Book XIV

NOR of Nestor unmarked was the shouting, albeit he sat at the wine,
But he uttered the winged word-flight to the child of Asklépius’ line
“Bethink thee, Machaon the godlike, whereunto this will grow:
Ever louder waxeth the shouting of strong foe grappling with foe.
But thou now sit in thy place, and drink of the wine flame-gleaming,
Till such time as by beautiful-tressed Hekamédé the bath hot-steaming
Be prepared, and she cleanse thy wound of the gouts of the clotted gore:
But hasten will I unto where I may gaze all round on the war.”
He spake, and a targe in the tent that lay hath he ta’en for his need,
The shield of his son Thrasymédes, the tamer of the steed,
Far-flashing with brass: but the shield of the father was borne by the son:
And his massy spear hath he grasped, whose point with the keen brass shone.
And he strode from his tent and he stood, and he looked on a shameful sight,
The Achaians in rout hurled backward, and they that stormed on their flight,
The haughty Trojans; and down was the rampart’s frowning height.
And as when dark heaveth the mighty sea with soundless swell,
Boding the path of the tempest, the blasts’ mad-shrieking yell,—
No more—neither forward its surges roll, nor athwart do they sweep,
Till the wind that is chosen of Zeus shall adown on the face of it leap;
So wavered the ancient, and pondered divided in mind, or to speed
To the battle-throng of the Danaans, lords of the fleetfoot steed,
Or to go to the shepherd of folk, Agamemnon Atreus’ son:
And thus, in his soul as he mused, him seemed it were best to be done:
To go to Atreides. But still the fighting hosts slew on,
And ever about their flesh the brass clanged tireless-fierce,
Clanged under the lashing blades and the long two-headed spears.
Then, up from the ships as they went, did the kings Zeus-fostered light
On Nestor, even the men that with brass had been wounded in fight;
Tydeides, Odysseus, and Atreus’ son Agamemnon were they.
For the galleys Achaian were drawn up far aloof from the fray
On the strand of the hoary sea; for the first had they haled up high
Till their sterns stood fringing the plain, and the rampart they reared hard by.
For, wide albeit the sea-beach was, scant space was there
For all the galleys to lie, and straitened the war-folk were.
So rank behind rank did they range them, and filled with their mighty array
The long strand’s mouth, even all ’twixt headland and headland that lay.
Therefore to gaze on the battle, to hearken the onset-roar,
Came thronging the kings as they leaned on their spears, and their hearts were sore
In their breasts. Then met them the ancient, and Nestor was there in the way
And the souls in the breasts of the princes Achaian he thrilled with dismay.
Then also the lord Agamemnon uplifted his voice, and he cried:
“O Nestor, Neleus’ son, Achaia’s crown of pride,
What hast thou to do the hero-devouring strife to forsake?
I fear me lest furious Hector fulfil the word that he spake,
Which he cried in the midst of the Trojans, and threatened Achaia’s bane,
How that never to Ilium back from the ships would he turn him again,
Till with fire he should burn the galleys, and us in the midst should slay.
Even so did he speak, and behold, the fulfilment is on us this day.
Ah me, of a surety the other Achaians greave-bedight
Are wroth with me, even as Achilles, to whom I did despite:
Therefore they have no will by the rearward galleys to fight.”
And Gerenia’s chariot-champion Nestor made reply:
“Yea, the fulfilment is hard by the door, and he that on high
Thundereth, Zeus himself, might bring naught else to pass.
For fallen the rampart is, whereof we had said, time was,
That a bulwark for ship and for man it should be that none might rend.
But lo, by the sea-swift galleys the storm of a strife without end
Aye waxeth. Thou couldst not tell, how keen soever thy ken,
From what side tosseth the surge of the rout of the Argive men,
For the tangled confusion of slaughter: the yell to the heaven doth go!
But let us bethink us now whereunto this shall grow,
If aught man’s wit may avail:—howbeit I would not say
Let us enter the battle; for not for the wounded men is the fray.”
Then spake Agamemnon the King of Men with faltering lips:
“Nestor, seeing that now they fight by the rearmost ships,
And seeing the rampart hath nothing availed, and the trench is naught
At the which the Danaans toiled sore-travailing—yea, and they thought
That for galley and man a bulwark that none should rend it had been,—
The pleasure of Zeus that excelleth in strength is this, I ween,
That nameless and fameless from Argos afar the Achaians be lost.
I have known when gracious-willed he defended the Danaan host,
And I know how standeth it now, when with glory our foes he hath crowned
As the glory of Gods ever-blest, and our might and our hands hath he bound.
But come now, as I shall say, even so let us hearken and do:—
The foremost galleys, the rank that nighest the sea we drew,
Hale we adown: on the mighty sea let us launch them all,
And by sleepers moor them out in the deep, till the shadows fall
Of the night divine, if haply the foemen then will refrain
From the battle; thereafter the rest might we launch, even all which remain.
I account it not shame to flee, yea, even by night, from bane.
It is better with him that outrunneth destruction than him that is ta’en.”
But Odysseus the manifold-counselled with stern glance answered and said:
“Atreides, what saying is this through the fence of thy teeth which hath fled!
O fraught with mischief!—would God thou wert chief of another array,
Some caitiff host, not lord over us, unto whom alway
From youth unto age Zeus giveth to knit up skein upon skein
Of troublous war, till one after one we be all of us slain!
So shameless-eager the Trojans’ broad-wayed town to forsake
Art thou, after all the afflictions that we have endured for her sake?
Keep silence, lest on another Achaian’s ears it should fall,
This word, which none would suffer to ’scape through his lips at all
Who had wisdom of heart to utter the thing that was right, and who swayed
A sceptre of kings, and to whom so many people obeyed
As these over whom mid the Argives thou art captain and head.
Lo, now do I wholly contemn thy wit for the word thou hast said,
Who bid’st, when the battle is joined, when the war-cry rings through the air,
Seaward to drag the ships, that the Trojans’ uttermost prayer
May more be accomplished than now, though this be their triumphing day,
And that sudden destruction may fall upon us: for Achaia’s array
Will bide not the battle, beholding the ships dragged down to the sea,
But will flinch from the fight, the while they glance round fearfully.
Then, chieftain of folk, shall destruction be born of thy counsel and thee.”
Spake Agamemnon the King of Men to Laertes’ son:
“Odysseus, thy bitter reproof deep into mine heart hath gone.
Yet deem not that I to the sons of Achaia give such command
As to launch in their hearts’ despite the fair-benched ships from the strand.
Now would there were one who would speak to us counsel better than this,
Be he young, be he old: right welcome it were unto me, I wis.”
Then Diomedes the battle-helper uttered his rede:
“Not afar is the man, neither long shall we seek, if your will be indeed
To hearken and do, and ye chafe not each with indignant scorn
Because that here in your midst I am even the youngest-born.
Nathless my birth do I boast of a sire of high renown,
Tydeus,—the earth-mound shroudeth him now in Thébé-town:—
For sons were gotten of Pentheus three, a princely band,
And in Pleuron they wont to dwell, and in Kalydon’s craggy land,
Agrius, Melas, and car-borne Oineus—youngest was he,
My father’s sire, but in manhood-might was he chiefest of three.
In the land he abode, but my father to Argos wandering went,
And dwelt there, by purpose of Zeus, I ween, and the God’s intent.
And he wedded a child of Adrastus, and dwelt in a palace there
Wealthy in substance, and his was abundance of tilth-land fair
Golden with wheat, and orchards he had full many an one,
And sheepflocks many were his, and the Argives all he outshone
In the craft of the spear—ye shall surely have heard, if I speak not a lie.
Therefore ye shall not say that a base-born weakling am I,
To despise, when I speak good counsel, the word that proceedeth from me.
Let us hence to the fight, for we may not choose, though wounded we be.
Then, beyond reach of the darts, from the heart of the battle-strain
Will we hold us aloof, lest wound upon wound peradventure we gain.
But the rest will we kindle and speed to the battle, which heretofore
Gave ear to their wrath, and in malice have played not their part in the war.”
He spake, and with right good will they hearkened and did as he said;
And they hied them to go, and the King of Men Agamemnon led.
But the glorious Shaker of Earth kept no blind watch that day;
But in guise-of an ancient man he met the kings in the way.
By the right hand Atreus’ son, Agamemnon the King, did he take,
And he lifted his voice unto him, and the light-winged words he spake:
“Atreides, haply Achilles’ baleful heart of spite
Rejoiceth within his breast as he seeth the slaughter and flight
Of Achaians, seeing he hath no wisdom, no, not a jot.
But in like wise so may he perish, and God so bring him to naught!
But the wrath of the blessed Gods is against thee nowise hot;
But yet shall the captains and lords of the Trojan folk, I wot,
In dust speed over the wide-spread plain, and thyself shalt see
When aback to the city from galley and tent afar they flee.”
So spake he, and over the plain he rushed with a mighty shout
Loud as the cry of thousands nine or ten ringeth out,
When the heroes meet in the strife, when the War-god’s flame is fanned,
So mighty a cry from his breast did the Shaker of the Land
Send forth, and with giant strength filled every Achaian heart,
That each man unfainting should war, and in battle play his part.
Now Heéré the Golden-throned beheld with her eyes that sight
As she stood on the peak of Olympus and gazed, and she knew forthright
Him who was toiling so in the glory-wafting fight,
Her brother, her lord’s withal, and filled was her soul with delight.
And Zeus upon fountain-flashing Ida’s topmost crest
Sitting she saw, and the hatred against him surged in her breast.
Then did the Lovely-eyed, the Lady Héré, muse
How she might cozen the spirit of Aegis-wielder Zeus.
And this in the thoughts of her heart she accounted the best device,
Unto Ida to go, having decked her beauty in winsome wise,
If haply her lord would desire by her body to lay him down
In love’s embrace, that in slumber soft and sweet she might drown
His eyes and his piercing wit in the net of forgetfulness caught:
And she passed to her chamber, the bower by Hephaistus her dear son wrought,
Who fastened the massy doors to the pillars cunningly
With a secret bolt: no God could unlock it, but only she.
So entered she in, and she shut the shining doors thereof.
With ambrosia first from her body, the very snare of love,
She cleansed all stain, and with oil of the olive anointed her o’er
Ambrosial and soft, wherefrom did a savour of sweetness pour.
On the brazen floor of Zeus were a drop from the casket spilled,
With the breath of the odour thereof were the earth and the heaven filled.
Therewithal she anointed her lovely body, she combed her hair,
And deftly her fingers braided the tresses unearthly-fair
That streamed from the deathless head in ambrosia-breathing sheen.
And she folded about her the robe which Athéné had wrought for the Queen
With her uttermost cunning, and traced it with broidery-marvels untold;
And she clasped it about her breast with the brooches of fashioned gold
And she girded her waist with a girdle with tassels a hundred bedight,
And she set in her dimpled ears the earrings glistering bright,
Triple-dropped, from whose wavering burnish there lightened abundant grace.
Then over her head a veil did the glorious Goddess place,
New-woven and fair; as the sunlight streamed its splendour around:
And under her radiant feet her beautiful sandals she bound.
So when she had decked her body in all her adornment’s pride,
Forth of her chamber she passed, and she called Aphrodité aside
Apart from the rest of the Gods, and her speech unto her she addressed:
“Wilt thou hearken and do, dear child, according to this my request?
Or wilt thou refuse me, because thou art angered for this in thine heart
That I am the Danaans’ helper, and thou dost take Troy’s part?”
Spake thereupon Aphrodité, and Zeus’ child made reply:
“O Héré daughter of Kronos, Lady of Majesty,
Utter thy thought, for mine heart doth bid me perform thy will,
If perform it I may, if the deed be a deed that hands may fulfil.”
And with guileful intent unto her did the Lady Héré say:
“Now give to me Love and Desire, wherewithal thou dost bend to thy sway
All the Immortals, and all the children of mortal birth.
For I fare to the uttermost bounds of the all-sustaining earth,
Unto Ocean the Gods’ begetter, and Téthys which bare us of old:
In their halls did they foster my childhood, in nursing arms did they fold,
Which received me from Rheia, when Kronos of far-seeing Zeus was hurled
Down, to abide ’neath the harvestless sea and the roots of the world.
These fare I to see, and their truceless feud would I reconcile;
For now have they held them apart from each other a weary while,
And the bed of love, for that pierced are their spirits with anger’s dart.
Now if with my words I could bend them, and melt the wrath-chilled heart,
And cause the estranged to be joined in the bed of love as of yore,
Dear should they call me and worship-worthy for evermore.”
Then unto her Aphrodité the laughter-winsome replied:
“It may nowise be, nor is meet, that this thy request be denied,
For thou sleepest in Zeus’s arms when the Mightiest claspeth his bride.”
She spake, and the cestus-band from her bosom the Goddess unbound
Curious-wrought, wherein were all her enchantments found:
There Love is, and there is Desire, and the Whisper of Wooing is there,
Whose subtlety stealeth the wit of the wise, how prudent soe’er.
Even this did she lay in her hands, and she spake the word, and she said:
“Lo there, let this my girdle within thy bosom be laid,
Cunningly broidered, wherein all spells be fashioned: I wot
Thou wilt not return in vain, with thine heart’s desire unwrought.”
So spake she, and smiled the Lady Héré the Lovely-eyed,
And smiling the girdle within her bosom’s fold did she hide.
Then to her bower the daughter of Zeus Aphrodité passed;
But Héré away from the peak of Olympus darted fast;
On Pieria a moment, and lovely Emathia-land, did she tread,
And over the snow-clad hills of the horsemen of Thrace she fled,
Yea, over their crests, and she grazed not the ground with her feet as she sped.
And from Athos over the sea ever tossing his waves is she gone,
Till at last unto Lemnos, the city of Thoas the godlike, she won.
There met she Sleep, even him that is brother unto Death,
And she clasped his hand in her own, and she spake with eager breath:
“Sleep, king over all the Gods and all the children of men,
Thou hast hearkened my prayer in the days overpast, O hearken again;
And thou shalt have my thanks so long as endure thy days.
Lull me the eyes whose lightning beneath Zeus’ brows doth blaze,
So soon as I lay me down by his side in love’s embrace.
And gifts will I give thee for this—a throne of unperishing gold
Most fair, which Hephaistus my son the Twin-right-armed shall mould
With his uttermost cunning, a footstool beneath for thy feet therewithal:
Thereon shalt thou rest thy glistering feet in the feastful hall.”
Forthright to the Goddess he spake, and sweet Sleep made reply:
“Great Kronos’ child, O Héré Lady of Majesty,
Were it any other than this of the Gods that endure for ever,
Lightly to sleep would I lull him—yea, the streams of the River
Of Ocean the first begetter of all that hath life—but no,
Anigh unto Zeus the Kronos-begotten I dare not go,
Neither lull him to slumber, except himself commanded it so.
For once ere now was I lessoned of such a behest of thine,
On the day when he, Zeus’ child high-hearted, over the brine
Went sailing from Troy, having wasted the Trojans’ battle-keep:
Ah then did I lull the soul of the Aegis-wielder to sleep,
Shed in my sweetness about him: and mischief was plotted of thee
Who didst waken the blasts of the winds rough-blustering over the sea,
And didst sweep him away unto fair-built Kos on a stormy path
Afar from his every friend. And Zeus awoke in his wrath,
And he hurled through his mansion the Gods, and me did he seek above all,
And had flung me adown from the sky to the sea in ruinous fall,
But the Night was my saviour, the overcomer of Gods and of men,
For I fled unto her, and for all his wrath he refrained him then;
For he dreaded to do displeasure to Night of the dark swift wing.
And now dost thou bid me again do this, an impossible thing.”
Made answer to him Queen Héré the Lovely-eyed, and she said:
“O Sleep, what visions be these for the which thy soul is adread?
What, deemest thou Zeus for the helping of Trojans hath such desire
As when for his own son Hérakles’ sake his wrath was afire?
Nay, go thou, and one of the Graces younger-born unto thee
Will I give to wed, to be called thy bride, even Pasitheé,
Yea, her for whom evermore through all thy days thou hast yearned.”
So spake she, and answered Sleep, as for gladness the heart in him burned:
“Come then, by Styx’ inviolate water swear to me now,
And the one of thine hands on the all-sustaining earth lay thou,
And the one on the shining sea, that the witnesses ’twixt us twain
May be all the Underworld Gods that with Kronos in darkness remain,
That thou surely wilt give of the Graces younger-born unto me
Her that through all my days I desire, even Pasitheé.”
So spake he, and Héré the white-armed Goddess denied not his prayer,
But she spake as he bade, and naming the Awful Names she sware,
And in dungeons in nethermost Tartarus all the Titans heard.
And so, when the oath was accomplished, and spoken was every word,
From Lemnos they passed, and the burg of Imbros, and on fared they
Shrouded about with mist, and swiftly they sped on their way.
And to Ida the fountain-flashing, the mother of beasts, they won,
Unto Lekton: there left they the sea, and over the land are they gone,
While tossed ’neath their feet the crests of the forest’s billows of green.
There tarried Sleep, or ever by eyes of Zeus he was seen;
For he lighted down on a tall pine-tree, the highest that grew
Upon Ida, and towered through her mist-veil up to the stainless blue;
There sat he, and round him the screen of its branches the pine-tree drew.
And the likeness he took of the shrill-voiced bird, the mountain-birth,
Which Chalkis Immortals call, and Kymindis the children of earth.
And to Gargarus, crown of lofty Ida, did Héré fare
Swiftly, and Cloudrack-gatherer Zeus beheld her there:
And so soon as he saw, did desire his inmost heart enfold,
As when at the first they were joined in love in the days of old,
When couchward they wended, and they that had borne them beheld not nor heard.
And he stood before her and spake, and he uttered forth the word:
“Héré, with what intent from Olympus hast hitherward hied,
And thine horses are not with thee, nor thy chariot, whereon thou shouldst ride?”
Spake Héré the Queen, and her words were the web ofa guileful snare:
“To the uttermost parts of the all-sustaining earth I fare,
Unto Ocean the Gods’ begetter, and Téthys which bare us of old;
In their halls did they foster my childhood, in nursing arms did they fold.
These fare I to see, and their truceless feud would I reconcile,
For now have they held them apart from each other a weary while,
From the bed of love, for that anger hath pierced the hearts of them deep.
And my steeds at the foot of Ida’s fountain-flashing steep
Stand, which shall bear me over the land and the tossing foam.
But for thy sake down from Olympus hitherward speeding I come
Lest thou haply hereafter be angered with me, if in silence I go
Away unto Ocean’s halls, and the deep stream’s endless flow.”
Then unto her made answer Zeus the Cloudrack-lord:
“Héré, hereafter shall serve for thy journeying thitherward;
But now let us couch us for love’s delight, even I and thou;
For never did love of Goddess or woman so strangely bow
My spirit, nor flooded the soul in my breast so much as now.
Not when the wife of Ixion seemed to mine heart so dear,
Which brought forth Peirithoüs, the high Gods’ counsel-peer;
Nor by Danaé, slim-footed child of Akrisius, so was I bound,
Which brought forth Perseus, amidst all menfolk high-renowned;
Nor yet. when the daughter of Phoinix the far-famed held me in thrall,
Which bare to me Minos and Rhadamanthus the godlike withal,
Nor when Semelé’s love, nor Alkméné’s couch in Thébé I won,
Which brought forth Hérakles her mighty-hearted son;—
But Semélé bare Dionysus who gladdeneth men with the vine;—
Neither when Queen Déméter the beautiful-tressed was mine,
Or far-famed Léto; nor yet when for thee mine heart was afire:
It was not with the love of to-day, with the rapture of this my desire.”
But with cunning intent unto him the Lady Héré said:
“What hast thou to do saying this, O Kronos’ son most dread?
If now in the bed of love thou art fain to lay thee down
Where all things be seen from afar, even Ida’s topmost crown,
How would it be if one of the Gods everlasting should spy
Us twain as we slept, and to all the rest of the Gods should hie
And tell it?—I could not uprise from the couch, and again to thine hall
‘Return - there were indignation and scorn in the eyes of all.
But and if thou art fain of this, and thine heart is set thereon,
A chamber thou hast, which was wrought of thy well-beloved son
Hephaistus, yea, and he knit strong doors to the pillars thereof:
Thither go we to lie, since fair in thy sight is the couch of love.”
But spake to her Zeus, and the Cloudrack-gatherer answered her then:
“O Héré, fear not thou lest any of Gods or of men
Should espy, with a cloud so thick will I veil us, a cloud all gold.
Nay, not even the Sun should pierce its compassing fold
To discern us, albeit his eye be the keenest of all to behold.”
He spake, and the Son of Kronos hath caught in his arms his Queen;
And beneath them the earth divine shot up the sward’s fresh green;
And the dew-sprent lotus and crocus and hyacinth blossomed around
Thick-growing and soft, that the flower-couch bare them up from the ground.
Thereon did they lie, and were clothed about with a golden cloud
Most fair, and the glistering dews shimmered down from its shining shroud.
So slumbered in utter quiet Allfather on Gargarus’ breast,
By Sleep and by love overborne, yet clasping his bride to his breast.
But sweet Sleep ran where the galleys Achaian fringed the sands
With tidings thereof to the Shaker of Earth, the Girder of Lands.
And he came and he stood by his side, and he uttered the winged word-flight:
“Help thou the Danaans now, Poseidon, with heart and with might,
And vouchsafe them renown, though it be but a moment, while still doth sleep
Zeus: I have folded him round with slumber soft and deep,
For that Héré hath brought him by guile in the bed of love to lie.”
He spake, and was gone far over the tribes of men to fly;
But he kindled the God for the help of the Danaan men yet more.
Far leapt he forthright to the forefront, and cried through the battle-roar:
“Ye Argives, what, yet again shall we lay the victory down
At the feet of Hector, to take the ships and to win him renown?
O ay, such his thought is and boast, since Achilles abideth apart
By his hollow galleys, and broodeth still on the wrath of his heart!
Yet our grief for his loss shall be nowise so sore, if but we that remain
Be yet of good courage to help our fellows in battle-strain.
But come now, as I shall counsel, so let us all obey:
What shields soever be best and greatest in all our array
Take we on our arms, and let flame-flashing helmets our temples clasp,
And the longest spears that be found in the host in our hands let us grasp,
And so let us on: even I will be leader: no more, I ween,
Will Hector the Priamid stand, be he never so eager-keen.
And whoso is battle-steadfast, and hath but a little shield,
Let him give to a worser man, and a broader targe let him wield.”
He spake, and with right good will they hearkened his rede and obeyed:
And the Kings themselves in their wounds’ despite their battle arrayed,
Tydeides, Odysseus, and King Agamemnon, Atreus’ son.
And they passed through the host, and to others they gave their armour to don.
So the strong had harness strong, and he gave to the weaker wight
The weaker: and when they had clad their flesh in the brass flame-bright,
Onward they bore, and their onset Poseidon the Earth-shaker led,
In his brawny hand high-tossing a keen-edged falchion dread
Like to the lightning, wherewith to grapple in bitter fight
No man may dare, but afar therefrom men shrink in affright.
But Hector the glorious against them marshalled the Trojan array.
Then strained betwixt these twain was a passing-fearful fray,
Poseidon the raven-haired and Hector the glorious lord,
As the one gave help to the Trojans, and one for the Danaans warred.
Then surged up the sea to the galleys, the whirling foam-flakes fell
On the Argive tents, and the war-hosts clashed with a mighty yell.
Not with such clamour the sea-surf shouteth against the land
By the blast of the bitter North from the outsea hurled to the strand;
Neither so loud is the roar of the blazing fire, in the hour
When through glens of the mountain it raveth, the trees of the wood to devour;
Neither shrieketh so madly the wind through the oak-trees lofty-tressed,
Albeit the roar of its rage is of all things mightiest,
As the sound of the cry of Achaian and Trojan warriors rang
As they terribly shouted, and foeman to grapple with foeman sprang.
First against Aias did Hector the glorious his javelin throw,
Full front as the hero faced him: yea, and he missed not his foe,
But smote where his breast with the baldrics twain was crosswise barred,
The one of his shield, and the one of his falchion silver-starred;
And these were a fence for his flesh: and Hector chafed in wrath
Because that the swift shaft fled from his hand on a bootless path:
And aback to the throng of his war-fellows shunning the doom he withdrew.
But, as backward he shrank, Telamonian Aias the mighty threw
A great stone—such were there many for props to the sea-swift ship—
As it rolled mid the fighters’ feet: this Aias upheaved in his grip,
And dashed on his breast by the neck clear over the rim of the shield:
With the shock like a whirlwind he twisted him, this way and that way he reeled.
And as when Allfather’s lightning hath felled by the roots an oak,
And fearfully reeketh the brimstone-fume from the levin-stroke:
—No spirit is left in the man who beholdeth the terrible thing,
Who was hard by the path of the lightning of Zeus the Aegis-king;—
So suddenly earthward in dust was the might of Hector dashed.
Whirled from his hand was the spear, but upon him his shield down clashed,
And his helm and his brass-dight arms clanged round that fallen man.
And upon him mightily shouting the sons of Achaia ran,
Hoping to drag him away, and their lances thick and fast
They hurled: but they could not wound by thrust or by javelin-cast
The shepherd of folk: ere then did the champions compass him round,
Polydamas, godlike Agénor, Aeneas, and there was found
Sarpedon the chief of the Lycians, Glaukus the princely withal.
Was none that was heedless of him, but they held for a battle-wall
Before him their shapely shields; and his comrades uplifted and bare
In their hands that hero forth of the toil, till they came unto where
His swift steeds far to rearward of all that battle and war
Abode with the charioteer and the cunningly fashioned car.
Then citywards groaning and groaning again they sped their lord.
But when they were come to the fair-flowing river, the flashing ford
Of swirling Xanthus, the child of Zeus that abideth for aye,
To the earth from the car did they lift him, and over his face poured they
Water: then breathed he again, and he opened his eyes once more,
And he rose to his knees, and he vomited forth the dark-hued gore.
Then backward again to the earth he sank, and his eyes grew dim
With black night’s veil, for the stroke yet mastered the spirit of him.
Now so soon as the Argives beheld how Hector was fleeing away,
On the Troyfolk yet more fiercely they rushed, and were fain of the fray.
And before all other did Aias, Oileus’ fleetfoot seed,
The thrust of the keen-whetted lance at the son of Enops speed,
Even Satnius, born of a Naiad, a peerless nymph divine,
Unto Enops, the while by Satnioeis he tended the kine.
Now nigh to him came Oileus’ scion, the spear-renowned,
And stabbed at his flank, and backward reeling he fell to the ground;
And around him the strife of the Trojan and Danaan men waxed fierce.
Came Polydamas Panthoüs’ son for his helping, the shaker of spears,
And his lance unto prince Prothoénor’s rightward shoulder he sped,
The son of Aréilykus, and the javelin’s thunderbolt head
Cleft through, and in dust down falling he clutched with his palm at the earth.
And with shout far-pealing Polydamas vaunted in terrible mirth:
“Ha ha! from the brawny hand of Panthoüs’ son high-hearted
Once more not vainly, I ween, hath the javelin’s lightning darted,
But an Argive hath welcomed it home to his flesh!—’tis a staff, I trow,
Leaning whereon to the mansion of Hades down shall he go.”
So spake he, and anguish came on the Argives to hear that vaunt,
And chiefly the spirit of Aias the war-wise was stung by the taunt,
Even Telamon’s son, for to him did the slain man fall most near,
And as turned him the smiter, he suddenly hurled with his glittering spear.
But Polydamas’ self from the black doom swerved with a sidelong bound,
But Archelochus, son of Antenor, that terrible gift hath found,
Forasmuch as the Gods devised his destruction: the lance-point came
’Twixt his head and his neck, and it smote on the meeting-place of the same
At the nethermost bone of the skull, and it severed the tendons twain:
And his head and his mouth and his nostrils smote on the dust of the plain
Or ever his legs and his knees, as he fell, to the earth were bowed.
And Aias in turn unto prince Polydamas shouted aloud:
“Bethink thee, Polydamas, tell me, nor utter lying breath—
Is not the slaughter of this man for Prothoénor’s death
Fair quittance?—no weakling I deem him, nor gotten of weaklings’ seed;
But the brother he is of Antenor the tamer of the steed,
Or a son:—for to him doth he seem of his lineage nearest born.”
Well-knowing he spake, and the souls of the Trojans were anguish-torn.
Then Akamas stood o’er his brother, and stabbed Boeotia’s son
Promachus, even as he haled by the foot that slaughtered one.
And Akamas vaunted with terrible cry ringing far through the host:
“Ye Argive bowman-churls, insatiate of threatening boast,
Not unto us alone, good sooth, shall be labour and pain;
Nay, but I ween ye too in the selfsame wise shall be slain!
Mark ye how hushed into sleep by my spear before your eyes
Promachus lieth, that so my brother’s atonement-price
May not long be unpaid. For such kinsman as this might one well pray
To leave in his halls to avenge him in battle’s evil day!”
So spake he, and anguish came on the Argives that heard that vaunt;
And war-wise Péneleds most chiefly was stung by the taunt,
And on Akamas rushed he: howbeit the onset he dared not abide
Of Beeotia’s king, so that Ilioneus by his spear-thrust died,
Child of the sheep-lord Phorbas, whom Hermes wont to hold
Dearest of all the Trojans, and gave to him wealth untold.
And the. selfsame Ilioneus was his mother’s only son.
’Neath the eyebrow down to the roots of the eye hath the spear-head gone,
And it thrust the eyeball forth, and the shaft through the socket sped,
And out through the nape of his neck: and with both hands wide outspread
Down sank he, and Péneleés from the scabbard his keen brand drew,
And lashed at the midst of his neck, and down on the earth he threw
The head yet sheathed in the helmet, and still was the mighty spear
In the eye, and the head like the head of a poppy on high did he rear
And showed to the Trojan men, and the word of his vaunt rang loud:
“Ho Trojans, tell to the father of Ilioneus the proud,
And his mother, I pray you, to make their lament in a desolate house,
As neither the young Alegénorid’s wife, even Promachus’ spouse,
Shall rejoice for the coming again of her dear-loved lord, in the day
When the sons of Achaia from Troyland sail the homeward way.”
He spake, and the limbs of them all were palsied with sickness of fear,
And each glanced round for escape from destruction sudden-sheer.
Tell me, ye Muses now, in Olympus’ halls that abide,
Who first of Achaians uplifted a foeman’s spoils blood-dyed
When the glorious Shaker of Earth turned backward the battle-tide.
Telamonian Aias the first stabbed Hyrtius, Gyrtias’ son,
Who battleward led the dauntless-hearted Mysians on:
Phalkés’ and Mermerus’ harness of fight hath Antilochus ta’en;
Hippotion withal and Morys of Mériones were slain:
And Teucer dealt Periphétes and Prothoén a swift death-stroke;
And thereafter Atreides stabbed Hyperénor a shepherd of folk
On the flank, and the bowels of the wretch followed after the gleaming brass,
And out through the portal of that grim gash did the soul of him pass
Swift-rushing, and over his eyes did the veil of darkness fall.
But Aias, Oileus’ fleetfoot son, slew more than all;
For like unto him was there none to follow the foemen’s flight
With avenging feet, when Zeus had thrilled them with panic-affright.