by Homer
Of all presages and ill-haps a sign mistrusted most:
So Pallas fell ’twixt both the camps, and suddenly was lost;
When through the breasts of all that saw she struck a strong amaze,
With viewing in her whole descent her bright and ominous blaze.
When straight one to another turn’d, and said: ‘Now thund’ring Jove
(Great arbiter of peace and arms) will either ’stablish love
Amongst our nations, or renew such war as never was.’
Thus either army did presage, when Pallas made her pass
Amongst the multitude of Troy; who now put on the grace
Of brave Laodocus, the flow’r of old Antenor’s race,
And sought for Lycian Pandarus, a man that being bred
Out of a faithless family, she thought was fit to shed
The blood of any innocent, and break the covenant sworn.
He was Lycaon’s son, whom Jove into a wolf did turn
For sacrificing of a child, and yet in arms renown’d,
As one that was inculpable: him Pallas standing found,
And round about him his strong troops that bore the shady shields:
He brought them from Aesepus flood, let through the Lycian fields.
Whom standing near, she whisper’d thus: ‘Lycaon’s warlike son,
Shall I despair at thy kind hands to have a favour done?
Nor dar’st thou let an arrow fly upon the Spartan king?
It would be such a grace to Troy, and such a glorious thing,
That every man would give his gift; but Alexander’s hand
Would load thee with them, if he could discover from his stand
His foe’s pride struck down with thy shaft, and he himself ascend
The flaming heap of funeral: come, shoot him, princely friend.
But first invoke the god of light, that in thy land was born,
And is in archers’ art the best that ever sheaf hath worn;
To whom a hundred first-ew’d lambs vow thou in holy fire,
When safe to sacred Zelia’s tow’rs thy zealous steps retire.’
With this, the mad-gift-greedy man Minerva did persuade:
Who instantly drew forth a bow, most admirably made
Of th’ antler of a jumping goat, bred in a steep up-land;
Which archer-like (as long before he took his hidden stand,
The evick skipping from a rock) into the breast he smote,
And headlong fell’d him from his cliff. The forehead of the goat
Held out a wondrous goodly palm, that sixteen branches brought:
Of all which, join’d, an useful bow a skilful bowyer wrought;
Which pick’d and polish’d, both the ends he hid with horns of gold.
And this bow, bent, he close laid down, and bad his soldiers hold
Their shields before him, lest the Greeks, discerning him, should rise
In tumults ere the Spartan king could be his arrow’s prize.
Mean space, with all his care he choos’d, and from his quiver drew
An arrow, feather’d best for flight, and yet that never flew;
Strong headed, and most apt to pierce; then took he up his bow,
And nock’d his shaft, the ground whence all their future grief did grow.
When praying to his god the sun, that was in Lycia bred,
And king of archers, promising that he the blood would shed
Of full an hundred first fallen lambs, all offer’d to his name,
When to Zelia’s sacred walls from rescu’d Troy he came –
He took his arrow by the nock, and to his bended breast
The oxy sinew close he drew, even till the pile did rest
Upon the bosom of the bow; and as that savage prise
His strength constrain’d into an orb – as if the wind did rise –
The coming of it made a noise, the sinew-forged string
Did give a mighty twang, and forth the eager shaft did sing
(Affecting speediness of flight) amongst the Achive throng.
Nor were the blessed heavenly powr’s unmindful of thy wrong,
O Menelaus; but in chief Jove’s seed, the Pillager,
Stood close before, and slack’d the force the arrow did confer,
With as much care and little hurt as doth a mother use,
And keep off from her babe, when sleep doth through his pow’rs diffuse
His golden humour; and th’ assaults of rude and busy flies
She still checks with her careful hand: for so the shaft she plies,
That on the buttons made of gold which made his girdle fast,
And where his curets double were, the fall of it she plac’d.
And thus much proof she put it to: the buckle made of gold,
The belt it fast’ned, bravely wrought, his curets double fold,
And last, the charmed plate he wore which help’d him more than all,
And ’gainst all darts and shafts bestow’d, was to his life a wall –
So (through all these) the upper skin the head did only race;
Yet forth the blood flow’d, which did much his royal person grace,
And show’d upon his ivory skin, as doth a purple dye
Laid (by a dame of Caria, or lovely Maeony)
On ivory, wrought in ornaments to deck the cheeks of horse,
Which in her marriage room must lie: whose beauties have such force,
That they are wish’d of many knights; but are such precious things,
That they are kept for horse that draw the chariots of kings:
Which horse, so deck’d, the charioteer esteems a grace to him.
Like these in grace the blood upon thy solid thighs did swim,
O Menelaus, down thy calves and ankles to the ground:
For nothing decks a soldier so, as doth an honour’d wound.
Yet fearing he had far’d much worse, the hair stood up on end
On Agamemnon, when he saw so much black blood descend.
And stiff’ned with the like dismay was Menelaus too:
But seeing th’ arrow’s stale without, and that the head did go
No further than it might be seen, he call’d his spirits again:
Which Agamemnon marking not, but thinking he was slain,
He grip’t his brother by the hand, and sigh’d as he would break,
Which sigh the whole host took from him; who thus at last did speak:
‘O dearest brother, is’t for this – that thy death must be wrought –
Wrought I this truce? For this hast thou the single combat fought
For all the army of the Greeks? For this hath Ilion sworn,
And trod all faith beneath their feet? Yet all this hath not worn
The right we challeng’d out of force; this cannot render vain
Our stricken right hands, sacred wine, nor all our off’rings slain:
For though Olympius be not quick in making good our ill,
He will be sure as he is slow; and sharplier prove his will.
Their own hands shall be ministers of those plagues they despise
Which shall their wives and children reach, and all their progenies.
For both in mind and soul I know that there shall come a day
When Ilion – Priam – all his pow’r shall quite be worn away,
When heav’n-inhabiting Jove shall shake his fiery shield at all,
For this one mischief. This I know, the world cannot recall.
But be all this, all my grief still for thee will be the same,
Dear brother, i
f thy life must here put out his royal flame:
I shall to sandy Argos turn with infamy my face,
And all the Greeks will call for home: old Priam and his race
Will flame in glory, Helena untouch’d be still their prey,
And thy bones in our enemies’ earth our cursed fates shall lay;
Thy sepulchre be trodden down, the pride of Troy desire
(Insulting on it). Thus, O thus, let Agamemnon’s ire
In all his acts be expiate, as now he carries home
His idle army, empty ships, and leaves here overcome
Good Menelaus. When this brave breaks in their hated breath,
Then let the broad earth swallow me, and take me quick to death.’
‘Nor shall this ever chance,’ said he, ‘and therefore be of cheer,
Lest all the army, led by you, your passions put in fear:
The arrow fell in no such place as death could enter at;
My girdle, curets doubled here, and my most trusted plate,
Objected all ’twixt me and death, the shaft scarce piercing one.’
‘Good brother,’ said the king, ‘I wish it were no further gone;
For then our best in medicines skill’d shall ope and search the wound,
Applying balms to ease thy pains, and soon restore thee sound.’
This said, divine Talthybius he call’d, and bad him haste
Machaon (Aesculapius’ son), who most of men was grac’d
With physic’s sovereign remedies, to come and lend his hand
To Menelaus, shot by one well skill’d in the command
Of bow and arrows; one of Troy, or of the Lycian aid,
‘Who much hath glorified our foe, and us as much dismay’d.’
He heard and hasted instantly, and cast his eyes about
The thickest squadrons of the Greeks, to find Machaon out.
He found him standing guarded well with well-arm’d men of Thrace,
With whom he quickly join’d, and said: ‘Man of Apollo’s race,
Haste – for the king of men commands – to see a wound impress’d
In Menelaus (great in arms) by one instructed best
In th’ art of archery, of Troy, or of the Lycian bands,
That them with much renown adorns, us with dishonour brands.
Machaon much was mov’d with this, who with the herald flew
From troop to troop alongst the host, and soon they came in view
Of hurt Atrides, circled round with all the Grecian kings,
Who all gave way; and straight he draws the shaft, which forth he brings
Without the forks; the girdle then, plate, curets, off he plucks,
And views the wound; when first from it the clotter’d blood he sucks,
Then medicines, wondrously compos’d, the skilful leech applied,
Which loving Chiron taught his sire; he from his sire had tried.
While these were thus employ’d to ease the Atrean martialist,
The Trojans arm’d, and charg’d the Greeks; the Greeks arm and resist.
Then not asleep, nor maz’d with fear, nor shifting off the blows,
You could behold the king of men, but in full speed he goes
To set a glorious fight on foot: and he examples this
With toiling, like the worst, on foot; who therefore did dismiss
His brass-arm’d chariot, and his steeds, with Ptolomeus’ son,
(Son of Pyraides) their guide, the good Eurymedon;
‘Yet,’ said the king, ‘attend with them, lest weariness should seize
My limbs, surcharg’d with ordering troops so thick and vast as these.’
Eurymedon then rein’d his horse, that trotted neighing by;
The king a footman – and so scow’rs the squadrons orderly.
Those of his swiftly-mounted Greeks that in their arms were fit,
Those he put on with cheerful words, and bad them not remit
The least spark of their forward spirits, because the Trojans durst
Take these abhorr’d advantages, but let them do their worst:
For they might be assur’d that Jove would patronise no lies,
And that who with the breach of truce would hurt their enemies,
With vultures should be torn themselves; that they should raze their town,
Their wives, and children at their breast, led vassals to their own.
But such as he beheld hang off from that increasing fight,
Such would he bitterly rebuke, and with disgrace excite:
‘Base Argives, blush ye not to stand, as made for butts to darts?
Why are ye thus discomfited like hinds that have no hearts?
Who wearied with a long-run field, are instantly emboss’d,
Stand still, and in their beastly breasts is all their courage lost:
And so stand you struck with amaze, nor dare to strike a stroke.
Would ye the foe should nearer yet your dastard spleens provoke,
Even where on Neptune’s foamy shore our navies lie in sight,
To see if Jove will hold your hands, and teach ye how to fight?’
Thus he (commanding) rang’d the host, and passing many a band,
He came to the Cretensian troops, where all did armed stand
About the martial Idomen; who bravely stood before
In vanguard of his troops, and match’d for strength a savage boar,
Meriones, his charioteer, the rearguard bringing on.
Which seen to Atreus’ son, to him it was a sight alone,
And Idomen’s confirmed mind with these kind words he seeks:
‘O Idomen! I ever lov’d thy self past all the Greeks,
In war, or any work of peace, at table, every where;
For when the best of Greece besides mix ever at our cheer
My good old ardent wine with small, and our inferior mates
Drink even that mix’d wine measur’d too, thou drink’st without those rates
Our old wine neat, and evermore thy bowl stands full like mine,
To drink still when and what thou wilt. Then rouse that heart of thine,
And whatsoever heretofore thou hast assum’d to be,
This day be greater.’ To the king in this sort answer’d he:
‘Atrides, what I ever seem’d, the same at every part
This day shall show me at the full, and I will fit thy heart.
But thou should’st rather cheer the rest, and tell them they in right
Of all good war must offer blows, and should begin the fight
(Since Troy first brake the holy truce) and not indure these braves,
To take wrong first, and then be dar’d to the revenge it craves:
Assuring them that Troy in fate must have the worse at last,
Since first, and ’gainst a truce, they hurt, where they should have embrac’d.’
This comfort and advice did fit Atrides’ heart indeed;
Who still through new-rais’d swarms of men held his laborious speed,
And came where both th’ Ajaces stood; whom like the last he found
Arm’d, casqued, and ready for the fight. Behind them hid the ground
A cloud of foot, that seem’d to smoke. And as a goatherd spies,
On some hill’s top, out of the sea, a rainy vapour rise,
Driv’n by the breath of Zephyrus, which though far off he rest,
Comes on as black as pitch, and brings a tempest in his breast,
Whereat he frighted drives his herds apace into a den:
So dark’ning earth with darts and shields show’d t
hese with all their men.
This sight with like joy fir’d the king, who thus let forth the flame,
In crying out to both the dukes: ‘O you of equal name,
I must not cheer, nay, I disclaim all my command of you;
Yourselves command with such free minds, and make your soldiers show,
As you nor I led, but themselves. O would our father Jove,
Minerva, and the God of Light, would all our bodies move
With such brave spirits as breathe in you: then Priam’s lofty town
Should soon be taken by our hands, for ever overthrown.’
Then held he on to other troops, and Nestor next beheld,
The subtle Pylian orator, range up and down the field,
Embattelling his men at arms, and stirring all to blows;
Points every legion out his chief, and every chief he shows
The forms and discipline of war: yet his commanders were
All expert, and renowned men: great Pelagon was there,
Alastor, manly Chromius, and Hemon worth a throne,
And Byas that could armies lead. With these he first put on
His horse troops with their chariots: his foot (of which he choos’d
Many, the best and ablest men, and which he ever us’d
As rampire to his general power) he in the rear dispos’d.
The slothful, and the least in spirit, he in the midst inclos’d,
That such as wanted noble wills, base need might force to stand.
His horse troops, that the vanguard had, he strictly did command
To ride their horses temperately, to keep their ranks, and shun
Confusion, lest their horsemanship and courage made them run
(Too much presum’d on) much too far, and (charging so alone)
Engage themselves in th’ enemy’s strength, where many fight with one.
‘Who his own chariot leaves to range, let him not freely go,
But straight unhorse him with a lance: for ’tis much better so.
And with this discipline,’ said he, ‘this form, these minds, this trust,
Our ancestors have walls and towns laid level with the dust.’
Thus prompt, and long inur’d to arms, this old man did exhort;
And this Atrides likewise took in wondrous cheerful sort;
And said: ‘O father, would to heav’n that as thy mind remains
In wonted vigour, so thy knees could undergo our pains.
But age, that all men overcomes, hath made his prize on thee;
