The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Thus these two disagreeing Gods, old Saturn’s mighty sons,

  Afflicted these heroic men with huge oppressións.

  Jove honouring Æacides (to let the Greeks still try

  Their want without him) would bestow, yet still, the victory

  On Hector, and the Trojan pow’r; yet for Æacides,

  And honour of his mother-queen, great Goddess of the seas,

  He would not let proud Ilion see the Grecians quite destroy’d,

  And therefore from the hoary deep he suffered so employ’d

  Great Neptune in the Grecian aid; who griev’d for them, and storm’d

  Extremely at his brother Jove. Yet both one Goddess form’d,

  And one soil bred, but Jupiter precedence took in birth,

  And had more knowledge; for which cause, the other came not forth 1

  Of his wet kingdom, but with care of not being seen t’ excite

  The Grecian host, and like a man appear’d, and made the fight.

  So these Gods made men’s valours great, but equall’d them with war

  As harmful as their hearts were good; and stretch’d those chains as far

  On both sides as their limbs could bear, in which they were involv’d

  Past breach, or loosing, that their knees might therefore be dissolv’d.

  Then, though a half-grey man he were, Crete’s sov’reign did excite

  The Greeks to blows, and flew upon the Trojans, ev’n to flight;

  For he, in sight of all the host, Othryonëus slew,

  That from Cabesus, with the fame of those wars, thither drew

  His new-come forces, and requir’d, without respect of dow’r,

  Cassandra, fair’st of Priam’s race; assuring with his pow’r

  A mighty labour, to expell, in their despite, from Troy

  The sons of Greece. The king did vow, that done, he should enjoy

  His goodliest daughter. He (in trust of that fair purchase) fought;

  And at him threw the Cretan king a lance, that singled out

  This great assumer, whom it strook just in his navel-stead.

  His brazen curets helping nought, resign’d him to the dead.

  Then did the conqueror exclaim, and thus insulted then:

  “Othryonëus, I will praise, beyond all mortal men,

  Thy living virtues, if thou wilt now perfect the brave vow

  Thou mad’st to Priam, for the wife he promis’d to bestow.

  And where he should have kept his word, there we assure thee here,

  To give thee for thy princely wife the fairest and most dear

  Of our great Gen’ral’s female race, which from his Argive hall

  We all will wait upon to Troy, if, with our aids, and all,

  Thou wilt but raze this well-built town. Come, therefore, follow me,

  That in our ships we may conclude this royal match with thee.

  I’ll be no jot worse than my word.” With that he took his feet,

  And dragg’d him through the fervent fight; in which did Asius meet

  The victor, to inflict revenge. He came on foot before

  His horse, that on his shoulders breath’d; so closely evermore

  His coachman led them to his lord; who held a huge desire

  To strike the king, but he strook first, and underneath his chin,

  At his throat’s height, through th’ other side, his eager lance drave in;

  And down he bustled like an oak, a poplar, or a pine,

  Hewn down for shipwood, and so lay. His fall did so decline

  The spirit of his charioteer, that, lest he should incense

  The victor to impair his spoil, he durst not drive from thence

  His horse and chariot; and so pleas’d, with that respective part,

  Antilochus, that for his fear he reach’d him with a dart

  About his belly’s midst, and down his sad corse fell beneath

  The richly builded chariot, there labouring out his breath.

  The horse Antilochus took off; when, griev’d for this event,

  Deiphobus drew passing near, and at the victor sent

  A shining jav’lin; which he saw, and shunn’d, with gath’ring round

  His body in his all-round shield, at whose top, with a sound,

  It overflew; yet, seizing there, it did not idly fly from him that wing’d it, his strong hand still drave it mortally

  On Prince Hypsenor; it did pierce his liver, underneath

  The veins it passeth; his shrunk knees submitted him to death.

  And then did lov’d Deiphobus miraculously vaunt:

  “Now Asius lies not unreveng’d, nor doth his spirit want

  The joy I wish it, though it be now ent’ring the strong gate

  Of mighty Pluto, since this hand hath sent him down a mate.”

  This glory in him griev’d the Greeks, and chiefly the great mind

  Of martial Antilochus, who though to grief inclin’d,

  He left not yet his friend, but ran and hid him with his shield;

  And to him came two lovely friends, that freed him from the field,

  Mecisteus, son of Echius, and the right nobly born

  Alastor, bearing him to fleet, and did extremely mourn.

  Idomenëus sunk not yet, but held his nerves entire,

  His mind much less deficient, being fed with firm desire

  To hide more Trojans in dim night, or sink himself in guard

  Of his lov’d countrymen. And then Alcathous prepar’d

  Work for his valour, off’ring fate his own destructión.

  A great heroë, and had grace to be the lovéd son

  Of Æsyetes, son-in-law to prince Æneas’ sire,

  Hippodamia marrying; who most enflam’d the fire

  Of her dear parents’ love, and took precedence in her birth

  Of all their daughters, and as much exceeded in her worth

  (For beauty answer’d with her mind, and both with housewif’ry)

  All the fair beauty of young dames that us’d her company,

  And therefore, being the worthiest dame, the worthiest man did wed

  Of ample Troy. Him Neptune stoop’d beneath the royal force

  Of Idomen, his sparkling eyes deluding, and the course

  Of his illustrious lineaments so out of nature bound,

  That back nor forward he could stir, but, as he grew to ground,

  Stood like a pillar, or high tree, and neither mov’d, nor fear’d;

  When straight the royal Cretan’s dart in his mid breast appear’d,

  It brake the curets, that were proof to ev’ry other dart,

  Yet now they cleft and rung; the lance stuck shaking in his heart;

  His heart with panting made it shake; but Mars did now remit

  The greatness of it, and the king, now quitting the brag fit

  Of glory in Deiphobus, thus terribly exclaim’d:

  “Deiphobus, now may we think that we are ev’nly fam’d,

  That three for one have sent to Dis. But come, change blows with me,

  Thy vaunts for him thou slew’st were vain. Come, wretch, that thou may’st see

  What issue Jove hath. Jove begot Minos, the strength of Crete;

  Minos begot Deucalion; Deucalion did beget

  Me Idomen, now Creta’s king, that here my ships have brought

  To bring thyself, thy father, friends, all Ilion’s pomp, to nought.”

  Deiphobus at two ways stood, in doubt to call some one,

  With some retreat, to be his aid, or try the chance alone.

  At last, the first seem’d best to him, and back he went to call

  Anchises’ son to friend, who stood in troop the last of all,

  Where still he serv’d; which made him still incense against the king,

  That, being amongst his best their peer, he grac’d not anything

  His wrong’d deserts. Deiphobus spake to him, standing near:

  “Æneas, prince of Troian
s, if any touch appear

  Of glory in thee, thou must now assist thy sister’s lord,

  And one that to thy tend’rest youth did careful guard afford,

  Alcathous, whom Creta’s king hath chiefly slain to thee,

  His right most challenging thy band. Come, therefore, follow me.”

  This much excited his good mind, and set his heart on fire

  Against the Cretan, who child-like dissolv’d not in his ire,

  But stood him firm. As when in hills a strength relying boar,

  Alone, and hearing hunters come, whom tumult flies before,

  Up-thrusts his bristles, whets his tusks, sets fire on his red eyes,

  And in his brave prepar’d repulse doth dogs and men despise;

  So stood the famous-for-his-lance, nor shunn’d the coming charge

  That resolute Æneas brought. Yet, since the odds was large,

  He call’d with good right to his aid war-skill’d Ascalaphus,

  Aphareüs, Meriones, the strong Deipyrus,

  And Nestor’s honourable son: “Come near, my friends,” said he,

  “And add your aids to me alone. Fear taints me worthily,

  Though firm I stand, and show it not. Æneas great in fight,

  And one that bears youth in his flow’r, that bears the greatest might,

  Comes on with aim direct at me. Had I his youthful limb

  To bear my mind, he should yield fame, or I would yield it him.”

  This said, all held, in many souls, one ready helpful mind,

  Clapp’d shields and shoulders, and stood close. Æneas, not inclin’d

  With more presumption than the king, call’d aid as well as he,

  Divine Agenor, Helen’s love, who follow’d instantly,

  And all their forces following them; as after bellwethers

  The whole flocks follow to their drink, which sight the shepherd cheers.

  Nor was Æneas’ joy less mov’d to see such troops attend

  His honour’d person; and all these fought close about his friend;

  But two of them, past all the rest, had strong desire to shed

  The blood of either; Idomen, and Cytherea’s seed.

  Æneas first bestow’d his lance, which th’ other seeing shunn’d,

  And that, thrown from an idle hand, stuck trembling in the ground.

  But Idomen’s, discharg’d at him, had no such vain success,

  Which Œnomaus’ entrails found, in which it did impress

  His sharp pile to his fall; his palms tore his returning earth.

  Idomenëus straight stepp’d in, and pluck’d his jav’lin forth,

  But could not spoil his goodly arms, they press’d him so with darts.

  And now the long toil of the fight had spent his vig’rous parts,

  And made them less apt to avoid the foe that should advance,

  Or, when himself advanc’d again, to run and fetch his lance,

  And therefore in stiff fights of stand he spent the cruel day.

  When, coming softly from the slain, Deiphobus gave way

  To his bright jav’lin at the king, whom he could never brook;

  But then he lost his envy too. His lance yet deadly took

  Ascalaphus, the son of Mars; quite through his shoulder flew

  The violent head, and down he fell. Nor yet by all means knew

  Wide-throated Mars his son was fall’n, but in Olympus’ top

  Sat canopied with golden clouds; Jove’s counsel had shut up

  Both him and all the other Gods from that time’s equal task,

  Which now, about Ascalaphus, strife set. His shining casque

  Deiphobus had forc’d from him, but instantly leap’d in

  Mars-swift Meriones, and strook, with his long javelin,

  The right arm of Deiphobus, which made his hand let fall

  The sharp-topp’d helmet; the press’d earth resounding there withal.

  When, vulture-like, Meriones rush’d in again and drew,

  From out the low part of his arm his jav’lin, and then flew

  Back to his friends. Deiphobus, faint with the blood’s excess

  Fall’n from his wound, was carefully convey’d out of the press

  By his kind brother by both sides, Polites, till they gat

  His horse and chariot that were still set fit for his retreat,

  And bore him now to Ilion. The rest fought fiercely on,

  And set a mighty fight on foot. When next, Anchises’ son

  Aphareus Caletorides, that ran upon him, strook

  Just in the throat with his keen lance; and straight his head forsook

  His upright carriage; and his shield, his helm, and all, with him

  Fell to the earth; where ruinous death made prise of ev’ry limb.

  Antilochus, discov’ring well that Thoon’s heart took check,

  Let fly, and cut the hollow vein, that runs up to his neck,

  Along his back part, quite in twain; down in the dust he fell,

  Upwards, and, with extended hands, bade all the world farewell.

  Antilochus rush’d nimbly in, and, looking round, made prise

  Of his fair arms; in which affair his round-set enemies

  Let fly their lances, thundering on his advanced targe,

  But could not get his flesh. The God that shakes the earth took charge

  Of Nestor’s son and kept him safe; who never was away,

  But still amongst the thickest foes his busy lance did play,

  Observing ever when he might, far off, or near, offend;

  And watching Asius’ son, in prease he spied him, and did send,

  Close coming on, a dart at him, that smote in midst his shield,

  In which the sharp head of the lance the blue-hair’d God made yield,

  Not pleas’d to yield his pupil’s life; in whose shield half the dart

  Stuck like a truncheon burn’d with fire; on earth lay th’ other part.

  He, seeing no better end of all, retir’d in fear of worse

  But him Meriones pursu’d; and his lance found full course

  To th’ other’s life. It wounded him betwixt the privy parts

  And navel, where, to wretched men that war’s most violent smarts

  Must undergo, wounds chiefly vex. His dart Meriones

  Pursu’d, and Adamas so striv’d with it, and his misease,

  As doth a bullock puff and storm, whom in disdainéd bands

  The upland herdsmen strive to cast; so, fall’n beneath the hands

  Of his stern foe, Asiades did struggle, pant, and rave.

  But no long time; for when the lance was pluck’d out, up he gave

  His tortur’d soul. Then Troy’s turn came; when with a Thracian sword

  The temples of Deipyrus did Helenus afford

  So huge a blow, it strook all light out of his cloudy eyes,

  And cleft his helmet; which a Greek, there fighting, made his prise,

  It fell so full beneath his feet. Atrides griev’d to see

  That sight, and, threat’ning, shook a lance at Helenus, and he

  A bow half drew at him; at once out flew both shaft and lance.

  The shaft Atrides’ curets strook; and far away did glance.

  Atrides’ dart of Helenus the thrust out bow-hand strook,

  And, through the hand, stuck in the bow. Agenor’s hand did pluck

  From forth the nailéd prisoner the jav’lin quickly out;

  And fairly, with a little wool, enwrapping round about

  The wounded hand, within a scarf he bore it, which his squire

  Had ready for him. Yet the wound would needs he should retire.

  Pisander, to revenge his hurt, right on the king ran he.

  A bloody fate suggested him to let him run on thee,

  O Menelaus, that he might, by thee, in dang’rous war

  Be done to death. Both coming on, Atrides’ lance did err.

  Pisander strook Atrides’ shield, t
hat brake at point the dart

  Not running through; yet he rejoic’d as playing a victor’s part.

  Atrides, drawing his fair sword, upon Pisander flew;

  Pisander, from beneath his shield, his goodly weapon drew,

  Two-edg’d, with right sharp steel, and long, the handle olive-tree,

  Well-polish’d; and to blows they go. Upon the top strook he

  Atrides’ horse-hair’d-feather’d helm; Atrides on his brow,

  Above th’ extreme part of his nose, laid such a heavy blow

  That all the bones crash’d under it, and out his eyes did drop

  Before his feet in bloody dust; he after, and shrunk up

  His dying body, which the foot of his triumphing foe

  Open’d, and stood upon his breast, and off his arms did go,

  This insultation us’d the while: “At length forsake our fleet,

  Thus ye false Trojans, to whom war never enough is sweet.

  Nor want ye more impieties, with which ye have abus’d

  Me, ye bold dogs, that your chief friends so honourably us’d.

  Nor fear you hospitable Jove, that lets such thunders go.

  But build upon’t, he will unbuild your tow’rs that clamber so,

  For ravishing my goods, and wife, in flow’r of all her years,

  And without cause; nay, when that fair and lib’ral hand of hers

  Had us’d you so most lovingly. And now again ye would

  Cast fire into our fleet, and kill our princes if ye could.

  Go to, one day you will be curb’d, though never so ye thirst

  Rude war, by war. O father Jove, they say thou art the first

  In wisdom of all Gods and men, yet all this comes from thee,

  And still thou gratifiest these men, how lewd so e’er they be,

  Though never they be cloy’d with sins, nor can be satiate,

  As good men should, with this vile war. Satiety of state,

  Satiety of sleep and love, satiety of ease,

  Of music, dancing, can find place; yet harsh war still must please

  Past all these pleasures, ev’n past these. They will be cloy’d with these

  Before their war joys. Never war gives Troy satieties.”

  This said, the bloody arms were oft; and to his soldiers thrown,

  He mixing in first fight again. And then Harpalion,

  Kind king Pylæmen’s son, gave charge; who to those wars of Troy

  His lovéd father followéd, nor ever did enjoy

  His country’s sight again. He strook the targe of Atreus’ son

  Full in the midst; his jav’lin’s steel yet had no pow’r to run