Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  They tasted of the secret joys of love.

  He rose to meet her, and address'd her thus:

  "From high Olympus, Juno, whither bound,

  And how, to Ida hast thou come in haste?

  For horses here or chariot hast thou none."

  To whom thus Juno with deceitful speech

  Replied: "To fertile earth's extremest bounds

  I go, to visit old Oceanus,

  The sire of Gods, and Tethys, who of yore

  Receiv'd, and nurtur'd me with tend'rest care.

  I go to visit them, and reconcile

  A lengthen'd feud; for since some cause of wrath

  Has come between them, they from rites of love

  And from the marriage-bed have long abstain'd.

  Meanwhile at spring-abounding Ida's foot

  My horses wait me, that o'er land and sea

  Alike my chariot bear; on thine account

  From high Olympus hither have I come,

  Lest it displease thee, if, to thee unknown,

  I sought the Ocean's deeply-flowing stream."

  To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied:

  "Juno, thy visit yet awhile defer;

  And let us now in love's delights indulge:

  For never yet did such a flood of love

  For Goddess or for mortal fill my soul;

  Not for Ixion's beauteous wife, who bore

  Pirithous, sage in council as the Gods;

  Nor the neat-footed maiden Danae,

  Acrisius' daughter, her who Perseus bore,

  Th' observ'd of all; nor noble Phoenix' child,

  Who bore me Minos, and the godlike might

  Of Rhadamanthus; nor for Semele,

  Nor for Alcmena fair, of whom was born

  In Thebes the mighty warrior Hercules,

  As Bacchus, joy of men, of Semele:

  No, nor for Ceres, golden-tressed Queen,

  Nor for Latona bright, nor for thyself,

  As now with fond desire for thee I burn."

  To whom thus Juno with deceitful speech:

  "What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak?

  If here on Ida, in the face of day,

  We celebrate the mystic rites of love.

  How if some other of th' immortal Gods

  Should find us sleeping, and 'mid all the Gods

  Should spread the tale abroad? I could not then

  Straight to thy house, for very shame, return.

  But if indeed such passion fill thy soul,

  Thou hast thy secret chamber, built for thee

  By Vulcan, with close-fitting doors secur'd;

  Thither, if such thy pleasure, go we now."

  To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied:

  "Juno, nor fear the eye of God or man;

  For all around us I will throw such veil

  Of golden cloud, that not the sun himself

  With sharpest beam of light may pierce it through."

  Thus saying, in his arms he clasp'd his wife;

  The teeming earth beneath them caus'd to spring

  The tender grass, and lotus dew-besprent,

  Crocus and hyacinth, a fragrant couch,

  Profuse and soft, upspringing from the earth.

  There lay they, all around them spread a veil

  Of golden cloud, whence heav'nly dews distill'd.

  There on the topmost height of Gargarus,

  By sleep and love subdued, th' immortal Sire,

  Clasp'd in his arms his wife, repos'd in peace.

  Then Sleep arose, and to the Grecian ships

  In haste repairing, to th' Earth-shaking King

  His tidings bore; and standing at his side

  Thus to the God his winged words address'd:

  "Now, Neptune, to the Greeks thy ready aid

  Afford, that short-liv'd triumph they may gain,

  While slumber holds the eyes of Jove; for I

  In sweet unconsciousness have drown'd his sense,

  Beguil'd by Juno, in whose arms he lies."

  He said, and vanish'd 'mid the tribes of men:

  But fir'd with keener zeal to aid the Greeks,

  Neptune sprang forth in front, and call'd aloud:

  "Again, ye Greeks, shall our remissness yield

  The victory to Hector, Priam's son,

  To seize our ships, and endless glory gain?

  Such is his boast and menace, since in wrath

  Achilles still beside his ships remains.

  Yet him we scarce should miss, if we, the rest,

  But firmly stood for mutual defence.

  Hear then my counsel: let us all agree,

  Girt with our best and broadest shields, our heads

  With flashing helmets guarded, in our hands

  Grasping our longest spears, to dare the fight.

  Myself will lead you on; and Priam's son,

  Though bold he be, will fear with me to cope.

  And if, among our bravest, any bear

  Too small a buckler, with some meaner man

  Let him exchange, and don the larger shield."

  He said, and they assenting heard his speech.

  The Kings themselves, Ulysses, Diomed,

  And mighty Agamemnon, Atreus' son,

  Though sorely wounded, yet the troops array'd;

  Thro'out the ranks they pass'd, and chang'd the arms;

  The bravest donn'd the best, the worse the worst.

  When with their dazzling armour all were girt,

  Forward they mov'd; th' Earth-shaker led them on:

  In his broad hand an awful sword he bore,

  Long-bladed, vivid as the lightning's flash:

  Yet in the deadly strife he might not join,

  But kindled terror in the minds of men.

  Hector meantime the Trojan troops array'd.

  Then fiercer grew, and more intense the strain

  Of furious fight, when Ocean's dark-hair'd King

  And Priam's noble son were met in arms,

  And aided, this the Trojans, that the Greeks.

  High tow'rd the tents uprose the surging sea,

  As with loud clamour met th' opposing hosts.

  Less loud the roar of Ocean's wave, that driv'n

  By stormy Boreas, breaks upon the beach;

  Less loud the crackling of the flames that rage

  In the deep forest of some mountain glen;

  Less loud the wind, to wildest fury rous'd,

  Howls in the branches of the lofty oaks;

  Than rose the cry of Trojans and of Greeks,

  As each, with furious shout, encounter'd each.

  At Ajax first, who straight before him stood,

  Great Hector threw his spear, nor miss'd his aim,

  Where the two belts, the one which bore his shield,

  His silver-studded sword the other, met

  Across his breast; these two his life preserv'd.

  Hector was wroth, that from his stalwart hand

  The spear had flown in vain; and back he sprang

  For safety to his comrades' shelt'ring ranks:

  But mighty Ajax Telamon upheav'd

  A pond'rous stone, of many, all around

  That scatter'd lay beneath the warriors' feet,

  And serv'd to prop the ships; with one of these,

  As Hector backward stepp'd, above the shield

  He smote him on the breast, below the throat.

  With whirling motion, circling as it flew,

  The mass he hurl'd. As by the bolt of Heav'n

  Uprooted, prostrate lies some forest oak;

  The sulph'rous vapour taints the air; appall'd,

  Bereft of strength, the near beholder stands,

  And awestruck hears the thunder-peal of Jove;

  So in the dust the might of Hector lay:

  Dropp'd from his hand the spear; the shield and helm

  Fell with him; loud his polished armour rang.

  On rush'd, with joyous shout,
the sons of Greece,

  In hope to seize the spoil; thick flew the spears:

  Yet none might reach or wound the fallen chief;

  For gather'd close around, the bravest all,

  Valiant AEneas, and Polydamas,

  Godlike Agenor, and the Lycian chief

  Sarpedon, and the noble Glaucus stood.

  Nor did the rest not aid; their shields' broad orbs

  Before him still they held, while in their arms

  His comrades bore him from the battle-field,

  To where, with charioteer and well-wrought car,

  Beyond the fight, his flying coursers stood,

  Which bore him, deeply groaning, tow'rd the town.

  But when the ford was reach'd of Xanthus' stream,

  Broad-flowing, eddying, by immortal Jove

  Begotten, on the ground they laid him down,

  And dash'd the cooling water on his brow:

  Reviv'd, he lifted up awhile his eyes;

  Then on his knees half rising, he disgorg'd

  The clotted blood; but backward to the earth,

  Still by the blow subdu'd, again he fell,

  And darkling shades of night his eyes o'erspread.

  Onward, with zeal redoubled, press'd the Greeks,

  When Hector from the field they saw withdrawn.

  Foremost of all, Oileus' active son,

  With sudden spring assailing, Satnius slew:

  Him a fair Naiad nymph to OEnops bore,

  Who by the banks of Satnois kept his herds.

  Him then, approaching near, Oileus' son

  Thrust through the flank: he fell, and o'er his corpse

  Trojans and Greeks in stubborn fight engag'd.

  But Panthous' son a swift avenger came,

  Polydamas, with brandish'd spear, and struck

  Through the right shoulder Prothoenor, son

  Of Areilycus; right through was driv'n

  The sturdy spear; he, rolling in the dust,

  Clutch'd with his palms the ground; then, shouting loud,

  Thus with triumphant boast Polydamas:

  "From the strong hand of Panthous' noble son

  Methinks that not in vain the spear has flown:

  A Greek now bears it off; and he, perchance,

  May use it as a staff to Pluto's realm."

  Thus he; the Greeks with pain his vaunting heard;

  But chief it rous'd the spirit within the breast

  Of Ajax Telamon, whom close beside

  The dead had fall'n; he at Polydamas,

  Retreating, hurl'd in haste his glitt'ring spear;

  He, springing sideways, 'scap'd the stroke of fate;

  But young Archilochus, Antenor's son,

  Receiv'd the spear, for Heav'n had will'd his death:

  The spine it struck, the topmost joint, where met

  The head and neck, and both the tendons broke;

  Forward he fell; and ere or knee or leg,

  His head, and mouth, and nostrils struck the ground.

  Then Ajax, in his turn, exulting, thus:

  "Say now, Polydamas, and tell me true,

  May this be deem'd for Prothoenor's death

  A full equivalent? no common man

  He seems, and born of no ignoble race;

  Valiant Antenor's brother, or perchance

  His son; the likeness speaks him near akin."

  Thus he, though well he knew; then bitter grief

  Possess'd the Trojans' souls; but Acamas,

  Guarding his brother's body, with his spear

  Slew the Boeotian Promachus, who fain

  Would by the feet have drawn away the dead:

  Then Acamas, exulting, cried aloud:

  "Ye wretched Greeks, in boasting measureless!

  Not ours alone the labour and the loss

  Of battle; ye too have your share of death.

  Behold where lies your Promachus, subdued

  Beneath my spear; not long unpaid the debt

  Due for my brother's blood! 'Tis well for him

  Who leaves a brother to avenge his fate."

  Thus he; the Greeks with pain his vaunting heard;

  But chief it rous'd the spirit within the breast

  Of Peneleus; on Acamas he sprang,

  Who waited not th' encounter; next he slew

  Ilioneus, the son of Phorbas, Lord

  Of num'rous flocks, of all the Trojans most

  Belov'd of Hermes, who his wealth increas'd.

  To him Ilioneus, an only son,

  His mother bore; who now, beneath the brow

  And through the socket of the eye was struck,

  Thrusting the eyeball out; for through the eye,

  And backward through the head, the spear was driv'n:

  With hands extended, down to earth he sank;

  But Peneleus his weighty sword let fall

  Full on his neck; the sever'd head and helm

  Together fell, remaining still infix'd

  The sturdy spear; then he, the gory head

  Uplifting, to the Trojans vaunting cried:

  "Go now, ye Trojans! bid that in the house

  Of brave Ilioneus his parents raise

  The voice of wailing for their gallant son;

  As neither shall the wife of Promachus,

  The son of Alegenor, with glad smile

  Her husband's coming hail, when home from Troy

  We sons of Greece, with vict'ry crown'd, return."

  Thus as he spoke, pale fear possess'd them all,

  Each looking round to seek escape from death.

  Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell,

  Who, when th' Earth-shaker turn'd the tide of war,

  First bore away his foeman's bloody spoils?

  Great Ajax Telamon first Hyrtius smote,

  The son of Gyrtius, who to battle led

  The warlike Mysians; next Antilochus

  From Mermerus and Phalces stripp'd their arms;

  Meriones Hippotion gave to death,

  And Morys; Teucer Periphetes slew,

  And Prothoon; Menelaus, through the flank

  Smote Hyperenor; as the grinding spear

  Drain'd all his vitals, through the gaping wound

  His spirit escap'd, and darkness clos'd his eyes.

  But chiefest slaughter of the Trojans wrought

  Oileus' active son; of all the Greeks

  No foot so swift as his, when Jove had fill'd

  Their souls with fear, to chase the flying foe.

  ARGUMENT.

  THE FIFTH BATTLE, AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX.

  Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector in a swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks; he is highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions; she is then sent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts with extraordinary address to incense them against Jupiter; in particular she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he is ready to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after much reluctance and passion, he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him back to the battle, marches before him with his aegis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He breaks down the first part of the Grecian wall; the Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are yet repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter.

  BOOK XV.

  Now when the Trojans had recross'd the trench

  And palisades, and in their headlong flight

  Many had fall'n by Grecian swords, the rest,

  Routed, and pale with fear, made head awhile

  Beside their cars; then Jove on Ida's height

  At golden-throned Juno's side awoke;

  Rising, he saw the Trojans and the Greeks,

  Those in confusion, while behind them press'd

  The Greeks, triumphant, Neptune in their midst:


  He saw too Hector stretch'd upon the plain,

  His comrades standing round; senseless he lay,

  Drawing short breath, blood gushing from his mouth;

  For by no feeble hand the blow was dealt.

  Pitying, the Sire of Gods and men beheld,

  And thus, with sternest glance, to Juno spoke:

  "This, Juno, is thy work! thy wicked wiles

  Have Hector quell'd, and Trojans driv'n to flight:

  Nor know I but thyself mayst reap the fruit,

  By shameful scourging, of thy vile deceit.

  Hast thou forgotten how in former times

  I hung thee from on high, and to thy feet

  Attach'd two pond'rous anvils, and thy hands

  With golden fetters bound, which none might break?

  There didst thou hang amid the clouds of Heav'n;

  Through all Olympus' breadth the Gods were wroth;

  Yet dar'd not one approach to set thee free.

  If any so had ventur'd, him had I

  Hurl'd from Heav'n's threshold till to earth he fell,

  With little left of life. Yet was not quench'd

  My wrath on godlike Hercules' account,

  Whom thou, with Boreas, o'er the wat'ry waste

  With fell intent didst send; and tempest-toss'd,

  Cast him ashore on Coos' fruitful isle.

  I rescued him from thence, and brought him back,

  After long toil, to Argos' grassy plains.

  This to thy mind I bring, that thou mayst learn

  To cease thy treach'rous wiles, nor hope to gain

  By all thy lavish'd blandishments of love,

  Wherewith thou hast deceived me, and betray'd."

  He said; and terror seiz'd the stag-ey'd Queen;

  Who thus with winged words address'd her Lord:

  "By Earth I swear, and yon broad Heav'n above,

  And Stygian stream beneath, the weightiest oath

  Of solemn pow'r to bind the blessed Gods;

  By thine own sacred head, our nuptial bed,

  Whose holy tie I never could forswear;

  That not by my suggestion and advice

  Earth-shaking Neptune on the Trojan host,

  And Hector, pours his wrath, and aids the Greeks;

  In this he but obeys his own desire,

  Who looks with pity on the Grecian host

  Beside their ships o'erborne; and could my words

  Prevail, my counsel were to shape his course,

  O cloud-girt King, obedient to thy will."

  She said; the Sire of Gods and men, well pleas'd,

  Her answer heard, and thus with gracious smile:

  "If, stag-ey'd Queen, in synod of the Gods

  Thy counsels shall indeed with mine agree,

  Neptune, how strong soe'er his wish, must change