Book VIII

NOW Dawn the Saffron-mantled was spread o’er the earth abroad,
And assembled of Zeus the Thunder-triumphant came Goddess and God
To the topmost crest of Olympus, the giant ridge-ribbed hill:
And he lifted his voice and he spake, and the Gods all hearkened his will:
“Give ear, ye Gods, unto me, ye Goddesses, hearken my speech,
That the thing which my heart in my breast hath commanded my lips may teach.
Let none of the Daughters of Heaven nor Lords of Olympus essay
To countervail my word, but see that ye all obey,
To the end I may bring to pass right speedily this my device.
And whomso I mark of the Gods that in wilful-wayward wise
Shall sunder himself, to the helping of Trojan or Danaan to go,
To Olympus aback shall he flee, sore smitten with shameful blow.
Or grasp him will I, and will hurl him adown unto Tartarus’ gloom
Far down, where under the earth is the nethermost Gulf of Doom:
There be the portals of iron, the threshold of brass is there:
Deep below Hades as earth is from heaven lies the Hell of despair.
How unmatched of the rest of the Gods is my prowess then shall he know.
—Nay then, make trial, ye Gods, that ye all may be certified so:
Let fall from the floor of Heaven a rope of the twisted gold:
Ye Gods, set hand thereto, ye Goddesses, take fast hold:
Yet should ye not drag down from the sky to the dark earth-plain
The Highest, the Lord of Counsel, though sorely ye labour and strain.
But and if I should put forth my strength against yours, if my pleasure it be,
With the earth would I hale you up, and therewithal the sea:
Then would I bind that cord round a peak of Olympus flung,
And all those things should abide in the firmaments mid-space hung.
Even so in my might am 1 matchless all Godfolk and menfolk among.”
So spake he, and fell on them all a silence heavy and chill:
Long sat they aghast at his speech, at the word of his masterful will.
At the last the Goddess Athéné the grey-eyed made reply:
“Allfather begotten of Kronos, most highest of all that be high,
Well know we that this thy prowess may nowise be overborne:
Yet for the sake of the Danaan heroes our spirits mourn,
Who must perish and fill up the cup of a doom of bitter pain.
Howbeit, since this is thy bidding, from battle will we refrain:
Yet will we put in the hearts of the Argives our counsel, that so
They may perish not all in the hour when the fire of thy wrath is aglow.”
Then answered and spake to her Zeus, and the Cloudrack-sweeper smiled:
“Nay, be of good cheer, O Trito-begotten, beloved child:
I spake not with purpose of heart, but of grace unto thee am I fain.”
He spake, and he yoked to his chariot his brass-hoofed coursers twain,
Swift-flying, with necks overstreamed with stormy golden mane.
And he clad him with gold on his flesh, and the scourge hath he grasped in his hand.
Fair-fashioned of gold; and now on the chariot-floor doth he stand;
And he lasheth the horses to speed, and with right good will did they fly
In the midst of the space ’twixt earth and the star-bestudded sky.
And to Ida the fountain-flashing, the mother of beasts of the wold,
He came, unto Gargarus: there through his temple the incense rolled.
And the Father of Gods and Men there stayed on the holy ground
His steeds, and unyoked them, and poured a thick mist-veil around.
Then glory-exulting he sat on the mountain’s topmost crown,
On the burg of the Trojan folk and Achaia’s ships looking down.
And the long-haired Achaian men brake bread in the morning light
In haste mid their tents, and thereafter they clad them in harness of fight.
In the city the while the Troyfolk dight them in war-array,
Far fewer by tale, but for all this eager they were for the fray,
For of uttermost need must they fight for their children and wives that day.
Then wide were the gates all flung, and thereout did the war-folk pour,
Footmen and horsemen, and rose the battle’s thunder-roar.
Ever the mid-space narrowed, till closing they mingled, and then
Clashed targets together, and spears, and the fury of brass-mailed men:
Dashed each against other the boss-studded bucklers that strong arms bore,
And up to the heaven went rolling the battle’s thunder-roar;
And the agony-scream and the triumphing-shout maddened up evermore
From the slayers and them that they slew, and the earth ran streams of gore.
Now all through the morning-tide, and still while the day waxed hot,
Fast fell the folk as the shafts from host unto host were shot.
But so soon as the sun bestrode the midmost height of the sky,
Then hung Allfather his golden Balances forth from on high;
And therein two tokens of doom of the outstretcher Death he laid,
For the horse-quelling Trojans and men of Achaia brazen-arrayed.
By the midst did he grasp them and raise them—sank the doom-fraught day
Of the sons of Achaia, and low on the earth all-bountiful lay;
But the fates of the people of Troy soared up to the broad-arched heaven.
And he sent forth the voice of his thunder from Ida, and flashed his levin
Over the men of the host of Achaia, and all they saw
And marvelled, and pale grew their faces, and thrilled were their spirits with awe.
Then Idomeneus shrank, nor endured Agamemnon the king to remain,
Nor the henchmen of Arés the battle abode, the Aiantes twain.
Only Gerenian Nestor, Achaia’s warder, stayed,
Yet not of his will, for his car-steed low by an arrow was laid
Which Paris had sped, the lord of Helen the beautiful-tressed,
That it smote on the head of the beast, where highest upriseth the crest
Of the horse-mane: the death-spot it is, the perilous place of bane:
And in agony high did he rear as the shaft plunged into his brain;
And he tangled and troubled his yokefellows there as he writhed on the dart;
And the old king sprang, and he slashed at the traces, to cut them apart
With his falchion; but Hector’s fleetfoot horses the while drew near
Through the turmoil of battle, bearing a valiant charioteer,
Even Hector, and there by his hand had the ancient hero died,
But with swift keen glance Diomedes the battle-helper espied;
And he sent forth a terrible shout, and afar to Odysseus he cried:
“Ho! Zeus-born son of Laertes, Odysseus the shiftful-wise,
Whither art turning thy back, as the dastard in battle-throng flies?
What ho! have a care lest a spear, as thou fleest, thy back should sting!
Shame! stand—let us thrust yon savage away from the white-haired king!”
So cried he, yet heard not Odysseus the toil-tried godlike man,
But afar to the hollow galleys Achaian in haste he ran.
And Tydeides alone with none other plunged mid the heart of the fray,
Till in front of the chariot he stood of the Neleid warrior grey;
And the winged words leapt to his lips, and to Nestor thus did he say:
“Good sooth, old sire, but the younger warriors press thee hard;
And thy sinews by this be unstrung, and by eld is thy prowess marred,
And thy charioteer is a weakling, and these thy steeds be slow.
Go to, get thee up to my chariot, and so shalt thou see and know
The horses of Tros, how featly over the plain they race
Hither and thither, unperilled in flight and triumphant in chase,
Which I won from the panic-wafter Aeneas in battle-strain.
To thy steeds let thy henchman and mine give heed, but with these we twain
On the horse-quelling Trojans will dash, that Hector may understand
Whether or no my spear hath forgotten to rage in mine hand.”
So spake he, and Nestor Gerenia’s horseman hearkened his rede.
To the old king’s chariot-mares did the henchmen twain give heed,
Even Sthenelus valiant and strong and Eurymedon faithful and true;
And on to the war-car of lord Diomedes stept they two.
And Nestor upgathered the glittering reins in his hands, and he lashed
The horses to speed, and swiftly adown upon Hector they dashed:
And as Hector came on in his fury, Tydeides hurled with his spear:
But lo, he hath missed him; howbeit his henchman-charioteer,
Even Eniopeus the son of Thebaius the noble of heart,
As he swayed the chariot-reins, was cleft through the breast by the dart.
Down from the car was he hurled, and the fleetfoot steeds in affright
Swerved, and unstrung were his sinews, the life from his limbs took flight.
Then was Hector’s soul for his charioteer overclouded with pain;
Yet he left him to lie, though never so grieved for his comrade slain;
And he hied him in quest of a stalwart charioteer: not long
Were his battle-steeds lacking a lord, for on Iphitus’ scion strong,
Bold Archeptolemus, lighted he soon, and he caused him to stand
Behind his fleetfoot horses, and gave the reins to his hand.
Then had been havoc of slaughter, and ruin that none might amend,
And in Ilium’s leaguered walls like lambs had the Trojans been penned;
But with swift keen glance the Father of Gods and Men hath seen,
And with terrible thunder he hurled the lightning’s lurid sheen.
Down before prince Diomedes’ car to the earth it came,
And fearful to see was the light as it gleamed from the sulphur-flame:
Then terror-astonied the horses cowered beneath the car,
And from Nestor’s hands the glittering reins flew, whirled afar:
And adread was his soul, and to lord Diomedes in haste spake he:
“Tydeides, turn backward thy thunderfoot steeds from the battle to flee!
Discernest thou not how Zeus vouchsafeth not triumph to thee?
For Kronion bestoweth the battle-renown upon yonder foe
For to-day, but hereafter shall give it to us, if his pleasure be so.
But the purpose of Zeus no deathling may wrest, that it shall not befall,
Not though he be never so stalwart, for throned is his might above all.”
Then spake Diomedes the battle-helper to Pylos’ lord:
“Yea, wisely and well, old man, has thou spoken every word:
But into mine heart and my spirit there cometh the fierce shame-pang,
For Hector one day mid the Trojans shall utter his vaunting harangue:—
‘Afraid was Tydeides, and fled from my face to the ship-fringed wave!’
So shall he boast:—that day let the earth gape wide for my grave.”
Answered him Nestor, and spake Gerenia’s car-borne king:
“Ah son of the war-wise Tydeus, what ailed thee to say this thing?
Though Hector should call thee a dastard and weakling—what of the lie?
Shall Trojan be found to believe it? Shall Dardan be blinded thereby
Shall the wives of the great-heart spearmen of Troy that false vaunt trust,
Even they whose lusty lords thou hast hurled to the bloody dust?”
So spake he, and flightward he turned those thunderfoot horses aback
Through the turmoil of fight, while the Trojans and Hector pressed hard on their track
With yelling unearthly, and hurled they the bitter shafts of war:
And Hector the mighty, the lightning-helmeted, shouted from far:
“Tydeides, the fleet-horsed Danaans wont to honour thee most
With the chief of the seats, and the wine of the feast, and the choice of the roast:
But now shall they scorn thee: a woman thou art in the testing day!
Out, paltry baby! Not for such flinching of mine from the fray
Shalt thou climb to the height of our towers, shalt thou bear in thy ships oversea
Our wives into thraldom—ere then will I deal thy doom unto thee!”
So scoffed he: the soul of Tydeides wavered, exceeding fain
To turn back his horses, and man against man to meet him again.
Thrice in the balance he hung of the thoughts and intents of his will,
Thrice thundered the Counsel-father from Ida’s crag-crowned hill,
Giving the Trojans a sign of the turning of victory’s tide.
And cheering the Trojans on with a great voice Hector cried:
“Trojans and Lycians and Dardans that close in the grapple of fight,
Quit you like men, my friends, and remember your battle-storm-might!
I know that Kronion vouchsafeth me now of his gracious will
Triumph and high renown, for the Danaans naught but ill.
Fools! that devised forsooth yon ramparts worthless-frail
And crumbling-weak!—against my might shall they nothing avail!
Yon trench they have delved for their warding full lightly my horses shall leap.
And when at the last we shall win to their hollow ships by the deep,
Then see that ye have with you ravening flame of the red hearth-coals,
To the end I may burn their galleys with fire, and may speed the souls
Of the Argives to Hades, as ’wildered they gasp where the smoke-cloud rolls.”
So spake he, and cried on his steeds fair-ranged in a goodly line
“Xanthus, and thou O Podargus, and Aithon, and Lampus divine,
Now make ye amends for the tending, for all the loving care
Of Andromaché, mighty-hearted Eétion’s daughter fair,
For that ever she poured out for you heart-gladdening golden grain,
Yea, mingled you wine for your drinking, whenso your spirit was fain,
Or ever she spread for her lord and her love the banquet array.
On then, and speed you in chase, to the end we may win for a prey
The buckler of Nestor, the glory whereof in the heavens hath been told,
The tale of the shield all-golden, whose very rods be of gold,
And tear from the shoulders of lord Diomedes, the horse-quelling king,
The corslet cunningly-wrought, of the God-smith’s fashioning.
Now if we might win for us these, I would hope this very night
To drive the Achaians aboard of their galleys for sea-borne flight.”
So cried he, but Héré the Queen that vaunt might nowise brook;
But she started and stirred on her throne, that wide Olympus shook;
And she turned to Poseidon the mighty, and thus to the God spake she:
“Out on it, Earth-shaker, Wide-overcomer!—the heart of thee
Is nowise moved with compassion for Danaans perishing,
Albeit to Heliké’s shrine and to Aigae their gifts they bring,
Gifts many and lovely-fair!—ah, wish them victory thou!
For if but in heart we were one, who are friends of the Danaans now,
To thrust back the Trojans, and bridle the Far-beholder’s will,
Sorrow of soul should be his, lone-seated on Ida’s hill!”
Sorely disquieted Earth-shaker answered, the sea-depths’ lord:
“Héré, thou reckless of tongue, what ailed thee to say this word?
I would not, I, that the rest of the host of Heaven should war
With Zeus, with the son of Kronos, for greater his might is by far.”
So spake they each unto other there in the heavenly place.
But from trench unto rampart and ships, even all that middle space,
With chariots was thronged, and with heroes, the wielders of the spear,
Close-huddled, and he that pent them was Arés’ battle-peer
Hector the son of Priam, when Zeus gave victory-fame.
And now had he burnt the shapely ships with devouring flame,
But the heart of the King Agamemnon did Héré the Queen inspire
To bestir him, and kindle with speed the Achaian battle-fire.
And he hasted along by the tents, by the ships of Achaia he sped,
With a great blood-crimson cloak in his brawny hand outspread;
And he stood by the huge dark bulk of Odysseus’ sea-swift keel,—
Midmost it was, that a shout unto either end might peal,
To where Aias, Telamon’s son, had camped his warrior-band,
And the tents of Achilles, for these in the pride of their strength of hand
At the uttermost ends of the host had haled up their ships on the strand,—
And with voice far-piercing the din to the Danaans shouted he:
“Shame on you, Argives!—ye bywords, ye dastards goodly to see!
Where now are your boastings?—ye said, ‘We are best of the best!’ in the day
When ye babbled vainglorious vaunts as in Lemnos’ isle we lay,
As ye feasted on stintless cheer of the flesh of the tall-horned kine,
As ye drank of the mighty bowls filled up to the brim with wine.
‘Not a man of us all but will stand against Trojans a hundred, ye said,
‘Yea, or two hundred in fight!’—and of one are ye now adread,
Even Hector, who soon shall consume the galleys with ravening flame!
Zeus, Father, was ever a king god-fostered on whom there came
Such madness of folly from thee, to bereave him of glory’s meed?
Yet never, I swear it, by stately altar of thine did I speed
In my galley as hither to ruin I came, but in sacrifice
Did I burn on them all the fair beeves’ fat-enfolded thighs,
In mine heart’s fierce yearning to smite yon burg of the mighty wall.
O Zeus, vouchsafe me in any wise this one boon of all—
Suffer my people at least to escape, that they perish not so!
Not thus do thou bow the Achaians beneath their Trojan foe!”
Then Allfather was moved unto ruth by his tears, that he wept not in vain,
And vouchsafed him the lives of his folk, that the people should not be slain.
And he sent forth an eagle, the augury-peerless of all winged kind,
Bearing a fawn in his talons, the child of a fleetfoot hind.
And he dropped that fawn to the earth by the altar of Zeus most fair,
For unto the Lord of Boding the folk did sacrifice there.
And they saw, and they knew that Zeus had sped that eagle’s flight,
And they leapt on the Trojans, and woke in their spirits the rapture of fight.
Then of all their thousands was none, as the long line surged to the war,
Might boast that his fleetfoot steeds outran Diomedes’ car
Over the trench to bound, and to close in the fight with the foe;
But far before all did he lay a Trojan warrior low,
Agelaus, Phradmon’s son; for he turned back his steeds in his fear,
But even as he wheeled them, plunged in his back Diomedes’ spear
’Twixt shoulder and shoulder, and onward and out through his breast it crashed:
From the chariot he fell, and his armour above him clanged and clashed.
Then charged Agamemnon and Lord Menelaus, Atreus’ sons,
Then charged the Aiantes twain, those battle-furious ones,
Idomeneus then, and Idomeneus’ henchman Meriones,
The battle-peer of the manslaying War-god, charged with these.
Then the glorious son of Evaimon, Eurypylus, dashed on the foe;
And on came Teucer, the ninth of them, straining his back-springing bow;
And screened by Telamon’s scion he stood, by Aias’ shield.
Ever stealthily Aias withdrew it, and glancing across the field
The hero shot from his covert; on whomso amidst of the host
Lighted his arrow, he fell, and he straightway gave up the ghost.
Then backward he stepped, and as cowereth a child to his mother, again
Unto Aias he shrank, and the bright shield hid that speeder of bane.
Whom smote he, Teucer the princely, first of the Trojan men?
Orsilochus was it, and Ormenus next, Ophelestes then:
Lo, Daitor and Chromius are down, Lykophontes the godlike is dead,
Polyaimon’s son Amopaon is slain, Melanippus is sped!
So one after other he bowed to the earth each stately head.
And Lord Agamemnon beheld, and rejoiced with exceeding joy
For the havoc his mighty bow dealt forth mid the ranks of Troy:
And he came and he stood by his side, and an eager word he spoke:
“Teucer, beloved, thou Telamon’s son, war-captain of folk,
Shoot on: be a light of salvation to us, be a glory-star
Unto Telamon, him that fostered thine helpless years afar
In his palace, and scorned not thy birth, but in all love nurtured thee:
Now unto high renown exalt him, afar though he be.
For thus do I tell thee, and surely shall this my pledge be fulfilled—
If Zeus shall vouchsafe, if Athéné withal shall be gracious-willed,
That I smite yon Ilium, spoiling the goodly-builded town,
First after myself will I give thee the guerdon of battle-renown,
A tripod, or horses twain, and the chariot therewithal,
Or a damsel to take to thy bed, a lovely war-won thrall.”
Answered him Teucer the princely, and spake unto Atreus’ son:
“Most glorious Atreides, what hast thou to do to prick me on
Who am battle-aflame myself?—So long as abideth my might
I cease not, but since toward Ilium backward we rolled the fight,
Man after man from that hour have I marked: I have laid them low:
Eight be the long-barbed arrows of death that have leapt from my bow:
There is none but in flesh of a battle-swift warrior its rest hath found:
But him can I nowise smite, yon murder-frenzied hound!”
Even as he spake it, he sped from the bowstring a shaft yet again
Full against Hector—to smite him his soul was exceeding fain.
But it missed him, howbeit a son of Priam, a princely wight,
Gorgythion, he smote,—in the midst of his breast did the war-shaft light,—
Whom a bride that from Aisumé-city was brought to the old king bare,
Kastianeira the lovely, in form as a Goddess fair.
And as boweth the crown of a poppy aside in a garden-bed,
Overborne by the weight of its fruit and the rains from the spring-clouds shed,
So, overweighed by his helmet, sidewards drooped his head.
And Teucer thereafter shot from the bowstring a shaft yet again
Full against Hector,—to smite him his soul was exceeding fain:—
But behold, yet again hath he missed, for Apollo turned it aside:
But Hector’s charioteer, Archeptolemus peril-tried,
As he rushed to the war, did the shaft on the breast by the nipple smite:
Down from the car was he hurled, and the fleetfoot steeds in affright
Swerved, and unstrung were his sinews, the life from his limbs took flight.:
Then was Hector’s soul for his charioteer overclouded with pain;
Yet he left him to lie, though never so grieved for his war-fellow slain.
Now anigh him was Kebrionés, which was brother to him that was dead;
And he bade him to take the reins, and he hearkened and did as he said.
From the lightning-gleaming car to the earth did Hector bound
With a terrible shout, and he snatched a rugged stone from the ground,
And he rushed upon Teucer,—to smite him his soul was exceeding fain.
From his quiver a bitter-keen shaft even then had the archer ta’en.
On the bowstring he laid it—but Hector the splendour-morioned hurled,
And even as he drew back his arm, on the collar-bone crashed swift-whirled
That crag ’twixt the neck and the chest, and a deadly spot is the same;
Even there, as he drew on his foeman, the rush of the rock-shard came.
Snapped was the bowstring, and palsy-numbed was his wrist by the blow,
And he sank to his knees, and dropped from his nerveless hands the bow.
But Aias forgat not his brother’s plight, to the earth as he reeled,
But he ran and bestrode him, and cast round about him the fence of his shield.
And trusty war-fellows twain uplifted the stricken one,
For Alastor the godlike came with Mekisteus, Echius’ son;
And aback to the hollow galleys they bare him groaning sore.
And the Lord of Olympus enkindled the Trojans’ might once more:
And they drave the Achaians over the deep-delved trench forthright;
And charging afront of their battle went Hector exulting in might.
Even as a staunch hound holdeth a boar or a lion in chase,
And snaps evermore, as his swift feet follow in furious race,
At the flank or the haunch, keen-watching the beast’s swift turnings aye,
So Hector pressed on the long-haired men of Achaia’s array,
Ever slaying the hindermost, as they fled all terror-aghast.
But when through their palisade-fence and their trench in their flight they had passed,
And many an one of their host by the hands of the Trojans had died,
Then by their galleys they halted, then were they fain to abide,
Each calling on other, and lifting their hands to the Gods on high,
Unto all the Deathless they cried with exceeding bitter cry,
While this way and that way Hector was wheeling his steeds fair-maned,
Glaring with eyes of the Gorgon or Arés the murder-stained.
And Héré the ivory-wristed beheld them pity-stirred:
Straightway she cried to Athéné, and spake the swift-winged word:
“Ha, daughter of Zeus the Aegis-lord, shall we no more heed
How the Danaans perish in this the uttermost hour of their need?
Who must perish and fill up the cup of a doom of bitter pain
By the onslaught of one; for he rageth with fury that none may restrain,
Hector the Priamid,—yea, he hath brought on them manifold bane.”
Made answer Athéné, and stern were the steel-grey eyes and grim:
“Would God this fellow might yield up the strength and the spirit of him,
That the hands of the Argives here in his home his life might spill!
But the heart of my father is mad, and its malice waxeth still,—
The tyrant, the ever-unrighteous, the thwarter of all my will!
Never he calleth to mind how many a time his son
Was delivered by me when he fainted by toils of Eurystheus fordone.
For his wont was to weep toward heaven, and Zeus at his helpless cry
To deliver him out of his straits ever sent me down from the sky.
For had this but been known to the heart whose wisdom is come too late,
What time unto Hades he sent him, the Warder of the Gate,
To bring from the netherworld gloom dark Hades’ loathly hound,
From the cataract waters of Styx no way of escape had he found.
But behold, he abhorreth me now, and the counsels of Thetis hath heard,
Who hath kissed his knees, and hath lifted a suppliant hand to his beard,
Beseeching Allfather to honour burg-waster Achilles her son.
—Yet the day shall redawn when he calleth the Grey-eyed his darling one!
Now yoke us thy thunderfoot horses, the tramplers of the sky,
And into the palace of Zeus the Aegis-lord will I
To gird me with harness of battle, and so shall I haply see
If Hector the splendour-morioned, the child of Priam, with glee
Will behold us twain, through the highways of war as we flash on his sight.
Ha, many a Trojan shall banquet the vultures and dogs to-night
With his fat and his flesh, by the galleys Achaian slain in the fight!”
She spake, and the Goddess Héré the white-armed hearkened her rede;
And to harness the golden-frontleted horses hied her with speed
Héré the Goddess, the Queen, great Kronos’ glorious seed.
But Athéné the child of the Aegis-wielder, the Lord of Thunder,
Cast down on her father’s threshold her mantle’s woven wonder,
The rainbow-broidered robe of her own hands’ fashioning;
And she did on her body the tunic of Zeus the Cloudrack-king,
And around her the harness of tear-drenched battle in haste did she fling.
And her feet hath she set on the floor of the chariot that flameth as fire,
And she graspeth her huge strong spear, for the Child of a Mighty Sire
Quelleth therewith whole ranks of the heroes that kindle her ire.
Swiftly hath Héré uplifted the scourge, and the steeds doth she lash:
Self-moving the gates of Heaven spring wide with a thunder-crash,
Whose warders the Hours be, to whom is the charge of Olympus given
To open or shut the rift in the cloud-built rampart of Heaven.
On through the portal the steeds fair-heeding the goad have they driven.
But Allfather from Ida beholding with terrible anger was stirred;
And he hasted Iris the golden-pinioned to bear his word:
“Speed thee, swift Iris, and turn them aback, and forbid them to rise
Against me in defiance,—our strife shall be fought in terrible wise!
For this will I say, yea also will surely accomplish the same—
While yet they whirl onward the chariot, their fleetfoot steeds will I maim,
And will hurl from the car-seat the riders, and shatter the star-bright wain.
And not in the compass of ten slow-wheeling years shall their pain
Be assuaged, and the deep-scored traces be healed of the thunderbolt-scar;
That the Grey-eyed may know what she doeth defying her father in war.
But not against Héré so much have I indignation or wrath,
For, whatso I speak, evermore is she wont to cross my path.”
So spake he, and storm-footed Iris arose to deliver his hest:
To the heights of Olympus afar hath she flashed from Ida’s crest.
At the entering-in of the gate of Olympus the myriad-scarred
She met them, and spake the behest of Zeus, and their path she barred:
“Whitherward rush ye?—why are your proud hearts madness-driven
Allfather forefendeth that help to the Danaan men be given.
For this is his threat—yea, Kronos’ son will accomplish the same:—
While yet they whirl onward the chariot, your fleetfoot steeds.will he maim,
And will hurl from the car-seat the riders, and shatter the star-bright wain.
And not in the compass of ten slow-wheeling years shall your pain
Be assuaged, and the deep-scored traces be healed of the thunderbolt-scar;
That the Grey-eyed may know what she doeth defying her father in war.
But not against Héré so much hath he indignation or wrath,
For, whatso he speaketh, ever her wont is to cross his path.
It is thou art the horrible thing, who hast nor shame nor fear,
If in truth thou wilt dare to upraise against Zeus thy mighty spear!”
So uttered the fleetfoot Iris her message, and backward she sped:
Then to Athéné answered Héré the Queen, and she said:
“Out on it, child of the Aegis-wielder!—it is not I
Will consent that we war against Zeus for the men that be born but to die.
Let this one utterly perish, let that live out his span,
As their lot is: and whatso Allfather decreeth of blessing or ban
To Troy and her foes—it is meet that he judge ’twixt man and man.”
So spake she, and backward she turned those thunderfoot horses again;
And the Hours unyoked at her bidding the coursers of beautiful mane.
To the mangers ambrosia-heaped they tethered them, stabled in stall,
And the chariot leaned they against the shining forecourt-wall.
But the Goddesses twain sat down on their thrones of the fashioned gold
Amidst of the rest of the Gods, indignant and angry-souled.
But Zeus Allfather from Ida with chariot and steeds flew fast
To Olympus, and into the hall of the throned Gods he passed.
And the glorious Shaker of Earth unyoked the steeds for the King;
On its pavement the chariot he set, and thereover the cloths did he fling.
And Zeus that speaketh in thunder went up to his golden seat,
And mighty Olympus shuddered and rocked beneath his feet.
But aloof from Kronion Athéné and Héré sat brooding alone:
Nothing they spake to Allfather, question they asked of him none.
But his spirit discerned their thoughts, and his scoff rang bitter-keen:
“For what cause thus be ye vexed, Athéné and Héré the Queen?
Of a surety ye be not forwearied with toil of triumphant fight,
With destroying the Trojans, the folk that ye hate with ruthless spite!
In any wise, such is my might, and mine hands that none may abide,
That all the Gods in Olympus shall wrest not my purpose aside.
But ye—ha, trembling came on the limbs of glorious mould
Ere ye dared to look in on the battle, the fearful deeds to behold!
For this will I tell ye, whose hands had accomplished my threat full well,
Not on your chariot uplifted, O rebels that thunderbolts quell,
Had ye won to Olympus again, to the home where the Deathless dwell.”
So spake he: Athéné and Héré in curbed wrath murmured low:
Anigh to each other they sat, and they plotted the Trojans’ woe.
Now Athéné held her peace, and she answered him not a word,
Yet against Allfather within her the tameless anger stirred.
But the fury of Héré would nowise be pent in her breast, and she said:
“What hast thou to do saying this, O Kronos’ son most dread?
Well know we that this thy prowess may nowise be overborne:
Yet for the sake of the Danaan heroes our spirits mourn,
Who must perish and fill up the cup of a doom of bitter pain.
Howbeit, since this is thy bidding, from battle will we refrain:
Yet will we put in the hearts of the Argives our counsel, that so
They may perish not all in the hour when the fire of thy wrath is aglow.”
Answered and spake to her Zeus, and the Cloudrack-herder cried:
“Thou shalt see Kronion the prowess-triumphant with morning-tide
—Ha, thou shalt see, an thou wilt, Queen Héré the lovely eyed!—
Spreading ruin and wrack yet more through Achaia’s war-host wide.
For the warfare of Hector the battle-stormer shall nowise be done
Or ever uprise by the galleys Peleus’ fleetfoot son,
In the day when they strive by the sterns in the desperate battle-strain,
In the terrible stress of the struggle around Patroclus slain.
For thus is it doom-forespoken. Nothing I reck of thee
In thy wrath, not though to the nethermost parts of the earth and the sea
Thou descend, to the place where Iapetos sitteth, and Kronos withal,
On whom Hyperion the Sun-god’s gladdening beams ne’er fall,
Never breezes refresh them, but Tartarus’ pit is on every side:—
Though thither thou wander, nothing I care for thine angry pride,
For nothing that liveth is more unabashed than thou, I wot.”
So spake he, but Héré the ivory-wristed answered him not.
Then plunged in the Ocean-stream the sun’s broad-flashing light
Over the land corn-bounteous drawing the dark-palled night.
Sore loth were the Trojans when sank his splendour, but unto their foes
O welcome, O thrice-implored, the murky night uprose.
And Hector the glorious gathered the Trojans in council then:
By the swirling river aloof from the galleys he mustered his men,
In a spot where the face of the earth showed clear, unpolluted with dead.
And they leapt to the ground from their chariots to hearken the word to be said
Of Hector the Zeus-beloved, and his spear in his hand he bore,
His lance of cubits eleven, and lightning leapt before
From the brazen head thereof, and the compassing ring of gold.
And he leaned thereupon, and his voice o’er the ranks of the Trojans rolled:
“Hear me, ye Trojans and Dardans, and outland war-array.
I had looked to destroy yon galleys and all the Achaians to-day:
And so unto Ilium the windy to turn in triumph again.
But the nightfall came too soon, which hath spared for a little from bane
Our foes and their ships hard down by the sea where the surf breaks white.
Now therefore we needs must yield to the high behest of the night,
And prepare us the meal of the even: unyoke the steeds fair-maned
From the chariots, and cast them the food wherewithal shall their strength be sustained.
And bring ye forth of the city the goodly sheep and the kine
With such speed as ye may, and get you the soul-refreshing wine
And the bread from your halls, and abundance of wood therewithal shall ye take,
To the end that the livelong night, till the Dawn from her mist-veil break,
We may burn full many a fire till the heavens shall be red with the glare,
Lest perchance in the night-tide the sons of Achaia with long-flowing hair
Should rush to their galleys to flee from us over the broad-ridging seas.
But beware lest untroubled they get them aboard of their ships, or at ease.
Let many an one have a dart for his nursing at home to keep,
Smitten by shaft from the string, or a keen-whetted javelin’s leap,
As he springs on his ship, that all other may loathe with shuddering fears
To bring on the horse-quelling Trojans the battle’s blood and tears.
And let heralds proclaim through the city, and let the Zeus-loved say
That the stripling lads and the elders with temples hoary-grey
Shall camp on the God-built towers all round the leaguered wall.
And as for the women, let each of them kindle amidst of her hall
A mighty fire, and let all keep diligent watch and ward,
Lest an ambush enter the town while afar is her battle-guard.
Thus let it be, O heroes of Troy, as your captain hath cried;
The rede that is good in this hour for our need, let it spoken abide,
And more will I say to the horse-quelling Trojans at morning-tide.
Unto Zeus and to all the Gods with a hopeful heart I pray
To chase these fate-driven dogs from our fatherland far away,
Whom the fates to their doom in the black ships drive in disarray.
Lo, thus will we guard us while over us pass the wings of the night:
We will gird us with harness of war with the first of the morning light,
And again by the hollow ships will we waken the keen-whetted fight.
I will know if Tydeus’ son Diomedes the stalwart-grim
Shall thrust me aback from the ships to the walls, or I over him
Shall prevail with the brass, and shall win me his blood-stained battle-gear.
His manhood tomorn shall he know, if he dare to abide my spear
As onward it cometh:—nay, mid the first of the slain, I trow,
Stabbed shall he lie, with many a comrade around laid low,
When riseth the sun on the morrow. Would God I were even as sure
Deathless and ageless to live so long as the years endure,
And to be as Athéné honoured, or like to Apollo the King,
As the evil is sure that the day on the Argive host shall bring.”
So Hector harangued them, and thundered the shouts of the Trojan folk.
Then their horses areek with the sweat of the battle they loosed from the yoke;
And with thongs to the chariots tethered they every man his steed.
Then brought they the falling sheep and the kine from the city with speed;
And the wine that as honey is sweet to the soul did they bring for their need,
And bread from their halls, and the faggots in heaps they laid thereby;
And victims unblemished they burnt to the deathless abiders on high,
And the wind-waft lifted the sacrifice-reek from the plain to the sky;
Sweet savour: but naught did the Deathless taste of the sacrifice,
Neither would they, for sorely was Ilium the holy abhorred in their eyes,
And Priam, and all the folk of the old king warfare-wise.
So there on the highways of battle with hearts uplifted they bode
Sitting the livelong night where the countless watchfires glowed.
And as when in the heaven the stars round the moon as she walketh in light
Glitter and flash through the breathless hush of the air of the night,
And out of the shadows the heights and the mountain-forelands start,
And the glens, and the heaven’s abysses unfathomed are rifted apart,
And revealed are the uttermost star-hosts:—glad is the shepherd’s heart;
So many the fires were that shone before Ilium ’twixt Xanthus’ streams
And the galleys, while ever the Troyfolk fed those wavering gleams.
In the plain were there burning a thousand fires, and around each one
Sat fifty men, and the glare of the flames on their faces shone.
And the car-steeds champing the silvery barley and golden corn,
There as they stood by the chariots, waited the fair-throned morn.