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

Argument Of The Eleventh Book.     Agamemnon distinguishes himself. He is wounded, and retires. Diomede is wounded by Paris; Ulysses by Socus. Ajax with Menelaus flies to the relief of Ulysses, and Eurypylus, soon after, to the relief of Ajax. While he is employed in assisting Ajax, he is shot in the thigh by Paris, who also wounds Machaon. Nestor conveys Machaon from the field. Achilles dispatches Patroclus to the tent of Nestor, and Nestor takes that occasion to exhort Patroclus to engage in battle, clothed in the armor of Achilles.      Aurora from Tithonus' side arose      With light for heaven and earth, when Jove dispatch'd      Discord, the fiery signal in her hand      Of battle bearing, to the Grecian fleet.      High on Ulysses' huge black ship she stood      The centre of the fleet, whence all might hear,      The tent of Telamon's huge son between,      And of Achilles; for confiding they      In their heroic fortitude, their barks      Well-poised had station'd utmost of the line.      There standing, shrill she sent a cry abroad      Among the Achaians, such as thirst infused      Of battle ceaseless into every breast.      All deem'd, at once, war sweeter, than to seek      Their native country through the waves again.      Then with loud voice Atrides bade the Greeks      Gird on their armor, and himself his arms      Took radiant. First around his legs he clasp'd      His shining greaves with silver studs secured,      Then bound his corselet to his bosom, gift      Of Cynyras long since;[1] for rumor loud      Had Cyprus reached of an Achaian host      Assembling, destined to the shores of Troy:      Wherefore, to gratify the King of men,      He made the splendid ornament his own.      Ten rods of steel coerulean all around      Embraced it, twelve of gold, twenty of tin;      Six[2] spiry serpents their uplifted heads      Coerulean darted at the wearer's throat,      Splendor diffusing as the various bow      Fix'd by Saturnian Jove in showery clouds,      A sign to mortal men.[3] He slung his sword      Athwart his shoulders; dazzling bright it shone      With gold emboss'd, and silver was the sheath      Suspended graceful in a belt of gold.      His massy shield o'ershadowing him whole,      High-wrought and beautiful, he next assumed.      Ten circles bright of brass around its field      Extensive, circle within circle, ran;      The central boss was black, but hemm'd about      With twice ten bosses of resplendent tin.      There, dreadful ornament! the visage dark      Of Gorgon scowl'd, border'd by Flight and Fear.      The loop was silver, and a serpent form      Coerulean over all its surface twined,      Three heads erecting on one neck, the heads      Together wreath'd into a stately crown.      His helmet qutre-crested,[4] and with studs      Fast riveted around he to his brows      Adjusted, whence tremendous waved his crest      Of mounted hair on high. Two spears he seized      Ponderous, brass-pointed, and that flash'd to heaven.      Sounds[5] like clear thunder, by the spouse of Jove      And by Minerva raised to extol the King      Of opulent Mycen, roll'd around.      At once each bade his charioteer his steeds      Hold fast beside the margin of the trench      In orderly array; the foot all arm'd      Rush'd forward, and the clamor of the host      Rose infinite into the dawning skies.      First, at the trench, the embattled infantry[6]      Stood ranged; the chariots follow'd close behind;      Dire was the tumult by Saturnian Jove      Excited, and from ether down he shed      Blood-tinctured dews among them, for he meant      That day to send full many a warrior bold      To Pluto's dreary realm, slain premature.      Opposite, on the rising-ground, appear'd      The Trojans; them majestic Hector led,      Noble Polydamas, neas raised      To godlike honors in all Trojan hearts,      And Polybus, with whom Antenor's sons      Agenor, and young Acamas advanced.      Hector the splendid orb of his broad shield      Bore in the van, and as a comet now      Glares through the clouds portentous, and again,      Obscured by gloomy vapors, disappears,      So Hector, marshalling his host, in front      Now shone, now vanish'd in the distant rear.      All-cased he flamed in brass, and on the sight      Flash'd as the lightnings of Jove gis-arm'd.      As reapers, toiling opposite,[7] lay bare      Some rich man's furrows, while the sever'd grain,      Barley or wheat, sinks as the sickle moves,      So Greeks and Trojans springing into fight      Slew mutual; foul retreat alike they scorn'd,      Alike in fierce hostility their heads      Both bore aloft, and rush'd like wolves to war.      Discord, spectatress terrible, that sight      Beheld exulting; she, of all the Gods,      Alone was present; not a Power beside      There interfered, but each his bright abode      Quiescent occupied wherever built      Among the windings of the Olympian heights;      Yet blamed they all the storm-assembler King      Saturnian, for his purposed aid to Troy.      The eternal father reck'd not; he, apart,      Seated in solitary pomp, enjoy'd      His glory, and from on high the towers survey'd      Of Ilium and the fleet of Greece, the flash      Of gleaming arms, the slayer and the slain.      While morning lasted, and the light of day      Increased, so long the weapons on both sides      Flew in thick vollies, and the people fell.      But, what time his repast the woodman spreads      In some umbrageous vale, his sinewy arms      Wearied with hewing many a lofty tree,      And his wants satisfied, he feels at length      The pinch of appetite to pleasant food,[8]      Then was it, that encouraging aloud      Each other, in their native virtue strong,      The Grecians through the phalanx burst of Troy.      Forth sprang the monarch first; he slew the Chief      Bianor, nor himself alone, but slew      Oleus also driver of his steeds.      Oleus, with a leap alighting, rush'd      On Agamemnon; he his fierce assault      Encountering, with a spear met full his front.      Nor could his helmet's ponderous brass sustain      That force, but both his helmet and his skull      It shatter'd, and his martial rage repress'd.      The King of men, stripping their corselets, bared      Their shining breasts, and left them. Isus, next,      And Antiphus he flew to slay, the sons      Of Priam both, and in one chariot borne,      This spurious, genuine that. The bastard drove,      And Antiphus, a warrior high-renown'd,      Fought from the chariot; them Achilles erst      Feeding their flocks on Ida had surprised      And bound with osiers, but for ransom loosed.      Of these, imperial Agamemnon, first,      Above the pap pierced Isus; next, he smote      Antiphus with his sword beside the ear,      And from his chariot cast him to the ground.      Conscious of both, their glittering arms he stripp'd,      For he had seen them when from Ida's heights      Achilles led them to the Grecian fleet.      As with resistless fangs the lion breaks      The young in pieces of the nimble hind,      Entering her lair, and takes their feeble lives;      She, though at hand, can yield them no defence,      But through the thick wood, wing'd with terror, starts      Herself away, trembling at such a foe;      So them the Trojans had no power to save,      Themselves all driven before the host of Greece.      Next, on Pisandrus, and of dauntless heart      Hippolochus he rush'd; they were the sons      Of brave Antimachus, who with rich gifts      By Paris bought, inflexible withheld      From Menelaus still his lovely bride.      His sons, the monarch, in one chariot borne      Encounter'd; they (for they had lost the reins)      With trepidation and united force      Essay'd to check the steeds; astonishment      Seized both; Atrides with a lion's rage      Came on, and from the chariot thus they sued.      Oh spare us! son of Atreus, and accept      Ransom immense. Antimachus our sire      Is rich in various treasure, gold and brass,      And temper'd steel, and, hearing the report      That in Achaia's fleet his sons survive,      He will requite thee with a glorious price.      So they, with tears and gentle terms the King      Accosted, but no gentle answer heard.      Are ye indeed the offspring of the Chief      Antimachus, who when my brother once      With godlike Laertiades your town      Enter'd ambassador, his death advised      In council, and to let him forth no more?      Now rue ye both the baseness of your sire.      He said, and from his chariot to the plain      Thrust down Pisandrus, piercing with keen lance      His bosom, and supine he smote the field.      Down leap'd Hippolochus, whom on the ground      He slew, cut sheer his hands, and lopp'd his head,      And roll'd it like a mortar[9] through the ranks.      He left the slain, and where he saw the field      With thickest battle cover'd, thither flew      By all the Grecians follow'd bright in arms.      The scatter'd infantry constrained to fly,      Fell by the infantry; the charioteers,      While with loud hoofs their steeds the dusty soil      Excited, o'er the charioteers their wheels      Drove brazen-fellied, and the King of men      Incessant slaughtering, called his Argives[10] on.      As when fierce flames some ancient forest seize,      From side to side in flakes the various wind      Rolls them, and to the roots devour'd, the trunks      Fall prostrate under fury of the fire,      So under Agamemnon fell the heads      Of flying Trojans. Many a courser proud      The empty chariots through the paths of war      Whirl'd rattling, of their charioteers deprived;      They breathless press'd the plain, now fitter far      To feed the vultures than to cheer their wives.      Conceal'd, meantime, by Jove, Hector escaped      The dust, darts, deaths, and tumult of the field;      And Agamemnon to the swift pursuit      Call'd loud the Grecians. Through the middle plain      Beside the sepulchre of Ilus, son      Of Dardanus, and where the fig-tree stood,      The Trojans flew, panting to gain the town,      While Agamemnon pressing close the rear,      Shout after shout terrific sent abroad,      And his victorious hands reek'd, red with gore.      But at the beech-tree and the Scan gate      Arrived, the Trojans halted, waiting there      The rearmost fugitives; they o'er the field      Came like a herd, which in the dead of night      A lion drives; all fly, but one is doom'd      To death inevitable; her with jaws      True to their hold he seizes, and her neck      Breaking, embowels her, and laps the blood;      So, Atreus' royal son, the hindmost still      Slaying, and still pursuing, urged them on.      Many supine, and many prone, the field      Press'd, by the son of Atreus in their flight      Dismounted; for no weapon raged as his.      But now, at last, when he should soon have reach'd      The lofty walls of Ilium, came the Sire      Of Gods and men descending from the skies,      And on the heights of Ida fountain-fed,      Sat arm'd with thunders. Calling to his foot      Swift Iris golden-pinion'd, thus he spake.      Iris! away. Thus speak in Hector's ears.      While yet he shall the son of Atreus see      Fierce warring in the van, and mowing down      The Trojan ranks, so long let him abstain      From battle, leaving to his host the task      Of bloody contest furious with the Greeks.      But soon as Atreus' son by spear or shaft      Wounded shall climb his chariot, with such force      I will endue Hector, that he shall slay      Till he have reach'd the ships, and till, the sun      Descending, sacred darkness cover all.      He spake, nor rapid Iris disobey'd      Storm-wing'd ambassadress, but from the heights      Of Ida stoop'd to Ilium. There she found      The son of royal Priam by the throng      Of chariots and of steeds compass'd about      She, standing at his side, him thus bespake.      Oh, son of Priam! as the Gods discreet!      I bring thee counsel from the Sire of all.      While yet thou shalt the son of Atreus see      Fierce warring in the van, and mowing down      The warrior ranks, so long he bids thee pause      From battle, leaving to thy host the task      Of bloody contest furious with the Greeks.      But soon as Atreus' son, by spear or shaft      Wounded, shall climb his chariot, Jove will then      Endue thee with such force, that thou shalt slay      Till thou have reach'd the ships, and till, the sun      Descending, sacred darkness cover all.      So saying, swift-pinion'd Iris disappear'd.      Then Hector from his chariot at a leap      Came down all arm'd, and, shaking his bright spears,      Ranged every quarter, animating loud      The legions, and rekindling horrid war.      Back roll'd the Trojan ranks, and faced the Greeks;      The Greeks their host to closer phalanx drew;      The battle was restored, van fronting van      They stood, and Agamemnon into fight      Sprang foremost, panting for superior fame.      Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell!      What Trojan first, or what ally of Troy      Opposed the force of Agamemnon's arm?      Iphidamas, Antenor's valiant son,      Of loftiest stature, who in fertile Thrace      Mother of flocks was nourish'd, Cisseus him      His grandsire, father of Theano praised      For loveliest features, in his own abode      Rear'd yet a child, and when at length he reach'd      The measure of his glorious manhood firm      Dismiss'd him not, but, to engage him more,      Gave him his daughter. Wedded, he his bride      As soon deserted, and with galleys twelve      Following the rumor'd voyage of the Greeks,      The same course steer'd; but at Percope moor'd,      And marching thence, arrived on foot at Troy.      He first opposed Atrides. They approach'd.      The spear of Agamemnon wander'd wide;      But him Iphidamas on his broad belt      Beneath the corselet struck, and, bearing still      On his spear-beam, enforced it; but ere yet      He pierced the broider'd zone, his point, impress'd      Against the silver, turn'd, obtuse as lead.      Then royal Agamemnon in his hand      The weapon grasping, with a lion's rage      Home drew it to himself, and from his gripe      Wresting it, with his falchion keen his neck      Smote full, and stretch'd him lifeless at his foot.      So slept Iphidamas among the slain;      Unhappy! from his virgin bride remote,      Associate with the men of Troy in arms      He fell, and left her beauties unenjoy'd.      He gave her much, gave her a hundred beeves,      And sheep and goats a thousand from his flocks      Promised, for numberless his meadows ranged;      But Agamemnon, son of Atreus, him      Slew and despoil'd, and through the Grecian host      Proceeded, laden with his gorgeous arms.      Con that sight beheld, illustrious Chief,      Antenor's eldest born, but with dim eyes      Through anguish for his brother's fall. Unseen      Of noble Agamemnon, at his side      He cautious stood, and with a spear his arm,      Where thickest flesh'd, below his elbow, pierced,      Till opposite the glittering point appear'd.      A thrilling horror seized the King of men      So wounded; yet though wounded so, from fight      He ceased not, but on Con rush'd, his spear      Grasping, well-thriven growth[11] of many a wind.      He by the foot drew off Iphidamas,      His brother, son of his own sire, aloud      Calling the Trojan leaders to his aid;      When him so occupied with his keen point      Atrides pierced his bossy shield beneath.      Expiring on Iphidamas he fell      Prostrate, and Agamemnon lopp'd his head.      Thus, under royal Agamemnon's hand,      Antenor's sons their destiny fulfill'd,      And to the house of Ades journey'd both.      Through other ranks of warriors then he pass'd,      Now with his spear, now with his falchion arm'd,      And now with missile force of massy stones,      While yet his warm blood sallied from the wound.      But when the wound grew dry, and the blood ceased,      Anguish intolerable undermined      Then all the might of Atreus' royal son.      As when a laboring woman's arrowy throes      Seize her intense, by Juno's daughters dread      The birth-presiding Ilithy deep      Infixt, dispensers of those pangs severe;      So, anguish insupportable subdued      Then all the might of Atreus' royal son.      Up-springing to his seat, instant he bade      His charioteer drive to the hollow barks,      Heart-sick himself with pain; yet, ere he went,      With voice loud-echoing hail'd the Dana.      Friends! counsellors and leaders of the Greeks!      Now drive, yourselves, the battle from your ships.      For me the Gods permit not to employ      In fight with Ilium's host the day entire.      He ended, and the charioteer his steeds      Lash'd to the ships; they not unwilling flew,      Bearing from battle the afflicted King      With foaming chests and bellies grey with dust.      Soon Hector, noting his retreat, aloud      Call'd on the Trojans and allies of Troy.      Trojans and Lycians, and close-fighting sons      Of Dardanus! oh summon all your might;      Now, now be men! Their bravest is withdrawn!      Glory and honor from Saturnian Jove      On me attend; now full against the Greeks      Drive all your steeds, and win a deathless name.      He spake--and all drew courage from his word.      As when his hounds bright-tooth'd some hunter cheers      Against the lion or the forest-boar,      So Priamean Hector cheer'd his host      Magnanimous against the sons of Greece,      Terrible as gore-tainted Mars. Among      The foremost warriors, with success elate      He strode, and flung himself into the fight      Black as a storm which sudden from on high      Descending, furrows deep the gloomy flood.      Then whom slew Priamean Hector first,      Whom last, by Jove, that day, with glory crown'd?      Assus, Dolops, Orus, Agelas,      Autonos, Hipponos, symnus,      Opheltius and Opites first he slew,      All leaders of the Greeks, and, after these,      The people. As when whirlwinds of the West      A storm encounter from the gloomy South,      The waves roll multitudinous, and the foam      Upswept by wandering gusts fills all the air,      So Hector swept the Grecians. Then defeat      Past remedy and havoc had ensued,      Then had the routed Grecians, flying, sought      Their ships again, but that Ulysses[12] thus      Summon'd the brave Tydides to his aid.      Whence comes it, Diomede, that we forget      Our wonted courage? Hither, O my friend!      And, fighting at my side, ward off the shame      That must be ours, should Hector seize the fleet.      To whom the valiant Diomede replied.      I will be firm; trust me thou shalt not find      Me shrinking; yet small fruit of our attempts      Shall follow, for the Thunderer, not to us,      But to the Trojan, gives the glorious day.      The Hero spake, and from his chariot cast      Thymbrus to the ground pierced through the pap,      While by Ulysses' hand his charioteer      Godlike Molion, fell. The warfare thus      Of both for ever closed, them there they left,      And plunging deep into the warrior-throng      Troubled the multitude. As when two boars      Turn desperate on the close-pursuing hounds,      So they, returning on the host of Troy,      Slew on all sides, and overtoil'd with flight      From Hector's arm, the Greeks meantime respired.      Two warriors, next, their chariot and themselves      They took, plebeians brave, sons of the seer      Percosian Merops in prophetic skill      Surpassing all; he both his sons forbad      The mortal field, but disobedient they      Still sought it, for their destiny prevail'd.      Spear-practised Diomede of life deprived      Both these, and stripp'd them of their glorious arms,      While by Ulysses' hand Hippodamus      Died and Hypeirochus. And now the son      Of Saturn, looking down from Ida, poised      The doubtful war, and mutual deaths they dealt.      Tydides plunged his spear into the groin      Of the illustrious son of Pon, bold      Agastrophus. No steeds at his command      Had he, infatuate! but his charioteer      His steeds detain'd remote, while through the van      Himself on foot rush'd madly till he fell.      But Hector through the ranks darting his eye      Perceived, and with ear-piercing cries advanced      Against them, follow'd by the host of Troy.      The son of Tydeus, shuddering, his approach      Discern'd, and instant to Ulysses spake.[13]      Now comes the storm! This way the mischief rolls!      Stand and repulse the Trojan. Now be firm.      He said, and hurling his long-shadow'd beam      Smote Hector. At his helmet's crown he aim'd,      Nor err'd, but brass encountering brass, the point      Glanced wide, for he had cased his youthful brows      In triple brass, Apollo's glorious gift.      Yet with rapidity at such a shock      Hector recoil'd into the multitude      Afar, where sinking to his knees, he lean'd      On his broad palm, and darkness veil'd his eyes.      But while Tydides follow'd through the van      His stormy spear, which in the distant soil      Implanted stood, Hector his scatter'd sense      Recovering, to his chariot sprang again,      And, diving deep into his host, escaped.      The noble son of Tydeus, spear in hand,      Rush'd after him, and as he went, exclaim'd.      Dog! thou hast now escaped; but, sure the stroke      Approach'd thee nigh, well-aim'd. Once more thy prayers      Which ever to Apollo thou prefer'st      Entering the clash of battle, have prevail'd,      And he hath rescued thee. But well beware      Our next encounter, for if also me      Some God befriend, thou diest. Now will I seek      Another mark, and smite whom next I may.      He spake, and of his armor stripp'd the son      Spear-famed of Pon. Meantime Paris, mate      Of beauteous Helen, drew his bow against      Tydides; by a pillar of the tomb      Of Ilus, ancient senator revered,      Conceal'd he stood, and while the Hero loosed      His corselet from the breast of Pon's son      Renown'd, and of his helmet and his targe      Despoil'd him; Paris, arching quick his bow,      No devious shaft dismiss'd, but his right foot      Pierced through the sole, and fix'd it to the ground.      Transported from his ambush forth he leap'd      With a loud laugh, and, vaunting, thus exclaim'd:      Oh shaft well shot! it galls thee. Would to heaven      That it had pierced thy heart, and thou hadst died!      So had the Trojans respite from their toils      Enjoy'd, who, now, shudder at sight of thee      Like she-goats when the lion is at hand.      To whom, undaunted, Diomede replied.      Archer shrew-tongued! spie-maiden! man of curls![14]      Shouldst thou in arms attempt me face to face,      Thy bow and arrows should avail thee nought.      Vain boaster! thou hast scratch'd my foot--no more--      And I regard it as I might the stroke      Of a weak woman or a simple child.      The weapons of a dastard and a slave      Are ever such. More terrible are mine,      And whom they pierce, though slightly pierced, he dies.      His wife her cheeks rends inconsolable,      His babes are fatherless, his blood the glebe      Incarnadines, and where he bleeds and rots      More birds of prey than women haunt the place.      He ended, and Ulysses, drawing nigh,      Shelter'd Tydides; he behind the Chief      Of Ithaca sat drawing forth the shaft,      But pierced with agonizing pangs the while.      Then, climbing to his chariot-seat, he bade      Sthenelus hasten to the hollow ships,      Heart-sick with pain. And now alone was seen      Spear-famed Ulysses; not an Argive more      Remain'd, so universal was the rout,      And groaning, to his own great heart he said.      Alas! what now awaits me? If, appall'd      By multitudes, I fly, much detriment;      And if alone they intercept me here,      Still more; for Jove hath scatter'd all the host,      Yet why these doubts! for know I not of old      That only dastards fly, and that the voice      Of honor bids the famed in battle stand,      Bleed they themselves, or cause their foes to bleed?      While busied in such thought he stood, the ranks      Of Trojans fronted with broad shields, enclosed      The hero with a ring, hemming around      Their own destruction. As when dogs, and swains      In prime of manhood, from all quarters rush      Around a boar, he from his thicket bolts,      The bright tusk whetting in his crooked jaws:      They press him on all sides, and from beneath      Loud gnashings hear, yet firm, his threats defy;      Like them the Trojans on all sides assail'd      Ulysses dear to Jove. First with his spear      He sprang impetuous on a valiant chief,      Whose shoulder with a downright point he pierced,      Deopites; Thon next he slew,      And Ennomus, and from his coursers' backs      Alighting quick, Chersidamas; beneath      His bossy shield the gliding weapon pass'd      Right through his navel; on the plain he fell      Expiring, and with both hands clench'd the dust.      Them slain he left, and Charops wounded next,      Brother of Socus, generous Chief, and son      Of Hippasus; brave Socus to the aid      Of Charops flew, and, godlike, thus began.      Illustrious chief, Ulysses! strong to toil      And rich in artifice! Or boast to-day      Two sons of Hippasus, brave warriors both,      Of armor and of life bereft by thee,      Or to my vengeful spear resign thy own!      So saying, Ulysses' oval disk he smote.      Through his bright disk the stormy weapon flew,      Transpierced his twisted mail, and from his side      Drove all the skin, but to his nobler parts      Found entrance none, by Pallas turn'd aslant.[15]      Ulysses, conscious of his life untouch'd,      Retired a step from Socus, and replied.      Ah hapless youth; thy fate is on the wing;      Me thou hast forced indeed to cease a while      From battle with the Trojans, but I speak      Thy death at hand; for vanquish'd by my spear,      This self-same day thou shalt to me resign      Thy fame, thy soul to Pluto steed-renown'd.      He ceased; then Socus turn'd his back to fly,      But, as he turn'd, his shoulder-blades between      He pierced him, and the spear urged through his breast.      On his resounding arms he fell, and thus      Godlike Ulysses gloried in his fall.      Ah, Socus, son of Hippasus, a chief      Of fame equestrian! swifter far than thou      Death follow'd thee, and thou hast not escaped.      Ill-fated youth! thy parents' hands thine eyes      Shall never close, but birds of ravenous maw      Shall tear thee, flapping thee with frequent wing,      While me the noble Grecians shall entomb!      So saying, the valiant Socus' spear he drew      From his own flesh, and through his bossy shield.      The weapon drawn, forth sprang the blood, and left      His spirit faint. Then Ilium's dauntless sons,      Seeing Ulysses' blood, exhorted glad      Each other, and, with force united, all      Press'd on him. He, retiring, summon'd loud      His followers. Thrice, loud as mortal may,      He call'd, and valiant Menelaus thrice      Hearing the voice, to Ajax thus remark'd.      Illustrious son of Telamon! The voice      Of Laertiades comes o'er my ear      With such a sound, as if the hardy chief,      Abandon'd of his friends, were overpower'd      By numbers intercepting his retreat.      Haste! force we quick a passage through the ranks.      His worth demands our succor, for I fear      Lest sole conflicting with the host of Troy,      Brave as he is, he perish, to the loss      Unspeakable and long regret of Greece.      So saying, he went, and Ajax, godlike Chief,      Follow'd him. At the voice arrived, they found      Ulysses Jove-beloved compass'd about      By Trojans, as the lynxes in the hills,      Adust for blood, compass an antler'd stag      Pierced by an archer; while his blood is warm      And his limbs pliable, from him he 'scapes;      But when the feather'd barb hath quell'd his force,      In some dark hollow of the mountain's side,      The hungry troop devour him; chance, the while,      Conducts a lion thither, before whom      All vanish, and the lion feeds alone;      So swarm'd the Trojan powers, numerous and bold,      Around Ulysses, who with wary skill      Heroic combated his evil day.      But Ajax came, cover'd with his broad shield      That seem'd a tower, and at Ulysses' side      Stood fast; then fled the Trojans wide-dispersed,      And Menelaus led him by the hand      Till his own chariot to his aid approach'd.      But Ajax, springing on the Trojans, slew      Doryclus, from the loins of Priam sprung,      But spurious. Pandocus he wounded next,      Then wounded Pyrasus, and after him      Pylartes and Lysander. As a flood      Runs headlong from the mountains to the plain      After long showers from Jove; many a dry oak      And many a pine the torrent sweeps along,      And, turbid, shoots much soil into the sea,      So, glorious Ajax troubled wide the field,      Horse and man slaughtering, whereof Hector yet      Heard not; for on the left of all the war      He fought beside Scamander, where around      Huge Nestor, and Idomeneus the brave,      Most deaths were dealt, and loudest roar'd the fight.      There Hector toil'd, feats wonderful of spear      And horsemanship achieving, and the lines      Of many a phalanx desolating wide.      Nor even then had the bold Greeks retired,      But that an arrow triple-barb'd, dispatch'd      By Paris, Helen's mate, against the Chief      Machaon warring with distinguish'd force,      Pierced his right shoulder. For his sake alarm'd,      The valor-breathing Grecians fear'd, lest he      In that disast'rous field should also fall.[16]      At once, Idomeneus of Crete approach'd      The noble Nestor, and him thus bespake.      Arise, Neleian Nestor! Pride of Greece!      Ascend thy chariot, and Machaon placed      Beside thee, bear him, instant to the fleet.      For one, so skill'd in medicine, and to free      The inherent barb, is worth a multitude.      He said, nor the Gerenian hero old      Aught hesitated, but into his seat      Ascended, and Machaon, son renown'd      Of sculapius, mounted at his side.      He lash'd the steeds, they not unwilling sought      The hollow ships, long their familiar home.      Cebriones, meantime, the charioteer      Of Hector, from his seat the Trojan ranks      Observing sore discomfited, began.      Here are we busied, Hector! on the skirts      Of roaring battle, and meantime I see      Our host confused, their horses and themselves      All mingled. Telamonian Ajax there      Routs them; I know the hero by his shield.      Haste, drive we thither, for the carnage most      Of horse and foot conflicting furious, there      Rages, and infinite the shouts arise.      He said, and with shrill-sounding scourge the steeds      Smote ample-maned; they, at the sudden stroke      Through both hosts whirl'd the chariot, shields and men      Trampling; with blood the axle underneath      All redden'd, and the chariot-rings with drops      From the horse-hoofs, and from the fellied wheels.      Full on the multitude he drove, on fire      To burst the phalanx, and confusion sent      Among the Greeks, for nought[17] he shunn'd the spear.      All quarters else with falchion or with lance,      Or with huge stones he ranged, but cautious shunn'd      The encounter of the Telamonian Chief.      But the eternal father throned on high      With fear fill'd Ajax; panic-fixt he stood,      His seven-fold shield behind his shoulder cast,      And hemm'd by numbers, with an eye askant,      Watchful retreated. As a beast of prey      Retiring, turns and looks, so he his face      Turn'd oft, retiring slow, and step by step.      As when the watch-dogs and assembled swains      Have driven a tawny lion from the stalls,      Then, interdicting him his wish'd repast,      Watch all the night, he, famish'd, yet again      Comes furious on, but speeds not, kept aloof      By frequent spears from daring hands, but more      By flash of torches, which, though fierce, he dreads,      Till, at the dawn, sullen he stalks away;      So from before the Trojans Ajax stalk'd      Sullen, and with reluctance slow retired.      His brave heart trembling for the fleet of Greece.      As when (the boys o'erpower'd) a sluggish ass,      On whose tough sides they have spent many a staff,      Enters the harvest, and the spiry ears      Crops persevering; with their rods the boys      Still ply him hard, but all their puny might      Scarce drives him forth when he hath browsed his fill,      So, there, the Trojans and their foreign aids      With glittering lances keen huge Ajax urged,      His broad shield's centre smiting.[18] He, by turns,      With desperate force the Trojan phalanx dense      Facing, repulsed them, and by turns he fled,      But still forbad all inroad on the fleet.      Trojans and Greeks between, alone, he stood      A bulwark. Spears from daring hands dismiss'd      Some, piercing his broad shield, there planted stood,      While others, in the midway falling, spent      Their disappointed rage deep in the ground.      Eurypylus, Evmon's noble son,      Him seeing, thus, with weapons overwhelmed      Flew to his side, his glittering lance dismiss'd,      And Apisaon, son of Phausias, struck      Under the midriff; through his liver pass'd      The ruthless point, and, falling, he expired.      Forth sprang Eurypylus to seize the spoil;      Whom soon as godlike Alexander saw      Despoiling Apisaon of his arms,      Drawing incontinent his bow, he sent      A shaft to his right thigh; the brittle reed      Snapp'd, and the rankling barb stuck fast within.      Terrified at the stroke, the wounded Chief      To his own band retired, but, as he went,      With echoing voice call'd on the Dana--      Friends! Counsellors, and leaders of the Greeks!      Turn ye and stand, and from his dreadful lot      Save Ajax whelm'd with weapons; 'scape, I judge,      He cannot from the roaring fight, yet oh      Stand fast around him; if save ye may,      Your champion huge, the Telamonian Chief!      So spake the wounded warrior. They at once      With sloping bucklers, and with spears erect,      To his relief approach'd. Ajax with joy      The friendly phalanx join'd, then turn'd and stood.      Thus burn'd the embattled field as with the flames      Of a devouring fire. Meantime afar      From all that tumult the Neleian mares      Bore Nestor, foaming as they ran, with whom      Machaon also rode, leader revered.      Achilles mark'd him passing; for he stood      Exalted on his huge ship's lofty stern,      Spectator of the toil severe, and flight      Deplorable of the defeated Greeks.      He call'd his friend Patroclus. He below      Within his tent the sudden summons heard      And sprang like Mars abroad, all unaware      That in that sound he heard the voice of fate.      Him first Menoetius' gallant son address'd.      What would Achilles? Wherefore hath he call'd?      To whom Achilles swiftest of the swift:      Brave Menoetiades! my soul's delight!      Soon will the Grecians now my knees surround      Suppliant, by dread extremity constrain'd.      But fly Patroclus, haste, oh dear to Jove!      Inquire of Nestor, whom he hath convey'd      From battle, wounded? Viewing him behind,      I most believed him sculapius' son      Machaon, but the steeds so swiftly pass'd      My galley, that his face escaped my note.[19]      He said, and prompt to gratify his friend,      Forth ran Patroclus through the camp of Greece.      Now when Neleian Nestor to his tent      Had brought Machaon, they alighted both,      And the old hero's friend Eurymedon      Released the coursers. On the beach awhile      Their tunics sweat-imbued in the cool air      They ventilated, facing full the breeze,      Then on soft couches in the tent reposed.      Meantime, their beverage Hecamede mix'd,      The old King's bright-hair'd captive, whom he brought      From Tenedos, what time Achilles sack'd      The city, daughter of the noble Chief      Arsinos, and selected from the rest      For Nestor, as the honorable meed      Of counsels always eminently wise.      She, first, before them placed a table bright,      With feet coerulean; thirst-provoking sauce      She brought them also in a brazen tray,      Garlic[20] and honey new, and sacred meal.      Beside them, next, she placed a noble cup      Of labor exquisite, which from his home      The ancient King had brought with golden studs      Embellish'd; it presented to the grasp      Four ears; two golden turtles, perch'd on each,      Seem'd feeding, and two turtles[21] form'd the base.      That cup once fill'd, all others must have toil'd      To move it from the board, but it was light      In Nestor's hand; he lifted it with ease.[22]      The graceful virgin in that cup a draught      Mix'd for them, Pramnian wine and savory cheese      Of goat's milk, grated with a brazen rasp,      Then sprinkled all with meal. The draught prepared,      She gave it to their hand; they, drinking, slaked      Their fiery thirst, and with each other sat      Conversing friendly, when the godlike youth      By brave Achilles sent, stood at the door.      Him seeing, Nestor from his splendid couch      Arose, and by the hand leading him in,      Entreated him to sit, but that request      Patroclus, on his part refusing, said,      Oh venerable King! no seat is here      For me, nor may thy courtesy prevail.      He is irascible, and to be fear'd      Who bade me ask what Chieftain thou hast brought      From battle, wounded; but untold I learn;      I see Machaon, and shall now report      As I have seen; oh ancient King revered!      Thou know'st Achilles fiery, and propense      Blame to impute even where blame is none.      To whom the brave Gerenian thus replied.      Why feels Achilles for the wounded Greeks      Such deep concern? He little knows the height      To which our sorrows swell. Our noblest lie      By spear or arrow wounded in the fleet.      Diomede, warlike son of Tydeus, bleeds,      Gall'd by a shaft; Ulysses, glorious Chief,      And Agamemnon[23] suffer by the spear;      Eurypylus is shot into the thigh,      And here lies still another newly brought      By me from fight, pierced also by a shaft.      What then? How strong soe'er to give them aid,      Achilles feels no pity of the Greeks.      Waits he till every vessel on the shore      Fired, in despite of the whole Argive host,      Be sunk in its own ashes, and ourselves      All perish, heaps on heaps? For in my limbs      No longer lives the agility of my youth.      Oh, for the vigor of those days again,      When Elis, for her cattle which we took,      Strove with us and Itymoneus I slew,      Brave offspring of Hypirochus; he dwelt      In Elis, and while I the pledges drove,      Stood for his herd, but fell among the first      By a spear hurl'd from my victorious arm.      Then fled the rustic multitude, and we      Drove off abundant booty from the plain,      Herds fifty of fat beeves, large flocks of goats      As many, with as many sheep and swine,      And full thrice fifty mares of brightest hue,      All breeders, many with their foals beneath.      All these, by night returning safe, we drove      Into Neleian Pylus, and the heart      Rejoiced of Neleus, in a son so young      A warrior, yet enrich'd with such a prize.      At early dawn the heralds summon'd loud      The citizens, to prove their just demands      On fruitful Elis, and the assembled Chiefs      Division made (for numerous were the debts      Which the Epeans, in the weak estate      Of the unpeopled Pylus, had incurr'd;      For Hercules, few years before, had sack'd[24]      Our city, and our mightiest slain. Ourselves      The gallant sons of Neleus, were in all      Twelve youths, of whom myself alone survived;      The rest all perish'd; whence, presumptuous grown,      The brazen-mail'd Epeans wrong'd us oft).      A herd of beeves my father for himself      Selected, and a numerous flock beside,      Three hundred sheep, with shepherds for them all.      For he a claimant was of large arrears      From sacred Elis. Four unrivall'd steeds      With his own chariot to the games he sent,      That should contend for the appointed prize      A tripod; but Augeias, King of men,      Detain'd the steeds, and sent the charioteer      Defrauded home. My father, therefore, fired      At such foul outrage both of deeds and words,      Took much, and to the Pylians gave the rest      For satisfaction of the claims of all.      While thus we busied were in these concerns,      And in performance of religious rites      Throughout the city, came the Epeans arm'd,      Their whole vast multitude both horse and foot      On the third day; came also clad in brass      The two Molions, inexpert as yet      In feats of arms, and of a boyish age.      There is a city on a mountain's head,      Fast by the banks of Alpheus, far remote,      The utmost town which sandy Pylus owns,      Named Thryossa, and, with ardor fired      To lay it waste, that city they besieged.      Now when their host had traversed all the plain,      Minerva from Olympus flew by night      And bade us arm; nor were the Pylians slow      To assemble, but impatient for the fight.      Me, then, my father suffer'd not to arm,      But hid my steeds, for he supposed me raw      As yet, and ignorant how war is waged.      Yet, even thus, unvantaged and on foot,      Superior honors I that day acquired      To theirs who rode, for Pallas led me on      Herself to victory. There is a stream      Which at Arena falls into the sea,      Named Minuius; on that river's bank      The Pylian horsemen waited day's approach,      And thither all our foot came pouring down.      The flood divine of Alpheus thence we reach'd      At noon, all arm'd complete; there, hallow'd rites      We held to Jove omnipotent, and slew      A bull to sacred Alpheus, with a bull      To Neptune, and a heifer of the herd      To Pallas; then, all marshall'd as they were,      From van to rear our legions took repast,      And at the river's side slept on their arms.      Already the Epean host had round      Begirt the city, bent to lay it waste,      A task which cost them, first, both blood and toil,      For when the radiant sun on the green earth      Had risen, with prayer to Pallas and to Jove,      We gave them battle. When the Pylian host      And the Epeans thus were close engaged,      I first a warrior slew, Mulius the brave,      And seized his coursers. He the eldest-born      Of King Augeias' daughters had espoused      The golden Agamede; not an herb      The spacious earth yields but she knew its powers,      Him, rushing on me, with my brazen lance      I smote, and in the dust he fell; I leap'd      Into his seat, and drove into the van.      A panic seized the Epeans when they saw      The leader of their horse o'erthrown, a Chief      Surpassing all in fight. Black as a cloud      With whirlwind fraught, I drove impetuous on,      Took fifty chariots, and at side of each      Lay two slain warriors, with their teeth the soil      Grinding, all vanquish'd by my single arm.      I had slain also the Molions, sons      Of Actor, but the Sovereign of the deep      Their own authentic Sire, in darkness dense      Involving both, convey'd them safe away.      Then Jove a victory of prime renown      Gave to the Pylians; for we chased and slew      And gather'd spoil o'er all the champain spread      With scatter'd shields, till we our steeds had driven      To the Buprasian fields laden with corn,      To the Olenian rock, and to a town      In fair Colona situate, and named      Alesia. There it was that Pallas turn'd      Our people homeward; there I left the last      Of all the slain, and he was slain by me.      Then drove the Achaians from Buprasium home      Their coursers fleet, and Jove, of Gods above,      Received most praise, Nestor of men below.      Such once was I. But brave Achilles shuts      His virtues close, an unimparted store;      Yet even he shall weep, when all the host,      His fellow-warriors once, shall be destroy'd.      But recollect, young friend! the sage advice      Which when thou earnest from Phthia to the aid      Of Agamemnon, on that selfsame day      Menoetius gave thee. We were present there,      Ulysses and myself, both in the house,      And heard it all; for to the house we came      Of Peleus in our journey through the land      Of fertile Greece, gathering her states to war.      We found thy noble sire Menoetius there,      Thee and Achilles; ancient Peleus stood      To Jove the Thunderer offering in his court      Thighs of an ox, and on the blazing rites      Libation pouring from a cup of gold.      While ye on preparation of the feast      Attended both, Ulysses and myself      Stood in the vestibule; Achilles flew      Toward us, introduced us by the hand,      And, seating us, such liberal portion gave      To each, as hospitality requires.      Our thirst, at length, and hunger both sufficed,      I, foremost speaking, ask'd you to the wars,      And ye were eager both, but from your sires      Much admonition, ere ye went, received.      Old Peleus charged Achilles to aspire      To highest praise, and always to excel.      But thee, thy sire Menoetius thus advised.      "My son! Achilles boasts the nobler birth,      But thou art elder; he in strength excels      Thee far; thou, therefore, with discretion rule      His inexperience; thy advice impart      With gentleness; instruction wise suggest      Wisely, and thou shalt find him apt to learn."      So thee thy father taught, but, as it seems,      In vain. Yet even now essay to move      Warlike Achilles; if the Gods so please,      Who knows but that thy reasons may prevail      To rouse his valiant heart? men rarely scorn      The earnest intercession of a friend.      But if some prophecy alarm his fears,      And from his Goddess mother he have aught      Received, who may have learnt the same from Jove,      Thee let him send at least, and order forth      With thee the Myrmidons; a dawn of hope      Shall thence, it may be, on our host arise.      And let him send thee to the battle clad      In his own radiant armor; Troy, deceived      By such resemblance, shall abstain perchance      From conflict, and the weary Greeks enjoy      Short respite; it is all that war allows.      Fresh as ye are, ye, by your shouts alone,      May easily repulse an army spent      With labor from the camp and from the fleet.      Thus Nestor, and his mind bent to his words.      Back to acides through all the camp      He ran; and when, still running, he arrived      Among Ulysses' barks, where they had fix'd      The forum, where they minister'd the laws,      And had erected altars to the Gods,      There him Eurypylus, Evmon's son,      Illustrious met, deep-wounded in his thigh,      And halting-back from battle. From his head      The sweat, and from his shoulders ran profuse,      And from his perilous wound the sable blood      Continual stream'd; yet was his mind composed.      Him seeing, Menoetiades the brave      Compassion felt, and mournful, thus began.      Ah hapless senators and Chiefs of Greece!      Left ye your native country that the dogs      Might fatten on your flesh at distant Troy?      But tell me, Hero! say, Eurypylus!      Have the Achaians power still to withstand      The enormous force of Hector, or is this      The moment when his spear must pierce us all?      To whom Eurypylus, discreet, replied.      Patroclus, dear to Jove! there is no help,      No remedy. We perish at our ships.      The warriors, once most strenuous of the Greeks,      Lie wounded in the fleet by foes whose might      Increases ever. But thyself afford      To me some succor; lead me to my ship;      Cut forth the arrow from my thigh; the gore      With warm ablution cleanse, and on the wound      Smooth unguents spread, the same as by report      Achilles taught thee; taught, himself, their use      By Chiron, Centaur, justest of his kind      For Podalirius and Machaon both      Are occupied. Machaon, as I judge,      Lies wounded in his tent, needing like aid      Himself, and Podalirius in the field      Maintains sharp conflict with the sons of Troy.      To whom Menoetius' gallant son replied.      Hero! Eurypylus! how shall we act      In this perplexity? what course pursue?      I seek the brave Achilles, to whose ear      I bear a message from the ancient chief      Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks.      Yet will I not, even for such a cause,      My friend! abandon thee in thy distress.      He ended, and his arms folding around      The warrior bore him thence into his tent.      His servant, on his entrance, spread the floor      With hides, on which Patroclus at his length      Extended him, and with his knife cut forth      The rankling point; with tepid lotion, next,      He cleansed the gore, and with a bitter root      Bruised small between his palms, sprinkled the wound.      At once, the anodyne his pain assuaged,      The wound was dried within, and the blood ceased.      * * * * * It will be well here to observe the position of the Greeks. All human aid is cut off by the wounds of their heroes, and all assistance from the Gods forbidden by Jupiter. On the contrary, the Trojans see their general at their head, and Jupiter himself fights on their side. Upon this hinge turns the whole poem. The distress of the Greeks occasions first the assistance of Patroclus, and then the death of that hero brings back Achilles. The poet shows great skill in conducting these incidents. He gives Achilles the pleasure of seeing that the Greeks could not carry on the war without his assistance, and upon this depends the great catastrophe of the poem.