The Iliads of Homer Translated according to the Greek · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Then Vulcan did remit His so unmeasur’d violence, and back the pleasant Flood Ran to his channel. Thus these Gods she made friends; th’ other stood At weighty diff’rence; both sides ran together with a sound, That earth resounded, and great heav’n about did surrebound, Jove heard it, sitting on his hill, and laugh’d to see the Gods Buckle to arms like angry men; and, he pleas’d with their odds, They laid it freely. Of them all, thump-buckler Mars began, And at Minerva with a lance of brass he headlong ran, These vile words ushering his blows: “Thou dog-fly, what’s the cause Thou mak’st Gods fight thus? Thy huge heart breaks all our peaceful laws With thy insatiate shamelessness, Rememb’rest thou the hour When Diomed charg’d me, and by thee, and thou with all thy pow’r Took’st lance thyself, and, in all sights, rush’d on me with a wound? Now vengeance falls on thee for all.”
This said, the shield fring’d round With fighting adders, borne by Jove, that not to thunder yields, He clapt his lance on; and this God, that with the blood of fields Pollutes his godhead, that shield pierc’d, and hurt the arméd Maid, But back she leapt, and with her strong hand rapt a huge stone, laid Above the champain, black and sharp, that did in old time break Partitions to men’s lands; and that she dusted in the neck Of that impetuous challenger. Down to the earth he sway’d, And overlaid sev’n acres’ land. His hair was all beray’d With dust and blood mix’d; and his arms rung out. Minerva laugh’d, And thus insulted: “O thou fool, yet hast thou not been taught To know mine eminence? Thy strength opposest thou to mine? So pay thy mother’s furies then, who for these aids of thine, (Ever afforded perjur’d Troy, Greece ever left) takes spleen, And vows thee mischief.” Thus she turn’d her blue eyes, when love’s Queen The hand of Mars took, and from earth rais’d him with thick-drawn breath, His spirits not yet got up again. But from the press of death Kind Aphrodite was his guide. Which Juno seeing, exclaim’d: “Pallas, see, Mars is help’d from field!
Dog-fly, his rude tongue nam’d Thyself ev’n now; but that his love, that dog-fly, will not leave Her old consort. Upon her fly.” Minerva did receive This excitation joyfully, and at the Cyprian flew, Strook with her hard hand her soft breast, a blow that overthrew Both her and Mars; and there both lay together in broad field. When thus she triumph’d: “So lie all, that any succours yield To these false Trojans ’gainst the Greeks; so bold and patient As Venus, shunning charge of me; and no less impotent Be all their aids, than hers to Mars. So short work would be made In our depopulating Troy, this hardiest to invade Of all earth’s cities.” At this wish, white-wristed Juno smil’d. Next Neptune and Apollo stood upon the point of field, And thus spake Neptune: “Phœbus! Come, why at the lance’s end Stand we two thus? ’Twill be a shame, for us to re-ascend Jove’s golden house, being thus in field and not to fight. Begin; For ’tis no graceful work for me; thou hast the younger chin, I older and know more. O fool, what a forgetful heart Thou bear’st about thee, to stand here, prest to take th’ Ilian part, And fight with me!
Forgett’st thou then, what we two, we alone Of all the Gods, have suffer’d here, when proud Laomedon Enjoy’d our service a whole year, for our agreed reward? Jove in his sway would have it so; and in that year I rear’d This broad brave wall about this town, that (being a work of mine) It might be inexpugnable. This service then was thine, In Ida, that so many hills and curl’d-head forests crown, To feed his oxen, crooked-shank’d, and headed like the moon. But when the much-joy-bringing Hours brought term for our reward, The terrible Laomedon dismiss’d us both, and scar’d Our high deservings, not alone to hold our promis’d fee, But give us threats too. Hands and feet he swore to fetter thee, And sell thee as a slave, dismiss’d far hence to foreign isles. Nay more, he would have both our ears. His vow’s breach, and reviles, Made us part angry with him then; and dost thou gratulate now Such a king’s subjects? Or with us not their destruction vow, Ev’n to their chaste wives and their babes?”
He answer’d: “He might hold, His wisdom little, if with him, a God, for men he would Maintain contention; wretched men that flourish for a time Like leaves, eat some of that earth yields, and give earth in their prime Their whole selves for it. Quickly then, let us fly fight for them, Nor show it offer’d. Let themselves bear out their own extreme.” Thus he retir’d, and fear’d to change blows with his uncle’s hands; His sister therefore chid him much, the Goddess that commands In games of hunting, and thus spake: “Fly’st thou, and leav’st the field To Neptune’s glory, and no blows? O fool, why dost thou wield Thy idle bow? No more my ears shall hear thee vaunt in skies Dares to meet Neptune, but I’ll tell thy coward’s tongue it lies.” He answer’d nothing; yet Jove’s wife could put on no such reins, But spake thus loosely: “How dar’st thou, dog, whom no fear contains, Encounter me? ’Twill prove a match of hard conditión. Though the great Lady of the bow and Jove hath set thee down For lion of thy sex, with gift to slaughter any dame Thy proud will envies; yet some dames will prove th’ had’st better tame Wild lions upon hills than them.
But if this question rests Yet under judgment in thy thoughts, and that thy mind contests, I’ll make thee know it.” Suddenly with her left hand she catch’d Both Cynthia’s palms, lock’d fingers fast, and with her right she snatch’d From her fair shoulders her gilt bow, and, laughing, laid it on About her ears, and ev’ry way her turnings seiz’d upon, Till all her arrows scatter’d out, her quiver emptied quite. And as a dove, that, flying a hawk, takes to some rock her flight, And in his hollow breasts sits safe, her fate not yet to die; So fled she mourning, and her bow left there. Then Mercury His opposite thus undertook: “Latona, at no hand Will I bide combat. ’Tis a work right dangerous to stand At diff’rence with the wives of Jove. Go, therefore, freely vaunt Amongst the Deities, th’ hast subdu’d, and made thy combatant Yield with plain pow’r.” She answer’d not, but gather’d up the bow And shafts fall’n from her daughter’s side, retiring. Up did go Diana to Jove’s starry hall, her incorrupted veil Trembling about her so she shook. Phœbus, lest Troy should fail Before her fate, flew to her walls; the other Deities flew Up to Olympus, some enrag’d, some glad. Achilles slew Both men and horse of Ilion.
And as a city fir’d Casts up a heat that purples heav’n, clamours and shrieks expir’d In ev’ry corner, toil to all, to many misery, Which fire th’ incenséd Gods let fall; Achilles so let fly Rage on the Trojans, toils and shrieks as much by him impos’d. Old Priam in his sacred tow’r stood, and the flight disclos’d Of his forc’d people, all in rout, and not a stroke return’d By fled resistance. His eyes saw in what a fury burn’d The son of Peleüs, and down went weeping from the tow’r To all the port-guards, and their chiefs told of his flying pow’r. Commanding th’ op’ning of the ports, but not to let their hands Stir from them, for Æacides would pour in with his bands. “Destruction comes, O shut them strait, when we are in,” he pray’d, “For not our walls I fear will check this violent man.”
This said, Off lifted they the bars, the ports hal’d open, and they gave Safety her entry with the host; which yet they could not save, Had not Apollo sallied out, and strook destructión, Brought by Achilles in their necks, back; when they right upon The ports bore all, dry, dusty, spent; and on their shoulders rode Rabid Achilles with his lance, still glory being the goad That prick’d his fury. Then the Greeks high-ported Ilion Had seiz’d, had not Apollo stirr’d Antenor’s famous son, Divine Agenor, and cast in an undertaking spirit To his bold bosom, and himself stood by to strengthen it, And keep the heavy hand of death from breaking in. The God Stood by him, leaning on a beech, and cover’d his abode. With night-like darkness; yet for all the spirit he inspir’d, When that great city-razer’s force his thoughts strook, he retir’d, Stood, and went on; a world of doubts still falling in his way; When, angry with himself, he said: “Why suffer I this stay In this so strong need to go on? If, like the rest, I fly, ’Tis his best weapon to give chace, being swift, and I should die Like to a coward. If I stand, I fall too. These two ways Please not my purpose; I would live.
What if I suffer these Still to be routed, and, my feet affording further length, Pass all these fields of Ilion, till Ida’s sylvan strength And steep heights shroud me, and at even refresh me in the flood, And turn to Ilion? O my soul? why drown’st thou in the blood Of these discourses? If this course, that talks of further flight, I give my feet, his feet more swift have more odds. Get he sight Of that pass, I pass least; for pace, and length of pace, his thighs Will stand out all men. Meet him then; my steel hath faculties Of pow’r to pierce him; his great breast but one soul holds, and that Death claims his right in, all men say; but he holds special state In Jove’s high bounty; that’s past man, that ev’ry way will hold, And that serves all men ev’ry way.” This last heart made him bold To stand Achilles, and stirr’d up a mighty mind to blows.
And as a panther, having heard the hounds’ trail, doth disclose Her freckled forehead, and stares forth from out some deep-grown wood To try what strength dares her abroad; and when her fi’ry blood The hounds have kindled, no quench serves of love to live or fear, Though strook, though wounded, though quite through she feels the mortal spear, But till the man’s close strength she tries, or strows earth with his dart, She puts her strength out; so it far’d with brave Agenor’s heart, And till Achilles he had prov’d, no thoughts, no deeds, once stirr’d His fixéd foot. To his broad breast his round shield he preferr’d, And up his arm went with his aim, his voice out with this cry: “Thy hope is too great, Peleus’ son, this day to show thine eye Troy’s Ilion at thy foot. O fool! the Greeks with much more woes, More than are suffer’d yet, must buy great Ilion’s overthrows. We are within her many strong, that for our parents’ sakes, Our wives and children, will save Troy; and thou, though he that makes Thy name so terrible, shalt make a sacrifice to her With thine own ruins.”
Thus he threw, nor did his jav’lin err, But strook his foe’s leg near his knee; the fervent steel did ring Against his tin greaves, and leapt back; the fire’s strong-handed king Gave virtue of repulse. And then Æacides assail’d Divine Agenor; but in vain, Apollo’s pow’r prevail’d, And rapt Agenor from his reach; whom quietly he plac’d Without the skirmish, casting mists to save from being chac’d His tender’d person; and (he gone) to give his soldiers ’scape, The Deity turn’d Achilles still, by putting on the shape Of him he thirsted; evermore he fed his eye, and fled, And he with all his knees pursu’d. So cunningly he led, That still he would be near his reach, to draw his rage, with hope, Far from the conflict; to the flood maintaining still the scope Of his attraction. In mean time, the other frighted pow’rs Came to the city, comforted; when Troy and all her tow’rs Strooted with fillers; none would stand to see who stay’d without, Who scap’d, and who came short. The ports cleft to receive the rout That pour’d itself in. Ev’ry man was for himself. Most fleet Most fortunate. Whoever scap’d, his head might thank his feet. [1] The word is κεραίζων, which they translate _cædens_, but properly signifies _dissipans, ut boves infestis cornibus_. [2] The rack or motion of the clouds, for the clouds. [3] Note the continued height and admired expression of Achilles’ glory. All Trojans hous’d but Hector, only he Keeps field, and undergoes th’ extremity. Æacides assaulting, Hector flies, Minerva stays him, he resists, and dies. Achilles to his chariot doth enforce, And to the naval station drags his corse.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.