Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

Hector, and I will urge ceaseless, myself,

  Thenceforth the routed Trojans back again,

  Till by Minerva's aid the Greeks shall take

  Ilium's proud city; till that day arrive

  My wrath shall burn, nor will I one permit

  Of all the Immortals to assist the Greeks,

  But will perform Achilles' whole desire.

  Such was my promise to him at the first,

  Ratified by a nod that self-same day

  When Thetis clasp'd my knees, begging revenge

  And glory for her city-spoiler son.

  He ended; nor his spouse white-arm'd refused

  Obedience, but from the Idæan heights

  Departing, to the Olympian summit soar'd.

  Swift as the traveller's thought, who, many a land

  Traversed, deliberates on his future course

  Uncertain, and his mind sends every way,

  So swift updarted Juno to the skies.

  Arrived on the Olympian heights, she found

  The Gods assembled; they, at once, their seats

  At her approach forsaking, with full cups

  Her coming hail'd; heedless of all beside,

  She took the cup from blooming Themis' hand,

  For she first flew to welcome her, and thus

  In accents wing'd of her return inquired.

  Say, Juno, why this sudden re-ascent?

  Thou seem'st dismay'd; hath Saturn's son, thy spouse,

  Driven thee affrighted to the skies again?

  To whom the white-arm'd Goddess thus replied.

  Themis divine, ask not. Full well thou know'st

  How harshly temper'd is the mind of Jove,

  And how untractable. Resume thy seat;

  The banquet calls thee; at our board preside,

  Thou shalt be told, and all in heaven shall hear

  What ills he threatens; such as shall not leave

  All minds at ease, I judge, here or on earth,

  However tranquil some and joyous now.

  So spake the awful spouse of Jove, and sat.

  Then, all alike, the Gods displeasure felt

  Throughout the courts of Jove, but she, her lips

  Gracing with smiles from which her sable brows

  Dissented, thus indignant them address'd.

  Alas! how vain against the Thunderer's will

  Our anger, and the hope to supersede

  His purpose, by persuasion or by force!

  He solitary sits, all unconcern'd

  At our resentment, and himself proclaims

  Mightiest and most to be revered in heaven.

  Be patient, therefore, and let each endure

  Such ills as Jove may send him. Mars, I ween,

  Already hath his share; the warrior God

  Hath lost Ascalaphus, of all mankind

  His most beloved, and whom he calls his own.

  She spake, and with expanded palms his thighs

  Smiling, thus, sorrowful, the God exclaim'd.

  Inhabitants of the Olympian heights!

  Oh bear with me, if to avenge my son

  I seek Achaia's fleet, although my doom

  Be thunder-bolts from Jove, and with the dead

  Outstretch'd to lie in carnage and in dust.

  He spake, and bidding Horror and Dismay

  Lead to the yoke his rapid steeds, put on

  His all-refulgent armor. Then had wrath

  More dreadful, some strange vengeance on the Gods

  From Jove befallen, had not Minerva, touch'd

  With timely fears for all, upstarting sprung

  From where she sat, right through the vestibule.

  She snatch'd the helmet from his brows, the shield

  From his broad shoulder, and the brazen spear

  Forced from his grasp into its place restored.

  Then reprimanding Mars, she thus began.

  Frantic, delirious! thou art lost for ever!

  Is it in vain that thou hast ears to hear,

  And hast thou neither shame nor reason left?

  How? hear'st thou not the Goddess? the report

  Of white-arm'd Juno from Olympian Jove

  Return'd this moment? or perfer'st thou rather,

  Plagued with a thousand woes, and under force

  Of sad necessity to seek again

  Olympus, and at thy return to prove

  Author of countless miseries to us all?

  For He at once Grecians and Trojans both

  Abandoning, will hither haste prepared

  To tempest us in heaven, whom he will seize,

  The guilty and the guiltless, all alike.

  I bid thee, therefore, patient bear the death

  Of thy Ascalaphus; braver than he

  And abler have, ere now, in battle fallen,

  And shall hereafter; arduous were the task

  To rescue from the stroke of fate the race

  Of mortal men, with all their progeny.

  So saying, Minerva on his throne replaced

  The fiery Mars. Then, summoning abroad

  Apollo from within the hall of Jove,

  With Iris, swift ambassadress of heaven,

  Them in wing'd accents Juno thus bespake.

  Jove bids you hence with undelaying speed

  To Ida; in his presence once arrived,

  See that ye execute his whole command.

  So saying, the awful Goddess to her throne

  Return'd and sat. They, cleaving swift the air,

  Alighted soon on Ida fountain-fed,

  Parent of savage kinds. High on the point

  Seated of Gargarus, and wrapt around

  With fragrant clouds, they found Saturnian Jove

  The Thunderer, and in his presence stood.

  He, nought displeased that they his high command

  Had with such readiness obey'd, his speech

  To Iris, first, in accents wing'd address'd

  Swift Iris, haste — to royal Neptune bear

  My charge entire; falsify not the word.

  Bid him, relinquishing the fight, withdraw

  Either to heaven, or to the boundless Deep.

  But should he disobedient prove, and scorn

  My message, let him, next, consider well

  How he will bear, powerful as he is,

  My coming. Me I boast superior far

  In force, and elder-born; yet deems he slight

  The danger of comparison with me,

  Who am the terror of all heaven beside.

  He spake, nor storm-wing'd Iris disobey'd,

  But down from the Idæan summit stoop'd

  To sacred Ilium. As when snow or hail

  Flies drifted by the cloud-dispelling North,

  So swiftly, wing'd with readiness of will,

  She shot the gulf between, and standing soon

  At glorious Neptune's side, him thus address'd.

  To thee, O Neptune azure-hair'd! I come

  With tidings charged from Ægis-bearing Jove.

  He bids thee cease from battle, and retire

  Either to heaven, or to the boundless Deep.

  But shouldst thou, disobedient, set at nought

  His words, he threatens that himself will haste

  To fight against thee; but he bids thee shun

  That strife with one superior far to thee,

  And elder-born; yet deem'st thou slight, he saith,

  The danger of comparison with Him,

  Although the terror of all heaven beside.

  Her then the mighty Shaker of the shores

  Answer'd indignant. Great as is his power,

  Yet he hath spoken proudly, threatening me

  With force, high-born and glorious as himself.

  We are three brothers; Saturn is our sire,

  And Rhea brought us forth; first, Jove she bore;

  Me next; then, Pluto, Sovereign of the shades.

  By distribution tripart we received

 
; Each his peculiar honors; me the lots

  Made Ruler of the hoary floods, and there

  I dwell for ever. Pluto, for his part,

  The regions took of darkness; and the heavens,

  The clouds, and boundless æther, fell to Jove.

  The Earth and the Olympian heights alike

  Are common to the three. My life and being

  I hold not, therefore, at his will, whose best

  And safest course, with all his boasted power,

  Were to possess in peace his proper third.

  Let him not seek to terrify with force

  Me like a dastard; let him rather chide

  His own-begotten; with big-sounding words

  His sons and daughters govern, who perforce

  Obey his voice, and shrink at his commands.

  To whom thus Iris tempest-wing'd replied,

  Cœrulean-tress'd Sovereign of the Deep!

  Shall I report to Jove, harsh as it is,

  Thy speech, or wilt thou soften it? The wise

  Are flexible, and on the elder-born

  Erynnis, with her vengeful sisters, waits.

  Her answer'd then the Shaker of the shores.

  Prudent is thy advice, Iris divine!

  Discretion in a messenger is good

  At all times. But the cause that fires me thus,

  And with resentment my whole heart and mind

  Possesses, is the license that he claims

  To vex with provocation rude of speech

  Me his compeer, and by decree of Fate

  Illustrious as himself; yet, though incensed,

  And with just cause, I will not now persist.

  But hear — for it is treasured in my heart

  The threat that my lips utter. If he still

  Resolve to spare proud Ilium in despite

  Of me, of Pallas, Goddess of the spoils,

  Of Juno, Mercury, and the King of fire,

  And will not overturn her lofty towers,

  Nor grant immortal glory to the Greeks,

  Then tell him thus — hostility shall burn,

  And wrath between us never to be quench'd.

  So saying, the Shaker of the shores forsook

  The Grecian host, and plunged into the deep,

  Miss'd by Achaia's heroes. Then, the cloud-Assembler

  God thus to Apollo spake.

  Hence, my Apollo! to the Trojan Chief

  Hector; for earth-encircler Neptune, awed

  By fear of my displeasure imminent,

  Hath sought the sacred Deep. Else, all the Gods

  Who compass Saturn in the nether realms,

  Had even there our contest heard, I ween,

  And heard it loudly. But that he retreats

  Although at first incensed, shunning my wrath,

  Is salutary both for him and me,

  Whose difference else had not been healed with ease.

  Take thou my shaggy Ægis, and with force

  Smiting it, terrify the Chiefs of Greece.

  As for illustrious Hector, him I give

  To thy peculiar care; fail not to rouse

  His fiercest courage, till he push the Greeks

  To Hellespont, and to their ships again;

  Thenceforth to yield to their afflicted host

  Some pause from toil, shall be my own concern.

  He ended, nor Apollo disobey'd

  His father's voice; from the Idæan heights,

  Swift as the swiftest of the fowls of air,

  The dove-destroyer falcon, down he flew.

  The noble Hector, valiant Priam's son

  He found, not now extended on the plain,

  But seated; newly, as from death, awaked,

  And conscious of his friends; freely he breathed

  Nor sweated more, by Jove himself revived.

  Apollo stood beside him, and began.

  Say, Hector, Priam's son! why sittest here

  Feeble and spiritless, and from thy host

  Apart? what new disaster hath befall'n?

  To whom with difficulty thus replied

  The warlike Chief. — But tell me who art Thou,

  Divine inquirer! best of powers above!

  Know'st not that dauntless Ajax me his friends

  Slaughtering at yonder ships, hath with a stone

  Surceased from fight, smiting me on the breast?

  I thought to have beheld, this day, the dead

  In Ades, every breath so seem'd my last.

  Then answer thus the Archer-God return'd.

  Courage this moment! such a helper Jove

  From Ida sends thee at thy side to war

  Continual, Phœbus of the golden sword,

  Whose guardian aid both thee and lofty Troy

  Hath succor'd many a time. Therefore arise!

  Instant bid drive thy numerous charioteers

  Their rapid steeds full on the Grecian fleet;

  I, marching at their head, will smooth, myself,

  The way before them, and will turn again

  To flight the heroes of the host of Greece.

  He said and with new strength the Chief inspired.

  As some stall'd horse high pamper'd, snapping short

  His cord, beats under foot the sounding soil,

  Accustom'd in smooth-sliding streams to lave

  Exulting; high he bears his head, his mane

  Wantons around his shoulders; pleased, he eyes

  His glossy sides, and borne on pliant knees

  Soon finds the haunts where all his fellows graze;

  So bounded Hector, and his agile joints

  Plied lightly, quicken'd by the voice divine,

  And gather'd fast his charioteers to battle.

  But as when hounds and hunters through the woods

  Rush in pursuit of stag or of wild goat,

  He, in some cave with tangled boughs o'erhung,

  Lies safe conceal'd, no destined prey of theirs,

  Till by their clamors roused, a lion grim

  Starts forth to meet them; then, the boldest fly;

  Such hot pursuit the Danaï, with swords

  And spears of double edge long time maintain'd.

  But seeing Hector in his ranks again

  Occupied, felt at once their courage fall'n.

  Then, Thoas them, Andræmon's son, address'd,

  Foremost of the Ætolians, at the spear

  Skilful, in stationary combat bold,

  And when the sons of Greece held in dispute

  The prize of eloquence, excell'd by few.

  Prudent advising them, he thus began.

  Ye Gods! what prodigy do I behold?

  Hath Hector, 'scaping death, risen again?

  For him, with confident persuasion all

  Believed by Telamonian Ajax slain.

  But some Divinity hath interposed

  To rescue and save Hector, who the joints

  Hath stiffen'd of full many a valiant Greek,

  As surely now he shall; for, not without

  The Thunderer's aid, he flames in front again.

  But take ye all my counsel. Send we back

  The multitude into the fleet, and first

  Let us, who boast ourselves bravest in fight,

  Stand, that encountering him with lifted spears,

  We may attempt to give his rage a check.

  To thrust himself into a band like ours

  Will, doubtless, even in Hector move a fear.

  He ceased, with whose advice all, glad, complied.

  Then Ajax with Idomeneus of Crete,

  Teucer, Meriones, and Meges fierce

  As Mars in battle, summoning aloud

  The noblest Greeks, in opposition firm

  To Hector and his host their bands prepared,

  While others all into the fleet retired.

  Troy's crowded host struck first. With awful strides

  Came Hector foremost; him Apollo led,

  His shoulders wr
apt in clouds, and, on his arm,

  The Ægis shagg'd terrific all around,

  Tempestuous, dazzling-bright; it was a gift

  To Jove from Vulcan, and design'd to appall,

  And drive to flight the armies of the earth.

  Arm'd with that shield Apollo led them on.

  Firm stood the embodied Greeks; from either host

  Shrill cries arose; the arrows from the nerve

  Leap'd, and, by vigorous arms dismiss'd, the spears

  Flew frequent; in the flesh some stood infixt

  Of warlike youths, but many, ere they reach'd

  The mark they coveted, unsated fell

  Between the hosts, and rested in the soil.

  Long as the God unagitated held

  The dreadful disk, so long the vollied darts

  Made mutual slaughter, and the people fell;

  But when he look'd the Grecian charioteers

  Full in the face and shook it, raising high

  Himself the shout of battle, then he quell'd

  Their spirits, then he struck from every mind

  At once all memory of their might in arms.

  As when two lions in the still, dark night

  A herd of beeves scatter or numerous flock

  Suddenly, in the absence of the guard,

  So fled the heartless Greeks, for Phœbus sent

  Terrors among them, but renown conferr'd

  And triumph proud on Hector and his host.

  Then, in that foul disorder of the field,

  Man singled man. Arcesilaüs died

  By Hector's arm, and Stichius; one, a Chief

  Of the Bœotians brazen-mail'd, and one,

  Menestheus' faithful follower to the fight.

  Æneas Medon and Iäsus slew.

  Medon was spurious offspring of divine

  Oïleus Ajax' father, and abode

  In Phylace; for he had slain a Chief

  Brother of Eriopis the espoused

  Of brave Oïleus; but Iäsus led

  A phalanx of Athenians, and the son

  Of Sphelus, son of Bucolus was deem'd.

  Pierced by Polydamas Mecisteus fell,

  Polites, in the van of battle, slew

  Echion, and Agenor Clonius;

  But Paris, while Deïochus to flight

  Turn'd with the routed van, pierced him beneath

  His shoulder-blade, and urged the weapon through.

  While them the Trojans spoil'd, meantime the Greeks,

  Entangled in the piles of the deep foss,

  Fled every way, and through necessity

  Repass'd the wall. Then Hector with a voice

  Of loud command bade every Trojan cease

  From spoil, and rush impetuous on the fleet.

  And whom I find far lingering from the ships

  Wherever, there he dies; no funeral fires

  Brother on him, or sister, shall bestow,

  But dogs shall rend him in the sight of Troy.

  So saying, he lash'd the shoulders of his steeds,