The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
In Πι̑ Patroclus bears the chance Of death, impos’d by Hector’s lance. Thus fighting for this well-built ship; Patroclus all that space Stood by his friend, preparing words to win the Greeks his grace, With pow’r of uncontainéd tears; and, like a fountain pour’d In black streams from a lofty rock, the Greeks so plagu’d deplor’d. Achilles, ruthful for his tears, said: “Wherefore weeps my friend So like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend Her childish humours, hangs on her, and would be taken up, Still viewing her with tear-drown’d eyes, when she hath made her stoop, To nothing liker I can shape thy so unseemly tears. What causeth them? Hath any ill solicited thine ears Befall’n my Myrmidons? Or news from lovéd Phthia brought, Told only thee, lest I should grieve, and therefore thus hath wrought On thy kind spirit? Actor’s son, the good Menœtius, Thy father, lives, and Peleus, mine, great son of Æacus, Amongst his Myrmidons; whose deaths, in duty we should mourn, Or is it what the Greeks sustain, that doth thy stomach turn, On whom, for their injustice’ sake, plagues are so justly laid? Speak, man, let both know either’s heart.”
Patroclus, sighing, said: “O Peleus’ son, thou strongest Greek by all degrees that lives, Still be not angry, our sad state such cause of pity gives, Our greatest Greeks lie at their ships sore wounded; Ithacus, King Agamemnon, Diomed, and good Eurypylus; But these much-med’cine-knowing men, physicians, can recure, Thou yet unmed’cinable still, though thy wound all endure, Heav’n bless my bosom from such wrath as thou sooth’st as thy bliss, Unprofitably virtuous. How shall our progenies, Born in thine age, enjoy thine aid, when these friends, in thy flow’r, Thou leav’st to such unworthy death? O idle, cruel pow’r! Great Peleus never did beget, nor Thetis bring forth thee, Thou from the blue sea, and her rocks, deriv’st thy pedigree, What so declines thee? If thy mind shuns any augury, Related by thy mother-queen from heav’n’s foreseeing eye, And therefore thou forsak’st thy friends, let me go ease their moans With those brave relics of our host, thy mighty Myrmidons, That I may bring to field more light to conquest than hath been. To which end grace me with thine arms, since, any shadow seen Of thy resemblance, all the pow’r of perjur’d Troy will fly, And our so-tiréd friend’s will breathe; our fresh-set-on supply Will eas’ly drive their wearied off.”
Thus, foolish man, he sued For his sure death; of all whose speech Achilles first renew’d The last part thus: “O worthy friend, what have thy speeches been? I shun the fight for oracles, or what my mother queen Hath told from Jove? I take no care, nor note of one such thing! But this fit anger stings me still, that the insulting king Should from his equal take his right, since he exceeds in pow’r. This, still his wrong, is still my grief: He took my paramour That all men gave, and whom I won by virtue of my spear, That, for her, overturn’d a town. This rape he made of her, And used me like a fugitive, an inmate in a town, That is no city libertine, nor capable of their gown. But bear we this as out of date; ’tis past, nor must we still Feed anger in our noblest parts; yet thus, I have my will As well as our great king of men, for I did ever vow Never to cast off my disdain till, as it falls out now, Their miss of me knock’d at my fleet, and told me in their cries I was reveng’d, and had my wish of all my enemies. And so of this repeat enough.
Take thou my fame-blaz’d arms, And my fight-thirsty Myrmidons lead to these hot alarms. Whole clouds of Trojans circle us with hateful eminence; The Greeks shut in a little shore, a sort of citizens Skipping upon them; all because their proud eyes do not see The radiance of my helmet there, whose beams had instantly Thrust back, and all these ditches fill’d with carrion of their flesh, If Agamemnon had been kind; where now they fight as fresh, As thus far they had put at ease, and at our tents contend. And may; for the repulsive hand of Diomed doth not spend His raging darts there, that their death could fright out of our fleet; Nor from that head of enmity, can my poor hearers meet The voice of great Atrides now. Now Hector’s only voice Breaks all the air about both hosts, and, with the very noise Bred by his loud encouragements, his forces fill the field, And fight the poor Achaians down. But on, put thou my shield Betwixt the fire-plague and our fleet. Rush bravely on, and turn War’s tide as headlong on their throats. No more let them ajourn Our sweet home-turning.
But observe the charge I lay on thee To each least point, that thy rul’d hand may highly honour me, And get such glory from the Greeks, that they may send again My most sweet wench, and gifts to boot, when thou hast cast a rein On these so headstrong citizens, and forc’d them from our fleet. With which grace if the God of sounds thy kind egression greet;[1] Retire, and be not tempted on (with pride to see thy hand Rain slaughter’d carcasses on earth) to run forth thy command As far as Ilion, lest the Gods, that favour Troy, come forth To thy encounter, for the Sun much loves it; and my worth, In what thou suffer’st, will be wrong’d, that I would let my friend Assume an action of such weight without me, and transcend His friend’s prescription. Do not then affect a further fight Than I may strengthen. Let the rest, when thou hast done this right, Perform the rest.
O would to Jove, thou Pallas, and thou Sun, That not a man hous’d underneath those tow’rs of Ilion, Nor anyone of all the Greeks, how infinite a sum Soever all together make, might live unovercome; But only we two, ’scaping death, might have the thund’ring down Of ev’ry stone stuck in the walls of this so sacred town!” Thus spake they only ’twixt themselves. And now the foe no more Could Ajax stand, being so oppress’d with all the iron store The Trojans pour’d on; with whose darts, and with Jove’s will beside, His pow’rs were cloy’d, and his bright helm did deaf’ning blows abide, His plume, and all bead-ornaments, could never hang in rest. His arm yet labour’d up his shield, and having done their best, They could not stir him from his stand, although he wrought it out With short respirings, and with sweat, that ceaseless flow’d about His reeking limbs; no least time giv’n to take in any breath; Ill strengthen’d ill; when one was up, another was beneath. Now, Muses, you that dwell in heav’n, the dreadful mean inspire, That first enforc’d the Grecian fleet, to take in Trojan fire.
First Hector, with his huge broad sword, cut off, at setting on, The head of Ajax’ ashen lance; which Ajax seeing gone, And that he shook a headless spear, a little while unware, His wary spirits told him straight the hand of Heav’n was there; And trembling under his conceit, which was that ’twas Jove’s deed, Who, as be poll’d off his dart’s heads, so sure he had decreed That all the counsels of their war, he would poll off like it, And give the Trojans victory; so trusted he his wit, And left his darts. And then the ship was heap’d with horrid brands Of kindling fire; which instantly was seen through all the strands In unextinguishable flames, that all the ship embrac’d. And then Achilles beat his thighs, cried out, “Patroclus, haste, Make way with horse. I see at fleet, a fire of fearful rage. Arm, arm, lest all our fleet it fire, and all our pow’r engage. Arm quickly, I’ll bring up the troops.” To these so dreadful wars Patroclus, in Achilles’ arms, enlighten’d all with stars, And richly amell’d, all haste made. He wore his sword, his shield, His huge-plum’d helm, and two such spears, as he could nimbly wield.
But the most fam’d Achilles’ spear, big, solid, full of weight, He only left of all his arms; for that far pass’d the might Of any Greek to shake but his; Achilles’ only ire Shook that huge weapon, that was giv’n by Chiron to his sire, Cut from the top of Pelion, to be heroës’ deaths. His steeds Automedon straight join’d; like whom no man that breathes, Next Peleus’ son, Patroclus lov’d; for, like him, none so great He found in faith at ev’ry fight, nor to out-look a threat, Automedon did therefore guide for him Achilles’ steeds, Xanthius and Balius swift as wind, begotten by the seeds Of Zephyr, and the Harpy born, Podarge, in a mead Close to the wavy oceán, where that fierce Harpy fed. Automedon join’d these before, and with the hindmost gears He fasten’d famous Pedasus, whom, from the massacres Made by Achilles, when he took Eëtion’s wealthy town, He brought, and, though of mortal race, yet gave him the renown To follow his immortal horse. And now, before his tents, Himself had seen his Myrmidons, in all habiliments Of dreadful war.
And when ye see, upon a mountain bred,[2] A den of wolves, about whose hearts unmeasur’d strengths are fed, New come from currie of a stag, their jaws all blood-besmear’d, And when from some black-water fount they all together herd, There having plentifully lapp’d, with thin and thrust out tongues, The top and clearest of the spring, go belching from their lungs The clotter’d gore, look dreadfully, and entertain no dread, Their bellies gaunt all taken up, with being so rawly fed; Then say, that such, in strength and look, were great Achilles’ men Now order’d for the dreadful fight; and so with all them then Their princes and their chiefs did show, about their Gen’ral’s friend; His friend, and all, about himself; who chiefly did intend Th’ embattelling of horse and foot. To that siege, held so long, Twice-five-and-twenty sail he brought, twice-five-and-twenty strong Of able men was ev’rv sail. Five colonels he made Of all those forces; trusty men, and all of pow’r to lead, But he of pow’r beyond them all. Menesthius was one, That ever wore discolour’d arms; he was a river’s son That fell from heav’n, and good to drink was his delightful stream, His name unwearied Sperchius, he lov’d the lovely dame Fair Polydora, Peleus’ seed, and dear in Borus’ sight, And she to that celestial Flood gave this Menesthius light, A woman mixing with a God. Yet Borus bore the name Of father to Menesthius, he marrying the dame, And giving her a mighty dow’r; he was the kind descent Of Perieres.
The next man, renown’d with regiment, Was strong Eudorus, brought to life by one suppos’d a maid, Bright Polymela, Phylas’ seed, but had the wanton play’d With Argus-killing Mercury; who (fir’d with her fair eyes, As she was singing in the quire of Her that makes the cries In clam’rous hunting, and doth bear the crooked bow of gold) Stole to her bed in that chaste room, that Phœbe chaste did hold, And gave her that swift-warlike son, Eudorus, brought to light As she was dancing; but as soon, as She that rules the plight Of labouring women eas’d her throes, and show’d her son the sun, Strong Echecæus, Actor’s heir, woo’d earnestly, and won Her second favour, feeing her with gifts of infinite prize; And after brought her to his house, where, in his grandsire’s eyes, Old Phylas, Polymela’s son obtain’d exceeding grace, And found as careful bringing up, as of his natural race He had descended. The third chief was fair Mæmalides Pisandrus, who in skill of darts obtain’d supremest praise Of all the Myrmidons, except their lord’s companion. The fourth charge, aged Phœnix had.
The fifth, Alcimedon, Son of Laerces, and much fam’d. All these digested thus In fit place by the mighty son of royal Peleüs, This stern remembrance he gave all: “You, Myrmidons,” said he, “Lest any of you should forget his threat’nings us’d to me In this place, and, through all the time, that my just anger reign’d, Attempting me with bitter words, for being so restrain’d, For my hot humour, from the fight, remember them as these: ‘Thou cruel son of Peleüs, whom She that rules the seas Did only nourish with her gall, thou dost ungently hold Our hands against our wills from fight. We will not be controll’d, But take our ships, and sail for home, before we loiter here And feed thy fury.’ These high words exceeding often were The threats that, in your mutinous troops, ye us’d to me for wrath To be detain’d so from the field. Now then, your spleens may bathe In sweat of those great works ye wish’d; now, he that can employ A gen’rous heart, go fight, and fright these bragging sons of Troy.” This set their minds and strengths on fire, the speech enforcing well, Being us’d in time; but, being their king’s, it much more did impell, And closer rush’d in all the troops. And as, for buildings high, The mason lays his stones more thick, against th’ extremity Of wind and weather, and ev’n then, if any storm arise, He thickens them the more for that, the present act so plies His honest mind to make sure work; so, for the high estate This work was brought to, these men’s minds, according to the rate, Were rais’d, and all their bodies join’d; but their well-spoken king, With his so timely-thought-on speech, more sharp made valour’s sting, And thicken’d so their targets boss’d, so all their helmets then, That shields propp’d shields, helms helmets knock’d, and men encourag’d men.
Patroclus and Automedon did arm before them all, Two bodies with one mind inform’d; and then the General Betook him to his private tent, where from a coffer wrought Most rich and curiously, and giv’n by Thetis to be brought In his own ship, top-fill’d with vests, warm robes to check cold wind, And tapestries all gold’n-fring’d, and curl’d with thrumbs behind, He took a most unvalu’d bowl, in which none drank but he; Nor he but to the Deities, nor any Deity But Jove himself was serv’d with that; and that he first did cleanse With sulphur, then with fluences of sweetest water rense; Then wash’d his hands, and drew himself a mighty bowl of wine, Which (standing midst the place enclos’d for services divine, And looking up to heav’n and Jove, who saw him well) he pour’d Upon the place of sacrifice, and humbly thus implor’d: “Great Dodonæus, president of cold Dodone’s tow’rs, Divine Pelasgicus, that dwellest far hence; about whose bow’rs Th’ austere prophetic Selli dwell, that still sleep on the ground, Go bare, and never cleanse their feet; as I before have found Grace to my vows, and hurt to Greece, so now my pray’rs intend.
I still stay in the gather’d fleet, but have dismiss’d my friend, Amongst my many Myrmidons, to danger of the dart; O grant his valour my renown, arm with my mind his heart! That Hector’s self may know my friend can work in single war, And not then only show his hands, so hot and singular, When my kind presence seconds him. But, fight he ne’er so well, No further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repell Clamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat To him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.” He pray’d, and heav’n’s great Counsellor gave satisfying ear To one part of his orisons, but left the other there; He let him free the fleet of foes, but safe retreat denied. Achilles left that utter part where he his zeal applied, And turn’d into his inner tent, made fast his cup, and then Stood forth, and with his mind beheld the foes fight; and his men, That follow’d his great-minded friend, embattled till they brake With gallant spirit upon the foe.
And as fell wasps, that make Their dwellings in the broad high-way, which foolish children use (Their cottages being near their nests) to anger and abuse With ever vexing them, and breed (to soothe their childish war) A common ill to many men, since if a traveller (That would his journey’s end apply, and pass them unassay’d) Come near and vex them, upon him the children’s faults are laid, For on they fly as he were such, and still defend their own; So far’d it with the fervent mind of ev’ry Myrmidon, Who pour’d themselves out of their fleet upon their wanton foes, That needs would stir them, thrust so near, and cause the overthrows Of many others, that had else been never touch’d by them, Nor would have touch’d. Patroclus then put his wind to the stream, And thus exhorted: “Now, my friends, remember you express Your late-urg’d virtue, and renown our great Æacides. That, he being strong’st of all the Greeks, his eminence may dim All others likewise in our strengths, that far off imitate him: And Agamemnon now may see his fault as general As his place high, dishonouring him that so much honours all.”
Thus made he sparkle their fresh fire, and on they rush’d; the fleet Fill’d full her hollow sides with sounds, that terribly did greet Th’ amazed Trojans; and their eyes did second their amaze When great Menœtius’ son they saw, and his friend’s armour blaze. All troops stood troubled, with conceit that Peleus’ son was there, His anger cast off at the ships; and each look’d ev’rywhere For some authority to lead the then preparéd flight. Patroclus greeted with a lance the region where the fight Made strongest tumult, near the ship Protesilaus brought, And strook Pyræchmen; who before the fair-helmed Pæons fought, Led from Amydon, near whose walls the broad-stream’d Axius flows. Through his right shoulder flew the dart, whose blow strook all the blows In his pow’r from his pow’rless arm, and down he groaning fell; His men all flying, their leader fled.
This one dart did repell The whole guard plac’d about the ship, whose fire extinct, half burn’d The Pæons left her, and full cry to clam’rous flight return’d. Then spread the Greeks about their ships; triumphant tumult flow’d: And, as from top of some steep hill the Lightner strips a cloud, And lets a great sky out from heav’n, in whose delightsome light All prominent foreheads, forests, tow’rs, and temples cheer the sight; So clear’d these Greeks this Trojan cloud, and at their ships and tents Obtain’d a little time to breathe, but found no present vents To their inclusions; nor did Troy, though these Pæonians fled, Lose any ground, but from this ship they needfully turn’d head. Then ev’ry man a man subdu’d. Patroclus in the thigh Strook Areilycus; his dart the bone did break, and fly Quite through, and sunk him to the earth. Good Menelaus slew Accomplish’d Thoas, in whose breast, being nak’d, his lance he threw Above his shield, and freed his soul. Phylides, taking note That bold Amphiclus bent at him, prevented him, and smote His thigh’s extreme part, where of man his fattest muscle lies, The nerves torn with his lance’s pile, and darkness clos’d his eyes. Antilochus Atymnius seiz’d, his steel lance did impress His first three guts, and loos’d his life.
At young Nestorides, Maris, Atymnius’ brother, flew; and at him Thrasymed The brother to Antilochus; his eager jav’lin’s head The muscles of his arm cut out, and shiver’d all the bone; Night clos’d his eyes, his lifeless corse his brother fell upon. And so by two kind brothers’ hands, did two kind brothers bleed; Both being divine Sarpedon’s friends, and were the darting seed Of Amisodarus, that kept the bane of many men Abhorr’d Chimæra; and such bane now caught his childeren. Ajax Oïliades did take Cleobulus alive, Invading him stay’d by the press; and at him then let drive With his short sword that cut his neck; whose blood warm’d all the steel, And cold Death with a violent fate his sable eyes did seel. Peneleüs, and Lycon cast together off their darts; Both miss’d, and both together then went with their swords; in parts The blade and hilt went, laying on upon the helmet’s height. Peneleus’ sword caught Lycon’s neck, and cut it thorough quite. His head hung by the very skin.
The swift Meriones, Pursuing flying Acamas, just as he got access To horse and chariot overtook, and took him such a blow On his right shoulder, that he left his chariot, and did strow The dusty earth; life left his limbs, and night his eyes possess’d. Idomenæus his stern dart at Erymas address’d, As, like to Acamas, he fled; it cut the sundry bones Beneath his brain, betwixt his neck, and foreparts; and so runs, Shaking his teeth out, through his mouth, his eyes all drown’d in blood, So through his nostrils and his mouth, that now dart-open stood, He breath’d his spirit. Thus had death from ev’ry Grecian chief A chief of Troy. For, as to kids, or lambs, their cruell’st thief, The wolf, steals in, and, when he sees that by the shepherd’s sloth The dams are spers’d about the hills, then serves his rav’nous tooth With ease, because his prey is weak; so serv’d the Greeks their foes, Discerning well how shrieking flight did all their spirits dispose, Their biding virtues quite forgot.
And now the natural spleen That Ajax bore to Hector still, by all means, would have been Within his bosom with a dart; but he that knew the war, Well-cover’d in a well-lin’d shield, did well perceive how far The arrows and the jav’lins reach’d, by being within their sounds And ominous singings; and observ’d the there-in-clining bounds Of Conquest in her aid of him, and so obey’d her change, Took safest course for him and his, and stood to her as strange. And as, when Jove intends a storm, he lets out of the stars, From steep Olympus, a black cloud, that all heav’n’s splendour bars From men on earth; so from the hearts of all the Trojan host All comfort lately found from Jove, in flight and cries was lost. Nor made they any fair retreat. Hector’s unruly horse Would needs retire him, and he left engag’d his Trojan force, Forc’d by the steepness of the dike, that in ill place they took, And kept them that would fain have gone. Their horses quite forsook A number of the Trojan kings, and left them in the dike; Their chariots in their foreteams broke.
Patroclus then did strike While steel was hot, and cheer’d his friends; nor meant his enemies good, Who, when they once began to fly, each way receiv’d a flood, And chok’d themselves with drifts of dust. And now were clouds begot Beneath the clouds; with flight and noise the horse neglected not Their home intendments; and, where rout was busiest, there pour’d on Patroclus most exhorts and threats; and then lay overthrown Numbers beneath their axle-trees; who, lying in flight’s stream, Made th’ after chariots jot and jump, in driving over them. Th’ immortal horse Patroclus rode, did pass the dike with ease, And wish’d the depth and danger more; and Menœtiades As great a spirit had to reach, retiring Hector’s haste, But his fleet horse had too much law, and fetch’d him off too fast.
And as in Autumn the black earth is loaden with the storms That Jove in gluts of rain pours down, being angry with the forms Of judgment in authoriz’d men, that in their courts maintain, With violent office, wrested laws, and (fearing Gods, nor men) Exile all justice; for whose fault, whole fields are overflown, And many valleys cut away with torrents headlong thrown From neighbour mountains, till the sea receive them roaring in, And judg’d men’s labours then are vain, plagu’d for their judge’s sin; So now the foul defaults of some all Troy were laid upon; So like those torrents roar’d they back to windy Ilion; And so like tempests blew the horse with ravishing back again Those hot assailants, all their works at fleet now render’d vain. Patroclus, when he had dispers’d the foremost phalanxes, Call’d back his forces to the fleet, and would not let them prease, As they desir’d, too near the town; but ’twixt the ships and flood, And their steep rampire, his hand steep’d Revenge in seas of blood. Then Pronous was first that fell beneath his fi’ry lance, Which strook his bare breast, near his shield.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.