Book XV

BUT when through the palisade-fence and the trench the Trojans had fled,
And stricken of Danaan hands full many an one lay dead,
Then stayed them beside their cars that panic-palsied folk,
Then halted they, pale with their fear. And Zeus from his sleep awoke
By the side of Héré the golden-throned upon Ida’s crown.
And he leapt to his feet, and on them of Achaia and Troy looked down;
Saw fleers, a huddled rout, saw them that stormed on their track,
Argives, and King Poseidon amidst of the battle-wrack,
Saw Hector lie on the plain, and his comrades to right and to left
Sat, as he gasped hard-fetching his breath all sense-bereft,
Vomiting blood—no weakling Achaian had dealt that blow!
And the Father of Gods and Men had compassion, beholding him so,
And to Héré he spake, and his eyes with a terrible fire were aglow:
“By thy mischievous guile of a truth, O Héré the stubborn-willed,
Hath Hector been stayed from the fight, have his people been panic-thrilled!
Of a surety I know not but thou shalt thyself first taste the meed
Of thy pestilent weaving of ill, when I scourge thee with thongs for thy deed!
What, mindest thou not how on high thou wast hung, and anvils twain
I swung from thy feet, and about thy wrists did I cast a chain
Golden, that none might break? In the welkin thou hung’st amid cloud;
And through wide Olympus the Gods beheld it angry-browed:
Yet none might draw nigh for thy loosing; but whomso I marked that essayed,
I would grasp him, and hurl from the threshold of heaven, till low he was laid
On the earth all faint: yet not even so might my wrath be assuaged,
My quenchless fury for heaven-born Hérakles’ sake that raged,
When thou with the North-wind didst league thee, suborning the blasts to thy will,
And didst drive him over the harvestless sea in thy purpose of ill,
And thereafter didst cast him away upon Kos’ fair-peopled shore.
Howbeit from thence did I save him, and brought him home once more
Unto Argos the horse-fed, albeit through many afflictions and toils.
Thereof yet again must I put thee in mind: thou shalt cease from thy wiles:
And so shalt thou see if the dalliance of love shall profit thee
Wherein thou didst join, when thou cam’st from the Gods and beguiledst me.”
So spake he, and shuddered the Lady Héré the lovely-eyed,
And she uttered the winged word-flight, and unto her lord she cried:
“Be witness now this earth, and the heaven above spread wide,
And the down-rushing water of Styx—and this is the mightiest,
Yea, and the awfullest oath on the lips of the Gods ever blest:—
Be witness thy sacred head, and the couch that hath borne us twain,
The bridal bed, the name that I cannot take in vain,
That not of my prompting Poseidon the Shaker of Earth this day
Vexeth the Trojans and Hector, and helpeth Achaia’s array:
But his own soul moved him, I ween, and constrained him pity-led,
Beholding Achaia’s sons by the galleys sorely bestead.
Notwithstanding even with him, an thou wilt, full fain would I plead
To walk in the way as thou, O Cloudrack-shrouded, shalt lead.”
So spake she, and smiled the Father of Gods and Men as he heard,
And he answered and spake unto her, and he loosed the light-winged word:
“If thou, O Lady Héré the lovely-eyed, indeed
With thine heart even as mine wouldst sit mid the deathless seed,
Full soon should Poseidon, how wilful-wayward soever he be,
Turn backward his purpose to follow the hearts of thee and me!
But now, if unfeigned is thy speech, if in truth thou hast spoken all,
Depart thou hence to the tribes of the Gods, and hitherward call
Iris to come unto me, and Apollo renowned with the bow,
That the one to the brazen-corsleted host of Achaians may go,
And may speak to Poseidon the King, and may tell mine hest to the God
To refrain from the war and to get him thence to his own abode,
And that Phoebus Apollo may rouse up Hector to battle again,
And may breathe might into his soul, and make him forget his pain,
The pangs outwearing his spirit, and turn the triumphant array
Of Achaia aback, and may thrill them with panic and craven dismay,
Till fleeing they fall midst the many-benched galleys of Peleus’ son
Achilles; then to the fight shall he speed his comrade on,
Patroclus, and he by the spear of Hector the glorious shall fall
Before Ilium; yet full many a warrior stalwart and tall—
Yea, godlike Sarpedon my son with the rest—shall he slaughter in fight.
And wroth for his sake shall godlike Achilles Hector smite.
But from that time forth will I turn the Trojans in panic of flight
From the ships evermore without respite, till steep-built Ilium’s day
Shall come, and Athéné’s counsel shall give the Achaians the prey.
But till that hour come I refrain not my wrath, and I suffer not
That of any Immortal beside to the Danaans succour be brought
Or ever Peleides’ prayer be fulfilled, the thing that I said
When I gave unto him for the seal of my promise the nod of mine head,
In the day when the Goddess Thetis low at my knees bowed down,
And besought me to honour Achilles the waster of tower and town.”
Then Héré the Goddess, the white-armed, hearkened his bidding to do.
Down plunging from Ida’s ridges to high Olympus she flew.
And as darteth the thought of a man who hath journeyed by many a shore,
And museth at home in the midst of his wisdom’s garnered store,
“Now would I were here or were there!”— wide range the desires of his heart;
So swiftly with eager speed did the Lady Héré dart.
And she came to the steeps of Olympus, to Zeus’s palace-dome,
And the throng of the deathless Gods; and they, beholding her come,
Leapt all to their feet, outstretching their cups to the Queen of Heaven.
But she passeth the others by, and she taketh the chalice given
Of Themis the beautiful-cheeked, for that foremost to meet her she sped,
And she lifted her voice, and forth of her lips the winged words fled:
“O Héré, why art thou come?—thou seemest as one distraught!
Is it so, that the Son of Kronos, thy lord, thy dismaying hath wrought?”
Answered and spake to her Héré the Goddess with arms of snow:
“Ask me not this, O Goddess Themis: thyself dost know
What manner of spirit is his, overweening and ruthless-stern!
But lead thou the rest of the Gods, that again to the feast they may turn.
And so amidst all the Immortals thine ears shall hear the tale
Of the evil things that be uttered of Zeus, and his purpose of bale.
I tell thee, not all shall rejoice together such tidings to hear,
Nor mortals nor Gods, if still any banquet blithe of cheer.”
Then Héré the Lady sat her adown, as thus she spake;
And the Gods through the mansion of Zeus were heavy of heart; and there brake
The laugh from her lips, but the brows overglooming her scowling eyes
Laughed not, and amidst of them all she cried in indignant wise:
“Fools, we that in witlessness be angered with Zeus!—who still,
Good sooth, be fain to draw nigh, and to let him from working his will
By word or by force!—but nothing he heedeth: he sitteth apart
Uncaring:—‘ Amidst of the Deathless Ones,’ he saith in his heart,
‘I have the pre-eminence: chiefest am I in my power and my might.’
Therefore content you each one with the gifts of his mischief and spite!
For already, I fear me, with Arés the tale of our woes hath begun;
For his child in the battle hath perished, his best-belovéd one,
Askalaphus, he whom Arés calleth his very son.”
So spake she, and Arés smote upon either brawny thigh
With the palms of his hands, and he cried an exceeding bitter cry:
“Now be not indignant, O ye in Olympus’ halls that abide,
That I fare to Achaia’s ships to avenge my son which hath died,
Yea, though I be doomed by the lightning of Zeus to be smitten, and thrust
Down, amid corpses to lie in the midst of blood and dust.”
So spake he, and shouted his hest to his servants, Dismay and Affright,
To harness his steeds, and he clad him in armour as lightning bright.
And then had a fury of Zeus flamed out more hot than before,
And his wrath had abode on the Deathless, a burden exceeding sore;
But Athéné for all the high Gods’ sake was stricken with dread,
And she sprang from the seat on the which she had sat: through the porchway she sped;
And she caught from his shoulders the buckler, the helm from his head she unclasped,
And the brazen spear set by that his brawny hand had grasped:
And she chode with furious Arés with words indignant-hot:
“Mad, sense-forlorn, thou art all undone!—what, wholly for naught
Hast thou ears to hear, and thy wit and thine awe, be they utterly dead?
Hast thou not heard what Héré the white-armed Goddess hath said,
Who from presence of Zeus the Lord of Olympus is come but now?
What, wouldst thou fill up a measure of manifold ills, even thou,
And return sore loth in thine own despite to Olympus, and sow
For all the rest of the Gods the seed of a mighty woe?
For Troy’s proud sons and Achaia’s host will he straightway forsake,
And will come upon us, and the heaven with the storm of his coming shall shake,
And on one after other, on guilty and guiltless, his hands will he lay.
Then thy wrath for thy stalwart son put thou at my bidding away.
For many an one that in might of his hands is stronger than he
Hath been slain, or in days to come shall be slain; hard task shall it be
The race and the seed of all mankind from their doom to free.”
So spake she, and caused fierce Arés to sit on his throne once more.
But Héré hath called Apollo without the feast-hall door,
And Iris, the messenger speeding the deathless Gods between:
And she uttered the winged word-flight, and spake the Olympian Queen:
“Zeus biddeth that ye unto Ida shall fare with your uttermost speed;
And when ye shall come, and shall look on the face of Kronos’ seed,
Whatsoever he biddeth you, do, and give to his hest good heed.”
So spake she, the Lady Héré, and backward turned her again,
And she sat on her throne: but downward darting flew those twain.
‘ And to Ida the fountain-flashing, the mother of beasts of the wold,
Came they, and seated on Gargarus’ crest did their eyes behold
Kronion, and round him the wreath of a fragrant cloud was rolled.
So they came to the presence of Zeus the Cloudrack-herder, and stood:
And he beholding them there was nowise wrathful of mood
That so swiftly they hearkened the hest that was borne by the wife of their lord.
And to Iris he turned him first, and he uttered the swift-winged word:
“Speed thee away, swift Iris, and unto Poseidon the King
Bear all this message from me: thou shalt hide not anything.
Thou bid that he cease from the war, and let the battle be,
And depart to the tribes of the Gods, or into the sacred sea.
But and if he will disobey my word, and will none of mine hest,
Then let him bethink him, and weigh this well in the thoughts of his breast,
Lest, be he never so strong, he endure not my coming to war,
Forasmuch as in might I declare of a truth I am stronger far,
And the elder-born. But his reckless heart giveth place unto pride,
To account himself my peer, who am dreaded of all beside.”
So spake he, and wind-footed Iris the swift disobeyed him not,
But down from the mountains of Ida to Ilium the holy she shot.
And even as when from the clouds cometh flying the snow or the hail,
Chill-drifting by upon welkin-begotten Boreas’ gale,
So swiftly Iris the fleet, the eager-hurrying, sped;
And she came to the side of the glorious Shaker of Earth, and she said:
“With a certain message to thee, O Girder of Earth dark-haired,
Hitherward from the presence of Zeus the Aegis-lord have I fared.
He biddeth thee cease from the war, and let the battle be,
And depart to the tribes of the Gods, or into the sacred sea.
But and if thou wilt none of his hest, if his word thou wilt disobey,
Himself, he doth threaten, to match his might against thine in the fray,
Will hitherward come:—but he biddeth thee shrink from the trial of war
With his hands, forasmuch as he saith that in strength he is mightier far,
And the elder-born. But thy reckless heart giveth place unto pride,
To account thyself his peer, who is dreaded of all beside.”
And the glorious Shaker of Earth spake indignation-stirred:
“Out on it!-strong though he be, overweening was this his word,
If by force he will curb in mine own despite his peer, even me!
Three brethren begotten of Kronos, of Rhea born, were we:
Even Zeus, and myself, and Hades the Netherworld King, she bare.
And divided were all things in three, and for each was an honour-share.
And my lot, as we shook the urn, was for aye in the kingdom to dwell
Of the hoary sea; and the murky gloom unto Hades fell;
And Zeus amid welkin and cloud bare sway in the broad-arched heaven:
But for common possession to all was the earth and Olympus given.
Wherefore I nowise will walk by the mind of Zeus, but in peace,
Strong though he be, let him bide in his own third portion of these,
Neither look to affright me, like to a craven wretch, with his hands.
Better it were that he uttered with terrible threats his commands
Unto his daughters and sons, even them that be born of his seed:
For they will give ear to his hest, and obey him of sorest need.”
But Iris the swift yet tarried, the Wind-foot spake the word:
“Is it even so, O Earth-enfolder, O dark-haired lord?
Must I bear this back unto Zeus—this speech unyielding and stern?
Or yet wilt thou turn and repent?—the hearts of the good can turn.
Thou knowest how still the Erinnyes wait on the elder in birth.”
Then answered Poseidon, and spake yet again the Shaker of Earth:
“Iris, a word in season is this thou hast spoken to me.
Of a truth it is good when a messenger dealeth prudently.
But a terrible pang is this that mine heart and my spirit hath stung,
Whensoever he taketh upon him to chide with angry tongue
His equal in lot, whose fate in the self same balance is hung.
Yet, how indignant soe’er, will I bow to his hest this day.
But hearken to this my threat, to the word that in wrath I say:
If he, in despite of me and Athéné the Giver of Prey,
In despite of Héré and Hermes, and King Hephaistus withal
Shall spare steep Ilium-town, and shall not consent that she fall
In destruction, and not to the Argives the mighty triumph shall yield,
This let him know, that the anger between us shall never be healed.”
So spake he, the Shaker of Earth, and he left the Achaian host,
And he plunged in the sea: sore lacked the heroes their champion lost.
Then spake to Apollo Zeus, and the Cloudrack-gatherer said:
“Go now, dear Phoebus, to Hector the brazen-helmeted:
For now is the Earth-enfolder, the Shaker of the Land,
Gone back to the sacred sea, forasmuch as he dared not stand
My swift wrath:—surely the others had heard the sound of our war,
The Gods of the Underworld, in the dungeon of Kronos that are.
But better by far was this for me and for him, I wot,
That he shrank ere then, albeit his indignation was hot,
From mine hands, for that not without sweat of our toil had the issue been wrought.
But for thee, my tasselled aegis thou in thine hands shalt take:
This over the heroes Achaian, to daunt them withal, shalt thou shake.
But let Hector the glorious, O Smiter from Far, be tended of thee.
Rouse in him mighty strength, till the Argives, fast as they flee,
Shall come unto Hellespont’s stream, and the galleys fringing the sea;
No longer—myself will by deed and by word take counsel then
How the Achaians may breathe from their battle-toil again.”
He spake, and Apollo hearkened his father’s bidding to do,
And adown from the ridges of Ida in shape of a falcon he flew,
The swift one, the slayer of doves, which is fleetest of all winged kind.
And Hector the godlike, the offspring of Priam the wise, did he find,
Sitting—no more was he lying, but only rewaking as yet
Was his spirit: his comrades he knew; but the gasping and agony-sweat
Was stayed; for the purpose revived him of Zeus the Aegis-lord.
Then stood by his side Far-smiter Apollo, and spake the word:
“Hector thou child of Priam, now wherefore aloof from the rest
All faint dost thou sit?—is it so, that thy spirit is trouble-oppressed?”
Spake Hector faintly and feebly, the prince of the tossing crest:
“And. thou, O mightiest of Gods, who dost question me, who art thou?
Hast thou heard not how by the rearward galleys Achaian but now,
As I slaughtered his comrades, Aias the mighty in battle-aid
With a great stone hurled at my breast, that my fury of onset was stayed?
Yea, and I thought that adown to the dead I should fare this day,
And the mansion of Hades, when I had gasped my life away.”
Then unto him did the King, Far-smiter Apollo, say:
“Now be of good cheer, so mighty a champion Kronion doth send
From Ida to stand by thy side in the midst of the strife, and defend,
Even Phoebus Apollo with Sword of Gold, who in days gone by
Have warded thy life and thy city builded steep and high.
Now cheer thou onward the host of thy car-borne warriors to speed
Down on the hollow galleys the fleetfoot chariot-steed.
And before thee will I pass on: I will make smooth all the way
For the steeds, back turning the heroes Achaian in disarray.”
Then into the shepherd of folk did he breathe great might for the fray.
As a stallion manger-fed that hath snapped his halter in twain,
And speedeth with thunder of galloping feet far over the plain
To plunge, as so oft he hath plunged, in the river lovely-gleaming
Exulting; and proudly he beareth his head, and his mane outstreaming
Floateth his shoulders around, as in pride of his goodlihead
By swift knees borne to the pastures and herds of the mares he had sped;
So Hector with lightsome feet and with lithe knees swiftly trod,
On-cheering the horsemen, so soon as he hearkened the voice of the God.
And even as country-folk follow fast with the deep-voiced pack
Of their hounds on the flight of an antlered stag or a wild goat’s track,
Till the crags of the rocks unfooted, the brakes of the forest-gloom,
Have delivered the prey, because not yet was the day of its doom;
Then at their outcry appeareth a lion of stormy mane
In the way, back turning them all, though never so eager-fain:
Even so for a season the dense-thronged Danaan men followed fierce
With swinging blades and with vengeful thrust of the two-headed spears:
But so soon as they looked upon Hector ranging from rank unto rank,
They quaked, and the hearts of them all to their very feet down sank.
Then Thoas the son of Andraimon spake to the rest his rede,
Chiefest of all the Aetolians, cunning the javelin to speed,
And good in the standing fight, and in speech-craft few of the sons
Of Achaia o’ermatched him, when strove in the council their mighty ones;
And thus, of his will for their welfare, amidst of them all spake he:
“Lo now, ’tis a marvel of marvels, the thing with mine eyes that I see,
In what wise he hath risen again, yon Hector, escaping his fate!
Of a truth was the expectation of each man’s heart full great
That our foe by the hands of Aias Telamon’s son had died.
Yet again some God hath delivered him, turning the doom aside
From Hector, from him who hath loosed many Danaan knees ere now,
As again it shall be, I fear me, for not without sanction, I trow,
Of Thunderer Zeus in the forefront of battle thus doth he storm!
But come now, as I shall counsel, so hearken we all to perform:—
Bid we the common throng turn back to the galleys again;
But for us, even all in the host who boast us of noblest strain,
Stand we, if haply we first, as we face him, may thrust him aback
Outstretching our spears:—grim terror, I trow, shall yet make slack
The heart fierce-straining to plunge mid the Danaan battle-wrack!”
So did he say, and they heard and obeyed him with eager mood.
Round Aias they closed, and with King Idomeneus stoutly they stood,
And with Teucer and Mériones and with Meges the War-god’s peer.
And they marshalled the fight, and rang to the champions Achaian their cheer
As they fronted the Trojans and Hector, the while to rearward afar
Streamed back to Achaia’s galleys their multitude from the war.
Onward the Trojans hurled in a dense throng: Hector led
With long swift strides, and before him Phoebus Apollo sped
With cloud-veiled shoulders: the stormily-rushing Aegis he bore,
Dread, shaggily tassel-begirt, far-gleaming, fashioned of yore
By the God-smith Hephaistus for Zeus, to thrill men’s hearts with dismay:
High lifting the same in his hands he led the folk to the fray.
And the Argives abode them, a serried battalion, and loud ’gan ring
From host unto host the yells wild-shrilling: sprang from the string
The arrows, and many a lance from the dauntless hands ’gan leap:
Some into the flesh of warriors battle-swift plunged deep,
And into the earth sank many, or ever their flight might attain
The goal of their flesh; and they quivered athirst for the blood of the slain.
While yet in Apollo’s hands that Aegis moveless hung,
Fast fell the folk as the shafts from host unto host were flung,
But when on the fleet-horsed Danaans face to face he gazed,
And shook it, and mightily shouted withal, their souls were amazed
Within their breasts, that they wholly forgat their onset-might.
And as when from two fierce beasts in the dead of the black dark night
A herd of kine, or the sheep of a great flock, huddling fly,
As suddenly come the spoilers when warder is none thereby;
So spiritless fled the Achaians, for Phoebus shot dismay
Through their hearts, and vouchsafed renown unto Hector and Troy that day,
Then man slew man when rent was the battle’s serried array.
Stichius and Arkesilaüs withal did Hector slay,
This leading Beeotians brazen-corsleted battleward hied,
That, mighty-hearted Menestheus’ comrade true and tried.
From Iasus and Medon Aeneas the spoils blood-crimsoned won.
Of Oileus the godlike was Medon begotten, a handmaid’s son,
And was brother to Aias, but far from his fatherland-home had he gone
In Phylaké-land to abide, because he had spilled the life
Of the kinsman of Queen Eridpis, his sire Oileus’ wife.
And the children of Athens on to the war did Jasus lead:
Men called him the scion of Sphélus, Boukolus’ princely seed.
Polydamas smiteth Mekistes, Polites hath Echius slain
In the forefront of fight, and Agénor the godlike is Klonius’ bane.
And at Deiochus’ back ’neath the shoulders his javelin Paris threw,
As he turned mid the forefighters flightward, and drave the brass clear through.
Now it was so, that while they spoiled these slain of their battle-gear,
Dashed through the deep-delved trench and the palisade-stakes in their fear,
Scattered this way and that, the Achaians, swept by the rout through the wall;
Then with a mighty shout on the Trojans did Hector call:
“On! charge ye down on the ships!—let be the spoils blood-dyed!
Whomsoever I mark from the galleys aloof on the farther side,
I will surely devise his death: not him shall his kinsmen lay,
Nor his kinswomen, high on the pyre, nor the honour of flame shall they pay,
But before our town shall he lie, and the dogs shall devour the prey!”
He spake, and his car-steeds’ shoulders with scourge fierce-stinging he lashed,
Shouting adown the ranks of the Trojans. Behind him they dashed
With one wild cheer, on-driving the steed and the thundering car
With yelling unearthly, and Phoebus Apollo afront of their war
Spurned down with his feet full lightly the banks of the deep-delved fosse;
To the midst thereof did he cast them, and bridged a pathway across
Full broad and long: it was wide as the space that a lance’s flight
May attain, when the hurler thereof maketh uttermost proof of his might.
Therethrough in their squadrons they poured: with the Aegis far-renowned
Apollo went ever before. Full lightly he dashed to the ground
The rampart Achaian, as when some child at his sport on the strand
Upbuildeth him after his childish wit his castles of sand,
And scattereth anon and confoundeth with wanton foot and hand;
So, Archer Phoebus, the toil and the travail didst thou confound
Of the Argive men, and their hearts with a panic of fear didst astound.
So by the galleys they stayed them, so turned they there to bay,
Each cheering his fellow on, and to all the Gods ’gan pray;
Each with uplifting of hands full earnestly made his request;
And Gerenian Nestor, Achaia’s warder, above the rest
Prayed, as on high to the star-studded heaven he stretched his hand:
“Zeus, Father, if ever in Argos the corn-abounding land
We prayed, as the fat of the steer or the sheep rose upward in flame
To return, and thou promisedst, bending thy brows for a pledge of the same,
Remember, Olympian, and oh from the pitiless day shield us!
Beneath their Trojan foes bow not the Achaians thus!”
So spake he in prayer: loud thundered the Counsel-king from on high,
Giving ear to the pleading of Neleus’ son, to the ancient’s cry.
But when heard was the crash of the Aegis-lord by the warriors of Troy,
More fiercely they rushed on the Argives, afire with the battle-joy.
And as over a galley’s bulwarks out on the great wide sea
Bursteth a mountain wave, when the huddling surges flee
From the stress of the wind which uplifteth the waves most mightily;
So down on the rampart the Trojans burst with a great war-cry:
Their chariots they drave through the breach to the sterns, and they battled thereby
Stabbing with two-headed spears, high-borne on their chariots these,
But those to the decks of their dark-hulled galleys have sprung, and they seize
The pikes long-shafted that lie on the planks thereof ready-dight
In massy length upon length, brass-headed, for sea-tossed fight.
Now Patroclus, so long as the battle-surge of the Trojans beat
On Achaia’s rampart, but won not yet to the ships of the fleet,
In the tent of Eurypylus courteous-souled so long did he stay,
And cheered him with speech of his lips, and healing balms did he lay
On his grievous wound, to charm the anguish thereof away.
But when he was ware how the Trojans stormed o’er the rampart’s height,
And a shriek from the Danaans rose and a panic of sore affright,
Then loud did he wail in his grief, and he smote upon either thigh
With the palms of his hands, and he spake with a lamentable cry:
“Eurypylus, here no longer, how sore soever thy need,
May I stay, for a mighty strife hath arisen in very deed.
But thee let thine henchman comfort, but as for me, I will go
To Achilles in haste, to enkindle the hero to face the foe.
Who can tell but he haply will hearken, but God will cause him to heed
My pleading?—a blessing there is when the lips of the loving plead!”
So spake he, and hasted his feet. Not a man of Achaia quailed
From the onset of Troy the while: howbeit they nowise prevailed
From the galleys to thrust their foes, albeit the fewer they were;
And never the Trojans might rend their battalions asunder, and bear
The Danaans back where the lines of the tents and the ships were arrayed:
But as when to the planks of a galley the measuring-line is laid
In the hands of a cunning craftsman, whose spirit Athéné doth fill
By the might of her inspiration with wisdom and manifold skill,
So level-strained was the battle, and swerved not to left nor to right
While round this galley and that roared ever the storm of the fight.
Then Hector at Aias the battle-renowned rushed onward amain;
And about one ship had they toil of the strife, but they might not attain—
Hector, to drive back Aias, and wrap the galleys in flame,
Nor Aias to thrust back Hector, since spurred by a God he came.
Then Aias the glorious hurled at Kalétor, Klytius’ son,
As he bare to a galley his torch, and the lance to the breast of him won;
Down-crashing he fell, and out of his hand was the firebrand whirled.
And when Hector beheld with his eyes his cousin earthward hurled,
And afront of the black ship lying in dust bereft of life,
To the Trojans and Lycians he cried with a great voice cleaving the strife:
“Trojans and Lycians and Dardans that close in the grapple of fight,
Not yet give back from the battle in this our desperate plight,
But rescue the scion of Klytius; let not his harness be spoiled
By Achaians, who fell mid the host of the ships as in battle he toiled!”
So did he cry, and at Aias his glittering javelin he threw;
Yet he missed him, but onward at Lykophron Mastor’s son it flew—
A Kythéran, the henchman of Aias, who dwelt in the island-home
Of the prince: from Kythéra the hallowed he fled from the manslayer’s doom;—
To his head did the keen brass leap, and above the ear it passed
As by Aias he stood: to the earth from the stern of the ship was he cast,
That in dust on his back, with his strong limbs palsy-stricken, he lay:
Then Aias shuddered, and cried on his brother, and thus did he say:
“Teucer, beloved one, slain is our comrade, the true and the tried,
Mastor’s son, from Kythéra who came in our halls to abide,
And like unto them that had borne us had worship and love of our hearts.
Him Hector the mighty-hearted hath slain!—where now be thy darts,
Winged speeders of death, and the gift of Phoebus Apollo, thy bow?”
He spake, and his brother gave heed, and ran, and he faced the foe
At his side, with the back-springing bow and the quiver arrow-fraught
Grasped in his hand: right swiftly his shafts at the Trojans he shot.
And at Kleitus the glorious son of Peisénor a shaft did he speed,—
Comrade was he of Polydamas Panthoüs’ haughty seed—
As he swayed in his hands the reins, as onward his horses he lashed,
As he hurled them where thickest the meeting battalions in battle-shock clashed,
For a grace to the Trojans and Hector—but suddenly came his bane:
There was none of them all might deliver him, yea, were they never so fain,
When the arrow of anguish into the back of his neck plunged deep.
From his chariot he fell, and aside did the frighted car-steeds leap;
And the masterless chariot was reeling:—but prince Polydamas spied
Swiftly, and foremost of all afront of the steeds did he stride.
These did he give to Astynoüs’ hand, Protiaion’s son,
And straitly he charged him to rein them hard by his side, and look on,
But into the forefront of battle the hero himself is gone.
Then Teucer at Hector the brass-mailed aimed yet again the flight
Of an arrow; and now by Achaia’s ships had he quelled the fight,
Had he smitten and reft his life amidst his triumphant toil.
But he ’scaped not the all-wise spirit of Zeus, who warded the while
Hector, and robbed of renown Telamonian Teucer’s hand:
For he suddenly snapped the deftly-twisted cord that spanned
That flawless bow, as he drew it: aside did the foiled shaft slip,
Even the brass-heavy arrow, and dropped the bow from his grip.
And Teucer shuddered, and cried to his brother, and thus spake he:
“Out on it!—surely a God is ruining utterly
Our counsels of war, forasmuch as my bow from mine hand he hath cast,
And hath snapped the cord new-twisted, the which myself made fast
This morn, that its strength should the storm of the swift-thronging arrows outlast.”
Unto him did Aias the mighty, Telamon’s son, reply:
“O brother, yet leave thou the bow and the host of thine arrows to lie,
Which a God hath in jealousy marred, to confound the Achaians thereby.
But thy long spear grasp in thine hand, and cast on thy shoulders the targe,
And fight with the foe, and the rest of the folk cheer on to the charge.
Sore toil shall they have, though a moment they triumph, to win for a prey
The fair-benched ships!—now let us rewaken the joy of the fray.”
He spake, and that other laid aside in his tent the bow,
And about his shoulders the fence of the fourfold shield did he throw,
And a fair-wrought helmet he drew down over his gallant head;
Terribly nodded the crest with the dark mane overshed.
And a mighty spear, with the brass keen-pointed, he grasped in his hand,
And he hied him and ran, and with speed by Aias’ side did he stand.
Now when Hector was ware of the foiling of Teucer’s shafts. of war,
To the Trojans and Lycians he cried with a great voice pealing afar:
“Trojans and Lycians and Dardans that close in the grapple of fight,
Quit you like men, my friends, and remember the storm of your might
Here by the hollow ships, for now have mine eyes beheld
How a champion’s shafts by the touch of the hand of Zeus have been quelled.
Full easily Zeus’s help to the children of men shall be known,
Whether to them upon whom he bestoweth triumph-renown,
Or whomso he minisheth, bringing them low, and will nowise defend;
As now he doth minish the Argives’ might, and us doth befriend.
Fight on!—close up to the ships!—fight on!—whosoe’er of you all,
Smit by a dart or stabbed, on his death and his doom shall fall,
E’en let him die! No shadow of shame toucheth him who shall die
Defending his land, but his wife, but his babes shall be saved thereby,
And his home and his acres unharried shall bide, if Achaia’s array
To their own dear fatherland-shore in the galleys shall flee away.”
So spake he, and kindled their courage, and each man’s heart beat high.
But overagainst them did Aias the while to his war-fellows cry:
“Shame, Argives!—now is it fixed and sure: ye must either be slain,
Or be saved alive by thrusting aback from your galleys their bane.
What, hope ye, if Hector the stormy-crested shall win that spoil,
That walking the waves ye shall fare each man to your fatherland-soil?
What, hear ye him not on-cheering the host in his fierce desire,
Yon Hector, as madly he yearneth to burn the galleys with fire?
It is not to the dance, but the fight, that he biddeth them thus, I wis!
But for us, no thought shall be better, no counsel more goodly than this,
Hand against hand and might against might to close in the strife:
Better that all in a moment we perish or win us our life,
Than long to be straitened sore in the terrible battle-strain
Here at the hands of men that be viler, and all in vain.”
So speaking he kindled the heart and the courage of every one.
Then Hector laid low Schedius, lord Perimédes’ son,
Chief of the Phocians; and Aias smote Laodamas down,
A captain of footmen, Antenor’s scion, a man of renown.
And Polydamas smote a lord of Kylléné, Otus, dead,
Phyleides’ companion, the mighty-hearted Epeians who led.
But Meges beheld it, and rushed on him. Crouching the death to shun,
Polydamas ’scaped, that he missed; for Apollo forbade that the son
Of Panthoüs there should be stricken and slain in the forefront of fight.
But full on the midst of Kroismus’ breast did the lance-head light.
Down crashed he: but even as the victor was stripping the battle-gear
From his shoulders, there sprang on him Dolops full cunning in craft of the spear,—
Which was born to the son of Laomedon, Lampus, a prince among men,—
Right cunning in craft of the furious fight: on rushed he then,
And he closed with Phyleus’ son, and amidst of his buckler he smote
With his lance, but the thrust was foiled by his strong-wrought brazen coat,
Whose welded plates ensheathed him, the corslet brought of old
By Phyleus from Ephyré-land, where the river Selléis rolled.
At the hands of his bond-friend, Euphétes the king, that gift had he ta’en,
To bear it to war, a defence from his foes in the battle-strain;
And the flesh of his son in the perilous hour it warded from bane.
At his helmet of brass, as it lightened beneath the cloudy mane,
Even at the top of the crest, with his keen lance Meges thrust,
Shearing the horse-hair plume from the socket: to earth amid dust
Fell all that splendour of fresh-dyed purple, a crimson flame.
But while yet he withstood him, and battled, and hoped for the victory-fame,
Even then to the help of his foe Menelaus the champion came
Unmarked: on his flank he stood; at his shoulder he hurled from the rear,
And clean through the breast of him darted the point of the furious spear
On-speeding, and forward reeling fell on his face the slain;
And to strip from his shoulders his brazen harness rushed those twain.
But to all his brethren Hector the rescue-challenge cried:
Hiketaon’s son, Melanippus the stalwart, first did he chide—
Now the man had been wont to pasture the herds of his trailfoot kine
In Perkété, while tarried the foemen yet far over the brine:
But so soon as the wave-rocked Danaan ships on the coast swooped down,
Unto Ilium he went, and was great mid the Trojans, a man of renown,
And with Priam abode, and was honoured even as a son of the king:
Upon his name Hector cried, and loud did his chiding ring:
“Ho thus, Melanippus, shall we wax slack?—is the heart of thee now
Moved not for thy kin, nor regardeth that low in the dust he should bow?
Seest thou not how from Dolops they rend his harness of war?
On then, let us close with the foe—we may fight no more from afar—
Till we smite yon Argives and slay, or in ruin strown on the plain
Be Ilium’s crest of towers, and the folk of our city be slain.”
He spake, and the onset he led; fast followed the godlike wight.
But the Argives by great Telamonian Aias were cheered to the fight:
“Friends, quit you like men, and for shame let not your hearts wax cold!
Think scorn in the fight to be craven, for friends that your deeds behold!
For of such as think scorn to flee more live than be slain in the strife;
But the fleer is fameless, yea, and he shall not deliver his life.”
So spake he, but they unbidden were fain to withstand their foes,
Yet they laid up his words in their hearts, and before the ships did they close
In a brazen battle-hedge. Zeus kindled the Trojan men.
To Antilochus-cried Menelaus the battle-helper then:
“Antilochus, younger than thou there is none the Achaians among,
Neither any so swift of his feet, neither any in battle so strong.
Leap forth from the press, and smite some man mid the Trojan throng.”
He spake, and was gone, but his word had enkindled Antilochus’ heart.
From the forefighters forward he leapt, and his glittering spear did he dart,
Warily glancing around: back shrank the Trojans adread
From the cast of the hero’s lance, neither vainly its lightning was sped;
But it smote Melanippus the haughty-souled, Hiketaon’s son;
For, as fightward he turned, to his breast by the nipple the swift death won.
Down crashed he, and over his eyeballs death’s black veil was drawn.
But Antilochus leapt on the slain, as a hound on a stricken fawn
Darteth, a fawn which even as it sprang from its couch fern-hung,
A hunter hath shot with his shaft, that the strength of its limbs is unstrung;
So leapt, Melanippus, on thee battle-bider Antilochus then
Of thine harness to spoil thee, but ’scaped not godlike Hector’s ken
For running to meet him athwart the turmoil of war did he pass.
But Antilochus bode not his onset, warrior swift though he was;
But he shrank, as a beast of the wold, which hath wrought some deed of bane,
By the which some hound, or a herdman in warding his kine hath been slain,
Fleeth, or ever the throng of avengers be gathered anigh;
So the Nestorid shrank, and behind him Hector with them of Troy,
Hurling with yellings unearthly the bitter shafts, swept on,
But he turned him to bay, and he stood, to the throng of his friends when he won.
But the Trojans like unto ravening lions onward pressed
Storming the galleys, the while they accomplished Zeus’s behest.
For he roused great might in them ever, the Argives’ spirit he stilled
With a spell, and he stole their renown, and their foes with fury he filled.
For he purposed to give unto Hector the Priamid victory-fame
Until on the beakéd galleys the tireless-blazing flame
He should hurl, and his wildfire should Thetis’ presumptuous prayer fulfil
To the utmost: for this was the Counsel-father tarrying still,
Even to behold with his eyes the glare of a galley ablaze:
But from that time forth would he turn the Trojans in backward chase
From the ships, and vouchsafe to the Danaan champions glory’s meed.
With suchlike intent he enkindled Hector Priam’s seed
By the hollow ships, who himself was keen theretofore for the deed.
Mad raged he as Arés the Shaker of Spears, or as mad flames leap
Wild-wasting from hill unto hill in the folds of a forest deep.
And the foam-froth fringed his lips, and from under his eyebrows grim
Flashed forth his blazing eyes, and around the temples of him
The lightnings that leapt from his dancing helmet fearfully played,
For that Zeus himself from the heaven bent down for Hector’s aid,
And he crowned him with honour and glory, him only, and none beside
Of the thousands there, for doomed were the hours of his life to abide
But a short span yet, for that Pallas Athéné was hastening on
The day of his death and his doom by the hand of Peleus’ son.
Fain was he to rend asunder their ranks, and he made assay
Where glittered the goodliest harness; the throng stood densest at bay;
Yet not even so, how eager soe’er, might he cleave their array.
Firm-massed as a fortress-tower they abode, or a cliff steep-browed,
A giant crag, by the which the grey sea murmureth loud,
Which abideth the whirlwind-ridden paths of the blasts wild-yelling,
And the onward-storming roar of the rollers mountain-swelling;
Even so shrank none of the Danaan men, but firm did they stand.
But flashing with flame through the throng rushed Hector on every hand,
And he burst on them like as a wave swift-rushing beneath black clouds,
Heaved huge by the winds, bursts down on a ship, and the wild foam shrouds
From the stem to the stern her hull, and the storm-blast’s terrible breath
Roars in the sail, and the heart of the shipmen shuddereth
In fear, for that scantly upborne are they now from the clutches of death;
Even so were the hearts in the bosoms Achaian anguish-rent.
But the hero, as cometh on kine a lion with fell intent,
As they graze, when the low-lying land of a wide-spread marsh is filled
With their thousands, and mid them the herdman goeth, as yet unskilled
To battle with ravening beasts for the blood of his kine athirst;
But now with the rearward kine is he lagging, and now with the first
Presseth onward, the while that lion hath leapt on the midst of the herd
“And devoureth a heifer, while all else flee; so panic-stirred
Full strangely by Hector and Father Zeus the Achaian array
All fled, but Mycéné’s son Periphétes alone did he slay,
Even Kopreus’ dear-loved child, who was wont, time was, to fare
From Eurystheus the king, unto Hérakles’ might his bidding to bear,
Far meaner was Kopreus the sire, but the son had goodlier might
In all manner of prowess, in fleetness of foot, and in cunning of fight,
And in wisdom of counsel was even as the chief of Mycéné’s men;
Even he unto Hector yielded the glory of mastery then.
For, even as he turned him aback, on his shield-rim stumbling he reeled,
For his targe to his feet reached down, his life from the darts to shield:
Thereby was he foiled, that he fell on his back, and terribly clashed
The helmet his temples ensheathing, as down on the earth he was dashed.
And Hector with keen glance marked him, and ran and stood by his side,
And plunged through his breast his lance, that in sight of his comrades he died.
Anguished were they for their friend, yet they might not avail for his aid,
Forasmuch as themselves of Hector the godlike were sore afraid.
And now were they overagainst the galleys; on each side rose
The sterns of the uppermost line: still on like a flood came their foes.
Then from the foremost ships drew back in their own despite
The Argives, howbeit beside the tents they abode the fight
Close-thronged, neither broke they to flee through the camp, for that shame and fear
Withheld them, and each unto each cried ever a word of cheer.
And Nestor, Achaia’s warder, most for their rallying wrought,
And by them that had borne him adjured each man, and with prayers besought:
“Friends, quit you like men!—take shame to your souls because of the eyes
Of others beholding!—in each man’s heart let remembrance arise
Of children and wives and possessions and them that gave him birth,
Whether yet your belovéd live, or have perished by this from the earth.
For their sake now I beseech you, by them that are not in your sight,
That ye dauntlessly stand, that ye turn not backward in craven flight!”
So speaking he kindled their courage, their hearts to the onset leapt;
And the wondrous cloud of mist from their eyes Athéné swept;
And exceeding clear upon either hand shone forth the light
Here, on the galleys, and there on the swaying surges of fight.
And Hector they saw, and the host that battle-helper brought;
Yea, marked whosoever to rearward loitered, and nowise fought,
And whoso beside the galleys in toil of the battle wrought.
Nor now to the spirit of great-heart Aias did this seem good
To stand where backward driven the sons of Achaia stood;
But with long swift strides on the decks of the ships to and fro did he spring,
And a great sea-battle pike in his death-dealing hands did he swing
Of cubits twenty and two, firm-clamped with many a ring.
And even as when some man that on horses is cunning to ride
Hath ta’en four steeds from the herd, and hath harnessed them side by side,
And darting away from the plain to a great town fast doth he race
Thundering down the highway, and many behold with amaze,.
Both menfolk and women; and swiftly and sure evermore at his will
Changing from horse unto horse doth he bound, and they fly on still;
So Aias from deck unto deck of many a swift ship sprang
With long swift strides to and fro, and his voice to the heavens rang;
And with great and terrible shout to the Danaans ever he cried
To fight for the tents and the ships. Yea, neither did Hector abide
In the midst of the strong-mailed Trojans, to shrink from the onset-shock;
But as swoopeth a tawny eagle adown on a feathered flock
Of the fowl of the air, where floweth a river through some green mead,
Swoopeth on geese, or on cranes, or the long-necked swans as they feed;
So Hector full on a galley whose prow rose dark from the strand
Darted unswerving: behind, with exceeding mighty hand
Zeus thrust him on, and the battle-fire of his comrades he fanned.
So by the galleys again awoke that battle grim.
Thou hadst said that with toil unspent, and all unwasted of limb,
They closed in the grapple of war, so fiercely they rushed to the fray.
And thus were their thoughts in the battle—the men of Achaia’s array
Deemed they should never escape, but should fall by the hands of the foe.
But the heart in the breast of every Trojan with hope was aglow
Of burning the ships, and of spilling Achaian heroes’ life:
Even such was their mood as each against other they stood in the strife.
Then on the stern of a sea-borne ship laid Hector his hand,
A fair swift cleaver of brine, which had borne to the Trojan land
Protesilaüs, but ne’er to his fatherland brought him again:
Even around his ship the Achaian and Trojan men
Closed hand to hand in the grapple, and slew. None held him apart
To abide afar from the leap of the arrow, the rush of the dart:
Nay, man against man did they range them, and one was their dauntless mood,
And ever with keen-edged bills and with huge war-axes they hewed,
And with great swords lashed they and lunged, and with spears two-headed they thrust,
And black-sheathed hilted falchions many an one to the dust
Fell, some from their hands, and some, while battled man against man,
With the arms from the shoulders hewn, and with blood the dark earth ran.
But when Hector had gript that stern, from its ensign he loosed not his hold,
And over the Trojan ranks his voice’s thunder rolled:
“Bring fire, and with one voice now send up your shout to the heaven!
This day, this crown of our days, lo, Zeus unto us hath given
To win yon ships, which came in the Gods’ despite, and here
Wreaked on us manifold scathe, through the graybeards’ craven fear:
For they, when to fight by the sterns of the galleys my spirit was fain,
Ever withheld me therefrom, and the folk did they still restrain.
Ha, but if far-seeing Zeus in that day blinded our eyes,
Himself now speedeth us on, and he biddeth us take the prize!”
Then rushed they against the Argives with fury more fierce than before,
But Aias was sorely bestead by the darts, that he bode them no more,
But backward a little he drew, foreboding death in his heart,
From the deck of the shapely ship to a seven-foot rowers’ thwart;
There stood he with eyes keen-watching, and aye as the Trojans came,
Beat back whosoe’er to the galleys was bearing the tireless flame;
And aye to the Danaan men rang forth his terrible shout:
“O friends, O Danaan heroes, the War-god’s henchmen stout,
Quit you like men, my friends, and remember your stormy might!
What, do ye deem there be helpers to rearward yet of the fight,
Or a stronger-builded wall, that our doom should be hurled back thence?
Now nay, no city is nigh girt round with its tower-fence
To defend us, and turn with the host of her people the battle’s scale.
But since in the plain of the Trojans, the warriors sheathed in mail,
With our backs to the sea we be set from our fatherland-soil afar,
In our hands is the light of salvation, and nowise in slackness in war!”
He spake, and with eager fury he charged with the keen-whetted spear.
And whatso warrior of Troy to the hollow ships drew near
With devouring fire, for a kindness to Hector the kindler of fight,
Him Aias met with the pike long-shafted, and stabbed forthright:
So in front of the ships twelve foes did his hands death-dealing smite.