Book XII

IN suchwise amidst of the tents Menoitius’ stalwart son
Was healing Eurypylus arrow-stricken: but still fought on
Argives and Trojans in grappling battalions, nor long was it doomed
That the moat of the Danaan men, by the broad wall’s frown overgloomed,
Should defend them, the which they had made for a shield to the ships, and had driven
The trench-line round, but hecatombs none to the Gods had they given,
That they and their sea-swift ships, and the wealth of their war-won prey
Might be safe therewithin: in despite of the Gods that abide for aye
Was it builded: for this cause short was the time that unmarred it abode.
While Hector yet was alive, and Achilles’ wrath-flame glowed,
And the city of Priam the King yet stood unwasted of foes,
So long unruined Achaia’s stately rampart rose.
But when Troytown’s mightiest children of light and of life were bereft,
And many an Argive was death-overborne, and a remnant was left,
And Priam’s town in the tenth of the years in ruin fell,
And the Argives were gone to their fatherland over the broad sea-swell,
Then did Poseidon the Lord of the Sea and Apollo take thought
To waste that rampart, and thither the strength of the rivers they brought,
Even all that from Ida’s heights down-hurrying seaward fall,
Rhesus and Heptaporus and Karésus and Rhodius withal,
Grénikus, Aisépus, Skamander withal, that flood of renown,
And Simois stream, whereby there had fallen in dust stricken down
Shields many, and helms, and the corpses of men of a godlike race.
The mouths of them all did Apollo turn to the selfsame place.
Nine days did he hurl at the rampart their floods, and Zeus the while
Rained ever, the sooner to whelm in the sea that mighty pile:
And the Earth-shaker’s self with his trident in hand afront of them went,
And all the foundations thereof adown the waves he sent,
Where the toiling Achaians had laid them with massy stone and beam:
And he levelled and made all smooth by broad-flowing Hellespont’s stream;
And again did he cover the wide-spread beach with the tokenless sand,
When the rampart was scattered, and backward the rivers were turned by his hand,
That their fair-flowing waters might murmur again as of old through the land.
So was Poseidon to work his will in the coming day
With Apollo:—but then was the roar of the onset, the flame of the fray,
By the giant rampart, and ever the beams of the towers rang loud
’Neath the blows, and the Argives now by the scourge of Zeus were cowed,
That amidst of the hollow ships were they penned, and sorely bestead,
From Hector the mighty, the panic-wafter, shrinking adread,
While he fought like a tempest in stormy fury, even as before.
And as when in the midst of the hounds and the ring of the hunters a boar
Or a lion raging in strength turneth this way and that at bay,
While closeth around like a fortress-wall his foes’ array
Fronting him still, while thick and fast from the strong hands dart
The javelins, howbeit not once doth his dauntless-haughty heart
Falter nor fail him, whom yet that aweless courage shall slay:
Ofttimes he turneth about, that hedge of the spears to essay,
And whithersoever he turneth, the ranks of men give way;
So Hector cried on his war-fellows, rushing from rank to rank,
Ever cheering them on to pass that trench. But his fleet steeds shrank
From the terrible leap, and with quivering limbs they stood and neighed,
Wildly they neighed on the brink, for the broad moat made them afraid.
Yea, sooth was it nowise easy to cross nor to overleap,
For that all adown its length banks dark-overhanging and steep
Rose upon either hand, and above was the grim palisade
Of the sharp stakes set, for a fence by the sons of Achaia arrayed:
Close-ranged were they, great withal, the onset of foemen to bar;
Thereby not lightly a steed, as he strained at the swift-wheeled car,
Might enter, howbeit the footmen were fain to accomplish the deed.
Then Polydamas came unto Hector the valiant, and uttered his rede:
“Hector, and all ye captains of Troy and her warrior-aid,
To drive swift steeds through the trench were a deed but in madness essayed:
Hard is it, hard to be passed, for therein do the sharp stakes stand,
And beyond them riseth the wall of the sons of Achaia-land.
No chariot might plunge to its depths, that the riders should fight therein,
For strait is the space: ’tis a pit of wounds and of death, I ween.
Now if Zeus high-thundering goeth about to destroy this day
Our foes in his wrath, and is minded to succour the Trojan array,
Of a truth I were fain that their doom in an instant should suddenly come,
That here the Achaians renownless should perish afar from their home.
But and if they shall rally, and if from the ships they shall turn them about,
And into the deep-delved trench we shall fall in confusion of rout,
Never more shall so much as a messenger win back thence, I trow,
To tell in the city how rallied Achaia against her foe.
But come now, as I shall counsel, so let us all obey:
Our steeds on the brink of the trench let our chariot-henchmen stay;
In our harness on foot let us follow the battle-rifting stride
Of Hector, shoulder to shoulder: our charge will they nowise abide,
If the meshes of doom be indeed drawn about them on every side.”
Then good was Polydamas’ prudent counsel in Hector’s sight:
Straightway he leapt from his chariot to earth in his war-gear dight.
Yea, nor abode the rest of the Trojans in chariot-throng,
But as one man earthward they sprang, seeing Hector the godlike-strong.
Then to the charioteers each chieftain gave command
To range in order the steeds by the trench, and to have them in hand.
Then they marshalled them, squadron from squadron parted to left and to right,
And arrayed in battalions five they followed their chiefs to the fight.
With Hector the one troop went, with Polydamas’ princely form,
The most and the bravest were these, and the battle’s fury-storm
Raged in them to burst through the rampart, and over the galleys to swarm.
And with these twain Kebrionés pressed on: but with Hector’s steeds
Was there left one worser than Kebrionés in warrior-deeds.
With Alkathoüs, Paris, Agénor, the second the war-path trod;
And Helenus captained the third, and Déiphobus fair as a God,
Two children of Priam: with Asius led they the host to the war,
Asius Hyrtakus’ son; from Arisbé swept with his car
Great horses with coats like flame, from the stream of Selléis afar.
With the valiant son of Anchises the fourth troop battleward hied,
With Aeneas; Antenor’s children twain pressed on at his side,
Akamas and Archelochus hight, in all war-cunning wise.
And Sarpedon led to the onset the battle-renowned allies;
And he chose for his helpers Glaukus and Asteropaius the strong,
Forasmuch as in prowess he counted them peerless the host among
Next unto himself, who was matchless mid all Troy’s warrior-aid.
So when these, of their war-fellows holpen, with bull-hide shields were arrayed,
On the Danaans charged they: they deemed that their might should be stayed nevermore
Till down on the dark-hulled galleys in onset triumphant they bore.
Now the rest of the children of Troy and her helpers from far away
Hearken Polydamas’ rede, and the wise man’s word they obey:
But nowise would Asius Hyrtakus’ son to his.counsel give ear
To leave by the trench his steeds and his henchman-charioteer;
But on for the sea-swift ships high-borne on his car swept he;
Fool!—for it was not his weird from the blackness of doom to flee,
Nor with chariot and horses aback from the galleys in triumph-joy
Returning again to win to the towers of windy Troy:
Ere then did a fate full ghastly enshroud him in utter gloom
When the spear of Deukalion’s scion Idomeneus dealt him his doom.
On to the leftward flank of the galleys he charged amain
Unto where the Achaians with horses and chariots returned from the plain.
Thitherward drave he his thunderfoot steeds and his battle-car:
And he found not the door-leaves shut, neither gript by the massy bar.
For the men stood holding the gates of refuge wide, till the last
Of them from the battle that fled to the ships therethrough should have passed.
Thitherward drave he his horses unswerving, and followed the roar
Of his men wild-cheering behind him: they deemed that their foes nevermore
Should withstand them till down on the galleys in onset triumphant they bore.
Ah fools!—for keeping the gates they found two mightiest ones,
Even the Lapithan spearmen’s haughty-hearted sons;
The one was Peirithous’ son, Polypoites the mighty of limb,
And Leonteus the other, like unto Arés the murder-grim.
There stood they in front of the high gates keeping the narrow way:
As oak-trees lofty-crested on mountain-heights stood they,
Like the forest-kings that abide evermore the wind and the rain
With their far-spreading roots firm-braced against the stormy strain;
So they in the thews of their hands putting trust, and in pride of their might,
Abode the oncoming of Asius the giant, and thought not of flight.
Onward against that huge-built rampart, uplifting on high
Their bull-hide bucklers, they charged with the roar of the battle-cry.
With Iamenus, Asius their king, and Orestes they rushed on the wall,
And with Adamas, Asius’ son, with Oinomaus, Thoon withal,
Now the twain for a space were within, and they kindled the mail-clad host
Of the sons of Achaia to fight for the ships, that they should not be lost.
But when they were ware how charged on the rampart the on-rushing foes,
And a shriek and a quaking of panic amidst the Danaans rose,
Forth rushed those twain, and in front of the gateway they battled then,
Like unto fierce wild boars that in some lone mountain-glen
Unquailing abide the oncoming tumult of hunter and hound;
Forth spring they with sidelong rush, and the saplings crash all round
Snapped short at the roots, and rings out sharp through the din of the strife
The clash of the tusks, till the darts smite out each monster’s life;
Even so on the breasts of the champions rang the brass flame-bright
As the darts rained down, for in dauntless-desperate wise did they fight:
Putting trust in their friends on the wall and the might of their hands they strove,
For their war-fellows hurled down stones from the huge-built towers above,
Beating back from themselves and their tents and their sea-swift galleys the foe.
And even as down to the earth come falling the flakes of the snow
Which the wild wind, driving the dark cloud-rack with the scourge of its blast,
On the all-sustaining earth down-poureth thick and fast,
So poured from their hands the darts by the sons of Achaia cast
And the children of Troy, and ever the helmets harshly rang
By the rock-shards smitten, and still did the boss-starred bucklers clang.
Then wailed aloud and smote with a passionate hand on his thigh
Asius Hyrtakus’ son, and he cried an indignant cry:
“Allfather, thou of a truth art a God that lovest a lie!
Yea, for I said in mine heart that Achaia’s warrior-bands
Should withstand not our fury of onset, nor stay our resistless hands.
But these, as the wasps lithe-waisted, or bees that make their abode
In the clefts of the rock by the side of a rugged mountain-road
Forsake not their caverned halls, but stubbornly ever stay,
From their young ones essaying to chase the hunter-folk away,
Even so these men from the gates, albeit they are but twain,
Will nowise give back, or ever they slay or be smitten and slain.”
So cried he, but not to his crying the spirit of Zeus gave heed,
For that steadfast his will was to give unto Hector the glory-meed.
But the others the while at the several gates grim battle fought:
Hard were it for me as a God to tell of the deeds there wrought.
All down the wall roared up as the flame of a furnace-fire
The storm of the stones: and the Argives, albeit in anguish dire,
Must needs fight on for the galleys, and grieved were the Gods, even they
Who would fain be the battle-shield of the Danaan war-array.
And ever the Lapithae clashed in the onset, and crashed through the fray.
Then Polypoites the stalwart, the son of Peirithoüs, cast,
And his spear through the brazen-plated helmet of Damasus passed,
Neither stayed it the brass of the morion, but onward the lance-point went,
And it burst through the bones of the skull, and within all blood-besprent
Was his brain: so he laid him low though never so battle-fain.
Thereafter did Ormenus fall, and Pylon the giant hath slain.
And Leonteus the scion of Arés hurled at Antimachus’ son,
Hippomachus: swift to his baldric unswerving the spear flew on.
From the scabbard thereafter his war-glaive keen that champion swept,
And against Antiphates first through the throng of the battle he leapt.
And he caught him, and smote him, and backward to earth that corpse he threw;
Thereafter Iamenus, Menon withal, and Orestes he slew;
One after other their bodies on all-mother earth did he strew.
While these were spoiling the slain of their harness glittering-bright,
With Polydamas still and with Hector the war-host charged to the fight,
Even they that were bravest and most, and their souls were aflame with desire
To burst through the wall, and to burn the galleys with ravening fire.
Yet still did they tarry in wavering doubt on the brink of the fosse;
For an omen-fowl had appeared as they rushed mad-eager to cross;
For skirting the left of the host did an eagle towering soar,
And a serpent, a blood-red monster, clutched in his talons he bore,
Yet living and struggling, and still was its battle-delight unquelled,
For backward it writhed, while yet in the grip of his claws it was held:
On the breast by the neck did it smite him, and earthward he cast the prey,
Agony-thrilled, and amidst of the throng of the Trojans it lay,
And adown the blasts of the wind he darted with one wild scream.
Then shuddered the Trojans, beholding the serpent’s writhing gleam
In the midst of them lying, the portent of Zeus the Aegis-lord.
And to Hector the valiant Polydamas strode with a bodeful word:
“Hector, amidst the assembly thou sharply rebukest me still,
Yea, though I counsel aright;—good sooth, thou accountest it ill
If a man of the people shall cross thee in war or in council-ring,
But we needs must exalt thy might above all questioning.
Yet from that which I deem shall be best will I nowise refrain my lips:—
Press we not onward to fight with the Danaan men for their ships:
For thus shall the end be, I trow, if indeed unto Troy’s war-host
This augury-fowl hath appeared when fain were their hearts to have crossed,—
This eagle, the heavenward-soarer, to left of our army that sped,
While gripped in his talons he bare a monstrous snake blood-red,
Alive, yet he suddenly dropped it or ever his eyry he won,
And prevailed not to bear to his eaglets and give them to feast thereon;—
So we, what though through the gates and the rampart Achaian we burst,
With might overmastering, though the Achaians give ground at the first,
Yet in wild disarray shall we flee from the ships by the selfsame way,
And shall leave full many a Trojan behind, whom the foemen shall slay
With the flash of the lightning of brass, defending their ships as they fight.
Yea, thus would a soothsayer tell us, whose heart could interpret aright
The god-sent marvels, a man unto whom the folk should obey.”
Then darkly-frowning did Hector the splendour-morioned say:
“Polydamas, not as a friend unto me dost thou speak this day!
Thou lackest not wit for devising of other and wiser rede.
But and if of thine heart’s set purpose thou speakest in very deed,
Of a surety the Gods and none other have stolen thy senses, I trow,
Who bidd’st that the counsels of Thunderer Zeus be forgotten now,
Even all that he promised to me, and sealed with the nod of his brow.
But thou, thou would’st have us obey the long-winged fowl of the air!
Go to, unto these have I not respect, and nothing I care
Whether to rightward they go to the sun and the dayspring sky,
Or whether to leftward away to the shadow-gloomed west they fly.
But for us, let us hearken the counsel of Zeus most high, and obey,
Who over the deathling race and the Deathless beareth sway.
One omen of all is best, that we fight for our fatherland!
And for what cause thus of the war and the strife in fear dost thou stand?
What though all we of the host save thee death-stricken shall lie
By the ships of the Argive men, no fear hast thou to die!
No battle-biding spirit hast thou, no heart for the fray!
But thou, if thou hold thee aback from the fight, if thou turn away
With thy cozening words any other to cause him to flinch from the strife,
Craven, forthright stricken through by my spear shalt thou spill thy life.”
Then onward he led, and unearthly-loud did the roar of them ring
As they followed their captain, and Zeus the thunder-triumphant King
From the mountain-heights of Ida uproused a hurricane-blast,
Sweeping the dust-cloud full on the galleys, and faintness he cast
On the hearts Achaian, but glory to Troy and to Hector he gave.
Putting trust in the might of their hands, by the portents of Zeus made brave,
Mightily strove they to shatter Achaia’s huge-built wall;
For they tore at the beams of the towers till the battlements shook to their fall,
And with levers they heaved at the buttress-piles, which Achaia’s array
First set deep-planted in earth for the great towers’ forward-stay.
There tugged they and strained, and with fierce hope flushed was their battle-wrath
That the wall should be scaled: still flinched not the Danaan men from the path,
But the battlement-breaches with shields of the tough bull-hide did they fence,
And ever they hurled at the onward-storming foes from thence.
On-cheering Achaia’s sons on the towered rampart’s height
The Aiantes fared to and fro, and they kindled their battle-might.
And courtesy-honeyed their words were to one, but stern and fierce
To another, whom haply they marked giving back from the meeting of spears:
“Friends, whoso of Argives is chiefest, whoso hath midward place,
Yea, whoso is worse than the rest—for that all of the earthborn race
May nowise be equal in war—this day is there work for you all!
Ye know it yourselves, I ween! Let none by the braggart brawl
Of a foeman dismayed turn back to the ships in craven flight:
Nay, but press forward, and cheer ye your war-fellows on to the fight,
Peradventure Olympian Zeus will vouchsafe us, the Lightning-lord,
To hurl back the onset of Troy, and to chase them cityward.”
So in the forefront they shouted, and so was the battle restored.
And as fall on a wintry day thick-thronging the flakes of the snow,
When Zeus the Counsel-father bestirreth himself, to show
Unto men what manner of arrows be shot from his quivers of cloud;—
His winds hath he hushed, and he still snoweth on, till his white pall shroud
High mountain-crests, huge forelands that loom through the laden air,
And the clover-mantled meadows, and menfolk’s acres fair;
It is shed on the grey sea’s havens, it fringeth the rocky shore,
But the surge-sweep keepeth it back; all else is covered o’er
With its veil, when heavily earthward the shower of Kronion doth pour;
So flew thick-thronging the stones by foes fast hurled against foes,
These down on the Trojans hailing, from Troy on Achaia those:
-O’er all the rampart the roar of the rattling thunder rose.
Howbeit not yet had the Trojans and Hector the glorious in war
Burst through the rampart-gates and the grip of the massy bar,
But that Zeus enkindled Sarpedon, the Counsel-father’s scion,
To rush on the Argives, as rusheth on wreath-horned heifers a lion.
Straightway before him the round of his shapely shield he held,
Fair-fashioned of hammered brass, which the coppersmith wrought to weld
At his forge, and within stitched fold over fold of the tough bull-hide
With rivets of gold that encompassed it round upon every side;
This cast he before him, and brandishing twin spears forth did he stride.
As a lion mountain-nurtured he went, which hath lacked o’erlong
The savour of flesh, and the dauntless spirit within him is strong
Even to the thick-walled fold, as he prowleth for sheep, to fare:
For though he shall find at his coming the herdmen gathered there
With their dogs and their spears keeping watch o’er the sheep to hold him at bay.
Yet he will not be chased from the steading or ever he make assay,
Or ever he leap on the flock and snatch from their midst the prey,
Or a sudden-hurling hand with a javelin shall reach him and slay;
Even so was Sarpedon the godlike stirred by the strength of his heart
To leap on the rampart, and burst the battlement-fence apart.
And he cried to Hippolochus’ child, unto Glaukus, a prince of the host:
“Glaukus, wherefore have we twain ever been honoured the most
With the chief of the seats, with the wine of the feast, with the choice of the roast
In Lycia, while all men revere us as though of the Gods we were?
And by Xanthus’ banks we possess a domain both great and fair,
Lovely with orchard-close and with fruitful wheat-sown land.
Wherefore we ought this day in the front of the Lycians to stand
Facing the brunt of the battle, the hottest flame of the fray,
That this one and that of the Lycians corslet-sheathed may say:
‘Not in inglorious fashion in Lycia these bear sway,
Even our kings: of a truth on the fatling sheep feast they,
And the choice of the honey-sweet wine: howbeit their battle-might
Is goodly, for lo, mid the foremost champions of Lycia they fight!’
Ah brother, if thou and I—might we ’scape but from this one war—
Were doomed to be ageless thereafter and deathless for evermore,
Then it is not I in the forefront of battle would hazard my life,
Nor thee would I kindle to plunge mid the glory-wafting strife:
But now—for that fates of death unnumbered be standing around,
And none may outrun them, and none that by cunning may shun them is found—
Let us on, till a foeman, or we by a foe, shall be triumph-crowned!”
So spake he, and turned not Glaukus aside, neither disobeyed:
Straight forward they charged, on-leading the Lycian battle-aid.
And Menestheus, Peteos’ scion, beheld them, and shuddered with dread,
For against his tower their onslaught ruin-fraught they sped.
And he glanced down the line of Achaians, if haply his eyes might discern
Some chieftain whose arm from his comrades the tide of destruction might turn.
And lo, the Aiantes twain, the battle-insatiate, he spied
Standing, and Teucer, even as forth of his tent he hied,
Full nigh. Yet he could not be heard, though he sent forth his mightiest shout,
For the din, for the heavenward-soaring roar of the battle-rout,
For the clash of the smitten shield, for the clang of the helmet-crest,
And of gates, for that shut were they all, and ever against them pressed
The Trojans, essaying to burst them and win therethrough to the fleet.
Forthright unto Aias he hastened the herald Thoötes’ feet:
“Run thou, Thoötes the godlike, and Aias hitherward call,—
Nay rather the twain, for this of a truth should be best of all;—
For the doom of destruction sudden-sheer draweth nigh to us fast;
For the captains of Lycia be on us, the chiefs that in days overpast
Evermore have been mighty in strife, and in onset furious-fain.
But if there too upriseth around them the toil of the battle-strain,
Let Telamon’s son, strong Aias, in any wise hitherward speed,
And let Teucer the cunning in bowcraft be with him to succour our need.”
Then disobeyed not the herald his bidding, but hearkened with heed.
Swift by the wall of the brazen-harnessed Achaians he ran,
Till beside the Aiantes he stood, and in breathless haste he began:
Aiantes, ye chiefs of the Argive brazen-harnessed array,
Zeus-fostered Peteos’ well-loved son hath bidden me say
Thither come ye and face, be it but for a little, the toil of the war.
He were fain of you both, for of all things this should be best by far:
For the doom of destruction sudden-sheer draweth nigh to them fast,
For the captains of Lycia be on them, the chiefs that in days overpast
Evermore have been mighty in strife and in onset furious-fain.
But if here too ariseth around you the toil of the battle-strain,
Let Telamon’s son, strong Aias, in any wise thitherward speed,
And let Teucer the cunning in bowcraft be with him to succour our need.”
So spake he, and Telamon’s son great Aias said him not nay,
But he spake to Oileus’ scion the swift-winged word straightway:
“Aias, do ye twain, thou, and with thee Lykomédés the strong,
Stand firm, to the mighty strife on-cheering the Danaan throng.
But thither will I, the brunt of the battle with these will I bear, there-”
And will speed back again when mine arm shall have wrought deliverance
So did he speak, and Aias Telamon’s son was gone,
And beside him Teucer his brother, the selfsame father’s son:
And bearing the bow of Teucer Pandion with these departed.
So when they were come to the tower of Menestheus the mighty-hearted,
Passing within the wall—to the sorely bestead were they coming—
Came swarming over the breastwork as hurricane-clouds black-looming
The stalwart captains and warrior-chiefs of their Lycian foes:
Then man against man into battle they hurled, and the war-yell rose.
First Telamonian Aias a man of the Lycians slew,
Epikles the mighty-hearted, Sarpedon’s comrade true,
For he hurled with a jagged stone on the height of the wall that lay
Huge, by the breastwork within,—not lightly a man might essay
To bear it with both hands up, were he never so stalwart-young,
Such men as be now,—yet he swung it on high, and he hurled mid the throng.
Through the four-coned helmet it burst, and it crushed the bones of his head
All to a mingled mass, and the life from the frame of him fled,
As headlong down like a diver he plunged from the great tower’s height.
Then Teucer at Glaukus, Hippolochus’ strong son, sped the flight
Of a shaft, as he leapt on the lofty wall, and there did he smite
Where he spied how his arm was unshielded, and quelled his battle-delight.
Back from the rampart he sprang ere any might mark it, in fear
Lest a foeman should see him smitten, and vaunt with triumph-jeer.
Then came on Sarpedon anguish as Glaukus turned him away,
So soon as he knew: yet the hero forgat not the joy of the fray,
But he drave at Alkmaon the scion of Thestor with deadly aim,
And he stabbed him, and plucked out the spear: down-dragged by the lance he came
Headlong, and over him rattled his harness with brass rich-dight.
On the breastwork Sarpedon laid hold, and with hands of giant might
Tugged, and in one huge ruin it toppled and fell, and bared
Was the rampart above, and a path for the feet of the host was prepared.
Yet shoulder to shoulder did Aias and Teucer withstand him: the one
Smote with his arrow the baldric athwart his breast that shone
Upbearing his shield; but Zeus from his offspring turned away
Death’s doom, that he should not be slain by the sterns of the ships that day.
Then leapt on him Aias, and stabbed at his buckler, but not through the shield
Did the brass cleave; yet with the shock in mid-fury of onset he reeled.
Back from the breastwork a little he drew, yet he would not yield
Wholly therefrom, for his soul with the hope of triumph burned.
But he shouted, as unto the godlike Lycian heroes he turned:
“Ho Lycians, why are ye slack?—is your battle-fire waxen acold?
Hard task should it be for me, were I never so stalwart-bold,
To burst through the rampart, and clear you a path to the ship-fringed shore!
On!—follow with me, for the work shall be lighter when hands shall be more.”
So spake he, and they, fear-thrilled by their captain’s chiding word,
Battle ward pressed the fiercer around that counsel-lord,
And the Argives closed their ranks, and abode them with hearts unquelled
The rampart within; and a toil most mighty of these was beheld.
For neither prevailed the stalwart children of Lycia to lay
The Danaans’ rampart low, and to make to the galleys a way,
Nor yet could the Danaan spearmen aback from the rampart beat
The Lycian heroes, when once they had set thereby their feet.
And even as two men strive at the boundary-line of their lands
In a field that is parted between them, with measuring-rods in their hands,
And in narrow space hard wrestle the twain each man for his right;
By the battlements so were they parted, and raged thereover the fight
Of the warriors that hewed at the bull-hide bucklers, and rained down blows
Evermore on the tasselled targets that shielded the hearts of their foes.
And the pitiless brass through the flesh of many a warrior tare,
Whosoever in turning had left his back but a moment bare:
Yea, clear through the buckler of many a hero the fierce thrust went.
And the towers all round and the battlements reeked with the blood besprent
Which the slaughter-fury of Troy and Achaia dashed about.
Yet not even so might they put the host of Achaia to rout;
But it was with them as with a toil-bowed woman righteous-souled—
In her scales be the weights and the wool, and the balance on high doth she hold
Poised level, that so may the hard-earned bread to her babes be doled;
So poised was the battle, and neither scale of the war sank down
Or ever to Hector Zeus vouchsafed the triumph-renown,
Ere first through Achaia’s rampart the son of Priam sprang.
To the Trojans he cried, and his shout through the roar of the battle rang:
“On, horse-quelling Trojans, on!—dash down the Argives’ wall!
Hurl ye the brands till a fiery rain on their galleys shall fall!”
So spake he cheering them onward, and all they heard with their ears.
Onward they charged at the wall in a throng: by the tower-b
Scaled they the height, while gleamed in their hands keen-pointed spears.
Then a stone that in front of the gateway stood seized Hector, and bare—
As a crag broad-set on its base, and with sharp peak piercing the air:—
Not two of the brawniest men of the people with tug and strain
Might lightly upheave from the ground that stone, and set on a wain,
Such men as be now; yet with ease did he swing it on high alone,
Made light to his hand by Counsel-hider Kronos’ son:—
And as when some shepherd wight in the one hand lightly hath caught
And uptosseth the fleece of a ram, and the weight unto him is as naught,
Even so that stone at the gate-planks Hector unswerving bore,
At the fencing-beams that warded the massy-welded door,—
Twin-leaved were the gates, and high, and within were there two bars passed
From post unto post cross-wise, and one bolt gripped them fast:—
Close came he, and planted him firmly, and hurled it amidst of the gate,
With his feet wide-set, that his uttermost strength might speed its weight.
Burst were the hinges asunder, the stone with its thunderbolt-leap
Fell inward, the gates roared loud, and against its resistless sweep
Availed not the bars, and the planks sprang shivered to right and to left
From its onrush; and Hector the glorious leapt through the breach wide-cleft
With brows as the night sudden-falling, and flashed the terrible sheen
Of the brass wherewithal he was sheathed, and he grasped two lances keen
In his hands. There was none might have stayed him that met him as onward he came,
Save the Gods, when he leapt through the gate, and with fire were his eyes aflame.
And he cried to the host of Troy, mid the press as he turned him about,
To scale the rampart: was none but obeyed that heart-stirring shout.
There were some swarmed over the wall forthright, there were some ’gan pour
Through the huge-framed gates: then fled the Danaans quaking sore
Mid the hollow galleys, and rose unceasing the battle-roar.