From Pylos; on whose swelling sides four handles fixéd were,
And upon ev’ry handle sat a pair of doves of gold,
Some billing, and some pecking meat; two gilt feet did uphold
The antique body; and withal so weighty was the cup
That, being propos’d brimful of wine, one scarce could lift it up,
Yet Nestor drunk in it with ease, spite of his years’ respect.
In this the goddess-like fair dame a potion did confect
With good old wine of Pramnius, and scrap’d into the wine
Cheese made of goat’s milk, and on it spers’d flour exceeding fine.
In this sort for the wounded lord the potion she prepar’d,
And bad him drink. For company, with him old Nestor shar’d.
Thus physically quench’d they thirst, and then their spirits reviv’d
With pleasant conference. And now Patroclus, being arriv’d,
Made stay at th’ entry of the tent. Old Nestor, seeing it,
Rose, and receiv’d him by the hand, and fain would have him sit.
He set that courtesy aside, excusing it with haste,
Since his much-to-be-rev’renced friend sent him to know who past,
Wounded with him in chariot, so swiftly through the shore;
“Whom now,” said he, “I see and know, and now can stay no more;
You know, good father, our great friend is apt to take offence,
Whose fi’ry temper will inflame sometimes with innocence.”
He answer’d: “When will Peleus’ son some royal pity show
On his thus wounded countrymen? Ah! is he yet to know
How much affliction tires our host? How our especial aid,
Tainted with lances, at their tents are miserably laid?
Ulysses, Diomed, our king, Eurypylus, Machaon,
All hurt, and all our worthiest friends; yet no compassion
Can supple thy friend’s friendless breast! Doth he reserve his eye
Till our fleet burn, and we ourselves one after other die?
Alas, my forces are not now as in my younger life.
Oh would to God I had that strength I uséd in the strife
Betwixt us and the Elians, for oxen to be driv’n,
When Itymonius’ lofty soul was by my valour giv’n
As sacrifice to destiny, Hypirochus’ strong son,
That dwelt in Elis, and fought first in our contention!
We forag’d, as proclaiméd foes, a wondrous wealthy boot,
And he, in rescue of his herds, fell breathless at my foot.
All the dorp boors with terror fled. Our prey was rich and great;
Twice five and twenty flocks of sheep; as many herds of neat;
As many goats, and nasty swine; an hundred fifty mares,
All sorrel, most with sucking foals. And these soon-monied wares
We drave into Neleius’ town, fair Pylos, all by night.
My father’s heart was glad to see so much good fortune quite
The forward mind of his young son, that us’d my youth in deeds,
And would not smother it in moods. Now drew the Sun’s bright steeds
Light from the hills; our heralds now accited all that were
Endamag’d by the Elians; our princes did appear;
Our boot was parted; many men th’ Epeians much did owe,
That, being our neighbours, they did spoil; afflictions did so flow
On us poor Pylians, though but few. In brake great Hercules
To our sad confines of late years, and wholly did suppress
Our hapless princes. Twice-six Sons renown’d Neleius bred,
Only myself am left of all, the rest subdu’d and dead.
And this was it that made so proud the base Epeian bands,
On their near neighbours, being oppress’d, to lay injurious hands.
A herd of oxen for himself, a mighty flock of sheep,
My sire selected, and made choice of shepherds for their keep;
And from the gen’ral spoil he cull’d three hundred of the best.
The Elians ought him infinite, most plagu’d of all the rest.
Four wager-winning horse he lost, and chariots intervented,
Being led to an appointed race; the prize that was presented
Was a religious three-foot urn; Augeas was the king
That did detain them, and dismiss’d their keeper sorrowing
For his lov’d charge lost with foul words. Then both for words and deeds
My sire being worthily incens’d, thus justly he proceeds
To satisfaction, in first choice of all our wealthy prise;
And, as he shar’d much, much he left his subjects to suffice,
That none might be oppress’d with pow’r, or want his portion due.
Thus for the public good we shar’d. Then we to temples drew
Our cómplete city, and to heav’n we thankful rites did burn
For our rich conquest. The third day ensuing our return
The Elians flew on us in heaps; their gen’ral leaders were
The two Moliones, two boys, untrainéd in the fear
Of horrid war, or use of strength. A certain city shines
Upon a lofty prominent, and in th’ extreme confines
Of sandy Pylos, seated where Alpheus’ flood doth run,
And call’d Thryessa; this they sieg’d, and gladly would have won,
But, having pass’d through all our fields, Minerva as our spy
Fell from Olympus in the night, and arm’d us instantly;
Nor muster’d she unwilling men, nor unprepar’d for force.
My sire yet would not let me arm, but hid away my horse,
Esteeming me no soldier yet; yet shin’d I nothing less
Amongst our gallants, though on foot; Minerva’s mightiness
Led me to fight, and made me bear a soldier’s worthy name.
There is a flood falls into sea, and his crook’d course doth frame
Close to Arena, and is call’d bright Minyæus’ stream.
There made we halt, and there the sun cast many a glorious beam
On our bright armours, horse and foot insea’d together there.
Then march’d we on. By fi’ry noon we saw the sacred clear
Of great Alpheus, where to Jove we did fair sacrifice;
And to the azure God, that rules the under-liquid skies,
We offer’d up a solemn bull; a bull t’ Alpheus’ name;
And to the blue-ey’d Maid we burn’d a heifer never tame.
Now was it night; we supp’d and slept, about the flood, in arms.
The foe laid hard siege to our town, and shook it with alarms,
But, for prevention of their spleens, a mighty work of war
Appear’d behind them; for as soon as Phœbus’ fi’ry car
Cast night’s foul darkness from his wheels (invoking rev’rend Jove,
And the unconquer’d Maid his birth) we did th’ event approve,
And gave them battle. First of all, I slew (the army saw)
The mighty soldier Mulius, Augeas’ son-in-law,
And spoil’d him of his one hoof’d horse; his eldest daughter was
Bright Agamede, that for skill in simples did surpass,
And knew as many kind of drugs, as earth’s broad centre bred.
Him charg’d I with my brass-arm’d lance, the dust receiv’d him dead.
I, leaping to his chariot, amongst the foremost press’d,
And the great-hearted Elians fled frighted, seeing their best
And loftiest soldier taken down, the gen’ral of their horse.
I follow’d like a black whirlwind, and did for prise enforce
Full fifty chariots, ev’ry one furnish’d with two arm’d men,
Who ate the earth, slain with my lance. And I had slaughter’d then
The two young boys, Moliones, if their world-circling sire,
Great Neptune,
had not saft their lives, and cover’d their retire
With unpierc’d clouds. Then Jove bestow’d a haughty victory
Upon us Pylians; for so long we did the chace apply,
Slaught’ring and making spoil of arms, till sweet Buprasius’ soil,
Alesius, and Olenia, were fam’d with our recoil;
For there Minerva turn’d our pow’r, and there the last I slew
As, when our battle join’d, the first. The Pylians then withdrew
To Pylas from Buprasius. Of all th’ Immortals then,
They most thank’d Jove for victory; Nestor the most of men.
Such was I ever, if I were employ’d with other peers,
And I had honour of my youth, which dies not in my years.
And great Achilles only joys hability of act
In his brave prime, and doth not deign t’ impart it where ’tis lack’d.
No doubt he will extremely mourn, long after that black hour
Wherein our ruin shall be brought, and rue his ruthless pow’r,
O friend! my memory revives the charge Menœtius gave
Thy towardness, when thou sett’st forth, to keep out of the grave
Our wounded honour. I myself and wise Ulysses were
Within the room, where ev’ry word then spoken we did hear,
For we were come to Peleus’ court, as we did must’ring pass
Through rich Achaia, where thy sire, Menœtius, was,
Thyself and great Æacides, when Peleüs the king
To thunder-loving Jove did burn an ox for offering,
In his court-yard. A cup of gold, crown’d with red wine, he held
On th’ holy incensory pour’d. You, when the ox was fell’d,
Were dressing his divided limbs; we in the portal stood.
Achilles seeing us come so near, his honourable blood
Was strook with a respective shame, rose, took us by the hands,
Brought us both in, and made us sit, and us’d his kind commands
For seemly hospitable rites, which quickly were appos’d.
Then, after needfulness of food, I first of all disclos’d
The royal cause of our repair; mov’d you and your great friend
To consort our renown’d designs; both straight did condescend.
Your fathers knew it, gave consent, and grave instruction
To both your valours. Peleus charg’d his most unequall’d son
To govern his victorious strength, and shine past all the rest
In honour, as in mere main force. Then were thy partings blest
With dear advices from thy sire; ‘My lovéd son,’ said he,
‘Achilles, by his grace of birth, superior is to thee,
And for his force more excellent, yet thou more ripe in years;
Then with sound counsels, age’s fruits, employ his honour’d years,
Command and overrule his moods; his nature will obey
In any charge discreetly giv’n, that doth his good assay.’
“Thus charg’d thy sire, which thou forgett’st. Yet now at last approve,
With forcéd reference of these, th’ attraction of his love;
Who knows if sacred influence may bless thy good intent,
And enter with thy gracious words, ev’n to his full consent?
The admonition of a friend is sweet and vehement.
If any oracle he shun, or if his mother-queen
Hath brought him some instinct from Jove, that fortifies his spleen,
Let him resign command to thee of all his Myrmidons,
And yield by that means some repulse to our confusions,
Adorning thee in his bright arms, that his resembled form
May haply make thee thought himself, and calm this hostile storm;
That so a little we may ease our overchargéd hands,
Draw some breath, not expire it all. The foe but faintly stands
Beneath his labours; and your charge being fierce, and freshly giv’n,
They eas’ly from our tents and fleet may to their walls be driv’n.”
This mov’d the good Patroclus’ mind; who made his utmost haste
T’ inform his friend; and as the fleet of Ithacus he past,
(At which their markets were dispos’d, councils, and martial courts,
And where to th’ altars of the Gods they made divine resorts)
He met renown’d Eurypylus, Evemon’s noble son,
Halting, his thigh hurt with a shaft, the liquid sweat did run
Down from his shoulders and his brows, and from his raging wound
Forth flow’d his melancholy blood, yet still his mind was sound.
His sight in kind Patroclus’ breast to sacred pity turn’d,
And (nothing more immartial for true ruth) thus he mourn’d:
“Ah wretched progeny of Greece, princes, dejected kings,
Was it your fates to nourish beasts, and serve the outcast wings
Of savage vultures here in Troy? Tell me, Evemon’s fame,
Do yet the Greeks withstand his force, whom yet no force can tame?
Or are they hopeless thrown to death by his resistless lance?”
“Divine Patroclus,” he replied, “no more can Greece advance
Defensive weapons, but to fleet they headlong must retire,
For those that to this hour have held our fleet from hostile fire,
And are the bulwarks of our host, lie wounded at their tents,
And Troy’s unvanquishable pow’r, still as it toils augments.
But take me to thy black-stern’d ship, save me, and from my thigh
Cut out this arrow, and the blood, that is ingor’d and dry,
Wash with warm water from the wound; then gentle salves apply,
Which thou know’st best, thy princely friend hath taught thee surgery,
Whom, of all Centaurs the most just, Chiron did institute.
Thus to thy honourable hands my ease I prosecute,
Since our physicians cannot help. Machaon at his tent
Needs a physician himself, being leech and patient;
And Podalirius, in the field, the sharp conflict sustains.”
Strong Menœtiades replied: “How shall I ease thy pains?
What shall we do, Eurypylus? I am to use all haste,
To signify to Thetis’ son occurrents that have past,
At Nestor’s honourable suit. But be that work achiev’d
When this is done, I will not leave thy torments unrelieved.”
This said, athwart his back he cast, beneath his breast, his arm,
And nobly help’d him to his tent. His servants, seeing his harm,
Dispread ox-hides upon the earth, whereon Machaon lay.
Patroclus cut out the sharp shaft, and clearly wash’d away
With lukewarm water the black blood; then ‘twixt his hands he bruis’d
A sharp and mitigatory root; which when he had infus’d
Into the green, well-cleansed, wound, the pains he felt before
Were well, and instantly allay’d; the wound did bleed no more.
THE END OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK.
THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS
THE ARGUMENT
The Trojans at the trench their pow’rs engage,
Though greeted by a bird of bad presage.
In five parts they divide their pow’r to scale,
And Prince Sarpedon forceth down the pale.
Great Hector from the ports tears out a stone,
And with so dead a strength he sets it gone
At those broad gates the Grecians made to guard
Their tents and ships, that, broken, and unbarr’d,
They yield way to his pow’r; when all contend
To reach the ships; which all at last ascend.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Μϒ works the Trojans all the grace,
And doth the Grecian fort deface.
Patroclus thus employ’d in cu
re of hurt Eurypylus,
Both hosts are all for other wounds doubly contentious,
One always labouring to expel, the other to invade.
Nor could the broad dike of the Greeks, or that strong wall they made
To guard their fleet, be long unras’d; because it was not rais’d
By grave direction of the Gods, nor were their Deities prais’d
(When they begun) with hecatombs, that then they might be sure
(Their strength being season’d well with heav’n’s) it should have force t’ endure,
And so, the safeguard of their fleet, and all their treasure there,
Infallibly had been confirm’d; when, now, their bulwarks were
Not only without pow’r of check to their assaulting foe
(Ev’n now, as soon as they were built) but apt to overthrow;
Such as, in very little time, shall bury all their sight
And thought that ever they were made. As long as the despite
Of great Æacides held up, and Hector went not down,
And that by those two means stood safe king Priam’s sacred town,
So long their rampire had some use, though now it gave some way;
But when Troy’s best men suffer’d fate, and many Greeks did pay;
Dear for their suff’rance, then the rest home to their country turn’d,
The tenth year of their wars at Troy, and Troy was sack’d and burn’d.
And then the Gods fell to their fort; then they their pow’rs employ
To ruin their work, and left less of that than they of Troy.
Neptune and Phœbus tumbled down, from the Idalian hills,
An inundation of all floods, that thence the broad sea fills
On their huge rampire; in one glut, all these together roar’d,
Rhesus, Heptaporus, Rhodius, Scamander the ador’d,
Caresus, Simois, Grenicus, Æsepus; of them all
Apollo open’d the rough mouths, and made their lusty fall
Ravish the dusty champian, where many a helm and shield,
And half-god race of men, were strew’d. And, that all these might yield
Full tribute to the heav’nly work, Neptune and Phœbus won
Jove to unburthen the black wombs of clouds, fill’d by the sun,
And pour them into all their streams, that quickly they might send
The huge wall swimming to the sea. Nine days their lights did spend
To nights in tempests; and when all their utmost depth had made,
Jove, Phœbus, Neptune, all came down, and all in state did wade
To ruin of that impious fort. Great Neptune went before,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 75
