The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  To raze the rampire, in whose height they fiercely set upon

  The parapets, and pull’d them down, raz’d every foremost fight,

  And all the buttresses of stone that held their tow’rs upright

  They tore away with crows of iron, and hop’d to ruin all.

  The Greeks yet stood, and still repair’d the fore-fights of their wall

  With hides of oxen, and from thence they pour’d down stones in show’rs

  Upon the underminers’ heads. Within the foremost tow’rs

  Both the Ajaces had command; who answer’d every part

  Th’ assaulters, and their soldiers, repress’d, and put in heart,

  Repairing valour as their wall: spake some fair, some reprov’d,

  Whoever made not good his place; and thus they all sorts mov’d:

  ‘O countrymen, now need in aid would have excess be spent:

  The excellent must be admir’d, the meanest excellent,

  The worst, do well; in changing war all should not be alike,

  Nor any idle: which to know, fits all, lest Hector strike

  Your minds with frights, as ears with threats; forward be all your hands,

  Urge one another: this doubt down, that now betwixt us stands,

  Jove will go with us to their walls.’ To this effect aloud

  Spake both the princes, and as high (with this) th’ expulsion flow’d.

  And as in winter time, when Jove his cold sharp javelins throws

  Amongst us mortals, and is mov’d to white earth with his snows;

  (The winds asleep) he freely pours, till highest prominents,

  Hill tops, low meadows, and the fields that crown with most contents

  The toils of men, seaports and shores, are hid, and every place

  But floods (that snow’s fair tender flakes, as their own brood, embrace):

  So both sides cover’d earth with stones, so both for life contend,

  To show their sharpness; through the war, uproar stood up on end.

  Nor had great Hector and his friends the rampire overrun,

  If heav’n’s great counsellor, high Jove, had not inflam’d his son

  Sarpedon (like the forest’s king when he on oxen flies)

  Against the Grecians: his round targe he to his arm applies,

  Brass-leav’d without, and all within, thick ox-hides quilted hard,

  The verge nail’d round with rods of gold; and with two darts prepar’d

  He leads his people: as ye see a mountain-lion fare,

  Long kept from prey; in forcing which, his high mind makes him dare

  Assault upon the whole full fold, though guarded never so

  With well-arm’d men and eager dogs; away he will not go,

  But venture on, and either snatch a prey, or be a prey.

  So far’d divine Sarpedon’s mind, resolv’d to force his way

  Through all the fore-fights, and the wall: yet since he did not see

  Others as great as he in name, as great in mind as he,

  He spake to Glaucus: ‘Glaucus, say, why are we honour’d more

  Than other men of Lycia in place, with greater store

  Of meats and cups, with goodlier roofs, delightsome gardens, walks,

  More lands and better, so much wealth that court and country talks

  Of us and our possessions, and every way we go,

  Gaze on us as we were their gods? This where we dwell is so:

  The shores of Xanthus ring of this, and shall we not exceed

  As much in merit as in noise? Come, be we great in deed

  As well as look; shine not in gold, but in the flames of fight,

  That so our neat-arm’d Lycians may say: “See, these are right

  Our kings, our rulers; these deserve to eat and drink the best;

  These govern not ingloriously: these thus exceed the rest,

  Do more than they command to do.” O friend, if keeping back

  Would keep back age from us, and death, and that we might not wrack

  In this life’s human sea at all, but that deferring now

  We shunn’d death ever, nor would I half this vain valour show,

  Nor glorify a folly so, to wish thee to advance:

  But since we must go, though not here, and that, besides the chance

  Propos’d now, there are infinite fates of other sort in death,

  Which (neither to be fled nor ’scap’d) a man must sink beneath,

  Come, try we if this sort be ours: and either render thus

  Glory to others, or make them resign the like to us.’

  This motion Glaucus shifted not, but (without words) obey’d;

  Foreright went both, a mighty troop of Lycians followed.

  Which by Menestheus observ’d, his hair stood up on end,

  For at the tow’r where he had charge, he saw Calamity bend

  Her horrid brows in their approach. He threw his looks about

  The whole fights near, to see what chief might help the misery out

  Of his poor soldiers, and beheld where both th’ Ajaces fought,

  And Teucer, newly come from fleet: whom it would profit nought

  To call, since tumult on their helms, shield, and upon the ports

  Laid such loud claps; for every way, defences of all sorts

  Were adding, as Troy took away and Clamour flew so high

  Her wings struck heav’n, and drown’d all voice. The two dukes yet so nigh

  And at the offer of assault, he to th’ Ajaces sent

  Thoös the herald with this charge: ‘Run to the regiment

  Of both th’ Ajaces, and call both, for both were better here,

  Since here will slaughter, instantly, be more enforc’d than there.

  The Lycian captains this way make, who in the fights of stand

  Have often show’d much excellence: yet if laborious hand

  Be there more needful than I hope, at least afford us some:

  Let Ajax Telamonius and th’ archer Teucer come.’

  The herald hasted, and arriv’d; and both th’ Ajaces told,

  That Peteus’ noble son desir’d their little labour would

  Employ itself in succouring him. Both their supplies were best,

  Since death assail’d his quarter most: for on it fiercely press’d

  The well-prov’d mighty Lycian chiefs. Yet if the service there

  Allow’d not both, he pray’d that one part of his charge would bear,

  And that was Ajax Telamon, with whom he wish’d would come

  The archer Teucer. Telamon left instantly his room

  To strong Lycomedes, and will’d Ajax Oïliades

  With him to make up his supply, and fill with courages

  The Grecian hearts till his return, which should be instantly

  When he had well reliev’d his friend. With this the company

  Of Teucer he took to his aid – Teucer, that did descend

  (As Ajax did) from Telamon: with these two did attend

  Pandion, that bore Teucer’s bow. When to Menestheus’ tow’r

  They came alongst the wall, they found him, and his heart’ned pow’r

  Toiling in making strong their fort; the Lycian princes set

  Black-whirlwind-like, with both their pow’rs, upon the parapet.

  Ajax, and all, resisted them. Clamour amongst them rose:

  The slaughter Ajax led, who first the last dear sight did close

  Of strong Epicles, that war-friend to Jove’s great Lycian son.

  Amongst the high munition heap, a mighty marble stone

 
Lay highest, near the pinnacle; a stone of such a paise

  That one of this times’ strongest men, with both hands, could not raise.

  Yet this did Ajax rouse and throw, and all in sherds did drive

  Epicles’ four-topp’d casque and skull; who (as ye see one dive

  In some deep river) left his height; life left his bones withal.

  Teucer shot Glaucus (rushing up yet higher on the wall)

  Where naked he discern’d his arm, and made him steal retreat

  From that hot service, lest some Greek, with an insulting threat,

  (Beholding it) might fright the rest. Sarpedon much was griev’d

  At Glaucus’ parting, yet fought on, and his great heart reliev’d

  A little with Alcmaon’s blood, surnam’d Thestorides,

  Whose life he hurl’d out with his lance; which following through the prease,

  He drew from him. Down from the tow’r Alcmaon dead it strook,

  His fair arms ringing out his death. Then fierce Sarpedon took

  In his strong hand the battlement, and down he tore it quite,

  The wall stripp’d naked, and broad way for entry and full fight,

  He made the many. Against him Ajax and Teucer made;

  Teucer the rich belt on his breast did with a shaft invade,

  But Jupiter averted death; who would not see his son

  Die at the tails of th’ Achive ships: Ajax did fetch his run,

  And (with his lance) struck through the targe of that brave Lycian king;

  Yet kept he it from further pass, nor did it anything

  Dismay his mind, although his men stood off from that high way

  His valour made them; which he kept, and hop’d that stormy day

  Should ever make his glory clear. His men’s fault thus he blam’d:

  ‘O Lycians, why are your hot spirits so quickly disinflam’d?

  Suppose me ablest of you all: ’tis hard for me alone

  To ruin such a wall as this, and make confusion

  Way to their navy; lend your hands. What many can dispatch,

  One cannot think: the noble work of many hath no match.’

  The wise king’s just rebuke did strike a reverence to his will

  Through all his soldiers; all stood in; and ’gainst all th’ Achives still

  Made strong their squadrons; insomuch, that to the adverse side

  The work show’d mighty; and the wall, when ’twas within descried,

  No easy service; yet the Greeks could neither free the wall

  Of these brave Lycians, that held firm the place they first did scale,

  Nor could the Lycians from their fort the sturdy Grecians drive,

  Nor reach their fleet. But as two men about the limits strive

  Of land that toucheth in the field; their measures in their hands,

  They mete their parts out curiously, and either stiffly stands,

  That so far is his right in law, both hugely set on fire

  About a passing little ground: so greedily aspire

  Both these foes to their several ends; and all exhaust their most

  About the very battlements (for yet no more was lost).

  With sword and fire they vex’d for them their targets hugely round

  With ox-hides lin’d, and bucklers light, and many a ghastly wound

  The stern steel gave for that one prize; whereof though some receiv’d

  Their portions on their naked backs, yet others were bereav’d

  Of brave lives, face-turn’d, through their shields: tow’rs, bulwarks everywhere

  Were freckled with the blood of men; nor yet the Greeks did bear

  Base back-turn’d faces, nor their foes would therefore be out-fac’d.

  But as a spinster poor and just ye sometimes see strait-lac’d

  About the weighing of her web, who (careful) having charge

  For which she would provide some means, is loth to be too large

  In giving, or in taking weight; but ever with her hand

  Is doing with the weights and wool, till both in just poise stand:

  So ev’nly stood it with these foes, till Jove to Hector gave

  The turning of the scales; who first against the rampire drave,

  And spake so loud that all might hear: ‘O stand not at the pale,

  Brave Trojan friends, but mend your hands: up, and break through the wall,

  And make a bonfire of their fleet.’ All heard, and all in heaps

  Got scaling-ladders, and aloft. In mean space, Hector leaps

  Upon the port, from whose out-part he tore a massy stone;

  Thick downwards, upward edg’d it was – it was so huge an one

  That two vast yeomen of most strength (such as these times beget)

  Could not from earth lift to a cart: yet he did brandish it

  Alone (Saturnius made it light), and swinging it as nought,

  He came before the planky gates, that all for strength were wrought,

  And kept the port: two-fold they were, and with two rafters barr’d,

  High, and strong lock’d: he rais’d the stone, bent to the hurl so hard,

  And made it with so main a strength that all the gates did crack,

  The rafters left them, and the folds one from another brake;

  The hinges piecemeal flew, and through the fervent little rock

  Thunder’d a passage; with his weight th’ inwall his breast did knock,

  And in rush’d Hector, fierce and grim as any stormy night;

  His brass arms round about his breast reflected terrible light.

  Each arm held up, held each a dart: his presence call’d up all

  The dreadful spirits his being held, that to the threaten’d wall

  None but the gods might check his way: his eyes were furnaces;

  And thus he look’d back, call’d in all: all fir’d their courages,

  And in they flow’d: the Grecians fled, their fleet now and their freight

  Ask’d all their rescue: Greece went down; Tumult was at his height.

  The end of the twelfth book

  Book 13

  The Argument

  Neptune (in pity of the Greeks’ hard plight),

  Like Calchas, both th’ Ajaces doth excite,

  And others to repel the charging foe.

  Idomeneus bravely doth bestow

  His kingly forces, and doth sacrifice

  Othryoneus to the Destinies,

  With divers others. Fair Deiphobus,

  And his prophetic brother Hellenus,

  Are wounded. But the great Priamides

  (Gathering his forces) heartens their address

  Against the enemy; and then the field

  A mighty death on either side doth yield.

  Another Argument

  The Greeks, with Troy’s bold power dismay’d,

  Are cheer’d by Neptune’s secret aid.

  Book 13

  Jove helping Hector, and his host, thus close to th’ Achive fleet,

  He let them then their own strengths try, and season there their sweet

  With ceaseless toils and grievances. For now he turn’d his face,

  Look’d down, and view’d the far-off land of well-rode men in Thrace,

  Of the renown’d milk-nourish’d men, the Hippemolgians,

  Long-liv’d, most just and innocent, and close-fought Mysians.

  Nor turn’d he any more to Troy his ever-shining eyes,

  Because he thought not any one of all the deities

  (When his care left th’ indifferent field) would aid on either si
de.

  But this security in Jove the great Sea-Rector spied,

  Who sat aloft on th’ utmost top of shady Samothrace,

  And view’d the fight. His chosen seat stood in so brave a place

  That Priam’s city, th’ Achive ships, all Ida did appear

  To his full view; who from the sea was therefore seated there.

  He took much ruth to see the Greeks by Troy sustain such ill,

  And (mightily incens’d with Jove) stoop’d straight from that steep hill,

  That shook as he flew off, so hard his parting press’d the height.

  The woods, and all the great hills near, trembled beneath the weight

  Of his immortal moving feet: three steps he only took,

  Before he far-off Aegas reach’d; but with the fourth, it shook

  With his dread entry. In the depth of those seas he did hold

  His bright and glorious palace, built of never-rusting gold;

  And there arriv’d, he put in coach his brazen-footed steeds,

  All golden maned, and pac’d with wings; and all in golden weeds

  He cloth’d himself. The golden scourge (most elegantly done)

  He took, and mounted to his seat: and then the god begun

  To drive his chariot through the waves. From whirlpits every way

  The whales exulted under him, and knew their king: the sea

  For joy did open, and his horse so swift and lightly flew,

  The under-axletree of brass no drop of water drew:

  And thus these deathless coursers brought their king to th’ Achive ships.

  ’Twixt th’ Imber cliffs and Tenedos a certain cavern creeps

  Into the deep sea’s gulfy breast, and there th’ Earth-shaker stay’d

  His forward steeds, took them from coach, and heavenly fodder laid

  In reach before them. Their brass hoofs he girt with gyves of gold,

  Not to be broken, nor dissolv’d, to make them firmly hold

  A fit attendance on their king; who went to th’ Achive host,

  Which, like to tempests or wild flames, the clust’ring Trojans tost,

  Insatiably valorous, in Hector’s like command,

  High sounding and resounding shouts: for hope cheer’d every hand,

  To make the Greek fleet now their prize, and all the Greeks destroy.

  But Neptune, circler of the earth, with fresh heart did employ

  The Grecian hands. In strength of voice and body he did take