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

Argument Of The Fourth Book.     In a Council of the Gods, a dispute arises between Jupiter and Juno, which is at last compromised, Jove consenting to dispatch Minerva with a charge to incite some Trojan to a violation of the truce. Minerva descends for that purpose, and in the form of Laodocus, a son of Priam, exhorts Pandarus to shoot at Menelaus, and succeeds. Menelaus is wounded, and Agamemnon having consigned him to the care of Machaon, goes forth to perform the duties of commander-in-chief, in the encouragement of his host to battle. The battle begins.      Now, on the golden floor of Jove's abode      The Gods all sat consulting; Hebe them,      Graceful, with nectar served;[1] they pledging each      His next, alternate quaff'd from cups of gold,      And at their ease reclined, look'd down on Troy,      When, sudden, Jove essay'd by piercing speech      Invidious, to enkindle Juno's ire.      Two Goddesses on Menelaus' part      Confederate stand, Juno in Argos known,      Pallas in Alalcomene;[2] yet they      Sequester'd sit, look on, and are amused.      Not so smile-loving Venus; she, beside      Her champion station'd, saves him from his fate,      And at this moment, by her aid, he lives.      But now, since victory hath proved the lot      Of warlike Menelaus, weigh ye well      The matter; shall we yet the ruinous strife      Prolong between the nations, or consent      To give them peace? should peace your preference win,      And prove alike acceptable to all,      Stand Ilium, and let Menelaus bear      Helen of Argos back to Greece again.      He ended; Juno and Minerva heard,      Low-murmuring deep disgust; for side by side      They forging sat calamity to Troy.      Minerva through displeasure against Jove      Nought utter'd, for with rage her bosom boil'd;      But Juno check'd not hers, who thus replied.      What word hath pass'd thy lips, Jove most severe!      How? wouldst thou render fruitless all my pains?      The sweat that I have pour'd? my steeds themselves      Have fainted while I gather'd Greece in arms      For punishment of Priam and his sons.      Do it. But small thy praise shall be in heaven.      Then her the Thunderer answer'd sore displeased.      Ah shameless! how have Priam and his sons      So much transgress'd against thee, that thou burn'st      With ceaseless rage to ruin populous Troy?      Go, make thine entrance at her lofty gates,      Priam and all his house, and all his host      Alive devour; then, haply, thou wilt rest;      Do even as thou wilt, that this dispute      Live not between us a consuming fire      For ever. But attend; mark well the word.      When I shall also doom in future time      Some city to destruction, dear to thee,      Oppose me not, but give my fury way      As I give way to thine, not pleased myself,      Yet not unsatisfied, so thou be pleased.      For of all cities of the sons of men,      And which the sun and stars from heaven behold,      Me sacred Troy most pleases, Priam me      Most, and the people of the warrior King.      Nor without cause. They feed mine altar well;      Libation there, and steam of savory scent      Fail not, the tribute which by lot is ours.      Him answer'd, then, the Goddess ample-eyed,[3]      Majestic Juno: Three fair cities me,      Of all the earth, most interest and engage,      Mycen for magnificence renown'd,      Argos, and Sparta. Them, when next thy wrath      Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste;      I will not interpose on their behalf;      Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail      Complaint or force against thy matchless arm?      Yet were it most unmeet that even I      Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth      Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire,      Is also mine; our origin is one.      Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account      Myself entitled by a twofold claim      To veneration both from Gods and men,      The daughter of Jove's sire, and spouse of Jove.      Concession mutual therefore both thyself      Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive      Disposed to peace, they also shall accord.      Come then.--To yon dread field dispatch in haste      Minerva, with command that she incite      The Trojans first to violate their oath      By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.      So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,      But in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake.      Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite      The Trojans first to violate their oath      By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.      The Goddess heard, and what she wish'd, enjoin'd,      Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,      In form a meteor, such as from his hand      Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright      And breaking into stars, an omen sent      To mariners, or to some numerous host.      Such Pallas seem'd, and swift descending, dropp'd      Full in the midst between them. They with awe      That sign portentous and with wonder view'd,      Achaians both and Trojans, and his next      The soldier thus bespake. Now either war      And dire hostility again shall flame,      Or Jove now gives us peace. Both are from Jove.      So spake the soldiery; but she the form      Taking of brave Laodocus, the son      Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks      Sought godlike Pandarus.[4] Ere long she found      The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon,      Standing encompass'd by his dauntless troops,      Broad-shielded warriors, from sepus' stream      His followers; to his side the Goddess came,      And in wing'd accents ardent him bespake.      Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope      That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip      A shaft at Menelaus? much renown      Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,      But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy.      From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive      Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see      The martial son of Atreus by a shaft      Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile.      Come. Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!      But vow to Lycian Phoebus bow-renown'd      A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,      To fair Zeleia's[5] walls once safe restored.      So Pallas spake, to whom infatuate he      Listening, uncased at once his polished bow.[6]      That bow, the laden brows of a wild goat      Salacious had supplied; him on a day      Forth-issuing from his cave, in ambush placed      He wounded with an arrow to his breast      Dispatch'd, and on the rock supine he fell.      Each horn had from his head tall growth attain'd,      Full sixteen palms; them shaven smooth the smith      Had aptly join'd, and tipt their points with gold.      That bow he strung, then, stooping, planted firm      The nether horn, his comrades bold the while      Screening him close with shields, lest ere the prince      Were stricken, Menelaus brave in arms,      The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose.      He raised his quiver's lid; he chose a dart      Unflown, full-fledged, and barb'd with pangs of death.      He lodged in haste the arrow on the string,      And vow'd to Lycian Phoebus bow-renown'd      A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,      To fair Zeleia's walls once safe restored.      Compressing next nerve and notch'd arrow-head      He drew back both together, to his pap      Drew home the nerve, the barb home to his bow,      And when the horn was curved to a wide arch,      He twang'd it. Whizz'd the bowstring, and the reed      Leap'd off, impatient for the distant throng.      Thee, Menelaus, then the blessed Gods      Forgat not; Pallas huntress of the spoil,      Thy guardian then, baffled the cruel dart.      Far as a mother wafts the fly aside[7]      That haunts her slumbering babe, so far she drove      Its course aslant, directing it herself      Against the golden clasps that join'd his belt;      For there the doubled hauberk interposed.      The bitter arrow plunged into his belt.      It pierced his broider'd belt, stood fixt within      His twisted hauberk, nor the interior quilt,      Though penetrable least to arrow-points      And his best guard, withheld it, but it pass'd      That also, and the Hero's skin inscribed.      Quick flowed a sable current from the wound.      As when a Carian or Monian maid      Impurples ivory ordain'd to grace      The cheek of martial steed; safe stored it lies,      By many a Chief desired, but proves at last      The stately trapping of some prince,[8] the pride      Of his high pamper'd steed, nor less his own;      Such, Menelaus, seem'd thy shapely thighs,      Thy legs, thy feet, stained with thy trickling blood.      Shudder'd King Agamemnon when he saw      The blood fast trickling from the wound, nor less      Shudder'd himself the bleeding warrior bold.      But neck and barb observing from the flesh      Extant, he gather'd heart, and lived again.      The royal Agamemnon, sighing, grasp'd      The hand of Menelaus, and while all      Their followers sigh'd around them, thus began.[9]      I swore thy death, my brother, when I swore      This truce, and set thee forth in sight of Greeks      And Trojans, our sole champion; for the foe      Hath trodden underfoot his sacred oath,      And stained it with thy blood. But not in vain,      The truce was ratified, the blood of lambs      Poured forth, libation made, and right hands join'd      In holy confidence. The wrath of Jove      May sleep, but will not always; they shall pay      Dear penalty; their own obnoxious heads      Shall be the mulct, their children and their wives.      For this I know, know surely; that a day      Shall come, when Ilium, when the warlike King      Of Ilium and his host shall perish all.      Saturnian Jove high-throned, dwelling in heaven,      Resentful of this outrage, then shall shake      His storm-clad gis over them. He will;      I speak no fable. Time shall prove me true.      But, oh my Menelaus, dire distress      Awaits me, if thy close of life be come,      And thou must die. Then ignominy foul      Shall hunt me back to Argos long-desired;      For then all here will recollect their home,      And, hope abandoning, will Helen yield      To be the boast of Priam, and of Troy.      So shall our toils be vain, and while thy bones      Shall waste these clods beneath, Troy's haughty sons      The tomb of Menelaus glory-crown'd      Insulting barbarous, shall scoff at me.      So may Atrides, shall they say, perform      His anger still as he performed it here,      Whither he led an unsuccessful host,      Whence he hath sail'd again without the spoils,      And where he left his brother's bones to rot.      So shall the Trojan speak; then open earth      Her mouth, and hide me in her deepest gulfs!      But him, the hero of the golden locks      Thus cheer'd. My brother, fear not, nor infect      With fear the Grecians; the sharp-pointed reed      Hath touch'd no vital part. The broider'd zone,      The hauberk, and the tough interior quilt,      Work of the armorer, its force repress'd.      Him answer'd Agamemnon, King of men.      So be it brother! but the hand of one      Skilful to heal shall visit and shall dress      The wound with drugs of pain-assuaging power.      He ended, and his noble herald, next,      Bespake, Talthybius. Haste, call hither quick      The son of sculapius, leech renown'd,      The prince Machaon. Bid him fly to attend      The warlike Chieftain Menelaus; him      Some archer, either Lycian or of Troy,      A dexterous one, hath stricken with a shaft      To his own glory, and to our distress.      He spake, nor him the herald disobey'd,      But through the Greeks bright-arm'd his course began      The Hero seeking earnest on all sides      Machaon. Him, ere long, he station'd saw      Amid the shielded-ranks of his brave band      From steed-famed Tricca drawn, and at his side      With accents ardor-wing'd, him thus address'd.      Haste, Asclepiades! The King of men      Calls thee. Delay not. Thou must visit quick      Brave Menelaus, Atreus' son, for him      Some archer, either Lycian or of Troy,      A dexterous one, hath stricken with a shaft      To his own glory, and to our distress.      So saying, he roused Machaon, who his course      Through the wide host began. Arriving soon      Where wounded Menelaus stood, while all      The bravest of Achaia's host around      The godlike hero press'd, he strove at once      To draw the arrow from his cincture forth.      But, drawing, bent the barbs. He therefore loosed      His broider'd belt, his hauberk and his quilt,      Work of the armorer, and laying bare      His body where the bitter shaft had plow'd      His flesh, he suck'd the wound, then spread it o'er      With drugs of balmy power, given on a time      For friendship's sake by Chiron to his sire.      While Menelaus thus the cares engross'd      Of all those Chiefs, the shielded powers of Troy      'Gan move toward them, and the Greeks again      Put on their armor, mindful of the fight.      Then hadst thou[10] not great Agamemnon seen      Slumbering, or trembling, or averse from war,      But ardent to begin his glorious task.      His steeds, and his bright chariot brass-inlaid      He left; the snorting steeds Eurymedon,      Offspring of Ptolemy Pirades      Detain'd apart; for him he strict enjoin'd      Attendance near, lest weariness of limbs      Should seize him marshalling his numerous host.      So forth he went, and through the files on foot      Proceeding, where the warrior Greeks he saw      Alert, he roused them by his words the more.[11]      Argives! abate no spark of all your fire.      Jove will not prosper traitors. Them who first      Transgress'd the truce the vultures shall devour,      But we (their city taken) shall their wives      Lead captive, and their children home to Greece.      So cheer'd he them. But whom he saw supine,      Or in the rugged work of war remiss,      In terms of anger them he stern rebuked.      Oh Greeks! The shame of Argos! Arrow-doom'd!      Blush ye not? Wherefore stand ye thus aghast,      Like fawns which wearied after scouring wide      The champain, gaze and pant, and can no more?      Senseless like them ye stand, nor seek the fight.      Is it your purpose patient here to wait      Till Troy invade your vessels on the shore      Of the grey deep, that ye may trial make      Of Jove, if he will prove, himself, your shield?      Thus, in discharge of his high office, pass'd      Atrides through the ranks, and now arrived      Where, hardy Chief! Idomeneus in front      Of his bold Cretans stood, stout as a boar      The van he occupied, while in the rear      Meriones harangued the most remote.      Them so prepared the King of men beheld      With joyful heart, and thus in courteous terms      Instant the brave Idomeneus address'd.      Thee fighting, feasting, howsoe'er employed,      I most respect, Idomeneus, of all      The well-horsed Dani; for when the Chiefs      Of Argos, banqueting, their beakers charge      With rosy wine the honorable meed      Of valor, thou alone of all the Greeks      Drink'st not by measure.[12] No--thy goblet stands      Replenish'd still, and like myself thou know'st      No rule or bound, save what thy choice prescribes.      March. Seek the foe. Fight now as heretofore,      To whom Idomeneus of Crete replied,      Atrides! all the friendship and the love      Which I have promised will I well perform.      Go; animate the rest, Chief after Chief      Of the Achaians, that the fight begin.      For Troy has scatter'd to the winds all faith,      All conscience; and for such her treachery foul      Shall have large recompence of death and wo.      He said, whom Agamemnon at his heart      Exulting, pass'd, and in his progress came      Where stood each Ajax; them he found prepared      With all their cloud of infantry behind.      As when the goat-herd on some rocky point      Advanced, a cloud sees wafted o'er the deep      By western gales, and rolling slow along,      To him, who stands remote, pitch-black it seems,      And comes with tempest charged; he at the sight      Shuddering, his flock compels into a cave;      So moved the gloomy phalanx, rough with spears,      And dense with shields of youthful warriors bold,      Close-following either Ajax to the fight.      Them also, pleased, the King of men beheld,      And in wing'd accents hail'd them as he pass'd.      Brave leaders of the mail-clad host of Greece!      I move not you to duty; ye yourselves      Move others, and no lesson need from me.      Jove, Pallas, and Apollo! were but all      Courageous as yourselves, soon Priam's towers      Should totter, and his Ilium storm'd and sack'd      By our victorious bands, stoop to the dust.      He ceased, and still proceeding, next arrived      Where stood the Pylian orator, his band      Marshalling under all their leaders bold      Alastor, Chromius, Pelagon the vast,      Hmon the prince, and Bias, martial Chief.      Chariot and horse he station'd in the front;      His numerous infantry, a strong reserve      Right valiant, in the rear; the worst, and those      In whom he trusted least, he drove between,      That such through mere necessity might act.      First to his charioteers he gave in charge      Their duty; bade them rein their horses hard,      Shunning confusion. Let no warrior, vain      And overweening of his strength or skill,      Start from his rank to dare the fight alone,      Or fall behind it, weakening whom he leaves.      [13]And if, dismounted from his own, he climb      Another's chariot, let him not affect      Perverse the reins, but let him stand, his spear      Advancing firm, far better so employ'd.      Such was the discipline, in ancient times,      Of our forefathers; by these rules they fought      Successful, and laid many a city low.      So counsell'd them the venerable Chief      Long time expert in arms; him also saw      King Agamemnon with delight, and said,      Old Chief! ah how I wish, that thy firm heart      Were but supported by as firm a knee!      But time unhinges all. Oh that some youth      Had thine old age, and thou wast young again!      To whom the valiant Nestor thus replied.      Atrides, I could also ardent wish      That I were now robust as when I struck      Brave Ereuthalion[14] breathless to the ground!      But never all their gifts the Gods confer      On man at once; if then I had the force      Of youth, I suffer now the effects of age.      Yet ancient as I am, I will be seen      Still mingling with the charioteers, still prompt      To give them counsel; for to counsel youth      Is the old warrior's province. Let the green      In years, my juniors, unimpaired by time,      Push with the lance, for they have strength to boast.      So he, whom Agamemnon joyful heard,      And passing thence, the son of Peteos found      Menestheus, foremost in equestrian fame,      Among the brave Athenians; near to him      Ulysses held his station, and at hand      The Cephallenians stood, hardy and bold;      For rumor none of the approaching fight      Them yet had reach'd, so recent had the stir      Arisen in either host; they, therefore, watch'd      Till the example of some other band      Marching, should prompt them to begin the fight,      But Agamemnon, thus, the King of men      Them seeing, sudden and severe reproved.      Menestheus, son of Peteos prince renown'd,      And thou, deviser of all evil wiles!      Adept in artifice! why stand ye here      Appall'd? why wait ye on this distant spot      'Till others move? I might expect from you      More readiness to meet the burning war,      Whom foremost I invite of all to share      The banquet, when the Princes feast with me.      There ye are prompt; ye find it pleasant there      To eat your savory food, and quaff your wine      Delicious 'till satiety ensue;      But here you could be well content to stand      Spectators only, while ten Grecian troops      Should wage before you the wide-wasting war.      To whom Ulysses, with resentful tone      Dark-frowning, thus replied. What words are these      Which have escaped thy lips; and for what cause,      Atrides, hast thou call'd me slow to fight?      When we of Greece shall in sharp contest clash      With you steed-tamer Trojans, mark me then;      Then thou shalt see (if the concerns of war      So nearly touch thee, and thou so incline)      The father of Telemachus, engaged      Among the foremost Trojans. But thy speech      Was light as is the wind, and rashly made.      When him thus moved he saw, the monarch smiled      Complacent, and in gentler terms replied.      Lartes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!      Short reprimand and exhortation short      Suffice for thee, nor did I purpose more.      For I have known thee long, that thou art one      Of kindest nature, and so much my friend      That we have both one heart. Go therefore thou,      Lead on, and if a word have fallen amiss,      We will hereafter mend it, and may heaven      Obliterate in thine heart its whole effect!      He ceased, and ranging still along the line,      The son of Tydeus, Diomede, perceived,      Heroic Chief, by chariots all around      Environ'd, and by steeds, at side of whom      Stood Sthenelus, the son of Capaneus.      Him also, Agamemnon, King of men,      In accents of asperity reproved.      Ah, son of Tydeus, Chief of dauntless heart      And of equestrian fame! why standest thou      Appall'd, and peering through the walks of war?      So did not Tydeus. In the foremost fight      His favorite station was, as they affirm      Who witness'd his exploits; I never saw      Or met him, but by popular report      He was the bravest warrior of his day.      Yet came he once, but not in hostile sort,      To fair Mycen, by the godlike prince      Attended, Polynices, at what time      The host was called together, and the siege      Was purposed of the sacred city Thebes.      Earnest they sued for an auxiliar band,      Which we had gladly granted, but that Jove      By unpropitious tokens interfered.      So forth they went, and on the reedy banks      Arriving of Asopus, there thy sire      By designation of the Greeks was sent      Ambassador, and enter'd Thebes. He found      In Eteocles' palace numerous guests,      The sons of Cadmus feasting, among whom,      Although a solitary stranger, stood      Thy father without fear, and challenged forth      Their best to cope with him in manly games.      Them Tydeus vanquish'd easily, such aid      Pallas vouchsafed him. Then the spur-arm'd race      Of Cadmus was incensed, and fifty youths      In ambush close expected his return.      Them, Lycophontes obstinate in fight,      Son of Autophonus, and Mon, son      Of Hmon, Chief of godlike stature, led.      Those also Tydeus slew; Mon except,      (Whom, warned from heaven, he spared, and sent him home      With tidings of the rest) he slew them all.      Such was tolian Tydeus; who begat      A son in speech his better, not in arms.      He ended, and his sovereign's awful voice      Tydides reverencing, nought replied;      But thus the son of glorious Capaneus.      Atrides, conscious of the truth, speak truth.      We with our sires compared, superior praise      Claim justly.[15] We, confiding in the aid      Of Jove, and in propitious signs from heaven,      Led to the city consecrate to Mars      Our little host, inferior far to theirs,      And took seven-gated Thebes, under whose walls      Our fathers by their own imprudence fell.      Their glory, then, match never more with ours.      He spake, whom with a frowning brow the brave      Tydides answer'd. Sthenelus, my friend!      I give thee counsel. Mark it. Hold thy peace.      If Agamemnon, who hath charge of all,      Excite his well-appointed host to war,      He hath no blame from me. For should the Greeks      (Her people vanquished) win imperial Troy,      The glory shall be his; or, if his host      O'erpower'd in battle perish, his the shame.      Come, therefore; be it ours to rouse at once      To action all the fury of our might.      He said, and from his chariot to the plain      Leap'd ardent; rang the armor on the breast      Of the advancing Chief; the boldest heart      Had felt emotion, startled at the sound.      As when the waves by Zephyrus up-heaved      Crowd fast toward some sounding shore, at first,      On the broad bosom of the deep their heads      They curl on high, then breaking on the land      Thunder, and o'er the rocks that breast the flood      Borne turgid, scatter far the showery spray;      So moved the Greeks successive, rank by rank,      And phalanx after phalanx, every Chief      His loud command proclaiming, while the rest,      As voice in all those thousands none had been      Heard mute; and, in resplendent armor clad,      With martial order terrible advanced.      Not so the Trojans came. As sheep, the flock      Of some rich man, by thousands in his court      Penn'd close at milking time, incessant bleat,      Loud answering all their bleating lambs without,      Such din from Ilium's wide-spread host arose.      Nor was their shout, nor was their accent one,      But mingled languages were heard of men      From various climes. These Mars to battle roused,      Those Pallas azure-eyed; nor Terror thence      Nor Flight was absent, nor insatiate Strife,      Sister and mate of homicidal Mars,      Who small at first, but swift to grow, from earth      Her towering crest lifts gradual to the skies.      She, foe alike to both, the brands dispersed      Of burning hate between them, and the woes      Enhanced of battle wheresoe'er she pass'd.      And now the battle join'd. Shield clash'd with shield[16]      And spear with spear, conflicting corselets rang,      Boss'd bucklers met, and tumult wild arose.      Then, many a yell was heard, and many a shout      Loud intermix'd, the slayer o'er the maim'd      Exulting, and the field was drench'd with blood.      As when two winter torrents rolling down      The mountains, shoot their floods through gulleys huge      Into one gulf below, station'd remote      The shepherd in the uplands hears the roar;      Such was the thunder of the mingling hosts.      And first, Antilochus a Trojan Chief      Slew Echepolus, from Thalysias sprung,      Contending valiant in the van of Troy.      Him smiting on his crested casque, he drove      The brazen lance into his front, and pierced      The bones within; night overspread his eyes,      And in fierce battle, like a tower, he fell.      Him fallen by both feet Calchodon's son      Seized, royal Elephenor, leader brave      Of the Abantes, and in haste to strip      His armor, drew him from the fight aside.      But short was that attempt. Him so employ'd      Dauntless Agenor mark'd, and as he stoop'd,      In his unshielded flank a pointed spear      Implanted deep; he languid sunk and died.      So Elephenor fell, for whom arose      Sharp conflict; Greeks and Trojans mutual flew      Like wolves to battle, and man grappled man.      Then Telamonian Ajax, in his prime      Of youthful vigor Simisius slew,[17]      Son of Anthemion. Him on Simos' banks      His mother bore, when with her parents once      She came from Ida down to view the flocks,      And thence they named him; but his parents'      He lived not to requite, in early youth      Slain by the spear of Ajax famed in arms.      For him advancing Ajax at the pap      Wounded; right through his shoulder driven the point      Stood forth behind; he fell, and press'd the dust.      So in some spacious marsh the poplar falls      Smooth-skinn'd, with boughs unladen save aloft;      Some chariot-builder with his axe the trunk      Severs, that he may warp it to a wheel      Of shapely form; meantime exposed it lies      To parching airs beside the running stream;      Such Simisius seemed, Anthemion's son,      Whom noble Ajax slew. But soon at him      Antiphus, son of Priam, bright in arms,      Hurl'd through the multitude his pointed spear.      He erred from Ajax, but he pierced the groin      Of Leucus, valiant warrior of the band      Led by Ulysses. He the body dragg'd      Apart, but fell beside it, and let fall,      Breathless himself, the burthen from his hand.      Then burn'd Ulysses' wrath for Leucus slain,      And through the foremost combatants, array'd      In dazzling arms, he rush'd. Full near he stood,      And, looking keen around him, hurl'd a lance.      Back fell the Trojans from before the face      Dispersed of great Ulysses. Not in vain      His weapon flew, but on the field outstretch'd      A spurious son of Priam, from the shores      Call'd of Abydus famed for fleetest mares,      Democoon; him, for Leucus' sake enraged,      Ulysses through both temples with his spear      Transpierced. The night of death hung on his eyes,      And sounding on his batter'd arms he fell.      Then Hector and the van of Troy retired;      Loud shout the Grecians; these draw off the dead,      Those onward march amain, and from the heights      Of Pergamus Apollo looking down      In anger, to the Trojans called aloud.      Turn, turn, ye Trojans! face your Grecian foes.      They, like yourselves, are vulnerable flesh,      Not adamant or steel. Your direst dread      Achilles, son of Thetis radiant-hair'd,      Fights not, but sullen in his fleet abides.[18]      Such from the citadel was heard the voice      Of dread Apollo. But Minerva ranged      Meantime, Tritonian progeny of Jove,      The Grecians, rousing whom she saw remiss.      Then Amarynceus' son, Diores, felt      The force of fate, bruised by a rugged rock      At his right heel, which Pirus, Thracian Chief,      The son of Imbrasus of nos, threw.      Bones and both tendons in its fall the mass      Enormous crush'd. He, stretch'd in dust supine,      With palms outspread toward his warrior friends      Lay gasping life away. But he who gave      The fatal blow, Pirus, advancing, urged      Into his navel a keen lance, and shed      His bowels forth; then, darkness veil'd his eyes.      Nor Pirus long survived; him through the breast      Above the pap, tolian Thoas pierced,      And in his lungs set fast the quivering spear.      Then Thoas swift approach'd, pluck'd from the wound      His stormy spear, and with his falchion bright      Gashing his middle belly, stretch'd him dead.      Yet stripp'd he not the slain, whom with long spears      His Thracians hairy-scalp'd[19] so round about      Encompassed, that though bold and large of limb      Were Thoas, from before them him they thrust      Staggering and reeling in his forced retreat.      They therefore in the dust, the Epean Chief      Diores, and the Thracian, Pirus lay      Stretch'd side by side, with numerous slain around.      Then had Minerva led through all that field      Some warrior yet unhurt, him sheltering safe      From all annoyance dread of dart or spear,      No cause of blame in either had he found      That day, so many Greeks and Trojans press'd,      Extended side by side, the dusty plain.