Book XII

The Battle at the Grecian Wall

Division of the Trojan army, by advice of Polydamas, into five bodies, to storm the Greek entrenchments⁠—A breach in the wall made by Sarpedon⁠—One of the gates beaten open by Hector with a stone⁠—His entrance at the head of his troops.

Thus in the camp Menoetius’ valiant son

Tended Eurypylus, and dressed his wounds;

While yet in mingled throngs the warriors fought⁠—

Trojans and Greeks. Nor longer was the trench

A barrier for the Greeks, nor the broad wall

Which they had built above it to defend

Their fleet; for all around it they had drawn

The trench, yet not with chosen hecatombs

Paid to the gods, that so it might protect

The galleys and the heaps of spoil they held.

Without the favor of the gods it rose,

And therefore was not long to stand entire.

As long as Hector lived, and Peleus’ son

Was angered, and King Priam’s city yet

Was not o’erthrown, so long the massive wall

Built by the Greeks stood firm. But when at length

The bravest of the Trojans had been slain,

And many of the Greeks were dead⁠—though still

Others survived⁠—and when in the tenth year

The city of Priam fell, and in their ships

The Greeks went back to their beloved land,

Then did Apollo and the god of sea

Consult together to destroy the wall

By turning on it the resistless might

Of rivers, all that from the Idaean heights

Flow to the ocean⁠—Rhesus, Granicus,

Heptaporus, Caresus, Rhodius,

Aesepus, and Scamander’s hallowed stream,

And Simoïs, in whose bed lay many shields

And helms and bodies of slain demigods.

Phoebus Apollo turned the mouths of these

All toward one spot; nine days against the wall

He bade their currents rush, while Jupiter

Poured constant rain, that floods might overwhelm

The rampart; and the god who shakes the earth,

Wielding his trident, led the rivers on.

He flung among the billows the huge beams

And stones which, with hard toil, the Greeks had laid

For the foundations. Thus he levelled all

Beside the hurrying Hellespont, destroyed

The bulwarks utterly, and overspread

The long broad shore with sand; and then he brought

Again the rivers to the ancient beds

In which their gently flowing waters ran.

This yet was to be done in time to come

By Neptune and Apollo. Meanwhile raged

Battle and tumult round that strong-built wall.

The towers in all their timbers rang with blows;

And, driven as by the scourge of Jove, the Greeks,

Hemmed closely in beside their roomy ships,

Trembled at Hector, the great scatterer

Of squadrons, fighting, as he did before,

With all a whirlwind’s might. As when a boar

Or lion mid the hounds and huntsmen stands,

Fearfully strong, and fierce of eye, and they

In square array assault him, and their hands

Fling many a javelin;⁠—yet his noble heart

Fears not, nor does he fly, although at last

His courage cause his death; and oft he turns.

And tries their ranks; and where he makes a rush

The ranks give way;⁠—so Hector moved and turned

Among the crowd, and bade his followers cross

The trench. The swift-paced horses ventured not

The leap, but stood upon the edge and neighed

Aloud, for the wide space affrighted them;

And hard it was to spring across, or pass

From side to side, for on each side the brink

Was steep, and bristled with sharp stakes, close set

And strong, which there the warrior sons of Greece

Had planted, a defence against the foe.

No steed that whirled the rapid car along

Could enter, but the soldiery on foot

Eagerly sought to pass, and in these words

Polydamas to daring Hector spake:⁠—

“Hector, and ye who lead the troops of Troy

And our auxiliars! Rashly do we seek

To urge our rapid steeds across the trench

So hard to pass, beset with pointed stakes⁠—

And the Greek wall so near. The troops of horse

Cannot descend nor combat there: the space

Is narrow: they would all be slain. If Jove,

The Thunderer of the skies, design to crush

The Greeks and succor Troy, I should rejoice

Were the design at once fulfilled, and all

The sons of Greece ingloriously cut off,

Far from their Argos. But if they should turn

Upon us, and repulse us from their fleet,

And we become entangled in the trench,

I deem no messenger would e’er go back

To Troy from fighting with the rallied Greeks.

Heed, then, my words, and let the charioteers

Stay with the coursers at the trench, while we,

Armed, and on foot, and all in close array,

Follow our Hector. For the Greeks in vain

Will strive to stem our onset if, in truth,

The hour of their destruction be at hand.”

So spake Polydamas; and Hector, pleased

To hear the prudent counsel, leaped to earth

With all his arms, and left his car. The rest

Rode with their steeds no more, but, hastily

Dismounting, as they saw their noble chief,

Each bade his charioteer hold back his steeds,

Reined at the trench, in ranks. And then, apart,

They mustered in five columns, following close

Their leaders. First, the largest, bravest band,

Those who, with resolute daring, longed to break

The rampart and to storm the fleet, were led

By Hector and the good Polydamas,

Joined with Cebriones⁠—for Hector left

His chariot to the care of one who held

An humbler station than Cebriones.

Paris, Alcathoüs, and Agenor led

A second squadron. Helenus, a son

Of Priam, and Deïphobus, a youth

Of godlike form, his brother, took command

Of yet a third⁠—with whom in rank was joined

The hero Asius, son of Hyrtacus,

Whose bright-haired coursers, of majestic size,

Had borne him from Arisba and the banks

Of Selleis. Aeneas led the fourth⁠—

The brave son of Anchises; and with him

Were joined Archilochus and Acamas,

Sons of Antenor, skilled in arts of war.

The band of Troy’s illustrious allies

Followed Sarpedon, who from all the rest

Had chosen, to partake in the command,

Glaucus and brave Asteropoeus. These

He deemed the bravest under him; yet he

Stood foremost of them all in warlike might.

Then all, with their stout bucklers of bull’s-hide

Adjusted to each other, bravely marched

Against the Greeks, who, as they deemed, must fly

Before them, and must fall by their black ships.

Then all the other Trojans, and the allies

From foreign shores, obeyed the counsel given

By good Polydamas; but Asius, son

Of Hyrtacus, and prince of men, chose not

To leave his chariot and his charioteer,

But drave with them against the roomy ships.

Vain youth!⁠—he was not destined to return,

Borne by his steeds and chariot, from the fleet,

And from the fate he braved, to wind-swept Troy.

His evil fate o’ertook him from the spear

Of great Idomeneus, Deucalion’s son;

For toward the galleys moored upon the left

He hastened by the way in which the Greeks,

With steeds and cars, retreated from the plain.

Thither he drave his coursers; there he found

The gates not closed, nor the long bar across,

But warriors held them open to receive

In safety their companions as they fled

From battle to the fleet. Exultingly

He turned his coursers thither, and his men

Followed him, shouting; for they thought the Greeks

Could not abide their onset, but must yield,

And perish by their ships. Deluded men!⁠—

They met two mighty warriors at the gate⁠—

The brave descendants of the Lapithae,

That warlike tribe: Pirithoüs’ gallant son

Was one, named Polypoetes; with him stood

Leonteus, strong as Mars the slayer of men.

By the tall gates they stood, as giant oaks

Stand on the mountains and abide the wind

And the tempestuous rains of all the year,

Firm-planted on their strong and spreading roots.

So they, confiding in their strength of arm,

Waited for mighty Asius hasting on,

And fled not. Onward came the hostile troop,

With their tough shields uplifted, and with shouts:

All rushing toward the massive wall they came,

Following King Asius, and Iamenus,

Orestes, Thoön, Acamas the son

Of Asius, and Oenomaüs. Meanwhile

Leonteus and his comrade had retired

Within, encouraging the well-armed Greeks

To combat for the fleet; but when they saw

The rout and panic of their flying host,

They darted forth and fought before the gates⁠—

Fought like wild boars that in the mountains meet

A clamorous troop of men and dogs, and dart

Sideway at their assailants, break the trees

Close to the root, and fiercely gnash their tusks,

Until some javelin strikes them, and they die.

So on the breasts of the two warriors rang

The shining brass, oft smitten; for they fought

Fearlessly, trusting in the aid of those

Who held the wall, and their own valiant arms.

And they who stood on the strong towers hurled down

Stones, to defend the Achaians and their tents

And their swift ships. As snow-flakes fall to earth

When strong winds, driving on the shadowy cloud,

Shower them upon the nourishing glebe, so thick

Were showered the weapons from the hands of Greeks

And Trojans; and the helms and bossy shields,

Beaten by stones, resounded. Asius then⁠—

The son of Hyrtacus⁠—in anger groaned,

And smote his thighs impatiently, and said:⁠—

“O Father Jove! Thou then art wholly false.

I did not look to see the men of Greece

Stand thus before our might and our strong arms;

Yet they, like pliant-bodied wasps or bees,

That build their cells beside the rocky way,

And quit not their abode, but, waiting there

The hunter, combat for their young⁠—so these,

Although but two, withdraw not from the gates,

Nor will, till they be slain or seized alive.”

He spake; but moved not thus the will of Jove,

Who planned to give the glory of the day

To Hector. Meanwhile, at the other gates

Fought other warriors⁠—but ’twere hard for me,

Were I a god, to tell of all their deeds;

For round the wall on every side there raged,

Fierce as consuming fire, a storm of stones.

The Greeks, in bitter anguish, yet constrained,

Fought for their fleet; and sorrowful were all

The gods who in the battle favored Greece.

Now the two Lapithae began the fight.

Pirithoüs’ son, brave Polypoetes, cast

His spear at Damasus; it broke its way

Through the helm’s brazen cheek⁠—nor that alone:

Right through the temple went the brazen blade,

And crushed the brain within. He left him slain,

And next struck Pylon down, and Ormenus.

Leonteus, of the stock of Mars, assailed

Hippomachus, who from Antimachus

Derived his birth; he pierced him at the belt,

And, drawing forth his trenchant sword, hewed down,

In combat hand-to-hand, Antiphates;

He dashed him backward to the ground, and next

Smote Menon and Iamenus; and last

He slew Orestes: at his feet they lay,

A pile of dead, upon their mother Earth.

Then, as the twain were stripping from the dead

Their glittering arms, the largest, bravest band

Of those who eagerly desired to break

The rampart and to burn the ships with fire,

Following Polydamas and Hector, stood

Consulting at the trench. An augury,

Just as they were in act to cross, appeared

Upon the left: an eagle high in air,

Between the armies, in his talons bore

A monstrous serpent, bleeding, yet alive

And palpitating⁠—nor disabled yet

For combat; for it turned, and on the breast

Wounded the eagle, near the neck. The bird

In pain let fall his prize amid the host,

And flew away, with screams, upon the wind.

The Trojans shuddered at the spotted snake

Lying among them, and Polydamas

Said thus to fearless Hector, standing near:⁠—

“Hector, thou almost ever chidest me

In council, even when I judge aright.

I know it ill becomes the citizen

To speak against the way that pleases thee,

In war or council⁠—he should rather seek

To strengthen thy authority; yet now

I will declare what seems to me the best:

Let us not combat with the Greeks, to take

Their fleet; for this, I think, will be the end,

If now the omen we have seen be meant

For us of Troy who seek to cross the trench;

This eagle, flying high upon the left,

Between the hosts, that in his talons bore

A monstrous serpent, bleeding, yet alive,

Hath dropped it mid our host before he came

To his dear nest, nor brought it to his brood;

So we, although by force we break the gates

And rampart, and although the Greeks fall back,

Shall not as happily retrace our way;

For many a Trojan shall we leave behind,

Slain by the weapons of the Greeks, who stand

And fight to save their fleet. Thus will the seer,

Skilled in the lore of prodigies, explain

The portent, and the people will obey.”

Sternly the crested Hector looked, and spake:⁠—

“Polydamas, the thing that thou hast said

Pleases me not, and easily couldst thou

Frame better counsels. If thy words convey

Thy earnest thought, the gods assuredly

Have made thee lose thy senses. Thou dost ask

That I no longer reverence the decree

Of Jove, the Thunderer of the sky, who gave

His promise, and confirmed it. Thou dost ask

That I be governed by the flight of birds,

Which I regard not, whether to the right

And toward the morning and the sun they fly,

Or toward the left and evening. We should heed

The will of mighty Jupiter, who bears

Rule over gods and men. One augury

There is, the surest and the best⁠—to fight

For our own land. Why dreadest thou the war

And conflict? Though we all should fall beside

The galleys of the Greeks, there is no fear

That thou wilt perish, for thou hast no heart

To stand against the foe;⁠—no warrior thou!

Yet, if thou dare to stand aloof, or seek

By words to turn another from the fight,

The spear I wield shall take thy life at once.”

He spake, and went before; and all his band

Followed with fearful clamor. Jupiter,

The God of thunders, sending a strong wind

From the Idaean summits, drave the dust

Full on the galleys, and made faint the hearts

Of the Greek warriors, and gave new renown

To Hector and the men of Troy. For these,

Trusting in portents sent from Jupiter,

And their own valor, labored to break through

The massive rampart of the Greeks: they tore

The galleries from the towers, and levelled down

The breastworks, heaved with levers from their place

The jutting buttresses which Argive hands

Had firmly planted to support the towers,

And brought them to the ground; and thus they hoped

To force a passage to the Grecian camp.

Not yet did they of Greece give way: they fenced

The rampart with their ox-hide shields, and smote

The enemy from behind them as he came

Under the wall. The chieftains Ajax flew

From tower to tower, and cheered the Achaians on,

And roused their valor⁠—some with gentle words,

And some with harsh rebuke⁠—whome’er they saw

Skulk from the toils and dangers of the fight.

“O friends!” they said, “ye great in war, and ye

Of less renown, and ye of little note!⁠—

For all are not alike in war⁠—the time

Demands the aid of all, as well ye know:

And now let no man turn him toward the fleet

Before the threats of Hector, but press on,

And each exhort his fellow: so may Jove,

Who flings the lightning from Olympus, grant

That, driving back their onset, we may chase

The enemy to the very walls of Troy.”

Thus in the van they shouted, and awoke

New courage in the Greeks. As when the flakes

Of snow fall thick upon a winter-day,

When Jove the Sovereign pours them down on men,

Like arrows, from above;⁠—he bids the wind

Breathe not; continually he pours them down,

And covers every mountain-top and peak,

And flowery mead, and field of fertile tilth,

And sheds them on the havens and the shores

Of the gray deep; but there the waters bound

The covering of snows⁠—all else is white

Beneath that fast-descending shower of Jove;⁠—

So thick the shower of stones from either side

Flew toward the other⁠—from the Greeks against

The Trojans, and from them against the Greeks;

And fearful was the din along the wall.

Yet would illustrious Hector and the men

Of Troy have failed to force the gates and burst

The bar within, had not all-seeing Jove

Impelled his son Sarpedon to attack

The Greeks as falls a lion on a herd

Of horned beeves. The warrior held his shield,

A brazen orb, before him⁠—beautiful,

And fenced with metal; for the armorer laid

Broad plates without, while under these he sewed

Bull’s-hides the toughest, edged with golden wires

Upon the rim. With this the warrior came,

Wielding two spears. As when a lion, bred

Among the mountains, fasting long from flesh,

Comes into the fenced pastures, without fear,

To prey upon the flock; and though he meet

The shepherds keeping watch with dogs and spears,

Yet will he not be driven thence until

He makes a spring into the fold and bears

A sheep away, or in the act is slain,

Struck by a javelin from some ready hand;⁠—

Sarpedon, godlike warrior, thus was moved

By his great heart to storm the wall and break

Through the strong barrier; and to Glaucus, son

Of Lycia’s king Hippolochus, he said:⁠—

“Why, Glaucus, are we honored, on the shores

Of Lycia, with the highest seat at feasts,

And with full cups? Why look men up to us

As to the gods? And why do we possess

Broad, beautiful enclosures, full of vines

And wheat, beside the Xanthus? Then it well

Becomes us, foremost in the Lycian ranks

To stand against the foe, where’er the fight

Is hottest; so our well-armed Lycian men

Shall say, and truly: ‘Not ingloriously

Our kings bear rule in Lycia, where they feast

On fatlings of the flock, and drink choice wine;

For they excel in valor, and they fight

Among our foremost.’ O my friend, if we,

Leaving this war, could flee from age and death,

I should not here be fighting in the van,

Nor would I send thee to the glorious war

But now, since many are the modes of death

Impending o’er us, which no man can hope

To shun, let us press on and give renown

To other men, or win it for ourselves!”

He spake; and Glaucus not unwillingly

Heard and obeyed. Right on the warriors pressed,

Leading the Lycian host. Menestheus, son

Of Peteus, saw, and trembled; for they came

With evil menace toward his tower. He looked

Along the Grecian lines in hope to see

Some chieftain there whose ready help might save

His comrades from their danger. He beheld

The rulers Ajax, never tired of war,

Standing with Teucer, who just then had left

His tent; and yet they could not hear his shout,

So fearful was the din that rose to heaven

From all the shields, and crested helms, and gates,

Smitten with missiles⁠—for at all the gates

The Lycians thundered, struggling hard to break

A passage through them. Then Menestheus called

A herald near, and bade Thoötes bear

A message to the leaders Ajax, thus:⁠—

“Go, nobly born Thoötes, and in haste

Call Ajax⁠—call them both, for that were best⁠—

Since terrible will be the slaughter here,

So fiercely are the Lycians pressing on,

Impetuous ever in assault. If there

The fight be also urgent, then at least

Let the brave Telamonian Ajax come,

And Teucer, the great archer, follow him.

He spake. The herald listened and obeyed,

And flew along the summit of the wall

Built by the Greeks. He reached, and stood beside,

The chieftains Ajax, and addressed them thus:⁠—

“Ajaces, leaders of the warlike Greeks,

The honored son of noble Peteus asks

That ye will come, though for a little space,

To aid him and to share his warlike toils;

For terrible will be the slaughter there,

So fiercely are the Lycians pressing on,

Impetuous ever in assault. If here

The fight be also urgent, then at least

Let the brave Telamonian Ajax come.

And Teucer, the great archer, follow him.”

He ended. Ajax, son of Telamon,

Hearkened, and to his fellow-warrior said:⁠—

“Here, where the gallant Lycomedes stands,

Ajax! remain, and, cheering on the Greeks,

Lead them to combat valiantly. I go

To stem the battle there, and when our friends

Are succored I will instantly return.”

So speaking, Ajax, son of Telamon,

Departed thence, and with him Teucer, sprung

From the same father. With them also went

Pandion, carrying Teucer’s crooked bow.

They came to brave Menestheus at his tower,

And went within the wall and met their friends,

Hard-pressed⁠—for gallantly the Lycian chiefs

And captains, like a gloomy tempest, rushed

Up the tall breastworks; while the Greeks withstood

Their onset, and a mighty clamor rose.

Then Telamonian Ajax smote to death

Epicles, great of soul, Sarpedon’s friend:

Against that chief he cast a huge, rough stone,

That lay high up beside a pinnacle

Within the wall. No man with both his hands⁠—

Such men as now are⁠—though in prime of youth,

Could lift its weight; and yet he wielded it

Aloft, and flung it. Through the four-coned helm

It crashed, and brake the skull within. Down plunged

The Lycian, like a diver, from his place

On the high tower, and life forsook his limbs.

Then Teucer also wounded with a shaft

Glaucus, the brave son of Hippolochus,

As he leaped forth to scale the lofty wall⁠—

Wounded him where the naked arm was seen,

And made him leave the combat. Back he sprang,

Hiding amid the crowd, that so the Greeks

Might not behold the wounded limb, and scoff.

With grief Sarpedon saw his friend withdraw,

Yet paused not from the conflict, but took aim

At Thestor’s son, Alcmaon, with his spear;

Pierced him; and drew the weapon out. The Greek,

Following the spear, fell headlong; and his arms,

Studded with brass, clashed round him as he fell.

Then did Sarpedon seize, with powerful hands,

The battlement; he wrenched it, and it came

To earth, and laid the rampart’s summit bare,

To make a passage for the assailing host.

Ajax and Teucer saw, and both took aim

Together at Sarpedon: Teucer’s shaft

Struck in the midst the buckler’s glittering belt,

Just at the bosom; but Jove warded off

The death-stroke from his son, lest he should fall

Beside the galleys. Ajax, springing, struck

The buckler with his spear, and pierced its folds,

And checked the eager warrior, who gave way

A little, yet retreated not, but turned,

Encouraging the godlike Lycians thus:⁠—

“Where, Lycians, is your fiery valor now?

Were I the bravest, it were hard, alone,

For me to force a passage to the fleet,

Though I have cleared the way. Come on with me!

Light is the task when many share the toil.”

He spake; and they who reverenced his words

Of exhortation drew more closely round

Their counsellor and sovereign, while the Greeks

Above them made their phalanxes more strong

Within the wall⁠—for urgent was the need;

Since neither could the gallant Syrians break

The barrier of the Greeks, and cut their way

Through to the fleet, nor could the warlike Greeks

Drive back the Lycians when they once had reached

The rampart. As two men upon a field,

With measuring-rods in hand, disputing stand

Over the common boundary, in small space,

Each one contending for the right he claims,

So, kept asunder by the breastwork, fought

The warriors over it, and fiercely struck

The orbèd bull’s-hide shields held up before

The breast, and the light targets. Many a one

Was smitten when he turned and showed the back

Unarmed, and many wounded through the shield.

The towers and battlements were steeped in blood

Of heroes⁠—Greeks and Trojans. Yet were not

The Greeks thus put to flight; but, as the scales

Are held by some just woman, who maintains,

By spinning wool, her household⁠—carefully

She poises both the wool and weights, to make

The balance even, that she may provide

A pittance for her babes⁠—thus equally

Were matched the warring hosts, till Jupiter

Conferred the eminent glory of the day

On Hector, son of Priam. He it was

Who first leaped down into the space within

The Grecian wall, and, with far-reaching voice,

Thus shouted, calling to the men of Troy:⁠—

“Rush on, ye knights of Troy! Rush boldly on,

And break your passage through the Grecian wall,

And hurl consuming flames against their fleet!”

So spake he, cheering on his men. They heard,

And rushed in mighty throngs against the wall,

And climbed the battlements, to charge the foe

With spears. Then Hector stooped, and seized a stone

Which lay before the gate, broad at the base

And sharp above, which two, the strongest men⁠—

As men are now⁠—could hardly heave from earth

Into a wain. With ease he lifted it,

Alone, and brandished it: such strength the son

Of Saturn gave him, that it seemed but light.

As when a shepherd carries home with ease

A wether’s fleece⁠—he bears it in one hand,

And little is he cumbered with its weight⁠—

So Hector bore the lifted stone, to break

The beams that strengthened the tall folding-gates.

Two bars within, laid crosswise, hold them firm⁠—

Both fastened with one bolt. He came and stood

Before them; with wide-parted feet he stood,

And put forth all his strength, that so his arm

Might drive the missile home; and in the midst

He smote the folding-gates. The blow tore off

The hinges; heavily the great stone fell

Within: the portals crashed; nor did the bars

Withstand the blow: the shattered beams gave way

Before it; and illustrious Hector sprang

Into the camp. His look was stern as night;

And terribly the brazen armor gleamed

That swathed him. With two spears in hand he came,

And none except the gods⁠—when once his foot

Was on the ground⁠—could stand before his might.

His eyes shot fire, and, turning to his men,

He bade them mount the wall; and they obeyed:

Some o’er the wall, some through the sculptured gate,

Poured in. The Achaians to their roomy ships

Fled, and a fearful uproar filled the air.