The Iliad Of Homer: Translated Into English Blank Verse: Book V.

Argument Of The Fifth Book.     Diomede is extraordinarily distinguished. He kills Pandarus, who had violated the truce, and wounds first Venus and then Mars.      Then Athenan Pallas on the son      Of Tydeus,[1] Diomede, new force conferr'd      And daring courage, that the Argives all      He might surpass, and deathless fame achieve.      Fires on his helmet and his shield around      She kindled, bright and steady as the star      Autumnal,[2] which in Ocean newly bathed      Assumes fresh beauty; with such glorious beams      His head encircling and his shoulders broad,      She urged him forth into the thickest fight.      There lived a man in Troy, Dares his name,      The priest of Vulcan; rich he was and good,      The father of two sons, Idus this,      That, Phegeus call'd; accomplish'd warriors both.      These, issuing from their phalanx, push'd direct      Their steeds at Diomede, who fought on foot.      When now small interval was left between,      First Phegeus his long-shadow'd spear dismiss'd;      But over Diomede's left shoulder pass'd      The point, innocuous. Then his splendid lance      Tydides hurl'd; nor ineffectual flew      The weapon from his hand, but Phegeus pierced      His paps between, and forced him to the ground.      At once, his sumptuous chariot left, down leap'd      Idsus, wanting courage to defend      His brother slain; nor had he scaped himself      His louring fate, but Vulcan, to preserve      His ancient priest from unmixt sorrow, snatch'd      The fugitive in darkness wrapt, away.      Then brave Tydides, driving off the steeds,      Consign'd them to his fellow-warriors' care,      That they might lead them down into the fleet.      The valiant Trojans, when they saw the sons      Of Dares, one beside his chariot slain,      And one by flight preserved, through all their host      Felt consternation. Then Minerva seized      The hand of fiery Mars, and thus she spake.      Gore-tainted homicide, town-battering Mars!      Leave we the Trojans and the Greeks to wage      Fierce fight alone, Jove prospering whom he will,      So shall we not provoke our father's ire.      She said, and from the fight conducted forth      The impetuous Deity, whom on the side      She seated of Scamander deep-embank'd.[3]      And now the host of Troy to flight inclined      Before the Grecians, and the Chiefs of Greece      Each slew a warrior. Agamemnon first      Gigantic Odius from his chariot hurl'd.      Chief of the Halizonians. He to flight      Turn'd foremost, when the monarch in his spine      Between the shoulder-bones his spear infixt,      And urged it through his breast. Sounding he fell,      And loud his batter'd armor rang around.      By brave Idomeneus a Lydian died,      Phstus, from fruitful Tarne sent to Troy,      Son of Monian Borus; him his steeds      Mounting, Idomeneus the spear-renown'd      Through his right shoulder pierced; unwelcome night      Involved him; from his chariot down he fell,[4]      And the attendant Cretans stripp'd his arms.      But Menelaus, son of Atreus slew      With his bright spear Scamandrius, Stropius' son,      A skilful hunter; for Diana him,      Herself, the slaughter of all savage kinds      Had taught, on mountain or in forest bred.      But she, shaft-aiming Goddess, in that hour      Avail'd him not, nor his own matchless skill;      For Menelaus, Atreus son spear-famed,      Him flying wounded in the spine between      His shoulders, and the spear urged through his breast.      Prone on his loud-resounding arms he fell.      Next, by Meriones, Phereclus died,      Son of Harmonides. All arts that ask      A well-instructed hand his sire had learn'd,      For Pallas dearly loved him. He the fleet,      Prime source of harm to Troy and to himself,      For Paris built, unskill'd to spell aright      The oracles predictive of the wo.      Phereclus fled; Meriones his flight      Outstripping, deep in his posterior flesh      A spear infix'd; sliding beneath the bone      It grazed his bladder as it pass'd, and stood      Protruded far before. Low on his knees      Phereclus sank, and with a shriek expired.      Pedus, whom, although his spurious son,      Antenor's wife, to gratify her lord,      Had cherish'd as her own--him Meges slew.      Warlike Phylides[5] following close his flight,      His keen lance drove into his poll, cut sheer      His tongue within, and through his mouth enforced      The glittering point. He, prostrate in the dust,      The cold steel press'd between his teeth and died.      Eurypylus, Evemon's son, the brave      Hypsenor slew; Dolopion was his sire,      Priest of Scamander, reverenced as a God.      In vain before Eurypylus he fled;      He, running, with his falchion lopp'd his arm      Fast by the shoulder; on the field his hand      Fell blood-distained, and destiny severe      With shades of death for ever veil'd his eyes.      Thus strenuous they the toilsome battle waged.      But where Tydides fought, whether in aid      Of Ilium's host, or on the part of Greece,      Might none discern. For as a winter-flood      Impetuous, mounds and bridges sweeps away;[6]      The buttress'd bridge checks not its sudden force,      The firm inclosure of vine-planted fields      Luxuriant, falls before it; finish'd works      Of youthful hinds, once pleasant to the eye,      Now levell'd, after ceaseless rain from Jove;      So drove Tydides into sudden flight      The Trojans; phalanx after phalanx fled      Before the terror of his single arm.      When him Lycaon's son illustrious saw      Scouring the field, and from before his face      The ranks dispersing wide, at once he bent      Against Tydides his elastic bow.      The arrow met him in his swift career      Sure-aim'd; it struck direct the hollow mail      Of his right shoulder, with resistless force      Transfix'd it, and his hauberk stain'd with blood.      Loud shouted then Lycaon's son renown'd.      Rush on, ye Trojans, spur your coursers hard.      Our fiercest foe is wounded, and I deem      His death not distant far, if me the King[7]      Jove's son, indeed, from Lycia sent to Troy.      So boasted Pandarus. Yet him the dart      Quell'd not. Retreating, at his coursers' heads      He stood, and to the son of Capaneus      His charioteer and faithful friend he said.      Arise, sweet son of Capaneus, dismount,      And from my shoulder draw this bitter shaft.      He spake; at once the son of Capaneus      Descending, by its barb the bitter shaft      Drew forth; blood spouted through his twisted mail      Incontinent, and thus the Hero pray'd.      Unconquer'd daughter of Jove gis-arm'd!      If ever me, propitious, or my sire      Thou hast in furious fight help'd heretofore,      Now aid me also. Bring within the reach      Of my swift spear, Oh grant me to strike through      The warrior who hath check'd my course, and boasts      The sun's bright beams for ever quench'd to me![8]      He prayed, and Pallas heard; she braced his limbs,      She wing'd him with alacrity divine,      And, standing at his side, him thus bespake.      Now Diomede, be bold! Fight now with Troy.      To thee, thy father's spirit I impart      Fearless; shield-shaking Tydeus felt the same.      I also from thine eye the darkness purge      Which dimm'd thy sight[9] before, that thou may'st know      Both Gods and men; should, therefore, other God      Approach to try thee, fight not with the powers      Immortal; but if foam-born Venus come,      Her spare not. Wound her with thy glittering spear.      So spake the blue-eyed Deity, and went,      Then with the champions in the van again      Tydides mingled; hot before, he fights      With threefold fury now, nor less enraged      Than some gaunt lion whom o'erleaping light      The fold, a shepherd hath but gall'd, not kill'd,      Him irritating more; thenceforth the swain      Lurks unresisting; flies the abandon'd flock;      Heaps slain on heaps he leaves, and with a bound      Surmounting all impediment, escapes;      Such seem'd the valiant Diomede incensed      To fury, mingling with the host of Troy.      Astynos and Hypenor first he slew;      One with his brazen lance above the pap      He pierced, and one with his huge falchion smote      Fast by the key-bone,[10] from the neck and spine      His parted shoulder driving at a blow.      Them leaving, Polyides next he sought      And Abas, sons of a dream-dealing seer,      Eurydamas; their hoary father's dreams      Or not interpreted, or kept concealed,      Them saved not, for by Diomede they died.      Xanthus and Thon he encounter'd next,      Both sons of Phnops, sons of his old age,      Who other heir had none of all his wealth,      Nor hoped another, worn with many years.      Tydides slew them both; nor aught remain'd      To the old man but sorrow for his sons      For ever lost, and strangers were his heirs.      Two sons of Priam in one chariot borne      Echemon next, and Chromius felt his hand      Resistless. As a lion on the herd      Leaping, while they the shrubs and bushes browse,      Breaks short the neck of heifer or of steer,      So them, though clinging fast and loth to fall,      Tydides hurl'd together to the ground,      Then stripp'd their splendid armor, and the steeds      Consigned and chariot to his soldiers' care.      neas him discern'd scattering the ranks,      And through the battle and the clash of spears      Went seeking godlike Pandarus; ere long      Finding Lycaon's martial son renown'd,      He stood before him, and him thus address'd.      Thy bow, thy feather'd shafts, and glorious name      Where are they, Pandarus? whom none of Troy      Could equal, whom of Lycia, none excel.      Come. Lift thine hands to Jove, and at yon Chief      Dispatch an arrow, who afflicts the host      Of Ilium thus, conquering where'er he flies,      And who hath slaughter'd numerous brave in arms,      But him some Deity I rather deem      Avenging on us his neglected rites,      And who can stand before an angry God?      Him answer'd then Lycaon's son renown'd.      Brave leader of the Trojans brazen-mail'd,      neas! By his buckler which I know,      And by his helmet's height, considering, too      His steeds, I deem him Diomede the bold;      Yet such pronounce him not, who seems a God.      But if bold Diomede indeed he be      Of whom I speak, not without aid from heaven      His fury thus prevails, but at his side      Some God, in clouds enveloped, turns away      From him the arrow to a devious course.      Already, at his shoulder's hollow mail      My shaft hath pierced him through, and him I deem'd      Dismiss'd full sure to Pluto ere his time      But he survives; whom therefore I at last      Perforce conclude some angry Deity.      Steeds have I none or chariot to ascend,      Who have eleven chariots in the stands      Left of Lycaon, with fair hangings all      O'ermantled, strong, new finish'd, with their steeds      In pairs beside them, eating winnow'd grain.      Me much Lycaon my old valiant sire      At my departure from his palace gates      Persuaded, that my chariot and my steeds      Ascending, I should so conduct my bands      To battle; counsel wise, and ill-refused!      But anxious, lest (the host in Troy so long      Immew'd) my steeds, fed plenteously at home,      Should here want food, I left them, and on foot      To Ilium came, confiding in my bow      Ordain'd at last to yield me little good.      Twice have I shot, and twice I struck the mark,      First Menelaus, and Tydides next;      From each I drew the blood, true, genuine blood,      Yet have but more incensed them. In an hour      Unfortunate, I therefore took my bow      Down from the wall that day, when for the sake      Of noble Hector, to these pleasant plains      I came, a leader on the part of Troy.      But should I once return, and with these eyes      Again behold my native land, my sire,      My wife, my stately mansion, may the hand,      That moment, of some adversary there      Shorten me by the head, if I not snap      This bow with which I charged myself in vain,      And burn the unprofitable tool to dust.      To whom neas, Trojan Chief, replied.      Nay, speak not so. For ere that hour arrive      We will, with chariot and with horse, in arms      Encounter him, and put his strength to proof.      Delay not, mount my chariot. Thou shalt see      With what rapidity the steeds of Troy      Pursuing or retreating, scour the field.      If after all, Jove purpose still to exalt      The son of Tydeus, these shall bear us safe      Back to the city. Come then. Let us on.      The lash take thou, and the resplendent reins,      While I alight for battle, or thyself      Receive them, and the steeds shall be my care.      Him answer'd then Lycaon's son renown'd.      neas! manage thou the reins, and guide      Thy proper steeds. If fly at last we must      The son of Tydeus, they will readier draw      Directed by their wonted charioteer.      Else, terrified, and missing thy control,      They may refuse to bear us from the fight,      And Tydeus' son assailing us, with ease      Shall slay us both, and drive thy steeds away.      Rule therefore thou the chariot, and myself      With my sharp spear will his assault receive.      So saying, they mounted both, and furious drove      Against Tydides. Them the noble son      Of Capaneus observed, and turning quick      His speech to Diomede, him thus address'd.      Tydides, Diomede, my heart's delight!      Two warriors of immeasurable force      In battle, ardent to contend with thee,      Come rattling on. Lycaon's offspring one,      Bow-practised Pandarus; with whom appears      neas; he who calls the mighty Chief      Anchises father, and whom Venus bore.      Mount--drive we swift away--lest borne so far      Beyond the foremost battle, thou be slain.      To whom, dark-frowning, Diomede replied      Speak not of flight to me, who am disposed      To no such course. I am ashamed to fly      Or tremble, and my strength is still entire;      I cannot mount. No. Rather thus, on foot,      I will advance against them. Fear and dread      Are not for me; Pallas forbids the thought.      One falls, be sure; swift as they are, the steeds      That whirl them on, shall never rescue both.      But hear my bidding, and hold fast the word.      Should all-wise Pallas grant me my desire      To slay them both, drive not my coursers hence,      But hook the reins, and seizing quick the pair      That draw neas, urge them from the powers      Of Troy away into the host of Greece.      For they are sprung from those which Jove to Tros      In compensation gave for Ganymede;      The Sun himself sees not their like below.      Anchises, King of men, clandestine them      Obtain'd, his mares submitting to the steeds      Of King Laomedon. Six brought him foals;      Four to himself reserving, in his stalls      He fed them sleek, and two he gave his son:      These, might we win them, were a noble prize.      Thus mutual they conferr'd; those Chiefs, the while,      With swiftest pace approach'd, and first his speech      To Diomede Lycaon's son address'd.      Heroic offspring of a noble sire,      Brave son of Tydeus! false to my intent      My shaft hath harm'd thee little. I will now      Make trial with my spear, if that may speed.      He said, and shaking his long-shadow'd spear,      Dismiss'd it. Forceful on the shield it struck      Of Diomede, transpierced it, and approach'd      With threatening point the hauberk on his breast.      Loud shouted Pandarus--Ah nobly thrown!      Home to thy bowels. Die, for die thou must,      And all the glory of thy death is mine.      Then answer thus brave Diomede return'd      Undaunted. I am whole. Thy cast was short.      But ye desist not, as I plain perceive,      Till one at least extended on the plain      Shall sate the God of battles with his blood.      He said and threw. Pallas the spear herself      Directed; at his eye fast by the nose      Deep-entering, through his ivory teeth it pass'd,      At its extremity divided sheer      His tongue, and started through his chin below.      He headlong fell, and with his dazzling arms      Smote full the plain. Back flew the fiery steeds      With swift recoil, and where he fell he died.      Then sprang neas forth with spear and shield,      That none might drag the body;[11] lion-like      He stalk'd around it, oval shield and spear      Advancing firm, and with incessant cries      Terrific, death denouncing on his foes.      But Diomede with hollow grasp a stone      Enormous seized, a weight to overtask      Two strongest men of such as now are strong,      Yet he, alone, wielded the rock with ease.      Full on the hip he smote him, where the thigh      Rolls in its cavity, the socket named.      He crushed the socket, lacerated wide      Both tendons, and with that rough-angled mass      Flay'd all his flesh, The Hero on his knees      Sank, on his ample palm his weight upbore      Laboring, and darkness overspread his eyes.      There had neas perish'd, King of men,      Had not Jove's daughter Venus quick perceived      His peril imminent, whom she had borne      Herself to Anchises pasturing his herds.      Her snowy arras her darling son around      She threw maternal, and behind a fold      Of her bright mantle screening close his breast      From mortal harm by some brave Grecian's spear,      Stole him with eager swiftness from the fight.      Nor then forgat brave Sthenelus his charge      Received from Diomede, but his own steeds      Detaining distant from the boisterous war,      Stretch'd tight the reins, and hook'd them fast behind.      The coursers of neas next he seized      Ardent, and them into the host of Greece      Driving remote, consign'd them to his care,      Whom far above all others his compeers      He loved, Deipylus, his bosom friend      Congenial. Him he charged to drive them thence      Into the fleet, then, mounting swift his own,      Lash'd after Diomede; he, fierce in arms,      Pursued the Cyprian Goddess, conscious whom,      Not Pallas, not Enyo, waster dread      Of cities close-beleaguer'd, none of all      Who o'er the battle's bloody course preside,      But one of softer kind and prone to fear.      When, therefore, her at length, after long chase      Through all the warring multitude he reach'd,      With his protruded spear her gentle hand      He wounded, piercing through her thin attire      Ambrosial, by themselves the graces wrought,      Her inside wrist, fast by the rosy palm.      Blood follow'd, but immortal; ichor pure,      Such as the blest inhabitants of heaven      May bleed, nectareous; for the Gods eat not      Man's food, nor slake as he with sable wine      Their thirst, thence bloodless and from death exempt.      She, shrieking, from her arms cast down her son,      And Phoebus, in impenetrable clouds      Him hiding, lest the spear of some brave Greek      Should pierce his bosom, caught him swift away.      Then shouted brave Tydides after her--      Depart, Jove's daughter! fly the bloody field.      Is't not enough that thou beguilest the hearts      Of feeble women? If thou dare intrude      Again into the war, war's very name      Shall make thee shudder, wheresoever heard.      He said, and Venus with excess of pain      Bewilder'd went; but Iris tempest-wing'd      Forth led her through the multitude, oppress'd      With anguish, her white wrist to livid changed.      They came where Mars far on the left retired      Of battle sat, his horses and his spear      In darkness veil'd. Before her brother's knees      She fell, and with entreaties urgent sought      The succor of his coursers golden-rein'd.      Save me, my brother! Pity me! Thy steeds      Give me, that they may bear me to the heights      Olympian, seat of the immortal Gods!      Oh! I am wounded deep; a mortal man      Hath done it, Diomede; nor would he fear      This day in fight the Sire himself of all.      Then Mars his coursers gold-caparison'd      Resign'd to Venus; she, with countenance sad,      The chariot climb'd, and Iris at her side      The bright reins seizing lash'd the ready steeds.      Soon as the Olympian heights, seat of the Gods,      They reach'd, wing-footed Iris loosing quick      The coursers, gave them large whereon to browse      Ambrosial food; but Venus on the knees      Sank of Dione, who with folded arms      Maternal, to her bosom straining close      Her daughter, stroked her cheek, and thus inquired.      My darling child! who? which of all the Gods      Hath rashly done such violence to thee      As if convicted of some open wrong?      Her then the Goddess of love-kindling smiles      Venus thus answer'd; Diomede the proud,      Audacious Diomede; he gave the wound,      For that I stole neas from the fight      My son of all mankind my most beloved;      Nor is it now the war of Greece with Troy,      But of the Grecians with the Gods themselves.      Then thus Dione, Goddess all divine.      My child! how hard soe'er thy sufferings seem      Endure them patiently. Full many a wrong      From human hands profane the Gods endure,      And many a painful stroke, mankind from ours.      Mars once endured much wrong, when on a time      Him Otus bound and Ephialtes fast,      Sons of Aleus, and full thirteen moons      In brazen thraldom held him. There, at length,      The fierce blood-nourished Mars had pined away,      But that Eriboea, loveliest nymph,      His step-mother, in happy hour disclosed      To Mercury the story of his wrongs;      He stole the prisoner forth, but with his woes      Already worn, languid and fetter-gall'd.      Nor Juno less endured, when erst the bold      Son of Amphytrion with tridental shaft      Her bosom pierced; she then the misery felt      Of irremediable pain severe.      Nor suffer'd Pluto less, of all the Gods      Gigantic most, by the same son of Jove      Alcides, at the portals of the dead      Transfix'd and fill'd with anguish; he the house      Of Jove and the Olympian summit sought      Dejected, torture-stung, for sore the shaft      Oppress'd him, into his huge shoulder driven.      But Pon[12] him not liable to death      With unction smooth of salutiferous balms      Heal'd soon. Presumptuous, sacrilegious man!      Careless what dire enormities he wrought,      Who bent his bow against the powers of heaven!      But blue-eyed Pallas instigated him      By whom thou bleed'st. Infatuate! he forgets      That whoso turns against the Gods his arm      Lives never long; he never, safe escaped      From furious fight, the lisp'd caresses hears      Of his own infants prattling at his knees.      Let therefore Diomede beware, lest strong      And valiant as he is, he chance to meet      Some mightier foe than thou, and lest his wife,      Daughter of King Adrastus, the discrete      gialea, from portentous dreams      Upstarting, call her family to wail      Her first-espoused, Achaia's proudest boast,      Diomede, whom she must behold no more.      She said, and from her wrist with both hands wiped      The trickling ichor; the effectual touch      Divine chased all her pains, and she was heal'd.      Them Juno mark'd and Pallas, and with speech      Sarcastic pointed at Saturnian Jove      To vex him, blue-eyed Pallas thus began.      Eternal father! may I speak my thought,      And not incense thee, Jove? I can but judge      That Venus, while she coax'd some Grecian fair      To accompany the Trojans whom she loves      With such extravagance, hath heedless stroked      Her golden clasps, and scratch'd her lily hand.      So she; then smiled the sire of Gods and men,      And calling golden Venus, her bespake.      War and the tented field, my beauteous child,      Are not for thee. Thou rather shouldst be found      In scenes of matrimonial bliss. The toils      Of war to Pallas and to Mars belong.      Thus they in heaven. But Diomede the while      Sprang on neas, conscious of the God      Whose hand o'ershadow'd him, yet even him      Regarding lightly; for he burn'd to slay      neas, and to seize his glorious arms.      Thrice then he sprang impetuous to the deed,      And thrice Apollo with his radiant shield      Repulsed him. But when ardent as a God      The fourth time he advanced, with thundering-voice      Him thus the Archer of the skies rebuked.      Think, and retire, Tydides! nor affect      Equality with Gods; for not the same      Our nature is and theirs who tread the ground.      He spake, and Diomede a step retired,      Not more; the anger of the Archer-God      Declining slow, and with a sullen awe.      Then Phoebus, far from all the warrior throng      To his own shrine the sacred dome beneath      Of Pergamus, neas bore; there him      Latona and shaft-arm'd Diana heal'd      And glorified within their spacious fane.      Meantime the Archer of the silver bow      A visionary form prepared; it seem'd      Himself neas, and was arm'd as he.      At once, in contest for that airy form,      Grecians and Trojans on each other's breasts      The bull-hide buckler batter'd and light targe.      Then thus Apollo to the warrior God.      Gore-tainted homicide, town-batterer Mars!      Wilt thou not meet and from the fight withdraw      This man Tydides, now so fiery grown      That he would even cope with Jove himself?      First Venus' hand he wounded, and assail'd      Impetuous as a God, next, even me.      He ceased, and on the topmost turret sat      Of Pergamus. Then all-destroyer Mars      Ranging the Trojan host, rank after rank      Exhorted loud, and in the form assumed      Of Acamas the Thracian leader bold,      The godlike sons of Priam thus harangued.      Ye sons of Priam, monarch Jove-beloved!      How long permit ye your Achaian foes      To slay the people?--till the battle rage      (Push'd home to Ilium) at her solid gates?      Behold--a Chief disabled lies, than whom      We reverence not even Hector more,      neas; fly, save from the roaring storm      The noble Anchisiades your friend.      He said; then every heart for battle glow'd;      And thus Sarpedon with rebuke severe      Upbraiding generous Hector, stern began.      Where is thy courage, Hector? for thou once      Hadst courage. Is it fled? In other days      Thy boast hath been that without native troops      Or foreign aids, thy kindred and thyself      Alone, were guard sufficient for the town.      But none of all thy kindred now appears;      I can discover none; they stand aloof      Quaking, as dogs that hear the lion's roar.      We bear the stress, who are but Troy's allies;      Myself am such, and from afar I came;      For Lycia lies far distant on the banks      Of the deep-eddied Xanthus. There a wife      I left and infant son, both dear to me,      With plenteous wealth, the wish of all who want.      Yet urge I still my Lycians, and am prompt      Myself to fight, although possessing here      Nought that the Greeks can carry or drive hence.      But there stand'st thou, neither employed thyself,      Nor moving others to an active part      For all their dearest pledges. Oh beware!      Lest, as with meshes of an ample net,      At one huge draught the Grecians sweep you all,      And desolate at once your populous Troy!      By day, by night, thoughts such as these should still      Thy conduct influence, and from Chief to Chief      Of the allies should send thee, praying each      To make firm stand, all bickerings put away.      So spake Sarpedon, and his reprimand      Stung Hector; instant to the ground he leap'd      All arm'd, and shaking his bright spears his host      Ranged in all quarters animating loud      His legions, and rekindling horrid war.      Then, rolling back, the powers of Troy opposed      Once more the Grecians, whom the Grecians dense      Expected, unretreating, void of fear.      As flies the chaff wide scatter'd by the wind      O'er all the consecrated floor, what time      Ripe Ceres[13] with brisk airs her golden grain      Ventilates, whitening with its husk the ground;      So grew the Achaians white, a dusty cloud      Descending on their arms, which steeds with steeds      Again to battle mingling, with their hoofs      Up-stamp'd into the brazen vault of heaven;      For now the charioteers turn'd all to fight.      Host toward host with full collected force      They moved direct. Then Mars through all the field      Took wide his range, and overhung the war      With night, in aid of Troy, at the command      Of Phoebus of the golden sword; for he      Perceiving Pallas from the field withdrawn,      Patroness of the Greeks, had Mars enjoin'd      To rouse the spirit of the Trojan host.      Meantime Apollo from his unctuous shrine      Sent forth restored and with new force inspired      neas. He amidst his warriors stood,      Who him with joy beheld still living, heal'd,      And all his strength possessing unimpair'd.      Yet no man ask'd him aught. No leisure now      For question was; far other thoughts had they;      Such toils the archer of the silver bow,      Wide-slaughtering Mars, and Discord as at first      Raging implacable, for them prepared.      Ulysses, either Ajax, Diomede--      These roused the Greeks to battle, who themselves      The force fear'd nothing, or the shouts of Troy,      But steadfast stood, like clouds by Jove amass'd      On lofty mountains, while the fury sleeps      Of Boreas, and of all the stormy winds      Shrill-voiced, that chase the vapors when they blow,      So stood the Greeks, expecting firm the approach      Of Ilium's powers, and neither fled nor fear'd.      Then Agamemnon the embattled host      On all sides ranging, cheer'd them. Now, he cried,      Be steadfast, fellow warriors, now be men!      Hold fast a sense of honor. More escape      Of men who fear disgrace, than fall in fight,      While dastards forfeit life and glory both.      He said, and hurl'd his spear. He pierced a friend      Of brave neas, warring in the van,      Deicon son of Pergasus, in Troy      Not less esteem'd than Priam's sons themselves,      Such was his fame in foremost fight acquired.      Him Agamemnon on his buckler smote,      Nor stayed the weapon there, but through his belt      His bowels enter'd, and with hideous clang      And outcry[14] of his batter'd arms he fell.      neas next two mightiest warriors slew,      Sons of Diocles, of a wealthy sire,      Whose house magnificent in Phr stood,      Orsilochus and Crethon. Their descent      From broad-stream'd Alpheus, Pylian flood, they drew.      Alpheus begat Orsilochus, a prince      Of numerous powers. Orsilochus begat      Warlike Diodes. From Diodes sprang      Twins, Crethon and Orsilochus, alike      Valiant, and skilful in all forms of war.      Their boyish prime scarce past, they, with the Greeks      Embarking, in their sable ships had sail'd      To steed-fam'd Ilium; just revenge they sought      For Atreus' sons, but perished first themselves.      As two young lions, in the deep recess      Of some dark forest on the mountain's brow      Late nourished by their dam, forth-issuing, seize      The fatted flocks and kine, both folds and stalls      Wasting rapacious, till, at length, themselves      Deep-wounded perish by the hand of man,      So they, both vanquish'd by neas, fell,      And like two lofty pines uprooted, lay.      Them fallen in battle Menelaus saw      With pity moved; radiant in arms he shook      His brazen spear, and strode into the van.      Mars urged him furious on, conceiving hope      Of his death also by neas' hand.      But him the son of generous Nestor mark'd      Antilochus, and to the foremost fight      Flew also, fearing lest some dire mischance      The Prince befalling, at one fatal stroke      Should frustrate all the labors of the Greeks.      They, hand to hand, and spear to spear opposed,      Stood threatening dreadful onset, when beside      The Spartan chief Antilochus appear'd.      neas, at the sight of two combined,      Stood not, although intrepid. They the dead      Thence drawing far into the Grecian host      To their associates gave the hapless pair,      Then, both returning, fought in front again.      Next, fierce as Mars, Pylmenes they slew,      Prince of the shielded band magnanimous      Of Paphlagonia. Him Atrides kill'd      Spear-practised Menelaus, with a lance      His throat transpiercing while erect he rode.      Then, while his charioteer, Mydon the brave,      Son of Atymnias, turn'd his steeds to flight,      Full on his elbow-point Antilochus,      The son of Nestor, dash'd him with a stone.      The slack reins, white as ivory,[15] forsook      His torpid hand and trail'd the dust. At once      Forth sprang Antilochus, and with his sword      Hew'd deep his temples. On his head he pitch'd      Panting, and on his shoulders in the sand      (For in deep sand he fell) stood long erect,      Till his own coursers spread him in the dust;      The son of Nestor seized, and with his scourge      Drove them afar into the host of Greece.      Them Hector through the ranks espying, flew      With clamor loud to meet them; after whom      Advanced in phalanx firm the powers of Troy,      Mars led them, with Enyo terror-clad;      She by the maddening tumult of the fight      Attended, he, with his enormous spear      in both hands brandish'd, stalking now in front      Of Hector, and now following his steps.      Him Diomede the bold discerning, felt      Himself no small dismay; and as a man      Wandering he knows not whither, far from home,      If chance a rapid torrent to the sea      Borne headlong thwart his course, the foaming flood      Obstreperous views awhile, then quick retires,      So he, and his attendants thus bespake.      How oft, my countrymen! have we admired      The noble Hector, skillful at the spear      And unappall'd in fight? but still hath he      Some God his guard, and even now I view      In human form Mars moving at his side.      Ye, then, with faces to the Trojans turn'd,      Ceaseless retire, and war not with the Gods.      He ended; and the Trojans now approach'd.      Then two bold warriors in one chariot borne,      By valiant Hector died, Menesthes one,      And one, Anchialus. Them fallen in fight      Ajax the vast, touch'd with compassion saw;      Within small space he stood, his glittering spear      Dismiss'd, and pierced Amphius. Son was he      Of Selagus, and Psus was his home,      Where opulent he dwelt, but by his fate      Was led to fight for Priam and his sons.      Him Telamonian Ajax through his belt      Wounded, and in his nether bowels deep      Fix'd his long-shadow'd spear. Sounding he fell.      Illustrious Ajax running to the slain      Prepared to strip his arms, but him a shower      Of glittering-weapons keen from Trojan hands      Assail'd, and numerous his broad shield received.      He, on the body planting firm his heel,      Forth drew the polish'd spear, but his bright arms      Took not, by darts thick-flying sore annoy'd,      Nor fear'd he little lest his haughty foes,      Spear-arm'd and bold, should compass him around;      Him, therefore, valiant though he were and huge,      They push'd before them. Staggering he retired.      Thus toil'd both hosts in that laborious field.      And now his ruthless destiny impell'd      Tlepolemus, Alcides' son, a Chief      Dauntless and huge, against a godlike foe      Sarpedon. They approaching face to face      Stood, son and grandson of high-thundering Jove,      And, haughty, thus Tlepolemus began.      Sarpedon, leader of the Lycian host,      Thou trembler! thee what cause could hither urge      A man unskill'd in arms? They falsely speak      Who call thee son of gis-bearing Jove,      So far below their might thou fall'st who sprang      From Jove in days of old. What says report      Of Hercules (for him I boast my sire)      All-daring hero with a lion's heart?      With six ships only, and with followers few,      He for the horses of Laomedon      Lay'd Troy in dust, and widow'd all her streets.      But thou art base, and thy diminish'd powers      Perish around thee; think not that thou earnest      For Ilium's good, but rather, whatsoe'er      Thy force in fight, to find, subdued by me,      A sure dismission to the gates of hell.      To whom the leader of the Lycian band.      Tlepolemus! he ransack'd sacred Troy,      As thou hast said, but for her monarch's fault      Laomedon, who him with language harsh      Requited ill for benefits received,      Nor would the steeds surrender, seeking which      He voyaged from afar. But thou shalt take      Thy bloody doom from this victorious arm,      And, vanquish'd by my spear, shalt yield thy fame      To me, thy soul to Pluto steed-renown'd.      So spake Sarpedon, and his ashen beam      Tlepolemus upraised. Both hurl'd at once      Their quivering spears. Sarpedon's through the neck      Pass'd of Tlepolemus, and show'd beyond      Its ruthless point; thick darkness veil'd his eyes.      Tlepolemus with his long lance the thigh      Pierced of Sarpedon; sheer into his bone      He pierced him, but Sarpedon's father, Jove,      Him rescued even on the verge of fate.      His noble friends conducted from the field      The godlike Lycian, trailing as he went      The pendent spear, none thinking to extract      For his relief the weapon from his thigh,      Through eagerness of haste to bear him thence.      On the other side, the Grecians brazen-mail'd      Bore off Tlepolemus. Ulysses fill'd      With earnest thoughts tumultuous them observed,      Danger-defying Chief! Doubtful he stood      Or to pursue at once the Thunderer's son      Sarpedon, or to take more Lycian lives.      But not for brave Ulysses had his fate      That praise reserved, that he should slay the son      Renown'd of Jove; therefore his wavering mind      Minerva bent against the Lycian band.      Then Coeranus, Alastor, Chromius fell,      Alcander, Halius, Prytanis, and brave      Nomon; nor had these sufficed the Chief      Of Ithaca, but Lycians more had fallen,      Had not crest-tossing Hector huge perceived      The havoc; radiant to the van he flew,      Filling with dread the Grecians; his approach      Sarpedon, son of Jove, joyful beheld,      And piteous thus address'd him as he came.      Ah, leave not me, Priamides! a prey      To Grecian hands, but in your city, at least,      Grant me to die: since hither, doom'd, I came      Never to gratify with my return      To Lycia, my loved spouse, or infant child.      He spake; but Hector unreplying pass'd      Impetuous, ardent to repulse the Greeks      That moment, and to drench his sword in blood.      Then, under shelter of a spreading beech      Sacred to Jove, his noble followers placed      The godlike Chief Sarpedon, where his friend      Illustrious Pelagon, the ashen spear      Extracted. Sightless, of all thought bereft,      He sank, but soon revived, by breathing airs      Refresh'd, that fann'd him gently from the North.      Meantime the Argives, although press'd alike      By Mars himself and Hector brazen-arm'd,      Neither to flight inclined, nor yet advanced      To battle, but inform'd that Mars the fight      Waged on the side of Ilium, slow retired.[16]      Whom first, whom last slew then the mighty son      Of Priam, Hector, and the brazen Mars!      First godlike Teuthras, an equestrian Chief,      Orestes, Trechus of tolian race,      OEnomas, Helenus from OEnops' sprung,      And brisk[17] in fight Oresbius; rich was he,      And covetous of more; in Hyla dwelt      Fast by the lake Cephissus, where abode      Boeotian Princes numerous, rich themselves      And rulers of a people wealth-renown'd.      But Juno, such dread slaughter of the Greeks      Noting, thus, ardent, to Minerva spake.      Daughter of Jove invincible! Our word      That Troy shall perish, hath been given in vain      To Menelaus, if we suffer Mars      To ravage longer uncontrol'd. The time      Urges, and need appears that we ourselves      Now call to mind the fury of our might.      She spake; nor blue-eyed Pallas not complied.      Then Juno, Goddess dread, from Saturn sprung,      Her coursers gold-caparison'd prepared      Impatient. Hebe to the chariot roll'd      The brazen wheels,[18] and joined them to the smooth      Steel axle; twice four spokes divided each      Shot from the centre to the verge. The verge      Was gold by fellies of eternal brass      Guarded, a dazzling show! The shining naves      Were silver; silver cords and cords of gold      The seat upbore; two crescents[19] blazed in front.      The pole was argent all, to which she bound      The golden yoke, and in their place disposed      The breast-bands incorruptible of gold;      But Juno to the yoke, herself, the steeds      Led forth, on fire to reach the dreadful field.      Meantime, Minerva, progeny of Jove,      On the adamantine floor of his abode      Let fall profuse her variegated robe,      Labor of her own hands. She first put on      The corselet of the cloud-assembler God,      Then arm'd her for the field of wo complete.      She charged her shoulder with the dreadful shield      The shaggy gis,[20] border'd thick around      With terror; there was Discord, Prowess there,      There hot Pursuit, and there the feature grim      Of Gorgon, dire Deformity, a sign      Oft borne portentous on the arm of Jove.      Her golden helm, whose concave had sufficed      The legions of an hundred cities, rough      With warlike ornament superb, she fix'd      On her immortal head. Thus arm'd, she rose      Into the flaming chariot, and her spear      Seized ponderous, huge, with which the Goddess sprung      From an Almighty father, levels ranks      Of heroes, against whom her anger burns.      Juno with lifted lash urged quick the steeds;      At her approach, spontaneous roar'd the wide-      Unfolding gates of heaven;[21] the heavenly gates      Kept by the watchful Hours, to whom the charge      Of the Olympian summit appertains,      And of the boundless ether, back to roll,      And to replace the cloudy barrier dense.      Spurr'd through the portal flew the rapid steeds;      Apart from all, and seated on the point      Superior of the cloven mount, they found      The Thunderer. Juno the white-arm'd her steeds      There stay'd, and thus the Goddess, ere she pass'd,      Question'd the son of Saturn, Jove supreme.      Jove, Father, seest thou, and art not incensed,      These ravages of Mars? Oh what a field,      Drench'd with what Grecian blood! All rashly spilt,      And in despite of me. Venus, the while,      Sits, and the Archer of the silver bow      Delighted, and have urged, themselves, to this      The frantic Mars within no bounds confined      Of law or order. But, eternal sire!      Shall I offend thee chasing far away      Mars deeply smitten from the field of war?      To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.      Go! but exhort thou rather to the task      Spoil-huntress Athenan Pallas, him      Accustom'd to chastise with pain severe.      He spake, nor white-arm'd Juno not obey'd.      She lash'd her steeds; they readily their flight      Began, the earth and starry vault between.      Far as from his high tower the watchman kens      O'er gloomy ocean, so far at one bound      Advance the shrill-voiced coursers of the Gods.      But when at Troy and at the confluent streams      Of Simos and Scamander they arrived,      There Juno, white-arm'd Goddess, from the yoke      Her steeds releasing, them in gather'd shades      Conceal'd opaque, while Simos caused to spring      Ambrosia from his bank, whereon they browsed.      Swift as her pinions waft the dove away      They sought the Grecians, ardent to begin:      Arriving where the mightiest and the most      Compass'd equestrian Diomede around,      In aspect lion-like, or like wild boars      Of matchless force, there white-arm'd Juno stood,      And in the form of Stentor for his voice      Of brass renown'd, audible as the roar      Of fifty throats, the Grecians thus harangued.      Oh shame, shame, shame! Argives in form alone,      Beautiful but dishonorable race!      While yet divine Achilles ranged the field,      No Trojan stepp'd from yon Dardanian gates      Abroad; all trembled at his stormy spear;      But now they venture forth, now at your ships      Defy you, from their city far remote.      She ceased, and all caught courage from the sound.      But Athenan Pallas eager sought      The son of Tydeus; at his chariot side      She found the Chief cooling his fiery wound      Received from Pandarus; for him the sweat      Beneath the broad band of his oval shield      Exhausted, and his arm fail'd him fatigued;      He therefore raised the band and wiped the blood      Coagulate; when o'er his chariot yoke      Her arm the Goddess threw, and thus began.      Tydeus, in truth, begat a son himself      Not much resembling. Tydeus was of size      Diminutive, but had a warrior's heart.      When him I once commanded to abstain      From furious fight (what time he enter'd Thebes      Ambassador, and the Cadmeans found      Feasting, himself the sole Achaian there)      And bade him quietly partake the feast.      He, fired with wonted ardor, challenged forth      To proof of manhood the Cadmean youth,      Whom easily, through my effectual aid,      In contests of each kind he overcame.      But thou, whom I encircle with my power,      Guard vigilant, and even bid thee forth      To combat with the Trojans, thou, thy limbs      Feel'st wearied with the toils of war, or worse,      Indulgest womanish and heartless fear.      Henceforth thou art not worthy to be deem'd      Son of Oenides, Tydeus famed in arms.      To whom thus valiant Diomede replied.      I know thee well, oh Goddess sprung from Jove!      And therefore willing shall, and plain, reply.      Me neither weariness nor heartless fear      Restrains, but thine injunctions which impress      My memory, still, that I should fear to oppose      The blessed Gods in fight, Venus except,      Whom in the battle found thou badest me pierce      With unrelenting spear; therefore myself      Retiring hither, I have hither call'd      The other Argives also, for I know      That Mars, himself in arms, controls the war.      Him answer'd then the Goddess azure-eyed.      Tydides! Diomede, my heart's delight!      Fear not this Mars,[22] nor fear thou other power      Immortal, but be confident in me.      Arise. Drive forth. Seek Mars; him only seek;      Him hand to hand engage; this fiery Mars      Respect not aught, base implement of wrong      And mischief, shifting still from side to side.      He promised Juno lately and myself      That he would fight for Greece, yet now forgets      His promise, and gives all his aid to Troy.      So saying, she backward by his hand withdrew      The son of Capaneus, who to the ground      Leap'd instant; she, impatient to his place      Ascending, sat beside brave Diomede.      Loud groan'd the beechen axle, under weight      Unwonted, for it bore into the fight      An awful Goddess, and the chief of men.      Quick-seizing lash and reins Minerva drove      Direct at Mars. That moment he had slain      Periphas, bravest of tolia's sons,      And huge of bulk; Ochesius was his sire.      Him Mars the slaughterer had of life bereft      Newly, and Pallas to elude his sight      The helmet fixed of Ades on her head.[23]      Soon as gore-tainted Mars the approach perceived      Of Diomede, he left the giant length      Of Periphas extended where he died,      And flew to cope with Tydeus' valiant son.      Full nigh they came, when Mars on fire to slay      The hero, foremost with his brazen lance      Assail'd him, hurling o'er his horses' heads.      But Athenan Pallas in her hand      The flying weapon caught and turn'd it wide,      Baffling his aim. Then Diomede on him      Rush'd furious in his turn, and Pallas plunged      The bright spear deep into his cinctured waist      Dire was the wound, and plucking back the spear      She tore him. Bellow'd brazen-throated Mars      Loud as nine thousand warriors, or as ten      Join'd in close combat. Grecians, Trojans shook      Appall'd alike at the tremendous voice      Of Mars insatiable with deeds of blood.      Such as the dimness is when summer winds      Breathe hot, and sultry mist obscures the sky,      Such brazen Mars to Diomede appear'd      By clouds accompanied in his ascent      Into the boundless ether. Reaching soon      The Olympian heights, seat of the Gods, he sat      Beside Saturnian Jove; wo fill'd his heart;      He show'd fast-streaming from the wound his blood      Immortal, and impatient thus complain'd.      Jove, Father! Seest thou these outrageous acts      Unmoved with anger? Such are day by day      The dreadful mischiefs by the Gods contrived      Against each other, for the sake of man.      Thou art thyself the cause. Thou hast produced      A foolish daughter petulant, addict      To evil only and injurious deeds;      There is not in Olympus, save herself,      Who feels not thy control; but she her will      Gratifies ever, and reproof from thee      Finds none, because, pernicious as she is,      She is thy daughter. She hath now the mind      Of haughty Diomede with madness fill'd      Against the immortal Gods; first Venus bled;      Her hand he pierced impetuous, then assail'd,      As if himself immortal, even me,      But me my feet stole thence, or overwhelm'd      Beneath yon heaps of carcases impure,      What had I not sustain'd? And if at last      I lived, had halted crippled by the sword.      To whom with dark displeasure Jove replied.      Base and side-shifting traitor! vex not me      Here sitting querulous; of all who dwell      On the Olympian heights, thee most I hate      Contentious, whose delight is war alone.      Thou hast thy mother's moods, the very spleen      Of Juno, uncontrolable as she.      Whom even I, reprove her as I may,      Scarce rule by mere commands; I therefore judge      Thy sufferings a contrivance all her own.      But soft. Thou art my son whom I begat.      And Juno bare thee. I can not endure      That thou shouldst suffer long. Hadst thou been born      Of other parents thus detestable,      What Deity soe'er had brought thee forth,      Thou shouldst have found long since a humbler sphere.      He ceased, and to the care his son consign'd      Of Pon; he with drugs of lenient powers,      Soon heal'd whom immortality secured      From dissolution. As the juice from figs      Express'd what fluid was in milk before      Coagulates, stirr'd rapidly around,      So soon was Mars by Pon skill restored.      Him Hebe bathed, and with divine attire      Graceful adorn'd; when at the side of Jove      Again his glorious seat sublime he took.      Meantime to the abode of Jove supreme      Ascended Juno throughout Argos known      And mighty Pallas; Mars the plague of man,      By their successful force from slaughter driven.