takes the victory
From any hardiest hand with ease; which he can justify,
Though he himself commands him fight, as now he put this chace
In Menœtiades’s mind. How much then weighs the grace,
Patroclus, that Jove gives thee now, in scoles put with thy death,
Of all these great and famous men the honourable breath!
Of which Adrestus first he slew, and next Autonous,
Epistora, and Perimus, Pylartes, Elasus,
Swift Menalippus, Molius; all these were overthrown
By him, and all else put in rout; and then proud Ilion
Had stoop’d beneath his glorious hand, he rag’d so with his lance,
If Phœbus had not kept the tow’r, and help’d the Ilians,
Sustaining ill thoughts ’gainst the prince. Thrice to the prominence
Of Troy’s steep wall he bravely leap’d; thrice Phœbus thrust him thence,
Objecting his all-dazzling shield, with his resistless hand;
But fourthly, when, like one of heav’n, he would have stirr’d his stand,
Apollo threaten’d him, and said: “Cease, it exceeds thy fate,
Forward, Patroclus, to expugn with thy bold lance this state;
Nor under great Achilles’ pow’rs, to thine superior far,
Lies Troy’s grave ruin.” When he spake, Patroclus left that war,
Leap’d far back, and his anger shunn’d. Hector detain’d his horse
Within the Scæan port, in doubt to put his personal force
Amongst the rout, and turn their heads, or shun in Troy the storm.
Apollo, seeing his suspense, resum’d the goodly form
Of Hector’s uncle, Asius; the Phrygian Dymas’ son,
Who near the deep Sangarius had habitation,
Being brother to the Trojan queen. His shape Apollo took,
And ask’d of Hector, why his spirit so clear the fight forsook?
Affirming ’twas unfit for him, and wish’d his forces were
As much above his, as they mov’d in an inferior sphere.
He should, with shame to him, be gone; and so bade drive away
Against Patroclus, to approve, if He that gave them day
Would give the glory of his death to his preferréd lance.
So left he him, and to the fight did his bright head advance,
Mix’d with the multitude, and stirr’d foul tumult for the foe.
Then Hector bade Cebriones put on; himself let go
All other Greeks within his reach, and only gave command
To front Patroclus. He at him; jump’d down; his strong left hand
A jav’lin held, his right a stone, a marble sharp and such
As his large hand had pow’r to gripe, and gave it strength as much
As he could lie to; nor stood long, in fear of that huge man
That made against him, but full on with his huge stone he ran,
Discharg’d, and drave it ’twixt the brows of bold Cebriones.
Nor could the thick bone there prepar’d extenuate so th’ access,
But out it drave his broken eyes, which in the dust fell down,
And he div’d after; which conceit of diving took the son
Of old Menœtius, who thus play’d upon the other’s bane.
“O heav’ns! For truth, this Trojan was a passing active man!
With what exceeding ease he dives, as if at work he were
Within the fishy seas! This man alone would furnish cheer
For twenty men, though ’twere a storm, to leap out of a sail,
And gather oysters for them all, he does it here as well,
And there are many such in Troy.” Thus jested he so near
His own grave death; and then made in, to spoil the charioteer,
With such a lion’s force and fate, as, often ruining
Stalls of fat oxen, gets at length a mortal wound to sting
His soul out of that rav’nous breast, that was so insolent,
And so his life’s bliss proves his bane; so deadly confident
Wert thou, Patroclus, in pursuit of good Cebriones,
To whose defence now Hector leap’d. The opposite address,
These masters of the cry in war now made, was of the kind
Of two fierce kings of beasts, oppos’d in strife about a hind
Slain on the forehead of a hill, both sharp and hungry set
And to the currie never came but like two deaths they met;
Nor these two entertain’d less mind of mutual prejudice
About the body, close to which when each had press’d for prise,
Hector the head laid hand upon, which, once grip’d, never could
Be forc’d from him; Patroclus then upon the feet got hold,
And he pinch’d with as sure a nail. So both stood tugging there,
While all the rest made eager fight, and grappled ev’ry where.
And as the east and south winds strive, to make a lofty wood
Bow to their greatness, barky elms, wild ashes, beeches, bow’d
Ev’n with the earth, in whose thick arms the mighty vapours lie,
And toss by turns, all, either way, their leaves at random fly,
Boughs murmur, and their bodies crack, and with perpetual din
The sylvans falter, and the storms are never to begin;
So rag’d the fight, and all from Flight pluck’d her forgotten wings,
While some still stuck, still new-wing’d shafts flew dancing from their strings,
Huge stones sent after that did shake the shields about the corse,
Who now, in dust’s soft forehead stretch’d, forgat his guiding horse.
As long as Phœbus turn’d his wheels about the midst of heaven,
So long the touch of either’s darts the falls of both made even;
But, when his wain drew near the west, the Greeks past measure were
The abler soldiers, and so swept the Trojan tumult clear
From off the body, out of which they drew the hurl’d-in darts,
And from his shoulders stripp’d his arms; and then to more such parts
Patroclus turn’d his striving thoughts, to do the Trojans ill.
Thrice, like the God of war, he charg’d, his voice as horrible,
And thrice-nine those three charges slew; but in the fourth assay,
O then, Patroclus, show’d thy last; the dreadful Sun made way
Against that onset; yet the prince discern’d no Deity,
He kept the press so, and, besides, obscur’d his glorious eye
With such felt darkness. At his back, he made a sudden stand,
And ’twixt his neck and shoulders laid down-right with either hand
A blow so weighty, that his eyes a giddy darkness took,
And from his head his three-plum’d helm the bounding violence shook,
That rung beneath his horses’ hooves, and, like a water-spout,
Was crush’d together with the fall; the plumes that set it out,
All spatter’d with black blood and dust; when ever heretofore
It was a capital offence to have or dust or gore
Defile a triple-feather’d helm, but on the head divine
And youthful temples of their prince it us’d, untouch’d, to shine.
Yet now Jove gave it Hector’s hands, the other’s death was near.
Besides whose lost and filéd helm his huge long weighty spear,
Well-bound with iron, in his hand was shiver’d, and his shield
Fell from his shoulders to his feet, the bawdrick strewing the field;
His curets left him, like the rest. And all this only done
By great Apollo. Then his mind took in confusion,
The vig’rous knittings of his joints dissolv’d; and, thus dismay’d,
A Dardan, one of Panthus’ sons, and one that overlaid
All Trojans of his place with darts, swift footing, skill, and force
In noble horsemanship, and one that tumbled from their horse,
One after other, twenty men, and when he did but learn
The art of war; nay when he first did in the field discern
A horse and chariot of his guide; this man, with all these parts,
(His name Euphorbus) comes behind, and ’twixt the shoulders darts
Forlorn Patroclus, who yet liv’d, and th’ other (getting forth
His jav’lin) took him to his strength; nor durst he stand the worth
Of thee, Patroclus, though disarm’d, who yet (discomfited
By Phœbus’ and Euphorbus’ wound) the red heap of the dead
He now too late shunn’d, and retir’d. When Hector saw him yield,
And knew he yielded with a wound, he scour’d the arméd field,
Came close up to him, and both sides strook quite through with his lance.
He fell, and his most weighty fall gave fit tune to his chance;
For which all Greece extremely mourn’d. And as a mighty strife
About a little fount begins, and riseth to the life
Of some fell boar resolv’d to drink; when likewise to the spring
A lion comes alike dispos’d, the boar thirsts, and his king,
Both proud, and both will first be serv’d; and then the lion takes
Advantage of his sov’reign strength, and th’ other, fainting, makes
Resign his thirst up with his blood; Patroclus, so enforc’d
When he had forc’d so much brave life, was from his own divorc’d.
And thus his great divorcer brav’d: “Patroclus, thy conceit
Gave thee th’ eversion of our Troy, and to thy fleet a freight
Of Trojan ladies, their free lives put all in bands by thee;
But (too much prizer of thy self) all these are propp’d by me,
For these have my horse stretch’d their hoofs to this so long a war,
And I (far best of Troy in arms) keep off from Troy as far,
Ev’n to the last beam of my life, their necessary day.
And here, in place of us and ours, on thee shall vultures prey,
Poor wretch; nor shall thy mighty friend afford thee any aid,
That gave thy parting much deep charge, and this perhaps be said:
‘Martial Patroclus, turn not face, nor see my fleet before
The curets from great Hector’s breast, all gilded with his gore,
Thou hew’st in pieces.’ If thus vain were his far-stretched commands,
As vain was thy heart to believe his words lay in thy hands.”
He, languishing, replied: “This proves, thy glory worse than vain,
That when two Gods have giv’n thy hands what their pow’rs did obtain,
(They conqu’ring, and they spoiling me both of my arms and mind,
It being a work of ease for them) thy soul should be so blind
To oversee their evident deeds, and take their pow’rs to thee;
When, if the pow’rs of twenty such had dar’d t’ encounter me,
My lance had strew’d earth with them all. Thou only dost obtain
A third place in my death; whom, first, a harmful hate hath slain
Effected by Latona’s son; second, and first of men,
Euphorbus. And this one thing more concerns thee; note it then;
Thou shalt not long survive thyself; nay, now death calls for thee,
And violent fate; Achilles’ lance shall make this good for me.”
Thus death join’d to his words his end; his soul took instant wing,
And to the house that hath no lights descended) sorrowing
For his sad fate, to leave him young, and in his ablest age.
He dead, yet Hector ask’d him why, in that prophetic rage,
He so forespake him, when none knew but great Achilles might
Prevent his death, and on his lance receive his latest light?
Thus setting on his side his foot, he drew out of his wound
His brazen lance, and upwards cast the body on the ground;
When quickly, while the dart was hot, he charg’d Automedon,
Divine guide of Achilles’ steeds, in great contention
To seize him too; but his so swift and deathless horse, that fetch’d
Their gift to Peleus from the Gods, soon rapt him from his reach.

THE END OF THE SIXTEENTH BOOK.

[1] Jupiter called the God of sounds, for the chief sound his thunder.

[2] A simile most lively expressive.

THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS

THE ARGUMENT

A dreadful fight about Patroclus’ corse;
Euphorbus slain by Menelaus’ force;
Hector in th’ armour of Æacides;
Antilochus relating the decease
Of slain Patroclus to fair Thetis’ son;
The body from the striving Trojans won;
Th’ Ajaces making good the after field;
Make all the subject that this book doth yield,

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

In Rho the vent’rous hosts maintain
A slaught’rous conflict for the slain.

Nor could his slaughter rest conceal’d from Menelaus’ ear;
Who flew amongst the foremost fights, and with his targe and spear
Circled the body, as much griev’d, and with as tender heed
To keep it theirs, as any dam about her first-born seed,
Not proving what the pain of birth would make the love before,
Nor to pursue his first attaint Euphorbus’ spirit forbore;[1]
But, seeing Menelaus chief in rescue of the dead,
Assay’d him thus: “Atrides, cease, and leave the slaughteréd
With his embru’d spoil to the man, that first, of all our state,
And famous succours, in fair fight, made passage to his fate;
And therefore suffer me to wear the good name I have won
Amongst the Trojans, lest thy life repay what his hath done.”
“O Jupiter,” said he, incens’d, “thou art no honest man
To boast so past thy pow’r to do. Not any lion can,
Nor spotted leopard, nor boar, whose mind is mightiest
In pouring fury from his strength, advance so proud a crest
As Panthus’ fighting progeny. But Hyperenor’s pride,
That joy’d so little time his youth, when he so vilified
My force in arms, and call’d me worst of all our chivalry,
And stood my worst, might teach ye all to shun this surcuidrie;
I think he came not safely home, to tell his wife his acts.
Nor less right of thy insolence my equal fate exacts,
And will obtain me, if thou stay’st. Retire then, take advice:
A fool sees nought before ’tis done, and still too late is wise.”
This mov’d not him but to the worse, since it renew’d the sting
That his slain brother shot in him, remember’d by the king,
To whom he answer’d: “Thou shalt pay, for all the pains endur’d
By that slain brother, all the wounds sustain’d for him, recur’d
With one made in thy heart by me. ’Tis true thou mad’st his wife
A heavy widow, when her joys of wedlock scarce had life,
And hurt’st our parents with his grief; all which thou gloriest in,
Forespeaking so thy death, that now their grief’s end shall begin.
To Panthus, and the snowy hand of Phrontes, I will bring
Those arms, and that proud head of thine. And this laborious thing
Shall ask no long time to perform. Nor be my words alone,
But their performance; Strength, and Fight, and Terror thus sets on.”
This said, he strook his all-round shield; nor shrunk that, but his lance
That turn’d head in it. Then the king assay’d the second chance;
First praying to the King of Gods; and his dart entry got
(The force much driving back his foe) in low part of his throat,
And ran his neck through. Then fell pride, and he; and all with gore
His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore
In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.
And when alone in some choice place, a husbandman hath set
The young plant of an olive tree, whose root being ever fed
With plenty of delicious springs, his branches bravely spread,
And all his fresh and lovely head, grown curl’d with snowy flow’rs,
That dance and flourish with the winds, that are of gentlest pow’rs;
But when a whirlwind, got aloft, stoops with a sudden gale,
Tears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal
His fix’d root from his hollow mines; it well presents the force
Of Sparta’s king; and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse.
He slain, the king stripp’d off his arms; and with their worthy prise,
All fearing him, had clearly pass’d, if heaven’s fair Eye of eyes
Had not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr’d
The Mars-like Hector; to whose pow’rs the rescue he preferr’d
Of those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas, colonel
Of all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell.
Like him, he thus puts forth his voice: “Hector, thou scour’st the field
In headstrong púrsuit of those horse, that hardly are compell’d
To take the draught of chariots, by any mortal’s hand;
The great grandchild of Æacus hath only their command,
Whom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend’st on these,
The young Atrides, in defence of Menœtiades,
Hath slain Euphorbus.” Thus the God took troop with men again;
And Hector, heartily perplex’d, look’d round, and saw the slain
Still shedding rivers from his wound; and then took envious view
Of brave Atrides with his spoil; in way to whom he flew
Like one of Vulcan’s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry
That ever usher’d him, and sigh’d, and said: “O me, if I[2]
Should leave these goodly arms, and him, that here lies dead for me,
I fear I should offend the Greeks; if I should stay and be
Alone with Hector and his men, I may be compass’d in,
Some sleight or other they may use, many may quickly win
Their wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads.
But why, dear mind, dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads
Against the Gods, as sure they do that fight with men they love,
Straight one or other plague ensues. It cannot therefore move
The grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he
Still fighting with a spirit from heav’n. And yet if I could see
Brave Ajax, he and I would stand, though ’gainst a God; and sure
’Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure
This corse’s freedom through all these. A little then let rest
The body, and my mind be still. Of two bads choose the best.”
In this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he
Made such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see
The royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries, and spears,
To clear their hornéd stall, and then the kingly heart he bears
(With all his high disdain) falls off; so from this odds of aid
The golden-hair’d Atrides fled, and in his strength display’d
Upon his left hand him he wish’d, extremely busiéd
About encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread
Apollo had infus’d. The king reach’d Ajax instantly,
And said: “Come, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny
Of Hector free Patroclus’ corse.” He straight and gladly went;
And then was Hector haling off the body, with intent
To spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest,
His arms he having pris’d before; when Ajax brought his breast
To bar all further spoil. With that he had, sure Hector thought
‘Twas best to satisfy his spleen; which temper Ajax wrought
With his mere sight, and Hector fled. The arms he sent to Troy,
To make his citizens admire, and pray Jove send him joy.
Then Ajax gather’d to the corse, and hid it with his targe,
There setting down as sure a foot, as, in the tender charge
Of his lov’d whelps, a lion doth; two hundred hunters near
To give him onset, their more force makes him the more austere,
Drowns all their clamours in his roars, darts, dogs, doth all despise,
And lets his rough brows down so low, they cover all his eyes;
So Ajax look’d, and stood, and stay’d for great Priamides.
When Glaucus Hippolochides saw Ajax thus depress
The spirit of Hector, thus he chid: “O goodly man at arms,
In fight a Paris, why should fame make thee fort ’gainst our harms,
Being such a fugitive? Now mark, how well thy boasts defend
Thy city only with her own. Be sure it shall descend
To that proof wholly. Not a man of any Lycian rank
Shall strike one stroke more for thy town; for no man gets a thank
Should he eternally fight here, nor any guard of thee.
How wilt thou, worthless that thou art, keep off an enemy
From our poor soldiers, when their prince, Sarpedon, guest and friend
To thee, and most deservedly, thou flew’st from in his end,
And left’st to all the lust of Greece? O Gods, a man that was
(In life) so huge a good to Troy, and to thee such a grace,
(In death) not kept by thee from dogs! If my friends will do well,
We’ll take our shoulders from your walls, and let all sink to hell;
As all will, were our faces turn’d. Did such a spirit breathe
In all you Trojans, as becomes all men that fight beneath
Their country’s standard, you would see, that such a prop your cause
With like exposure of their lives, have all the honour’d laws
Of such a dear confederacy kept to them to a thread,
As now ye might reprise the arms Sarpedon forfeited
By forfeit of your rights to him, would you but lend your hands,
And force Patroclus to your Troy. Ye know how dear he stands
In his love, that of all the Greeks is, for himself, far best,
And leads the best near-fighting men; and therefore would at least
Redeem Sarpedon’s arms; nay him, whom you have likewise lost.
This body drawn to Ilion would after draw and cost
A greater ransom if you pleas’d; but Ajax startles you;
’Tis his breast bars this right to us; his looks are darts enow
To mix great Hector with his men. And not to blame ye are,
You choose foes underneath your strengths, Ajax exceeds ye far.”
Hector look’d passing sour at this, and answer’d: “Why dar’st thou,
So under, talk above me so? O friend, I thought till now
Thy wisdom was superior to all th’ inhabitants
Of gleby Lycia; but now impute apparent wants
To that discretion thy words show, to say I lost my ground
For Ajax’ greatness. Nor fear I the field in combats drown’d,
Nor force of chariots, but I fear a Pow’r much better seen
In right of all war than all we. That God, that holds between
Our victory and us his shield, lets conquest come and go
At his free pleasure, and with fear converts her changes so
Upon the strongest. Men must fight when his just spirit impels,
Not their vain glories. But come on, make thy steps parallels
To these of mine, and then be judge, how deep the work will draw.
If then I spend the day in shifts, or thou canst give such law
To thy detractive speeches then, or if the Grecian host
Holds any that in pride of strength holds up his spirit most,
Whom, for the carriage of this prince, that thou enforcest so,
I make not stoop in his defence. You, friends, ye hear and know
How much it fits ye to make good this Grecian I have slain,
For ransom of Jove’s son, our friend. Play then the worthy men,
Till I indue Achilles’ arms.” This said, he left the fight,
And call’d back those that bore the arms, not yet without his sight,
In convoy of them towards Troy. For them he chang’d his own,
Remov’d from where it rained tears, and sent them back to town.
Then put he on th’ eternal arms, that the Celestial States
Gave Peleus; Peleus, being old, their use appropriates
To his Achilles, that, like him, forsook them not for age.
When He, whose empire is in clouds, saw Hector bent to wage
War in divine Achilles’ arms, he shook his head, and said:
“Poor wretch, thy thoughts are far from death, though he so near hath laid
His ambush for thee. Thou putt’st on those arms, as braving him
Whom others fear; hast slain his friend, and from his youthful limb
Torn rudely off his heav’nly arms, himself being gentle, kind,
And valiant. Equal measure then, thy life in youth must find.
Yet since the justice is so strict, that not Andromache,
In thy denied return from fight, must ever take of thee
Those arms, in glory of thy acts; thou shalt have that frail blaze
Of excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev’n to amaze.”
To this His sable brows did bow; and he made fit his limb
To those great arms, to fill which up the War-god enter’d him
Austere and terrible, his joints and ev’ry part extends
With strength and fortitude; and thus to his admiring friends
High Clamour brought him. He so shin’d, that all could think no less
But he resembled ev’ry way great-soul’d Æacides.
Then ev’ry way he scour’d the field, his captains calling on;
Asteropæus, Eunomus, that foresaw all things done,
Glaucus, and Medon, Desinor, and strong Thersilochus,
Phorcis, and Mesthles, Chromius, and great Hippothous;
To all these, and their populous troops, these his excitements were:
“Hear us, innumerable friends, near-bord’ring nations, hear.
We have not call’d you from our towns, to fill our idle eye
With number of so many men (no such vain empery
Did ever joy us) but to fight; and of our Trojan wives,
With all their children, manfully to save the innocent lives.
In whose cares we draw all our towns of aiding soldiers dry,
With gifts, guards, victual, all things fit; and hearten their supply
With all like rights; and therefore now let all sides set down this,
Or live, or perish; this of war the special secret is.
In which most resolute design, whoever bears to town
Patroclus, laid dead to his hand, by winning the renown
Of Ajax’ slaughter, the half-spoil we wholly will impart
To his free use, and to ourself the other half convert;
And so the glory shall be shar’d, ourself will have no more
Then he shall shine in.” This drew all to bring abroad their store
Before the body. Ev’ry man had hope it would be his,
And forc’d from Ajax. Silly fools, Ajax prevented this
By raising rampires to his friend with half their carcasses.
And yet his humour was to roar, and fear, and now no less
To startle Sparta’s king, to whom he cried out: “O my friend!
O Menelaus! Now no hope to get off; here’s the end
Of all our labours. Not so much I fear to lose the corse
(For that’s sure gone, the fowls of Troy and dogs will quickly force
That piece-meal) as I fear my head, and thine, O Atreus’ son.
Hector a cloud brings will hide all. Instant destructión,
Grievous and heavy, comes. O call our peers to aid us; fly.”
He hasted, and us’d all his voice, sent far and near his cry:
“O princes, chief lights of the Greeks, and you that publicly
Eat with our General and me, all men of charge, O know
Jove gives both grace and dignity to any that will show
Good minds for only good itself, though presently the eye
Of him that rules discern him not. ’Tis hard for me t’espy,
Through all this smoke of burning fight, each captain in his place,
And call assistance to our need. Be then each other’s grace,
And freely follow each his next. Disdain to let the joy
Of great Æacides be forc’d to feed the beasts of Troy.”
His voice was first heard and obey’d by swift Oïliades;
Idomenëus and his mate, renown’d Meriones,
Were seconds to Oïleus’ son; but, of the rest, whose mind
Can lay upon his voice the names, that after these combin’d
In setting up this fight on end? The Trojans first gave on.
And as into the sea’s vast mouth, when mighty rivers run,
Their billows and the sea resound, and all the utter shore
Rebellows in her angry shocks the sea’s repulsive roar;
With such sounds gave the Trojans charge, so was their charge repress’d.
One mind fill’d all Greeks, good brass shields close couch’d to ev’ry breast,
And on their bright helms Jove pour’d down a mighty deal of night,
To hide Patroclus; whom alive, and when he was the knight
Of that grandchild of Æacus, Saturnius did not hate,
Nor dead would see him dealt to dogs, and so did instigate
His fellows to his worthy guard. At first the Trojans drave
The black-ey’d Grecians from the corse; but not a blow they gave
That came at death. Awhile they hung about the body’s heels,
The Greeks quite gone. But all that while, did Ajax whet the steels
Of all his forces, that cut back way to the corse again.
Brave Ajax (that for form and fact, pass’d all that did maintain
The Grecian fame, next Thetis’ son) now flew before the first.
And as a sort of dogs and youths are by a boar disperst
About a mountain; so fled these from mighty Ajax, all
That stood in conflict for the corse, who thought no chance could fall
Betwixt them and the prise at Troy; for both Hippothous,
Lethus’ Pelasgus’ famous son, was so adventurous
That he would stand to bore the corse about the ancle-bone,
Where all the nervy fibres meet and ligaments in one,
That make the motion of those parts; through which he did convey
The thong or bawdric of his shield, and so was drawing away
All thanks from Hector and his friends; but in their stead he drew
An ill that no man could avert; for Telamonius threw
A lance that strook quite through his helm, his brain came leaping out;
Down fell Letheides, and with him the body’s hoisted foot.
Far from Larissa’s soil he fell; a little time allow’d
To his industrious spirits to quit the benefits bestow’d
By his kind parents. But his wreak Priamides assay’d,
And threw at Ajax; but his dart, discover’d, pass’d, and stay’d
At Schedius, son of Iphitus, a man of ablest hand
Of all the strong Phocensians, and liv’d with great command
In Panopëus. The fell dart fell through his channel-bone,
Pierc’d through his shoulder’s upper part, and set his spirit gone.
When after his another flew, the same hand giving wing
To martial Phorcis’ startled soul, that was the after spring
Of Phænops’ seed. The jav’lin strook his curets through, and tore
The bowels from the belly’s midst. His fall made those before
Give back a little, Hector’s self enforc’d to turn his face.
And then the Greeks bestow’d their shouts, took vantage of the chace,
Drew off, and spoil’d Hippothous and Phorcis of their arms.
And then ascended Ilion had shaken with alarms,
Discov’ring th’ impotence of Troy, ev’n past the will of Jove,
And by the proper force of Greece, had Phœbus fail’d to move
Æneas in similitude of Periphas (the son
Of grave Epytes) king at arms, and had good service done
To old Anchises, being wise, and ev’n with him in years.
But, like this man, the far-seen God to Venus’ son appears,
And ask’d him how he would maintain steep Ilion in her height,
In spite of Gods, as he presum’d; when men approv’d so slight
All his presumptions, and all theirs that puff’d him with that pride,
Believing in their proper strengths, and gen’rally supplied
With such unfrighted multitudes? But he well knew that Jove,
Besides their self-conceits, sustain’d their forces with more love
Than theirs of Greece; and yet all that lack’d pow’r to hearten them.
Æneas knew the God, and said: “It was a shame extreme,
That those of Greece should beat them so, and by their cowardice,
Not want of man’s aid nor the Gods’; and this before his eyes
A Deity stood ev’n now and vouch’d, affirming Jove their aid;
And so bade Hector and the rest, to whom all this he said,
Turn head, and not in that quick ease part with the corse to Greece.”
This said, before them all he flew, and all as of a piece
Against the Greeks flew. Venus’ son Leocritus did end,
Son of Arisbas, and had place of Lycomedes’ friend;
Whose fall he friendly pitied, and, in revenge, bestow’d
A lance that Apisaon strook, so sore that straight he strow’d
The dusty centre, it did stick in that congealéd blood
That forms the liver. Second man he was of all that stood
In name for arms amongst the troop that from Pæonia came,
Asteropæus being the first; who was in ruth the same
That Lycomedes was; like whom, he put forth for the wreak
Of his slain friend; but wrought it not, because he could not break
That bulwark made of Grecian shields, and bristled wood of spears,
Combin’d about the body slain. Amongst whom Ajax bears
The greatest labour, ev’ry way exhorting to abide,
And no man fly the corse a foot, nor break their ranks in pride
Of any foremost daring spirit, but each foot hold his stand,
And use the closest fight they could. And this was the command
Of mighty Ajax; which observ’d, they steep’d the earth in blood.
The Trojans and their friends fell thick. Nor all the Grecians stood
(Though far the fewer suffer’d fate) for ever they had care
To shun confusion, and the toil that still oppresseth there.
So set they all the field on fire; with which you would have thought
The sun and moon had been put out, in such a smoke they fought
About the person of the prince. But all the field beside
Fought underneath a lightsome heav’n; the sun was in his pride,
And such expansure of his beams he thrust out of his throne,
That not a vapour durst appear in all that region,
No, not upon the highest hill. There fought they still, and breath’d,
Shunn’d danger, cast their darts aloof, and not a sword unsheath’d.
The other plied it, and the war and night plied them as well,
The cruel steel afflicting all; the strongest did not dwell
Unhurt within their iron roofs. Two men of special name.
Antilochus and Thrasymed, were yet unserv’d by Fame
With notice of Patroclus’ death. They thought him still alive
In foremost tumult, and might well, for (seeing their fellows thrive
In no more comfortable sort than fight and death would yield)
They fought apart; for so their sire, old Nestor, strictly will’d,
Enjoining fight more from the fleet. War here increas’d his heat
The whole day long, continually the labour and the sweat
The knees, calves, feet, hands, faces, smear’d, of men that Mars applied
About the good Achilles’ friend. And as a huge ox-hide[3]
A currier gives amongst his men, to supple and extend
With oil till it be drunk withall; they tug, stretch out, and spend
Their oil and liquor lib’rally, and chafe the leather so
That out they make a vapour breathe, and in their oil doth go,
A number of them set on work, and in an orb they pull,
That all ways all parts of the hide they may extend at full;
So here and there did both parts hale the corse in little place,
And wrought it all ways with their sweat; the Trojans hop’d for grace
To make it reach to Ilion, the Grecians to their fleet,
A cruel tumult they stirr’d up, and such as should Mars see’t
(That horrid hurrier of men) or She that betters him,
Minerva, never so incens’d, they could not disesteem.
So baneful a contention did Jove that day extend
Of men and horse about the slain. Of whom his god-like friend
Had no instruction, so far off, and underneath the wall
Of Troy, that conflict was maintain’d; which was not thought at all
By great Achilles, since he charg’d, that having set his foot
Upon the ports, he would retire, well knowing Troy no boot
For his assaults without himself, since not by him as well
He knew it was to be subdu’d. His mother oft would tell
The mind of mighty Jove therein, oft hearing it in heav’n;
But of that great ill to his friend was no instruction giv’n
By careful Thetis. By degrees must ill events be known.
The foes cleft one to other still, about the overthrown.
His death with death infected both. Ev’n private Greeks would say
Either to other: “’Twere a shame, for us to go our way,
And let the Trojans bear to Troy the praise of such a prise!
Which, let the black earth gasp, and drink our blood for sacrifice,
Before we suffer. ’Tis an act much less infortunate,
And then would those of Troy resolve, though certainly our fate
Will fell us altogether here. Of all not turn a face.”
Thus either side his fellows’ strength excited past his place,
And thus through all th’ unfruitful air, an iron sound ascended
Up to the golden firmament; when strange affects contended
In these immortal heav’n-bred horse of great Æacides,
Whom (once remov’d from forth the fight) a sudden sense did seize
Of good Patroclus’ death, whose hands they oft had undergone,
And bitterly they wept for him. Nor could Automedon
With any manage make them stir, oft use the scourge to them,
Oft use his fairest speech, as oft threats never so extreme,
They neither to the Hellespont would bear him, nor the fight;
But still as any tombstone lays his never stirréd weight
On some good man or woman’s grave for rites of funeral;
So unremovéd stood these steeds, their heads to earth let fall,
And warm tears gushing from their eyes, with passionate desire
Of their kind manager; their manes, that flourish’d with the fire
Of endless youth allotted them, fell through the yoky sphere,
Ruthfully ruffled and defil’d, Jove saw their heavy cheer,
And, pitying them, spake to his mind: “Poor wretched beasts,” said he,
“Why gave we you t’ a mortal king, when immortality
And incapacity of age so dignifies your states?
Was it to haste the miseries pour’d out on human fates?
Of all the miserablest things that breathe and creep on earth,
No one more wretched is than man. And for your deathless birth,
Hector must fail to make you prise. Is’t not enough he wears,
And glories vainly in those arms? Your chariots and rich gears,
Besides you, are too much for him. Your knees and spirits again
My care of you shall fill with strength, that so ye may sustain
Automedon, and bear him off. To Troy I still will give
The grace of slaughter, till at fleet their bloody feet arrive,
Till Phœbus drink the western sea, and sacred Darkness throws
Her sable mantle ’twixt their points.” Thus in the steeds he blows
Excessive spirit; and through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt
The whirring chariot, shaking off the crumbled centre wrapt
Amongst their tresses. And with them, Automedon let fly
Amongst the Trojans, making way through all as frightfully
As through a jangling flock of geese a lordly vulture beats,
Giv’n way with shrikes by ev’ry goose, that comes but near his threats;
With such state fled he through the press, pursuing as he fled;
But made no slaughter; nor he could, alone being carried
Upon the sacred chariot. How could he both works do,
Direct his jav’lin, and command his fi’ry horses too?
At length he came where he beheld his friend Alcimedon,
That was the good Laercius’, the son of Æmon’s, son;
Who close came to his chariot side, and ask’d: “What God is he
That hath so robb’d thee of thy soul, to run thus franticly
Amongst these fore fights, being alone; thy fighter being slain,
And Hector glorying in his arms?” He gave these words again:
“Alcimedon, what man is he, of all the Argive race,
So able as thyself to keep, in use of press and pace,
These deathless horse; himself being gone, that like the Gods had th’ art
Of their high manage? Therefore take to thy command his part,
And ease me of the double charge, which thou hast blam’d with right.”
He took the scourge and reins in hand, Automedon the fight.
Which Hector seeing, instantly, Æneas standing near,
He told him, he discern’d the horse, that mere immortal were,
Address’d to fight with coward guides, and therefore hop’d to make
A rich prise of them, if his mind would help to undertake,
For those two could not stand their charge. He granted, and both cast
Dry solid hides upon their necks, exceeding soundly brast;
And forth they went, associate with two more god-like men,
Aretus and bold Chromius; nor made they question then
To prise the goodly-crested horse, and safely send to hell
The souls of both their guardians. O fools, that could not tell
They could not work out their return from fierce Automedon
Without the lib’ral cost of blood; who first made orison
To father Jove, and then was fill’d with fortitude and strength;
When (counselling Alcimedon to keep at no great length
The horse from him, but let them breathe upon his back, because
He saw th’ advance that Hector made, whose fury had no laws
Propos’d to it, but both their lives and those horse made his prise,
Or his life theirs) he call’d to friend these well-approv’d supplies,
Th’ Ajaces, and the Spartan king, and said, “Come, princes, leave
A sure guard with the corse, and then to your kind care receive
Our threaten’d safeties. I discern the two chief props of Troy
Prepar’d against us. But herein, what best men can enjoy
Lies in the free knees of the Gods. My dart shall lead ye all[4]
The sequel to the care of Jove I leave, whatever fall.”
All this spake good Automedon; then, brandishing his lance,
He threw, and strook Aretus’ shield, that gave it enterance
Through all the steel, and, by his belt, his belly’s inmost part
It pierc’d, and all his trembling limbs gave life up to his dart.
Then Hector at Automedon a blazing lance let fly,
Whose flight he saw, and falling flat, the compass was too high,
And made it stick beyond in earth, th’ extreme part burst, and there
Mars buried all his violence. The sword then for the spear
Had chang’d the conflict, had not haste sent both th’ Ajaces in,
Both serving close their fellows’ call, who, where they did begin,
There drew the end. Priamides, Æneas, Chromius
(In doubt of what such aid might work) left broken hearted thus
Aretus to Automedon, who spoil’d his arms, and said:
“A little this revives my life for him so lately dead,
Though by this nothing countervail’d.” And with this little vent
Of inward grief, he took the spoil; with which he made ascent
Up to his chariot, hands and feet of bloody stains so full
That lion-like he look’d, new turn’d from tearing up a bull.
And now another bitter fight about Patroclus grew,
Tear-thirsty, and of toil enough; which Pallas did renew,
Descending from the cope of stars, dismiss’d by sharp-ey’d Jove
To animate the Greeks; for now, inconstant change did move
His mind from what he held of late. And as the purple bow
Jove bends at mortals, when of war he will the signal show,
Or make it a presage of cold, in such tempestuous sort
That men are of their labours eas’d, but labouring cattle hurt;
So Pallas in a purple cloud involv’d herself, and went
Amongst the Grecians, stirr’d up all; but first encouragement
She breath’d in Atreus’ younger son, and, for disguise, made choice
Of aged Phœnix’ shape, and spake with his unwearied voice:
“O Menelaus, much defame, and equal heaviness,
Will touch at thee, if this true friend of great Æacides
Dogs tear beneath the Trojan walls; and therefore bear thee well.
Toil through the host, and ev’ry man with all thy spirit impell.”
He answer’d: “O thou long-since born, O Phœnix, that hast won
The honour’d foster-father’s name of Thetis’ god-like son,
I would Minerva would but give strength to me, and but keep
These busy darts off; I would then make in indeed, and steep
My income in their bloods, in aid of good Patroclus; much
His death afflicts me, much. But yet, this Hector’s grace is such
With Jove, and such a fi’ry strength and spirit he has, that still
His steel is killing, killing still.” The king’s so royal will
Minerva joy’d to hear, since she did all the Gods outgo
In his remembrance. For which grace she kindly did bestow
Strength on his shoulders, and did fill his knees as lib’rally
With swiftness, breathing in his breast the courage of a fly,
Which loves to bite so, and doth bear man’s blood so much good will,
That still though beaten from a man she flies upon him still;
With such a courage Pallas fill’d the black parts near his heart,
And then he hasted to the slain, cast off a shining dart,
And took one Podes, that was heir to old Eetion,
A rich man and a strenuous, and by the people done
Much honour, and by Hector too, being consort and his guest;
And him the yellow-headed king laid hold on at his waist
In off’ring flight, his iron pile strook through him, down he fell,
And up Atrides drew his corse. Then Phœbus did impell
The spirit of Hector, Phænops like, surnam’d Asiades,
Whom Hector us’d, of all his guests, with greatest friendliness,
And in Abydus stood his house; in whose form thus he spake:
“Hector! What man of all the Greeks will any terror make
Of meeting thy strength any more, when thou art terrified
By Menelaus, who, before he slew thy friend, was tried
A passing easy soldier, where now (besides his end
Impos’d by him) he draws him off, and not a man to friend.
From all the Trojans? This friend is Podes, Eetion’s son.”
This hid him in a cloud of grief, and set him foremost on.
And then Jove took his snake-fring’d shield, and Ida cover’d all
With sulphury clouds, from whence he let abhorréd lightnings fall,
And thunder’d till the mountains shook; and with this dreadful state
He usher’d victory to Troy, to Argos flight and fate.
Peneleüs Bœotius was he that foremost fled,
Being wounded in his shoulder’s height; but there the lance’s head
Strook lightly, glancing to his mouth, because it strook him near,
Thrown from Polydamas. Leitus next left the fight in fear
(Being hurt by Hector in his hand) because he doubted sore
His hand in wishéd fight with Troy would hold his lance no more.
Idomenëus sent a dart at Hector (rushing in,
And following Leitus) that strook his bosom near his chin,
And brake at top. The Ilians for his escape did shout.
When Hector at Deucalides another lance sent out,
As in his chariot he stood; it miss’d him narrowly,
For, as it fell, Cœranus drave his speedy chariot by,
And took the Trojan lance himself; he was the charioteer
Of stern Meriones, and first on foot did service there,
Which well he left to govern horse, for saving now his king,
With driving ’twixt him and his death, though thence his own did spring,
Which kept a mighty victory from Troy, in keeping death
From his great sov’reign. The fierce dart did enter him beneath
His ear, betwixt his jaw and it, drave down, cut through his tongue,
And strook his teeth out; from his hands the horses’ reins he flung,
Which now Meriones receiv’d as they bestrew’d the field,
And bade his sov’reign scourge away, he saw that day would yield
No hope of victory for them. He fear’d the same, and fled.
Nor from the mighty-minded son of Telamon lay hid,
For all his clouds, high Jove himself, nor from the Spartan king.
They saw Him in the victory, He still was varying
For Troy. For which sight Ajax said: “O heav’ns, what fool is he
That sees not Jove’s hand in the grace now done our enemy?
Not any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown,
Valiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one
Wants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure.
But come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure
That lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend,
And so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend
To fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right
In joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight,
Being kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt,
And looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out
Our pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands
That are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands
Before our fleet will be enforc’d to drink our headlong death.
Which to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath
Of good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were,
By some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger
Hath yet inform’d him. But alas! I see no man to send,
Both men and horse are hid in mists that ev’ry way descend.
O father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release
Of this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences;
And give the eyes thou giv’st, their use; destroy us in the light,
And work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.”
This spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show’d,
Dispers’d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud
From whence it fell; the sun shin’d out, and all the host appear’d;
And then spake Ajax, whose heard pray’r his spirits highly cheer’d:
“Brave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry
Nestor’s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly
To tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.”
He said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said,
As loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier’s stall
A lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all,
Not eas’ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held,
His teeth yet wat’ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell’d,
The adverse darts so thick are pour’d before his brow-hid eyes,
And burning firebrands which, for all his great heart’s heat, he flies,
And, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went
Atrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement
Lest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear
The person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were
Th’ Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press,
And thus exhort: “Ajaces both, and you Meriones,
Now let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature
Of poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev’ry creature
His heart was living, though now dead.” Thus urg’d the fair-hair’d king,
And parted, casting round his eye. As when upon her wing
An eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight
Of all air’s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height,
Sees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid,
A light-foot hare, which straight she stoops, trusses, and strikes her dead;
So dead thou strook’st thy charge, O king, through all war’s thickets so
Thou look’dst, and swiftly found’st thy man exhorting ’gainst the foe,
And heart’ning his plied men to blows us’d in the war’s left wing;
To whom thou saidst: “Thou god-lov’d man, come here, and hear a thing
Which I wish never were to hear. I think ev’n thy eye sees
What a destruction God hath laid upon the sons of Greece,
And what a conquest he gives Troy; in which the best of men,
Patroclus, lies exanimate, whose person passing fain
The Greeks would rescue and bear home; and therefore give thy speed
To his great friend, to prove if he will do so good a deed
To fetch the naked person off, for Hector’s shoulders wear
His priséd arms.” Antilochus was highly griev’d to hear
This heavy news, and stood surpris’d with stupid silence long;
His fair eyes standing full of tears; his voice, so sweet and strong
Stuck in his bosom; yet all this wrought in him no neglect
Of what Atrides gave in charge, but for that quick effect
He gave Laodocus his arms (his friend that had the guide
Of his swift horse) and then his knees were speedily applied
In his sad message, which his eyes told all the way in tears.
Nor would thy gen’rous heart assist his sore charg’d soldiers,
O Menelaus, in mean time, though left in much distress;
Thou sent’st them god-like Thrasymede, and mad’st thy kind regress
Back to Patroclus; where arriv’d, half breathless thou didst say
To both th’ Ajaces: “I have sent this messenger away
To swift Achilles, who, I fear, will hardly help us now,
Though mad with Hector; without arms he cannot fight, ye know.
Let us then think of some best mean, both how we may remove
The body, and get off ourselves from this vocif’rous drove,
And fate of Trojans.” “Bravely spoke at all parts,” Ajax said,
“O glorious son of Atreus. Take thou then straight the dead,
And thou, Meriones; we two, of one mind as one name,
Will back ye soundly, and on us receive the wild-fire flame
That Hector’s rage breathes after you, before it come at you.”
This said, they took into their arms the body; all the show,
That might be, made to those of Troy; at arm’s end bearing it.
Out shriek’d the Trojans when they saw the body borne to fleet,
And rush’d on. As at any boar, gash’d with the hunter’s wounds,
A kennel of the sharpest set and sorest bitten hounds
Before their youthful huntsmen haste, and eagerly awhile
Pursue, as if they were assur’d of their affected spoil;
But when the savage, in his strength as confident as they,
Turns head amongst them, back they fly, and ev’ry one his way;
So troop-meal Troy pursu’d awhile, laying on with swords and darts;
But when th’ Ajaces turn’d on them, and made their stand, their hearts
Drunk from their faces all their bloods, and not a man sustain’d
The forechace, nor the after-fight. And thus Greece nobly gain’d
The person towards home. But thus, the changing war was rack’d
Out to a passing bloody length; for as, once put in act,
A fire, invading city roofs, is suddenly engrost,
And made a wondrous mighty flame, in which is quickly lost
A house long building, all the while a boist’rous gust of wind
Lumb’ring amongst it; so the Greeks, in bearing off their friend,
More and more foes drew, at their heels a tumult thund’ring still
Of horse and foot. Yet as when mules, in haling from a hill
A beam or mast, through foul deep way, well-clapp’d, and hearten’d, close
Lie to their labour, tug and sweat, and passing hard it goes,
Urg’d by their drivers to all haste; so dragg’d they on the corse,
Still both th’ Ajaces at their backs, who back still turn’d the force,
Though after it grew still the more. Yet as a sylvan hill
Thrusts back a torrent, that hath kept a narrow channel still,
Till at his oaken breast it beats, but there a check it takes,
That sends it over all the vale, with all the stir it makes,
Nor can with all the confluence break through his rooty sides;
In no less firm and brave repulse, th’ Ajaces curb’d the prides
Of all the Trojans; yet all held the pursuit in his strength,
Their chiefs being Hector, and the son of Venus, who at length
Put all the youth of Greece besides in most amazeful rout,
Forgetting all their fortitudes, distraught, and shrieking out
A number of their rich arms lost, fall’n from them here and there,
About, and in the dike; and yet, the war concludes not here.