That was the good Laercius’, the son of Æmon’s, son;
Who close came to his chariot side, and ask’d: “What God is he
That hath so robb’d thee of thy soul, to run thus franticly
Amongst these fore fights, being alone; thy fighter being slain,
And Hector glorying in his arms?” He gave these words again:
“Alcimedon, what man is he, of all the Argive race,
So able as thyself to keep, in use of press and pace,
These deathless horse; himself being gone, that like the Gods had th’ art
Of their high manage? Therefore take to thy command his part,
And ease me of the double charge, which thou hast blam’d with right.”
He took the scourge and reins in hand, Automedon the fight.
Which Hector seeing, instantly, Æneas standing near,
He told him, he discern’d the horse, that mere immortal were,
Address’d to fight with coward guides, and therefore hop’d to make
A rich prise of them, if his mind would help to undertake,
For those two could not stand their charge. He granted, and both cast
Dry solid hides upon their necks, exceeding soundly brast;
And forth they went, associate with two more god-like men,
Aretus and bold Chromius; nor made they question then
To prise the goodly-crested horse, and safely send to hell
The souls of both their guardians. O fools, that could not tell
They could not work out their return from fierce Automedon
Without the lib’ral cost of blood; who first made orison
To father Jove, and then was fill’d with fortitude and strength;
When (counselling Alcimedon to keep at no great length
The horse from him, but let them breathe upon his back, because
He saw th’ advance that Hector made, whose fury had no laws
Propos’d to it, but both their lives and those horse made his prise,
Or his life theirs) he call’d to friend these well-approv’d supplies,
Th’ Ajaces, and the Spartan king, and said, “Come, princes, leave
A sure guard with the corse, and then to your kind care receive
Our threaten’d safeties. I discern the two chief props of Troy
Prepar’d against us. But herein, what best men can enjoy
Lies in the free knees of the Gods. My dart shall lead ye all 4
The sequel to the care of Jove I leave, whatever fall.”
All this spake good Automedon; then, brandishing his lance,
He threw, and strook Aretus’ shield, that gave it enterance
Through all the steel, and, by his belt, his belly’s inmost part
It pierc’d, and all his trembling limbs gave life up to his dart.
Then Hector at Automedon a blazing lance let fly,
Whose flight he saw, and falling flat, the compass was too high,
And made it stick beyond in earth, th’ extreme part burst, and there
Mars buried all his violence. The sword then for the spear
Had chang’d the conflict, had not haste sent both th’ Ajaces in,
Both serving close their fellows’ call, who, where they did begin,
There drew the end. Priamides, Æneas, Chromius
(In doubt of what such aid might work) left broken hearted thus
Aretus to Automedon, who spoil’d his arms, and said:
“A little this revives my life for him so lately dead,
Though by this nothing countervail’d.” And with this little vent
Of inward grief, he took the spoil; with which he made ascent
Up to his chariot, hands and feet of bloody stains so full
That lion-like he look’d, new turn’d from tearing up a bull.
And now another bitter fight about Patroclus grew,
Tear-thirsty, and of toil enough; which Pallas did renew,
Descending from the cope of stars, dismiss’d by sharp-ey’d Jove
To animate the Greeks; for now, inconstant change did move
His mind from what he held of late. And as the purple bow
Jove bends at mortals, when of war he will the signal show,
Or make it a presage of cold, in such tempestuous sort
That men are of their labours eas’d, but labouring cattle hurt;
So Pallas in a purple cloud involv’d herself, and went
Amongst the Grecians, stirr’d up all; but first encouragement
She breath’d in Atreus’ younger son, and, for disguise, made choice
Of aged Phœnix’ shape, and spake with his unwearied voice:
“O Menelaus, much defame, and equal heaviness,
Will touch at thee, if this true friend of great Æacides
Dogs tear beneath the Trojan walls; and therefore bear thee well.
Toil through the host, and ev’ry man with all thy spirit impell.”
He answer’d: “O thou long-since born, O Phœnix, that hast won
The honour’d foster-father’s name of Thetis’ god-like son,
I would Minerva would but give strength to me, and but keep
These busy darts off; I would then make in indeed, and steep
My income in their bloods, in aid of good Patroclus; much
His death afflicts me, much. But yet, this Hector’s grace is such
With Jove, and such a fi’ry strength and spirit he has, that still
His steel is killing, killing still.” The king’s so royal will
Minerva joy’d to hear, since she did all the Gods outgo
In his remembrance. For which grace she kindly did bestow
Strength on his shoulders, and did fill his knees as lib’rally
With swiftness, breathing in his breast the courage of a fly,
Which loves to bite so, and doth bear man’s blood so much good will,
That still though beaten from a man she flies upon him still;
With such a courage Pallas fill’d the black parts near his heart,
And then he hasted to the slain, cast off a shining dart,
And took one Podes, that was heir to old Eetion,
A rich man and a strenuous, and by the people done
Much honour, and by Hector too, being consort and his guest;
And him the yellow-headed king laid hold on at his waist
In off’ring flight, his iron pile strook through him, down he fell,
And up Atrides drew his corse. Then Phœbus did impell
The spirit of Hector, Phænops like, surnam’d Asiades,
Whom Hector us’d, of all his guests, with greatest friendliness,
And in Abydus stood his house; in whose form thus he spake:
“Hector! What man of all the Greeks will any terror make
Of meeting thy strength any more, when thou art terrified
By Menelaus, who, before he slew thy friend, was tried
A passing easy soldier, where now (besides his end
Impos’d by him) he draws him off, and not a man to friend.
From all the Trojans? This friend is Podes, Eetion’s son.”
This hid him in a cloud of grief, and set him foremost on.
And then Jove took his snake-fring’d shield, and Ida cover’d all
With sulphury clouds, from whence he let abhorréd lightnings fall,
And thunder’d till the mountains shook; and with this dreadful state
He usher’d victory to Troy, to Argos flight and fate.
Peneleüs Bœotius was he that foremost fled,
Being wounded in his shoulder’s height; but there the lance’s head
Strook lightly, glancing to his mouth, because it strook him near,
Thrown from Polydamas. Leitus next left the fight in fear
(Being hurt by Hector in his hand) because he doubted sore
His hand in wishéd fight with Troy would hold his lance no more.
Idomenëus sent a dart at Hector (rushing in,
And following Leitus) that strook his bosom near his chin,
And brake at top. The Ilians for his escape did shout.
When Hector at Deucalides another lance sent out,
As in his chariot he stood; it miss’d him narrowly,
For, as it fell, Cœranus drave his speedy chariot by,
And took the Trojan lance himself; he was the charioteer
Of stern Meriones, and first on foot did service there,
Which well he left to govern horse, for saving now his king,
With driving ‘twixt him and his death, though thence his own did spring,
Which kept a mighty victory from Troy, in keeping death
From his great sov’reign. The fierce dart did enter him beneath
His ear, betwixt his jaw and it, drave down, cut through his tongue,
And strook his teeth out; from his hands the horses’ reins he flung,
Which now Meriones receiv’d as they bestrew’d the field,
And bade his sov’reign scourge away, he saw that day would yield
No hope of victory for them. He fear’d the same, and fled.
Nor from the mighty-minded son of Telamon lay hid,
For all his clouds, high Jove himself, nor from the Spartan king.
They saw Him in the victory, He still was varying
For Troy. For which sight Ajax said: “O heav’ns, what fool is he
That sees not Jove’s hand in the grace now done our enemy?
Not any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown,
Valiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one
Wants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure.
But come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure
That lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend,
And so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend
To fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right
In joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight,
Being kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt,
And looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out
Our pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands
That are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands
Before our fleet will be enforc’d to drink our headlong death.
Which to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath
Of good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were,
By some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger
Hath yet inform’d him. But alas! I see no man to send,
Both men and horse are hid in mists that ev’ry way descend.
O father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release
Of this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences;
And give the eyes thou giv’st, their use; destroy us in the light,
And work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.”
This spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show’d,
Dispers’d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud
From whence it fell; the sun shin’d out, and all the host appear’d;
And then spake Ajax, whose heard pray’r his spirits highly cheer’d:
“Brave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry
Nestor’s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly
To tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.”
He said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said,
As loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier’s stall
A lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all,
Not eas’ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held,
His teeth yet wat’ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell’d,
The adverse darts so thick are pour’d before his brow-hid eyes,
And burning firebrands which, for all his great heart’s heat, he flies,
And, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went
Atrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement
Lest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear
The person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were
Th’ Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press,
And thus exhort: “Ajaces both, and you Meriones,
Now let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature
Of poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev’ry creature
His heart was living, though now dead.” Thus urg’d the fair-hair’d king,
And parted, casting round his eye. As when upon her wing
An eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight
Of all air’s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height,
Sees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid,
A light-foot hare, which straight she stoops, trusses, and strikes her dead;
So dead thou strook’st thy charge, O king, through all war’s thickets so
Thou look’dst, and swiftly found’st thy man exhorting ‘gainst the foe,
And heart’ning his plied men to blows us’d in the war’s left wing;
To whom thou saidst: “Thou god-lov’d man, come here, and hear a thing
Which I wish never were to hear. I think ev’n thy eye sees
What a destruction God hath laid upon the sons of Greece,
And what a conquest he gives Troy; in which the best of men,
Patroclus, lies exanimate, whose person passing fain
The Greeks would rescue and bear home; and therefore give thy speed
To his great friend, to prove if he will do so good a deed
To fetch the naked person off, for Hector’s shoulders wear
His priséd arms.” Antilochus was highly griev’d to hear
This heavy news, and stood surpris’d with stupid silence long;
His fair eyes standing full of tears; his voice, so sweet and strong
Stuck in his bosom; yet all this wrought in him no neglect
Of what Atrides gave in charge, but for that quick effect
He gave Laodocus his arms (his friend that had the guide
Of his swift horse) and then his knees were speedily applied
In his sad message, which his eyes told all the way in tears.
Nor would thy gen’rous heart assist his sore charg’d soldiers,
O Menelaus, in mean time, though left in much distress;
Thou sent’st them god-like Thrasymede, and mad’st thy kind regress
Back to Patroclus; where arriv’d, half breathless thou didst say
To both th’ Ajaces: “I have sent this messenger away
To swift Achilles, who, I fear, will hardly help us now,
Though mad with Hector; without arms he cannot fight, ye know.
Let us then think of some best mean, both how we may remove
The body, and get off ourselves from this vocif’rous drove,
And fate of Trojans.” “Bravely spoke at all parts,” Ajax said,
“O glorious son of Atreus. Take thou then straight the dead,
And thou, Meriones; we two, of one mind as one name,
Will back ye soundly, and on us receive the wild-fire flame
That Hector’s rage breathes after you, before it come at you.”
This said, they took into their arms the body; all the show,
That might be, made to those of Troy; at arm’s end bearing it.
Out shriek’d the Trojans when they saw the body borne to fleet,
And rush’d on. As at any boar, gash’d with the hunter’s wounds,
A kennel of the sharpest set and sorest bitten hounds
Before their youthful huntsmen haste, and eagerly awhile
Pursue, as if they were ass
ur’d of their affected spoil;
But when the savage, in his strength as confident as they,
Turns head amongst them, back they fly, and ev’ry one his way;
So troop-meal Troy pursu’d awhile, laying on with swords and darts;
But when th’ Ajaces turn’d on them, and made their stand, their hearts
Drunk from their faces all their bloods, and not a man sustain’d
The forechace, nor the after-fight. And thus Greece nobly gain’d
The person towards home. But thus, the changing war was rack’d
Out to a passing bloody length; for as, once put in act,
A fire, invading city roofs, is suddenly engrost,
And made a wondrous mighty flame, in which is quickly lost
A house long building, all the while a boist’rous gust of wind
Lumb’ring amongst it; so the Greeks, in bearing off their friend,
More and more foes drew, at their heels a tumult thund’ring still
Of horse and foot. Yet as when mules, in haling from a hill
A beam or mast, through foul deep way, well-clapp’d, and hearten’d, close
Lie to their labour, tug and sweat, and passing hard it goes,
Urg’d by their drivers to all haste; so dragg’d they on the corse,
Still both th’ Ajaces at their backs, who back still turn’d the force,
Though after it grew still the more. Yet as a sylvan hill
Thrusts back a torrent, that hath kept a narrow channel still,
Till at his oaken breast it beats, but there a check it takes,
That sends it over all the vale, with all the stir it makes,
Nor can with all the confluence break through his rooty sides;
In no less firm and brave repulse, th’ Ajaces curb’d the prides
Of all the Trojans; yet all held the pursuit in his strength,
Their chiefs being Hector, and the son of Venus, who at length
Put all the youth of Greece besides in most amazeful rout,
Forgetting all their fortitudes, distraught, and shrieking out
A number of their rich arms lost, fall’n from them here and there,
About, and in the dike; and yet, the war concludes not here.
THE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK.
1 This Euphorbus was he that, in Ovid, Pythagoras saith he was in the wars of Troy.
2 Note the manly and wise discourse of Menelaus with himself seeing Hector advancing towards him.
3 An inimitable simile.
4 In the Greek always this phrase is used, not in the hands, but ἐν γούνασι κεὶται, in the knees of the Gods lies our help, etc.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 90
