by Homer
T’ assist the Greeks, and to his court retire from war in peace.
Let Phoebus (on the Trojan part) inspire with wonted pow’r
Great Hector’s spirits: make his thoughts forget the late stern hour,
And all his anguish, setting on his whole recover’d man
To make good his late grace in fight, and hold in constant wane
The Grecian glories, till they fall in flight before the fleet
Of vex’d Achilles; which extreme will prove the mean to greet
Thee with thy wish, for then the eyes of great Aeacides
(Made witness of the general ill, that doth so near him prease)
Will make his own particular look out, and by degrees
Abate his wrath, that through himself for no extremities
Will seem reflected; yet his friend may get of him the grace
To help his country in his arms; and he shall make fit place
For his full presence with his death, which shall be well fore-run:
For I will first renown his life with slaughter of my son
(Divine Sarpedon), and his death great Hector’s pow’r shall wreak,
Ending his ends. Then at once, out shall the fury break
Of fierce Achilles: and with that, the flight now felt shall turn,
And then last, till in wrathful flames the long-sieg’d Ilion burn.
Minerva’s counsel shall become grave mean to this my will,
Which no god shall neglect, before Achilles take his fill
Of slaughter for his slaughter’d friend: even Hector’s slaughter, thrown
Under his anger; that these facts may then make fully known
My vow’s performance, made of late, and with my bowed head
Confirm’d to Thetis, when her arms embrac’d my knees, and pray’d
That to her city-razing son I would all honour show.’
This heard, his charge she seem’d t’ intend, and to Olympus flew.
But, as the mind of such a man that hath a great way gone,
And either knowing not his way, or then would let alone
His purpos’d journey, is distract, and in his vexed mind
Resolves now not to go, now goes, still many ways inclin’d:
So reverend Juno headlong flew, and ’gainst her stomach striv’d.
For (being amongst th’ immortal gods, in high heav’n, soon arriv’d,
All rising, welcoming with cups her little absence thence)
She all their courtships overpast with solemn negligence,
Save that which fair-cheek’d Themis show’d, and her kind cup she took:
For first she ran and met with her, and ask’d what troubled look
She brought to heav’n. She thought (for truth) that Jove had terrified
Her spirits strangely, since she went. The fair-arm’d queen replied:
‘That truth may easily be suppos’d; you (goddess Themis) know
His old severity and pride; but you bear’t out with show,
And like the banquet’s arbiter amongst th’ immortals fare,
Though well you hear amongst them all how bad his actions are,
Nor are all here, nor anywhere, mortals nor gods (I fear),
Entirely pleas’d with what he does, though thus ye banquet here.’
Thus took she place, displeasedly, the feast in general
Bewraying privy spleens at Jove; and then (to colour all)
She laugh’d, but merely from her lips: for over her black brows
Her still-bent forehead was not clear’d; yet this her passion’s throes
Brought forth in spite, being lately school’d: ‘Alas, what fools are we
That envy Jove, or that by act, word, thought, can fantasy
Any resistance to his will! He sits far off, nor cares,
Nor moves, but says he knows his strength, to all degrees compares
His greatness, past all other gods, and that in fortitude,
And every other godlike pow’r, he reigns past all indu’d.
For which great eminence all you gods whatever ill he does
Sustain with patience: here is Mars, I think, not free from woes,
And yet he bears them like himself. The great god had a son,
Whom he himself yet justifies, one that from all men won
Just surname of their best belov’d, Ascalaphus; yet he
(By Jove’s high grace to Troy) is slain.’ Mars started horribly
(As Juno knew he would) at this, beat, with his hurl’d out hands,
His brawny thighs, cried out, and said: ‘O you that have commands
In these high temples, bear with me, if I revenge the death
Of such a son: I’ll to the fleet, and though I sink beneath
The fate of being shot to hell by Jove’s fell thunder-stone,
And lie all grim’d amongst the dead with dust and blood, my son
Revenge shall honour.’ Then he charg’d Fear and Dismay to join
His horse and chariot; he got arms, that over heav’n did shine:
And then a wrath more great and grave in Jove had been prepar’d
Against the gods, than Juno caus’d, if Pallas had not car’d
More for the peace of heaven than Mars; who leap’d out of her throne,
Rapt up her helmet, lance and shield, and made her fane’s porch groan
With her egression to his stay, and thus his rage defers:
‘Furious and foolish, th’ art undone; hast thou for nought thine ears?
Heard’st thou not Juno, being arriv’d from heaven’s great king but now?
Or wouldst thou he himself should rise (forc’d with thy rage) to show
The dreadful pow’r she urg’d in him, so justly being stirr’d?
Know (thou most impudent and mad) thy wrath had not inferr’d
Mischief to thee, but to us all? His spirit had instantly
Left both the hosts, and turn’d his hands to uproars in the sky.
Guilty and guiltless both to wrack in his high rage had gone:
And therefore (as thou lov’st thyself) cease fury for thy son.
Another, far exceeding him in heart and strength of hand,
Or is, or will be shortly slain. It were a work would stand
Jove in much trouble, to free all from death that would not die.’
This threat ev’n nail’d him to his throne, when heav’n’s chief majesty
Call’d bright Apollo from his fane, and Iris that had place
Of internunciess from the gods, to whom she did the grace
Of Jupiter, to this effect: ‘It is Saturnius’ will
That both, with utmost speed, should stoop to the Idalian hill,
To know his further pleasure there. And this let me advise,
When you arrive, and are in reach of his refulgent eyes,
His pleasure heard, perform it all, of whatsoever kind.’
Thus mov’d she back, and us’d her throne. Those two outstripp’d the wind,
And Ida (all enchas’d with springs) they soon attain’d, and found
Where far-discerning Jupiter, in his repose, had crown’d
The brows of Gargarus, and wrapt an odoriferous cloud
About his bosom. Coming near, they stood; nor now he show’d
His angry countenance, since so soon he saw they made th’ access
That his lov’d wife enjoin’d. But first the fair ambassadress
He thus commanded: ‘Iris, go to Neptune, and relate
Our pleasure truly, and at large; command him from the fate
Of human war, and either
greet the gods’ society,
Or the divine sea make his seat. If proudly he deny,
Let better counsels be his guides than such as bid me war
And tempt my charge, though he be strong; for I am stronger far,
And elder born: nor let him dare to boast ev’n state with me,
Whom all gods else prefer in fear.’ This said, down hasted she
From Ida’s top to Ilion; and like a mighty snow,
Or gelid hail, that from the clouds the northern spirit doth blow:
So fell the windy-footed dame; and found with quick repair
The wat’ry god, to whom she said: ‘God with the sable hair,
I come from aegis-bearing Jove, to bid thee cease from fight,
And visit heav’n or th’ ample seas: which if, in his despite
Or disobedience, thou deniest, he threatens thee to come
(In opposite fight) to field himself, and therefore warns thee home,
His hands eschewing, since his pow’r is far superior,
His birth before thee, and affirms thy lov’d heart should abhor
To vaunt equality with him, whom every deity fears.’
He answer’d: ‘O unworthy thing! Though he be great, he bears
His tongue too proudly, that ourself, born to an equal share
Of state and freedom, he would force. Three brothers born we are
To Saturn; Rhea brought us forth: this Jupiter and I,
And Pluto, god of under-grounds. The world indifferently
Dispos’d betwixt us, every one his kingdom – I, the seas,
Pluto the black lot, Jupiter the principalities
Of broad heav’n, all the sky and clouds – was sorted out: the earth
And high Olympus common are, and due to either’s birth.
Why then should I be aw’d by him? Content he his great heart
With his third portion, and not think to amplify his part
With terrors of his stronger hands on me, as if I were
The most ignoble of us all: let him contain in fear
His daughters and his sons, begot by his own person: this
Holds more convenience; they must hear these violent threats of his.’
‘Shall I,’ said Iris, ‘bear from thee an answer so austere?
Or wilt thou change it? Changing minds all noble natures bear:
And well thou know’st, these greatest born the Furies follow still.’
He answer’d: ‘Iris, thy reply keeps time, and shows thy skill:
O ’tis a most praiseworthy thing, when messengers can tell
(Besides their messages) such things as fit th’ occasion well.
But this much grieves my heart and soul, that being in pow’r and state
All ways his equal, and so fix’d by one decree in fate,
He should to me, as under him, ill language give, and chide;
Yet now (though still incens’d) I yield, affirming this beside
(And I enforce it with a threat), that if without consent
Of me, Minerva, Mercury, the queen of regiment,
And Vulcan, he will either spare high Ilion, or not race
Her turrets to the lowest stone, and (with both these) not grace
The Greeks as victors absolute, inform him this from me:
His pride and my contempt shall live at endless enmity.’
This said, he left the Greeks, and rush’d into his wat’ry throne,
Much miss’d of all th’ heroic host. When Jove discern’d him gone,
Apollo’s service he employ’d, and said: ‘Lov’d Phoebus, go
To Hector: now th’ earth-shaking god hath taken sea, and so
Shrunk from the horrors I denounc’d, which standing, he and all
The under-seated deities, that circle Saturn’s fall,
Had heard of me in such a fight as had gone hard for them.
But both for them and me ’tis best that thus they fly th’ extreme,
That had not pass’d us without sweat. Now then, in thy hands take
My adder-fring’d affrighting shield, which with such terror shake,
That fear may shake the Greeks to flight: besides this, add thy care
(O Phoebus, far-off-shooting god!) that this so sickly fare
Of famous Hector be recur’d; and quickly so excite
His amplest pow’rs, that all the Greeks may grace him with their flight,
Even to their ships, and Hellespont; and then will I devise
All words and facts again for Greece, that largely may suffice
To breath them from their instant toils.’ Thus from th’ Idean height
(Like air’s swift-pigeon-killer) stoop’d the far-shot god of light,
And found great Hector sitting up, not stretch’d upon his bed,
Nor wheasing with a stopp’d up spirit, not in cold sweats, but fed
With fresh and comfortable veins, but his mind all his own,
But round about him all his friends, as well as ever known.
And this was with the mind of Jove, that flew to him before
Apollo came; who (as he saw no sign of any sore)
Ask’d (like a cheerful visitant): ‘Why in this sickly kind,
Great Hector, sitt’st thou so apart? Can any grief of mind
Invade thy fortitude?’ He spake, but with a feeble voice:
‘O thou, the best of deities, why (since I thus rejoice
By thy so serious benefit) demand’st thou (as in mirth,
And to my face) if I were ill? For (more than what thy worth
Must needs take note of) doth not Fame from all mouths fill thine ears,
That (as my hand at th’ Achive fleet was making massacres
Of men, whom valiant Ajax led) his strength struck with a stone
All pow’r of more hurt from my breast? My very soul was gone,
And once to-day I thought to see the house of Dis and Death.’
‘Be strong,’ said he, ‘for such a spirit now sends the god of breath,
From airy Ida, as shall run through all Greek spirits in thee;
Apollo with the golden sword, the clear far-seer, see –
Him who betwixt death and thy life, ’twixt ruin and those tow’rs,
Ere this day oft hath held his shield. Come then, be all thy pow’rs
In wonted vigour: let thy knights with all their horse assay
The Grecian fleet, myself will lead, and scour so clear the way,
That flight shall leave no Greek a rub.’ Thus instantly inspir’d
Were all his nerves with matchless strength; and then his friends he fir’d
Against their foes, when (to his eyes) his ears confirm’d the god.
Then, as a goodly headed hart, or goat, bred in the wood,
A rout of country huntsmen chase, with all their hounds in cry,
The beast yet, or the shady woods or rocks excessive high,
Keep safe, or our unwieldy fates (that even in hunters sway)
Bar them the poor beast’s pulling down, when straight the clamorous fray
Calls out a lion, hugely man’d, and his abhorred view
Turns headlong in unturning flight (though vent’rous) all the crew:
So hitherto the chasing Greeks their slaughter dealt by troops,
But after Hector was beheld range here and there, then stoops
The boldest courage; then their heels took in their dropping hearts,
And then spake Andremonides, a man of far best parts
Of all th’ Aetolians, skill’d in darts, strenuous in fights of stand,
And one of
whom few of the Greeks could get the better hand
(For rhetoric) when they fought with words, with all which, being wise,
Thus spake he to his Grecian friends: ‘O mischief! Now mine eyes
Discern no little miracle: Hector escap’d from death,
And all recover’d, when all thought his soul had sunk beneath
The hands of Ajax; but some god hath sav’d and freed again
Him that but now dissolv’d the knees of many a Grecian,
And now I fear will weaken more, for not without the hand
Of him that thunders can his pow’rs thus still the forefight’s stand,
Thus still triumphant: hear me then, our troops in quick retreat
Let’s draw up to our fleet, and we, that boast ourselves the great,
Stand firm and try, if these that raise so high their charging darts
May be resisted: I believe, ev’n this great heart of hearts
Will fear himself to be too bold in charging thorow us.’
They easily heard him, and obey’d, when all the generous
They call’d t’ encounter Hector’s charge, and turn’d the common men
Back to the fleet: and these were they that bravely furnish’d then
The fierce forefight: the Ajaces both, the worthy Cretan king,
The Mars-like Meges, Merion, and Teucer. Up then bring
The Trojan chiefs their men in heaps; before whom (amply pac’d)
March’d Hector; and in front of him, Apollo, who had cast
About his bright aspect a cloud, and did before him bear
Jove’s huge and each-where-shaggy shield, which (to contain in fear
Offending men) the god-smith gave to Jove; with this he led
The Trojan forces. The Greeks stood, a fervent clamour spread
The air on both sides as they join’d; out flew the shafts and darts,
Some falling short, but other some found butts in breasts and hearts.
As long as Phoebus held but out his horrid shield, so long
The darts flew raging either way, and death grew both ways strong.
But when the Greeks had seen his face, and who it was that shook
The bristled targe, knew by his voice, then all their strengths forsook
Their nerves and minds; and then look how a goodly herd of neat,
Or wealthy flock of sheep, being close, and dreadless at their meat,
In some black midnight, suddenly (and not a keeper near)