The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
In Epsilon, Heav’n’s blood is shed By sacred rage of Diomed. Then Pallas breath’d in Tydeus’ son; to render whom supreme To all the Greeks, at all his parts, she cast a hotter beam On his high mind, his body fill’d with much superior might, And made his cómplete armour cast a far more cómplete light. From his bright helm and shield did burn a most unwearied fire,[1] Like rich Autumnus’ golden lamp, whose brightness men admire Past all the other host of stars, when, with his cheerful face Fresh wash’d in lofty Ocean waves, he doth the skies enchase. To let whose glory, lose no sight, still Pallas made him turn Where tumult most express’d his pow’r, and where the fight did burn. An honest and a wealthy man inhabited in Troy, Dares, the priest of Mulciber, who two sons did enjoy, Idæus, and bold Phegeüs, well-seen in ev’ry fight. These (singled from their troops, and hors’d) assail’d Minerva’s knight, Who rang’d from fight to fight on foot. All hasting mutual charge, And now drawn near, first Phegeus threw a jav’lin swift and large, Whose head the king’s left shoulder took, but did no harm at all; Then rush’d he out a lance at him, that had no idle fall, But in his breast stuck ’twixt the paps, and strook him from his horse.
Which stern sight when Idæus saw, distrustful of his force To save his slaughter’d brother’s spoil, it made him headlong leap From his fair chariot, and leave all; yet had not ’scap’d the heap Of heavy fun’ral, if the God, great President of fire, Had not in sudden clouds of smoke and pity of his sire To leave him utterly unheir’d, giv’n safe pass to his feet. He gone, Tydides sent the horse and chariot to the fleet. The Trojans seeing Dares’ sons one slain, the other fled, Were strook amaz’d. The blue-ey’d Maid (to grace her Diomed In giving free way to his pow’r) made this so ruthful fact A fit advantage to remove the War-god out of act, Who rag’d so on the Ilion side. She grip’d his hand, and said: “Mars, Mars, thou ruiner of men, that in the dust hast laid So many cities, and with blood thy godhead dost distain, Now shall we cease to show our breasts as passionate as men, And leave the mixture of our hands, resigning Jove his right, As Rector of the Gods, to give the glory of the fight Where he affecteth, lest he force what he should freely yield?”
He held it fit, and went with her from the tumultuous field, Who set him in an herby seat on broad Scamander’s shore. He gone, all Troy was gone with him, the Greeks drave all before. And ev’ry leader slew a man; but first the king of men Deserv’d the honour of his name, and led the slaughter then, And slew a leader, one more huge than any man he led, Great Odius, duke of Halizons; quite from his chariot’s head He strook him with a lance to earth, as first he flight address’d; It took his forward-turnéd back, and look’d out of his breast; His huge trunk sounded, and his arms did echo the resound. Idomenæus to the death did noble Phæstus wound, The son of Meon-Borus, that from cloddy Terna came; Who, taking chariot, took his wound, and tumbled with the same From his attempted seat: the lance through his right shoulder strook, And horrid darkness strook through him; the spoil his soldiers took.
Atrides-Menelaus slew, as he before him fled, Scamandrius, son of Strophius, that was a huntsman bred; A skilful huntsman, for his skill Diana’s self did teach, And made him able with his dart infallibly to reach All sorts of subtlest savages, which many a woody hill Bred for him, and he much preserv’d, and all to show his skill. Yet not the dart-delighting Queen taught him to shun this dart, Nor all his hitting so far off, the mast’ry of his art; His back receiv’d it, and he fell upon his breast withal; His body’s ruin, and his arms, so sounded in his fall, That his affrighted horse flew off, and left him, like his life. Meriones slew Phereclus, whom she that ne’er was wife, Yet Goddess of good housewives, held in excellent respect For knowing all the witty things that grace an architect, And having pow’r to give it all the cunning use of hand. Harmonides, his sire, built ships, and made him understand, With all the practice it requir’d, the frame of all that skill. He built all Alexander’s ships, that author’d all the ill Of all the Trojans and his own, because he did not know The oracles advising Troy (for fear of overthrow) To meddle with no sea affair, but live by tilling land.
This man Meriones surpris’d, and drave his deadly hand Through his right hip; the lance’s head ran through the región About the bladder, underneath th’ in-muscles and the bone; He, sighing, bow’d his knees to death, and sacrific’d to earth. Phylides stay’d Pedæus’ flight, Antenor’s bastard birth, Whom virtuous Theano his wife, to please her husband, kept As tenderly as those she lov’d. Phylides near him stept, And in the fountain of the nerves did drench his fervent lance, At his head’s back-part; and so far the sharp head did advance, It cleft the organ of his speech, and th’ iron, cold as death, He took betwixt his grinning teeth, and gave the air his breath. Eurypylus, the much renown’d, and great Evemon’s son, Divine Hypsenor slew, begot by stout Dolopion, And consecrate Scamander’s priest; he had a God’s regard Amongst the people; his hard flight the Grecian follow’d hard, Rush’d in so close, that with his sword he on his shoulder laid A blow that his arm’s brawn cut off; nor there his vigour stay’d, But drave down, and from off his wrist it hew’d his holy hand That gush’d out blood, and down it dropp’d upon the blushing sand; Death, with his purple finger, shut, and violent fate, his eyes. Thus fought these, but distinguish’d well.
Tydides so implies His fury that you could not know whose side had interest In his free labours, Greece or Troy; but as a flood, increas’d By violent and sudden show’rs, let down from hills, like hills Melted in fury, swells and foams, and so he overfills His natural channel; that besides both hedge and bridge resigns To his rough confluence, far spread; and lusty flourishing vines Drown’d in his outrage; Tydeus’ son so overran the field, Strew’d such as flourish’d in his way, and made whole squadrons yield, When Pandarus, Lycaon’s son, beheld his ruining hand, With such resistless insolence, make lanes through ev’ry band, He bent his gold-tipp’d bow of horn, and shot him rushing in, At his right shoulder, where his arms were hollow; forth did spin The blood, and down his curets ran; then Pandarus cried out: “Rank-riding Trojans, now rush in. Now, now, I make no doubt: Our bravest foe is mark’d for death; he cannot long sustain My violent shaft, if Jove’s fair Son did worthily constrain My foot from Lycia.” Thus he brav’d, and yet his violent shaft Strook short with all his violence, Tydides’ life was saft; Who yet withdrew himself behind his chariot and steeds, And call’d to Sthenelus: “Come, friend, my wounded shoulder needs Thy hand to ease it of this shaft.” He hasted from his seat Before the coach, and drew the shaft; the purple wound did sweat, And drown his shirt of mail in blood, and as it bled he pray’d: “Hear me, of Jove-Ægiochus thou most unconquer’d Maid! If ever in the cruel field thou has assistful stood Or to my father, or myself, now love, and do me good. Give him into my lance’s reach, that thus hath giv’n a wound To him thou guard’st, preventing me, and brags that never more I shall behold the cheerful sun.” Thus did the king implore.
The Goddess heard, came near, and took the weariness of fight From all his nerves and lineaments, and made them fresh and light, And said: “Be bold, O Diomed, in ev’ry combat shine, The great shield-shaker Tydeus’ strength (that knight, that sire of thine) By my infusion breathes in thee; and from thy knowing mind I have remov’d those erring mists that made it lately blind, That thou may’st diff’rence Gods from men, and therefore use thy skill Against the tempting Deities, if any have a will To try if thou presum’st of that, as thine, that flows from them, And so assum’st above thy right. Where thou discern’st a beam Of any other Heav’nly Pow’r than She that rules in love, That calls thee to the change of blows, resist not, but remove; But if that Goddess be so bold (since she first stirr’d this war) Assault and mark her from the rest with some infámous scar.”
The blue-eyed Goddess vanishéd, and he was seen again Amongst the foremost, who before though he were prompt and fain To fight against the Trojans’ pow’rs, now, on his spirits were call’d With thrice the vigour; lion-like, that hath been lately gall’d By some bold shepherd in a field, where his curl’d flocks were laid, Who took him as he leap’d the fold, not slain yet, but appaid With greater spirit, comes again, and then the shepherd hides, (The rather for the desolate place) and in his cot abides, His flocks left guardless; which, amaz’d, shake and shrink up in heaps; He, ruthless, freely takes his prey, and out again he leaps; So sprightly, fierce, victorious, the great heroë flew Upon the Trojans, and, at once, he two commanders slew, Hypenor and Astynous; in one his lance he fix’d Full at the nipple of his breast; the other smote betwixt The neck and shoulder with his sword, which was so well laid on It swept his arm and shoulder off.
These left, he rush’d upon Abas and Polyëidus, of old Eurydamas The hapless sons; who could by dreams tell what would come to pass, Yet, when his sons set forth to Troy, the old man could not read By their dreams what would chance to them, for both were stricken dead By great Tydides, After these, he takes into his rage Xanthus and Thoön, Phænops’ sons, born to him in his age; The good old man ev’n pin’d with years, and one son more To heir his goods; yet Diomed took both, and left him store Of tears and sorrows in their steads, since he could never see His sons leave those hot wars alive; so this the end must be Of all his labours; what he heap’d, to make his issue great, Authority heir’d, and with her seed fill’d his forgotten seat. Then snatch’d he up two Priamists, that in one chariot stood, Echemon, and fair Chromius.
As feeding in a wood Oxen or steers are, one of which a lion leaps upon, Tears down, and wrings in two his neck; so, sternly, Tydeus’ son Threw from their chariot both these hopes of old Dardanides, Then took their arms, and sent their horse to those that ride the seas, Æneas, seeing the troops thus toss’d, brake through the heat of fight, And all the whizzing of the darts, to find the Lycian knight, Lycaon’s son; whom having found, he thus bespake the peer; “O Pandarus, where’s now thy bow, thy deathful arrows where, In which no one in all our host but gives the palm to thee, Nor in the sun-lov’d Lycian greens, that breed our archery, Lives any that exceeds thyself? Come, lift thy hands to Jove, And send an arrow at this man, if but a man he prove, That wins such god-like victories, and now affects our host With so much sorrow, since so much of our best blood is lost By his high valour. I have fear some God in him doth threat, Incens’d for want of sacrifice; the wrath of God is great.”
Lycaon’s famous son replied: “Great counsellor of Troy, This man, so excellent in arms, I think is Tydeus’ joy; I know him by his fi’ry shield, by his bright three-plum’d casque, And by his horse; nor can I say, if or some God doth mask In his appearance, or he be whom I nam’d Tydeus’ son, But without God the things he does for certain are not done. Some great Immortal, that conveys his shoulders in a cloud, Goes by and puts by ev’ry dart at his bold breast bestow’d, Or lets it take with little hurt; for I myself let fly A shaft that shot him through his arms, but had as good gone by, Yet which I gloriously affirm’d had driv’n him down to hell. Some God is angry, and with me; for far hence, where I dwell, My horse and chariots idle stand, with which some other way I might repair this shameful miss.
Elev’n fair chariots stay In old Lycaon’s court, new made, new trimm’d to have been gone, Curtain’d, and arrast under foot; two horse to ev’ry one, That eat white barley and black oats, and do no good at all; And these Lycaon (that well knew how these affairs would fall) Charg’d, when I set down this design, I should command with here, And gave me many lessons more, all which much better were Than any I took forth myself. The reason I laid down Was but the sparing of my horse, since in a siegéd town I thought our horse-meat would be scant; when they were us’d to have Their manger full; so I left them, and like a lackey slave Am come to Ilion, confident in nothing but my bow That nothing profits me. Two shafts I vainly did bestow At two great princes, but of both my arrows neither slew, Nor this, nor Atreus’ younger son; a little blood I drew, That serv’d but to incense them more. In an unhappy star I therefore from my armoury have drawn those tools of war That day, when, for great Hector’s sake, to amiable Troy: I came to lead the Trojan bands.
But if I ever joy, In safe return, my country’s sight, my wife’s, my lofty tow’rs, Let any stranger take this head, if to the fi’ry Pow’rs This bow, these shafts, in pieces burst, by these hands be not thrown; Idle companions that they are to me and my renown.” Æneas said: “Use no such words; for, any other way Than this, they shall not now be us’d. We first will both assay This man with horse and chariot. Come then, ascend to me, That thou may’st try our Trojan horse, how skill’d in field they be, And in pursuing those that fly, or flying, being pursued, How excellent they are of foot; and these, if Jove conclude The ’scape of Tydeüs again, and grace him with our flight, Shall serve to bring us safely off. Come, I’ll be first shall fight, Take thou these fair reins and this scourge; or, if thou wilt, fight thou, And leave the horses’ care to me.”
He answer’d: “I will now Descend to fight, keep thou the reins, and guide thyself thy horse; Who with their wonted manager will better wield the force Of the impulsive chariot, if we be driv’n to fly, Than with a stranger; under whom they will be much more shy, And, fearing my voice, wishing thine, grow resty, nor go on To bear us off, but leave engag’d for mighty Tydeus’ son Themselves and us. Then be thy part thy one-hoof’d horses’ guide, I’ll make the fight, and with a dart receive his utmost pride.” With this the gorgeous chariot both, thus prepar’d, ascend And make full way at Diomed; which noted by his friend, “Mine own most-lovéd mind,” said he, “two mighty men of war I see come with a purpos’d charge; one’s he that hits so far With bow and shaft, Lycaon’s son; the other fames the brood Of great Anchises and the Queen that rules in amorous blood, Æneas, excellent in arms. Come up, and use your steeds, And look not war so in the face, lest that desire that feeds Thy great mind be the bane of it.”
This did with anger sting The blood of Diomed, to see his friend, that chid the king Before the fight, and then preferr’d his ablesse and his mind To all his ancestors in fight, now come so far behind; Whom thus he answer’d: “Urge no flight, you cannot please me so; Nor is it honest in my mind to fear a coming foe, Or make a flight good, though with fight. My pow’rs are yet entire, And scorn the help-tire of a horse. I will not blow the fire Of their hot valours with my flight, but cast upon the blaze This body borne upon my knees. I entertain amaze? Minerva will not see that shame. And since they have begun, They shall not both elect their ends; and he that ’scapes shall run, Or stay and take the other’s fate. And this I leave for thee;— If amply-wise Athenia give both their lives to me, Rein our horse to their chariot hard, and have a special heed To seize upon Æneas’ steeds, that we may change their breed, And make a Grecian race of them that have been long of Troy.
For these are bred of those brave beasts which, for the lovely boy That waits now on the cup of Jove, Jove, that far-seeing God, Gave Tros the king in recompense; the best that ever trod The sounding centre, underneath the morning and the sun. Anchises stole the breed of them; for, where their sires did run, He closely put his mares to them, and never made it known To him that heir’d them, who was then the king Laomedon. Six horses had he of that race, of which himself kept four, And gave the other two his son; and these are they that scour The field so bravely towards us, expert in charge and flight. If these we have the pow’r to take, our prise is exquisite, And our renown will far exceed.” While these were talking thus, The fir’d horse brought th’ assailants near, and thus spake Pandarus: “Most suff’ring-minded Tydeus’ son, that hast of war the art, My shaft, that strook thee, slew thee not, I now will prove a dart.”
This said, he shook, and then he threw, a lance, aloft and large, That in Tydides’ curets stuck, quite driving through his targe; Then bray’d he out so wild a voice that all the field might hear: “Now have I reach’d thy root of life, and by thy death shall bear Our praise’s chief prise from the field.” Tydides undismay’d Replied: “Thou err’st, I am not touch’d; but more charge will be laid To both your lives before you part; at least the life of one Shall satiate the throat of Mars.” This said, his lance was gone, Minerva led it to his face, which at his eye ran in, And, as he stoop’d, strook through his jaws, his tongue’s root, and his chin. Down from the chariot he fell, his gay arms shin’d and rung, The swift horse trembled, and his soul for ever charm’d his tongue. Æneas with his shield, and lance, leapt swiftly to his friend, Afraid the Greeks would force his trunk; and that he did defend, Bold as a lion of his strength; he hid him with his shield, Shook round his lance, and horribly did threaten all the field With death, if any durst make in.
Tydides rais’d a stone With his one hand, of wondrous weight, and pour’d it mainly on The hip of Anchisiades, wherein the joint doth move The thigh (’tis call’d the huckle-bone) which all in sherds it drove, Brake both the nerves, and with the edge cut all the flesh away. It stagger’d him upon his knees, and made th’ heroë stay His strook-blind temples on his hand, his elbow on the earth; And there this prince of men had died, if She that gave him birth, (Kiss’d by Anchises on the green, where his fair oxen fed) Jove’s loving daughter, instantly had not about him spread Her soft embraces, and convey’d within her heav’nly veil (Us’d as a rampire ’gainst all darts that did so hot assail) Her dear-lov’d issue from the field, Then Sthenelus in haste, Rememb’ring what his friend advis’d, from forth the prease made fast His own horse to their chariot, and presently laid hand Upon the lovely-coated horse Æneas did command. Which bringing to the wond’nng Greeks, he did their guard commend To his belov’d Deipylus, who was his inward friend, And, of his equals, one to whom he had most honour shown, That he might see them safe at fleet; then stept he to his own.
With which he cheerfully made in to Tydeus’ mighty race, He, mad with his great enemy’s rape, was hot in desp’rate chace Of her that made it, with his lance, arm’d less with steel than spite, Well knowing her no Deity that had to do in fight, Minerva his great patroness, nor, She that raceth towns, Bellona, but a goddess weak, and foe to men’s renowns. Her, through a world of fight pursu’d, at last he overtook, And, thrusting up his ruthless lance, her heav’nly veil he strook (That ev’n the Graces wrought themselves, at her divine command) Quite through, and hurt the tender back of her delicious hand. The rude point piercing through her palm, forth flow’d th’ immortal blood; Blood, such as flows in blesséd Gods, that eat no human food, Nor drink of our inflaming wine, and therefore bloodless are, And call’d Immortals; out she cried, and could no longer bear Her lov’d son; whom she cast from her, and in a sable cloud Phœbus, receiving, hid him close from all the Grecian crowd, Lest some of them should find his death. Away flew Venus then, And after her cried Diomed: “Away, thou spoil of men, Though sprung from all-preserving Jove, these hot encounters leave.
Is’t not enough that silly dames thy sorc’ries should deceive, Unless thou thrust into the war, and rob a soldier’s right? I think a few of these assaults will make thee fear the fight, Wherever thou shalt hear it nam’d.” She, sighing, went her way Extremely griev’d, and with her griefs her beauties did decay, And black her ivory body grew. Then from a dewy mist Brake swift-foot Iris to her aid, from all the darts that hiss’d At her quick rapture; and to Mars they took their plaintive course, And found him on the fight’s left hand, by him his speedy horse, And huge lance, lying in a fog. The Queen of all things fair Her lovéd brother, on her knees, besought, with instant pray’r, His golden-riband-bound-man’d horse to lend her up to heav’n For she was much griev’d with a wound a mortal man had giv’n, Tydides, that ’gainst Jove himself durst now advance his arm. He granted, and his chariot (perplex’d with her late harm) She mounted, and her waggoness was She that paints the air. The horse she rein’d, and with a scourge importun’d their repair, That of themselves out-flew the wind, and quickly they ascend Olympus, high seat of the Gods.
Th’ horse knew their journey’s end, Stood still, and from their chariot the windy-footed dame Dissolv’d, and gave them heav’nly food; and to Dione came Her wounded daughter, bent her knees. She kindly bade her stand, With sweet embraces help’d her up, strok’d her with her soft hand, Call’d kindly by her name, and ask’d: “What God hath been so rude, Sweet daughter, to chastise thee thus, as if thou wert pursu’d Ev’n to the act of some light sin, and deprehended so? For otherwise, each close escape is in the great let go.” She answer’d: “Haughty Tydeus’ son hath been so insolent, Since, him whom most my heart esteems of all my lov’d descent, I rescu’d from his bloody hand. Now battle is not giv’n To any Trojans by the Greeks, but by the Greeks to heav’n.” She answer’d: “Daughter, think not much, though much it grieve thee; use The patience, whereof many Gods examples may produce, In many bitter ills receiv’d, as well that men sustain By their inflictions as by men repaid to them again.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.