by Homer
A brace of horrid bears rush in, and then fly here and there
The poor affrighted flocks or herds: so every way dispers’d
The heartless Grecians; so the Sun their headstrong chace revers’d
To headlong flight, and that day rais’d, with all grace, Hector’s head.
Arcesilaus then he slew, and Stichius; Stichius led
Boeotia’s brazen-coated men, the other was the friend
Of mighty-soul’d Menestheus. Aeneas brought to end
Medon and Janus; Medon was the brother (though but base)
Of swift Oïleades, and dwelt far from his breeding place,
In Phylaca; the other led th’ Athenian bands: his sire
Was Spelus, Bucolus’s son. Mecistheus did expire
Beneath Polydamas’s hand. Polites, Echius slew
Just at the joining of the hosts. Agenor overthrew
Clonius. Bold Deiochus felt Alexander’s lance;
It struck his shoulder’s upper part, and did his head advance
Quite through his breast, as from the fight he turn’d him for retreat.
While these stood spoiling of the slain, the Greeks found time to get
Beyond the dike, and th’ undik’d pales: all scapes they gladly gain’d,
Till all had pass’d the utmost wall, necessity so reign’d.
Then Hector cried out: ‘Take no spoil, but rush on to the fleet,
From whose assault (for spoil or flight) if any man I meet,
He meets his death: nor in the fire of holy funeral
His brother’s or his sister’s hands shall cast (within our wall)
His loathed body, but without, the throats of dogs shall grave
His manless limbs.’ This said, the scourge his forward horses drave
Through every order, and with him all whipp’d their chariots on,
All threatningly, out thund’ring shouts, as earth were overthrown.
Before them march’d Apollo still, and as he march’d, digg’d down
(Without all labour) with his feet, the dike, till with his own
He fill’d it to the top, and made way both for man and horse,
As broad and long as with a lance (cast out to try one’s force)
A man could measure. Into this they pour’d whole troops as fast
As numerous, Phoebus still before, for all their haste,
Still shaking Jove’s unvalued shield, and held it up to all.
And then, as he had chok’d their dike, he tumbled down their wall.
And look how easily any boy, upon the sea-ebb’d shore,
Makes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,
But as he rais’d it childlishly, so in his wanton vein,
Both with his hands and feet he pulls and spurns it down again:
So slight, O Phoebus, thy hands made of that huge Grecian toil,
And their late stand, so well resolv’d, as easily mad’st recoil.
Thus stood they driv’n up at their fleet, where each heard other’s thought,
Exhorted, passing humbly pray’d: all, all the gods besought
(With hands held up to heav’n) for help; ’mongst all, the good old man,
Grave Nestor (for his counsels call’d the Argives’ guardian)
Fell on his aged knees, and pray’d, and to the starry host
Stretch’d out his hands for aid to theirs, of all thus moving most:
‘O father Jove, if ever man of all our host did burn
Fat thighs of oxen or of sheep (for grace of safe return)
In fruitful Argos, and obtain’d the bowing of thy head
For promise of his humble prayers, O now remember him
(Thou merely heav’nly) and clear up the foul brows of this dim
And cruel day; do not destroy our zeal for Trojan pride.’
He pray’d, and heav’n’s great counsellor with store of thunder tried
His former grace good, and so heard the old man’s hearty prayers.
The Trojans took Jove’s sign for them, and pour’d out their affairs
In much more violence on the Greeks, and thought on nought but fight:
And as a huge wave of a sea, swoln to his rudest height,
Breaks over both sides of a ship, being all urg’d by the wind,
For that’s it makes the wave so proud: in such a borne-up kind
The Trojans overgat the wall; and getting in their horse,
Fought close at fleet, which now the Greeks ascended for their force:
Then from their chariots they with darts, the Greek with bead-hooks fought
(Kept still aboard for naval fights), their heads with iron wrought
In hooks and pikes. Achilles friend, still while he saw the wall
That stood without their fleet afford employment for them all,
Was never absent from the tent of that man-loving Greek,
Late-hurt Eurypilus, but sate, and every way did seek
To spend the sharp time of his wound with all the ease he could,
In med’cines and in kind discourse: but when he might behold
The Trojans past the wall, the Greeks flight-driv’n, and all in cries,
Then cried he out, cast down his hands, and beat with grief his thighs.
Then, ‘O Eurypilus,’ he cried, ‘now all thy need of me
Must bear my absence: now a work of more necessity
Calls hence, and I must haste to call Achilles to the field:
Who knows, but (god assisting me) my words may make him yield?
The motion of a friend is strong.’ His feet thus took him thence.
The rest yet stood their enemies firm, but all their violence
(Though Troy fought there with fewer men) lack’d vigour to repel
Those fewer from their navy’s charge; and so, that charge as well
Lack’d force to spoil their fleet or tents. And as a shipwright’s line
(Dispos’d by such a hand as learn’d, from th’ artizan divine,
The perfect practice of his art) directs or guards so well
The naval timber then in frame, that all the laid-on steel
Can hew no further than may serve to give the timber th’ end
Fore-purpos’d by the skilful wright: so both hosts did contend
With such a line or law applied to what their steel would gain.
At other ships fought other men, but Hector did maintain
His quarrel firm at Ajax’ ship; and so did both employ
About one vessel all their toil: nor could the one destroy
The ship with fire, nor force the man, nor that man yet get gone
The other from so near his ship, for god hath brought him on.
But now did Ajax with a dart wound deadly in the breast
Caletor, son of Clytius, as he with fire address’d
To burn the vessel; as he fell, the brand fell from his hand.
When Hector saw his sister’s son lie slaughter’d in the sand,
He call’d to all his friends, and pray’d they would not in that strait
Forsake his nephew, but maintain about his corse the fight,
And save it from the spoil of Greece. Then sent he out a lance
At Ajax, in his nephew’s wreak, which miss’d, but made the chance
On Lycophron Mestorides, that was the household friend
Of Ajax, born in Cythera, whom Ajax did defend
(Being fled to his protection) for killing of a man
Amongst the god-like Cytherans; the vengeful javelin ran
Quite through his head, above his ear, as
he was standing by
His fautor, then astern his ship; from whence his soul did fly,
And to the earth his body fell: the hair stood up on end
On Ajax, who to Teucer call’d (his brother), saying: ‘Friend,
Our loved consort, whom we brought from Cythera and grac’d
So like our father, Hector’s hand hath made him breathe his last.
Where then are all thy death-borne shafts, and that unvalued bow
Apollo gave thee?’ Teucer straight his brother’s thoughts did know,
Stood near him, and dispatch’d a shaft amongst the Trojan fight:
It struck Pysenor’s goodly son, young Clytus, the delight
Of the renown’d Polydamas, the bridle in his hand,
As he was labouring his horse, to please the high command
Of Hector and his Trojan friends, and bring him where the fight
Made greatest tumult. But his strife for honour in their sight
Wrought not what sight or wishes help’d; for turning back his look,
The hollow of his neck the shaft came singing on, and strook,
And down he fell; his horses back, and hurried through the field
The empty chariot. Panthus’ son made all haste, and withheld
Their loose career, disposing them to Protiaon’s son,
Astinous, with special charge to keep them ever on,
And in his sight: so he again amongst the foremost went.
At Hector then another shaft incensed Teucer sent,
Which, had it hit him, sure had hurt; and had it hurt him, slain;
And had it slain him, it had driv’n all those to Troy again.
But Jove’s mind was not sleeping now; it wak’d to Hector’s fame
And Teucer’s infamy, himself (in Teucer’s deadly aim)
His well-wrought string dissevering, that serv’d his bravest bow;
His shaft flew quite another way, his bow the earth did strow.
At all which Teucer stood amaz’d, and to his brother cried,
‘O prodigy! Without all doubt our angel doth deride
The counsels of our fight; he brake a string my hands put on
This morning, and was newly made, and well might have set gone
A hundred arrows; and beside, he struck out of my hand
The bow Apollo gave.’ He said: ‘Then, good friend, do not stand
More on thy archery, since god (preventer of all grace
Desir’d by Grecians) slights it so. Take therefore in the place
A good large lance, and on thy neck a target cast, as bright;
With which come fight thyself with some, and other some excite,
That without labour at the least (though we prove worser men)
Troy may not brag it took our ships: come, mind our business then.’
This said, he hasted to his tent, left there his shafts and bow,
And then his double double shield did on his shoulders throw,
Upon his honour’d head he placed his helmet, thickly plum’d,
And then his strong and well-pil’d lance in his fair hand assum’d,
Return’d, and boldly took his place by his great brother’s side.
When Hector saw his arrows broke, out to his friends he cried:
‘O friends, be yet more comforted! I saw the hands of Jove
Break the great Grecian archer’s shafts: ’tis easy to approve
That Jove’s power is direct with men, as well in those set high
Upon the sudden, as in those depress’d as suddenly,
And those not put in state at all, as now he takes away
Strength from Greeks, and gives it us; then use it, and assay
With join’d hands this approached fleet. If any bravely buy
His fame or fate with wounds or death, in Jove’s name let him die.
Who for his country suffers death sustains no shameful thing:
His wife in honour shall survive, his progeny shall spring
In endless summers, and their roofs with patrimony swell;
And all this, though with all their freight the Greek ships we repel.’
His friends thus cheer’d, on th’ other part strong Ajax stirr’d his friends:
‘O Greeks,’ said he, ‘what shame is this, that no man more defends
His fame and safety than to live, and thus be forc’d to shrink:
Now either save your fleet, or die, unless ye vainly think
That you can live, and they destroy’d? Perceives not every ear
How Hector heartens up his men, and hath his firebrands here,
Now ready to inflame our fleet? He doth not bid them dance,
That you may take your ease, and see, but to the fight advance.
No counsel can serve us but this: to mix both hands and hearts,
And bear up close; ’tis better much t’expose our utmost parts
To one day’s certain life or death, than languish in a war
So base as this, beat to our ships by our inferiors far.’
Thus rous’d he up their spirits and strengths: to work then both side went,
When Hector, the Phocensian duke, to fields of darkness sent
Fierce Schedius, Perimedes’ son; which Ajax did requite
With slaughter of Laodamas, that led the foot to fight,
And was Antenor’s famous son. Polydamas did end
Otus, surnam’d Cyllenius, whom Phydas made his friend,
Being chief of the Epeians’ bands: whose fall when Meges view’d,
He let fly at his feller’s life; who (shrinking in) eschew’d
The well-aim’d lance: Apollo’s will denied that Panthus’ son
Should fall amongst the foremost fights: the dart the mid-breast won
Of Crasmus; Meges won his arms. At Meges Dolops then
Bestow’d his lance; he was the son of Lampus, best of men –
And Lampus of Laomedon, well skill’d in strength of mind.
He struck Phylides’ shield quite through, whose curets, better lin’d
And hollow’d fitly, sav’d his life: Phyleus left him them,
Who from Epirus brought them home, on that part where the stream
Of famous Seleës doth run; Euphetes did bestow
(Being guest with him) those well-prov’d arms, to wear against the foe,
And now they sav’d his son from death. At Dolops Meges threw
A spear well pil’d, that struck his casque full in the height; off flew
His purple feather, newly made, and in the dust it fell.
While these thus striv’d for victory, and either’s hope serv’d well,
Atrides came to Meges’ aid, and (hidden with his side)
Let loose a javelin at his foe, that through his back implied
His lusty head, even past his breast; the ground receiv’d his weight.
While these made into spoil his arms, great Hector did excite
All his allies to quick revenge; and first he wrought upon
Strong Melanippus (that was son to great Hycetaon)
With some reproof. Before these wars he in Percote fed
Clov’n-footed oxen, but did since return where he was bred,
Excell’d amongst the Ilians, was much of Priam lov’d,
And in his court kept as his son; him Hector thus reprov’d:
‘Thus, Melanippus, shall our blood accuse us of neglect?
Nor moves it thy lov’d heart (thus urg’d) thy kinsman to protect?
Seest thou not, how they seek his spoil? Come, follow, now no more
Our fight must stand
at length, but close: nor leave the close before
We close the latest eye of them, or they the lowest stone
Tear up, and sack the citizens of lofty Ilion.’
He led; he follow’d like a god: and then must Ajax needs
(As well as Hector) cheer his men, and thus their spirits he feeds:
‘Good friends, bring but your selves to feel the noble stings of shame
For what ye suffer, and be men: respect each other’s fame,
For which who strives in shame’s fit fear, and puts on ne’er so far
Comes oft’ner off than stick engag’d: these fugitives of war
Save neither life, nor get renown, nor bear more mind than sheep.’
This short speech fir’d them in his aid, his spirit touch’d them deep,
And turn’d them all before the fleet into a wall of brass:
To whose assault Jove stirr’d their foes, and young Atrides was
Jove’s instrument, who thus set on the young Antilochus:
‘Antilochus, in all our host, there is not one of us
More young than you, more swift of foot, nor (with both those) so strong.
O would thou wouldst then (for thou canst) one of this lusty throng,
That thus comes skipping out before (whoever, any where)
May stick (for my sake) ’twixt both hosts, and leave his bold blood there.’
He said no sooner, and retir’d, but forth he rush’d before
The foremost fighters, yet his eye did every way explore
For doubt of odds; out flew his lance: the Trojans did abstain
While he was darting, yet his dart he cast not off in vain:
For Melanippus, that rare son of great Hycetaon,
(As bravely he put forth to fight) it fiercely flew upon,
And at the nipple of his breast his breast and life did part.
And then, much like an eager hound, cast off at some young hart
Hurt by the hunters that had left his covert then but new,
The great-in-war Antilochus (O Melanippus) flew
On thy torn bosom for thy spoil. But thy death could not lie
Hid to great Hector, who all haste made to thee, and made fly
Antilochus, although in war he were at all parts skill’d:
But as some wild beast, having done some shrewd turn (either kill’d
The herdsman, or the herdsman’s dog) and skulks away before
The gather’d multitude makes in: so Nestor’s son forbore,