The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Ithacus at this his brows did fold, And said: “How hath thy violent tongue broke through thy set of teeth, To say that we are slack in fight, and to the field of death Look others should enforce our way, when we were busied then, Ev’n when thou spak’st, against the foe to cheer and lead our men? But thy eyes shall be witnesses, if it content thy will, And that (as thou pretend’st) these cares do so affect thee still, The father of Telemachus (whom I esteem so dear, And to whom, as a legacy, I’ll leave my deeds done here) Ev’n with the foremost band of Troy hath his encounter dar’d, And therefore are thy speeches vain, and had been better spar’d.” He, smiling, since he saw him mov’d, recall’d his words, and said: “Most generous Laertes’ son, most wise of all our aid, I neither do accuse thy worth, more than thyself may hold Fit, (that inferiors think not much, being slack, to be controll’d) Nor take I on me thy command; for well I know thy mind Knows how sweet gentle counsels are, and that thou stand’st inclin’d, As I myself, for all our good.
On then; if now we spake What hath displeas’d, another time we full amends will make; And Gods grant that thy virtue ere may prove so free and brave, That my reproofs may still be vain, and thy deservings grave.” Thus parted they; and forth he went, when he did leaning find, Against his chariot, near his horse, him with the mighty mind, Great Diomedes, Tydeus’ son, and Sthenelus, the seed Of Capaneius; whom the king seeing likewise out of deed, Thus cried he out on Diomed: “O me! In what a fear The wise great warrior, Tydeus’ son, stands gazing ev’rywhere For others to begin the fight! It was not Tydeus’ use To be so daunted, whom his spirit would evermore produce Before the foremost of his friends in these affairs of fright, As they report that have beheld him labour in a fight. For me, I never knew the man, nor in his presence came, But excellent, above the rest, he was in gen’ral fame; And one renown’d exploit of his, I am assur’d, is true. He came to the Mycenian court, without arms, and did sue, At godlike Polynices’ hands, to have some worthy aid To their designs that ’gainst the walls of sacred Thebes were laid.
He was great Polynices’ guest, and nobly entertain’d, And of the kind Mycenian state what he requested gain’d, In mere consent; but when they should the same in act approve, By some sinister prodigies, held out to them by Jove, They were discourag’d. Thence he went, and safely had his pass Back to Asopus’ flood, renown’d for bulrushes and grass. Yet, once more, their ambassador, the Grecian peers address Lord Tydeus to Eteocles; to whom being giv’n access, He found him feasting with a crew of Cadmeans in his hall; Amongst whom, though an enemy, and only one to all; To all yet he his challenge made at ev’ry martial feat, And eas’ly foil’d all, since with him Minerva was so great. The rank-rode Cadmeans, much incens’d with their so foul disgrace, Lodg’d ambuscadoes for their foe, in some well-chosen place By which he was to make return. Twice five-and-twenty men, And two of them great captains too, the ambush did contain. The names of those two men of rule were Mæon, Hæmon’s son, And Lycophontes, Keep-field call’d, the heir of Autophon, By all men honour’d like the Gods; yet these and all their friends Were sent to hell by Tydeus’ hand, and had untimely ends.
He trusting to the aid of Gods, reveal’d by augury, Obeying which, one chief he sav’d, and did his life apply To be the heavy messenger of all the others’ deaths; And that sad message, with his life, to Mæon he bequeaths. So brave a knight was Tydeüs of whom a son is sprung, Inferior far in martial deeds, though higher in his tongue.” All this Tydides silent heard, aw’d by the rev’rend king; Which stung hot Sthenelus with wrath, who thus put forth his sting: “Atrides, when thou know’st the truth, speak what thy knowledge is, And do not lie so; for I know and I will brag in this, That we are far more able men than both our fathers were. We took the sev’n-fold ported Thebes, when yet we had not there So great help as our fathers had; and fought beneath a wall, Sacred to Mars, by help of Jove, and trusting to the fall Of happy signs from other Gods, by whom we took the town Untouch’d; our fathers perishing here by follies of their own; And therefore never more compare our fathers’ worth with ours.”
Tydides frown’d at this, and said: “Suppress thine anger’s pow’rs, Good friend, and hear why I refrain’d. Thou seest I am not mov’d Against our gen’ral, since he did but what his place behov’d, Admonishing all Greeks to fight; for, if Troy prove our prise, The honour and the joy is his; if here our ruin lies, The shame and grief for that as much is his in greatest kinds. As he then his charge, weigh we ours; which is our dauntless minds.” Thus, from his chariot, amply arm’d, he jump’d down to the ground; The armour of the angry king so horribly did sound, It might have made his bravest foe let fear take down his braves. And as when with the west-wind flaws, the sea thrusts up her waves, One after other, thick and high, upon the groaning shores, First in herself loud, but oppos’d with banks and rocks she roars, And, all her back in bristles set, spits ev’ry way her foam; So, after Diomed, instantly the field was overcome With thick impressions of the Greeks; and all the noise that grew (Ord’ring and cheering up their men) from only leaders flew. The rest went silently away, you could not hear a voice, Nor would have thought, in all their breasts, they had one in their choice, Their silence uttering their awe of them that them controll’d, Which made each man keep right his arms, march, fight still where he should The Trojans (like a sort of ewes, penn’d in a rich man’s fold, Close at his door, till all be milk’d, and never baaing hold Hearing the bleating of their lambs) did all their wide host fill With shouts and clamours, nor observ’d one voice, one baaing still, But show’d mix’d tongues from many a land of men call’d to their aid. Rude Mars had th’ ordering of their spirits; of Greeks, the learned Maid.
But Terror follow’d both the hosts, and Flight, and furious Strife The sister, and the mate, of Mars, that spoil of human life; And never is her rage at rest, at first she is but small, Yet after, but a little fed, she grows so vast and tall That, while her feet move here in earth, her forehead is in heav’n; And this was she that made ev’n then both hosts so deadly giv’n. Through ev’ry troop she stalk’d, and stirr’d rough sighs up as she went; But when in one field both the foes her fury did content, And both came under reach of darts, then darts and shields oppos’d To darts and shields; strength answer’d strength; then swords and targets clos’d With swords and targets; both with pikes; and then did tumult rise Up to her height; then conqu’rors’ boasts mix’d with the conquer’d’s cries; Earth flow’d with blood. And as from hills rainwaters headlong fall, That all ways eat huge ruts, which, met in one bed, fill a vall With such a confluence of streams, that on the mountain grounds Far off, in frighted shepherds’ ears, the bustling noise rebounds: So grew their conflicts, and so show’d their scuffling to the ear, With flight and clamour still commix’d, and all effects of fear.
And first renown’d Antilochus slew (fighting, in the face Of all Achaia’s foremost bands, with an undaunted grace) Echepolus Thalysiades; he was an arméd man; Whom on his hair-plum’d helmet’s crest the dart first smote, then ran Into his forehead, and there stuck; the steel pile making way Quite through his skull; a hasty night shut up his latest day. His fall was like a fight-rac’d tow’r; like which lying there dispread, King Elephenor (who was son to Chalcodon, and led The valiant Abants) covetous that he might first possess His arms, laid hands upon his feet, and hal’d him from the press Of darts and jav’lins hurl’d at him. The action of the king When great-in-heart Agenor saw, he made his jav’lin sing To th’ others’ labour; and along as he the trunk did wrest, His side (at which he bore his shield) in bowing of his breast Lay naked, and receiv’d the lance, that made him lose his hold And life together; which, in hope of that he lost, he sold, But for his sake the fight grew fierce, the Trojans and their foes Like wolves on one another rush’d, and man for man it goes. The next of name, that serv’d his fate, great Ajax Telamon Preferr’d so sadly.
He was heir to old Anthemion, And deck’d with all the flow’r of youth; the fruit of which yet fled, Before the honour’d nuptial torch could light him to his bed. His name was Simoisius; for, some few years before, His mother walking down the hill of Ida, by the shore Of silver Simois, to see her parents’ flocks, with them She, feeling suddenly the pains of child-birth, by the stream Of that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Simois) They call’d him Simoisius. Sweet was that birth of his To his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ; And yet those rites of piety, that should have been his joy To pay their honour’d years again in as affectionate sort, He could not graciously perform, his sweet life was so short, Cut off with mighty Ajax’ lance; for, as his spirit put on, He strook him at his breast’s right pap, quite through his shoulder-bone, And in the dust of earth he fell, that was the fruitful soil Of his friends’ hopes; but where he sow’d he buried all his toil.
And as a poplar shot aloft, set by a river side, In moist edge of a mighty fen, his head in curls implied, But all his body plain and smooth, to which a wheel-wright puts The sharp edge of his shining axe, and his soft timber cuts From his in native root, in hope to hew out of his bole The fell’ffs, or out-parts of a wheel, that compass in the whole, To serve some goodly chariot; but, being big and sad, And to be hal’d home through the bogs, the useful hope he had Sticks there, and there the goodly plant lies with’ring out his grace: So lay, by Jove-bred Ajax’ hand, Anthemion’s forward race, Nor could through that vast fen of toils be drawn to serve the ends Intended by his body’s pow’rs, nor cheer his aged friends. But now the gay-arm’d Antiphus, a son of Priam, threw His lance at Ajax through the prease; which went by him, and flew On Leucus, wise Ulysses’ friend; his groin it smote, as fain He would have drawn into his spoil the carcass of the slain, By which he fell, and that by him; it vex’d Ulysses’ heart, Who thrust into the face of fight, well-arm’d at ev’ry part, Came close, and look’d about to find an object worth his lance; Which when the Trojans saw him shake, and he so near advance, All shrunk; he threw, and forth it shin’d, nor fell but where it fell’d; His friend’s grief gave it angry pow’r, and deadly way it held Upon Democoon, who was sprung of Priam’s wanton force, Came from Abydus, and was made the master of his horse. Through both his temples strook the dart, the wood of one side shew’d, The pile out of the other look’d, and so the earth he strew’d With much sound of his weighty arms.
Then back the foremost went; Ev’n Hector yielded; then the Greeks gave worthy clamours vent, Effecting then their first-dumb pow’rs; some drew the dead, and spoil’d, Some follow’d, that, in open flight, Troy might confess it foil’d. Apollo, angry at the sight, from top of Ilion cried: “Turn head, ye well-rode peers of Troy, feed not the Grecians’ pride, They are not charm’d against your points, of steel, nor iron, fram’d; Nor fights the fair-hair’d Thetis’ son, but sits at fleet inflam’d.” So spake the dreadful God from Troy. The Greeks, Jove’s noblest Seed Encourag’d to keep on the chace; and, where fit spirit did need, She gave it, marching in the midst. Then flew the fatal hour Back on Diores, in return of Ilion’s sun-burn’d pow’r; Diores Amaryncides, whose right leg’s ankle-bone, And both the sinews, with a sharp and handful-charging stone Pirus Imbrasides did break, that led the Thracian bands And came from Ænos; down he fell, and up he held his hands To his lov’d friends; his spirit wing’d to fly out of his breast With which not satisfied, again Imbrasides address’d His jav’lin at him, and so ripp’d his navel, that the wound, As endlessly it shut his eyes, so, open’d, on the ground It pour’d his entrails.
As his foe went then suffic’d away, Thoas Ætolius threw a dart, that did his pile convey, Above his nipple, through his lungs; when, quitting his stern part, He clos’d with him, and, from his breast first drawing out his dart, His sword flew in, and by the midst it wip’d his belly out; So took his life, but left his arms; his friends so flock’d about, And thrust forth lances of such length before their slaughter’d king, Which, though their foe were big and strong, and often brake the ring Forg’d of their lances, yet (enforc’d) he left th’ affected prise. The Thracian and Epeian dukes, laid close with closéd eyes By either other, drown’d in dust; and round about the plain, All hid with slaughter’d carcasses, yet still did hotly reign The martial planet; whose effects had any eye beheld, Free and unwounded (and were led by Pallas through the field, To keep off jav’lins, and suggest the least fault could be found) He could not reprehend the fight, so many strew’d the ground. [1] Virgil useth these verses. King Diomed (by Pallas’ spirit inspir’d With will and pow’r) is for his acts admir’d, Mere men, and men deriv’d from Deities, And Deities themselves, he terrifies. Adds wounds to terrors. His inflamed lance Draws blood from Mars, and Venus. In a trance He casts Æneas, with a weighty stone; Apollo quickens him, and gets him gone. Mars is recur’d by Pæon, but by Jove Rebuk’d for authoring breach of human love.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.