Melted in fury, swells and foams, and so he overfills
His natural channel; that besides both hedge and bridge resigns
To his rough confluence, far spread; and lusty flourishing vines
Drown’d in his outrage; Tydeus’ son so overran the field,
Strew’d such as flourish’d in his way, and made whole squadrons yield,
When Pandarus, Lycaon’s son, beheld his ruining hand,
With such resistless insolence, make lanes through ev’ry band,
He bent his gold-tipp’d bow of horn, and shot him rushing in,
At his right shoulder, where his arms were hollow; forth did spin
The blood, and down his curets ran; then Pandarus cried out:
“Rank-riding Trojans, now rush in. Now, now, I make no doubt:
Our bravest foe is mark’d for death; he cannot long sustain
My violent shaft, if Jove’s fair Son did worthily constrain
My foot from Lycia.” Thus he brav’d, and yet his violent shaft
Strook short with all his violence, Tydides’ life was saft;
Who yet withdrew himself behind his chariot and steeds,
And call’d to Sthenelus: “Come, friend, my wounded shoulder needs
Thy hand to ease it of this shaft.” He hasted from his seat
Before the coach, and drew the shaft; the purple wound did sweat,
And drown his shirt of mail in blood, and as it bled he pray’d:
“Hear me, of Jove-Ægiochus thou most unconquer’d Maid!
If ever in the cruel field thou has assistful stood
Or to my father, or myself, now love, and do me good.
Give him into my lance’s reach, that thus hath giv’n a wound
To him thou guard’st, preventing me, and brags that never more
I shall behold the cheerful sun.” Thus did the king implore.
The Goddess heard, came near, and took the weariness of fight
From all his nerves and lineaments, and made them fresh and light,
And said: “Be bold, O Diomed, in ev’ry combat shine,
The great shield-shaker Tydeus’ strength (that knight, that sire of thine)
By my infusion breathes in thee; and from thy knowing mind
I have remov’d those erring mists that made it lately blind,
That thou may’st diff’rence Gods from men, and therefore use thy skill
Against the tempting Deities, if any have a will
To try if thou presum’st of that, as thine, that flows from them,
And so assum’st above thy right. “Where thou discern’st a beam
Of any other Heav’nly Pow’r than She that rules in love,
That calls thee to the change of blows, resist not, but remove;
But if that Goddess be so bold (since she first stirr’d this war)
Assault and mark her from the rest with some infámous scar.”
The blue-eyed Goddess vanishéd, and he was seen again
Amongst the foremost, who before though he were prompt and fain
To fight against the Trojans’ pow’rs, now, on his spirits were call’d
With thrice the vigour; lion-like, that hath been lately gall’d
By some bold shepherd in a field, where his curl’d flocks were laid,
Who took him as he leap’d the fold, not slain yet, but appaid
With greater spirit, comes again, and then the shepherd hides,
(The rather for the desolate place) and in his cot abides,
His flocks left guardless; which, amaz’d, shake and shrink up in heaps;
He, ruthless, freely takes his prey, and out again he leaps;
So sprightly, fierce, victorious, the great heroë flew
Upon the Trojans, and, at once, he two commanders slew,
Hypenor and Astynous; in one his lance he fix’d
Full at the nipple of his breast; the other smote betwixt
The neck and shoulder with his sword, which was so well laid on
It swept his arm and shoulder off. These left, he rush’d upon
Abas and Polyëidus, of old Eurydamas
The hapless sons; who could by dreams tell what would come to pass,
Yet, when his sons set forth to Troy, the old man could not read
By their dreams what would chance to them, for both were stricken dead
By great Tydides, After these, he takes into his rage
Xanthus and Thoön, Phænops’ sons, born to him in his age;
The good old man ev’n pin’d with years, and one son more
To heir his goods; yet Diomed took both, and left him store
Of tears and sorrows in their steads, since he could never see
His sons leave those hot wars alive; so this the end must be
Of all his labours; what he heap’d, to make his issue great,
Authority heir’d, and with her seed fill’d his forgotten seat.
Then snatch’d he up two Priamists, that in one chariot stood,
Echemon, and fair Chromius. As feeding in a wood
Oxen or steers are, one of which a lion leaps upon,
Tears down, and wrings in two his neck; so, sternly, Tydeus’ son
Threw from their chariot both these hopes of old Dardanides,
Then took their arms, and sent their horse to those that ride the seas,
Æneas, seeing the troops thus toss’d, brake through the heat of fight,
And all the whizzing of the darts, to find the Lycian knight,
Lycaon’s son; whom having found, he thus bespake the peer;
“O Pandarus, where’s now thy bow, thy deathful arrows where,
In which no one in all our host but gives the palm to thee,
Nor in the sun-lov’d Lycian greens, that breed our archery,
Lives any that exceeds thyself? Come, lift thy hands to Jove,
And send an arrow at this man, if but a man he prove,
That wins such god-like victories, and now affects our host
With so much sorrow, since so much of our best blood is lost
By his high valour. I have fear some God in him doth threat,
Incens’d for want of sacrifice; the wrath of God is great.”
Lycaon’s famous son replied: “Great counsellor of Troy,
This man, so excellent in arms, I think is Tydeus’ joy;
I know him by his fi’ry shield, by his bright three-plum’d casque,
And by his horse; nor can I say, if or some God doth mask
In his appearance, or he be whom I nam’d Tydeus’ son,
But without God the things he does for certain are not done.
Some great Immortal, that conveys his shoulders in a cloud,
Goes by and puts by ev’ry dart at his bold breast bestow’d,
Or lets it take with little hurt; for I myself let fly
A shaft that shot him through his arms, but had as good gone by,
Yet which I gloriously affirm’d had driv’n him down to hell.
Some God is angry, and with me; for far hence, where I dwell,
My horse and chariots idle stand, with which some other way
I might repair this shameful miss. Elev’n fair chariots stay
In old Lycaon’s court, new made, new trimm’d to have been gone,
Curtain’d, and arrast under foot; two horse to ev’ry one,
That eat white barley and black oats, and do no good at all;
And these Lycaon (that well knew how these affairs would fall)
Charg’d, when I set down this design, I should command with here,
And gave me many lessons more, all which much better were
Than any I took forth myself. The reason I laid down
Was but the sparing of my horse, since in a siegéd town
I thought our horse-meat would be scant; when they were us’d to have
Their manger full; so I left them, and like a lackey slave
Am come to Ilion, confident in not
hing but my bow
That nothing profits me. Two shafts I vainly did bestow
At two great princes, but of both my arrows neither slew,
Nor this, nor Atreus’ younger son; a little blood I drew,
That serv’d but to incense them more. In an unhappy star
I therefore from my armoury have drawn those tools of war
That day, when, for great Hector’s sake, to amiable Troy:
I came to lead the Trojan bands. But if I ever joy,
In safe return, my country’s sight, my wife’s, my lofty tow’rs,
Let any stranger take this head, if to the fi’ry Pow’rs
This bow, these shafts, in pieces burst, by these hands be not thrown;
Idle companions that they are to me and my renown.”
Æneas said: “Use no such words; for, any other way
Than this, they shall not now be us’d. We first will both assay
This man with horse and chariot. Come then, ascend to me,
That thou may’st try our Trojan horse, how skill’d in field they be,
And in pursuing those that fly, or flying, being pursued,
How excellent they are of foot; and these, if Jove conclude
The ‘scape of Tydeüs again, and grace him with our flight,
Shall serve to bring us safely off. Come, I’ll be first shall fight,
Take thou these fair reins and this scourge; or, if thou wilt, fight thou,
And leave the horses’ care to me.” He answer’d: “I will now
Descend to fight, keep thou the reins, and guide thyself thy horse;
Who with their wonted manager will better wield the force
Of the impulsive chariot, if we be driv’n to fly,
Than with a stranger; under whom they will be much more shy,
And, fearing my voice, wishing thine, grow resty, nor go on
To bear us off, but leave engag’d for mighty Tydeus’ son
Themselves and us. Then be thy part thy one-hoof’d horses’ guide,
I’ll make the fight, and with a dart receive his utmost pride.”
With this the gorgeous chariot both, thus prepar’d, ascend
And make full way at Diomed; which noted by his friend,
“Mine own most-lovéd mind,” said he, “two mighty men of war
I see come with a purpos’d charge; one’s he that hits so far
With bow and shaft, Lycaon’s son; the other fames the brood
Of great Anchises and the Queen that rules in amorous blood,
Æneas, excellent in arms. Come up, and use your steeds,
And look not war so in the face, lest that desire that feeds
Thy great mind be the bane of it.” This did with anger sting
The blood of Diomed, to see his friend, that chid the king
Before the fight, and then preferr’d his ablesse and his mind
To all his ancestors in fight, now come so far behind;
Whom thus he answer’d: “Urge no flight, you cannot please me so;
Nor is it honest in my mind to fear a coming foe,
Or make a flight good, though with fight. My pow’rs are yet entire,
And scorn the help-tire of a horse. I will not blow the fire
Of their hot valours with my flight, but cast upon the blaze
This body borne upon my knees. I entertain amaze?
Minerva will not see that shame. And since they have begun,
They shall not both elect their ends; and he that ‘scapes shall run,
Or stay and take the other’s fate. And this I leave for thee; —
If amply-wise Athenia give both their lives to me,
Rein our horse to their chariot hard, and have a special heed
To seize upon Æneas’ steeds, that we may change their breed,
And make a Grecian race of them that have been long of Troy.
For these are bred of those brave beasts which, for the lovely boy
That waits now on the cup of Jove, Jove, that far-seeing God,
Gave Tros the king in recompense; the best that ever trod
The sounding centre, underneath the morning and the sun.
Anchises stole the breed of them; for, where their sires did run,
He closely put his mares to them, and never made it known
To him that heir’d them, who was then the king Laomedon.
Six horses had he of that race, of which himself kept four,
And gave the other two his son; and these are they that scour
The field so bravely towards us, expert in charge and flight.
If these we have the pow’r to take, our prise is exquisite,
And our renown will far exceed.” While these were talking thus,
The fir’d horse brought th’ assailants near, and thus spake
Pandarus:
“Most suff’ring-minded Tydeus’ son, that hast of war the art,
My shaft, that strook thee, slew thee not, I now will prove a dart.”
This said, he shook, and then he threw, a lance, aloft and large,
That in Tydides’ curets stuck, quite driving through his targe;
Then bray’d he out so wild a voice that all the field might hear:
“Now have I reach’d thy root of life, and by thy death shall bear
Our praise’s chief prise from the field.” Tydides undismay’d
Replied: “Thou err’st, I am not touch’d; but more charge will be laid
To both your lives before you part; at least the life of one
Shall satiate the throat of Mars.” This said, his lance was gone,
Minerva led it to his face, which at his eye ran in,
And, as he stoop’d, strook through his jaws, his tongue’s root, and his chin.
Down from the chariot he fell, his gay arms shin’d and rung,
The swift horse trembled, and his soul for ever charm’d his tongue.
Æneas with his shield, and lance, leapt swiftly to his friend,
Afraid the Greeks would force his trunk; and that he did defend,
Bold as a lion of his strength; he hid him with his shield,
Shook round his lance, and horribly did threaten all the field
With death, if any durst make in. Tydides rais’d a stone
With his one hand, of wondrous weight, and pour’d it mainly on
The hip of Anchisiades, wherein the joint doth move
The thigh (’tis call’d the huckle-bone) which all in sherds it drove,
Brake both the nerves, and with the edge cut all the flesh away.
It stagger’d him upon his knees, and made th’ heroë stay
His strook-blind temples on his hand, his elbow on the earth;
And there this prince of men had died, if She that gave him birth,
(Kiss’d by Anchises on the green, where his fair oxen fed)
Jove’s loving daughter, instantly had not about him spread
Her soft embraces, and convey’d within her heav’nly veil
(Us’d as a rampire ‘gainst all darts that did so hot assail)
Her dear-lov’d issue from the field, Then Sthenelus in haste,
Rememb’ring what his friend advis’d, from forth the prease made fast
His own horse to their chariot, and presently laid hand
Upon the lovely-coated horse Æneas did command.
Which bringing to the wond’nng Greeks, he did their guard commend
To his belov’d Deipylus, who was his inward friend,
And, of his equals, one to whom he had most honour shown,
That he might see them safe at fleet; then stept he to his own.
With which he cheerfully made in to Tydeus’ mighty race,
He, mad with his great enemy’s rape, was hot in desp’rate chace
Of her that made it, with his lance, arm’d less with steel than spite,
Well knowing her no Deity that had to do in fight,
Minerva his great patroness, nor, She th
at raceth towns,
Bellona, but a goddess weak, and foe to men’s renowns.
Her, through a world of fight pursu’d, at last he overtook,
And, thrusting up his ruthless lance, her heav’nly veil he strook
(That ev’n the Graces wrought themselves, at her divine command)
Quite through, and hurt the tender back of her delicious hand.
The rude point piercing through her palm, forth flow’d th’ immortal blood;
Blood, such as flows in blesséd Gods, that eat no human food,
Nor drink of our inflaming wine, and therefore bloodless are,
And call’d Immortals; out she cried, and could no longer bear
Her lov’d son; whom she cast from her, and in a sable cloud
Phœbus, receiving, hid him close from all the Grecian crowd,
Lest some of them should find his death. Away flew Venus then,
And after her cried Diomed: “Away, thou spoil of men,
Though sprung from all-preserving Jove, these hot encounters leave.
Is’t not enough that silly dames thy sorc’ries should deceive,
Unless thou thrust into the war, and rob a soldier’s right?
I think a few of these assaults will make thee fear the fight,
Wherever thou shalt hear it nam’d.” She, sighing, went her way
Extremely griev’d, and with her griefs her beauties did decay,
And black her ivory body grew. Then from a dewy mist
Brake swift-foot Iris to her aid, from all the darts that hiss’d
At her quick rapture; and to Mars they took their plaintive course,
And found him on the fight’s left hand, by him his speedy horse,
And huge lance, lying in a fog. The Queen of all things fair
Her lovéd brother, on her knees, besought, with instant pray’r,
His golden-riband-bound-man’d horse to lend her up to heav’n
For she was much griev’d with a wound a mortal man had giv’n,
Tydides, that ‘gainst Jove himself durst now advance his arm.
He granted, and his chariot (perplex’d with her late harm)
She mounted, and her waggoness was She that paints the air.
The horse she rein’d, and with a scourge importun’d their repair,
That of themselves out-flew the wind, and quickly they ascend
Olympus, high seat of the Gods. Th’ horse knew their journey’s end,
Stood still, and from their chariot the windy-footed dame
Dissolv’d, and gave them heav’nly food; and to Dione came
Her wounded daughter, bent her knees. She kindly bade her stand,
With sweet embraces help’d her up, strok’d her with her soft hand,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 59
