The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  Not proving what the pain of birth would make the love before.

  Nor to pursue his first attaint Euphorbus’ spirit forbore.

  But, seeing Menelaus chief in rescue of the dead,

  Assay’d him thus: ‘Atrides, cease, and leave the slaughtered

  With his embru’d spoil to the man that first of all our state

  And famous succours, in fair fight, made passage to his fate;

  And therefore suffer me to wear the good name I have won

  Amongst the Trojans, lest thy life repay what his hath done.’

  ‘O Jupiter,’ said he, incens’d, ‘thou art no honest man

  To boast so past thy pow’r to do. Not any lion can,

  Nor spotted leopard, nor boar (whose mind is mightiest

  In pouring fury from his strength), advance so proud a crest

  As Panthus’ fighting progeny. But Hyperenor’s pride,

  That joy’d so little time his youth, when he so vilified

  My force in arms, and call’d me worst of all our chivalry,

  And stood my worst, might teach ye all to shun this surcuidrie:

  I think he came not safely home, to tell his wife his acts.

  Nor less right of thy insolence my equal fate exacts,

  And will obtain me, if thou stay’st; retire then, take advice:

  A fool sees nought before ’tis done, and still too late is wise.’

  This mov’d not him, but to the worse, since it renew’d the sting

  That his slain brother shot in him, remember’d by the king:

  To whom he answer’d: ‘Thou shalt pay for all the pains endur’d

  By that slain brother; all the wounds sustain’d for him, recur’d

  With one, made in thy heart by me. ’Tis true thou mad’st his wife

  A heavy widow, when her joys of wedlock scarce had life,

  And hurt’st our parents with his grief; all which thou gloriest in,

  Forespeaking so thy death, that now their grief’s end shall begin.

  To Panthus, and the snowy hand of Phrontes, I will bring

  Those arms, and that proud head of thine; and this laborious thing

  Shall ask no long time to perform: nor be my words alone,

  But their performance; Strength, and Fight, and Terror thus sets on.’

  This said, he struck his all-round shield; nor shrunk that, but his lance

  That turn’d head in it: then the king assail’d the second chance,

  First praying to the king of gods, and his dart entry got

  (The force much driving back his foe) in low part of his throat,

  And ran his neck through. Then fell pride and he, and all with gore

  His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore

  In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.

  As when alone in some choice place a husbandman hath set

  The young plant of an olive tree, whose root being ever fed

  With plenty of delicious springs, his branches bravely spread,

  And all his fresh and lovely head grown curl’d with snowy flow’rs,

  That dance and flourish with the winds, that are of gentlest pow’rs;

  But when a whirlwind (got aloft) stoops with a sudden gale,

  Tears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal

  His fix’d root from his hollow mines, it well presents the force

  Of Sparta’s king, and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse.

  He slain, the king stripp’d off his arms, and with their worthy prize

  (All fearing him) had clearly past, if heav’n’s fair eye of eyes

  Had not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr’d

  The Mars-like Hector, to whose pow’rs the rescue he preferr’d

  Of those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas (colonel

  Of all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell).

  Like him, he thus puts forth his voice: ‘Hector, thou scour’st the field

  In headstrong pursuit of those horse that hardly are compell’d

  To take the draught of chariots by any mortal’s hand –

  The great grandchild of Aeacus hath only their command,

  Whom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend’st on these,

  The young Atrides, in defence of Menoetiades,

  Hath slain Euphorbus.’ Thus the god took troop with men again,

  And Hector (heartily perplex’d) look’d round, and saw the slain,

  Still shedding rivers from his wound: and then took envious view

  Of brave Atrides with his spoil, in way to whom he flew

  Like one of Vulcan’s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry

  That ever usher’d him, and sigh’d, and said: ‘O me, if I

  Should leave these goodly arms, and him that here lies dead for me,

  I fear I should offend the Greeks. If I should stay, and be

  Alone with Hector and his men, I may be compass’d in;

  Some sleight or other they may use. Many may quickly win

  Their wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads.

  But why (dear mind) dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads

  Against the gods, as sure they do (that fight with men they love),

  Straight one or other plague ensues: it cannot therefore move

  The grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he

  Still fighting with a spirit from heav’n. And yet if I could see

  Brave Ajax, he and I would stand, though ’gainst a god: and sure

  ’Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure

  This corse’s freedom through all these: a little then let rest

  The body, and my mind be still; of two bads choose the best.’

  In this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he

  Made such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see

  The royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries and spears,

  To clear their horned stall; and then, the kingly heart he bears

  (With all his high disdain) falls off: so, from this odds of aid

  The golden-hair’d Atrides fled, and in his strength display’d

  Upon his left hand him he wish’d, extremely busied

  About encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread

  Apollo had infus’d: the king reach’d Ajax instantly,

  And said: ‘Come, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny

  Of Hector free Patroclus’ corse.’ He straight and gladly went;

  And then was Hector haling off the body, with intent

  To spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest

  (His arms he having pris’d before). When Ajax brought his breast

  To bar all further spoil, with that he had sure, Hector thought

  ’Twas best to satisfy his spleen; which temper Ajax wrought

  With his mere sight, and Hector fled: the arms he sent to Troy,

  To make his citizens admire, and pray Jove send him joy.

  Then Ajax gather’d to the corse, and hid it with his targe:

  There setting down as sure a foot as, in the tender charge

  Of his lov’d whelps, a lion doth; two hundred hunters near,

  To give him onset, their more force makes him the more austere,

  Drowns all their clamours in his roars, darts, dogs doth all despise,

  And lets his rough brows down so low, they cover all his eyes:

  So Ajax look’d, and stood, and stay’d for great Priamides.


  When Glaucus Hippolochides saw Ajax thus depress

  The spirit of Hector, thus he chid: ‘O goodly man at arms,

  In fight a Paris, why should fame make thee sort ’gainst our harms,

  Being such a fugitive? Now mark how well thy boasts defend

  Thy city only with her own. Be sure it shall descend

  To that proof wholly. Not a man of any Lycian rank

  Shall strike one stroke more for thy town, for no man gets a thank

  Should he eternally fight here, nor any guard of thee.

  How wilt thou (worthless that thou art) keep off an enemy

  From our poor soldiers, when their prince, Sarpedon, guest and friend

  To thee (and most deservedly) thou flew’st from in his end,

  And left’st to all the lust of Greece? O gods, a man that was

  In life so huge a good to Troy, and to thee such a grace,

  In death not kept by thee from dogs? If my friends will do well,

  We’ll take our shoulders from your walls, and let all sink to hell –

  As all will, were our faces turn’d. Did such a spirit breathe

  In all you Trojans, as becomes all men that fight beneath

  Their country’s standard, you would see that such as prop your cause

  With like exposure of their lives have all the honour’d laws

  Of such a dear confederacy kept to them to a thread –

  As now ye might reprise the arms Sarpedon forfeited,

  By forfeit of your rights to him, would you but lend your hands,

  And force Patroclus to your Troy. Ye know how dear he stands

  In his love, that of all the Greeks is (for himself) far best,

  And leads the best near-fighting men; and therefore would (at least)

  Redeem Sarpedon’s arms – nay him, whom you have likewise lost.

  This body drawn to Ilion would after draw and cost

  A greater ransom if you pleas’d: but Ajax startles you;

  ’Tis his breast bars this right to us: his looks are darts enow

  To mix great Hector with his men. And not to blame ye are,

  You choose foes underneath your strengths; Ajax exceeds ye far.’

  Hector look’d passing sour at this; and answer’d: ‘Why dar’st thou

  (So under) talk above me so? O friend, I thought till now

  Thy wisdom was superior to all th’ inhabitants

  Of gleby Lycia; but now, impute apparent wants

  To that discretion thy words show, to say I lost my ground

  For Ajax’ greatness: nor fear I the field in combats drown’d,

  Nor force of chariots, but I fear a pow’r much better seen,

  In right of all war, than all we: that god that holds between

  Our victory and us his shield, lets conquest come and go

  At his free pleasure, and with fear converts her changes so

  Upon the strongest; men must fight when his just spirit impels,

  Not their vain glories. But come on, make thy steps parallels

  To these of mine; and then be judge how deep the work will draw –

  If then I spend the day in shifts, or thou canst give such law

  To thy detractive speeches then, or if the Grecian host

  Holds any that in pride of strength holds up his spirit most,

  Whom (for the carriage of this prince, that thou enforcest so)

  I make not stoop in his defence. You, friends! Ye hear and know

  How much it fits ye to make good this Grecian I have slain,

  For ransom of Jove’s son, our friend; play then the worthy men,

  Till I indue Achilles’ arms.’ This said, he left the fight,

  And call’d back those that bore the arms, not yet without his sight,

  In convoy of them towards Troy. For them he chang’d his own,

  Remov’d from where it rained tears, and sent them back to town.

  Then put he on th’ eternal arms that the celestial states

  Gave Peleus; Peleus being old, their use appropriates

  To his Achilles, that (like him) forsook them not for age.

  When he whose empire is in clouds saw Hector bent to wage

  War in divine Achilles’ arms, he shook his head, and said:

  ‘Poor wretch, thy thoughts are far from Death, though he so near hath laid

  His ambush for thee. Thou putt’st on those arms as braving him

  Whom others fear, hast slain his friend, and from his youthful limb

  Torn rudely off his heavenly arms, himself being gentle, kind,

  And valiant. Equal measure then thy life in youth must find.

  Yet since the justice is so strict, that not Andromache

  (In thy denied return from fight) must ever take of thee

  Those arms, in glory of thy acts, thou shalt have that frail blaze

  Of excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev’n to amaze.’

  To this his sable brows did bow; and he made fit his limb

  To those great arms, to fill which up the War-god enter’d him,

  Austere and terrible: his joints and every part extends

  With strength and fortitude; and thus, to his admiring friends,

  High Clamour brought him. He so shin’d, that all could think no less,

  But he resembled every way great-soul’d Aeacides.

  Then every way he scour’d the field, his captains calling on:

  Asteropaeus, Eunomus (that foresaw all things done),

  Glaucus and Medon, Desinor, and strong Thersilochus,

  Phorcis and Mesthles, Chronius, and great Hippothous;

  To all these, and their populous troops, these his excitements were:

  ‘Hear us, innumerable friends, near-bordering nations, hear.

  We have not call’d you from your towns to fill our idle eye

  With number of so many men (no such vain empery

  Did ever joy us), but to fight, and of our Trojan wives,

  With all their children, manfully to save the innocent lives;

  In whose cares we draw all our towns of aiding soldiers dry,

  With gifts, guards, victual, all things fit, and hearten their supply

  With all like rights; and therefore now let all sides set down this:

  Or live, or perish; this of war the special secret is.

  In which most resolute design, who ever bears to town

  Patroclus (laid dead to his hand) by winning the renown

  Of Ajax’ slaughter, the half-spoil we wholly will impart

  To his free use; and to ourself the other half convert:

  And so the glory shall be shar’d; ourself will have no more

  Than he shall shine in.’ This drew all to bring abroad their store

  Before the body: every man had hope it would be his,

  And forc’d from Ajax. Silly fools, Ajax prevented this

  By raising rampiers to his friend with half their carcasses:

  And yet his humour was to roar, and fear, and now no less

  To startle Sparta’s king; to whom he cried out: ‘O my friend!

  O Menelaus! Ne’er more hope to get off; here’s the end

  Of all our labours: not so much I fear to lose the corse

  (For that’s sure gone, the fowls of Troy and dogs will quickly force

  That piece-meal) as I fear my head, and thine, O Atreus’ son.

  Hector a cloud brings, will hide all; instant destruction,

  Grievous and heavy, comes; O call our peers to aid us; fly.’

  He hasted, and us’d all his voice, sen
t far and near his cry:

  ‘O princes, chief lights of the Greeks, and you that publicly

  Eat with our general and me, all men of charge, O know,

  Jove gives both grace and dignity to any that will show

  Good minds for only good itself, though presently the eye

  Of him that rules discern him not. ’Tis hard for me t’ espy

  (Through all this smoke of burning fight) each captain in his place,

  And call assistance to our need. Be then each other’s grace,

  And freely follow each his next; disdain to let the joy

  Of great Aeacides be forc’d to feed the beasts of Troy.’

  His voice was first heard and obey’d by swift Oïleades:

  Idomeneus and his mate (renown’d Meriones)

  Were seconds to Oïleus’ son: but of the rest, whose mind

  Can lay upon his voice the names that after these combin’d

  In setting up this fight on end? The Trojans first gave on,

  And as into the sea’s vast mouth, when mighty rivers run,

  Their billows and the sea resound, and all the utter shore

  Rebellows (in her angry shocks) the sea’s repulsive roar:

  With such sounds gave the Trojans charge; so was their charge repress’d.

  One mind fill’d all Greeks, good brass shields close couch’d to every breast,

  And on their helms Jove poured down a mighty deal of night

  To hide Patroclus. Whom alive, and when he was the knight

  Of that grandchild of Aeacus, Saturnius did not hate;

  Nor dead, would see him dealt to dogs, and so did instigate

  His fellows to his worthy guard. At first the Trojans drave

  The black-ey’d Grecians from the corse; but not a blow they gave

  That came at death. A while they hung about the body’s heels,

  The Greeks quite gone. But all that while did Ajax whet the steels

  Of all his forces, that cut back way to the corse again.

  Brave Ajax (that for form and fact, past all that did maintain

  The Grecian fame, next Thetis’ son) now flew before the first,

  And as a sort of dogs and youths are by a boar disperst

  About a mountain: so fled these from mighty Ajax, all

  That stood in conflict for the corse, who thought no chance could fall

  Betwixt them and the prize at Troy. For bold Hippothous

  (Lethus Pelasgus’ famous son) was so adventurous,

  That he would stand to bore the corse about the ankle-bone,