Book VII

SO spake he, and Hector the glorious rushed through the gate straightway:
Sped with him the prince Alexander his brother; full fain were they
Of the onset, the souls of them both were afire for the joy of the fray.
As to shipmen whose hearts for his coming have fainted a God hath sent
A breeze, when with tugging the oars smooth-shaven their strength is spent
Smiting the sea, and their limbs are fordone with weariness-pain;
So to Trojans whose hearts for their coming had fainted appeared these twain.
Then slew Alexander a prince of Arné’s royal race,
Menesthius, born to Aréithoüs of the iron mace
Of Philomedusa the lovely-eyed, fair Arné’s queen:
Hurled Hector at Eioneus with his long lance bitter-keen;
Through his neck ’neath the rim of the helmet it plunged, and his strength fled away.
Then Glaukus the son of Hippolochus, captain of Lycia’s array,
Smote Iphinoüs with his javelin amidst of the mighty fray,—
Dexius’ son, as he leapt on the car by his swift mares drawn,—
On the shoulder, and dashed him to earth, and the strength of his limbs was gone.
And it was so, when grey-eyed Athéné the Goddess beheld these twain
Smiting the Argive men in the battle’s desperate strain,
That she leapt from Olympus’ brow, and adown to the earth hath she darted:
Unto Ilium the holy she sped. But to meet her Apollo upstarted
From Pergamus’ height, for his heart on the help of the Trojans was set.
And face to face by the oak the God and the Goddess met.
Then first did the Zeus-begotten, the king Apollo, cry:
“Wherefore again in thy fury, O daughter of Zeus most high,
Hast thou come from Olympus, and why hath thy great heart sped thy flight?
Is it so, that thou longest to give to the Danaans victory-might,
Forasmuch as thou hast no pity for all these Trojans slain?
But and if thou wouldst hearken to me, sure this would be more for thy gain—
Now make we their warfare to cease, and give we the battle breath
For to-day, thereafter again shall they fight, till the goal of death
For Ilium be won, forasmuch as this is the heart’s desire
Of the Queens of the Deathless, to waste yon city with sword and fire.”
And to him the Goddess Athéné the grey-eyed made reply:
Yea, so shall it be, Far-darter; for this cause down from the sky
From the height of Olympus to Troy and Achaia’s armies I came.
Yet tell to me, how art thou minded to quench the battle-flame?”
And Apollo the King made answer, the Zeus-born uttered his rede:
“Let us waken the spirit of Hector the queller of the steed,
If the hero will haply defy some chief of his Danaan foes
Alone with him man against man in the grim fight-grapple to close:
And jealousy-stirred the brazen-harnessed Achaian throng
Shall find them a man to battle with Hector the godlike-strong.”
So spake he, and so was Athéné the grey-eyed minded to do.
But the spirit of Priam’s son, of the prophet Helenus, knew
How the Gods everlasting communed, and the thing that seemed them good.
And he spake—for he fared through the press till by Hector’s side he stood:
“Hector thou son of Priam, Zeus’s counsel-peer,
Wilt thou heed me?—behold thy brother am I—I beseech thee hear:
Now bid that the rest of the sons of Achaia and Troy sit down,
And thyself defy thou Achaia’s chiefest in battle-renown
To strive with thee, man against man, alone in the terrible fray:
For not yet is thy weird to light on the doom of thy dying day,
For so have I heard the voice of the Gods that abide for aye.”
So spake he, and Hector rejoiced at the word with exceeding joy.
Forth to the midst hath he strode, and he stayeth the ranks of Troy,
Grasping his spear by the midst, and all at the wave of his hand
Sat down, and sat the Achaians at Lord Agamemnon’s command.
And anigh them Athéné sat, and Apollo Silverbow,
In semblance as birds of the air, as vultures in outward show,
On the lofty oak-tree of Zeus Allfather, the Aegis-King,
Beholding with joy how, rank upon rank thick-clustering,
Sat bristling with buckler and helmet and spear that warrior-ring.
And as over the sea’s face spreadeth a shiver of Zephyrus’ breath,
Springing up out of calm, and the shining sea groweth dark underneath,
So seemed they, so stirred they, the ranks of Achaian and Trojan folk,
On the plain as they sat, and Hector amidst of the war-hosts spoke:
“Hear me, ye Trojans and mailed Achaians battle-renowned,
To the end I may utter the words that my heart for my lips hath found:
High-throned Kronion hath disannulled our covenant-oath,
For the thoughts of his heart and his dooming are evil against us both,
And shall be, till Troytown beautiful-towered of your hands be ta’en,
Or ye by the sea-tracking galleys be overmastered and slain.
Yet hear—forasmuch as amongst you Achaia’s chiefest be,
Let the hero whose spirit stirreth him up to battle with me
Step forth of you all for your champion to stand against Hector to-day.
For thus do I promise—let Zeus be witness of this that I say:—
If so be that he lay me low with the keen-edged brass, let him strip
From my body mine armour, and bear it away to his hollow ship:
But my corse to mine home shall he give, that in death I may have on the pyre
Of the sons and the daughters of Troy the rightful honour of fire.
And if I overcome him and slay, and Apollo vouchsafe me renown,
I will strip off his war-gear, and bear it to holy Ilium-town,
And will hang it on high on the wall of Archer Apollo’s fane;
But his corse will I yield to his friends to bear to the galleys again,
That the long-haired sons of Achaia may lay his bones in the ground,
And by broad-flowing Hellespont’s strand may uppile him a sepulchre-mound.
And one shall say—some man of the days that are yet for to be—
In his long swift galley riding the ridges of wine-dark sea:
‘The barrow is this of a hero who perished long ago,
Who played the man when Hector the glorious laid him low.’
So shall they say, and for ever my deathless renown shall grow.”
So spake he, and hushed were they all, and none spake word for a space,
Ashamed to deny him, yet fearing to meet him face to face.
But after a long time rose Menelaus, and bitterly chode
Reproaching the heroes, while groaned his spirit beneath its load:
O blustering vaunters!—not men of Achaia, but women be ye!
Surely a horror of horrors, a stain and a shame shall it be
If now there be found for Hector no champion of Danaan birth.
Ha, better it were that ye all should turn unto water and earth,
Spiritless there as ye sit, inglorious, and nothing worth!
But I, even I, will arm me against him: I ween from on high
Be the issues of victory held of the Gods that never die.”
So spake he, and dight him in goodly battle-gear for the strife.
Then, O Menelaus, on thee had arisen the end of thy life
At Hector’s hands: of a mightier far hadst thou surely been slain,
But the Kings of Achaia upsprang, and they caught thee, to make thee refrain:
And Atreus’ son Agamemnon, the lord of many folk,
Himself by the right hand seized thee, and out from the heart he spoke:
“Thou art mad, Menelaus, O fostered of Zeus!—no time it is
For such madness!—refrain thee, how troubled soever thy heart be for this;
Nor be moved for contention’s sake to fight with a mightier than thou,
Even Hector, Priam’s son:—there be others that hate him, I trow:—
Yea, even Achilles hath shuddered in glory-wafting fight
To meet this man; and what is thy might to Achilles’ might?
Nay, turn thou and sit thee down mid the men of thy warrior-band:
The Achaians shall find them a champion against yon Trojan to stand.
Be he never so dauntless-valiant or tireless of toil, full fain,
I ween, shall he rest his knees, if he haply return again
Alive from the fury of war and the terrible battle-strain.”
So spake he, and turned his brother’s heart from the desperate deed,
Forasmuch as he counselled aright, and the hero hearkened his rede,
And with joy did his henchmen take from his shoulders his war-array.
Then Nestor amidst of the Argives arose, and thus did he say:
“O shame! on Achaia is fallen a heavy grief and a sore!
Bitterly Peleus would groan, that chariot-champion hoar,
Mighty in Myrmidon folkmote, a lord of council-rings,
Who questioned me once in his halls, and rejoiced at the tale of kings,
When he asked of the birth of the mighty, and lineage of princes would hear:—
Ah, were he told how they cower, all these, before Hector in fear,
On the Deathless with lifted hands and with passionate prayer would he call
That his soul from his body might flee adown unto Hades’ hall.
O Zeus, Athéné, Apollo, that now as in years overpast
I were stalwart and young as when, where Keladon’s stream floweth fast,
The Pylians were gathered to fight with Arcadia’s spearmen tall
Where the waters of Jardanus fleet by Pheia’s sea-washed wall,
When Ereuthalion for their champion arose, a godlike wight.
In the battle-gear of Aréithoüs were his shoulders dight,—
Of godlike Aréithoüs, the warrior-king, who bare
Grim surname, the Mace-man, of men and of women girded fair;
For with spear long-shafted he fought not, nor arrows that smite from afar,
But with mace of the massy iron he rifted the ranks of war.
But Lykurgus by guile, and in nowise by prowess, the death of him wrought,
For he lay in wait in a crag-walled road, where availed him naught
That iron mace, for the spear out of ambush suddenly crashed
Through the midst of his body, and backward adown on the earth was he dashed.
And his war-gear, brazen Arés’ gift, was the slayer’s spoil,
And thereafter he bare it himself through the War-god’s battle-toil.
But Lykurgus in process of time waxed old in his halls, and his gear
He gave to his henchman Ereuthalion, in battle to bear.
So there in the Mace-man’s harness our best to the fight he defied:
But they quailed and they shrank from before him, was none would his fury abide.
But I of my spirit unblenching was stirred the battle to try
Against his prowess, albeit the youngest of all was I.
So I fought and I overcame, for Athéné vouchsafed me renown.
Ay, he was the tallest and strongest that ever mine hand smote down;
For this way and that way he lay outstretched, a giant frame.
Ah, would I were young as then, and the strength of my thews were the same!
Short time should he wait for the combat, Hector with helmet of flame!
Lo, here be the chiefest heroes of all the Achaian race,
Yet in none is there heart to meet this Hector face to face!”
So chode he, the ancient of days, and there rose up nine at the word.
First before all upsprang Agamemnon, the war-folk’s lord;
Thereafter Tydeides arose, Diomedes the stalwart in fight;
Forth stood the Aiantes, clothed with battle-reckless might;
And Idomeneus then, and Idomeneus’ fight-fellow, Mériones,
The battle-peer of the manslaying War-god, rose after these.
Thereafter Eurypylus, even Evaimon’s glorious seed;
And Thoas Andraimon’s child, and Odysseus the shiftful at need.
So all these champions with Hector the godlike fain would have warred;
But out spake Nestor again, Gerenia’s chariot-lord:
“Cast lots from the first to the last, that our champion be chosen so.
He shall profit the goodly-harnessed host of Achaia, I trow,
Yea, profit his own soul too, if he haply return again
Alive from the fury of war, and the terrible battle-strain.”
He spake, and the heroes marked their lots, and they cast each one
Into the helmet of Lord Agamemnon, Atreus’ son.
And the war-folk prayed, and uplifted their hands to the Gods on high;
And thus spake this one and that, looking up to the broad-arched sky:
“Allfather, vouchsafe that the lot on Tydeides or Aias may fall,
Or the king of Mycenae, the lord of the gold-abounding hall
So spake they, and Nestor was shaking the helmet about and about;
And behold, the token themselves had desired hath leapt thereout,
Even Aias’ lot; and the herald bare through the throng the same,
And from right to left unto chief after chief of Achaia he came.
But they knew not the shard for their own, and one after other denied,
Till he came to the man, through the throng as he fared upon every side,
Who had marked it and cast in the helm, even Aias the stalwart and brave;
And he stretched forth his hand for his own, and the herald drew near and gave.
And he looked on the mark of his lot, and he knew, and his spirit rejoiced;
On the ground by his foot hath he cast it, and crieth triumphant-voiced:
“Friends, lo it is mine, this lot; and glad with exceeding joy
Is my heart, for I ween I shall conquer him, Hector the godlike of Troy.
Go to, I will gird me for battle, mine harness of fight will I don;
And do ye make prayer the while unto King Zeus, Kronos’ son,
In silence apart by yourselves, lest any of Troy’s folk hear—
Ay, or aloud, an ye will: there is no man on earth that we fear.
For none by his prowess shall cause me to flee in mine own despite,
Nor yet by his battle-cunning, for not so skilless of fight
In Salamis’ isle was I born and reared unto this my might.”
He spake, and to Zeus Kronion the King in prayer did they cry;
And thus spake this one and that, looking up to the broad-arched sky:
“Allfather, most glorious and mighty, who rulest from Ida’s crown,
Vouchsafe unto Aias the victory, grant to him battle-renown.
But and if it be Hector thou lovest and wardest with chiefest care,
Unto either of these grant prowess and glory in equal share.”
So spake they, and Aias arrayed him in brass-mail glittering bright.
And so soon as the flesh of his body was sheathed in harness of fight,
Forward he sprang, as cometh the War-god’s giant form
When he marcheth to battle with heroes uproused to the fury-storm
Of the heart-consuming strife which Kronion hath kindled from far.
So rushed forth Aias the giant, Achaia’s bulwark of war,
With a smile on his grim dark face: unswerving his feet drew near
To the foeman with long swift strides, while quivered his lifted spear.
And the sons of the Argives rejoiced and were fain as they looked upon him;
And fear on the Troyfolk fell, that they quaked through every limb.
Yea, the heart in the breast of Hector himself beat fast and hard:
Yet he might not tremble now, nor shrink to the battle-guard
Of the shields of his men, for himself had bidden the foe to the field.
Nearer drew Aias and nearer, bearing his tower-like shield,
Brass laid upon sevenfold hide, which was fashioned of Tychius’ hand,
The master of shield-hide-shapers, abider in Hylé-land;
For he welded together the hides of seven bulls goodly and great
For the glittering buckler, and forged for the eighth a brazen plate.
So bearing his breast-fence Aias Telamon’s son drew nigh,
Full nigh unto Hector, and stood, and rang his defiance-cry.
“Hector, man against man shalt thou know of a truth this day
What manner of chieftains be found mid the Danaan war-array,
Though less than rank-rifting Achilles, the lion-hearted, be they.
But he lies mid his galleys, the beaked questers of sea-tracks dim,
For against Agamemnon, the shepherd of hosts, his wrath is grim.
Yet such men are we as shall stand up before thee, and meet thy might,
Yea, many of us;—come then, make thou beginning of fight.”
Answered him Hector the mighty, the lightning-morioned spoke:
“Aias the Zeus-born, Telamon’s son, war-chieftain of folk,
Not of mine heart, as the heart of a weak child, make thou assay,
Or the soul of a woman, that never hath looked on the battle-play.
Nay, well do I know of the onset, the spilling of heroes’ life:
To the right, to the left, do I know to cast my shield in the strife,
The craft of the battle-steadfast, the sway of the stubborn targe.
And I know how to plunge mid the surges of fight when the mad steeds charge:
And I know of the War-god’s death-dance, the revel of blenchless fight.
Yet would not I take thee unwares, and thou so goodly a wight,
By stealth-watch, but smite thee, if smite thee I may, in all men’s sight.”
He spake, and he swung up on high, and he hurled it, the long-shadowed spear,
And he smote on the buckler of Aias, the sevenfold Targe of Fear,
On the brazen face thereof, the uttermost plate of the seven:
And through fold after fold, even six, the tireless brass hath riven:
In the seventh of the hides was it stayed. Thereafter the seed of Heaven,
Aias, hath hurled his lance long-shadowed across the field,
And it smote on the fair-fashioned round of the son of Priam’s shield.
Crashed through the glittering buckler the great spear’s thunderbolt head,
And it stayed not, but on through the curious work of the corslet it sped:
Through his tunic it shore; by his flank cold-sliding it went full nigh
To the life, but he swerved aside, and the black death passed him by.
Then plucked they the spears long-shafted aback with their hands, they twain,
And as lions ravin-ruthless they fell to the battle again,
Or as wild boars out of the wood, whose strength the strong ones fear.
At the midst of the buckler of Aias the Priamid drave with his spear;
Yet he cleft not the brass plate through, and aback was the point of it bent.
Then leapt on him Aias, and thrust at his shield, and with fury unspent
On went the lance, that he reeled in the midst of his onset-rush:
And it smote on his neck, and it gashed it, and forth did the dark blood gush.
Yet for all this not from the battle did bright-helmed Hector refrain,
But he drew back a step, and a stone in his brawny hand hath he ta’en,
A rock-shard rugged and black, lying huge on the war-winnowed field:
On the buckler of Aias he dashed it, the terrible sevenfold shield,
Full on the midst of the boss, and the clanging brass rang round.
Now stoopeth him Aias, a crag far huger his hand hath found:
And he swung it on high and he hurled, putting measureless might to the cast;
And he burst in the targe with the crash of the boulder millstone-vast;
And he beat down his knees, that outstretched on his back the hero lay
Down dashed on his shield, but Apollo upraised him again straightway.
And with clashing of swords had they closed, and the blades had been reddened then,
Howbeit the heralds, the messenger-henchmen of Zeus and of men,
Came, one of the Troyfolk, and one of Achaia’s mail-clad sons,
Talthybius, Idaius withal, the prudent-hearted ones.
And they stretched forth their sceptres ’twixt hero and hero, and spake the word
Idaius the herald, the man of the deep heart wisdom-stored:
“No longer, O dearly-beloved sons, do battle nor fight,
For that dear are ye both in Zeus the Cloudrack-sweeper’s sight,
And spearmen renowned are ye both—yea, all we know it, I trow:
But the night cometh on: to the hest of the night we needs must bow.”
Answered him Telamon’s son, strong Aias the battle-athirst:
“Speak thou unto Hector, Idaius, to say this peace-word first,
Forasmuch as ’twas he that challenged our mightiest all to the fray.
Yea, let him begin, and for me, I will do as Hector shall say.”
Then spake great Hector, the lord of the helmet of wavering light:
“Aias, since God hath vouchsafed to thee goodly stature and might,
And wisdom, and none of Achaia in spear-craft may match him with thee,
Now therefore refrain we from battle, and let our striving be
For to-day, but hereafter again will we fight, till the judgment of heaven
Pass on us, and victory’s crown unto thee or to me shall be given.
Now the night cometh on: that we bow to the hest of the night is meet;
And so shalt thou gladden Achaia’s sons by the ships of the fleet,
And chiefly thy kinsfolk and comrades, the hearts that around thee cling.
And for me in the mighty city of Priam the ancient king
The sons of Troy and her daughters royally-robed shall rejoice,
Who will enter, I trow, the holy assembly with suppliant voice.
But come, let us give to each other gifts right glorious,
That they of Achaia and Troy may say concerning us:
‘For passion of heart-consuming strife did they fight, these twain,
And thereafter they parted in friendship reconciled again.’”
So spake he, and gave unto Aias the silver-studded glaive;
With its scabbard and sword-belt beautiful-shapen the gift he gave.
And Aias a baldric hath given with purple splendour-dyed.
So parted the heroes, and this to Achaia’s war-host hied,
And that to the throng of the Troyfolk fared. Right glad were they
To behold him coming to meet them alive and whole from the fray,
Escaped from the fury of Aias, the hands unmatched in the strife.
To the city they led him, they whose souls had despaired of his life.
And the goodly-harnessed Achaians the while brought Aias on
Unto King Agamemnon the godlike, exulting for victory won.
So when they were come to the tent of Atreus’ son the King,
The lord of the war-host slaughtered an ox for their banqueting,
A male of the fifth year, slain to the Mighty, the Lover of Thunder.
And they flayed it, and wrought with the knife, and parted the carcase in sunder;
And deftly in pieces they carved it, and ran the long spits through,
And they heedfully roasted the same, and the roast from the flames they withdrew.
So when they had ceased from their toil, and the banquet was all prepared,—
They feasted, and none lacked aught of the banquet equal-shared.
And to Aias for honour was given the long unsevered chine
By wide-ruling King Agamemnon, the hero of Atreus’ line.
But when craving for meat was gone, and their lips no more were athirst,
For the weaving of counsel-weft uprose the ancient first,
Even Nestor, whose counsel aforetime was ever accounted the best:
So with kindly intent he arose, and his rede to the kings he addressed:
“Atreides, chiefs of the war-host, hearken the thing that I say:
Lo, many Achaians with long-flowing hair lie dead this day:
Their purple blood with Skamander’s fair-flowing stream hath been blended
By Arés the keen, and their souls unto Hades’ halls have descended.
Therefore ’twere good that thou stay the Achaians from fight with the dawn;
And for us, we will gather the corpses, and hitherward let them be drawn
By our oxen and mules upon wains, and here will we burn them with fire
A little aloof from the ships, that the bones from the funeral pyre
To their children and homes may be borne, when cometh the day of returning
And earth will we bring from the plain, and around the place of the burning
One barrow for all will we pile, and beside it the towers tall
Will we rear of a rampart, a fence for the ships and ourselves withal.
And gates ’twixt tower and tower, close-fitting and strong, will we frame
In such wise that a pathway for chariots may lie through the midst of the same.
And a trench therewithout will we dig us, a foss deep-delved hard by;
For a bulwark to right and to left of our steeds and our host shall it lie,
Lest haply the war of the chariots of Troy burst in like a flood.”
So spake he, and praised him the kings, and they deemed his counsel good.
On the citadel gathered the while the Troyfolk in council-ring,
With terrible turmoil, hard by the palace of Priam the king;
And Antenor the wise-heart rose, and he uttered his counselling:
“Hear, Trojans and Dardans, and ye of our war-aid battle-renowned,
To the end I may utter the word that mine heart for my lips hath found:—
Go to, let us yield up Helen the Argive Queen, and restore
The treasures withal unto Atreus’ sons; for the oaths that we swore
Are broken the while we fight: no blessing nor gain unto us
Shall the toil of our hands accomplish, I trow, if ye do not thus.”
So spake he, and sat him down: forthright at his challenge-word
Rose Alexander the godlike, the fair-tressed Helen’s lord;
And the winged words leapt from his lips, and wrathfully answered he:
“Antenor, thou speakest as one that is nowise a friend unto me!
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 reft thy senses away!
But amidst of the horse-quelling Trojans this one word will I say—
Yea, I declare it outright—I will not yield up my bride.
But the wealth that from Argos I bare to our halls o’er the harvestless tide,
All this will I give, and will add of mine own store more beside.”
So spake he, and sat him down in his place, and arose thereupon
The counsel-peer of the Gods, even Priam, Dardanus’ son;
And with kindly intent he spake, that old man reverence-crowned:
“Hear, Trojans and Dardans, and ye of our war-aid battle-renowned,
To the end I may utter the word that mine heart for my lips hath found.
Now take ye your supper as heretofore in the leaguered town,
And set ye the guard of the watchmen, and be not of sleep borne down.
And at dawn to the hollow ships let the herald Idaius go,
That Atreus’ son Agamemnon and Menelaus may know
Alexander’s speech, who was cause of the war-feud bitter and stern.
This word of weight withal shall he say, and their will shall he learn,
If they haply be minded to cease from the wild-voiced war, till we burn
Our dead, thereafter again will we fight, till the judgment of heaven
Pass on us, and victory’s crown unto us or the foe shall be given.”
He spake, and with right good will did they hearken his rede and obey:
So squadron by squadron they supped in the place where the war-host lay.
And with dawning Idaius fared to the hollow ships by the strand;
And in folkmote the Danaans found he, the War-god’s henchman-band,
By the stern of the galley of King Agamemnon: and strode straightway
Into their midst the loud-voiced herald, and thus did he say:
“Hear, Atreus’ son and the lords of the host of Achaia-land!
King Priam and all the high-born Trojans have given command
That I tell you—if haply the thing in your eyes seem fair and good—
The word of the prince Alexander, for whose sake rose this feud:
What treasures soe’er in his hollow ships o’er the harvestless tide
Alexander bare unto Troy—would God ere then he had died!—
He willeth to yield, and to add of his own store more beside.
But the lady the wife of battle-renowned Menelaus the king
He refuseth to yield, albeit the Trojans require this thing.
This word moreover they bade me to say, that your will I may learn—
If perchance ye be minded to cease from the wild-voiced war, till we burn
Our dead, thereafter again will we fight, till the judgment of heaven
Pass on us, and victory’s crown unto you or to us shall be given.”
So spake he, and hushed were they all, and none made answer to him;
Till cried at the last Diomedes, the battle-helper grim:
“Let none take the treasures wherewith Alexander for wrong would atone,
Neither Helen, for known is it now, yea, even to the fool is it known,
That the bands of destruction by this are around the Trojans thrown.”
So spake he, and shouted the sons of Achaia with one accord,
Praising the dauntless rede, Diomedes the horse-queller’s word.
Then to Idaius spake Agamemnon, a great folk’s lord:
“Idaius, the word of Achaia’s sons hast thou heard with thine ears,
In what fashion they answer thee; and herein is my pleasure as theirs.
But as touching the dead and the burning of these, I gainsay not;
For no man begrudgeth the right of the dead which have died, I wot,
To render the life-forlorn the atonement of fire with speed.
Of the oaths shall the Lord of Héré, the Thunderer Zeus, take heed.”
Unto all the Gods for a witness he lifted the sceptre he bare.
And to Ilium the holy again did the herald Idaius fare.
And the Trojans and children of Dardanus sat in folkmote there,
All in a throng assembled, awaiting the coming again
Of their herald: and came Idaius, and stood in the midst of the men,
And he spake forth his message, and all they girded themselves with speed
To take up the corpses, and gather the wood for the bale-fire’s need.
And forth of the fair-benched galleys the Argives hasted the while
To take up their dead, and to gather them wood for the funeral pile.
And now was the slant red sun just smiting the meadows with flame.
As out of the softly-fleeting deep-flowing Ocean he came,
Climbing the sky; and the death-wains met in peace on the plain.
Then was it hard to discern ’twixt foeman and friend mid the slain.
But with water they washed the defilement from each blood-dabbled face,
Shedding the hot-gushing tear, and their dead to the wains did they raise.
But Priam the mighty forbade them to make lamentation, and so
Silently heaped they their dead on the pyres, heart-stricken with woe.
So they burnt them with fire, and to Ilium the holy they gat them again.
In the selfsame fashion the goodly-harnessed Achaian men
Heaped up their dead on the pyres, with anguish stricken-hearted;
And they burnt them with fire, and aback to the hollow ships they departed.
Still was it twilight, nor yet was the flush of the dawning day,
When gathered around the pyre Achaia’s chosen array.
And they brought thither earth from the plain, and over the ashes grey
One barrow for all did they pile, and beside it towers tall
Did they rear, and a rampart, a fence for the ships and themselves withal.
And gates ’twixt tower and tower, close-fitting and strong, did they frame,
In such wise that a pathway for chariots should lie through the midst of the same.
And a trench therewithout did they dig them, and delved it deep in the ground,
Broad was it and great; and the wall with a palisade-breastwork they crowned.
So toiled they, the long-haired Achaians, at trench and giant wall.
But the Gods as they sat with Zeus in the Lightning-hurler’s hall
Marvelled at that great work of the brazen-harnessed folk.
And Poseidon arose in the midst of them all, and the Earth-shaker spoke:
“Allfather, shall mortal be found any more on the wide earth-plain
Who shall utter the purpose and thought of his heart to the Deathless again?
Seest thou not how the long-haired folk of Achaia-land
Have built them a wall for a fence of their ships, and on either hand
Have dug them a trench, and have given to the Gods no hecatomb?
Lo, far as the dawning shineth the fame thereof shall come;
And men shall forget that wall which Apollo and I of yore
For the hero Laomedon builded with toil exceeding sore.”
Sorely disquieted answered him Zeus the Cloudrack-king:
“Ha, Earth-shaker, Wide-overcomer, what ailed thee to say this thing?
Some other perchance of the Gods might fear such purposing,
Who in might of his hands is weaker, whose prowess is nowise as thine:
But thy worship and thy renown spreadeth far as the dawn-rays shine.
Go to, when again the host of Achaia, the folk long-haired,
To their own dear fatherland-home with the host of their ships shall have fared,
Then shatter their wall, then utterly whelm it beneath the tide,
And again overspread with the tokenless sands the sea-beach wide,
And so shalt thou bring unto naught the Achaians’ rampart of pride.”
So each unto other spake in Olympus the Deathless Ones.
And the sun went down, and wrought was the work of Achaia’s sons:
And they slaughtered them beeves mid the tents, and they supped, and behold there waited
Tall ships full many from Lesbos’ isle, with wine deep-freighted,
Keels that Jéson’s son Eunéüs had sent oversea,
Who was born to Jéson the shepherd of folk by Hypsipyle.
And to King Agamemnon and lord Menelaus of Atreus’ line
Did Jason’s son give freely a thousand measures of wine.
So for wine to the ships did the long-haired sons of Achaia come.
There were some brought brass for a price, and the iron grey-gleaming some:
This came with the hides of oxen, and that with the unslain beast,
And another with captives of war: so they made them a plenteous feast.
All night for Achaia’s long-haired sons was the banquet arrayed;
And in Troytown revelled the Trojans and they of their warrior-aid.
And Counsellor Zeus all night caused tokens of wrath to appear
With terrible thunders; and paleness gat hold of them all, and fear,
In such wise that they spilled from the beakers the wine on the earth: was none
Dared drink, or ever he poured unto Kronos’ mighty son.
So they gat them unto their rest, and the boon of sleep they won.