The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Lambda presents the General, In fight the worthiest man of all, Aurora out of restful bed did from bright Tithon rise, To bring each deathless Essence light, and use to mortal eyes; When Jove sent Eris to the Greeks, sustaining in her hand Stern signs of her designs for war. She took her horrid stand Upon Ulysses’ huge black bark, that did at anchor ride Amidst the fleet, from whence her sounds might ring on ev’ry side, Both to the tents of Telamon, and th’ author of their smarts, Who held, for fortitude and force, the navy’s utmost parts. The red-ey’d Goddess, seated there, thunder’d the Orthian song, High, and with horror, through the ears of all the Grecian throng, Her verse with spirits invincible did all their breasts inspire, Blew out all darkness from their limbs, and set their hearts on fire; And presently was bitter war more sweet a thousand times, Than any choice in hollow keels to greet their native climes. Atrides summon’d all to arms, to arms himself dispos’d, First on his legs he put bright greaves, with silver buttons clos’d; Then with rich curace arm’d his breast, which Cinyras bestow’d To gratify his royal guest; for ev’n to Cyprus flowed Th’ unbounded fame of those designs the Greeks propos’d for Troy, And therefore gave he him those arms, and wish’d his purpose joy.
Ten rows of azure mix’d with black, twelve golden like the sun, Twice-ten of tin, in beaten paths, did through this armour run. Three serpents to the gorget crept, that like three rainbows shin’d, Such as by Jove are fix’d in clouds, when wonders are divin’d. About his shoulders hung his sword, whereof the hollow hilt Was fashion’d all with shining bars, exceeding richly gilt; The scabbard was of silver plate, with golden hangers grac’d. Then he took up his weighty shield, that round about him cast Defensive shadows; ten bright zones of gold-affecting brass Were driv’n about it; and of tin, as full of gloss as glass, Swell’d twenty bosses out of it; in centre of them all One of black metal had engrav’n, full of extreme appall, An ugly Gorgon, compasséd with Terror and with Fear. At it a silver bawdrick hung, with which he us’d to bear, Wound on his arm, his ample shield; and in it there was wov’n An azure dragon, curl’d in folds, from whose one neck was clov’n Three heads contorted in an orb. Then plac’d he on his head His four-plum’d casque; and in his hands two darts he managéd, Arm’d with bright steel that blaz’d to heav’n. Then Juno, and the Maid That conquers empires, trumpets serv’d to summon out their aid In honour of the General, and on a sable cloud, To bring them furious to the field, sat thund’ring out aloud. Then all enjoin’d their charioteers, to rank their chariot horse Close to the dike. Forth march’d the foot, whose front they did r’enforce With some horse troops. The battle then was all of charioteers, Lin’d with light horse. But Jupiter disturb’d this form with fears, And from air’s upper region bid bloody vapours rain, For sad ostent much noble life should ere their times be slain.
The Trojan host at Ilus’ tomb was in battalia led By Hector and Polydamas, and old Anchises’ seed Who god-like was esteem’d in Troy, by grave Antenor’s race Divine Agenor, Polybus, unmarried Acamas Proportion’d like the States of heav’n. In front of all the field, Troy’s great Priamides did bear his all-ways-equal shield, Still plying th’ ord’ring of his pow’r. And as amids the sky We sometimes see an ominous star blaze clear and dreadfully, Then run his golden head in clouds, and straight appear again; So Hector otherwhiles did grace the vaunt-guard, shining plain, Then in the rear-guard hid himself, and labour’d ev’rywhere To order and encourage all; his armour was so clear, And he applied each place so fast, that, like a lightning thrown Out of the shield of Jupiter, in ev’ry eye he shone. And as upon a rich man’s crop of barley or of wheat, Oppos’d for swiftness at their work, a sort of reaper’s sweat, Bear down the furrows speedily, and thick their handfuls fall; So at the joining of the hosts ran slaughter through them all, None stoop’d to any fainting thought of foul inglorious flight, But equal bore they up their heads, and far’d like wolves in fight.
Stern Eris, with such weeping sights, rejoic’d to feed her eyes, Who only show’d herself in field, of all the Deities; The other in Olympus’ tops sat silent, and repined That Jove to do the Trojans grace should bear so fix’d a mind. He car’d not, but, enthron’d apart, triumphant sat in sway Of his free pow’r, and from his seat took pleasure to display The city so adorn’d with tow’rs, the sea with vessels fill’d, The splendour of refulgent arms, the killer and the kill’d. As long as bright Aurora rul’d, and sacred day increas’d, So long their darts made mutual wounds, and neither had the best; But when, in hill-environ’d vales, the timber-feller takes A sharp set stomach to his meat, and dinner ready makes, His sinews fainting, and his spirits become surcharg’d and dull, Time of accustom’d ease arriv’d, his hands with labour full, Then by their valours Greeks brake through the Trojan ranks, and cheer’d Their gen’ral squadrons through the host; then first of all appear’d The person of the king himself; and then the Trojans lost Bianor by his royal charge, a leader in the host.
Who being slain, his charioteer, Oïleus, did alight, And stood in skirmish with the king; the king did deadly smite His forehead with his eager lance, and through his helm it ran, Enforcing passage to his brain, quite through the harden’d pan, His brain mix’d with his clotter’d blood, his body strew’d the ground. There left he them, and presently he other objects found; Isus and Antiphus, two sons King Priam did beget, One lawful, th’ other wantonly. Both in one chariot met Their royal foe; the baser born, Isus, was charioteer, And famous Antiphus did fight; both which king Peleus’ heir, Whilome in Ida keeping flocks, did deprehend and bind With pliant osiers, and, for price, them to their sire resign’d. Atrides, with his well-aim’d lance, smote Isus on the breast Above the nipple; and his sword a mortal wound impress’d Beneath the ear of Antiphus; down from their horse they fell. The king had seen the youths before, and now did know them well, Rememb’ring them the prisoners of swift Æacides, Who brought them to the sable fleet from Ida’s foody leas.
And as a lion having found the furrow of a hind, Where she hath calv’d two little twins, at will and ease doth grind Their joints snatch’d in his solid jaws, and crusheth into mist Their tender lives; their dam, though near, not able to resist, But shook with vehement fear herself, flies through the oaken chace From that fell savage, drown’d in sweat, and seeks some covert place; So when with most unmatched strength the Grecian Gen’ral bent ‘Gainst these two princes, none durst aid their native king’s descent, But fled themselves before the Greeks. And where these two were slain, Pisander and Hippolochus (not able to restrain Their headstrong horse, the silken reins being from their hands let fall) Were brought by their unruly guides before the General. Antimachus begat them both, Antimachus that took Rich gifts, and gold, of Helen’s love, and would by no means brook Just restitution should be made of Menelaus’ wealth, Bereft him, with his ravish’d queen, by Alexander’s stealth. Atrides, lion-like, did charge his sons, who on their knees Fell from their chariot, and besought regard to their degrees, Who, being Antimachus’s sons, their father would afford A worthy ransom for their lives, who in his house did hoard Much hidden treasure, brass, and gold, and steel, wrought wondrous choice.
Thus wept they, using smoothing terms, and heard this rugged voice Breath’d from the unrelenting king: “If you be of the breed Of stout Antimachus, that stay’d the honourable deed The other peers of Ilion in council had decreed, To render Helen and her wealth; and would have basely slain My brother and wise Ithacus, ambassadors t’ attain The most due motion; now receive wreak for his shameful part.” This said, in poor Pisander’s breast he fix’d his wreakful dart, Who upward spread th’ oppresséd earth; his brother crouch’d for dread, And, as he lay, the angry king cut off his arms and head, And let him like a football lie for ev’ry man to spurn. Then to th’ extremest heat of fight he did his valour turn, And led a multitude of Greeks, where foot did foot subdue, Horse slaughter’d horse, Need feather’d flight, the batter’d centre flew In clouds of dust about their ears, raised from the horses’ hooves, That beat a thunder out of earth as horrible as Jove’s. The king, persuading speedy chace, gave his persuasions way With his own valour, slaught’ring still.
As in a stormy day In thick-set woods a rav’nous fire wraps in his fierce repair The shaken trees, and by the roots doth toss them into air; Ev’n so beneath Atrides’ sword flew up Troy’s flying heels, Their horse drew empty chariots, and sought their thund’ring wheels Some fresh directors through the field, where least the púrsuit drives. Thick fell the Trojans, much more sweet to vultures than their wives. Then Jove drew Hector from the darts, from dust, from death and blood, And from the tumult. Still the king firm to the púrsuit stood, Till at old Ilus’ monument, in midst of all the field, They reach’d the wild fig-tree, and long’d to make their town their shield. Yet there they rested not; the king still cried, ‘Pursue! Pursue!’ And all his unreprovéd hands did blood and dust imbrue. But when they came to Scæa’s ports, and to the beech of Jove, There made they stand; there ev’ry eye, fixed on each other, strove Who should outlook his mate amaz’d; through all the field they fled.
And as a lion, when the night becomes most deaf and dead, Invades ox-herds, affrighting all, that he of one may wreak His dreadful hunger, and his neck he first of all doth break, Then laps his blood and entrails up; so Agamemnon plied The manage of the Trojan chace, and still the last man died, The other fled, a number fell by his imperial hand, Some grovelling downwards from their horse, some upwards strew’d the sand. High was the fury of his lance. But, having beat them close Beneath their walls, the both worlds’ Sire did now again repose On fountain-flowing Ida’s tops, being newly slid from heav’n, And held a lightning in his hand; from thence this charge was giv’n To Iris with the golden wings: “Thaumantia, fly,” said he, “And tell Troy’s Hector, that as long as he enrag’d shall see The soldier-loving Atreus’ son amongst the foremost fight, Depopulating troops of men, so long he must excite Some other to resist the foe, and he no arms advance; But when he wounded takes his horse, attain’d with shaft or lance, Then will I fill his arm with death, ev’n till he reach the fleet, And peaceful night treads busy day beneath her sacred feet.”
The wind-foot swift Thaumantia obey’d, and us’d her wings To famous Ilion, from the mount enchas’d with silver springs, And found in his bright chariot the hardy Trojan knight, To whom she spake the words of Jove, and vanish’d from his sight. He leapt upon the sounding earth, and shook his lengthful dart, And ev’rywhere he breath’d exhorts, and stirr’d up ev’ry heart. A dreadful fight he set on foot. His soldiers straight turn’d head. The Greeks stood firm. In both the hosts, the field was perfected. But Agamemnon, foremost still, did all his side exceed, And would not be the first in name unless the first in deed. Now sing, fair Presidents of verse, that in the heav’ns embow’r, Who first encounter’d with the king, of all the adverse pow’r. Iphidamas, Antenor’s son, ample and bigly set, Brought up in pasture-springing Thrace, that doth soft sheep beget, In grave Cisseus’ noble house, that was his mother’s sire, Fair Theano; and when his breast was heighten’d with the fire Of gaysome youth, his grandsire gave his daughter to his love. Who straight his bridal-chamber left. Fame with affection strove, And made him furnish twelve fair ships, to lend fair Troy his hand. His ships he in Percope left, and came to Troy by land.
And now he tried the fame of Greece, encount’ring with the king, Who threw his royal lance and miss’d. Iphidamas did fling, And strook him on the arming waist, beneath his coat of brass, Which forc’d him stay upon his arm, so violent it was, Yet pierc’d it not his well-wrought zone, but when the lazy head Tried hardness with his silver waist, it turn’d again like lead. He follow’d, grasping the ground end, but with a lion’s wile That wrests away a hunter’s staff, he caught it by the pile, And pluck’d it from the caster’s hand, whom with his sword he strook Beneath the ear, and with his wound his timeless death he took. He fell and slept an iron sleep; wretched young man, he died, Far from his newly-married wife, in aid of foreign pride, And saw no pleasure of his love; yet was her jointure great, An hundred oxen gave he her, and vow’d in his retreat Two thousand head of sheep and goats, of which he store did leave. Much gave he of his love’s first-fruits, and nothing did receive.
When Coon (one that for his form might feast an amorous eye, And elder brother of the slain) beheld this tragedy, Deep sorrow sat upon his eyes, and (standing laterally, And to the Gen’ral undiscern’d) his jav’lin he let fly, That ’twixt his elbow and his wrist transfix’d his armless arm; The bright head shin’d on th’ other side. The unexpected harm Impress’d some horror in the king; yet so he ceas’d not fight, But rush’d on Coon with his lance, who made what haste he might, Seizing his slaughter’d brother’s foot, to draw him from the field, And call’d the ablest to his aid, when under his round shield The king’s brass jav’lin, as he drew, did strike him helpless dead; Who made Iphidamas the block, and cut off Coon’s head. Thus under great Atrides’ arm Antenor’s issue thriv’d, And, to suffice precisest fate, to Pluto’s mansion div’d. He with his lance, sword, mighty stones, pour’d his heroic wreak On other squadrons of the foe, whiles yet warm blood did break Through his cleft veins; but when the wound was quite exhaust and crude, The eager anguish did approve his princely fortitude.
As when most sharp and bitter pangs distract a labouring dame, Which the divine Ilithyæ, that rule the painful frame Of human child-birth, pour on her; th’ Ilithyæ that are The daughters of Saturnia; with whose extreme repair The woman in her travail strives to take the worst it gives, With thought it must be, ’tis love’s fruit, the end for which she lives, The mean to make herself new born, what comforts will redound; So Agamemnon did sustain the torment of his wound. Then took he chariot, and to fleet bad haste his charioteer, But first pour’d out his highest voice to purchase ev’ry ear: “Princes and leaders of the Greeks, brave friends, now from our fleet Do you expel this boist’rous sway. Jove will not let me meet Illustrate Hector, nor give leave that I shall end the day In fight against the Ilion pow’r; my wound is in my way.” This said, his ready charioteer did scourge his spriteful horse, That freely to the sable fleet perform’d their fi’ry course. To bear their wounded sovereign apart the martial thrust, Sprinkling their pow’rful breasts with foam, and snowing on the dust.
When Hector heard of his retreat, thus he for fame contends: “Trojans, Dardanians, Lycians, all my close-fighting friends, Think what it is to be renown’d, be soldiers all of name, Our strongest enemy is gone, Jove vows to do us fame, Then in the Grecian faces drive your one-hoof’d violent steeds, And far above their best be best, and glorify your deeds.” Thus as a dog-giv’n hunter sets upon a brace of boars His white-tooth’d hounds, puffs, shouts, breathes terms, and on his emprese pours All his wild art to make them pinch; so Hector urg’d his host To charge the Greeks, and, he himself most bold and active most, He brake into the heat of fight, as when a tempest raves, Stoops from the clouds, and all on heaps doth cuff the purple waves. Who then was first, and last, he kill’d, when Jove did grace his deed? Assæus, and Autonous, Opys, and Clytus’ seed Prince Dolops, and the honour’d sire of sweet Euryalus Opheltes, Agelaus next, and strong Hipponous, Orus, Æsymnus, all of name.
The common soldiers fell, As when the hollow flood of air in Zephyr’s cheeks doth swell, And sparseth all the gather’d clouds white Notus’ pow’r did draw, Wraps waves in waves, hurls up the froth beat with a vehement flaw; So were the common soldiers wrack’d in troops by Hector’s hand. Then ruin had enforc’d such works as no Greeks could withstand, Then in their fleet they had been hous’d, had not Laertes’ son Stirr’d up the spirit of Diomed, with this impression: “Tydides, what do we sustain, forgetting what we are? Stand by me, dearest in my love. ’Twere horrible impair For our two valours to endure a customary flight, To leave our navy still engag’d, and but by fits to fight.” He answer’d: “I am bent to stay, and anything sustain; But our delight to prove us men will prove but short and vain, For Jove makes Trojans instruments, and virtually then Wields arms himself. Our cross affairs are not ’twixt men and men.” This said, Thymbræus with his lance he tumbled from his horse, Near his left nipple wounding him. Ulysses did enforce Fair Molion, minion to this king that Diomed subdu’d. Both sent they thence till they return’d, who now the king pursu’d And furrow’d through the thicken’d troops.
As when two chaséd boars Turn head ’gainst kennels of bold hounds, and race way through their gores; So, turn’d from flight, the forward kings show’d Trojans backward death. Nor fled the Greeks, but by their wills, to get great Hector breath. Then took they horse and chariot from two bold city foes, Merops Percosius’ mighty sons. Their father could disclose, Beyond all men, hid auguries, and would not give consent To their egression to these wars, yet wilfully they went, For Fates, that order sable death, enforc’d their tragedies. Tydides slew them with his lance, and made their arms his prise. Hypirochus, and Hippodus, Ulysses reft of light. But Jove, that out of Ida look’d, then equalis’d the fight, A Grecian for a Trojan then paid tribute to the Fates. Yet royal Diomed slew one, ev’n in those even debates, That was of name more than the rest, Pæon’s renownéd son, The prince Agastrophus; his lance into his hip did run; His squire detain’d his horse apart, that hinder’d him to fly, Which he repented at his heart, yet did his feet apply His ’scape with all the speed they had alongst the foremost bands, And there his lovéd life dissolv’d. This Hector understands, And rush’d with clamour on the king, right soundly seconded With troops of Trojans.
Which perceiv’d by famous Diomed, The deep conceit of Jove’s high will stiffen’d his royal hair, Who spake to near-fought Ithacus: “The fate of this affair Is bent to us. Come let us stand, and bound his violence.” Thus threw he his long jav’lin forth, which smote his head’s defence Full on the top, yet pierc’d no skin; brass took repulse with brass; His helm (with three folds made, and sharp) the gift of Phœbus was. The blow made Hector take the troop, sunk him upon his hand, And strook him blind. The king pursu’d before the foremost band His dart’s recov’ry, which he found laid on the purple plain; By which time Hector was reviv’d, and, taking horse again, Was far commix’d within his strength, and fled his darksome grave. He follow’d with his thirsty lance, and this elusive brave: “Once more be thankful to thy heels, proud dog, for thy escape. Mischief sat near thy bosom now; and now another rape Hath thy Apollo made of thee, to whom thou well mayst pray, When through the singing of our darts thou find’st such guarded way.
But I shall meet with thee at length, and bring thy latest hour, If with like favour any God be fautour of my pow’r. Meanwhile some other shall repay, what I suspend in thee.” This said, he set the wretched soul of Pæon’s issue free, Whom his late wound not fully slew. But Priam’s amorous birth Against Tydides bent his bow, hid with a hill of earth, Part of the ruinated tomb for honour’d Ilus built, And as the curace of the slain, engrav’n and richly gilt, Tydides from his breast had spoil’d, and from his shoulders raft His target and his solid helm, he shot, and his keen shaft (That never flew from him in vain) did nail unto the ground The king’s right foot; the spleenful knight laugh’d sweetly at the wound, Crept from his covert, and triumph’d: “Now art thou maim’d,” said he, “And would to God my happy hand had so much honour’d me To have infix’d it in thy breast, as deep as in thy foot, Ev’n to th’ expulsure of thy soul! Then blest had been my shoot Of all the Trojans; who had then breath’d from their long unrests. Who fear thee, as the braying goats abhor the king of beasts.”
Undaunted Diomed replied: “You braver with your bow, You slick-hair’d lover, you that hunt and fleer at wenches so, Durst thou but stand in arms with me, thy silly archery Would give thee little cause to vaunt. As little suffer I In this same tall exploit of thine, perform’d when thou wert hid, As if a woman, or a child that knew not what it did, Had touch’d my foot. A coward’s steel hath never any edge. But mine, t’ assure it sharp, still lays dead carcasses in pledge; Touch it, it renders lifeless straight, it strikes the fingers’ ends Of hapless widows in their cheeks, and children blind of friends. The subject of it makes earth red, and air with sighs inflames, And leaves limbs more embrac’d with birds than with enamour’d dames.” Lance-fam’d Ulysses now came in, and stept before the king, Kneel’d opposite, and drew the shaft. The eager pain did sting Through all his body. Straight he took his royal chariot there, And with direction to the fleet did charge his charioteer. Now was Ulysses desolate, fear made no friend remain, He thus spake to his mighty mind: “What doth my state sustain?
If I should fly this odds in fear, that thus comes clust’ring on, ‘Twere high dishonour; yet ’twere worse, to be surpris’d alone. ’Tis Jove that drives the rest to fight; but that’s a faint excuse. Why do I tempt my mind so much? Pale cowards fight refuse. He that affects renown in war must like a rock be fix’d, Wound, or be wounded. Valour’s truth puts no respect betwixt.” In this contention with himself, in flew the shady bands Of targeteers, who sieg’d him round with mischief-filléd hands. As when a crew of gallants watch the wild muse of a boar, Their dogs put after in full cry, he rusheth on before, Whets, with his lather-making jaws, his crookéd tusks for blood, And, holding firm his usual haunts, breaks through the deepen’d wood, They charging, though his hot approach be never so abhorr’d; So, to assail the Jove-lov’d Greek, the Ilians did accord, And he made through them. First he hurt, upon his shoulder blade, Deiops, a blameless man at arms; then sent to endless shade Thoon and Eunomus; and strook the strong Chersidamas, As from his chariot he leap’d down, beneath his targe of brass; Who fell, and crawl’d upon the earth with his sustaining palms, And left the fight.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.