The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  Yet thou (even Hector) deedless stand’st, and car’st not to employ

  Thy town-born friends, to bid them stand, to fight and save their wives,

  Lest as a fowler casts his nets upon the silly lives

  Of birds of all sorts, so the foe your walls and houses hales,

  One with another, on all heads; or such as ’scape their falls

  Be made the prey and prize of them (as willing overthrown,

  That holp not for you with their force) and so this brave-built town

  Will prove a chaos. That deserves in thee so hot a care

  As should consume thy days and nights, to hearten and prepare

  Th’ assistant princes: pray their minds to bear their fat-brought toils,

  To give them worth with worthy fight, in victories and foils

  Still to be equal, and thyself, exampling them in all,

  Need no reproofs nor spurs. All this in thy free choice should fall.’

  This stung great Hector’s heart; and yet, as every generous mind

  Should silent bear a just reproof, and show what good they find

  In worthy counsels, by their ends put into present deeds,

  Not stomach nor be vainly sham’d, so Hector’s spirit proceeds

  And from his chariot, wholly arm’d, he jump’d upon the sand,

  On foot so toiling through the host, a dart in either hand,

  And all hands turn’d against the Greeks; the Greeks despis’d their worst,

  And, thick’ning their instructed powers, expected all they durst.

  Then with the feet of horse and foot the dust in clouds did rise:

  And as in sacred floors of barns, upon corn-winnowers flies

  The chaff, driven with an opposite wind, when yellow Ceres dites,

  Which all the diters’ feet, legs, arms, their heads and shoulders whites:

  So look’d the Grecians gray with dust, that struck the solid heav’n,

  Rais’d from returning chariots and troops together driv’n.

  Each side stood to their labours firm: fierce Mars flew through the air,

  And gather’d darkness from the fight, and with his best affair

  Obey’d the pleasure of the Sun, that wears the golden sword,

  Who bade him raise the spirits of Troy, when Pallas ceas’d t’ afford

  Her helping office to the Greeks. And then his own hands wrought,

  Which (from his fane’s rich chancel, cur’d) the true Aeneas brought,

  And plac’d him by his peers in field, who did with joy admire

  To see him both alive and safe, and all his pow’rs entire,

  Yet stood not sifting how it chanc’d: another sort of task,

  Then stirring th’ idle sieve of news, did all their forces ask,

  Inflam’d by Phoebus, harmful Mars, and Eris, eag’rer far.

  The Greeks had none to hearten them; their hearts rose with the war,

  But chiefly Diomed, Ithacus, and both th’ Ajaces us’d

  Stirring examples and good words: their own fames had infus’d

  Spirit enough into their bloods to make them neither fear

  The Trojans force nor Fate itself, but still expecting were

  When most was done, what would be more; their ground they still made good.

  And in their silence and set pow’rs, like fair still clouds they stood,

  With which Jove crowns the tops of hills in any quiet day,

  When Boreas and the ruder winds (that use to drive away

  Air’s dusky vapours, being loose, in many a whistling gale)

  Are pleasingly bound up and calm, and not a breath exhale:

  So firmly stood the Greeks, nor fled, for all the Ilions’ aid.

  Atrides yet coasts through the troops, confirming men so staid:

  ‘O friends,’ said he, ‘hold up your minds; strength is but strength of will;

  Rev’rence each other’s good in fight, and shame at things done ill.

  Where soldiers show an honest shame, and love of honour lives

  That ranks men with the first in fight, death fewer liveries gives

  Than life, or than where Fame’s neglect makes cowards fight at length;

  Flight neither doth the body grace, nor shows the mind hath strength.’

  He said, and swiftly through the troops a mortal lance did send,

  That reft a standard-bearer’s life, renown’d Aeneas’ friend,

  Deicoön Pergasides, whom all the Trojans lov’d

  As he were one of Priam’s sons, his mind was so approv’d

  In always fighting with the first. The lance his target took,

  Which could not interrupt the blow that through it clearly strook,

  And in his belly’s rim was sheath’d, beneath his girdle-stead.

  He sounded, falling – and his arms with him resounded – dead.

  Then fell two princes of the Greeks by great Aeneas’ ire,

  Diocleus’ sons, Orsilochus and Crethon, whose kind sire

  In bravely-builded Phaera dwelt, rich, and of sacred blood;

  He was descended lineally from great Alphaeus flood,

  That broadly flows through Pylos fields: Alphaeus did beget

  Orsilochus, who in the rule of many men was set,

  And that Orsilochus begat the rich Diocleus:

  Diocleus sire to Crethon was, and this Orsilochus.

  Both these, arriv’d at man’s estate, with both th’ Atrides went,

  To honour them in th’ Ilion wars; and both were one way sent,

  To death as well as Troy, for death hid both in one black hour.

  As two young lions (with their dam sustain’d but to devour)

  Bred on the tops of some steep hill, and in the gloomy deep

  Of an inaccessible wood, rush out, and prey on sheep,

  Steers, oxen, and destroy men’s stalls so long that they come short,

  And by the owners’ steel are slain: in such unhappy sort

  Fell these beneath Aeneas’ power. When Menelaus view’d

  Like two tall fir-trees these two fall, their timeless falls he rued

  And to the first fight, where they lay, a vengeful force he took;

  His arms beat back the sun in flames, a dreadful lance he shook:

  Mars put the fury in his mind, that by Aeneas’ hands

  (Who was to make the slaughter good) he might have strew’d the sands.

  Antilochus (old Nestor’s son) observing he was bent

  To urge a combat of such odds, and knowing – the event

  Being ill on his part – all their pains (alone sustain’d for him)

  Err’d from their end, made after hard, and took them in the trim

  Of an encounter; both their hands and darts advanc’d, and shook,

  And both pitch’d in full stand of charge; when suddenly the look

  Of Anchisiades took note of Nestor’s valiant son,

  In full charge too; which two to one made Venus’ issue shun

  The hot adventure, though he were a soldier well approv’d.

  Then drew they off their slaughter’d friends; who given to their belov’d,

  They turn’d where fight show’d deadliest hate, and there mix’d with the dead

  Pylemen, that the targeteers of Paphlagonia led,

  A man like Mars; and with him fell good Mydon that did guide

  His chariot, Atymnus’ son. The prince Pylemen died

  By Menelaus, Nestor’s joy slew Mydon; one before,

  The other in the chariot: Atrides’ lance did gore

  Pylemen’s shoulder in the blade: Antilochus
did force

  A mighty stone up from the earth, and, as he turn’d his horse,

  Struck Mydon’s elbow in the midst: the reins of ivory

  Fell from his hands into the dust: Antilochus let fly

  His sword withal, and rushing in a blow so deadly laid

  Upon his temples, that he groan’d, tumbled to earth, and stay’d

  A mighty while preposterously (because the dust was deep)

  Upon his neck and shoulders there, even till his foe took keep

  Of his priz’d horse, and made them stir; and then he prostrate fell:

  His horse Antilochus took home. When Hector had heard tell

  (Amongst the uproar) of their deaths, he laid out all his voice,

  And ran upon the Greeks: behind came many men of choice,

  Before him march’d great Mars himself, match’d with his female mate,

  The dread Bellona: she brought on (to fight for mutual fate)

  A tumult that was wild and mad: he shook a horrid lance,

  And now led Hector, and anon, behind would make the chance.

  This sight when great Tydides saw, his hair stood up on end:

  And him, whom all the skill and power of arms did late attend,

  Now like a man in counsel poor, that travelling goes amiss,

  And having pass’d a boundless plain, not knowing where he is,

  Comes on the sudden where he sees a river rough, and raves,

  With his own billows ravished into the king of waves,

  Murmurs with foam, and frights him back: so he, amaz’d, retir’d,

  And thus would make good his amaze: ‘O friends, we all admir’d

  Great Hector as one of himself well-darting, bold in war

  When some god guards him still from death, and makes him dare so far;

  Now Mars himself, form’d like a man, is present in his rage;

  And therefore, whatsoever cause importunes you to wage

  War with these Trojans, never strive, but gently take your rod,

  Lest in your bosoms for a man ye ever find a god.’

  As Greece retir’d, the pow’r of Troy did much more forward press;

  And Hector two brave men of war sent to the fields of peace:

  Menesthes, and Anchialus; one chariot bare them both.

  Their fall made Ajax Telamon ruthful of heart, and wroth;

  Who light’ned out a lance that smote Amphius Selages,

  That dwelt in Paedos, rich in lands, and did huge goods possess:

  But Fate to Priam and his sons conducted his supply.

  The javelin on his girdle struck, and pierced mortally

  His belly’s lower part; he fell; his arms had looks so trim

  That Ajax needs would prove their spoil; the Trojans pour’d on him

  Whole storms of lances, large and sharp, of which a number stuck

  In his rough shield; yet from the slain he did his javelin pluck,

  But could not from his shoulders force the arms he did affect,

  The Trojans with such drifts of darts the body did protect,

  And wisely Telamonius fear’d their valorous defence,

  So many, and so strong of hand, stood in with such expense

  Of deadly prowess; who repell’d (though big, strong, bold he were)

  The famous Ajax, and their friend did from his rapture bear.

  Thus this place fill’d with strength of fight; in th’ army’s other press,

  Tlepolemus, a tall big man, the son of Hercules,

  A cruel destiny inspir’d, with strong desire to prove

  Encounter with Sarpedon’s strength, the son of cloudy Jove;

  Who coming on to that stern end, had chosen him his foe:

  Thus Jove’s great nephew and his son ’gainst one another go.

  Tlepolemus – to make his end more worth the will of fate –

  Began as if he had her pow’r, and show’d the mortal state

  Of too much confidence in man, with this superfluous brave:

  ‘Sarpedon, what necessity or needless humour drave

  Thy form to these wars? Which in heart I know thou dost abhor,

  A man not seen in deeds of arms, a Lycian counsellor.

  They lie that call thee son to Jove, since Jove bred none so late.

  The men of elder times were they, that his high power begat,

  Such men as had Herculean force; my father Hercules

  Was Jove’s true issue; he was bold, his deeds did well express

  They sprung out of a lion’s heart. He whilom came to Troy

  (For horse, that Jupiter gave Tros for Ganimed, his boy)

  With six ships only, and few men, and tore the city down,

  Left all her broad ways desolate, and made the horse his own:

  For thee, thy mind is ill dispos’d, thy body’s pow’rs are poor,

  And therefore are thy troops so weak; the soldier evermore

  Follows the temper of his chief, and thou pull’st down a side.

  But say thou art the son of Jove, and hast thy means supplied

  With forces fitting his descent, the pow’rs that I compel

  Shall throw thee hence, and make thy head run ope the gates of hell.’

  Jove’s Lycian issue answer’d him: ‘Tlepolemus, ’tis true –

  Thy father holy Ilion in that sort overthrew;

  Th’ injustice of the king was cause, that where thy father had

  Us’d good deservings to his state, he quitted him with bad.

  Hesione, the joy and grace of king Laomedon,

  Thy father rescu’d from a whale, and gave to Telamon

  In honour’d nuptials (Telamon, from whom your strongest Greek

  Boasts to have issu’d); and this grace might well expect the like:

  Yet he gave taunts for thanks, and kept against his oath his horse.

  And therefore both thy father’s strength and justice might enforce

  The wreak he took on Troy: but this and thy cause differ far;

  Sons seldom heir their fathers’ worths, thou canst not make his war:

  What thou assum’st from him is mine, to be on thee impos’d.’

  With this, he threw an ashen dart, and then Tlepolemus loos’d

  Another from his glorious hand: both at one instant flew;

  Both struck; both wounded; from his neck Sarpedon’s javelin drew

  The life-blood of Tlepolemus; full in the midst it fell,

  And what he threaten’d, th’ other gave: that darkness, and that hell.

  Sarpedon’s left thigh took the lance; it pierc’d the solid bone,

  And with his raging head ran through; but Jove preserv’d his son.

  The dart yet vex’d him bitterly, which should have been pull’d out,

  But none consider’d then so much, so thick came on the rout,

  And fill’d each hand so full of cause to ply his own defence;

  ’Twas held enough (both fall’n) that both were nobly carried thence.

  Ulysses knew th’ events of both, and took it much to heart

  That his friend’s enemy should ’scape, and in a twofold part

  His thoughts contended, if he should pursue Sarpedon’s life,

  Or take his friend’s wreak on his men. Fate did conclude this strife,

  By whom ’twas otherwise decreed than that Ulysses’ steel

  Should end Sarpedon. In this doubt Minerva took the wheel

  From fickle Chance, and made his mind resolve to right his friend

  With that blood he could surest draw. Then did Revenge extend

  Her full power on the mult
itude. Then did he never miss;

  Alastor, Halius, Chromius, Noemon, Pritanis,

  Alcander, and a number more, he slew, and more had slain,

  If Hector had not understood; whose pow’r made in amain,

  And struck fear through the Grecian troops, but to Sarpedon gave

  Hope of full rescue; who thus cried: ‘O Hector! Help and save

  My body from the spoil of Greece, that to your loved town

  My friends may see me borne: and then let earth possess her own,

  ln this soil, for whose sake I left my country’s; for no day

  Shall ever show me that again, nor to my wife display

  And young hope of my name, the joy of my much thirsted sight:

  All which I left for Troy; for them let Troy then do this right.’

  To all this Hector gives no word, but greedily he strives

  With all speed to repel the Greeks, and shed in floods their lives,

  And left Sarpedon: but what face soever he put on

  Of following the common cause, he left this prince alone,

  For his particular grudge, because so late he was so plain

  In his reproof before the host, and that did he retain;

  However, for example sake he would not show it then,

  And for his shame too, since ’twas just. But good Sarpedon’s men

  Ventur’d themselves, and forc’d him off, and set him underneath

  The goodly beech of Jupiter, where now they did unsheath

  The ashen lance: strong Pelagon, his friend, most lov’d, most true,

  Enforc’d it from his maimed thigh: with which his spirit flew,

  And darkness over-flew his eyes; yet with a gentle gale,

  That round about the dying prince cool Boreas did exhale,

  He was revived, recomforted, that else had griev’d and died.

  All this time flight drave to the fleet the Argives, who applied

  No weapon ’gainst the proud pursuit, nor ever turn’d a head;

  They knew so well that Mars pursu’d, and dreadful Hector led.

  Then who was first, who last, whose lives the iron Mars did seize,

  And Priam’s Hector? Helenus, surnamed Oenopides,

  Good Teuthras, and Orestes skill’d in managing of horse;

  Bold Oenomaus, and a man renown’d for martial force,

  Trechus, the great Aetolian chief, Oresbius, that did wear

  The gaudy mitre, studied wealth extremely, and dwelt near

  Th’ Athlantic lake Cephisides, in Hyla, by whose seat