by Homer
Rhesus, Heptaporus, Rhodius, Scamander (the ador’d),
Caresus, Simois, Grenicus, Aesepus: of them all
Apollo open’d the rough mouths, and made their lusty fall
Ravish the dusty champian, where many a helm and shield,
And half-god race of men, were strew’d: and that all these might yield
Full tribute to the heavenly work, Neptune and Phoebus won
Jove to unburthen the black wombs of clouds (fill’d by the sun),
And pour them into all their streams, that quickly they might send
The huge wall swimming to the sea. Nine days their lights did spend
To nights, in tempests; and when all their utmost depth had made,
Jove, Phoebus, Neptune, all came down, and all in state did wade
To ruin of that impious fort: great Neptune went before,
Wrought with his trident, and the stones, trunks, roots of trees he tore
Out of the rampire, toss’d them all into the Hellespont,
Ev’n all the proud toil of the Greeks, with which they durst confront
The to-be-shunned deities: and not a stone remain’d
Of all their huge foundations, all with the earth were plain’d.
Which done, again the gods turn’d back the silver-flowing floods,
By that vast channel through whose vaults they pour’d abroad their broods,
And cover’d all the ample shore again with dusty sand:
And this the end was of that wall, where now so many a hand
Was emptied of stones and darts, contending to invade,
Where Clamour spent so high a throat, and where the fell blows made
The new-built wooden turrets groan. And here the Greeks were pent,
Tam’d with the iron whip of Jove, that terrors vehement
Shook over them by Hector’s hand, who was in every thought,
The terror-master of the field, and like a whirlwind fought,
As fresh as in his morn’s first charge. And, as a savage boar
Or lion, hunted long, at last with hounds’ and hunters’ store
Is compass’d round, they charge him close, and stand (as in a tow’r
They had inchas’d him) pouring on of darts an iron show’r;
His glorious heart yet, nought appall’d, and forcing forth his way,
Here overthrows a troop, and there a running ring doth stay
His utter passage: when again that stay he overthrows,
And then the whole field frees his rage: so Hector wearies blows,
Runs out his charge upon the fort; and all his force would force
To pass the dike: which being so deep, they could not get their horse
To venture on, but trample, snore, and on the very brink,
To neigh with spirit, yet still stand off: nor would a human think
The passage safe, or if it were, ’twas less safe for retreat,
The dike being everywhere so deep; and (where ’twas least deep) set
With stakes exceeding thick, sharp, strong, that horse could never pass,
Much less their chariots after them: yet for the foot there was
Some hopeful service, which they wish’d. Polydamas then spake:
‘Hector, and all our friends of Troy, we indiscreetly make
Offer of passage with our horse: ye see the stakes, the wall,
Impossible for horse to take; nor can men fight at all,
The place being strait, and much more apt to let us take our bane,
Than give the enemy: and yet, if Jove decree the wane
Of Grecian glory utterly, and so bereave their hearts
That we may freely charge them thus, and then will take our parts,
I would with all speed wish th’ assault, that ugly shame might shed
(Thus far from home) these Grecians’ bloods. But if they once turn head
And sally on us from their fleet, when in so deep a dike
We shall lie struggling, not a man of all the host is like
To live and carry back the news; and therefore be it thus:
Here leave we horse, kept by our men, and all on foot let us
Hold close together, and attend the grace of Hector’s guide;
And then they shall not bear our charge, our conquest shall be dyed
In their lives’ purples.’ This advice pleas’d Hector, for ’twas sound;
Who first obey’d it, and full arm’d betook him to the ground,
And then all left their chariots when he was seen to lead,
Rushing about him, and gave up each chariot and steed
To their directors to be kept, in all procinct of war –
There, and on that side of the dike. And thus the rest prepare
Their onset: in five regiments they all their pow’r divide –
Each regiment allow’d three chiefs, of all which, ev’n the pride
Serv’d in great Hector’s regiment; for all were set on fire
(Their passage beaten through the wall) with hazardous desire
That they might once but fight at fleet. With Hector captains were
Polydamas and Cebriones, who was his charioteer,
But Hector found that place a worse. Chiefs of the second band
Were Paris and Alcathous, Agenor. The command
The third strong phalanx had was giv’n to th’ augur Hellenus,
Deiphobus, that god-like man, and mighty Asius –
Even Asius Hertacides, that from Arisba rode
The huge bay horse, and had his house where riv’r Selleës flow’d.
The fourth charge good Aeneas led, and with him were combin’d
Archelochus and Acamas (Antenor’s dearest kind,
And excellent at every fight). The fifth brave company
Sarpedon had to charge, who chose, for his command’s supply,
Asteropaeus great in arms, and Glaucus, for both these
Were best of all men but himself: but he was fellowless.
Thus fitted with their well-wrought shields, down the steep dike they go,
And (thirsty of the wall’s assault) believe in overthrow,
Not doubting but with headlong falls to tumble down the Greeks
From their black navy: in which trust, all on, and no man seeks
To cross Polydamas’ advice with any other course,
But Asius Hyrtacides, who (proud of his bay horse)
Would not forsake them; nor his man, that was their manager
(Fool that he was), but all to fleet, and little knew how near
An ill death sat him, and a sure, and that he never more
Must look on lofty Ilion: but looks, and all before
Put on th’ all-covering mist of fate, and then did bang upon
The lance of great Deucalides; he fatally rush’d on
The left hand way, by which the Greeks, with horse and chariot,
Came usually from field to fleet: close to the gates he got,
Which both unbarr’d and ope he found, that so the easier might
An entry be for any friend that was behind in flight –
Yet not much easier for a foe, because there was a guard
Maintain’d upon it, past his thought; who still put for it hard,
Eagerly shouting, and with him were five more friends of name,
That would not leave him, though none else would hunt that way for fame
(In their free choice) but he himself: Orestes, Iamenus,
And Acamas Asiades, Thoön, Oenomaus,
Were those that follow’d Asius: within the gates they found
Two eminently valorous, that from the race renown’d
Of the right valiant Lapithes deriv’d their high descent.
Fierce Leonteus was the one, like Mars in detriment,
The other mighty Polypaet, the great Pirithous’ son.
These stood within the lofty gates, and nothing more did shun
The charge of Asius and his friends, than two high hill-bred oaks,
Well rooted in the binding earth, obey the airy strokes
Of wind and weather, standing firm ’gainst every season’s spite.
Yet they pour on continu’d shouts, and bear their shields upright,
When in the mean space Polypaet and Leonteus cheer’d
Their soldiers to the fleet’s defence: but when the rest had heard
The Trojans in attempt to scale, clamour and flight did flow
Amongst the Grecians; and then (the rest dismay’d) these two
Met Asius ent’ring, thrust him back, and fought before their doors:
Nor far’d they then like oaks that stood, but as a brace of boars
Couch’d in their own bred hill, that hear a sort of hunter’s shout,
And hounds in hot trail coming on; then from their dens break out,
Traverse their force, and suffer not, in wildness of their way,
About them any plant to stand, but thickets, offering stay,
Break through, and rend up by the roots, whet gnashes into air,
Which Tumult fills with shouts, hounds, horns, and all the hot affair
Beats at their bosoms: so their arms rung with assailing blows,
And so they stirr’d them in repulse, right well assur’d that those
Who were within, and on the wall, would add their parts; who knew
They now fought for their tents, fleet, lives, and fames, and therefore threw
Stones from the walls and tow’rs, as thick as when a drift wind shakes
Black clouds in pieces, and plucks snow, in great and plumy flakes,
From their soft bosoms, till the ground be wholly cloth’d in white.
So earth was hid with stones and darts – darts from the Trojan fight,
Stones from the Greeks, that on the helms and bossy Trojan shields
Kept such a rapping, it amaz’d great Asius, who now yields
Sighs, beats his thighs, and in a rage his fault to Jove applies.
‘O Jove,’ said he, ‘now clear thou show’st, thou art a friend to lies,
Pretending, in the flight of Greece, the making of it good,
To all their ruins: which I thought could never be withstood.
Yet they, as yellow wasps or bees (that having made their nest
The gasping cranny of a hill) when for a hunter’s feast
Hunters come hot and hungry in, and dig for honeycombs,
They fly upon them, strike and sting, and from their hollow homes
Will not be beaten, but defend their labour’s fruit, and brood:
No more will these be from their port, but either lose their blood
(Although but two against all us) or be our prisoners made.’
All this, to do his action grace, could not firm Jove persuade,
Who for the general counsel stood, and (’gainst his singular brave)
Bestow’d on Hector that day’s fame. Yet he and these behave
Themselves thus nobly at this port: but how at other ports,
And all alongst the stony wall, sole force, ’gainst force and forts,
Rag’d in contention ’twixt both hosts, it were no easy thing
(Had I the bosom of a god) to tune to life, and sing.
The Trojans fought not of themselves, a fire from heav’n was thrown
That ran amongst them, through the wall, mere added to their own.
The Greeks held not their own: weak Grief went with her wither’d hand,
And dipp’d it deeply in their spirits, since they could not command
Their forces to abide the field, whom harsh Necessity
(To save those ships should bring them home) and their good forts’ supply
Drave to th’ expulsive fight they made; and this might stoop them more
Than Need itself could elevate, for ev’n gods did deplore
Their dire estates, and all the gods that were their aids in war:
Who (though they could not clear their plights) yet were their friends thus far,
Still to uphold the better sort: for then did Polypaet pass
A lance at Damasus, whose helm was made with cheeks of brass,
Yet had not proof enough; the pile drave through it, and his skull;
His brain in blood drown’d, and the man, so late so spiritful,
Fell now quite spiritless to earth. So emptied he the veins
Of Pylon and Ormenus’ lives: and then Leonteus gains
The life’s end of Hippomachus, Antimachus’s son;
His lance fell at his girdle stead, and with his end begun
Another end: Leonteus left him, and through the press
(His keen sword drawn) ran desperately upon Antiphates,
And lifeless tumbled him to earth. Nor could all these lives quench
His fiery spirit, that his flame in Menon’s blood did drench,
And rag’d up even to Iamen’s, and young Orestes’ life;
All heap’d together made their peace, in that red field of strife.
Whose fair arms while the victors spoil’d, the youth of Ilion
(Of which there serv’d the most and best) still boldly built upon
The wisdom of Polydamas, and Hector’s matchless strength,
And follow’d, fill’d with wondrous spirit, with wish and hope at length
(The Greeks’ wall won) to fire their fleet. But (having passed the dike,
And willing now to pass the wall) this prodigy did strike
Their hearts with some deliberate stay: a high-flown eagle soar’d
On their troops’ left hand, and sustain’d a dragon all engor’d,
In her strong seres, of wondrous size, and yet had no such check
In life and spirit, but still she fought; and turning back her neck
So stung the eagle’s gorge, that down she cast her fervent prey
Amongst the multitude, and took upon the winds her way,
Crying with anguish. When they saw a branded serpent sprawl
So full amongst them from above, and from Jove’s fowl let fall,
They took it an ostent from him, stood frighted, and their cause
Polydamas thought just, and spake: ‘Hector, you know applause
Of humour hath been far from me; nor fits it, or in war
Or in affairs of court, a man employ’d in public care
To blanch things further than their truth, or flatter any pow’r.
And therefore for that simple cause your strength hath oft been sour
To me in counsels, yet again, what shows in my thoughts best,
I must discover: let us cease, and make their flight our rest
For this day’s honour, and not now attempt the Grecian fleet;
For this, I fear, will be th’ event: the prodigy doth meet
So full with our affair in hand. As this high-flying fowl
Upon the left wing of our host (implying our control)
Hover’d above us, and did truss within her golden seres
A serpent so embrew’d, and big, which yet (in all her fears)
Kept life, and fervent spirit to fight, and wrought her own release,
Nor did the eagle’s eyrie feed: so though we thus far press
Our high minds aiming at their fleet, and that we much appal
Their trussed spirits, yet are they so serpent-like dispos’d
That they will fight, though in our seres, and will at length be loos’d
With all our outcries; and the life of many a Trojan breast
Shall with the eagle fly, before we carry to our nest
Them, or their navy.’ Thus expounds the augur this ostent,
Whose depth he knows, and these should fear. Hector, with count’nance bent,
Thus answer’d him: ‘Polydamas, your depth in augury
I like not; and know passing well, thou dost not satisfy
Thyself in this opinion; or if thou think’st it true,
Thy thoughts the gods blind, to advise and urge that as our due,
That breaks our duties – and to Jove, whose vow and sign to me
Is past directly for our speed; yet light-wing’d birds must be
(By thy advice) our oracles, whose feathers little stay
My serious actions. What care I, if this or th’ other way
Their wild wings sway them: if the right, on which the sun doth rise,
Or to the left hand, where he sets? ’Tis Jove’s high counsel flies
With those wings that shall bear up us, Jove’s, that both earth and heav’n,
Both men and gods, sustains and rules; one augury is giv’n
To order all men best of all: fight for thy country’s right.
But why fear’st thou our further charge? For though the dangerous fight
Strew all men here about the fleet, yet thou need’st never fear
To bear their rates; thy wary heart will never trust thee where
An enemy’s look is, and yet fight; for, if thou dar’st abstain,
Or whisper into any ear an abstinence so vain
As thou advisest, never fear that any foe shall take
Thy life from thee, for ’tis this lance.’ This said, all forwards make,
Himself the first: yet before him exulting Clamour flew,
And thunder-loving Jupiter from lofty Ida blew
A storm that usher’d their assault, and made them charge like him:
It drave directly on the fleet a dust so fierce and dim,
That it amaz’d the Grecians, but was a grace divine
To Hector and his following troops, who wholly did incline
To him, being now in grace with Jove: and so put boldly on