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

Argument Of The Seventeenth Book.     Sharp contest ensues around the body of Patroclus. Hector puts on the armor of Achilles. Menelaus, having dispatched Antilochus to Achilles with news of the death of Patroclus, returns to the battle, and, together with Meriones, bears Patroclus off the field, while the Ajaces cover their retreat.      Nor Menelaus, Atreus' valiant son,      Knew not how Menoetiades had fallen      By Trojan hands in battle; forth he rush'd      All bright in burnish'd armor through his van,      And as some heifer with maternal fears      Now first acquainted, compasses around      Her young one murmuring, with tender moan,      So moved the hero of the amber locks      Around Patroclus, before whom his spear      Advancing and broad shield, he death denounced      On all opposers; neither stood the son      Spear-famed of Panthus inattentive long      To slain Patroclus, but approach'd the dead,      And warlike Menelaus thus bespake.      Prince! Menelaus! Atreus' mighty son!      Yield. Leave the body and these gory spoils;      For of the Trojans or allies of Troy      None sooner made Patroclus bleed than I.      Seek not to rob me, therefore, of my praise      Among the Trojans, lest my spear assail      Thee also, and thou perish premature.[1]      To whom, indignant, Atreus' son replied.      Self-praise, the Gods do know, is little worth.      But neither lion may in pride compare      Nor panther, nor the savage boar whose heart's      High temper flashes in his eyes, with these      The spear accomplish'd youths of Panthus' house.      Yet Hyperenor of equestrian fame      Lived not his lusty manhood to enjoy,      Who scoffingly defied my force in arms,      And call'd me most contemptible in fight      Of all the Dana. But him, I ween,      His feet bore never hence to cheer at home      His wife and parents with his glad return.      So also shall thy courage fierce be tamed,      If thou oppose me. I command thee, go--      Mix with the multitude; withstand not me,      Lest evil overtake thee! To be taught      By sufferings only, is the part of fools.      He said, but him sway'd not, who thus replied.      Now, even now, Atrides! thou shalt rue      My brother's blood which thou hast shed, and mak'st      His death thy boast. Thou hast his blooming bride      Widow'd, and thou hast fill'd his parents' hearts      With anguish of unutterable wo;      But bearing hence thy armor and thy head      To Troy, and casting them at Panthus' feet,      And at the feet of Phrontis, his espoused,      I shall console the miserable pair.      Nor will I leave that service unessay'd      Longer, nor will I fail through want of force,      Of courage, or of terrible address.      He ceased, and smote his shield, nor pierced the disk,      But bent his point against the stubborn brass.      Then Menelaus, prayer preferring first      To Jove,[2] assail'd Euphorbus in his turn,      Whom pacing backward in the throat he struck,      And both hands and his full force the spear      Impelled, urged it through his neck behind.      Sounding he fell; loud rang his batter'd arms.      His locks, which even the Graces might have own'd,      Blood-sullied, and his ringlets wound about      With twine of gold and silver, swept the dust.      As the luxuriant olive by a swain      Rear'd in some solitude where rills abound,      Puts forth her buds, and fann'd by genial airs      On all sides, hangs her boughs with whitest flowers,      But by a sudden whirlwind from its trench      Uptorn, it lies extended on the field;      Such, Panthus' warlike son Euphorbus seem'd,      By Menelaus, son of Atreus, slain      Suddenly, and of all his arms despoil'd.      But as the lion on the mountains bred,      Glorious in strength, when he hath seized the best      And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs      First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch      Torn wide; meantime, around him, but remote,      Dogs stand and swains clamoring, yet by fear      Repress'd, annoy him not nor dare approach;      So there all wanted courage to oppose      The force of Menelaus, glorious Chief.      Then, easily had Menelaus borne      The armor of the son of Panthus thence,      But that Apollo the illustrious prize      Denied him, who in semblance of the Chief      Of the Ciconians, Mentes, prompted forth      Against him Hector terrible as Mars,      Whose spirit thus in accents wing'd he roused.      Hector! the chase is vain; here thou pursuest      The horses of acides the brave,      Which thou shalt never win, for they are steeds      Of fiery nature, such as ill endure      To draw or carry mortal man, himself      Except, whom an immortal mother bore.      Meantime, bold Menelaus, in defence      Of dead Patroclus, hath a Trojan slain      Of highest note, Euphorbus, Panthus' son,      And hath his might in arms for ever quell'd.      So spake the God and to the fight return'd.      But grief intolerable at that word      Seized Hector; darting through the ranks his eye,      He knew at once who stripp'd Euphorbus' arms,      And him knew also lying on the field,      And from his wide wound bleeding copious still.      Then dazzling bright in arms, through all the van      He flew, shrill-shouting, fierce as Vulcan's fire      Unquenchable; nor were his shouts unheard      By Atreus' son, who with his noble mind      Conferring sad, thus to himself began.      Alas! if I forsake these gorgeous spoils,      And leave Patroclus for my glory slain,      I fear lest the Achaians at that sight      Incensed, reproach me; and if, urged by shame,      I fight with Hector and his host, alone,      Lest, hemm'd around by multitudes, I fall;      For Hector, by his whole embattled force      Attended, comes. But whither tend my thoughts?      No man may combat with another fenced      By power divine and whom the Gods exalt,      But he must draw down wo on his own head.      Me, therefore, none of all Achaia's host      Will blame indignant, seeing my retreat      From Hector, whom themselves the Gods assist.      But might the battle-shout of Ajax once      Reach me, with force united we would strive,      Even in opposition to a God,      To rescue for Achilles' sake, his friend.      Task arduous! but less arduous than this.      While he thus meditated, swift advanced      The Trojan ranks, with Hector at their head.      He then, retiring slow, and turning oft,      Forsook the body. As by dogs and swains      With clamors loud and spears driven from the stalls      A bearded lion goes, his noble heart      Abhors retreat, and slow he quits the prey;      So Menelaus with slow steps forsook      Patroclus, and arrived in front, at length,      Of his own phalanx, stood, with sharpen'd eyes      Seeking vast Ajax, son of Telamon.      Him leftward, soon, of all the field he mark'd      Encouraging aloud his band, whose hearts      With terrors irresistible himself      Phoebus had fill'd. He ran, and at his side      Standing, incontinent him thus bespake.      My gallant Ajax, haste--come quickly--strive      With me to rescue for Achilles' sake      His friend, though bare, for Hector hath his arms.      He said, and by his words the noble mind      Of Ajax roused; issuing through the van      He went, and Menelaus at his side.      Hector the body of Patroclus dragg'd,      Stript of his arms, with falchion keen erelong      Purposing to strike off his head, and cast      His trunk, drawn distant, to the dogs of Troy.      But Ajax, with broad shield tower-like, approach'd.      Then Hector, to his bands retreating, sprang      Into his chariot, and to others gave      The splendid arms in charge, who into Troy      Should bear the destined trophy of his praise,      But Ajax with his broad shield guarding stood      Slain Menoetiades, as for his whelps      The lion stands; him through some forest drear      Leading his little ones, the hunters meet;      Fire glimmers in his looks, and down he draws      His whole brow into frowns, covering his eyes;      So, guarding slain Patroclus, Ajax lour'd.      On the other side, with tender grief oppress'd      Unspeakable, brave Menelaus stood.      But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian band,      Son of Hippolochus, in bitter terms      Indignant, reprimanded Hector thus,      Ah, Hector, Chieftain of excelling form,      But all unfurnish'd with a warrior's heart!      Unwarranted I deem thy great renown      Who art to flight addicted. Think, henceforth,      How ye shall save city and citadel      Thou and thy people born in Troy, alone.      No Lycian shall, at least, in your defence      Fight with the Grecians, for our ceaseless toil      In arms, hath ever been a thankless task.      Inglorious Chief! how wilt thou save a worse      From warring crowds, who hast Sarpedon left      Thy guest, thy friend, to be a spoil, a prey      To yonder Argives? While he lived he much      Thee and thy city profited, whom dead      Thou fear'st to rescue even from the dogs.      Now, therefore, may but my advice prevail,      Back to your country, Lycians! so, at once,      Shall remediless ruin fall on Troy.      For had the Trojans now a daring heart      Intrepid, such as in the breast resides      Of laborers in their country's dear behalf,      We soon should drag Patroclus into Troy;      And were his body, from the battle drawn,      In Priam's royal city once secured,      As soon, the Argives would in ransom give      Sarpedon's body with his splendid arms      To be conducted safe into the town.      For when Patroclus fell, the friend was slain      Of such a Chief as is not in the fleet      For valor, and his bands are dauntless all.      But thou, at the first glimpse of Ajax' eye      Confounded, hast not dared in arms to face      That warrior bold, superior far to thee.      To whom brave Hector, frowning stern, replied,      Why, Glaucus! should a Chief like thee his tongue      Presume to employ thus haughtily? My friend!      I thee accounted wisest, once, of all      Who dwell in fruitful Lycia, but thy speech      Now utter'd altogether merits blame,      In which thou tell'st me that I fear to stand      Against vast Ajax. Know that I from fight      Shrink not, nor yet from sound of prancing steeds;      But Jove's high purpose evermore prevails      Against the thoughts of man; he turns to flight      The bravest, and the victory takes with ease      Even from those whom once he favor'd most.      But hither, friend! stand with me; mark my deed;      Prove me, if I be found, as thou hast said,      An idler all the day, or if by force      I not compel some Grecian to renounce      Patroclus, even the boldest of them all.      He ceased, and to his host exclaim'd aloud.      Trojans, and Lycians, and close-fighting sons      Of Dardanus, oh be ye men, my friends!      Now summon all your fortitude, while I      Put on the armor of Achilles, won      From the renown'd Patroclus slain by me.      So saying, illustrious Hector from the clash      Of spears withdrew, and with his swiftest pace      Departing, overtook, not far remote,      The bearers of Achilles' arms to Troy.      Apart from all the horrors of the field      Standing, he changed his armor; gave his own      To be by them to sacred Ilium borne,      And the immortal arms of Peleus' son      Achilles, by the ever-living Gods      To Peles given, put on. Those arms the Sire,      Now old himself, had on his son conferr'd      But in those arms his son grew never old.      Him, therefore, soon as cloud-assembler Jove      Saw glittering in divine Achilles' arms,      Contemplative he shook his brows, and said,      Ah hapless Chief! thy death, although at hand,      Nought troubles thee. Thou wear'st his heavenly      Who all excels, terror of Ilium's host.      His friend, though bold yet gentle, thou hast slain      And hast the brows and bosom of the dead      Unseemly bared: yet, bright success awhile      I give thee; so compensating thy lot,      From whom Andromache shall ne'er receive      Those glorious arms, for thou shalt ne'er return.      So spake the Thunderer, and his sable brows      Shaking, confirm'd the word. But Hector found      The armor apt; the God of war his soul      With fury fill'd, he felt his limbs afresh      Invigorated, and with loudest shouts      Return'd to his illustrious allies.      To them he seem'd, clad in those radiant arms,      Himself Achilles; rank by rank he pass'd      Through all the host, exhorting every Chief,      Asteropus, Mesthles, Phorcys, Medon,      Thersilochus, Deisenor, augur Ennomus,      Chromius, Hippothos; all these he roused      To battle, and in accents wing'd began.      Hear me, ye myriads, neighbors and allies!      For not through fond desire to fill the plain      With multitudes, have I convened you here      Each from his city, but that well-inclined      To Ilium, ye might help to guard our wives      And little ones against the host of Greece.      Therefore it is that forage large and gifts      Providing for you, I exhaust the stores      Of Troy, and drain our people for your sake.      Turn then direct against them, and his life      Save each, or lose; it is the course of war.      Him who shall drag, though dead, Patroclus home      Into the host of Troy, and shall repulse      Ajax, I will reward with half the spoils      And half shall be my own; glory and praise      Shall also be his meed, equal to mine.      He ended; they compact with lifted spears      Bore on the Dana, conceiving each      Warm expectation in his heart to wrest      From Ajax son of Telamon, the dead.      Vain hope! he many a lifeless Trojan heap'd      On slain Patroclus, but at length his speech      To warlike Menelaus thus address'd.      Ah, Menelaus, valiant friend! I hope      No longer, now, that even we shall 'scape      Ourselves from fight; nor fear I so the loss      Of dead Patroclus, who shall soon the dogs      Of Ilium, and the fowls sate with his flesh,      As for my life I tremble and for thine,      That cloud of battle, Hector, such a gloom      Sheds all around; death manifest impends.      Haste--call our best, if even they can hear.      He spake, nor Menelaus not complied,      But call'd aloud on all the Chiefs of Greece.      Friends, senators, and leaders of the powers      Of Argos! who with Agamemnon drink      And Menelaus at the public feast,      Each bearing rule o'er many, by the will      Of Jove advanced to honor and renown!      The task were difficult to single out      Chief after Chief by name amid the blaze      Of such contention; but oh, come yourselves      Indignant forth, nor let the dogs of Troy      Patroclus rend, and gambol with his bones!      He ceased, whom Oliades the swift      Hearing incontinent, of all the Chiefs      Ran foremost, after whom Idomeneus      Approach'd, and dread as homicidal Mars      Meriones. But never mind of man      Could even in silent recollection name      The whole vast multitude who, following these      Renew'd the battle on the part of Greece.      The Trojans first, with Hector at their head,      Wedged in close phalanx, rush'd to the assault      As when within some rapid river's mouth      The billows and stream clash, on either shore[3]      Loud sounds the roar[3] of waves ejected wide,      Such seem'd the clamors of the Trojan host.      But the Achaians, one in heart, around      Patroclus stood, bulwark'd with shields of brass      And over all their glittering helmets Jove      Darkness diffused, for he had loved Patroclus      While yet he lived friend of acides,      And now, abhorring that the dogs of Troy      Should eat him, urged the Greeks to his defence,      The host of Troy first shook the Grecian host;      The body left, they fled; yet of them all,      The Trojan powers, determined as they were,      Slew none, but dragg'd the body. Neither stood      The Greeks long time aloof, soon as repulsed      Again led on by Ajax, who in form      And in exploits all others far excell'd.      Peerless acides alone except.      Right through the foremost combatants he rush'd,      In force resembling most some savage boar      That in the mountains bursting through the brakes,      The swains disperses and their hounds with ease;      Like him, illustrious Ajax, mighty son      Of Telamon, at his assault dispersed      With ease the close imbattled ranks who fought      Around Patroclus' body, strong in hope      To achieve it, and to make the glory theirs.      Hippothos, a youth of high renown,      Son of Pelasgian Lethus, by a noose      Around his ancle cast dragg'd through the fight      Patroclus, so to gratify the host      Of Ilium and their Chief; but evil him      Reached suddenly, by none of all his friends      (Though numerous wish'd to save him) turn'd aside.      For swift advancing on him through the crowd      The son of Telamon pierced, spear in hand,      His helmet brazen-cheek'd; the crested casque,      So smitten, open'd wide, for huge the hand      And ponderous was the spear that gave the blow      And all around its neck, mingled with blood      Gush'd forth the brain. There, lifeless, down he sank,      Let fall the hero's foot, and fell himself      Prone on the dead, never to see again?      Deep-soil'd Larissa, never to require      Their kind solicitudes who gave him birth,      In bloom of life by dauntless Ajax slain.      Then Hector hurl'd at Ajax his bright spear,      But he, forewarn'd of its approach, escaped      Narrowly, and it pierced Schedius instead,      Brave son of Iphitus; he, noblest Chief      Of the Phocensians, over many reign'd,      Dwelling in Panopeus the far-renown'd.      Entering beneath the clavicle[4] the point      Right through his shoulder's summit pass'd behind,      And on his loud-resounding arms he fell.      But Ajax at his waist wounded the son      Of Phoenops, valiant Phorcys, while he stood      Guarding Hippothus; through his hollow mail      Enforced the weapon drank his inmost life,      And in his palm, supine, he clench'd the dust.      Then, Hector with the foremost Chiefs of Troy      Fell back; the Argives sent a shout to heaven,      And dragging Phorcys and Hippothus thence      Stripp'd both. In that bright moment Ilium's host      Fear-quell'd before Achaia's warlike sons      Had Troy re-enter'd, and the host of Greece      By matchless might and fortitude their own      Had snatch'd a victory from the grasp of fate,      But that, himself, the King of radiant shafts      neas roused; Epytis' son he seem'd      Periphas, ancient in the service grown      Of old Anchises whom he dearly loved;      His form assumed, Apollo thus began.      How could ye save, neas, were the Gods      Your enemies, the towers of lofty Troy?      As I have others seen, warriors who would,      Men fill'd with might and valor, firm themselves      And Chiefs of multitudes disdaining fear.      But Jove to us the victory far more      Than to the Grecians wills; therefore the fault      Is yours, who tremble and refuse the fight.      He ended, whom neas marking, knew      At once the glorious Archer of the skies,      And thus to distant Hector call'd aloud.      Oh, Hector, and ye other Chiefs of Troy      And of her brave confederates! Shame it were      Should we re-enter Ilium, driven to flight      By dastard fear before the host of Greece.      A God assured me even now, that Jove,      Supreme in battle, gives his aid to Troy.      Rush, therefore, on the Dana direct,      Nor let them, safe at least and unannoy'd,      Bear hence Patroclus' body to the fleet.      He spake, and starting far into the van      Stood foremost forth; they, wheeling, faced the Greeks.      Then, spear in hand, neas smote the friend      Of Lycomedes, brave Leocritus,      Son of Arisbas. Lycomedes saw      Compassionate his death, and drawing nigh      First stood, then hurling his resplendent lance,      Right through the liver Apisaon pierced      Offspring of Hippasus, his chest beneath,      And, lifeless, instant, on the field he fell.      He from Ponia the deep soil'd to Troy      Came forth, Asteropus sole except,      Bravest of all Ponia's band in arms.      Asteropus saw, and to the van      Sprang forth for furious combat well prepared,      But room for fight found none, so thick a fence      Of shields and ported spears fronted secure      The phalanx guarding Menoetiades.      For Ajax ranging all the ranks, aloud      Admonish'd them that no man yielding ground      Should leave Patroclus, or advance before      The rest, but all alike fight and stand fast.      Such order gave huge Ajax; purple gore      Drench'd all the ground; in slaughter'd heaps they fell      Trojans and Trojan aids of dauntless hearts      And Grecians; for not even they the fight      Waged bloodless, though with far less cost of blood,      Each mindful to avert his fellow's fate.      Thus burn'd the battle; neither hadst thou deem'd      The sun himself in heaven unquench'd, or moon,      Beneath a cope so dense of darkness strove      Unceasing all the most renown'd in arms      For Menoetiades. Meantime the war,      Wherever else, the bright-arm'd Grecians waged      And Trojans under skies serene. The sun      On them his radiance darted; not a cloud,      From mountain or from vale rising, allay'd      His fervor; there at distance due they fought      And paused by turns, and shunn'd the cruel dart.      But in the middle field not war alone      They suffer'd, but night also; ruthless raged      The iron storm, and all the mightiest bled.      Two glorious Chiefs, the while, Antilochus      And Thrasymedes, had no tidings heard      Of brave Patroclus slain, but deem'd him still      Living, and troubling still the host of Troy;      For watchful[5] only to prevent the flight      Or slaughter of their fellow-warriors, they      Maintain'd a distant station, so enjoin'd      By Nestor when he sent them to the field.      But fiery conflict arduous employ'd      The rest all day continual; knees and legs,      Feet, hands, and eyes of those who fought to guard      The valiant friend of swift acides      Sweat gather'd foul and dust. As when a man      A huge ox-hide drunken with slippery lard      Gives to be stretch'd, his servants all around      Disposed, just intervals between, the task      Ply strenuous, and while many straining hard      Extend it equal on all sides, it sweats      The moisture out, and drinks the unction in,[6]      So they, in narrow space struggling, the dead      Dragg'd every way, warm hope conceiving, these      To drag him thence to Troy, those, to the ships.      Wild tumult raged around him; neither Mars,      Gatherer of hosts to battle, nor herself      Pallas, however angry, had beheld      That conflict with disdain, Jove to such length      Protracted on that day the bloody toil      Of steeds and men for Menoetiades.      Nor knew divine Achilles or had aught      Heard of Patroclus slain, for from the ships      Remote they fought, beneath the walls of Troy.      He, therefore, fear'd not for his death, but hope      Indulged much rather, that, the battle push'd      To Ilium's gates, he should return alive.      For that his friend, unaided by himself      Or ever aided, should prevail to lay      Troy waste, he nought supposed; by Thetis warn'd      In secret conference oft, he better knew      Jove's purpose; yet not even she had borne      Those dreadful tidings to his ear, the loss      Immeasurable of his dearest friend.      They all around the dead fought spear in hand      With mutual slaughter ceaseless, and amid      Achaia's host thus spake a Chief mail-arm'd.      Shame were it, Grecians! should we seek by flight      Our galleys now; yawn earth our feet beneath      And here ingulf us rather! Better far      Than to permit the steed-famed host of Troy      To drag Patroclus hence into the town,      And make the glory of this conflict theirs.      Thus also of the dauntless Trojans spake      A certain warrior. Oh, my friends! although      The Fates ordain us, one and all, to die      Around this body, stand! quit not the field.      So spake the warrior prompting into act      The courage of his friends, and such they strove      On both sides; high into the vault of heaven      The iron din pass'd through the desart air.      Meantime the horses of acides      From fight withdrawn, soon as they understood      Their charioteer fallen in the dust beneath      The arm of homicidal Hector, wept.      Them oft with hasty lash Diores' son      Automedon impatient smote, full oft      He stroked them gently, and as oft he chode;[7]      Yet neither to the fleet ranged on the shore      Of spacious Hellespont would they return,      Nor with the Grecians seek the fight, but stood      As a sepulchral pillar stands, unmoved      Between their traces;[8] to the earth they hung      Their heads, with plenteous tears their driver mourn'd,      And mingled their dishevell'd manes with dust.      Jove saw their grief with pity, and his brows      Shaking, within himself thus, pensive, said.      Ah hapless pair! Wherefore by gift divine      Were ye to Peleus given, a mortal king,      Yourselves immortal and from age exempt?      Was it that ye might share in human woes?      For, of all things that breathe or creep the earth,      No creature lives so mere a wretch as man.      Yet shall not Priameian Hector ride      Triumphant, drawn by you. Myself forbid.      Suffice it that he boasts vain-gloriously      Those arms his own. Your spirit and your limbs      I will invigorate, that ye may bear      Safe hence Automedon into the fleet.      For I ordain the Trojans still to spread      Carnage around victorious, till they reach      The gallant barks, and till the sun at length      Descending, sacred darkness cover all.      He said, and with new might the steeds inspired.      They, shaking from their hair profuse the dust,      Between the van of either army whirl'd      The rapid chariot. Fighting as he pass'd,      Though fill'd with sorrow for his slaughter'd friend,      Automedon high-mounted swept the field      Impetuous as a vulture scattering geese;      Now would he vanish, and now, turn'd again,      Chase through a multitude his trembling foe;      But whomsoe'er he follow'd, none he slew,      Nor was the task possible to a Chief      Sole in the sacred chariot, both to aim      The spear aright and guide the fiery steeds.      At length Alcimedon, his friend in arms,      Son of Laerceus son of mon, him      Observing, from behind the chariot hail'd      The flying warrior, whom he thus bespake.      What power, Automedon! hath ta'en away      Thy better judgment, and thy breast inspired      With this vain purpose to assail alone      The Trojan van? Thy partner in the fight      Is slain, and Hector on his shoulders bears,      Elate, the armor of acides.      Then, answer thus Automedon return'd,      Son of Diores. Who of all our host      Was ever skill'd, Alcimedon! as thou      To rule the fire of these immortal steeds,      Save only while he lived, peer of the Gods      In that great art, Patroclus, now no more?      Thou, therefore, the resplendent reins receive      And scourge, while I, dismounting, wage the fight.      He ceased; Alcimedon without delay      The battle-chariot mounting, seized at once      The lash and reins, and from his seat down leap'd      Automedon. Them noble Hector mark'd,      And to neas at his side began.      Illustrious Chief of Trojans brazen-mail'd      neas! I have noticed yonder steeds      Of swift Achilles rushing into fight      Conspicuous, but under sway of hands      Unskilful; whence arises a fair hope      That we might seize them, wert thou so inclined;      For never would those two dare to oppose      In battle an assault dreadful as ours.      He ended, nor the valiant son refused      Of old Anchises, but with targets firm      Of season'd hide brass-plated thrown athwart      Their shoulders, both advanced direct, with whom      Of godlike form Aretus also went      And Chromius. Ardent hope they all conceived      To slay those Chiefs, and from the field to drive      Achilles' lofty steeds. Vain hope! for them      No bloodless strife awaited with the force      Of brave Automedon; he, prayer to Jove      First offering, felt his angry soul with might      Heroic fill'd, and thus his faithful friend      Alcimedon, incontinent, address'd.      Alcimedon! hold not the steeds remote      But breathing on my back; for I expect      That never Priamean Hector's rage      Shall limit know, or pause, till, slaying us,      He shall himself the coursers ample-maned      Mount of Achilles, and to flight compel      The Argive host, or perish in the van.      So saying, he call'd aloud on Menelaus      With either Ajax. Oh, illustrious Chiefs      Of Argos, Menelaus, and ye bold      Ajaces![9] leaving all your best to cope      With Ilium's powers and to protect the dead,      From friends still living ward the bitter day.      For hither borne, two Chiefs, bravest of all      The Trojans, Hector and neas rush      Right through the battle. The events of war      Heaven orders; therefore even I will give      My spear its flight, and Jove dispose the rest!      He said, and brandishing his massy spear      Dismiss'd it at Aretus; full he smote      His ample shield, nor stay'd the pointed brass,      But penetrating sheer the disk, his belt      Pierced also, and stood planted in his waist.      As when some vigorous youth with sharpen'd axe      A pastured bullock smites behind the horns      And hews the muscle through; he, at the stroke      Springs forth and falls, so sprang Aretus forth,      Then fell supine, and in his bowels stood      The keen-edged lance still quivering till he died.      Then Hector, in return, his radiant spear      Hurl'd at Automedon, who of its flight      Forewarn'd his body bowing prone, the stroke      Eluded, and the spear piercing the soil      Behind him, shook to its superior end,      Till, spent by slow degrees, its fury slept.      And now, with hand to hilt, for closer war      Both stood prepared, when through the multitude      Advancing at their fellow-warrior's call,      The Ajaces suddenly their combat fierce      Prevented. Awed at once by their approach      Hector retired, with whom neas went      Also and godlike Chromius, leaving there      Aretus with his vitals torn, whose arms,      Fierce as the God of war Automedon      Stripp'd off, and thus exulted o'er the slain.      My soul some portion of her grief resigns      Consoled, although by slaughter of a worse,      For loss of valiant Menoetiades.      So saying, within his chariot he disposed      The gory spoils, then mounted it himself      With hands and feet purpled, as from a bull      His bloody prey, some lion newly-gorged.      And now around Patroclus raged again      Dread strife deplorable! for from the skies      Descending at the Thunderer's command      Whose purpose now was to assist the Greeks,      Pallas enhanced the fury of the fight.      As when from heaven, in view of mortals, Jove      Exhibits bright his bow, a sign ordain'd      Of war, or numbing frost which all the works      Suspends of man and saddens all the flocks;      So she, all mantled with a radiant cloud      Entering Achaia's host, fired every breast.      But meeting Menelaus first, brave son      Of Atreus, in the form and with the voice      Robust of Phoenix, him she thus bespake.      Shame, Menelaus, shall to thee redound      For ever, and reproach, should dogs devour      The faithful friend of Peleus' noble son      Under Troy's battlements; but stand, thyself,      Undaunted, and encourage all the host.      To whom the son of Atreus bold in arms.      Ah, Phoenix, friend revered, ancient and sage!      Would Pallas give me might and from the dint      Shield me of dart and spear, with willing mind      I would defend Patroclus, for his death      Hath touch'd me deep. But Hector with the rage      Burns of consuming fire, nor to his spear      Gives pause, for him Jove leads to victory.      He ceased, whom Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed      Hearing, rejoiced that of the heavenly powers      He had invoked her foremost to his aid.      His shoulders with new might, and limbs she fill'd,      And persevering boldness to his breast      Imparted, such as prompts the fly, which oft      From flesh of man repulsed, her purpose yet      To bite holds fast, resolved on human blood.      His stormy bosom with such courage fill'd      By Pallas, to Patroclus he approach'd      And hurl'd, incontinent, his glittering spear.      There was a Trojan Chief, Podes by name,      Son of Etion, valorous and rich;      Of all Troy's citizens him Hector most      Respected, in convivial pleasures sweet      His chosen companion. As he sprang to flight,      The hero of the golden locks his belt      Struck with full force and sent the weapon through.      Sounding he fell, and from the Trojan ranks      Atrides dragg'd the body to his own.      Then drew Apollo near to Hector's side,      And in the form of Phoenops, Asius' son,      Of all the foreign guests at Hector's board      His favorite most, the hero thus address'd.      What Chief of all the Grecians shall henceforth      Fear Hector, who from Menelaus shrinks      Once deem'd effeminate, but dragging now      The body of thy valiant friend approved      Whom he hath slain, Podes, Etion's son?      He spake, and at his words grief like a cloud      Involved the mind of Hector dark around;      Right through the foremost combatants he rush'd      All clad in dazzling brass. Then, lifting high      His tassel'd gis radiant, Jove with storms      Enveloped Ida; flash'd his lightnings, roar'd      His thunders, and the mountain shook throughout.      Troy's host he prosper'd, and the Greeks dispersed.      First fled Peneleus, the Boeotian Chief,      Whom facing firm the foe Polydamas      Struck on his shoulder's summit with a lance      Hurl'd nigh at hand, which slight inscribed the bone.      [10]Letus also, son of the renown'd      Alectryon, pierced by Hector in the wrist,      Disabled left the fight; trembling he fled      And peering narrowly around, nor hoped      To lift a spear against the Trojans more.      Hector, pursuing Letus, the point      Encounter'd of the brave Idomeneus      Full on his chest; but in his mail the lance      Snapp'd, and the Trojans shouted to the skies.      He, in his turn, cast at Deucalion's son      Idomeneus, who in that moment gain'd[11]      A chariot-seat; but him the erring spear      Attain'd not, piercing Coeranus instead      The friend and follower of Meriones      From wealthy Lyctus, and his charioteer.      For when he left, that day, the gallant barks      Idomeneus had sought the field on foot,      And triumph proud, full sure, to Ilium's host      Had yielded now, but that with rapid haste      Coeranus drove to his relief, from him      The fate averting which himself incurr'd      Victim of Hector's homicidal arm.      Him Hector smiting between ear and jaw      Push'd from their sockets with the lance's point      His firm-set teeth, and sever'd sheer his tongue.      Dismounted down he fell, and from his hand      Let slide the flowing reins, which, to the earth      Stooping, Meriones in haste resumed,      And briefly thus Idomeneus address'd.      Now drive, and cease not, to the fleet of Greece!      Thyself see'st victory no longer ours.      He said; Idomeneus whom, now, dismay      Seized also, with his lash plying severe      The coursers ample-maned, flew to the fleet.      Nor Ajax, dauntless hero, not perceived,      Nor Menelaus, by the sway of Jove      The victory inclining fast to Troy,      And thus the Telamonian Chief began.      Ah! who can be so blind as not to see      The eternal Father, now, with his own hand      Awarding glory to the Trojan host,      Whose every spear flies, instant, to the mark      Sent forth by brave or base? Jove guides them all,      While, ineffectual, ours fall to the ground.      But haste, devise we of ourselves the means      How likeliest we may bear Patroclus hence,      And gladden, safe returning, all our friends,      Who, hither looking anxious, hope have none      That we shall longer check the unconquer'd force      Of hero-slaughtering Hector, but expect      [12]To see him soon amid the fleet of Greece.      Oh for some Grecian now to carry swift      The tidings to Achilles' ear, untaught,      As I conjecture, yet the doleful news      Of his Patroclus slain! but no such Greek      May I discern, such universal gloom      Both men and steeds envelops all around.      Father of heaven and earth! deliver thou      Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies;      Give day; and (since thy sovereign will is such)      Destruction with it--but oh give us day![13]      He spake, whose tears Jove saw with pity moved,      And chased the untimely shades; bright beam'd the sun      And the whole battle was display'd. Then spake      The hero thus to Atreus' mighty son.      Now noble Menelaus! looking forth,      See if Antilochus be yet alive,      Brave son of Nestor, whom exhort to fly      With tidings to Achilles, of the friend      Whom most he loved, of his Patroclus slain.      He ceased, nor Menelaus, dauntless Chief,      That task refused, but went; yet neither swift      Nor willing. As a lion leaves the stalls      Wearied himself with harassing the guard,      Who, interdicting him his purposed prey,      Watch all the night; he famish'd, yet again      Comes furious on, but speeds not, kept aloof      By spears from daring hands dismissed, but more      By flash of torches which, though fierce, he dreads,      Till at the dawn, sullen he stalks away;      So from Patroclus Menelaus went      Heroic Chief! reluctant; for he fear'd      Lest the Achaians should resign the dead,      Through consternation, to the host of Troy.      Departing, therefore, he admonish'd oft      Meriones and the Ajaces, thus.      Ye two brave leaders of the Argive host,      And thou, Meriones! now recollect      The gentle manners of Patroclus fallen      Hapless in battle, who by carriage mild      Well understood, while yet he lived, to engage      All hearts, through prisoner now of death and fate.      So saying, the hero amber-hair'd his steps      Turn'd thence, the field exploring with an eye      Sharp as the eagle's, of all fowls beneath      The azure heavens for keenest sight renown'd,      Whom, though he soar sublime, the leveret      By broadest leaves conceal'd 'scapes not, but swift      Descending, even her he makes his prey;      So, noble Menelaus! were thine eyes      Turn'd into every quarter of the host      In search of Nestor's son, if still he lived.      Him, soon, encouraging his band to fight,      He noticed on the left of all the field,      And sudden standing at his side, began.      Antilochus! oh hear me, noble friend!      And thou shalt learn tidings of such a deed      As best had never been. Thou know'st, I judge,      And hast already seen, how Jove exalts      To victory the Trojan host, and rolls      Distress on ours; but ah! Patroclus lies,      Our chief Achaian, slain, whose loss the Greeks      Fills with regret. Haste, therefore, to the fleet,      Inform Achilles; bid him haste to save,      If save he can, the body of his friend;      He can no more, for Hector hath his arms.      He ceased. Antilochus with horror heard      Those tidings; mute long time he stood, his eyes      Swam tearful, and his voice, sonorous erst,      Found utterance none. Yet even so distress'd,      He not the more neglected the command      Of Menelaus. Setting forth to run,      He gave his armor to his noble friend      Laodocus, who thither turn'd his steeds,      And weeping as he went, on rapid feet      Sped to Achilles with that tale of wo.      Nor could the noble Menelaus stay      To give the weary Pylian band, bereft      Of their beloved Antilochus, his aid,      But leaving them to Thrasymedes' care,      He flew to Menoetiades again,      And the Ajaces, thus, instant bespake.      He goes. I have dispatch'd him to the fleet      To seek Achilles; but his coming naught      Expect I now, although with rage he burn      Against illustrious Hector; for what fight      Can he, unarm'd, against the Trojans wage?      Deliberating, therefore, frame we means      How best to save Patroclus, and to 'scape      Ourselves unslain from this disastrous field.      Whom answer'd the vast son of Telamon.      Most noble Menelaus! good is all      Which thou hast spoken. Lift ye from the earth      Thou and Meriones, at once, and bear      The dead Patroclus from the bloody field.      To cope meantime with Hector and his host      Shall be our task, who, one in name, nor less      In spirit one, already have the brunt      Of much sharp conflict, side by side, sustain'd.      He ended; they enfolding in their arms      The dead, upbore him high above the ground      With force united; after whom the host      Of Troy, seeing the body borne away,      Shouted, and with impetuous onset all      Follow'd them. As the hounds, urged from behind      By youthful hunters, on the wounded boar      Make fierce assault; awhile at utmost speed      They stretch toward him hungering, for the prey,      But oft as, turning sudden, the stout brawn      Faces them, scatter'd on all sides escape;      The Trojans so, thick thronging in the rear,      Ceaseless with falchions and spears double-edged      Annoy'd them sore, but oft as in retreat      The dauntless heroes, the Ajaces turn'd      To face them, deadly wan grew every cheek,      And not a Trojan dared with onset rude      Molest them more in conflict for the dead.      Thus they, laborious, forth from battle bore      Patroclus to the fleet, tempestuous war      Their steps attending, rapid as the flames      Which, kindled suddenly, some city waste;      Consumed amid the blaze house after house      Sinks, and the wind, meantime, roars through the fire;      So them a deafening tumult as they went      Pursued, of horses and of men spear-arm'd.      And as two mules with strength for toil endued,      Draw through rough ways down from the distant hills      Huge timber, beam or mast; sweating they go,      And overlabor'd to faint weariness;      So they the body bore, while, turning oft,      The Ajaces check'd the Trojans. As a mound      Planted with trees and stretch'd athwart the mead      Repels an overflow; the torrents loud      Baffling, it sends them far away to float      The level land, nor can they with the force      Of all their waters burst a passage through;      So the Ajaces, constant, in the rear      Repress'd the Trojans; but the Trojans them      Attended still, of whom neas most      Troubled them, and the glorious Chief of Troy.      They as a cloud of starlings or of daws      Fly screaming shrill, warn'd timely of the kite      Or hawk, devourers of the smaller kinds,      So they shrill-clamoring toward the fleet,      Hasted before neas and the might      Of Hector, nor the battle heeded more.      Much radiant armor round about the foss      Fell of the flying Grecians, or within      Lay scatter'd, and no pause of war they found.