by Homer
In arms, hath ever been a thankless task.
Inglorious Chief! how wilt thou save a worse
From warring crowds, who hast Sarpedon left
Thy guest, thy friend, to be a spoil, a prey
To yonder Argives? While he lived he much
Thee and thy city profited, whom dead
Thou fear'st to rescue even from the dogs.
Now, therefore, may but my advice prevail,
Back to your country, Lycians! so, at once,
Shall remediless ruin fall on Troy.
For had the Trojans now a daring heart
Intrepid, such as in the breast resides
Of laborers in their country's dear behalf,
We soon should drag Patroclus into Troy;
And were his body, from the battle drawn,
In Priam's royal city once secured,
As soon, the Argives would in ransom give
Sarpedon's body with his splendid arms
To be conducted safe into the town.
For when Patroclus fell, the friend was slain
Of such a Chief as is not in the fleet
For valor, and his bands are dauntless all.
But thou, at the first glimpse of Ajax' eye
Confounded, hast not dared in arms to face
That warrior bold, superior far to thee.
To whom brave Hector, frowning stern, replied,
Why, Glaucus! should a Chief like thee his tongue
Presume to employ thus haughtily? My friend!
I thee accounted wisest, once, of all
Who dwell in fruitful Lycia, but thy speech
Now utter'd altogether merits blame,
In which thou tell'st me that I fear to stand
Against vast Ajax. Know that I from fight
Shrink not, nor yet from sound of prancing steeds;
But Jove's high purpose evermore prevails
Against the thoughts of man; he turns to flight
The bravest, and the victory takes with ease
Even from those whom once he favor'd most.
But hither, friend! stand with me; mark my deed;
Prove me, if I be found, as thou hast said,
An idler all the day, or if by force
I not compel some Grecian to renounce
Patroclus, even the boldest of them all.
He ceased, and to his host exclaim'd aloud.
Trojans, and Lycians, and close-fighting sons
Of Dardanus, oh be ye men, my friends!
Now summon all your fortitude, while I
Put on the armor of Achilles, won
From the renown'd Patroclus slain by me.
So saying, illustrious Hector from the clash
Of spears withdrew, and with his swiftest pace
Departing, overtook, not far remote,
The bearers of Achilles' arms to Troy.
Apart from all the horrors of the field
Standing, he changed his armor; gave his own
To be by them to sacred Ilium borne,
And the immortal arms of Peleus' son
Achilles, by the ever-living Gods
To Peleüs given, put on. Those arms the Sire,
Now old himself, had on his son conferr'd
But in those arms his son grew never old.
Him, therefore, soon as cloud-assembler Jove
Saw glittering in divine Achilles' arms,
Contemplative he shook his brows, and said,
Ah hapless Chief! thy death, although at hand,
Nought troubles thee. Thou wear'st his heavenly
Who all excels, terror of Ilium's host.
His friend, though bold yet gentle, thou hast slain
And hast the brows and bosom of the dead
Unseemly bared: yet, bright success awhile
I give thee; so compensating thy lot,
From whom Andromache shall ne'er receive
Those glorious arms, for thou shalt ne'er return.
So spake the Thunderer, and his sable brows
Shaking, confirm'd the word. But Hector found
The armor apt; the God of war his soul
With fury fill'd, he felt his limbs afresh
Invigorated, and with loudest shouts
Return'd to his illustrious allies.
To them he seem'd, clad in those radiant arms,
Himself Achilles; rank by rank he pass'd
Through all the host, exhorting every Chief,
Asteropæus, Mesthles, Phorcys, Medon,
Thersilochus, Deisenor, augur Ennomus,
Chromius, Hippothoüs; all these he roused
To battle, and in accents wing'd began.
Hear me, ye myriads, neighbors and allies!
For not through fond desire to fill the plain
With multitudes, have I convened you here
Each from his city, but that well-inclined
To Ilium, ye might help to guard our wives
And little ones against the host of Greece.
Therefore it is that forage large and gifts
Providing for you, I exhaust the stores
Of Troy, and drain our people for your sake.
Turn then direct against them, and his life
Save each, or lose; it is the course of war.
Him who shall drag, though dead, Patroclus home
Into the host of Troy, and shall repulse
Ajax, I will reward with half the spoils
And half shall be my own; glory and praise
Shall also be his meed, equal to mine.
He ended; they compact with lifted spears
Bore on the Danaï, conceiving each
Warm expectation in his heart to wrest
From Ajax son of Telamon, the dead.
Vain hope! he many a lifeless Trojan heap'd
On slain Patroclus, but at length his speech
To warlike Menelaus thus address'd.
Ah, Menelaus, valiant friend! I hope
No longer, now, that even we shall 'scape
Ourselves from fight; nor fear I so the loss
Of dead Patroclus, who shall soon the dogs
Of Ilium, and the fowls sate with his flesh,
As for my life I tremble and for thine,
That cloud of battle, Hector, such a gloom
Sheds all around; death manifest impends.
Haste — call our best, if even they can hear.
He spake, nor Menelaus not complied,
But call'd aloud on all the Chiefs of Greece.
Friends, senators, and leaders of the powers
Of Argos! who with Agamemnon drink
And Menelaus at the public feast,
Each bearing rule o'er many, by the will
Of Jove advanced to honor and renown!
The task were difficult to single out
Chief after Chief by name amid the blaze
Of such contention; but oh, come yourselves
Indignant forth, nor let the dogs of Troy
Patroclus rend, and gambol with his bones!
He ceased, whom Oïliades the swift
Hearing incontinent, of all the Chiefs
Ran foremost, after whom Idomeneus
Approach'd, and dread as homicidal Mars
Meriones. But never mind of man
Could even in silent recollection name
The whole vast multitude who, following these
Renew'd the battle on the part of Greece.
The Trojans first, with Hector at their head,
Wedged in close phalanx, rush'd to the assault
As when within some rapid river's mouth
The billows and stream clash, on either shore
Loud sounds the roar of waves ejected wide,
Such seem'd the clamors of the Trojan host.
But the Achaians, one in heart, around
Patroclus stood, bulwark'd with shields of brass
And over all their glittering helmets Jove
Darkness diff
used, for he had loved Patroclus
While yet he lived friend of Æacides,
And now, abhorring that the dogs of Troy
Should eat him, urged the Greeks to his defence,
The host of Troy first shook the Grecian host;
The body left, they fled; yet of them all,
The Trojan powers, determined as they were,
Slew none, but dragg'd the body. Neither stood
The Greeks long time aloof, soon as repulsed
Again led on by Ajax, who in form
And in exploits all others far excell'd.
Peerless Æacides alone except.
Right through the foremost combatants he rush'd,
In force resembling most some savage boar
That in the mountains bursting through the brakes,
The swains disperses and their hounds with ease;
Like him, illustrious Ajax, mighty son
Of Telamon, at his assault dispersed
With ease the close imbattled ranks who fought
Around Patroclus' body, strong in hope
To achieve it, and to make the glory theirs.
Hippothoüs, a youth of high renown,
Son of Pelasgian Lethus, by a noose
Around his ancle cast dragg'd through the fight
Patroclus, so to gratify the host
Of Ilium and their Chief; but evil him
Reached suddenly, by none of all his friends
(Though numerous wish'd to save him) turn'd aside.
For swift advancing on him through the crowd
The son of Telamon pierced, spear in hand,
His helmet brazen-cheek'd; the crested casque,
So smitten, open'd wide, for huge the hand
And ponderous was the spear that gave the blow
And all around its neck, mingled with blood
Gush'd forth the brain. There, lifeless, down he sank,
Let fall the hero's foot, and fell himself
Prone on the dead, never to see again?
Deep-soil'd Larissa, never to require
Their kind solicitudes who gave him birth,
In bloom of life by dauntless Ajax slain.
Then Hector hurl'd at Ajax his bright spear,
But he, forewarn'd of its approach, escaped
Narrowly, and it pierced Schedius instead,
Brave son of Iphitus; he, noblest Chief
Of the Phocensians, over many reign'd,
Dwelling in Panopeus the far-renown'd.
Entering beneath the clavicle the point
Right through his shoulder's summit pass'd behind,
And on his loud-resounding arms he fell.
But Ajax at his waist wounded the son
Of Phœnops, valiant Phorcys, while he stood
Guarding Hippothöus; through his hollow mail
Enforced the weapon drank his inmost life,
And in his palm, supine, he clench'd the dust.
Then, Hector with the foremost Chiefs of Troy
Fell back; the Argives sent a shout to heaven,
And dragging Phorcys and Hippothöus thence
Stripp'd both. In that bright moment Ilium's host
Fear-quell'd before Achaia's warlike sons
Had Troy re-enter'd, and the host of Greece
By matchless might and fortitude their own
Had snatch'd a victory from the grasp of fate,
But that, himself, the King of radiant shafts
Æneas roused; Epytis' son he seem'd
Periphas, ancient in the service grown
Of old Anchises whom he dearly loved;
His form assumed, Apollo thus began.
How could ye save, Æneas, were the Gods
Your enemies, the towers of lofty Troy?
As I have others seen, warriors who would,
Men fill'd with might and valor, firm themselves
And Chiefs of multitudes disdaining fear.
But Jove to us the victory far more
Than to the Grecians wills; therefore the fault
Is yours, who tremble and refuse the fight.
He ended, whom Æneas marking, knew
At once the glorious Archer of the skies,
And thus to distant Hector call'd aloud.
Oh, Hector, and ye other Chiefs of Troy
And of her brave confederates! Shame it were
Should we re-enter Ilium, driven to flight
By dastard fear before the host of Greece.
A God assured me even now, that Jove,
Supreme in battle, gives his aid to Troy.
Rush, therefore, on the Danaï direct,
Nor let them, safe at least and unannoy'd,
Bear hence Patroclus' body to the fleet.
He spake, and starting far into the van
Stood foremost forth; they, wheeling, faced the Greeks.
Then, spear in hand, Æneas smote the friend
Of Lycomedes, brave Leocritus,
Son of Arisbas. Lycomedes saw
Compassionate his death, and drawing nigh
First stood, then hurling his resplendent lance,
Right through the liver Apisaon pierced
Offspring of Hippasus, his chest beneath,
And, lifeless, instant, on the field he fell.
He from Pæonia the deep soil'd to Troy
Came forth, Asteropæus sole except,
Bravest of all Pæonia's band in arms.
Asteropæus saw, and to the van
Sprang forth for furious combat well prepared,
But room for fight found none, so thick a fence
Of shields and ported spears fronted secure
The phalanx guarding Menœtiades.
For Ajax ranging all the ranks, aloud
Admonish'd them that no man yielding ground
Should leave Patroclus, or advance before
The rest, but all alike fight and stand fast.
Such order gave huge Ajax; purple gore
Drench'd all the ground; in slaughter'd heaps they fell
Trojans and Trojan aids of dauntless hearts
And Grecians; for not even they the fight
Waged bloodless, though with far less cost of blood,
Each mindful to avert his fellow's fate.
Thus burn'd the battle; neither hadst thou deem'd
The sun himself in heaven unquench'd, or moon,
Beneath a cope so dense of darkness strove
Unceasing all the most renown'd in arms
For Menœtiades. Meantime the war,
Wherever else, the bright-arm'd Grecians waged
And Trojans under skies serene. The sun
On them his radiance darted; not a cloud,
From mountain or from vale rising, allay'd
His fervor; there at distance due they fought
And paused by turns, and shunn'd the cruel dart.
But in the middle field not war alone
They suffer'd, but night also; ruthless raged
The iron storm, and all the mightiest bled.
Two glorious Chiefs, the while, Antilochus
And Thrasymedes, had no tidings heard
Of brave Patroclus slain, but deem'd him still
Living, and troubling still the host of Troy;
For watchful only to prevent the flight
Or slaughter of their fellow-warriors, they
Maintain'd a distant station, so enjoin'd
By Nestor when he sent them to the field.
But fiery conflict arduous employ'd
The rest all day continual; knees and legs,
Feet, hands, and eyes of those who fought to guard
The valiant friend of swift Æacides
Sweat gather'd foul and dust. As when a man
A huge ox-hide drunken with slippery lard
Gives to be stretch'd, his servants all around
Disposed, just intervals between, the task
Ply strenuous, and while many straining hard
The moisture out, and drinks the unction in,
So they, in narrow space struggling, the dead
Dragg'd every way, warm hope conceiving, these
To drag him thence to Troy, those, to the ships.
Wild tumult raged around him; neither Mars,
Gatherer of hosts to battle, nor herself
Pallas, however angry, had beheld
That conflict with disdain, Jove to such length
Protracted on that day the bloody toil
Of steeds and men for Menœtiades.
Nor knew divine Achilles or had aught
Heard of Patroclus slain, for from the ships
Remote they fought, beneath the walls of Troy.
He, therefore, fear'd not for his death, but hope
Indulged much rather, that, the battle push'd
To Ilium's gates, he should return alive.
For that his friend, unaided by himself
Or ever aided, should prevail to lay
Troy waste, he nought supposed; by Thetis warn'd
In secret conference oft, he better knew
Jove's purpose; yet not even she had borne
Those dreadful tidings to his ear, the loss
Immeasurable of his dearest friend.
They all around the dead fought spear in hand
With mutual slaughter ceaseless, and amid
Achaia's host thus spake a Chief mail-arm'd.
Shame were it, Grecians! should we seek by flight
Our galleys now; yawn earth our feet beneath
And here ingulf us rather! Better far
Than to permit the steed-famed host of Troy
To drag Patroclus hence into the town,
And make the glory of this conflict theirs.
Thus also of the dauntless Trojans spake
A certain warrior. Oh, my friends! although
The Fates ordain us, one and all, to die
Around this body, stand! quit not the field.
So spake the warrior prompting into act
The courage of his friends, and such they strove
On both sides; high into the vault of heaven
The iron din pass'd through the desart air.
Meantime the horses of Æacides
From fight withdrawn, soon as they understood
Their charioteer fallen in the dust beneath
The arm of homicidal Hector, wept.
Them oft with hasty lash Diores' son
Automedon impatient smote, full oft
He stroked them gently, and as oft he chode;
Yet neither to the fleet ranged on the shore
Of spacious Hellespont would they return,
Nor with the Grecians seek the fight, but stood
As a sepulchral pillar stands, unmoved
Between their traces; to the earth they hung
Their heads, with plenteous tears their driver mourn'd,
And mingled their dishevell'd manes with dust.
