Book XV

The Fifth Battle at the Ships

The anger of Jupiter on awaking appeased by Juno’s denial that she had instigated Neptune to aid the Greeks⁠—Iris despatched to recall Neptune from the field⁠—Mars, enraged at the death of his son Ascalaphus and arming to aid the Trojans, is restrained by Minerva⁠—Hector healed by Apollo⁠—His return to the field⁠—The Greeks driven back to the ships by the Trojans, who attempt to set the fleet on fire⁠—Defence of the ships by Ajax.

Now when the Trojans in their flight had crossed

Rampart and trench, and many had been slain

By the pursuing Greeks, they made a halt

Beside their chariots, in despair and pale

With terror. Meanwhile Jupiter awoke,

On Ida’s height, from slumber by the side

Of Juno, goddess of the golden throne.

At once he rose and saw the Trojan host

Routed, and, following close upon their flight,

The Argive warriors putting them to rout,

Aided by Neptune, sovereign of the sea,

And Hector lying on the field among

His fellow-warriors, breathing painfully,

Vomiting blood, and senseless, for the arm

That smote was not the feeblest of the Greeks.

The Father of immortals and of men

Beheld and pitied him, and terribly

Frowned upon Juno, and bespake her thus:⁠—

“O evil minded Juno, full of guile!

Thy arts have made the noble Hector leave

The combat, and have forced his troops to flee.

I know not whether’t were not well that thou

Shouldst taste the fruit of thy pernicious wiles,

Chastised by me with stripes. Dost thou forget

When thou didst swing suspended, and I tied

Two anvils to thy feet, and bound a chain

Of gold that none could break around thy wrists?

Then didst thou hang in air amid the clouds,

And all the gods of high Olympus saw

With pity. They stood near, but none of them

Were able to release thee. Whoso came

Within my reach I seized, and hurled him o’er

Heaven’s threshold, and he fell upon the earth

Scarce breathing. Yet the passion of my wrath,

Caused by the wrongs of godlike Hercules,

Was not to be so calmed; for craftily

Hadst thou called up the violent northern blast,

To chase him far across the barren deep,

And drive him from his course to populous Cos.

I rescued him at length, and brought him back

To Argos famed for steeds, though after long

And many hardships. I remind thee now

Of this, that thou mayst see of what avail

Hereafter thy dissembled love and all

Thy cunning strategies will be to thee.”

He spake, and Juno, large-eyed and august,

Shuddered, and answered Jove with wingèd words:⁠—

“Be witness, Earth, and the great Heavens above,

And waters of the Styx that glide beneath⁠—

That dreadful oath which most the blessed gods

Revere⁠—be witness, too, that sacred head

Of thine, and our own nuptial couch, by which

I would not rashly swear at any time,

That not by my persuasion Neptune went⁠—

The shaker of the shores⁠—to harass Troy

And Hector, and to aid the cause of Greece.

He went self-counselled; he had seen the Greeks

Pressed grievously beside their fleet, and took

Compassion on them. Yet would I advise

That he obey thy word, and take his place

Where thou, the Cloud compeller, bid’st him go.”

She ended, and the Father of the gods

And mortals smiled, and said, in wingèd words:⁠—

“Large-eyed, imperial Juno, wouldst thou sit

In council with the immortals, and assist

My purposes, then Neptune, though at heart

He were averse, would yet conform his will

To mine and thine. If thou dost truly speak,

And from thy heart, go now to where the gods

Assemble, summon Iris, and with her

The archer-god Apollo. Give in charge

To Iris that she hasten to the host

Of the mailed Greeks, and bid king Neptune leave,

The battle for his palace. Let the god

Phoebus, preparing Hector for the fight,

Breathe strength into his frame, that so he lose

The sense of pain which bows his spirit now,

And he shall force the Greeks again to flee

In craven fear. Then shall their flying host

Fall back upon the galleys of the son

Of Peleus, who shall send into the fight

His friend Patroclus. Him the mighty spear

Of Hector shall o’erthrow before the walls

Of Ilium, after many a Trojan youth

Shall by his hand have fallen, and with them

My noble son, Sarpedon. Roused to rage,

Then shall the great Achilles take the life

Of Hector. Be it from this time my care

That all the assaults of Trojans in the fleet

Be beaten back, till by Minerva’s aid

The Greeks possess the lofty town of Troy.

Still am I angry, nor will I allow

One of the ever-living gods to aid

The Greeks, until the prayer of Peleus’ son

Shall fully be accomplished, as my word

And nod were given, when Thetis clasped my knees,

Entreating me to honor, signally,

Her son, Achilles, spoiler of walled towns.”

He spake; the white-armed goddess willingly

Obeyed him, and from Ida’s summit flew

To high Olympus. As the thought of man

Flies rapidly, when, having travelled far,

He thinks, “Here would I be, I would be there,”

And flits from place to place, so swiftly flew

Imperial Juno to the Olympian mount,

And there she found the ever-living gods

Assembled in the halls of Jupiter.

These, as they saw her, starting from their seats,

Reached forth their cups to greet her. All the rest

She overlooked, and took the beaker held

By blooming Themis, who in haste had run

To meet her, and in wingèd accents said:⁠—

“Why comest thou, O Juno! with the look

Of one o’ercome with fear. Hath Saturn’s son,

Thy lord, disquieted thy soul with threats?”

The white-armed goddess Juno answered her:⁠—

“Ask me not, heavenly Themis⁠—thou dost know

The cruel, arrogant temper that is his⁠—

But sit presiding at the common feast,

In this fair palace of the gods, and thou

And all in heaven shall hear what evils Jove

Has threatened. All, I think, will not rejoice

To hear the tidings, be they gods or men,

Though some contentedly are feasting now.”

Thus having said, imperial Juno took

Her place, and all the gods within the halls

Of Jupiter were grieved. The goddess smiled,

But only with the lips; her forehead wore

Above the jetty brows no sign of joy,

While thus she spake in anger to the rest:⁠—

“Vainly, and in our madness, do we strive

With Father Jove. We come and seek by craft

Or force to move his stubborn will; he sits

Apart, unyielding, unregarding, proud

Of the vast strength and power in which he stands

Above all other of the deathless gods.

Bear therefore patiently whatever ill

He sends to each. Already, as I learn,

Hath Mars his share of sorrow. In the war

Ascalaphus hath perished, whom he loved

Dearly, beyond all other men, and whom

The fiery god acknowledged as his son.”

As thus she spake, Mars smote his sinewy thighs

With his dropped hands, and sorrowfully said:⁠—

“Be not offended with me, ye who make

Your dwelling on Olympus, if I go

Down to the Achaian fleet, and there avenge

The slaughter of my son, though I be doomed

To fall before the thunderbolt of Jove,

And lie in blood and dust among the dead.”

He spake, and summoned Fear and Flight to yoke

His steeds, and put his glorious armor on.

Then greater and more terrible had been

The avenging wrath of Jupiter inflamed

Against the gods, if Pallas in her fear

For all the heavenly dwellers had not left

Her throne, and, rushing through the portals, snatched

The helmet from his head, and from his arm

The shield, and from his brawny hand the spear,

And laid the brazen weapon by, and thus

Rebuked the fiery temper of the god:⁠—

“Thou madman, thou art frantic, thou art lost!

Hast thou not ears to hear, nor any shame

Nor reason left? Hast thou not heard the words

Of white-armed Juno, who so lately left

Olympian Jupiter? Wouldst thou return

In pain and sorrow to the Olympian heights,

Driven back ingloriously, and made the cause

Of many miseries to all the gods?⁠—

For Jove would leave the Trojans and their foes,

The gallant Greeks, and turn on us, and bring

Ruin upon Olympus. He would seize

Guilty and guiltless in his rage alike.

Wherefore I counsel thee to lay aside

Resentment for the slaughter of thy son,

Since braver men and stronger have been slain,

And will be slain hereafter. Vain it were

To seek from death to save the race of man.”

She said, and, leading back the fiery Mars,

Seated him on his throne, while Juno called

Apollo forth, with Iris, messenger

Of heaven, and thus in wingèd accents spake:⁠—

“Jove calls you both to Ida. When ye reach

Its heights, and look upon his countenance,

Receive his sovereign mandate and obey.”

So spake imperial Juno, and withdrew

And took her seat again, while they in haste

Flew toward the mount of Ida, seamed with rills

And nurse of savage beasts. Upon the top

Of Gargarus they found the Thunderer,

The son of Saturn, sitting. In a cloud

Of fragrant haze he sat concealed; the twain

Entered and stood before the God of Storms,

Who saw them not displeased, so speedily

Had they obeyed his consort. First he turned

To Iris, and in wingèd accents said:⁠—

“Haste thee, swift Iris, and report my words

To royal Neptune, and report them right.

Bid him, withdrawing from the battle-field,

Repair to the assembly of the gods,

Or the great ocean. If he disobey,

Contemning my command, then bid him think

Maturely, whether, mighty though he be,

He can withstand when I put forth my power

Against him. Greater is my strength than his,

And elder-born am I. Yet in his pride

Of heart he dares to call himself my peer,

Though all the others look on me with awe.”

Thus spake the god, and Iris, whose swift feet

Are like the wind, obeyed, and downward plunged

From Ida’s height to sacred Troy. As when

Snow-flakes or icy hail are dropped to earth

From clouds before the north wind when it sweeps

The sky, so darted Iris to the ground,

And stood by mighty Neptune’s side, and said:⁠—

“O dark-haired shaker of the shores, I bring

A message from the Aegis-bearer, Jove,

That thou, withdrawing from the battle-field,

Repair to the assembly of the gods,

Or the great ocean. If thou disobey,

Contemning his command, then hear his threat:

He will come hither and put forth his power

Against thee, and he warns thee not to tempt

The strife; for greater is his power than thine,

And he is elder-born, though in thy pride

Of heart thou dost declare thyself the peer

Of him whom all the rest regard with awe.”

Illustrious Neptune answered with disdain:⁠—

“In truth an arrogant speech; he seeks by forte

To bar me from my purpose, who can claim

Rights equal to his own, though great his power.

We are three brothers⁠—Rhea brought us forth⁠—

The sons of Saturn⁠—Jupiter, and I,

And Pluto, regent of the realm below.

Three parts were made of all existing things,

And each of us received his heritage.

The lots were shaken; and to me it fell

To dwell forever in the hoary deep,

And Pluto took the gloomy realm of night,

And, lastly, Jupiter the ample heaven

And air and clouds. Yet doth the earth remain,

With high Olympus, common to us all.

Therefore I yield me not to do his will,

Great as he is; and let him be content

With his third part. He cannot frighten me

With gestures of his arm. Let him insult

With menaces the daughters and the sons

Of his own loves, and give them law, since they

Perforce must hear, and patiently submit.”

Then the fleet-footed Iris spake again:⁠—

“O dark-haired Neptune, shall I bear from thee

This harsh, defiant answer back to Jove,

Or shall it yet be changed? The prudent mind

Yields to the occasion, and thou knowest well

The Furies wait upon the elder-born.”

Then spake in turn the god who shakes the shores:⁠—

“O goddess Ins, thou hast wisely said.

An excellent thing it is when messengers

Know how to counsel well. But in my heart

And soul a wrathful sense of injury

Arises when he chides with insolent words

Me, who was equal with him in my lot,

And born to equal destinies. Yet now,

Although offended, I give way; but this

I tell thee, and ’tis from my heart⁠—if he,

In spite of me and Pallas, spoiler-queen,

And Juno, Mercury, and Vulcan, spare

The towers of Troy⁠—if he refuse to bring

Ruin on her, and glory on the Greeks,

Then let him know that hatred without end

Or intermission is between us two.”

As thus he spake, the shaker of the shores

Quitted the Grecian army, took his way

Seaward, and plunged into the deep. The host

Perceived their loss. Then Cloud-compelling Jove

Turned to Apollo and addressed him thus:⁠—

“Now go at once to Hector, mailed in brass,

Beloved Phoebus, for the god who shakes

The earth, departing to the ocean-deeps,

Avoids our wrath; else had the other gods,

Even they who far beneath the earth surround

Old Saturn, heard our quarrel. Well it is

For both of us that he, although enraged,

Braved not my arm, for otherwise the strife

Had not been ended without sweat. Now take

The fringèd aegis in thy hands, and shake

Its orb before the warrior Greeks, to fill

Their hearts with fear. I give, O archer-god,

Illustrious Hector to thy charge. Revive

The might that dwelt within him, till the Greeks

Reach, in their flight, the fleet and Hellespont;

Then shall it be my care, by word and deed,

To give them rest and respite from their toils.”

He spake: Apollo hearkened and obeyed

His father, darting down from Ida’s height

Like the fleet falcon, chaser of the dove,

And swiftest of the race of birds. He found

Hector, the warlike Priam’s noble son,

No longer on his bed. He sat upright;

The life was coming back; he knew again

His friends; the heavy breathing ceased; the sweat

Was stanched; the will of aegis-bearing Jove

Revived the warrior’s strength. The archer-god,

Phoebus, approached, and, standing by him, said:⁠—

“Why, Hector, son of Priam, dost thou sit

Languishing thus, apart from all the host?

Has aught of evil overtaken thee?”

And then the crested Hector feebly said:

“Who mayst thou be, O kindest of the gods,

That thus dost question me? Hast thou not heard

That the great warrior Ajax, with a stone,

Smote me upon the breast, and made me leave

The battle-field, where I o’ertook and slew

His comrades by the galleys of the Greeks?

I thought to be this day among the dead

In Pluto’s mansion; even now it seemed

That I was breathing my dear life away.”

Then spake again Apollo, archer-god:⁠—

“Take courage, for the son of Saturn sends

From Ida’s summit one who will attend

And aid thee⁠—Phoebus of the golden sword,

Long practised to defend thy Troy and thee.

Rise now, encouraging thy numerous host

Of charioteers to press with their swift steeds

Straight toward the roomy galleys of the Greeks,

I go before to smooth for them the way,

And turn the Achaian bands, and make them flee.”

He spake, and into the great ruler’s breast

Breathed strength and courage. As a stabled horse,

Fed at his crib with barley, breaks the thong

That fastened him, and, issuing, scours the plain

Where he was wont in some smooth-flowing stream

To bathe his sides⁠—he holds his head aloft

Proudly, and o’er his shoulders streams the mane⁠—

Consciously beautiful, he darts away

On nimble knees, that bear him to the fields

He knows so well, and pastures of the mares;⁠—

So after he had hearkened to the god

Moved the swift feet of Hector, and he flew

To cheer his horsemen on. As peasant men

Rush with their dogs in chase of horned stag

Or mountain goat, whose refuge is among

Thickets and lofty rocks, nor can they take

Their prey, for at their clamor there appears

A maned lion in the way, and turns

The chasers back, although in hot pursuit⁠—

Thus did the Greeks embattled close pursue

The men of Ilium, striking with their swords

And two-edged spears; but when at length they saw

Hector among the ranks of armèd men,

Their hearts were troubled, and their courage sank.

Thoas, Andrannon’s son, the bravest far

Among the Aetolians, skilled to cast the spear

And combat hand to hand, addressed the Greeks.

In council few excelled him, when the youths

Assembled for debate. With prudent speech

Thoas bespake his fellow-warriors thus:⁠—

“Gods! What a marvel do mine eyes behold;

Hector has risen from death! We fully thought,

Each one of us, that, smitten by the hand

Of Telamonian Ajax, he had died.

Some god hath rescued and restored to strength

This Hector who hath slain, and yet will slay,

I fear, so many Greeks. He comes not thus

Leading the charge without the aid of Jove,

The God of Thunders. Now let all of us

Follow this counsel: bid the multitude

Retreat upon the ships, and let the rest,

Who boast ourselves the bravest of the host,

Stand firm and breast his onset, and so break

Its fury with our lifted spears. I think,

With all his rage, he will be slow to fling

Himself into a band of armèd Greeks.”

He spake; they hearkened and at once complied;

The Ajaxes, the Prince Idomeneus,

Teucer, Meriones, and Meges, peer

Of Mars, assembled all the chiefs, and ranked

Their files to encounter Hector and his band

Of Trojans, while the multitude fell back

To the Greek galleys. Then, in close array,

The Trojan host moved forward. Hector led

The van in rapid march. Before him walked

Phoebus, the terrible aegis in his hands

Dazzlingly bright within its shaggy fringe,

By Vulcan forged, the great artificer,

And given to Jupiter, with which to rout

Armies of men. With this in hand he led

The assailants on. The Achaians kept their ground

In serried ranks, and a sharp yell arose

From Greeks and Trojans. Arrows from the string

Flew through the air, and spears from valiant hands.

Some pierced the breasts of warrior-youths, but more

Fell half-way ere they reached their aim, and plunged

Into the ground, still hungering for their prey.

As long as Phoebus held the aegis still,

The weapons reached and wounded equally

Both armies, and in both the people fell;

But ever when the god looked face to face

On the Greek knights, and shook the orb, and gave

A mighty shout, he made their hearts to sink

Within their bosoms, and their courage fled.

As when two beasts of prey at dead of night

Suddenly, while their keeper is away,

Scatter a herd of beeves or flock of sheep,

So the disheartened Greeks were put to rout

For Phoebus sent among them fear, and gave

Victory to Hector and the men of Troy.

Then, as the lines were broken, man slew man.

First Stichius fell by Hector’s hand, and next

Arcesilaus; one was chief among

The mailed Boeotians, one the trusty friend

Of brave Menestheus. Medon fell before

Aeneas, and with him Iasus died.

Medon was great Otleus’ base-born son,

And Ajax was his brother, and he dwelt

In Phylacè, an exile, for his hand

Had slain the brother of his father’s wife,

The step-dame Eriopis, late espoused.

Iasus was appointed to command

The warriors sent from Athens, and he claimed

His birth from Sphelus, son of Bucolus.

Mecistes fell before Polydamas.

Polites struck down Echius in the van,

And Clonius died by great Agenor’s hand;

And Paris, when Deiochus had turned

To flee, among the foremost combatants,

Smote him upon the shoulder from behind,

And drave the brazen weapon through his heart.

Then, while the Trojans stripped the dead, the Greeks

Fled every way, and, falling as they ran

Into the trench and on the stakes, were driven

Back o’er the rampart. Hector lifted up

His mighty voice, and bade the Trojans leave

The bloody spoil and hasten to the ships.

“And whomsoever I shall find apart

In any place, at distance from the ships,

There will I slay him. None of all his kin,

Women or men, shall build his funeral pile,

But dogs shall tear his limbs in sight of Troy.”

He spake; and on the shoulders of his steeds

He laid the lash, and urged them toward the foe,

And cheered the Trojans on. They joined their shouts

To his, and charged with all their steeds and cars;

And fearful was the din. Apollo marched

Before them, treading down with mighty feet

The banks of the deep ditch, and casting them

Back to the middle, till a causey rose,

Broad, and of length like that to which a spear

Reaches when thrown by one who tries his strength.

O’er this the Trojans poured into the camp

By squadrons, with Apollo still in front,

Holding the marvellous aegis. He with ease

O’erthrew the rampart. As a boy at play

Among the sea-shore sands in childish sport

Scatters with feet and hands the little mounds

He reared, thus didst thou cause the mighty work,

O archer Phoebus, which the Greeks had reared

With so much toil, to crumble. Thou didst fill

Their hearts with eager thoughts of flight, till, hemmed

Between the assailants and their ships, they stopped

And bade each other stand, and raised their hands

To all the gods, and offered vows aloud.

Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,

With arms extended toward the starry skies,

Prayed earnestly: “O Father Jove, if e’er

In fruitful Argos there were burned to thee

The thighs of fattened oxen or of sheep,

By one who asked a safe return to Greece,

And thou didst promise it, remember him,

God of Olympus, and avert from us

The day of evil. Suffer not the Greeks

To perish, slaughtered by the sons of Troy.”

So spake he supplicating. Jupiter

The All-disposer thundered as he heard

The old man’s prayer. The Trojans by that voice

Of aegis-bearing Jove were moved to press

The Greeks more resolutely, and were filled

With fiercer valor. As a mighty wave

On the great ocean, driven before a gale

Such as rolls up the hugest billow, sweeps

O’er the ship’s side, so swept the Trojan host

With dreadful tumult o’er the wall. They drave

Their steeds into the camp, and there they fought

Beside the galley-sterns, and hand to hand,

With two-edged spears⁠—they from their cars, the Greeks

From their black ships on high with long-stemmed poles

Which lay upon the decks, prepared for fight

At sea, and strongly joined to blades of brass.

Patroclus, while the Greeks and Trojans fought

Around the wall, at distance from the fleet

Sat with the brave Eurypylus in his tent,

Amusing him with pleasant talk, and dressed

His wound with balms that calmed the bitter pain.

But when he saw the Trojans bursting in

Over the wall, and heard the din, and saw

The Achaians put to rout, he gave a cry

Of sudden grief, and with his open hands

Smote both his thighs, and sorrowfully said:⁠—

“Eurypylus, I cannot stay with thee,

Much as thou needest me, for desperate grows

The struggle. Now let thine attendant take

The charge of thee. I hasten to persuade

Achilles to the field. Who knows but I,

With Jove’s good help, may change his purpose yet?

For potent are the counsels of a friend.”

The hero spake, and instantly his feet

Bore him away. Meanwhile the Achaian host

Firmly withstood the onset of their foes.

And yet, though greater was their multitude,

They could not drive the Trojans from the fleet,

Nor could the Trojans break, with all their power,

The serried lines, and reach the tents and ships.

As when a plumb-line, in the skilful hands

Of shipwright well instructed in his art

By Pallas, squares the beam that builds a barque,

So even was the fortune of the fray.

While some beside one galley waged the war,

And others round another, Hector came

To encounter Ajax the renowned, and both

Fought for one ship. The Trojan could not drive

The Greek away, and burn his ship with fire,

Nor the Greek drive the Trojan, for a god

Had brought him thither. Then did Ajax smite

Caletor, son of Clytius, with his spear

Upon the breast, as he was bringing fire

To burn the ship; he dropped the torch, and fell,

With clashing armor. Hector, as he saw

His kinsman lying slain amid the dust

By the black galley, raised his voice, and thus

Called to the Lycians and the men of Troy:⁠—

“Hear, men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sons

Of Dardanus, who combat hand to hand,

Stand firm, and never yield this narrow ground.

Rescue the son of Clytius, who has fallen

Before the ships, nor let the Achaians make

His arms their spoil.” The hero spake, and aimed

His shining spear at Ajax, whom it missed,

But smote Lycophron, Master’s son, who served

Ajax, and dwelt with him, for he had left

His native land, Cythera, having slain

One of the gallant Cytherean race.

Him Hector smote upon the head beneath

The ear with his keen weapon, as he stood

Near Ajax; from the galley’s stern he fell

Headlong upon the ground, with lifeless limbs.

Then to his brother Teucer Ajax spake:⁠—

“Dear Teucer, see, our faithful friend is gone,

The son of Mastor, from Cythera’s isle,

Whom we had learned to honor equally

With our own parents in our palaces.

He falls before the great-souled Hector’s hand.

Where, then, are now thy shafts that carry death,

And where the bow that Phoebus gave to thee?”

He spake, and Teucer, hearkening, came in haste,

With his bent bow, and quiver full of shafts,

And, standing near him, sent his arrows forth

Among the Trojan warriors. There he smote

Clitus, Pisenor’s eminent son, the friend

Of the renowned Polydamas, who claimed

His birth from Panthoüs. Clitus held the reins,

Guiding the coursers of Polydamas

Where most the crowded Grecian phalanxes

Wavered and broke, that so he might support

Hector and his companions. Soon he met,

Brave as he was, disaster which no hand

Had power to avert: the bitter arrow struck

His neck behind, and from the chariot-seat

He fell to earth; the startled steeds sprang back;

The empty chariot rattled. This the king

Polydamas perceived, and came to meet

His steeds, and gave them to Astinous,

The son of Protiaon, charging him

To keep them ever near, and in his sight,

While he, returning, mingled with the throng

That struggled in the van. Then Teucer aimed

Another shaft at Hector mailed in brass,

Which, had it reached him fighting gallantly,

Had made him leave the battle, for his life

Had ended there. The act was not unseen

By All-disposing Jupiter, whose power

Protected Hector, and denied the Greek

The glory hoped for; for he snapped in twain

The firmly twisted cord as Teucer drew

That perfect bow; the brazen arrow flew

Aside; the warrior’s hands let fall the bow,

And, shuddering, he bespake his brother thus:⁠—

“Now woe is me! Some deity, no doubt,

Brings all our plans to nought. ’Tis he whose touch

Strikes from my hand the bow, and snaps in twain

The cord just twisted, which I bound myself

This morning to the bow, that it might bear

The frequent arrow bounding toward the foe.”

He spake, and thus replied the man of might,

The Telamonian Ajax: “Lay aside

Thy bow, my brother, and thy store of shafts,

Since, in displeasure with the Greeks, a god

Has made them useless. Haste to arm thy hand

With a long spear, and on thy shoulders lay

A buckler, and with these attack the foe,

And bid thy fellows stand. Let Trojans see

That, even though the day thus far be theirs,

They cannot lay their hands on our good ships

Without a mighty struggle. Let us all

Be mindful of our fame for gallant deeds.”

He spake, and Teucer went to place the bow

Within the tents, and on his shoulders hung

A fourfold shield, and placed on his grand brows

A stately helmet with a horse-hair crest

That nodded fearfully. He took in hand

A ponderous spear with brazen blade, and sprang

Forward with hasty steps, and stood beside

His brother Ajax. Hector, when he saw

That Teucer’s shafts had failed him, called aloud

Upon the men of Lycia and of Troy:⁠—

“Ye men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sons

Of Dardanus who combat hand to hand,

Acquit yourselves like men, my friends, and prove

Your fiery valor by these roomy ships;

For I have seen with mine own eyes the shafts

Of their chief warrior rendered impotent

By Jupiter. His hand is plainly seen

Among the sons of men; to some he gives

Glory above the rest; from some he takes

The glory, and withdraws from their defence.

He withers now the courage of the Greeks,

And succors us. Press closely round the fleet,

And combat. Whosoe’er among you all,

Wounded or beaten down, shall meet his death,

So let him die; ’tis no inglorious fate

To perish fighting in his country’s cause;

And he shall leave his wife and children safe,

His home and household store inviolate,

If now the Greeks depart to their own land.”

With words like these he filled their hearts anew

With strength and courage. On the other side

Ajax exhorted thus his warrior friends:⁠—

“Shame on you, Greeks! We perish here, unless

We rescue with strong arms our host and fleet.

Think ye that, should the crested Hector seize

Our galleys, ye may reach your homes on foot?

Hear ye not Hector’s voice, who, fiercely bent

To burn our ships with fire, is cheering on

His warriors? To no dance he summons them,

But to the battle. Nought is left for us,

And other counsel there is none, save this:

Close with the foe; let every hand put forth

Its strength; far better’t were to die at once,

Or make at once our safety sure, than thus

To waste away, in lingering fight, beside

Our ships, destroyed by weaker arms than ours.”

So spake the chief, and all who heard received

Courage and strength. Then Hector put to death

Schedius, the son of Perimedes, prince

Of the Phocaeans. Ajax also slew

Laodamas, Antenor’s honored son,

A chief of infantry. Polydamas

Struck down Cyllenian Otus, who had come,

The comrade of Phylides, at the head

Of the high-souled Epeians. Meges saw,

And rushed upon Polydamas, who sprang

Aside unharmed, for Phoebus suffered not

The son of Panthoüs thus to be o’erthrown,

Fighting among the foremost. But the spear

Of Meges wounded Croesmus in the breast;

He fell with clanging arms. The slayer stripped

The corpse; but Dolops, son of Lampus, skilled

To wield the spear, leaped on him in the act.

Lampus, the father, best of men, was son

Of king Laomedon, and eminent

For warlike prowess. Dolops struck the shield

Of Meges in the midst; the corselet stayed

The blade with its close jointed plates, and saved

The warrior’s life. That corselet Phyleus brought

From Ephyrè, beside the Selleis,

Given by his host, Euphetes, king of men,

For his defence in battle, and it now

Preserved his son from death. Then Meges smote

With his sharp spear the helm that Dolops wore,

And from its summit struck the horse-hair crest,

New-tinged with purple, and the cone entire

Fell midst the dust. While Meges, standing firm,

Fought thus, and hoped the victory, to his aid

Came warlike Menelaus, unobserved,

And, standing near, smote Dolops from behind,

Beneath the shoulder, and drave through the spear

Till it appeared beyond. The Trojan fell

Upon his face, and both the Greeks rushed on

To wrench the brazen armor from his limbs,

When Hector saw his fall and called aloud

Upon the kindred of the slain. He first

Rebuked the valiant Melanippus, son

Of Hicetaon, who but lately fed

His slow-paced beeves at Percote, while yet

The enemy was far from Troy; but when

The Achaians landed from their well-oared barques,

He came to Troy, and took an eminent place

Among the Trojans. Near to Priam’s halls

He had his dwelling, honored equally

With Priam’s sons. Him Hector thus rebuked:⁠—

“Why, Melanippus, are we loitering thus?

Grievest thou not to see thy kinsman slain?

And see’st thou not how eagerly the Greeks

Are spoiling Dolops of his arms? Come on

With me. No time is this for distant fight,

But either we must rout the Greeks, or they

Will level to the ground the lofty towers

Of Ilium, and will slay its citizens.”

He spake, and led the way; his godlike friend

Followed him, while the son of Telamon,

Ajax, exhorted thus the sons of Greece:⁠—

“Be men, my friends, and let a noble dread

Of shame possess your hearts, and jealously

Look to each other’s honor in the heat

Of battle; for to men who flee there comes

No glory, and that way no safety lies.”

He spake, and all were eager to drive back

The assaulting foe; they heeded well his words,

And drew around their barques a fence of mail,

While Jove urged on the Trojans. Then it was

That Menelaus, brave in battle, spake

To rouse the courage of Antilochus:⁠—

“Antilochus, there is no other Greek

Younger than thou, or fleeter; none so strong

For combat. Would that, springing on the foe,

Thou mightest strike some Trojan warrior down.”

So speaking, he drew back; but he had roused

The courage of his friend, who, springing forth

From midst the foremost combatants, took aim,

First looking keenly round, with his bright spear,

From which the Trojans shrank as they beheld

The hero cast it. Not in vain he threw

The weapon, for it struck upon the breast

Brave Melanippus, Hicetaon’s son;

Beneath the pap it smote him as he came.

He fell with ringing arms; Antilochus

Sprang toward him like a hound that springs to seize

A wounded fawn, which, leaping from its lair,

Is stretched disabled by the hunter’s dart.

So sprang the stout Antilochus on thee,

O Melanippus!⁠—sprang to spoil thy limbs

Of armor; but the noble Hector saw,

And, hastening through the thick of battle, came

Against him. Mighty as he was in war,

Yet ventured not Antilochus to wait

His coming; but as flees a savage beast,

Conscious of guilty deed, when, having slain

Herdsman or hound, that kept the pastured kine,

He steals away before a crowd of men,

So fled the son of Nestor. On his rear

The Trojans under Hector poured a storm

Of weapons, and the din was terrible.

Yet when he reached the serried ranks of Greece

He turned and stood. Meanwhile the Trojan host,

Like ravening lions, fiercely rushed against

The galleys, that the will of Jupiter

Might be fulfilled; for now he nerved their limbs

With vigor ever new, while he denied

Stout hearts and victory to the Greeks, and cheered

Their foes with hope. His purpose was to give

The victory to Hector, Priam’s son,

Till he should cast upon the beaked ships

The fierce, devouring fire, and bring to pass

The end for which the cruel Thetis prayed.

Therefore did Jove the All-disposer wait

Till from a burning galley he should see

The flames arise. Then must the Trojan host⁠—

Such was his will⁠—retreating from the fleet,

Yield to the Greeks the glory of the day.

For this he moved the already eager heart

Of Hector, son of Priam, to attack

The roomy ships. The hero was aroused

To fury fierce as Mars when brandishing

His spear, or as a desolating flame

That rages on a mountain-side among

The thickets of a close-grown wood. His lips

Were white with foam; his eyes from underneath

His frowning brows streamed fire; and as he fought,

Upon the hero’s temples fearfully

The helmet nodded. Jupiter himself

Sent aid from his high seat, and heaped on him

Honor and fame beyond the other chiefs⁠—

And they were many⁠—for his term of life

Was to be short. Minerva even now

Was planning to bring on its closing day,

Made fatal by the might of Peleus’ son.

And now he strove to break the Grecian ranks,

Assaulting where he saw the thickest crowd

And the best weapons; yet in vain he strove

With all his valor. Through the serried lines

He could not break; the Greeks in solid squares

Resisted, like a rock that huge and high

By the gray deep abides the buffetings

Of the shrill winds and swollen waves that beat

Against it. Firmly thus the Greeks withstood

The Trojan host, and fled not. In a blaze

Of armor, Hector, rushing toward their ranks,

Fell on them like a mighty billow raised

By the strong cloud-born winds, that flings itself

On a swift ship, and whelms it in its spray,

While fearfully among the cordage howls

The blast; the sailors tremble and are faint

With fear, as men who deem their death-hour nigh.

So the Greek warriors were dismayed at heart.

As when a hungry lion suddenly

Springs on a herd of kine that crop the grass

By hundreds in the broad moist meadow-grounds,

Beneath the eye of one who never learned

To guard his hornèd charge from beasts of prey,

But ever walks before them or behind,

While the grim spoiler bounds into the midst

And makes a prey of one, and all the rest

Are scattered in affright, so all the Greeks

Were scattered by the will of heaven before

Hector and Father Jove. Yet only one,

Young Periphoetes of Mycenae, fell,

The son of Copreus. Once his father went

An envoy from Eurystheus to the court

Of mighty Hercules. The son excelled

The father in all gifts of form and mind,

In speed, in war, in council eminent

Among the noblest of his land. His death

Brought Hector new renown; for as he turned,

Stepping by chance upon his buckler’s rim,

That reached the ground⁠—the buckler which had been

His fence against the enemy’s darts⁠—he fell

Backward, his helmet clashing fearfully

Around his temples. Hector saw, and came

In haste, and pierced his bosom with his spear,

Among his fellow-warriors, who with grief

Beheld, yet dared not aid him, such their awe

Of noble Hector. Now the Greeks retired

Among that row of galleys which were first

Drawn up the beach; the foe poured after them,

In hot pursuit; again the Greeks fell back,

Constrained, and left that foremost row behind,

And stood beside their tents in close array,

And not dispersed throughout the camp, for shame

And fear restrained them, and unceasingly

With shouts they bade each other bravely stand.

Chiefly Gerenian Nestor, wise to guide

The counsels of the Greeks, adjured them all,

And in their parents’ name, to keep their ground.

“O friends, be men; so act that none may feel

Ashamed to meet the eyes of other men.

Think each one of his children and his wife,

His home, his parents, living yet or dead.

For them, the absent ones, I supplicate,

And bid you rally here, and scorn to fly.”

He spake, and his brave words to every heart

Carried new strength and courage. Pallas then

Lifted the heaven-sent cloud that veiled the fight,

And all things in the clear full light were seen

On either side, both where the galleys lay

And where the warriors struggled. They beheld

Hector the great in war, and all his host,

Both those who formed the rear and wielded not

Their arms, and those who combated in front

Beside the ships. And now it pleased no more

The soul of valiant Ajax to remain

In the thick squadrons with the other Greeks,

But, striding on the galley-decks, he bore

A sea-pike two and twenty cubits long,

Huge, and beset with iron nails. As when

One who is skilled to vault on running steeds

Chooses four horses from a numerous herd,

And on the highway to a populous town

Drives them, while men and women in a crowd

Behold his feats with wonder, as he leaps

Boldly, without a fall, from steed to steed,

And back again, and all the while they run,

So on the lofty decks of those good ships

From ship to ship flew Ajax, lifting up

His mighty voice⁠—a shout that reached to heaven⁠—

And bade the Greeks defend their fleet and tents.

Nor loitered Hector in those armèd throngs

Of Troy, but as a tawny eagle swoops

Upon a flock of birds that seek their food

Along a river’s border⁠—geese or cranes,

Or long-necked swans⁠—so Hector in hot haste

Sprang toward a galley with an azure prow,

While mightily the power of Jove impelled

The hero onward, and inflamed his train

With courage. Fiercely then around the ships

The struggle was renewed. Thou wouldst have said

No toils of war could tire those resolute arms,

So stubbornly they fought. In every mind

The thought was this: the Greeks were in despair

Of rescue, and believed their hour had come

To perish; every Trojan hoped to give

The fleet to flames, and slay the sons of Greece.

With thoughts like these the hostile warriors closed.

Then Hector laid his hand upon the stern

Of a stanch galley, beautiful and swift,

In which Protesilaüs came to Troy⁠—

It never bore him back. Around its keel

The Trojans and the Greeks fought hand to hand,

And slew each other. For no more they sent

The arrow or the javelin from afar,

Waiting to see the wound it gave, but each

With equal fury pressed upon his foe

With halberd and with trenchant battle-axe,

Huge sword and two-edged spear. Upon the ground

Had fallen many a fair black-hilted sword

With solid handles, some from slain men’s hands,

Some from lopped arms of warriors; the dark earth

Ran red with blood. But Hector, having laid

His hand upon the galley’s stern, held fast

To the carved point, and called upon his men:⁠—

“Bring fire, and press in throngs upon the foe;

For now doth Jove vouchsafe to us a day

Worth all the past⁠—a day on which we make

The ships our prey. Against the will of Heaven

They landed on our coast, and brought on us

Disasters many, through the coward fears

Of our own elders, who denied my wish

To combat at the galleys, and held back

The people. But if then the Thunderer

Darkened our minds, his spirit moves us now

In what we do, and we obey his will.”

He spake; and they with fiercer valor fell

Upon the Greeks. Even Ajax could no more

Withstand the charge, but, fearing to be slain,

Amid a storm of darts withdrew a space,

To where the seven-foot bench of rowers lay,

And left the galley’s stern. There, as he stood,

He watched the assailants keenly, and beat back

With thrusts of his long spear whoever brought

The firebrand. With terrific shouts he called

Upon the Greeks to combat manfully:⁠—

“O friends, Achaian heroes, ministers

Of Mars, be men, be mindful of your fame

For valor. Do ye dream that in your rear

Are succors waiting us, or firmer walls

That may protect us yet? Nay, no fenced town

Have we for refuge, flanked with towers from which

Fresh troops may take our place. Between the sea

And country of the well-armed Trojans lie

Our tents; our native land is far away;

And now our only hope of safety left

Is in our weapons: there is no retreat.”

He spake, and mightily with his sharp spear

Thrust at whoever of the men of Troy

At Hector’s bidding came with fire to burn

The galleys. On the blade of that long spear

The hero took them as they came, and slew

In close encounter twelve before the fleet.