Book VIII

The Second Battle


A council of the gods⁠—Jupiter forbids them to take part with either side⁠—Minerva permitted to advise the Greeks⁠—Beginning of the second battle⁠—The fate of the two armies weighed in the scales by Jupiter⁠—Nestor rescued by Diomed⁠—Exploits of Diomed and of Hector⁠—Neptune denies the request of Juno to aid the Greeks⁠—Teucer wounded by Hector⁠—Juno and Minerva restrained by Jupiter from going to the aid of the Greeks, who are driven within their entrenchments⁠—The Trojans pass the night before the Greek camp, and kindle fires around it.


Now morn in saffron robes had shed her light

O’er all the earth, when Jove the Thunderer

Summoned the gods to council on the heights

Of many-peaked Olympus. He addressed

The assembly, and all listened as he spake:⁠—


“Hear, all ye gods and all ye goddesses!

While I declare the thought within my breast.

Let none of either sex presume to break

The law I give, but cheerfully obey,

That my design may sooner be fulfilled.

Whoever, stealing from the rest, shall seek

To aid the Grecian cause, or that of Troy,

Back to Olympus, scourged and in disgrace,

Shall he be brought, or I will seize and hurl

The offender down to rayless Tartarus,

Deep, deep in the great gulf below the earth,

With iron gates and threshold forged of brass,

As far beneath the shades as earth from heaven.

Then shall he learn how greatly I surpass

All other gods in power. Try if ye will,

Ye gods, that all may know: suspend from heaven

A golden chain; let all the immortal host

Cling to it from below: ye could not draw,

Strive as ye might, the all-disposing Jove

From heaven to earth. And yet, if I should choose

To draw it upward to me, I should lift,

With it and you, the earth itself and sea

Together, and I then would bind the chain

Around the summit of the Olympian mount,

And they should hang aloft. So far my power

Surpasses all the power of gods and men.”


He spake; and all the great assembly, hushed

In silence, wondered at his threatening words,

Until at length the blue-eyed Pallas said:⁠—


“Our Father, son of Saturn, mightiest as

Among the potentates, we know thy power

Is not to be withstood, yet are we moved

With pity for the warlike Greeks, who bear

An evil fate and waste away in war.

If such be thy command, we shall refrain

From mingling in the combat, yet will aid

The Greeks with counsel which may be their guide,

Lest by thy wrath they perish utterly.”


The Cloud-compeller Jove replied, and smiled:⁠—

“Tritonia, daughter dear, be comforted.

I spake not in the anger of my heart,

And I have naught but kind intents for thee.


He spake, and to his chariot yoked the steeds,

Fleet, brazen-footed, and with flowing manes

Of gold, and put his golden armor on,

And took the golden scourge, divinely wrought,

And, mounting, touched the coursers with the lash

To urge them onward. Not unwillingly

Flew they between the earth and starry heaven,

Until he came to Ida, moist with springs

And nurse of savage beasts, and to the height

Of Gargarus, where lay his sacred field,

And where his fragrant altar fumed. He checked

Their course, and there the Father of the gods

And men released them from the yoke and caused

A cloud to gather round them. Then he sat,

Exulting in the fullness of his might,

Upon the summit, whence his eye beheld

The towers of Ilium and the ships of Greece.


Now in their tents the long-haired Greeks had shared

A hasty meal, and girded on their arms.

The Trojans, also, in their city armed

Themselves for war, as eager for the fight,

Though fewer; for a hard necessity

Forced them to combat for their little ones

And wives. They set the city-portals wide,

And forth the people issued, foot and horse

Together, and a mighty din arose.

And now, when host met host, their shields and spears

Were mingled in disorder; men of might

Encountered, cased in mail, and bucklers clashed

Their bosses; loud the clamor: cries of pain

And boastful shouts arose from those who fell

And those who slew, and earth was drenched with blood.


While yet ’twas morning, and the holy light

Of day grew bright, the men of both the hosts

ere smitten and were slain; but when the sun

Stood high in middle heaven, the All-Father took

His golden scales, and in them laid the fates

Which bring the sleep of death⁠—the fate of those

Who tamed the Trojan steeds, and those who warred

For Greece in brazen armor. By the midst

He held the balance, and, behold, the fate

Of Greece in that day’s fight sank down until

It touched the nourishing earth, while that of Troy

Rose and flew upward toward the spacious heaven.

With that the Godhead thundered terribly

From Ida’s height, and sent his lightnings down

Among the Achaian army. They beheld

In mute amazement and grew pale with fear.


Then neither dared Idomeneus remain,

Nor Agamemnon, on the ground, nor stayed

The chieftains Ajax, ministers of Mars.

Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,

Alone was left behind, and he remained

Unwillingly. A steed of those that drew

His car was sorely wounded by a shaft

Which Alexander, fair-haired Helen’s spouse,

Sent from his bow. It pierced the forehead where

The mane begins, and where a wound is death.

The arrow pierced him to the brain; he reared

And whirled in torture with the wound, and scared

His fellow-coursers. While the aged man

Hastened to sever with his sword the thongs

That bound him to the car, the rapid steeds

Of Hector bore their valiant master on

With the pursuing crowd. The aged chief

Had perished then, if gallant Diomed

Had not perceived his plight. He lifted up

His voice, and, shouting to Ulysses, said:⁠—


“High-born Ulysses, man of subtle shifts,

Son of Laertes, whither dost thou flee?

Why like a coward turn thy back? Beware,

Lest there some weapon smite thee. Stay and guard

This aged warrior from his furious foe.”


So spake he; but the much-enduring man,

Ulysses, heard not the reproof, and passed

Rapidly toward the hollow ships of Greece.

Tydides, single-handed, made his way

Among the foremost warriors, till he stood

Before the horses of the aged son

Of Neleus, and in wingèd accents said:⁠—


“The younger warriors press thee sore, old chief!

Thy strength gives way; the weariness of age

Is on thee; thy attendant is not strong;

Thy steeds are slow. Mount, then, my car, and see

What Trojan horses are; how rapidly

They turn to right and left, and chase and flee.

I took them from the terror of the field,

Aeneas. To our servants leave thine own,

While we with these assault the Trojan knights,

And teach even Hector that the spear I wield

Can make as furious havoc as his own.”


He spake; and Nestor, the Gerenian knight,

Complied. The two attendants, valiant men⁠—

Sthenelus and the good Eurymedon⁠—

Took charge of Nestor’s steeds. The chieftains climbed

The car of Diomed, and Nestor took

Into his hand the embroidered reins and lashed

The horses with the scourge. They quickly came

To Hector. As the Trojan hastened on,

The son of Tydeus hurled a spear; it missed,

But spared not Eniopeus, him who held

The reins, the hero’s charioteer, and son

Of brave Thebaeus. In the breast between

The paps it smote him; from the car he fell,

And the swift horses started back; his soul

And strength passed from him. Hector bitterly

Grieved for his death, yet left him where he fell,

And sought another fitting charioteer.

Nor had the fiery coursers long to wait

A guide, for valiant Archeptolemus,

The son of Iphitus, was near at hand.

And him he caused to mount the chariot drawn

By his fleet steeds, and gave his hand the reins.


Then great had been the slaughter; fearful deeds

Had then been done; the Trojans had been scared

Into their town like lambs into the fold⁠—

Had not the Father of the immortal gods

And mortal men beheld, and from on high

Terribly thundered, sending to the earth

A bolt of fire. He flung it down before

The car of Diomed; and fiercely glared

The blazing sulphur; both the frightened steeds

Cowered trembling by the chariot. Nestor’s hand

Let fall the embroidered reins; his spirit sank

With fear, and thus he said to Diomed:⁠—


“Tydides, turn thy firm-paced steeds, and flee.

Dost thou not see that victory from Jove

Attends thee not? Today doth Saturn’s son

Award the glory to the Trojan chief.

Hereafter he will make it ours, if such

Be his good pleasure. No man, though he be

The mightiest among men, can thwart the will

Of Jupiter, with whom abides all power.”


The great in battle, Diomed, replied:⁠—

“Truly, O ancient man, thou speakest well;

But this it is that grieves me to the heart⁠—

That Hector to the Trojan host will say,

‘I put to flight Tydides, and he sought

Shelter among his ships.’ Thus will he boast

Hereafter; may earth open then for me!”


And Nestor, the Gerenian knight, rejoined:⁠—

“What, son of warlike Tydeus, hast thou said?

Though Hector call thee faint of heart and weak,

The Trojans and Dardanians, and the wives

Of the stout-hearted Trojans armed with shields,

Whose husbands in their youthful prime thy hand

Hath laid in dust, will not believe his words.”


Thus having said, he turned the firm-paced steeds

Rearward, and mingled with the flying crowd.

And now the Trojans and their leader gave

A mighty cry, and poured on them a storm

Of deadly darts, and crested Hector raised

His thundering voice and shouted after them:⁠—


“O son of Tydeus! The swift-riding Greeks

Have honored thee beyond all other men,

At banquets, with high place and delicate meats

And flowing cups. They will despise thee now,

For thou art like a woman. Timorous girl!

Take thyself hence, and never think that I

Shall yield to thee, that thou mayst climb our towers

And bear away our women in thy ships;

For I shall give thee first the doom of death.”


He spake; and Diomed, in doubtful mood,

Questioned his spirit whether he should turn

His steeds and fight with Hector. Thrice the thought

Arose within his mind, and thrice on high

Uttered the all-forecasting Jupiter

His thunder from the Idaean mount, a sign

Of victory changing to the Trojan side.

Then Hector to the Trojans called aloud:⁠—


“Trojans and Lycians all, and ye who close

In deadly fight, the sons of Dardanus!

Acquit yourselves like men, my friends; recall

Your fiery valor now, for I perceive

The son of Saturn doth award to me

Victory and vast renown, and to the Greeks

Destruction. Fools! who built this slender wall

Which we contemn, which cannot stand before

The strength I bring; our steeds can overleap

The trench they digged. When I shall reach their fleet,

Remember the consuming power of fire,

That I may give their vessels to the flames,

And hew the Achaians down beside their prows,

While they are wrapped in the bewildering smoke.”


He spake; and then he cheered his coursers thus:⁠—

“Xanthus, Podargus, Lampus nobly bred,

And Aethon, now repay the generous care,

The pleasant grain which my Andromache,

Daughter of great Eëtion, largely gives.

She mingles wine that ye may drink at will

Ere yet she ministers to me, who boast

To be her youthful husband. Let us now

Pursue with fiery haste, that we may seize

The shield of Nestor, the great fame of which

Has reached to heaven⁠—an orb of massive gold

Even to the handles. Let us from the limbs

Of Diomed, the tamer of fleet steeds,

Strip off the glorious mail that Vulcan forged:

This done, our hope may be that all the Greeks

Will climb their galleys and depart tonight.”


So boasted he; but queenly Juno’s ire

Was kindled, and she shuddered on her throne

Till great Olympus trembled. Thus she spake

To Neptune, mighty ruler of the deep:⁠—


“Earth-shaker! Thou who rulest far and wide!

Is there no pity for the perishing Greeks

Within that breast of thine? They bring to thee

At Helicè and Aegae costly gifts

And many, wherefore thy desire should be

That they may win the victory. If the gods

Who favor the Achaians should combine

To drive the Trojans back, and hold in check

High-thundering Jupiter, the God would sit

In sullen grief on Ida’s top alone.”


Earth-shaking Neptune answered in disdain:⁠—

“O Juno, rash in speech! What words are these?

Think not that I can wish to join the gods

In conflict with the monarch Jupiter,

The son of Saturn, mightier than we all.”


So held they colloquy. Meanwhile the space

Betwixt the galleys and the trench and wall

Was crowded close with steeds and shielded men;

For Hector, son of Priam, terrible

As Mars the lightning-footed, drave them on

Before him. Jove decreed him such renown.

And now would he have given that noble fleet

To the consuming flame, if Juno, queen

Of heaven, had not beheld, and moved the heart

Of Agamemnon to exhort the Greeks

That they should turn and combat. With quick steps

He passed beside the fleet, among the tents,

Bearing in his strong hand his purple robe,

And climbed the huge black galley which had brought

Ulysses to the war⁠—for in the midst

It lay, and thence the king might send his voice

To either side, as far as to the tents

Of Ajax and Achilles, who had moored

Their galleys at the different extremes

Of the long camp, confiding in their might

Of arm and their own valor. Thence he called,

With loud, clear utterance, to the Achaian host:⁠—


“O Greeks! Shame on ye! Cravens who excel

In form alone! Where now are all the boasts

Of your invincible valor⁠—the vain words

Ye uttered pompously when at the feast

In Lemnos sitting ye devoured the flesh

Of hornèd beeves, and drank from bowls of wine,

Flower-crowned, and bragged that each of you would be

A match for fivescore Trojans, or for twice

Fivescore? And now we all are not a match

For Hector singly, who will give our fleet

Soon to consuming flames. O Father Jove,

Was ever mighty monarch visited

By thee with such affliction, or so robbed

Of high renown! And yet in my good ship,

Bound to this luckless coast, I never passed

By thy fair altars that I did not burn

The fat and thighs of oxen, with a prayer

That I might sack the well-defended Troy.

Now be at least one wish of mine fulfilled⁠—

That we may yet escape and get us hence;

Nor let the Trojans thus destroy the Greeks.”


He spake, and wept. The All-Father, pitying him,

Consented that his people should escape

The threatened ruin. Instantly he sent

His eagle, bird of surest augury,

Which, bearing in his talons a young fawn,

The offspring of a nimble-footed roe,

Dropped it at the fair altar where the Greeks

Paid sacrifice to Panomphaean Jove.


And they, when they beheld, and knew that Jove

Had sent the bird, took courage, rallying,

And rushed against the Trojans. Then no chief

Of all the Greeks⁠—though many they⁠—could boast

That he before Tydides urged his steeds

To sudden speed and drave them o’er the trench,

And mingled in the combat. First of all

He struck down Agelaus, Phradmon’s son,

Armed as he was, who turned his car to fly,

And as he turned, Tydides with his spear

Transfixed his back between the shoulder-blades,

And drave the weapon through his breast. He fell

To earth, his armor clashing with his fall.

Then Agamemnon followed, and with him

His brother Menelaus; after these

The chieftains Ajax, fearful in their strength;

Idomeneus, and he who bore his arms⁠—

Meriones, like Mars in battle-field; as

Eurypylus, Evaemon’s glorious son;

And ninthly Teucer came, who bent his bow

Beneath the shield of Ajax Telamon⁠—

For Ajax moved his shield from side to side,

And thence the archer looked abroad, and aimed

His arrows thence. Whoever in the throng

Was struck fell lifeless. Teucer all the while,

As hides a child behind his mother’s robe,

Sheltered himself by Ajax, whose great shield

Concealed the chief from sight. What Trojan first

Did faithful Teucer slay? Orsilochus,

Daetor, and Ophelestes, Ormenus,

Chromius, and Lycophontes nobly born,

And Hamopaon, Polyremon’s son,

And Melanippus⁠—one by one the shafts

Of Teucer stretched them on their mother earth.

Then Agamemnon, king of men, rejoiced

As he beheld him, with his sturdy bow,

Breaking the serried phalanxes of Troy;

And came, and, standing near, bespake him thus:⁠—


“Beloved Teucer! Son of Telamon,

Prince of the people! Ever be thy shafts

Aimed thus, and thou shalt be the light and pride

Of Greece, and of thy father Telamon,

Who reared thee from a little child with care

In his own halls, though spurious was thy birth.

Go on to do him honor, though he now

Be far away. And here I say to thee⁠—

And I will keep my word⁠—if Jupiter

The Aegis-bearer and Minerva deign

To let me level the strong walls of Troy,

To thee will I assign the noblest prize

After my own⁠—a tripod, or two steeds

And chariot, or a wife to share thy bed.”


And thus the blameless Teucer made reply:⁠—

“Why, glorious son of Atreus, wouldst thou thus

Admonish me, while yet I do my best,

And pause not in the combat? From the time

When we began to drive the enemy back

To Ilium, I have smitten and have slain

Their warriors with my bow. Eight barbed shafts

I sent, and each has pierced some warlike youth;

But this fierce wolf-dog have I failed to strike.”


He spake, and sent another arrow forth

At Hector with an eager aim. It missed

Its mark, but struck Gorgythion down, the brave

And blameless son of Priam; through his breast

The arrow went. Fair Castianira brought

The warrior forth⁠—a dame from Aesyma,

Beautiful as a goddess. As within

A garden droops a poppy to the ground,

Bowed by its weight and by the rains of spring,

So drooped his head within the heavy casque.


And then did Teucer send another shaft

At Hector, eager still to smite. It missed

Its aim again, for Phoebus turned aside

The arrow, but it struck the charioteer

Of Hector, Archeptolemus the brave,

When rushing to the fight, and pierced his breast

Close to the nipple; from the car he fell,

The swift steeds started back, and from his limbs

The life and strength departed. A deep grief

For his slain charioteer came darkly o’er

The mind of Hector, yet, though sorrowing,

He left him where he fell, and straightway called

Cebriones, his brother, who was near,

To mount and take the reins. Cebriones

Heard and obeyed. Then from the shining car

Leaped Hector with a mighty cry, and seized

A ponderous stone, and, bent to crush him, ran

At Teucer, who had from his quiver drawn

One of his sharpest arrows, placing it

Upon the bowstring. As he drew the bow,

The strong-armed Hector hurled the jagged stone,

And smote him near the shoulder, where the neck

And breast are sundered by the collar bone⁠—

A fatal spot. The bowstring brake; the arm

Fell nerveless; on his knees the archer sank,

And dropped the bow. Then did not Ajax leave

His fallen brother to the foe, but walked

Around him, sheltering him beneath his shield,

Till two dear friends of his⁠—Menestheus, son

Of Echius, and Alastor nobly born⁠—

Approached, and took him up and carried him,

Heavily groaning, to the hollow ships.


Then did Olympian Jove again inspire

The Trojan host with valor, and they drave

The Achaians backward to the yawning trench.

Then Hector came, with fury in his eyes,

Among the foremost warriors. As a hound,

Sure of his own swift feet, attacks behind

The lion or wild boar, and tears his flank,

Yet warily observes him as he turns,

So Hector followed close the long-haired Greeks,

And ever slew the hindmost as they fled.

Yet now, when they in flight had crossed again

The trench and palisades, and many a one

Had died by Trojan hands, they made a halt

Before their ships, and bade each other stand,

And lifted up their hands and prayed aloud as

To all the gods; while Hector, urging on

His long-maned steeds, and with stern eyes that seemed

The eyes of Gorgon or of murderous Mars,

Hither and thither swept across the field.


The white-armed Juno saw, and, sorrowing,

Addressed Minerva with these wingèd words:⁠—

“Ah me! Thou daughter of the God who bears

The aegis, shall we not descend to aid

The perishing Greeks in their extremity?

A cruel doom is theirs, to fall, destroyed

By one man’s rage⁠—the terrible assault

Of Hector, son of Priam, who has made

Insufferable havoc in the field.”


And thus in turn the blue-eyed Pallas spake:⁠—

“That warrior long ere this had lost his life,

Slain by the Greeks on his paternal soil,

But that my father’s mind is warped by wrath.

Unjust to me and harsh, he thwarts my aims,

Forgetting all I did for Hercules,

His son⁠—how often, when Eurystheus set

A task too hard for him, I saved his life.

To heaven he raised his eyes and wept, and Jove

Despatched me instantly to succor him.

And yet if I, in my forecasting mind,

Had known all this when he was bid to bring

From strong-walled Erebus the dog of hell,

He had not safely crossed the gulf of Styx.

But now Jove hates me; now he grants the wish

Of Thetis, who hath kissed his knees and touched

His beard caressingly, and prayed that he

Would crown the overthrower of walled towns,

Achilles, with great honor. Well, the time

Will come when he shall call me yet again

His dear Minerva. Hasten now to yoke

For us thy firm-paced steeds, while in the halls

Of aegis-bearing Jupiter I brace

My armor on for war⁠—and I shall see

If Hector of the beamy helm, the son

Of Priam, will rejoice when we appear

Upon the field again. Assuredly

The men of Troy shall die, to feast the birds

Of prey and dogs beside the Grecian fleet.”


She ended, and the white-armed deity

Juno obeyed her. Juno the august,

The mighty Saturn’s daughter, hastily

Caparisoned the golden-bitted steeds.

Meanwhile, Minerva on the palace-floor

Of Jupiter let drop the gorgeous robe

Of many hues, which her own hands had wrought,

And, putting on the Cloud-compeller’s mail,

Stood armed for cruel war. And then she climbed

The glorious car, and took in hand the spear⁠—

Huge, heavy, strong⁠—with which she overthrows

The serried phalanxes of valiant men

Whene’er this daughter of the Almighty One

Is angered. Juno bore the lash, and urged

The coursers to their speed. The gates of heaven

Opened before them of their own accord⁠—

Gates guarded by the Hours, on whom the care

Of the great heaven and of Olympus rests,

To open or to close the wall of cloud.

Through these they guided their impatient steeds.


From Ida Jupiter beheld, in wrath,

And summoned Iris of the golden wings,

And bade her do this errand: “Speed thee hence,

Fleet Iris! Turn them back; allow them not

Thus to defy me: it is not for them

To engage with me in war. I give my word⁠—

Nor shall it lack fulfilment⁠—I will make

The swift steeds lame that draw their car, and hurl

The riders down, and dash the car itself

To fragments. Ten long years shall wear away

Before they cease to suffer from the wounds

Made by the thunderbolt. Minerva thus

May learn the fate of those who strive with Jove.

With Juno I am less displeased, for she

Is ever bent to thwart my purposes.”


He spake; and Iris, with the tempest’s speed

Departing, bore the message from the heights

Of Ida to the great Olympus, where,

Among the foremost passes of the mount,

All seamed with hollow vales, she met and stayed

The pair, delivering thus the word of Jove:⁠—

“Now whither haste ye? What strange madness fires

Your breasts? The son of Saturn suffers not

That ye befriend the Greeks. He threatens thus⁠—

And will fulfil his threat⁠—that he will make

The coursers lame that draw your car, and hurl

The riders down, and dash the car itself

To fragments, and that ten long years must pass

Ere ye shall cease to suffer from the wounds

Made by the thunderbolt. So shalt thou learn,

O Pallas! what it is to strive with Jove.

With Juno is he less displeased, for she

Is ever bent to thwart his purposes;

But thou, he says, art guilty above all,

And shameless as a hound, if thou dare lift

Thy massive spear against thy father Jove.”


So spake fleet-footed Iris, and withdrew;

And thus again to Pallas Juno said:⁠—


“Child of the Aegis-bearer! Let us strive

With Jove no longer for the sake of men,

But let one perish and another live,

As chance may rule the hour, and let the God,

Communing with his secret mind, mete out

To Greeks and Trojans their just destiny.”


She spake, and turned the firm-paced coursers back,

The coursers with fair-flowing manes. The Hours

Unyoked them, bound them to the ambrosial stalls,

And leaned against the shining walls the car;

While Juno and Minerva went among

The other deities and took their place

Upon their golden seats, though sad at heart.

Then with his steeds, and in his bright-wheeled car,

Came Jove from Ida to the dwelling-place

Of gods upon Olympus. There did he

Who shakes the islands loose the steeds and bring

The chariot to its place, and o’er it spread

Its covering of lawn. The Thunderer

Seated himself upon his golden throne,

The great Olympus trembling as he stepped;

While Juno and Minerva sat apart

Together, nor saluted him, nor asked

Of aught; but he perceived their thoughts and said:⁠—

“Juno and Pallas! Why so sad? Not long

Ye toiled in glorious battle to destroy

The Trojans, whom ye hold in bitter hate:

This strength of mine, and this invincible arm

Not all the gods upon the Olympian mount

Can turn to flight, while your fair limbs were seized

With trembling ere ye entered on the shock

And havoc of the war. Now let me say⁠—

And well the event would have fulfilled my words⁠—

That, smitten with the thunder from my hand,

Your chariots never would have brought you back

To this Olympus and the abode of gods.”


He spake; while Pallas and the queen of heaven

Repined with close-pressed lips, and in their hearts

Devised new mischiefs for the Trojan race.

Silent Minerva sat, nor dared express as

The anger that she bore her father Jove;

But Juno could not curb her wrath, and spake:⁠—

“What words, austere Saturnius, hast thou said?

Thou art, we know, invincible in might;

Yet must we sorrow for the heroic Greeks,

Who, by a cruel fate, are perishing.

We stand aloof from war, if thou require;

Yet would we counsel the Achaian host,

Lest by thy wrath they perish utterly.”


And then the Cloud-compeller, answering, said:⁠—

“O Juno, large-eyed and august, if thou

Look forth tomorrow, thou shalt then behold

The all-powerful son of Saturn laying waste

With greater havoc still the mighty host

Of warlike Greeks. For Hector, great in war,

Shall pause not from the conflict, till he rouse

The swift-paced son of Peleus at the ships,

When, pent in narrow space, the armies fight

For slain Patroclus: such the will of fate.

As for thyself, I little heed thy rage:

Not even shouldst thou wander to the realm

Where earth and ocean end, where Saturn sits

Beside Iapetus, and neither light

Of overgoing suns nor breath of wind

Refreshes them, but gulfs of Tartarus

Surround them⁠—shouldst thou even thither bend

Thy way, I shall not heed thy rage, who art

Beyond all others shamelessly perverse.”


He ceased; but white-armed Juno answered not.

And now into the sea the sun’s bright light

Went down, and o’er the foodful earth was drawn

Night’s shadow. Most unwillingly the sons

Of Troy beheld the sunset. To the Greeks

Eagerly wished the welcome darkness came.


Then from the fleet illustrious Hector led

The Trojans, and beside the eddying stream,

In a clear space uncumbered by the slain,

Held council. There, alighting from their cars,

They listened to the words that Hector spake⁠—

Hector, beloved of Jove. He held a spear,

In length eleven cubits, with a blade

Of glittering brass, bound with a ring of gold.

On this he leaned, and spake these wingèd words:⁠—


“Hear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies.

But now I thought that, having first destroyed

The Achaian host and fleet, we should return

This night to wind-swept Ilium. To their aid

The darkness comes, and saves the Greeks, and saves

Their galleys ranged along the ocean-side.

Obey we, then, the dark-browed night; prepare

Our meal; unyoke the steeds with flowing manes,

And set their food before them. Bring at once

Oxen and fatlings of the flock from town,

And from your dwellings bread and pleasant wine.

And let us gather store of wood, to feed

A multitude of blazing fires all night,

Till Morning, daughter of the Dawn, appear⁠—

Fires that shall light the sky, lest in the hours

Of darkness with their ships the long-haired Greeks

Attempt escape across the mighty deep.

And, that they may not climb their decks unharmed.

Let every foeman bear a wound to cure

At home⁠—an arrow-wound or gash of spear,

Given as he leaps on board. So other foes

Shall dread a conflict with the knights of Troy.

And let the heralds, dear to Jove, command

That all grown youths and hoary-headed men

Keep watch about the city in the towers

Built by the gods; and let the feebler sex

Kindle large fires upon their hearths at home;

And let the guard be strengthened, lest the foe

Should steal into the city while its sons

Are all abroad. Thus let it be till morn,

Brave Trojans! I but speak of what the time

Requires, and on the morrow I shall speak

Of what the Trojan knights have then to do.

My prayer to Jove and to the other gods,

And my hope is, that I may drive away

These curs, brought hither by an evil fate

In their black ships. All night will we keep watch,

And, arming, with the early morn renew

The desperate conflict at the hollow ships.

Then shall I see if valiant Diomed

Tydides has the power to make me leave

The Grecian galleys for the city-walls,

Or whether I shall slay him with my spear

And take his bloody spoils. Tomorrow’s sun

Will make his valor known, if he withstand

The assault of this my weapon. Yet I think

The sunrise will behold him slain among

The first, with many comrades lying round.

Would that I knew myself as certainly

Secure from death and the decays of age,

And to be held in honor like the gods

Apollo and Minerva, as I know

This day will bring misfortune to the Greeks!”


So Hector spake, and all the Trojan host

Applauded; from the yoke forthwith they looped

The sweaty steeds, and bound them to the cars

With halters; to the town they sent in haste

For oxen and the fatlings of the flock,

And to their homes for bread and pleasant wine,

And gathered fuel in large store. The winds

Bore up the fragrant fumes from earth to heaven.


So, high in hope, they sat the whole night through

In warlike lines, and many watch-fires blazed.

As when in heaven the stars look brightly forth

Round the clear-shining moon, while not a breeze

Stirs in the depths of air, and all the stars

Are seen, and gladness fills the shepherd’s heart,

So many fires in sight of Ilium blazed,

Lit by the sons of Troy, between the ships

And eddying Xanthus: on the plain there shone

A thousand; fifty warriors by each fire

Sat in its light. Their steeds beside the cars⁠—

Champing their oats and their white barley⁠—stood,

And waited for the golden morn to rise.



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