Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  Oh Chief by all extoll'd, glory of Greece,

  Ulysses! how have ye these steeds acquired?

  In yonder host? or met ye as ye went

  Some God who gave them to you? for they show

  A lustre dazzling as the beams of day.

  Old as I am, I mingle yet in fight

  With Ilium's sons — lurk never in the fleet —

  Yet saw I at no time, or have remark'd

  Steeds such as these; which therefore I believe

  Perforce, that ye have gained by gift divine;

  For cloud-assembler Jove, and azure-eyed

  Minerva, Jove's own daughter, love you both.

  To whom Ulysses, thus, discreet, replied.

  Neleian Nestor, glory of the Greeks!

  A God, so willing, could have given us steeds

  Superior, for their bounty knows no bounds.

  But, venerable Chief! these which thou seest

  Are Thracians new-arrived. Their master lies

  Slain by the valiant Diomede, with twelve

  The noblest of his warriors at his side,

  A thirteenth also, at small distance hence

  We slew, by Hector and the Chiefs of Troy

  Sent to inspect the posture of our host.

  He said; then, high in exultation, drove

  The coursers o'er the trench, and with him pass'd

  The glad Achaians; at the spacious tent

  Of Diomede arrived, with even thongs

  They tied them at the cribs where stood the steeds

  Of Tydeus' son, with winnow'd wheat supplied.

  Ulysses in his bark the gory spoils

  Of Dolon placed, designing them a gift

  To Pallas. Then, descending to the sea,

  Neck, thighs, and legs from sweat profuse they cleansed,

  And, so refresh'd and purified, their last

  Ablution in bright tepid baths perform'd.

  Each thus completely laved, and with smooth oil

  Anointed, at the well-spread board they sat,

  And quaff'd, in honor of Minerva, wine

  Delicious, from the brimming beaker drawn.

  * * *

  The vividness of the scenes presented to us in this Book constitute its chief beauty. The reader sees the most natural night-scene in the world. He is led step by step with the adventurers, and made the companion of all their expectations and uncertainties. We see the very color of the sky; know the time to a minute; are impatient while the heroes are arming; our imagination follows them, knows all their doubts, and even the secret wishes of their hearts sent up to Minerva. We are alarmed at the approach of Dolon, hear his very footsteps, assist the two chiefs in pursuing him, and stop just with the spear that arrests him. We are perfectly acquainted with the situation of all the forces, with the figure in which they lie, with the disposition of Rhesus and the Thracians, with the posture of his chariot and horses. The marshy spot of ground where Dolon is killed, the tamarisk, or aquatic plant upon which they hung his spoils, and the reeds that are heaped together to mark the place, are circumstances the most picturesque imaginable.

  * * *

  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.

  * * *

  BOOK XI.

  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; 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 cœrulean all around

  Embraced it, twelve of gold, twenty of tin;

  Six spiry serpents their uplifted heads

  Cœrulean 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. 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

  Cœrulean over all its surface twined,

  Three heads erecting on one neck, the heads

  Together wreath'd into a stately crown.

  His helmet quâtre-crested, 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 like clear thunder, by the spouse of Jove

  And by Minerva raised to extol the King

  Of opulent Mycenæ, 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

  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, Æneas 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 Ægis-arm'd.

  As reapers, toiling opposite, 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,

  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

  Oïleus also driver of his steeds.

  Oïleus, 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 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 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 Scæan 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 Iri
s 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