Tydides slew them with his lance, and made their arms his prise.
Hypirochus, and Hippodus, Ulysses reft of light.
But Jove, that out of Ida look’d, then equalis’d the fight,
A Grecian for a Trojan then paid tribute to the Fates.
Yet royal Diomed slew one, ev’n in those even debates,
That was of name more than the rest, Pæon’s renownéd son,
The prince Agastrophus; his lance into his hip did run;
His squire detain’d his horse apart, that hinder’d him to fly,
Which he repented at his heart, yet did his feet apply
His ‘scape with all the speed they had alongst the foremost bands,
And there his lovéd life dissolv’d. This Hector understands,
And rush’d with clamour on the king, right soundly seconded
With troops of Trojans. Which perceiv’d by famous Diomed,
The deep conceit of Jove’s high will stiffen’d his royal hair,
Who spake to near-fought Ithacus: “The fate of this affair
Is bent to us. Come let us stand, and bound his violence.”
Thus threw he his long jav’lin forth, which smote his head’s defence
Full on the top, yet pierc’d no skin; brass took repulse with brass;
His helm (with three folds made, and sharp) the gift of Phœbus was.
The blow made Hector take the troop, sunk him upon his hand,
And strook him blind. The king pursu’d before the foremost band
His dart’s recov’ry, which he found laid on the purple plain;
By which time Hector was reviv’d, and, taking horse again,
Was far commix’d within his strength, and fled his darksome grave.
He follow’d with his thirsty lance, and this elusive brave:
“Once more be thankful to thy heels, proud dog, for thy escape.
Mischief sat near thy bosom now; and now another rape
Hath thy Apollo made of thee, to whom thou well mayst pray,
When through the singing of our darts thou find’st such guarded way.
But I shall meet with thee at length, and bring thy latest hour,
If with like favour any God be fautour of my pow’r.
Meanwhile some other shall repay, what I suspend in thee.”
This said, he set the wretched soul of Pæon’s issue free,
Whom his late wound not fully slew. But Priam’s amorous birth
Against Tydides bent his bow, hid with a hill of earth,
Part of the ruinated tomb for honour’d Ilus built,
And as the curace of the slain, engrav’n and richly gilt,
Tydides from his breast had spoil’d, and from his shoulders raft
His target and his solid helm, he shot, and his keen shaft
(That never flew from him in vain) did nail unto the ground
The king’s right foot; the spleenful knight laugh’d sweetly at the wound,
Crept from his covert, and triumph’d: “Now art thou maim’d,” said he,
“And would to God my happy hand had so much honour’d me
To have infix’d it in thy breast, as deep as in thy foot,
Ev’n to th’ expulsure of thy soul! Then blest had been my shoot
Of all the Trojans; who had then breath’d from their long unrests.
Who fear thee, as the braying goats abhor the king of beasts.”
Undaunted Diomed replied: “You braver with your bow,
You slick-hair’d lover, you that hunt and fleer at wenches so,
Durst thou but stand in arms with me, thy silly archery
Would give thee little cause to vaunt. As little suffer I
In this same tall exploit of thine, perform’d when thou wert hid,
As if a woman, or a child that knew not what it did,
Had touch’d my foot. A coward’s steel hath never any edge.
But mine, t’ assure it sharp, still lays dead carcasses in pledge;
Touch it, it renders lifeless straight, it strikes the fingers’ ends
Of hapless widows in their cheeks, and children blind of friends.
The subject of it makes earth red, and air with sighs inflames,
And leaves limbs more embrac’d with birds than with enamour’d dames.”
Lance-fam’d Ulysses now came in, and stept before the king,
Kneel’d opposite, and drew the shaft. The eager pain did sting
Through all his body. Straight he took his royal chariot there,
And with direction to the fleet did charge his charioteer.
Now was Ulysses desolate, fear made no friend remain,
He thus spake to his mighty mind: “What doth my state sustain?
If I should fly this odds in fear, that thus comes clust’ring on,
‘Twere high dishonour; yet ‘twere worse, to be surpris’d alone.
’Tis Jove that drives the rest to fight; but that’s a faint excuse.
Why do I tempt my mind so much? Pale cowards fight refuse.
He that affects renown in war must like a rock be fix’d,
Wound, or be wounded. Valour’s truth puts no respect betwixt.”
In this contention with himself, in flew the shady bands
Of targeteers, who sieg’d him round with mischief-filléd hands.
As when a crew of gallants watch the wild muse of a boar,
Their dogs put after in full cry, he rusheth on before,
Whets, with his lather-making jaws, his crookéd tusks for blood,
And, holding firm his usual haunts, breaks through the deepen’d wood,
They charging, though his hot approach be never so abhorr’d;
So, to assail the Jove-lov’d Greek, the Ilians did accord,
And he made through them. First he hurt, upon his shoulder blade,
Deiops, a blameless man at arms; then sent to endless shade
Thoon and Eunomus; and strook the strong Chersidamas,
As from his chariot he leap’d down, beneath his targe of brass;
Who fell, and crawl’d upon the earth with his sustaining palms,
And left the fight. Nor yet his lance left dealing martial alms,
But Socus’ brother by both sides, young Carops, did impress.
Then princely Socus to his aid made brotherly access,
And, coming near, spake in his charge: “O great Laertes’ son,
Insatiate in sly stratagems, and labours never done,
This hour, or thou shalt boast to kill the two Hippasides
And prise their arms, or fall thyself in my resolv’d access.”
This said, he threw quite through his shield his fell and well-driv’n lance,
Which held way through his curaces, and on his ribs did glance,
Plowing the flesh alongst his sides; but Pallas did repel
All inward passage to his life. Ulysses, knowing well
The wound undeadly (setting back his foot to form his stand)
Thus spake to Socus: “O thou wretch, thy death is in this hand,
That stay’st my victory on Troy, and where thy charge was made
In doubtful terms (or this or that) this shall thy life invade.”
This frighted Socus to retreat, and, in his faint reverse,
The lance betwixt his shoulders fell, and through his breast did perse,
Down fell he sounding, and the king thus play’d with his mis-ease:
“O Socus, you that make by birth the two Hippasides,
Now may your house and you perceive death can outfly the flyer.
Ah wretch! thou canst not ‘scape my vows. Old Hippasus thy sire,
Nor thy well-honour’d mother’s hands, in both which lies thy worth,
Shall close thy wretched eyes in death, but vultures dig them forth,
And hide them with their darksome wings; but when Ulysses dies,
Divinest Greeks shall tomb my corse with all their obsequies.”
Now from his
body and his shield the violent lance he drew,
That princely Socus had infix’d; which drawn, a crimson dew
Fell from his bosom on the earth; the wound did dare him sore.
And when the furious Trojans saw Ulysses’ forcéd gore,
Encouraging themselves in gross, all his destruction vow’d.
Then he retir’d, and summon’d aid. Thrice shouted he aloud,
As did denote a man engag’d. Thrice Menelaus’ ear
Observ’d his aid-suggesting voice, and Ajax being near,
He told him of Ulysses’ shouts, as if he were enclos’d
From all assistance, and advis’d their aids might be dispos’d
Against the ring that circled him, lest, charg’d with troops alone,
(Though valiant) he might be oppress’d, whom Greece so built upon.
He led, and Ajax seconded. They found their Jove-lov’d king
Circled with foes. As when a den of bloody lucerns cling
About a goodly-palméd hart, hurt with a hunter’s bow,
Whose ‘scape his nimble feet enforce, whilst his warm blood doth flow,
And his light knees have pow’r to move; but, master’d of his wound,
Emboss’d within a shady hill, the lucerns charge him round,
And tear his flesh; when instantly fortune sends in the pow’rs
Of some stern lion, with whose sight they fly, and he devours;
So charged the Ilians Ithacus, many and mighty men.
But then made Menelaus in, and horrid Ajax then,
Bearing a target like a tow’r, close was his violent stand,
And every way the foe dispers’d, when, by the royal hand,
Kind Menelaus led away the hurt Laertes’ son,
Till his fair squire had brought his horse. Victorious Telamon
Still plied the foe, and put to sword a young Priamides,
Doryclus, Priam’s bastard son; then did his lance impress
Pandocus, and strong Pirasus, Lysander and Palertes.
As when a torrent from the hills, swoln with Saturnian show’rs,
Falls on the fields, bears blasted oaks, and wither’d rosin flow’rs,
Loose weeds, and all disperséd filth, into the ocean’s force;
So matchless Ajax beat the field, and slaughter’d men and horse.
Yet had not Hector heard of this, who fought on the left wing
Of all the host, near those sweet herbs Scamander’s flood doth spring,
Where many foreheads trod the ground, and where the skirmish burn’d
Near Nestor and king Idomen, where Hector over turn’d
The Grecian squadrons, authoring high service with his lance,
And skilful manage of his horse. Nor yet the discrepance
He made in death betwixt the hosts had made the Greeks retire,
If fair-hair’d Helen’s second spouse had not repress’d the fire
Of bold Machaon’s fortitude, who with a three-fork’d head
In his right shoulder wounded him. Then had the Grecians dread.
Lest, in his strength declin’d, the foe should slaughter their hurt friend.
Then Crete’s king urg’d Neleides his chariot to ascend,
And getting near him, take him in, and bear him to their tents.
A surgeon is to be preferr’d, with physic ornaments,
Before a multitude; his life gives hurt lives native bounds,
With sweet inspersion of fit balms, and perfect search of wounds.
Thus spake the royal Idomen. Neleides obey’d,
And to his chariot presently the wounded Greek convey’d,
The son of Æsculapius, the great physician.
To fleet they flew. Cebriones perceiv’d the slaughter done
By Ajax on the other troops, and spake to Hector thus:
“Whiles we encounter Grecians here, stern Telamonius
Is yonder raging, turning up in heaps our horse and men;
I know him by his spacious shield. Let us turn chariot then,
Where, both of horse and foot, the fight most hotly is propos’d,
In mutual slaughters. Hark, their throats from cries are never clos’d.”
This said, with his shrill scourge he strook the horse, that fast ensu’d
Stung with his lashes, tossing shields, and carcasses imbru’d.
The chariot tree was drown’d in blood, and th’ arches by the seat
Disperpled from the horses’ hoofs, and from the wheel bands beat.
Great Hector long’d to break the ranks, and startle their close fight,
Who horribly amaz’d the Greeks, and plied their sudden fright
With busy weapons, ever wing’d; his lance, sword, weighty stones.
Yet charg’d he other leader’s hands, not dreadful Telamon’s;
With whom he wisely shunn’d foul blows. But Jove (that weighs above
All human pow’rs) to Ajax’ breast divine repressions drove,
And made him shun who shunn’d himself; he ceas’d from fight amaz’d,
Cast on his back his sev’n-fold shield, and round about him gaz’d
Like one turn’d wild, look’d on himself in his distract retreat,
Knee before knee did scarcely move. As when from herds of neat,
Whole threaves of boors and mongrels chase a lion skulking near,
Loth he should taint the well-prized fat of any stall-fed steer,
Consuming all the night in watch, he, greedy of his prey,
Oft thrusting on is oft thrust off, so thick the jav’lins play
On his bold charges, and so hot the burning fire-brands shine,
Which he (though horrible) abhors, about his glowing eyne,
And early his great heart retires; so Ajax from the foe,
For fear their fleet should be inflam’d, ‘gainst his swoln heart did go.
As when a dull mill ass comes near a goodly field of corn,
Kept from the birds by children’s cries, the boys are overborne
By his insensible approach, and simply he will eat;
About whom many wands are broke, and still the children beat,
And still the self-providing ass doth with their weakness bear,
Not stirring till his paunch be full, and scarcely then will steer;
So the huge son of Telamon amongst the Trojans far’d,
Bore show’rs of darts upon his shield, yet scorn’d to fly as scar’d,
And so kept softly on his way; nor would he mend his pace
For all their violent pursuits, that still did arm the chace
With singing lances. But, at last, when their cur-like presumes
More urg’d the more forborne, his spirits did rarify their fumes,
And he revok’d his active strength, turn’d head, and did repell
The horse-troops that were new made in, ‘twixt whom the fight grew fell;
And by degrees he stole retreat, yet with such puissant stay
That none could pass him to the fleet. In both the armies’ sway
He stood, and from strong hands receiv’d sharp jav’lins on his shield,
Where many stuck, thrown on before, many fell short in field,
Ere the white body they could reach, and stuck, as telling how
They purpos’d to have pierc’d his flesh. His peril piercéd now
The eyes of prince Eurypylus, Evemon’s famous son,
Who came close on, and with his dart strook duke Apisaon,
Whose surname was Phausiades, ev’n to the concrete blood
That makes the liver; on the earth, out gush’d his vital flood.
Eurypylus made in, and eas’d his shoulders of his arms;
Which Paris seeing, he drew his bow, and wreak’d in part the harms
Of his good friend Phausiades, his arrow he let fly
That smote Eurypylus, and brake in his attainted thigh;
Then took he troop to shun black death, and to the flyers cried:
Of this our honour-wracking chace. Ajax is drown’d in darts,
I fear past ‘scape; turn, honour’d friends, help out his vent’rous parts.”
Thus spake the wounded Greek; the sound cast on their backs their shields,
And rais’d their darts; to whose relief Ajax his person wields.
Then stood he firmly with his friends, retiring their retire.
And thus both hosts indiff’rent join’d, the fight grew hot as fire.
Now had Neleides’ sweating steeds brought him, and his hurt friend,
Amongst their fleet. Æacides, that wishly did intend,
Standing astern his tall-neck’d ship, how deep the skirmish drew
Amongst the Greeks, and with what ruth the insecution grew,
Saw Nestor bring Machaon hurt, and from within did call
His friend Patroclus; who, like Mars in form celestial,
Came forth with first sound of his voice, first spring of his decay,
And ask’d his princely friend’s desire. “Dear friend,” said he,
“this day
I doubt not will enforce the Greeks, to swarm about my knees;
I see unsuffer’d need employ’d in their extremities.
Go, sweet Patroclus, and inquire of old Neleides
Whom he brought wounded from the fight; by his back parts I guess
It is Machaon, but his face I could not well descry,
They pass’d me in such earnest speed.” Patroclus presently
Obey’d his friend, and ran to know. They now descended were,
And Nestor’s squire, Eurymedon, the horses did ungear;
Themselves stood near th’ extremest shore, to let the gentle air
Dry up their sweat; then to the tent where Hecamed the fair
Set chairs, and for the wounded prince a potion did prepare.
This Hecamed, by war’s hard fate, fell to old Nestor’s share,
When Thetis’ son sack’d Tenedos; she was the princely seed
Of worthy king Arsinous, and by the Greeks decreed
The prise of Nestor, since all men in counsel he surpass’d.
First, a fair table she appos’d, of which the feet were grac’d
With bluish metal mix’d with black; and on the same she put
A brass fruit-dish, in which she serv’d a wholesome onion cut
For pittance to the potion, and honey newly wrought,
And bread, the fruit of sacred meal. Then to the board she brought
A right fair cup with gold studs driv’n, which Nestor did transfer
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 74
