The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Boughs murmur, and their bodies crack, and with perpetual din

  The sylvans falter, and the storms are never to begin;

  So rag’d the fight, and all from Flight pluck’d her forgotten wings,

  While some still stuck, still new-wing’d shafts flew dancing from their strings,

  Huge stones sent after that did shake the shields about the corse,

  Who now, in dust’s soft forehead stretch’d, forgat his guiding horse.

  As long as Phœbus turn’d his wheels about the midst of heaven,

  So long the touch of either’s darts the falls of both made even;

  But, when his wain drew near the west, the Greeks past measure were

  The abler soldiers, and so swept the Trojan tumult clear

  From off the body, out of which they drew the hurl’d-in darts,

  And from his shoulders stripp’d his arms; and then to more such parts

  Patroclus turn’d his striving thoughts, to do the Trojans ill.

  Thrice, like the God of war, he charg’d, his voice as horrible,

  And thrice-nine those three charges slew; but in the fourth assay,

  O then, Patroclus, show’d thy last; the dreadful Sun made way

  Against that onset; yet the prince discern’d no Deity,

  He kept the press so, and, besides, obscur’d his glorious eye

  With such felt darkness. At his back, he made a sudden stand,

  And ‘twixt his neck and shoulders laid down-right with either hand

  A blow so weighty, that his eyes a giddy darkness took,

  And from his head his three-plum’d helm the bounding violence shook,

  That rung beneath his horses’ hooves, and, like a water-spout,

  Was crush’d together with the fall; the plumes that set it out,

  All spatter’d with black blood and dust; when ever heretofore

  It was a capital offence to have or dust or gore

  Defile a triple-feather’d helm, but on the head divine

  And youthful temples of their prince it us’d, untouch’d, to shine.

  Yet now Jove gave it Hector’s hands, the other’s death was near.

  Besides whose lost and filéd helm his huge long weighty spear,

  Well-bound with iron, in his hand was shiver’d, and his shield

  Fell from his shoulders to his feet, the bawdrick strewing the field;

  His curets left him, like the rest. And all this only done

  By great Apollo. Then his mind took in confusion,

  The vig’rous knittings of his joints dissolv’d; and, thus dismay’d,

  A Dardan, one of Panthus’ sons, and one that overlaid

  All Trojans of his place with darts, swift footing, skill, and force

  In noble horsemanship, and one that tumbled from their horse,

  One after other, twenty men, and when he did but learn

  The art of war; nay when he first did in the field discern

  A horse and chariot of his guide; this man, with all these parts,

  (His name Euphorbus) comes behind, and ‘twixt the shoulders darts

  Forlorn Patroclus, who yet liv’d, and th’ other (getting forth

  His jav’lin) took him to his strength; nor durst he stand the worth

  Of thee, Patroclus, though disarm’d, who yet (discomfited

  By Phœbus’ and Euphorbus’ wound) the red heap of the dead

  He now too late shunn’d, and retir’d. When Hector saw him yield,

  And knew he yielded with a wound, he scour’d the arméd field,

  Came close up to him, and both sides strook quite through with his lance.

  He fell, and his most weighty fall gave fit tune to his chance;

  For which all Greece extremely mourn’d. And as a mighty strife

  About a little fount begins, and riseth to the life

  Of some fell boar resolv’d to drink; when likewise to the spring

  A lion comes alike dispos’d, the boar thirsts, and his king,

  Both proud, and both will first be serv’d; and then the lion takes

  Advantage of his sov’reign strength, and th’ other, fainting, makes

  Resign his thirst up with his blood; Patroclus, so enforc’d

  When he had forc’d so much brave life, was from his own divorc’d.

  And thus his great divorcer brav’d: “Patroclus, thy conceit

  Gave thee th’ eversion of our Troy, and to thy fleet a freight

  Of Trojan ladies, their free lives put all in bands by thee;

  But (too much prizer of thy self) all these are propp’d by me,

  For these have my horse stretch’d their hoofs to this so long a war,

  And I (far best of Troy in arms) keep off from Troy as far,

  Ev’n to the last beam of my life, their necessary day.

  And here, in place of us and ours, on thee shall vultures prey,

  Poor wretch; nor shall thy mighty friend afford thee any aid,

  That gave thy parting much deep charge, and this perhaps be said:

  ‘Martial Patroclus, turn not face, nor see my fleet before

  The curets from great Hector’s breast, all gilded with his gore,

  Thou hew’st in pieces.’ If thus vain were his far-stretched commands,

  As vain was thy heart to believe his words lay in thy hands.”

  He, languishing, replied: “This proves, thy glory worse than vain,

  That when two Gods have giv’n thy hands what their pow’rs did obtain,

  (They conqu’ring, and they spoiling me both of my arms and mind,

  It being a work of ease for them) thy soul should be so blind

  To oversee their evident deeds, and take their pow’rs to thee;

  When, if the pow’rs of twenty such had dar’d t’ encounter me,

  My lance had strew’d earth with them all. Thou only dost obtain

  A third place in my death; whom, first, a harmful hate hath slain

  Effected by Latona’s son; second, and first of men,

  Euphorbus. And this one thing more concerns thee; note it then;

  Thou shalt not long survive thyself; nay, now death calls for thee,

  And violent fate; Achilles’ lance shall make this good for me.”

  Thus death join’d to his words his end; his soul took instant wing,

  And to the house that hath no lights descended) sorrowing

  For his sad fate, to leave him young, and in his ablest age.

  He dead, yet Hector ask’d him why, in that prophetic rage,

  He so forespake him, when none knew but great Achilles might

  Prevent his death, and on his lance receive his latest light?

  Thus setting on his side his foot, he drew out of his wound

  His brazen lance, and upwards cast the body on the ground;

  When quickly, while the dart was hot, he charg’d Automedon,

  Divine guide of Achilles’ steeds, in great contention

  To seize him too; but his so swift and deathless horse, that fetch’d

  Their gift to Peleus from the Gods, soon rapt him from his reach.

  THE END OF THE SIXTEENTH BOOK.

  ENDNOTES.

  1 Jupiter called the God of sounds, for the chief sound his thunder.

  2 A simile most lively expressive.

  THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS

  THE ARGUMENT

  A dreadful fight about Patroclus’ corse;

  Euphorbus slain by Menelaus’ force;

  Hector in th’ armour of Æacides;

  Antilochus relating the decease

  Of slain Patroclus to fair Thetis’ son;

  The body from the striving Trojans won;

  Th’ Ajaces making good the after field;

  Make all the subject that this book doth yield,

  ANOTHER ARGUMENT

  In Rho the vent’rous hosts maintain

  A slaught’rous conflict for the slain.

  Nor could his slau
ghter rest conceal’d from Menelaus’ ear;

  Who flew amongst the foremost fights, and with his targe and spear

  Circled the body, as much griev’d, and with as tender heed

  To keep it theirs, as any dam about her first-born seed,

  Not proving what the pain of birth would make the love before,

  Nor to pursue his first attaint Euphorbus’ spirit forbore; 1

  But, seeing Menelaus chief in rescue of the dead,

  Assay’d him thus: “Atrides, cease, and leave the slaughteréd

  With his embru’d spoil to the man, that first, of all our state,

  And famous succours, in fair fight, made passage to his fate;

  And therefore suffer me to wear the good name I have won

  Amongst the Trojans, lest thy life repay what his hath done.”

  “O Jupiter,” said he, incens’d, “thou art no honest man

  To boast so past thy pow’r to do. Not any lion can,

  Nor spotted leopard, nor boar, whose mind is mightiest

  In pouring fury from his strength, advance so proud a crest

  As Panthus’ fighting progeny. But Hyperenor’s pride,

  That joy’d so little time his youth, when he so vilified

  My force in arms, and call’d me worst of all our chivalry,

  And stood my worst, might teach ye all to shun this surcuidrie;

  I think he came not safely home, to tell his wife his acts.

  Nor less right of thy insolence my equal fate exacts,

  And will obtain me, if thou stay’st. Retire then, take advice:

  A fool sees nought before ’tis done, and still too late is wise.”

  This mov’d not him but to the worse, since it renew’d the sting

  That his slain brother shot in him, remember’d by the king,

  To whom he answer’d: “Thou shalt pay, for all the pains endur’d

  By that slain brother, all the wounds sustain’d for him, recur’d

  With one made in thy heart by me. ’Tis true thou mad’st his wife

  A heavy widow, when her joys of wedlock scarce had life,

  And hurt’st our parents with his grief; all which thou gloriest in,

  Forespeaking so thy death, that now their grief’s end shall begin.

  To Panthus, and the snowy hand of Phrontes, I will bring

  Those arms, and that proud head of thine. And this laborious thing

  Shall ask no long time to perform. Nor be my words alone,

  But their performance; Strength, and Fight, and Terror thus sets on.”

  This said, he strook his all-round shield; nor shrunk that, but his lance

  That turn’d head in it. Then the king assay’d the second chance;

  First praying to the King of Gods; and his dart entry got

  (The force much driving back his foe) in low part of his throat,

  And ran his neck through. Then fell pride, and he; and all with gore

  His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore

  In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.

  And when alone in some choice place, a husbandman hath set

  The young plant of an olive tree, whose root being ever fed

  With plenty of delicious springs, his branches bravely spread,

  And all his fresh and lovely head, grown curl’d with snowy flow’rs,

  That dance and flourish with the winds, that are of gentlest pow’rs;

  But when a whirlwind, got aloft, stoops with a sudden gale,

  Tears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal

  His fix’d root from his hollow mines; it well presents the force

  Of Sparta’s king; and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse.

  He slain, the king stripp’d off his arms; and with their worthy prise,

  All fearing him, had clearly pass’d, if heaven’s fair Eye of eyes

  Had not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr’d

  The Mars-like Hector; to whose pow’rs the rescue he preferr’d

  Of those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas, colonel

  Of all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell.

  Like him, he thus puts forth his voice: “Hector, thou scour’st the field

  In headstrong púrsuit of those horse, that hardly are compell’d

  To take the draught of chariots, by any mortal’s hand;

  The great grandchild of Æacus hath only their command,

  Whom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend’st on these,

  The young Atrides, in defence of Menœtiades,

  Hath slain Euphorbus.” Thus the God took troop with men again;

  And Hector, heartily perplex’d, look’d round, and saw the slain

  Still shedding rivers from his wound; and then took envious view

  Of brave Atrides with his spoil; in way to whom he flew

  Like one of Vulcan’s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry

  That ever usher’d him, and sigh’d, and said: “O me, if I 2

  Should leave these goodly arms, and him, that here lies dead for me,

  I fear I should offend the Greeks; if I should stay and be

  Alone with Hector and his men, I may be compass’d in,

  Some sleight or other they may use, many may quickly win

  Their wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads.

  But why, dear mind, dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads

  Against the Gods, as sure they do that fight with men they love,

  Straight one or other plague ensues. It cannot therefore move

  The grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he

  Still fighting with a spirit from heav’n. And yet if I could see

  Brave Ajax, he and I would stand, though ‘gainst a God; and sure

  ’Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure

  This corse’s freedom through all these. A little then let rest

  The body, and my mind be still. Of two bads choose the best.”

  In this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he

  Made such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see

  The royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries, and spears,

  To clear their hornéd stall, and then the kingly heart he bears

  (With all his high disdain) falls off; so from this odds of aid

  The golden-hair’d Atrides fled, and in his strength display’d

  Upon his left hand him he wish’d, extremely busiéd

  About encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread

  Apollo had infus’d. The king reach’d Ajax instantly,

  And said: “Come, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny

  Of Hector free Patroclus’ corse.” He straight and gladly went;

  And then was Hector haling off the body, with intent

  To spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest,

  His arms he having pris’d before; when Ajax brought his breast

  To bar all further spoil. With that he had, sure Hector thought

  ’Twas best to satisfy his spleen; which temper Ajax wrought

  With his mere sight, and Hector fled. The arms he sent to Troy,

  To make his citizens admire, and pray Jove send him joy.

  Then Ajax gather’d to the corse, and hid it with his targe,

  There setting down as sure a foot, as, in the tender charge

  Of his lov’d whelps, a lion doth; two hundred hunters near

  To give him onset, their more force makes him the more austere,

  Drowns all their clamours in his roars, darts, dogs, doth all despise,

  And lets his rough brows down so low, they cover all his eyes;

  So Ajax look’d, and stood, and stay’d for great Priamides.

  When Glaucus Hippolochides saw Ajax thus depress

  The spirit of Hector, thus he chid: �
�O goodly man at arms,

  In fight a Paris, why should fame make thee fort ‘gainst our harms,

  Being such a fugitive? Now mark, how well thy boasts defend

  Thy city only with her own. Be sure it shall descend

  To that proof wholly. Not a man of any Lycian rank

  Shall strike one stroke more for thy town; for no man gets a thank

  Should he eternally fight here, nor any guard of thee.

  How wilt thou, worthless that thou art, keep off an enemy

  From our poor soldiers, when their prince, Sarpedon, guest and friend

  To thee, and most deservedly, thou flew’st from in his end,

  And left’st to all the lust of Greece? O Gods, a man that was

  (In life) so huge a good to Troy, and to thee such a grace,

  (In death) not kept by thee from dogs! If my friends will do well,

  We’ll take our shoulders from your walls, and let all sink to hell;

  As all will, were our faces turn’d. Did such a spirit breathe

  In all you Trojans, as becomes all men that fight beneath

  Their country’s standard, you would see, that such a prop your cause

  With like exposure of their lives, have all the honour’d laws

  Of such a dear confederacy kept to them to a thread,

  As now ye might reprise the arms Sarpedon forfeited

  By forfeit of your rights to him, would you but lend your hands,

  And force Patroclus to your Troy. Ye know how dear he stands

  In his love, that of all the Greeks is, for himself, far best,

  And leads the best near-fighting men; and therefore would at least

  Redeem Sarpedon’s arms; nay him, whom you have likewise lost.

  This body drawn to Ilion would after draw and cost

  A greater ransom if you pleas’d; but Ajax startles you;

  ’Tis his breast bars this right to us; his looks are darts enow

  To mix great Hector with his men. And not to blame ye are,

  You choose foes underneath your strengths, Ajax exceeds ye far.”

  Hector look’d passing sour at this, and answer’d: “Why dar’st thou,

  So under, talk above me so? O friend, I thought till now

  Thy wisdom was superior to all th’ inhabitants

  Of gleby Lycia; but now impute apparent wants

  To that discretion thy words show, to say I lost my ground

  For Ajax’ greatness. Nor fear I the field in combats drown’d,

  Nor force of chariots, but I fear a Pow’r much better seen