It lighten’d still, there was no law for him and it, poor men
Must quake before them. These thus mann’d, illustrious Hector then
His host brought up. The blue-hair’d God and he stretch’d through the prease
A grievous fight; when to the ships and tents of Greece the seas
Brake loose, and rag’d. But when they join’d, the dreadful clamour rose
To such a height, as not the sea, when up the North-spirit blows
Her raging billows, bellows so against the beaten shore;
Nor such a rustling keeps a fire, driven with violent blore
Through woods that grow against a hill; nor so the fervent strokes
Of almost-bursting winds resound against a grove of oaks;
As did the clamour of these hosts, when both the battles clos’d.
Of all which noble Hector first at Ajax’ breast dispos’d
His jav’lin, since so right on him the great-soul’d soldier bore;
Nor miss’d it, but the bawdricks both that his broad bosom wore,
To hang his shield and sword, it strook; both which his flesh preserv’d.
Hector, disdaining that his lance had thus as good as swerv’d,
Trode to his strength; but, going off, great Ajax with a stone,
One of the many props for ships, that there lay trampled on,
Strook his broad breast above his shield, just underneath his throat,
And shook him piecemeal; when the stone sprung back again, and smote
Earth, like a whirlwind, gath’ring dust with whirring fiercely round,
For fervour of his unspent strength, in settling on the ground.
And as when Jove’s bolt by the roots rends from the earth an oak,
His sulphur casting with the blow a strong unsavoury smoke,
And on the fall’n plant none dare look but with amazéd eyes,
(Jove’s thunder being no laughing game) so bow’d strong Hector’s thighs,
And so with tost-up heels he fell, away his lance he flung,
His round shield follow’d, then his helm, and out his armour rung.
The Greeks then shouted, and ran in, and hop’d to hale him off,
And therefore pour’d on darts in storms, to keep his aid aloof;
But none could hurt the people’s Guide, nor stir him from his ground;
Sarpedon, prince of Lycia, and Glaucus so renown’d,
Divine Agenor, Venus’ son, and wise Polydamas,
Rush’d to his rescue, and the rest. No one neglective was
Of Hector’s safety. All their shields, they couch’d about him close,
Rais’d him from earth, and (giving him, in their kind arms, repose)
From off the labour carried him, to his rich chariot,
And bore him mourning towards Troy. But when the flood they got
Of gulfy Xanthus, that was got by deathless Jupiter,
There took they him from chariot, and all besprinkled there
His temples with the stream. He breath’d, look’d up, assay’d to rise,
And on his knees stay’d spitting blood. Again then clos’d his eyes,
And back again his body fell. The main blow had not done
Yet with his spirit. When the Greeks saw worthy Hector gone,
Then thought they of their work, then charg’d with much more cheer the foe,
And then, far first, Oïliades began the overthrow.
He darted Satnius Enops’ son, whom famous Nais bore
As she was keeping Enops’ flocks on Satnius’ river’s shore,
And strook him in his belly’s rim, who upwards fell, and rais’d
A mighty skirmish with his fall. And then Panthœdés seiz’d
Prothenor Areilycides, with his revengeful spear,
On his right shoulder, strook it through, and laid him breath less there;
For which he insolently bragg’d, and cried out: “Not a dart
From great-soul’d Panthus’ son, I think, shall ever vainlier part,
But some Greek’s bosom it shall take, and make him give his ghost.”
This brag the Grecians stomach’d much; but Telamonius most,
Who stood most near Prothenor’s fall, and out he sent a lance,
Which Panthus’ son, declining, ‘scap’d, yet took it to sad chance
Archilochus, Antenor’s son, whom heav’n did destinate
To that stern end; ‘twixt neck and head the jav’lin wrought his fate,
And ran in at the upper joint of all the back long bone,
Cut both the nerves; and such a load of strength laid Ajax on,
As that small part he seiz’d outweigh’d all th’ under limbs, and strook
His heels up, so that head and face the earth’s possessions took,
When all the low parts sprung in air; and thus did Ajax quit
Panthœdes’ brave: “Now, Panthus’ son, let thy prophetic wit
Consider, and disclose a truth, if this man do not weigh
Ev’n with Prothenor. I conceive, no one of you will say
That either he was base himself, or sprung of any base;
Antenor’s brother, or his son, he should be by his face;
One of his race, past question, his likeness shows he is,”
This spake he, knowing it well enough. The Trojans storm’d at this,
And then slew Acamas, to save his brother yet engag’d,
Bœotius, dragging him to spoil; and thus the Greeks enrag’d:
“O Greeks, ev’n born to bear our darts, yet ever breathing threats,
Not always under tears and toils ye see our fortune sweats,
But sometimes you drop under death. See now your quick among
Our dead, intranc’d with my weak lance, to prove I have ere long
Reveng’d my brother. ’Tis the wish of ev’ry honest man
His brother, slain in Mars’s field, may rest wreak’d in his fane.”
This stirr’d fresh envy in the Greeks, but urg’d Peneleus most,
Who hurl’d his lance at Acamas; he ‘scap’d; nor yet it lost
The force he gave it, for it found the flock-rich Phorbas’ son,
Ilionëus, whose dear sire, past all in Ilion,
Was lov’d of Hermes, and enrich’d, and to him only bore
His mother this now slaughter’d man. The dart did undergore
His eye-lid, by his eye’s dear roots, and out the apple fell,
The eye pierc’d through. Nor could the nerve that stays the neck repell
His strong-wing’d lance, but neck and all gave way, and down he dropp’d.
Peneleus then unsheath’d his sword, and from the shoulders chopp’d
His luckless head; which down he threw, the helm still sticking on,
And still the lance fix’d in his eye; which not to see alone
Contented him, but up again he snatch’d, and show’d it all,
With this stern brave: “Ilians, relate brave Ilionëus’ fall
To his kind parents, that their roofs their tears may overrun;
For so the house of Promachus, and Alegenor’s son,
Must with his wife’s eyes overflow, she never seeing more
Her dear lord, though we tell his death, when to our native shore
We bring from ruin’d Troy our fleet, and men so long forgone.”
This said, and seen, pale fear possess’d all those of Ilion,
And ev’ry man cast round his eye to see where death was not,
That he might fly him. Let not then his grac’d hand be forgot,
O Muses, you that dwell in heav’n, that first imbru’d the field
With Trojan spoil, when Neptune thus had made their irons yield.
First Ajax Telamonius the Mysian captain slew,
Great Hyrtius Gyrtiades. Antilochus o’erthrew
Phalces and Mermer, to their spoil. Meriones gave end
To Morys and Hyppotion. Teucer to fate did send
&nb
sp; Prothoon and Periphetes. Atrides’ jav’lin chac’d
Duke Hyperenor, wounding him in that part that is plac’d
Betwixt the short ribs and the bones, that to the triple gut
Have pertinence; the jav’lin’s head did out his entrails cut,
His forc’d soul breaking through the wound; night’s black hand clos’d his eyes.
Then Ajax, great Oïleus’ son, had divers victories,
For when Saturnius suffer’d flight, of all the Grecian race
Not one with swiftness of his feet could so enrich a chace.
THE END OF THE FOURTEENTH BOOK.
ENDNOTES.
1 This first verse (after the first four syllables) is to be read as one of our tens.
THE FIFTEENTH OF HOMER’S ILIADS
THE ARGUMENT
Jove waking, and beholding Troy in flight,
Chides Juno, and sends Iris to the fight
To charge the Sea-god to forsake the field,
And Phœbus to invade it, with his shield
Recov’ring Hector’s bruis’d and eraséd pow’rs,
To field he goes, and makes new conquerors,
The Trojans giving now the Grecians chace
Ev’n to their fleet. Then Ajax turns his face,
And feeds, with many Trojan lives, his ire;
Who then brought brands to set the fleet on fire.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Jove sees in O his oversight,
Chides Juno, Neptune calls from fight.
The Trojans, beat past pale and dike, and numbers prostrate laid,
All got to chariot, fear-driv’n all, and fear’d as men dismay’d.
Then Jove on Ida’s top awak’d, rose from Saturnia’s side,
Stood up, and look’d upon the war; and all inverted spied
Since he had seen it; th’ Ilians now in rout, the Greeks in fight;
King Neptune, with his long sword, chief; great Hector put down quite,
Laid flat in field, and with a crown of princes compasséd
So stopp’d up that he scarce could breathe, his mind’s sound habit fled,
And he still spitting blood. Indeed, his hurt was not set on
By one that was the weakest Greek. But him Jove look’d upon
With eyes of pity; on his wife with horrible aspéct,
To whom he said: “O thou in ill most cunning architect,
All arts and comments that exceed’st! not only to enforce
Hector from fight, but, with his men, to show the Greeks a course.
I fear, as formerly, so now, these ills have with thy hands
Their first fruits sown, and therefore could load all thy limbs with bands,
Forgett’st thou, when I hang’d thee up, how to thy feet I tied
Two anvils, golden manacles on thy false wrists implied,
And let thee mercilessly hang from our refinéd heav’n
Ev’n to earth’s vapours; all the Gods in great Olympus giv’n
To mutinies about thee, yet, though all stood staring on,
None durst dissolve thee, for these hands, had they but seiz’d upon
Thy friend, had headlong thrown him off from our star-bearing round,
Till he had tumbled out his breath, and piece-meal dash’d the ground?
Nor was my angry spirit calm’d so soon, for those foul seas,
On which, inducing northern flaws, thou shipwrack’dst Hercules,
And toss’d him to the Coan shore, that thou shouldst tempt again
My wrath’s importance, when thou seest, besides, how grossly vain
My pow’rs can make thy policies; for from their utmost force
I freed my son, and set him safe in Argos, nurse of horse.
These I remember to thy thoughts, that thou may’st shun these sleights,
And know how badly bed-sports thrive, procur’d by base deceits.”
This frighted the offending queen, who with this state excus’d
Her kind unkindness: “Witness Earth, and Heav’n so far diffus’d,
Thou Flood whose silent gliding waves the under ground doth bear,
(Which is the great’st and gravest oath, that any God can swear)
Thy sacred head, those secret joys that our young bed gave forth,
By which I never rashly swore! that He who shakes the earth
Not by my counsel did this wrong to Hector and his host,
But, pitying th’ oppresséd Greeks, their fleet being nearly lost,
Reliev’d their hard conditión, yet utterly impell’d
By his free mind. Which since I see is so offensive held
To thy high pleasure, I will now advise him not to tread
But where thy tempest-raising feet, O Jupiter, shall lead.”
Jove laugh’d to hear her so submiss, and said: “My fair-ey’d love,
If still thus thou and I were one, in counsels held above,
Neptune would still in word and fact be ours, if not in heart.
If then thy tongue and heart agree, from hence to heav’n depart,
To call the excellent-in-bows, the Rain-bow, and the Sun,
That both may visit both the hosts; the Grecian army one,
And that is Iris, let her haste, and make the Sea-god cease
T’ assist the Greeks, and to his court retire from war in peace;
Let Phœbus, on the Trojan part, inspire with wonted pow’r
Great Hector’s spirits, make his thoughts forget the late stern hour,
And all his anguish, setting on his whole recover’d man
To make good his late grace in fight, and hold in constant wane
The Grecian glories, till they fall, in flight before the fleet
Of vex’d Achilles. Which extreme will prove the mean to greet
Thee with thy wish, for then the eyes of great Æacides
(Made witness of the gen’ral ill, that doth so near him prease)
Will make his own particular look out, and by degrees
Abate his wrath, that, though himself for no extremities
Will seem reflected, yet his friend may get of him the grace
To help his country in his arms; and he shall make fit place
For his full presence with his death, which shall be well fore-run;
For I will first renown his life with slaughter of my son,
Divine Sarpedon, and his death great Hector’s pow’r shall wreak,
Ending his ends. Then, at once, out shall the fury break
Of fierce Achilles, and, with that, the flight now felt shall turn,
And then last, till in wrathful flames the long-sieg’d Ilion burn.
Minerva’s counsel shall become grave mean to this my will,
Which no God shall neglect before Achilles take his fill
Of slaughter for his slaughter’d friend; ev’n Hector’s slaughter thrown
Under his anger; that these facts may then make fully known
My vow’s performance, made of late, and, with my bowéd head,
Confirm’d to Thetis, when her arms embrac’d my knees, and pray’d
That to her city-razing son I would all honour show.”
This heard, his charge she seem’d t’ intend, and to Olympus flew.
But, as the mind of such a man that hath a great way gone,
And either knowing not his way, or then would let alone
His purpos’d journey, is distract, and in his vexéd mind
Resolves now not to go, now goes, still many ways inclin’d;
So rev’rend Juno headlong flew, and ‘gainst her stomach striv’d,
For, being amongst th’ immortal Gods in high heav’n soon arriv’d,
All rising, welcoming with cups her little absence thence,
She all their courtships overpass’d with solemn negligence,
Save that which fair-cheek’d Themis show’d, and her kind cup she took,
For first she ran and met with her, and ask’d: “What troubled lo
ok
She brought to heav’n? She thought, for truth, that Jove had terrified
Her spirits strangely since she went.” The fair-arm’d Queen replied:
“That truth may eas’ly be suppos’d; you, Goddess Themis, know
His old severity and pride, but you bear’t out with show,
And like the banquet’s arbiter amongst th’ Immortals’ fare,
Though well you hear amongst them all, how bad his actions are;
Nor are all here, or anywhere, mortals, nor Gods, I fear,
Entirely pleas’d with what he does, though thus ye banquet here.”
Thus took she place, displeasedly; the feast in general
Bewraying privy spleens at Jove; and then, to colour all,
She laugh’d, but merely from her lips, for over her black brows
Her still-bent forehead was not clear’d; yet this her passion’s throes
Brought forth in spite, being lately school’d: “Alas, what fools are we
That envy Jove! Or that by act, word, thought, can fantasy
Any resistance to his will! He sits far off, nor cares,
Nor moves, but says he knows his strength, to all degrees compares
His greatness past all other Gods, and that in fortitude,
And ev’ry other godlike pow’r, he reigns past all indu’d.
For which great eminence all you Gods, whatever ill he does,
Sustain with patience. Here is Mars, I think, not free from woes,
And yet he bears them like himself. The great God had a son,
Whom he himself yet justifies, one that from all men won
Just surname of their best belov’d, Ascalaphus; yet he,
By Jove’s high grace to Troy, is slain.” Mars started horribly,
As Juno knew he would, at this, beat with his hurl’d-out hands
His brawny thighs, cried out, and said: “O you that have commands
In these high temples, bear with me, if I revenge the death
Of such a son. I’ll to the fleet, and though I sink beneath
The fate of being shot to hell, by Jove’s fell thunder-stone,
And lie all grim’d amongst the dead with dust and blood, my son
Revenge shall honour.” Then he charg’d Fear and Dismay to join
His horse and chariot. He got arms, that over heav’n did shine
And then a wrath more great and grave in Jove had been prepar’d
Against the Gods than Juno caus’d, if Pallas had not car’d
More for the peace of heav’n than Mars; who leap’d out of her throne,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 82
