by Homer
And as upon a rich man’s crop of barley or of wheat
(Oppos’d for swiftness at their work), a sort of reapers sweat,
Bear down the furrows speedily, and thick their handfuls fall:
So at the joining of the hosts ran slaughter through them all;
None stoop’d to any fainting thought of foul inglorious flight,
But equal bore they up their heads, and far’d like wolves in fight:
Stern Eris, with such weeping sights, rejoic’d to feed her eyes,
Who only show’d herself in field of all the deities.
The other in Olympus tops sate silent, and repin’d,
That Jove to do the Trojans grace should bear so fix’d a mind.
He car’d not, but, enthron’d apart, triumphant sat in sway
Of his free pow’r, and from his seat took pleasure to display
The city so adorn’d with tow’rs, the sea with vessels fill’d,
The splendour of refulgent arms, the killer and the kill’d.
As long as bright Aurora rul’d, and sacred day increas’d,
So long their darts made mutual wounds, and neither had the best:
But when in hill-environ’d vales the timber-feller takes
A sharp-set stomach to his meat, and dinner ready makes,
His sinews fainting, and his spirits become surcharg’d and dull,
Time of accustom’d ease arriv’d, his hands with labour full:
Then by their valours Greeks brake through the Trojan ranks, and cheer’d
Their general squadrons through the host; then first of all appear’d
The person of the king himself, and then the Trojans lost
Byanor, by his royal charge, a leader in the host:
Who being slain, his charioteer, Oïleus, did alight,
And stood in skirmish with the king; the king did deadly smite
His forehead with his eager lance, and through his helm it ran,
Enforcing passage to his brain quite through the harden’d pan;
His brain mix’d with his clotter’d blood, his body strew’d the ground.
There left he them, and presently he other objects found:
Isus and Antiphus, two sons king Priam did beget,
One lawful, th’ other wantonly; both in one chariot met
Their royal foe; the baser born, Isus, was charioteer,
And famous Antiphus did fight: both which king Peleus’ heir,
Whilom in Ida keeping flocks, did deprehend and bind
With pliant osiers, and for prize, them to their sire resign’d.
Atrides with his well-aim’d lance smote Isus on the breast
Above the nipple, and his sword a mortal wound impress’d
Beneath the ear of Antiphus; down from their horse they fell.
The king had seen the youths before, and now did know them well,
Rememb’ring them the prisoners of swift Aeacides,
Who brought them to the sable fleet from Ida’s foody leas.
And as a lion having found the furrow of a hind,
Where she hath calv’d two little twins, at will and ease doth grind
Their joints snatch’d in his solid jaws, and crusheth into mist
Their tender lives, their dam, though near, not able to resist,
But shook with vehement fear herself, flies through the oaken chase
From that fell savage, drown’d in sweat, and seeks some covert place:
So when with most unmatched strength the Grecian general bent
’Gainst these two princes, none durst aid their native king’s descent,
But fled themselves before the Greeks, and where these two were slain,
Pisander and Hippolochus, not able to restrain
Their headstrong horse, the silken reins being from their hands let fall,
Were brought by their unruly guides before the general.
Antimachus begat them both – Antimachus that took
Rich gifts, and gold of Helen’s love, and would by no means brook
Just restitution should be made of Menelaus’ wealth,
Bereft him, with his ravish’d queen, by Alexander’s stealth.
Atrides, lion-like, did charge his sons, who on their knees
Fell from their chariot, and besought regard to their degrees,
Who being Antimachus his sons, their father would afford
A worthy ranson for their lives; who in his house did hoard
Much hidden treasure, brass and gold, and steel wrought wondrous choice.
Thus wept they, using smoothing terms, and heard this rugged voice
Breath’d from the unrelenting king: ‘If you be of the breed
Of stout Antimachus, that stay’d the honourable deed
The other peers of Ilion in counsel had decreed,
To render Helen and her wealth, and would have basely slain
My brother and wise Ithacus, ambassadors t’ attain
The most due motion, now receive wreak for his shameful part.’
This said, in poor Pisander’s breast he fix’d his wreakful dart,
Who upward spread th’ oppressed earth: his brother crouch’d for dread,
And, as he lay, the angry king cut off his arms and head,
And let him like a football lie for every man to spurn.
Then to th’ extremest heat of fight he did his valour turn,
And led a multitude of Greeks; where foot did foot subdue,
Horse slaughter’d horse, Need feather’d flight, the batter’d centre flew
In clouds of dust about their ears, rais’d from the horses’ hooves,
That beat a thunder out of earth, as horrible as Jove’s.
The king (persuading speedy chace) gave his persuasions way
With his own valour, slaught’ring still; as in a stormy day
In thick-set woods a ravenous fire wraps in his fierce repair
The shaken trees, and by the roots doth toss them into air:
Even so beneath Atrides’ sword flew up Troy’s flying heels;
Their horse drew empty chariots, and sought their thund’ring wheels
Some fresh directions through the field, where least the pursuit drives:
Thick fell the Trojans, much more sweet to vultures than their wives.
Then Jove drew Hector from the darts, from dust, from death and blood,
And from the tumult: still the king firm to the pursuit stood
Till at old Ilus’ monument, in midst of all the field,
They reach’d the wild fig-tree, and long’d to make their town their shield.
Yet there they rested not, the king still cried, ‘Pursue, pursue’,
And all his unreproved hands did blood and dust imbrue.
But when they came to Scaea’s ports, and to the beech of Jove,
There made they stand; there every eye, fix’d on each other, strove
Who should outlook his mate amaz’d: through all the field they fled.
And as a lion, when the night becomes most deaf and dead,
Invades ox-herds, affrighting all, that he of one may wreak
His dreadful hunger, and his neck he first of all doth break,
Then laps his blood and entrails up: so Agamemnon plied
The manage of the Trojan chace, and still the last man died,
The other fled, a number fell by his imperial hand,
Some grovelling downwards from their horse, some upwards strew’d the sand.
High was the fury of his lance: but having beat them close
Beneath their walls, the both-worlds Sire did now
again repose
On fountain-flowing Ida’s tops, being newly slid from heav’n,
And held a lightning in his hand: from thence his charge was giv’n
To Iris with the golden wings: ‘Thaumantia, fly,’ said he,
And tell Troy’s Hector, that as long as he enrag’d shall see
The soldier-loving Atreus’ son amongst the foremost fight,
Depopulating troops of men, so long he must excite
Some other to resist the foe, and he no arms advance.
But when he wounded takes his horse, attain’d with shaft or lance,
Then will I fill his arm with death, even till he reach the fleet,
And peaceful night treads busy day beneath her sacred feet.’
The wind-foot-swift Thaumantia obey’d, and us’d her wings
To famous Ilion, from the mount enchas’d with silver springs;
And found in his bright chariot the hardy Trojan knight,
To whom she spake the words of Jove, and vanish’d from his sight.
He leap’d upon the sounding earth, and shook his lengthful dart,
And everywhere he breath’d exhorts, and stirr’d up every heart:
A dreadful fight he set on foot, his soldiers straight turn’d head:
The Greeks stood firm, in both the hosts the field was perfected.
But Agamemnon foremost still did all his side exceed,
And would not be the first in name unless the first in deed.
Now sing, fair presidents of verse, that in the heavens embow’r,
Who first encounter’d with the king, of all the adverse pow’r.
Iphidamas, Antenor’s son, ample and bigly set,
Brought up in pasture-springing Thrace, that doth soft sheep beget;
In grave Cissaeus’ noble house, that was his mother’s sire
(Fair Theano), and when his breast was height’ned with the fire
Of gaysome youth, his grandsire gave his daughter to his love,
Who straight his bridal-chamber left; fame with affection strove,
And made him furnish twelve fair ships to lend fair Troy his hand.
His ships he in Percope left, and came to Troy by land:
And now he tried the fame of Greece, encount’ring with the king,
Who threw his royal lance and miss’d. Iphidamas did fling,
And struck him on the arming waist, beneath his coat of brass,
Which forc’d him stay upon his arm, so violent it was;
Yet pierc’d it not his well-wrought zone, but when the lazy head
Tried hardness with his silver waist, it turn’d again like lead.
He follow’d, grasping the ground end: but with a lion’s wile,
That wrests away a hunter’s staff, he caught it by the pile,
And pluck’d it from the caster’s hands, whom with his sword he strook
Beneath the ear, and with his wound his timeless death he took:
He fell and slept an iron sleep; wretched young man, he died,
Far from his newly-married wife, in aid of foreign pride,
And saw no pleasure of his love; yet was her jointure great:
An hundred oxen gave he her, and vow’d in his retreat
Two thousand head of sheep and goats, of which he store did leave;
Much gave he of his love’s first-fruits, and nothing did receive.
When Coön (one that for his form might feast an amorous eye,
And elder brother of the slain) beheld this tragedy,
Deep sorrow sat upon his eyes; and (standing laterally,
And to the general undiscern’d) his javelin he let fly,
That ’twixt his elbow and his wrist transfix’d his armless arm:
The bright head shin’d on th’ other side. The unexpected harm
Impress’d some horror in the king: yet so he ceas’d not fight,
But rush’d on Coön with his lance, who made what haste he might
(Seizing his slaughter’d brother’s foot) to draw him from the field,
And call’d the ablest to his aid; when under his round shield
The king’s brass javelin, as he drew, did strike him helpless dead,
Who made Iphidamas the block, and cut off Coön’s head.
Thus under great Atrides’ arm Antenor’s issue thriv’d,
And to suffice precisest fate, to Pluto’s mansion div’d.
He with his lance, sword, mighty stones, pour’d his heroic wreak
On other squadrons of the foe, whiles yet warm blood did break
Through his cleft veins: but when the wound was quite exhaust and crude,
The eager anguish did approve his princely fortitude.
As when most sharp and bitter pangs distract a labouring dame,
Which the divine Ilithiae, that rule the painful frame
Of human child-birth, pour on her – th’ Ilithiae that are
The daughters of Saturnia, with whose extreme repair
The woman in her travail strives to take the worst it gives,
With thought it must be, ’tis love’s fruit, the end for which she lives,
The mean to make herself new born, what comforts will redound:
So Agamemnon did sustain the torment of his wound.
Then took he chariot, and to fleet bad haste his charioteer,
But first pour’d out his highest voice, to purchase every ear:
‘Princes and leaders of the Greeks, brave friends, now from our fleet
Do you expel this boist’rous sway: Jove will not let me meet
Illustrate Hector, nor give leave that I shall end the day
In fight against the Ilion power: my wound is in my way.’
This said, his ready charioteer did scourge his spriteful horse,
That freely to the sable fleet perform’d their fiery course,
To bear their wounded sovereign apart the martial thrust,
Sprinkling their powerful breasts with foam, and snowing on the dust.
When Hector heard of his retreat, thus he for fame contends:
‘Trojans, Dardanians, Lycians, all my close-fighting friends,
Think what it is to be renown’d: be soldiers all of name:
Our strongest enemy is gone, Jove vows to do us fame:
Then in the Grecian faces drive your one-hoof’d violent steeds,
And far above their best be best, and glorify your deeds.’
Thus as a dog-giv’n hunter sets upon a brace of boars
His white-tooth’d hounds, puffs, shouts, breathes terms, and on his emprise pours
All his wild art to make them pinch: so Hector urg’d his host
To charge the Greeks, and he himself most bold and active most:
He brake into the heat of fight, as when a tempest raves,
Stoops from the clouds, and all on heaps doth cuff the purple waves.
Who then was first, and last, he kill’d, when Jove did grace his deed?
Asseüs, and Autonous; Opys, and Clytus’ seed;
Prince Dolops, and the honour’d sire of sweet Euryalus
(Opheltes); Agelaus next, and strong Hipponous;
Orus, Essymnus, all of name. The common soldiers fell,
As when the hollow flood of air in Zephyr’s cheeks doth swell,
And sparseth all the gather’d clouds white Notus’ power did draw,
Wraps waves in waves, hurls up the froth, beat with a vehement flaw:
So were the common soldiers wrack’d in troops by Hector’s hand.
Then ruin had enforc’d such works as no Greeks could withstand,
Then in th
eir fleet they had been hous’d, had not Laertes’ son
Stirr’d up the spirit of Diomed, with this impression:
‘Tydides, what do we sustain, forgetting what we are?
Stand by me (dearest in my love), ’twere horrible impair
For our two valours to endure a customary flight,
To leave our navy still engag’d, and but by fits to fight.’
He answer’d: ‘I am bent to stay, and anything sustain:
But our delight to prove us men will prove but short and vain,
For Jove makes Trojans instruments, and virtually then
Wields arms himself: our cross affairs are not ’twixt men and men.’
This said, Thimbraeus with his lance he tumbled from his horse,
Near his left nipple wounding him: Ulysses did enforce
Fair Molion, minion to this king that Diomed subdu’d:
Both sent they thence, till they return’d, who now the king pursu’d
And furrow’d through the thicken’d troops. As when two chased boars
Turn head ’gainst kennels of bold hounds, and race way through their gores:
So (turn’d from flight) the forward kings show’d Trojans backward death;
Nor fled the Greeks but by their wills to get great Hector breath.
Then took they horse and chariot from two bold city foes,
Merops Percosius’ mighty sons: their father could disclose,
Beyond all men, hid auguries, and would not give consent
To their egression to these wars: yet wilfully they went,
For Fates, that order sable death, enforc’d their tragedies.
Tydides slew them with his lance, and made their arms his prize;
Hipporochus, and Hippodus Ulysses reft of light.
But Jove, that out of Ida look’d, then equalis’d the fight;
A Grecian for a Trojan then paid tribute to the Fates;
Yet royal Diomed slew one, even in those even debates,
That was of name more than the rest: Paeon’s renowned son,
The prince Agastrophus; his lance into his hip did run.
His squire detain’d his horse apart, that hinder’d him to fly;
Which he repented at his heart, yet did his feet apply
His ’scape with all the speed they had, alongst the foremost bands,
And there his loved life dissolv’d. This Hector understands,
And rush’d with clamour on the king, right soundly seconded