Book XIII

The Continuation of the Fourth Battle


Descent of Neptune in aid of the Greeks⁠—His exhortations addressed to the Chiefs⁠—The Trojans harangued by Hector, and the battle renewed with great fury⁠—Hector’s advance checked by the Ajaxes, who rally the Greeks⁠—Exploits of Meriones and Idomeneus⁠—Idomeneus forced to retire by Deïphobus and Aeneas⁠—The Trojans, hard pressed on their left, are rallied by Hector⁠—Reproof of Paris by Hector, and mutual defiance of Hector and Ajax.


When Jove had brought the Trojans and their chief,

Hector, beside the ships, he left them there

To toil and struggle and endure, while he

Turned his resplendent eyes upon the land

Of Thracian horsemen, and the Mysians, skilled

To combat hand to hand, and the famed tribe

Of long-lived Hippomulgi, reared on milk,

And the most just of men. On Troy no more

He turned those glorious eyes, for now he deemed

That none of all the gods would seek to aid

Either the Greeks or Trojans in the strife.


The monarch Neptune kept no idle watch;

For he in Thracian Samos, dark with woods,

Aloft upon the highest summit sat

O’erlooking thence the tumult of the war;

For thence could he behold the Idaean mount,

And Priam’s city, and the Grecian fleet.

There, coming from the ocean-deeps, he sat,

And pitied the Greek warriors put to rout

Before the Trojans, and was wroth with Jove.

Soon he descended from those rugged steeps,

And trod the earth with rapid strides; the hills

And forests quaked beneath the immortal feet

Of Neptune as he walked. Three strides he took,

And at the fourth reached Aegae, where he stopped,

And where his sumptuous palace-halls were built,

Deep down in ocean, golden, glittering, proof

Against decay of time. These when he reached,

He yoked his swift and brazen-footed steeds,

With manes of flowing gold, to draw his car,

And put on golden mail, and took his scourge,

Wrought of fine gold, and climbed the chariot-seat,

And rode upon the waves. The whales came forth

From their deep haunts, and frolicked round his way:

They knew their king. The waves rejoicing smoothed

A path, and rapidly the coursers flew;

Nor was the brazen axle wet below.

And thus they brought him to the Grecian fleet.


Deep in the sea there is a spacious cave,

Between the rugged Imbrus and the isle

Of Tenedos. There Neptune, he who shakes

The shores, held back his steeds, took off their yoke,

Gave them ambrosial food, and, binding next

Their feet with golden fetters which no power

Might break or loosen, so that they might wait

Their lord’s return, he sought the Grecian host.


Still did the Trojans, rushing on in crowds,

Like flames or like a tempest, follow close

Hector, the son of Priam; still their rage

Abated not; with stormy cries they came;

They hoped to seize the fleet and slay the Greeks

Beside it. But the power who swathes the earth

And shakes it, Neptune, coming from the deep,

Revived the valor of the Greeks. He took

The shape of Calchas and his powerful voice,

And thus to either Ajax, who yet stemmed

The battle with a resolute heart, he spake:⁠—


“O chieftains! Yours it is to save the host,

Recalling your old valor, with no thought

Of fatal flight. Elsewhere I feel no dread

Of what the daring sons of Troy may do

Who climb the wall in throngs; the well-greaved Greeks

Will meet them bravely. But where Hector leads,

Fierce as a flame, his squadrons, he who boasts

To be a son of sovereign Jove, I fear

Lest we should sorely suffer. May the gods

Strengthen your hearts to stand against the foe,

And flinch not, and exhort the rest to stand,

And drive him back, audacious as he is,

From the swift ships, though Jove should urge him on.”


Thus earth-surrounding Neptune said, and touched

Each hero with his sceptre, filled their hearts

With valor, gave new lightness to their limbs

And feet and hands, and then, as when a hawk

Shoots swiftly from some lofty precipice

And chases o’er the plain another bird,

So swiftly Neptune, shaker of the shores,

Darted from them away. Oileus’ son

Perceived the immortal presence first, and thus

At once to Telamonian Ajax spake:⁠—


“Some god, O Ajax, from the Olympian hill,

Wearing the augur’s form, hath bid us fight

Beside the ships; nor can it be the seer

Calchas, for well I marked his feet and legs

As he departed; easily by these

The gods are known. I feel a spirit roused

In my own bosom eager to engage

In the fierce strife; my very feet below,

And hands above, take part in the desire.”


And thus the son of Telamon replied:⁠—

“So also these strong hands that grasp the spear

Burn eagerly to wield it, and my heart

Is full of courage. I am hurried on

By both my feet, and vehemently long

To try alone the combat with this chief

Of boundless valor, Hector, Priam’s son.”


Thus they conferred, rejoicing as they felt

That ardor for the battle which the god

Had breathed into their hearts. Meantime he roused

The Achaians at the rear, who in their ships too

Sought respite, and whose limbs were faint with toil,

And their hearts sad to see the Trojan host

With tumult pouring o’er the lofty wall.

As they beheld, the tears came gushing forth

From underneath their lids; they little hoped

For rescue from destruction; but when came

The power that shakes the shores, he woke anew

The spirit of their valiant phalanxes.

Teucer he first addressed, and Leitus,

The hero Peneleus and Thoas next,

Deipyrus, Meriones expert

In battle, and Antilochus his peer,

And thus exhorted them with wingèd words:⁠—


“Shame on you, Argive youths! I put my trust

In your tried valor to defend our fleet;

But if ye fear to face the perilous fight,

The day has risen which shall behold us fall

Vanquished before the Trojans. O ye gods!

These eyes have seen a marvel, a strange sight

And terrible, which I had never thought

Could be⁠—the Trojans close upon our ships,

They who, erewhile, were like the timid deer

That wander in the wood an easy prey

To jackals, pards, and wolves⁠—weak things, unapt

For combat, fleeing, but without an aim.

Such were the Trojans, who till now ne’er dared

Withstand the might and prowess of the Greeks

Even for an hour. But now, afar from Troy

They give us battle at the hollow ships,

All through our general’s fault, and through the sloth

Of the Greek warriors, who, displeased with him,

Fight not for their swift galleys, but are slain

Beside them. Yet although our sovereign chief,

Atrides Agamemnon, may have done

Foul wrong, dishonoring the swift-footed son

Of Peleus, still ye cannot without blame

Decline the combat. Let us then repair

The mischief done; the hearts of valiant men

Are soon appeased. And not without the loss

Of honor can your fiery courage sleep,

Since ye are known the bravest of the host.

I would not chide the weak, unwarlike man

For shrinking from the combat; but for you⁠—

I look on you with anger in my heart.

Weaklings! Ye soon will bring upon yourselves

Some sorer evil if ye loiter thus.

Let each of you bethink him of the shame

And infamy impending. Terrible

The struggle is before us. Hector storms

The ships, loud-shouting Hector; he has burst

The gate and broken the protecting bar.”


So Neptune spake, encouraging the Greeks.

While firmly stood the serried phalanxes

Round either Ajax, nor could Mars himself,

Nor Pallas, musterer of armèd hosts,

Reprove their order. There the flower of Greece

Waited the Trojans and their noble chief,

Spear beside spear, and shield by shield, so close

That buckler pressed on buckler, helm on helm,

And man on man. The plumes of horse-hair touched

Each other as they nodded on the crests

Of the bright helms, so close the warriors stood.

The lances quivered in the fearless hands

Of warriors eager to advance and strike

The enemy. But the men of Troy began

The assault; the fiery Hector was the first

To rush against the Greeks. As when a stone

Rolls from a cliff before a wintry flood

That sweeps it down the steep, when mighty rains

Have worn away the props that held it fast;

It rolls and bounds on high; the woods around

Crash, as it tears its unresisted way

Along the slope until it reach the plain,

And there, however urged, moves on no more;⁠—

So Hector, menacing to cut his way

Through tents and galleys to the very sea,

Slaying as he went forward, when he now

Met the firm phalanxes and pressed them close,

Stopped suddenly; the sons of Greece withstood

His onset and repulsed it, striking him

With swords and two-edged spears, and made the chief

Give way before the shock. He lifted up

His voice and shouted to the Trojans thus:⁠—


“Trojans and Lycians and Dardanians skilled

In fighting hand to hand, stand firm. Not long

Will the Greeks bide my onset, though drawn up

Square as a tower in close array. My spear,

I trust, will scatter them, if true it be

That Juno’s husband, Sovereign of the gods,

And Lord of thunders, prompts my arm today.”


He spake, and kindled in the breasts of all

Fresh courage. In the band Deïphobus

Marched proudly, Priam’s son, with his round shield

Before him, walking with a quick, light step

Behind its shelter. Then Meriones

Aimed at the chief his glittering spear; the point

Missed not; it struck the orb of bullock’s hide,

Yet did not pierce it, for the weapon broke

Just at the neck. Deïphobus held forth

His shield far from him, dreading to receive

A spear-thrust from the brave Meriones.

Vexed thus to lose the victory, and the spear

Snapped by the blow, Meriones fell back

Into the column of his friends, and passed

Hastily toward the camp and ships, to bring

A powerful spear that stood within his tent,

While others fought, and fearful was the din.


Then Teucer first, the son of Telamon,

Smote gallant Imbrius, son of Mentor, lord

Of many steeds. He, ere the Greeks had come

To Troy, dwelt at Pedaeum and espoused

Medesicasta, Priam’s spurious child.

But when the well-oared galleys of the Greeks

Mustered at Troy, he also came, and there

Was eminent among her chiefs, and dwelt

With Priam, and was honored as his son.

The son of Telamon beneath the ear

Pierced him with his long javelin, and drew forth

The weapon. Headlong to the earth he fell.

As on a mountain height, descried from far,

Hewn by a brazen axe, an ash is felled

And lays its tender sprays upon the ground,

Thus Imbrius fell, and round him in his fall

Clashed his bright armor. Teucer sprang in haste

To spoil the dead, but Hector hurled at him

His shining spear; the wary Teucer stepped

Aside, and just escaped the brazen blade.

It struck Amphiniachus, Cteatus’ son,

And Actor’s grandson; as he came to join

The battle, he was smitten in the breast,

And fell, his armor clashing round his limbs.

Then Hector flew in haste to tear away

From the large-souled Amphimachus the helm

That cased his temples. Ajax saw, and hurled

His glittering spear at Hector as he came:

It made no wound; for Hector stood equipped

All o’er in formidable brass. The spear

Struck on the bossy shield with such a shock

As forced him to recoil, and leave unspoiled

The bodies, which the Achaians dragged away.

For Stichius and Menestheus, chief among

The Athenians, bore the dead Amphimachus

To the Greek camp, while the two men of might,

The chieftains Ajax, lifted Imbrius up;

And as two lions, bearing off among

The close-grown shrubs a goat, which they have snatched

From sharp-toothed dogs, uplift it in their jaws

Above the ground, so the two warriors raised

The corpse of Imbrius, and stripped off the mail,

While, angered that Amphilochus was slain,

Oileus’ son struck from the tender neck

The head, and sent it far among the crowd,

Whirled like a ball, to fall at Hector’s feet.


Meantime was Neptune moved with grief to see

His grandson perish in that desperate fray,

And passed among the Achaian tents and ships

Encouraging the men, and planning woes

For Ilium. There he met Idomeneus,

Expert to wield the spear, as he returned

From caring for a comrade who had left

The battle, wounded in the knee, and whom

His friends had carried in. Idomeneus

Had called the surgeons to his aid, and now

Was hastening to the field, intent to bear

His part in battle. Him the monarch god

Of ocean thus addressed, but first he took

The voice of Thoas, King Andraemon’s son,

Whose father ruled the Aetolians through the bounds

Of Pleuron, and in lofty Calydon,

And like a god was honored in the land.


“O counsellor of Crete, Idomeneus!

Where are the threats which late the sons of Greece

Uttered against the Trojans?” Promptly came

The Cretan leader’s answer: “No man here,

O Thoas, seems blameworthy, for we all

Are skilled in war, nor does unmanly fear

Hold any back; nor from the difficult strife

Does sloth detain one warrior. So it is

Doubtless that it seems good to Saturn’s son,

The All-disposer, that the Greeks, afar

From Argos, should ingloriously fall

And perish. Thoas, thou wert ever brave,

And didst exhort the laggards. Cease not now

To combat, cease not to exhort the rest.”


And Neptune, he who shakes the earth, rejoined:⁠—

“Idomeneus, whoever keeps aloof

From battle, willingly, today, may he

Never return from Troy, but be the prey

Of dogs. Take thou thy arms and come with me,

For we must quit ourselves like men, and strive

To aid our cause, although we be but two.

Great is the strength of feeble arms combined,

And we can combat even with the brave.”


So speaking, Neptune turned to share the toils

Of war. Idomeneus, who now had reached

His princely tent, put on his glorious mail,

And seized two spears, and flew upon his way,

Like lightning grasped by Saturn’s son and flung

Quivering above Olympus’ gleaming peak,

A sign to mortals, dazzled by the blaze,

So glittered, as he ran, his brazen mail.

His fellow-warrior, good Meriones,

Met him beside the tent, for he had come

To fetch a brazen javelin thence, and thus

The stout Idomeneus addressed his friend:⁠—


“O son of Molus, swift Meriones,

Dearest of all my comrades! Why hast thou

Thus left the battle-field? Hast thou a wound⁠—

A weapon’s point that galls thee? Dost thou bring

A message to me? Think not that I sit

Within my tent an idler: I must fight.”


Discreetly did Meriones reply:⁠—

“Idomeneus, whose sovereign counsels rule

The well-armed Cretans, I am come to seek

A spear if one be left within thy tents.

I broke the one I bore, in hurling it

Against the shield of fierce Deïphobus.”


The Cretan chief, Idomeneus, rejoined:⁠—

“If spears thou seek, there stand within my tent

Twenty and one against the shining walls.

I took them from slain Trojans. ’Tis my wont

Never to fight at distance from the foe,

And therefore have I spears, and bossy shields,

And helms, and body-mail of polished brass.”


Then spake in turn discreet Meriones:⁠—

“Within my tent are also many spoils

Won from the Trojans, and in my black ship;

But they are far away. I do not think

That I forget what valor is. I fight

Among the foremost in the glorious strife

Where’er the battle calls me. Other men

Among the well-armed Greeks may not have seen

What I perform, but thou must know me well.”


Idomeneus, the Cretan leader, spake:⁠—

“I know thy courage well. What need hast thou

To speak as thou hast done? If all of us,

The bravest of the Greeks, were set apart

To form an ambush;⁠—for an ambush tries

And shows men’s valor; there the craven, there

The brave, is known; the coward’s color comes

And goes; his spirit is not calm within

His bosom, so that he can rest awhile

And tremble not; he shifts his place; he sits

On both his feet; his heart beats audibly

Within his breast; his teeth at thought of death

Chatter; the brave man’s color changes not,

Nor when with other warriors he sits down

In ambush is he troubled, but he longs

To rise and mingle in the desperate fray;⁠—

For thee, in such an ambush, none could blame

Thy courage or thy skill. If there the foe

Should wound thee from afar, or smite thee near,

The weapon would not strike thy neck behind,

Or pierce thy back, but enter at thy breast

Or stomach, as thou wert advancing fast

Among the foremost. But enough of this.

Come! Stand we here no longer, idiot-like,

Lest someone chide us sharply. Hasten thou,

And bring a sturdy javelin from the tent.”


He spake. Meriones, like Mars in port

And swiftness, hastened to the tent and brought

A brazen spear, and joined Idomeneus,

Eager for battle. As the god of war,

The man-destroyer, comes into the field,

With Terror, his strong-limbed and dauntless son,

Following and striking fear into the heart

Of the most resolute warrior, when from Thrace

They issue armed against the Ephyri,

Or else against the Phlegyans large of soul,

And hearken not to both the hosts, but give

To one the victory; so Meriones

Advanced to battle with Idomeneus,

Leaders of heroes both, and both equipped

In glittering helms. And first Meriones

Spake and addressed his fellow-warrior thus:⁠—


“Son of Deucalion, at which point wilt thou

Enter the throng? Upon the army’s right,

Its centre, or its left? The long haired Greeks

Seem most to need our aid upon the left.”


Then spoke Idomeneus, in turn, the prince

Of Cretans: “At the centre of the fleet

Are others who will guard it. Posted there

Are either Ajax and the most expert

Of Grecian archers, Teucer, not less skilled

In standing fight, and amply will they task

The arm of Hector, Priam’s son, though bent

On desperate conflict, and though passing fierce.

With all his fierceness, he will find it hard

To quell their prowess, never yet o’ercome,

And fire the ships, unless Saturnian Jove

Himself should cast on them the flaming torch.

Nor yet will Telamonian Ajax yield

To any man of mortal birth, or reared

Upon the grains of Ceres, or whom brass

Or ponderous stones can wound. He would not own

The warlike son of Peleus mightier

Than he in standing fight, although in speed

He vies not with him. Lead us then to join

The army’s left, that we may learn at once

Whether our fate in battle shall confer

Glory on other men, or theirs on us.”


So spake the chief. Meriones, the peer

Of Mars in swiftness, hastened till he joined

The army where his comrade bade. The foe

Beheld Idomeneus, who like a flame

Swept on with his companion all in arms

Gloriously wrought; they raised from rank to rank

The battle-cry, and met him as he came,

And hand to hand, before the galleys’ sterns

Was waged the combat. As when storms arise,

Blown up by piping winds, when dust lies loose

Along the roads, a spreading cloud of dust

Fills the wide air, so came the battle on

Between the bands that struggled eagerly

To slay each other. All along the line

The murderous conflict bristled with long spears

That tore the flesh; the brazen splendor, shot

From gleaming helmets and from burnished mail

And shining bucklers, all in narrow space

Dazzled the eyes. Brave-hearted would he be,

The man who, gazing on it, could have seen

The furious strife rejoicing or unmoved.


Meantime the potent sons of Saturn each

Favored a different side, and planned new toils

For all the warriors, Jupiter had willed

That Hector and the Trojans should prevail,

Yet had he not decreed the Achaian host

To perish before Troy; he only sought

To honor Thetis and her large-souled son.

But Neptune, mingling with the Greeks, aroused

Their martial spirit. From the hoary deep

He came unmarked, for deeply was he grieved

To see the Greeks give way before the host

Of Troy, and he was wroth with Jupiter.

Both gods were of one race, and owed their birth

To the same parents; but the elder-born

Was Jupiter, and wiser. For that cause

Not openly did Neptune aid the Greeks,

But, as by stealth, disguised in human form,

Moved through their army and encouraged them

To combat. Thus it was the potent twain

Each drew, with equal hand, the net of strife

And fearful havoc, which no power could break

Or loosen, stretched o’er both the warring hosts,

And laying many a warrior low in death.

And now, although his brows were strewn with gray.

Idomeneus, encouraging the Greeks,

Rushed on the Trojans, and revived the fight.

He slew Orthryoneus, who just before,

Drawn by the rumor of the war, had left

Cabesus, and now made a lover’s suit

For Priam’s fairest daughter. Without dower

He sought to wed Cassandra, promising

A vast exploit⁠—to drive the Greeks from Troy,

In spite of all their valor. The old king

Consented that the maiden should be his;

And now he fought, and trusted to fulfil

His promise. But Idomeneus took aim,

And cast his glittering javelin at the youth.

It struck him marching proudly on, nor stopped

The weapon at the brazen mail, but pierced

The stomach. With a clash the warrior fell,

And thus the victor boasted over him:⁠—


“Orthryoneus, I deem thee worthy of praise

Beyond all other men, if thou perform

What thou hast undertaken⁠—to defend

Dardanian Priam, who has promised thee

His daughter. We would make a compact too,

And will perform it⁠—to bestow on thee

A spouse, the fairest daughter of the house

Of Atreus’ son, and we will send for her

To Argos, if thou join us, and lay waste

The well built Ilium. Now, then, follow me,

And at the ships which brought us we will treat

Of marriage, and will make no niggard terms.”


So spake Idomeneus, and dragged the slain

Through the sharp conflict by the foot. He met

Asius, who walked before his car, and came

To avenge his friend. The attending charioteer

Behind him reined the steeds, that they should breathe

Over the shoulders of their lord, who sought

To smite Idomeneus. The Greek was first

To strike; he plunged the spear into his throat

Below the chin, and drave the weapon through.

The Trojan fell to earth as falls an oak,

Poplar, or stately pine, which woodmen fell

With their sharp axes on the mountain-side,

To form a galley’s beam. So there he lay

Stretched out before his coursers and his car,

And gnashed his teeth, and clenched the bloody dust.

The charioteer, amazed, and losing power

Of action, dared not turn the horses back

To bear him from the foe. Antilochus

The warlike cast his spear, and in the midst

Transfixed him. Little did the brazen mail

Avail to stay the blade, which cleft its way

Into the stomach. With a sudden gasp

He toppled from the sumptuous chariot-seat,

And large-souled Nestor’s son, Antilochus,

Drave with the chariot to the well-armed Greeks.

Deïphobus, who sorrowed for the fate

Of Asius, drawing near Idomeneus,

Hurled at him his bright spear. The Greek beheld,

As face to face they stood, and scaped the stroke,

Covered by his round shield, two-handled, strong,

With bullocks’ hides and glittering brass. With this

He hid himself, close couched within, and turned

The brazen point aside. The buckler rang

Shrilly; the weapon glanced away, yet flew

Not vainly from the Trojan’s powerful hand:

It struck Hypsenor, son of Hippasus,

The shepherd of the people, on the side

Where lies the liver, just below the breast.

His knees gave way; he fell; Deïphobus

Thus shouted o’er the dead his empty boast:⁠—


“Not unavenged lies Asius, and no doubt,

In journeying to the massy gates and wall

Of Hades, will rejoice that I have sent

A soul to be companion of his way.”


He spake; and at his boast the Greeks were moved

With anger⁠—most of all Antilochus

The warlike; yet he left not to the foe

His slain companion, but made haste to hold

His shield above him. His beloved friends,

Mecisteus, son of Echius, and the prince

Alastor, lifted up, with many a groan,

The corpse, and bore it to the roomy ships.


Meantime the valor of Idomeneus

Remitted not; he vehemently longed

To cover many a Trojan with the night

Of death, or fall himself with clashing arms,

In warring to defend the ships of Greece.

The brave Alcathoüs, the beloved son

Of Aesyetus, whom Anchises made

His son-in-law⁠—for he had given to him

Hippodameia, eldest-born of all

His daughters, whom her parents, while she dwelt

With them, loved dearly, fair and wise beyond

All other maidens of her age, and skilled

In household arts; so that the noblest prince

Of the broad Trojan kingdom made her his;⁠—

Him, by the weapon of Idomeneus,

Did Neptune bring to death. The sparkling eyes

Grew dim, and stiffened were the shapely limbs,

For neither could he flee nor turn aside;

But as he stood before him, column-like,

Or like a towering tree, Idomeneus

Transfixed him in the bosom with his spear

The brazen coat of mail gave way, which oft

Had saved him, breaking with a sharp, shrill sound

Before the severing blade. He fell to earth

With noise; the spear stood planted in his heart,

And as he panted quivered through its length,

Yet soon its murderous force was spent and still.

And then the victor boasted thus aloud:⁠—


“Deïphobus, does this appear to thee

A fair return, when three are slain for one,

Or hast thou boasted idly? Yet do thou,

Vain as thou art, stand forth and face me here,

And I will teach thee of what race I am⁠—

An offshoot of the stock of Jove, whose son

Was Minos, guardian of our Crete, and he

Was father of the good Deucalion.

Deucalion’s son am I, and I am king

O’er many men in the broad isle of Crete.

My galleys brought me thence to be the dread

Of thee, thy father, and the men of Troy.”


He spake. Deïphobus, irresolute,

Stood doubting whether to retreat and bring

Some other of the heroic sons of Troy

To aid him, or to try the fight alone.

As thus he mused, it seemed most wise to seek

Aeneas. Him he found withdrawn among

The rear of the army, for he was displeased

With noble Priam, who had paid his worth

With light esteem. Deïphobus approached,

And thus with wingèd words accosted him:⁠—


“Aeneas, counsellor of Troy, if thou

Hadst ever a regard to him who was

Thy sister’s husband, it becomes thee now

To avenge him. Follow me, and help avenge

Alcathoüs, guardian of thy tender years,

Slain by the spear of famed Idomeneus.”


He spake; and at his words Aeneas felt

His courage rise. Impatient for the fight,

He went to meet Idomeneus; yet fear

Fell not upon the Greek as if he were

A puny boy: he stood and kept his ground.

As, when a mountain boar, unterrified,

Waits in the wilderness the hunter-crew,

That come with mighty din, his bristly back

Rises, his eyes shoot fire, he whets his tusks,

And fiercely keeps both dogs and men at bay⁠—

So did Idomeneus, expert to wield

The spear, await Aeneas hastening on

With fury. Not a backward step he made,

But called upon his warrior-friends aloud,

Looking at Aphareus, Ascalaphus,

Deipyrus, Meriones, and last

Antilochus, all skilled in arts of war,

And thus exhorted them with wingèd words:⁠—


“Haste hither, O my friends, and bring me aid.

I stand alone, in dread of the approach

Of swift Aeneas, who comes fiercely on,

Powerful to slay, and in his prime of youth,

The highest vigor of the human frame.

Yet, were our years the same, that chief or I

Would quickly triumph at the other’s cost.”


He spake, and all with one accord draw near

And stood by him, with shields obliquely held

Upon their shoulders. On the other side

Aeneas cheered his comrades on. He fixed

His look on Paris, and Deïphobus,

And nobly born Agenor, who, like him,

Were leaders of the Trojans. After these

The soldiers followed, as the thronging flock

Follow the ram that leads them to the fount

From pasture, and the shepherd’s heart is pleased.

So was Aeneas glad at heart to see

The multitude of warriors following him.


Then mingled they in battle hand to hand

Around Alcathoüs, with their ponderous spears,

And fearfully upon their bosoms rang

The brass, as through the struggling crowd they aimed

Their weapons at each other. Two brave men,

Aeneas and Idomeneus, the peers

Of Mars, conspicuous o’er their fellows, strove

With cruel brass to rend each other’s limbs.

And first Aeneas cast his spear to smite

Idomeneus, who saw it as it came,

And shunned it. Plunging in the earth beyond,

It stood and quivered; it had left in vain

The Trojan’s powerful hand. Idomeneus

Next smote Oenomaüs: the spear brake through

His hollow corselet at the waist; it pierced

And drank the entrails: down amid the dust

He fell, and grasped the earth with dying hand.

Idomeneus plucked forth the massy spear,

But, pressed by hostile weapons, ventured not

To strip the sumptuous armor from the dead;

Since now no more the sinews of his feet

Were firm to bear him rushing to retake

His spear, or start aside from hostile spears.

Wherefore in standing fight he warded off

The evil hour, nor trusted to his feet

To bear him fleetly from the field. He moved

Slowly away, and now Deïphobus,

Who long had hated him and bitterly,

Aimed at him his bright spear; it missed its mark,

And struck Ascalaphus, the son of Mars.

The weapon cleft the shoulder of the Greek,

Who fell amid the dust, and clenched the earth.


Not yet the clamorous Mars, of passionate mood,

Had heard that in the fray his son was slain;

But on the summit of the Olympian mount

He sat, o’ercanopied by golden clouds,

Restrained from combat by the will of Jove,

With other gods, forbidden, like himself,

To aid the combatants. Meantime around

Ascalaphus the combat hand to hand

Still raged. Deïphobus had torn away

The slain man’s shining helm, when suddenly

Meriones sprang forward, spear in hand,

And smote him on the arm; the wounded limb

Let fall the helm, resounding as it fell,

And with a vulture’s leap Meriones

Rushed toward him, plucking out from the torn flesh

The spear, and falling back among the crowd.

Polites, brother of the wounded, threw

Both arms around his waist, and bore him off

From the loud din of conflict, till he reached

His swift-paced steeds, that waited in the rear

Of battle, with their chariot nobly wrought

And charioteer. These took him back to Troy,

Heavily groaning and in pain, the blood

Yet gushing from the newly wounded limb.


Still fought the other warriors, and the noise

Of a perpetual tumult filled the air.

Aeneas, rushing upon Aphareus,

Caletor’s son, who turned to face him, thrust

A sharp spear through his throat. With drooping head,

And carrying shield and helmet to the ground,

He fell, and rendered up his soul in death.

Antilochus, as Thoön turned away,

Attacked and smote him, cutting off the vein

That passes through the body to the neck.

This he divided sheer; the warrior fell

Backward, and lay in dust, with hands outstretched

To his beloved friends. Antilochus

Flew to the slain, and from his shoulders stripped

The armor, casting cautious glances round;

While toward him pressed the Trojans on all sides,

Striking the fair broad buckler with their darts,

Yet could not even score with pointed brass

The tender skin of Nestor’s son; for still

Neptune, the shaker of the sea-coast, kept

Watch o’er him while the weapons round him showered.

Yet he withdrew not from his foes, but moved

Among the crowd, nor idle was his spear,

But wielded right and left, and still he watched

With resolute mind the time to strike the foe

At distance, or assault him near at hand.


The son of Asius, Adamas, beheld

The hero meditating thus, and struck,

In close attack, the middle of his shield

With a sharp brazen spear. The dark-haired god

Who rules the deep denied to Adamas

The life he sought, and weakened the hard stroke.

Part of the Trojan’s weapon, like a stake

Hardened by fire, stood fixed within the shield,

Part lay on earth, and he who cast it slunk

Among his comrades to avoid his fate.

Meriones, pursuing with his spear,

Smote him between the navel and the groin,

Where deadliest are the wounds in battle given

To man’s unhappy race. He planted there

The cruel blade, and Adamas, who fell,

Writhed panting round it, as a bullock bound

By cowherds on the mountain with strong cords

Pants as they lead him off against his will.

So wounded, Adamas drew heavy breath,

And yet not long. The brave Meriones,

Approaching, plucked the weapon forth, and night

Came o’er the eyes of Adamas. At hand

Stood Helenus, and struck Deipyrus

Upon the temple with his ponderous sword,

Of Thracian make, and cut the three-coned helm

Away, and dashed it to the ground; it rolled

Between a Grecian warrior’s feet, who stooped

And took it up, while o’er its owner’s eyes

The darkness gathered. Grieved at this, the son

Of Atreus, Menelaus great in war,

Rushed forward, threatening royal Helenus.

He brandished his sharp spear; the Trojan drew

His bow; advancing, one to hurl a lance,

And one to send an arrow. Priam’s son

Let fly a shaft at Menelaus’ breast.

The bitter missile from the hollow mail

Glanced off. As when from the broad winnowing-fan

On some wide threshing-floor the swarthy beans,

Or vetches, bound before the whistling wind

And winnower’s force, so, bounding from the mail

Of gallant Menelaus, flew afar

The bitter shaft. Then Menelaus, great

In battle, smote the hand of Helenus

That held the polished bow; the brazen spear

Passed through the hand, and reached the bow, and there

Stood fixed, while Helenus, avoiding death,

Drew back among his comrades, with his hand

Held low, and trailing still the ashen stem.

Magnanimous Agenor from the wound

Drew forth the blade, and wrapped the hand in wool,

Carefully twisted, taken from a sling

Carried by an attendant of the chief.


To meet the glorious Menelaus sprang

Pisander, led by his unhappy fate

To perish, Menelaus! by thy hand

In that fierce conflict. When the two were near,

Advancing toward each other, Atreus’ son

Took aim amiss; his spear flew far aside.

Pisander smote the buckler on the arm

Of mighty Menelaus, yet drave not

The weapon through. The broad shield stopped its force,

And broke it at the neck; yet hoped he still

For victory, and exulted. Then the son

Of Atreus drew his silver-studded sword

And sprang upon his foe, who from beneath

His buckler took a brazen battle-axe,

With a long stem of polished olive-wood.

Both struck at once. Pisander hewed away,

Below the crest, the plumèd helmet-cone

Of Atreus’ son, who smote, above the nose,

Pisander’s forehead, crashing through the bones.

Both bleeding eyes dropped to the ground amid

The dust; he fell; he writhed; the conqueror,

Advancing, set his heel upon his breast,

And stripped the armor off, and, boasting, said:⁠—


“Thus shall ye leave unharmed the fleet that brought

The knights of Greece, ye treaty-breaking sons

Of Ilium, never satisfied with war!

Yet lack ye not still other guilt and shame⁠—

Wrong done to me, ye dogs! Ye have not feared

The wrath of Hospitable Jove, who flings

The thunder, and will yet destroy your town,

With all its towers⁠—ye who, without a cause,

Bore off my youthful bride, and heaps of wealth,

When she had given you welcome as our guests.

And now ye seek to burn with fire the fleet

With which we cross the ocean, and to slay

The Grecian heroes. Ye shall yet be forced,

Eager for battle as ye are, to pause.

O Father Jupiter, who hast the praise

Of highest wisdom among gods and men!

All this is of thy ordering. How hast thou

Favored this arrogant crew of Troy, in love

With violence, who never have enough

Of war and all its many miseries!

All other things soon satisfy desire⁠—

Sleep, love, and song, and graceful dance, which most

Delight in more than warlike toils⁠—yet they

Of Troy are never satisfied with war.”

So spake the illustrious man, and, having stripped

The bloody armor from the dead, he gave

The spoil to his companions, and rejoined

The warriors in the van. Harpalion then,

A son of King Pytemenes, with whom

He left his home to join the war at Troy,

Assaulted him. He never saw again

His native land. Close to Atrides’ shield,

He struck it in the centre with his lance,

Yet could not drive the weapon through the brass,

And backward shrank, in fear of death, among

His comrades, looking round him lest some foe

Should wound him with the spear. Meriones

Let fly a brazen arrow after him,

Which, entering his right flank below the bone,

Passed through and cleft the bladder. Down he sank

Where the shaft struck him, breathing out his life

In the arms of his companions. Like a worm

He lay extended on the earth; his blood

Gushed forth, a purple stream, and steeped the soil.

The large-souled Paphlagonians came around,

And placed him in a chariot, sorrowing,

And bore him to the gates of sacred Troy.

The father followed weeping, but no hand

Was raised to avenge the slaughter of his son.


Yet deeply moved was Paris at his death,

For he had been Harpalion’s guest among

The Paphlagonians. Grieving for the slain,

He sent a brazen arrow from his bow.

Now there was one Euchenor, rich and brave,

The son of Polyidus, hoary seer;

His dwelling was in Corinth, and he came,

Forewarned and conscious of his fate, to Troy;

For often Polyidus, good old man,

Warned him that he within his palace halls

Should perish by a grievous malady,

Or else be slain by Trojan hands beside

The Grecian fleet. So, to escape at once

The censure of the Achaians and disease,

He came, lest he in after times might rue

His choice. And now between the jaw and ear

Did Paris smite him; from the warrior’s limbs

Life fled, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.


And then they fought; like a devouring fire

That battle was; but Hector, dear to Jove,

Had not yet learned that on the left the Greeks

Made havoc of his men; for in that hour

The Greeks had almost made the victory theirs,

So greatly had the god who shakes the shores

Kindled their courage, and with his own arm

Brought timely aid. Still Hector, pressing on

Where first he leaped within the gates and wall,

Broke the close phalanxes of shielded Greeks.

There, ranged beside the hoary deep, the ships

Of Ajax and Protesilaüs lay.

The wall that guarded them was low, and there

Warriors and steeds in fiercest conflict met;

There the Boeotians, there in their long robes

The Iaonians, there the Locrians, there

The men of Phthia, and the Epeians famed

For valor, held back Hector, struggling on

To reach the ships, yet found they had no power

To drive the noble warrior from the ground,

For he was like a flame. The chosen men

Of Athens formed the van. Menestheus, son

Of Peteus, was their leader, after whom

Phidas and Stichius followed, and with them

The gallant Bias. Meges, Phyleus’ son,

With Dracius and Amphion, marshalled there

The Epeians; while the Phthian band were led

By Medon and Podarces, warlike chief.

And Medon was the great Oileus’ son,

And brother of the lesser Ajax, born

Without the tie of wedlock, and he dwelt

Far from his native land, in Phylacè;

For by his violent hand the brother died

Of Eryopis, whom Oileus made

His lawful spouse. Podarces was the son

Of Iphiclus, and dwelt in Phylacè.

These, at the head of Phthia’s valiant youth,

And cased in massive armor, fought beside

Boeotia’s warriors for the Grecian fleet.


But Ajax swift of foot, Oileus’ son,

From him of Telamon departed not as

Even for an instant. As when two black steers

Of equal vigor o’er a fallow draw

The strongly jointed plough, till near their horns

Streams the warm sweat; the polished yoke alone

Holds them asunder, as they move along

The furrow, and the share divides the soil

That lies between them;⁠—so the heroic twain

Kept near each other. Many men and brave

Followed to Troy the son of Telamon

As his companions, and, when weariness

Came o’er his sweaty limbs, relieved their chief

Of his broad buckler. But the Locrian host

Attended not Oileus’ great-souled son,

Nor could they ever venture to engage

In combat hand to hand. No brazen helms

Were theirs, with horse-hair plumes, no orbèd shields,

Nor ashen spears. They came with him to Troy,

Trusting in their good bows, and in their slings

Of twisted wool, from which they showered afar

Stones that dispersed the phalanxes of Troy.

The chieftains Ajax, warring in the van,

Clad in their shining armor, fought to check

The Trojans and their leader, brazen-mailed,

While in the rear the Locrians lurked unseen,

And sent their shafts, so that the men of Troy,

All order lost, were fain to cease from fight.


Then had the Trojans from the ships and tents

Turned back, and fled, with fearful loss of life,

To lofty Ilium, if Polydamas

Had not accosted valiant Hector thus:⁠—


“Hector, thou hearkenest not to warning words.

Deem’st thou, because a god has given thee strength

Beyond all other men for feats of war,

That therefore thou art wiser than they all

In council? Think not for thyself to claim

All gifts at once. On one the god bestows

Prowess in war, upon another grace

In dance, upon another skill to touch

The harp and sing. In yet another, Jove

The Thunderer implants the prudent mind,

By which the many profit, and by which

Communities are saved; and well doth he

Who hath it know its worth. Now let me speak

What seems to me the wisest. Round thee flames

The encircling war; the valiant sons of Troy,

Since they have crossed the ramparts, stand aloof,

Armed as they are, or fight against large odds

Scattered among the galleys. Yield thou now

The ground, and, summoning the chiefs, decide

What plan to follow⁠—whether we shall storm

The well-oared galleys, should the God vouchsafe

The victory to us⁠—or else depart

In safety from the fleet. I greatly fear

The Achaians may repay to us the debt

Of yesterday. There yet is at the fleet

One who, I think, no longer will refrain

Wholly from battle.” Thus Polydamas

Spake, and the sage advice pleased Hector well,

Who, leaping from his chariot to the ground,

With all his weapons, said these wingèd words:⁠—


“Remain with all the bravest warriors here,

Polydamas, while I depart to give

The due commands, and instantly return.”


He spake, and with a shout he rushed away,

Seen from afar, like a snow-mountain’s peak,

And flew among the Trojans and allies,

Who crowded round the brave Polydamas,

The son of Panthoüs, at Hector’s call.

Among the foremost combatants he sought

Deïphobus, and mighty Helenus,

The king; he looked for Adamas, the son

Of Asius, and for Asius of the house

Of Hyrtacus. Some not unharmed he found,

Yet not o’ercome; while others lay in death

Beneath the galley sterns, where Grecian hands

Had slain them; others on the wall, struck down

By missiles, or in combat hand to hand.

There on the left of that disastrous fray

He met the noble Alexander, spouse

Of fair-haired Helen, as he cheered his men,

And rallied them to battle. Hector thus

Addressed his brother with reproachful words:⁠—


“Accursed Paris! Noble but in form,

Effeminate seducer! Where are now

Deïphobus, and mighty Helenus?

And Adamas, the son of Asius, where?

And Asius, son of Hyrtacus? and where

Orthryoneus? Now towering Ilium sinks

From her high summit, and thy fate is sure.”

And then the godlike Paris answered thus:⁠—


“Since it hath pleased thee, Hector, thus to cast

Reproach on me, though innocent, I may

Another day neglect the toils of war,

Although in truth my mother brought me forth

Not quite unapt for combat. Since the hour

When thou didst lead the battle to the ships

With thy companions, we have held our ground,

Here on this spot, contending with the Greeks.

Three chiefs for whom thou askest have been slain.

Deïphobus and mighty Helenus,

Both wounded in the hand by massive spears,

Have left the field; the son of Saturn saved

Their lives. Now lead us wheresoe’er thou wilt,

And we will follow thee with resolute hearts,

Nor deem that thou wilt find in us a lack

Of valor while our strength of arm remains.

The boldest cannot tight beyond his strength.”


With such persuasive words the warrior calmed

His brother’s anger, and they went where raged

The hottest conflict round Cebriones,

Phalces, Ortbasus, and the excellent

Polydamas, with Palmys at his side,

And Polyphoetes, godlike in his form,

And where Ascanius and Morys fought,

Sons of Hippotion. They the day before

Came marching from Ascania’s fertile fields,

Moved by the will of Jove to share the war.

All these swept on, as when a hurricane,

A thunder-gust, from Father Jupiter

Buffets the plain, and mingles with the deep,

In mighty uproar, and the billows rise

All over the resounding brine, and swell,

Whitening with foam, and chase each other on.

So moved the Trojans on, man after man,

In close array, all armed in glittering brass,

Following their generals. Hector, Priam’s son,

And peer of Mars in battle, led the van,

His round shield held before him, tough with hides

And overlaid with brass. Upon his brow

The gleaming helmet nodded as he moved.

On every side he tried the phalanxes,

If haply they might yield to his assault,

Made from beneath that buckler; but the Greeks

In spirit or in order wavered not.

And Ajax, striding forth, defied him thus:⁠—


“Draw nearer, friend! Think’st thou to frighten thus

The Greeks? We are not quite so inexpert

In war, although so cruelly chastised

By Jupiter. Thou thinkest in thy heart

That thou shalt make our ships thy spoil; but we

Have also our strong arms to drive thee back,

And far more soon the populous town of Troy,

Captured and sacked, shall fall by Grecian hands.

And now I warn thee that the hour is near

When, fleeing, thou shalt pray to Father Jove

And all the immortals, that thy long-maned steeds,

Bearing thee townward mid a cloud of dust

Along the plain, may be more swift than hawks.”


As thus he spake, an eagle, to the right,

High in the middle heaven, flew over him,

And, gladdened by the omen, all the Greeks

Shouted; but then illustrious Hector spake:⁠—

“Babbler and boaster, what wild words are these?

O Ajax! Would that I were but as sure

To be the child of aegis-bearing Jove,

Brought forth by Juno the august, and held

In honor everywhere like that which crowns

Apollo and Minerva, as I know

That to the Greeks this very day will bring

Destruction, and that thou shalt also lie

Slain with the others, if thou dare abide

The stroke of my long spear, which yet shall tear

Thy dainty flesh, and thou, with thy full limbs,

Shalt be the feast of Trojan dogs and birds,

Unburied by the galleys of the Greeks.”


So Hector spake, and led his warriors on.

They followed with a mighty shout; the rear

Sent up as loud a cry. On the other side

Shouted the Greeks, nor intermitted now

Their wonted valor, but stood firm to breast

The onset of the chosen men of Troy.

The mingled clamor of both hosts went up

To heaven, and to the shining seat of Jove.



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