The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Old Peleus that good king will weep, that worthy counsellor,

  That trumpet of the Myrmidons, who much did ask me for

  All men of name that went to Troy; with joy he did inquire

  Their valour and their towardness, and I made him admire;

  But, that ye all fear Hector now, if his grave ears shall hear,

  How will he lift his hands to heav’n, and pray that death may bear

  His grieved soul into the deep! O would to heav’n’s great

  King, 3

  Minerva, and the God of light, that now my youthful spring

  Did flourish in my willing veins, as when at Phæa’s tow’rs

  About the streams of Jardanus, my gather’d Pylean pow’rs,

  And dart-employ’d Arcadians, fought, near raging Celadon!

  Amongst whom, first of all, stood forth great Ereuthalion,

  Who th’ arms of Arëithoús wore, brave Arëithoús,

  And, since he still fought with a club, surnam’d Clavigerus,

  All men, and fair-girt ladies both, for honour call’d him so.

  He fought not with a keep-off spear, or with a far-shot bow,

  But, with a massy club of iron, he broke through arméd bands.

  And yet Lycurgus was his death, but not with force of hands;

  With sleight (encount’ring in a lane, where his club wanted sway)

  He thrust him through his spacious waist; who fell, and upwards lay,

  In death not bowing his face to earth; his arms he did despoil,

  Which iron Mars bestow’d on him; and those, in Mars’s toil,

  Lycurgus ever after wore; but when he agéd grew,

  Enforc’d to keep his peaceful house, their use he did renew

  On mighty Ereuthalion’s limbs, his soldier, lovéd well;

  And, with these arms he challeng’d all, that did in arms excel;

  All shook, and stood dismay’d, none durst his adverse champion make.

  Yet this same forward mind of mine, of choice, would undertake

  To fight with all his confidence; though youngest enemy

  Of all the army we conduct, yet I fought with him, I,

  Minerva made me so renown’d, and that most tall strong peer

  I slew; his big bulk lay on earth, extended here and there,

  As it were covetous to spread the centre ev’rywhere.

  O that my youth were now as fresh, and all my pow’rs as sound,

  Soon should bold Hector be impugn’d! Yet you that most are crown’d

  With fortitude of all our host, ev’n you methinks are slow,

  Not free, and set on fire with lust, t’ encounter such a foe.”

  With this, nine royal princes rose. Atrides for the first;

  Then Diomed; th’ Ajaces then, that did th’ encounter thirst;

  King Idomen and his consórts; Mars-like Meriones;

  Evemon’s son, Eurypylus: and Andræmonides,

  Whom all the Grecians Thoas call’d, sprung of Andræmon’s blood;

  And wise Ulysses; ev’ry one, propos’d for combat, stood.

  Again Gerenius Nestor spake: “Let lots be drawn by all;

  His hand shall help the well-arm’d Greeks, on whom the lot doth fall,

  And to his wish shall he be help’d, if he escape with life

  The harmful danger-breathing fit of his advent’rous strife.”

  Each mark’d his lot, and cast it into Agamemnon’s casque.

  The soldiers pray’d, held up their hands, and this of Jove did ask,

  With eyes advanc’d to heav’n: “O Jove, so lead the herald’s hand,

  That Ajax, or great Tydeus’ son, may our wish’d champion stand,

  Or else the king himself that rules the rich Mycenian land.”

  This said, old Nestor mix’d the lots. The foremost lot survey’d

  With Ajax Telamon was sign’d, as all the soldiers pray’d;

  One of the heralds drew it forth, who brought and show’d it round,

  Beginning at the right hand first, to all the most renown’d.

  None knowing it, ev’ry man denied; but when he forth did pass

  To him which mark’d and cast it in; which famous Ajax was,

  He stretch’d his hand, and into it the herald put the lot,

  Who, viewing it, th’ inscription knew; the duke deniéd not,

  But joyfully acknowledg’d it, and threw it at his feet,

  And said: “O friends, the lot is mine, which to my soul is sweet;

  For now I hope my fame shall rise, in noble Hector’s fall.

  But, whilst I arm myself, do you on great Saturnius call,

  But silently, or to yourselves, that not a Trojan hear;

  Or openly, if you think good, since none alive we fear.

  None with a will, if I will not, can my bold pow’rs affright,

  At least for plain fierce swing of strength, or want of skill in fight;

  For I will well prove that my birth; and breed, in Salamine

  Was not all consecrate to meat, or mere effects of wine.”

  This said, the well-giv’n soldiers pray’d; up went to heav’n their eyne:

  “O Jove, that Ida dost protect, most happy, most divine,

  Send victory to Ajax’ side; fame; grace his goodly limb;

  Or (if thy love bless Hector’s life, and thou hast care of him.)

  Bestow on both like pow’r, like fame.” This said, in bright arms, shone

  The good strong Ajax; who, when all his war attire was on,

  March’d like the hugely-figur’d Mars, when angry Jupiter

  With strength, on people proud of strength, sends him forth to infer

  Wreakful contention, and comes on with presence full of fear;

  So th’ Achive rampire, Telamon, did ‘twixt the hosts appear;

  Smil’d; yet of terrible aspéct; on earth, with ample pace,

  He boldly stalk’d, and shook aloft his dart with deadly grace.

  It did the Grecians good to see; but heartquakes shook the joints

  Of all the Trojans, Hector’s self felt thoughts, with horrid points,

  Tempt his bold bosom; but he now must make no counterflight,

  Nor, with his honour, now refuse, that had provok’d the fight.

  Ajax came near; and, like a tow’r, his shield his bosom barr’d,

  The right side brass, and sev’n ox-hides within it quilted hard; 4

  Old Tychius, the best currier; that did in Hyla dwell,

  Did frame it for exceeding proof, and wrought it wondrous well.

  With this stood he to Hector close, and with this brave began:

  “Now, Hector, thou shalt clearly know, thus meeting man to man,

  What other leaders arm our host, besides great Thetis’ son,

  Who with his hardy lion’s heart hath armies overrun;

  But he lies at our crook’d-stern’d fleet, a rival with our king

  In height of spirit; yet to Troy he many knights did bring,

  Coequal with Æacides, all able to sustain

  All thy bold challenge can import. Begin then, words are vain,”

  The helm-grac’d Hector answer’d him: “Renownéd Telamon,

  Prince of the soldiers came from Greece, assay not me, like one

  Young and immartial, with great words, as to an Amazon dame;

  I have the habit of all fights, and know the bloody frame

  Of ev’ry slaughter; I well know the ready right hand charge,

  I know the left, and ev’ry sway of my secureful targe;

  I triumph in the cruelty of fixéd combat fight,

  And manage horse to all designs; I think then with good right

  I may be confident as far as this my challenge goes,

  Without being taxéd’ with a vaunt, borne out with empty shows.

  But, being a soldier so renown’d, I will not work on thee

  With least advantage of that skill I know doth strengthen me,

  And s
o, with privity of sleight, win that for which I strive,

  But at thy best, ev’n open strength, if my endeavours thrive.”

  Thus sent he his long jav’lin forth. It strook his foe’s huge shield

  Near to the upper skirt of brass, which was the eighth it held.

  Six folds th’ untamed dart strook through, and in the sev’nth tough hide

  The point was check’d. Then Ajax threw; his angry lance did glide

  Quite through his bright orbicular targe, his curace, shirt of mail,

  And did his manly stomach’s mouth with dang’rous taint assail;

  But, in the bowing of himself, black death too short did strike.

  Then both, to pluck their jav’lins forth, encounter’d, lion-like,

  Whose bloody violence is, increas’d by that raw food they eat,

  Or boars whose strength wild nourishment doth make so wondrous great.

  Again Priamides did wound in midst his shield of brass,

  Yet pierc’d not through the upper plate, the head reflected was.

  But Ajax, following his lance, smote through his target quite,

  And stay’d bold Hector rushing in; the lance held way outright,

  And hurt his neck; out gush’d the blood. Yet Hector ceas’d not so,

  But in his strong hand took a flint, as he did backwards go,

  Black, sharp, and big, laid in the field; the sev’nfold targe it smit

  Full on the boss, and round about the brass did ring with it.

  But Ajax a far greater stone lift up, and (wreathing round,

  With all his body laid to it) he sent it forth to wound,

  And gave unmeasur’d force to it; the round stone broke within

  His rundled target; his lov’d knees to languish did begin;

  And he lean’d, stretch’d out on his shield; but Phœbus rais’d him straight.

  Then had they laid on wounds with swords, in use of closer fight,

  Unless the heralds (messengers of Gods and godlike men)

  The one of Troy, the other Greece, had held betwixt them then

  Imperial sceptres; when the one, Idæus, grave and wise,

  Said to them: “Now no more, my sons; the Sov’reign of the skies

  Doth love you both; both soldiers are, all witness with good right;

  But now night lays her mace on earth; ’tis good t’ obey the night.”

  “Idæus,” Telamon replied, “to Hector speak, not me;

  He that call’d all our Achive peers to station-fight, ’twas he;

  If he first cease, I gladly yield.” Great Hector then began:

  “Ajax, since Jove, to thy big form, made thee so strong a man,

  And gave thee skill to use thy strength, so much, that for thy spear

  Thou art most excellent of Greece, now let us fight forbear.

  Hereafter we shall war again, till Jove our herald be,

  And grace with conquest which he will. Heav’n yields to night, and we.

  Go thou and comfort all thy fleet, all friends and men of thine,

  As I in Troy my favourers, who in the fane divine

  Have offer’d orisons for me; and come, let us impart

  Some ensigns of our strife, to show each other’s suppled heart,

  That men of Troy and Greece may say, Thus their high quarrel ends.

  Those that, encount’ring, were such foes, are now, being sep’rate, friends,”

  He gave a sword, whose handle was with silver studs through driv’n, 5

  Scabbard and all, with hangers rich. By Telamon was giv’n

  A fair well-glosséd purple waist. Thus Hector went to Troy,

  And after him a multitude, fill’d with his safety’s joy,

  Despairing he could ever ‘scape the puissant fortitude

  And unimpeachéd Ajax’ hands. The Greeks like joy renew’d

  For their reputed victory, and brought him to the king;

  Who to the great Saturnides preferr’d an offering,

  An ox that fed on five fair springs; they flay’d and quarter’d him, 6

  And then, in pieces cut, on spits they roasted ev’ry limb;

  Which neatly dress’d, they drew it off. Work done, they fell to feast;

  All had enough; but Telamon, the king fed past the rest

  With good large pieces of the chine. Thus thirst and hunger stay’d,

  Nestor, whose counsels late were best, vows new, and first he said:

  “Atrides, and my other lords, a sort of Greeks are dead,

  Whose black blood, near Scamander’s stream, inhuman Mars hath shed;

  Their souls to hell descended are. It fits thee then, our king,

  To make our soldiers cease from war; and, by the day’s first spring,

  Let us ourselves, assembled all, the bodies bear to fire,

  With mules and oxen near our fleet, that, when we home retire,

  Each man may carry to the sons, of fathers slaughter’d here,

  Their honour’d bones. One tomb for all, for ever, let us rear,

  Circling the pile without the field; at which we will erect

  Walls, and a rav’lin, that may safe our fleet and us protect.

  And in them let us fashion gates, solid, and barr’d about,

  Through which our horse, and chariots, may well get in and out.

  Without all, let us dig a dike, so deep it may avail

  Our forces ‘gainst the charge of horse, and foot, that come t’ assail.

  And thus th’ attempts, that I see swell, in Troy’s proud heart, shall fail.”

  The kings do his advice approve. So Troy doth court convent

  At Priam’s gate, in th’ Ilion tow’r, fearful and turbulent.

  Amongst all, wise Antenor spake: “Trojans, and Dardan friends,

  And peers assistants, give good ear to what my care commends

  To your consents, for all our good. Resolve, let us restore

  The Argive Helen, with her wealth, to him she had before.

  We now defend but broken faiths. If, therefore, ye refuse,

  No good event can I expect of all the wars, we use.”

  He ceas’d; and Alexander spake; husband to the Argive queen:

  “Antenor, to mine ears thy words harsh and ungracious been.

  Thou canst use better if thou wilt: but, if these truly fit

  Thy serious thoughts, the Gods with age have reft thy graver wit,

  To warlike Trojans I will speak: I clearly do deny

  To yield my wife, but all her wealth I render willingly,

  Whatever I from Argos brought, and vow to make it more,

  Which I have ready in my house, if peace I may restore.”

  Priam, surnam’d Dardanides, godlike; in counsels grave;

  In his son’s favour well-advis’d, this resolution gave:

  “My royal friends of ev’ry state, there is sufficient done,

  For this late council we have call’d, in th’ offer of my son.

  Now then let all take needful food, then let the watch be set,

  And ev’ry court of guard held strong; so, when the morn doth wet

  The high-rais’d battlements of Troy, Idæus shall be sent

  To th’ Argive fleet, and Atreus’ sons, t’ unfold my son’s intent,

  From whose fact our contention springs; and, if they will, obtain

  Respite from heat of fight, till fire consume our soldiers slain;

  And after, our most fatal war let us importune still,

  Till Jove the conquest have dispos’d to his unconquer’d will.”

  All heard, and did obey the king; and, in their quarters, all,

  That were to set the watch that night, did to their suppers fall.

  Idæus in the morning went, and th’ Achive peers did find

  In council at Atrides’ ship; his audience was assign’d;

  And, in the midst of all the kings, the vocal herald said:

  “Atrides! My renownéd king, and other kings, his a
id,

  Propose by me, in their commands, the offers Paris makes,

  From whose joy all our woes proceed. He princely undertakes

  That all the wealth he brought from Greece (would he had died before!)

  He will, with other added wealth, for your amends restore

  But famous Menelaus’ wife he still means to enjoy,

  Though he be urg’d the contrary, by all the peers of Troy.

  And this besides I have in charge, that, if it please you all,

  They wish both sides may cease from war, that rites of funeral

  May on their bodies be perform’d, that ill, the fields lie slain;

  And after, to the will of Fate, renew the fight again.”

  All silence held at first; at last Tydides made reply:

  “Let no man take the wealth, or dame; for now a child’s weak eye

  May see the imminent black end of Priam’s empery.”

  This sentence, quick and briefly giv’n, the Greeks did all admire.

  Then said, the king: “Herald, thou hear’st the voice entire

  Of all our peers, to answer thee, for that of Priam’s son.

  But, for our burning of the dead, by all means I am won

  To satisfy thy king therein, without the slend’rest gain

  Made of their spoiléd carcasses; but freely, being slain,

  They shall be all consum’d with fire. To which I cite

  High thund’ring Jove; that is the king of Juno’s delight.”

  With this, he held his sceptre up, to all the sky-thron’d Pow’rs;

  And grave Idæus did return to sacred Ilion’s tow’rs,

  Where Ilians, and Dardanians, did still their counsels ply,

  Expecting his return. He came, and told his legacy.

  All, whirlwind-like, assembled then, some bodies to transport,

  Some to hew trees. On th’ other part, the Argives did exhort

  Their soldiers to the same affairs. Then, did the new fir’d sun

  Smite the broad fields, ascending heav’n, and th’ ocean smooth did run;

  When Greece and Troy mix’d in such peace, you scarce could either know.

  Then wash’d they off their blood and dust, and did warm tears bestow

  Upon the slaughter’d, and in cars convey’d them from the field.

  Priam commanded none should mourn, but in still silence yield

  Their honour’d carcasses to fire, and only grieve in heart.

  All burn’d; to Troy Troy’s friends retire, to fleet the Grecian part.

  Yet doubtful night obscur’d the earth, the day did not appear,

  When round about the fun’ral pile, the Grecians gather’d were.