Book II

NOW the rest of the Gods and the car-borne heroes lay in sleep
All night; but not over Zeus stole slumber sweet and deep.
But ever he mused in his soul in what wise honour should crown
Achilles, and many a Greek by the galleys be stricken down.
And thus, in the thoughts of his heart, him seemed it were best to be done,
To send a baneful dream to the king, even Atreus’ son.
And he called up the shadowy shape, and the winged words leapt from his lips:
“Speed thee, O Dream of bane, to Achaia’s sea-swift ships:
Get thee to Atreus’ son Agamemnon’s tent on the strand,
And without fail say to him all, whatsoever I now command.
Thou tell him—let all the host of the long-haired folk be arrayed
By their thousands, for now shall he take the Trojans’ town broad-wayed;
For that now the Deathless that dwell in Olympus’ palace-hall
No longer at variance are, for that bowed are the hearts of us all
By the prayers of Héré, and now to the Trojans shall woes befall.”
So spake he, and hasted the Dream, so soon as he heard the command;
And swiftly he came to Achaia’s fleet-winged ships on the strand,
And to Atreus’ son Agamemnon, and found that battle-lord
Asleep in his tent, and the balmy slumber around him was poured.
In the shape of Neleus’ son did he stand by the king’s head then,
Of Nestor, whom most Agamemnon revered of the ancient men.
In his likeness the heaven-sent vision uttered forth his rede:
“Thou sleeping, O son of Atreus the war-wise lord of the steed!
It beseems not a counsel-chief through the livelong night to slumber,
Unto whom be committed the folk and searchings of heart without number.
But now give heed to me straightway: from Zeus am I sent unto thee,
“Who careth for thee with exceeding compassion, afar though he be.
He bids thee that all the host of the long-haired folk be arrayed
By their thousands; for now shalt thou take the Trojans’ town broad-wayed.
For now the Deathless that dwell in Olympus’ palace-hall
No longer at variance are, for bowed are the hearts of them all
By the prayers of Héré, and woes to the Trojans from Zeus shall befall.
“Thou lay up my words in thine heart, and forget not in any wise
In the hour when the honey-dew of slumber shall melt from thine eyes.”
So spake that phantom, and passed, and the king was left alone;
And his heart swelled high with the hope of the deeds that should never be done.
For he deemed he should win the city of Priam that selfsame day:
Ah fool!—for he knew not the doom in the heart of Zeus that lay.
For yet would Allfather mete forth death-groan and agony-pain
To the Trojan and Danaan folk in the battle’s desperate strain.
And he started from sleep, and still rang round him the voice divine;
And he rose and sat, and he donned his tunic fair and fine,
New-woven, and then with his cloak’s broad folds did he wrap him around,
And under his glistening feet his beautiful sandals he bound;
And about his shoulder he flung his silver-studded brand,
And he grasped his father’s sceptre, the incorruptible wand;
And he passed to the brazen-harnessed Achaians’ ships on the strand.
Now the Goddess, the Dawn, drew nigh unto far Olympus’ height,
Proclaiming to Zeus and the rest of the Deathless her tidings of light.
Then the king commanded the clear-voiced heralds his hest to bear,
And to cry to the folkmote-stead the Achaians with long-flowing hair:
So they made proclamation, and swiftly the people assembled there.
But first hath he gathered a council of chieftains mighty-souled
By the ship of the Pylos-begotten king, even Nestor the old.
So when these were set, he unfolded his counsel dark and deep:
“Hear, friends, there hath come unto me a vision from heaven in my sleep,
In the balmy night, most like unto Nestor the godlike king
In goodlihead seemed it, and stature, and outward fashioning.
And he bowed down over mine head, and he uttered forth his rede:
‘Thou sleeping, O son of Atreus the war-wise lord of the steed!
It beseems not a counsel-chief through the livelong night to slumber,
Unto whom be committed the folk, and searchings of heart without number.
But now give heed to me straightway: from Zeus am I sent unto thee,
Who careth for thee with exceeding compassion, afar though he be.
He bids thee that all the host of the long-haired folk be arrayed
By their thousands; for now shalt thou win the Trojans’ town broad-wayed.
For now the Deathless that dwell in Olympus’ palace-hall
No longer at variance are, for bowed are the hearts of them all
By the prayers of Héré, and woes to the Trojans from Zeus shall befall.
Thou lay up my words in thine heart. So spake he, and vanished was he,
Fleeting away; and sleep’s sweet fetters slid from me.
Come then, if so be we may harness Achaia’s sons for the fight.
But first with my words will I make assay, as is meet and right.
I will give them counsel to flee in the many-benched galleys away;
But speak ye to this man and that, and by words constrain them to stay.”
So spake he, and sat him down, and before that hero-band
Rose Nestor the king of Pylos, the city beside the sand;
And amidst of the warrior-ring with kindly words he spoke:
Friends, lords of the Argive cities, and chiefs of battle-folk,
If from any Achaian beside this dream-told rede had come,
We had deemed it a lying vision, and drawn back far therefrom.
But he that beheld it is greatest of all the Achaian array.
Come then, if so be we may marshal Achaia’s sons for the fray.”
So spake he, and back from the council of princes he led the way.
And the sceptre-swaying kings to the shepherd of folk gave ear:
And they rose and followed, and swiftly the throng of the folk drew near.
As forth the countless-thronging tribes of the brown bees pour,
From the cleft of a rock fast streaming and streaming evermore,
Clustering, rising, and wheeling around the flowers of spring,
Here are they, there are they, murmuring myriads hovering;
So came they, many a nation, forth from the ships and the camp,
In front of the sandy beach, with multitudinous tramp,
To the folkmote-stead; and speeding them on like a spreading flame
Went Rumour amongst them, the herald of Zeus, and thronging they came.
Stirred they and tossed as the waves of the sea, and beneath them the ground
Rang as they sat them adown: through the whirling storm of sound
Nine heralds were shouting to hush them, to still their clamourings,
And to cause them to hearken the voice of the heaven-fostered kings.
But at last were the war-folk set, and were stayed in their places, and quelled
Was the storm of their babble, and Lord Agamemnon arose, and he held
The sceptre by toil of Hephaestus fashioned in days long gone.
The God-smith gave that staff unto King Zeus, Kronos’ son;
Zeus gave it to Hermes the Guide-god, the Argus-slayer’s meed;
King Hermes gave it to Pelops, the goader of the steed;
And Pelops gave it thereafter to Atreus, shepherd of folk,
Who left it in death to Thyestes, the lord of many a flock:
And thereafter Thyestes left it to Agamemnon’s hand
To stretch it o’er many an isle, and o’er all the Argive land.
Leaning thereon, his rede to the Argive array spake he:
“Friends, Danaan heroes, henchmen of Arés, give ear unto me.
Zeus hath bound me in fetters of folly heavy and sore,—
Ah ruthless, who promised, and sealed that promise heretofore,
That I yet should smite strong Troy, and should win to my home and my rest!
Woe’s me for the counsel of bane and deceit, for now is his hest
That to Argos I get me with shame, since for me much people have died.
Yet I ween ’tis the pleasure of Zeus the All-mighty that this should betide,
Who hath brought low many a stately city’s crown of pride,
And yet shall bring, for his might is greater than all beside.
Oh this were a mock for the yet unborn to hear, I wis,
That Achaia’s array should be warring in vain in such fashion as this,
So goodly a host and so mighty, and all these years should have fought
With men that be fewer than they, and as yet the end is not!
For if now the Achaians and Trojans would bind them by troth-plight oath
For a space to abide in péace, and we took the tale of both,
And hearthman by hearthman were reckoned all the Trojan men,
But we, the Achaians, were told by companies of ten,
And for each band chose one Trojan, our cups at the feast to fill,
Many a banqueting ten should be lacking its cupbearer stil!:
So many more, I say, be the sons of Achaia than they,
Than the Trojans, the dwellers in Troy; but a mighty spear-array
From many a city is there, for Ilium’s battle-stay.
And all these utterly thwart me, and baffle the eager-souled
From smiting the city of Troy, the goodly-builded hold.
For lo, by this nine years of Zeus most high have rolled,
And the planks of the galleys have rotted, unravelled the tacklings are;
And our wives, I ween, and our helpless babes be sitting afar
In our halls, and ever they look for our coming, and still our hand
Hath found not the end of our toil, for the which we sought this land.
Go to now, as I shall give counsel, so let us all obey:
Let us flee with the ships to our dear-loved fatherland far away;
For never, I ween, shall we win broad-wayed Troy-town for a prey.”
So spake he, and leapt the hearts in the breasts of them all at the word,
Even all the Achaians of whom his counsel had not been heard.
And stirred was the host like the long sea-rollers forward-sweeping
On the Icarian sea, which the East-wind or South-wind, leaping
Forth of Allfather’s caverns of cloud, hath uplifted on high.
And as over a cornfield the whirlwind feet of the West-wind fly,
And rank after rank of the ears boweth down as the blast goeth by,
So was the folkmote stirred; and the stormy-clamouring crowd
Rushed to the galleys: from under their feet rose the dust in a cloud,
And hung overhead in the still air: each unto other they cried
To lay hand to the galleys and drag them adown to the vast sea-tide.
The keel-trenches now are they clearing; a cry reacheth heaven from the lips
That are thirsting for home, and they pluck the props from beneath the ships.
And the Argives’ home-return had been ere the fated day,
But that Héré turned to Athéné, and eagerly thus did she say:
“Out on it, child of the Aegis-lord, O tireless of toil!
Lo how aback to their homes, to their own dear fatherland-soil,
Over the broad sea-ridges shall flee the Argive host;
And for Priam and Troy-town’s folk shall they leave behind them a boast,
Even Helen the Argive queen, for whose sake died in the war
Many Achaians by Troy, from their fatherland home afar!
Nay, get thee down to Achaia’s brazen-harnessed array,
And with winsome words of thy mouth each man of the folk do thou stay,
And withhold them from running the shapely galleys asea through the spray.”
So spake she; the Goddess Athéné the grey-eyed hearkened her rede.
From the crests of Olympus she darted, and came with eager speed
Unto where the Achaian ships fleet-faring lay by the sea.
And: Odysseus, the peer of Zeus in counsel, there found she
Standing, but never he touched his fair-benched ship’s dark side,
For over his heart and his spirit was rolling the anguish-tide.
And hard by his side stood Athéné the grey-eyed, and uttered her rede:
O seed of Zeus and Laertes, Odysseus shiftful at need,
What, thus will ye fling you aboard of the many-benched galleys to flee
Hence to your homes and your dear-loved fatherland over the sea?
And for Priam and Troy-town’s folk shall ye leave behind you a boast,
Even Helen the Argive, for whom there died of Achaia’s host
In Troyland many a man, from their fatherland far away!
Nay, pass thou now through the folk, thou shalt not stint nor stay,
But with winsome words restrain each man of Achaia’s array,
And withhold them from running the shapely galleys asea through the spray.”
Straightway the hero knew that voice as the Goddess spoke,
And he hasted and ran: from his shoulders he cast aside his cloak;
And his henchman the Ithacan herald Eurybates caught the same.
But to Atreus’ son Agamemnon the hero swiftly came,
And received his father’s sceptre, the incorruptible wand;
And he hied him therewith to the brass-clad Achaians’ ships on the strand.
Unto whatso king he came, or chieftain of battle-might,
With winsome words he pleaded, and strove to stay his flight:—
“Good friend, it beseemeth thee not as a dastard to shrink from the fray!
Nay, but abide thou here, and cause thy folk to stay.
For the mind of Atreus’ son not yet dost thou understand:
He trieth us now, but soon shall the coward feel his hand.
Lo, the rede that he spake in the council was nowise heard of us all.
Have a care lest bane from his wrath on the sons of Achaia fall!
The heart of a king Zeus-fostered is surely a mighty thing;
And of Zeus is his honour, and loveth him Zeus the Counsel-king.”
But whomso he found loud-shouting, a wight of the common folk,
Him with the sceptre he smote, and with sharp stern words he spoke:
“Good fellow, sit thou still, and give ear unto other men now,
Who are mightier than thou: a battle-blencher and weakling art thou.
None taketh account of thee in the war or the council-ring.
It may nowise be that every Achaian shall here be king.
Ill is the lordship of many, let one lord still bear sway,
One king, unto whom dark-counselling Kronos’ son for aye
Hath given the sceptre and laws, that the rest of the folk may obey.”
So in masterful wise did he marshal the host, and they sped once more
To the folkmote-stead from the ships and the tents with loud uproar,
Even as when the surge of the seething sea falls dashing
On a league-long strand with the roar of the rollers thunderous-crashing.
So the rest of the folk sat down, and each in his place was stayed;
But Thersites alone with endless words yet babbled and brayed.
Never his heart lacked speech for his foul imaginings,
For vain and unseemly wrangling, and speaking evil of kings,
Even whatso he deemed should awaken the laugh and the scorner’s glee:
And of all that to Ilium came the most ill-favoured was he.
Bowed were his legs, and the one foot lame; on his shoulders he bare
A hump, and a narrow chest was the narrow spirit’s lair;
High-peaked was the crown of his head, overstraggled with starveling hair.
To Achilles and hero Odysseus most hateful he was above all,
For that ever against them he prated. Now ’gan this knave to brawl,
Shrill-screaming against Agamemnon the godlike: but they that heard
Were exceeding wroth with the railer, and indignation-stirred,
While against Agamemnon he shouted, and cried a shameless word:
“Atreides, what lackest thou more, and for what wouldst thou still upbraid?
Filled be thy tents with brass, and many a chosen maid
Is therein; for Achaia’s sons give ever the best of the spoil
First unto thee, when a city is won by our battle-toil.
Or what, art thou hungry for gold, for the price that some one shall bring,
Some steed-quelling Trojan from Troy, for a dear son’s ransoming,
The battle-thrall of mine or another Achaian’s sword,
Or a woman lovely and young—for the lust of the king our lord!
Yea, for thee to possess alone!—foul shame it is, I trow,
That a chieftain should bring the sons of Achaia to naught but woe.
O weaklings and bywords! Achaian women!—men no more!
Home with our ships let us get us, and here on the Trojan shore
Let us leave him to gloat on his guerdons, until he be certified
Whether we be his shield and defenders or not in the perilous tide,—
He who now to Achilles, a hero better than he by far,
Hath done dishonour, hath torn from his hands his guerdon of war.
Ha, fury is not in Achilles, the wrong, he regardeth it not,
Else had the last of thine outrages now, O Atreides, been wrought!”
So cried he on Agamemnon the shepherd of folk in his spite:
But strode Odysseus the godlike up unto him forthright,
And grim was his look and stern was his voice as he chode with the wight:
“Thersites, thou railer, how shrill soever of tongue thou be,
Refrain thee, think not to wrangle with kings is for such as thee;
For, I tell thee, no viler caitiff than thou shall be found in the host,
Of all that with Atreus’ sons have come to Troyland coast.
Then let not thy malapert tongue with the names of princes play,
Neither cast thou reproaches, nor watch for the home-returning day.
For how these deeds shall befall not yet do we soothly know,
Whether Achaia’s sons shall return in weal or woe.
Yet thou must be sitting reviling the king, even Atreus’ son,
Agamemnon the shepherd of folk, for the rich gifts battle-won
That the Danaan heroes give, and with gibes thou pratest on.
But I tell thee—and surely fulfilled shall it be, this thing that I say—
If I find thee mouthing thy madness again, as it is this day,
Then may the head of Odysseus no more on his shoulders remain,
Never let me be called among men Telemachus’ father again,
If I take not thee, and strip each rag of thy raiment away,
Thy mantle, thy tunic that veileth thy shame from the sight of day,
And drive thee howling hence to the sea-swift ships by the wave,
Scourged from the folkmote-stead with the shameful stripes of the slave.”
So spake he, and laid on his back and his shoulders blow upon blow
With his sceptre: he writhed and he cowered, and fast did the hot tears flow;
Upstarting across his back did the blood-weal lividly glow
At the stroke of the sceptre of gold: there sat he in pain and in fear
With witless-wildered look, and he wiped away the tear.
And the folk, howsoever they chafed, laughed on him in gleesome mood,
And thus cried one, as he looked on his fellow thereby that stood:
“Lo how Odysseus hath fashioned full many a glorious deed
In arraying the host for the battle, in uttering war-wise rede!
But this is the best of all he hath wrought in the Argive host,
He hath smitten the railer dumb, he hath quelled the braggart’s boast.
Ha ha! no more shall the knave of his malapert spirit be stirred
To lift up his voice against kingfolk with babble of mocking word.”
So murmured the folk: but Odysseus hath risen sceptre in hand,
Strong smiter of towns: by his side did Athéné the grey-eyed stand
In the shape of a herald, and cried to the people to hush them to hear,
To the end that the sons of Achaia, the thousands far and near,
Might hearken his word, and ponder his counsel with diligent heed.
And with kindly intent he uplifted his voice, and he uttered his rede:
“Atreides, to-day the Achaians be minded to do a thing
That shall make thee utterly vile in all men’s eyes, O king.
Yea, they be false to the promise they gave unto thee in the day
When hither from Argos the horse-fed land they were sailing away,
That they would not return till low fair Ilium’s ramparts lay.
For even as young babes wail, or as widowed women cry,
Faint-hearted they moan to their fellows, and ‘Home,’ say they, ‘let us fly!’
Good sooth, we have hardship enow heart-broken to flee from the war:
For the shipman that bideth for one month’s space from his wife afar
Doth chafe by the side of his long ship, wearying sore to be free,
Whose jailers be blasts of the storm and the waves of the tossing sea:
But for us, as the ninth year rolleth around, by the Troyland coast
Still are we biding. I think not scorn of Achaia’s host
That they chafe by the beak-prowed galleys;—but what, were it not foul shame
To have tarried so long, and to go empty-handed as erst we came?
O friends, be strong to endure, and a little while abide
Till we know whether truly or not seer Kalchas prophesied.
For we know this well in our hearts, ye are witnesses all this day,
Whomsoever the fates of death not yet have borne away,
How the ships on a long-ago yesterday gathered by Aulis’ strand
Freighted with vengeance for Priam, and woe for the Trojans’ land,
And around the spring at the altars we gathered for sacrifice,
And up to the Deathless Ones did the smoke of the hecatomb rise
’Neath a beautiful plane whence the sunlight-flashing water was flowing:
Then a great sign came, a serpent with fire-litten scales red-glowing,
A terrible thing, which himself the Olympian sent into light:
From under the altar he darted, and flashed to the plane forthright.
Now therein was the brood of a sparrow, and helpless fledglings were they,
Nestling under the leaves at the uttermost end of a spray,
Eight, and the mother the ninth, those little ones that bore.
And the serpent in pitiful wise devoured them shrieking sore.
And wailing around her beloved the mother was fluttering;
But he writhed himself up as she screamed around, and he caught her wing.
But when he had eaten them, mother and fledglings, before our eyes,
By the God who had sent him forth was he changed in wondrous wise.
For the son of Kronos the Hider of Counsel turned him to stone:
And all we stood and marvelled, beholding the thing that was done,
How the Gods’ dread portents came in the midst of the hecatomb.
Forthright spake Kalchas the seer, and he uttered the word of doom:
‘Achaians with long-flowing hair, why stand ye in silence by?
’Tis the Counsel-father hath sent us this mighty sign from on high,
Late, yea, and of late fulfilment, but never the glory shall die.
As yonder serpent hath torn them, mother and young, from the nest,
Even eight, and the mother the ninth, which had warmed them to life with her breast,
So many years shall we wear overseas in battle-toil;
At the last in the tenth shall we win that broad-wayed burg for a spoil.’
So spake the seer, and behold, the fulfilment is on us this day.
O battle-harnessed Achaians, endure to the end to stay
Here, till the mighty city of Priam be won for a prey!”
Then a cry brake forth from the Argives; the galleys rang again
On the right and the left with the terrible thunder of shouting men,
Crying yea to the rede of Odysseus the godlike, the island-king.
Then Nestor, Gerenia’s horseman, spake to the warrior-ring:
“O shame! how like unto children ye babble with empty words,
Like prattling babes that have naught to do with the strife of the swords!
What of our covenant-plight?—of our oaths?—ay, let them depart;
To the fire, to the fire with them all, deep counsels and searchings of heart,
The libations of wine unmingled, the hand-troth trusted of yore!
For idly we wrangle as boys, and for this may we find no more
Any healing or help, after all these years on the alien shore.
Now nay, be thy counsel unshaken as ever, Atreides, to-day;
Have lordship over the Argive host in the desperate fray.
But for them—let them fret out their hearts, the one or two, whose rede
Is not as the rede of the Argives; behold they shall not speed,
Who bid us fare back unto Argos, or ever the Aegis-lord
Have shown us the end of his promise, if faithful or false be his word.
For I say that to seal it the brow of Almighty Kronion was bent
In the day that the Argives boarded the sea-swift galleys, and went
Oversea, heavy-freighted with slaughter and doom for the sons of Troy;
For his lightning flashed forth on our right for a sign and a token of joy.
Wherefore let none make haste to return back home from the strife
Ere each man have lain by the side of a widowed Trojan wife,
And avenged the afflictions of Helen, the sighing captive’s pain.
But and if for the home-returning any be furious-fain,
Let him lay but his hand to the black-hulled fair-benched galley, that so
Before all others to doom and the blackness of death he may go.
But in wisdom advise thee, O king, and give ear to our counsel, I pray:
No witless word shall be mine, to be lightly cast away.
By tribes and by clans, Agamemnon, divide thou the folk for the fray,
That tribe may be helper of tribe, and clan clan’s battle-stay.
And if thou shalt do this thing, and the folk shall obey thy behest,
Thou shalt know what chieftain is dastard, what nation faileth the rest,
And who be the valiant;—for each in his place shall be marshalled aright;—
And shalt know if by doom of the Gods Troy-town boweth not to thy might,
Or by reason of hearts that be faint, and of hands that be skilless of fight.”
Answered and spake unto him Agamemnon, the war-folk’s king:
“Sooth, father, the best of Achaians art thou in the council-ring.
Ah Zeus Allfather, Athéné, Apollo, fain would I be
Had Achaia but ten such counsel-fellows to stand by me!
The city of Priam the king full soon should stoop her neck
Under our hands, overmastered and wasted in ruin and wreck.
But Kronion the Aegis-tosser with troubles hath darkened my life,
Casting me into the midst of profitless wrangle and strife.
For Achilles and I fell out, and we strove for a maiden’s sake
With words of contention: yet I was the first into wrath that brake.
But if ever in counsel and heart we be set at one again,
No respite shall Troy have then, be it never so little, from bane.
Now get you hence; take meat, to the end we may forth to the fight.
Keen-whetted be every spear, and be each shield ready-dight:
Let each man heedfully fodder his fleetfoot chariot-steeds:
Let each look well to the wheels of his car for the battle’s needs,
That in bitter strife he may grapple the livelong day with the foe.
No respite, though never so little, the battle-strain shall know
Or ever the fury of men by the coming of night shall be stilled.
On many a breast shall the belt of the warrior-warding shield
Be drenched with sweat, and the hand shall cleave to the weary spear,
And many a horse shall sweat as he strains in the chariot-gear.
But and if I shall spy any dastard that fain would be stealing away
From the battle to bide by the ships—ha, then shall he vainly essay
To escape from the dogs that shall tear him, the red beaks rending the prey!”
Then shouted the Argives aloud, with a sound as of breakers that roar
When the South-wind hurleth the waves on the cliffs of an ironbound shore,
When the crags of the headland are lashed evermore by the surge mad-leaping
“Neath the scourge of the winds as from this side and that side their wings come sweeping.
Upstarting they scattered and sped to the galleys with hurrying feet,
And they lighted them fires mid the tents of their camp, and they took their meat.
And to this one and that of the Gods everlasting they sacrificed there,
Praying to ’scape from the fight, from the War-god’s murder-snare.
But the King of Men Agamemnon offered in sacrifice
A goodly five-year steer unto Zeus high-throned in the skies.
And he summoned the chiefs of the nations Achaian in council to meet,
Nestor, chiefest of all, and Idomeneus lord of Crete:
Therewithal the Aiantes twain and Tydeus’ son drew near,
And the sixth with these was Odysseus, Zeus’s counsel-peer.
But unbidden the mighty-voiced Menelaus came with the rest;
For the load of his brother’s care lay heavy upon his breast.
And they stood round the beast, and they sprinkled the barley-grains on its head;
And Lord Agamemnon prayed in the midst of the kings, and he said:
‘Zeus, cloudrack-veiled, sky-throned in thy glory and might above all,
May the sun not sink in the sea, nor the folds of the darkness fall,
Till I dash to the ground the palace of Priam in smoke and flame,
And consume with ravening fire the stately doors of the same,
And shiver the breastplate of Hector, and cleave through the heart of my foe
With the brass, till warriors many, about their chief laid low,
Rolled in the dust shall have bit the earth in their agony-throe.”
So spake he, howbeit Kronion not yet would fulfil his request:
He accepted the gifts, but he multiplied toil unto him, and unrest,
Then after the prayer they sprinkled the barley-grains unbrayed,
And they drew back the necks of the beasts, and they severed the throats, and flayed,
And the bones of the thighs they cut out, and, doubly folding it over,
With the fat they wrapped them about, and with pieces of flesh did they cover.
On the altar they laid them, and blazed the leafless billets beneath;
And the inwards they spitted, and broiled in the Fire-god’s fervent breath.
And after the sacrifice, and the tasting of entrails due,
The rest into pieces they sliced, and they ran the long spits through,
And they heedfully roasted the same, and the roast from the flames they withdrew.
So when they had ceased from their toil, and the banquet was all prepared,
They feasted, and none lacked aught of the banquet equal-shared.
And so soon as the craving for meat and for drink had been done away,
Gerenia’s horseman, Nestor the old, to the rest ’gan say:
“Far-famous Atreus’ son Agamemnon the war-folk’s king,
No more let us linger in talk, let us make no tarrying
In the work which the Gods have given to our very hands this day.
Go to, let the heralds cry to Achaia’s mailéd array,
And let them gather the folk from the camp of the ships on the strand;
And we through the host of Achaia will pass, a chieftain-band
That the battle-mood sooner may wake, and the War-god’s flame be fanned.”
And the saying pleased Agamemnon, the lord of a warrior folk.
To the heralds with voice clear-pealing his hest forthright he spoke
To call to the battle-toil the Achaians with long-flowing hair.
And they made proclamation, and swiftly the war-folk gathered there.
And the heaven-fostered kings by the son of Atreus’ side
Sped swiftly arraying the host, and Athéné the flashing-eyed
Was there with her glorious immortal Aegis that waxeth not old;
Danced they and streamed on the wind, its hundred tassels of gold,
All lovely-twisted, and each was the worth of a hundred kine:
Flashing it sped she adown the Achaian battle-line,
And ever she spurred them on, and she filled each heart with might,
And she made them fain of the onset, afire for the stintless fight.
And suddenly fairer and sweeter the battle-play seemed unto these
Than to flee in the hollow ships to their fatherland far overseas.
As flameth a ravening fire through a forest measureless-wide
On a mountain-ridge, and the glare of it lightens on every side,
So the unearthly sheen of the brass as the host swept on
Flashed far through the welkin, and up to the heaven of heavens it shone.
And from them—as the myriad tribes of the flying fowl of the air,
The armies of geese, of the cranes, of the long-necked swans snow-fair,
In an Asian mead by Cayster’s waters softly-fleeting
Hitherward hover and thither with triumphing wings glad-beating,
As with clangour and clashing they settle; the whole mead ringeth again;
So from the tents and the galleys came nation on nation of men
Pouring forth to the plain of Scamander, and ever the deep earth under
With the tramp of the ranks and the stamping of steeds rang terrible thunder.
In the mead of Scamander they halted, the green mead starred with flowers,
Countless as leaves or as blossoms that wake under springtide showers.
Even as the multitudinous flies in swarms untold,
That are wheeling and dancing in Spring evermore round byre and fold,
When the milk in the pail foams up, and the bubbles are bright at the brim,
So swarmed in the plain the Achaian long-haired warriors grim
Furious-fain to be rending the Trojans limb from limb.
And lightly as herdmen sever their goats by drove and drove,
When mingle the wide-scattered flocks through the pastures afar as they rove,
So the war-chiefs marshalled the people, and ranged them to march to the fray I
And Lord Agamemnon towered in the midst of them all that day,
Like Zeus the thunder-triumphant in eyes and in head was he,
And as Arés’ his loins were, his breast as Poseidon’s, the Lord of the Sea.
And even as a bull doth in goodlihead all the herd outshine,
Forasmuch as he standeth fair to be seen mid the gathered kine,
Even so did Zeus that day make Atreides the hero-king
Peerless mid thousands, and chief in the chieftains’ gathering.
Tell to me, Muses now, in Olympian halls that abide—
Ye are Goddesses, ye stand by and behold whatsoe’er doth betide,
But we know certainly naught, we have heard but a rumour of words—
Tell who were the chiefs of the Danaan war, and their battle-lords.
But the host of them ne’er could I name, nor the tale of their battle-line,
Nay, not though I had ten tongues, not though ten mouths were mine,
And an adamant voice, and within me a heart of brazen thews;
Save and except the Olympian Muses, the daughters of Zeus
The Aegis-wielder, would count up all unto Troy that came.
Howbeit the chieftains of galleys, and all their ships, will I name.
Lords of Boeotia’s host came Léitus, Peneleos,
Prothoénor and Arkesilaus and Klonius for battle uprose,
With the folk that in Hyrié dwelt, and by Aulis’s crag-fringed steep,
And in Schoinus and Skoélus, and midst Eteónus’ hill-clefts deep,
In Thespeia and Graia, and green Mykalessus the land smooth-meadowed,
And in Harma and Eilesius, and Erythrae the mountain-shadowed,
And they that in Eleon abode, and in Hylé and Peteon withal,
And in Okaleé and in Medeon, burg of the stately wall,
In Kopae, Eutresis, mid Thisbé’s cushat-haunted trees,
Koroneia that looks on the mere, Haliartus’ deep-grassed leas,
And they that abode in Plateia, in Glisas under the steep,
And they of Thebae the Lesser, the goodly-builded keep,
Of Onchestus the hallowed, the glorious grove of the great Sea-father,
Of Mideia, and they that in Arné the wealth of her vintage gather,
Of Nisa’s shrine, and Anthédon the uttermost burg of the land:
Of these sailed fifty keels overseas from Boeotia’s strand,
And each good ship with a hundred and fifty warriors manned.
Came they of Asplédon, and Minyan Orchomenus’ valiant ones;
Askalaphus led them to war, with Ialmenus, Arés’ sons,
Which were born of a maiden tender-sweet, Astyoché, daughter
Of Aktor, Azeus’ son, for the mighty War-god sought her;
And she went up into her bower, and in secret he couched by her side.
And with these went thirty marshalled galleys over the tide.
And the Phocians with Schedius came, and Epistrophus led them on,
The children of Iphitus, mighty-hearted Naubolus’ son,
The abiders in Kyparissus and Pytho with crags girt round,
And they that in Panopeus, Daulis, and Krisa the holy were found,
Hyampolis’ folk, and they that in Aneméria abode,
And they that dwelt where Kephisus the sacred river flowed,
And the men of Lilaia beside Kephisus’ fountain-head:
So in Phocia’s gathering two score black-hulled galleys sped.
And their captains ordered the battle, and marshalled the mountaineers,
And set their host in array on the left of Boeotia’s spears.
And the Locrians’ chieftain was Aias, Oileus’ fleetfoot son,
No giant, as Telamonian Aias the mighty one;
But little of stature he was, and in corslet of linen was clad;
Yet in all that host no peer in the javelin-cast he had.
And of Kynus, and Opus, and Kalliarus his war-fellows were,
And of Béssa and Skarphé, Augeia withal, the passing-fair,
And of Tarphé, and Thronius that standeth Boagrius’ waters beside.
So forty ships of the Locrians after their hero hied,
Of the folk that look o’er to Euboea across the strait sea-tide.
And the men of Euboea, the fierce Abantes, there were mustered,
Of Kalchis, Eretria withal, Histiaia with vines heavy-clustered,
From Kerinthus hard by the sea, and from Dion that crowneth the steep,
And Karystus’ folk, and the warders of Styra’s castled keep.
From Euboea with Arés’ scion Chalkédon’s son, they departed,
Elephénor, the chief of the host of Abantes, the mighty-hearted,
“Whom the fleetfoot Abantes followed with stormy hair back-streaming,
Spearmen furious-fain with their lances deadly-gleaming
To smite and to rend the harness that warded the foeman’s breast.
And after the War-god’s child two score black galleys pressed.
And there were the warders of Athens the fair-built burg of war,
The land of Erechtheus the mighty-hearted, the man that of yore
Zeus’ daughter Athéné fostered: of corn-giver Earth was he sprung;
And in Athens she set him on high, in her temple treasure-hung.
And still as the years roll round do the high-born sons of the land
With bulls and with lambs at the Earth-born hero’s altar stand.
And the captain that led them to war was Menestheus, Peteos’ son;
Amid all the earth-abiders like unto him was there none
In setting the steeds and the shielded heroes in battle-array,
Save Nestor alone, for that older he was, and in wars grown grey.
And with him sped fifty black ships over the printless way.
And from Salamis Aias led twelve longships over the flood,
And arrayed them for fight in the place where the ranks of Athens stood.
Came the dwellers in Argos and Tiryns, the giant-fenced keep,
Of Hermioné and of Asiné built by the sea-gulf deep,
And of Troezen and Eioné, Epidaurus fair with the vine,
And the folk of Aegina and Mases, Achaians of high-born line,
And these Diomedes the mighty-voiced led forth to the war
With Sthenelus, well-loved son of Kapaneus famous of yore.
And with these Euryalus fared, that godlike-goodly one,
The hero-child of the king Mekistes, Talaon’s son.
Diomedes the mighty-voiced to the war led forth all these,
And in fourscore black-hulled ships was the host of them borne overseas.
Came they of Mycenae the stately, the city of giant wall,
Of Corinth the wealthy, and beautiful-builded Kleónae withal,
And the folk of Orneia, Araithyriae the lovely-fair,
And of Sikyon, wherein at the first his sceptre Adrastus bare;
Hyperésia’s men, Gonoessa’s sons came down from her height
Pelléné’s warders, and Aigion’s heroes for battle dight,
And from all the stretch of the Seaboard, from Heliké spreading far:
And theirs were a hundred galleys, and he that led them to war
Was Atreus’ son Agamemnon: the most and the mightiest came
After him, and himself was arrayed in the splendour of brazen flame.
Battle-triumphant and peerless mid all the heroes he stood,
For that noblest he was, and he brought most war-fellows over the flood.
They of mountain-pent Lacedaemon’s ravine-land there were arrayed,
Of Pharis, and Sparta, and Messé’s cushat-haunted shade,
Of Bryseia, and they that tilled Augeia’s goodly land,
And the men of Amyklae and Helos, the town on the hoarse sea-strand,
And of Laas, and Oitylus’ folk that abide ’twixt mountain and shore,
And the mighty-voiced Menelaus led them in ships threescore,
Agamemnon’s brother, howbeit his people were marshalled apart,
And amidst them himself went, strong in the fierce desire of his heart,
Cheering them on to the fight, and his soul was exceeding fain
To avenge the afflictions of Helen, the sighing captive’s pain.
Came the dwellers in Pylos, and pleasant Aréné’s battle-throng,
And from Thryon the ford of Alpheius, and Aipy’s battlements strong,
And they that from Kyparisséis and Amphigeneia wended,
From Pteleon, Helos, and Dorion, where the Muses contended
With Thamyris, Thracia’s bard, and hushed his song for aye,
When he came from Eurytus lord of Oichalia far away.
In the pride of his heart had he vaunted that his should be victory-fame,
Though the Muses, the daughters of Zeus, to match them against him came.
In their anger they took from him sight and the song that theretofore
Was unearthly-sweet, and they made him forget his harper’s lore.
And Nestor, Gerenia’s horseman, led that warrior-aid,
And fourscore galleys and ten with the war-wise king were arrayed.
Came Arcadia’s folk from the shadow of steep Kylléné’s height
By Aipytus’ tomb, the highlanders fain of the grapple of fight,
They that in Pheneon abode and Orchomenus wealthy with sheep,
From Stratié, Rhipae, they came, from Enispé’s storm-swept steep,
From Tegea, the tillers of fair Mantineia’s pleasant land,
Stymphélus’ warders stout, and Parrhasia’s warrior-band.
With Lord Agapénor, the son of Ankaios, over the foam
Went threescore galleys, and each stout keel from their highland home
Bare many Arcadian warriors cunning in battle-lore,
For that Atreus’ son Agamemnon himself had given good store
Of his fair-benched galleys to speed them over the wine-dark sea,
For not for the mountain-folk was the sea-waves’ mastery.
Buprasion and Elis the hallowed sent many a battlement-warder
From the west, where standeth Hyrminé, and Myrsinus keepeth the border,
Even to the east, where Olenus’ rock and Aleision stand.
Four were their princes: with each stout hero from Elis-land
Went ten swift galleys with hosts of Achaians battle-fain.
Sped Thalpius there with Amphimachus, these led squadrons twain;
Of Eurytus sprung and of Kteatus, Aktor’s seed were they.
Amarynkeus’ scion Diores was chief of the third array.
Polyxeinus the godlike, the son of the king Agasthenes,
Which was son of Augeius, led onward the fourth host overseas.
From Dulichion they came, from the sacred Echinad isles, to the war,
The folk that look over the narrow seas unto Elis’ shore.
And the chieftain of these was Meges, the War-god’s battle-peer,
Whose father was Phyleus the chariot-fighter to Zeus most dear,
Who gat him of old to Dulichion wroth with a sire forsworn,
And in fourscore galleys his folk o’er the broad sea-ridges were borne.
Odysseus led forth Kephallenia’s hero-hearted array;
In Ithaca’s isle, under Néritus’ forest-clad heights, dwelt they,
And on lone Krokyleia, and Aigilips’ rugged crags and bare,
And there were the men of Zakynthus, the dwellers in Samos were there,
And the folk that overagainst them abode on the mainland coast.
And Odysseus the counsel-peer of Zeus led forth that host:
Twelve crimson prows with the hero the gulf of the waters crossed.
Thoas the son of Andraimon was chief of Aetolia’s band,
In Pyléné and Olenus dwelt they, by Pleuron ’twixt mountain and strand,
Mid Kalydon’s world of stone, and on Chalkis’ wave-lashed shore.
For the sons of Oineus the hero were found with the living no more;
Gone was the mightiest of all, bright-haired Meleager was dead,
Over all the Aetolian folk of yore was he captain and head.
So fourscore galleys with Thoas over the waters sped.
Lord of the Cretan folk was Idomeneus spear-renowned,
Of the men that in Knossus abode, and in Gortys the rampart-crowned,
Lyktus, Miletus, Lykastus whose white walls glisten afar,
Phaistus and Rhytion withal, the fair-built burgs of war,
And other of them that in Crete the hundred-citied were found;
And their captain to lead them to war was Idomeneus spear-renowned,
With the battle-peer of the manslaying War-god, Meriones.
So with them went fourscore black-hulled galleys over the seas.
And Tlepolemus, valiant and stalwart scion of Herakles’ line,
Came leading the stately Rhodian men in longships nine,
War-fellows gathered from Rhodes, from the nation divided in three,
From Iélysus, Lindus, Kameirus with white walls fair to see.
Tlepolemus spear-renowned was captain and chief over these,
Whom Astyocheia bare to the might of Herakles.
From the river Selléis he brought her a captive from Ephyré-land,
When many a city of men Zeus-fostered was spoiled by his hand.
But scarce was Tlepolemus grown unto man in the halls fair-built,
When the blood of his father’s uncle unwares by his hand was spilt,
The blood of the scion of Arés, Likymnius old and grey.
Then the manslayer builded him ships, and he gathered a great array,
And he fled overseas from the threats of the kin of the blood that was shed,
The sons and the grandsons of Herakles, hero-sire of the dead.
So he came unto Rhodes, through homeless affliction and toil as he roved:
And the folk were divided in three by their tribes, a nation beloved
Of Zeus who outstretcheth o’er godfolk and men his sceptred hand;
And riches unearthly-great did Kronion shower on the land.
Three shapely-fashioned galleys from Symé did Nireus bring,
Nireus, the son of Aglaia and Charopus, bright-faced king,
Nireus, the comeliest man of all that to Ilium’s strand,
Save only Peleides the peerless, came from the Danaans’ land;
Howbeit a weakling he was, and but few were his battle-band.
From Nisyrus, from Karpathus came they, came Kasus’ warriors tall,
From Eurypylus’ city of Kos, from the isles of Kalydnae withal.
Pheidippus and Antiphus were the battle-captains of these,
Sons of the isle-king Thessalus, scion of Herakles,
And with them were thirty galleys arrayed to pass the seas.
Now telleth the song of Pelasgian Argos’ battle-host
Who in Alopé dwelt, and in Alus, in Trachis, the rock-rimmed coast,
And in Phthia and Hellas, the land of lovely bride and dame,—
Men called them Achaians; Hellénes and Myrmidons had they to name;—
And fifty galleys of these with Achilles their captain came.
But they knew not the shout of the onset now, nor the roar of the fray,
Because there was no man to lead them, to set their ranks in array,
For that fleetfoot Achilles the godlike amidst of his galleys lay,
Wroth for the sake of Briséis, the beautiful-tressed maid;
Whom he won in the spoils of Lyrnessus by toil of a perilous raid,
When he wasted Lyrnessus’ burg, and the towers of Thébé town,
And Mynes he smote and Epistrophus, mighty in spear-renown,
The sons of Evénus the child of Selépius king of men.
For her bitter-hearted he lieth, but soon shall he rise again.
Came they that in Phylaké dwelt, and in Pyrasus flower-bestarred,
The holy place of Demeter and Iton’s sheep-fed sward,
And Antron hoarse with the sea, and Pteleon’s deep-grassed mead,
Spearmen that Protesilaus the hero wont to lead
While yet he was living: but now in the dark earth’s lap was he pent,
And his wife in a desolate home, with cheeks for mourning rent,
Was in Phylaké left, for slain was her lord by a Dardan hand
As first of the host of Achaians he leapt from his ship to the strand.
Howbeit not lordless his men were, though sorely they longed for the dead,
But Podarkes, the child of the War-god, their ranks to the battle led,
Son of the Phylakid Iphiklus, master of many a fold;
Blood-brother was he of Protesilaus the hero-souled:
But the younger was this, and mightier far was the elder-born,
Protesilaus the hero: yet not left chief-forlorn
Were his people, albeit they longed for their mighty-one passing sore,
And over the waters with him had there sped black hulls twoscore.
Came they that in Pherae abode, Boibéis’ mere beside,
In Glaphyré, Boibé, and stately Iolcos’ towers of pride.
Eleven were their ships: by the son of Admétus marshalled they were,
Eumélus, the child that a lady divine to Admétus bare,
Alcestis, peerless amidst king Pelias’ daughters fair.
Came they in Methoné that dwelt, and that guarded Thaumakia’s keep,
And that kept Meliboia’s walls, and Olizon’s craggy steep.
Philoktétes was captain of these, the warrior bow-renowned:
Seven were their galleys, and oarsmen in each good ship were there found
Fifty, cunning of hand to deal with the bow in the fray.
But their king in a lonely isle in bitter torment lay;
For in Lemnos the hallowed they left him, Achaia’s war-bound men,
Anguish-racked by the wound of the deadly snake of the fen.
There in his pain doth he lie; but the sea-borne host of war
Ere long unto Philoktétes shall turn in their need once more.
Not lordless his men were, albeit they longed for their mighty one,
But Medon arrayed them for battle, Oileus’ bastard son,
Whom the grim burg-waster begat, whom Rhéné the fair slave bore.
Came the dwellers in Trikké, Ithomé the land of crumbling loam,
And they of Oichalia, Eurytus’ warrior-warded home;
And Asklépius’ children twain led these to the grapple of fight,
Podaleirius cunning to heal, and Machaon the leech of might,
And by them were there thirty galleys in ranks of battle dight.
Came Ormenia’s folk, and the dwellers by Hypereia’s spring,
From Asterion they came, and from Titanus’ white crests mustering;
Eurypylus led them to battle, Evaimon’s glorious son,
And fourscore dark-hulled ships to the war-land followed him on.
And there were Argissa’s warders, Gyrtoné’s fighters withal,
From Eloné and Orthé they came, and from white Oloosson’s wall.
Polypoites the battle-bider was captain of their array,
Son of Peirithous scion of Zeus that abideth for aye;—
Of Hippodameia the Queen was he born to the Centaurs’ Bane
In the day when his vengeance was wrought on the monsters shaggy of mane,
When he drave them from Pelion afar unto where the Aithikans abode:—
Not alone, for Leonteus was with him, the seed of the Battle-god
Born unto Kaineus’ scion Koronus the lordly-hearted;
And with these black ships fourscore from the land of their fathers departed.
Came galleys twenty and two with Guneus from Kyphus-land,
By battle-biding Peraibans and Eniénians manned,
The folk in Dodona that dwelt mid the wintry storm and the cloud,
And they that by sweet Titaresius the goodly acres ploughed,
The flood that giveth his fair-flowing streams to Peneius the river;
Yet not with Peneius the silver-swirling mingle they ever,
But over the face of his waters they glide as oil outshed,
For the outflow he is of the Styx, the flood of the Oath most dread.
And Prothous son of Tenthrédon was lord of Magnesia’s array:
Round Peneius and Pelion’s tossing billows of green dwelt they.
Prothous fleet of foot was the captain that marshalled these,
And fourscore black-hulled galleys followed him far overseas.
Lo, these were the captains and lords of the Danaan battle-throng.
And who was the mightiest of all, thou tell me, Goddess of Song,
Of the men and the steeds that followed the sons of Atreus to war?
The horses of Pheres’ son were the goodliest ones by far,
The beasts that Eumélus drave, fleet-flying as birds of the air;
Matched in the hue of their coats and in age and in height they were.
These in Pereia were reared by Apollo the Silver-bowed;
Mares were they both, and upon them the terror of battle rode.
Of the heroes the mightiest man was Aias, Telamon’s son—
While lasted the wrath of Achilles, for like unto him was there none,
Neither any such steeds as the peerless Peleides’ battleward-bearers.
But he the while in the midst of his galleys, the beaked sea-farers,
Lay nursing his wrath against King Agamemnon, shepherd of folk,
Atreus’ son: and his men on the strand where the white waves broke
Were hurling the quoits for their sport, and the spears of the woodland war,
And they shot with the bow: and the steeds, each one by his several car,
Champing the lotus-stalk and the marish-parsley’s leaf,
Stood; but the cunningly-fashioned chariots of many a chief
Lay in their tents: for the battle-fain captain of old yearned they,
And they roamed up and down through the camp, but not for them was the fray.
Onward the war-host rolled, and the land seemed all on fire,
And the earth groaned under their tramp, as it groans ’neath the Thunderer’s ire
When the ground that encompasseth Typhon is scourged by his levin-flail,
In the Ariman’s land, where lieth the giant, as telleth the tale.
So under the tread of their feet the earth’s heart groaned again
As onward they came, and swiftly sped they over the plain.
To the Troyfolk a messenger, Iris fleet as the storm-wind, sped;
From Zeus, from the Lord of the Aegis, she came with tidings of dread.
To a folkmote the people were come at the gates of Priam the King;
All, young men and old, were there at the mighty gathering.
And the fleet-footed Iris drew near, and she stood mid the people and spake,—
And the voice of Polites the son of the ancient king did she take,
Who was sitting, the watchman of Troy, by his fleetness of foot made bold,
On the crest of the barrow of Aisuétes the war-chief old,
Ever watching to spy the Achaians bursting forth from the ships:—
So Iris the fleetfoot cried, but it seemed that his were the lips:
“Dear to thee yet, old sire, is the aimless-wavering word,
Even as in peace-time; but war, the unswerving and stern, is upstirred.
Oft have I stood with the host when the heroes for battle were met,
But such gallant array, but so countless a throng, I beheld never yet.
For unnumbered as leaves of the forest, untold as the sands of the shore,
Citywards over the plain all afire for the battle they pour.
Hector!—of all men I charge thee chiefly; hearken and do:
For thou hast in the city of Priam war-helpers from far not a few.
Wide spread over earth be the nations, and diverse speech have they:
Let them speak each prince to the folk whereover he beareth sway,
And lead them forth of the city, and set them in battle-array.”
So cried she, and Hector was ware that a Goddess spake that rede,
And he brake off the folkmote, and they for their battle-gear hied them with speed.
And wide were the gates all flung, and forth did the war-folk pour,
Footmen and horsemen, with clashing and tramping and mighty uproar.
Now a steep-upspringing hill in front of the city doth stand,
A lone height looking afar over miles of the low-lying land;
And by menfolk ’tis called Batieia, the high knoll thorn-overstrayed,
By the Deathless the tomb of Myriné, the fleetfoot Amazon maid:
There nation by nation they marshalled them, Troy and her warrior-aid.
Chief of the Trojans was Flashing-helm Hector, the mighty in war,
Offspring of Priam; his men were the most and the bravest by far
That arrayed them in harness of fight, with the fury of spears aflame.
Lord of the Dardans Aeneas the son of Anchises came.
At his getting a mortal was bridegroom, divine Aphrodité the bride.
Mid the spurs of Mount Ida in twilight of green had she stoln to his side.
Not alone went the hero forth, for Antenor’s war-wise sons,
Akamas and Archilochus, went with him, battle-mighty ones.
And there were the wealthy folk in Zeleia-town that abode,
Where dark in the shadow of Ida the stream of Aisépus flowed,
Trojans, twas Pandarus led them, Lykaon’s glorious heir;
And the gift of Apollo himself was the bow in his hands that he bare.
From Adresteia they came, from Apaisus’ battle-keep,
Pityeia’s warders, and they of Tereia’s mountain-steep.
With Adrestus they went, and Amphius, the corslet of linen who wore,
Children of Merops, the seer of Perkoté: in prophecy-lore
Was he wisest of men, and he would not his sons should fare to the fray,
To the battle, destroyer of heroes; howbeit they would not obey
Their father’s behest, for the fates of black death drew them away.
And there were the ranks of Perkoté, and Praktius’ valiant ones,
The men of Abydos and Sestos, and hallowed Arisbé’s sons.
Asius, Hyrtakus’ son, was the captain that led them to war;
Asius, Hyrtakus’ son: from Arisbé swept with his car
Great horses with coats like flame, from the stream of Selléis afar.
And Hippothous led to the war the Pelasgian spearmen stout,
Even they that abode in Larissa with fat lands compassed about.
With him and Pylaius, the War-god’s child, went forth their array,
The sons of Pelasgian Lethus, Teutamus’ son, were they.
And the Thracians with Akamas came, and with Peirous stalwart and brave,
The tribes that be sundered from Troyland by Hellespont’s rushing wave,
The Kikonians’ spear-array unto Troy did Euphémus bring,
Son of the fostered of Zeus, even Keades, Troezen’s king.
And there was Pyraichmes, leading Paeonia’s deep-arched bows
From far-off Amydon town, where Axius’ broad stream flows,
The river whose waters be fairest of all on the earth outspread.
Pylaimenes’ lion-heart the Paphlagonians led
From the Henetans’ land, where roameth the wild mule fierce and free,
The warders that kept Kytorus, the tillers of Sesamus’ lea,
And the folk by the river Parthenius dwelling in goodly halls,
In Kromné and Aigialus, and high Erythiné’s walls.
Halizonians by Odius led and Epistrophus came to the war,
From the birth-bed of silver, the land where Alybé standeth afar.
With Chromis came bird-seer Ennomus, captain of Mysia’s troop,
Yet not by the lore of the birds did he save him from black death’s swoop,
But low was he laid by the hands of Aeacus’ fleetfoot son
In the river, wherein he slaughtered Trojans many an one.
And the Phrygians by Phorkys were led and Askanius, godlike wight,
From afar, from Askania’s ramparts, afire for the joy of the fight.
The Maeonians with Mesthles and Antiphus stood in their battle-gear;
They twain were Talaimenes’ sons, and their mother Gygaié the mere.
From the shadow of Tmolus their war-fellows came to the doom of the spear.
Came the Carians with Nastes, the nation that babble an uncouth tongue;
In Miletus abode they, and Phtheiron’s mountain-forests among;
By the streams of Maeander they dwelt, and by Mykalé’s beetling crest,
And with Nastes arrayed and Amphimachus on to the battle they pressed,—
Amphimachus, Nastes withal, meet son of Nomion’s pride;
For bedizened with gold, like a girl, to the battle of heroes he hied.
Fool!—little its splendour availed him in bitter destruction’s day,
When slain by the hands of Aeacus’ fleetfoot son he lay
In the river, and war-wise Achilles bare that gold away.
And the Lycians arrayed with Sarpedon and Glaukus the princely stood;
From Lycia they came, from afar, and from swirling Simois’ flood.