The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Thus either side his fellows’ strength excited past his place, And thus through all th’ unfruitful air, an iron sound ascended Up to the golden firmament; when strange affects contended In these immortal heav’n-bred horse of great Æacides, Whom (once remov’d from forth the fight) a sudden sense did seize Of good Patroclus’ death, whose hands they oft had undergone, And bitterly they wept for him. Nor could Automedon With any manage make them stir, oft use the scourge to them, Oft use his fairest speech, as oft threats never so extreme, They neither to the Hellespont would bear him, nor the fight; But still as any tombstone lays his never stirréd weight On some good man or woman’s grave for rites of funeral; So unremovéd stood these steeds, their heads to earth let fall, And warm tears gushing from their eyes, with passionate desire Of their kind manager; their manes, that flourish’d with the fire Of endless youth allotted them, fell through the yoky sphere, Ruthfully ruffled and defil’d, Jove saw their heavy cheer, And, pitying them, spake to his mind: “Poor wretched beasts,” said he, “Why gave we you t’ a mortal king, when immortality And incapacity of age so dignifies your states? Was it to haste the miseries pour’d out on human fates?
Of all the miserablest things that breathe and creep on earth, No one more wretched is than man. And for your deathless birth, Hector must fail to make you prise. Is’t not enough he wears, And glories vainly in those arms? Your chariots and rich gears, Besides you, are too much for him. Your knees and spirits again My care of you shall fill with strength, that so ye may sustain Automedon, and bear him off. To Troy I still will give The grace of slaughter, till at fleet their bloody feet arrive, Till Phœbus drink the western sea, and sacred Darkness throws Her sable mantle ’twixt their points.” Thus in the steeds he blows Excessive spirit; and through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt The whirring chariot, shaking off the crumbled centre wrapt Amongst their tresses. And with them, Automedon let fly Amongst the Trojans, making way through all as frightfully As through a jangling flock of geese a lordly vulture beats, Giv’n way with shrikes by ev’ry goose, that comes but near his threats; With such state fled he through the press, pursuing as he fled; But made no slaughter; nor he could, alone being carried Upon the sacred chariot. How could he both works do, Direct his jav’lin, and command his fi’ry horses too?
At length he came where he beheld his friend Alcimedon, That was the good Laercius’, the son of Æmon’s, son; Who close came to his chariot side, and ask’d: “What God is he That hath so robb’d thee of thy soul, to run thus franticly Amongst these fore fights, being alone; thy fighter being slain, And Hector glorying in his arms?” He gave these words again: “Alcimedon, what man is he, of all the Argive race, So able as thyself to keep, in use of press and pace, These deathless horse; himself being gone, that like the Gods had th’ art Of their high manage? Therefore take to thy command his part, And ease me of the double charge, which thou hast blam’d with right.” He took the scourge and reins in hand, Automedon the fight. Which Hector seeing, instantly, Æneas standing near, He told him, he discern’d the horse, that mere immortal were, Address’d to fight with coward guides, and therefore hop’d to make A rich prise of them, if his mind would help to undertake, For those two could not stand their charge.
He granted, and both cast Dry solid hides upon their necks, exceeding soundly brast; And forth they went, associate with two more god-like men, Aretus and bold Chromius; nor made they question then To prise the goodly-crested horse, and safely send to hell The souls of both their guardians. O fools, that could not tell They could not work out their return from fierce Automedon Without the lib’ral cost of blood; who first made orison To father Jove, and then was fill’d with fortitude and strength; When (counselling Alcimedon to keep at no great length The horse from him, but let them breathe upon his back, because He saw th’ advance that Hector made, whose fury had no laws Propos’d to it, but both their lives and those horse made his prise, Or his life theirs) he call’d to friend these well-approv’d supplies, Th’ Ajaces, and the Spartan king, and said, “Come, princes, leave A sure guard with the corse, and then to your kind care receive Our threaten’d safeties. I discern the two chief props of Troy Prepar’d against us. But herein, what best men can enjoy Lies in the free knees of the Gods. My dart shall lead ye all[4] The sequel to the care of Jove I leave, whatever fall.”
All this spake good Automedon; then, brandishing his lance, He threw, and strook Aretus’ shield, that gave it enterance Through all the steel, and, by his belt, his belly’s inmost part It pierc’d, and all his trembling limbs gave life up to his dart. Then Hector at Automedon a blazing lance let fly, Whose flight he saw, and falling flat, the compass was too high, And made it stick beyond in earth, th’ extreme part burst, and there Mars buried all his violence. The sword then for the spear Had chang’d the conflict, had not haste sent both th’ Ajaces in, Both serving close their fellows’ call, who, where they did begin, There drew the end. Priamides, Æneas, Chromius (In doubt of what such aid might work) left broken hearted thus Aretus to Automedon, who spoil’d his arms, and said: “A little this revives my life for him so lately dead, Though by this nothing countervail’d.” And with this little vent Of inward grief, he took the spoil; with which he made ascent Up to his chariot, hands and feet of bloody stains so full That lion-like he look’d, new turn’d from tearing up a bull.
And now another bitter fight about Patroclus grew, Tear-thirsty, and of toil enough; which Pallas did renew, Descending from the cope of stars, dismiss’d by sharp-ey’d Jove To animate the Greeks; for now, inconstant change did move His mind from what he held of late. And as the purple bow Jove bends at mortals, when of war he will the signal show, Or make it a presage of cold, in such tempestuous sort That men are of their labours eas’d, but labouring cattle hurt; So Pallas in a purple cloud involv’d herself, and went Amongst the Grecians, stirr’d up all; but first encouragement She breath’d in Atreus’ younger son, and, for disguise, made choice Of aged Phœnix’ shape, and spake with his unwearied voice: “O Menelaus, much defame, and equal heaviness, Will touch at thee, if this true friend of great Æacides Dogs tear beneath the Trojan walls; and therefore bear thee well. Toil through the host, and ev’ry man with all thy spirit impell.” He answer’d: “O thou long-since born, O Phœnix, that hast won The honour’d foster-father’s name of Thetis’ god-like son, I would Minerva would but give strength to me, and but keep These busy darts off; I would then make in indeed, and steep My income in their bloods, in aid of good Patroclus; much His death afflicts me, much. But yet, this Hector’s grace is such With Jove, and such a fi’ry strength and spirit he has, that still His steel is killing, killing still.” The king’s so royal will Minerva joy’d to hear, since she did all the Gods outgo In his remembrance.
For which grace she kindly did bestow Strength on his shoulders, and did fill his knees as lib’rally With swiftness, breathing in his breast the courage of a fly, Which loves to bite so, and doth bear man’s blood so much good will, That still though beaten from a man she flies upon him still; With such a courage Pallas fill’d the black parts near his heart, And then he hasted to the slain, cast off a shining dart, And took one Podes, that was heir to old Eetion, A rich man and a strenuous, and by the people done Much honour, and by Hector too, being consort and his guest; And him the yellow-headed king laid hold on at his waist In off’ring flight, his iron pile strook through him, down he fell, And up Atrides drew his corse. Then Phœbus did impell The spirit of Hector, Phænops like, surnam’d Asiades, Whom Hector us’d, of all his guests, with greatest friendliness, And in Abydus stood his house; in whose form thus he spake: “Hector!
What man of all the Greeks will any terror make Of meeting thy strength any more, when thou art terrified By Menelaus, who, before he slew thy friend, was tried A passing easy soldier, where now (besides his end Impos’d by him) he draws him off, and not a man to friend. From all the Trojans? This friend is Podes, Eetion’s son.” This hid him in a cloud of grief, and set him foremost on. And then Jove took his snake-fring’d shield, and Ida cover’d all With sulphury clouds, from whence he let abhorréd lightnings fall, And thunder’d till the mountains shook; and with this dreadful state He usher’d victory to Troy, to Argos flight and fate. Peneleüs Bœotius was he that foremost fled, Being wounded in his shoulder’s height; but there the lance’s head Strook lightly, glancing to his mouth, because it strook him near, Thrown from Polydamas. Leitus next left the fight in fear (Being hurt by Hector in his hand) because he doubted sore His hand in wishéd fight with Troy would hold his lance no more. Idomenëus sent a dart at Hector (rushing in, And following Leitus) that strook his bosom near his chin, And brake at top. The Ilians for his escape did shout.
When Hector at Deucalides another lance sent out, As in his chariot he stood; it miss’d him narrowly, For, as it fell, Cœranus drave his speedy chariot by, And took the Trojan lance himself; he was the charioteer Of stern Meriones, and first on foot did service there, Which well he left to govern horse, for saving now his king, With driving ’twixt him and his death, though thence his own did spring, Which kept a mighty victory from Troy, in keeping death From his great sov’reign. The fierce dart did enter him beneath His ear, betwixt his jaw and it, drave down, cut through his tongue, And strook his teeth out; from his hands the horses’ reins he flung, Which now Meriones receiv’d as they bestrew’d the field, And bade his sov’reign scourge away, he saw that day would yield No hope of victory for them. He fear’d the same, and fled. Nor from the mighty-minded son of Telamon lay hid, For all his clouds, high Jove himself, nor from the Spartan king. They saw Him in the victory, He still was varying For Troy. For which sight Ajax said: “O heav’ns, what fool is he That sees not Jove’s hand in the grace now done our enemy?
Not any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown, Valiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one Wants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure. But come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure That lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend, And so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend To fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right In joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight, Being kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt, And looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out Our pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands That are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands Before our fleet will be enforc’d to drink our headlong death. Which to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath Of good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were, By some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger Hath yet inform’d him. But alas! I see no man to send, Both men and horse are hid in mists that ev’ry way descend.
O father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release Of this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences; And give the eyes thou giv’st, their use; destroy us in the light, And work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.” This spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show’d, Dispers’d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud From whence it fell; the sun shin’d out, and all the host appear’d; And then spake Ajax, whose heard pray’r his spirits highly cheer’d: “Brave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry Nestor’s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly To tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.” He said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said, As loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier’s stall A lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all, Not eas’ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held, His teeth yet wat’ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell’d, The adverse darts so thick are pour’d before his brow-hid eyes, And burning firebrands which, for all his great heart’s heat, he flies, And, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went Atrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement Lest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear The person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were Th’ Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press, And thus exhort: “Ajaces both, and you Meriones, Now let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature Of poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev’ry creature His heart was living, though now dead.” Thus urg’d the fair-hair’d king, And parted, casting round his eye.
As when upon her wing An eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight Of all air’s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height, Sees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid, A light-foot hare, which straight she stoops, trusses, and strikes her dead; So dead thou strook’st thy charge, O king, through all war’s thickets so Thou look’dst, and swiftly found’st thy man exhorting ’gainst the foe, And heart’ning his plied men to blows us’d in the war’s left wing; To whom thou saidst: “Thou god-lov’d man, come here, and hear a thing Which I wish never were to hear. I think ev’n thy eye sees What a destruction God hath laid upon the sons of Greece, And what a conquest he gives Troy; in which the best of men, Patroclus, lies exanimate, whose person passing fain The Greeks would rescue and bear home; and therefore give thy speed To his great friend, to prove if he will do so good a deed To fetch the naked person off, for Hector’s shoulders wear His priséd arms.”
Antilochus was highly griev’d to hear This heavy news, and stood surpris’d with stupid silence long; His fair eyes standing full of tears; his voice, so sweet and strong Stuck in his bosom; yet all this wrought in him no neglect Of what Atrides gave in charge, but for that quick effect He gave Laodocus his arms (his friend that had the guide Of his swift horse) and then his knees were speedily applied In his sad message, which his eyes told all the way in tears. Nor would thy gen’rous heart assist his sore charg’d soldiers, O Menelaus, in mean time, though left in much distress; Thou sent’st them god-like Thrasymede, and mad’st thy kind regress Back to Patroclus; where arriv’d, half breathless thou didst say To both th’ Ajaces: “I have sent this messenger away To swift Achilles, who, I fear, will hardly help us now, Though mad with Hector; without arms he cannot fight, ye know. Let us then think of some best mean, both how we may remove The body, and get off ourselves from this vocif’rous drove, And fate of Trojans.” “Bravely spoke at all parts,” Ajax said, “O glorious son of Atreus.
Take thou then straight the dead, And thou, Meriones; we two, of one mind as one name, Will back ye soundly, and on us receive the wild-fire flame That Hector’s rage breathes after you, before it come at you.” This said, they took into their arms the body; all the show, That might be, made to those of Troy; at arm’s end bearing it. Out shriek’d the Trojans when they saw the body borne to fleet, And rush’d on. As at any boar, gash’d with the hunter’s wounds, A kennel of the sharpest set and sorest bitten hounds Before their youthful huntsmen haste, and eagerly awhile Pursue, as if they were assur’d of their affected spoil; But when the savage, in his strength as confident as they, Turns head amongst them, back they fly, and ev’ry one his way; So troop-meal Troy pursu’d awhile, laying on with swords and darts; But when th’ Ajaces turn’d on them, and made their stand, their hearts Drunk from their faces all their bloods, and not a man sustain’d The forechace, nor the after-fight. And thus Greece nobly gain’d The person towards home.
But thus, the changing war was rack’d Out to a passing bloody length; for as, once put in act, A fire, invading city roofs, is suddenly engrost, And made a wondrous mighty flame, in which is quickly lost A house long building, all the while a boist’rous gust of wind Lumb’ring amongst it; so the Greeks, in bearing off their friend, More and more foes drew, at their heels a tumult thund’ring still Of horse and foot. Yet as when mules, in haling from a hill A beam or mast, through foul deep way, well-clapp’d, and hearten’d, close Lie to their labour, tug and sweat, and passing hard it goes, Urg’d by their drivers to all haste; so dragg’d they on the corse, Still both th’ Ajaces at their backs, who back still turn’d the force, Though after it grew still the more. Yet as a sylvan hill Thrusts back a torrent, that hath kept a narrow channel still, Till at his oaken breast it beats, but there a check it takes, That sends it over all the vale, with all the stir it makes, Nor can with all the confluence break through his rooty sides; In no less firm and brave repulse, th’ Ajaces curb’d the prides Of all the Trojans; yet all held the pursuit in his strength, Their chiefs being Hector, and the son of Venus, who at length Put all the youth of Greece besides in most amazeful rout, Forgetting all their fortitudes, distraught, and shrieking out A number of their rich arms lost, fall’n from them here and there, About, and in the dike; and yet, the war concludes not here.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.