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

Argument Of The Eighth Book.     Jove calls a council, in which he forbids all interference of the Gods between the Greeks and Trojans. He repairs to Ida, where, having consulted the scales of destiny, he directs his lightning against the Grecians. Nestor is endangered by the death of one of his horses. Diomede delivers him. In the chariot of Diomede they both hasten to engage Hector, whose charioteer is slain by Diomede. Jupiter again interposes by his thunders, and the whole Grecian host, discomfited, is obliged to seek refuge within the rampart. Diomede, with others, at sight of a favorable omen sent from Jove in answer to Agamemnon's prayer, sallies. Teucer performs great exploits, but is disabled by Hector. Juno and Pallas set forth from Olympus in aid of the Grecians, but are stopped by Jupiter, who reascends from Ida, and in heaven foretells the distresses which await the Grecians.     Hector takes measures for the security of Troy during the night, and prepares his host for an assault to be made on the Grecian camp in the morning.      The saffron-mantled morning[1] now was spread      O'er all the nations, when the Thunderer Jove      On the deep-fork'd Olympian topmost height      Convened the Gods in council, amid whom      He spake himself; they all attentive heard.      Gods! Goddesses! Inhabitants of heaven!      Attend; I make my secret purpose known.      Let neither God nor Goddess interpose      My counsel to rescind, but with one heart      Approve it, that it reach, at once, its end.      Whom I shall mark soever from the rest      Withdrawn, that he may Greeks or Trojans aid,      Disgrace shall find him; shamefully chastised      He shall return to the Olympian heights,      Or I will hurl him deep into the gulfs      Of gloomy Tartarus, where Hell shuts fast      Her iron gates, and spreads her brazen floor,      As far below the shades, as earth from heaven.      There shall he learn how far I pass in might      All others; which if ye incline to doubt,      Now prove me. Let ye down the golden chain[2]      From heaven, and at its nether links pull all,      Both Goddesses and Gods. But me your King,      Supreme in wisdom, ye shall never draw      To earth from heaven, toil adverse as ye may.      Yet I, when once I shall be pleased to pull,      The earth itself, itself the sea, and you      Will lift with ease together, and will wind      The chain around the spiry summit sharp      Of the Olympian, that all things upheaved      Shall hang in the mid heaven. So far do I,      Compared with all who live, transcend them all.      He ended, and the Gods long time amazed      Sat silent, for with awful tone he spake:      But at the last Pallas blue-eyed began.      Father! Saturnian Jove! of Kings supreme!      We know thy force resistless; but our hearts      Feel not the less, when we behold the Greeks      Exhausting all the sorrows of their lot.      If thou command, we, doubtless, will abstain      From battle, yet such counsel to the Greeks      Suggesting still, as may in part effect      Their safety, lest thy wrath consume them all.      To whom with smiles answer'd cloud-gatherer Jove.      Fear not, my child! stern as mine accent was,      I forced a frown--no more. For in mine heart      Nought feel I but benevolence to thee.      He said, and to his chariot join'd his steeds      Swift, brazen-hoof'd, and mailed with wavy gold;      He put on golden raiment, his bright scourge      Of gold receiving rose into his seat,      And lash'd his steeds; they not unwilling flew      Midway the earth between and starry heaven.      To spring-fed Ida, mother of wild beasts,      He came, where stands in Gargarus[3] his shrine      Breathing fresh incense! there the Sire of all      Arriving, loosed his coursers, and around      Involving them in gather'd clouds opaque,      Sat on the mountain's head, in his own might      Exulting, with the towers of Ilium all      Beneath his eye, and the whole fleet of Greece.      In all their tents, meantime, Achaia's sons      Took short refreshment, and for fight prepared.      On the other side, though fewer, yet constrain'd      By strong necessity, throughout all Troy,      In the defence of children and wives      Ardent, the Trojans panted for the field.      Wide flew the city gates: forth rush'd to war      Horsemen and foot, and tumult wild arose.      They met, they clash'd; loud was the din of spears      And bucklers on their bosoms brazen-mail'd      Encountering, shields in opposition from      Met bossy shields, and tumult wild arose.[4]      There many a shout and many a dying groan      Were heard, the slayer and the maim'd aloud      Clamoring, and the earth was drench'd with blood.      'Till sacred morn[5] had brighten'd into noon,      The vollied weapons on both sides their task      Perform'd effectual, and the people fell.      But when the sun had climb'd the middle skies,      The Sire of all then took his golden scales;[6]      Doom against doom he weigh'd, the eternal fates      In counterpoise, of Trojans and of Greeks.      He rais'd the beam; low sank the heavier lot      Of the Achaians; the Achaian doom      Subsided, and the Trojan struck the skies.      Then roar'd the thunders from the summit hurl'd      of Ida, and his vivid lightnings flew      Into Achaia's host. They at the sight      Astonish'd stood; fear whiten'd every cheek.[7]      Idomeneus dared not himself abide      That shock, nor Agamemnon stood, nor stood      The heroes Ajax, ministers of Mars.      Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,      Alone fled not, nor he by choice remain'd,      But by his steed retarded, which the mate      Of beauteous Helen, Paris, with a shaft      Had stricken where the forelock grows, a part      Of all most mortal. Tortured by the wound      Erect he rose, the arrow in his brain,      And writhing furious, scared his fellow-steeds.      Meantime, while, strenuous, with his falchion's edge      The hoary warrior stood slashing the reins,      Through multitudes of fierce pursuers borne      On rapid wheels, the dauntless charioteer      Approach'd him, Hector. Then, past hope, had died      The ancient King, but Diomede discern'd      His peril imminent, and with a voice      Like thunder, called Ulysses to his aid.      Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!      Art thou too fugitive, and turn'st thy back      Like the base multitude? Ah! fear a lance      Implanted ignominious in thy spine.      Stop--Nestor dies. Fell Hector is at hand.      So shouted Diomede, whose summons loud,      Ulysses yet heard not, but, passing, flew      With headlong haste to the Achaian fleet.      Then, Diomede, unaided as he was,      Rush'd ardent to the vanward, and before      The steeds of the Neleian sovereign old      Standing, in accents wing'd, him thus address'd.      Old Chief! these youthful warriors are too brisk      For thee, press'd also by encroaching age,      Thy servant too is feeble, and thy steeds      Are tardy. Mount my chariot. Thou shalt see      With what rapidity the steeds of Troy,      Pursuing or retreating, scour the field.      I took them from that terror of his foes,      neas. Thine to our attendants leave,      While these against the warlike powers of Troy      We push direct; that Hector's self may know      If my spear rage not furious as his own.      He said, nor the Gerenian Chief refused.      Thenceforth their servants, Sthenelus and good      Eurymedon, took charge of Nestor's steeds,      And they the chariot of Tydides both      Ascended; Nestor seized the reins, plied well      The scourge, and soon they met. Tydides hurl'd      At Hector first, while rapid he advanced;      But missing Hector, wounded in the breast      Eniopeus his charioteer, the son      Of brave Thebus, managing the steeds.      He fell; his fiery coursers at the sound      Startled, recoil'd, and where he fell he died.      Deep sorrow for his charioteer o'erwhelm'd      The mind of Hector; yet, although he mourn'd      He left him, and another sought as brave.      Nor wanted long his steeds a charioteer,      For finding soon the son of Iphitus,      Bold Archeptolemus, he bade him mount      His chariot, and the reins gave to his hand.      Then deeds of bloodiest note should have ensued,      Penn'd had the Trojans been, as lambs, in Troy,      But for quick succor of the sire of all.      Thundering, he downward hurled his candent bolt      To the horse-feet of Diomede; dire fumed      The flaming sulphur, and both horses drove      Under the axle, belly to the ground.      Forth flew the splendid reins from Nestor's hand,      And thus to Diomede, appall'd, he spake.      Back to the fleet, Tydides! Can'st not see      That Jove ordains not, now, the victory thine?      The son of Saturn glorifies to-day      This Trojan, and, if such his will, can make      The morrow ours; but vain it is to thwart      The mind of Jove, for he is Lord of all.      To him the valiant Diomede replied.      Thou hast well said, old warrior! but the pang      That wrings my soul, is this. The public ear      In Ilium shall from Hector's lips be told--      I drove Tydides--fearing me he fled.      So shall he vaunt, and may the earth her jaws      That moment opening swallow me alive!      Him answer'd the Gerenian warrior old.      What saith the son of Tydeus, glorious Chief?      Should Hector so traduce thee as to call      Thee base and timid, neither Trojan him      Nor Dardan would believe, nor yet the wives      Of numerous shielded warriors brave of Troy,      Widow'd by thy unconquerable arm.      So saying, he through the fugitives his steeds      Turn'd swift to flight. Then Hector and his host      With clamor infinite their darts wo-wing'd      Shower'd after them, and Hector, mighty Chief      Majestic, from afar, thus call'd aloud.      Tydides! thee the Dana swift-horsed      Were wont to grace with a superior seat,      The mess of honor, and the brimming cup,      But now will mock thee. Thou art woman now.      Go, timorous girl! Thou never shalt behold      Me flying, climb our battlements, or lead      Our women captive. I will slay thee first.      He ceased. Then Diomede in dread suspense      Thrice purposed, turning, to withstand the foe,      And thrice in thunder from the mountain-top      Jove gave the signal of success to Troy.      When Hector thus the Trojans hail'd aloud.      Trojans and Lycians, and close-warring sons      Of Dardanus, oh summon all your might,      Now, now be men! I know that from his heart      Saturnian Jove glory and bright success      For me prepares, but havoc for the Greeks.      Fools! they shall find this wall which they have raised      Too weak to check my course, a feeble guard      Contemptible; such also is the trench;      My steeds shall slight it with an easy leap.      But when ye see me in their fleet arrived,      Remember fire. Then bring me flaming brands      That I may burn their galleys and themselves      Slaughter beside them, struggling in the smoke.[8]      He spake, and thus encouraged next his steeds.      Xanthus! Podargus! and ye generous pair      thon and glossy Lampus! now requite      Mine, and the bounty of Andromache,      Far-famed Etion's daughter; she your bowl      With corn fresh-flavor'd and with wine full oft      Hath mingled, your refreshment seeking first      Ere mine, who have a youthful husband's claim.[9]      Now follow! now be swift; that we may seize      The shield of Nestor, bruited to the skies      As golden all, trappings and disk alike.      Now from the shoulders of the equestrian Chief      Tydides tear we off his splendid mail,      The work of Vulcan.[10] May we take but these,      I have good hope that, ere this night be spent,      The Greeks shall climb their galleys and away.      So vaunted he, but Juno with disdain      His proud boast heard, and shuddering in her throne,      Rock'd the Olympian; turning then toward      The Ocean's mighty sovereign, thus she spake.      Alas! earth-shaking sovereign of the waves,      Feel'st thou no pity of the perishing Greeks?      Yet Greece, in Helice, with gifts nor few      Nor sordid, and in g, honors thee,      Whom therefore thou shouldst prosper. Would we all      Who favor Greece associate to repulse      The Trojans, and to check loud-thundering Jove,      On Ida seated he might lour alone.      To whom the Sovereign, Shaker of the Shores,      Indignant. Juno! rash in speech! what word      Hath 'scaped thy lips? never, with my consent,      Shall we, the powers subordinate, in arms      With Jove contend. He far excels us all.      So they. Meantime, the trench and wall between,[11]      The narrow interval with steeds was fill'd      Close throng'd and shielded warriors. There immew'd      By Priameian Hector, fierce as Mars,      They stood, for Hector had the help of Jove.      And now with blazing fire their gallant barks      He had consumed, but Juno moved the mind      Of Agamemnon, vigilant himself,      To exhortation of Achaia's host.      Through camp and fleet the monarch took his way,      And, his wide robe imperial in his hand,      High on Ulysses' huge black galley stood,      The central ship conspicuous; thence his voice      Might reach the most remote of all the line      At each extreme, where Ajax had his tent      Pitch'd, and Achilles, fearless of surprise.      Thence, with loud voice, the Grecians thus he hail'd.      Oh shame to Greece! Warriors in show alone!      Where is your boasted prowess? Ye profess'd      Vain-glorious erst in Lemnos, while ye fed      Plenteously on the flesh of beeves full-grown,      And crown'd your beakers high, that ye would face      Each man a hundred Trojans in the field--      Ay, twice a hundred--yet are all too few      To face one Hector now; nor doubt I aught      But he shall soon fire the whole fleet of Greece.      Jove! Father! what great sovereign ever felt      Thy frowns as I? Whom hast thou shamed as me?      Yet I neglected not, through all the course      Of our disasterous voyage (in the hope      That we should vanquish Troy) thy sacred rites,      But where I found thine altar, piled it high      With fat and flesh of bulls, on every shore.      But oh, vouchsafe to us, that we at least      Ourselves, deliver'd, may escape the sword,      Nor let their foes thus tread the Grecians down!      He said. The eternal father pitying saw      His tears, and for the monarch's sake preserved      The people. Instant, surest of all signs,      He sent his eagle; in his pounces strong      A fawn he bore, fruit of the nimble hind,      Which fast beside the beauteous altar raised      To Panomphan[12] Jove sudden he dropp'd.[13]      They, conscious, soon, that sent from Jove he came,      More ardent sprang to fight. Then none of all      Those numerous Chiefs could boast that he outstripp'd      Tydides, urging forth beyond the foss      His rapid steeds, and rushing to the war.      He, foremost far, a Trojan slew, the son      Of Phradmon, Agelus; as he turn'd      His steeds to flight, him turning with his spear      Through back and bosom Diomede transpierced.      And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.      Then, royal Agamemnon pass'd the trench      And Menelaus; either Ajax, then,      Clad with fresh prowess both; them follow'd, next,      Idomeneus, with his heroic friend      In battle dread as homicidal Mars,      Meriones; Evmon's son renown'd      Succeeded, bold Eurypylus; and ninth      Teucer, wide-straining his impatient bow.      He under covert fought of the broad shield      Of Telamonian Ajax; Ajax high      Upraised his shield; the hero from beneath      Took aim, and whom his arrow struck, he fell;      Then close as to his mother's side a child      For safety creeps, Teucer to Ajax' side      Retired, and Ajax shielded him again.      Whom then slew Teucer first, illustrious Chief?      Orsilochus, and Ophelestes, first,      And Ormenus he slew, then Dtor died,      Chromius and Lycophontes brave in fight      With Amopaon Polymon's son,      And Melanippus. These, together heap'd,      All fell by Teucer on the plain of Troy.      The Trojan ranks thinn'd by his mighty bow      The King of armies Agamemnon saw      Well-pleased, and him approaching, thus began.      Brave Telamonian Teucer, oh, my friend,      Thus shoot, that light may visit once again      The Dana, and Telamon rejoice!      Thee Telamon within his own abode      Rear'd although spurious; mount him, in return,      Although remote, on glory's heights again.      I tell thee, and the effect shall follow sure,      Let but the Thunderer and Minerva grant      The pillage of fair Ilium to the Greeks,      And I will give to thy victorious hand,      After my own, the noblest recompense,      A tripod or a chariot with its steeds,      Or some fair captive to partake thy bed.      To whom the generous Teucer thus replied.      Atrides! glorious monarch! wherefore me      Exhortest thou to battle? who myself      Glow with sufficient ardor, and such strength      As heaven affords me spare not to employ.      Since first we drove them back, with watchful eye      Their warriors I have mark'd; eight shafts my bow      Hath sent long-barb'd, and every shaft, well-aim'd.      The body of some Trojan youth robust      Hath pierced, but still you ravening wolf escapes.      He said, and from the nerve another shaft      Impatient sent at Hector; but it flew      Devious, and brave Gorgythion struck instead.      Him beautiful Castianira, brought      By Priam from syma, nymph of form      Celestial, to the King of Ilium bore.      As in the garden, with the weight surcharged      Of its own fruit, and drench'd by vernal rains      The poppy falls oblique, so he his head      Hung languid, by his helmet's weight depress'd.[14]      Then Teucer yet an arrow from the nerve      Dispatch'd at Hector, with impatience fired      To pierce him; but again his weapon err'd      Turn'd by Apollo, and the bosom struck      Of Archeptolemus, his rapid steeds      To battle urging, Hector's charioteer.      He fell, his fiery coursers at the sound      Recoil'd, and lifeless where he fell he lay.      Deep sorrow for his charioteer the mind      O'erwhelm'd of Hector, yet he left the slain,      And seeing his own brother nigh at hand,      Cebriones, him summon'd to the reins,      Who with alacrity that charge received.      Then Hector, leaping with a dreadful shout      From his resplendent chariot, grasp'd a stone,      And rush'd on Teucer, vengeance in his heart.      Teucer had newly fitted to the nerve      An arrow keen selected from the rest,      And warlike Hector, while he stood the cord      Retracting, smote him with that rugged rock      Just where the key-bone interposed divides      The neck and bosom, a most mortal part.      It snapp'd the bow-string, and with numbing force      Struck dead his hand; low on his knees he dropp'd,      And from his opening grasp let fall the bow.      Then not unmindful of a brother fallen      Was Ajax, but, advancing rapid, stalk'd      Around him, and his broad shield interposed,      Till brave Alaster and Mecisteus, son      Of Echius, friends of Teucer, from the earth      Upraised and bore him groaning to the fleet.      And now again fresh force Olympian Jove      Gave to the Trojans; right toward the foss      They drove the Greeks, while Hector in the van      Advanced, death menacing in every look.      As some fleet hound close-threatening flank or haunch      Of boar or lion, oft as he his head      Turns flying, marks him with a steadfast eye,      So Hector chased the Grecians, slaying still      The hindmost of the scatter'd multitude.      But when, at length, both piles and hollow foss      They had surmounted, and no few had fallen      By Trojan hands, within their fleet they stood      Imprison'd, calling each to each, and prayer      With lifted hands, loud offering to the Gods.      With Gorgon looks, meantime, and eyes of Mars,      Hector impetuous his mane-tossing steeds      From side to side before the rampart drove,      When white-arm'd Juno pitying the Greeks,      In accents wing'd her speech to Pallas turn'd.      Alas, Jove's daughter! shall not we at least      In this extremity of their distress      Care for the Grecians by the fatal force      Of this one Chief destroy'd? I can endure      The rage of Priamean Hector now      No longer; such dire mischiefs he hath wrought.      Whom answer'd thus Pallas, crulean-eyed.      --And Hector had himself long since his life      Resign'd and rage together, by the Greeks      Slain under Ilium's walls, but Jove, my sire,      Mad counsels executing and perverse,      Me counterworks in all that I attempt,      Nor aught remembers how I saved ofttimes      His son enjoin'd full many a task severe      By King Eurystheus; to the Gods he wept,      And me Jove sent in haste to his relief.      But had I then foreseen what now I know,      When through the adamantine gates he pass'd      To bind the dog of hell, by the deep floods      Hemm'd in of Styx, he had return'd no more.      But Thetis wins him now; her will prevails,      And mine he hates; for she hath kiss'd his knees      And grasp'd his beard, and him in prayer implored      That he would honor her heroic son      Achilles, city-waster prince renown'd.      'Tis well--the day shall come when Jove again      Shall call me darling, and his blue-eyed maid      As heretofore;--but thou thy steeds prepare,      While I, my father's mansion entering, arm      For battle. I would learn by trial sure,      If Hector, Priam's offspring famed in fight      (Ourselves appearing in the walks of war)      Will greet us gladly. Doubtless at the fleet      Some Trojan also, shall to dogs resign      His flesh for food, and to the fowls of heaven.      So counsell'd Pallas, nor the daughter dread      Of mighty Saturn, Juno, disapproved,      But busily and with dispatch prepared      The trappings of her coursers golden-rein'd.      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 corslet of the cloud-assembler God,      Then arm'd her for the field of wo, complete.      Mounting the fiery chariot, next she seized      Her ponderous spear, huge, irresistible,      With which Jove's awful daughter levels ranks      Of heroes against whom her anger burns.      Juno with lifted lash urged on the steeds.      At their approach, spontaneous roar'd the wide-      Unfolding gates of heaven; 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:      Which when the Eternal Father from the heights      Of Ida saw, kindling with instant ire      To golden-pinion'd Iris thus he spake.      Haste, Iris, turn them thither whence they came;      Me let them not encounter; honor small      To them, to me, should from that strife accrue.      Tell them, and the effect shall sure ensue,      That I will smite their steeds, and they shall halt      Disabled; break their chariot, dash themselves      Headlong, and ten whole years shall not efface      The wounds by my avenging bolts impress'd.      So shall my blue-eyed daughter learn to dread      A father's anger; but for the offence      Of Juno, I resent it less; for she      Clashes[15] with all my counsels from of old.      He ended; Iris with a tempest's speed      From the Idan summit soar'd at once      To the Olympian; at the open gates      Exterior of the mountain many-valed      She stayed them, and her coming thus declared.      Whither, and for what cause? What rage is this?      Ye may not aid the Grecians; Jove forbids;      The son of Saturn threatens, if ye force      His wrath by perseverance into act,      That he will smite your steeds, and they shall halt      Disabled; break your chariot, dash yourselves      Headlong, and ten whole years shall not efface      The wounds by his avenging bolts impress'd.      So shall his blue-eyed daughter learn to dread      A father's anger; but for the offence      Of Juno, he resents it less; for she      Clashes with all his counsels from of old.      But thou, Minerva, if thou dare indeed      Lift thy vast spear against the breast of Jove,      Incorrigible art and dead to shame.      So saying, the rapid Iris disappear'd,      And thus her speech to Pallas Juno turn'd.      Ah Pallas, progeny of Jove! henceforth      No longer, in the cause of mortal men,      Contend we against Jove. Perish or live      Grecians or Trojans as he wills; let him      Dispose the order of his own concerns,      And judge between them, as of right he may.      So saying, she turn'd the coursers; them the Hours      Released, and to ambrosial mangers bound,      Then thrust their chariot to the luminous wall.      They, mingling with the Gods, on golden thrones      Dejected sat, and Jove from Ida borne      Reach'd the Olympian heights, seat of the Gods.      His steeds the glorious King of Ocean loosed,      And thrust the chariot, with its veil o'erspread.      Into its station at the altar's side.      Then sat the Thunderer on his throne of gold      Himself, and the huge mountain shook. Meantime      Juno and Pallas, seated both apart,      Spake not or question'd him. Their mute reserve      He noticed, conscious of the cause, and said.      Juno and Pallas, wherefore sit ye sad?      Not through fatigue by glorious fight incurr'd      And slaughter of the Trojans whom ye hate.      Mark now the difference. Not the Gods combined      Should have constrain'd me back, till all my force,      Superior as it is, had fail'd, and all      My fortitude. But ye, ere ye beheld      The wonders of the field, trembling retired.      And ye did well--Hear what had else befallen.      My bolts had found you both, and ye had reach'd,      In your own chariot borne, the Olympian height,      Seat of the blest Immortals, never more.      He ended; Juno and Minerva heard      Low murmuring deep disgust, and side by side      Devising sat calamity to Troy.      Minerva, through displeasure against Jove,      Nought utter'd, for her bosom boil'd with rage;      But Juno check'd not hers, who thus replied.      What word hath pass'd thy lips, Jove most severe?      We know thy force resistless; yet our hearts      Feel not the less when we behold the Greeks      Exhausting all the sorrows of their lot.      If thou command, we doubtless will abstain      From battle, yet such counsel to the Greeks      Suggesting still, as may in part effect      Their safety, lest thy wrath consume them all.      Then answer, thus, cloud-gatherer Jove return'd.      Look forth, imperial Juno, if thou wilt,      To-morrow at the blush of earliest dawn,      And thou shalt see Saturn's almighty son      The Argive host destroying far and wide.      For Hector's fury shall admit no pause      Till he have roused Achilles, in that day      When at the ships, in perilous straits, the hosts      Shall wage fierce battle for Patroclus slain.      Such is the voice of fate. But, as for thee--      Withdraw thou to the confines of the abyss      Where Saturn and Ipetus retired,      Exclusion sad endure from balmy airs      And from the light of morn, hell-girt around,      I will not call thee thence. No. Should thy rage      Transport thee thither, there thou may'st abide,      There sullen nurse thy disregarded spleen      Obstinate as thou art, and void of shame.      He ended; to whom Juno nought replied.      And now the radiant Sun in Ocean sank,      Drawing night after him o'er all the earth;      Night, undesired by Troy, but to the Greeks      Thrice welcome for its interposing gloom.      Then Hector on the river's brink fast by      The Grecian fleet, where space he found unstrew'd      With carcases convened the Chiefs of Troy.      They, there dismounting, listen'd to the words      Of Hector Jove-beloved; he grasp'd a spear      In length eleven cubits, bright its head      Of brass, and color'd with a ring of gold.      He lean'd on it, and ardent thus began.      Trojans, Dardanians, and allies of Troy!      I hoped, this evening (every ship consumed,      And all the Grecians slain) to have return'd      To wind-swept Ilium. But the shades of night      Have intervened, and to the night they owe,      In chief, their whole fleet's safety and their own.      Now, therefore, as the night enjoins, all take      Needful refreshment. Your high-mettled steeds      Release, lay food before them, and in haste      Drive hither from the city fatted sheep      And oxen; bring ye from your houses bread,      Make speedy purchase of heart-cheering wine,      And gather fuel plenteous; that all night,      E'en till Aurora, daughter of the morn      Shall look abroad, we may with many fires      Illume the skies; lest even in the night,      Launching, they mount the billows and escape.      Beware that they depart not unannoy'd,      But, as he leaps on board, give each a wound      With shaft or spear, which he shall nurse at home.      So shall the nations fear us, and shall vex      With ruthless war Troy's gallant sons no more.      Next, let the heralds, ministers of Jove,      Loud notice issue that the boys well-grown,      And ancients silver-hair'd on the high towers      Built by the Gods, keep watch; on every hearth      In Troy, let those of the inferior sex      Make sprightly blaze, and place ye there a guard      Sufficient, lest in absence of the troops      An ambush enter, and surprise the town.      Act thus, ye dauntless Trojans; the advice      Is wholesome, and shall serve the present need,      And so much for the night; ye shall be told      The business of the morn when morn appears.      It is my prayer to Jove and to all heaven      (Not without hope) that I may hence expel      These dogs, whom Ilium's unpropitious fates      Have wafted hither in their sable barks.      But we will also watch this night, ourselves,      And, arming with the dawn, will at their ships      Give them brisk onset. Then shall it appear      If Diomede the brave shall me compel      Back to our walls, or I, his arms blood-stain'd,      Torn from his breathless body, bear away.      To-morrow, if he dare but to abide      My lance, he shall not want occasion meet      For show of valor. But much more I judge      That the next rising sun shall see him slain      With no few friends around him. Would to heaven!      I were as sure to 'scape the blight of age      And share their honors with the Gods above,      As comes the morrow fraught with wo to Greece.      So Hector, whom his host with loud acclaim      All praised. Then each his sweating steeds released,      And rein'd them safely at his chariot-side.      And now from Troy provision large they brought,      Oxen, and sheep, with store of wine and bread,      And fuel much was gather'd. [16]Next the Gods      With sacrifice they sought, and from the plain      Upwafted by the winds the smoke aspired      Savoury, but unacceptable to those      Above; such hatred in their hearts they bore      To Priam, to the people of the brave      Spear-practised Priam, and to sacred Troy.      Big with great purposes and proud, they sat,      Not disarray'd, but in fair form disposed      Of even ranks, and watch'd their numerous fires,      As when around the clear bright moon, the stars      Shine in full splendor, and the winds are hush'd,      The groves, the mountain-tops, the headland-heights      Stand all apparent, not a vapor streaks      The boundless blue, but ether open'd wide      All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheer'd;[17]      So numerous seem'd those fires the bank between      Of Xanthus, blazing, and the fleet of Greece,      In prospect all of Troy; a thousand fires,      Each watch'd by fifty warriors seated near.      The steeds beside the chariots stood, their corn      Chewing, and waiting till the golden-throned      Aurora should restore the light of day.