by Homer
Yet still I wish that some young man, grown old in mind, might be
Put in proportion with thy years; and thy mind, young in age,
Be fitly answer’d with his youth, that still where conflicts rage,
And young men us’d to thirst for fame, thy brave exampling hand
Might double our young Grecian spirits, and grace our whole command.’
The old knight answer’d: ‘I myself could wish, O Atreus’ son,
I were as young as when I slew brave Ereuthalion;
But gods at all times give not all their gifts to mortal men.
If then I had the strength of youth, I miss’d the counsels then
That years now give me, and now years want that main strength of youth;
Yet still my mind retains her strength (as you now said the sooth),
And would be where that strength is us’d, affording counsels sage
To stir youth’s minds up; ’tis the grace and office of our age.
Let younger sinews, men sprung up whole ages after me,
And such as have strength, use it, and as strong in honour be.’
The king, all this while comforted, arriv’d next where he found
Well-rode Menestheus (Peteus’ son) stand still, environ’d round
With his well-train’d Athenian troops; and next to him he spied
The wise Ulysses, deedless too, and all his bands beside
Of strong Cephalians; for as yet th’ alarm had not been heard
In all their quarters, Greece and Troy were then so newly stirr’d,
And then first mov’d, as they conceiv’d; and they so look’d about
To see both hosts give proof of that they yet had cause to doubt.
Atrides seeing them stand so still, and spend their eyes at gaze,
Began to chide: ‘And why,’ said he, ‘dissolv’d thus in amaze,
Thou son of Peteus, Jove-nurs’d king, and thou in wicked sleight,
A cunning soldier, stand ye off? Expect ye that the fight
Should be by other men begun? ’Tis fit the foremost band
Should show you there; you first should front who first lifts up his hand.
First you can hear, when I invite the princes to a feast,
When first, most friendly, and at will ye eat and drink the best;
Yet in the fight most willingly ten troops ye can behold
Take place before ye.’ Ithacus at this his brows did fold,
And said: ‘How hath thy violent tongue broke through thy set of teeth
To say that we are slack in fight, and to the field of death
Look others should enforce our way, when we were busied then,
Ev’n when thou speak’st, against the foe to cheer and lead our men?
But thy eyes shall be witnesses, if it content thy will,
And that (as thou pretend’st) these cares do so affect thee still:
The father of Telemachus (whom I esteem so dear,
And to whom as a legacy I’ll leave my deeds done here)
Even with the foremost band of Troy hath his encounter dar’d,
And therefore are thy speeches vain, and had been better spar’d.’
He, smiling, since he saw him mov’d, recall’d his words, and said:
‘Most generous Laertes’ son, most wise of all our aid,
I neither do accuse thy worth, more than thyself may hold
Fit (that inferiors think not much – being slack – to be controll’d),
Nor take I on me thy command: for well I know thy mind
Knows how sweet gentle counsels are, and that thou stand’st inclin’d,
As I myself, for all our good. On then: if now we spake
What hath displeas’d, another time we full amends will make:
And gods grant that thy virtue here may prove so free and brave,
That my reproofs may still be vain, and thy deservings grave.’
Thus parted they; and forth he went, when he did leaning find,
Against his chariot, near his horse, him with a mighty mind,
Great Diomedes (Tydeus’ son) and Sthenelus, the seed
Of Capaneius, whom the king seeing likewise out of deed,
Thus cried he out on Diomed: ‘O me! In what a fear
The wise great warrior, Tydeus’ son, stands gazing everywhere
For others to begin the fight! It was not Tydeus’ use
To be so daunted, whom his spirit would evermore produce
Before the foremost of his friends in these affairs of fright,
As they report that have beheld him labour in a fight.
For me, I never knew the man, nor in his presence came,
But excellent above the rest he was in general fame.
And one renown’d exploit of his I am assur’d is true;
He came to the Mycenian court, without arms, and did sue
At godlike Polinices’ hands, to have some worthy aid
To their designs, that ’gainst the walls of sacred Thebes were laid.
He was great Polinices’ guest, and nobly entertain’d:
And of the kind Mycenian state what he requested gain’d,
In mere consent: but when they should the same in act approve,
By some sinister prodigies, held out to them by Jove,
They were discourag’d; thence he went, and safely had his pass
Back to Aesopus’ flood, renown’d for bulrushes and grass.
Yet, once more their ambassador the Grecian peers address,
Lord Tydeus to Eteocles; to whom being given access,
He found him feasting with a crew of Cadmeans in his hall;
Amongst whom, though an enemy, and only one to all,
To all yet he his challenge made at every martial feat,
And eas’ly foil’d all, since with him Minerva was so great.
The rank-rode Cadmeans, much incens’d with their so foul disgrace,
Lodg’d ambuscados for their foe, in some well-chosen place,
By which he was to make return. Twice five-and-twenty men,
And two of them great captains too, the ambush did contain.
The names of those two men of rule were Maeon, Haemon’s son,
And Lycophontes, Keep-field call’d, the heir of Autophon,
By all men honour’d like the gods: yet these and all their friends
Were sent to hell by Tydeus’ hand, and had untimely ends,
He trusting to the aid of gods, reveal’d by augury;
Obeying which one chief he sav’d, and did his life apply
To be the heavy messenger of all the others’ deaths;
And that sad message, with his life, to Maeon he bequeaths.
So brave a knight was Tydeus: of whom a son is sprung,
Inferior far in martial deeds, though higher in his tongue.’
All this Tydides silent heard, aw’d by the reverend king;
Which stung hot Sthenelus with wrath, who thus put forth his sting:
‘Atrides, when thou know’st the truth, speak what thy knowledge is,
And do not lie so; for I know, and I will brag in this,
That we are far more able men than both our fathers were;
We took the seven-fold ported Thebes, when yet we had not there
So great help as our fathers had, and fought beneath a wall
(Sacred to Mars) by help of Jove, and trusting to the fall
Of happy signs from other gods; by whom we took the town
Untouch’d, our fathers perishing there by follies of their own:
And therefore never more compare our
fathers’ worth with ours.’
Tydides frown’d at this, and said: ‘Suppress thine anger’s pow’rs,
Good friend, and hear why I refrain’d: thou seest I am not mov’d
Against our general, since he did but what his place behov’d,
Admonishing all Greeks to fight; for if Troy prove our prize,
The honour and the joy is his: if here our ruin lies,
The shame and grief for that as much is his in greatest kinds;
As he then his charge, weigh we ours: which is our dauntless minds.’
Thus, from his chariot, amply arm’d, he jump’d down to the ground:
The armour of the angry king so horribly did sound,
It might have made his bravest foe let fear take down his braves.
And as when with the west wind’s flaws the sea thrusts up her waves,
One after other, thick and high, upon the groaning shores;
First in herself loud, but oppos’d with banks and rocks, she roars,
And, all her back in bristles set, spits every way her foam:
So after Diomed instantly the field was overcome
With thick impressions of the Greeks, and all the noise that grew
(Ordering and cheering up their men) from only leaders flew.
The rest went silently away, you could not hear a voice,
Nor would have thought in all their breasts they had one in their choice,
Their silence uttering their awe of them that them controll’d;
Which made each man keep bright his arms, march, fight still where he should.
The Trojans, like a sort of ewes penn’d in a rich man’s fold,
Close at his door, till all be milk’d, and never baaing hold,
Hearing the bleating of their lambs, did all their wide host fill
With shouts and clamours; nor observ’d one voice, one baaing still
But show’d mix’d tongues from many a land of men call’d to their aid.
Rude Mars had th’ ordering of their spirits; of Greeks, the learned Maid.
But Terror follow’d both the hosts, and Flight, and furious Strife
(The sister and the mate of Mars), that spoil of human life;
And never is her rage at rest; at first she is but small,
Yet after, but a little fed, she grows so vast and tall,
That while her feet move here in earth, her forehead is in heaven:
And this was she that made even then both hosts so deadly given.
Through every troop she stalk’d, and stirr’d rough sighs up as she went:
But when in one field both the foes her fury did content,
And both came under reach of darts, then darts and shields oppos’d
To darts and shields; strength answer’d strength; then swords and targets clos’d
With swords and targets, both with pikes, and then did tumult rise
Up to her height; then conquerors’ boasts mix’d with the conquer’d’s cries.
Earth flow’d with blood. And as from hills rain-waters headlong fall,
That all ways eat huge ruts, which, met in one bed, fill a vall
With such a confluence of streams, that on the mountain grounds
Far off, in frighted shepherds’ ears, the bustling noise rebounds:
So grew their conflicts, and so show’d their scuffling to the ear,
With flight and clamour still commix’d, and all effects of fear.
And first renown’d Antilochus slew (fighting in the face
Of all Achaia’s foremost bands, with an undaunted grace)
Echepolus Thalysiades: he was an armed man,
Whom on his hair-plum’d helmet’s crest the dart first smote, then ran
Into his forehead, and there stuck, the steel pile making way
Quite through his skull; a hasty night shut up his latest day.
His fall was like a light-rac’d tow’r, like which lying there dispread,
King Elephenor (who was son to Chalcodon, and led
The valiant Abants), covetous that he might first possess
His arms, laid hands upon his feet, and hal’d him from the press
Of darts and javelins hurl’d at him. The action of the king
When great-in-heart Agenor saw, he made his javelin sing
To th’ other’s labour; and along as he the trunk did wrest,
His side (at which he bore his shield, in bowing of his breast)
Lay naked, and receiv’d the lance that made him lose his hold
And life together; which in hope of that he lost, he sold.
But for his sake the fight grew fierce; the Trojans and their foes
Like wolves on one another rush’d, and man for man it goes.
The next of name that serv’d his fate great Ajax Telamon
Preferr’d so sadly; he was heir to old Anthemion,
And deck’d with all the flow’r of youth, the fruit of which yet fled,
Before the honour’d nuptial torch could light him to his bed;
His name was Symoisius: for some few years before,
His mother walking down the hill of Ida, by the shore
Of silver Symois, to see her parents’ flocks, with them
She feeling suddenly the pains of child-birth, by the stream
Of that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Symois)
They call’d him Symoisius. Sweet was that birth of his
To his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ;
And yet those rites of piety, that should have been his joy
To pay their honour’d years again, in as affectionate sort,
He could not graciously perform, his sweet life was so short,
Cut off with mighty Ajax’ lance. For as his spirit put on,
He struck him at his breast’s right pap, quite through his shoulder-bone;
And in the dust of earth he fell, that was the fruitful soil
Of his friends’ hopes; but where he sow’d he buried all his toil.
And as a poplar shot aloft, set by a river side,
In moist edge of a mighty fen, his head in curls implied,
But all his body plain and smooth; to which a wheelwright puts
The sharp edge of his shining axe, and his soft timber cuts
From his innative root, in hope to hew out of his bole
The fell’ffs, or out-parts of a wheel, that compass in the whole,
To serve some goodly chariot; but being big and sad,
And to be hal’d home through the bogs, the useful hope he had
Sticks there; and there the goodly plant lies withering out his grace:
So lay by Jove-bred Ajax’ hand Anthemion’s forward race,
Nor could through that vast fen of toils be drawn to serve the ends
Intended by his body’s pow’rs, nor cheer his aged friends.
But now the gay-arm’d Antiphus (a son of Priam) threw
His lance at Ajax through the press, which went by him, and flew
On Leucus, wise Ulysses’ friend; his groin it smote, as fain
He would have drawn into his spoil the carcass of the slain,
By which he fell, and that by him; it vex’d Ulysses’ heart,
Who thrust into the face of fight, well arm’d at every part,
Came close, and look’d about to find an object worth his lance;
Which when the Trojans saw him shake, and he so near advance,
All shrunk. He threw, and forth it shin’d, nor fell but where it fell’d:
His friend’s grief gave it angry pow’r, and deadly way it held
> Upon Democoön, who was sprung of Priam’s wanton force,
Came from Abydus, and was made the master of his horse;
Through both his temples struck the dart; the wood of one side shew’d,
The pile out of the other look’d, and so the earth he strew’d
With much sound of his weighty arms. Then back the foremost went,
Ev’n Hector yielded; then the Greeks gave worthy clamours vent,
Effecting then their first dumb pow’rs; some drew the dead, and spoil’d,
Some follow’d, that in open flight Troy might confess it foil’d.
Apollo, angry at the sight, from top of Ilion cried:
‘Turn head, ye well-rode peers of Troy, feed not the Grecians’ pride;
They are not charm’d against your points, of steel nor iron fram’d;
Nor lights the fair-hair’d Thetis’ son, but sits at fleet inflam’d.’
So spake the dreadful god from Troy. The Greeks, Jove’s noblest seed
Encourag’d to keep on the chace: and where fit spirit did need,
She gave it, marching in the midst. Then flew the fatal hour
Back on Diores, in return of Ilion’s sun-burn’d pow’r,
Diores Amarincides, whose right leg’s ankle-bone
And both the sinews, with a sharp and handful-charging stone,
Pirus Imbrasides did break, that led the Thracian bands,
And came from Aenos; down he fell, and up he held his hands
To his lov’d friends; his spirit wing’d to fly out of his breast,
With which not satisfied, again Imbrasides address’d
His javelin at him, and so ripp’d his navel, that the wound,
As endlessly it shut his eyes, so open’d on the ground,
It pour’d his entrails. As his foe went then suffic’d away,
Thoas Aetolius threw a dart that did his pile convey
Above his nipple, through his lungs; when (quitting his stern part)
He clos’d with him, and from his breast first drawing out his dart,
His sword flew in, and by the midst it wip’d his belly out,
So took his life, but left his arms: his friends so flock’d about,
And thrust forth lances of such length, before their slaughter’d king,
Which, though their foe were big and strong, and often brake the ring
Forg’d of their lances, yet (enforc’d) he left th’ affected prize;
The Thracian and Epeian dukes laid close with closed eyes,