The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

Rapt up her helmet, lance, and shield, and made her fane’s porch groan

  With her egression to his stay, and thus his rage defers:

  “Furious and foolish, th’ art undone! Hast thou for nought thine ears?

  Heard’st thou not Juno being arriv’d from heav’n’s great King but now?

  Or wouldst thou he himself should rise, forc’d with thy rage, to show

  The dreadful pow’r she urg’d in him, so justly being stirr’d?

  Know, thou most impudent and mad, thy wrath had not inferr’d

  Mischief to thee, but to us all. His spirit had instantly

  Left both the hosts, and turn’d his hands to uproars in the sky,

  Guilty and guiltless both to wrack in his high rage had gone.

  And therefore, as thou lov’st thyself, cease fury for thy son;

  Another, far exceeding him in heart and strength of hand,

  Or is, or will be shortly, slain. It were a work would stand

  Jove in much trouble, to free all from death that would not die.”

  This threat ev’n nail’d him to his throne; when heav’n’s chief

  Majesty

  Call’d bright Apollo from his fane, and Iris that had place

  Of internunciess from the Gods, to whom she did the grace

  Of Jupiter, to this effect: “It is Saturnius’ will,

  That both, with utmost speed, should stoop to the Idalian hill,

  To know his further pleasure there. And this let me advise,

  When you arrive, and are in reach of his refulgent eyes,

  His pleasure heard, perform it all, of whatsoever kind.”

  Thus mov’d she back, and us’d her throne. Those two outstripp’d the wind,

  And Ida all-enchas’d with springs they soon attain’d, and found

  Where far-discerning Jupiter, in his repose, had crown’d

  The brows of Gargarus, and wrapt an odorif’rous cloud

  About his bosom. Coming near, they stood. Nor now he show’d

  His angry count’nance, since so soon he saw they made th’ access

  That his lov’d wife enjoin’d; but first the fair ambassadress

  He thus commanded: “Iris, go to Neptune, and relate

  Our pleasure truly, and at large. Command him from the fate

  Of human war, and either greet the Gods’ society,

  Or the divine sea make his seat. If proudly he deny,

  Let better counsels be his guides, than such as bid me war,

  And tempt my charge, though he be strong, for I am stronger far,

  And elder born. Nor let him dare, to boast even state with me

  Whom all Gods else prefer in fear.” This said, down hasted she

  From Ida’s top to Ilion; and like a mighty snow,

  Or gelid hail, that from the clouds the northern spirit doth blow;

  So fell the windy-footed dame, and found with quick repair

  The wat’ry God, to whom she said: “God with the sable hair,

  I came from Ægis-bearing Jove, to bid thee cease from fight,

  And visit heav’n, or th’ ample seas. Which if, in his despite,

  Or disobedience, thou deniest, he threatens thee to come,

  In opposite fight, to field himself; and therefore warns thee home,

  His hands eschewing, since his pow’r is far-superior,

  His birth before thee; and affirms, thy lov’d heart should abhor

  To vaunt equality with him, whom ev’ry Deity fears.”

  He answer’d: “O unworthy thing! Though he be great, he bears

  His tongue too proudly, that ourself, born to an equal share

  Of state and freedom, he would force. Three brothers born we are

  To Saturn, Rhea brought us forth, this Jupiter, and I.

  And Pluto, God of under-grounds. The world indiff’rently

  Dispos’d betwixt us; ev’ry one his kingdom; I the seas,

  Pluto the black lot, Jupiter the principalities

  Of broad heav’n, all the sky and clouds, was sorted out. The earth

  And high Olympus common are, and due to either’s birth.

  Why then should I be aw’d by him? Content he his great heart

  With his third portion, and not think, to amplify his part,

  With terrors of his stronger hands, on me, as if I were

  The most ignoble of us all. Let him contain in fear

  His daughters and his sons, begot by his own person, This

  Holds more convenience. They must hear these violent threats of his.”

  “Shall I,” said Iris, “bear from thee, an answer so austere?

  Or wilt thou change it? Changing minds, all noble natures bear.

  And well thou know’st, these greatest born, the Furies follow still.”

  He answer’d: “Iris, thy reply keeps time, and shows thy skill.

  O ’tis a most praiseworthy thing, when messengers can tell,

  Besides their messages, such things, as fit th’ occasion well.

  But this much grieves my heart and soul, that being in pow’r and state

  All-ways his equal, and so fix’d by one decree in fate,

  He should to me, as under him, ill language give, and chide.

  Yet now, though still incens’d, I yield, affirming this beside,

  And I enforce it with a threat: That if without consent

  Of me, Minerva, Mercury, the Queen of regiment,

  And Vulcan, he will either spare high Ilion, or not race

  Her turrets to the lowest stone, and, with both these, not grace

  The Greeks as victors absolute, inform him this from me —

  His pride and my contempt shall live at endless enmity.”

  This said, he left the Greeks, and rush’d into his wat’ry throne,

  Much miss’d of all th’ heroic host. When Jove discern’d him gone,

  Apollo’s service he employ’d, and said: “Lov’d Phœbus, go

  To Hector; now th’ earth-shaking God hath taken sea, and so

  Shrunk from the horrors I denounc’d; which standing, he, and all

  The under-seated Deities, that circle Saturn’s fall,

  Had heard of me in such a fight as had gone hard for them.

  But both for them and me ’tis best, that thus they fly th’ extreme,

  That had not pass’d us without sweat. Now then, in thy hands take

  My adder-fring’d affrighting shield, which with such terror shake,

  That fear may shake the Greeks to flight. Besides this, add thy care,

  O Phœbus, far-off shooting God, that this so sickly fare

  Of famous Hector be recur’d, and quickly so excite

  His amplest pow’rs, that all the Greeks may grace him with their flight,

  Ev’n to their ships, and Hellespont; and then will I devise

  All words and facts again for Greece, that largely may suffice

  To breathe them from their instant toils.” Thus from th’ Idæan height,

  Like air’s swift pigeon-killer, stoop’d the far-shot God of light,

  And found great Hector sitting up, not stretch’d upon his bed,

  Not wheezing with a stopp’d-up spirit, not in cold sweats, but fed

  With fresh and comfortable veins, but his mind all his own,

  But round about him all his friends, as well as ever known.

  And this was with the mind of Jove, that flew to him before

  Apollo came; who, as he saw no sign of any sore,

  Ask’d, like a cheerful visitant: “Why in this sickly kind,

  Great Hector, sitt’st thou so apart? Can any grief of mind

  Invade thy fortitude?” He spake, but with a feeble voice:

  “O thou, the best of Deities! Why, since I thus rejoice

  By thy so serious benefit, demand’st thou, as in mirth,

  And to my face, if I were ill? For, more than what thy worth

  Must needs take note of, doth not Fame from all mouths fill thine
ears,

  That, as my hand at th’ Achive fleet was making massacres

  Of men whom valiant Ajax led, his strength strook with a stone

  All pow’r of more hurt from my breast? My very soul was gone,

  And once to-day I thought to see the house of Dis and Death.”

  “Be strong,” said he, “for such a spirit now sends the God of breath

  From airy Ida, as shall run through all Greek spirits in thee.

  Apollo with the golden sword, the clear Far-seer, see,

  Him, who betwixt death and thy life, ‘twixt ruin and those tow’rs,

  Ere this day oft hath held his shield. Come then, be all thy pow’rs

  In wonted vigour, let thy knights with all their horse assay

  The Grecian fleet, myself will lead, and scour so clear the way,

  That flight shall leave no Greek a rub.” Thus instantly inspir’d

  Were all his nerves with matchless strength; and then his friends he fir’d

  Against their foes, when to his eyes his ears confirm’d the God.

  Then, as a goodly-headed hart, or goat, bred in the wood,

  A rout of country huntsmen chase, with all their hounds in cry,

  The beast yet or the shady woods, or rocks excessive high,

  Keep safe, or our unwieldy fates (that ev’n in hunters sway)

  Bar them the poor beast’s pulling down; when straight the clam’rous fray

  Calls out a lion, hugely-man’d, and his abhorréd view

  Turns headlong in unturning flight (though vent’rous) all the crew;

  So hitherto the chasing Greeks their slaughter dealt by troops;

  But, after Hector was beheld range here and there, then stoops

  The boldest courage, then their heels took in their drooping hearts,

  And then spake Andræmonides, a man of far-best parts

  Of all the Ætolians, skill’d in darts, strenuous in fights of stand,

  And one of whom few of the Greeks could get the better hand

  For rhetoric, when they fought with words; with all which being wise,

  Thus spake he to his Grecian friends: “O mischief! Now mine eyes

  Discern no little miracle; Hector escap’d from death,

  And all-recover’d, when all thought his soul had sunk beneath

  The hands of Ajax. But some God hath sav’d and freed again

  Him that but now dissolv’d the knees of many a Grecian,

  And now I fear will weaken more; for, not without the hand

  Of Him that thunders, can his pow’rs thus still the forefights stand,

  Thus still triumphant. Hear me then: Our troops in quick retreat

  Let’s draw up to our fleet, and we, that boast ourselves the great,

  Stand firm, and try if these that raise so high their charging darts

  May be resisted. I believe, ev’n this great heart of hearts

  Will fear himself to be too bold, in charging thorow us.”

  They eas’ly heard him, and obey’d; when all the generous

  They call’d t’ encounter Hector’s charge, and turn’d the common men

  Back to the fleet. And these were they, that bravely furnish’d then

  The fierce forefight: Th’ Ajaces both, the worthy Cretan king,

  The Mars-like Meges, Merion, and Teucer. Up then bring

  The Trojan chiefs their men in heaps; before whom, amply-pac’d,

  March’d Hector, and in front of him Apollo, who had cast

  About his bright aspect a cloud, and did before him bear

  Jove’s huge and each-where-shaggy shield, which, to contain in fear

  Offending men, the God-smith gave to Jove; with this he led

  The Trojan forces. The Greeks stood. A fervent clamour spread

  The air on both sides as they join’d. Out flew the shafts and darts,

  Some falling short, but other some found butts in breasts and hearts.

  As long as Phœbus held but out his horrid shield, so long

  The darts flew raging either way, and death grew both ways strong;

  But when the Greeks had seen his face, and, who it was that shook

  The bristled targe, knew by his voice, then all their strengths forsook

  Their nerves and minds. And then look how a goodly herd of neat,

  Or wealthy flock of sheep, being close, and dreadless at their meet,

  In some black midnight, suddenly, and not a keeper near,

  A brace of horrid bears rush in, and then fly here and there

  The poor affrighted flocks or herds; so ev’ry way dispers’d

  The heartless Grecians, so the Sun their headstrong chace revers’d

  To headlong flight, and that day rais’d, with all grace, Hector’s head.

  Arcesilaus then he slew, and Stichius; Stichius led

  Bœotia’s brazen-coated men; the other was the friend

  Of mighty-soul’d Menestheüs. Æneas brought to end

  Medon and Jasus; Medon was the brother, though but base,

  Of swift Oïliades, and dwelt, far from his breeding place,

  In Phylace; the other led th’ Athenian bands, his sire

  Was Spelus, Bucolus’s son. Mecistheus did expire

  Beneath Polydamas’s hand. Polites, Echius slew,

  Just at the joining of the hosts. Agenor overthrew

  Clonius. Bold Deïochus felt Alexander’s lance;

  It strook his shoulder’s upper part, and did his head advance

  Quite through his breast, as from the fight he turn’d him for retreat.

  While these stood spoiling of the slain, the Greeks found time to get

  Beyond the dike and th’ undik’d pales; all scapes they gladly gain’d,

  Till all had pass’d the utmost wall; Necessity so reign’d.

  Then Hector cried out: “Take no spoil, but rush on to the fleet;

  From whose assault, for spoil or flight, if any man I meet,

  He meets his death; nor in the fire of holy funeral

  His brother’s or his sister’s hands shall cast within our wall

  His loathéd body; but, without, the throats of dogs shall grave

  His manless limbs.” This said, the scourge his forward horses drave

  Through ev’ry order; and, with him, all whipp’d their chariots on,

  All threat’ningly, out-thund’ring shouts as earth were overthrown.

  Before them march’d Apollo still, and, as he march’d, digg’d down,

  Without all labour, with his feet the dike, till, with his own,

  He fill’d it to the top, and made way both for man and horse

  As broad and long as with a lance, cast out to try one’s force,

  A man could measure. Into this they pour’d whole troops as fast

  As num’rous; Phœbus still, before, for all their haste,

  Still shaking Jove’s unvalu’d shield, and held it up to all.

  And then, as he had chok’d their dike, he tumbled down their wall.

  And look how eas’ly any boy, upon the sea-ebb’d shore,

  Makes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,

  But as he rais’d it childishly, so in his wanton vein,

  Both with his hands and feet he pulls, and spurns it down again;

  So slight, O Phœbus, thy hands made of that huge Grecian toil,

  And their late stand, so well-resolv’d, as eas’ly mad’st recoil.

  Thus stood they driv’n up at their fleet; where each heard other’s thought,

  Exhorted, passing humbly pray’d, all all the Gods besought,

  With hands held up to heav’n, for help. ‘Mongst all the good old man,

  Grave Nestor, for his counsels call’d the Argives’ guardian,

  Fell on his aged knees, and pray’d, and to the starry host

  Stretch’d out his hands for aid to theirs, of all thus moving most:

  “O father Jove, if ever man, of all our host, did burn


  Fat thighs of oxen or of sheep, for grace of safe return,

  In fruitful Argos, and obtain’d the bowing of thy head

  For promise of his humble pray’rs, O now remember him,

  Thou merely heav’nly, and clear up the foul brows of this dim

  And cruel day; do not destroy our zeal for Trojan pride.”

  He pray’d, and heav’n’s great Counsellor with store of thunder tried

  His former grace good, and so heard the old man’s hearty pray’rs.

  The Trojans took Jove’s sign for them, and pour’d out their affairs

  In much more violence on the Greeks, and thought on nought but fight.

  And as a huge wave of a sea, swoln to his rudest height,

  Breaks over both sides of a ship, being all-urg’d by the wind,

  For that’s it makes the wave so proud; in such a borne-up kind

  The Trojans overgat the wall, and, getting in their horse,

  Fought close at fleet, which now the Greeks ascended for their force.

  Then from their chariots they with darts, the Greeks with bead-hooks fought,

  Kept still aboard for naval fights, their heads with iron wrought

  In hooks and pikes. Achilles’ friend, still while he saw the wall,

  That stood without their fleet, afford employment for them all,

  Was never absent from the tent of that man-loving Greek,

  Late-hurt Eurypylus, but sate, and ev’ry way did seek,

  To spend the sharp time of his wound, with all the ease he could

  In med’cines, and in kind discourse. But when he might behold

  The Trojans past the wall, the Greeks flight-driv’n, and all in cries,

  Then cried he out, cast down his hands, and beat with grief his thighs,

  Then, “O Eurypylus,” he cried, “now all thy need of me

  Must bear my absence, now a work of more necessity

  Calls hence, and I must haste to call Achilles to the field.

  Who knows, but, God assisting me, my words may make him yield?

  The motion of a friend is strong.” His feet thus took him thence.

  The rest yet stood their enemies firm; but all their violence

  (Though Troy fought there with fewer men) lack’d vigour to repell

  Those fewer from their navy’s charge, and so that charge as well

  Lack’d force to spoil their fleet or tents. And as a shipwright’s line

  (Dispos’d by such a hand as learn’d from th’ Artizan divine

  The perfect practice of his art) directs or guards so well

  The naval timber then in frame, that all the laid-on steel

  Can hew no further than may serve, to give the timber th’ end