by Homer
The noble Nestor, and him thus bespake.
Arise, Neleian Nestor! Pride of Greece!
Ascend thy chariot, and Machaon placed
Beside thee, bear him, instant to the fleet.
For one, so skill'd in medicine, and to free
The inherent barb, is worth a multitude.
He said, nor the Gerenian hero old
Aught hesitated, but into his seat
Ascended, and Machaon, son renown'd
Of Æsculapius, mounted at his side.
He lash'd the steeds, they not unwilling sought
The hollow ships, long their familiar home.
Cebriones, meantime, the charioteer
Of Hector, from his seat the Trojan ranks
Observing sore discomfited, began.
Here are we busied, Hector! on the skirts
Of roaring battle, and meantime I see
Our host confused, their horses and themselves
All mingled. Telamonian Ajax there
Routs them; I know the hero by his shield.
Haste, drive we thither, for the carnage most
Of horse and foot conflicting furious, there
Rages, and infinite the shouts arise.
He said, and with shrill-sounding scourge the steeds
Smote ample-maned; they, at the sudden stroke
Through both hosts whirl'd the chariot, shields and men
Trampling; with blood the axle underneath
All redden'd, and the chariot-rings with drops
From the horse-hoofs, and from the fellied wheels.
Full on the multitude he drove, on fire
To burst the phalanx, and confusion sent
Among the Greeks, for nought he shunn'd the spear.
All quarters else with falchion or with lance,
Or with huge stones he ranged, but cautious shunn'd
The encounter of the Telamonian Chief.
But the eternal father throned on high
With fear fill'd Ajax; panic-fixt he stood,
His seven-fold shield behind his shoulder cast,
And hemm'd by numbers, with an eye askant,
Watchful retreated. As a beast of prey
Retiring, turns and looks, so he his face
Turn'd oft, retiring slow, and step by step.
As when the watch-dogs and assembled swains
Have driven a tawny lion from the stalls,
Then, interdicting him his wish'd repast,
Watch all the night, he, famish'd, yet again
Comes furious on, but speeds not, kept aloof
By frequent spears from daring hands, but more
By flash of torches, which, though fierce, he dreads,
Till, at the dawn, sullen he stalks away;
So from before the Trojans Ajax stalk'd
Sullen, and with reluctance slow retired.
His brave heart trembling for the fleet of Greece.
As when (the boys o'erpower'd) a sluggish ass,
On whose tough sides they have spent many a staff,
Enters the harvest, and the spiry ears
Crops persevering; with their rods the boys
Still ply him hard, but all their puny might
Scarce drives him forth when he hath browsed his fill,
So, there, the Trojans and their foreign aids
With glittering lances keen huge Ajax urged,
His broad shield's centre smiting. He, by turns,
With desperate force the Trojan phalanx dense
Facing, repulsed them, and by turns he fled,
But still forbad all inroad on the fleet.
Trojans and Greeks between, alone, he stood
A bulwark. Spears from daring hands dismiss'd
Some, piercing his broad shield, there planted stood,
While others, in the midway falling, spent
Their disappointed rage deep in the ground.
Eurypylus, Evæmon's noble son,
Him seeing, thus, with weapons overwhelmed
Flew to his side, his glittering lance dismiss'd,
And Apisaon, son of Phausias, struck
Under the midriff; through his liver pass'd
The ruthless point, and, falling, he expired.
Forth sprang Eurypylus to seize the spoil;
Whom soon as godlike Alexander saw
Despoiling Apisaon of his arms,
Drawing incontinent his bow, he sent
A shaft to his right thigh; the brittle reed
Snapp'd, and the rankling barb stuck fast within.
Terrified at the stroke, the wounded Chief
To his own band retired, but, as he went,
With echoing voice call'd on the Danaï —
Friends! Counsellors, and leaders of the Greeks!
Turn ye and stand, and from his dreadful lot
Save Ajax whelm'd with weapons; 'scape, I judge,
He cannot from the roaring fight, yet oh
Stand fast around him; if save ye may,
Your champion huge, the Telamonian Chief!
So spake the wounded warrior. They at once
With sloping bucklers, and with spears erect,
To his relief approach'd. Ajax with joy
The friendly phalanx join'd, then turn'd and stood.
Thus burn'd the embattled field as with the flames
Of a devouring fire. Meantime afar
From all that tumult the Neleian mares
Bore Nestor, foaming as they ran, with whom
Machaon also rode, leader revered.
Achilles mark'd him passing; for he stood
Exalted on his huge ship's lofty stern,
Spectator of the toil severe, and flight
Deplorable of the defeated Greeks.
He call'd his friend Patroclus. He below
Within his tent the sudden summons heard
And sprang like Mars abroad, all unaware
That in that sound he heard the voice of fate.
Him first Menœtius' gallant son address'd.
What would Achilles? Wherefore hath he call'd?
To whom Achilles swiftest of the swift:
Brave Menœtiades! my soul's delight!
Soon will the Grecians now my knees surround
Suppliant, by dread extremity constrain'd.
But fly Patroclus, haste, oh dear to Jove!
Inquire of Nestor, whom he hath convey'd
From battle, wounded? Viewing him behind,
I most believed him Æsculapius' son
Machaon, but the steeds so swiftly pass'd
My galley, that his face escaped my note.
He said, and prompt to gratify his friend,
Forth ran Patroclus through the camp of Greece.
Now when Neleian Nestor to his tent
Had brought Machaon, they alighted both,
And the old hero's friend Eurymedon
Released the coursers. On the beach awhile
Their tunics sweat-imbued in the cool air
They ventilated, facing full the breeze,
Then on soft couches in the tent reposed.
Meantime, their beverage Hecamede mix'd,
The old King's bright-hair'd captive, whom he brought
From Tenedos, what time Achilles sack'd
The city, daughter of the noble Chief
Arsinoüs, and selected from the rest
For Nestor, as the honorable meed
Of counsels always eminently wise.
She, first, before them placed a table bright,
With feet cœrulean; thirst-provoking sauce
She brought them also in a brazen tray,
Garlic and honey new, and sacred meal.
Beside them, next, she placed a noble cup
Of labor exquisite, which from his home
The ancient King had brought with golden studs
Embellish'd; it presented to the grasp
Four ears; two golden turtles, perch'd on each,
Seem'd feeding, and two tu
rtles form'd the base.
That cup once fill'd, all others must have toil'd
To move it from the board, but it was light
In Nestor's hand; he lifted it with ease.
The graceful virgin in that cup a draught
Mix'd for them, Pramnian wine and savory cheese
Of goat's milk, grated with a brazen rasp,
Then sprinkled all with meal. The draught prepared,
She gave it to their hand; they, drinking, slaked
Their fiery thirst, and with each other sat
Conversing friendly, when the godlike youth
By brave Achilles sent, stood at the door.
Him seeing, Nestor from his splendid couch
Arose, and by the hand leading him in,
Entreated him to sit, but that request
Patroclus, on his part refusing, said,
Oh venerable King! no seat is here
For me, nor may thy courtesy prevail.
He is irascible, and to be fear'd
Who bade me ask what Chieftain thou hast brought
From battle, wounded; but untold I learn;
I see Machaon, and shall now report
As I have seen; oh ancient King revered!
Thou know'st Achilles fiery, and propense
Blame to impute even where blame is none.
To whom the brave Gerenian thus replied.
Why feels Achilles for the wounded Greeks
Such deep concern? He little knows the height
To which our sorrows swell. Our noblest lie
By spear or arrow wounded in the fleet.
Diomede, warlike son of Tydeus, bleeds,
Gall'd by a shaft; Ulysses, glorious Chief,
And Agamemnon suffer by the spear;
Eurypylus is shot into the thigh,
And here lies still another newly brought
By me from fight, pierced also by a shaft.
What then? How strong soe'er to give them aid,
Achilles feels no pity of the Greeks.
Waits he till every vessel on the shore
Fired, in despite of the whole Argive host,
Be sunk in its own ashes, and ourselves
All perish, heaps on heaps? For in my limbs
No longer lives the agility of my youth.
Oh, for the vigor of those days again,
When Elis, for her cattle which we took,
Strove with us and Itymoneus I slew,
Brave offspring of Hypirochus; he dwelt
In Elis, and while I the pledges drove,
Stood for his herd, but fell among the first
By a spear hurl'd from my victorious arm.
Then fled the rustic multitude, and we
Drove off abundant booty from the plain,
Herds fifty of fat beeves, large flocks of goats
As many, with as many sheep and swine,
And full thrice fifty mares of brightest hue,
All breeders, many with their foals beneath.
All these, by night returning safe, we drove
Into Neleian Pylus, and the heart
Rejoiced of Neleus, in a son so young
A warrior, yet enrich'd with such a prize.
At early dawn the heralds summon'd loud
The citizens, to prove their just demands
On fruitful Elis, and the assembled Chiefs
Division made (for numerous were the debts
Which the Epeans, in the weak estate
Of the unpeopled Pylus, had incurr'd;
For Hercules, few years before, had sack'd
Our city, and our mightiest slain. Ourselves
The gallant sons of Neleus, were in all
Twelve youths, of whom myself alone survived;
The rest all perish'd; whence, presumptuous grown,
The brazen-mail'd Epeans wrong'd us oft).
A herd of beeves my father for himself
Selected, and a numerous flock beside,
Three hundred sheep, with shepherds for them all.
For he a claimant was of large arrears
From sacred Elis. Four unrivall'd steeds
With his own chariot to the games he sent,
That should contend for the appointed prize
A tripod; but Augeias, King of men,
Detain'd the steeds, and sent the charioteer
Defrauded home. My father, therefore, fired
At such foul outrage both of deeds and words,
Took much, and to the Pylians gave the rest
For satisfaction of the claims of all.
While thus we busied were in these concerns,
And in performance of religious rites
Throughout the city, came the Epeans arm'd,
Their whole vast multitude both horse and foot
On the third day; came also clad in brass
The two Molions, inexpert as yet
In feats of arms, and of a boyish age.
There is a city on a mountain's head,
Fast by the banks of Alpheus, far remote,
The utmost town which sandy Pylus owns,
Named Thryoëssa, and, with ardor fired
To lay it waste, that city they besieged.
Now when their host had traversed all the plain,
Minerva from Olympus flew by night
And bade us arm; nor were the Pylians slow
To assemble, but impatient for the fight.
Me, then, my father suffer'd not to arm,
But hid my steeds, for he supposed me raw
As yet, and ignorant how war is waged.
Yet, even thus, unvantaged and on foot,
Superior honors I that day acquired
To theirs who rode, for Pallas led me on
Herself to victory. There is a stream
Which at Arena falls into the sea,
Named Minuëius; on that river's bank
The Pylian horsemen waited day's approach,
And thither all our foot came pouring down.
The flood divine of Alpheus thence we reach'd
At noon, all arm'd complete; there, hallow'd rites
We held to Jove omnipotent, and slew
A bull to sacred Alpheus, with a bull
To Neptune, and a heifer of the herd
To Pallas; then, all marshall'd as they were,
From van to rear our legions took repast,
And at the river's side slept on their arms.
Already the Epean host had round
Begirt the city, bent to lay it waste,
A task which cost them, first, both blood and toil,
For when the radiant sun on the green earth
Had risen, with prayer to Pallas and to Jove,
We gave them battle. When the Pylian host
And the Epeans thus were close engaged,
I first a warrior slew, Mulius the brave,
And seized his coursers. He the eldest-born
Of King Augeias' daughters had espoused
The golden Agamede; not an herb
The spacious earth yields but she knew its powers,
Him, rushing on me, with my brazen lance
I smote, and in the dust he fell; I leap'd
Into his seat, and drove into the van.
A panic seized the Epeans when they saw
The leader of their horse o'erthrown, a Chief
Surpassing all in fight. Black as a cloud
With whirlwind fraught, I drove impetuous on,
Took fifty chariots, and at side of each
Lay two slain warriors, with their teeth the soil
Grinding, all vanquish'd by my single arm.
I had slain also the Molions, sons
Of Actor, but the Sovereign of the deep
Their own authentic Sire, in darkness dense
Involving both, convey'd them safe away.
Then Jove a victory of prime renown
Gave to the Pylians; for we chased and slew
And gather'd spoil o'er
all the champain spread
With scatter'd shields, till we our steeds had driven
To the Buprasian fields laden with corn,
To the Olenian rock, and to a town
In fair Colona situate, and named
Alesia. There it was that Pallas turn'd
Our people homeward; there I left the last
Of all the slain, and he was slain by me.
Then drove the Achaians from Buprasium home
Their coursers fleet, and Jove, of Gods above,
Received most praise, Nestor of men below.
Such once was I. But brave Achilles shuts
His virtues close, an unimparted store;
Yet even he shall weep, when all the host,
His fellow-warriors once, shall be destroy'd.
But recollect, young friend! the sage advice
Which when thou earnest from Phthia to the aid
Of Agamemnon, on that selfsame day
Menœtius gave thee. We were present there,
Ulysses and myself, both in the house,
And heard it all; for to the house we came
Of Peleus in our journey through the land
Of fertile Greece, gathering her states to war.
We found thy noble sire Menœtius there,
Thee and Achilles; ancient Peleus stood
To Jove the Thunderer offering in his court
Thighs of an ox, and on the blazing rites
Libation pouring from a cup of gold.
While ye on preparation of the feast
Attended both, Ulysses and myself
Stood in the vestibule; Achilles flew
Toward us, introduced us by the hand,
And, seating us, such liberal portion gave
To each, as hospitality requires.
Our thirst, at length, and hunger both sufficed,
I, foremost speaking, ask'd you to the wars,
And ye were eager both, but from your sires
Much admonition, ere ye went, received.
Old Peleus charged Achilles to aspire
To highest praise, and always to excel.
But thee, thy sire Menœtius thus advised.
"My son! Achilles boasts the nobler birth,
But thou art elder; he in strength excels
Thee far; thou, therefore, with discretion rule
His inexperience; thy advice impart
With gentleness; instruction wise suggest
Wisely, and thou shalt find him apt to learn."
So thee thy father taught, but, as it seems,
In vain. Yet even now essay to move
Warlike Achilles; if the Gods so please,
Who knows but that thy reasons may prevail
To rouse his valiant heart? men rarely scorn
The earnest intercession of a friend.
But if some prophecy alarm his fears,
And from his Goddess mother he have aught
Received, who may have learnt the same from Jove,
Thee let him send at least, and order forth