{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_51355/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_51355","id":"gutenberg_51355","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51355","summary":null,"tags":["Achilles (Mythological character) -- Poetry","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English","Trojan War -- Poetry"],"text":"The Iliads of Homer\nby Homer\n\nTranslated from the Greek\nby George Chapman\n\nLondon: Published by\nSimpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co. Ltd.\n\nNew York: published by\nCharles Scribner\u2019s Sons\n\n******************************\nTranscriber\u2019s note:\n\n\nObvious typographic errors corrected without note in the text. (E.g.\nIn many cases, \u201crenown\u201d and its variants are spelled \u201crenowm\u201d in the\noriginal).\n\n\nInconsistent spellings in the original text, particularly of proper\nnames with special characters, retained in the transcription (E.g.\nPeleus/Pele\u00fcs).\n\n\nLink for footnote in Book XIV missing from original text.\nFootnote[1]\nis included and assumed to refer to the entire book.\n\n\n******************************\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY\n TO THE READER\n THE PREFACE TO THE READER\n OF HOMER\n THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE THIRD BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE FIFTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE SEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE NINTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE SIXTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE NINETEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWENTIETH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n THE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n EPILOGUE TO HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\n\n\n\nTHE ILIADS OF HOMER\n\n\nTHE EPISTLE DEDICATORY\n\nTO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE INCOMPARABLE HEROE, HENRY, PRINCE OF\nWALES.\n\n\nThy tomb, arms, statue, all things fit to fall\nAt foot of Death, and worship funeral,\nForm hath bestow\u2019d; for form is nought too dear.\nThy solid virtues yet, eterniz\u2019d here,\nMy blood and wasted spirits have only found\nCommanded cost, and broke so rich a ground,\nNot to inter, but make thee ever spring,\nAs arms, tombs, statues, ev\u2019ry earthy thing,\nShall fade aid vanish into fume before.\nWhat lasts thrives least; yet wealth of soul is poor,\nAnd so \u2019tis kept. Not thy thrice-sacred will,\nSign\u2019d with thy death, moves any to fulfil\nThy just bequests to me. Thou dead, then I\nLive dead, for giving thee eternity.\n\n_Ad Famam._\n\n\nTo all times future this time\u2019s mark extend,\nHomer no patron found, nor Chapman friend.\n        Ignotus nimis omnibus,\n        Sat notus moritur sibi.\n\nTO THE HIGH BORN PRINCE OF MEN,\nHENRY, THRICE ROYAL INHERITOR TO THE UNITED KINGDOMS OF GREAT BRITAIN,\nETC.\n\nSince perfect happiness, by Princes sought,\nIs not with birth born, nor exchequers bought,\nNor follows in great trains, nor is possest\nWith any outward state, but makes him blest\nThat governs inward, and beholdeth there\nAll his affections stand about him bare,\nThat by his pow\u2019r can send to Tower and death\nAll traitorous passions, marshalling beneath\nHis justice his mere will, and in his mind\nHolds such a sceptre as can keep confin\u2019d\nHis whole life\u2019s actions in the royal bounds\nOf virtue and religion, and their grounds\nTakes in to sow his honours, his delights,\nAnd c\u00f3mplete empire; you should learn these rights,\nGreat Prince of men, by princely precedents,\nWhich here, in all kinds, my true zeal presents\nTo furnish your youth\u2019s groundwork and first state,\nAnd let you see one godlike man create\nAll sorts of worthiest men, to be contriv\u2019d\nIn your worth only, giving him reviv\u2019d\nFor whose life Alexander would have giv\u2019n\nOne of his kingdoms; who (as sent from heav\u2019n,\nAnd thinking well that so divine a creature\nWould never more enrich the race of nature)\nKept as his crown his works, and thought them still\nHis angels, in all pow\u2019r to rule his will;\nAnd would affirm that Homer\u2019s poesy\nDid more advance his Asian victory,\nThan all his armies. O! \u2019tis wond\u2019rous much,\nThough nothing priz\u2019d, that the right virtuous touch\nOf a well-written soul to virtue moves;\nNor have we souls to purpose, if their loves\nOf fitting objects be not so inflam\u2019d.\nHow much then were this kingdom\u2019s main soul maim\u2019d,\nTo want this great inflamer of all pow\u2019rs\nThat move in human souls! All realms but yours\nAre honour\u2019d with him, and hold blest that state\nThat have his works to read and contemplate:\nIn which humanity to her height is rais\u2019d,\nWhich all the world, yet none enough, hath prais\u2019d;\nSeas, earth, and heav\u2019n, he did in verse comprise,\nOut-sung the Muses, and did equalize\nTheir king Apollo; being so far from cause\nOf Princes\u2019 light thoughts, that their gravest laws\nMay find stuff to be fashion\u2019d by his lines.\nThrough all the pomp of kingdoms still he shines,\nAnd graceth all his gracers. Then let lie\nYour lutes and viols, and more loftily\nMake the heroics of your Homer sung,\nTo drums and trumpets set his angel\u2019s tongue,\nAnd, with the princely sport of hawks you use,\nBehold the kingly flight of his high muse,\nAnd see how, like the ph\u0153nix, she renews\nHer age and starry feathers in your sun,\nThousands of years attending ev\u2019ry one\nBlowing the holy fire, and throwing in\nTheir seasons, kingdoms, nations, that have been\nSubverted in them; laws, religions, all\nOffer\u2019d to change and greedy funeral;\nYet still your Homer, lasting, living, reigning,\nAnd proves how firm truth builds in poet\u2019s feigning.\n\nA prince\u2019s statue, or in marble carv\u2019d,\nOr steel, or gold, and shrin\u2019d, to be preserv\u2019d,\nAloft on pillars or pyramides,\nTime into lowest ruins may depress;\nBut drawn with all his virtues in learn\u2019d verse,\nFame shall resound them on oblivion\u2019s hearse,\nTill graves gasp with her blasts, and dead men rise.\nNo gold can follow where true Poesy flies.\n\nThen let not this divinity in earth,\nDear Prince, be slighted as she were the birth\nOf idle fancy, since she works so high;\nNor let her poor disposer, Learning, lie\nStill bed-rid. Both which being in men defac\u2019d,\nIn men with them is God\u2019s bright image ras\u2019d;\nFor as the Sun and Moon are figures giv\u2019n\nOf his refulgent Deity in heav\u2019n,\nSo Learning, and, her light\u2019ner, Poesy,\nIn earth present His fiery Majesty.\nNor are kings like Him, since their diadems\nThunder and lighten and project brave beams,\nBut since they His clear virtues emulate,\nIn truth and justice imaging His state,\nIn bounty and humanity since they shine,\nThan which is nothing like Him more divine;\nNot fire, not light, the sun\u2019s admir\u00e9d course,\nThe rise nor set of stars, nor all their force\nIn us and all this cope beneath the sky,\nNor great existence, term\u2019d His treasury;\nSince not for being greatest He is blest,\nBut being just, and in all virtues best.\n\nWhat sets His justice and His truth best forth,\nBest Prince, then use best, which is Poesy\u2019s worth;\nFor, as great princes, well inform\u2019d and deck\u2019d\nWith gracious virtue, give more sure effect\nTo her persuasions, pleasures, real worth,\nThan all th\u2019 inferior subjects she sets forth;\nSince there she shines at full, hath birth, wealth, state,\nPow\u2019r, fortune, honour, fit to elevate\nHer heav\u2019nly merits, and so fit they are,\nSince she was made for them, and they for her;\nSo Truth, with Poesy grac\u2019d, is fairer far,\nMore proper, moving, chaste, and regular,\nThan when she runs away with untruss\u2019d Prose;\nProportion, that doth orderly dispose\nHer virtuous treasure, and is queen of graces;\nIn Poesy decking her with choicest phrases,\nFigures and numbers; when loose Prose puts on\nPlain letter-habits makes her trot upon\nDull earthly business, she being mere divine;\nHolds her to homely cates and harsh hedge-wine,\nThat should drink Poesy\u2019s nectar; ev\u2019ry way\nOne made for other, as the sun and day,\nPrinces and virtues. And, as in spring,\nThe pliant water mov\u2019d with anything\nLet fall into it, puts her motion out\nIn perfect circles, that move round about\nThe gentle fountain, one another raising;\nSo Truth and Poesy work; so Poesy, blazing\nAll subjects fall\u2019n in her exhaustless fount,\nWorks most exactly, makes a true account\nOf all things to her high discharges giv\u2019n,\nTill all be circular and round as heav\u2019n.\n\nAnd lastly, great Prince, mark and pardon me:\u2014\nAs in a flourishing and ripe fruit-tree,\nNature hath made the bark to save the bole,\nThe bole the sap, the sap to deck the whole\nWith leaves and branches, they to bear and shield\nThe useful fruit, the fruit itself to yield\nGuard to the kernel, and for that all those,\nSince out of that again the whole tree grows;\nSo in our tree of man, whose nervy root\nSprings in his top, from thence ev\u2019n to his foot\nThere runs a mutual aid through all his parts,\nAll join\u2019d in one to serve his queen of arts,[1]\nIn which doth Poesy like the kernel lie\nObscur\u2019d, though her Promethean faculty\nCan create men and make ev\u2019n death to live,\nFor which she should live honour\u2019d, kings should give\nComfort and help to her that she might still\nHold up their spirits in virtue, make the will\nThat governs in them to the pow\u2019r conform\u2019d,\nThe pow\u2019r to justice, that the scandals, storm\u2019d\nAgainst the poor dame, clear\u2019d by your fair grace,\nYour grace may shine the clearer. Her low place,\nNot showing her, the highest leaves obscure.\nWho raise her raise themselves, and he sits sure\nWhom her wing\u2019d hand advanceth, since on it\nEternity doth, crowning virtue, sit.\nAll whose poor seed, like violets in their beds,\nNow grow with bosom-hung and hidden heads;\nFor whom I must speak, though their fate convinces\nMe worst of poets, to you best of princes.\n        By the most humble and faithful implorer for all\n             the graces to your highness eternized\n                  by your divine Homer.\n                            Geo. Chapman.\n\n\n [1] Queen of arts\u2014the soul.\n\nTO THE SACRED FOUNTAIN OF PRINCES, SOLE EMPRESS OF BEAUTY AND VIRTUE,\nANNE, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, ETC.\n\n\nWith whatsoever honour we adorn\n  Your royal issue, we must gratulate you,\nImperial Sovereign; who of you is born\n  Is you, one tree make both the bole and bow.\nIf it be honour then to join you both\n  To such a pow\u2019rful work as shall defend\nBoth from foul death and age\u2019s ugly moth,\n  This is an honour that shall never end.\nThey know not virtue then, that know not what\n  The virtue of defending virtue is;\nIt comprehends the guard of all your State,\n  And joins your greatness to as great a bliss.\nShield virtue and advance her then, great Queen,\n  And make this book your glass to make it seen.\n          Your Majesty\u2019s in all subjection most\n             humbly consecrate,\n                GEO. CHAPMAN.\n\n\n\n\nTO THE READER\n\nLest with foul hands you touch these holy rites,\n  And with prejudicacies too profane,\nPass Homer in your other poets\u2019 slights,\n  Wash here. In this porch to his num\u2019rous fane,\nHear ancient oracles speak, and tell you whom\n  You have to censure. First then Silius hear,\nWho thrice was consul in renowned Rome,\n  Whose verse, saith Martial, nothing shall out-wear.\n\n\nSILIUS ITALICUS, LIB. XIII. 777\n\nHe, in Elysium having cast his eye\n  Upon the figure of a youth, whose hair,\nWith purple ribands braided curiously,\n  Hung on his shoulders wond\u2019rous bright and fair,\nSaid: \u201cVirgin, what is he whose heav\u2019nly face\n  Shines past all others, as the morn the night;\nWhom many marvelling souls, from place to place,\n  Pursue and haunt with sounds of such delight;\nWhose count\u2019nance (were\u2019t not in the Stygian shade)\n  Would make me, questionless, believe he were\nA very God?\u201d The learned virgin made\n  This answer: \u201cIf thou shouldst believe it here,\nThou shouldst not err. He well deserv\u2019d to be\n  Esteem\u2019d a God; nor held his so-much breast\nA little presence of the Deity,\n  His verse compris\u2019d earth, seas, stars, souls at rest;\nIn song the Muses he did equalize,\n  In honour Ph\u0153bus. He was only soul,\nSaw all things spher\u2019d in nature, without eyes,\n  And rais\u2019d your Troy up to the starry pole.\u201d\nGlad Scipio, viewing well this prince of ghosts,\n  Said: \u201cO if Fates would give this poet leave\nTo sing the acts done by the Roman hosts,\n  How much beyond would future times receive\nThe same facts made by any other known!\n  O blest \u00c6acides, to have the grace\nThat out of such a mouth thou shouldst be shown\n  To wond\u2019ring nations, as enrich\u2019d the race\nOf all times future with what he did know!\n  Thy virtue with his verse shall ever grow.\u201d\n\n\nNow hear an Angel sing our poet\u2019s fame,\nWhom fate, for his divine song, gave that name.\n\n\nANGELUS POLITIANUS, IN NUTRICIA\n\nMore living than in old Demodocus,\n  Fame glories to wax young in Homer\u2019s verse.\nAnd as when bright Hyperion holds to us\n  His golden torch, we see the stars disperse,\nAnd ev\u2019ry way fly heav\u2019n, the pallid moon\n  Ev\u2019n almost vanishing before his sight;\nSo, with the dazzling beams of Homer\u2019s sun,\n  All other ancient poets lose their light.\nWhom when Apollo heard, out of his star,\n  Singing the godlike act of honour\u2019d men,\nAnd equalling the actual rage of war,\n  With only the divine strains of his pen,\nHe stood amaz\u2019d and freely did confess\n  Himself was equall\u2019d in M\u00e6onides.\n\n\nNext hear the grave and learned Pliny use\nHis censure of our sacred poet\u2019s muse.\n\nPlin. Nat. Hist. lib. 7. cap. 29.\nTurned into verse, that no prose may come near Homer.\n\n\nWhom shall we choose the glory of all wits,\n  Held through so many sorts of discipline\nAnd such variety of works and spirits,\n  But Grecian Homer, like whom none did shine\nFor form of work and matter? And because\n  Our proud doom of him may stand justified\nBy noblest judgments, and receive applause\n  In spite of envy and illiterate pride,\nGreat Macedon, amongst his matchless spoils\n  Took from rich Persia, on his fortunes cast,\nA casket finding, full of precious oils,\n  Form\u2019d all of gold, with wealthy stones enchas\u2019d,\nHe took the oils out, and his nearest friends\n  Ask\u2019d in what better guard it might be us\u2019d?\nAll giving their conceits to sev\u2019ral ends,\n  He answer\u2019d: \u201cHis affections rather choos\u2019d\nAn use quite opposite to all their kinds,\n  And Homer\u2019s books should with that guard be serv\u2019d,\nThat the most precious work of all men\u2019s minds\n  In the most precious place might be preserv\u2019d.\nThe Fount of Wit was Homer, Learning\u2019s Sire,\n  And gave antiquity her living fire.\u201d\n\nVolumes of like praise I could heap on this,\n  Of men more ancient and more learn\u2019d than these,\nBut since true virtue enough lovely is\n  With her own beauties, all the suffrages\nOf others I omit, and would more fain\n  That Homer for himself should be belov\u2019d,\nWho ev\u2019ry sort of love-worth did contain.\n  Which how I have in my conversion prov\u2019d\nI must confess I hardly dare refer\n  To reading judgments, since, so gen\u2019rally,\nCustom hath made ev\u2019n th\u2019 ablest agents err[2]\n  In these translations; all so much apply\nTheir pains and cunnings word for word to render\n  Their patient authors, when they may as well\nMake fish with fowl, camels with whales, engender,\n  Or their tongues\u2019 speech in other mouths compell.\nFor, ev\u2019n as diff\u2019rent a production\n  Ask Greek and English, since as they in sounds\nAnd letters shun one form and unison;\n  So have their sense and elegancy bounds\nIn their distinguish\u2019d natures, and require\n  Only a judgment to make both consent\nIn sense and elocution; and aspire,\n  As well to reach the spirit that was spent\nIn his example, as with art to pierce\n  His grammar, and etymology of words.\nBut as great clerks can write no English verse,[3]\n  Because, alas, great clerks! English affords,\nSay they, no height nor copy; a rude tongue,\n  Since \u2019tis their native; but in Greek or Latin\nTheir writs are rare, for thence true Poesy sprung;\n  Though them (truth knows) they have but skill to chat in,\nCompar\u2019d with that they might say in their own;\n  Since thither th\u2019 other\u2019s full soul cannot make\nThe ample transmigration to be shown\n  In nature-loving Poesy; so the brake\nThat those translators stick in, that affect\n  Their word-for-word traductions (where they lose\nThe free grace of their natural dialect,\n  And shame their authors with a forc\u00e9d gloss)\nI laugh to see; and yet as much abhor[4]]\n  More license from the words than may express\nTheir full compression, and make clear the author;\n  From whose truth, if you think my feet digress,\nBecause I use needful periphrases,\n  Read Valla, Hessus, that in Latin prose,\nAnd verse, convert him; read the Messines\n  That into Tuscan turns him; and the gloss\nGrave Salel makes in French, as he translates;\n  Which, for th\u2019 aforesaid reasons, all must do;\nAnd see that my conversion much abates\n  The license they take, and more shows him too,\nWhose right not all those great learn\u2019d men have done,\n  In some main parts, that were his commentors.\nBut, as the illustration of the sun\n  Should be attempted by the erring stars,\nThey fail\u2019d to search his deep and treasurous heart;\n  The cause was, since they wanted the fit key\nOf Nature, in their downright strength of Art.[5]\n  With Poesy to open Poesy:\nWhich, in my poem of the mysteries\n  Reveal\u2019d in Homer, I will clearly prove;\nTill whose near birth, suspend your calumnies,\n  And far-wide imputations of self-love.\n\u2019Tis further from me than the worst that reads,\n  Professing me the worst of all that write;\nYet what, in following one that bravely leads,\n  The worst may show, let this proof hold the light.\nBut grant it clear; yet hath detraction got\n  My blind side in the form my verse puts on;\nMuch like a dung-hill mastiff, that dares not\n  Assault the man he barks at, but the stone\nHe throws at him takes in his eager jaws,\n  And spoils his teeth because they cannot spoil.\nThe long verse hath by proof receiv\u2019d applause\n  Beyond each other number; and the foil,\nThat squint-ey\u2019d Envy takes, is censur\u2019d plain;\n  For this long poem asks this length of verse,\nWhich I myself ingenuously maintain\n  Too long our shorter authors to rehearse.\nAnd, for our tongue that still is so impair\u2019d[6]\n  By travelling linguists, I can prove it clear,\nThat no tongue hath the Muse\u2019s utt\u2019rance heir\u2019d\n  For verse, and that sweet music to the ear\nStrook out of rhyme, so naturally as this;\n  Our monosyllables so kindly fall,\nAnd meet oppos\u2019d in rhyme as they did kiss;\n  French and Italian most immetrical,\nTheir many syllables in harsh collision\n  Fall as they break their necks; their bastard rhymes\nSaluting as they justled in transition,\n  And set our teeth on edge; nor tunes, nor times\nKept in their falls; and, methinks, their long words\n  Shew in short verse as in a narrow place\nTwo opposites should meet with two-hand swords\n  Unwieldily, without or use or grace.\nThus having rid the rubs, and strow\u2019d these flow\u2019rs\n  In our thrice-sacred Homer\u2019s English way,\nWhat rests to make him yet more worthy yours?\n  To cite more praise of him were mere delay\nTo your glad searches for what those men found\n  That gave his praise, past all, so high a place;\nWhose virtues were so many, and so crown\u2019d\n  By all consents divine, that, not to grace\nOr add increase to them, the world doth need\n  Another Homer, but ev\u2019n to rehearse\nAnd number them, they did so much exceed.\n  Men thought him not a man; but that his verse\nSome mere celestial nature did adorn;\n  And all may well conclude it could not be,\nThat for the place where any man was born,\n  So long and mortally could disagree\nSo many nations as for Homer striv\u2019d,\n  Unless his spur in them had been divine.\nThen end their strife and love him, thus receiv\u2019d,\n  As born in England; see him over-shine\nAll other-country poets; and trust this,\n  That whosesoever Muse dares use her wing\nWhen his Muse flies, she will be truss\u2019d by his,\n  And show as if a bernacle should spring\nBeneath an eagle. In none since was seen\n  A soul so full of heav\u2019n as earth\u2019s in him.\nO! if our modern Poesy had been\n  As lovely as the lady he did limn,\nWhat barbarous worldling, grovelling after gain,\n  Could use her lovely parts with such rude hate,\nAs now she suffers under ev\u2019ry swain?\n  Since then \u2019tis nought but her abuse and Fate,\nThat thus impairs her, what is this to her\n  As she is real, or in natural right?\nBut since in true Religion men should err\n  As much as Poesy, should the abuse excite\nThe like contempt of her divinity,\n  And that her truth, and right saint-sacred merits,\nIn most lives breed but rev\u2019rence formally,\n  What wonder is\u2019t if Poesy inherits\nMuch less observance, being but agent for her,\n  And singer of her laws, that others say?\nForth then, ye moles, sons of the earth, abhor her,\n  Keep still on in the dirty vulgar way,\nTill dirt receive your souls, to which ye vow,\n  And with your poison\u2019d spirits bewitch our thrifts.\nYe cannot so despise us as we you;\n  Not one of you above his mole-hill lifts\nHis earthy mind, but, as a sort of beasts,\n  Kept by their guardians, never care to hear\nTheir manly voices, but when in their fists\n  They breathe wild whistles, and the beasts\u2019 rude ear\nHears their curs barking, then by heaps they fly\n  Headlong together; so men, beastly giv\u2019n,\nThe manly soul\u2019s voice, sacred Poesy,\n  Whose hymns the angels ever sing in heav\u2019n,\nContemn and hear not; but when brutish noises,\n  For gain, lust, honour, in litigious prose\nAre bellow\u2019d out, and crack the barbarous voices\n  Of Turkish stentors, O, ye lean to those,\nLike itching horse to blocks or high may-poles;\n  And break nought but the wind of wealth, wealth, all\nIn all your documents; your asinine souls,\n  Proud of their burthens, feel not how they gall.\nBut as an ass, that in a field of weeds\n  Affects a thistle, and falls fiercely to it,\nThat pricks and galls him, yet he feeds, and bleeds,\n  Forbears a while, and licks, but cannot woo it\nTo leave the sharpness; when, to wreak his smart,\n  He beats it with his foot, then backward kicks,\nBecause the thistle gall\u2019d his forward part;\n  Nor leaves till all be eat, for all the pricks,\nThen falls to others with as hot a strife,\n  And in that honourable war doth waste\nThe tall heat of his stomach, and his life;\n  So in this world of weeds you worldlings taste\nYour most-lov\u2019d dainties, with such war buy peace,\n  Hunger for torment, virtue kick for vice,\nCares for your states do with your states increase,\n  And though ye dream ye feast in Paradise,\nYet reason\u2019s daylight shews ye at your meat\n  Asses at thistles, bleeding as ye eat.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PREFACE TO THE READER\n\nOf all books extant in all kinds, Homer is the first and best. No one\nbefore his, Josephus affirms; nor before him, saith Velleius\nPaterculus, was there any whom he imitated, nor after him any that\ncould imitate him. And that Poesy may be no cause of detraction from\nall the eminence we give him, Spondanus (preferring it to all arts and\nsciences) unanswerably argues and proves; for to the glory of God, and\nthe singing of his glories, no man dares deny, man was chiefly made.\nAnd what art performs this chief end of man with so much excitation and\nexpression as Poesy; Moses, David, Solomon, Job, Esay, Jeremy, etc.\nchiefly using that to the end abovesaid? And since the excellence of it\ncannot be obtained by the labour and art of man, as all easily confess\nit, it must needs be acknowledged a Divine infusion. To prove which in\na word, this distich, in my estimation, serves something nearly:\n\nGreat Poesy, blind Homer, makes all see\nThee capable of all arts, none of thee.\n\n\nFor out of him, according to our most grave and judicial Plutarch, are\nall Arts deduced, confirmed, or illustrated. It is not therefore the\nworld\u2019s vilifying of it that can make it vile; for so we might argue,\nand blaspheme the most incomparably sacred. It is not of the world\nindeed, but, like truth, hides itself from it. Nor is there any such\nreality of wisdom\u2019s truth in all human excellence, as in Poets\u2019\nfictions. That most vulgar and foolish receipt of poetical licence\nbeing of all knowing men to be exploded, accepting it, as if Poets had\na tale-telling privilege above others, no Artist being so strictly and\ninextricably confined to all the laws of learning, wisdom, and truth,\nas a Poet. For were not his fictions composed of the sinews and souls\nof all those, how could they defy fire, iron, and be combined with\neternity? To all sciences therefore, I must still, with our learned and\ningenious Spondanus, refer it, as having a perpetual commerce with the\nDivine Majesty, embracing and illustrating all His most holy precepts,\nand enjoying continual discourse with His thrice perfect and most\ncomfortable Spirit. And as the contemplative life is most worthily and\ndivinely preferred by Plato to the active, as much as the head to the\nfoot, the eye to the hand, reason to sense, the soul to the body, the\nend itself to all things directed to the end, quiet to motion, and\neternity to time; so much prefer I divine Poesy to all worldly wisdom.\nTo the only shadow of whose worth, yet, I entitle not the bold rhymes\nof every apish and impudent braggart, though he dares assume anything;\nsuch I turn over to the weaving of cobwebs, and shall but chatter on\nmolehills (far under the hill of the Muses) when their fortunatest\nself-love and ambition hath advanced them highest. Poesy is the flower\nof the Sun, and disdains to open to the eye of a candle. So kings hide\ntheir treasures and counsels from the vulgar, _ne evilescant_ (saith\nour Spond.). We have example sacred enough, that true Poesy\u2019s humility,\npoverty, and contempt, are badges of divinity, not vanity. Bray then,\nand bark against it, ye wolf-faced worldlings, that nothing but\nhonours, riches, and magistracy, _nescio quos turgid\u00e8 spiratis_ (that I\nmay use the words of our friend still) _qui solas leges Justinianas\ncrepatis; paragraphum unum aut alterum, pluris qu\u00e0m vos ipsos facitis,_\netc. I (for my part) shall ever esteem it much more manly and sacred,\nin this harmless and pious study, to sit till I sink into my grave,\nthan shine in your vainglorious bubbles and impieties; all your poor\npolicies, wisdoms, and their trappings, at no more valuing than a musty\nnut. And much less I weigh the frontless detractions of some stupid\nignorants, that, no more knowing me than their own beastly ends, and I\never (to my knowledge) blest from their sight, whisper behind me\nvilifyings of my translation, out of the French affirming them, when\nboth in French, and all other languages but his own, our\nwith-all-skill-enriched Poet is so poor and unpleasing that no man can\ndiscern from whence flowed his so generally given eminence and\nadmiration. And therefore (by any reasonable creature\u2019s conference of\nmy slight comment and conversion) it will easily appear how I shun\nthem, and whether the original be my rule or not. In which he shall\neasily see, I understand the understandings of all other interpreters\nand commentors in places of his most depth, importance, and rapture. In\nwhose exposition and illustration, if I abhor from the sense that\nothers wrest and wrack out of him, let my best detractor examine how\nthe Greek word warrants me. For my other fresh fry, let them fry in\ntheir foolish galls, nothing so much weighed as the barkings of the\npuppies, or foisting hounds, too vile to think of our sacred Homer, or\nset their profane feet within their lives\u2019 length of his thresholds. If\nI fail in something, let my full performance in other some restore me;\nhaste spurring me on with other necessities. For as at my conclusion I\nprotest, so here at my entrance, less than fifteen weeks was the time\nin which all the last twelve books were entirely new translated. No\nconference had with anyone living in all the novelties I presume I have\nfound. Only some one or two places I have showed to my worthy and most\nlearned friend, M. Harriots, for his censure how much mine own weighed;\nwhose judgment and knowledge in all kinds, I know to be incomparable\nand bottomless, yea, to be admired as much, as his most blameless life,\nand the right sacred expense of his time, is to be honoured and\nreverenced. Which affirmation of his clear unmatchedness in all manner\nof learning I make in contempt of that nasty objection often thrust\nupon me,\u2014that he that will judge must know more than he of whom he\njudgeth; for so a man should know neither God nor himself. Another\nright learned, honest, and entirely loved friend of mine, M. Robert\nHews, I must needs put into my confess\u2019d conference touching Homer,\nthough very little more than that I had with M. Harriots. Which two, I\nprotest, are all, and preferred to all. Nor charge I their authorities\nwith, any allowance of my general labour, but only of those one or two\nplaces, which for instances of my innovation, and how it showed to\nthem, I imparted. If any tax me for too much periphrasis or\ncircumlocution in some places, let them read Laurentius Valla, and\nEobanus Hessus, who either use such shortness as cometh nothing home to\nHomer, or, where they shun that fault, are ten parts more\nparaphrastical than I. As for example, one place I will trouble you (if\nyou please) to confer with the original, and one interpreter for all.\nIt is in the end of the third book, and is Helen\u2019s speech to Venus\nfetching her to Paris from seeing his cowardly combat with Menelaus;\npart of which speech I will here cite:\n\n\u039f\u1f55\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03b1 \u03b4\u1f74 \u03bd\u03c5\u0311\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u0311\u03bf\u03bd \u1fbd\u0391\u03bb\u03ad\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u039c\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03bf\u03c2\n\u039d\u03b9\u03ba\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2, &c.\n\n\nFor avoiding the common reader\u2019s trouble here, I must refer the more\nGreekish to the rest of the speech in Homer, whose translation _ad\nverbum_ by Spondanus I will here cite, and then pray you to confer it\nwith that which followeth of Valla.\n\n_Quoniam ver\u00f2 nunc Alexandrum Menelaus\nPostquam vicit, vult odiosam me domum abducere,\nPropterea ver\u00f2 nunc dolum (seu dolos) cogitans advenisti?\nSede apud ipsum vadens, deorum abnega vias,\nNeque unquam tuis pedibus revertaris in c\u0153lum,\nSed semper circa eum \u00e6rumnas perfer, et ipsum serva\nDonec te vel uxorem faciat, vel hic servam,_ etc.\n\n\nValla thus:\n\n_Quoniam victo Paride, Menelaus me miseram est reportaturus ad lares,\nideo tu, ideo fals\u00e2 sub imagine venisti, ut me deciperes ob tuam nimiam\nin Paridem benevolentiam: e\u00f2 dum illi ades, dum illi studes, dum pro\nillo satagis, dum illum observas atque custodis, deorum commercium\nreliquisti, nec ad eos reversura es ampli\u00f9s: ade\u00f2 (quantum suspicor)\naut uxor ejus efficieris, aut ancilla,_ &c.\n\nWherein note if there be any such thing as most of this in Homer; yet\nonly to express, as he thinks, Homer\u2019s conceit, for the more pleasure\nof the reader, he useth this overplus, _dum illi ades, dum illi studes,\ndum pro illo satagis, dum ilium observas, atque custodis, deorum\ncommercium reliquisti._ Which (besides his superfluity) is utterly\nfalse. For where he saith _reliquisti deorum commercium_, Helen saith,\n_\u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u0311\u03bd \u03b4\u1fbd\u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03cd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, deorum auten abnega_ or _abnue, vias,\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03af\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd (vel \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03b5\u03af\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd_ as it is used poetically) signifying\n_denegare_ or _aonuere_; and Helen (in contempt of her too much\nobserving men) bids her renounce heaven, and come live with Paris till\nhe make her his wife or servant; scoptically or scornfully speaking it;\nwhich both Valla, Eobanus, and all other interpreters (but these _ad\nverbum_) have utterly missed. And this one example I thought necessary\nto insert here, to show my detractors that they have no reason to\nvilify my circumlocution sometimes, when their most approved Grecians,\nHomer\u2019s interpreters generally, hold him fit to be so converted. Yet\nhow much I differ, and with what authority, let my impartial and\njudicial reader judge. Always conceiving how pedantical and absurd an\naffectation it is in the interpretation of any author (much more of\nHomer) to turn him word for word, when according to Horace and other\nbest lawgivers to translators) it is the part of every knowing and\njudicial interpreter, not to follow the number and order of words, but\nthe material things themselves, and sentences to weigh diligently, and\nto clothe and adorn them with words, and such a style and form of\noration, as are most apt for the language in which they are converted.\nIf I have not turned him ill any place falsely (as all other his\ninterpreters have in many, and most of his chief places) if I have not\nleft behind me any of his sentences, elegancy, height, intention, and\ninvention, if in some few places (especially in my first edition, being\ndone so long since, and following the common tract) I be something\nparaphrastical and faulty, is it justice in that poor fault (if they\nwill needs have it so) to drown all the rest of my labour? But there is\na certain envious windsucker, that hovers up and down, laboriously\nengrossing all the air with his luxurious ambition, and buzzing into\nevery ear my detraction, affirming I turn Homer out of the Latin only,\netc. that sets all his associates, and the whole rabble of my maligners\non their wings with him, to bear about my impair, and poison my\nreputation. One that, as he thinks, whatsoever he gives to others, he\ntakes from himself; so whatsoever he takes from others, he adds to\nhimself. One that in this kind of robbery doth like Mercury, that stole\ngood and supplied it with counterfeit bad still. One like the two\ngluttons, Philoxenus and Gnatho, that would still empty their noses in\nthe dishes they loved, that no man might eat but themselves. For so\nthis castrill, with too hot a liver, and lust after his own glory, and\nto devour all himself, discourageth all appetites to the fame of\nanother. I have stricken, single him as you can. Nor note I this, to\ncast any rubs or plashes out of the particular way of mine own\nestimation with the world; for I resolve this with the wilfully\nobscure:\n\nSine honore vivam, nulloque numero ero.\n\n\nWithout men\u2019s honours I will live, and make\nNo number in the manless course they take.\n\n\nBut, to discourage (if it might be) the general detraction of\nindustrious and well-meaning virtue, I know I cannot too much diminish\nand deject myself; yet that passing little that I am, God only knows,\nto Whose ever-implored respect and comfort I only submit me. If any\nfurther edition of these my silly endeavours shall chance, I will mend\nwhat is amiss (God assisting me) and amplify my harsh Comment to\nHomer\u2019s far more right, and mine own earnest and ingenious love of him.\nNotwithstanding, I know, the curious and envious will never sit down\nsatisfied. A man may go over and over, till he come over and over, and\nhis pains be only his recompense, every man is so loaded with his\nparticular head, and nothing in all respects perfect, but what is\nperceived by few. Homer himself hath met with my fortune, in many\nmaligners; and therefore may my poor self put up without motion. And so\nlittle I will respect malignity, and so much encourage myself with mine\nown known strength, and what I find within me of comfort and\nconfirmance (examining myself throughout with a far more jealous and\nsevere eye than my greatest enemy, imitating this:\n\nJudex ipse sui totum se explorat ad unguem, &c.)\n\n\nthat after these Iliads, I will (God lending me life and any meanest\nmeans) with more labour than I have lost here, and all unchecked\nalacrity, dive through his Odysseys. Nor can I forget here (but with\nall hearty gratitude remember) my most ancient, learned, and right\nnoble friend, M. Richard Stapilton, first most desertful mover in the\nframe of our Homer. For which (and much other most ingenious and\nutterly undeserved desert) God make me amply his requiter; and be his\nhonourable family\u2019s speedy and full restorer. In the mean space, I\nentreat my impartial and judicial Reader, that all things to the quick\nhe will not pare, but humanely and nobly pardon defects, and, if he\nfind anything perfect, receive it unenvied.\n\n\n\n\nOF HOMER\n\nOf his country and time, the difference is so infinite amongst all\nwriters, that there is no question, in my conjecture, of his antiquity\nbeyond all. To which opinion, the nearest I will cite, Adam Cedrenus\nplaceth him under David\u2019s and Solomon\u2019s rule; and the Destruction of\nTroy under Saul\u2019s. And of one age with Solomon, Michael Glycas Siculus\naffirmeth him. Aristotle (_in tertio de Poetic\u00e2_) affirms he was born\nin the isle of Io, begot of a Genius, one of them that used to dance\nwith the Muses, and a virgin of that isle compressed by that Genius,\nwho being quick with child (for shame of the deed) came into a place\ncalled \u00c6gina, and there was taken of thieves, and brought to Smyrna, to\nM\u00e6on king of the Lydians, who for her beauty married her. After which,\nshe walking near the flood Meletes, on that shore being overtaken with\nthe throes of her delivery, she brought forth Homer, and instantly\ndied. The infant was received by M\u00e6on, and brought up as his own till\nhis death, which was not long after. And, according to this, when the\nLydians in Smyrna were afflicted by the \u00c6olians, and thought fit to\nleave the city, the captains by a herald willing all to go out that\nwould, and follow them, Homer, being a little child, said he would also\n_\u1f41\u03bc\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u0311\u03bd_ (that is, _sequi_); and of that, for Melesigenes, which was\nhis first name, he was called Homer. These Plutarch.\n\nThe varieties of other reports touching this I omit for length; and in\nplace thereof think it not unfit to insert something of his praise and\nhonour amongst the greatest of all ages; not that our most absolute of\nhimself needs it, but that such authentical testimonies of his\nsplendour and excellence may the better convince the malice of his\nmaligners.\n\nFirst, what kind of person Homer was, saith Spondanus, his statue\nteacheth, which Cedrenus describeth. The whole place we will describe\nthat our relation may hold the better coherence, as Xylander converts\nit. \u201cThen was the Octagonon at Constantinople consumed with fire; and\nthe bath of Severus, that bore the name of Zeuxippus, in which there\nwas much variety of spectacle, and splendour of arts; the works of all\nages being conferred and preserved there, of marble, rocks, stones, and\nimages of brass; to which this only wanted, that the souls of the\npersons they presented were not in them. Amongst these master-pieces\nand all-wit-exceeding workmanships stood Homer, as he was in his age,\nthoughtful and musing, his hands folded beneath his bosom, his beard\nuntrimm\u2019d and hanging down, the hair of his head in like sort thin on\nboth sides before, his face with age and cares of the world, as these\nimagine, wrinkled and austere, his nose proportioned to his other\nparts, his eyes fixed or turned up to his eyebrows, like one blind, as\nit is reported he was.\u201d (Not born blind, saith Vell. Paterculus, which\nhe that imagines, saith he, is blind of all senses.) \u201cUpon his\nunder-coat he was attired with a loose robe, and at the base beneath\nhis feet a brazen chain hung.\u201d This was the statue of Homer, which in\nthat conflagration perished. Another renowned statue of his, saith\nLucian in his Encomion of Demosthenes, stood in the temple of Ptolemy,\non the upper hand of his own statue. Cedrenus likewise remembereth a\nlibrary in the palace of the king, at Constantinople, that contained a\nthousand a hundred and twenty books, amongst which there was the gut of\na dragon of an hundred and twenty foot long, in which, in letters of\ngold, the Iliads and Odysseys of Homer were inscribed; which miracle,\nin Basiliscus the Emperor\u2019s time, was consumed with fire.\n\nFor his respect amongst the most learned, Plato _in Ione_ calleth him\n_\u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03cc\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u0311\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03c9\u0311\u03bd, Poeta rum omnium et\npr\u00e6stantissimum et divinissimum; in Ph\u00e6done, \u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u0311\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd, divinum\nPoetam_; and in _The\u00e6tetus_, Socrates citing divers of the most wise\nand learned for confirmation of his there held opinion, as Protagoras,\nHeraclitus, Empedocles, Epicharmus, and Homer, who, saith Socrates,\nagainst such an army, being all led by such a captain as Homer, dares\nfight or resist, but he will be held ridiculous? This for Scaliger and\nall Homer\u2019s envious and ignorant detractors. Why therefore Plato in\nanother place banisheth him with all other poets out of his\nCommonwealth, dealing with them like a Politician indeed, use men, and\nthen cast them off, though Homer he thinks fit to send out crowned and\nanointed, I see not, since he maketh still such honourable mention of\nhim, and with his verses, as with precious gems, everywhere enchaceth\nhis writings. So Aristotle continually celebrateth him. Nay, even\namongst the barbarous, not only Homer\u2019s name, but his poems have been\nrecorded and reverenced. The Indians, saith \u00c6lianus (Var. Hist. lib.\nxii. cap. 48) in their own tongue had Homer\u2019s Poems translated and\nsung. Nor those Indians alone, but the kings of Persia. And amongst the\nIndians, of all the Greek poets, Homer being ever first in estimation;\nwhensoever they used any divine duties according to the custom of their\nhouseholds and hospitalities, they invited ever Apollo and Homer.\nLucian in his Encomion of Demosth. affirmeth all Poets celebrated\nHomer\u2019s birthday, and sacrificed to him the first fruits of their\nverses. So Thersagoras answereth Lucian, he used to do himself. Alex.\nPaphius, saith Eustathius, delivers Homer as born of Egyptian parents,\nDmasagoras being his father, and \u00c6thra his mother, his nurse being a\ncertain prophetess and the daughter of Oris, Isis\u2019 priest, from whose\nbreasts, oftentimes, honey flowed in the mouth of the infant. After\nwhich, in the night, he uttered nine several notes or voices of fowls,\nviz. of a swallow, a peacock, a dove, a crow, a partridge, a redshank,\na stare, a blackbird, and a nightingale; and, being a little boy, was\nfound playing in his bed with nine doves. Sibylla being at a feast of\nhis parents was taken with sudden fury, and sung verses whose beginning\nwas _\u0394\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03b3 \u03cc\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03cd\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5; polynice_, signifying much victory, in which\nsong also she called him _\u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03ac\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03b1, great in glory_, and _\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03d5\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd_,\nsignifying _garland-seller_, and commanded him to build a temple to the\nPegridarij, that is, to the Muses. Herodotus affirms that Ph\u00e6mius,\nteaching a public school at Smyrna, was his master; and Dionysius in\nhis 56th Oration saith, Socrates was Homer\u2019s scholar. In short, what he\nwas, his works show most truly; to which, if you please, go on and\nexamine him.\n\n [2] Of Translation, and the natural difference of Dialects necessarily\n to be observed in it.\n\n\n [3] Ironic\u00e8.\n\n\n [4] The necessary nearness of Translation to the example.\n\n\n [5] The power of Nature above Art in Poesy.\n\n\n [6] Our English language above all others for Rhythmical Poesy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nApollo\u2019s priest to th\u2019 Argive fleet doth bring\nGifts for his daughter, pris\u2019ner to the king;\nFor which her tender\u2019d freedom he entreats;\nBut, being dismiss\u2019d with contumelious threats,\nAt Ph\u0153bus\u2019 hands, by vengeful pray\u2019r, he seeks\nTo have a plague inflicted on the Greeks.\nWhich had; Achilles doth a council cite,\nEmbold\u2019ning Calchas, in the king\u2019s despite;\nTo tell the truth why they were punish\u2019d so.\nFrom hence their fierce and deadly strife did grow.\nFor wrong in which \u00c6acides so raves,\nThat goddess Thetis, from her throne of waves\nAscending heav\u2019n, of Jove assistance won,\nTo plague the Greeks by absence of her son,\nAnd make the general himself repent\nTo wrong so much his army\u2019s ornament.\nThis found by Juno, she with Jove contends;\nTill Vulcan, with heav\u2019n\u2019s cup, the quarrel ends.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nAlpha the prayer of Chryses sings:\nThe army\u2019s plague: the strife of kings.\n\n\nAchilles\u2019 baneful wrath resound, O Goddess, that impos\u2019d\nInfinite sorrows on the Greeks, and many brave souls los\u2019d.\nFrom breasts heroic; sent them far to that invisible cave\nThat no light comforts; and their limbs to dogs and vultures gave;\nTo all which Jove\u2019s will gave effect; from whom first strife begun\nBetwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis\u2019 godlike son.\nWhat god gave Eris their command, and op\u2019d that fighting vein?\nJove\u2019s and Latona\u2019s son: who fir\u2019d against the king of men,\nFor contum\u00e9ly shown his priest, infectious sickness sent\nTo plague the army, and to death by troops the soldiers went.\nOccasion\u2019d thus: Chryses, the priest, came to the fleet to buy,\nFor presents of unvalu\u2019d price, his daughter\u2019s liberty;\nThe golden sceptre and the crown of Ph\u0153bus in his hands\nProposing; and made suit to all, but most to the commands\nOf both th\u2019 Atrides, who most rul\u2019d. \u201cGreat Atreus\u2019 sons,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd all ye well-greav\u2019d Greeks, the gods, whose habitations be\nIn heav\u2019nly houses, grace your pow\u2019rs with Priam\u2019s raz\u00e9d town,\nAnd grant ye happy conduct home! To win which wish\u2019d renown\nOf Jove, by honouring his son, far-shooting Ph\u0153bus, deign\nFor these fit presents to dissolve the ransomable chain\nOf my lov\u2019d daughter\u2019s servitude.\u201d The Greeks entirely gave\nGlad acclamations, for sign that their desires would have\nThe grave priest reverenc\u2019d, and his gifts of so much price embrac\u2019d.\nThe Gen\u2019ral yet bore no such mind, but viciously disgrac\u2019d\nWith violent terms the priest, and said:\u2014\u201cDotard! avoid our fleet,\nWhere ling\u2019ring be not found by me; nor thy returning feet\nLet ever visit us again; lest nor thy godhead\u2019s crown,\nNor sceptre, save thee! Her thou seek\u2019st I still will hold mine own,\nTill age deflow\u2019r her. In our court at Argos, far transferr\u2019d\nFrom her lov\u2019d country, she shall ply her web, and see prepar\u2019d[1]\nWith all fit ornaments my bed. Incense me then no more,\nBut, if thou wilt be safe, be gone.\u201d This said, the sea-beat shore,\nObeying his high will, the priest trod off with haste and fear;\nAnd, walking silent, till he left far off his enemies\u2019 ear,\nPh\u0153bus, fair hair\u2019d Latona\u2019s son, he stirr\u2019d up with a vow,\nTo this stern purpose: \u201cHear, thou God that bear\u2019st the silver bow,\nThat Chrysa guard\u2019st, rul\u2019st Tenedos with strong hand, and the round\nOf Cilia most divine dost walk! O Sminth\u00ebus! if crown\u2019d\nWith thankful off\u2019rings thy rich fane I ever saw, or fir\u2019d\nFat thighs of oxen and of goats to thee, this grace desir\u2019d\nVouchsafe to me: pains for my tears let these rude Greeks repay,\nForc\u2019d with thy arrows.\u201d Thus he pray\u2019d, and Ph\u0153ebus heard him pray,\nAnd, vex\u2019d at heart, down from the tops of steep heav\u2019n stoop\u2019d; his\nbow,\nAnd quiver cover\u2019d round, his hands did on his shoulders throw;\nAnd of the angry Deity the arrows as he mov\u2019d\nRattled about him. Like the night he rang\u2019d the host, and rov\u2019d\n(Apart the fleet set) terribly; with his hard-loosing hand\nHis silver bow twang\u2019d; and his shafts did first the mules command,\nAnd swift hounds; then the Greeks themselves his deadly arrows shot.\nThe fires of death went never out; nine days his shafts flew hot\nAbout the army; and the tenth, Achilles called a court\nOf all the Greeks; heav\u2019n\u2019s white-arm\u2019d Queen (who, ev\u2019rywhere cut\nshort,\nBeholding her lov\u2019d Greeks, by death) suggested it; and he\n(All met in one) arose, and said: \u201cAtrides, now I see\nWe must be wandering again, flight must be still our stay,\nIf flight can save us now, at once sickness and battle lay\nSuch strong hand on us. Let us ask some prophet, priest, or prove\nSome dream-interpreter (for dreams are often sent from Jove)\nWhy Ph\u0153bus is so much incens\u2019d; if unperformed vows\nHe blames in us, or hecatombs; and if these knees he bows\nTo death may yield his graves no more, but off\u2019ring all supply\nOf savours burnt from lambs and goats, avert his fervent eye,\nAnd turn his temp\u2019rate.\u201d Thus, he sat; and then stood up to them\nCalchas, surnam\u2019d Thestorides, of augurs the supreme;\nHe knew things present, past, to come, and rul\u2019d the equipage\nOf th\u2019 Argive fleet to Ilion, for his prophetic rage\nGiv\u2019n by Apollo; who, well-seen in th\u2019 ill they felt, propos\u2019d\nThis to Achilles: \u201cJove\u2019s belov\u2019d, would thy charge see disclos\u2019d\nThe secret of Apollo\u2019s wrath? then cov\u2019nant and take oath\nTo my discov\u2019ry, that, with words and pow\u2019rful actions both,\nThy strength will guard the truth in me; because I well conceive\nThat he whose empire governs all, whom all the Grecians give\nConfirm\u2019d obedience, will be mov\u2019d; and then you know the state\nOf him that moves him. When a king hath once mark\u2019d for his hate\nA man inferior, though that day his wrath seems to digest\nTh\u2019 offence he takes, yet evermore he rakes up in his breast\nBrands of quick anger, till revenge hath quench\u2019d to his desire\nThe fire reserv\u00e9d. Tell me, then, if, whatsoever ire\nSuggests in hurt of me to him, thy valour will prevent?\u201d\nAchilles answer\u2019d: \u201cAll thou know\u2019st speak, and be confident;\nFor by Apollo, Jove\u2019s belov\u2019d, (to whom performing vows,\nO Calchas, for the state of Greece, thy spirit prophetic shows\nSkills that direct us) not a man of all these Grecians here,\nI living, and enjoy\u2019ng the light shot through this flow\u2019ry sphere,\nShall touch thee with offensive hands; though Agamemnon be\nThe man in question, that doth boast the mightiest empery\nOf all our army.\u201d Then took heart the prophet unreprov\u2019d,\nAnd said: \u201cThey are not unpaid vows, nor hecatombs, that mov\u2019d\nThe God against us; his offence is for his priest impair\u2019d\nBy Agamemnon, that refus\u2019d the present he preferr\u2019d,\nAnd kept his daughter. This is cause why heav\u2019n\u2019s Far-darter darts\nThese plagues amongst us; and this still will empty in our hearts\nHis deathful quiver, uncontain\u2019d till to her lov\u00e9d sire\nThe black-eyed damsel be resign\u2019d; no r\u00e9demptory hire\nTook for her freedom,-not a gift, but all the ransom quit,\nAnd she convey\u2019d, with sacrifice, till her enfranchis\u2019d feet\nTread Chrysa under; then the God, so pleas\u2019d, perhaps we may\nMove to remission.\u201d Thus, he sate; and up, the great in sway,\nHeroic Agamemnon rose, eag\u00e9rly bearing all;\nHis mind\u2019s seat overcast with fumes; an anger general\nFill\u2019d all his faculties; his eyes sparkled like kindling fire,\nWhich sternly cast upon the priest, thus vented he his ire:\n\u201cProphet of ill! for never good came from thee towards me\nNot to a word\u2019s worth; evermore thou took\u2019st delight to be\nOffensive in thy auguries, which thou continu\u2019st still,\nNow casting thy prophetic gall, and vouching all our ill,\nShot from Apollo, is impos\u2019d since I refus\u2019d the price\nOf fair Chryseis\u2019 liberty; which would in no worth rise\nTo my rate of herself, which moves my vows to have her home,\nPast Clytemnestra loving her, that grac\u2019d my nuptial room\nWith her virginity and flow\u2019r. Nor ask her merits less\nFor person, disposition, wit, and skill in housewif\u2019ries.\nAnd yet, for all this, she shall go, if more conducible\nThat course be than her holding here. I rather wish the weal\nOf my lov\u2019d army than the death. Provide yet instantly\nSupply for her, that I alone of all our royalty\nLose not my winnings. \u2019Tis not fit. Ye see all I lose mine\nForc\u2019d by another, see as well some other may resign\nHis prise to me.\u201d To this replied the swift-foot, god-like, son\nOf Thetis, thus: \u201cKing of us all, in all ambition\nMost covetous of all that breathe, why should the great-soul\u2019d Greeks\nSupply thy lost prise out of theirs? Nor what thy av\u2019rice seeks\nOur common treasury can find; so little it doth guard\nOf what our ras\u2019d towns yielded us; of all which most is shar\u2019d,\nAnd giv\u2019n our soldiers; which again to take into our hands\nWere ignominious and base. Now then, since God commands,\nPart with thy most-lov\u2019d prise to him; not any one of us\nExacts it of thee, yet we all, all loss thou suffer\u2019st thus,\nWill treble, quadruple, in gain, when Jupiter bestows\nThe sack of well-wall\u2019d Troy on us; which by his word he owes.\u201d\n\u201cDo not deceive yourself with wit,\u201d he answer\u2019d, \u201cgod-like man,\nThough your good name may colour it; \u2019tis not your swift foot can\nOutrun me here; nor shall the gloss, set on it with the God,\nPersuade me to my wrong. Wouldst thou maintain in sure abode\nThine own prise, and slight me of mine? Resolve this: if our friends,\nAs fits in equity my worth, will right me with amends,\nSo rest it; otherwise, myself will enter personally\nOn thy prise, that of Ithacus, or Ajax, for supply;\nLet him on whom I enter rage. But come, we\u2019ll order these\nHereafter, and in other place. Now put to sacred seas\nOur black sail; in it rowers put, in it fit sacrifice;\nAnd to these I will make ascend my so much envied prise,\nBright-cheek\u2019d Chryseis. For conduct of all which, we must choose\nA chief out of our counsellors. Thy service we must use,\nIdomen\u00ebus; Ajax, thine; or thine, wise Ithacus;\nOr thine, thou terriblest of men, thou son of Pele\u00fcs,\nWhich fittest were, that thou might\u2019st see these holy acts perform\u2019d\nFor which thy cunning zeal so pleads; and he, whose bow thus storm\u2019d\nFor our offences, may be calm\u2019d.\u201d Achilles, with a frown,\nThus answer\u2019d: \u201cO thou impudent! of no good but thine own\nEver respectful, but of that with all craft covetous,\nWith what heart can a man attempt a service dangerous,\nOr at thy voice be spirited to fly upon a foe,\nThy mind thus wretched? For myself, I was not injur\u2019d so\nBy any Trojan, that my pow\u2019rs should bid them any blows;\nIn nothing bear they blame of me; Phthia, whose bosom flows\nWith corn and people, never felt impair of her increase\nBy their invasion; hills enow, and far-resounding seas,\nPour out their shades and deeps between; but thee, thou frontless man,\nWe follow, and thy triumphs make with bonfires of our bane;\nThine, and thy brother\u2019s, vengeance sought, thou dog\u2019s eyes, of  this\nTroy\nBy our expos\u2019d lives; whose deserts thou neither dost employ\nWith honour nor with care. And now, thou threat\u2019st to force from me\nThe fruit of my sweat, which the Greeks gave all; and though it be,\nCompar\u2019d with thy part, then snatch\u2019d up, nothing; nor ever is\nAt any sack\u2019d town; but of fight, the fetcher in of this,\nMy hands have most share; in whose toils when I have emptied me\nOf all my forces, my amends in liberality,\nThough it be little, I accept, and turn pleas\u2019d to my tent;\nAnd yet that little thou esteem\u2019st too great a continent\nIn thy incontinent avarice. For Phthia therefore now\nMy course is; since \u2019tis better far, than here t\u2019 endure that thou\nShould\u2019st still be ravishing my right, draw my whole treasure dry,\nAnd add dishonour.\u201d He replied: \u201cIf thy heart serve thee, fly;\nStay not for my cause; others here will aid and honour me;\nIf not, yet Jove I know is sure; that counsellor is he\nThat I depend on. As for thee, of all our Jove-kept kings\nThou still art most my enemy; strifes, battles, bloody things,\nMake thy blood-feasts still. But if strength, that these moods build\nupon,\nFlow in thy nerves, God gave thee it; and so \u2019tis not thine own,\nBut in his hands still. What then lifts thy pride in this so high?\nHome with thy fleet, and Myrmidons; use there their empery;\nCommand not here. I weigh thee not, nor mean to magnify\nThy rough-hewn rages, but, instead, I thus far threaten thee:\nSince Ph\u0153bus needs will force from me Chryseis, she shall go;\nMy ships and friends shall waft her home; but I will imitate so\nHis pleasure, that mine own shall take, in person, from thy tent\nBright-cheek\u2019d Briseis; and so tell thy strength how eminent\nMy pow\u2019r is, being compar\u2019d with thine; all other making fear\nTo vaunt equality with me, or in this proud kind bear\nTheir beards against me.\u201d Thetis\u2019 son at this stood vex\u2019d, his heart\nBristled his bosom, and two ways drew his discursive part;\nIf, from his thigh his sharp sword drawn, he should make room about\nAtrides\u2019 person, slaught\u2019ring him, or sit his anger out,\nAnd curb his spirit. While these thoughts striv\u2019d in his blood and\nmind,\nAnd he his sword drew, down from heav\u2019n Athenia stoop\u2019d, and shin\u2019d\nAbout his temples, being sent by th\u2019 ivory-wristed Queen,\nSaturnia, who out of her heart had ever loving been,\nAnd careful for the good of both. She stood behind, and took\nAchilles by the yellow curls, and only gave her look\nTo him appearance; not a man of all the rest could see.\nHe turning back his eye, amaze strook every faculty;\nYet straight he knew her by her eyes, so terrible they were,\nSparkling with ardour, and thus spake: \u201cThou seed of Jupiter,\nWhy com\u2019st thou? To behold his pride, that boasts our empery?\nThen witness with it my revenge, and see that insolence die\nThat lives to wrong me.\u201d She replied: \u201cI come from heav\u2019n to see\nThy anger settled, if thy soul will use her sov\u2019reignty\nIn fit reflection. I am sent from Juno, whose affects\nStand heartily inclin\u2019d to both. Come, give us both respects,\nAnd cease contention; draw no sword; use words, and such as may\nBe bitter to his pride, but just; for, trust in what I say,\nA time shall come, when, thrice the worth of that he forceth now,\nHe shall propose for recompense of these wrongs; therefore throw\nReins on thy passions, and serve us.\u201d He answer\u2019d \u201cThough my heart\nBurn in just anger, yet my soul must conquer th\u2019 angry part,\nAnd yield you conquest. Who subdues his earthly part for heav\u2019n,\nHeav\u2019n to his pray\u2019rs subdues his wish.\u201d This said, her charge was\ngiven\nFit honour; in his silver hilt he held his able hand,\nAnd forc\u2019d his broad sword up; and up to heav\u2019n did re-ascend\nMinerva, who, in Jove\u2019s high roof that bears the rough shield, took\nHer place with other deities. She gone, again forsook\nPatience his passion, and no more his silence could confine\nHis wrath, that this broad language gave: \u201cThou ever steep\u2019d in wine,\nDog\u2019s face, with heart but of a hart, that nor in th\u2019 open eye\nOf fight dar\u2019st thrust into a prease, nor with our noblest lie\nIn secret ambush! These works seem too full of death for thee;\n\u2019Tis safer far in the open host to dare an injury\nTo any crosser of thy lust. Thou subject-eating king!\nBase spirits thou govern\u2019st, or this wrong had been the last foul thing\nThou ever author\u2019dst; yet I vow, and by a great oath swear,\nEv\u2019n by this sceptre, that, as this never again shall bear[2]\nGreen leaves or branches, nor increase with any growth his size,\nNor did since first it left the hills, and had his faculties\nAnd ornaments bereft with iron; which now to other end\nJudges of Greece bear, and their laws, receiv\u2019d from Jove, defend;\n(For which my oath to thee is great); so, whensoever need\nShall burn with thirst of me thy host, no pray\u2019rs shall ever breed\nAffection in me to their aid, though well-deserved woes\nAfflict thee for them, when to death man-slaught\u2019ring Hector throws\nWhole troops of them, and thou torment\u2019st thy vex\u2019d mind with conceit\nOf thy rude rage now, and his wrong that most deserv\u2019d the right\nOf all thy army.\u201d Thus, he threw his sceptre \u2019gainst the ground,\nWith golden studs stuck, and took seat. Atrides\u2019 breast was drown\u2019d\nIn rising choler. Up to both sweet-spoken Nestor stood,\nThe cunning Pylian orator, whose tongue pour\u2019d forth a flood\nOf more-than-honey-sweet discourse; two ages were increas\u2019d\nOf divers-languag\u2019d men, all born in his time and deceas\u2019d,\nIn sacred Pylos, where he reign\u2019d amongst the third-ag\u2019d men\nHe, well-seen in the world, advis\u2019d, and thus express\u2019d it then:\n\u201cO Gods! Our Greek earth will be drown\u2019d in just tears; rapeful Troy,\nHer king, and all his sons, will make as just a mock, and joy,\nOf these disjunctions; if of you, that all our host excel\nIn counsel and in skill of fight, they hear this. Come, repel\nThese young men\u2019s passions. Y\u2019 are not both, put both your years in\none,\nSo old as I. I liv\u2019d long since, and was companion\nWith men superior to you both, who yet would ever hear\nMy counsels with respect. My eyes yet never witness were,\nNor ever will be, of such men as then delighted them;\nPirithous, Exadius, and god-like Polypheme,\nC\u00e6neus, and Dryas prince of men, \u00c6gean These\u00fcs,\nA man like heav\u2019n\u2019s immortals form\u2019d; all, all most vigorous,\nOf all men that ev\u2019n those days: bred; most vig\u2019rous men, and fought\nWith beasts most vig\u2019rous, mountain beasts, (for men in strength were\nnought\nMatch\u2019d with their forces) fought with them, and bravely fought them\ndown\nYet ev\u2019n with these men I convers\u2019d, being call\u2019d to the renown\nOf their societies, by their suits, from Pylos far, to fight\nIn th\u2019 Apian kingdom; and I fought, to a degree of might\nThat help\u2019d ev\u2019n their mights, against such as no man now would  dare\nTo meet in conflict; yet ev\u2019n these my counsels still would hear,\nAnd with obedience crown my words. Give you such palm to them;\n\u2019Tis better than to wreath your wraths. Atrides, give not stream\nTo all thy pow\u2019r, nor force his prise, but yield her still his own,\nAs all men else do. Nor do thou encounter with thy crown,\nGreat son of Peleus, since no king that ever Jove allow\u2019d\nGrace of a sceptre equals him. Suppose thy nerves endow\u2019d\nWith strength superior, and thy birth a very goddess gave,\nYet he of force is mightier, since what his own nerves have\nIs amplified with just command of many other. King of men,\nCommand thou then thyself; and I with my pray\u2019rs will obtain\nGrace of Achilles to subdue his fury; whose parts are\nWorth our entreaty, being chief check to all our ill in war.\u201d\n\u201cAll this, good father,\u201d said the king, \u201cis comely and good right;\nBut this man breaks all such bounds; he affects, past all men, height;\nAll would in his pow\u2019r hold, all make his subjects, give to all\nHis hot will for their temp\u2019rate law; all which he never shall\nPersuade at my hands. If the gods have giv\u2019n him the great style\nOf ablest soldier, made they that his licence to revile\nMen with vile language?\u201d Thetis\u2019 son prevented him, and said:\n\u201cFearful and vile I might be thought, if the exactions laid\nBy all means on me I should bear. Others command to this,\nThou shalt not me; or if thou dost, far my free spirit is\nFrom serving thy command. Beside, this I affirm (afford\nImpression of it in thy soul): will not use my sword\nOn thee or any for a wench, unjustly though thou tak\u2019st\nThe thing thou gav\u2019st; but all things else, that in my ship thou mak\u2019st\nGreedy survey of, do not touch without my leave; or do,\u2014\nAdd that act\u2019s wrong to this, that these may see that outrage too,\u2014\nAnd then comes my part; then be sure, thy blood upon my lance\nShall flow in vengeance.\u201d These high terms these two at variance\nUs\u2019d to each other; left their seats; and after them arose\nThe whole court. To his tents and ships, with friends and soldiers,\ngoes\nAngry Achilles. Atreus\u2019 son the swift ship launch\u2019d, and put\nWithin it twenty chosen row\u2019rs, within it likewise shut\nThe hecatomb t\u2019 appease the God; then caus\u2019d to come aboard\nFair-cheek\u2019d Chryseis; for the chief, he in whom Pallas pour\u2019d\nHer store of counsels, Ithacus, aboard went last; and then\nThe moist ways of the sea they sail\u2019d. And now the king of men\nBade all the host to sacrifice. They sacrific\u2019d, and cast\nThe offal of all to the deeps; the angry God they grac\u2019d\nWith perfect hecatombs; some bulls, some goats, along the shore\nOf the unfruitful sea, inflam\u2019d. To heav\u2019n the thick fumes bore\nEnwrapped savours. Thus, though all the politic king made shew\nRespects to heav\u2019n, yet he himself all that time did pursue\nHis own affections; the late jar, in which he thunder\u2019d threats\nAgainst Achilles, still he fed, and his affections\u2019 heats\nThus vented to Talthybius, and grave Eurybates,\nHeralds, and ministers of trust, to all his messages.\n\u201cHaste to Achilles\u2019 tent; where take Briseis\u2019 hand, and bring\nHer beauties to us. If he fail to yield her, say your king\nWill come himself, with multitudes that shall the horribler\nMake both his presence, and your charge, that so he dares defer.\u201d\nThis said, he sent them with a charge of hard condition.\nThey went unwillingly, and trod the fruitless sea\u2019s shore; soon\nThey reach\u2019d the navy and the tents, in which the quarter lay\nOf all the Myrmidons, and found the chief Chief in their sway\nSet at his black bark in his tent. Nor was Achilles glad\nTo see their presence; nor themselves in any glory had\nTheir message, but with rev\u2019rence stood, and fear\u2019d th\u2019 offended king,\nAsk\u2019d not the dame, nor spake a word. He yet, well knowing the thing\nThat caus\u2019d their coming, grac\u2019d them thus: \u201cHeralds, ye men that bear\nThe messages of men and gods, y\u2019 are welcome, come ye near.\nI nothing blame you, but your king; \u2019tis he I know doth send\nYou for Briseis; she is his. Patroclus, honour\u2019d friend,\nBring forth the damsel, and these men let lead her to their lord.\nBut, heralds, be you witnesses, before the most ador\u2019d,\nBefore us mortals, and before your most ungentle king,\nOf what I suffer, that, if war ever hereafter bring\nMy aid in question, to avert any severest bane\nIt brings on others, I am \u2019scus\u2019d to keep mine aid in wane,\nSince they mine honour. But your king, in tempting mischief, raves,\nNor sees at once by present things the future; how like waves\nIlls follow ills; injustices being never so secure\nIn present times, but after-plagues ev\u2019n then are seen as sure;\nWhich yet he sees not, and so soothes his present lust, which, check\u2019d,\nWould check plagues future; and he might, in succouring right, protect\nSuch as fight for his right at fleet. They still in safety fight,\nThat fight still justly.\u201d This speech us\u2019d, Patroclus did the rite\nHis friend commanded, and brought forth Briseis from her tent,\nGave her the heralds, and away to th\u2019 Achive ships they went.\nShe sad, and scarce for grief could go. Her love all friends forsook,\nAnd wept for anger. To the shore of th\u2019 old sea he betook\nHimself alone, and casting forth upon the purple sea\nHis wet eyes, and his hands to heav\u2019n advancing, this sad plea\nMade to his mother; \u201cMother! Since you brought me forth to breathe\nSo short a life, Olympius had good right to bequeath\nMy short life honour; yet that right he doth in no degree,\nBut lets Atrides do me shame, and force that prise from me\nThat all the Greeks gave.\u201d This with tears he utter\u2019d, and she heard,\nSet with her old sire in his deeps, and instantly appear\u2019d\nUp from the grey sea like a cloud, sate by his side, and said:\n\u201cWhy weeps my son? What grieves thee?\nSpeak, conceal not what hath laid\nSuch hard hand on thee, let both know.\u201d He, sighing like a storm,\nReplied: \u201cThou dost know. Why should I things known again inform?\nWe march\u2019d to Thebes, the sacred town of king E\u00ebtion,\nSack\u2019d it, and brought to fleet the spoil, which every valiant son\nOf Greece indifferently shar\u2019d. Atrides had for share\nFair-cheek\u2019d Chryseis. After which, his priest that shoots so far,\nChryses, the fair Chryseis\u2019 sire, arriv\u2019d at th\u2019 Achive fleet,\nWith infinite ransom, to redeem the dear imprison\u2019d feet\nOf his fair daughter. In his hands he held Apollo\u2019s crown,\nAnd golden sceptre; making suit to ev\u2019ry Grecian son,\nBut most the sons of Atre\u00fcs, the others\u2019 orderers,\nYet they least heard him; all the rest receiv\u2019d with rev\u2019rend ears\nThe motion, both the priest and gifts gracing, and holding worth\nHis wish\u2019d acceptance. Atreus\u2019 son yet (vex\u2019d) commanded forth\nWith rude terms Ph\u0153bus\u2019 rev\u2019rend priest; who, angry, made retreat,\nAnd pray\u2019d to Ph\u0153bus, in whose grace he standing passing great\nGot his petiti\u00f3n. The God an ill shaft sent abroad\nThat tumbled down the Greeks in heaps. The host had no abode\nThat was not visited. We ask\u2019d a prophet that well knew\nThe cause of all; and from his lips Apollo\u2019s prophecies flew,\nTelling his anger. First myself exhorted to appease\nThe anger\u2019d God; which Atreus\u2019 son did at the heart displease,\nAnd up he stood, us\u2019d threats, perform\u2019d. The black-eyed Greeks sent\nhome\nChryseis to her sire, and gave his God a hecatomb.\nThen, for Briseis, to my tents Atrides\u2019 heralds came,\nAnd took her that the Greeks gave all. If then thy pow\u2019rs can frame\nWreak for thy son, afford it. Scale Olympus, and implore\nJove (if by either word, or fact, thou ever didst restore\nJoy to his griev\u2019d heart) now to help. I oft have heard thee vaunt,\nIn court of Peleus, that alone thy hand was conversant\nIn rescue from a cruel spoil the black-cloud-gath\u2019ring Jove,\nWhom other Godheads would have bound (the Pow\u2019r whose pace doth move\nThe round earth, heav\u2019n\u2019s great Queen, and Pallas); to whose bands\nThou cam\u2019st with rescue, bringing up him with the hundred hands\nTo great Olympus, whom the Gods call Briar\u00ebus, men\n\u00c6g\u00e6on, who his sire surpass\u2019d, and was as strong again,\nAnd in that grace sat glad by Jove. Th\u2019 immortals stood dismay\u2019d\nAt his ascension, and gave free passage to his aid.\nOf all this tell Jove; kneel to him, embrace his knee, and pray,\nIf Troy\u2019s aid he will ever deign, that now their forces may\nBeat home the Greeks to fleet and sea; embruing their retreat\nIn slaughter; their pains pay\u2019ng the wreak of their proud sov\u2019reign\u2019s\nheat;\nAnd that far-ruling king may know, from his poor soldier\u2019s harms\nHis own harm falls; his own and all in mine, his best in arms.\u201d\nHer answer she pour\u2019d out in tears: \u201cO me, my son,\u201d said she,\n\u201cWhy brought I up thy being at all, that brought thee forth to be\nSad subject of so hard a fate? O would to heav\u2019n, that since\nThy fate is little, and not long, thou might\u2019st without offence\nAnd tears perform it! But to live, thrall to so stern a fate\nAs grants thee least life, and that least so most unfortunate,\nGrieves me t\u2019 have giv\u2019n thee any life. But what thou wishest now,\nIf Jove will grant, I\u2019ll up and ask; Olympus crown\u2019d with snow\nI\u2019ll climb; but sit thou fast at fleet, renounce all war, and feed\nThy heart with wrath, and hope of wreak; till which come, thou shalt\nneed\nA little patience. Jupiter went yesterday to feast\nAmongst the blameless \u00c6thiops, in th\u2019 ocean\u2019s deepen\u2019d breast,\nAll Gods attending him; the twelfth, high heav\u2019n again he sees,\nAnd then his brass-paved court I\u2019ll scale, cling to his pow\u2019rful knees,\nAnd doubt not but to win thy wish.\u201d Thus, made she her remove,\nAnd left wrath tyring on her son, for his enforc\u00e8d love.\nUlysses, with the hecatomb, arriv\u2019d at Chrysa\u2019s shore;\nAnd when amidst the hav\u2019n\u2019s deep mouth, they came to use the oar,\nThey straight strook sail, then roll\u2019d them up, and on the hatches\nthrew;\nThe top-mast to the kelsine then, with halyards down they drew;\nThen brought the ship to port with oars; then forked anchor cast;\nAnd, \u2019gainst the violence of storm, for drifting made her fast.\nAll come ashore, they all expos\u2019d the holy hecatomb\nTo angry Ph\u0153bus, and, with it, Chryseis welcom\u2019d home;\nWhom to her sire, wise Ithacus, that did at th\u2019 altar stand,\nFor honour led, and, spoken thus, resign\u2019d her to his hand:\n\u201cChryses, the mighty king of men, great Agamemnon, sends\nThy lov\u2019d seed by my hands to thine; and to thy God commends\nA hecatomb, which my charge is to sacrifice, and seek\nOur much-sigh-mix\u2019d woe his recure, invok\u2019d by ev\u2019ry Greek.\u201d\nThus he resign\u2019d her, and her sire receiv\u2019d her highly joy\u2019d.\nAbout the well-built altar, then, they orderly employ\u2019d\nThe sacred off\u2019ring, wash\u2019d their hands, took salt cakes; and the\npriest,\nWith hands held up to heav\u2019n, thus pray\u2019d: \u201cO thou that all things\nseest,\nFautour of Chrysa, whose fair hand doth guard fully dispose\nCelestial Cilia, governing in all pow\u2019r Tenedos,\nO hear thy priest, and as thy hand, in free grace to my pray\u2019rs,\nShot fervent plague-shafts through the Greeks, now hearten their\naffairs\nWith health renew\u2019d, and quite remove th\u2019 infection from their blood.\u201d\nHe pray\u2019d; and to his pray\u2019rs again the God propitious stood.\nAll, after pray\u2019r, cast on salt cakes, drew back, kill\u2019d, flay\u2019d the\nbeeves,\nCut out and dubb\u2019d with fat their thighs, fair dress\u2019d with doubled\nleaves,\nAnd on them all the sweetbreads\u2019 prick\u2019d, The priest, with small  sere\nwood,\nDid sacrifice, pour\u2019d on red wine; by whom the young men stood,\nAnd turn\u2019d, in five ranks, spits; on which (the legs enough) they eat\nThe inwards; then in giggots cut the other fit for meat,\nAnd put to fire; which roasted well they drew. The labour done,\nThey serv\u2019d the feast in, that fed all to satisfaction.\nDesire of meat and wine thus quench\u2019d, the youths crown\u2019d cups of wine\nDrunk off, and fill\u2019d again to all. That day was held divine,\nAnd spent in p\u00e6ans to the Sun, who heard with pleas\u00e9d ear;\nWhen whose bright chariot stoop\u2019d to sea, and twilight hid the clear,\nAll soundly on their cables slept, ev\u2019n till the night was worn.\nAnd when the lady of the light, the rosy-finger\u2019d Morn,\nRose from the hills, all fresh arose, and to the camp retir\u2019d.\nApollo with a fore-right wind their swelling bark inspir\u2019d.\nThe top-mast hoisted, milk-white sails on his round breast they put,\nThe mizens strooted with the gale, the ship her course did cut\nSo swiftly that the parted waves against her ribs did roar;\nWhich, coming to the camp, they drew aloft the sandy shore,\nWhere, laid on stocks, each soldier kept his quarter as before.\nBut Peleus\u2019 son, swift-foot Achilles, at his swift ships sate,\nBurning in wrath, nor ever came to councils of estate\nThat make men honour\u2019d, never trod the fierce embattled field,\nBut kept close, and his lov\u2019d heart pin\u2019d, what fight and cries could\nyield\nThirsting at all parts to the host, And now, since first he told\nHis wrongs to Thetis, twelve fair morns their ensigns did unfold,\nAnd then the ever-living gods mounted Olympus, Jove\nFirst in ascension. Thetis then, remember\u2019d well to move\nAchilles\u2019 motion, rose from sea, and, by the morn\u2019s first light,\nThe great heav\u2019n and Olympus climb\u2019d; where, in supremest height\nOf all that many-headed hill, she saw the far-seen son\nOf Saturn, set from all the rest, in his free seat alone.\nBefore whom, on her own knees fall\u2019n, the knees of Jupiter\nHer left hand held, her right his chin, and thus she did prefer\nHer son\u2019s petition: \u201cFather Jove! If ever I have stood\nAidful to thee in word or work, with this implor\u00e9d good,\nRequite my aid, renown my son, since in so short a race\n(Past others) thou confin\u2019st his life. An insolent disgrace\nIs done him by the king of men; he forc\u2019d from him a prise\nWon with his sword. But thou, O Jove, that art most strong, most wise,\nHonour my son for my sake; add strength to the Trojans\u2019 side\nBy his side\u2019s weakness in his want; and see Troy amplified\nIn conquest, so much, and so long, till Greece may give again\nThe glory reft him, and the more illustrate the free reign\nOf his wrong\u2019d honour.\u201d Jove at this sate silent; not a word\nIn long space pass\u2019d him. Thetis still hung on his knee, implor\u2019d\nThe second time his help, and said: \u201cGrant, or deny my suit,\nBe free in what thou dost; I know, thou canst not sit thus mute\nFor fear of any; speak, deny, that so I may be sure,\nOf all heav\u2019n\u2019s Goddesses \u2019tis I, that only must endure\nDishonour by thee.\u201d Jupiter, the great cloud-gath\u2019rer, griev\u2019d\nWith thought of what a world of griefs this suit ask\u2019d, being achiev\u2019d,\nSwell\u2019d, sigh\u2019d, and answer\u2019d: \u201cWorks of death thou urgest. O, at this\nJuno will storm, and all my pow\u2019rs inflame with contumelies.\nEver she wrangles, charging me in ear of all the Gods\nThat I am partial still, that I add the displeasing odds\nOf my aid to the Ilians. Begone then, lest she see;\nLeave thy request to my care; yet, that trust may hearten thee\nWith thy desire\u2019s grant, and my pow\u2019r to give it act approve\nHow vain her strife is, to thy pray\u2019r my eminent head shall move;\nWhich is the great sign of my will with all th\u2019 immortal states;\nIrrevocable; never fails; never without the rates\nOf all pow\u2019rs else; when my head bows, all heads bow with it still\nAs their first mover; and gives pow\u2019r to any work I will.\u201d\nHe said; and his black eyebrows bent; above his deathless head\nTh\u2019 ambrosian curls flow\u2019d; great heav\u2019n shook: and both were sever\u00e9d,\nTheir counsels broken. To the depth of Neptune\u2019s kingdom div\u2019d\nThetis from heav\u2019n\u2019s height; Jove arose; and all the Gods receiv\u2019d\n(All rising from their thrones) their Sire, attending to his court.\nNone sate when he rose, none delay\u2019d the furnishing his port\nTill he came near; all met with him, and brought him to his throne.\nNor sate great Juno ignorant, when she beheld alone\nOld Nereus\u2019 silver-footed seed with Jove, that she had brought\nCounsels to heav\u2019n; and straight her tongue had teeth in it, that\nwrought\nThis sharp invective: \u201cWho was that (thou craftiest counsellor\nOf all the Gods) that so apart some secret did implore?\nEver, apart from me, thou lov\u2019st to counsel and decree\nThings of more close trust than thou think\u2019st are fit t\u2019 impart to me.\nWhatever thou determin\u2019st, I must ever be denied\nThe knowledge of it by thy will.\u201d To her speech thus replied\nThe Father both of men and Gods: \u201cHave never hope to know\nMy whole intentions, though my wife; it fits not, nor would show\nWell to thine own thoughts; but what fits thy woman\u2019s ear to hear,\nWoman, nor man, nor God, shall know before it grace thine ear.\nYet what, apart from men and Gods, I please to know, forbear\nT\u2019 examine, or inquire of that.\u201d She with the cow\u2019s fair eyes,\nRespected Juno, this return\u2019d: \u201cAustere king of the skies,\nWhat hast thou utter\u2019d? When did I before this time inquire,\nOr sift thy counsels? Passing close you are still. Your desire\nIs serv\u2019d with such care, that I fear you can scarce vouch the deed\nThat makes it public, being seduc\u2019d by this old sea-god\u2019s seed,\nThat could so early use her knees, embracing thine. I doubt,\nThe late act of thy bow\u00e9d head was for the working out\nOf some boon she ask\u2019d; that her son thy partial hand would please\nWith plaguing others.\u201d \u201cWretch!\u201d said he, \u201cthy subtle jealousies\nAre still exploring; my designs can never \u2019scape thine eye,\nWhich yet thou never canst prevent. Thy curiosity\nMakes thee less car\u2019d for at my hands, and horrible the end\nShall make thy humour. If it be what thy suspects intend,\nWhat then? \u2019Tis my free will it should; to which let way be giv\u2019n\nWith silence. Curb your tongue in time; lest all the Gods in heav\u2019n\nToo few be and too weak to help thy punish\u2019d insolence,\nWhen my inaccessible hands shall fall on thee.\u201d The sense\nOf this high threat\u2019ning made her fear, and silent she sate down,\nHumbling her great heart. All the Gods in court of Jove did frown\nAt this offence giv\u2019n; amongst whom heav\u2019n\u2019s famous artizan,\nEphaistus, in his mother\u2019s care, this comely speech began:\n\u201cBelieve it, these words will breed wounds, beyond our pow\u2019rs to bear,\nIf thus for mortals ye fall out. Ye make a tumult here\nThat spoils our banquet. Evermore worst matters put down best.\nBut, mother, though yourself be wise, yet let your son request\nHis wisdom audience. Give good terms to our lov\u2019d father Jove,\nFor fear he take offence again, and our kind banquet prove\nA wrathful battle. If he will, the heav\u2019nly Light\u2019ner can\nTake you and toss you from your throne; his pow\u2019r Olympian\nIs so surpassing. Soften then with gentle speech his spleen,\nAnd drink to him; I know his heart will quickly down again.\u201d\nThis said, arising from his throne, in his lov\u2019d mother\u2019s hand\nHe put the double-handed cup, and said: \u201cCome, do not stand\nOn these cross humours, suffer, bear, though your great bosom grieve,\nAnd lest blows force you; all my aid not able to relieve\nYour hard condition, though these eyes behold it, and this heart\nSorrow to think it. \u2019Tis a task too dang\u2019rous to take part\nAgainst Olympius. I myself the proof of this still feel.\nWhen other Gods would fain have help\u2019d, he took me by the heel,\nAnd hurl\u2019d me out of heav\u2019n. All day I was in falling down;\nAt length in Lemnos I strook earth. The likewise-falling sun\nAnd I, together, set; my life almost set too; yet there\nThe Sintii cheer\u2019d and took me up.\u201d This did to laughter cheer\nWhite-wristed Juno, who now took the cup of him, and smil\u2019d.\nThe sweet peace-making draught went round, and lame Ephaistus fill\u2019d\nNectar to all the other Gods. A laughter never left\nShook all the bless\u00e9d deities, to see the lame so deft\nAt that cup service. All that day, ev\u2019n till the sun went down,\nThey banqueted, and had such cheer as did their wishes crown.\nNor had they music less divine; Apollo there did touch\nHis most sweet harp, to which, with voice, the Muses pleas\u2019d as much.\nBut when the sun\u2019s fair light was set, each Godhead to his house\nAddress\u2019d for sleep, where ev\u2019ry one, with art most curious,\nBy heav\u2019n\u2019s great both-foot-halting God a sev\u2019ral roof had built.\nEv\u2019n he to sleep went, by whose hand heav\u2019n is with lightning gilt,\nHigh Jove, where he had us\u2019d to rest when sweet sleep seiz\u2019d his eyes;\nBy him the golden-thron\u2019d Queen slept, the Queen of deities.\n\nTHE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.\n\n\n [1] \u201c_See my bed made_,\u201d it may be Englished. The word is _\u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03cc\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd_,\n which signifies _contra stantem_ as _standing of one side opposite to\n another on the other side_; which yet others translate _capessentem et\n adornantem_; which since it shows best to a reader, I follow.\n\n\n [2] This simile Virgil directly translates.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nJove calls a vision up from Somnus\u2019 den\nTo bid Atrides muster up his men.\nThe King, to Greeks dissembling his desire,\nPersuades them to their country to retire.\nBy Pallas\u2019 will, Ulysses stays their flight:\nAnd wise old Nestor heartens them to fight.\nThey take their meat; which done, to arms they go,\nAnd march in good array against the foe.\nSo those of Troy; when Iris, from the sky,\nOf Saturn\u2019s son performs the embassy.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nBeta the dream and synod cites;\nAnd catalogues the naval knights.\n\n\nThe other Gods, and knights at arms, all night slept; only Jove\nSweet slumber seiz\u2019d not; he discours\u2019d how best he might approve\nHis vow made for Achilles\u2019 grace, and make the Grecians find\nHis miss in much death. All ways cast, this counsel serv\u2019d his mind\nWith most allowance; to despatch a harmful Dream to greet\nThe king of men, and gave this charge: \u201cGo to the Achive fleet,\nPernicious Dream, and, being arriv\u2019d in Agamemnon\u2019s tent,\nDeliver truly all this charge. Command him to convent\nHis whole host arm\u2019d before these tow\u2019rs; for now Troy\u2019s broad-way\u2019d\ntown\nHe shall take in; the heav\u2019n-hous\u2019d Gods are now indiff\u2019rent grown:\nJuno\u2019s request hath won them; Troy now under imminent ills\nAt all parts labours.\u201d This charge heard, the Vision straight fulfils;\nThe ships reach\u2019d, and Atrides\u2019 tent, in which he found him laid,\nDivine sleep pour\u2019d about his pow\u2019rs. He stood above his head\nLike Nestor, grac\u2019d of old men most, and this did intimate:\n\u201cSleeps the wise Atreus\u2019 tame-horse son? A councillor of state\nMust not the whole night spend in sleep, to whom the people are\nFor guard committed, and whose life stands bound to so much care.\nNow hear me, then, Jove\u2019s messenger, who, though far off from thee,\nIs near thee yet in ruth and care, and gives command by me\nTo arm thy whole host. Thy strong hand the broad-way\u2019d town of Troy\nShall now take in; no more the Gods dissentiously employ\nTheir high-hous\u2019d powers; Juno\u2019s suit hath won them all to her;\nAnd ill fates overhang these tow\u2019rs, address\u2019d by Jupiter.\nFix in thy mind this, nor forget to give it action, when\nSweet sleep shall leave thee.\u201d Thus, he fled; and left the king of men\nRepeating in discourse his dream, and dreaming still, awake,\nOf pow\u2019r, not ready yet for act. O fool, he thought to take\nIn that next day old Priam\u2019s town; not knowing what affairs\nJove had in purpose, who prepar\u2019d, by strong fight, sighs and cares\nFor Greeks and Trojans. The Dream gone, his voice still murmured\nAbout the king\u2019s ears; who sate up, put on him in his bed\nHis silken inner weed, fair, new; and then in haste arose,\nCast on his ample mantle, tied to his soft feet fair shoes,\nHis silver-hilted sword he hung about his shoulder, took\nHis father\u2019s sceptre never stain\u2019d, which then abroad he shook,\nAnd went to fleet. And now great heav\u2019n Goddess Aurora scal\u2019d,\nTo Jove, and all Gods, bringing light; when Agamemnon call\u2019d\nHis heralds, charging them aloud to call to instant court\nThe thick-hair\u2019d Greeks. The heralds call\u2019d; the Greeks made quick\nresort.\nThe Council chiefly he compos\u2019d of old great-minded men,\nAt Nestor\u2019s ships, the Pylian king. All there assembled then,\nThus Atreus\u2019 son begun the court: \u201cHear, friends: A Dream divine,\nAmidst the calm night in my sleep, did through my shut eyes shine,\nWithin my fantasy. His form did passing naturally\nResemble Nestor; such attire, a stature just as high.\nHe stood above my head, and words thus fashion\u2019d did relate:\n\u2018Sleeps the wise Atreus\u2019 tame-horse son? A councillor of state\nMust not the whole night spend in sleep, to whom the people are\nFor guard committed, and whose life stands bound to so much care.\nNow hear me then, Jove\u2019s messenger, who, though far off from thee,\nIs near thee yet in love and care, and gives command by me\nTo arm thy whole host. Thy strong hand the broad-way\u2019d town of Troy\nShall now take in; no more the Gods dissentiously employ\nTheir high-hous\u2019d pow\u2019rs; Saturnia\u2019s suit hath won them all to her;\nAnd ill fates over-hang these tow\u2019rs, address\u2019d by Jupiter.\nFix in thy mind this.\u2019 This express\u2019d, he took wing and away,\nAnd sweet sleep left me. Let us then by all our means assay\nTo arm our army; I will first (as far as fits our right)\nTry their addictions, and command with full-sail\u2019d ships our flight;\nWhich if they yield to, oppose you.\u201d He sate, and up arose\nNestor, of sandy Pylos king, who, willing to dispose\nTheir counsel to the public good, propos\u2019d this to the state:\n\u201cPrinces and Councillors of Greece, if any should relate\nThis vision but the king himself, it might be held a tale,\nAnd move the rather our retreat; but since our General\nAffirms he saw it, hold it true, and all our best means make\nTo arm our army.\u201d This speech us\u2019d, he first the Council brake;\nThe other sceptre-bearing States arose too, and obey\u2019d\nThe people\u2019s Rector. Being abroad, the earth was overlaid\nWith flockers to them, that came forth, as when of frequent bees\nSwarms rise out of a hollow rock, repairing the degrees\nOf their egression endlessly, with ever rising new\nFrom forth their sweet nest; as their store, still as it faded, grew,\nAnd never would cease sending forth her clusters to the spring,\nThey still crowd out so; this fleck here, that there, belabouring\nThe loaded flow\u2019rs; so from the ships and tents the army\u2019s store\nTroop\u2019d to these princes and the court, along th\u2019 unmeasur\u2019d shore;\nAmongst whom, Jove\u2019s ambassadress, Fame, in her virtue shin\u2019d,\nExciting greediness to hear. The rabble, thus inclin\u2019d,\nHurried together; uproar seiz\u2019d the high court; earth did groan\nBeneath the settling multitude; tumult was there alone.\nThrice-three vocif\u2019rous heralds rose, to check the rout, and get\nEar to their Jove-kept governors; and instantly was set\nThat huge confusion; ev\u2019ry man set fast, the clamour ceas\u2019d.\nThen stood divine Atrides up, and in his hand compress\u2019d\nHis sceptre, th\u2019 elaborate work of fi\u2019ry Mulciber,\nWho gave it to Saturnian Jove; Jove to his messenger;\nHis messenger, Argicides, to Pelops, skill\u2019d in horse;\nPelops to Atreus, chief of men; he, dying, gave it course\nTo prince Thyestes, rich in herds; Thyestes to the hand\nOf Agamemnon render\u2019d it, and with it the command\nOf many isles, and Argos all. On this he leaning, said:\n\u201cO friends, great sons of Danaus, servants of Mars, Jove laid\nA heavy curse on me, to vow, and bind it with the bent\nOf his high forehead; that, this Troy of all her people spent,\nI should return; yet now to mock our hopes built on his vow,\nAnd charge ingloriously my flight, when such an overthrow\nOf brave friends I have authored. But to his mightiest will\nWe must submit us, that hath raz\u2019d, and will be razing still,\nMen\u2019s footsteps from so many towns; because his pow\u2019r is most,\nHe will destroy most. But how vile such and so great an host\nWill show to future times, that, match\u2019d with lesser numbers far,\nWe fly, not putting on the crown of our so-long-held war,\nOf which there yet appears no end! Yet should our foes and we\nStrike truce, and number both our pow\u2019rs; Troy taking all that be\nHer arm\u2019d inhabitants, and we, in tens, should all sit down\nAt our truce banquet, ev\u2019ry ten allow\u2019d one of the town\nTo fill his feast-cup; many tens would their attendant want;\nSo much I must affirm our pow\u2019r exceeds th\u2019 inhabitant.\nBut their auxili\u00e1ry bands, those brandishers of spears,\nFrom many cities drawn, are they that are our hinderers,\nNot suff\u2019ring well-rais\u2019d Troy to fall. Nine years are ended now,\nSince Jove our conquest vow\u2019d; and now, our vessels rotten grow,\nOur tackling falls; our wives, young sons, sit in their doors and long\nFor our arrival; yet the work, that should have wreak\u2019d our wrong,\nAnd made us welcome, lies unwrought. Come then, as I bid, all\nObey, and fly to our lov\u2019d home; for now, nor ever, shall\nOur utmost take-in broad-way\u2019d Troy.\u201d This said, the multitude\nWas all for home; and all men else that what this would conclude\nHad not discover\u2019d. All the crowd was shov\u2019d about the shore,\nIn sway, like rude and raging waves, rous\u2019d with the fervent blore\nOf th\u2019 east and south winds, when they break from Jove\u2019s clouds, and\nare borne\nOn rough backs of th\u2019 Icarian seas: or like a field of corn\nHigh grown, that Zephyr\u2019s vehement gusts bring eas\u2019ly underneath,\nAnd make the stiff up-bristled ears do homage to his breath;\nFor ev\u2019n so eas\u2019ly, with the breath Atrides us\u2019d, was sway\u2019d\nThe violent multitude. To fleet with shouts, and disarray\u2019d,\nAll rush\u2019d; and, with a fog of dust, their rude feet dimm\u2019d the day;\nEach cried to other, \u201cCleanse our ships, come, launch, aboard, away.\u201d\nThe clamour of the runners home reach\u2019d heav\u2019n; and then, past fate,\nThe Greeks had left Troy, had not then the Goddess of estate\nThus spoke to Pallas: \u201cO foul shame, thou untam\u2019d seed of Jove,\nShall thus the sea\u2019s broad back be charg\u2019d with these our friends\u2019\nremove,\nThus leaving Argive Helen here, thus Priam grac\u2019d, thus Troy,\nIn whose fields, far from their lov\u2019d own, for Helen\u2019s sake, the joy\nAnd life of so much Grecian birth is vanish\u2019d? Take thy way\nT\u2019 our brass-arm\u2019d people, speak them fair, let not a man obey\nThe charge now giv\u2019n, nor launch one ship.\u201d She said, and Pallas did\nAs she commanded; from the tops of heav\u2019n\u2019s steep hill she slid,\nAnd straight the Greeks\u2019 swift ships she reach\u2019d; Ulysses (like to Jove\nIn gifts of counsel) she found out; who to that base remove\nStirr\u2019d not a foot, nor touch\u2019d a ship, but griev\u2019d at heart to see\nThat fault in others. To him close the blue-eyed Deity\nMade way, and said: \u201cThou wisest Greek, divine Laertes\u2019 son,\nThus fly ye homewards to your ships? Shall all thus headlong run?\nGlory to Priam thus ye leave, glory to all his friends,\nIf thus ye leave her here, for whom so many violent ends\nHave clos\u2019d your Greek eyes, and so far from their so loved home.\nGo to these people, use no stay, with fair terms overcome\nTheir foul endeavour, not a man a flying sail let hoice.\u201d\nThus spake she; and Ulysses knew \u2019twas Pallas by her voice,\nRan to the runners, cast from him his mantle, which his man\nAnd herald, grave Eurybates, the Ithacensian\nThat follow\u2019d him, took up. Himself to Agamemnon went,\nHis incorrupted sceptre took, his sceptre of descent,\nAnd with it went about the fleet. What prince, or man of name,\nHe found flight-giv\u2019n, he would restrain with words of gentlest blame:\n\u201cGood sir, it fits not you to fly, or fare as one afraid,\nYou should not only stay yourself, but see the people staid.\nYou know not clearly, though you heard the king\u2019s words, yet his mind;\nHe only tries men\u2019s spirits now, and, whom his trials find\nApt to this course, he will chastise, Nor you, nor I, heard all\nHe spake in council; nor durst press too near our General,\nLest we incens\u2019d him to our hurt. The anger of a king\nIs mighty; he is kept of Jove, and from Jove likewise spring\nHis honours, which, out of the love of wise Jove, he enjoys.\u201d\nThus he the best sort us\u2019d; the worst, whose spirits brake out in\nnoise,\nHe cudgell\u2019d with his sceptre, chid, and said: \u201cStay, wretch, be still,\nAnd hear thy betters; thou art base, and both in pow\u2019r and skill\nPoor and unworthy, without name in council or in war.\nWe must not all be kings. The rule is most irregular,\nWhere many rule. One lord, one king, propose to thee; and he,\nTo whom wise Saturn\u2019s son, hath giv\u2019n both law and empery\nTo rule the public, is that king.\u201d Thus ruling, he restrain\u2019d\nThe host from flight; and then again the Council was maintain\u2019d\nWith such a concourse, that the shore rung with the tumult made;\nAs when the far-resounding sea doth in its rage invade\nHis sandy confines, whose sides groan with his involv\u00e9d wave,\nAnd make his own breast echo sighs. All sate, and audience gave.\nThersites only would speak all. A most disorder\u2019d store\nOf words he foolishly pour\u2019d out, of which his mind held more\nThan it could manage; any thing, with which he could procure\nLaughter, he never could contain. He should have yet been sure\nTo touch no kings; t\u2019 oppose their states becomes not jesters\u2019 parts.\nBut he the filthiest fellow was of all that had deserts\nIn Troy\u2019s brave siege; he was squint-ey\u2019d, and lame of either foot;\nSo crook-back\u2019d, that he had no breast; sharp-headed, where did shoot\n(Here and there spers\u2019d) thin mossy hair. He most of all env\u00eded\nUlysses and \u00c6acides, whom still his spleen would chide.\nNor could the sacred King himself avoid his saucy vein;\nAgainst whom since he knew the Greeks did vehement hates sustain,\nBeing angry for Achilles\u2019 wrong, he cried out, railing thus:\n\u201cAtrides, why complain\u2019st thou now? What would\u2019st thou more of us?\nThy tents are full of brass; and dames, the choice of all, are thine,\nWith whom we must present thee first, when any towns resign\nTo our invasion. Want\u2019st thou then, besides all this, more gold\nFrom Troy\u2019s knights to redeem their sons, whom to be dearly sold\nI or some other Greek must take? Or would\u2019st thou yet again\nForce from some other lord his prise, to soothe the lusts that reign\nIn thy encroaching appetite? It fits no prince to be\nA prince of ill, and govern us, or lead our progeny\nBy rape to ruin. O base Greeks, deserving infamy,\nAnd ills eternal! Greekish girls, not Greeks, ye are! Come, fly\nHome with our ships; leave this man here to perish with his preys,\nAnd try if we help\u2019d him or not; he wrong\u2019d a man that weighs\nFar more than he himself in worth; he forc\u2019d from Thetis\u2019 son,\nAnd keeps his prise still. Nor think I that mighty man hath won\nThe style of wrathful worthily; he\u2019s soft, he\u2019s too remiss;\nOr else, Atrides, his had been thy last of injuries.\u201d\nThus he the people\u2019s Pastor chid; but straight stood up to him\nDivine Ulysses, who, with looks exceeding grave and grim,\nThis bitter check gave: \u201cCease, vain fool, to vent thy railing vein\nOn kings thus, though it serve thee well; nor think thou canst\nrestrain,\nWith that thy railing faculty, their wills in least degree;\nFor not a worse, of all this host, came with our King than thee,\nTo Troy\u2019s great siege; then do not take into that mouth of thine\nThe names of kings, much less revile the dignities that shine\nIn their supreme states, wresting thus this motion for our home,\nTo soothe thy cowardice; since ourselves yet know not what will come\nOf these designments, if it be our good to stay, or go.\nNor is it that thou stand\u2019st on; thou revil\u2019st our Gen\u2019ral so,\nOnly because he hath so much, not giv\u2019n by such as thou\nBut our hero\u00ebs. Therefore this thy rude vein makes me vow\n(Which shall be curiously observ\u2019d) if ever I shall hear\nThis madness from thy mouth again, let not Ulysses bear\nThis head, nor be the father call\u2019d of young Telemachus,\nIf to thy nakedness I take and strip thee not, and thus\nWhip thee to fleet from council; send, with sharp stripes, weeping\nhence\nThis glory thou affect\u2019st to rail.\u201d This said, his insolence\nHe settled with his sceptre; strook his back and shoulders so\nThat bloody wales rose. He shrunk round; and from his eyes did flow\nMoist tears, and, looking filthily, he sate, fear\u2019d, smarted, dried\nHis blubber\u2019d cheeks; and all the prease, though griev\u2019d to be denied\nTheir wish\u2019d retreat for home, yet laugh\u2019d delightsomely, and spake\nEither to other: \u201cO ye Gods, how infinitely take\nUlysses\u2019 virtues in our good! Author of counsels, great\nIn ord\u2019ring armies, how most well this act became his heat,\nTo beat from council this rude fool! I think his saucy spirit,\nHereafter, will not let his tongue abuse the sov\u2019reign merit,\nExempt from such base tongues as his.\u201d Thus spake the people; then\nThe city-razer Ithacus stood up to speak again,\nHolding his sceptre. Close to him gray-eyed Minerva stood,\nAnd, like a herald, silence caus\u2019d, that all the Achive brood\n(From first to last) might hear and know the counsel; when, inclin\u2019d\nTo all their good, Ulysses said: \u201cAtrides, now I find\nThese men would render thee the shame of all men; nor would pay\nTheir own vows to thee, when they took their free and honour\u2019d way\nFrom Argos hither, that, till Troy were by their brave hands rac\u2019d,\nThey would not turn home. Yet, like babes, and widows, now they haste\nTo that base refuge, \u2019Tis a spite to see men melted so\nIn womanish changes; though \u2019tis true, that if a man do go\nOnly a month to sea, and leave his wife far off, and he,\nTortur\u2019d with winter\u2019s storms, and toss\u2019d with a tumultuous sea,\nGrows heavy, and would home. Us then, to whom the thrice-three year\nHath fill\u2019d his revoluble orb since our arrival here,\nI blame not to wish home much more; yet all this time to stay,\nOut of our judgments, for our end; and now to take our way\nWithout it, were absurd and vile. Sustain then, friends; abide\nThe time set to our object; try if Calchas prophesied\nTrue of the time or not. We know, ye all can witness well,\n(Whom these late death-conferring fates have fail\u2019d to send to hell)\nThat when in Aulis, all our fleet, assembled with a freight\nOf ills to Ilion and her friends, beneath the fair grown height\nA platane bore, about a fount, whence crystal water flow\u2019d,\nAnd near our holy altar, we upon the Gods bestow\u2019d\nAccomplish\u2019d hecatombs; and there appear\u2019d a huge portent,\nA dragon with a bloody scale, horrid to sight, and sent\nTo light by great Olympius; which, crawling from beneath\nThe altar, to the platane climb\u2019d, and ruthless crash\u2019d to death\nA sparrow\u2019s young, in number eight, that in a top-bough lay\nHid under leaves; the dam the ninth, that hover\u2019d every way,\nMourning her lov\u2019d birth, till at length, the serpent, watching her,\nHer wing caught, and devour\u2019d her too. This dragon, Jupiter,\nThat brought him forth, turn\u2019d to a stone, and made a pow\u2019rful mean\nTo stir our zeals up, that admir\u2019d, when of a fact so clean\nOf all ill as our sacrifice, so fearful an ostent\nShould be the issue. Calchas, then, thus prophesied th\u2019 event\n\u2018Why are ye dumb-strook, fair-hair\u2019d Greeks? Wise Jove is he hath shown\nThis strange ostent to us. \u2019Twas late, and passing lately done,\nBut that grace it foregoes to us, for suff\u2019ring all the state\nOf his appearance (being so slow) nor time shall end, nor fate.\nAs these eight sparrows, and the dam (that made the ninth) were eat\nBy this stern serpent; so nine years we are t\u2019 endure the heat\nOf rav\u2019nous war, and, in the tenth, take-in this broad-way\u2019d town.\u2019\nThus he interpreted this sign; and all things have their crown\nAs he interpreted, till now. The rest, then, to succeed\nBelieve as certain. Stay we all, till, that most glorious deed\nOf taking this rich town, our hands are honour\u2019d with.\u201d This said,\nThe Greeks gave an unmeasur\u2019d shout; which back the ships repaid\nWith terrible echoes, in applause of that persuasion\nDivine Ulysses us\u2019d; which yet held no comparison\nWith Nestor\u2019s next speech, which was this: \u201cO shameful thing! Ye talk\nLike children all, that know not war. In what air\u2019s region walk\nOur oaths, and cov\u2019nants? Now, I see the fit respects of men\nAre vanish\u2019d quite; our right hands giv\u2019n, our faiths, our counsels\nvain,\nOur sacrifice with wine, all fled in that profan\u00e9d flame\nWe made to bind all; for thus still we vain persuasions frame,\nAnd strive to work our end with words, not joining stratagemes\nAnd hands together, though, thus long, the pow\u2019r of our extremes\nHath urg\u2019d us to them. Atreus\u2019 son, firm as at first hour stand!\nMake good thy purpose; talk no more in councils, but command\nIn active field. Let two or three, that by themselves advise,\nFaint in their crowning; they are such as are not truly wise;\nThey will for Argos, ere they knew if that which Jove hath said\nBe false or true. I tell them all, that high Jove bow\u2019d his head,\nAs first we went aboard our fleet, for sign we should confer\nThese Trojans their due fate and death; almighty Jupiter\nAll that day darting forth his flames, in an unmeasur\u2019d light,\nOn our right hand. Let therefore none once dream of coward flight,\nTill (for his own) some wife of Troy he sleeps withal, the rape\nOf Helen wreaking, and our sighs enforc\u2019d for her escape.\nIf any yet dare dote on home, let his dishonour\u2019d haste\nHis black and well-built bark but touch, that (as he first disgrac\u2019d\nHis country\u2019s spirit) fate, and death, may first his spirit let go.\nBut be thou wise, king, do not trust thyself, but others. Know\nI will not use an abject word. See all thy men array\u2019d\nIn tribes and nations, that tribes tribes, nations may nations, aid.\nWhich doing, thou shalt know what chiefs, what soldiers, play the men,\nAnd what the cowards; for they all will fight in sev\u2019ral then,\nEasy for note. And then shalt thou, if thou destroy\u2019st not Troy,\nKnow if the prophecy\u2019s defect, or men thou dost employ\nIn their approv\u2019d arts want in war, or lack of that brave heat\nFit for the vent\u2019rous spirits of Greece, was cause to thy defeat.\u201d\nTo this the king of men replied: \u201cO father, all the sons\nOf Greece thou conquer\u2019st in the strife of consultations.\nI would to Jove, Athenia, and Ph\u0153bus, I could make,\nOf all, but ten such counsellors; then instantly would shake\nKing Priam\u2019s city, by our hands laid hold on and laid waste.\nBut Jove hath order\u2019d I should grieve, and to that end hath cast\nMy life into debates past end. Myself, and Thetis\u2019 son,\nLike girls, in words fought for a girl, and I th\u2019 offence begun.\nBut if we ever talk as friends, Troy\u2019s thus deferr\u00e9d fall\nShall never vex us more one hour. Come then, to victuals all,\nThat strong Mars all may bring to field. Each man his lance\u2019s steel\nSee sharpen\u2019d well, his shield well lin\u2019d, his horses meated well,\nHis chariot carefully made strong, that these affairs of death\nWe all day may hold fiercely out. No man must rest, or breath;\nThe bosoms of our targeteers must all be steeped in sweat;\nThe lancer\u2019s arm must fall dissolv\u2019d; our chariot-horse with heat\nMust seem to melt. But if I find one soldier take the chace,\nOr stir from fight, or fight not still fix\u2019d in his enemy\u2019s face,\nOr hid a-ship-board, all the world, for force, nor price, shall save\nHis hated life, but fowls and dogs be his abhorr\u00e9d grave.\u201d\nHe said; and such a murmur rose, as on a lofty shore\nThe waves make, when the south wind comes, and tumbles them before\nAgainst a rock, grown near the strand which diversely beset\nIs never free, but, here and there, with varied uproars beat.\nAll rose then, rushing to the fleet, perfum\u2019d their tents, and eat;\nEach off\u2019ring to th\u2019 immortal gods, and praying to \u2019scape the heat\nOf war and death. The king of men an ox of five years\u2019 spring\nT\u2019 almighty Jove slew, call\u2019d the peers; first Nestor; then the king\nIdomen\u00ebus; after them th\u2019 Ajaces; and the son\nOf Tydeus; Ithacus the sixth, in counsel paragon\nTo Jove himself. All these he bade; but at-a-martial-cry\nGood Menelaus, since he saw his brother busily\nEmploy\u2019d at that time, would not stand on invitation,\nBut of himself came. All about the off\u2019ring over-thrown\nStood round, took salt-cakes, and the king himself thus pray\u2019d for all:\n\u201cO Jove, most great, most glorious, that, in that starry hall,\nSitt\u2019st drawing dark clouds up to air, let not the sun go down,\nDarkness supplying it, till my hands the palace and the town\nOf Priam overthrow and burn; the arm, on Hector\u2019s breast\nDividing, spoiling with my sword thousands, in interest\nOf his bad quarrel, laid by him in dust, and eating earth.\u201d\nHe pray\u2019d; Jove heard him not, but made more plentiful the birth\nOf his sad toils, yet took his gifts. Pray\u2019rs past, cakes on they\nthrew;\nThe ox then, to the altar drawn, they kill\u2019d, and from him drew\nHis hide, then cut him up, his thighs; in two hewn, dubb\u2019d with fat,\nPrick\u2019d on the sweetbreads, and with wood, leaveless, and kindled at\nAppos\u00e9d fire, they burn the thighs; which done, the inwards, slit,\nThey broil\u2019d on coals and eat; the rest, in giggots cut, they spit,\nRoast cunningly, draw, sit, and feast; nought lack\u2019d to leave allay\u2019d\nEach temp\u2019rate appetite; which serv\u2019d, Nestor began and said:\n\u201cAtrides, most grac\u2019d king of men, now no more words allow,\nNor more defer the deed Jove vows. Let heralds summon now\nThe brazen-coated Greeks, and us range ev\u2019rywhere the host,\nTo stir a strong war quickly up.\u201d This speech no syllable lost;\nThe high-voic\u2019d heralds instantly he, charg\u2019d to call to arms\nThe curl\u2019d-head Greeks; they call\u2019d; the Greeks straight answer\u2019d their\nalarms.\nThe Jove-kept kings, about the king all gather\u2019d, with their aid\nRang\u2019d all in tribes and nations. With them the gray-eyed Maid\nGreat \u00c6gis (Jove\u2019s bright shield) sustain\u2019d, that can be never old,\nNever corrupted, fring\u2019d about with serpents forg\u2019d of gold,\nAs many all suffic\u2019d to make an hundred fringes, worth\nAn hundred oxen, ev\u2019ry snake all sprawling, all set forth\nWith wondrous spirit. Through the host with this the Goddess ran,\nIn fury casting round her eyes, and furnish\u2019d ev\u2019ry man\nWith strength, exciting all to arms, and fight incessant. None\nNow lik\u2019d their lov\u2019d homes like the wars. And as a fire upon\nA huge wood, on the heights of hills, that far off hurls his light;\nSo the divine brass shin\u2019d on these thus thrusting on for fight,\nTheir splendour through the air reach\u2019d heav\u2019n. And as about the flood\nCa\u00efster, in an Asian mead, flocks of the airy brood,\nCranes, geese, or long-neck\u2019d swans, here, there, proud of their\npinions fly,\nAnd in their falls layout such throats, that with their spiritful cry\nThe meadow shrieks again; so here, these many-nation\u2019d men\nFlow\u2019d over the Scamandrian field, from tents and ships; the din\nWas dreadful that the feet of men and horse beat out of earth.\nAnd in the flourishing mead they stood, thick as the odorous birth\nOf flow\u2019rs, or leaves bred in the spring; or thick as swarms of flies\nThrong then to sheep-cotes, when each swarm his erring wing applies\nTo milk dew\u2019d on the milk-maid\u2019s pails; all eagerly dispos\u2019d\nTo give to ruin th\u2019 Ilians. And as in rude heaps clos\u2019d,\nThough huge goatherds are at their food, the goatherds eas\u2019ly yet\nSort into sundry herds; so here the chiefs in battle set\nHere tribes, here nations, ord\u2019ring all. Amongst whom shin\u2019d the king,\nWith eyes like lightning-loving Jove, his forehead answering,\nIn breast like Neptune, Mars in waist. And as a goodly bull\nMost eminent of all a herd, most wrong, most masterful,\nSo Agamemnon, Jove that day made overheighten clear\nThat heav\u2019n-bright army, and preferr\u2019d to all th\u2019 hero\u00ebs there.\nNow tell me, Muses, you that dwell in heav\u2019nly roofs, (for you\nAre Goddesses, are present here, are wise, and all things know,\nWe only trust the voice of fame, know nothing,) who they were\nThat here were captains of the Greeks, commanding princes here.\nThe multitude exceed my song, though fitted to my choice\nTen tongues were, harden\u2019d palates ten, a breast of brass, a voice\nInfract and trump-like; that great work, unless the seed of Jove,\nThe deathless Muses, undertake, maintains a pitch above\nAll mortal pow\u2019rs. The princes then, and navy that did bring\nThose so inenarrable troops, and all their soils, I sing.\n\nTHE CATALOGUE OF THE GRECIAN SHIPS AND CAPTAINS\n\nPeneleus, and Leitus, all that B\u0153otia bred,\nArcesilaus, Clonius, and Prothoenor led;\nTh\u2019 inhabitants of Hyria, and stony Aulida,\nSch\u00e6ne, Scole, the hilly Eteon, and holy Thespia,\nOf Gr\u00e6a, and great Mycalesse, that hath the ample plain,\nOf Harma, and Ilesius, and all that did remain\nIn Eryth, and in Eleon, in Hylen, Peteona,\nIn fair Ocalea, and, the town well-builded, Medeona,\nCopas, Eutresis, Thisbe, that for pigeons doth surpass,\nOf Coroneia, Haliart, that hath such store of grass,\nAll those that in Plat\u00e6a dwelt, that Glissa did possess,\nAnd Hypothebs, whose well-built walls are rare and fellowless,\nIn rich Onchestus\u2019 famous wood, to wat\u2019ry Neptune vow\u2019d,\nAnd Arne, where the vine-trees are with vig\u2019rous bunches bow\u2019d,\nWith them that dwelt in Midea, and Nissa most divine,\nAll those whom utmost Anthedon did wealthily confine.\nFrom all these coasts, in general, full fifty sail were sent;\nAnd six score strong B\u0153otian youths in ev\u2019ry burthen went.\nBut those who in Aspledon dwelt, and Minian Orchomen,\nGod Mars\u2019s sons did lead (Ascalaphus and Ialmen)\nWho in Azidon Actor\u2019s house did of Astyoche come;\nThe bashful maid, as she went up into the higher room,\nThe War-god secretly compress\u2019d. In safe conduct of these,\nDid thirty hollow-bottom\u2019d barks divide the wavy seas.\nBrave Schedius and Epistrophus, the Phocian captains were,\n(Naubolida-Iphitus\u2019 sons) all proof \u2019gainst any fear;\nWith them the Cyparissians went, and bold Pythonians,\nMen of religious Chrysa\u2019s soil, and fat Daulidians,\nPanop\u00e6ans, Anemores, and fierce Hyampolists;\nAnd those that dwell where Cephisus casts up his silken mists;\nThe men that fair Lil\u00e6a held, near the Cephisian spring;\nAll which did forty sable barks to that designment bring.\nAbout th\u2019 entoil\u2019d Phocensian fleet had these their sail assign\u2019d;\nAnd near to the sinister wing the arm\u2019d B\u0153otians shin\u2019d.\nAjax the less, O\u00efleus\u2019 son, the Locrians led to war;\nNot like to Ajax Telamon, but lesser man by far,\nLittle he was, and ever wore a breastplate made of linne,\nBut for the manage of his lance he gen\u2019ral praise did win.\nThe dwellers of Caliarus, of Bessa, Opo\u00ebn,\nThe youths of Cynus, Scarphis, and Augias, lovely men,\nOf Tarphis, and of Thronius, near flood Boagrius\u2019 fall;\nTwice-twenty martial barks of these, less Ajax sail\u2019d withal.\nWho near Eub\u0153a\u2019s bless\u00e9d soil their habitations had,\nStrength-breathing Abants, who their seats in sweet Eub\u0153a made,\nThe Histi\u00e6ans rich in grapes, the men of Chalcida,\nThe Cerinths bord\u2019ring on the sea, of rich Eretria,\nOf Dion\u2019s highly-seated town, Charistus, and of Styre,\nAll these the duke Alphenor led, a flame of Mars\u2019s fire,\nSurnam\u2019d Chalcodontiades, the mighty Abants\u2019 guide,\nSwift men of foot, whose broad-set backs their trailing hair did bide,\nWell-seen in fight, and soon could pierce with far extended darts\nThe breastplates of their enemies, and reach their dearest hearts.\nForty black men of war did sail in this Alphenor\u2019s charge.\nThe soldiers that in Athens dwelt, a city builded large,\nThe people of Eristhius, whom Jove-sprung Pallas fed,\nAnd plenteous-feeding Tellus brought out of her flow\u2019ry bed;\nHim Pallas placed in her rich fane, and, ev\u2019ry ended year,\nOf bulls and lambs th\u2019 Athenian youths please him with off\u2019rings there;\nMighty Menestheus, Peteus\u2019 son, had their divided care;\nFor horsemen and for targeteers none could with him compare,\nNor put them into better place, to hurt or to defend;\nBut Nestor (for he elder was) with him did sole contend;\nWith him came fifty sable sail. And out of Salamine\nGreat Ajax brought twelve sail, that with th\u2019 Athenians did combine.\nWho did in fruitful Argos dwell, or strong Tiryntha keep,\nHennion, or in Asinen whose bosom is so deep,\nTr\u0153zena, E\u00efon, Epidaure where Bacchus crowns his head,\n\u00c6gina, and Maseta\u2019s soil, did follow Diomed,\nAnd Sthenelus, the dear-lov\u2019d son of famous Capaneus\nTogether with Euryalus, heir of Mecisteus,\nThe king of Tal\u00e6onides; past whom in deeds of war,\nThe famous soldier Diomed of all was held by far.\nFour score black ships did follow these. The men fair Mycene held,\nThe wealthy Corinth, Cleon that for beauteous site excell\u2019d,\nAr\u00e6thyrea\u2019s lovely seat, and in Ornia\u2019s plain,\nAnd Sicyona, where at first did king Adrastus reign,\nHigh-seated Gono\u00ebssa\u2019s towers, and Hyperisius,\nThat dwelt in fruitful Pellenen, and in divine \u00c6gius,\nWith all the sea-side borderers, and wide Helice\u2019s friends,\nTo Agamemnon ev\u2019ry town her native birth commends,\nIn double-fifty sable barks. With him a world of men\nMost strong and full of valour went, and he in triumph then\nPut on his most resplendent arms, since he did over-shine\nThe whole heroic host of Greece, in pow\u2019r of that design.\nWho did in Laced\u00e6mon\u2019s rule th\u2019 unmeasur\u2019d concave hold,\nHigh Pharis, Sparta, Messe\u2019s tow\u2019rs, for doves so much extoll\u2019d,\nBryseia\u2019s and Augia\u2019s grounds, strong Laa, Oetylon,\nAmyclas, Helos\u2019 harbour-town, that Neptune beats upon,\nAll these did Menelaus lead (his brother, that in cries\nOf war was famous). Sixty ships convey\u2019d these enemies\nTo Troy in chief, because their king was chiefly injur\u2019d there,\nIn Helen\u2019s rape, and did his best to make them buy it dear.\nWho dwelt in Pylos\u2019 sandy soil, and Arene the fair,\nIn Thryon, near Alpheus\u2019 flood, and Aepy full of air,\nIn Cyparisscus, Amphigen, and little Pteleon,\nThe town where all the Iliots dwelt, and famous Doreon,\nWhere all the Muses, opposite, in strife of poesy,\nTo ancient Thamyris of Thrace, did use him cruelly,\n(He coming from Eurytus\u2019 court, the wise \u0152chalian king,)\nBecause he proudly durst affirm he could more sweetly sing\nThan that Pierian race of Jove; who, angry with his vaunt,\nBereft his eyesight, and his song, that did the ear enchant,\nAnd of his skill to touch his harp disfurnish\u00e9d his hand.\nAll these in ninety hollow keels grave Nestor did command.\nThe richly-blest inhabitants of the Arcadian land\nBelow Cyllene\u2019s mount (that by Epytus\u2019 tomb did stand)\nWhere dwelt the bold near-fighting men, who did in Ph\u00e6neus live,\nAnd Orchomen, where flocks of sheep the shepherds clust\u2019ring drive,\nIn Ripe, and in Strati\u00e9, the fair Mantinean town,\nAnd strong Enispe, that for height is ever weather-blown,\nTegea, and in Stymphalus, Parrhasia strongly wall\u2019d,\nAll these Alc\u00e6us\u2019 son to field (king Agapenor) call\u2019d;\nIn sixty barks he brought them on, and ev\u2019ry bark well-mann\u2019d\nWith fierce Arcadian\u2019s, skill\u2019d to use the utmost of a band.\nKing Agamemnon, on these men, did well-built ships bestow\nTo pass the gulfy purple sea, that did no sea rites know.\nThey, who in Hermin, Buphrasis, and Elis, did remain,\nWhat Olen\u2019s cliffs, Alisius, and Myrsin did contain,\nWere led to war by twice-two dukes (and each ten ships did bring,\nWhich many vent\u2019rous Epians did serve for burthening,)\nBeneath Amphimachus\u2019s charge, and valiant Thalpius,\n(Son of Eurytus-Actor one, the other Cteatus,)\nDiores Amaryncides the other did employ,\nThe fourth divine Polixenus (Agasthenes\u2019s joy).\nThe king of fair Angeiades, who from Dulichius came,\nAnd from Echinaus\u2019 sweet isles, which hold their holy frame\nBy ample Elis region, Meges Phylides led;\nWhom duke Phyleus, Jove\u2019s belov\u2019d, begat, and whilome fled\nTo large Dulichius, for the wrath that fir\u2019d his father\u2019s breast.\nTwice-twenty ships with ebon sails were in his charge address\u2019d.\nThe warlike men of Cephale, and those of Ithaca,\nWoody Neritus, and the men of wet Crocylia,\nSharp \u00c6gilipa, Samos\u2019 isle, Zacynthus sea inclos\u2019d,\nEpirus, and the men that hold the continent oppos\u2019d,\nAll these did wise Ulysses lead, in counsel peer to Jove;\nTwelve ships he brought, which in their course vermilion sterns did\nmove.\nThoas, Andremon\u2019s well-spoke son, did guide th\u2019 \u00c6tolians well,\nThose that in Pleuron, Olenon, and strong Pylene dwell,\nGreat Chalcis, that by sea-side stands, and stony Calydon;\n(For now no more of \u0152neus\u2019 sons surviv\u2019d; they all were gone;\nNo more his royal self did live, no more his noble son\nThe golden Meleager now, their glasses all were run)\nAll things were left to him in charge, th\u2019 \u00c6tolians\u2019 chief he was,\nAnd forty ships to Trojan wars the seas with him did pass.\nThe royal soldier Idomen did lead the Cretans stout,\nThe men of Gnossus, and the town Gortyna wall\u2019d about,\nOf Lictus, and Miletus\u2019 tow\u2019rs, of white Lycastus\u2019 state,\nOf Ph\u00e6stus, and of Rhytius, the cities fortunate.\nAnd all the rest inhabiting the hundred towns of Crete;\nWhom warlike Idomen did lead, co-partner in the fleet\nWith kill-man Merion. Eighty ships with them did Troy invade.\nTlepolemus Heraclides, right strong and bigly made,\nBrought nine tall ships of war from Rhodes, which haughty Rhodians\nmann\u2019d,\nWho dwelt in three dissever\u2019d parts of that most pleasant land,\nWhich Lyndus and Jalissus were, and bright Camirus, call\u2019d.\nTlepolemus commanded these, in battle unappall\u2019d;\nWhom fair Astyoche brought forth, by force of Hercules,\nLed out of Ephyr with his hand, from river Selle\u00ebs,\nWhen many towns of princely youths he levell\u2019d with the ground.\nTlepolem, in his father\u2019s house (for building much renown\u2019d)\nBrought up to headstrong state of youth, his mother\u2019s brother slew,\nThe flow\u2019r of arms, Licymnius, that somewhat aged grew;\nThen straight he gather\u2019d him a fleet, assembling bands of men,\nAnd fled by sea, to shun the threats that were denounc\u00e9d then\nBy other sons and nephews of th\u2019 Alciden fortitude.\nHe in his exile came to Rhodes, driv\u2019n in with tempests rude.\nThe Rhodians were distinct in tribes, and great with Jove did stand,\nThe King of men and Gods, who gave much treasure to their land.\nNir\u00ebus, out of Syma\u2019s hav\u2019n three well-built barks did bring;\nNir\u00ebus, fair Aglaia\u2019s son, and Charopes the king;\nNir\u00ebus was the fairest man that to fair Ilion came\nOf all the Greeks, save Peleus\u2019 son, who pass\u2019d for gen\u2019ral frame;\nBut weak this was, not fit for war, and therefore few did guide.\nWho did in Cassus, Nisyrus, and Crapathus, abide,\nIn Co, Eurypylus\u2019s town, and in Calydna\u2019s soils,\nPhidippus and bold Antiphus did guide to Trojan toils,\n(The sons of crown\u00e9d Thessalus, deriv\u2019d from Hercules)\nWho went with thirty hollow ships well-order\u2019d to the seas.\nNow will I sing the sackful troops Pelasgian Argos held,\nThat in deep Alus, Alop\u00e9, and soft Trechina dwell\u2019d,\nIn Phthia, and in Hellade where live the lovely dames,\nThe Myrmidons, Hellenians, and Achives, rob\u2019d of fames;\nAll which the great \u00c6acides in fifty ships did lead.\nFor these forgat war\u2019s horrid voice, because they lack\u2019d their head\nThat would have brought them bravely forth; but now at fleet did lie\nThat wind-like user of his feet, fair Thetis\u2019 progeny,\nWroth for bright-cheek\u2019d Briseis\u2019 loss, whom from Lyrnessus\u2019 spoils\n(His own exploit) he brought away as trophy of his toils,\nWhen that town was depopulate; he sunk the Theban tow\u2019rs;\nMyneta, and Epistrophus, he sent to Pluto\u2019s bow\u2019rs,\nWho came of king Evenus\u2019 race, great Helepiades;\nYet now he idly lives enrag\u2019d, but soon must leave his ease.\nOf those that dwelt in Phylace, and flow\u2019ry Pyrason\nThe wood of Ceres, and the soil that sheep are fed upon\nIton, and Antron built by sea, and Pteleus full of grass,\nProtesilaus, while he liv\u2019d, the worthy captain was,\nWhom now the sable earth detains; his tear-torn-fac\u00e9d spouse\nHe woeful left in Phylace, and his half-finish\u2019d house;\nA fatal Dardan first his life, of all the Greeks, bereft,\nAs he was leaping from his ship; yet were his men unleft\nWithout a chief, for though they wish\u2019d to have no other man\nBut good Protesilay their guide, Podarces yet began\nTo govern them, (Iphitis\u2019 son, the son of Phylacus)\nMost rich in sheep, and brother to short-liv\u2019d Protesilaus,\nOf younger birth, less, and less strong, yet serv\u2019d he to direct\nThe companies, that still did more their ancient duke affect.\nTwice-twenty jetty sails with him the swelling stream did take.\nBut those that did in Pheres dwell, at the B\u0153beian lake,\nIn B\u0153be, and in Glaphyra, Iaolcus builded fair,\nIn thrice-six ships to Pergamus did through the seas repair,\nWith old Admetus\u2019 tender son, Eumelus, whom he bred\nOf Alcest, Pelius\u2019 fairest child of all his female seed.\nThe soldiers that before the siege Methone\u2019s vales did hold,\nThaumacie, flow\u2019ry Melib\u0153, and Olison the cold,\nDuke Philoctetes govern\u00e9d, in darts of finest sleight;\nSev\u2019n vessels in his charge convey\u2019d their honourable freight,\nBy fifty rowers in a bark, most expert in the bow;\nBut he in sacred Lemnos lay, brought miserably low\nBy torment of an ulcer grown with Hydra\u2019s poison\u2019d blood,\nWhose sting was such, Greece left him there in most impatient mood;\nYet thought they on him at his ship and choos\u2019d, to lead his men,\nMedon, O\u00efleus\u2019 bastard son, brought forth to him by Rhen.\nFrom Tricce, bleak Ithomen\u2019s clifts, and hapless Oechaly,\n(Eurytus\u2019 city, rul\u2019d by him in wilful tyranny,)\nIn charge of \u00c6sculapius\u2019 sons, physician highly prais\u2019d,\nMachaon, Podalirius, were thirty vessels rais\u2019d.\nWho near Hyperia\u2019s fountain dwelt, and in Ormenius,\nThe snowy tops of Titanus, and in Asterius,\nEvemon\u2019s son, Eurypylus, did lead into the field;\nWhose towns did forty black-sail\u2019d ships to that encounter yield.\nWho Gyrton, and Argissa, held, Orthen, and Elon\u2019s seat,\nAnd chalky Olo\u00f6ssone, were led by Polyp\u0153te,\nThe issue of Pirithous, the son of Jupiter.\nHim the Athenian Theseus\u2019 friend Hippodamy did bear,\nWhen he the bristled savages did give Ramnusia,\nAnd drove them out of Pelius, as far as \u00c6thica.\nHe came not single, but with him Leonteus, Coron\u2019s son,\nAn arm of Mars, and Coron\u2019s life Cen\u00ebus\u2019 seed begun.\nTwice-twenty ships attended these. Gun\u00ebus next did bring\nFrom Cyphus twenty sail and two; the Enians following;\nAnd fierce Per\u00e6bi, that about Dodon\u2019s frozen mould\nDid plant their houses; and the men that did the meadows hold,\nWhich Titaresius decks with flow\u2019rs and his sweet current leads\nInto the bright Pene\u00efus, that hath the silver heads,\nYet with his admirable stream doth not his waves commix,\nBut glides aloft on it like oil; for \u2019tis the flood of Styx,\nBy which th\u2019 immortal Gods do swear. Teuthredon\u2019s honour\u2019d birth,\nProthous, led the Magnets forth, who near the shady earth\nOf Pelius, and Pene\u00efon, dwelt; forty revengeful sail\nDid follow him. These were the dukes and princes of avail\nThat came from Greece. But now the man, that overshin\u2019d them all,\nSing, Muse; and their most famous steeds to my recital call,\nThat both th\u2019 Atrides follow\u00e9d. Fair Pheretiades\nThe bravest mares did bring by much; Eumelius manag\u2019d these,\nSwift of their feet as birds of wing, both of one hair did shine,\nBoth of an age, both of a height, as measur\u2019d by a line,\nWhom silver-bow\u2019d Apollo bred in the Pierian mead,\nBoth slick and dainty, yet were both in war of wondrous dread.\nGreat Ajax Telamon for strength pass\u2019d all the peers of war,\nWhile vex\u2019d Achilles was away; but he surpass\u2019d him far.\nThe horse that bore that faultless man were likewise past compare;\nYet lay he at the crook\u2019d-stern\u2019d ships, and fury was his fare,\nFor Atreus\u2019 son\u2019s ungracious deed, his men yet pleas\u2019d their hearts\nWith throwing of the hol\u00e9d stone, with hurling of their darts,\nAnd shooting fairly on the shore; their horse at chariots fed\nOn greatest parsley, and on sedge that in the fens is bred.\nHis princes\u2019 tents their chariots held, that richly cover\u2019d were.\nHis princes, amorous of their chief, walk\u2019d storming here and there\nAbout the host, and scorn\u2019d to fight: their breaths as they did pass\nBefore them flew, as if a fire fed on the trembling grass;\nEarth under-groan\u2019d their high-rais\u2019d feet, as when offended Jove,\nIn Arime, Typh\u0153ius with rattling thunder drove\nBeneath the earth; in Arime, men say, the grave is still,\nWhere thunder tomb\u2019d Typh\u0153ius, and is a monstrous hill;\nAnd as that thunder made earth groan, so groan\u2019d it as they past,\nThey trod with such hard-set-down steps, and so exceeding fast.\nTo Troy the rainbow-girded Dame right heavy news relates\nFrom Jove, as all to council drew in Priam\u2019s palace-gates,\nResembling Priam\u2019s son in voice, Polites, swift of feet;\nIn trust whereof, as sentinel, to see when from the fleet\nThe Grecians sallied, he was set upon the lofty brow\nOf aged \u00c6syetes\u2019 tomb; and this did Iris show:\n\u201cO Priam, thou art always pleas\u2019d with indiscreet advice,\nAnd fram\u2019st thy life to times of peace, when such a war doth rise\nAs threats inevitable spoil. I never did behold\nSuch and so mighty troops of men, who trample on the mould\nIn number like Autumnus\u2019 leaves, or like the marine sand,\nAll ready round about the walls to use a ruining hand.\nHector, I therefore charge thee most, this charge to undertake.\nA multitude remain in Troy, will fight for Priam\u2019s sake,\nOf other lands and languages; let ev\u2019ry leader then\nBring forth well-arm\u2019d into the field his sev\u2019ral bands of men.\u201d\nStrong Hector knew a Deity gave charge to this assay,\nDismiss\u2019d the council straight; like waves, clusters to arms do sway;\nThe ports are all wide open set; out rush\u2019d the troops in swarms,\nBoth horse and foot; the city run with sudden-cried alarms.\nA column stands without the town, that high his head doth raise,\nA little distant, in a plain trod down with divers ways,\nWhich men do Batieia call, but the Immortals name\nMyrine\u2019s famous sepulchre, the wondrous active dame.\nHere were th\u2019 auxiliary bands, that came in Troy\u2019s defence,\nDistinguish\u2019d under sev\u2019ral guides of special excellence.\nThe duke of all the Trojan pow\u2019r great helm-deck\u2019d Hector was,\nWhich stood of many mighty men well-skill\u2019d in darts of brass.\n\u00c6neas of commix\u00e9d seed (a Goddess with a man,\nAnchises with the Queen of love) the troops Dardanian\nLed to the field; his lovely sire in Ida\u2019s lower shade\nBegat him of sweet Cyprides; he solely was not made\nChief leader of the Dardan pow\u2019rs, Antenor\u2019s valiant sons,\nArchilochus and Acamas, were joind companions.\nWho in Zelia dwelt beneath the sacred foot of Ide,\nThat drank of black \u00c6sepus\u2019 stream, and wealth made full of pride,\nThe Aphnii, Lycaon\u2019s son, whom Ph\u0153bus gave his bow,\nPrince Pandarus did lead to field. Who Adrestinus owe,\nApesus\u2019 city, Pity\u00e6, and mount Terei\u00ebs,\nAdrestus and stout Amphius led; who did their sire displease,\n(Merops Percosius, that excell\u2019d all Troy in heav\u2019nly skill\nOf futures-searching prophecy) for, much against his will,\nHis sons were agents in those arms; whom since they disobey\u2019d,\nThe fates, in letting slip their threads, their hasty valours stay\u2019d.\nWho in Percotes, Practius, Arisba, did abide,\nWho Sestus and Abydus bred, Hyrtacides did guide;\nPrince Asius Hyrtacides, that, through great Selees\u2019 force,\nBrought from Arisba to that fight the great and fiery horse.\nPyl\u00e6us, and Hippothous, the stout Pelasgians led,\nOf them Larissa\u2019s fruitful soil before had nourish\u00e9d;\nThese were Pelasgian Pithus\u2019 sons, son of Teutamidas.\nThe Thracian guides were Pirous, and valiant Acamas,\nOf all that the impetuous flood of Hellespont enclos\u2019d.\nEuphemus, the Ciconian troops, in his command dispos\u2019d,\nWho from Tr\u0153zenius-Ceades right nobly did descend.\nPyr\u00e6chmes did the P\u00e6ons rule, that crook\u00e9d bows do bend;\nFrom Axius, out of Amydon, he had them in command,\nFrom Axius, whose most beauteous stream still overflows the land.\nPyl\u00e6men with the well-arm\u2019d heart, the Paphlagonians led,\nFrom Enes, where the race of mules fit for the plough is bred.\nThe men that broad Cytorus\u2019 bounds, and Sesamus, enfold,\nAbout Parthenius\u2019 lofty flood, in houses much extoll\u2019d,\nFrom Cromna and \u00c6gialus, the men that arms did bear,\nAnd Erythinus situate high, Pyl\u00e6men\u2019s soldiers were.\nEpistrophus and Dius did the Halizonians guide,\nFar-fetch\u2019d from Alybe, where first the silver mines were tried.\nChromis, and augur Ennomus, the Mysians did command,\nWho could not with his auguries the strength of death withstand,\nBut suffer\u2019d it beneath the stroke of great \u00c6acides,\nIn Xanthus; where he made more souls dive to the Stygian seas.\nPhorcys, and fair Ascanius, the Phrygians brought to war,\nWell train\u2019d for battle, and were come out of Ascania far.\nWith Methles, and with Antiphus, (Pyl\u00e6men\u2019s sons) did fight\nThe men of Me\u00efon, whom the fen Gyg\u00e6a brought to light,\nAnd those Meionians that beneath the mountain Tmolus sprung.\nThe rude unletter\u2019d Carib\u00e6, that barbarous were of tongue,\nDid under Nastes\u2019 colours march, and young Amphimachus,\n(Nomion\u2019s famous sons) to whom, the mountain Phthirorus\nThat with the famous wood is crown\u2019d, Miletus, Mycales\nThat hath so many lofty marks for men that love the seas,\nThe crooked arms M\u00e6ander bow\u2019d with his so snaky flood,\nResign\u2019d for conduct the choice youth of all their martial brood.\nThe fool Amphimachus, to field, brought gold to be his wrack,\nProud-girl-like that doth ever bear her dow\u2019r upon her back;\nWhich wise Achilles mark\u2019d, slew him, and took his gold in strife,\nAt Xanthus\u2019 flood; so little Death did fear his golden life.\nSarpedon led the Lycians, and Glaucus unreprov\u2019d,\nFrom Lycia, and the gulfy flood of Xanthus far remov\u2019d.\n\nTHE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nParis, betwixt the hosts, to single fight,\nOf all the Greeks, dares the most hardy knight.\nKing Menelaus doth accept his brave,\nConditioning that he again should have\nFair Helena, with all she brought to Troy,\nIf he subdu\u2019d; else Paris should enjoy\nHer, and her wealth, in peace. Conquest doth grant\nHer dear wreath to the Grecian combatant;\nBut Venus to her champion\u2019s life doth yield\nSafe rescue, and conveys him from the field\nInto his chamber, and for Helen sends,\nWhom much her lover\u2019s foul disgrace offends;\nYet Venus for him still makes good her charms,\nAnd ends the second combat in his arms.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nGamma the single fight doth sing\n\u2018Twixt Paris and the Spartan king.\n\n\nWhen ev\u2019ry least commander\u2019s will best soldiers had obey\u2019d,\nAnd both the hosts were rang\u2019d for fight, the Trojans would have fray\u2019d\nThe Greeks with noises, crying out, in coming rudely on;\nAt all parts like the cranes that fill, with harsh confusion,\nOf brutish clang\u00e9s all the air, and in ridiculous war\n(Eschewing the unsuffer\u2019d storms, shot from the winter\u2019s star)\nVisit the ocean, and confer the Pygmei soldiers\u2019 death.\nThe Greeks charg\u2019d silent, and like men, bestow\u2019d their thrifty breath\nIn strength of far-resounding blows, still entertaining care\nOf either\u2019s rescue, when their strength did their engagements dare.\nAnd as, upon a hill\u2019s steep tops, the south wind pours a cloud,\nTo shepherds thankless, but by thieves that love the night, allow\u2019d,\nA darkness letting down, that blinds a stone\u2019s cast off men\u2019s eyes;\nSuch darkness from the Greeks\u2019 swift feet (made all of dust) did rise.\nBut, ere stern conflict mix\u2019d both strengths, fair Paris stept before\nThe Trojan host; athwart his back a panther\u2019s hide he wore,\nA crook\u00e9d bow, and sword, and shook two brazen-headed darts;\nWith which well-arm\u2019d, his tongue provok\u2019d the best of Grecian hearts\nTo stand with him in single fight. Whom when the man, wrong\u2019d most\nOf all the Greeks, so gloriously saw stalk before the host;\nAs when a lion is rejoic\u2019d, (with hunger half forlorn,)\nThat finds some sweet prey, as a hart, whose grace lies in his horn,\nOr sylvan goat, which he devours, though never so pursu\u2019d\nWith dogs and men; so Sparta\u2019s king exulted, when he viewed\nThe fair-fac\u2019d Paris so expos\u2019d to his so thirsted wreak,\nWhereof his good cause made him sure. The Grecian front did break,\nAnd forth he rush\u2019d, at all parts arm\u2019d, leapt from his chariot,\nAnd royally prepar\u2019d for charge. Which seen, cold terror shot\nThe heart of Paris, who retir\u2019d as headlong from the king\nAs in him he had shunn\u2019d his death. And as a hilly spring\nPresents a serpent to a man, full underneath his feet,\nHer blue neck, swoln with poison, rais\u2019d, and her sting out, to greet\nHis heedless entry, suddenly his walk he altereth,\nStarts back amaz\u2019d, is shook with fear, and looks as pale as death;\nSo Menelaus Paris scar\u2019d; so that divine-fac\u2019d foe\nShrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go\nThis bitter check at him; \u201cAccurs\u2019d, made but in beauty\u2019s scorn,\nImpostor, woman\u2019s man! O heav\u2019n, that thou hadst ne\u2019er been born,\nOr, being so manless, never liv\u2019d to bear man\u2019s noblest state,\nThe nuptial honour! Which I wish, because it were a fate\nMuch better for thee than this shame. This spectacle doth make\nA man a monster. Hark! how loud the Greeks laugh, who did take\nThy fair form for a continent of parts as fair. A rape\nThou mad\u2019st of nature, like their queen. No soul, an empty shape,\nTakes up thy being; yet how spite to ev\u2019ry shade of good\nFills it with ill! for as thou art, thou couldst collect a brood\nOf others like thee, and far hence fetch ill enough to us,\nEv\u2019n to thy father; all these friends make those foes mock them thus\nIn thee, for whose ridiculous sake so seriously they lay\nAll Greece, and fate, upon their necks. O wretch! Not dare to stay\nWeak Menelaus? But \u2019twas well; for in him thou hadst tried\nWhat strength lost beauty can infuse, and with the more grief died\nTo feel thou robb\u2019dst a worthier man, to wrong a soldier\u2019s right.\nYour harp\u2019s sweet touch, curl\u2019d locks, fine shape, and gifts so\nexquisite,\nGiv\u2019n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good,\nWhen blood and dust had ruffled them, and had as little stood\nThyself in stead; but what thy care of all these in thee flies\nWe should inflict on thee ourselves. Infectious cowardice\nIn thee hath terrified our host; for which thou well deserv\u2019st\nA coat of tombstone, not of steel in which, for form, thou serv\u2019st.\u201d\nTo this thus Paris spake, (for form, that might inhabit heav\u2019n)\n\u201cHector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv\u2019n,\nI take it well; but though thy heart, inur\u2019d to these affrights,\nCuts through them as an axe through oak, that more us\u2019d more excites\nThe workman\u2019s faculty, whose art can make the edge go far,\nYet I, less practis\u2019d than thyself in these extremes of war,\nMay well be pardon\u2019d, though less bold; in these your worth exceeds,\nIn others mine. Nor is my mind of less force to the deeds\nRequir\u2019d in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace.\nReproach not, therefore, the kind gifts of golden Cyprides.\nAll heav\u2019n\u2019s gifts have their worthy price; as little to be scorn\u2019d\nAs to be won with strength, wealth, state; with which to be adorn\u2019d,\nSome men would change state, wealth, or strength. But, if your martial\nheart\nWish me to make my challenge good, and hold it such a part\nOf shame to give it over thus, cause all the rest to rest,\nAnd, \u2019twixt both hosts, let Sparta\u2019s king and me perform our best\nFor Helen and the wealth she brought; and he that overcomes,\nOr proves superior any way, in all your equal dooms,\nLet him enjoy her utmost wealth, keep her, or take her home;\nThe rest strike leagues of endless date, and hearty friends become;\nYou dwelling safe in gleby Troy, the Greeks retire their force\nT\u2019 Achaia, that breeds fairest dames, and Argos, fairest horse.\u201d\nHe said, and his amendsful words did Hector highly please,\nWho rush\u2019d betwixt the fighting hosts, and made the Trojans cease,\nBy holding up in midst his lance. The Grecians noted not\nThe signal he for parley used, but at him fiercely shot,\nHurl\u2019d stones, and still were leveling darts. At last the king of men,\nGreat Agamemnon, cried aloud: \u201cArgives! for shame, contain;\nYouths of Achaia, shoot no more; the fair-helm\u2019d Hector shows\nAs he desir\u2019d to treat with us.\u201d This said, all ceas\u2019d from blows,\nAnd Hector spake to both the hosts: \u201cTrojans, and hardy Greeks,\nHear now what he that stirr\u2019d these wars, for their cessation seeks.\nHe bids us all, and you, disarm, that he alone may fight\nWith Menelaus, for us all, for Helen and her right,\nWith all the dow\u2019r she brought to Troy; and he that wins the day,\nOr is, in all the art of arms, superior any way,\nThe queen, and all her sorts of wealth, let him at will enjoy;\nThe rest strike truce, and let love seal firm leagues \u2019twixt Greece and\nTroy.\u201d\nThe Greek host wonder\u2019d at this brave; silence flew ev\u2019rywhere;\nAt last spake Sparta\u2019s warlike king: \u201cNow also give me ear,\nWhom grief gives most cause of reply. I now have hope to free\nThe Greeks and Trojans of all ills, they have sustain\u2019d for me,\nAnd Alexander, that was cause I stretch\u2019d my spleen so far.\nOf both then, which is nearest fate, let his death end the war;\nThe rest immediately retire, and greet all homes in peace.\nGo then (to bless your champion, and give his pow\u2019rs success)\nFetch for the Earth, and for the Sun (the Gods on whom ye call)\nTwo lambs, a black one and a white, a female and a male;\nAnd we another, for ourselves, will fetch, and kill to Jove.\nTo sign which rites bring Priam\u2019s force, because we well approve\nHis sons perfidious, envious, and (out of practis\u2019d bane\nTo faith, when she believes in them) Jove\u2019s high truce may profane.\nAll young men\u2019s hearts are still unstaid; but in those well-weigh\u2019d\ndeeds\nAn old man will consent to pass things past, and what succeeds\nHe looks into, that he may know, how best to make his way\nThrough both the fortunes of a fact, and will the worst obey.\u201d\nThis granted, a delightful hope both Greeks and Trojans fed,\nOf long\u2019d-for rest from those long toils, their tedious war had bred.\nTheir horses then in rank they set, drawn from their chariots round,\nDescend themselves, took off their arms, and plac\u2019d them on the ground,\nNear one another; for the space \u2019twixt both the hosts was small.\nHector two heralds sent to Troy, that they from thence might call\nKing Priam, and to bring the lambs, to rate the truce they swore.\nBut Agamemnon to the fleet Talthybius sent before,\nTo fetch their lamb; who nothing slack\u2019d the royal charge was giv\u2019n.\nIris, the rain-bow, then came down, ambassadress from heav\u2019n,\nTo white-arm\u2019d Helen. She assum\u2019d at ev\u2019ry part the grace\nOf Helen\u2019s last love\u2019s sister\u2019s shape, who had the highest place\nIn Helen\u2019s love, and had to name Laodice, most fair\nOf all the daughters Priam had, and made the nuptial pair\nWith Helicaon, royal sprout of old Antenor\u2019s seed.\nShe found queen Helena at home, at work about a weed,\nWov\u2019n for herself; it shin\u2019d like fire, was rich, and full of size,\nThe work of both sides being alike; in which she did comprise\nThe many labours warlike Troy and brass-arm\u2019d Greece endur\u2019d\nFor her fair sake, by cruel Mars and his stern friends procur\u2019d.\nIris came in in joyful haste, and said; \u201cO come with me,\nLov\u2019d nymph, and an admir\u00e9d sight of Greeks and Trojans see,\nWho first on one another brought a war so full of tears,\nEv\u2019n thirsty of contentious war. Now ev\u2019ry man forbears,\nAnd friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield,\nTheir long and shining lances pitch\u2019d fast by them in the field,\nParis, and Sparta\u2019s king, alone must take up all the strife;\nAnd he that conquers only call fair Helena his wife.\u201d\nThus spake the thousand-colour\u2019d Dame, and to her mind commends\nThe joy to see her first espous\u2019d, her native tow\u2019rs, and friends;\nWhich stirr\u2019d a sweet desire in her: to serve the which she hied,\nShadow\u2019d her graces with white veils, and (though she took a pride\nTo set her thoughts at gaze, and see, in her clear beauty\u2019s flood,\nWhat choice of glory swum to her yet tender womanhood)\nSeason\u2019d with tears her joys to see more joys the more offence,\nAnd that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence.\n\nThus went she forth, and took with her her women most of name,\n\u00c6thra, Pitth\u00ebus\u2019 lovely birth, and Clymene, whom fame\nHath for her fair eyes memoris\u2019d. They reach\u2019d the Sc\u00e6an Tow\u2019rs,\nWhere Priam sat, to see the fight, with all his counsellors;\nPanthous, Lampus, Clytius, and stout Hicetaon,\nThym\u0153tes, wise Antenor, and profound Ucalegon;\nAll grave old men; and soldi\u00e9rs they had been, but for age\nNow left the wars; yet counsellors they were exceeding sage.\nAnd as in well-grown woods, or trees, cold spiny grasshoppers\nSit chirping, and send voices out, that scarce can pierce our ears\nFor softness, and their weak faint sounds; so, talking on the tow\u2019r,\nThese seniors of the people sat; who when they saw the pow\u2019r\nOf beauty, in the queen, ascend ev\u2019n those cold-spirited peers,\nThose wise and almost wither\u2019d men, found this heat in their years,\nThat they were forc\u2019d (though whisp\u00e9ring) to say: \u201cWhat man can blame\nThe Greeks and Trojans to endure, for so admir\u2019d a dame,\nSo many mis\u2019ries, and so long? In her sweet count\u2019nance shine\nLooks like the Goddesses. And yet (though never so divine)\nBefore we boast, unjustly still, of her enforc\u00e9d prise,\nAnd justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,\nLabour and ruin, let her go; the profit of our land\nMust pass the beauty.\u201d Thus, though these could bear so fit a hand\nOn their affections, yet, when all their gravest powers were us\u2019d,\nThey could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus\u2019d\nThe Gods than beauty; for thus spake the most-fam\u2019d king of Troy:\n\u201cCome, lov\u00e9d daughter, sit by me and take the worthy joy\nOf thy first husband\u2019s sight, old friends, and princes near allied,\nAnd name me some of these brave Greeks, so manly beautified.\nCome, do not think I lay the wars, endur\u2019d by us, on thee,\nThe Gods have sent them, and the tears in which they swum to me.\nSit then, and name this goodly Greek, so tall, and broadly spread,\nWho than the rest, that stand by him, is higher by the head;\nThe bravest man I ever saw, and most majestical,\nHis only presence makes me think him king amongst them all.\u201d\n\nThe fairest of her sex replied: \u201cMost rev\u2019rend father-in-law,\nMost lov\u2019d, most fear\u2019d, would some ill death had seiz\u2019d me, when I saw\nThe first mean why I wrong\u2019d you thus: that I had never lost\nThe sight of these my ancient friends, of him that lov\u2019d me most,\nOf my sole daughter, brothers both, with all those kindly mates,\nOf one soil, one age, born with me, though under diff\u2019rent fates!\nBut these boons envious stars deny; the memory of these\nIn sorrow pines those beauties now, that then did too much please;\nNor satisfy they your demand, to which I thus reply:\nThat\u2019s Agamemnon, Atreus\u2019 son, the great in empery;\nA king, whom double royalty doth crown, being great and good,\nAnd one that was my brother-in-law, when I contain\u2019d my blood,\nAnd was more worthy; if at all I might be said to be,\nMy being being lost so soon in all that honour\u2019d me.\u201d\n\nThe good old king admir\u2019d, and said: \u201cO Atreus\u2019 bless\u00e9d son,\nBorn unto joyful destinies, that hast the empire won\nOf such a world of Grecian youths, as I discover here!\nI once march\u2019d into Phrygia, that many vines doth bear,\nWhere many Phrygians I beheld, well-skill\u2019d in use of horse,\nThat of the two men, like two Gods, were the commanded force,\nOtr\u00ebus, and great Mygdonus, who on Sangarius\u2019 sands\nSet down their tents with whom myself, for my assistant bands,\nWas number\u2019d as a man in chief; the cause of war was then\nTh\u2019 Amazon dames, that in their facts affected to be men.\nIn all there was a mighty pow\u2019r, which yet did never rise\nTo equal these Achaian youths, that have the sable eyes.\u201d\nThen (seeing Ulysses next) he said: \u201cLov\u2019d daughter, what is he\nThat, lower than great Atreus\u2019 son; seems by the head to me,\nYet, in his shoulders and big breast, presents a broader show?\nHis armour lies upon the earth; he up and down doth go,\nTo see his soldiers keep their ranks, and ready have their arms,\nIf, in this truce, they should be tried by any false alarms.\nMuch like a well-grown bell-wether, or feltred ram, he shows,\nThat walks before a wealthy flock of fair white-fleeced ewes.\u201d\n\nHigh Jove and Leda\u2019s fairest seed to Priam thus replies:\n\u201cThis is the old Laertes\u2019 son, Ulysses, call\u2019d the wise;\nWho, though unfruitful Ithaca was made his nursing seat,\nYet knows he ev\u2019ry sort of sleight, and is in counsels great.\u201d\n\nThe wise Antenor answer\u2019d her: \u201c\u2019Tis true, renown\u00e9d dame;\nFor, some times past, wise Ithacus to Troy a legate came,\nWith Menelaus, for your cause; to whom I gave receipt\nAs guests, and welcom\u2019d to my house, with all the love I might.\nI learn\u2019d the wisdom of their souls, and humours of their blood;\nFor when the Trojan council met, and these together stood,\nBy height of his broad shoulders had Atrides eminence,\nYet, set, Ulysses did exceed, and bred more reverence.\nAnd when their counsels and their words they wove in one, the speech\nOf Atreus\u2019 son was passing loud, small, fast, yet did not reach\nTo much, being naturally born Laconical; nor would\nHis humour lie for anything, or was, like th\u2019 other, old;\nBut when the prudent Ithacus did to his counsels rise,\nHe stood a little still, and fix\u2019d upon the earth his eyes,\nHis sceptre moving neither way, but held it formally,\nLike one that vainly doth affect. Of wrathful quality,\nAnd frantic (rashly judging him) you would have said he was,\nBut when, out of his ample breast he gave his great voice pass,\nAnd words that flew about our ears, like drifts of winter\u2019s snow,\nNone thenceforth might contend with him, tho\u2019 nought admir\u2019d for show.\u201d\n\nThe third man, aged Priam mark\u2019d, was Ajax Telamon,\nOf whom he ask\u2019d: \u201cWhat lord is that, so large of limb and bone,\nSo rais\u2019d in height, that to his breast I see there reacheth none?\u201d\n\nTo him the Goddess of her sex, the large-veil\u2019d Helen, said:\n\u201cThat Lord is Ajax Telamon, a bulwark in their aid.\nOn th\u2019 other side stands Idomen, in Crete of most command,\nAnd round about his royal sides his Cretan captains stand;\nOft hath the warlike Spartan king giv\u2019n hospitable due\nTo him within our Lacene court, and all his retinue.\nAnd now the other Achive dukes I gen\u2019rally discern;\nAll which I know, and all their names could make thee quickly learn.\nTwo princes of the people yet, I nowhere can behold,\nCastor, the skilful knight on horse and Pollux, uncontroll\u2019d\nFor all stand-fights, and force of hand; both at a burthen bred;\nMy natural brothers; either here they have not follow\u00e9d\nFrom lovely Sparta, or, arriv\u2019d within the sea-born fleet,\nIn fear of infamy for me, in broad field shame to meet.\u201d\n\nNor so; for holy Tellus\u2019 womb inclos\u2019d those worthy men\nIn Sparta, their belov\u00e9d soil. The voiceful heralds then\nThe firm agreement of the Gods through all the city ring;\nTwo lambs, and spirit-refreshing wine (the fruit of earth) they bring,\nWithin a goat-skin bottle clos\u2019d; Id\u00e6us also brought\nA massy glitt\u2019ring bowl, and cups, that all of gold were wrought;\nWhich bearing to the king, they cried: \u201cSon of Laomedon\nRise, for the well-rode peers of Troy, and brass-arm\u2019d Greeks, in one,\nSend to thee to descend the field, that they firm vows may make;\nFor Paris, and the Spartan king, must fight for Helen\u2019s sake,\nWith long-arm\u2019d lances; and the man that proves victorious,\nThe woman, and the wealth she brought, shall follow to his house;\nThe rest knit friendship, and firm leagues; we safe in Troy shall dwell,\nIn Argos and Achaia they, that do in dames excel.\u201d\n\nHe said; and Priam\u2019s aged joints with chilled fear did shake,\nYet instantly he bade his men his chariot ready make.\nWhich soon they did, and he ascends. He takes the reins, and guide\nAntenor calls; who instantly mounts to his royal side,\nAnd, through the Sc\u00e6an ports to field, the swift-foot horse they drive.\nAnd when at them of Troy and Greece the aged lords arrive,\nFrom horse, on Troy\u2019s well-feeding soil, \u2019twixt both the hosts they go.\nWhen straight up-rose the king of men, up-rose Ulysses too,\nThe heralds in their richest coats repeat (as was the guise)\nThe true vows of the Gods (term\u2019d theirs, since made before their eyes)\nThen in a cup of gold they mix the wine that each side brings,\nAnd next pour water on the hands of both the kings of kings.\nWhich done, Atrides drew his knife, that evermore he put\nWithin the large sheath of his sword; with which away he cut\nThe wool from both fronts of the lambs, which (as a rite in use\nOf execration to their heads, that brake the plighted truce)\nThe heralds of both hosts did give the peers of both; and then,\nWith hands and voice advanc\u2019d to heav\u2019n, thus pray\u2019d the king of men:\n\n\u201cO Jove, that Ida dost protect, and hast the titles won\nMost glorious, most invincible; and thou all-seeing Sun,\nAll-hearing, all-recomforting; Floods; Earth; and Pow\u2019rs beneath,\nThat all the perjuries of men chastise ev\u2019n after death!\nBe witnesses, and see perform\u2019d the hearty vows we make.\u2014\nIf Alexander shall the life of Menelaus take,\nHe shall from henceforth Helena, with all her wealth, retain,\nAnd we will to our household Gods, hoise sail, and home again.\nIf, by my honour\u2019d brother\u2019s hand, be Alexander slain,\nThe Trojans then shall his forc\u2019d queen, with all her wealth, restore,\nAnd pay convenient fine to us, aid ours for evermore.\nIf Priam and his sons deny to pay his, thus agreed,\nWhen Alexander shall be slain; or that perfidious deed,\nAnd for the fine, will I fight here, till dearly they repay,\nBy death and ruin, the amends, that falsehood keeps away.\u201d\nThis said, the throats of both the lambs cut with his royal knife,\nHe laid them panting on the earth, till, quite depriv\u2019d of life,\nThe steel had robb\u2019d them of their strength; then golden cups they\ncrown\u2019d,\nWith wine out of a cistern drawn; which pour\u2019d upon the ground,\nThey fell upon their humble knees to all the Deities,\nAnd thus pray\u2019d one of both the hosts, that might do sacrifice:\n\u201cO Jupiter, most high, most great, and all the deathless Pow\u2019rs!\nWho first shall dare to violate the late sworn oaths of ours,\nSo let the bloods and brains of them, and all they shall produce,\nFlow on the stain\u2019d face of the earth, as now this sacred juice;\nAnd let their wives with bastardice brand all their future race.\u201d\nThus pray\u2019d they; but, with wish\u2019d effects, their pray\u2019rs Jove did not\ngrace;\nWhen Priam said: \u201cLords of both hosts, I can no longer stay\nTo see my lov\u2019d son try his life, and so must take my way\nTo wind-expos\u00e9d Ilion. Jove yet and heav\u2019n\u2019s high States\nKnow only, which of these must now pay tribute to the Fates.\u201d\nThus, putting in his coach the lambs, he mounts and reins his horse;\nAntenor to him; and to Troy, both take their speedy course.\nThen Hector, Priam\u2019s martial son, stepp\u2019d forth, and met the ground,\nWith wise Ulysses, where the blows of combat must resound;\nWhich done, into a helm they put two lots, to let them know\nWhich of the combatants should first his brass-pil\u2019d jav\u2019lin throw;\nWhen all the people standing by, with hands held up to heav\u2019n,\nPray\u2019d Jove the conquest might not be by force or fortune giv\u2019n,\nBut that the man, who was in right the author of most wrong,\nMight feel his justice, and no more these tedious wars prolong,\nBut, sinking to the house of death, leave them (as long before)\nLink\u2019d fast in leagues of amity, that might dissolve no more.\nThen Hector shook the helm that held the equal dooms of chance,\nLook\u2019d back, and drew; and Paris first had lot to hurl his lance,\nThe soldiers all sat down enrank\u2019d, each by his arms and horse\nThat then lay down and cool\u2019d their hoofs. And now th\u2019 allotted course\nBids fair-hair\u2019d Helen\u2019s husband arm; who first makes fast his greaves\nWith silver buckles to his legs; then on his breast receives\nThe curets that Lycaon wore (his brother) but made fit\nFor his fair body; next his sword he took, and fasten\u2019d it,\nAll damask\u2019d, underneath his arm; his shield then grave and great\nHis shoulders wore; and on his head his glorious helm he set,\nTopp\u2019d with a plume of horse\u2019s hair, that horribly did dance,\nAnd seem\u2019d to threaten as he mov\u2019d; at last he takes his lance,\nExceeding big, and full of weight, which he with ease could use.\nIn like sort, Sparta\u2019s warlike king himself with arms indues.\nThus arm\u2019d at either army both, they both stood bravely in,\nPossessing both hosts with amaze, they came so chin to chin,\nAnd, with such horrible asp\u00e9cts, each other did salute.\nA fair large field was made for them; where wraths, for hugeness mute,\nAnd mutual, made them mutually at either shake their darts\nBefore they threw. Then Paris first with his long jav\u2019lin parts;\nIt smote Atrides\u2019 orby targe, but ran not through the brass,\nFor in it (arming well the shield) the head reflected was.\nThen did the second combatant apply him to his spear,\nWhich ere he threw, he thus besought almighty Jupiter:\n\u201cO Jove! Vouchsafe me now revenge, and that my enemy,\nFor doing wrong so undeserv\u2019d, may pay deservedly\nThe pains he forfeited; and let these hands inflict those pains,\nBy conqu\u2019ring, ay, by conqu\u2019ring dead, him on whom life complains;\nThat any now, or anyone of all the brood of men\nTo live hereafter, may with fear from all offence abstain,\nMuch more from all such foul offence to him that was his host,\nAnd entertain\u2019d him as the man whom he affected most.\u201d\nThis said, he shook and threw his lance; which strook through Paris\u2019\nshield,\nAnd, with the strength he gave to it, it made the curets yield,\nHis coat of mail, his breast, and all, and drove his entrails in,\nIn that low region where the guts in three small parts begin;\nYet he, in bowing of his breast, prevented sable death.\nThis taint he follow\u2019d with his sword, drawn from a silver sheath,\nWhich lifting high, he strook his helm full where his plume did stand,\nOn which it piecemeal brake, and fell from his unhappy hand.\nAt which he sighing stood, and star\u2019d upon the ample sky,\nAnd said: \u201cO Jove, there is no God giv\u2019n more illiberally\nTo those that serve thee than thyself, why have I pray\u2019d in vain?\nI hop\u2019d my hand should have reveng\u2019d, the wrongs I still sustain,\nOn him that did them, and still dares their foul defence pursue;\nAnd now my lance hath miss\u2019d his end, my sword in shivers flew,\nAnd he \u2019scapes all.\u201d With this, again he rush\u2019d upon his guest,\nAnd caught him by the horse-hair plume, that dangled on his crest,\nWith thought to drag him to the Greeks; which he had surely done,\nAnd so, besides the victory, had wondrous glory won,\n(Because the needle-painted lace, with which his helm was tied\nBeneath his chin, and so about his dainty throat implied,\nHad strangled him;) but that, in time, the Cyprian seed of Jove\nDid brake the string, with which was lin\u2019d that which the needle wove,\nAnd was the tough thong of a steer; and so the victor\u2019s palm\nWas, for so full a man-at-arms, only an empty helm.\nThat then he swung about his head, and cast among his friends,\nWho scrambled, and took \u2019t up with shouts. Again then he intends\nTo force the life-blood of his foe, and ran on him amain,\nWith shaken jav\u2019lin; when the Queen, that lovers loves, again[1]\nAttended, and now ravish\u2019d him from that encounter quite,\nWith ease, and wondrous suddenly; for she, a Goddess, might.\nShe hid him in a cloud of gold, and never made him known,\nTill in his chamber, fresh and sweet, she gently set him down,\nAnd went for Helen; whom she found in Sc\u00e6a\u2019s utmost height,\nTo which whole swarms of city dames had climb\u2019d to see the sight.\nTo give her errand good success, she took on her the shape\nOf beldame Gr\u00e6a, who was brought by Helen, in her rape,\nFrom Laced\u00e6mon, and had trust in all her secrets still,\nBeing old, and had (of all her maids) the main bent of her will,\nAnd spun for her her finest wool. Like her, Love\u2019s Empress came,\nPull\u2019d Helen by the heav\u2019nly veil, and softly said: \u201cMadame,\nMy lord calls for you, you must needs make all your kind haste home;\nHe\u2019s in your chamber, stays, and longs; sits by your bed; pray come,\n\u2019Tis richly made, and sweet; but he more sweet, and looks so clear,\nSo fresh, and movingly attir\u2019d, that, seeing, you would swear\nHe came not from the dusky fight, but from a courtly dance,\nOr would to dancing.\u201d This she made a charm for dalliance;\nWhose virtue Helen felt, and knew, by her so radiant eyes,\nWhite neck, and most enticing breasts, the deified disguise.\nAt which amaz\u2019d, she answer\u2019d her: \u201cUnhappy Deity!\nWhy lov\u2019st thou still in these deceits to wrap my phantasy?\nOr whither yet, of all the towns giv\u2019n to their lust beside,\nIn Phrygia, or M\u00e6onia, com\u2019st thou to be my guide,\nIf there (of divers-languag\u2019d men thou hast, as here in Troy,\nSome other friend to be my shame; since here thy latest joy\nBy Menelaus now subdu\u2019d, by him shall I be borne\nHome to his court, and end my life in triumphs of his scorn?\nAnd, to this end, would thy deceits my wanton life allure?\nHence, go thyself to Priam\u2019s son and all the ways abjure\nOf Gods, or godlike-minded dames, nor ever turn again\nThy earth-affecting feet to heav\u2019n but for his sake sustain\nToils here; guard, grace him endlessly, till he requite thy grace\nBy giving thee my place with him; or take his servant\u2019s place,\nIf, all dishonourable ways, your favours seek to serve\nHis never-pleas\u2019d incontinence; I better will deserve,\nThan serve his dotage now. What shame were it for me to feed\nThis lust in him; all honour\u2019d dames would hate me for the deed!\nHe leaves a woman\u2019s love so sham\u2019d, and shows so base a mind,\nTo feel nor my shame nor his own; griefs of a greater kind\nWound me than such as can admit such kind delights so soon.\u201d\nThe Goddess, angry that, past shame, her mere will was not done,\nReplied: \u201cIncense me not, you wretch, lest, once incens\u2019d, I leave\nThy curs\u2019d life to as strange a hate, as yet it may receive\nA love from me; and lest I spread through both hosts such despite,\nFor those plagues they have felt for thee, that both abjure thee quite,\nAnd setting thee in midst of both, turn all their wraths on thee,\nAnd dart thee dead; that such a death may wreak thy wrong of me.\u201d\nThis strook the fair dame with such fear, it took her speech away,\nAnd, shadow\u2019d in her snowy veil, she durst not but obey;\nAnd yet, to shun the shame she fear\u2019d, she vanish\u2019d undescried\nOf all the Trojan ladies there, for Venus was her guide.\nArriv\u2019d at home, her women both fell to their work in haste;\nWhen she, that was of all her sex the most divinely grac\u2019d,\nAscended to a higher room, though much against her will,\nWhere lovely Alexander was, being led by Venus still.\nThe laughter-loving Dame discen\u2019d her mov\u2019d mind by her grace,\nAnd, for her mirth sake, set a stool, full before Paris\u2019 face,\nWhere she would needs have Helen sit; who, though she durst not choose\nBut sit, yet look\u2019d away for all the Goddess\u2019 pow\u2019r could use,\nAnd used her tongue too, and to chide whom Venus sooth\u2019d so much,\nAnd chid, too, in this bitter kind: \u201cAnd was thy cowardice such,\nSo conquer\u2019d, to be seen alive? O would to God, thy life\nHad perish\u2019d by his worthy hand, to whom I first was wife!\nBefore this, thou wouldst glorify thy valour and thy lance,\nAnd, past my first love\u2019s, boast them far. Go once more, and advance\nThy braves against his single pow\u2019r; this foil might fall by chance.\nPoor conquer\u2019d man! \u2019Twas such a chance, as I would not advise\nThy valour should provoke again. Shun him, thou most unwise,\nLest next, thy spirit sent to hell, thy body be his prise.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cPray thee, woman, cease, to chide and grieve me thus.\nDisgraces will not ever last. Look on their end. On us\nWill other Gods, at other times, let fall the victor\u2019s wreath,\nAs on him Pallas put it now. Shall our love sink beneath\nThe hate of fortune? In love\u2019s fire, let all hates vanish. Come,\nLove never so inflam\u2019d my heart; no, not when, bringing home\nThy beauty\u2019s so delicious prise, on Crana\u00eb\u2019s blest shore\nI long\u2019d for, and enjoy\u2019d thee first.\u201d With this he went before,\nShe after, to the odorous bed. While these to pleasure yield,\nPerplex\u2019d Atrides, savage-like, ran up and down the field,\nAnd ev\u2019ry thickest troop of Troy, and of their far-call\u2019d aid,\nSearch\u2019d for his foe, who could not be by any eye betray\u2019d;\nNor out of friendship (out of doubt) did they conceal his sight,\nAll hated him so like their deaths, and ow\u2019d him such despite.\nAt last thus spake the king of men: \u201cHear me, ye men of Troy,\nYe Dardans, and the rest, whose pow\u2019rs you in their aids employ.\nThe conquest on my brother\u2019s part, ye all discern is clear,\nDo you then Argive Helena, with all her treasure here,\nRestore to us, and pay the mulct, that by your vows is due,\nYield us an honour\u2019d recompense, and, all that should accrue\nTo our posterities, confirm; that when you render it,\nOur acts may here be memoris\u2019d.\u201d This all Greeks else thought fit.\n\nTHE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.\n\n\n [1] _When the Queen, etc._\u2014This place Virgil imitateth.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nThe Gods in council, at the last, decree\nThat famous Ilion shall expugned be;\nAnd that their own continu\u2019d faults may prove\nThe reasons that have so incensed Jove,\nMinerva seeks, with more offences done\nAgainst the lately injur\u2019d Atreus\u2019 son,\n(A ground that clearest would make seen their sin)\nTo have the Lycian Pandarus begin.\nHe (\u2019gainst the truce with sacred cov\u2019nants bound)\nGives Menelaus a dishonour\u2019d wound,\nMachaon heals him. Agamemnon then\nTo mortal war incenseth all his men.\nThe battles join; and, in the heat of fight,\nCold death shuts many eyes in endless night.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Delta is the Gods\u2019 Assize;\nThe truce is broke; wars freshly rise.\n\n\nWithin the fair-pav\u2019d court of Jove, he and the Gods conferr\u2019d\nAbout the sad events of Troy; amongst whom minister\u2019d\nBless\u2019d Hebe nectar. As they sat, and did Troy\u2019s tow\u2019rs behold,\nThey drank, and pledg\u2019d each other round in full-crown\u2019d cups of gold.\nThe mirth at whose feast was begun by great Saturnides\nIn urging a begun dislike amongst the Goddesses,\nBut chiefly in his solemn queen, whose spleen he was dispos\u2019d\nTo tempt yet further, knowing well what anger it inclos\u2019d,\nAnd how wives\u2019 angers should be us\u2019d. On which, thus pleas\u2019d, he\nplay\u2019d:\n\u201cTwo Goddesses there are that still give Menelaus aid,\nAnd one that Paris loves. The two that sit from us so far\n(Which Argive Juno is, and She that rules in deeds of war,)\nNo doubt are pleas\u2019d to see how well the late-seen fight did frame;\nAnd yet, upon the adverse part, the laughter-loving Dame\nMade her pow\u2019r good too for her friend; for, though he were so near\nThe stroke of death in th\u2019 others\u2019 hopes, she took him from them clear.\nThe conquest yet is questionless the martial Spartan king\u2019s.\nWe must consult then what events shall crown these future things,\nIf wars and combats we shall still with even successes strike,\nOr as impartial friendship plant on both parts. If ye like\nThe last, and that it will as well delight as merely please\nYour happy deities, still let stand old Priam\u2019s town in peace,\nAnd let the Laced\u00e6mon king again his queen enjoy.\u201d\nAs Pallas and Heav\u2019n\u2019s Queen sat close, complotting ill to Troy,\nWith silent murmurs they receiv\u2019d this ill-lik\u2019d choice from Jove;\n\u2018Gainst whom was Pallas much incens\u2019d, because the Queen of Love\nCould not, without his leave, relieve in that late point of death\nThe son of Priam, whom she loath\u2019d; her wrath yet fought beneath\nHer supreme wisdom, and was curb\u2019d; but Juno needs must ease\nHer great heart with her ready tongue, and said; \u201cWhat words are these,\nAustere, and too-much-Saturn\u2019s son? Why wouldst thou render still\nMy labours idle, and the sweat of my industrious will\nDishonour with so little pow\u2019r? My chariot-horse are tir\u2019d\nWith posting to and fro for Greece, and bringing banes desir\u2019d\nTo people must\u2019ring Priamus, and his perfidious sons;\nYet thou protect\u2019st, and join\u2019st with them whom each just Deity shuns.\nGo on, but ever go resolv\u2019d all other Gods have vow\u2019d\nTo cross thy partial course for Troy, in all that makes it proud.\u201d\nAt this, the cloud-compelling Jove a far-fetch\u2019d sigh let fly,\nAnd said: \u201cThou fury! What offence of such impiety\nHath Priam or his sons done thee, that, with so high a hate,\nThou shouldst thus ceaselessly desire to raze and ruinate\nSo well a builded town as Troy? I think, hadst thou the pow\u2019r,\nThou wouldst the ports and far-stretch\u2019d walls fly over, and devour\nOld Priam and his issue quick, and make all Troy thy feast,\nAnd then at length I hope thy wrath and tir\u00e9d spleen would rest;\nTo which run on thy chariot, that nought be found in me\nOf just cause to our future jars. In this yet strengthen thee,\nAnd fix it in thy memory fast, this if I entertain\nAs peremptory a desire to level with the plain\nA city where thy lov\u00e9d live, stand not betwixt my ire\nAnd what it aims at, but give way, when thou hast thy desire;\nWhich now I grant thee willingly, although against my will.\nFor not beneath the ample sun, and heav\u2019n\u2019s star-bearing hill,\nThere is a town of earthly men so honour\u2019d in my mind\nAs sacred Troy; nor of earth\u2019s kings as Priam and his kind,\nWho never let my altars lack rich feast of off\u2019rings slain,\nAnd their sweet savours; for which grace I honour them again.\u201d\nDread Juno, with the cow\u2019s fair eyes, replied: \u201cThree towns there are\nOf great and eminent respect, both in my love and care;\nMycene, with the broad highways; and Argos, rich in horse;\nAnd Sparta; all which three destroy, when thou envi\u2019st their force,\nI will not aid them, nor malign thy free and sov\u2019reign will,\nFor if I should be envious, and set against their ill,\nI know my envy were in vain, since thou art mightier far.\nBut we must give each other leave, and wink at either\u2019s war.\nI likewise must have pow\u2019r to crown my works with wish\u00e9d end,\nBecause I am a Deity, and did from thence descend\nWhence thou thyself, and th\u2019 elder born; wise Saturn was our sire;\nAnd thus there is a two-fold cause that pleads for my desire,\nBeing sister, and am call\u2019d thy wife; and more, since thy command\nRules all Gods else, I claim therein a like superior hand.\nAll wrath before then now remit, and mutually combine\nIn either\u2019s empire; I, thy rule, and thou, illustrate, mine;\nSo will the other Gods agree, and we shall all be strong.\nAnd first (for this late plot) with speed let Pallas go among\nThe Trojans, and some one of them entice to break the truce\nBy off\u2019ring in some treach\u2019rous wound the honour\u2019d Greeks abuse.\u201d\nThe Father both of men and Gods agreed, and Pallas sent,\nWith these wing\u2019d words, to both the hosts: \u201cMake all haste, and invent\nSome mean by which the men of Troy, against the truce agreed,\nMay stir the glorious Greeks to arms with some inglorious deed.\u201d\nThus charg\u2019d he her with haste that did, before, in haste abound,\nWho cast herself from all the heights, with which steep heav\u2019n is\ncrown\u2019d.\nAnd as Jove, brandishing a star, which men a comet call,\nHurls out his curled hair abroad, that from his brand exhals\nA thousand sparks, to fleets at sea, and ev\u2019ry mighty host,\nOf all presages and ill-haps a sign mistrusted most;\nSo Pallas fell \u2019twixt both the camps, and suddenly was lost,\nWhen through the breasts of all that saw, she strook a strong amaze\nWith viewing, in her whole descent, her bright and ominous blaze.\nWhen straight one to another turn\u2019d, and said: \u201cNow thund\u2019ring Jove\n(Great Arbiter of peace and arms) will either stablish love\nAmongst our nations, or renew such war as never was.\u201d\nThus either army did presage, when Pallas made her pass\nAmongst the multitude of Troy; who now put on the grace\nOf brave Laodocus, the flow\u2019r of old Antenor\u2019s race,\nAnd sought for Lycian Pandarus, a man that, being bred\nOut of a faithless family, she thought was fit to shed\nThe blood of any innocent, and break the cov\u2019nant sworn;\nHe was Lycaon\u2019s son, whom Jove into a wolf did turn\nFor sacrificing of a child, and yet in arms renown\u2019d\nAs one that was inculpable. Him Pallas standing found,\nAnd round about him his strong troops that bore the shady shields;\nHe brought them from \u00c6sepus\u2019 flood, let through the Lycian fields;\nWhom standing near, she whisper\u2019d thus: \u201cLycaon\u2019s warlike son,\nShall I despair at thy kind hands to have a favour done?\nNor dar\u2019st thou let an arrow fly upon the Spartan king?\nIt would be such a grace to Troy, and such a glorious thing,\nThat ev\u2019ry man would give his gift; but Alexander\u2019s hand\nWould load thee with them, if he could discover from his stand\nHis foe\u2019s pride strook down with thy shaft, and he himself ascend\nThe flaming heap of funeral. Come, shoot him, princely friend;\nBut first invoke the God of Light, that in thy land was born,\nAnd is in archers\u2019 art the best that ever sheaf hath worn,\nTo whom a hundred first-ew\u2019d lambs vow thou in holy fire,\nWhen safe to sacred Zelia\u2019s tow\u2019rs thy zealous steps retire.\u201d\nWith this the mad gift-greedy man Minerva did persuade,\nWho instantly drew forth a bow, most admirably made\nOf th\u2019 antler of a jumping goat bred in a steep upland,\nWhich archer-like (as long before he took his hidden stand,\nThe evicke skipping from a rock) into the breast he smote,\nAnd headlong fell\u2019d him from his cliff. The forehead of the goat\nHeld out a wondrous goodly palm, that sixteen branches brought;\nOf all which join\u2019d, an useful bow a skilful bowyer wrought,\nWhich pick\u2019d and polish\u2019d, both the ends he hid with horns of gold.\nAnd this bow, bent, he close laid down, and bad his soldiers hold\nTheir shields before him, lest the Greeks, discerning him, should rise\nIn tumults ere the Spartan king could be his arrow\u2019s prise.\nMean space, with all his care he choos\u2019d, and from his quiver drew,\nAn arrow, feather\u2019d best for flight and yet that never flew,\nStrong headed, and most apt to pierce; then took he up his bow,\nAnd nock\u2019d his shaft, the ground whence all their future grief did\ngrow.\nWhen, praying to his God the Sun, that was in Lycia bred,\nAnd king of archers, promising that he the blood would shed\nOf full an hundred first-fall\u2019n lambs, all offer\u2019d to his name,\nWhen to Zelia\u2019s sacred walls from rescu\u2019d Troy he came,\nHe took his arrow by the nock, and to his bended breast[1]\nThe oxy sinew close he drew, ev\u2019n till the pile did rest\nUpon the bosom of the bow; and as that savage prise\nHis strength constrain\u2019d into an orb, as if the wind did rise\nThe coming of it made a noise, the sinew-forg\u00e9d string\nDid give a mighty twang, and forth the eager shaft did sing,\nAffecting speediness of flight, amongst the Achive throng.\nNor were the bless\u00e9d Heav\u2019nly Pow\u2019rs unmindful of thy wrong,\nO Menelaus, but, in chief, Jove\u2019s seed: the Pillager,\nStood close before, and slack\u2019d the force the arrow did confer,\nWith as much care and little hurt, as doth a mother use,\nAnd keep off from her babe, when sleep doth through his pow\u2019rs diffuse\nHis golden humour, and th\u2019 assaults of rude and busy flies\nShe still checks with her careful hand; for so the shaft she plies\nThat on the buttons made of gold, which made his girdle fast,\nAnd where his curets double were, the fall of it she plac\u2019d.\nAnd thus much proof she put it to: the buckle made of gold;\nThe belt it fast\u2019ned, bravely wrought; his curets\u2019 double fold;\nAnd last, the charm\u00e9d plate he wore, which help\u2019d him more than all,\nAnd, \u2019gainst all darts and shafts bestow\u2019d, was to his life a wall;\nSo, through all these, the upper skin the head did only race;\nYet forth the blood flow\u2019d, which did much his royal person grace,\nAnd show\u2019d upon his ivory skin, as doth a purple dye\nLaid, by a dame of Ca\u00efra, or lovely M\u00e6ony,\nOn ivory, wrought in ornaments to deck the cheeks of horse;\nWhich in her marriage room must lie; whose beauties have such force\nThat they are wish\u2019d of many knights, but are such precious things,\nThat they are kept for horse that draw the chariots of kings,\nWhich horse, so deck\u2019d, the charioteer esteems a grace to him;\nLike these, in grace, the blood upon thy solid thighs did swim,\nO Menelaus, down by calves and ankles to the ground.\nFor nothing decks a soldier so, as doth an honour\u2019d wound.\nYet, fearing he had far\u2019d much worse, the hair stood up on end\nOn Agamemnon, when he saw so much black blood descend.\nAnd stiff\u2019ned with the like dismay was Menelaus too,\nBut seeing th\u2019 arrow\u2019s stale without, and that the head did go\nNo further than it might be seen, he call\u2019d his spirits again;\nWhich Agamemnon marking not but thinking he was slain,\nHe grip\u2019d his brother by the hand, and sigh\u2019d as he would break,\nWhich sigh the whole host took from him, who thus at last did speak:\n\u201cO dearest brother, is\u2019t for this, that thy death must be wrought,\nWrought I this truce? For this has thou the single combat fought\nFor all the army of the Greeks? For this hath Ilion sworn,\nAnd trod all faith beneath their feet? Yet all this hath not worn\nThe right we challeng\u2019d out of force; this cannot render vain\nOur stricken right hands, sacred wine, nor all our off\u2019rings slain;\nFor though Olympius be not quick in making good our ill,\nHe will be sure as he is slow, and sharplier prove his will.\nTheir own hands shall be ministers of those plagues they despise,\nWhich shall their wives and children reach, and all their progenies.\nFor both in mind and soul I know, that there shall come a day\nWhen Ilion, Priam, all his pow\u2019r, shall quite be worn away,\nWhen heav\u2019n-inhabiting Jove shall shake his fiery shield at all,\nFor this one mischief. This, I know, the world cannot recall.\nBut be all this, all my grief still for thee will be the same,\nDear brother. If thy life must here put out his royal flame,\nI shall to sandy Argos turn with infamy my face;\nAnd all the Greeks will call for home; old Priam and his race\nWill flame in glory; Helena untouch\u2019d be still their prey;\nAnd thy bones in our enemies\u2019 earth our curs\u00e9d fates shall lay;\nThy sepulchre be trodden down; the pride of Troy desire\nInsulting on it, \u2018Thus, O thus, let Agamemnon\u2019s ire\nIn all his acts be expiate, as now he carries home\nHis idle army, empty ships, and leaves here overcome\nGood Menelaus.\u2019 When this rave breaks in their bated breath,\nThen let the broad earth swallow me, and take me quick to death.\u201d\n\u201cNor shall this ever chance,\u201d said he, \u201cand therefore be of cheer,\nLest all the army, led by you, your passions put in fear.\nThe arrow fell in no such place a death could enter at,\nMy girdle, curets doubled here, and my most trusted plate,\nObjected all \u2019twixt me and death, the shaft scarce piercing one.\u201d\n\u201cGood brother,\u201d said the king, \u201cI wish it were no further gone,\nFor then our best in med\u2019cines skilled shall ope and search the wound,\nApplying balms to ease thy pains, and soon restore thee sound.\u201d\nThis said, divine Talthybi\u00fas he call\u2019d, and bad him haste\nMachaon (\u00c6sculapius\u2019 son, who most of men was grac\u2019d\nWith physic\u2019s sov\u2019reign remedies) to come and lend his hand\nTo Menelaus, shot by one well-skill\u2019d in the command\nOf bow and arrows, one of Troy, or of the Lycian aid,\nWho much hath glorified our foe, and us as much dismay\u2019d.\nHe heard, and hasted instantly, and cast his eyes about\nThe thickest squadrons of the Greeks, to find Machaon out.\nHe found him standing guarded well with well-arm\u2019d men of Thrace;\nWith whom he quickly join\u2019d, and said: \u201cMan of Apollo\u2019s race,\nHaste, for the king of men commands, to see a wound impress\u2019d\nIn Menelaus, great in arms, by one instructed best\nIn th\u2019 art of archery, of Troy, or of the Lycian bands,\nThat them with much renown adorns, us with dishonour brands.\u201d\nMachaon much was mov\u2019d with this, who with the herald flew\nFrom troop to troop alongst the host; and soon they came in view\nOf hurt Atrides, circled round with all the Grecian kings;\nWho all gave way, and straight he draws the shaft, which forth he\nbrings\nWithout the forks; the girdle then, plate, curets, off he plucks,\nAnd views the wound; when first from it the clotter\u2019d blood he sucks,\nThen med\u2019cines, wondrously compos\u2019d, the skilful leech applied,\nWhich loving Chiron taught his sire, he from his sire had tried.\nWhile these were thus employ\u2019d to ease the Atrean martialist,\nThe Trojans arm\u2019d, and charg\u2019d the Greeks; the Greeks arm and resist.\nThen not asleep, nor maz\u2019d with fear, nor shifting off the blows,\nYou could behold the king of men, but in full speed he goes\nTo set a glorious fight on foot; and he examples this,\nWith toiling, like the worst, on foot; who therefore did dismiss\nHis brass-arm\u2019d chariot, and his steeds, with Ptolem\u00ebus\u2019 son,\nSon of Piraides, their guide, the good Eurymedon;\n\u201cYet,\u201d said the king, \u201cattend with them, lest weariness should seize\nMy limbs, surcharg\u2019d with ord\u2019ring troops so thick and vast as these.\u201d\nEurymedon then rein\u2019d his horse, that trotted neighing by;\nThe king a footman, and so scours the squadrons orderly.\nThose of his swiftly-mounted Greeks, that in their arms were fit,\nThose he put on with cheerful words, and bad them not remit\nThe least spark of their forward spirits, because the Trojans durst\nTake these abhorr\u2019d advantages, but let them do their worst;\nFor they might be assur\u2019d that Jove would patronise no lies,\nAnd that who, with the breach of truce, would hurt their enemies,\nWith vultures should be torn themselves; that they should raze their\ntown,\nTheir wives, and children at their breast, led vassals to their own.\nBut such as he beheld hang off from that increasing fight,\nSuch would he bitterly rebuke, and with disgrace excite:\n\u201cBase Argives, blush ye not to stand as made for butts to darts?\nWhy are ye thus discomfited, like hinds that have no hearts,\nWho, wearied with a long-run field, are instantly emboss\u2019d,\nStand still, and in their beastly breasts is all their courage lost?\nAnd so stand you strook with amaze, nor dare to strike a stroke.\nWould ye the foe should nearer yet your dastard spleens provoke,\nEv\u2019n where on Neptune\u2019s foamy shore our navies lie in sight,\nTo see if Jove will hold your hands, and teach ye how to fight?\u201d\nThus he, commanding, rang\u2019d the host, and, passing many a band,\nHe came to the Cretensian troops, where all did arm\u00e9d stand\nAbout the martial Idomen; who bravely stood before\nIn vanguard of his troops, and match\u2019d for strength a savage boar;\nMeriones, his charioteer, the rearguard bringing on.\nWhich seen to Atreus\u2019 son, to him it was a sight alone,\nAnd Idomen\u2019s confirm\u00e9d mind with these kind words he seeks:\n\u201cO Idomen! I ever lov\u2019d thy self past all the Greeks,\nIn war, or any work of peace, at table, ev\u2019rywhere;\nFor when the best of Greece besides mix ever, at our cheer,\nMy good old ardent wine with small, and our inferior mates\nDrink ev\u2019n that mix\u2019d wine measur\u2019d too, thou drink\u2019st, without those\nrates,\nOur old wine neat, and evermore thy bowl stands full like mine,\nTo drink still when and what thou wilt. Then rouse that heart of thine,\nAnd, whatsoever heretofore thou hast assum\u2019d to be,\nThis day be greater.\u201d To the king in this sort answer\u2019d he:\n\u201cAtrides, what I ever seem\u2019d, the same at ev\u2019ry part\nThis day shall show me at the full, and I will fit thy heart.\nBut thou shouldst rather cheer the rest, and tell them they in right\nOf all good war must offer blows, and should begin the fight,\n(Since Troy first brake the holy truce) and not endure these braves.\nTo take wrong first, and then be dar\u2019d to the revenge it craves;\nAssuring them that Troy in fate must have the worst at last,\nSince first, and \u2019gainst a truce, they hurt, where they should have\nembrac\u2019d.\u201d\nThis comfort and advice did fit Atrides\u2019 heart indeed\nWho still through new-rais\u2019d swarms of men held his laborious speed,\nAnd came where both th\u2019 Ajaces stood; whom like the last he found\nArm\u2019d, casqu\u2019d, and ready for the fight. Behind them, hid the ground\nA cloud of foot, that seem\u2019d to smoke. And as a goatherd spies,\nOn some hill\u2019s top, out of the sea a rainy vapour rise,\nDriv\u2019n by the breath of Zephyrus which, though far off he rest,\nComes on as black as pitch, and brings a tempest in his breast,\nWhereat he frighted, drives his herds apace into a den;\nSo dark\u2019ning earth with darts and shields show\u2019d these with all their\nmen.\nThis sight with like joy fir\u2019d the king, who thus let forth the flame\nIn crying out to both the dukes: \u201cO you of equal name,\nI must not cheer, nay, I disclaim all my command of you,\nYourselves command with such free minds, and make your soldiers show\nAs you nor I led, but themselves. O would our father Jove,\nMinerva, and the God of Light, would all our bodies move\nWith such brave spirits as breathe in you, then Priam\u2019s lofty town\nShould soon be taken by our hands, for ever overthrown!\u201d\nThen held he on to other troops, and Nestor next beheld,\nThe subtle Pylian orator, range up and down the field\nEmbattelling his men at arms, and stirring all to blows,\nPoints ev\u2019ry legion out his chief, and ev\u2019ry chief he shows\nThe forms and discipline of war, yet his commanders were\nAll expert, and renown\u00e9d men. Great Pelagon was there,\nAlastor, manly Chromius, and H\u00e6mon worth a throne,\nAnd Bias that could armies lead. With these he first put on\nHis horse troops with their chariots; his foot (of which he choos\u2019d\nMany, the best and ablest men, and which he ever us\u2019d\nAs rampire to his gen\u2019ral pow\u2019r) he in the rear dispos\u2019d.\nThe slothful, and the least of spirit, he in the midst inclos\u2019d,\nThat, such as wanted noble wills, base need might force to stand.\nHis horse troops, that the vanguard had, he strictly did command\nTo ride their horses temp\u2019rately, to keep their ranks, and shun\nConfusion, lest their horsemanship and courage made them run\n(Too much presum\u2019d on) much too far, and, charging so alone,\nEngage themselves in th\u2019 enemy\u2019s strength, where many fight with one.\n\u201cWho his own chariot leaves to range, let him not freely go,\nBut straight unhorse him with a lance; for \u2019tis much better so.\nAnd with this discipline,\u201d said he, \u201cthis form, these minds, this\ntrust,\nOur ancestors have walls and towns laid level with the dust.\u201d\nThus prompt, and long inur\u2019d to arms, this old man did exhort;\nAnd this Atrides likewise took in wondrous cheerful sort,\nAnd said: \u201cO father, would to heav\u2019n, that as thy mind remains\nIn wonted vigour, so thy knees could undergo our pains!\nBut age, that all men overcomes, hath made his prise on thee;\nYet still I wish that some young man, grown old in mind, might be\nPut in proportion with thy years, and thy mind, young in age,\nBe fitly answer\u2019d with his youth; that still where conflicts rage,\nAnd young men us\u2019d to thirst for fame, thy brave exampling hand\nMight double our young Grecian spirits, and grace our whole command.\u201d\nThe old knight answer\u2019d: \u201cI myself could wish, O Atreus\u2019 son,\nI were as young as when I slew brave Ereuthalion,\nBut Gods at all times give not all their gifts to mortal men.\nIf then I had the strength of youth, I miss\u2019d the counsels then\nThat years now give me; and now years want that main strength of youth;\nYet still my mind retains her strength (as you now said the sooth)\nAnd would be where that strength is us\u2019d, affording counsel sage\nTo stir youth\u2019s minds up; \u2019tis the grace and office of our age;\nLet younger sinews, men sprung up whole ages after me,\nAnd such as have strength, use it, and as strong in honour be.\u201d\nThe king, all this while comforted, arriv\u2019d next where he found\nWell-rode Menestheus (Peteus\u2019 son) stand still, inviron\u2019d round\nWith his well-train\u2019d Athenian troops, and next to him he spied\nThe wise Ulysses, deedless too, and all his bands beside\nOf strong Cephalians; for as yet th\u2019 alarm had not been heard\nIn all their quarters, Greece and Troy were then so newly stirr\u2019d,\nAnd then first mov\u2019d, as they conceiv\u2019d; and they so look\u2019d about\nTo see both hosts give proof of that they yet had cause to doubt.\nAtrides seeing them stand so still, and spend their eyes at gaze,\nBegan to chide: \u201cAnd why,\u201d said he, \u201cdissolv\u2019d thus in amaze,\nThou son of Peteus, Jove-nurs\u2019d king, and thou in wicked sleight\nA cunning soldier, stand ye off? Expect ye that the fight\nShould be by other men begun? \u2019Tis fit the foremost band\nShould show you there; you first should front who first lifts up his\nhand.\nFirst you can hear, when I invite the princes to a feast,\nWhen first, most friendly, and at will, ye eat and drink the best,\nYet in the fight, most willingly, ten troops ye can behold\nTake place before ye.\u201d Ithacus at this his brows did fold,\nAnd said: \u201cHow hath thy violent tongue broke through thy set of teeth,\nTo say that we are slack in fight, and to the field of death\nLook others should enforce our way, when we were busied then,\nEv\u2019n when thou spak\u2019st, against the foe to cheer and lead our men?\nBut thy eyes shall be witnesses, if it content thy will,\nAnd that (as thou pretend\u2019st) these cares do so affect thee still,\nThe father of Telemachus (whom I esteem so dear,\nAnd to whom, as a legacy, I\u2019ll leave my deeds done here)\nEv\u2019n with the foremost band of Troy hath his encounter dar\u2019d,\nAnd therefore are thy speeches vain, and had been better spar\u2019d.\u201d\nHe, smiling, since he saw him mov\u2019d, recall\u2019d his words, and said:\n\u201cMost generous Laertes\u2019 son, most wise of all our aid,\nI neither do accuse thy worth, more than thyself may hold\nFit, (that inferiors think not much, being slack, to be controll\u2019d)\nNor take I on me thy command; for well I know thy mind\nKnows how sweet gentle counsels are, and that thou stand\u2019st inclin\u2019d,\nAs I myself, for all our good. On then; if now we spake\nWhat hath displeas\u2019d, another time we full amends will make;\nAnd Gods grant that thy virtue ere may prove so free and brave,\nThat my reproofs may still be vain, and thy deservings grave.\u201d\nThus parted they; and forth he went, when he did leaning find,\nAgainst his chariot, near his horse, him with the mighty mind,\nGreat Diomedes, Tydeus\u2019 son, and Sthenelus, the seed\nOf Capaneius; whom the king seeing likewise out of deed,\nThus cried he out on Diomed: \u201cO me! In what a fear\nThe wise great warrior, Tydeus\u2019 son, stands gazing ev\u2019rywhere\nFor others to begin the fight! It was not Tydeus\u2019 use\nTo be so daunted, whom his spirit would evermore produce\nBefore the foremost of his friends in these affairs of fright,\nAs they report that have beheld him labour in a fight.\nFor me, I never knew the man, nor in his presence came,\nBut excellent, above the rest, he was in gen\u2019ral fame;\nAnd one renown\u2019d exploit of his, I am assur\u2019d, is true.\nHe came to the Mycenian court, without arms, and did sue,\nAt godlike Polynices\u2019 hands, to have some worthy aid\nTo their designs that \u2019gainst the walls of sacred Thebes were laid.\nHe was great Polynices\u2019 guest, and nobly entertain\u2019d,\nAnd of the kind Mycenian state what he requested gain\u2019d,\nIn mere consent; but when they should the same in act approve,\nBy some sinister prodigies, held out to them by Jove,\nThey were discourag\u2019d. Thence he went, and safely had his pass\nBack to Asopus\u2019 flood, renown\u2019d for bulrushes and grass.\nYet, once more, their ambassador, the Grecian peers address\nLord Tydeus to Eteocles; to whom being giv\u2019n access,\nHe found him feasting with a crew of Cadmeans in his hall;\nAmongst whom, though an enemy, and only one to all;\nTo all yet he his challenge made at ev\u2019ry martial feat,\nAnd eas\u2019ly foil\u2019d all, since with him Minerva was so great.\nThe rank-rode Cadmeans, much incens\u2019d with their so foul disgrace,\nLodg\u2019d ambuscadoes for their foe, in some well-chosen place\nBy which he was to make return. Twice five-and-twenty men,\nAnd two of them great captains too, the ambush did contain.\nThe names of those two men of rule were M\u00e6on, H\u00e6mon\u2019s son,\nAnd Lycophontes, Keep-field call\u2019d, the heir of Autophon,\nBy all men honour\u2019d like the Gods; yet these and all their friends\nWere sent to hell by Tydeus\u2019 hand, and had untimely ends.\nHe trusting to the aid of Gods, reveal\u2019d by augury,\nObeying which, one chief he sav\u2019d, and did his life apply\nTo be the heavy messenger of all the others\u2019 deaths;\nAnd that sad message, with his life, to M\u00e6on he bequeaths.\nSo brave a knight was Tyde\u00fcs of whom a son is sprung,\nInferior far in martial deeds, though higher in his tongue.\u201d\nAll this Tydides silent heard, aw\u2019d by the rev\u2019rend king;\nWhich stung hot Sthenelus with wrath, who thus put forth his sting:\n\u201cAtrides, when thou know\u2019st the truth, speak what thy knowledge is,\nAnd do not lie so; for I know and I will brag in this,\nThat we are far more able men than both our fathers were.\nWe took the sev\u2019n-fold ported Thebes, when yet we had not there\nSo great help as our fathers had; and fought beneath a wall,\nSacred to Mars, by help of Jove, and trusting to the fall\nOf happy signs from other Gods, by whom we took the town\nUntouch\u2019d; our fathers perishing here by follies of their own;\nAnd therefore never more compare our fathers\u2019 worth with ours.\u201d\nTydides frown\u2019d at this, and said: \u201cSuppress thine anger\u2019s pow\u2019rs,\nGood friend, and hear why I refrain\u2019d. Thou seest I am not mov\u2019d\nAgainst our gen\u2019ral, since he did but what his place behov\u2019d,\nAdmonishing all Greeks to fight; for, if Troy prove our prise,\nThe honour and the joy is his; if here our ruin lies,\nThe shame and grief for that as much is his in greatest kinds.\nAs he then his charge, weigh we ours; which is our dauntless minds.\u201d\nThus, from his chariot, amply arm\u2019d, he jump\u2019d down to the ground;\nThe armour of the angry king so horribly did sound,\nIt might have made his bravest foe let fear take down his braves.\nAnd as when with the west-wind flaws, the sea thrusts up her waves,\nOne after other, thick and high, upon the groaning shores,\nFirst in herself loud, but oppos\u2019d with banks and rocks she roars,\nAnd, all her back in bristles set, spits ev\u2019ry way her foam;\nSo, after Diomed, instantly the field was overcome\nWith thick impressions of the Greeks; and all the noise that grew\n(Ord\u2019ring and cheering up their men) from only leaders flew.\nThe rest went silently away, you could not hear a voice,\nNor would have thought, in all their breasts, they had one in their\nchoice,\nTheir silence uttering their awe of them that them controll\u2019d,\nWhich made each man keep right his arms, march, fight still where he\nshould\nThe Trojans (like a sort of ewes, penn\u2019d in a rich man\u2019s fold,\nClose at his door, till all be milk\u2019d, and never baaing hold\nHearing the bleating of their lambs) did all their wide host fill\nWith shouts and clamours, nor observ\u2019d one voice, one baaing still,\nBut show\u2019d mix\u2019d tongues from many a land of men call\u2019d to their aid.\nRude Mars had th\u2019 ordering of their spirits; of Greeks, the learned\nMaid.\nBut Terror follow\u2019d both the hosts, and Flight, and furious Strife\nThe sister, and the mate, of Mars, that spoil of human life;\nAnd never is her rage at rest, at first she is but small,\nYet after, but a little fed, she grows so vast and tall\nThat, while her feet move here in earth, her forehead is in heav\u2019n;\nAnd this was she that made ev\u2019n then both hosts so deadly giv\u2019n.\nThrough ev\u2019ry troop she stalk\u2019d, and stirr\u2019d rough sighs up as she\nwent;\nBut when in one field both the foes her fury did content,\nAnd both came under reach of darts, then darts and shields oppos\u2019d\nTo darts and shields; strength answer\u2019d strength; then swords and\ntargets clos\u2019d\nWith swords and targets; both with pikes; and then did tumult rise\nUp to her height; then conqu\u2019rors\u2019 boasts mix\u2019d with the conquer\u2019d\u2019s\ncries;\nEarth flow\u2019d with blood. And as from hills rainwaters headlong fall,\nThat all ways eat huge ruts, which, met in one bed, fill a vall\nWith such a confluence of streams, that on the mountain grounds\nFar off, in frighted shepherds\u2019 ears, the bustling noise rebounds:\nSo grew their conflicts, and so show\u2019d their scuffling to the ear,\nWith flight and clamour still commix\u2019d, and all effects of fear.\nAnd first renown\u2019d Antilochus slew (fighting, in the face\nOf all Achaia\u2019s foremost bands, with an undaunted grace)\nEchepolus Thalysiades; he was an arm\u00e9d man;\nWhom on his hair-plum\u2019d helmet\u2019s crest the dart first smote, then ran\nInto his forehead, and there stuck; the steel pile making way\nQuite through his skull; a hasty night shut up his latest day.\nHis fall was like a fight-rac\u2019d tow\u2019r; like which lying there dispread,\nKing Elephenor (who was son to Chalcodon, and led\nThe valiant Abants) covetous that he might first possess\nHis arms, laid hands upon his feet, and hal\u2019d him from the press\nOf darts and jav\u2019lins hurl\u2019d at him. The action of the king\nWhen great-in-heart Agenor saw, he made his jav\u2019lin sing\nTo th\u2019 others\u2019 labour; and along as he the trunk did wrest,\nHis side (at which he bore his shield) in bowing of his breast\nLay naked, and receiv\u2019d the lance, that made him lose his hold\nAnd life together; which, in hope of that he lost, he sold,\nBut for his sake the fight grew fierce, the Trojans and their foes\nLike wolves on one another rush\u2019d, and man for man it goes.\nThe next of name, that serv\u2019d his fate, great Ajax Telamon\nPreferr\u2019d so sadly. He was heir to old Anthemion,\nAnd deck\u2019d with all the flow\u2019r of youth; the fruit of which yet fled,\nBefore the honour\u2019d nuptial torch could light him to his bed.\nHis name was Simoisius; for, some few years before,\nHis mother walking down the hill of Ida, by the shore\nOf silver Simois, to see her parents\u2019 flocks, with them\nShe, feeling suddenly the pains of child-birth, by the stream\nOf that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Simois)\nThey call\u2019d him Simoisius. Sweet was that birth of his\nTo his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ;\nAnd yet those rites of piety, that should have been his joy\nTo pay their honour\u2019d years again in as affectionate sort,\nHe could not graciously perform, his sweet life was so short,\nCut off with mighty Ajax\u2019 lance; for, as his spirit put on,\nHe strook him at his breast\u2019s right pap, quite through his\nshoulder-bone,\nAnd in the dust of earth he fell, that was the fruitful soil\nOf his friends\u2019 hopes; but where he sow\u2019d he buried all his toil.\nAnd as a poplar shot aloft, set by a river side,\nIn moist edge of a mighty fen, his head in curls implied,\nBut all his body plain and smooth, to which a wheel-wright puts\nThe sharp edge of his shining axe, and his soft timber cuts\nFrom his in native root, in hope to hew out of his bole\nThe fell\u2019ffs, or out-parts of a wheel, that compass in the whole,\nTo serve some goodly chariot; but, being big and sad,\nAnd to be hal\u2019d home through the bogs, the useful hope he had\nSticks there, and there the goodly plant lies with\u2019ring out his grace:\nSo lay, by Jove-bred Ajax\u2019 hand, Anthemion\u2019s forward race,\nNor could through that vast fen of toils be drawn to serve the ends\nIntended by his body\u2019s pow\u2019rs, nor cheer his aged friends.\nBut now the gay-arm\u2019d Antiphus, a son of Priam, threw\nHis lance at Ajax through the prease; which went by him, and flew\nOn Leucus, wise Ulysses\u2019 friend; his groin it smote, as fain\nHe would have drawn into his spoil the carcass of the slain,\nBy which he fell, and that by him; it vex\u2019d Ulysses\u2019 heart,\nWho thrust into the face of fight, well-arm\u2019d at ev\u2019ry part,\nCame close, and look\u2019d about to find an object worth his lance;\nWhich when the Trojans saw him shake, and he so near advance,\nAll shrunk; he threw, and forth it shin\u2019d, nor fell but where it\nfell\u2019d;\nHis friend\u2019s grief gave it angry pow\u2019r, and deadly way it held\nUpon Democoon, who was sprung of Priam\u2019s wanton force,\nCame from Abydus, and was made the master of his horse.\nThrough both his temples strook the dart, the wood of one side shew\u2019d,\nThe pile out of the other look\u2019d, and so the earth he strew\u2019d\nWith much sound of his weighty arms. Then back the foremost went;\nEv\u2019n Hector yielded; then the Greeks gave worthy clamours vent,\nEffecting then their first-dumb pow\u2019rs; some drew the dead, and\nspoil\u2019d,\nSome follow\u2019d, that, in open flight, Troy might confess it foil\u2019d.\nApollo, angry at the sight, from top of Ilion cried:\n\u201cTurn head, ye well-rode peers of Troy, feed not the Grecians\u2019 pride,\nThey are not charm\u2019d against your points, of steel, nor iron, fram\u2019d;\nNor fights the fair-hair\u2019d Thetis\u2019 son, but sits at fleet inflam\u2019d.\u201d\nSo spake the dreadful God from Troy. The Greeks, Jove\u2019s noblest Seed\nEncourag\u2019d to keep on the chace; and, where fit spirit did need,\nShe gave it, marching in the midst. Then flew the fatal hour\nBack on Diores, in return of Ilion\u2019s sun-burn\u2019d pow\u2019r;\nDiores Amaryncides, whose right leg\u2019s ankle-bone,\nAnd both the sinews, with a sharp and handful-charging stone\nPirus Imbrasides did break, that led the Thracian bands\nAnd came from \u00c6nos; down he fell, and up he held his hands\nTo his lov\u2019d friends; his spirit wing\u2019d to fly out of his breast\nWith which not satisfied, again Imbrasides address\u2019d\nHis jav\u2019lin at him, and so ripp\u2019d his navel, that the wound,\nAs endlessly it shut his eyes, so, open\u2019d, on the ground\nIt pour\u2019d his entrails. As his foe went then suffic\u2019d away,\nThoas \u00c6tolius threw a dart, that did his pile convey,\nAbove his nipple, through his lungs; when, quitting his stern part,\nHe clos\u2019d with him, and, from his breast first drawing out his dart,\nHis sword flew in, and by the midst it wip\u2019d his belly out;\nSo took his life, but left his arms; his friends so flock\u2019d about,\nAnd thrust forth lances of such length before their slaughter\u2019d king,\nWhich, though their foe were big and strong, and often brake the ring\nForg\u2019d of their lances, yet (enforc\u2019d) he left th\u2019 affected prise.\nThe Thracian and Epeian dukes, laid close with clos\u00e9d eyes\nBy either other, drown\u2019d in dust; and round about the plain,\nAll hid with slaughter\u2019d carcasses, yet still did hotly reign\nThe martial planet; whose effects had any eye beheld,\nFree and unwounded (and were led by Pallas through the field,\nTo keep off jav\u2019lins, and suggest the least fault could be found)\nHe could not reprehend the fight, so many strew\u2019d the ground.\n\nTHE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Virgil useth these verses.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nKing Diomed (by Pallas\u2019 spirit inspir\u2019d\nWith will and pow\u2019r) is for his acts admir\u2019d,\nMere men, and men deriv\u2019d from Deities,\nAnd Deities themselves, he terrifies.\nAdds wounds to terrors. His inflamed lance\nDraws blood from Mars, and Venus. In a trance\nHe casts \u00c6neas, with a weighty stone;\nApollo quickens him, and gets him gone.\nMars is recur\u2019d by P\u00e6on, but by Jove\nRebuk\u2019d for authoring breach of human love.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Epsilon, Heav\u2019n\u2019s blood is shed\nBy sacred rage of Diomed.\n\n\nThen Pallas breath\u2019d in Tydeus\u2019 son; to render whom supreme\nTo all the Greeks, at all his parts, she cast a hotter beam\nOn his high mind, his body fill\u2019d with much superior might,\nAnd made his c\u00f3mplete armour cast a far more c\u00f3mplete light.\nFrom his bright helm and shield did burn a most unwearied fire,[1]\nLike rich Autumnus\u2019 golden lamp, whose brightness men admire\nPast all the other host of stars, when, with his cheerful face\nFresh wash\u2019d in lofty Ocean waves, he doth the skies enchase.\nTo let whose glory, lose no sight, still Pallas made him turn\nWhere tumult most express\u2019d his pow\u2019r, and where the fight did burn.\nAn honest and a wealthy man inhabited in Troy,\nDares, the priest of Mulciber, who two sons did enjoy,\nId\u00e6us, and bold Phege\u00fcs, well-seen in ev\u2019ry fight.\nThese (singled from their troops, and hors\u2019d) assail\u2019d Minerva\u2019s\nknight,\nWho rang\u2019d from fight to fight on foot. All hasting mutual charge,\nAnd now drawn near, first Phegeus threw a jav\u2019lin swift and large,\nWhose head the king\u2019s left shoulder took, but did no harm at all;\nThen rush\u2019d he out a lance at him, that had no idle fall,\nBut in his breast stuck \u2019twixt the paps, and strook him from his horse.\nWhich stern sight when Id\u00e6us saw, distrustful of his force\nTo save his slaughter\u2019d brother\u2019s spoil, it made him headlong leap\nFrom his fair chariot, and leave all; yet had not \u2019scap\u2019d the heap\nOf heavy fun\u2019ral, if the God, great President of fire,\nHad not in sudden clouds of smoke and pity of his sire\nTo leave him utterly unheir\u2019d, giv\u2019n safe pass to his feet.\nHe gone, Tydides sent the horse and chariot to the fleet.\nThe Trojans seeing Dares\u2019 sons one slain, the other fled,\nWere strook amaz\u2019d. The blue-ey\u2019d Maid (to grace her Diomed\nIn giving free way to his pow\u2019r) made this so ruthful fact\nA fit advantage to remove the War-god out of act,\nWho rag\u2019d so on the Ilion side. She grip\u2019d his hand, and said:\n\u201cMars, Mars, thou ruiner of men, that in the dust hast laid\nSo many cities, and with blood thy godhead dost distain,\nNow shall we cease to show our breasts as passionate as men,\nAnd leave the mixture of our hands, resigning Jove his right,\nAs Rector of the Gods, to give the glory of the fight\nWhere he affecteth, lest he force what he should freely yield?\u201d\nHe held it fit, and went with her from the tumultuous field,\nWho set him in an herby seat on broad Scamander\u2019s shore.\nHe gone, all Troy was gone with him, the Greeks drave all before.\nAnd ev\u2019ry leader slew a man; but first the king of men\nDeserv\u2019d the honour of his name, and led the slaughter then,\nAnd slew a leader, one more huge than any man he led,\nGreat Odius, duke of Halizons; quite from his chariot\u2019s head\nHe strook him with a lance to earth, as first he flight address\u2019d;\nIt took his forward-turn\u00e9d back, and look\u2019d out of his breast;\nHis huge trunk sounded, and his arms did echo the resound.\nIdomen\u00e6us to the death did noble Ph\u00e6stus wound,\nThe son of Meon-Borus, that from cloddy Terna came;\nWho, taking chariot, took his wound, and tumbled with the same\nFrom his attempted seat: the lance through his right shoulder strook,\nAnd horrid darkness strook through him; the spoil his soldiers took.\nAtrides-Menelaus slew, as he before him fled,\nScamandrius, son of Strophius, that was a huntsman bred;\nA skilful huntsman, for his skill Diana\u2019s self did teach,\nAnd made him able with his dart infallibly to reach\nAll sorts of subtlest savages, which many a woody hill\nBred for him, and he much preserv\u2019d, and all to show his skill.\nYet not the dart-delighting Queen taught him to shun this dart,\nNor all his hitting so far off, the mast\u2019ry of his art;\nHis back receiv\u2019d it, and he fell upon his breast withal;\nHis body\u2019s ruin, and his arms, so sounded in his fall,\nThat his affrighted horse flew off, and left him, like his life.\nMeriones slew Phereclus, whom she that ne\u2019er was wife,\nYet Goddess of good housewives, held in excellent respect\nFor knowing all the witty things that grace an architect,\nAnd having pow\u2019r to give it all the cunning use of hand.\nHarmonides, his sire, built ships, and made him understand,\nWith all the practice it requir\u2019d, the frame of all that skill.\nHe built all Alexander\u2019s ships, that author\u2019d all the ill\nOf all the Trojans and his own, because he did not know\nThe oracles advising Troy (for fear of overthrow)\nTo meddle with no sea affair, but live by tilling land.\nThis man Meriones surpris\u2019d, and drave his deadly hand\nThrough his right hip; the lance\u2019s head ran through the regi\u00f3n\nAbout the bladder, underneath th\u2019 in-muscles and the bone;\nHe, sighing, bow\u2019d his knees to death, and sacrific\u2019d to earth.\nPhylides stay\u2019d Ped\u00e6us\u2019 flight, Antenor\u2019s bastard birth,\nWhom virtuous Theano his wife, to please her husband, kept\nAs tenderly as those she lov\u2019d. Phylides near him stept,\nAnd in the fountain of the nerves did drench his fervent lance,\nAt his head\u2019s back-part; and so far the sharp head did advance,\nIt cleft the organ of his speech, and th\u2019 iron, cold as death,\nHe took betwixt his grinning teeth, and gave the air his breath.\nEurypylus, the much renown\u2019d, and great Evemon\u2019s son,\nDivine Hypsenor slew, begot by stout Dolopion,\nAnd consecrate Scamander\u2019s priest; he had a God\u2019s regard\nAmongst the people; his hard flight the Grecian follow\u2019d hard,\nRush\u2019d in so close, that with his sword he on his shoulder laid\nA blow that his arm\u2019s brawn cut off; nor there his vigour stay\u2019d,\nBut drave down, and from off his wrist it hew\u2019d his holy hand\nThat gush\u2019d out blood, and down it dropp\u2019d upon the blushing sand;\nDeath, with his purple finger, shut, and violent fate, his eyes.\nThus fought these, but distinguish\u2019d well. Tydides so implies\nHis fury that you could not know whose side had interest\nIn his free labours, Greece or Troy; but as a flood, increas\u2019d\nBy violent and sudden show\u2019rs, let down from hills, like hills\nMelted in fury, swells and foams, and so he overfills\nHis natural channel; that besides both hedge and bridge resigns\nTo his rough confluence, far spread; and lusty flourishing vines\nDrown\u2019d in his outrage; Tydeus\u2019 son so overran the field,\nStrew\u2019d such as flourish\u2019d in his way, and made whole squadrons yield,\nWhen Pandarus, Lycaon\u2019s son, beheld his ruining hand,\nWith such resistless insolence, make lanes through ev\u2019ry band,\nHe bent his gold-tipp\u2019d bow of horn, and shot him rushing in,\nAt his right shoulder, where his arms were hollow; forth did spin\nThe blood, and down his curets ran; then Pandarus cried out:\n\u201cRank-riding Trojans, now rush in. Now, now, I make no doubt:\nOur bravest foe is mark\u2019d for death; he cannot long sustain\nMy violent shaft, if Jove\u2019s fair Son did worthily constrain\nMy foot from Lycia.\u201d Thus he brav\u2019d, and yet his violent shaft\nStrook short with all his violence, Tydides\u2019 life was saft;\nWho yet withdrew himself behind his chariot and steeds,\nAnd call\u2019d to Sthenelus: \u201cCome, friend, my wounded shoulder needs\nThy hand to ease it of this shaft.\u201d He hasted from his seat\nBefore the coach, and drew the shaft; the purple wound did sweat,\nAnd drown his shirt of mail in blood, and as it bled he pray\u2019d:\n\u201cHear me, of Jove-\u00c6giochus thou most unconquer\u2019d Maid!\nIf ever in the cruel field thou has assistful stood\nOr to my father, or myself, now love, and do me good.\nGive him into my lance\u2019s reach, that thus hath giv\u2019n a wound\nTo him thou guard\u2019st, preventing me, and brags that never more\nI shall behold the cheerful sun.\u201d Thus did the king implore.\nThe Goddess heard, came near, and took the weariness of fight\nFrom all his nerves and lineaments, and made them fresh and light,\nAnd said: \u201cBe bold, O Diomed, in ev\u2019ry combat shine,\nThe great shield-shaker Tydeus\u2019 strength (that knight, that sire of\nthine)\nBy my infusion breathes in thee; and from thy knowing mind\nI have remov\u2019d those erring mists that made it lately blind,\nThat thou may\u2019st diff\u2019rence Gods from men, and therefore use thy skill\nAgainst the tempting Deities, if any have a will\nTo try if thou presum\u2019st of that, as thine, that flows from them,\nAnd so assum\u2019st above thy right. Where thou discern\u2019st a beam\nOf any other Heav\u2019nly Pow\u2019r than She that rules in love,\nThat calls thee to the change of blows, resist not, but remove;\nBut if that Goddess be so bold (since she first stirr\u2019d this war)\nAssault and mark her from the rest with some inf\u00e1mous scar.\u201d\nThe blue-eyed Goddess vanish\u00e9d, and he was seen again\nAmongst the foremost, who before though he were prompt and fain\nTo fight against the Trojans\u2019 pow\u2019rs, now, on his spirits were call\u2019d\nWith thrice the vigour; lion-like, that hath been lately gall\u2019d\nBy some bold shepherd in a field, where his curl\u2019d flocks were laid,\nWho took him as he leap\u2019d the fold, not slain yet, but appaid\nWith greater spirit, comes again, and then the shepherd hides,\n(The rather for the desolate place) and in his cot abides,\nHis flocks left guardless; which, amaz\u2019d, shake and shrink up in heaps;\nHe, ruthless, freely takes his prey, and out again he leaps;\nSo sprightly, fierce, victorious, the great hero\u00eb flew\nUpon the Trojans, and, at once, he two commanders slew,\nHypenor and Astynous; in one his lance he fix\u2019d\nFull at the nipple of his breast; the other smote betwixt\nThe neck and shoulder with his sword, which was so well laid on\nIt swept his arm and shoulder off. These left, he rush\u2019d upon\nAbas and Poly\u00ebidus, of old Eurydamas\nThe hapless sons; who could by dreams tell what would come to pass,\nYet, when his sons set forth to Troy, the old man could not read\nBy their dreams what would chance to them, for both were stricken dead\nBy great Tydides, After these, he takes into his rage\nXanthus and Tho\u00f6n, Ph\u00e6nops\u2019 sons, born to him in his age;\nThe good old man ev\u2019n pin\u2019d with years, and one son more\nTo heir his goods; yet Diomed took both, and left him store\nOf tears and sorrows in their steads, since he could never see\nHis sons leave those hot wars alive; so this the end must be\nOf all his labours; what he heap\u2019d, to make his issue great,\nAuthority heir\u2019d, and with her seed fill\u2019d his forgotten seat.\nThen snatch\u2019d he up two Priamists, that in one chariot stood,\nEchemon, and fair Chromius. As feeding in a wood\nOxen or steers are, one of which a lion leaps upon,\nTears down, and wrings in two his neck; so, sternly, Tydeus\u2019 son\nThrew from their chariot both these hopes of old Dardanides,\nThen took their arms, and sent their horse to those that ride the seas,\n\u00c6neas, seeing the troops thus toss\u2019d, brake through the heat of fight,\nAnd all the whizzing of the darts, to find the Lycian knight,\nLycaon\u2019s son; whom having found, he thus bespake the peer;\n\u201cO Pandarus, where\u2019s now thy bow, thy deathful arrows where,\nIn which no one in all our host but gives the palm to thee,\nNor in the sun-lov\u2019d Lycian greens, that breed our archery,\nLives any that exceeds thyself? Come, lift thy hands to Jove,\nAnd send an arrow at this man, if but a man he prove,\nThat wins such god-like victories, and now affects our host\nWith so much sorrow, since so much of our best blood is lost\nBy his high valour. I have fear some God in him doth threat,\nIncens\u2019d for want of sacrifice; the wrath of God is great.\u201d\nLycaon\u2019s famous son replied: \u201cGreat counsellor of Troy,\nThis man, so excellent in arms, I think is Tydeus\u2019 joy;\nI know him by his fi\u2019ry shield, by his bright three-plum\u2019d casque,\nAnd by his horse; nor can I say, if or some God doth mask\nIn his appearance, or he be whom I nam\u2019d Tydeus\u2019 son,\nBut without God the things he does for certain are not done.\nSome great Immortal, that conveys his shoulders in a cloud,\nGoes by and puts by ev\u2019ry dart at his bold breast bestow\u2019d,\nOr lets it take with little hurt; for I myself let fly\nA shaft that shot him through his arms, but had as good gone by,\nYet which I gloriously affirm\u2019d had driv\u2019n him down to hell.\nSome God is angry, and with me; for far hence, where I dwell,\nMy horse and chariots idle stand, with which some other way\nI might repair this shameful miss. Elev\u2019n fair chariots stay\nIn old Lycaon\u2019s court, new made, new trimm\u2019d to have been gone,\nCurtain\u2019d, and arrast under foot; two horse to ev\u2019ry one,\nThat eat white barley and black oats, and do no good at all;\nAnd these Lycaon (that well knew how these affairs would fall)\nCharg\u2019d, when I set down this design, I should command with here,\nAnd gave me many lessons more, all which much better were\nThan any I took forth myself. The reason I laid down\nWas but the sparing of my horse, since in a sieg\u00e9d town\nI thought our horse-meat would be scant; when they were us\u2019d to have\nTheir manger full; so I left them, and like a lackey slave\nAm come to Ilion, confident in nothing but my bow\nThat nothing profits me. Two shafts I vainly did bestow\nAt two great princes, but of both my arrows neither slew,\nNor this, nor Atreus\u2019 younger son; a little blood I drew,\nThat serv\u2019d but to incense them more. In an unhappy star\nI therefore from my armoury have drawn those tools of war\nThat day, when, for great Hector\u2019s sake, to amiable Troy:\nI came to lead the Trojan bands. But if I ever joy,\nIn safe return, my country\u2019s sight, my wife\u2019s, my lofty tow\u2019rs,\nLet any stranger take this head, if to the fi\u2019ry Pow\u2019rs\nThis bow, these shafts, in pieces burst, by these hands be not thrown;\nIdle companions that they are to me and my renown.\u201d\n\u00c6neas said: \u201cUse no such words; for, any other way\nThan this, they shall not now be us\u2019d. We first will both assay\nThis man with horse and chariot. Come then, ascend to me,\nThat thou may\u2019st try our Trojan horse, how skill\u2019d in field they be,\nAnd in pursuing those that fly, or flying, being pursued,\nHow excellent they are of foot; and these, if Jove conclude\nThe \u2019scape of Tyde\u00fcs again, and grace him with our flight,\nShall serve to bring us safely off. Come, I\u2019ll be first shall fight,\nTake thou these fair reins and this scourge; or, if thou wilt, fight\nthou,\nAnd leave the horses\u2019 care to me.\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cI will now\nDescend to fight, keep thou the reins, and guide thyself thy horse;\nWho with their wonted manager will better wield the force\nOf the impulsive chariot, if we be driv\u2019n to fly,\nThan with a stranger; under whom they will be much more shy,\nAnd, fearing my voice, wishing thine, grow resty, nor go on\nTo bear us off, but leave engag\u2019d for mighty Tydeus\u2019 son\nThemselves and us. Then be thy part thy one-hoof\u2019d horses\u2019 guide,\nI\u2019ll make the fight, and with a dart receive his utmost pride.\u201d\nWith this the gorgeous chariot both, thus prepar\u2019d, ascend\nAnd make full way at Diomed; which noted by his friend,\n\u201cMine own most-lov\u00e9d mind,\u201d said he, \u201ctwo mighty men of war\nI see come with a purpos\u2019d charge; one\u2019s he that hits so far\nWith bow and shaft, Lycaon\u2019s son; the other fames the brood\nOf great Anchises and the Queen that rules in amorous blood,\n\u00c6neas, excellent in arms. Come up, and use your steeds,\nAnd look not war so in the face, lest that desire that feeds\nThy great mind be the bane of it.\u201d This did with anger sting\nThe blood of Diomed, to see his friend, that chid the king\nBefore the fight, and then preferr\u2019d his ablesse and his mind\nTo all his ancestors in fight, now come so far behind;\nWhom thus he answer\u2019d: \u201cUrge no flight, you cannot please me so;\nNor is it honest in my mind to fear a coming foe,\nOr make a flight good, though with fight. My pow\u2019rs are yet entire,\nAnd scorn the help-tire of a horse. I will not blow the fire\nOf their hot valours with my flight, but cast upon the blaze\nThis body borne upon my knees. I entertain amaze?\nMinerva will not see that shame. And since they have begun,\nThey shall not both elect their ends; and he that \u2019scapes shall  run,\nOr stay and take the other\u2019s fate. And this I leave for thee;\u2014\nIf amply-wise Athenia give both their lives to me,\nRein our horse to their chariot hard, and have a special heed\nTo seize upon \u00c6neas\u2019 steeds, that we may change their breed,\nAnd make a Grecian race of them that have been long of Troy.\nFor these are bred of those brave beasts which, for the lovely boy\nThat waits now on the cup of Jove, Jove, that far-seeing God,\nGave Tros the king in recompense; the best that ever trod\nThe sounding centre, underneath the morning and the sun.\nAnchises stole the breed of them; for, where their sires did run,\nHe closely put his mares to them, and never made it known\nTo him that heir\u2019d them, who was then the king Laomedon.\nSix horses had he of that race, of which himself kept four,\nAnd gave the other two his son; and these are they that scour\nThe field so bravely towards us, expert in charge and flight.\nIf these we have the pow\u2019r to take, our prise is exquisite,\nAnd our renown will far exceed.\u201d While these were talking thus,\nThe fir\u2019d horse brought th\u2019 assailants near, and thus spake Pandarus:\n\u201cMost suff\u2019ring-minded Tydeus\u2019 son, that hast of war the art,\nMy shaft, that strook thee, slew thee not, I now will prove a dart.\u201d\nThis said, he shook, and then he threw, a lance, aloft and large,\nThat in Tydides\u2019 curets stuck, quite driving through his targe;\nThen bray\u2019d he out so wild a voice that all the field might hear:\n\u201cNow have I reach\u2019d thy root of life, and by thy death shall bear\nOur praise\u2019s chief prise from the field.\u201d Tydides undismay\u2019d\nReplied: \u201cThou err\u2019st, I am not touch\u2019d; but more charge will be laid\nTo both your lives before you part; at least the life of one\nShall satiate the throat of Mars.\u201d This said, his lance was gone,\nMinerva led it to his face, which at his eye ran in,\nAnd, as he stoop\u2019d, strook through his jaws, his tongue\u2019s root, and his\nchin.\nDown from the chariot he fell, his gay arms shin\u2019d and rung,\nThe swift horse trembled, and his soul for ever charm\u2019d his tongue.\n\u00c6neas with his shield, and lance, leapt swiftly to his friend,\nAfraid the Greeks would force his trunk; and that he did defend,\nBold as a lion of his strength; he hid him with his shield,\nShook round his lance, and horribly did threaten all the field\nWith death, if any durst make in. Tydides rais\u2019d a stone\nWith his one hand, of wondrous weight, and pour\u2019d it mainly on\nThe hip of Anchisiades, wherein the joint doth move\nThe thigh (\u2019tis call\u2019d the huckle-bone) which all in sherds it drove,\nBrake both the nerves, and with the edge cut all the flesh away.\nIt stagger\u2019d him upon his knees, and made th\u2019 hero\u00eb stay\nHis strook-blind temples on his hand, his elbow on the earth;\nAnd there this prince of men had died, if She that gave him birth,\n(Kiss\u2019d by Anchises on the green, where his fair oxen fed)\nJove\u2019s loving daughter, instantly had not about him spread\nHer soft embraces, and convey\u2019d within her heav\u2019nly veil\n(Us\u2019d as a rampire \u2019gainst all darts that did so hot assail)\nHer dear-lov\u2019d issue from the field, Then Sthenelus in haste,\nRememb\u2019ring what his friend advis\u2019d, from forth the prease made fast\nHis own horse to their chariot, and presently laid hand\nUpon the lovely-coated horse \u00c6neas did command.\nWhich bringing to the wond\u2019nng Greeks, he did their guard commend\nTo his belov\u2019d Deipylus, who was his inward friend,\nAnd, of his equals, one to whom he had most honour shown,\nThat he might see them safe at fleet; then stept he to his own.\nWith which he cheerfully made in to Tydeus\u2019 mighty race,\nHe, mad with his great enemy\u2019s rape, was hot in desp\u2019rate chace\nOf her that made it, with his lance, arm\u2019d less with steel than spite,\nWell knowing her no Deity that had to do in fight,\nMinerva his great patroness, nor, She that raceth towns,\nBellona, but a goddess weak, and foe to men\u2019s renowns.\nHer, through a world of fight pursu\u2019d, at last he overtook,\nAnd, thrusting up his ruthless lance, her heav\u2019nly veil he strook\n(That ev\u2019n the Graces wrought themselves, at her divine command)\nQuite through, and hurt the tender back of her delicious hand.\nThe rude point piercing through her palm, forth flow\u2019d th\u2019 immortal\nblood;\nBlood, such as flows in bless\u00e9d Gods, that eat no human food,\nNor drink of our inflaming wine, and therefore bloodless are,\nAnd call\u2019d Immortals; out she cried, and could no longer bear\nHer lov\u2019d son; whom she cast from her, and in a sable cloud\nPh\u0153bus, receiving, hid him close from all the Grecian crowd,\nLest some of them should find his death. Away flew Venus then,\nAnd after her cried Diomed: \u201cAway, thou spoil of men,\nThough sprung from all-preserving Jove, these hot encounters leave.\nIs\u2019t not enough that silly dames thy sorc\u2019ries should deceive,\nUnless thou thrust into the war, and rob a soldier\u2019s right?\nI think a few of these assaults will make thee fear the fight,\nWherever thou shalt hear it nam\u2019d.\u201d She, sighing, went her way\nExtremely griev\u2019d, and with her griefs her beauties did decay,\nAnd black her ivory body grew. Then from a dewy mist\nBrake swift-foot Iris to her aid, from all the darts that hiss\u2019d\nAt her quick rapture; and to Mars they took their plaintive course,\nAnd found him on the fight\u2019s left hand, by him his speedy horse,\nAnd huge lance, lying in a fog. The Queen of all things fair\nHer lov\u00e9d brother, on her knees, besought, with instant pray\u2019r,\nHis golden-riband-bound-man\u2019d horse to lend her up to heav\u2019n\nFor she was much griev\u2019d with a wound a mortal man had giv\u2019n,\nTydides, that \u2019gainst Jove himself durst now advance his arm.\nHe granted, and his chariot (perplex\u2019d with her late harm)\nShe mounted, and her waggoness was She that paints the air.\nThe horse she rein\u2019d, and with a scourge importun\u2019d their repair,\nThat of themselves out-flew the wind, and quickly they ascend\nOlympus, high seat of the Gods. Th\u2019 horse knew their journey\u2019s end,\nStood still, and from their chariot the windy-footed dame\nDissolv\u2019d, and gave them heav\u2019nly food; and to Dione came\nHer wounded daughter, bent her knees. She kindly bade her stand,\nWith sweet embraces help\u2019d her up, strok\u2019d her with her soft hand,\nCall\u2019d kindly by her name, and ask\u2019d: \u201cWhat God hath been so rude,\nSweet daughter, to chastise thee thus, as if thou wert pursu\u2019d\nEv\u2019n to the act of some light sin, and deprehended so?\nFor otherwise, each close escape is in the great let go.\u201d\nShe answer\u2019d: \u201cHaughty Tydeus\u2019 son hath been so insolent,\nSince, him whom most my heart esteems of all my lov\u2019d descent,\nI rescu\u2019d from his bloody hand. Now battle is not giv\u2019n\nTo any Trojans by the Greeks, but by the Greeks to heav\u2019n.\u201d\nShe answer\u2019d: \u201cDaughter, think not much, though much it grieve thee;\nuse\nThe patience, whereof many Gods examples may produce,\nIn many bitter ills receiv\u2019d, as well that men sustain\nBy their inflictions as by men repaid to them again.\nMars suffer\u2019d much more than thyself by Ephialtes\u2019 pow\u2019r,\nAnd Otus\u2019, Alo\u00ebus\u2019 sons; who in a brazen tow\u2019r,\nAnd in inextricable chains, cast that war-greedy God,\nWhere twice-six months and one he liv\u2019d, and there the period\nOf his sad life perhaps had clos\u2019d, if his kind step-dame\u2019s eye,\nFair Ereb\u00e6a, had not seen; who told it Mercury,\nAnd he by stealth enfranchis\u2019d him; though he could scarce enjoy\nThe benefit of franchisement, the chains did so destroy\nHis vital forces with their weight. So Juno suffer\u2019d more\nWhen, with a three-fork\u2019d arrow\u2019s head, Amphitryo\u2019s son did gore\nHer right breast, past all hope of cure. Pluto sustain\u2019d no less\nBy that self man, and by a shaft of equal bitterness\nShot through his shoulder at hell gates; and there, amongst the dead,\nWere he not deathless, he had died; but up to heav\u2019n he fled,\nExtremely tortur\u2019d, for recure, which instantly he won\nAt P\u00e6on\u2019s hand, with sov\u2019reign balm; and this did Jove\u2019s great son,\nUnblest, great-high-deed-daring man, that car\u2019d not doing ill,\nThat with his bow durst wound the Gods! But, by Minerva\u2019s will,\nThy wound the foolish Diomed was so profane to give;\nNot knowing he that fights with Heav\u2019n hath never long to live,\nAnd for this deed, he never shall have child about his knee\nTo call him father, coming home. Besides, hear this from me,\nStrength-trusting man, though thou be strong, and art in strength a\ntow\u2019r,\nTake heed a stronger meet thee not, and that a woman\u2019s pow\u2019r\nContains not that superior strength, and lest that woman be\nAdrastus\u2019 daughter, and thy wife, the wise \u00c6giale;\nWhen, from this hour not far, she wakes, ev\u2019n sighing with desire\nTo kindle our revenge on thee, with her enamouring fire,\nIn choosing her some fresh young friend, and so drown all thy fame,\nWon here in war, in her court-piece, and in an opener shame.\u201d\nThis said, with both her hands she cleans\u2019d the tender back and palm\nOf all the sacred blood they lost; and, never using balm,\nThe pain ceas\u2019d, and the wound was cur\u2019d of this kind Queen of love.\nJuno and Pallas, seeing this, assay\u2019d to anger Jove,\nAnd quit his late-made mirth with them, about the loving Dame,\nWith some sharp jest, in like sort, built upon her present shame.\nGray-ey\u2019d Athenia began, and ask\u2019d the Thunderer,\nIf, nothing moving him to wrath, she boldly might prefer,\nWhat she conceiv\u2019d, to his conceit; and, staying no reply,\nShe bade him view the Cyprian fruit he lov\u2019d so tenderly,\nWhom she thought hurt, and by this means;\u2014intending to suborn\nSome other lady of the Greeks (whom lovely veils adorn)\nTo gratify some other friend of her much-lov\u00e9d Troy,\nAs she embrac\u2019d and stirr\u2019d her blood to the Venerean joy,\nThe golden clasp, those Grecian dames upon their girdles wear,\nTook hold of her delicious hand, and hurt it, she had fear.\nThe Thund\u2019rer smil\u2019d, and call\u2019d to him love\u2019s golden Arbitress,\nAnd told her those rough works of war were not for her access;\nShe should be making marriages, embracings, kisses, charms,\nStern Mars and Pallas had the charge of those affairs in arms.\nWhile these thus talk\u2019d, Tydides\u2019 rage still thirsted to achieve\nHis prise upon Anchises\u2019 son, though well he did perceive\nThe Sun himself protected him; but his desires (inflam\u2019d\nWith that great Trojan prince\u2019s blood, and arms so highly fam\u2019d)\nNot that great God did reverence. Thrice rush\u2019d he rudely on,\nAnd thrice, betwixt his darts and death, the Sun\u2019s bright target shone;\nBut when upon the fourth assault, much like a spirit, he flew,\nThe far-off-working Deity exceeding wrathful grew,\nAnd ask\u2019d him: \u201cWhat! Not yield to gods? Thy equals learn to know.\nThe race of Gods is far above men creeping here below.\u201d\nThis drave him to some small retreat; he would not tempt more near\nThe wrath of him that strook so far; whose pow\u2019r had now set clear\n\u00c6neas from the stormy field within the holy place\nOf Pergamus, where, to the hope of his so sov\u2019reign grace,\nA goodly temple was advanc\u2019d; in whose large inmost part\nHe left him, and to his supply inclin\u2019d his mother\u2019s heart,\nLatona, and the dart-pleas\u2019d Queen; who cur\u2019d, and made him strong.\nThe silver-bow\u2019d fair God then threw in the tumultuous throng\nAn image, that in stature, look, and arms, he did create\nLike Venus\u2019 son; for which the Greeks and Trojans made debate,\nLaid loud strokes on their ox-hide shields, and bucklers eas\u2019ly borne;\nWhich error Ph\u0153bus pleas\u2019d to urge on Mars himself in scorn:\n\u201cMars, Mars,\u201d said he, \u201cthou plague of men, smear\u2019d with the dust and\nblood\nOf humans, and their ruin\u2019d walls, yet thinks thy Godhead good\nTo fright this fury from the field, who next will fight with Jove?\nFirst in a bold approach he hurt, the moist palm of thy love,\nAnd next, as if he did affect to have a Deity\u2019s pow\u2019r,\nHe held out his assault on me.\u201d This said, the lofty tow\u2019r\nOf Pergamus he made his seat; and Mars did now excite\nThe Trojan forces, in the form of him that led to fight\nThe Thracian troops, swift Acamas. \u201cO Priam\u2019s sons,\u201d said he,\n\u201cHow long the slaughter of your men can ye sustain to see?\nEv\u2019n till they brave you at your gates? Ye suffer beaten down\n\u00c6neas, great Anchises\u2019 son, whose prowess we renown\nAs much as Hector\u2019s; fetch him off from this contentious prease.\u201d\nWith this, the strength and spirits of all his courage did increase;\nAnd yet Sarpedon seconds him, with this particular taunt\nOf noble Hector: \u201cHector, where is thy unthankful vaunt,\nAnd that huge strength on which it built, that thou, and thy allies,\nWith all thy brothers (without aid of us or our supplies,\nAnd troubling not a citizen) the city safe would hold?\nIn all which friends\u2019 and brothers\u2019 helps I see not, nor am told\nOf anyone of their exploits, but (all held in dismay\nOf Diomed, like a sort of dogs, that at a lion bay,\nAnd entertain no spirit to pinch) we, your assistants here,\nFight for the town as you help\u2019d us; and I, an aiding peer,\nNo citizen, ev\u2019n out of care, that doth become a man\nFor men and children\u2019s liberties, add all the aid I can;\nNot out of my particular cause; far hence my profit grows,\nFor far hence Asian Lycia lies, where gulfy Xanthus flows,\nAnd where my lov\u2019d wife, infant son, and treasure nothing scant,\nI left behind me, which I see those men would have that want,\nAnd therefore they that have would keep. Yet I, as I would lose\nTheir sure fruition, cheer my troops, and with their lives propose\nMine own life, both to gen\u2019ral fight, and to particular cope\nWith this great soldier; though, I say, I entertain no hope\nTo have such gettings as the Greeks, nor fear to lose like Troy.\nYet thou, ev\u2019n Hector, deedless stand\u2019st, and car\u2019st not to employ\nThy town-born friends, to bid them stand, to fight and save their\nwives,\nLest as a fowler casts his nets upon the silly lives\nOf birds of all sorts, so the foe your walls and houses hales,\nOne with another, on all heads; or such as \u2019scape their falls,\nHe made the prey and prise of them (as willing overthrown)\nThat hope not for you with their force; and so this brave-built town\nWill prove a chaos. That deserves in thee so hot a care,\nAs should consume thy days and nights, to hearten and prepare\nTh\u2019 assistant princes; pray their minds to bear their far-brought\ntoils;\nTo give them worth with worthy fight; in victories and foils\nStill to be equal; and thyself, exampling them in all,\nNeed no reproofs nor spurs. All this in thy free choice should fall.\u201d\nThis stung great Hector\u2019s heart; and yet, as ev\u2019ry gen\u2019rous mind\nShould silent bear a just reproof, and show what good they find\nIn worthy counsels, by their ends put into present deeds,\nNot stomach nor be vainly sham\u2019d; so Hector\u2019s spirit proceeds,\nAnd from his chariot, wholly arm\u2019d, he jump\u2019d upon the sand,\nOn foot so toiling through the host, a dart in either hand,\nAnd all hands turn\u2019d against the Greeks. The Greeks despis\u2019d their\nworst,\nAnd, thick\u2019ning their instructed pow\u2019rs, expected all they durst.\nThen with the feet of horse and foot, the dust in clouds did rise.\nAnd as, in sacred floors of barns, upon corn-winnow\u2019rs flies\nThe chaff, driv\u2019n with an opposite wind, when yellow Ceres dites,\nWhich all the diters\u2019 feet, legs, arms, their heads and shoulders\nwhites;\nSo look\u2019d the Grecians gray with dust, that strook the solid heav\u2019n,\nRais\u2019d from returning chariots, and troops together driv\u2019n.\nEach side stood to their labours firm. Fierce Mars flew through the\nair,\nAnd gather\u2019d darkness from the fight, and, with his best affair,\nObey\u2019d the pleasure of the Sun, that wears the golden sword\nWho bade him raise the spirits of Troy, when Pallas ceas\u2019d t\u2019 afford\nHer helping office to the Greeks; and then his own hands wrought,\nWhich, from his fane\u2019s rich chancel, cur\u2019d, the true \u00c6neas brought,\nAnd plac\u2019d him by his peers in field; who did with joy admire\nTo see him both alive and safe, and all his pow\u2019rs entire\nYet stood not sifting how it chanc\u2019d; another sort of task,\nThen stirring th\u2019 idle sieve of news, did all their forces ask,\nInflam\u2019d by Ph\u0153bus, harmful Mars, and Eris eag\u2019rer far.\nThe Greeks had none to hearten them; their hearts rose with the war;\nBut chiefly Diomed, Ithacus, and both th\u2019 Ajaces us\u2019d\nStirring examples and good words; their own fames had infus\u2019d\nSpirit enough into their bloods, to make them neither fear\nThe Trojans\u2019 force, nor Fate itself, but still expecting were,\nWhen most was done, what would be more; their ground they still made good,\nAnd in their silence, and set pow\u2019rs, like fair still clouds, they\nstood,\nWith which Jove crowns the tops of hills, in any quiet day,\nWhen Boreas and the ruder winds (that use to drive away\nAir\u2019s dusky vapours, being loose, in many a whistling gale)\nAre pleasingly bound up, and calm, and not a breath exhale;\nSo firmly stood the Greeks, nor fled for all the Ilion\u2019s aid.\nAtrides yet coasts through the troops, confirming men so staid:\n\u201cO friends,\u201d said he, \u201chold up your minds; strength is but strength of will;\nRev\u2019rence each other\u2019s good in fight and shame at things done ill.\nWhere soldiers show an honest shame, and love of honour lives,\nThat ranks men with the first in fight, death fewer liveries gives\nThan life, or than where Fame\u2019s neglect makes cowards fight at length.\nFlight neither doth the body grace, nor shows the mind hath strength.\u201d\nHe said, and swiftly through the troops a mortal lance did send,\nThat reft a standard-bearer\u2019s life, renown\u2019d \u00c6neas\u2019 friend,\nDe\u00efcoon Pergasides, whom all the Trojans lov\u2019d\nAs he were one of Priam\u2019s sons, his mind was so approv\u2019d\nIn always fighting with the first. The lance his target took,\nWhich could not interrupt the blow, that through it clearly strook,\nAnd in his belly\u2019s rim was sheath\u2019d, beneath his girdle-stead.\nHe sounded falling, and his arms with him resounded, dead.\nThen fell two princes of the Greeks by great \u00c6neas\u2019 ire,\nDiocleus\u2019 sons (Orsilochus and Crethon), whose kind sire\nIn bravely-builded Ph\u00e6ra dwelt, rich, and of sacred blood.\nHe was descended lineally from great Alph\u00e6us\u2019 flood,\nThat broadly flows through Pyles\u2019 fields; Alph\u00e6us did beget\nOrsilochus, who in the rule of many men was set;\nAnd that Orsilochus begat the rich Diocle\u00fcs;\nDiocleus sire to Crethon was, and this Orsilochus.\nBoth these; arriv\u2019d at man\u2019s estate, with both th\u2019 Atrides went,\nTo honour them in th\u2019 Ilion wars; and both were one day sent,\nTo death as well as Troy, for death hid both in one black hour.\nAs two young lions (with their dam, sustain\u2019d but to devour)\nBred on the tops of some steep hill, and in the gloomy deep\nOf an inaccessible wood, rush out, and prey on sheep,\nSteers, oxen, and destroy men\u2019s stalls, so long that they come short,\nAnd by the owner\u2019s steel are slain; in such unhappy sort\nFell these beneath \u00c6neas\u2019 pow\u2019r. When Menelaus view\u2019d\nLike two tall fir-trees these two fall, their timeless falls he rued,\nAnd to the first fight, where they lay, a vengeful force he took;\nHis arms beat back the sun in flames, a dreadful lance he shook;\nMars put the fury in his mind, that by \u00c6neas\u2019 hands,\nWho was to make the slaughter good, he might have strew\u2019d the sands.\nAntilochus, old Nestor\u2019s son, observing he was bent\nTo urge a combat of such odds, and knowing, the event\nBeing ill on his part, all their pains (alone sustain\u2019d for him)\nErr\u2019d from their end, made after hard, and took them in the trim\nOf an encounter. Both their hands and darts advanc\u2019d, and shook,\nAnd both pitch\u2019d in full stand of charge; when suddenly the look\nOf Anchisiades took note of Nestor\u2019s valiant son,\nIn full charge too; which, two to one, made Venus\u2019 issue shun\nThe hot adventure, though he were a soldier well-approv\u2019d.\nThen drew they off their slaughter\u2019d friends; who giv\u2019n to their\nbelov\u2019d,\nThey turn\u2019d where fight show\u2019d deadliest hate; and there mix\u2019d with the\ndead\nPyl\u00e6men, that the targeteers of Paphlagonia led,\nA man like Mars; and with him fell good Mydon that did guide\nHis chariot, Atymnus\u2019 son. The prince Pyl\u00e6men died\nBy Menelaus; Nestor\u2019s joy slew Mydon; one before\nThe other in the chariot. Atrides\u2019 lance did gore\nPyl\u00e6men\u2019s shoulder, in the blade. Antilochus did force\nA mighty stone up from the earth, and, as he turn\u2019d his horse,\nStrook Mydon\u2019s elbow in the midst; the reins of ivory\nFell from his hands into the dust; Antilochus let fly\nHis sword withal, and, rushing in, a blow so deadly laid\nUpon his temples, that he groan\u2019d, tumbled to earth, and stay\u2019d\nA mighty while preposterously (because the dust was deep)\nUpon his neck and shoulders there, ev\u2019n till his foe took keep\nOf his pris\u2019d horse, and made them stir; and then he prostrate fell.\nHis horse Antilochus took home. When Hector had heard tell,\nAmongst the uproar, of their deaths, he laid out all his voice,\nAnd ran upon the Greeks. Behind came many men of choice,\nBefore him march\u2019d great Mars himself match\u2019d with his female mate,\nThe dread Bellona. She brought on, to fight for mutual fate,\nA tumult that was wild and mad. He shook a horrid lance,\nAnd now led Hector, and anon behind would make the chance.\nThis sight when great Tydides saw, his hair stood up on end;\nAnd him, whom all the skill and pow\u2019r of arms did late attend,\nNow like a man in counsel poor, that, travelling, goes amiss,\nAnd having pass\u2019d a boundless plain, not knowing where he is,\nComes on the sudden where he sees a river rough, and raves\nWith his own billows ravish\u00e9d into the king of waves,\nMurmurs with foam, and frights him back; so he, amaz\u2019d, retir\u2019d,\nAnd thus would make good his amaze: \u201cO friends, we all admir\u2019d\nGreat Hector, as one of himself, well-darting, bold in war,\nWhen some God guards him still from death, and makes him dare so far.\nNow Mars himself, form\u2019d like a man, is present in his rage,\nAnd therefore, whatsoever cause importunes you to wage\nWar with these Trojans, never strive, but gently take your rod,\nLest in your bosoms, for a man, ye ever find a God.\u201d\nAs Greece retir\u2019d, the pow\u2019r of Troy did much more forward prease,\nAnd Hector two brave men of war sent to the fields of peace;\nMenesthes, and Anchialus; one chariot bare them both.\nTheir falls made Ajax Telamon ruthful of heart, and wroth\nWho lighten\u2019d out a lance that smote Amphius Selages,\nThat dwelt in P\u00e6sos, rich in lands, and did huge goods possess,\nBut Fate, to Priam and his sons, conducted his supply.\nThe jav\u2019lin on his girdle strook, and pierc\u00e9d mortally\nHis belly\u2019s lower part; he fell: his arms had looks so trim,\nThat Ajax needs would prove their spoil; the Trojans pour\u2019d on him\nWhole storms of lances, large, and sharp, of which a number stuck\nIn his rough shield; yet from the slain he did his jav\u2019lin pluck,\nBut could not from his shoulders force the arms he did affect,\nThe Trojans with such drifts of darts the body did protect;\nAnd wisely Telamonius fear\u2019d their valorous defence,\nSo many, and so strong of hand, stood in with such expense\nOf deadly prowess; who repell\u2019d, though big, strong, bold, he were,\nThe famous Ajax, and their friend did from his rapture bear.\nThus this place fill\u2019d with strength of fight; in th\u2019 army\u2019s other\nprease,\nTlepolemus, a tall big man, the son of Hercules,\nA cruel destiny inspir\u2019d, with strong desire to prove\nEncounter with Sarpedon\u2019s strength, the son of cloudy Jove;\nWho, coming on to that stern end, had chosen him his foe.\nThus Jove\u2019s great nephew, and his son, \u2019gainst one another go.\nTlepolemus, to make his end more worth the will of fate,\nBegan as if he had her pow\u2019r, and show\u2019d the mortal state\nOf too much confidence in man, with this superfluous brave:\n\u201cSarpedon, what necessity or needless humour drave\nThy form to these wars, which in heart I know thou dost abhor,\nA man not seen in deeds of arms, a Lycian counsellor?\nThey lie that call thee son to Jove, since Jove bred none so late;\nThe men of elder times were they, that his high pow\u2019r begat,\nSuch men as had Herculean force. My father Hercules\nWas Jove\u2019s true issue; he was bold; his deeds did well express\nThey sprung out of a lion\u2019s heart. He whilome came to Troy,\n(For horse that Jupiter gave Tros, for Ganymed, his boy)\nWith six ships only, and few men, and tore the city down,\nLeft all her broad ways desolate, and made the horse his own.\nFor thee, thy mind is ill dispos\u2019d, thy body\u2019s pow\u2019rs are poor,\nAnd therefore are thy troops so weak; the soldier evermore\nFollows the temper of his chief; and thou pull\u2019st down a side.\nBut say thou art the son of Jove, and hast thy means supplied\nWith forces fitting his descent, the pow\u2019rs that I compel\nShall throw thee hence, and make thy head run ope the gates of hell.\u201d\nJove\u2019s Lycian issue answer\u2019d him: \u201cTlepolemus, \u2019tis true\nThy father holy Ilion in that sort overthrew;\nTh\u2019 injustice of the king was cause, that, where thy father had\nUs\u2019d good deservings to his state, he quitted him with bad.\nHesione, the joy and grace of king Laomedon,\nThy father rescu\u2019d from a whale, and gave to Telamon\nIn honour\u2019d nuptials (Telamon, from whom your strongest Greek\nBoasts to have issu\u2019d) and this grace might well expect the like;\nYet he gave taunts for thanks, and kept, against his oath, his horse,\nAnd therefore both thy father\u2019s strength, and justice, might enforce\nThe wreak he took on Troy; but this and thy cause differ far.\nSons seldom heir their fathers\u2019 worths. Thou canst not make his war.\nWhat thou assum\u2019st for him, is mine, to be on thee impos\u2019d.\u201d\nWith this, he threw an ashen dart; and then Tlepolemus los\u2019d\nAnother from his glorious hand. Both at one instant flew,\nBoth strook, both wounded. From his neck Sarpedon\u2019s jav\u2019lin drew\nThe life blood of Tlepolemus; full in the midst it fell;\nAnd what he threaten\u2019d, th\u2019 other gave, that darkness, and that hell.\nSarpedon\u2019s left thigh took the lance; it pierc\u2019d the solid bone,\nAnd with his raging head ran through; but Jove preserv\u2019d his son.\nThe dart yet vex\u2019d him bitterly, which should have been pull\u2019d out,\nBut none consider\u2019d then so much, so thick came on the rout,\nAnd fill\u2019d each hand so full of cause to ply his own defence;\n\u2018Twas held enough, both fall\u2019n that both were nobly carried thence\nUlysses knew th\u2019 events of both, and took it much to heart\nThat his friend\u2019s enemy should \u2019scape; and in a twofold part\nHis thoughts contended, if he should pursue Sarpedon\u2019s life,\nOr take his friend\u2019s wreak on his men. Fate did conclude this strife,\nBy whom \u2019twas otherwise decreed than that Ulysses\u2019 steel\nShould end Sarpedon. In this doubt Minerva took the wheel\nFrom fickle Chance, and made his mind resolve to right his friend\nWith that blood he could surest draw. Then did Revenge extend\nHer full pow\u2019r on the multitude; then did he never miss;\nAlastor, Halius, Chromius, Noemon, Prytanis,\nAlcander, and a number more, he slew, and more had slain,\nIf Hector had not understood; whose pow\u2019r made in amain,\nAnd strook fear through the Grecian troops, but to Sarpedon gave\nHope of full rescue, who thus cried: \u201cO Hector! Help and save\nMy body from the spoil of Greece, that to your lov\u00e9d town\nMy friends may see me borne, and then let earth possess her own\nIn this soil, for whose sake I left my country\u2019s; for no day\nShall ever show me that again, nor to my wife display,\nAnd young hope of my name, the joy of my much thirsted sight;\nAll which I left for Troy, for them let Troy then do this right.\u201d\nTo all this Hector gives no word, but greedily he strives\nWith all speed to repel the Greeks, and shed in floods their lives,\nAnd left Sarpedon; but what face soever he put on\nOf following the common cause, he left this prince alone\nFor his particular grudge, because, so late, he was so plain\nIn his reproof before the host, and that did he retain;\nHowever, for example sake, he would not show it then,\nAnd for his shame too, since \u2019twas just. But good Sarpedon\u2019s men\nVentur\u2019d themselves, and forc\u2019d him off, and set him underneath\nThe goodly beech of Jupiter, where now they did unsheath\nThe ashen lance; strong Pelagon, his friend, most lov\u2019d, most true,\nEnforc\u2019d it from his maim\u00e9d thigh; with which his spirit flew,\nAnd darkness over-flew his eyes; yet with a gentle gale,\nThat round about the dying prince cool Boreas did exhale,\nHe was reviv\u2019d, recomforted, that else had griev\u2019d and died.\nAll this time flight drave to the fleet the Argives, who applied\nNo weapon \u2019gainst the proud pursuit, nor ever turn\u2019d a head,\nThey knew so well that Mars pursu\u2019d, and dreadful Hector led.\nThen who was first, who last, whose lives the iron Mars did seize,\nAnd Priam\u2019s Hector? Helenus, surnam\u2019d \u0152nopides;\nGood Teuthras; and Orestes, skill\u2019d in managing of horse;\nBold \u0152nomaus; and a man renown\u2019d for martial force,\nTrechus, the great \u00c6tolian chief; Oresbius, that did wear\nThe gaudy mitre, studied wealth extremely, and dwelt near\nTh\u2019 Atlantic lake Cephisides, in Hyla, by whose seat\nThe good men of B\u0153otia dwelt. This slaughter grew so great,\nIt flew to heav\u2019n; Saturnia discern\u2019d it, and cried out\nTo Pallas: \u201cO unworthy sight! To see a field so fought,\nAnd break our words to Sparta\u2019s king, that Ilion should be rac\u2019d,\nAnd he return reveng\u2019d; when thus we see his Greeks disgrac\u2019d,\nAnd bear the harmful rage of Mars! Come, let us use our care,\nThat we dishonour not our pow\u2019rs.\u201d Minerva was as yare\nAs she at the despite of Troy. Her golden-bridled steeds\nThen Saturn\u2019s daughter brought abroad; and Hebe, she proceeds\nT\u2019 address her chariot; instantly she gives it either wheel,\nBeam\u2019d with eight spokes of sounding brass; the axle-tree was steel;\nThe fell\u2019ffs incorruptible gold, their upper bands of brass,\nTheir matter most unvalued, their work of wondrous grace;\nThe naves, in which the spokes were driv\u2019n, were all with silver bound;\nThe chariot\u2019s seat two hoops of gold and silver strengthen\u2019d round,\nEdg\u2019d with a gold and silver fringe; the beam, that look\u2019d before,\nWas massy silver; on whose top, gears all of gold it wore,\nAnd golden poitrils. Juno mounts, and her hot horses rein\u2019d,\nThat thirsted for contenti\u00f3n, and still of peace complain\u2019d.\nMinerva wrapt her in the robe, that curiously she wove,\nWith glorious colours, as she sate on th\u2019 azure floor of Jove,\nAnd wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field.\nAbout her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,\nFring\u2019d round with ever-fighting snakes; through it was drawn to life\nThe miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown\u2019d bloody Strife,\nIn it shin\u2019d sacred Fortitude, in it fell P\u00farsuit flew,\nIn it the monster Gorgon\u2019s head, in which held out to view\nWere all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac\u2019d\nHis four-plum\u2019d glitt\u2019ring casque of gold, so admirably vast\nIt would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.\nThen to her shining chariot her vig\u2019rous feet ascend;\nAnd in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,\nWith which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance,\nAnd overturn whole fields of men, to show she was the Seed\nOf him that thunders. Then heav\u2019n\u2019s Queen, to urge her horses\u2019 speed,\nTakes up the scourge, and forth they fly. The ample gates of heav\u2019n\nRung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is giv\u2019n,\nWith all Olympus, and the sky, to the distinguish\u2019d Hours,\nThat clear, or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in show\u2019rs.\nThis way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they won\nThe top of all the topful heav\u2019ns, where aged Saturn\u2019s son\nSat sever\u2019d from the other Gods; then stay\u2019d the white-arm\u2019d Queen\nHer steeds, and ask\u2019d of Jove, if Mars did not incense his spleen\nWith his foul deeds, in ruining so many and so great\nIn the command and grace of Greece, and in so rude a heat?\nAt which, she said, Apollo laugh\u2019d, and Venus, who still sue\nTo that mad God, for violence that never justice knew;\nFor whose impiety, she ask\u2019d, if, with his wish\u00e9d love,\nHerself might free the field of him? He bade her rather move\nAthenia to the charge she sought, who us\u2019d of old to be\nThe bane of Mars, and had as well the gift of spoil as he.\nThis grace she slack\u2019d not, but her horse scourg\u2019d, that in nature flew\nBetwixt the cope of stars and earth; and how far at a view\nA man into the purple sea may from a hill descry,\nSo far a high-neighing horse of heav\u2019n at ev\u2019ry jump would fly.[2]\nArriv\u2019d at Troy, where, broke in curls, the two floods mix their force,\nScamander and bright Simois, Saturnia stay\u2019d her horse,\nTook them from chariot, and a cloud of mighty depth diffus\u2019d\nAbout them; and the verdant banks of Simois produc\u2019d\nIn nature what they eat in heav\u2019n. Then both the Goddesses[3]\nMarch\u2019d, like a pair of tim\u2019rous doves, in hasting their access\nTo th\u2019 Argive succour. Being arriv\u2019d, where both the most and best\nWere heap\u2019d together (showing all, like lions at a feast\nOf new-slain carcasses, or boars, beyond encounter strong)\nThere found they Diomed; and there, \u2019midst all th\u2019 admiring throng,\nSaturnia put on Stentor\u2019s shape, that had a brazen voice,\nAnd spake as loud as fifty men; like whom she made a noise,\nAnd chid the Argives: \u201cO ye Greeks, in name and outward rite\nBut princes only, not in act, what scandal, what despite,\nUse ye to honour! All the time the great \u00c6acides\nWas conversant in arms, your foes durst not a foot address\nWithout their ports, so much they fear\u2019d his lance that all controll\u2019d,\nAnd now they outray to your fleet.\u201d This did with shame make bold\nThe gen\u2019ral spirit and pow\u2019r of Greece: when, with particular note\nOf their disgrace, Athenia made Tydeus\u2019 issue hot.\nShe found him at his chariot, refreshing of his wound\nInflicted by slain Pandarus; his sweat did so abound,\nIt much annoy\u2019d him, underneath the broad belt of his shield;\nWith which, and tir\u00e9d with his toil, his soul could hardly yield\nHis body motion. With his hand he lifted up the belt,\nAnd wip\u2019d away that clotter\u2019d blood the fervent wound did melt.\nMinerva lean\u2019d against his horse, and near their withers laid\nHer sacred hand, then spake to him: \u201cBelieve me, Diomed,\nTydeus exampled not himself in thee his son; not great,\nBut yet he was a soldier; a man of so much heat,\nThat in his ambassy for Thebes, when I forbad his mind\nTo be too vent\u2019rous, and when feasts his heart might have declin\u2019d,\nWith which they welcom\u2019d him, he made a challenge to the best,\nAnd foil\u2019d the best; I gave him aid, because the rust of rest,\nThat would have seiz\u2019d another mind, he suffer\u2019d not, but us\u2019d\nThe trial I made like a man, and their soft feasts refus\u2019d.\nYet, when I set thee on, thou faint\u2019st; I guard thee, charge, exhort\nThat, I abetting thee, thou shouldst be to the Greeks a fort,\nAnd a dismay to Ilion, yet thou obey\u2019st in nought,\nAfraid, or slothful, or else both; henceforth renounce all thought\nThat ever thou wert Tydeus\u2019 son.\u201d He answer\u2019d her: \u201cI know\nThou art Jove\u2019s daughter, and, for that, in all just duty owe\nThy speeches rev\u2019rence, yet affirm ingeniously that fear\nDoth neither hold me spiritless, nor sloth. I only bear\nThy charge in zealous memory, that I should never war\nWith any bless\u00e9d Deity, unless (exceeding far\nThe limits of her rule) the Queen, that governs chamber sport,\nShould press to field; and her thy will enjoin\u2019d my lance to hurt.\nBut, He whose pow\u2019r hath right in arms, I knew in person here,\nBesides the Cyprian Deity; and therefore did forbear,\nAnd here have gather\u2019d in retreat these other Greeks you see,\nWith note and rev\u2019rence of your charge.\u201d \u201cMy dearest mind,\u201d said she,\n\u201cWhat then was fit is chang\u2019d. \u2019Tis true, Mars hath just rule in war,\nBut just war; otherwise he raves, not fights. He\u2019s alter\u2019d far.\nHe vow\u2019d to Juno, and myself, that his aid should be us\u2019d\nAgainst the Trojans, whom it guards; and therein he abus\u2019d\nHis rule in arms, infring\u2019d his word, and made his war unjust.\nHe is inconstant, impious, mad. Resolve then; firmly trust\nMy aid of thee against his worst, or any Deity;\nAdd scourge to thy free horse, charge home; he fights perfidiously.\u201d\nThis said; as that brave king, her knight, with his horse-guiding\nfriend,\nWere set before the chariot, for sign he should descend,\nThat she might serve for waggoness, she pluck\u2019d the wagg\u2019ner back,\nAnd up into his seat she mounts; the beechen tree did crack\nBeneath the burthen; and good cause, it bore so huge a thing,\nA Goddess so replete with pow\u2019r, and such a puissant king.\nShe snatch\u2019d the scourge up and the reins, and shut her heaven\u2019ly look\nIn Hell\u2019s vast helm from Mars\u2019s eyes; and full career she took\nAt him, who then had newly slain the mighty Periphas,\nRenown\u2019d son to Ochesius, and far the strongest was\nOf all th\u2019 \u00c6tolians; to whose spoil the bloody God was run.\nBut when this man-plague saw the approach of god-like Tydeus\u2019 son,\nHe let his mighty Periphas lie, and in full charge he ran\nAt Diomed; and he at him. Both near; the God began,\nAnd, thirsty of his blood, he throws a brazen lance that bears\nFull on the breast of Diomed, above the reins and gears;\nBut Pallas took it on her hand, and strook the eager lance\nBeneath the chariot. Then the knight of Pallas doth advance,\nAnd cast a jav\u2019lin off at Mars, Minerva sent it on,\nThat, where his arming girdle gilt, his belly graz\u2019d upon,\nJust at the rim, and ranch\u2019d the flesh; the lance again he got,\nBut left the wound, that stung him so, he laid out such a throat\nAs if nine or ten thousand men had bray\u2019d out all their breaths\nIn one confusion, having felt as many sudden deaths.\nThe roar made both the hosts amaz\u2019d. Up flew the God to heav\u2019n;\nAnd with him was through all the air as black a tincture driv\u2019n\nTo Diomed\u2019s eyes, as when the earth half-choked with smoking heat\nOf gloomy clouds, that stifle men, and pitchy tempests threat,\nUsher\u2019d with horrid gusts of wind; with such black vapours plum\u2019d,\nMars flew t\u2019 Olympus, and broad heav\u2019n, and there his place resum\u2019d.\nSadly he went and sat by Jove, show\u2019d his immortal blood,\nThat from a mortal-man-made wound pour\u2019d such an impious flood,\nAnd weeping pour\u2019d out these complaints: \u201cO Father, storms\u2019t thou not\nTo see us take these wrongs from men? Extreme griefs we have got\nEv\u2019n by our own deep councils, held for gratifying them;\nAnd thou, our council\u2019s president, conclud\u2019st in this extreme\nOf fighting ever; being rul\u2019d by one that thou hast bred;\nOne never well, but doing ill; a girl so full of head\nThat, though all other Gods obey, her mad moods must command,\nBy thy indulgence, nor by word, nor any touch of hand,\nCorrecting her; thy reason is, she is a spark of thee,\nAnd therefore she may kindle rage in men \u2019gainst Gods, and she\nMay make men hurt Gods, and those Gods that are besides thy seed.\nFirst in the palm\u2019s hit Cyprides; then runs the impious deed\nOn my hurt person; and, could life give way to death in me,\nOr had my feet not fetched me off, heaps of mortality\nHad kept me consort.\u201d Jupiter, with a contracted brow,\nThus answered Mars: \u201cThou many minds, inconstant changeling thou,\nSit not complaining thus by me, whom most of all the Gods,\nInhabiting the starry hill, I hate; no periods\nBeing set to thy contentions, brawls, fights, and pitching fields;\nJust of thy mother Juno\u2019s moods, stiff-neck\u2019d, and never yields,\nThough I correct her still, and chide, nor can forbear offence,\nThough to her son; this wound I know tastes of her insolence;\nBut I will prove more natural; thou shalt be cur\u2019d, because\nThou com\u2019st of me, but hadst thou been so cross to sacred laws,\nBeing born to any other God, thou had\u2019st been thrown from heav\u2019n\nLong since, as low as Tartarus, beneath the giants driv\u2019n.\u201d\nThis said, he gave his wound in charge to P\u00e6on, who applied\nSuch sov\u2019reign med\u2019cines, that as soon the pain was qualified,\nAnd he recur\u2019d; as nourishing milk, when runnet is put in,\nRuns all in heaps of tough thick curd, though in his nature thin,\nEv\u2019n so soon his wound\u2019s parted sides ran close in his recure;\nFor he, all deathless, could not long the parts of death endure,\nThen Hebe bath\u2019d, and put on him fresh garments, and he sate\nExulting by his sire again, in top of all his state.\nSo, having, from the spoils of men, made his desir\u2019d remove,\nJuno and Pallas re-ascend the starry court of Jove.\n\nTHE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] This simile likewise Virgil learns of him.\n\n\n [2] How far a heavenly horse took at one reach or stroke in galloping\n or running; wherein Homer\u2019s mind is far from being expressed in his\n interpreters, all taking it for how far Deities were borne from the\n earth, when instantly they came down to earth: _\u03c4\u03cc\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9,_\n etc. _tantun uno saltu conficiunt, vel, tantum subsultim\n progrediuntur, deorum altizoni equi, etc. uno_ being understood, and\n the horse\u2019s swiftness highly expressed. The sense, otherwise, is\n senseless and contradictory.\n\n\n [3] \u1fbd\u0391\u03bc\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03af\u03b7\u03bd is the original word, which Scaliger taxeth very\n learnedly, asking how the horse came by it on those banks, when the\n text tells him Simois produced it; being willing to express by\n hyperbole the delicacy of that soil. If not, I hope the Deities could\n ever command it.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nThe Gods now leaving an indiff\u2019rent field,\nThe Greeks prevail, the slaughter\u2019d Trojans yield.\nHector, by Helenus\u2019 advice, retires\nIn haste to Troy, and Hecuba desires\nTo pray Minerva to remove from fight\nThe son of Tydeus, her affected knight,\nAnd vow to her, for favour of such price,\nTwelve oxen should be slain in sacrifice.\nIn mean space Glaucus and Tydides meet;\nAnd either other with remembrance greet\nOf old love \u2019twixt their fathers, which inclines\nTheir hearts to friendship; who change arms for signs\nOf a continu\u2019d love for either\u2019s life.\nHector, in his return, meets with his wife,\nAnd, taking in his armed arms his son,\nHe prophesies the fall of Ilion.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Zeta, Hector prophesies;\nPrays for his son; wills sacrifice.\n\n\nThe stern fight freed of all the Gods, conquest with doubtful wings\nFlew on their lances; ev\u2019ry way the restless field she flings\nBetwixt the floods of Simois and Xanthus, that confin\u2019d\nAll their affairs of Ilion, and round about them shin\u2019d.\nThe first that weigh\u2019d down all the field, of one particular side,\nWas Ajax, son of Telamon; who, like a bulwark, plied\nThe Greeks\u2019 protection, and of Troy the knotty orders brake,\nHeld out a light to all the rest, and showed them how to make\nWay to their conquest, He did wound the strongest man of Thrace,\nThe tallest and the biggest set, Eussorian Acamas;\nHis lance fell on his casque\u2019s plum\u2019d top, in stooping; the fell head\nDrave through his forehead to his jaws; his eyes night shadow\u00e9d.\nTydides slew Teuthranides Axylus, that did dwell,\nIn fair Arisba\u2019s well-built tow\u2019rs. He had of wealth a well,\nAnd yet was kind and bountiful; he would a traveller pray\nTo be his guest, his friendly house stood in the broad highway,\nIn which he all sorts nobly us\u2019d; yet none of them would stand\n\u2018Twixt him and death, but both himself, and he that had command\nOf his fair horse, Calesius, fell lifeless on the ground.\nEuryalus, Opheltius and Dresus dead did wound;\nNor ended there his fi\u2019ry course, which he again begins,\nAnd ran to it successfully, upon a pair of twins,\n\u00c6sepus, and bold Pedasus, whom good Bucolion\n(That first call\u2019d father, though base-born, renown\u2019d Laomedon)\nOn Nais Abarbar\u00e6a got, a nymph that, as she fed\nHer curl\u00e9d flocks, Bucolion woo\u2019d, and mix\u2019d in love and bed.\nBoth these were spoiled of arms and life, by Mecistiades.\nThen Polyp\u0153tes, for stern death, Astyalus did seize;\nUlysses slew Percosius; Teucer Areta\u00f6n;\nAntilochus (old Nestor\u2019s joy) Ablerus; the great son\nOf Atre\u00fcs, and king of men, Elatus, whose abode:\nHe held at upper Pedasus, where Satnius\u2019 river flowed;\nThe great hero\u00eb Leitus stay\u2019d Phylacus in flight\nFrom further life; Eurypylus, Melanthius reft of light.\nThe brother to the king of men, Adrestus took alive;\nWhose horse, affrighted with the flight, their driver now did drive\nAmongst the low-grown tam\u2019risk trees, and at an arm of one\nThe chariot in the draught-tree brake; the horse brake loose, and ron\nThe same way other flyers fled, contending all to town;\nHimself close at the chariot wheel, upon his face was thrown,\nAnd there lay flat, rolled up in dust. Atrides inwards drave;\nAnd, holding at his breast his lance, Adrestus sought to save\nHis head by losing of his feet, and trusting to his knees;\nOn which the same parts of the king he hugs, and offers fees\nOf worthy value for his life, and thus pleads their receipt:\n\u201cTake me alive, O Atreus\u2019 son, and take a worthy weight\nOf brass, elab\u2019rate iron, and gold.[1] A heap of precious things\nAre in my father\u2019s riches hid, which, when your servant brings\nNews of my safety to his ears, he largely will divide\nWith your rare bounties.\u201d Atreus\u2019 son thought this the better side,\nAnd meant to take it, being about to send him safe to fleet;\nWhich when, far off, his brother saw, he wing\u2019d his royal feet,\nAnd came in threat\u2019ning, crying out: \u201cO soft heart! What\u2019s the cause\nThou spar\u2019st these men thus? Have not they observ\u2019d these gentle laws\nOf mild humanity to thee, with mighty argument\nWhy thou shouldst deal thus; in thy house, and with all precedent\nOf honour\u2019d guest-rites, entertain\u2019d? Not one of them shall fly\nA bitter end for it from heav\u2019n, and much less, dotingly,\n\u2018Scape our revengeful fingers; all, ev\u2019n th\u2019 infant in the womb,\nShall taste of what they merited, and have no other tomb\nThan raz\u00e9d Ilion; nor their race have more fruit than the dust.\u201d\nThis just cause turn\u2019d his brother\u2019s mind, who violently thrust\nThe pris\u2019ner from him; in whose guts the king of men impress\u2019d\nHis ashen lance, which (pitching down his foot upon the breast\nOf him that upwards fell) he drew; then Nestor spake to all:\n\u201cO friends, and household men of Mars, let not your p\u00farsuit fall,\nWith those ye fell, for present spoil; nor, like the king of men,\nLet any \u2019scape unfell\u2019d; but on, dispatch them all, and then\nYe shall have time enough to spoil.\u201d This made so strong their chace,\nThat all the Trojans had been hous\u2019d, and never turned a face,\nHad not the Priamist Helenus, an augur most of name,\nWill\u2019d Hector and \u00c6neas thus: \u201cHector! Anchises\u2019 fame!\nSince on your shoulders, with good cause, the weighty burden lies\nOf Troy and Lycia (being both of noblest faculties\nFor counsel, strength of hand, and apt to take chance at her best\nIn ev\u2019ry turn she makes) stand fast, and suffer not the rest,\nBy any way search\u2019d out for \u2019scape, to come within the ports,\nLest, fled into their wives\u2019 kind arms, they there be made the sports\nOf the pursuing enemy. Exhort, and force your bands\nTo turn their faces; and, while we employ our ventur\u2019d hands,\nThough in a hard conditi\u00f3n, to make the other stay,\nHector, go thou to Ilion, and our queen-mother pray\nTo take the richest robe she hath; the same that\u2019s chiefly dear\nTo her court fancy; with which gem, assembling more to her\nOf Troy\u2019s chief matrons, let all go, for fear of all our fates,\nTo Pallas\u2019 temple, take the key, unlock the leavy gates,\nEnter, and reach the highest tow\u2019r, where her Palladium stands,\nAnd on it put the precious veil with pure and rev\u2019rend hands,\nAnd vow to her, besides the gift, a sacrificing stroke\nOf twelve fat heifers-of-a-year, that never felt the yoke,\n(Most answ\u2019ring to her maiden state) if she will pity us,\nOur town, our wives, our youngest joys, and him, that plagues them\nthus,\nTake from the conflict, Diomed, that fury in a fight,\nThat true son of great Tyde\u00fas, that cunning lord of flight,\nWhom I esteem the strongest Greek; for we have never fled\nAchilles, that is prince of men, and whom a Goddess bred,\nLike him; his fury flies so high, and all men\u2019s wraths commands.\u201d\nHector intends his brother\u2019s will, but first through all his bands\nHe made quick way, encouraging; and all, to fear afraid,\nAll turn\u2019d their heads, and made Greece turn. Slaughter stood still\ndismay\u2019d\nOn their parts, for they thought some God, fall\u2019n from the vault of\nstars,\nWas rush\u2019d into the Ilions\u2019 aid, they made such dreadful wars.\nThus Hector, toiling in the waves, and thrusting back the flood\nOf his ebb\u2019d forces, thus takes leave: \u201cSo, so, now runs your blood\nIn his right current; forwards now, Trojans, and far-call\u2019d friends!\nAwhile hold out, till, for success to this your brave amends,\nI haste to Ilion, and procure our counsellors and wives\nTo pray, and offer hecatombs, for their states in our lives.\u201d\nThen fair-helm\u2019d Hector turn\u2019d to Troy, and, as he trode the field,\nThe black bull\u2019s hide, that at his back he wore about his shield,\nIn the extreme circumference, was with his gait so rock\u2019d,\nThat, being large, it both at once his neck and ankles knock\u2019d.\nAnd now betwixt the hosts were met, Hippolochus\u2019 brave son,\nGlaucus, who in his very look hope of some wonder won,\nAnd little Tydeus\u2019 mighty heir; who seeing such a man\nOffer the field, for usual blows, with wondrous words began:\n\u201cWhat art thou, strong\u2019st of mortal men, that putt\u2019st so far before,\nWhom these fights never show\u2019d mine eyes? They have been evermore\nSons of unhappy parents born, that came within the length\nOf this Minerva-guided lance, and durst close with the strength\nThat she inspires in me. If heav\u2019n be thy divine abode,\nAnd thou a Deity thus inform\u2019d, no more with any God\nWill I change lances. The strong son of Dryus did not live\nLong after such a conflict dar\u2019d, who godlessly did drive\nNys\u00e6us\u2019 nurses through the hill made sacred to his name,\nAnd called Nysseius; with a goad he punch\u2019d each furious dame,\nAnd made them ev\u2019ry one cast down their green and leavy spears.\nThis th\u2019 homicide Lycurgus did; and those ungodly fears,\nHe put the froes in, seiz\u2019d their God. Ev\u2019n Bacchus he did drive\nFrom his Nysseius; who was fain, with huge exclaims, to dive\nInto the ocean. Thetis there in her bright bosom took\nThe flying Deity; who so fear\u2019d Lycurgus\u2019 threats, he shook.\nFor which the freely-living Gods so highly were incens\u2019d,\nThat Saturn\u2019s great Son strook him blind, and with his life dispens\u2019d\nBut small time after; all because th\u2019 Immortals lov\u2019d him not,\nNor lov\u2019d him since he striv\u2019d with them; and his end hath begot\nFear in my pow\u2019rs to fight with heav\u2019n. But, if the fruits of earth\nNourish thy body, and thy life be of our human birth,\nCome near, that thou mayst soon arrive on that life-bounding shore,\nTo which I see thee hoise such sail.\u201d \u201cWhy dost thou so explore,\u201d\nSaid Glaucus, \u201cof what race I am, when like the race of leaves\nThe race of man is, that deserves no question; nor receives\nMy being any other breath? The wind in autumn strows\nThe earth with old leaves then the spring the woods with new endows;\nAnd so death scatters men on earth, so life puts out again\nMan\u2019s leavy issue. But my race, if, like the course of men,\nThou seek\u2019st in more particular terms, \u2019tis this, to many known:\nIn midst of Argos, nurse of horse, there stands a wall\u00e9d town,\nEphyr\u00e9, where the mansion-house of Sisyphus did stand,\nOf Sisyphus-\u00c6\u00f6lides, most wise of all the land.\nGlaucus was son to him, and he begat Bellerophon,\nWhose body heav\u2019n indu\u2019d with strength, and put a beauty on,\nExceeding lovely. Pr\u00e6tis yet his cause of love did hate,\nAnd banish\u2019d him the town; he might; he rul\u2019d the Argive state.\nThe virtue of the one Jove plac\u2019d beneath the other\u2019s pow\u2019r,\nHis exile grew, since he denied to be the paramour\nOf fair Anteia, Pr\u00e6tus\u2019 wife, who felt a raging fire\nOf secret love to him; but he, whom wisdom did inspire\nAs well as prudence, (one of them advising him to shun\nThe danger of a princess\u2019 love, the other not to run\nWithin the danger of the Gods, the act being simply ill,)\nStill entertaining thoughts divine, subdu\u2019d the earthly still.\nShe, rul\u2019d by neither of his wits, preferr\u2019d her lust to both,\nAnd, false to Pr\u00e6tus, would seem true, with this abhorr\u2019d untroth:\n\u2018Pr\u00e6tus, or die thyself,\u2019 said she, \u2018or let Bellerophon die.\nHe urg\u2019d dishonour to thy bed; which since I did deny,\nHe thought his violence should grant, and sought thy shame by force.\u2019\nThe king, incens\u2019d with her report, resolv\u2019d upon her course,\nBut doubted how it should be run; he shunn\u2019d his death direct,\n(Holding a way so near not safe) and plotted the effect\nBy sending him with letters seal\u2019d (that, open\u2019d, touch his life)[2]\nTo Rh\u00ebuns king of Lycia, and father to his wife.\nHe went; and happily he went, the Gods walk\u2019d all his way;\nAnd being arriv\u2019d in Lycia, where Xanthus doth display\nThe silver ensigns of his waves, the king of that broad land\nReceiv\u2019d him with a wondrous free and honourable hand.\nNine days he feasted him, and kill\u2019d an ox in ev\u2019ry day,\nIn thankful sacrifice to heav\u2019n, for his fair guest; whose stay,\nWith rosy fingers, brought the world, the tenth well-welcom\u2019d morn,\nAnd then the king did move to see, the letters he had borne\nFrom his lov\u2019d son-in-law; which seen, he wrought thus their contents:\nChim\u00e6ra, the invincible, he sent him to convince,\nSprung from no man, but mere divine; a lion\u2019s shape before,\nBehind a dragon\u2019s, in the midst a goat\u2019s shagg\u2019d form, she bore,\nAnd flames of deadly fervency flew from her breath and eyes;\nYet her he slew; his confidence in sacred prodigies\nRender\u2019d him victor. Then he gave his second conquest way\nAgainst the famous Solymi, when (he himself would say,\nReporting it) he enter\u2019d on a passing vig\u2019rous fight.\nHis third huge labour he approv\u2019d against a woman\u2019s spite,\nThat fill\u2019d a field of Amazons; he overcame them all.\nThen set they on him sly Deceit, when Force had such a fall;\nAn ambush of the strongest men, that spacious Lycia bred,\nWas lodg\u2019d for him; whom he lodg\u2019d sure, they never rais\u2019d a head.\nHis deeds thus showing him deriv\u2019d from some celestial race,\nThe king detain\u2019d, and made amends, with doing him the grace\nOf his fair daughter\u2019s princely gift; and with her, for a dow\u2019r,\nGave half his kingdom; and to this, the Lycians on did pour\nMore than was giv\u2019n to any king; a goodly planted field,\nIn some parts thick of groves and woods, the rest rich crops did yield,\nThis field the Lycians futurely (of future wand\u2019rings there\nAnd other errors of their prince, in the unhappy rear\nOf his sad life) the Errant call\u2019d, The princess brought him forth\nThree children (whose ends griev\u2019d him more, the more they were of\nworth)\nIsander; and Hippolochus; and fair Laodomy,\nWith whom, ev\u2019n Jupiter himself left heav\u2019n itself, to lie,\nAnd had by her the man at arms, Sarpedon, call\u2019d divine,\nThe Gods then left him, lest a man should in their glories shine,\nAnd set against him; for his son, Isandrus, in a strife\nAgainst the valiant Solymi, Mars reft of light and life;\nLaodam\u00efa, being envied of all the Goddesses,\nThe golden-bridle-handling Queen, the maiden Patroness,\nSlew with an arrow; and for this he wander\u2019d evermore\nAlone through his Aleian field, and fed upon the core\nOf his sad bosom, flying all the loth\u2019d cons\u00f3rts of men.\nYet had he one surviv\u2019d to him, of those three childeren,\nHippolochus, the root of me; who sent me here with charge\nThat I should always bear me well, and my deserts enlarge\nBeyond the vulgar, lest I sham\u2019d my race, that far excell\u2019d\nAll that Ephyra\u2019s famous tow\u2019rs, or ample Lycia, held.\nThis is my stock, and this am I.\u201d This cheer\u2019d Tydides\u2019 heart,\nWho pitch\u2019d his spear down, lean\u2019d, and talk\u2019d in this affectionate\npart:\n\u201cCert\u00e9s, in thy great ancestor, and in mine own, thou art\nA guest of mine, right ancient. King Oeneus twenty days\nDetain\u2019d, with feasts, Bellerophon, whom all the world did praise.\nBetwixt whom mutual gifts were giv\u2019n, My grandsire gave to thine\nA girdle of Ph\u0153nician work, impurpl\u2019d wondrous fine,\nThine gave a two-neck\u2019d jug of gold, which, though I use not here,\nYet still it is my gem at home. But, if our fathers were\nFamiliar, or each other knew, I know not, since my sire\nLeft me a child, at siege of Thebes, where he left his life\u2019s fire.\nBut let us prove our grandsires\u2019 sons, and be each other\u2019s guests.\nTo Lycia when I come, do thou receive thy friend with feasts;\nPeloponnesus, with the like, shall thy wish\u2019d presence greet.\nMean space, shun we each other here, though in the press we meet.\nThere are enow of Troy beside, and men enow renown\u2019d,\nTo right my pow\u2019rs, whomever heav\u2019n shall let my lance confound,\nSo are there of the Greeks for thee; kill who thou canst. And now,\nFor sign of amity \u2019twixt us, and that all these may know\nWe glory in th\u2019 hospitious rites our grandsires did commend,\nChange we our arms before them all.\u201d From horse then both descend,\nJoin hands, give faith, and take; and then did Jupiter elate[3]\nThe mind of Glaucus, who, to show his rev\u2019rence to the state\nOf virtue in his grandsire\u2019s heart, and gratulate beside\nThe offer of so great a friend, exchang\u2019d in that good pride,\nCurets of gold for those of brass, that did on Diomed shine,\nOne of a hundred oxen\u2019s price, the other but of nine.\n\nBy this, had Hector reach\u2019d the ports of Sc\u00e6a, and the tow\u2019rs.\nAbout him flock\u2019d the wives of Troy, the children, paramours,\nInquiring how their husbands did, their fathers, brothers, loves.\nHe stood not then to answer them, but said: \u201cIt now behoves\nYe should all go t\u2019 implore the aid of heav\u2019n, in a distress\nOf great effect, and imminent.\u201d Then hasted he access\nTo Priam\u2019s goodly builded court, which round about was run\nWith walking porches, galleries, to keep off rain and sun.\nWithin, of one side, on a rew, of sundry-colour\u2019d stones,\nFifty fair lodgings were built out, for Priam\u2019s fifty sons,\nAnd for as fair sort of their wives; and, in the opposite view,\nTwelve lodgings of like stone, like height, were likewise built arew,\nWhere, with their fair and virtuous wives, twelve princes, sons in law\nTo honourable Priam, lay. And here met Hecuba,\nThe loving mother, her great son; and with her needs must be\nThe fairest of her female race, the bright Laodice.\nThe queen gript hard her Hector\u2019s hand, and said: \u201cO worthiest son,\nWhy leav\u2019st thou field? Is\u2019t not because the curs\u00e9d nation\nAfflict our countrymen and friends? They are their moans that move\nThy mind to come and lift thy hands, in his high tow\u2019r, to Jove.\nBut stay a little, that myself may fetch our sweetest wine\nTo offer first to Jupiter, then that these joints of thine\nMay be refresh\u2019d; for, woe is me, how thou art toil\u2019d and spent!\nThou for our city\u2019s gen\u2019ral state, thou for our friends far sent,\nMust now the press of fight endure; now solitude, to call\nUpon the name of Jupiter; thou only for us all.\nBut wine will something comfort thee; for to a man dismay\u2019d\nWith careful spirits, or too much with labour overlaid,\nWine brings much rescue, strength\u2019ning much the body and the mind.\u201d\nThe great helm-mover thus receiv\u2019d the auth\u2019ress of his kind:\n\u201cMy royal mother, bring no wine; lest rather it impair\nThan help my strength, and make my mind forgetful of th\u2019 affair\nCommitted to it; and (to pour it out in sacrifice)\nI fear with unwash\u2019d hands to serve the pure-liv\u2019d Deities.\nNor is it lawful, thus imbru\u2019d with blood and dust, to prove\nThe will of heav\u2019n, or offer vows to cloud-compelling Jove.\nI only come to use your pains (assembling other dames,\nMatrons, and women honour\u2019d most, with high and virtuous names)\nWith wine and odours, and a robe most ample, most of price,\nAnd which is dearest in your love, to offer sacrifice\nIn Pallas\u2019 temple; and to put the precious robe ye bear.\nOn her Palladium; vowing all, twelve oxen-of-a-year,\nWhose necks were never wrung with yoke, shall pay her grace their\nlives,\nIf she will pity our sieg\u2019d town; pity ourselves, our wives;\nPity our children; and remove, from sacred Ilion,\nThe dreadful soldier Diomed. And, when yourselves are gone\nAbout this work, myself will go, to call into the field,\nIf he will hear me, Helen\u2019s love; whom would the earth would yield)\nAnd headlong take into her gulf, even quick before mine eyes;\nFor then my heart, I hope, would cast her load of miseries,\nBorne for the plague he hath been born, and bred to the deface,\nBy great Olympius, of Troy, our sire, and all our race.\u201d\nThis said, grave Hecuba went home, and sent her maids about,\nTo bid the matrons. She herself descended, and search\u2019d out,\nWithin a place that breath\u2019d perfumes, the richest robe she had;\nWhich lay with many rich ones more, most curiously made\nBy women of Sidonia; which Paris brought from thence,\nSailing the broad sea, when he made that voyage of offence,\nIn which he brought home Helena. That robe, transferr\u2019d so far,\n(That was the undermost) she took; it glittered like a star;\nAnd with it went she to the fane, with many ladies more;\nAmongst whom fair-cheek\u2019d Theano unlock\u2019d the folded door;\nChaste Theano, Antenor\u2019s wife, and of Ciss\u00ebus\u2019 race,\nSister to Hecuba, both born to that great king of Thrace.\nHer th\u2019 Ilions made Minerva\u2019s priest; and her they follow\u2019d all\nUp to the temple\u2019s highest tow\u2019r, where on their knees they fall,\nLift up their hands, and fill the fane with ladies\u2019 piteous cries.\nThen lovely Theano took the veil, and with it she implies\nThe great Palladium, praying thus: \u201cGoddess of most renown\nIn all the heav\u2019n of Goddesses, great Guardian of our town,\nRev\u2019rend Minerva, break the lance of Diomed, cease his grace,\nGive him to fall in shameful flight, headlong, and on his face,\nBefore our ports of Ilion, that instantly we may,\nTwelve unyok\u2019d oxen-of-a-year, in this thy temple slay,\nTo thy sole honour; take their bloods, and banish our offence;\nAccept Troy\u2019s zeal, her wives, and save her infants\u2019 innocence.\u201d\nShe pray\u2019d, but Pallas would not grant. Mean space was Hector come\nWhere Alexander\u2019s lodgings were, that many a goodly room\nHad built in them by architects, of Troy\u2019s most curious sort,\nAnd were no lodgings, but a house; nor no house, but a court;\nOr had all these contain\u2019d in them; and all within a tow\u2019r,\nNext Hector\u2019s lodgings and the king\u2019s. The lov\u2019d of heav\u2019n\u2019s chief\nPow\u2019r,\nHector, here enter\u2019d. In his hand a goodly lance he bore,\nTen cubits long; the brazen head went shining ill before,\nHelp\u2019d with a burnish\u2019d ring of gold. He found his brother then\nAmongst the women, yet prepar\u2019d to go amongst the men,\nFor in their chamber he was set, trimming his arms, his shield,\nHis curets, and was trying how his crook\u00e9d bow would yield\nTo his straight arms. Amongst her maids was set the Argive Queen,\nCommanding them in choicest works. When Hector\u2019s eye had seen\nHis brother thus accompanied, and that he could not bear\nThe very touching of his arms but where the women were,\nAnd when the time so needed men, right cunningly he chid.\nThat he might do it bitterly, his cowardice he hid,\nThat simply made him so retir\u2019d, beneath an anger, feign\u2019d\nIn him by Hector, for the hate the citizens sustain\u2019d\nAgainst him, for the foil he took in their cause; and again,\nFor all their gen\u2019ral foils in his. So Hector seems to plain\nOf his wrath to them, for their hate, and not his cowardice;[4]\nAs that were it that shelter\u2019d him in his effeminacies,\nAnd kept him, in that dang\u2019rous time, from their fit aid in fight;\nFor which he chid thus: \u201cWretched man! So timeless is thy spite\nThat \u2019tis not honest; and their hate is just, \u2019gainst which it bends.\nWar burns about the town for thee; for thee our slaughter\u2019d friends\nBesiege Troy with their carcasses, on whose heaps our high walls\nAre overlook\u2019d by enemies; the sad sounds of their falls\nWithout, are echo\u2019d with the cries of wives and babes within;\nAnd all for thee; and yet for them thy honour cannot win\nHead of thine anger. Thou shouldst need no spirit to stir up thine,\nBut thine should set the rest on fire, and with a rage divine\nChastise impartially the best, that impiously forbears.\nCome forth, lest thy fair tow\u2019rs and Troy be burn\u2019d about thine ears.\u201d\nParis acknowledg\u2019d, as before, all just that Hector spake,\nAllowing justice, though it were for his injustice\u2019 sake;\nAnd where his brother put a wrath upon him by his art,\nHe takes it, for his honour\u2019s sake, as sprung out of his heart,\nAnd rather would have anger seem his fault than cowardice;\nAnd thus he answer\u2019d: \u201cSince, with right, you join\u2019d check with advice,\nAnd I hear you, give equal ear: It is not any spleen\nAgainst the town, as you conceive, that makes me so unseen,\nBut sorrow for it; which to ease, and by discourse digest\nWithin myself, I live so close; and yet, since men might wrest\nMy sad retreat, like you, my wife with her advice inclin\u2019d\nThis my addression to the field; which was mine own free mind,\nAs well as th\u2019 instance of her words; for though the foil were mine,\nConquest brings forth her wreaths by turns. Stay then this haste of\nthine\nBut till I arm, and I am made a c\u00f3nsort for thee straight;\u2014\nOr go, I\u2019ll overtake thy haste.\u201d Helen stood at receipt,\nAnd took up all great Hector\u2019s pow\u2019rs, t\u2019 attend her heavy words,\nBy which had Paris no reply. This vent her grief affords:\n\u201cBrother (if I may call you so, that had been better born\nA dog, than such a horrid dame, as all men curse and scorn,\nA mischief-maker, a man-plague) O would to God, the day,\nThat first gave light to me, had been a whirlwind in my way,\nAnd borne me to some desert hill, or hid me in the rage\nOf earth\u2019s most far-resounding seas, ere I should thus engage\nThe dear lives of so many friends! Yet since the Gods have been\nHelpless foreseers of my plagues, they might have likewise seen\nThat he they put in yoke with me, to bear out their award,\nHad been a man of much more spirit, and, or had noblier dar\u2019d\nTo shield mine honour with this deed, or with his mind had known\nMuch better the upbraids of men, that so he might have shown\n(More like a man) some sense of grief for both my shame and his.\nBut he is senseless, nor conceives what any manhood is,\nNor now, nor ever after will; and therefore hangs, I fear,\nA plague above him. But come near, good brother; rest you here,\nWho, of the world of men, stands charg\u2019d with most unrest for me,\n(Vile wretch) and for my lover\u2019s wrong; on whom a destiny\nSo bitter is impos\u2019d by Jove, that all succeeding times\nWill put, to our unended shames, in all men\u2019s mouths our crimes.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cHelen, do not seek to make me sit with thee;\nI must not stay, though well I know thy honour\u2019d love of me.\nMy mind calls forth to aid our friends, in whom my absence breeds\nLongings to see me; for whose sakes, importune thou to deeds\nThis man by all means, that your care may make his own make hast,\nAnd meet me in the open town, that all may see at last\nHe minds his lover. I myself will now go home, and see\nMy household, my dear wife, and son, that little hope of me;\nFor, sister, \u2019tis without my skill, if I shall evermore\nReturn, and see them, or to earth, her right in me, restore.\nThe Gods may stoop me by the Greeks.\u201d This said, he went to see\nThe virtuous princess, his true wife, white-arm\u2019d Andromache.\nShe, with her infant son and maid, was climb\u2019d the tow\u2019r about\nThe sight of him that sought for her, weeping and crying out.\nHector, not finding her at home, was going forth; retir\u2019d;\nStood in the gate; her woman call\u2019d, and curiously inquir\u2019d\nWhere she was gone; bad tell him true, if she were gone to see\nHis sisters, or his brothers\u2019 wives; or whether she should be\nAt temple with the other dames, t\u2019 implore Minerva\u2019s ruth.\nHer woman answer\u2019d: Since he ask\u2019d, and urg\u2019d so much the truth,\nThe truth was she was neither gone, to see his brothers\u2019 wives,\nHis sisters, nor t\u2019 implore the ruth of Pallas on their lives;\nBut she (advertis\u2019d of the bane Troy suffer\u2019d, and how vast\nConquest had made herself for Greece) like one distraught, made hast\nTo ample Ilion with her son, and nurse, and all the way\nMourn\u2019d, and dissolv\u2019d in tears for him. Then Hector made no stay,\nBut trod her path, and through the streets, magnificently built,\nAll the great city pass\u2019d, and came where, seeing how blood was spilt,\nAndromache might see him come: who made as he would pass\nThe ports without saluting her, not knowing where she was.\nShe, with his sight, made breathless haste, to meet him; she, whose\ngrace\nBrought him withal so great a dow\u2019r; she that of all the race\nOf king A\u00ebtion only liv\u2019d; A\u00ebtion, whose house stood\nBeneath the mountain Placius, environ\u2019d with the wood\nOf Theban Hypoplace, being court to the Cilician land.\nShe ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand,\nHer son, borne in his nurse\u2019s arms; when, like a heav\u2019nly sign,\nCompact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine,\nWhom Hector call\u2019d Scamandrius, but whom the town did name\nAstyanax, because his sire did only prop the same.\nHector, though grief bereft his speech, yet smil\u2019d upon his joy.\nAndromache cried out, mix\u2019d hands, and to the strength of Troy\nThus wept forth her affecti\u00f3n: \u201cO noblest in desire!\nThy mind, inflam\u2019d with others\u2019 good, will set thyself on fire.\nNor pitiest thou thy son, nor wife, who must thy widow be,\nIf now thou issue; all the field will only run on thee.\nBetter my shoulders underwent the earth, than thy decease;\nFor then would earth bear joys no more; then comes the black increase\nOf griefs (like Greeks on Ilion). Alas! What one survives\nTo be my refuge? One black day bereft sev\u2019n brothers\u2019 lives,\nBy stern Achilles; by his hand my father breath\u2019d his last,\nHis high-wall\u2019d rich Cilician Thebes[5] sack\u2019d by him, and laid wast;\nThe royal body yet he left unspoil\u2019d; religion charm\u2019d\nThat act of spoil; and all in fire he burn\u2019d him c\u00f3mplete arm\u2019d;\nBuilt over him a royal tomb; and to the monument\nHe left of him, th\u2019 Oreades (that are the high descent\nOf \u00c6gis-bearing Jupiter) another of their own\nDid add to it, and set it round with elms; by which is shown,\nIn theirs, the barrenness of death; yet might it serve beside\nTo shelter the sad monument from all the ruffinous pride\nOf storms and tempests, us\u2019d to hurt things of that noble kind,\nThe short life yet my mother liv\u2019d he sav\u2019d, and serv\u2019d his mind\nWith all the riches of the realm; which not enough esteem\u2019d\nHe kept her pris\u2019ner; whom small time, but much more wealth, redeem\u2019d,\nAnd she, in sylvan Hypoplace, Cilicia rul\u2019d again,\nBut soon was over-rul\u2019d by death; Diana\u2019s chaste disdain\nGave her a lance, and took her life. Yet, all these gone from me,\nThou amply render\u2019st all; thy life makes still my father be,\nMy mother, brothers; and besides thou art my husband too,\nMost lov\u2019d, most worthy. Pity them, dear love, and do not go,\nFor thou gone, all these go again; pity our common joy,\nLest, of a father\u2019s patronage, the bulwark of all Troy,\nThou leav\u2019st him a poor widow\u2019s charge. Stay, stay then, in this tow\u2019r,\nAnd call up to the wild fig-tree all thy retir\u00e9d pow\u2019r;\nFor there the wall is easiest scal\u2019d, and fittest for surprise,\nAnd there, th\u2019 Ajaces, Idomen, th\u2019 Atrides, Diomed, thrice\nHave both survey\u2019d and made attempt; I know not if induc\u2019d\nBy some wise augury, or the fact was naturally infus\u2019d\nInto their wits, or courages.\u201d To this, great Hector said:\n\u201cBe well assur\u2019d, wife, all these things in my kind cares are weigh\u2019d.\nBut what a shame, and fear, it is to think how Troy would scorn\n(Both in her husbands, and her wives, whom long-train\u2019d gowns adorn)\nThat I should cowardly fly off! The spirit I first did breath\nDid never teach me that; much less, since the contempt of death\nWas settled in me, and my mind knew what a worthy was,\nWhose office is to lead in fight, and give no danger pass\nWithout improvement. In this fire must Hector\u2019s trial shine;\nHere must his country, father, friends, be, in him, made divine.\nAnd such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know)\nWhen sacred Troy shall shed her tow\u2019rs, for tears of overthrow;\nWhen Priam, all his birth and pow\u2019r, shall in those tears be drown\u2019d.\nBut neither Troy\u2019s posterity so much my soul doth wound,\nPriam, nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brothers\u2019 woes,\n(Who though so many, and so good, must all be food for foes)\nAs thy sad state; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence,\nThese free days clouded, and a night of captive violence\nLoading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,\nBut spin the Greek wives\u2019 webs of task, and their fetch water be\nTo Argos, from Messeides, or clear Hyperia\u2019s spring;[6]\nWhich howsoever thou abhorr\u2019st, Fate\u2019s such a shrewish thing\nShe will be mistress; whose curs\u2019d hands, when they shall crush out\ncries\nFrom thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies)\nThus they will nourish thy extremes: \u2018This dame was Hector\u2019s wife,\nA man that, at the wars of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life\nOf all their army.\u2019 This again will rub thy fruitful wounds,\nTo miss the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds.\nBut that day shall not wound mine eyes; the solid heap of night\nShall interpose, and stop mine ears against thy plaints, and plight.\u201d\nThis said, he reach\u2019d to take his son; who, of his arms afraid,\nAnd then the horse-hair plume, with which he was so overlaid,\nNodded so horribly, he cling\u2019d back to his nurse, and cried.\nLaughter affected his great sire, who doff\u2019d, and laid aside\nHis fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about it light;\nThen took and kiss\u2019d his loving son, and (balancing his weight\nIn dancing him) these loving vows to living Jove he us\u2019d\nAnd all the other bench of Gods: \u201cO you that have infus\u2019d\nSoul to this infant, now set down this blessing on his star;\u2014\nLet his renown be clear as mine; equal his strength in war;\nAnd make his reign so strong in Troy, that years to come may yield\nHis facts this fame, when, rich in spoils, he leaves the conquer\u2019d\nfield\nSown with his slaughters: \u2018These high deeds exceed his father\u2019s worth.\u2019\nAnd let this echo\u2019d praise supply the comforts to come forth\nOf his kind mother with my life.\u201d This said, th\u2019 heroic sire\nGave him his mother; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love\u2019s salt fire\nBillow\u2019d on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector\u2019s speech,\nIn which his vows compris\u2019d the sum of all he did beseech\nIn her wish\u2019d comfort. So she took into her od\u2019rous breast\nHer husband\u2019s gift; who, mov\u2019d to see her heart so much oppress\u2019d,\nHe dried her tears, and thus desir\u2019d: \u201cAfflict me not, dear wife,\nWith these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life\nAnd this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate, whose wings can fly?\nNoble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die,\nGo home, and set thy housewif\u2019ry on these extremes of thought;\nAnd drive war from them with thy maids; keep them from doing nought.\nThese will be nothing; leave the cares of war to men, and me\nIn whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high\u2019st degree.\u201d\nOn went his helm; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears;\nWhen ev\u2019ry fear turn\u2019d back her looks, and ev\u2019ry look shed tears.\nFoe-slaught\u2019ring Hector\u2019s house soon reach\u2019d, her many women there\nWept all to see her: in his life great Hector\u2019s fun\u2019rals were;\nNever look\u2019d any eye of theirs to see their lord safe home,\n\u2018Scap\u2019d from the gripes and pow\u2019rs of Greece. And now was Paris come\nFrom his high tow\u2019rs; who made no stay, when once he had put on\nHis richest armour, but flew forth; the flints he trod upon\nSparkled with lustre of his arms; his long-ebb\u2019d spirits now flow\u2019d\nThe higher for their lower ebb. And as a fair steed, proud[7]\nWith full-giv\u2019n mangers, long tied up, and now, his head stall broke,\nHe breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke\nMeasures the centre, neighs, and lifts aloft his wanton head,\nAbout his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed,\nOr in some calm flood wash\u2019d, or, stung with his high plight, he flies\nAmongst his females, strength put forth, his beauty beautifies,\nAnd, like life\u2019s mirror, bears his gait; so Paris from the tow\u2019r\nOf lofty Pergamus came forth; he show\u2019d a sun-like pow\u2019r\nIn carriage of his goodly parts, address\u2019d now to the strife;\nAnd found his noble brother near the place he left his wife.\nHim thus respected he salutes: \u201cRight worthy, I have fear\nThat your so serious haste to field, my stay hath made forbear,\nAnd that I come not as you wish.\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cHonour\u2019d man,\nBe confident, for not myself, nor any others, can\nReprove in thee the work of fight, at least, not any such\nAs is an equal judge of things; for thou hast strength as much\nAs serves to execute a mind very important, but\nThy strength too readily flies off, enough will is not put\nTo thy ability. My heart is in my mind\u2019s strife sad,\nWhen Troy (out of her much distress, she and her friends have had\nBy thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine ears.\nBut come, hereafter we shall calm these hard conceits of theirs,\nWhen, from their ports the foe expuls\u2019d, high Jove to them hath giv\u2019n\nWish\u2019d peace, and us free sacrifice to all the Powers of heav\u2019n.\u201d\n\nTHE END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] This Virgil imitates.\n\n\n [2] _Bellerophontis liter\u00e6. Ad Eras._ This long speech many critics\n tax as untimely, being, as they take it, in the heat of fight; Hier.\n Vidas, a late observer, being eagerest against Homer. Whose ignorance\n in this I cannot but note, and prove to you; for, besides the\n authority and office of a poet, to vary and quicken his poem with\n these episodes, sometimes beyond the leisure of their actions, the\n critic notes not how far his forerunner prevents his worst as far; and\n sets down his speech at the sudden and strange turning of the Trojan\n field, set on a little before by Hector; and that so fiercely, it made\n an admiring stand among the Grecians, and therein gave fit time for\n these great captains to utter their admirations, the whole field in\n that part being to stand like their commanders. And then how full of\n decorum this gallant show and speech was to sound understandings, I\n leave only to such, and let our critics go cavil.\n\n\n [3] _\u03a6\u03c1\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03be\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf \u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2, Mentem ademit Jup._, the text hath it; which\n only I alter of all Homer\u2019s original, since Plutarch against the\n Stoics excuses this supposed folly in Glaucus. Spondanus likewise\n encouraging my alterations, which I use for the loved and simple\n nobility of the free exchange in Glaucus, contrary to others that, for\n the supposed folly in Glaucus, turned his change into a proverb,\n _\u03c7\u03c1\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03b1 \u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03c7\u03b5\u03af\u03c9\u03bd_, golden for brazen.\n\n\n [4] Hector dissembles the cowardice he finds in Paris turning it, as\n if he chid him for his anger at the Trojans for hating him, being\n conquered by Menelaus, when it is for his effeminacy. Which is all\n paraphrastical in my translation.\n\n\n [5] Thebes, a most rich city of Cilicia.\n\n\n [6] The names of two fountains: of which one in Thessaly, the other\n near Argos, or, according to others, in Peloponnesus or Laced\u00e6mon.\n\n\n [7] His simile, high and expressive; which Virgil almost word for word\n hath translated, \u00c6n. xi. (v. 492).\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS[1]\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nHector, by Helenus\u2019 advice, doth seek\nAdvent\u2019rous combat on the boldest Greek,\nNine Greeks stand up, acceptants ev\u2019ry one,\nBut lot selects strong Ajax Telamon.\nBoth, with high honour, stand th\u2019 important fight,\nTill heralds part them by approached night.\nLastly, they grave the dead. The Greeks erect\nA mighty wall, their navy to protect;\nWhich angers Neptune. Jove, by hapless signs,\nIn depth of night, succeeding woes divines.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Eta, Priam\u2019s strongest son\nCombats with Ajax Telamon.\n\n\nThis said, brave Hector through the ports, with Troy\u2019s bane-bringing knight,\nMade issue to th\u2019 insatiate field, resolv\u2019d to fervent fight.\nAnd as the Weather-wielder sends to seamen prosp\u2019rous gales,\nWhen with their sallow polish\u2019d oars, long lifted from their falls,\nTheir wearied arms, dissolv\u2019d with toil, can scarce strike one stroke more;\nLike those sweet winds appear\u2019d these lords, to Trojans tir\u2019d before.\nThen fell they to the works of death. By Paris\u2019 valour fell\nKing Ar\u00ebithous\u2019 hapless son, that did in Arna dwell,\nMenesthius, whose renown\u00e9d sire a club did ever bear,\nAnd of Phylomedusa gat, that had her eyes so clear,\nThis slaughter\u2019d issue. Hector\u2019s dart strook Eion\u00ebus dead;\nBeneath his good steel casque it pierc\u2019d, above his gorget-stead.\nGlaucus, Hippolochus\u2019s son, that led the Lycian crew,\nIphinous-Dexiades with sudden jav\u2019lin slew,\nAs he was mounting to his horse; his shoulders took the spear,\nAnd ere he sate, in tumbling, down, his powers dissolv\u00e9d were.\nWhen gray-ey\u2019d Pallas had perceiv\u2019d the Greeks so fall in fight,\nFrom high Olympus\u2019 top she stoop\u2019d, and did on Ilion light.\nApollo, to encounter her, to Pergamus did fly,\nFrom whence he, looking to the field, wish\u2019d Trojans\u2019 victory.\nAt Jove\u2019s broad beech these Godheads met; and first Jove\u2019s son objects;\n\u201cWhy, burning in contention thus, do thy extreme affects\nConduct thee from our peaceful hill? Is it to oversway\nThe doubtful victory of fight, and give the Greeks the day?\nThou never pitiest perishing Troy. Yet now let me persuade,\nThat this day no more mortal wounds may either side invade.\nHereafter, till the end of Troy, they shall apply the fight,\nSince your immortal wills resolve to overturn it quite.\u201d\nPallas replied: \u201cIt likes me well; for this came I from heav\u2019n;\nBut to make either armies cease, what order shall be giv\u2019n?\u201d\nHe said: \u201cWe will direct the spirit, that burns in Hector\u2019s breast,\nTo challenge any Greek to wounds, with single pow\u2019rs impress\u2019d;\nWhich Greeks, admiring, will accept, and make some one stand out\nSo stout a challenge to receive, with a defence as stout.\u201d\nIt is confirm\u2019d; and Helenus (king Priam\u2019s lov\u00e9d seed)\nBy augury discern\u2019d th\u2019 event that these two pow\u2019rs decreed,\nAnd greeting Hector ask\u2019d him this: \u201cWilt thou be once advis\u2019d?\nI am thy brother, and thy life with mine is ev\u2019nly prized.\nCommand the rest of Troy and Greece; to cease this public fight,\nAnd, what Greek bears the greatest mind, to single strokes excite.\nI promise thee that yet thy soul shall not descend to fates;\nSo heard I thy survival cast, by the celestial States.\u201d\nHector with glad allowance gave his brother\u2019s counsel ear,\nAnd, fronting both the hosts, advanc\u2019d just in the midst his spear.\nThe Trojans instantly surcease; the Greeks Atrides stay\u2019d.\nThe God that bears the silver bow, and war\u2019s triumphant Maid,\nOn Jove\u2019s beech like two vultures sat, pleas\u2019d to behold both parts\nFlow in to hear, so sternly arm\u2019d with huge shields, helms, and darts.\nAnd such fresh horror as you see, driv\u2019n through the wrinkled waves\nBy rising Zephyr, under whom the sea grows black, and raves;\nSuch did the hasty gath\u2019ring troops\u2019 of both hosts make to hear;\nWhose tumult settled, \u2019twixt them both, thus spake the challenger:\n\u201cHear, Trojans, and ye well-arm\u2019d Greeks, what my strong mind, diffus\u2019d\nThrough all my spirits, commands me speak: Saturnius hath not us\u2019d\nHis promis\u2019d favour for our truce, but, studying both our ills,\nWill never cease, till Mars, by you, his rav\u2019nous stomach fills\nWith ruin\u2019d Troy, or we consume your mighty sea-borne fleet.\nSince then the gen\u2019ral peers of Greece in reach of one voice meet,\nAmongst you all, whose breast includes the most impulsive mind,\nLet him stand forth as combatant, by all the rest design\u2019d.\nBefore whom thus I call high Jove, to witness of our strife:\u2014\nIf he with home-thrust iron can reach th\u2019 exposure of my life,\nSpoiling my arms, let him at will convey them to his tent,\nBut let my body be return\u2019d, that Troy\u2019s two-sex\u2019d descent\nMay waste it in the fun\u2019ral pile. If I can slaughter him,\nApollo honouring me so much, I\u2019ll spoil his conquer\u2019d limb,\nAnd bear his arms to Ilion, where in Apollo\u2019s shrine\nI\u2019ll hang them, as my trophies due; his body I\u2019ll resign\nTo be disposed by his friends in flamy funerals,\nAnd honour\u2019d with erected tomb, where Hellespontus falls\nInto \u00c6g\u00e6um, and doth reach ev\u2019n to your naval road,\nThat, when our beings in the earth shall hide their period,\nSurvivors, sailing the black sea, may thus his name renew:\n\u2018This is his monument whose blood long since did fates imbrue,\nWhom, passing far in fortitude illustrate Hector slew.\u2019\nThis shall posterity report, and my fame never die.\u201d\nThis said, dumb silence seiz\u2019d them all; they sham\u00e9d to deny,\nAnd fear\u2019d to undertake. At last did Menelaus speak,\nCheck\u2019d their remissness, and so sigh\u2019d, as if his heart would break:\n\u201cAh me! But only threat\u2019ning Greeks, not worthy Grecian names![2]\nThis more and more, not to be borne, makes grow our huge defames,\nIf Hector\u2019s honourable proof be entertain\u2019d by none.\nBut you are earth and water all, which, symboliz\u2019d in one,\nHave fram\u2019d your faint unfi\u2019ry spirits; ye sit without your hearts,\nGrossly inglorious; but myself will use acceptive darts,\nAnd arm against him, though you think I arm \u2019gainst too much odds;\nBut conquest\u2019s garlands hang aloft, amongst th\u2019 Immortal Gods.\u201d\nHe arm\u2019d, and gladly would have fought; but Menelaus, then,\nBy Hector\u2019s far more strength, thy soul had fled th\u2019 abodes of men,\nHad not the kings of Greece stood up, and thy attempt restrain\u2019d;\nAnd ev\u2019n the king of men himself, that in such compass reign\u2019d,\nWho took him by the bold right hand, and sternly pluck\u2019d him back:\n\u201cMad brother, \u2019tis no work for thee, thou seek\u2019st thy wilful wrack!\nContain, though it despite thee much, nor for this strife engage\nThy person with a man more strong, and whom all fear t\u2019 enrage;\nYea whom \u00c6acides himself, in men-renowning war,\nMakes doubt t\u2019 encounter, whose huge strength surpasseth thine by far.\nSit thou then by thy regiment; some other Greek will rise\n(Though he be dreadless, and no war will his desires suffice,\nThat makes this challenge to our strength) our valours to avow;\nTo whom, if he can \u2019scape with life, he will be glad to bow.\u201d\nThis drew his brother from his will, who yielded, knowing it true,\nAnd his glad soldiers took his arms; when Nestor did pursue\nThe same reproof he set on foot, and thus supplied his turn:\n\u201cWhat huge indignity is this! How will our country mourn!\nOld Peleus that good king will weep, that worthy counsellor,\nThat trumpet of the Myrmidons, who much did ask me for\nAll men of name that went to Troy; with joy he did inquire\nTheir valour and their towardness, and I made him admire;\nBut, that ye all fear Hector now, if his grave ears shall hear,\nHow will he lift his hands to heav\u2019n, and pray that death may bear\nHis grieved soul into the deep! O would to heav\u2019n\u2019s great King,[3]\nMinerva, and the God of light, that now my youthful spring\nDid flourish in my willing veins, as when at Ph\u00e6a\u2019s tow\u2019rs\nAbout the streams of Jardanus, my gather\u2019d Pylean pow\u2019rs,\nAnd dart-employ\u2019d Arcadians, fought, near raging Celadon!\nAmongst whom, first of all, stood forth great Ereuthalion,\nWho th\u2019 arms of Ar\u00ebitho\u00fas wore, brave Ar\u00ebitho\u00fas,\nAnd, since he still fought with a club, surnam\u2019d Clavigerus,\nAll men, and fair-girt ladies both, for honour call\u2019d him so.\nHe fought not with a keep-off spear, or with a far-shot bow,\nBut, with a massy club of iron, he broke through arm\u00e9d bands.\nAnd yet Lycurgus was his death, but not with force of hands;\nWith sleight (encount\u2019ring in a lane, where his club wanted sway)\nHe thrust him through his spacious waist; who fell, and upwards lay,\nIn death not bowing his face to earth; his arms he did despoil,\nWhich iron Mars bestow\u2019d on him; and those, in Mars\u2019s toil,\nLycurgus ever after wore; but when he ag\u00e9d grew,\nEnforc\u2019d to keep his peaceful house, their use he did renew\nOn mighty Ereuthalion\u2019s limbs, his soldier, lov\u00e9d well;\nAnd, with these arms he challeng\u2019d all, that did in arms excel;\nAll shook, and stood dismay\u2019d, none durst his adverse champion make.\nYet this same forward mind of mine, of choice, would undertake\nTo fight with all his confidence; though youngest enemy\nOf all the army we conduct, yet I fought with him, I,\nMinerva made me so renown\u2019d, and that most tall strong peer\nI slew; his big bulk lay on earth, extended here and there,\nAs it were covetous to spread the centre ev\u2019rywhere.\nO that my youth were now as fresh, and all my pow\u2019rs as sound,\nSoon should bold Hector be impugn\u2019d! Yet you that most are crown\u2019d\nWith fortitude of all our host, ev\u2019n you methinks are slow,\nNot free, and set on fire with lust, t\u2019 encounter such a foe.\u201d\nWith this, nine royal princes rose. Atrides for the first;\nThen Diomed; th\u2019 Ajaces then, that did th\u2019 encounter thirst;\nKing Idomen and his cons\u00f3rts; Mars-like Meriones;\nEvemon\u2019s son, Eurypylus: and Andr\u00e6monides,\nWhom all the Grecians Thoas call\u2019d, sprung of Andr\u00e6mon\u2019s blood;\nAnd wise Ulysses; ev\u2019ry one, propos\u2019d for combat, stood.\nAgain Gerenius Nestor spake: \u201cLet lots be drawn by all;\nHis hand shall help the well-arm\u2019d Greeks, on whom the lot doth fall,\nAnd to his wish shall he be help\u2019d, if he escape with life\nThe harmful danger-breathing fit of his advent\u2019rous strife.\u201d\nEach mark\u2019d his lot, and cast it into Agamemnon\u2019s casque.\nThe soldiers pray\u2019d, held up their hands, and this of Jove did ask,\nWith eyes advanc\u2019d to heav\u2019n: \u201cO Jove, so lead the herald\u2019s hand,\nThat Ajax, or great Tydeus\u2019 son, may our wish\u2019d champion stand,\nOr else the king himself that rules the rich Mycenian land.\u201d\nThis said, old Nestor mix\u2019d the lots. The foremost lot survey\u2019d\nWith Ajax Telamon was sign\u2019d, as all the soldiers pray\u2019d;\nOne of the heralds drew it forth, who brought and show\u2019d it round,\nBeginning at the right hand first, to all the most renown\u2019d.\nNone knowing it, ev\u2019ry man denied; but when he forth did pass\nTo him which mark\u2019d and cast it in; which famous Ajax was,\nHe stretch\u2019d his hand, and into it the herald put the lot,\nWho, viewing it, th\u2019 inscription knew; the duke deni\u00e9d not,\nBut joyfully acknowledg\u2019d it, and threw it at his feet,\nAnd said: \u201cO friends, the lot is mine, which to my soul is sweet;\nFor now I hope my fame shall rise, in noble Hector\u2019s fall.\nBut, whilst I arm myself, do you on great Saturnius call,\nBut silently, or to yourselves, that not a Trojan hear;\nOr openly, if you think good, since none alive we fear.\nNone with a will, if I will not, can my bold pow\u2019rs affright,\nAt least for plain fierce swing of strength, or want of skill in fight;\nFor I will well prove that my birth; and breed, in Salamine\nWas not all consecrate to meat, or mere effects of wine.\u201d\nThis said, the well-giv\u2019n soldiers pray\u2019d; up went to heav\u2019n their\neyne:\n\u201cO Jove, that Ida dost protect, most happy, most divine,\nSend victory to Ajax\u2019 side; fame; grace his goodly limb;\nOr (if thy love bless Hector\u2019s life, and thou hast care of him.)\nBestow on both like pow\u2019r, like fame.\u201d This said, in bright arms, shone\nThe good strong Ajax; who, when all his war attire was on,\nMarch\u2019d like the hugely-figur\u2019d Mars, when angry Jupiter\nWith strength, on people proud of strength, sends him forth to infer\nWreakful contention, and comes on with presence full of fear;\nSo th\u2019 Achive rampire, Telamon, did \u2019twixt the hosts appear;\nSmil\u2019d; yet of terrible asp\u00e9ct; on earth, with ample pace,\nHe boldly stalk\u2019d, and shook aloft his dart with deadly grace.\nIt did the Grecians good to see; but heartquakes shook the joints\nOf all the Trojans, Hector\u2019s self felt thoughts, with horrid points,\nTempt his bold bosom; but he now must make no counterflight,\nNor, with his honour, now refuse, that had provok\u2019d the fight.\nAjax came near; and, like a tow\u2019r, his shield his bosom barr\u2019d,\nThe right side brass, and sev\u2019n ox-hides within it quilted hard;[4]\nOld Tychius, the best currier; that did in Hyla dwell,\nDid frame it for exceeding proof, and wrought it wondrous well.\nWith this stood he to Hector close, and with this brave began:\n\u201cNow, Hector, thou shalt clearly know, thus meeting man to man,\nWhat other leaders arm our host, besides great Thetis\u2019 son,\nWho with his hardy lion\u2019s heart hath armies overrun;\nBut he lies at our crook\u2019d-stern\u2019d fleet, a rival with our king\nIn height of spirit; yet to Troy he many knights did bring,\nCoequal with \u00c6acides, all able to sustain\nAll thy bold challenge can import. Begin then, words are vain,\u201d\nThe helm-grac\u2019d Hector answer\u2019d him: \u201cRenown\u00e9d Telamon,\nPrince of the soldiers came from Greece, assay not me, like one\nYoung and immartial, with great words, as to an Amazon dame;\nI have the habit of all fights, and know the bloody frame\nOf ev\u2019ry slaughter; I well know the ready right hand charge,\nI know the left, and ev\u2019ry sway of my secureful targe;\nI triumph in the cruelty of fix\u00e9d combat fight,\nAnd manage horse to all designs; I think then with good right\nI may be confident as far as this my challenge goes,\nWithout being tax\u00e9d with a vaunt, borne out with empty shows.\nBut, being a soldier so renown\u2019d, I will not work on thee\nWith least advantage of that skill I know doth strengthen me,\nAnd so, with privity of sleight, win that for which I strive,\nBut at thy best, ev\u2019n open strength, if my endeavours thrive.\u201d\nThus sent he his long jav\u2019lin forth. It strook his foe\u2019s huge shield\nNear to the upper skirt of brass, which was the eighth it held.\nSix folds th\u2019 untamed dart strook through, and in the sev\u2019nth tough\nhide\nThe point was check\u2019d. Then Ajax threw; his angry lance did glide\nQuite through his bright orbicular targe, his curace, shirt of mail,\nAnd did his manly stomach\u2019s mouth with dang\u2019rous taint assail;\nBut, in the bowing of himself, black death too short did strike.\nThen both, to pluck their jav\u2019lins forth, encounter\u2019d, lion-like,\nWhose bloody violence is, increas\u2019d by that raw food they eat,\nOr boars whose strength wild nourishment doth make so wondrous great.\nAgain Priamides did wound in midst his shield of brass,\nYet pierc\u2019d not through the upper plate, the head reflected was.\nBut Ajax, following his lance, smote through his target quite,\nAnd stay\u2019d bold Hector rushing in; the lance held way outright,\nAnd hurt his neck; out gush\u2019d the blood. Yet Hector ceas\u2019d not so,\nBut in his strong hand took a flint, as he did backwards go,\nBlack, sharp, and big, laid in the field; the sev\u2019nfold targe it smit\nFull on the boss, and round about the brass did ring with it.\nBut Ajax a far greater stone lift up, and (wreathing round,\nWith all his body laid to it) he sent it forth to wound,\nAnd gave unmeasur\u2019d force to it; the round stone broke within\nHis rundled target; his lov\u2019d knees to languish did begin;\nAnd he lean\u2019d, stretch\u2019d out on his shield; but Ph\u0153bus rais\u2019d him\nstraight.\nThen had they laid on wounds with swords, in use of closer fight,\nUnless the heralds (messengers of Gods and godlike men)\nThe one of Troy, the other Greece, had held betwixt them then\nImperial sceptres; when the one, Id\u00e6us, grave and wise,\nSaid to them: \u201cNow no more, my sons; the Sov\u2019reign of the skies\nDoth love you both; both soldiers are, all witness with good right;\nBut now night lays her mace on earth; \u2019tis good t\u2019 obey the night.\u201d\n\u201cId\u00e6us,\u201d Telamon replied, \u201cto Hector speak, not me;\nHe that call\u2019d all our Achive peers to station-fight, \u2019twas he;\nIf he first cease, I gladly yield.\u201d Great Hector then began:\n\u201cAjax, since Jove, to thy big form, made thee so strong a man,\nAnd gave thee skill to use thy strength, so much, that for thy spear\nThou art most excellent of Greece, now let us fight forbear.\nHereafter we shall war again, till Jove our herald be,\nAnd grace with conquest which he will. Heav\u2019n yields to night, and we.\nGo thou and comfort all thy fleet, all friends and men of thine,\nAs I in Troy my favourers, who in the fane divine\nHave offer\u2019d orisons for me; and come, let us impart\nSome ensigns of our strife, to show each other\u2019s suppled heart,\nThat men of Troy and Greece may say, Thus their high quarrel ends.\nThose that, encount\u2019ring, were such foes, are now, being sep\u2019rate,\nfriends,\u201d\nHe gave a sword, whose handle was with silver studs through driv\u2019n,[5]\nScabbard and all, with hangers rich. By Telamon was giv\u2019n\nA fair well-gloss\u00e9d purple waist. Thus Hector went to Troy,\nAnd after him a multitude, fill\u2019d with his safety\u2019s joy,\nDespairing he could ever \u2019scape the puissant fortitude\nAnd unimpeach\u00e9d Ajax\u2019 hands. The Greeks like joy renew\u2019d\nFor their reputed victory, and brought him to the king;\nWho to the great Saturnides preferr\u2019d an offering,\nAn ox that fed on five fair springs; they flay\u2019d and quarter\u2019d him,[6]\nAnd then, in pieces cut, on spits they roasted ev\u2019ry limb;\nWhich neatly dress\u2019d, they drew it off. Work done, they fell to feast;\nAll had enough; but Telamon, the king fed past the rest\nWith good large pieces of the chine. Thus thirst and hunger stay\u2019d,\nNestor, whose counsels late were best, vows new, and first he said:\n\u201cAtrides, and my other lords, a sort of Greeks are dead,\nWhose black blood, near Scamander\u2019s stream, inhuman Mars hath shed;\nTheir souls to hell descended are. It fits thee then, our king,\nTo make our soldiers cease from war; and, by the day\u2019s first spring,\nLet us ourselves, assembled all, the bodies bear to fire,\nWith mules and oxen near our fleet, that, when we home retire,\nEach man may carry to the sons, of fathers slaughter\u2019d here,\nTheir honour\u2019d bones. One tomb for all, for ever, let us rear,\nCircling the pile without the field; at which we will erect\nWalls, and a rav\u2019lin, that may safe our fleet and us protect.\nAnd in them let us fashion gates, solid, and barr\u2019d about,\nThrough which our horse, and chariots, may well get in and out.\nWithout all, let us dig a dike, so deep it may avail\nOur forces \u2019gainst the charge of horse, and foot, that come t\u2019 assail.\nAnd thus th\u2019 attempts, that I see swell, in Troy\u2019s proud heart, shall\nfail.\u201d\nThe kings do his advice approve. So Troy doth court convent\nAt Priam\u2019s gate, in th\u2019 Ilion tow\u2019r, fearful and turbulent.\nAmongst all, wise Antenor spake: \u201cTrojans, and Dardan friends,\nAnd peers assistants, give good ear to what my care commends\nTo your consents, for all our good. Resolve, let us restore\nThe Argive Helen, with her wealth, to him she had before.\nWe now defend but broken faiths. If, therefore, ye refuse,\nNo good event can I expect of all the wars, we use.\u201d\nHe ceas\u2019d; and Alexander spake; husband to the Argive queen:\n\u201cAntenor, to mine ears thy words harsh and ungracious been.\nThou canst use better if thou wilt: but, if these truly fit\nThy serious thoughts, the Gods with age have reft thy graver wit,\nTo warlike Trojans I will speak: I clearly do deny\nTo yield my wife, but all her wealth I render willingly,\nWhatever I from Argos brought, and vow to make it more,\nWhich I have ready in my house, if peace I may restore.\u201d\nPriam, surnam\u2019d Dardanides, godlike; in counsels grave;\nIn his son\u2019s favour well-advis\u2019d, this resolution gave:\n\u201cMy royal friends of ev\u2019ry state, there is sufficient done,\nFor this late council we have call\u2019d, in th\u2019 offer of my son.\nNow then let all take needful food, then let the watch be set,\nAnd ev\u2019ry court of guard held strong; so, when the morn doth wet\nThe high-rais\u2019d battlements of Troy, Id\u00e6us shall be sent\nTo th\u2019 Argive fleet, and Atreus\u2019 sons, t\u2019 unfold my son\u2019s intent,\nFrom whose fact our contention springs; and, if they will, obtain\nRespite from heat of fight, till fire consume our soldiers slain;\nAnd after, our most fatal war let us importune still,\nTill Jove the conquest have dispos\u2019d to his unconquer\u2019d will.\u201d\nAll heard, and did obey the king; and, in their quarters, all,\nThat were to set the watch that night, did to their suppers fall.\nId\u00e6us in the morning went, and th\u2019 Achive peers did find\nIn council at Atrides\u2019 ship; his audience was assign\u2019d;\nAnd, in the midst of all the kings, the vocal herald said:\n\u201cAtrides! My renown\u00e9d king, and other kings, his aid,\nPropose by me, in their commands, the offers Paris makes,\nFrom whose joy all our woes proceed. He princely undertakes\nThat all the wealth he brought from Greece (would he had died before!)\nHe will, with other added wealth, for your amends restore\nBut famous Menelaus\u2019 wife he still means to enjoy,\nThough he be urg\u2019d the contrary, by all the peers of Troy.\nAnd this besides I have in charge, that, if it please you all,\nThey wish both sides may cease from war, that rites of funeral\nMay on their bodies be perform\u2019d, that ill, the fields lie slain;\nAnd after, to the will of Fate, renew the fight again.\u201d\nAll silence held at first; at last Tydides made reply:\n\u201cLet no man take the wealth, or dame; for now a child\u2019s weak eye\nMay see the imminent black end of Priam\u2019s empery.\u201d\nThis sentence, quick and briefly giv\u2019n, the Greeks did all admire.\nThen said, the king: \u201cHerald, thou hear\u2019st the voice entire\nOf all our peers, to answer thee, for that of Priam\u2019s son.\nBut, for our burning of the dead, by all means I am won\nTo satisfy thy king therein, without the slend\u2019rest gain\nMade of their spoil\u00e9d carcasses; but freely, being slain,\nThey shall be all consum\u2019d with fire. To which I cite\nHigh thund\u2019ring Jove; that is the king of Juno\u2019s delight.\u201d\nWith this, he held his sceptre up, to all the sky-thron\u2019d Pow\u2019rs;\nAnd grave Id\u00e6us did return to sacred Ilion\u2019s tow\u2019rs,\nWhere Ilians, and Dardanians, did still their counsels ply,\nExpecting his return. He came, and told his legacy.\nAll, whirlwind-like, assembled then, some bodies to transport,\nSome to hew trees. On th\u2019 other part, the Argives did exhort\nTheir soldiers to the same affairs. Then, did the new fir\u2019d sun\nSmite the broad fields, ascending heav\u2019n, and th\u2019 ocean smooth did run;\nWhen Greece and Troy mix\u2019d in such peace, you scarce could either know.\nThen wash\u2019d they off their blood and dust, and did warm tears bestow\nUpon the slaughter\u2019d, and in cars convey\u2019d them from the field.\nPriam commanded none should mourn, but in still silence yield\nTheir honour\u2019d carcasses to fire, and only grieve in heart.\nAll burn\u2019d; to Troy Troy\u2019s friends retire, to fleet the Grecian part.\nYet doubtful night obscur\u2019d the earth, the day did not appear,\nWhen round about the fun\u2019ral pile, the Grecians gather\u2019d were.\nThe pile they circled with a tomb, and by it rais\u2019d a wall,\nHigh tow\u2019rs, to guard the fleet and them; and in the midst of all\nThey built strong gates, through which the horse and chariots passage\nhad;\nWithout the rampire a broad dike, long and profound, they made,\nOn which they pallisadoes pitch\u2019d; and thus the Grecians wrought.\nTheir huge works in so little time were to perfection brought,\nThat all Gods, by the Lightner set, the frame thereof admir\u2019d;\n\u2018Mongst whom the Earthquake-making God, this of their king inquir\u2019d:\n\u201cFather of Gods, will any man, of all earth\u2019s grassy sphere,\nAsk any of the Gods\u2019 consents to any actions there,\nIf thou wilt see the shag-hair\u2019d Greeks, with headstrong labours frame\nSo huge a work, and not to us due off\u2019rings first enflame?\nAs far as white Aurora\u2019s dews are sprinkled through the air,\nFame will renown the hands of Greece, for this divine affair;\nMen will forget the sacred work, the Sun and I did raise\nFor king Laomedon (bright Troy) and this will bear the praise.\u201d\nJove was extremely mov\u2019d with him, and said: \u201cWhat words are these,\nThou mighty Shaker of the earth, thou Lord of all the seas?\nSome other God, of far less pow\u2019r, might hold conceits, dismay\u2019d\nWith this rare Grecian stratagem, and thou rest well apaid;[7]\nFor it will glorify thy name, as far as light extends;\nSince, when these Greeks shall see again their native soil and friends,\nThe bulwark batter\u2019d, thou mayst quite devour it with thy waves,\nAnd cover, with thy fruitless sands, this fatal shore of graves;\nThat, what their fi\u2019ry industries have so divinely wrought\nIn raising it, in razing it thy pow\u2019r will prove it nought.\u201d\nThus spake the Gods among themselves. Set was the fervent sun;\nAnd now the great work of the Greeks was absolutely done.\nThen slew they oxen in their tents, and strength with food reviv\u2019d,\nWhen out of Lemnos a great fleet of od\u2019rous wine arrived,\nSent by Eun\u00ebus, Jason\u2019s son, born of Hypsipyle.\nThe fleet contain\u2019d a thousand tun, which must transported be\nTo Atreus\u2019 sons, as he gave charge, whose merchandise it was.\nThe Greeks bought wine for shining steel, and some for sounding brass,\nSome for ox-hides, for oxen some, and some for prisoners.\nA sumptuous banquet was prepar\u2019d; and all that night the peers\nAnd fair-hair\u2019d Greeks consum\u2019d in feast. So Trojans, and their aid.\nAnd all the night Jove thunder\u2019d loud; pale fear all thoughts dismay\u2019d.\nWhile they were gluttonous in earth, Jove wrought their banes in\nheav\u2019n.\nThey pour\u2019d full cups upon the ground, and were to off\u2019rings driv\u2019n\nInstead of quaffings; and to drink, none durst attempt, before\nIn solemn sacrifice they did almighty Jove adore.\nThen to their rests they all repair\u2019d; bold zeal their fear bereav\u2019d;\nAnd sudden sleep\u2019s refreshing gift, securely they receiv\u2019d.\n\nTHE END OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] These next four books have not my last hand; and because the rest\n (for a time) will be sufficient to employ your censures, suspend them\n of these. Spare not the other.\n\n\n [2] _O ver\u00e8 Phrygi\u00e6, neque enim Phryges_; saith his imitator.\n\n\n [3] _O si pr\u00e6teritos referat mihi Jupiter annos Qualis eram, etc._\n\n\n [4] _Hine illud: Dominus clypei septemplicis Ajax._\n\n\n [5] Hector gives Ajax a sword; Ajax, Hector a girdle. Both which gifts\n were afterwards cause of both their deaths.\n\n\n [6] Virgil imit.\n\n\n [7] The fortification that in the twelfth book is razed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nWhen Jove to all the Gods had giv\u2019n command,\nThat none to either host should helpful stand,\nTo Ida he descends; and sees from thence\nJuno and Pallas haste the Greeks\u2019 defence;\nWhose purpose, his command, by Iris given,\nDoth intervent. Then came the silent even,\nWhen Hector charg\u2019d fires should consume the night,\nLest Greeks in darkness took suspected flight.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Theta, Gods a Council have.\nTroy\u2019s conquest. Glorious Hector\u2019s brave.\n\n\nThe cheerful Lady of the light, deck\u2019d in her saffron robe,\nDispers\u2019d her beams through ev\u2019ry part of this enflow\u2019red globe,\nWhen thund\u2019ring Jove a Court of Gods assembled by his will\nIn top of all the topful heights, that crown th\u2019 Olympian hill.\nHe spake, and all the Gods gave ear: \u201cHear how I stand inclin\u2019d,\nThat God nor Goddess may attempt t\u2019 infringe my sov\u2019reign mind,\nBut all give suffrage that with speed I may these discords end.\nWhat God soever I shall find endeavour to defend\nOr Troy or Greece, with wounds to heav\u2019n he, sham\u2019d, shall reascend;\nOr, taking with him his offence, I\u2019ll cast him down as deep\nAs Tartarus, the brood of night, where Barathrum doth steep[1]\nTorment, in his profoundest sinks, where is the floor of brass,\nAnd gates of iron; the place, for depth, as far doth hell surpass,\nAs heav\u2019n, for height, exceeds the earth; then shall he know from\nthence\nHow much my pow\u2019r, past all the Gods, hath sov\u2019reign eminence.\nEndanger it the whiles and see. Let down our golden chain,\nAnd at it let all Deities their utmost strengths constrain\nTo draw me to the earth from heav\u2019n; you never shall prevail,\nThough, with your most contention, ye dare my state assail,\nBut when my will shall be dispos\u2019d, to draw you all to me,\nEv\u2019n with the earth itself, and seas, ye shall enforced be;\nThen will I to Olympus\u2019 top our virtuous engine bind,\nAnd by it ev\u2019rything shall hang, by my command inclin\u2019d.\nSo much I am supreme to Gods, to men supreme as much.\u201d\nThe Gods sat silent, and admir\u2019d, his dreadful speech was such.\nAt last his blue-ey\u2019d daughter spake: \u201cO great Saturnides!\nO father, O heav\u2019n\u2019s highest king, well know we the excess\nOf thy great pow\u2019r, compar\u2019d with all; yet the bold Greeks\u2019 estate\nWe needs must mourn, since they must fall beneath so hard a fate;\nFor, if thy grave command enjoin, we will abstain from fight.\nBut to afford them such advice, as may relieve their plight,\nWe will, with thy consent, be bold; that all may not sustain\nThe fearful burthen of thy wrath, and with their shames be slain.\u201d\nHe smil\u2019d, and said: \u201cBe confident, thou art belov\u2019d of me;\nI speak not this with serious thoughts, but will be kind to thee.\u201d\nThis said, his brass-hoof\u2019d wing\u00e9d horse he did to chariot bind,\nWhose crests were fring\u2019d with manes of gold; and golden garments\nshin\u2019d\nOn his rich shoulders; in his hand he took a golden scourge,\nDivinely fashion\u2019d, and with blows their willing speed did urge\nMid way betwixt the earth and heav\u2019n. To Ida: then he came,\nAbounding in delicious springs, and nurse of beasts untame,\nWhere, on the mountain Gargarus, men did a fane erect\nTo his high name, and altars sweet; and there his horse he check\u2019d,\nDissolv\u2019d them from his chariot, and in a cloud of jet\nHe cover\u2019d them, and on the top took his triumphant seat,\nBeholding Priam\u2019s famous town, and all the fleet of Greece.\nThe Greeks took breakfast speedily, and arm\u2019d at ev\u2019ry piece.\nSo Trojans; who though fewer far, yet all to fight took arms,\nDire need enforc\u2019d them to avert their wives\u2019 and children\u2019s harms.\nAll gates flew open; all the host did issue, foot and horse,\nIn mighty tumult; straight one place adjoin\u2019d each adverse force.\nThen shields with shields met, darts with darts, strength against\nstrength oppos\u2019d;\nThe boss-pik\u2019d targets were thrust on, and thunder\u2019d as they clos\u2019d\nIn mighty tumult; groan for groan, and breath for breath did breathe,\nOf men then slain, and to be slain; earth flow\u2019d with fruits of death.\nWhile the fair morning\u2019s beauty held, and day increas\u2019d in height,\nTheir jav\u2019lins mutually made death transport an equal freight,\nBut when the hot meridian point, bright Ph\u0153bus did ascend,\nThen Jove his golden balances did equally extend,\nAnd, of long-rest-conferring death, put in two bitter fates\nFor Troy and Greece; he held the midst; the day of final dates\nFell on the Greeks; the Greeks\u2019 hard lot sunk to the flow\u2019ry ground,\nThe Trojans\u2019 leapt as high as heav\u2019n. Then did the claps resound\nOf his fierce thunder; lightning leapt amongst each Grecian troop;\nThe sight amaz\u2019d them; pallid fear made boldest stomachs stoop,\nThen Idomen durst not abide, Atrides went his way,\nAnd both th\u2019 Ajaces; Nestor yet, against his will did stay,\nThat grave protector of the Greeks, for Paris with a dart\nEnrag\u2019d one of his chariot horse; he smote the upper part\nOf all his skull, ev\u2019n where the hair, that made his foretop, sprung.\nThe hurt was deadly, and the pain so sore the courser stung,\n(Pierc\u2019d to the brain) he stamp\u2019d and plung\u2019d. One on another bears,\nEntangled round about the beam; then Nestor cut the gears\nWith his new-drawn authentic sword. Meanwhile the fi\u2019ry horse\nOf Hector brake into the press, with their bold ruler\u2019s force;\nThen good old Nestor had been slain, had Diomed not espy\u2019d,\nWho to Ulysses, as he fled, importunately cried:\n\u201cThou that in counsels dost abound, O Laertiades,\nWhy fly\u2019st thou? Why thus, coward-like, shunn\u2019st thou the honour\u2019d\nprease?\nTake heed thy back take not a dart. Stay, let us both intend\nTo drive this cruel enemy, from our dear ag\u00e9d friend.\u201d\nHe spake, but wary Ithacus would find no patient ear,\nBut fled forthright, ev\u2019n to the fleet. Yet, though he single were,\nBrave Diomed mix\u2019d amongst the fight, and stood before the steeds\nOf old Neleides, whose estate thus kingly he areeds:\n\u201cO father, with these youths in fight, thou art unequal plac\u2019d,\nThy willing sinews are unknit, grave age pursues thee fast,\nAnd thy unruly horse are slow; my chariot therefore use,\nAnd try how ready Trojan horse, can fly him that pursues,\nPursue the flier, and ev\u2019ry way perform the varied fight;\nI forc\u2019d them from Anchises\u2019 son, well skill\u2019d in cause of flight.\nThen let my squire lead hence thy horse; mine thou shalt guard, whilst\nI,\nBy thee advanc\u2019d, assay the fight, that Hector\u2019s self may try\nIf my lance dote with the defects, that fail best minds in age,\nOr finds the palsy in my hands, that doth thy life engage.\u201d\nThis noble Nestor did accept, and Diomed\u2019s two friends,\nEurymedon that valour loves, and Sthenelus, ascends\nOld Nestor\u2019s coach. Of Diomed\u2019s horse Nestor the charge sustains,\nAnd Tydeus\u2019 son took place of fight. Neleides held the reins,\nAnd scourg\u2019d the horse, who swiftly ran direct in Hector\u2019s face;\nWhom fierce Tydides bravely charg\u2019d, but, he turn\u2019d from the chace,\nHis jav\u2019lin Eniopeus smit, mighty Theb\u00e6us\u2019 son,\nAnd was great Hector\u2019s charioteer; it through his breast did run,\nNear to his pap; he fell to earth, back flew his frighted horse,\nHis strength and soul were both dissolv\u2019d. Hector had deep remorse\nOf his mishap; yet left he him, and for another sought;\nNor long his steeds did want a guide, for straight good fortune brought\nBold Archeptolemus, whose life did from Iphitis spring;\nHe made him take the reins and mount. Then souls were set on wing;\nThen high exploits were undergone; then Trojans in their walls\nHad been infolded like meek lambs, had Jove wink\u2019d at their falls,\nWho hurl\u2019d his horrid thunder forth, and made pale lightnings fly.\nInto the earth, before the horse that Nestor did apply.\nA dreadful flash burnt through the air, that savour\u2019d sulphur-like,\nWhich down before the chariot the dazzled horse did strike.\nThe fair reins fell from Nestor\u2019s hand, who did in fear entreat\nRenown\u2019d Tydides into flight to turn his fury\u2019s heat:\n\u201cFor know\u2019st thou not,\u201d said he, \u201cour aid is not supplied from Jove?\nThis day he will give fame to Troy, which when it fits his love\nWe shall enjoy. Let no man tempt his unresisted will,\nThough he exceed in gifts of strength; for he exceeds him still.\u201d\n\u201cFather,\u201d replied the king, \u201c\u2019tis true; but both my heart and soul\nAre most extremely griev\u2019d to think how Hector will control\nMy valour with his vaunts in Troy, that I was terror-sick\nWith his approach; which when he boasts, let earth devour me quick.\u201d\n\u201cAh! warlike Tydeus\u2019 son,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat needless words are these?\nThough Hector should report thee faint, and amorous of thy ease,\nThe Trojans, nor the Trojan wives, would never give him trust,\nWhose youthful husbands thy free hand hath smother\u2019d so in dust.\u201d\nThis said, he turn\u2019d his one-hoof\u2019d horse to flight, and troop did\ntake,\nWhen Hector and his men, with shouts, did greedy p\u00farsuit make,\nAnd pour\u2019d on darts that made air sigh. Then Hector did exclaim:\n\u201cO Tydeus\u2019 son, the kings of Greece do most renown thy name\nWith highest place, feasts, and full cups; who now will do thee shame;\nThou shalt be like a woman us\u2019d, and they will say: \u2018Depart,\nImmartial minion, since to stand Hector thou hadst no heart.\u2019\nNor canst thou scale our turrets\u2019 tops, nor lead the wives to fleet\nOf valiant men; that wife-like fear\u2019st my adverse charge to meet.\u201d\nThis two ways mov\u2019d him,\u2014still to fly, or turn his horse and fight.\nThrice thrust he forward to assault, and ev\u2019ry time the fright\nOf Jove\u2019s fell thunder drave him back, which he propos\u2019d for sign\n(To show the change of victory) Trojans should victors shine.\nThen Hector comforted his men: \u201cAll my advent\u2019rous friends,\nBe men, and, of your famous strength, think of the honour\u2019d ends.\nI know benevolent Jupiter, did by his beck profess\nConquest and high renown to me, and to the Greeks distress.\nO fools, to raise such silly forts, not worth the least account,\nNor able to resist our force! With ease our horse may mount,\nQuite over all their hollow dike. But, when their fleet I reach,\nLet Memory to all the world a famous bonfire teach,\nFor I will all their ships inflame, with whose infestive smoke,\nFear-shrunk, and hidden near their keels, the conquer\u2019d Greeks shall\nchoke.\u201d\nThen cherish\u2019d he his famous horse: \u201cO Xanthus, now,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd thou Podargus, \u00c6thon too, and Lampus, dear to me,\nMake me some worthy recompense, for so much choice of meat,\nGiv\u2019n you by fair Andromache; bread of the purest wheat,\nAnd with it, for your drink, mix\u2019d wine, to make ye wish\u00e9d cheer,\nStill serving you before myself, her husband young and dear.\nPursue, and use your swiftest speed, that we may take for prise\nThe shield of old Neleides, which fame lifts to the skies,\nEv\u2019n to the handles telling it to be of massy gold.\nAnd from the shoulders let us take, of Diomed the bold,\nThe royal curace Vulcan wrought, with art so exquisite,\nThese if we make our sacred spoil, I doubt not, but this night,\nEv\u2019n to their navy to enforce the Greeks unturn\u00e9d flight.\u201d\nThis Juno took in high disdain, and made Olympus shake\nAs she but stirr\u2019d within her throne, and thus to Neptune spake:\n\u201cO Neptune, what a spite is this! Thou God so huge in pow\u2019r,\nAfflicts it not thy honour\u2019d heart, to see rude spoil devour\nThese Greeks that have in Helice, and Aege, offer\u2019d thee\nSo many and such wealthy gifts? Let them the victors be.\nIf we, that are the aids of Greece, would beat home these of Troy,\nAnd hinder broad-ey\u2019d Jove\u2019s proud will, it would abate his joy.\u201d\nHe, angry, told her she was rash, and he would not be one\nOf all the rest, should strive with Jove, whose pow\u2019r was match\u2019d by none.\nWhiles they conferr\u2019d thus, all the space the trench contain\u2019d before\n(From that part of the fort that flank\u2019d the navy-anchoring shore)\nWas filled with horse and targeteers, who there for refuge came,\nBy Mars-swift Hector\u2019s pow\u2019r engaged; Jove gave his strength the fame;\nAnd he with spoilful fire had burn\u2019d the fleet, if Juno\u2019s grace\nHad not inspir\u2019d the king himself, to run from place to place,\nAnd stir up ev\u2019ry soldier\u2019s pow\u2019r, to some illustrious deed.\nFirst visiting their leaders\u2019 tents, his ample purple weed\nHe wore, to show all who he was, and did his station take\nAt wise Ulysses\u2019 sable barks, that did the battle make\nOf all the fleet; from whence his speech might with more ease be driv\u2019n\nTo Ajax\u2019 and Achilles\u2019 ships, to whose chief charge were giv\u2019n\nThe vantguard and the rearguard both, both for their force of hand,\nAnd trusty bosoms. There arriv\u2019d, thus urg\u2019d he to withstand\nTh\u2019 insulting Trojans: \u201cO what shame, ye empty-hearted lords,\nIs this to your admir\u00e9d forms! Where are your glorious words,\nIn Lemnos vaunting you the best of all the Grecian host?\n\u2018We are the strongest men,\u2019 ye said, \u2018we will command the most,\nEating most flesh of high-horn\u2019d beeves, and drinking cups full crown\u2019d,\nAnd ev\u2019ry man a hundred foes, two hundred, will confound;\nNow all our strength, dar\u2019d to our worst; one Hector cannot tame,\u2019\nWho presently with horrid fire, will all our fleet inflame.\nO Father Jove, hath ever yet thy most unsuffer\u2019d hand\nAfflicted, with such spoil of souls, the king of any land,\nAnd taken so much fame from him? when I did never fail,\n(Since under most unhappy stars; this fleet was under sail)\nThy glorious altars, I protest, but, above all the Gods,\nHave burnt fat thighs of beeves to thee, and pray\u2019d to raze th\u2019 abodes\nOf rape-defending Ilions. Yet grant, almighty Jove,\nOne favour;\u2014that we may at least with life from hence remove,\nNot under such inglorious hands, the hands of death employ;\nAnd, where Troy should be stoop\u2019d by Greece, let Greece fall under Troy.\u201d\nTo this ev\u2019n weeping king did Jove remorseful audience give,\nAnd shook great heav\u2019n to him, for sign his men and he should live.\nThen quickly cast he off his hawk, the eagle prince of air,\nThat perfects his unspotted vows; who seiz\u2019d in her repair\nA sucking hind calf, which she truss\u2019d in her enforcive seres,\nAnd by Jove\u2019s altar let it fall, amongst th\u2019 amaz\u00e9d peers,\nWhere the religious Achive kings, with sacrifice did please\nThe author of all oracles, divine Saturnides.\nNow, when they knew the bird of Jove, they turn\u2019d courageous head.\nWhen none, though many kings put on, could make his vaunt, he led\nTydides to renew\u2019d assault, or issu\u2019d first the dike,\nOr first did fight; but, far the first, stone dead his lance did strike\nArm\u2019d Agelaus, by descent surnam\u2019d Phradmonides;\nHe turn\u2019d his ready horse to flight, and Diomed\u2019s lance did seize\nHis back betwixt his shoulder-blades, and look\u2019d out at his breast;\nHe fell, and his arms rang his fall. Th\u2019 Atrides next address\u2019d\nThemselves to fight; th\u2019 Ajaces next, with vehement strength endued;\nIdomen\u00ebus and his friend, stout Merion, next pursued;\nAnd after these Eurypylus, Evemon\u2019s honour\u2019d race;\nThe ninth, with backward-wreath\u00e9d bow, had little Teucer place,\nHe still fought under Ajax\u2019 shield, who sometimes held it by,\nAnd then he look\u2019d his object out, and let his arrow fly,\nAnd, whomsoever in the press he wounded; him he slew,\nThen under Ajax\u2019 sev\u2019n-fold shield, he presently withdrew.\nHe far\u2019d like an unhappy child, that doth to mother run\nFor succour, when he knows full well, he some shrewd turn hath done.\nWhat Trojans then were to their deaths, by Teucer\u2019s shafts impress\u2019d?\nHapless Orsilochus was first, Ormenus, Ophelest,\nD\u00e6ter, and hardy Chromius, and Lycophon divine,\nAnd Amopaon that did spring from Poly\u00e6mon\u2019s line,\nAnd Menalippus; all, on heaps, he tumbled to the ground.\nThe king rejoic\u2019d to see his shafts the Phrygian ranks confound,\nWho straight came near, and spake to him: \u201cO Teucer, lovely man,\nStrike still so sure, and be a grace to ev\u2019ry Grecian,\nAnd to thy father Telamon, who took thee kindly home\n(Although not by his wife his son) and gave thee foster room,\nEv\u2019n from thy childhood; then to him, though far from hence remov\u2019d,\nMake good fame reach; and to thyself, I vow what shall be prov\u2019d:\nIf he that dreadful \u00c6gis bears, and Pallas, grant to me\nTh\u2019 expugnance of well-builded Troy; I first will honour thee\nNext to myself with some rich gift, and put it in thy hand:\nA three-foot vessel, that, for grace, in sacred fanes doth stand;\nOr two horse and a chariot; or else a lovely dame\nThat may ascend on bed with thee, and amplify thy name.\u201d\nTeucer right nobly answer\u2019d him: \u201cWhy, most illustrate king,\nI being thus forward of myself, dost thou, adjoin a sting?\nWithout which, all the pow\u2019r I have, I cease not to employ,\nFor, from the place where we repuls\u2019d the Trojans towards Troy,\nI all the purple field have strew\u2019d, with, one or other slain.\nEight shafts I shot, with long steel heads, of which not one in vain,\nAll were in youthful bodies fix\u2019d, well skill\u2019d in war\u2019s constraint;\nYet this wild dog; with all my aim, I have no pow\u2019r to taint.\u201d\nThis said, another arrow forth, from his stiff string he sent,\nAt Hector, whom he long\u2019d to wound; but still amiss it went.\nHis shaft smit fair Gorgythion, of Priam\u2019s princely race,\nWho in \u00c6pina was brought forth, a famous town in Thrace,\nBy Castianira, that, for form, was like celestial breed;\nAnd, as a crimson poppy flow\u2019r, surcharg\u00e9d with his seed,\nAnd vernal humours falling thick, declines his heavy brow,\nSo, of one side, his helmet\u2019s weight his fainting head did bow.\nYet Teucer would, another shaft at Hector\u2019s life dispose,\nSo fain he such a mark would hit, but still beside it goes;\nApollo did avert the shaft; but Hector\u2019s charioteer,\nBold Archeptolemus, he smit, as he was rushing near\nTo make the fight; to earth he fell, his swift horse back did fly,\nAnd there were both his strength and soul exil\u2019d eternally.\nHuge grief, for Hector\u2019s slaughter\u2019d friend, pinch\u2019d-in his mighty\nmind,\nYet was he forc\u2019d to leave him there, and his void place resign\u2019d\nTo his sad brother, that was by, Cebriones; whose ear\nReceiving Hector\u2019s charge, he straight the weighty reins did bear;\nAnd Hector from his shining coach, with horrid voice, leap\u2019d on,\nTo wreak his friend on Teucer\u2019s hand; and up he took a stone,\nWith which he at the archer ran; who from his quiver drew\nA sharp-pil\u2019d shaft, and nock\u2019d it sure; but in great Hector flew\nWith such fell speed, that; in his draught, he his right shoulder\nstrook\nWhere,\u2019twixt his neck and breast, the joint his native closure took.\nThe wound was wondrous full of death, his, string in sunder flees,\nHis numm\u00e9d hand fell strengthless down, and he upon his knees.\nAjax neglected not to aid his brother thus depress\u2019d,\nBut came and saft him with his shield; and two more friends, address\u2019d\nTo be his aid, took him to fleet, Mecisteus, Echius\u2019 son,\nAnd gay Alastor. Teucer sigh\u2019d, for all his service done.\nThen did Olympius, with fresh strength, the Trojan pow\u2019rs revive,\nWho, to their trenches once again, the troubled Greeks did drive.\nHector brought terror with his strength, and ever fought before.\nAs when some highly stomach\u2019d hound, that hunts a sylvan boar,\nOr kingly lion, loves the haunch, and pincheth oft behind,\nBold of his feet, and still observes the game to turn inclin\u2019d,\nNot utterly dissolv\u2019d in flight; so Hector did pursue,\nAnd whosoever was the last, he ever did subdue,\nThey fled, but, when they had their dike, and palisadoes, pass\u2019d,\n(A number of them put to sword) at ships they stay\u2019d at last.\nThen mutual exhortations flew, then, all with hands and eyes\nAdvanc\u2019d to, all the Gods, their plagues wrung from them open cries.\nHector, with his four rich-man\u2019d horse, assaulting always rode,\nThe eyes of Gorgon burnt in him, and war\u2019s vermilion God.\nThe Goddess that all Goddesses, for snowy arms, out-shin\u2019d,\nThus spake to Pallas, to the Greeks with gracious ruth inclin\u2019d:\n\u201cO Pallas, what a grief is this! Is all our succour past\nTo these our perishing Grecian friends? At least withheld at last,\nEv\u2019n now, when one man\u2019s violence must make them perish all,\nIn satisfaction of a fate so full of funeral?\nHector Priamides now raves, no more to be endur\u2019d.\nThat hath already on the Greeks so many harms inur\u2019d.\u201d\nThe azure Goddess answer\u2019d her: \u201cThis man had surely found\nHis fortitude and life dissolv\u2019d, ev\u2019n on his father\u2019s ground,\nBy Grecian valour, if my sire, infested with ill moods,\nDid not so dote on these of Troy, too jealous of their bloods,\nAnd ever an unjust repulse stands to my willing pow\u2019rs,\nLittle rememb\u2019ring what I did, in all the desp\u2019rate hours\nOf his affected Hercules; I ever rescu\u2019d him,\nIn labours of Eurysthe\u00fcs, untouch\u2019d in life or limb,\nWhen he, heav\u2019n knows, with drown\u00e9d eyes look\u2019d up for help to heav\u2019n,\nWhich ever, at command of Jove, was by my suppliance giv\u2019n,\nBut had my wisdom reach\u2019d so far, to, know of this event,\nWhen to the solid-ported depths of hell his son was sent,\nTo hale out hateful Pluto\u2019s dog from darksome Erebus,\nHe had not \u2019scap\u2019d the streams of Styx, so deep and dangerous.\nYet Jove hates me, and shows his love in doing Thetis\u2019 will,\nThat kiss\u2019d his knees, and strok\u2019d his chin, pray\u2019d, and importun\u2019d\ntill,\nThat he would honour with his aid her city-razing son,\nDispleas\u2019d Achilles; and for him our friends are thus undone.\nBut time shall come again, when he, to do his friends some aid,\nWill call me his Glaucopides, his sweet and blue-eyed Maid.\nThen harness thou thy horse for me, that his bright palace gates\nI soon may enter, arming me, to order these debates;\nAnd I will try if Priam\u2019s son will still maintain his cheer,\nWhen in the crimson paths of war, I dreadfully appear;\nFor some proud Trojans shall be sure to nourish dogs and fowls,\nAnd pave the shore with fat and flesh, depriv\u2019d of lives and souls.\u201d\nJuno prepar\u2019d her horse, whose manes ribands of gold enlac\u2019d.\nPallas her party-colour\u2019d robe on her bright shoulders cast,\nDivinely wrought with her own hands, in th\u2019 entry of her sire.\nThen put she on her ample breast her under-arming tire,\nAnd on it her celestial arms. The chariot straight she takes,\nWith her huge heavy violent lance, with which she slaughter makes\nOf armies fatal to her wrath. Saturnia whipp\u2019d horse,\nAnd heav\u2019n-gates, guarded by the Hours, op\u2019d by their proper force.\nThrough which they flew. Whom when Jove saw (set near the Idalian\nsprings)\nHighly, displeas\u2019d, he Iris call\u2019d, that hath the golden wings,\nAnd said: \u201cFly, Iris, turn them back, let them not come at me,\nOur meetings, sev\u2019rally dispos\u2019d, will nothing gracious be.\nBeneath their o\u2019erthrown chariot I\u2019ll shiver their proud steeds,\nHurl down themselves, their waggon break, and, for their stubborn\ndeeds,\nIn ten whole years they shall not heal the wounds I will impress\nWith horrid thunder; that my maid may know when to address\nArms \u2019gainst her father. For my wife, she doth not so offend.\n\u2019Tis but her use to interrupt whatever I intend.\u201d\nIris, with this, left Ida\u2019s hills, and up t\u2019 Olympus flew,\nMet near heav\u2019n-gates the Goddesses, and thus their haste withdrew:\n\u201cWhat course intend you? Why are you wrapp\u2019d with your fancies\u2019 storm?\nJove likes not ye should aid the Greeks, but threats, and will perform,\nTo crush in pieces your swift horse beneath their glorious yokes,\nHurl down yourselves, your chariot break, and, those impoison\u2019d strokes\nHis wounding thunder shall imprint in your celestial parts,\nIn ten full springs ye shall not cure; that She that tames proud hearts\n(Thyself, Minerva) may be taught to know for what, and when,\nThou dost against thy father fight; for sometimes childeren\nMay with discretion plant themselves against their fathers\u2019 wills,\nBut not, where humours only rule, in works beyond their skills.\nFor Juno; she offends him not, nor vexeth him so much,\nFor \u2019tis her use to cross his will, her impudence is such,\nThe habit of offence in this she only doth contract,\nAnd so grieves or incenseth less, though ne\u2019er the less her fact.\nBut thou most griev\u2019st him, dogg\u00e9d dame, whom he rebukes in time,\nLest silence should pervert thy will, and pride too highly climb\nIn thy bold bosom, desp\u2019rate girl, if seriously thou dare\nLift thy unwieldy lance \u2019gainst Jove, as thy pretences are.\u201d\nShe left them, and Saturnia said: \u201cAh me! Thou seed of Jove,\nBy my advice we will no more unfit convention move\nWith Jupiter, for mortal men; of whom, let this man die,\nAnd that man live, whoever he pursues with destiny;\nAnd let him, plotting all events, dispose of either host,\nAs he thinks fittest for them both, and may become us most.\u201d\nThus turn\u2019d she back, and to the Hours her rich-man\u2019d horse resign\u2019d,\nWho them t\u2019 immortal mangers bound; the chariot they inclin\u2019d\nBeneath the crystal walls of heav\u2019n; and they in golden thrones\nConsorted other Deities, replete with passi\u00f3ns,\nJove, in his bright-wheel\u2019d chariot, his fi\u2019ry horse now, beats\nUp to Olympus, and aspir\u2019d the Gods\u2019 eternal seats.\nGreat Neptune loos\u2019d his horse, his car upon the altar plac\u2019d,\nAnd heav\u2019nly-linen coverings did round about it cast.\nThe Far-seer us\u2019d his throne of gold. The vast Olympus shook\nBeneath his feet. His wife, and maid, apart places took,\nNor any word afforded him. He knew their thoughts, and said:\n\u201cWhy do you thus torment yourselves? You need not sit dismay\u2019d\nWith the long labours you have us\u2019d in your victorious fight,\nDestroying Trojans, \u2019gainst whose lives you heap such high despite.\nYe should have held your glorious course; for, be assur\u2019d, as far\nAs all my pow\u2019rs, by all means urg\u2019d, could have sustain\u2019d the war,\nNot all the host of Deities should have retir\u2019d my hand\nFrom vow\u2019d inflictions on the Greeks, much less you two withstand.\nBut you, before you saw the fight, much less the slaughter there,\nHad all your goodly lineaments possess\u2019d with shaking fear,\nAnd never had your chariot borne their charge to heav\u2019n again,\nBut thunder should have smit you both, had you one Trojan slain.\u201d\nBoth Goddesses let fall their chins upon their ivory breasts,\nSet next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy\u2019s unrests.\nPallas for anger could not speak; Saturnia, contrary,\nCould not for anger hold her peace, but made this bold reply:\n\u201cNot-to-be-suff\u2019red Jupiter, what need\u2019st thou still enforce\nThy matchless pow\u2019r? We know it well; but we must yield remorse\nTo them that yield us sacrifice. Nor need\u2019st thou thus deride\nOur kind obedience, nor our griefs, but bear our pow\u2019rs applied\nTo just protection of the Greeks, that anger tomb not all\nIn Troy\u2019s foul gulf of perjury, and let them stand should fall.\u201d\n\u201cGrieve not,\u201d said Jove, \u201cat all done yet; for, if thy fair eyes please\nThis next red morning they shall see the great Saturnides\nBring more destruction to the Greeks; and Hector shall not cease,\nTill he have rous\u00e9d from the fleet swift-foot \u00c6acides,\nIn that day, when before their ships, for his Patroclus slain,\nThe Greeks in great distress shall fight; for so the Fates ordain.\nI weigh not thy displeas\u00e9d spleen, though to th\u2019 extremest bounds\nOf earth and seas it carry thee, where endless night confounds\nJapet, and my dejected Sire, who sit so far beneath,\nThey never see the flying sun, nor hear the winds that breath,\nNear to profoundest Tartarus. Nor, thither if thou went,\nWould I take pity of thy moods, since none more impudent.\u201d\nTo this she nothing did reply. And now Sol\u2019s glorious light\nFell to the sea, and to the land drew up the drowsy night.\nThe Trojans griev\u2019d at Ph\u0153bus\u2019 fall, which all the Greeks desir\u2019d,\nAnd sable night, so often wish\u2019d, to earth\u2019s firm throne aspir\u2019d.\nHector (intending to consult) near to the gulfy flood,\nFar from the fleet, led to a place, pure and exempt from blood,\nThe Trojans\u2019 forces. From their horse all lighted, and did hear\nTh\u2019 oration Jove-lov\u2019d Hector made; who held a goodly spear,\nElev\u2019n full cubits long, the head was brass, and did reflect\nA wanton light before him still, it round about was deck\u2019d\nWith strong hoops of new-burnish\u2019d gold. On this he lean\u2019d, and said:\n\u201cHear me, my worthy friends of Troy, and you our honour\u2019d aid.\nA little since, I had conceit we should have made retreat,\nBy light of the inflam\u00e9d fleet, with all the Greeks\u2019 escheat,\nBut darkness hath prevented us; and saft, with special grace,\nThese Achives and their shore-hal\u2019d fleet. Let us then render place\nTo sacred Night, our suppers dress, and from our chariot free\nOur fair-man\u2019d horse, and meat them well. Then let there convoy\u2019d be,\nFrom forth the city presently, oxen and well-fed sheep,\nSweet wine, and bread; and fell much wood, that all night we may keep\nPlenty of fires, ev\u2019n till the light bring forth the lovely morn,\nAnd let their brightness glaze the skies, that night may not suborn\nThe Greeks\u2019 escape, if they for flight the sea\u2019s broad back would take;\nAt least they may not part with ease, but, as retreat they make,\nEach man may bear a wound with him, to cure when he comes home,\nMade with a shaft or sharp\u2019ned spear; and others fear to come,\nWith charge of lamentable war, \u2019gainst soldiers bred in Troy.\nThen let our heralds through the town their offices employ\nTo warn the youth, yet short of war, and time-white fathers, past,\nThat in our god-built tow\u2019rs they see strong courts of guard be plac\u2019d,\nAbout the walls; and let our dames, yet flourishing in years,\nThat, having beauties to keep pure, are most inclin\u2019d to fears\n(Since darkness in distressful times more dreadful is than light)\nMake lofty fires in ev\u2019ry house; and thus, the dang\u2019rous night,\nHeld with strong watch, if th\u2019 enemy have ambuscadoes laid\nNear to our walls (and therefore seem in flight the more dismay\u2019d,\nIntending a surprise, while we are all without the town)\nThey ev\u2019ry way shall be impugn\u2019d, to, ev\u2019ry man\u2019s renown.\nPerform all this, brave Trojan friends. What now I have to say\nIs all express\u2019d; the cheerful morn shall other things display.\nIt is my glory (putting trust in Jove, and other Gods)\nThat I shall now expulse these dogs Fates sent to our abodes,\nWho bring ostents of destiny, and black their threat\u2019ning fleet.\nBut this night let us hold strong guards; to-morrow we will meet\n(With fierce-made war) before their ships, and I\u2019ll make known to all\nIf strong Tydides from their ships can drive me to their wall,\nOr I can pierce him with my sword, and force his bloody spoil.\nThe wish\u00e9d morn shall show his pow\u2019r, if he can shun his foil\nI running on him with my lance. I think; when day ascends,\nHe shall lie wounded with the first, and by him many friends.\nO that I were as sure to live immortal, and sustain\nNo frailties with increasing years, but evermore remain\nAdor\u2019d like Pallas, or the Sun, as all doubts die in me\nThat heav\u2019n\u2019s next light shall be the last the Greeks shall ever see!\u201d\nThis speech all Trojans did applaud; who from their traces los\u2019d\nTheir sweating horse, which sev\u2019rally with headstalls they repos\u2019d,\nAnd fast\u2019ned by their chariots; when others brought from town\nFat sheep and oxen, instantly, bread, wine; and hew\u00e9d down\nHuge store of wood. The winds transferr\u2019d into the friendly sky\nTheir supper\u2019s savour; to the which they sat delightfully,\nAnd spent all night in open field; fires round about them shin\u2019d.\nAs when about the silver moon, when air is free from wind,\nAnd stars shine clear, to whose sweet beams, high prospects, and the\nbrows\nOf all steep hills and pinnacles, thrust up themselves for shows,\nAnd ev\u2019n the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight,\nWhen the unmeasur\u2019d firmament bursts to disclose her light,\nAnd all the signs in heav\u2019n are seen, that glad the shepherd\u2019s heart;\nSo many fires disclos\u2019d their beams, made by the Trojan part,\nBefore the face of Ilion, and her bright turrets show\u2019d.\nA thousand courts of guard kept fires, and ev\u2019ry guard allow\u2019d\nFifty stout men, by whom their horse ate oats and hard white corn,\nAnd all did wishfully expect the silver-thron\u00e9d morn.\n\nTHE END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Virgil maketh this likewise his place, adding, _Bis patet in\n pr\u00e6ceps tantum, tenditque sub umbras, etc._\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nTo Agamemnon, urging hopeless flight,\nStand Diomed, and Nestor, opposite.\nBy Nestor\u2019s counsel, legates are dismiss\u2019d\nTo Thetis\u2019 son; who still denies t\u2019 assist.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIota sings the Ambassy,\nAnd great Achilles\u2019 stern reply.\n\n\nSo held the Trojans sleepless guard; the Greeks to flight were giv\u2019n,\nThe feeble consort of cold fear, strangely infus\u2019d from heav\u2019n;\nGrief, not to be endur\u2019d, did wound all Greeks of greatest worth.\nAnd as two lateral-sited winds, the west wind and the north,\nMeet at the Thracian sea\u2019s black breast, join in a sudden blore,\nTumble together the dark waves, and pour upon the shore\nA mighty deal of froth and weed, with which men manure ground;\nSo Jove, and Troy did drive the Greeks, and all their minds confound.\nBut Agamemnon most of all was tortur\u2019d at his heart,\nWho to the voiceful heralds went, and bade them cite, apart,\nEach Grecian leader sev\u2019rally, not openly proclaim.\nIn which he labour\u2019d with the first; and all together came.\nThey sadly sate. The king arose, and pour\u2019d out tears as fast\nAs from a lofty rock a spring doth his black waters cast,\nAnd, deeply sighing, thus bespake the Achives: \u201cO my friends,\nPrinces, and leaders of the Greeks, heav\u2019n\u2019s adverse King extends\nHis wrath, with too much detriment, to my so just design,\nSince he hath often promis\u2019d me, and bound it with the sign\nOf his bent forehead, that this Troy our vengeful hands should race,\nAnd safe return; yet, now engag\u2019d, he plagues us with disgrace,\nWhen all our trust to him hath drawn so much blood from our friends.\nMy glory, nor my brother\u2019s wreak, were the propos\u00e9d ends,\nFor which he drew you to these toils, but your whole countries\u2019 shame,\nWhich had been huge to bear the rape of so divine a dame,\nMade in despite of our revenge. And yet not that had mov\u2019d\nOur pow\u2019rs to these designs, if Jove had not our drifts approv\u2019d;\nWhich since we see he did for blood, \u2019tis desp\u2019rate fight in us\nTo strive with him; then let us fly; \u2019tis flight he urgeth thus.\u201d\nLong time still silence held them all; at last did Diomed rise:\n\u201cAtrides, I am first must cross thy indiscreet advice,[1]\nAs may become me, being a king, in this our martial court.\nBe not displeas\u2019d then; for thyself didst broadly misreport\nIn open field my fortitude, and call\u2019d me faint and weak,\nYet I was silent, knowing the time, loth any rites to break\nThat appertain\u2019d thy public rule, yet all the Greeks knew well,\nOf ev\u2019ry age, thou didst me wrong. As thou then didst refell\nMy valour first of all the host, as of a man dismay\u2019d;\nSo now, with fit occasion giv\u2019n, I first blame thee afraid.\nInconstant Saturn\u2019s son hath giv\u2019n inconstant spirits to thee,\nAnd, with a sceptre over all, an eminent degree;\nBut with a sceptre\u2019s sov\u2019reign grace, the chief pow\u2019r, fortitude,\n(To bridle thee) he thought not best thy breast should be endu\u2019d.\nUnhappy king, think\u2019st thou the Greeks are such a silly sort,\nAnd so excessive impotent, as thy weak words import?\nIf thy mind move thee to be gone, the way is open, go;\nMycenian ships enow ride near, that brought thee to this woe;\nThe rest of Greece will stay, nor stir till Troy be overcome\nWith full eversion; or if not, but (doters of their home)\nWill put on wings to fly with thee. Myself and Sthenelus\nWill fight till (trusting favouring Jove) we bring home Troy with us.\u201d\nThis all applauded, and admir\u2019d the spirit of Diomed;\nWhen Nestor, rising from the rest, his speech thus seconded:\n\u201cTydides, thou art, questionless, our strongest Greek in war,\nAnd gravest in thy counsels too, of all that equal are\nIn place with thee, and stand on strength; nor is there any one\nCan blame, or contradict thy speech; and yet thou hast not gone\nSo far, but we must further go. Thou\u2019rt young, and well mightst be\nMy youngest son, though still I yield thy words had high degree\nOf wisdom in them to our king, since well they did become\nTheir right in question, and refute inglorious going home.\nBut I (well known thy senior far) will speak, and handle all\nYet to propose, which none shall check; no, not our general.\nA hater of society, unjust, and wild, is he\nThat loves intestine war, being stuff\u2019d with manless cruelty.\nAnd therefore in persuading peace, and home-flight, we the less\nMay blame our gen\u2019ral, as one loth to wrap in more distress\nHis lov\u00e9d soldiers. But because they bravely are resolv\u2019d\nTo cast lives after toils, before they part in shame involv\u2019d,\nProvide we for our honour\u2019d stay; obey black night, and fall\nNow to our suppers; then appoint our guards without the wall,\nAnd in the bottom of the dike; which guard I wish may stand\nOf our brave youth. And, Atreus\u2019 son, since thou art in command\nBefore our other kings, be first in thy command\u2019s effect.\nIt well becomes thee; since \u2019tis both what all thy peers expect,\nAnd in the royal right of things is no impair to thee.\nNor shall it stand with less than right, that they invited be\nTo supper by thee; all thy tents are amply stor\u2019d with wine,\nBrought daily in Greek ships from Thrace; and to this grace of thine\nAll necessaries thou hast fit, and store of men to wait;\nAnd, many meeting there, thou may\u2019st hear ev\u2019ry man\u2019s conceit,\nAnd take the best. It much concerns all Greeks to use advice\nOf gravest nature, since so near our ships our enemies\nHave lighted such a sort of fires, with which what man is joy\u2019d?\nLook, how all bear themselves this night; so live, or be destroy\u2019d.\u201d\nAll heard, and follow\u2019d his advice. There was appointed then\nSev\u2019n captains of the watch, who forth did march with all their men.\nThe first was famous Thrasymed, adviceful Nestor\u2019s son;\nAscalaphus; and Ialmen; and mighty Merion;\nAlphareus; and Deipyrus; and lovely Lycomed,\nOld Creon\u2019s joy. These sev\u2019n bold lords an hundred soldiers led,\nIn ev\u2019ry sever\u2019d company, and ev\u2019ry man his pike,\nSome plac\u00e9d on the rampire\u2019s top, and some amidst the dike.\nAll fires made, and their suppers took. Atrides to his tent\nInvited all the peers of Greece, and food sufficient\nAppos\u2019d before them, and the peers appos\u2019d their hands to it.\nHunger and thirst being quickly quench\u2019d, to counsel still they sit.\nAnd first spake Nestor, who they thought of late advis\u2019d so well,\nA father grave, and rightly wise, who thus his tale did tell:\n\u201cMost high Atrides, since in thee I have intent to end,\nFrom thee will I begin my speech, to whom Jove doth commend\nThe empire of so many men, and puts into thy hand\nA sceptre, and establish\u2019d laws, that thou mayst well command,\nAnd counsel all men under thee. It therefore doth behove\nThyself to speak most, since of all thy speeches most will move;\nAnd yet to hear, as well as speak; and then perform as well\nA free just counsel; in thee still must stick what others tell.\nFor me, what in my judgment stands the most convenient\nI will advise, and am assur\u2019d advice more competent\nShall not be giv\u2019n; the gen\u2019ral proof, that hath before been made\nOf what I speak, confirms me still, and now may well persuade,\nBecause I could not then, yet ought, when thou, most royal king,\nEv\u2019n from the tent, Achilles\u2019 love didst violently bring,\nAgainst my counsel, urging thee by all means to relent;\nBut you, obeying your high mind, would venture the event,\nDishonouring our ablest Greek, a man th\u2019 Immortals grace.\nAgain yet let\u2019s deliberate, to make him now embrace\nAffection to our gen\u2019ral good, and bring his force to field;\nBoth which kind words and pleasing gifts must make his virtues yield.\u201d\n\u201cO father,\u201d answer\u00e9d the king, \u201cmy wrongs thou tell\u2019st me right.\nMine own offence mine own tongue grants. One man must stand in fight\nFor our whole army; him I wrong\u2019d; him Jove loves from his heart,\nHe shows it in thus honouring him; who, living thus apart,\nProves us but number, for his want makes all our weakness seen.\nYet after my confess\u2019d offence, soothing my hum\u2019rous spleen,\nI\u2019ll sweeten his affects again with presents infinite,\nWhich, to prove my firm intent, I\u2019ll openly recite:\nSev\u2019n sacred tripods free from fire; ten talents of fine gold;\nTwenty bright cauldrons; twelve young horse, well-shap\u2019d, and\nwell-controll\u2019d,\nAnd victors too, for they have won the prize at many a race,\nThat man should not be poor that had but what their wing\u00e9d pace\nHath added to my treasury, nor feel sweet gold\u2019s defect.\nSev\u2019n Lesbian ladies he shall have, that were the most select,\nAnd in their needles rarely skill\u2019d, whom, when he took the town\nOf famous Lesbos, I did choose; who won the chief renown\nFor beauty from their whole fair sex; amongst whom I\u2019ll resign\nFair Brisis, and I deeply swear (for any fact of mine\nThat may discourage her receipt) she is untouch\u2019d, and rests\nAs he resign\u2019d her. To these gifts (if Jove to our requests\nVouchsafe performance, and afford the work, for which we wait,\nOf winning Troy) with brass and gold he shall his navy freight;\nAnd, ent\u2019ring when we be at spoil, that princely hand of his\nShall choose him twenty Trojan dames, excepting Tyndaris,\nThe fairest Pergamus enfolds; and, if we make retreat\nTo Argos, call\u2019d of all the world the Navel, or chief seat,\nHe shall become my son-in-law, and I will honour him\nEv\u2019n as Orestes, my sole son, that cloth in honours swim.\nThree daughters in my well-built court unmarried are, and fair;\nLaodice, Chrysothemis that hath the golden hair,\nAnd Iphianassa; of all three the worthiest let him take\nAll-jointureless to Peleus\u2019 court; I will her jointure make,\nAnd that so great as never yet did any maid prefer,\nSev\u2019n cities right magnificent, I will bestow on her;\nEnope, and Cardamyle, Hira for herbs renown\u2019d,\nThe fair \u00c6pea, Pedasus that doth with grapes abound,\nAnth\u00e6a girded with green meads, Phera surnam\u2019d Divine;\nAll whose bright turrets on the sea, in sandy Pylos, shine.\nTh\u2019 inhabitants in flocks and herds are wondrous confluent,\nWho like a God will honour him, and him with gifts present,\nAnd to his throne will contribute what tribute he will rate.\nAll this I gladly will perform, to pacify his hate.\nLet him be mild and tractable; \u2019tis for the God of ghosts\nTo be unrul\u2019d, implacable, and seek the blood of hosts,\nWhom therefore men do much abhor; then let him yield to me,\nI am his greater, being a king, and more in years than he.\u201d\n\u201cBrave king,\u201d said Nestor, \u201cthese rich gifts must make him needs relent,\nChoose then fit legates instantly to greet him at his tent,\nBut stay; admit my choice of them, and let them straight be gone.\nJove-lov\u00e9d Ph\u0153nix shall be chief, then Ajax Telamon,\nAnd prince Ulysses; and on them let these two heralds wait,\nGrave Odius and Eurybates, Come, lords, take water straight,\nMake pure your hand, and with sweet words appease Achilles\u2019 mind,\nWhich we will pray the king of Gods may gently make inclin\u2019d.\u201d\nAll lik\u2019d his speech; and on their hands the heralds water shed,\nThe youths crown\u2019d cups of sacred wine to all distributed.\nBut having sacrific\u2019d, and drunk to ev\u2019ry man\u2019s content,\nWith many notes by Nestor giv\u2019n, the legates forward went.\nWith courtship in fit gestures us\u2019d he did prepare them well,\nBut most Ulysses, for his grace did not so much excel.\nSuch rites beseem ambassadors; and Nestor urg\u00e9d these,\nThat their most honours might reflect enrag\u2019d \u00c6acides.\nThey went along the shore, and pray\u2019d the God, that earth doth bind\nIn brackish chains, they might not fail, but bow his mighty mind.\nThe quarter of the Myrmidons they reach\u2019d, and found him set\nDelighted with his solemn harp, which curiously was fret\nWith works conceited, through the verge; the bawdrick that embrac\u2019d\nHis lofty neck was silver twist; this, when his hand laid waste\nA\u00ebtion\u2019s city, he did choose as his especial prise,\nAnd, loving sacred music well, made it his exercise.\nTo it he sung the glorious deeds of great hero\u00ebs dead,\nAnd his true mind, that practice fail\u2019d, sweet contemplation fed.\nWith him alone, and opposite, all silent sat his friend,\nAttentive, and beholding him, who now his song did end.\nTh\u2019 ambassadors did forwards press, renown\u2019d Ulysses led,\nAnd stood in view. Their sudden sight his admiration bred,\nWho with his harp and all arose; so did Men\u0153tius\u2019 son\nWhen he beheld them. Their receipt Achilles thus begun:\n\u201cHealth to my lords! Right welcome men, assure yourselves you be,\nThough some necessity, I know, doth make you visit me,\nIncens\u2019d with just cause \u2019gainst the Greeks.\u201d This said, a sev\u2019ral seat\nWith purple cushions he set forth, and did their ease intreat,\nAnd said: \u201cNow, friend, our greatest bowl, with wine unmix\u2019d and neat,\nAppose these lords, and of the depth let every man make proof,\nThese are my best esteem\u00e9d friends, and underneath my roof.\u201d\nPatroclus did his dear friend\u2019s will; and he that did desire\nTo cheer the lords, come faint from fight, set on a blazing fire\nA great brass pot, and into it a chine of mutton put,\nAnd fat goat\u2019s flesh. Automedon held, while he pieces cut,\nTo roast and boil, right cunningly; then of a well-fed swine\nA huge fat shoulder he cuts out, and spits it wondrous fine.\nHis good friend made a goodly fire; of which the force once past,\nHe laid the spit low, near the coals, to make it brown at last,\nThen sprinkled it with sacred salt, and took it from the racks.\nThis roasted and on dresser set, his friend Patroclus takes\nBread in fair baskets; which set on, Achilles brought the meat,\nAnd to divinest Ithacus took his oppos\u00e9d seat\nUpon the bench. Then did he will his friend to sacrifice,\nWho cast sweet incense in the fire to all the Deities.\nThus fell they to their ready food. Hunger and thirst allay\u2019d,\nAjax to Ph\u0153nix made a sign, as if too long they stay\u2019d\nBefore they told their legacy. Ulysses saw him wink,\nAnd, filling the great bowl with wine, did to Achilles drink:\n\u201cHealth to Achilles! But our plights stand not in need of meat,\nWho late supp\u2019d at Atrides\u2019 tent, though for thy love we eat\nOf many things, whereof a part would make a c\u00f3mplete feast.\nNor can we joy in these kind rites, that have our hearts oppress\u2019d,\nO prince, with fear of utter spoil. \u2019Tis made a question now,\nIf we can save our fleet or not, unless thyself endow\nThy pow\u2019rs with wonted fortitude. Now Troy and her cons\u00f3rts,\nBold of thy want, have pitch\u2019d their tents close to our fleet and\nforts,\nAnd made a firmament of fires; and now no more, they say,\nWill they be prison\u2019d in their walls, but force their violent way\nEv\u2019n to our ships; and Jove himself hath with his lightnings show\u2019d\nTheir bold adventures happy signs; and Hector grows so proud\nOf his huge strength, borne out by Jove, that  fearfully he raves,\nPresuming neither men nor Gods can interrupt his braves.\nWild rage invades him, and he prays that soon the sacred Morn\nWould light his fury; boasting then our streamers shall be torn,\nAnd all our naval ornaments fall by his conqu\u2019ring stroke,\nOur ships shall burn, and we ourselves lie stifled in the smoke.\nAnd I am seriously afraid, Heav\u2019n will perform his threats,\nAnd that \u2019tis fatal to us all, far from our native seats,\nTo perish in victorious Troy. But rise, though it be late,\nDeliver the afflicted Greeks from Troy\u2019s tumultuous hate;\nIt will hereafter be thy grief, when no strength can suffice\nTo remedy th\u2019 effected threats of our calamities.\nConsider these affairs in time, while thou mayst use thy pow\u2019r.\nAnd have the grace to turn from Greece fate\u2019s unrecover\u2019d hour.\nO friend, thou know\u2019st thy royal sire forewarn\u2019d what should be done,\nThat day he sent thee from his court to honour Atreus\u2019 son:\n\u2018My son,\u2019 said he, \u2018the victory let Jove and Pallas use\nAt their high pleasures, but do thou no honour\u2019d means refuse\nThat may advance her. In fit bounds contain thy mighty mind,\nNor let the knowledge of thy strength be factiously inclin\u2019d,\nContriving mischiefs. Be to fame and gen\u2019ral good profess\u2019d.\nThe more will all sorts honour thee. Benignity is best.\u2019\nThus charg\u2019d thy sire, which thou forgett\u2019st. Yet now those thoughts\nappease,\nThat torture thy great spirit with wrath; which if thou wilt surcease,\nThe king will merit it with gifts; and, if thou wilt give ear,\nI\u2019ll tell how much he offers thee yet thou sitt\u2019st angry here:\nSev\u2019n tripods that no fire must touch; twice-ten pans, fit for flame;\nTen talents of fine gold; twelve horse that ever overcame,\nAnd brought huge prises from the field, with swiftness of their feet,\nThat man should bear no poor account, nor want gold\u2019s quick\u2019ning sweet,\nThat had but what he won with them; sev\u2019n worthiest Lesbian dames,\nRenown\u2019d for skill in housewif\u2019ry, and bear the sov\u2019reign fames\nFor beauty from their gen\u2019ral sex, which, at thy overthrow\nOf well-built Lesbos, he did choose; and these he will bestow,\nAnd with these her he took from thee, whom, by his state, since then,\nHe swears he touch\u2019d not, as fair dames use to be touch\u2019d by men.\nAll these are ready for thee now. And, if at length we take,\nBy helps of Gods, this wealthy town, thy ships shall burthen make\nOf gold and brass at thy desires, when we the spoil divide;\nAnd twenty beauteous Trojan dames thou shalt select beside,\nNext Helen, the most beautiful; and, when return\u2019d we be\nTo Argos, be his son-in-law, for he will honour thee\nLike his Orestes, his sole son, maintained in height of bliss.\nThree daughters beautify his court, the fair Chrysothemis,\nLaodice, and Iphianesse; of all the fairest take\nTo Peleus\u2019 thy grave father\u2019s court, and never jointure make;\nHe will the jointure make himself, so great, as never sire\nGave to his daughter\u2019s nuptials. Sev\u2019n cities left entire;\nCardamyle, and Enope, and Hira full of flow\u2019rs,\nAnth\u00e6a for sweet meadows prais\u2019d, and Phera deck\u2019d with tow\u2019rs,\nThe bright Epea, Pedasus that doth God Bacchus please;\nAll, on the sandy Pylos\u2019 soil, are seated near the seas;\nTh\u2019 inhabitants in droves and flocks exceeding wealthy be,\nWho, like a God, with worthy gifts will gladly honour thee,\nAnd tribute of especial rate to thy high sceptre pay.\nAll this he freely will perform, thy anger to allay.\nBut if thy hate to him be more than his gifts may repress,\nYet pity all the other Greeks, in such extreme distress,\nWho with religion honour thee; and to their desp\u2019rate ill\nThou shalt triumphant glory bring; and Hector thou may\u2019st kill,\nWhen pride makes him encounter thee, fill\u2019d with a baneful sprite,\nWho vaunts our whole fleet brought not one, equal to him in fight.\u201d\nSwift-foot \u00c6acides replied: \u201cDivine Laertes\u2019 son,\n\u2019Tis requisite I should be short, and show what place hath won\nThy serious speech, affirming nought but what you shall approve\nEstablish\u2019d in my settled heart, that in the rest I move\nNo murmur nor excepti\u00f3n; for, like hell mouth I loath,\nWho holds not in his words and thoughts one indistinguish\u2019d troth.\nWhat fits the freeness of my mind, my speech shall make display\u2019d.\nNor Atreus\u2019 son, nor all the Greeks, shall win me to their aid,\nTheir suit is wretchedly enforc\u2019d, to free their own despairs,\nAnd my life never shall be hir\u2019d with thankless desp\u2019rate pray\u2019rs;\nFor never had I benefit, that ever foil\u2019d the foe;\nEv\u2019n share hath he that keeps his tent, and he to field doth go,\nWith equal honour cowards die, and men most valiant,\nThe much performer, and the man that can of nothing vaunt.\nNo overplus I ever found, when, with my mind\u2019s most strife\nTo do them good, to dang\u2019rous fight I have expos\u2019d my life.\nBut ev\u2019n as to unfeather\u2019d birds the careful dam brings meat,\nWhich when she hath bestow\u2019d, herself hath nothing left to eat;\nSo, when my broken sleeps have drawn the nights t\u2019 extremest length,\nAnd ended many bloody days with still-employ\u00e9d strength,\nTo guard their weakness, and preserve their wives\u2019 contents infract,\nI have been robb\u2019d before their eyes: Twelve cities I have sack\u2019d\nAssail\u2019d by sea, elev\u2019n by land, while this siege held at Troy;\nAnd of all these, what was most dear, and most might crown the joy\nOf Agamemnon, he enjoy\u2019d, who here behind remain\u2019d:\nWhich when he took, a few he gave, and many things retain\u2019d,\nOther to optimates and kings he gave, who hold them fast,\nYet mine he forceth; only I sit with my loss disgrac\u2019d.\nBut so he gain a lovely dame, to be his bed\u2019s delight,\nIt is enough; for what cause else do Greeks and Trojans fight?\nWhy brought he hither such an host? Was it not for a dame?\nFor fair-hair\u2019d Helen? And doth love alone the hearts inflame\nOf the Atrides to their wives, of all the men that move?\nEv\u2019ry discreet and honest mind cares for his private love,\nAs much as they; as I myself lov\u2019d Brisis as my life,\nAlthough my captive, and had will to take her for my wife.\nWhom since he forc\u2019d, preventing me, in vain he shall prolong\nHopes to appease me that know well the deepness of my wrong.\nBut, good Ulysses, with thyself, and all you other kings,\nLet him take stomach to repel Troy\u2019s fi\u2019ry threatenings.\nMuch hath he done without my help, built him a goodly fort,\nCut a dike by it, pitch\u2019d with pales, broad and of deep import;\nAnd cannot all these helps repress this kill-man Hector\u2019s fright?\nWhen I was arm\u2019d among the Greeks, he would not offer fight\nWithout the shadow of his walls; but to the Sc\u00e6an ports,\nOr to the holy beach of Jove, come back\u2019d with his consorts;\nWhere once he stood my charge alone, and hardly made retreat,\nAnd to make new proof of our pow\u2019rs, the doubt is not so great.\nTo-morrow then, with sacrifice perform\u2019d t\u2019 imperial Jove\nAnd all the Gods, I\u2019ll launch my fleet, and all my men remove;\nWhich (if thou wilt use so thy sight, or think\u2019st it worth respect)\nIn forehead of the morn, thine eyes shall see, with sails erect\nAmidst the fishy Hellespont, help\u2019d with laborious oars.\nAnd, if the Sea-god send free sail, the fruitful Phthian shores\nWithin three days we shall attain, where I have store of prise\nLeft, when with prejudice I came to these indignities.\nThere have I gold as well as here, and store of ruddy brass,\nDames slender, elegantly girt, and steel as bright as glass.\nThese will I take as I retire, as shares I firmly save,\nThough Agamemnon be so base to take the gifts he gave.\nTell him all this, and openly, I on your honours charge,\nThat others may take shame to hear his lusts command so large,\nAnd, if there yet remain a man he hopeth to deceive\n(Being dyed in endless impudence) that man may learn to leave\nHis trust and empire. But alas, though, like a wolf he be,\nShameless and rude, he durst not take my prise, and look on me.\nI never will partake his works, nor counsels, as before,\nHe once deceiv\u2019d and injur\u2019d me, and he shall never more\nTye my affections with his words. Enough is the increase\nOf one success in his deceits; which let him joy in peace,\nAnd bear it to a wretched end. Wise Jove hath reft his brain\nTo bring him plagues, and these his gifts I, as my foes, disdain.\nEv\u2019n in the numbness of calm death I will revengeful be,\nThough ten or twenty times so much he would bestow on me,\nAll he hath here, or any where, or Orchomen contains,\nTo which men bring their wealth for strength, or all the store remains\nIn circuit of Egyptian Thebes, where much hid treasure lies,\nWhose walls contain an hundred ports, of so admir\u2019d a size\nTwo hundred soldiers may a-front with horse and chariots pass.\nNor, would he amplify all this like sand, or dust, or grass,\nShould he reclaim me, till this wreak pay\u2019d me for all the pains\nThat with his contumely burn\u2019d, like poison, in my veins.\nNor shall his daughter be my wife, although she might contend\nWith golden Venus for her form, or if she did transcend\nBlue-ey\u2019d Minerva for her works; let him a Greek select\nFit for her, and a greater king. For if the Gods protect\nMy safety to my father\u2019s court, he shall choose me a wife.\nMany fair Achive princesses of unimpeach\u00e9d life\nIn Helle and in Phthia live, whose sires do cities hold,\nOf whom I can have whom I will. And, more an hundred fold\nMy true mind in my country likes to take a lawful wife\nThan in another nation; and there delight my life\nWith those goods that my father got, much rather than die here.\nNot all the wealth of well-built Troy, possess\u2019d when peace was there,\nAll that Apollo\u2019s marble fane in stony Pythos holds,\nI value equal with the life that my free breast enfolds.\nSheep, oxen, tripods, crest-deck\u2019d horse, though lost, may come again,\nBut when the white guard of our teeth no longer can contain\nOur human soul, away it flies, and, once gone, never more\nTo her frail mansion any man can her lost pow\u2019rs restore.\nAnd therefore since my mother-queen, fam\u2019d for her silver feet,\nTold me two fates about my death in my direction meet:\nThe one, that, if I here remain t\u2019 assist our victory,\nMy safe return shall never live, my fame shall never die;\nIf my return obtain success, much of my fame decays,\nBut death shall linger his approach, and I live many days,\nThis being reveal\u2019d, \u2019twere foolish pride, t\u2019 abridge my life for\npraise.\nThen with myself, I will advise, others to hoise their sail,\nFor, \u2019gainst the height of Ilion, you never shall prevail,\nJove with his hand protecteth it, and makes the soldiers bold.\nThis tell the kings in ev\u2019ry part, for so grave legates should,\nThat they may better counsels use, to save their fleet and friends\nBy their own valours; since this course, drown\u2019d in my anger, ends.\nPh\u0153nix may in my tent repose, and in the morn steer course\nFor Phthia, if he think it good; if not, I\u2019ll use no force.\u201d\nAll wonder\u2019d at his stern reply; and Ph\u0153nix, full of fears\nHis words would be more weak than just, supplied their wants with\ntears.\n\u201cIf thy return incline thee thus, Peleus\u2019 renown\u00e9d joy,\nAnd thou wilt let our ships be burn\u2019d with harmful fire of Troy,\nSince thou art angry, O my son, how shall I after be\nAlone in these extremes of death, relinquish\u00e9d by thee?\nI, whom thy royal father sent as ord\u2019rer of thy force,\nWhen to Atrides from his court he left thee for this course,\nYet young, and when in skill of arms thou didst not so abound,\nNor hadst the habit of discourse, that makes men so renown\u2019d.\nIn all which I was set by him, t\u2019 instruct thee as my son,\nThat thou might\u2019st speak, when speech was fit, and do, when deeds were\ndone,\nNot sit as dumb, for want of words, idle, for skill to move,\nI would not then be left by thee, dear son, begot in love,\nNo, not if God would promise me, to raze the prints of time\nCarv\u2019d in my bosom and my brows, and grace me with the prime\nOf manly youth, as when at first I left sweet Helle\u2019s shore\nDeck\u2019d with fair dames, and fled the grudge my angry father bore;\nWho was the fair Amyntor call\u2019d, surnam\u2019d Ormenides,\nAnd for a fair-hair\u2019d harlot\u2019s sake, that his affects could please,\nContemn\u2019d my mother, his true wife, who ceaseless urg\u00e9d me\nTo use his harlot Clytia, and still would clasp my knee\nTo do her will, that so my sire might turn his love to hate\nOf that lewd dame, converting it to comfort her estate.\nAt last I was content to prove to do my mother good,\nAnd reconcile my father\u2019s love; who straight suspicious stood,\nPursuing me with many a curse, and to the Furies pray\u2019d\nNo dame might love, nor bring me seed. The Deities obey\u2019d\nThat govern hell; infernal Jove, and stern Persephone.\nThen durst I in no longer date with my stern father be.\nYet did my friends, and near allies, inclose me with desires\nNot to depart; kill\u2019d sheep, boars, beeves; roast them at solemn fires;\nAnd from my father\u2019s tuns we drunk exceeding store of wine.\nNine nights they guarded me by turns, their fires did ceaseless shine,\nOne in the porch of his strong hall, and in the portal one,\nBefore my chamber; but when day beneath the tenth night shone,\nI brake my chamber\u2019s thick-fram\u2019d doors, and through the hall\u2019s guard\npass\u2019d,\nUnseen of any man or maid. Through Greece then, rich and vast,\nI fled to Phthia, nurse of sheep, and came to Peleus\u2019 court;\nWho entertain\u2019d me heartily, and in as gracious sort\nAs any sire his only son, born when his strength is spent,\nAnd bless\u2019d with great possessions to leave to his descent.\nHe made me rich, and to my charge did much command commend.\nI dwelt in th\u2019 utmost region rich Phthia doth extend,\nAnd govern\u2019d the Dolopians, and made thee what thou art,\nO thou that like the Gods art fram\u2019d. Since, dearest to my heart,\nI us\u2019d thee so, thou lov\u2019dst none else; nor anywhere wouldst eat,\nTill I had crown\u2019d my knee with thee, and carv\u2019d thee tend\u2019rest meat,\nAnd giv\u2019n thee wine so much, for love, that, in thy infancy\n(Which still discretion must protect, and a continual eye)\nMy bosom lovingly sustain\u2019d the wine thine could not bear.\nThen, now my strength needs thine as much, be mine to thee as dear,\nMuch have I suffer\u2019d for thy love, much labour\u2019d, wish\u00e9d much,\nThinking, since I must have no heir (the Gods\u2019 decrees are such)\nI would adopt thyself my heir. To thee my heart did give\nWhat any sire could give his son. In thee I hop\u2019d to live.\nO mitigate thy mighty spirits. It fits not one that moves\nThe hearts of all, to live unmov\u2019d, and succour hates for loves.\nThe Gods themselves are flexible; whose virtues, honours, pow\u2019rs,\nAre more than thine, yet they will bend their breasts as we bend ours.\nPerfumes, benign devotions, savours of off\u2019rings burn\u2019d,\nAnd holy rites, the engines are with which their hearts are turn\u2019d,\nBy men that pray to them, whose faith their sins have falsified.\nFor Pray\u2019rs are daughters of great Jove, lame, wrinkled, ruddy-ey\u2019d,\nAnd ever following injury, who, strong and sound of feet,\nFlies through the world, afflicting men. Believing Prayers yet,\nTo all that love that Seed of Jove, the certain blessing get\nTo have Jove hear, and help them too; but if he shall refuse,\nAnd stand inflexible to them, they fly to Jove, and use\nTheir pow\u2019rs against him, that the wrongs he doth to them may fall\nOn his own head, and pay those pains whose cure he fails to call.\nThen, great Achilles, honour thou this sacred Seed of Jove,\nAnd yield to them, since other men of greatest minds they move.\nIf Agamemnon would not give the self-same gifts he vows,\nBut offer other afterwards, and in his still-bent brows\nEntomb his honour and his word, I would not thus exhort,\nWith wrath appeas\u2019d, thy aid to Greece, though plagu\u2019d in heaviest\nsort;\nBut much he presently will give, and after yield the rest.\nT\u2019 assure which he hath sent to thee the men thou lovest best,\nAnd most renown\u2019d of all the host, that they might soften thee.\nThen let not both their pains and pray\u2019rs lost and despis\u00e9d be,\nBefore which none could reprehend the tumult of thy heart,\nBut now to rest inexpiate were much too rude a part.\nOf ancient worthies we have heard, when they were more displeas\u2019d,\nTo their high fames, with gifts and pray\u2019rs they have been still\nappeas\u2019d.\nFor instance, I remember well a fact perform\u2019d of old,\nWhich to you all, my friends, I\u2019ll tell: The Curets wars did hold\nWith the well-fought \u00c6tolians, where mutual lives had end\nAbout the city Calydon. Th\u2019 \u00c6tolians did defend\nTheir flourishing country, which to spoil the Curets did contend.\nDiana with-the-golden-throne, with Oeneus much incens\u2019d,\nSince with his plenteous land\u2019s first fruits she was not reverenc\u2019d,\n(Yet other Gods, with hecatombs, had feasts, and she alone,\nGreat Jove\u2019s bright daughter, left unserv\u2019d, or by oblivion,\nOr undue knowledge of her dues) much hurt in heart she swore;\nAnd she, enrag\u2019d, excited much, she sent a sylvan boar\nFrom their green groves, with wounding tusks; who usually did spoil\nKing Oeneus\u2019 fields, his lofty woods laid prostrate on the soil,\nRent by the roots trees fresh, adorn\u2019d with fragrant apple flow\u2019rs.\nWhich Meleager (Oeneus\u2019 son) slew, with assembl\u2019d pow\u2019rs\nOf hunters, and of fiercest hounds, from many cities brought;\nFor such he was that with few lives his death could not be bought,\nHeaps of dead humans, by his rage, the fun\u2019ral piles applied.\nYet, slain at last, the Goddess stirr\u2019d about his head, and hide,\nA wondrous tumult, and a war betwixt the Curets wrought\nAnd brave \u00c6tolians. All the while fierce Meleager fought,\nIll-far\u2019d the Curets; near the walls none durst advance his crest,\nThough they were many. But when wrath inflam\u2019d his haughty breast\n(Which oft the firm mind of the wise with passion doth infest)\nSince \u2019twixt his mother-queen and him arose a deadly strife,\nHe left the court, and privately liv\u2019d with his lawful wife,\nFair Cleopatra, female birth of bright Marpessa\u2019s pain,\nAnd of Ideus; who of all terrestrial men did reign,\nAt that time, king of fortitude, and for Marpessa\u2019s sake,\n\u2018Gainst wanton Ph\u0153bus, king of flames; his bow in hand did take,\nSince he had ravish\u2019d her, his joy; whom her friends after gave\nThe surname of Alcyone, because they could not save\nTheir daughter from Alcyone\u2019s fate. In Cleopatra\u2019s arms\nLay Meleager, feeding on his anger, for the harms\nHis mother pray\u2019d might fall on him; who, for her brother slain\nBy Meleager, griev\u2019d, and pray\u2019d the Gods to wreak her pain\nWith all the horror could be pour\u2019d upon her furious birth.\nStill knock\u2019d she with her impious hands the many-feeding earth,\nTo urge stern Pluto and his Queen t\u2019 incline their vengeful ears,\nFell on her knees, and all her breast dew\u2019d with her fi\u2019ry tears,\nTo make them massacre her son, whose wrath enrag\u2019d her thus.\nErinnys, wand\u2019ring through the air, heard, out of Erebus,\nPray\u2019rs fit for her unpleas\u00e9d mind. Yet Meleager lay\nObscur\u2019d in fury. Then the bruit of the tumultuous fray\nRung through the turrets as they scal\u2019d; then came th\u2019 \u00c6tolian peers\nTo Meleager with low suits, to rise and free their fears;\nThen sent they the chief priests of Gods, with offer\u2019d gifts t\u2019 atone\nHis diff\u2019ring fury, bade him choose, in sweet-soil\u2019d Calydon,\nOf the most fat and yieldy soil, what with an hundred steers\nMight in a hundred days be plough\u2019d, half that rich vintage bears,\nAnd half of naked earth to plough; yet yielded not his ire.\nThen to his lofty chamber-door, ascends his royal sire\nWith ruthful plaints, shook the strong bars; then came his sisters\u2019\ncries;\nHis mother then; and all intreat;\u2014yet still more stiff he lies;\u2014\nHis friends, most rev\u2019rend, most esteem\u2019d; yet none impression took,\nTill the high turrets where he lay, and his strong chamber, shook\nWith the invading enemy, who now forced dreadful way\nAlong the city. Then his wife, in pitifil dismay,\nBesought him, weeping; telling him the miseries sustain\u2019d\nBy all the citizens, whose town the enemy had gain\u2019d;\nMen slaughter\u2019d; children bondslaves made; sweet ladies forc\u2019d with\nlust;\nFires climbing tow\u2019rs, and turning them to heaps of fruitless dust.\nThese dangers soften\u2019d his steel heart. Up the stout prince arose,\nIndu\u2019d his body with rich arms, and freed th\u2019 \u00c6tolian\u2019s woes,\nHis smother\u2019d anger giving air; which gifts did not assuage,\nBut his own peril. And because he did not disengage\nTheir lives for gifts, their gifts he lost. But for my sake, dear\nfriend,\nBe not thou bent to see our plights to these extremes descend,\nEre thou assist us; be not so by thy ill angel turn\u2019d\nFrom thine own honour. It were shame to see our navy burn\u2019d,\nAnd then come with thy timeless aid. For offer\u2019d presents, come,\nAnd all the Greeks will honour thee, as of celestial room.\nBut if without these gifts thou fight, forc\u2019d by thy private woe,\nThou wilt be nothing so renown\u2019d, though thou repel the foe.\u201d\nAchilles answer\u2019d the last part of this oration thus:\n\u201cPh\u0153nix, renown\u2019d and reverend, the honours urg\u2019d on us\nWe need not, Jove doth honour me, and to my safety sees,\nAnd will, whiles I retain a spirit, or can command my knees.\nThen do not thou with tears and woes impassion my affects,\nBecoming gracious to my foe. Nor fits it the respects\nOf thy vow\u2019d love to honour him that hath dishonour\u2019d me,\nLest such loose kindness lose his heart that yet is firm to thee.\nIt were thy praise to hurt with me the hurter of my state,\nSince half my honour and my realm thou mayst participate.\nLet these lords then return th\u2019 event, and do thou here repose,\nAnd, when dark sleep breaks with the day, our counsels shall disclose\nThe course of our return or stay.\u201d This said, he with his eye\nMade to his friend a covert sign, to hasten instantly\nA good soft bed, that the old prince, soon as the peers were gone,\nMight take his rest; when, soldier-like, brave Ajax Telamon\nSpake to Ulysses, as with thought Achilles was not worth\nThe high direction of his speech, that stood so sternly forth\nUnmov\u2019d with th\u2019 other orators, and spake, not to appease\nPelides\u2019 wrath, but to depart. His arguments were these:\n\u201cHigh-issu\u2019d Laertiades, let us insist no more\nOn his persuasion. I perceive the world would end before\nOur speeches end in this affair. We must with utmost haste\nReturn his answer, though but bad. The peers are elsewhere plac\u2019d,\nAnd will not rise till we return. Great Thetis\u2019 son hath stor\u2019d\nProud wrath within him, as his wealth, and will not be implor\u2019d,\nRude that he is, nor his friends\u2019 love respects, do what they can,\nWherein past all, we honour\u2019d him. O unremorseful man!\nAnother for his brother slain, another for his son,\nAccepts of satisfaction; and he the deed hath done\nLives in belov\u2019d society long after his amends,\nTo which his foe\u2019s high heart, for gifts, with patience condescends;\nBut thee a wild and cruel spirit the Gods for plague have giv\u2019n,\nAnd for one girl, of whose fair sex we come to offer sev\u2019n,\nThe most exempt for excellence, and many a better prise.\nThen put a sweet mind in thy breast, respect thy own allies,\nThough others make thee not remiss. A multitude we are,\nSprung of thy royal family, and our supremest care\nIs to be most familiar, and hold most love with thee\nOf all the Greeks, how great an host soever here there be.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cNoble Telamon, prince of our soldiers here,\nOut of thy heart I know thou speak\u2019st, and as thou hold\u2019st me dear;\nBut still as often as I think, how rudely I was us\u2019d,\nAnd, like a stranger, for all rites, fit for our good, refus\u2019d\nMy heart doth swell against the man, that durst be so profane\nTo violate his sacred place; not for my private bane,\nBut since wrack\u2019d virtue\u2019s gen\u2019ral laws he shameless did infringe;\nFor whose sake I will loose the reins, and give mine anger swinge,\nWithout my wisdom\u2019s least impeach. He is a fool, and base,\nThat pities vice-plagu\u2019d minds, when pain, not love of right, gives\nplace.\nAnd therefore tell your king, my lords, my just wrath will not care\nFor all his cares, before my tents and navy charg\u00e9d are\nBy warlike Hector, making way through flocks of Grecian lives,\nEnlighten\u2019d by their naval fire; but when his rage arrives\nAbout my tent, and sable bark, I doubt not but to shield\nThem and myself, and make him fly the there strong-bounded field.\u201d\nThis said, each one but kiss\u2019d the cup, and to the ships retir\u2019d;\nUlysses first. Patroclus then the men and maids requir\u2019d\nTo make grave Ph\u0153nix\u2019 bed with speed, and see he nothing lacks.\nThey straight obey\u2019d, and thereon laid the subtile fruit of flax,\nAnd warm sheep-fells for covering; and there the old man slept,\nAttending till the golden Morn her usual station kept.\nAchilles lay in th\u2019 inner room of his tent richly wrought,\nAnd that fair lady by his side, that he from Lesbos brought,\nBright Diomeda, Phorbas\u2019 seed. Patroclus did embrace\nThe beauteous Iphis, giv\u2019n to him, when his bold friend did race\nThe lofty Scyrus that was kept in Enyeius\u2019 hold.\nNow at the tent of Atreus\u2019 son, each man with cups of gold\nReceiv\u2019d th\u2019 ambassadors return\u2019d. All cluster\u2019d near to know\nWhat news they brought; which first the king would have Ulysses show:\n\u201cSay, most praiseworthy Ithacus, the Grecians\u2019 great renown,\nWill he defend us? Or not yet will his proud stomach down?\u201d\nUlysses made reply: \u201cNot yet will he appeas\u00e9d be,\nBut grows more wrathful, prizing light thy offer\u2019d gifts and thee,\nAnd wills thee to consult with us, and take some other course\nTo save our army and our fleet, and says, \u2018with all his force,\nThe morn shall light him on his way to Phthia\u2019s wish\u00e9d soil,\nFor never shall high-seated Troy be sack\u2019d with all our toil,\nJove holds his hand \u2019twixt us and it, the soldiers gather heart.\u2019\nThus he replies, which Ajax here can equally impart,\nAnd both these heralds. Ph\u0153nix stays, for so was his desire,\nTo go with him, if he thought good; if not, he might retire.\u201d\nAll wonder\u2019d he should be so stern; at last bold Diomed spake:\n\u201cWould God, Atrides, thy request were yet to undertake,\nAnd all thy gifts unoffer\u2019d him! He\u2019s proud enough beside,\nBut this ambassage thou hast sent will make him burst with pride.\nBut let us suffer him to stay, or go, at his desire,\nFight when his stomach serves him best, or when Jove shall inspire.\nMeanwhile, our watch being strongly held, let us a little rest\nAfter our food; strength lives by both, and virtue is their guest.\nThen when the rosy-finger\u2019d Morn holds out her silver light,\nBring forth thy host, encourage all, and be thou first in fight.\u201d\nThe kings admir\u2019d the fortitude, that so divinely mov\u2019d\nThe skilful horseman Diomed, and his advice approv\u2019d.\nThen with their nightly sacrifice each took his sev\u2019ral tent,\nWhere all receiv\u2019d the sov\u2019reign gifts soft Somnus did present.\n\nTHE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Diomed takes fit time to answer his wrong done by Agamemnon in the\n fourth book.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nTh\u2019 Atrides, watching, wake the other peers,\nAnd (in the fort, consulting of their fears)\nTwo kings they send, most stout, and honour\u2019d most,\nFor royal scouts, into the Trojan host;\nWho meeting Dolon, Hector\u2019s bribed spy,\nTake him, and learn how all the quarters lie.\nHe told them, in the Thracian regiment\nOf rich king Rhesus, and his royal tent,\nStriving for safety; but they end his strife,\nAnd rid poor Dolon of a dang\u2019rous life,\nThen with digressive wiles they use their force\nOn Rhesus\u2019 life, and take his snowy horse.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nKappa the night exploits applies:\nRhesus\u2019 and Dolon\u2019s tragedies.\n\n\nThe other princes at their ships soft-finger\u2019d sleep did bind,\nBut not the Gen\u2019ral; Somnus\u2019 silks bound not his labouring mind\nThat turn\u2019d, and return\u2019d, many thoughts. And as quick lightnings\nfly,[1]\nFrom well-deck\u2019d Juno\u2019s sovereign, out of the thicken\u2019d sky,\nPreparing some exceeding rain, or hail, the fruit of cold,\nOr down-like snow that suddenly makes all the fields look old,\nOr opes the gulfy mouth of war with his ensulphur\u2019d hand,\nIn dazzling flashes pour\u2019d from clouds, on any punish\u2019d land;\nSo from Atrides\u2019 troubled heart, through his dark sorrows, flew\nRedoubled sighs; his entrails shook, as often as his view\nAdmir\u2019d the multitude of fires, that gilt the Phrygian shade,\nAnd heard the sounds of fifes, and shawms, and tumults soldiers made.\nBut when he saw his fleet and host kneel to his care and love,\nHe rent his hair up by the roots as sacrifice to Jove,\nBurnt in his fi\u2019ry sighs, still breath\u2019d out of his royal heart,\nAnd first thought good to Nestor\u2019s care his sorrows to impart,\nTo try if royal diligence, with his approv\u2019d advice,\nMight fashion counsels to prevent their threaten\u2019d miseries.\nSo up he rose, attir\u2019d himself, and to his strong feet tied\nRich shoes, and cast upon his back a ruddy lion\u2019s hide,\nSo ample it his ankles reach\u2019d, then took his royal spear.\nLike him was Menelaus pierc\u2019d with an industrious fear,\nNor sat sweet slumber on his eyes, lest bitter fates should quite\nThe Greeks\u2019 high favours, that for him resolv\u2019d such endless fight.\nAnd first a freckled panther\u2019s hide hid his broad back athwart;\nHis head his brazen helm did arm; his able hand his dart;\nThen made he all his haste to raise his brother\u2019s head as rare,\nThat he who most excell\u2019d in rule might help t\u2019 effect his care.\nHe found him, at his ship\u2019s crook\u2019d stern, adorning him with arms;\nWho joy\u2019d to see his brother\u2019s spirits awak\u2019d without alarms,\nWell weighing th\u2019 importance of the time. And first the younger spake:\n\u201cWhy, brother, are ye arming thus? Is it to undertake\nThe sending of some vent\u2019rous Greek, t\u2019 explore the foe\u2019s intent?\nAlas! I greatly fear, not one will give that work consent,\nExpos\u2019d alone to all the fears that flow in gloomy night.\nHe that doth this must know death well, in which ends ev\u2019ry fright.\u201d\n\u201cBrother,\u201d said he, \u201cin these affairs we both must use advice,\nJove is against us, and accepts great Hector\u2019s sacrifice.\nFor I have never seen, nor heard, in one day, and by one,\nSo many high attempts well urg\u2019d, as Hector\u2019s pow\u2019r hath done\nAgainst the hapless sons of Greece: being chiefly dear to Jove,\nAnd without cause, being neither fruit of any Goddess\u2019 love,\nNor helpful God; and yet I fear the deepness of his hand,\nEre it be ras\u2019d out of our thoughts, will many years withstand.\nBut, brother, hie thee to thy ships, and Idomen\u2019s disease\nWith warlike Ajax; I will haste to grave Neleides,\nExhorting him to rise, and give the sacred watch command,\nFor they will specially embrace incitement at his hand,\nAnd now his son their captain is, and Idomen\u2019s good friend,\nBold Merion, to whose discharge we did that charge commend.\u201d\n\u201cCommand\u2019st thou then,\u201d his brother ask\u2019d, \u201cthat I shall tarry here\nAttending thy resolv\u2019d approach, or else the message bear,\nAnd quickly make return to thee?\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cRather stay,\nLest otherwise we fail to meet, for many a diff\u2019rent way\nLies through our labyrinthian host. Speak ever as you go,\nCommand strong watch, from sire to son urge all t\u2019 observe the foe,\nFamiliarly, and with their praise, exciting ev\u2019ry eye,\nNot with unseason\u2019d violence of proud authority.\nWe must our patience exercise, and work ourselves with them,\nJove in our births combin\u2019d such care to either\u2019s diadem.\u201d\nThus he dismiss\u2019d him, knowing well his charge before he went.\nHimself to Nestor, whom he found in bed within his tent,\nBy him his damask curets hung, his shield, a pair of darts,\nHis shining casque, his arming waist; in these he led the hearts\nOf his apt soldiers to sharp war, not yielding to his years.\nHe quickly started from his bed, when to his watchful ears\nUntimely feet told some approach; he took his lance in hand,\nAnd spake to him: \u201cHo, what art thou that walk\u2019st at midnight? Stand.\nIs any wanting at the guards? Or lack\u2019st thou any peer?\nSpeak, come not silent towards me; say, what intend\u2019st thou here?\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cO Neleides, grave honour of our host,\n\u2019Tis Agamemnon thou mayst know, whom Jove afflicteth most\nOf all the wretched men that live, and will, whilst any breath\nGives motion to my toiled limbs, and bears me up from death.\nI walk the round thus, since sweet sleep cannot inclose mine eyes,\nNor shut those organs care breaks ope for our calamities.\nMy fear is vehement for the Greeks; my heart, the fount of heat,\nWith his extreme affects made cold, without my breast doth beat;\nAnd therefore are my sinews strook with trembling; ev\u2019ry part\nOf what my friends may feel hath act in my dispers\u00e9d heart.\nBut, if thou think\u2019st of any course may to our good redound,\n(Since neither thou thyself canst sleep) come, walk with me the round;\nIn way whereof we may confer, and look to ev\u2019ry guard,\nLest watching long, and weariness with labouring so hard,\nDrown their oppress\u00e9d memories of what they have in charge.\nThe liberty we give the foe, alas, is over large,\nTheir camp is almost mix\u2019d with ours, and we have forth no spies\nTo learn their drifts; who may perchance this night intend surprise.\u201d\nGrave Nestor answer\u2019d: \u201cWorthy king, let good hearts bear our ill.\nJove is not bound to perfect all this busy Hector\u2019s will;\nBut I am confidently giv\u2019n, his thoughts are much dismay\u2019d\nWith fear, lest our distress incite Achilles to our aid,\nAnd therefore will not tempt his fate, nor ours, with further pride.\nBut I will gladly follow thee, and stir up more beside;\nTydides, famous for his lance; Ulysses; Telamon;\nAnd bold Phyl\u00ebus\u2019 valiant heir. Or else, if anyone\nWould haste to call king Idomen, and Ajax, since their sail\nLie so remov\u2019d, with much good speed, it might our haste avail.\nBut, though he be our honour\u2019d friend, thy brother I will blame,\nNot fearing if I anger thee. It is his utter shame\nHe should commit all pains to thee, that should himself employ,\nPast all our princes, in the care, and cure, of our annoy,\nAnd be so far from needing spurs to these his due respects,\nHe should apply our spirits himself, with pray\u2019rs and urg\u2019d affects.\nNecessity (a law to laws, and not to be endur\u2019d)\nMakes proof of all his faculties, not sound if not inur\u2019d.\u201d\n\u201cGood father,\u201d said the king, \u201csometimes you know I have desir\u2019d\nYou would improve his negligence, too oft to ease retir\u2019d.\nNor is it for defect of spirit, or compass of his brain,\nBut with observing my estate, he thinks, he should abstain\nTill I commanded, knowing my place; unwilling to assume,\nFor being my brother, anything might prove he did presume.\nBut now he rose before me far, and came t\u2019 avoid delays,\nAnd I have sent him for the men yourself desir\u2019d to raise.\nCome, we shall find them at the guards we plac\u2019d before the fort,\nFor thither my direction was they should with speed resort.\u201d\n\u201cWhy now,\u201d said Nestor, \u201cnone will grudge, nor his just rule withstand.\nExamples make excitements strong, and sweeten a command.\u201d\nThus put he on his arming truss, fair shoes upon his feet,\nAbout him a mandilion, that did with buttons meet,\nOf purple, large, and full of folds, curl\u2019d with a warmful nap,\nA garment that \u2019gainst cold in nights did soldiers use to wrap;\nThen took he his strong lance in hand, made sharp with proved steel,\nAnd went along the Grecian fleet. First at Ulysses\u2019 keel\nHe call\u2019d, to break the silken fumes that did his senses bind.\nThe voice through th\u2019 organs of his ears straight rung about his mind.\nForth came Ulysses, asking him: \u201cWhy stir ye thus so late?\nSustain we such enforcive cause?\u201d He answered, \u201cOur estate\nDoth force this perturbation; vouchsafe it, worthy friend,\nAnd come, let us excite one more, to counsel of some end\nTo our extremes, by fight, or flight.\u201d He back, and took his shield,\nAnd both took course to Diomed. They found him laid in field,\nFar from his tent; his armour by; about him was dispread\nA ring of soldiers, ev\u2019ry man his shield beneath his head;\nHis spear fix\u2019d by him as he slept, the great end in the ground,\nThe point, that bristled the dark earth, cast a reflection round\nLike palid lightnings thrown from Jove; thus this hero\u00eb lay,\nAnd under him a big ox-hide; his royal head had stay\nOn arras hangings, roll\u00e9d up; whereon he slept so fast,\nThat Nestor stirr\u2019d him with his foot, and chid to see him cast\nIn such deep sleep in such deep woes, and ask\u2019d him why he spent\nAll night in sleep, or did not hear the Trojans near his tent,\nTheir camp drawn close upon their dike, small space \u2019twixt foes and\nfoes?\nHe, starting up, said, \u201cStrange old man, that never tak\u2019st repose,\nThou art too patient of our toil. Have we not men more young,\nTo be employ\u2019d from king to king? Thine age hath too much wrong.\u201d\n\u201cSaid like a king,\u201d replied the sire, \u201cfor I have sons renown\u2019d,\nAnd there are many other men, might go this toilsome round;\nBut, you must see, imperious Need hath all at her command.\nNow on the eager razor\u2019s edge, for life or death, we stand[2]\nThen go (thou art the younger man) and if thou love my ease,\nCall swift-foot Ajax up thyself, and young Phyleides.\u201d\nThis said, he on his shoulders cast a yellow lion\u2019s hide,\nBig, and reach\u2019d earth; then took his spear, and Nestor\u2019s will applied,\nRais\u2019d the heroes, brought them both. All met; the round they went,\nAnd found not any captain there asleep or negligent,\nBut waking, and in arms, gave ear to ev\u2019ry lowest sound.\nAnd as keen dogs keep sheep in cotes, or folds of hurdles bound,\nAnd grin at ev\u2019ry breach of air, envious of all that moves,\nStill list\u2019ning when the rav\u2019nous beast stalks through the hilly\ngroves,\nThen men and dogs stand on their guards, and mighty tumults make,\nSleep wanting weight to close one wink; so did the captains wake,\nThat kept the watch the whole sad night, all with intentive ear\nConverted to the enemies\u2019 tents, that they might timely hear\nIf they were stirring to surprise; which Nestor joy\u2019d to see.\n\u201cWhy so, dear sons, maintain your watch, sleep not a wink,\u201d said he,\n\u201cRather than make your fames the scorn of Trojan perjury.\u201d\nThis said, he foremost passed the dike, the others seconded,\nEv\u2019n all the kings that had been call\u2019d to council from the bed,\nAnd with them went Meriones, and Nestor\u2019s famous son;\nFor both were call\u2019d by all the kings to consultation.\nBeyond the dike they choos\u2019d a place, near as they could from blood,\nWhere yet appear\u2019d the falls of some, and whence, the crimson flood\nOf Grecian lives being pour\u2019d on earth by Hector\u2019s furious chace,\nHe made retreat, when night repour\u2019d grim darkness in his face.\nThere sat they down, and Nestor spake: \u201cO friends, remains not one\nThat will rely on his bold mind, and view the camp, alone,\nOf the proud Trojans, to approve if any straggling mate\nHe can surprise near th\u2019 utmost tents, or learn the brief estate\nOf their intentions for the time, and mix like one of them\nWith their outguards, expiscating if the renown\u2019d extreme\nThey force on us will serve their turns, with glory to retire,\nOr still encamp thus far from Troy? This may he well inquire,\nAnd make a brave retreat untouch\u2019d; and this would win him fame\nOf all men canopied with heav\u2019n, and ev\u2019ry man of name,\nIn all this host shall honour him with an enriching meed,\nA black ewe and her sucking lamb (rewards that now exceed\nAll other best possessions, in all men\u2019s choice requests)\nAnd still be bidden by our kings to kind and royal feasts.\u201d\nAll rev\u2019renc\u2019d one another\u2019s worth; and none would silence break,\nLest worst should take best place of speech; at last did Diomed speak:\n\u201cNestor, thou ask\u2019st if no man here have heart so well inclin\u2019d\nTo work this stratagem on Troy? Yes, I have such a mind.\nYet, if some other prince would join, more probable will be\nThe strengthen\u2019d hope of our exploit. Two may together see\n(One going before another still) sly danger ev\u2019ry way;\nOne spirit upon another works, and takes with firmer stay\nThe benefit of all his pow\u2019rs; for though one knew his course,\nYet might he well distrust himself, which the other might enforce.\u201d\nThis offer ev\u2019ry man assum\u2019d, all would with Diomed go;\nThe two Ajaces, Merion, and Menelaus too;\nBut Nestor\u2019s son enforc\u2019d it much; and hardy Ithacus,\nWho had to ev\u2019ry vent\u2019rous deed a mind as venturous.\nAmongst all these thus spake the king: \u201cTydides, most belov\u2019d,\nChoose thy associate worthily; a man the most approv\u2019d\nFor use and strength in these extremes. Many thou seest stand forth;\nBut choose not thou by height of place, but by regard of worth,\nLest with thy nice respect of right to any man\u2019s degree,\nThou wrong\u2019st thy venture, choosing one least fit to join with thee,\nAlthough perhaps a greater king.\u201d This spake he with suspect\nThat Diomed, for honour\u2019s sake, his brother would select.\nThen said Tydides: \u201cSince thou giv\u2019st my judgment leave to choose,\nHow can it so much truth forget Ulysses to refuse,\nThat bears a mind so most exempt, and vig\u2019rous in th\u2019 effect\nOf all high labours, and a man Pallas doth most respect?\nWe shall return through burning fire, if I with him combine,\nHe sets strength in so true a course, with counsels so divine.\u201d\nUlysses, loth to be esteem\u2019d a lover of his praise,\nWith such exceptions humbled him as did him higher raise,\nAnd said: \u201cTydides, praise me not more than free truth will bear,\nNor yet impair me; they are Greeks that give judicial ear.\nBut come, the morning hastes, the stars are forward in their course,\nTwo parts of night are past, the third is left t\u2019 employ our force.\u201d\nNow borrow\u2019d they for haste some arms. Bold Thrasymedes lent\nAdvent\u2019rous Diomed his sword (his own was at his tent),\nHis shield, and helm tough and well-tann\u2019d, without or plume or crest,\nAnd call\u2019d a murrion, archers\u2019 heads it us\u00e9d to invest.\nMeriones lent Ithacus his quiver and his bow,\nHis helmet fashion\u2019d of a hide; the workman did bestow\nMuch labour in it, quilting it with bow-strings, and, without\nWith snowy tusks of white-mouth\u2019d boars \u2019twas arm\u00e9d round about\nRight cunningly, and in the midst an arming cap was plac\u2019d,\nThat with the fix\u2019d ends of the tusks his head might not be ras\u2019d.\nThis, long since, by Autolycus was brought from Eleon,\nWhen he laid waste Amyntor\u2019s house, that was Ormenus\u2019 son:\nIn Scandia, to Cytherius, surnam\u2019d Amphidamas,\nAutolycus did give this helm; he, when he feasted was\nBy honour\u2019d Molus, gave it him, as present of a guest;\nMolus to his son Merion did make it his bequest.\nWith this Ulysses arm\u2019d his head; and thus they, both address\u2019d,\nTook leave of all the other kings. To them a glad ostent,\nAs they were ent\u2019ring on their way, Minerva did present,\nA hernshaw consecrate to her, which they could ill discern\nThrough sable night, but, by her clange, they knew it was a hern.\nUlysses joy\u2019d, and thus invok\u2019d: \u201cHear me, great Seed of Jove,\nThat ever dost my labours grace with presence of thy love,\nAnd all my motions dost attend! Still love me, sacred Dame,\nEspecially in this exploit, and so protect our fame\nWe both may safely make retreat, and thriftily employ\nOur boldness in some great affair baneful to them of Troy.\u201d\nThen pray\u2019d illustrate Diomed: \u201cVouchsafe me likewise ear,\nO thou unconquer\u2019d Queen of arms! Be with thy favours near,\nAs, to my royal father\u2019s steps, thou went\u2019st a bounteous guide,\nWhen th\u2019 Achives and the peers of Thebes he would have pacified,\nSent as the Greeks\u2019 ambassador, and left them at the flood\nOf great \u00c6sopus; whose retreat thou mad\u2019st to swim in blood\nOf his enambush\u2019d enemies; and, if thou so protect\nMy bold endeavours, to thy name an heifer most select,\nThat never yet was tam\u2019d with yoke, broad-fronted, one year old,\nI\u2019ll burn in zealous sacrifice, and set the horns in gold.\u201d\nThe Goddess heard; and both the kings their dreadless passage bore\nThrough slaughter, slaughter\u2019d carcasses, arms, and discolour\u2019d gore.\nNor Hector let his princes sleep, but all to council call\u2019d,\nAnd ask\u2019d, \u201cWhat one is here will vow, and keep it unappall\u2019d,\nTo have a gift fit for his deed, a chariot and two horse,\nThat pass for speed the rest of Greece? What one dares take this course,\nFor his renown, besides his gifts, to mix amongst the foe,\nAnd learn if still they hold their guards, or with this overthrow\nDetermine flight, as being too weak to hold us longer war?\u201d\nAll silent stood; at last stood forth one Dolon, that did dare\nThis dang\u2019rous work, Eumedes\u2019 heir, a herald much renown\u2019d.\nThis Dolon did in gold and brass exceedingly abound,\nBut in his form was quite deform\u2019d, yet passing swift to run;\nAmongst five sisters, he was left Eumedes\u2019 only son.\nAnd he told Hector, his free heart would undertake t\u2019 explore\nThe Greeks\u2019 intentions, \u201cbut,\u201d said he, \u201cthou shalt be sworn before,\nBy this thy sceptre, that the horse of great \u00c6acides,\nAnd his strong chariot bound with brass, thou wilt (before all these)\nResign me as my valour\u2019s prise; and so I rest unmov\u2019d\nTo be thy spy, and not return before I have approv\u2019d\n(By vent\u2019ring to Atrides\u2019 ship, where their consults are held)\nIf they resolve still to resist, or fly as quite expell\u2019d.\u201d\nHe put his sceptre in his hand, and call\u2019d the thunder\u2019s God,\nSaturnia\u2019s husband, to his oath, those horse should not be rode\nBy any other man than he, but he for ever joy\n(To his renown) their services, for his good done to Troy.\nThus swore he, and forswore himself, yet made base Dolon bold;\nWho on his shoulders hung his bow, and did about him fold\nA white wolf\u2019s hide, and with a helm of weasels\u2019 skins did arm\nHis weasel\u2019s head, then took his dart, and never turn\u2019d to harm\nThe Greeks with their related drifts; but being past the troops\nOf horse and foot, he promptly runs, and as he runs he stoops\nTo undermine Achilles\u2019 horse. Ulysses straight did see,\nAnd said to Diomed: \u201cThis man makes footing towards thee,\nOut of the tents. I know not well, if he be us\u2019d as spy\nBent to our fleet, or come to rob the slaughter\u2019d enemy.\nBut let us suffer him to come a little further on,\nAnd then pursue him. If it chance, that we be overgone\nBy his more swiftness, urge him still to run upon our fleet,\nAnd (lest he \u2019scape us to the town) still let thy jav\u2019lin meet\nWith all his offers of retreat.\u201d Thus stepp\u2019d they from the plain\nAmongst the slaughter\u2019d carcasses. Dolon came on amain,\nSuspecting nothing; but once past, as far as mules outdraw\nOxen at plough, being both put on, neither admitted law,\nTo plough a deep-soil\u2019d furrow forth, so far was Dolon past.\nThen they pursu\u2019d, which he perceiv\u2019d, and stay\u2019d his speedless haste,\nSubtly supposing Hector sent to countermand his spy;\nBut, in a jav\u2019lin\u2019s throw or less, he knew them enemy.\nThen laid he on his nimble knees, and they pursu\u2019d like wind.\nAs when a brace of greyhounds are laid in with hare and hind,\nClose-mouth\u2019d and skill\u2019d to make the best of their industrious course,\nServe either\u2019s turn, and, set on hard, lose neither ground nor force;\nSo constantly did Tydeus\u2019 son, and his town-razing peer,\nPursue this spy, still turning him, as he was winding near\nHis covert, till he almost mix\u2019d with their out-courts of guard.\nThen Pallas prompted Diomed, lest his due worth\u2019s reward\nShould be impair\u2019d if any man did vaunt he first did sheath\nHis sword in him, and he be call\u2019d but second in his death.\nThen spake he, threat\u2019ning with his lance: \u201cOr stay, or this comes on,\nAnd long thou canst not run before thou be by death outgone.\u201d\nThis said, he threw his jav\u2019lin forth; which missed as Diomed would,\nAbove his right arm making way, the pile stuck in the mould.\nHe stay\u2019d and trembled, and his teeth did chatter in his head.\nThey came in blowing, seiz\u2019d him fast; he, weeping, offer\u00e9d\nA wealthy ransom for his life, and told them he had brass,\nMuch gold, and iron, that fit for use in many labours was,\nFrom whose rich heaps his father would a wondrous portion give,\nIf, at the great Achaian fleet, he heard his son did live.\nUlysses bad him cheer his heart. \u201cThink not of death,\u201d said he,\n\u201cBut tell us true, why runn\u2019st thou forth, when others sleeping be?\nIs it to spoil the carcasses? Or art thou choicely sent\nT\u2019 explore our drifts? Or of thyself seek\u2019st thou some wish\u2019d event?\u201d\nHe trembling answer\u2019d: \u201cMuch reward did Hector\u2019s oath propose,\nAnd urg\u2019d me, much against my will, t\u2019 endeavour to disclose\nIf you determin\u2019d still to stay, or bent your course for flight,\nAs all dismay\u2019d with your late foil, and wearied with the fight.\nFor which exploit, Pelides\u2019 horse and chariot he did swear,\nI only ever should enjoy.\u201d Ulysses smil\u2019d to hear\nSo base a swain have any hope so high a prise t\u2019 aspire,\nAnd said, his labours did affect a great and precious hire,\nAnd that the horse Pelides rein\u2019d no mortal hand could use\nBut he himself, whose matchless life a Goddess did produce.\n\u201cBut tell us, and report but truth, where left\u2019st thou Hector now?\nWhere are his arms? His famous horse? On whom doth he bestow\nThe watch\u2019s charge? Where sleep the kings? Intend they still to lie\nThus near encamp\u2019d, or turn suffic\u2019d with their late victory?\u201d\n\u201cAll this,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ll tell most true. At Ilus\u2019 monument\nHector with all our princes sits, t\u2019 advise of this event;\nWho choose that place remov\u2019d to shun the rude confus\u00e9d sounds\nThe common soldiers throw about. But, for our watch, and rounds,\nWhereof, brave lord, thou mak\u2019st demand, none orderly we keep.\nThe Trojans, that have roofs to save, only abandon sleep,\nAnd privately without command each other they exhort\nTo make prevention of the worst; and in this slender sort\nIs watch and guard maintain\u2019d with us. Th\u2019 auxiliary bands\nSleep soundly, and commit their cares into the Trojans\u2019 hands,\nFor they have neither wives with them, nor children to protect;\nThe less they need to care, the more they succour dull neglect.\u201d\n\u201cBut tell me,\u201d said wise Ithacus, \u201care all these foreign pow\u2019rs\nAppointed quarters by themselves, or else commix\u2019d with yours?\u201d\n\u201cAnd this,\u201d said Dolon, \u201ctoo, my lords, I\u2019ll seriously unfold.\nThe P\u00e6ons with the crook\u00e9d bows, and Cares, quarters hold\nNext to the sea, the Leleges, and Caucons, join\u2019d with them,\nAnd brave Pelasgians. Thymber\u2019s mead, remov\u2019d more from the stream,\nIs quarter to the Lycians, the lofty Mysian force,\nThe Phrygians and Meonians, that fight with arm\u00e9d horse.\nBut what need these particulars? If ye intend surprise\nOf any in our Trojan camps, the Thracian quarter lies\nUtmost of all, and uncommix\u2019d with Trojan regiments,\nThat keep the voluntary watch. New pitch\u2019d are all their tents.\nKing Rhesus, Eioneus\u2019 son, commands them, who hath steeds\nMore white than snow, huge, and well-shap\u2019d, their fi\u2019ry pace exceeds\nThe winds in swiftness; these I saw; his chariot is with gold\nAnd pallid silver richly fram\u2019d, and wondrous to behold;\nHis great and golden armour is not fit a man should wear,\nBut for immortal shoulders fram\u2019d. Come then, and quickly bear\nYour happy pris\u2019ner to your fleet; or leave him here fast bound,\nTill your well-urg\u2019d and rich return prove my relation sound.\u201d\nTydides dreadfully replied: \u201cThink not of passage thus,\nThough of right acceptable news thou hast adv\u00e9rtised us,\nOur hands are holds more strict than so; and should we set thee free\nFor offer\u2019d ransom, for this \u2019scape thou still wouldst scouting be\nAbout our ships, or do us scathe in plain opposed arms,\nBut, if I take thy life, no way can we repent thy harms.\u201d\nWith this, as Dolon reach\u2019d his hand to use a suppliant\u2019s part,\nAnd stroke the beard of Diomed, he strook his neck athwart\nWith his forc\u2019d sword, and both the nerves he did in sunder wound,\nAnd suddenly his head, deceiv\u2019d, fell speaking on the ground.\nHis weasel\u2019s helm they took, his bow, his wolf\u2019s skin, and his lance,\nWhich to Minerva Ithacus did zealously advance,\nWith lifted arm into the air; and to her thus he spake:\n\u201cGoddess, triumph in thine own spoils; to thee we first will make\nOur invocations, of all pow\u2019rs thron\u2019d on th\u2019 Olympian hill;\nNow to the Thracians, and their horse, and beds, conduct us still.\u201d\nWith this, he hung them up aloft upon a tamrick bough\nAs eyeful trophies, and the sprigs that did about it grow\nHe proin\u00e9d from the leafy arms, to make it easier view\u2019d\nWhen they should hastily retire, and be perhaps pursu\u2019d,\nForth went they through black blood and arms, and presently aspir\u2019d\nThe guardless Thracian regiment, fast bound with sleep, and tir\u2019d;\nTheir arms lay by, and triple ranks they, as they slept, did keep,\nAs they should watch and guard their king, who, in a fatal sleep,\nLay in the midst; their chariot horse, as they coach-fellows were,\nFed by them; and the famous steeds, that did their gen\u2019ral bear,\nStood next him, to the hinder part of his rich chariot tied.\nUlysses saw them first, and said, \u201cTydides, I have spied\nThe horse that Dolon, whom we slew, assur\u2019d us we should see.\nNow use thy strength; now idle arms are most unfit for thee;\nPrise thou the horse; or kill the guard, and leave the horse to me.\u201d\nMinerva, with the azure eyes, breath\u2019d strength into her king,\nWho filled the tent with mix\u00e9d death. The souls, he set on wing,\nIssu\u2019d in groans, and made air swell into her stormy flood.\nHorror and slaughter had one pow\u2019r, the earth did blush with blood.\nAs when a hungry lion flies, with purpose to devour,\nOn flocks unkept, and on their lives doth freely use his pow\u2019r;\nSo Tydeus\u2019 son assail\u2019d the foe; twelve souls before him flew;\nUlysses waited on his sword, and ever as he slew,\nHe drew them by their strengthless heels out of the horses\u2019 sight.\nThat, when he was to lead them forth, they should not with affright\nBoggle, nor snore, in treading on the bloody carcasses;\nFor being new come, they were unus\u2019d to such stern sights as these.\nThrough four ranks now did Diomed the king himself attain,\nWho, snoring in his sweetest sleep, was like his soldiers slain.\nAn ill dream by Minerva sent that night stood by his head,\nWhich was Oenides\u2019 royal, unconquer\u2019d Diomed.\nMeanwhile Ulysses loos\u2019d his horse, took all their reins in hand,\nAnd led them forth; but Tydeus\u2019 son did in contention stand\nWith his great mind to do some deed of more audacity;\nIf he should take the chariot, where his rich arms did lie,\nAnd draw it by the beam away, or bear it on his back,\nOr if, of more dull Thracian lives, he should their bosoms sack.\nIn this contention with himself, Minerva did suggest\nAnd bade him think of his retreat; lest from their tempted rest\nSome other God should stir the foe, and send him back dismay\u2019d.\nHe knew the voice, took horse, and fled. The Trojan\u2019s heav\u2019nly aid,\nApollo with the silver bow, stood no blind sentinel\nTo their secure and drowsy host, but did discover well\nMinerva following Diomed; and, angry with his act,\nThe mighty host of Ilion he enter\u2019d, and awak\u2019d\nThe cousin-german of the king, a counsellor of Thrace,\nHippocoon; who when he rose, and saw the desert place,\nWhere Rhesus\u2019 horse did use to stand, and th\u2019 other dismal harms,\nMen struggling with the pangs of death, he shriek\u2019d out thick alarms,\nCall\u2019d \u201cRhesus! Rhesus!\u201d but in vain; then still, \u201cArm! Arm!\u201d he cried.\nThe noise and tumult was extreme on every startled side\nOf Troy\u2019s huge host; from whence in throngs all gather\u2019d, and admir\u2019d\nWho could perform such harmful facts, and yet be safe retir\u2019d,\nNow, coming where they slew the scout, Ulysses stay\u2019d the steeds,\nTydides lighted, and the spoils, hung on the tamrick reeds,\nHe took and gave to Ithacus, and up he got again.\nThen flew they joyful to their fleet. Nestor did first attain\nThe sounds the horse-hoofs strook through air, and said: \u201cMy royal\npeers!\nDo I but dote, or say I true? Methinks about mine ears\nThe sounds of running horses beat. O would to God they were\nOur friends thus soon return\u2019d with spoils! But I have hearty fear,\nLest this high tumult of the foe doth their distress intend.\u201d\nHe scarce had spoke, when they were come. Both did from horse descend.\nAll, with embraces and sweet words, to heav\u2019n their worth did raise.\nThen Nestor spake: \u201cGreat Ithacus, ev\u2019n heap\u2019d with Grecian praise,\nHow have you made these horse your prise? Pierc\u2019d you the dang\u2019rous\nhost,\nWhere such gems stand? Or did some God your high attempts accost,\nAnd honour\u2019d you with this reward? Why, they be like the rays\nThe sun effuseth. I have mix\u2019d with Trojans all my days;\nAnd now, I hope you will not say, I always lie aboard,\nThough an old soldier I confess; yet did all Troy afford\nNever the like to any sense that ever I possess\u2019d.\nBut some good God, no doubt, hath met, and your high valours bless\u2019d,\nFor He that shadows heav\u2019n with clouds loves both as his delights,\nAnd She that supples earth with blood cannot forbear your sights.\u201d\nUlysses answer\u2019d: \u201cHonour\u2019d sire, the willing Gods can give\nHorse much more worth than these men yield, since in more pow\u2019r they\nlive.\nThese horse are of the Thracian breed; their king, Tydides slew,\nAnd twelve of his most trusted guard; and of that meaner crew\nA scout for thirteenth man we kill\u2019d, whom Hector sent to spy\nThe whole estate of our designs, if bent to fight or fly.\u201d\nThus, follow\u2019d with whole troops of friends, they with applauses \npass\u2019d\nThe spacious dike, and in the tent of Diomed they plac\u2019d\nThe horse without contention, as his deserving\u2019s meed,\nWhich, with his other horse set up, on yellow wheat did feed.\nPoor Dolon\u2019s spoils Ulysses had; who shrin\u2019d them on his stern,\nAs trophies vow\u2019d to her that sent the good-aboding hern.\nThen enter\u2019d they the mere main sea, to cleanse their honour\u2019d sweat\nFrom off their feet, their thighs and necks; and, when their vehement\nheat\nWas calm\u2019d, and their swoln hearts refresh\u2019d, more curious baths they\nus\u2019d,\nWhere od\u2019rous and dissolving oils, they through their limbs diffus\u2019d.\nThen, taking breakfast, a big bowl, fill\u2019d with the purest wine,\nThey offer\u2019d to the Maiden Queen, that hath the azure eyne.\n\nTHE END OF THE TENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] These are the lightnings before snow, etc. that Scaliger\u2019s\n Criticus so unworthily taxeth; citing the place falsely, as in the\n third book\u2019s annotations, etc.\n\n\n [2] _\u1fbd\u0395\u03c0\u1f76 \u03be\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u0311 \u1f35\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f00\u03ba\u03bc\u03b7\u0311\u03c2_. This went into a proverb, used by\n Theocritus, _in Dioscuris_, out of Homer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAtrides and his other peers of name\nLead forth their men; whom Eris oath enflame.\nHector (by Iris\u2019 charge) takes deedless breath,\nWhiles Agamemnon plies the work of death,\nWho with the first bears his imperial head.\nHimself, Ulysses, and King Diomed,\nEurypylus, and \u00c6sculapius\u2019 son,\n(Enforc\u2019d with wounds) the furious skirmish shun.\nWhich martial sight when great Achilles views,\nA little his desire of fight renews;\nAnd forth he sends his friend, to bring him word\nFrom old Neleides, what wounded lord\nHe in his chariot from the skirmish brought;\nWhich was Machaon. Nestor then besought\nHe would persuade his friend to wreak their harms,\nOr come himself, deck\u2019d in his dreadful arms.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nLambda presents the General,\nIn fight the worthiest man of all,\n\n\nAurora out of restful bed did from bright Tithon rise,\nTo bring each deathless Essence light, and use to mortal eyes;\nWhen Jove sent Eris to the Greeks, sustaining in her hand\nStern signs of her designs for war. She took her horrid stand\nUpon Ulysses\u2019 huge black bark, that did at anchor ride\nAmidst the fleet, from whence her sounds might ring on ev\u2019ry side,\nBoth to the tents of Telamon, and th\u2019 author of their smarts,\nWho held, for fortitude and force, the navy\u2019s utmost parts.\nThe red-ey\u2019d Goddess, seated there, thunder\u2019d the Orthian song,\nHigh, and with horror, through the ears of all the Grecian throng,\nHer verse with spirits invincible did all their breasts inspire,\nBlew out all darkness from their limbs, and set their hearts on fire;\nAnd presently was bitter war more sweet a thousand times,\nThan any choice in hollow keels to greet their native climes.\nAtrides summon\u2019d all to arms, to arms himself dispos\u2019d,\nFirst on his legs he put bright greaves, with silver buttons clos\u2019d;\nThen with rich curace arm\u2019d his breast, which Cinyras bestow\u2019d\nTo gratify his royal guest; for ev\u2019n to Cyprus flowed\nTh\u2019 unbounded fame of those designs the Greeks propos\u2019d for Troy,\nAnd therefore gave he him those arms, and wish\u2019d his purpose joy.\nTen rows of azure mix\u2019d with black, twelve golden like the sun,\nTwice-ten of tin, in beaten paths, did through this armour run.\nThree serpents to the gorget crept, that like three rainbows shin\u2019d,\nSuch as by Jove are fix\u2019d in clouds, when wonders are divin\u2019d.\nAbout his shoulders hung his sword, whereof the hollow hilt\nWas fashion\u2019d all with shining bars, exceeding richly gilt;\nThe scabbard was of silver plate, with golden hangers grac\u2019d.\nThen he took up his weighty shield, that round about him cast\nDefensive shadows; ten bright zones of gold-affecting brass\nWere driv\u2019n about it; and of tin, as full of gloss as glass,\nSwell\u2019d twenty bosses out of it; in centre of them all\nOne of black metal had engrav\u2019n, full of extreme appall,\nAn ugly Gorgon, compass\u00e9d with Terror and with Fear.\nAt it a silver bawdrick hung, with which he us\u2019d to bear,\nWound on his arm, his ample shield; and in it there was wov\u2019n\nAn azure dragon, curl\u2019d in folds, from whose one neck was clov\u2019n\nThree heads contorted in an orb. Then plac\u2019d he on his head\nHis four-plum\u2019d casque; and in his hands two darts he manag\u00e9d,\nArm\u2019d with bright steel that blaz\u2019d to heav\u2019n. Then Juno, and the Maid\nThat conquers empires, trumpets serv\u2019d to summon out their aid\nIn honour of the General, and on a sable cloud,\nTo bring them furious to the field, sat thund\u2019ring out aloud.\nThen all enjoin\u2019d their charioteers, to rank their chariot horse\nClose to the dike. Forth march\u2019d the foot, whose front they did\nr\u2019enforce\nWith some horse troops. The battle then was all of charioteers,\nLin\u2019d with light horse. But Jupiter disturb\u2019d this form with fears,\nAnd from air\u2019s upper region bid bloody vapours rain,\nFor sad ostent much noble life should ere their times be slain.\nThe Trojan host at Ilus\u2019 tomb was in battalia led\nBy Hector and Polydamas, and old Anchises\u2019 seed\nWho god-like was esteem\u2019d in Troy, by grave Antenor\u2019s race\nDivine Agenor, Polybus, unmarried Acamas\nProportion\u2019d like the States of heav\u2019n. In front of all the field,\nTroy\u2019s great Priamides did bear his all-ways-equal shield,\nStill plying th\u2019 ord\u2019ring of his pow\u2019r. And as amids the sky\nWe sometimes see an ominous star blaze clear and dreadfully,\nThen run his golden head in clouds, and straight appear again;\nSo Hector otherwhiles did grace the vaunt-guard, shining plain,\nThen in the rear-guard hid himself, and labour\u2019d ev\u2019rywhere\nTo order and encourage all; his armour was so clear,\nAnd he applied each place so fast, that, like a lightning thrown\nOut of the shield of Jupiter, in ev\u2019ry eye he shone.\nAnd as upon a rich man\u2019s crop of barley or of wheat,\nOppos\u2019d for swiftness at their work, a sort of reaper\u2019s sweat,\nBear down the furrows speedily, and thick their handfuls fall;\nSo at the joining of the hosts ran slaughter through them all,\nNone stoop\u2019d to any fainting thought of foul inglorious flight,\nBut equal bore they up their heads, and far\u2019d like wolves in fight.\nStern Eris, with such weeping sights, rejoic\u2019d to feed her eyes,\nWho only show\u2019d herself in field, of all the Deities;\nThe other in Olympus\u2019 tops sat silent, and repined\nThat Jove to do the Trojans grace should bear so fix\u2019d a mind.\nHe car\u2019d not, but, enthron\u2019d apart, triumphant sat in sway\nOf his free pow\u2019r, and from his seat took pleasure to display\nThe city so adorn\u2019d with tow\u2019rs, the sea with vessels fill\u2019d,\nThe splendour of refulgent arms, the killer and the kill\u2019d.\nAs long as bright Aurora rul\u2019d, and sacred day increas\u2019d,\nSo long their darts made mutual wounds, and neither had the best;\nBut when, in hill-environ\u2019d vales, the timber-feller takes\nA sharp set stomach to his meat, and dinner ready makes,\nHis sinews fainting, and his spirits become surcharg\u2019d and dull,\nTime of accustom\u2019d ease arriv\u2019d, his hands with labour full,\nThen by their valours Greeks brake through the Trojan ranks, and\ncheer\u2019d\nTheir gen\u2019ral squadrons through the host; then first of all appear\u2019d\nThe person of the king himself; and then the Trojans lost\nBianor by his royal charge, a leader in the host.\nWho being slain, his charioteer, O\u00efleus, did alight,\nAnd stood in skirmish with the king; the king did deadly smite\nHis forehead with his eager lance, and through his helm it ran,\nEnforcing passage to his brain, quite through the harden\u2019d pan,\nHis brain mix\u2019d with his clotter\u2019d blood, his body strew\u2019d the ground.\nThere left he them, and presently he other objects found;\nIsus and Antiphus, two sons King Priam did beget,\nOne lawful, th\u2019 other wantonly. Both in one chariot met\nTheir royal foe; the baser born, Isus, was charioteer,\nAnd famous Antiphus did fight; both which king Peleus\u2019 heir,\nWhilome in Ida keeping flocks, did deprehend and bind\nWith pliant osiers, and, for price, them to their sire resign\u2019d.\nAtrides, with his well-aim\u2019d lance, smote Isus on the breast\nAbove the nipple; and his sword a mortal wound impress\u2019d\nBeneath the ear of Antiphus; down from their horse they fell.\nThe king had seen the youths before, and now did know them well,\nRememb\u2019ring them the prisoners of swift \u00c6acides,\nWho brought them to the sable fleet from Ida\u2019s foody leas.\nAnd as a lion having found the furrow of a hind,\nWhere she hath calv\u2019d two little twins, at will and ease doth grind\nTheir joints snatch\u2019d in his solid jaws, and crusheth into mist\nTheir tender lives; their dam, though near, not able to resist,\nBut shook with vehement fear herself, flies through the oaken chace\nFrom that fell savage, drown\u2019d in sweat, and seeks some covert place;\nSo when with most unmatched strength the Grecian Gen\u2019ral bent\n\u2018Gainst these two princes, none durst aid their native king\u2019s descent,\nBut fled themselves before the Greeks. And where these two were slain,\nPisander and Hippolochus (not able to restrain\nTheir headstrong horse, the silken reins being from their hands let\nfall)\nWere brought by their unruly guides before the General.\nAntimachus begat them both, Antimachus that took\nRich gifts, and gold, of Helen\u2019s love, and would by no means brook\nJust restitution should be made of Menelaus\u2019 wealth,\nBereft him, with his ravish\u2019d queen, by Alexander\u2019s stealth.\nAtrides, lion-like, did charge his sons, who on their knees\nFell from their chariot, and besought regard to their degrees,\nWho, being Antimachus\u2019s sons, their father would afford\nA worthy ransom for their lives, who in his house did hoard\nMuch hidden treasure, brass, and gold, and steel, wrought wondrous\nchoice.\nThus wept they, using smoothing terms, and heard this rugged voice\nBreath\u2019d from the unrelenting king: \u201cIf you be of the breed\nOf stout Antimachus, that stay\u2019d the honourable deed\nThe other peers of Ilion in council had decreed,\nTo render Helen and her wealth; and would have basely slain\nMy brother and wise Ithacus, ambassadors t\u2019 attain\nThe most due motion; now receive wreak for his shameful part.\u201d\nThis said, in poor Pisander\u2019s breast he fix\u2019d his wreakful dart,\nWho upward spread th\u2019 oppress\u00e9d earth; his brother crouch\u2019d for dread,\nAnd, as he lay, the angry king cut off his arms and head,\nAnd let him like a football lie for ev\u2019ry man to spurn.\nThen to th\u2019 extremest heat of fight he did his valour turn,\nAnd led a multitude of Greeks, where foot did foot subdue,\nHorse slaughter\u2019d horse, Need feather\u2019d flight, the batter\u2019d centre\nflew\nIn clouds of dust about their ears, raised from the horses\u2019 hooves,\nThat beat a thunder out of earth as horrible as Jove\u2019s.\nThe king, persuading speedy chace, gave his persuasions way\nWith his own valour, slaught\u2019ring still. As in a stormy day\nIn thick-set woods a rav\u2019nous fire wraps in his fierce repair\nThe shaken trees, and by the roots doth toss them into air;\nEv\u2019n so beneath Atrides\u2019 sword flew up Troy\u2019s flying heels,\nTheir horse drew empty chariots, and sought their thund\u2019ring wheels\nSome fresh directors through the field, where least the p\u00farsuit drives.\nThick fell the Trojans, much more sweet to vultures than their wives.\nThen Jove drew Hector from the darts, from dust, from death and blood,\nAnd from the tumult. Still the king firm to the p\u00farsuit stood,\nTill at old Ilus\u2019 monument, in midst of all the field,\nThey reach\u2019d the wild fig-tree, and long\u2019d to make their town their\nshield.\nYet there they rested not; the king still cried, \u2018Pursue! Pursue!\u2019\nAnd all his unreprov\u00e9d hands did blood and dust imbrue.\nBut when they came to Sc\u00e6a\u2019s ports, and to the beech of Jove,\nThere made they stand; there ev\u2019ry eye, fixed on each other, strove\nWho should outlook his mate amaz\u2019d; through all the field they fled.\nAnd as a lion, when the night becomes most deaf and dead,\nInvades ox-herds, affrighting all, that he of one may wreak\nHis dreadful hunger, and his neck he first of all doth break,\nThen laps his blood and entrails up; so Agamemnon plied\nThe manage of the Trojan chace, and still the last man died,\nThe other fled, a number fell by his imperial hand,\nSome grovelling downwards from their horse, some upwards strew\u2019d the\nsand.\nHigh was the fury of his lance. But, having beat them close\nBeneath their walls, the both worlds\u2019 Sire did now again repose\nOn fountain-flowing Ida\u2019s tops, being newly slid from heav\u2019n,\nAnd held a lightning in his hand; from thence this charge was giv\u2019n\nTo Iris with the golden wings: \u201cThaumantia, fly,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd tell Troy\u2019s Hector, that as long as he enrag\u2019d shall see\nThe soldier-loving Atreus\u2019 son amongst the foremost fight,\nDepopulating troops of men, so long he must excite\nSome other to resist the foe, and he no arms advance;\nBut when he wounded takes his horse, attain\u2019d with shaft or lance,\nThen will I fill his arm with death, ev\u2019n till he reach the fleet,\nAnd peaceful night treads busy day beneath her sacred feet.\u201d\nThe wind-foot swift Thaumantia obey\u2019d, and us\u2019d her wings\nTo famous Ilion, from the mount enchas\u2019d with silver springs,\nAnd found in his bright chariot the hardy Trojan knight,\nTo whom she spake the words of Jove, and vanish\u2019d from his sight.\nHe leapt upon the sounding earth, and shook his lengthful dart,\nAnd ev\u2019rywhere he breath\u2019d exhorts, and stirr\u2019d up ev\u2019ry heart.\nA dreadful fight he set on foot. His soldiers straight turn\u2019d head.\nThe Greeks stood firm. In both the hosts, the field was perfected.\nBut Agamemnon, foremost still, did all his side exceed,\nAnd would not be the first in name unless the first in deed.\nNow sing, fair Presidents of verse, that in the heav\u2019ns embow\u2019r,\nWho first encounter\u2019d with the king, of all the adverse pow\u2019r.\nIphidamas, Antenor\u2019s son, ample and bigly set,\nBrought up in pasture-springing Thrace, that doth soft sheep beget,\nIn grave Cisseus\u2019 noble house, that was his mother\u2019s sire,\nFair Theano; and when his breast was heighten\u2019d with the fire\nOf gaysome youth, his grandsire gave his daughter to his love.\nWho straight his bridal-chamber left. Fame with affection strove,\nAnd made him furnish twelve fair ships, to lend fair Troy his hand.\nHis ships he in Percope left, and came to Troy by land.\nAnd now he tried the fame of Greece, encount\u2019ring with the king,\nWho threw his royal lance and miss\u2019d. Iphidamas did fling,\nAnd strook him on the arming waist, beneath his coat of brass,\nWhich forc\u2019d him stay upon his arm, so violent it was,\nYet pierc\u2019d it not his well-wrought zone, but when the lazy head\nTried hardness with his silver waist, it turn\u2019d again like lead.\nHe follow\u2019d, grasping the ground end, but with a lion\u2019s wile\nThat wrests away a hunter\u2019s staff, he caught it by the pile,\nAnd pluck\u2019d it from the caster\u2019s hand, whom with his sword he strook\nBeneath the ear, and with his wound his timeless death he took.\nHe fell and slept an iron sleep; wretched young man, he died,\nFar from his newly-married wife, in aid of foreign pride,\nAnd saw no pleasure of his love; yet was her jointure great,\nAn hundred oxen gave he her, and vow\u2019d in his retreat\nTwo thousand head of sheep and goats, of which he store did leave.\nMuch gave he of his love\u2019s first-fruits, and nothing did receive.\nWhen Coon (one that for his form might feast an amorous eye,\nAnd elder brother of the slain) beheld this tragedy,\nDeep sorrow sat upon his eyes, and (standing laterally,\nAnd to the Gen\u2019ral undiscern\u2019d) his jav\u2019lin he let fly,\nThat \u2019twixt his elbow and his wrist transfix\u2019d his armless arm;\nThe bright head shin\u2019d on th\u2019 other side. The unexpected harm\nImpress\u2019d some horror in the king; yet so he ceas\u2019d not fight,\nBut rush\u2019d on Coon with his lance, who made what haste he might,\nSeizing his slaughter\u2019d brother\u2019s foot, to draw him from the field,\nAnd call\u2019d the ablest to his aid, when under his round shield\nThe king\u2019s brass jav\u2019lin, as he drew, did strike him helpless dead;\nWho made Iphidamas the block, and cut off Coon\u2019s head.\nThus under great Atrides\u2019 arm Antenor\u2019s issue thriv\u2019d,\nAnd, to suffice precisest fate, to Pluto\u2019s mansion div\u2019d.\nHe with his lance, sword, mighty stones, pour\u2019d his heroic wreak\nOn other squadrons of the foe, whiles yet warm blood did break\nThrough his cleft veins; but when the wound was quite exhaust and\ncrude,\nThe eager anguish did approve his princely fortitude.\nAs when most sharp and bitter pangs distract a labouring dame,\nWhich the divine Ilithy\u00e6, that rule the painful frame\nOf human child-birth, pour on her; th\u2019 Ilithy\u00e6 that are\nThe daughters of Saturnia; with whose extreme repair\nThe woman in her travail strives to take the worst it gives,\nWith thought it must be, \u2019tis love\u2019s fruit, the end for which she\nlives,\nThe mean to make herself new born, what comforts will redound;\nSo Agamemnon did sustain the torment of his wound.\nThen took he chariot, and to fleet bad haste his charioteer,\nBut first pour\u2019d out his highest voice to purchase ev\u2019ry ear:\n\u201cPrinces and leaders of the Greeks, brave friends, now from our fleet\nDo you expel this boist\u2019rous sway. Jove will not let me meet\nIllustrate Hector, nor give leave that I shall end the day\nIn fight against the Ilion pow\u2019r; my wound is in my way.\u201d\nThis said, his ready charioteer did scourge his spriteful horse,\nThat freely to the sable fleet perform\u2019d their fi\u2019ry course.\nTo bear their wounded sovereign apart the martial thrust,\nSprinkling their pow\u2019rful breasts with foam, and snowing on the dust.\nWhen Hector heard of his retreat, thus he for fame contends:\n\u201cTrojans, Dardanians, Lycians, all my close-fighting friends,\nThink what it is to be renown\u2019d, be soldiers all of name,\nOur strongest enemy is gone, Jove vows to do us fame,\nThen in the Grecian faces drive your one-hoof\u2019d violent steeds,\nAnd far above their best be best, and glorify your deeds.\u201d\nThus as a dog-giv\u2019n hunter sets upon a brace of boars\nHis white-tooth\u2019d hounds, puffs, shouts, breathes terms, and on his\nemprese pours\nAll his wild art to make them pinch; so Hector urg\u2019d his host\nTo charge the Greeks, and, he himself most bold and active most,\nHe brake into the heat of fight, as when a tempest raves,\nStoops from the clouds, and all on heaps doth cuff the purple waves.\nWho then was first, and last, he kill\u2019d, when Jove did grace his deed?\nAss\u00e6us, and Autonous, Opys, and Clytus\u2019 seed\nPrince Dolops, and the honour\u2019d sire of sweet Euryalus\nOpheltes, Agelaus next, and strong Hipponous,\nOrus, \u00c6symnus, all of name. The common soldiers fell,\nAs when the hollow flood of air in Zephyr\u2019s cheeks doth swell,\nAnd sparseth all the gather\u2019d clouds white Notus\u2019 pow\u2019r did draw,\nWraps waves in waves, hurls up the froth beat with a vehement flaw;\nSo were the common soldiers wrack\u2019d in troops by Hector\u2019s hand.\nThen ruin had enforc\u2019d such works as no Greeks could withstand,\nThen in their fleet they had been hous\u2019d, had not Laertes\u2019 son\nStirr\u2019d up the spirit of Diomed, with this impression:\n\u201cTydides, what do we sustain, forgetting what we are?\nStand by me, dearest in my love. \u2019Twere horrible impair\nFor our two valours to endure a customary flight,\nTo leave our navy still engag\u2019d, and but by fits to fight.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cI am bent to stay, and anything sustain;\nBut our delight to prove us men will prove but short and vain,\nFor Jove makes Trojans instruments, and virtually then\nWields arms himself. Our cross affairs are not \u2019twixt men and men.\u201d\nThis said, Thymbr\u00e6us with his lance he tumbled from his horse,\nNear his left nipple wounding him. Ulysses did enforce\nFair Molion, minion to this king that Diomed subdu\u2019d.\nBoth sent they thence till they return\u2019d, who now the king pursu\u2019d\nAnd furrow\u2019d through the thicken\u2019d troops. As when two chas\u00e9d boars\nTurn head \u2019gainst kennels of bold hounds, and race way through their\ngores;\nSo, turn\u2019d from flight, the forward kings show\u2019d Trojans backward\ndeath.\nNor fled the Greeks, but by their wills, to get great Hector breath.\nThen took they horse and chariot from two bold city foes,\nMerops Percosius\u2019 mighty sons. Their father could disclose,\nBeyond all men, hid auguries, and would not give consent\nTo their egression to these wars, yet wilfully they went,\nFor Fates, that order sable death, enforc\u2019d their tragedies.\nTydides slew them with his lance, and made their arms his prise.\nHypirochus, and Hippodus, Ulysses reft of light.\nBut Jove, that out of Ida look\u2019d, then equalis\u2019d the fight,\nA Grecian for a Trojan then paid tribute to the Fates.\nYet royal Diomed slew one, ev\u2019n in those even debates,\nThat was of name more than the rest, P\u00e6on\u2019s renown\u00e9d son,\nThe prince Agastrophus; his lance into his hip did run;\nHis squire detain\u2019d his horse apart, that hinder\u2019d him to fly,\nWhich he repented at his heart, yet did his feet apply\nHis \u2019scape with all the speed they had alongst the foremost bands,\nAnd there his lov\u00e9d life dissolv\u2019d. This Hector understands,\nAnd rush\u2019d with clamour on the king, right soundly seconded\nWith troops of Trojans. Which perceiv\u2019d by famous Diomed,\nThe deep conceit of Jove\u2019s high will stiffen\u2019d his royal hair,\nWho spake to near-fought Ithacus: \u201cThe fate of this affair\nIs bent to us. Come let us stand, and bound his violence.\u201d\nThus threw he his long jav\u2019lin forth, which smote his head\u2019s defence\nFull on the top, yet pierc\u2019d no skin; brass took repulse with brass;\nHis helm (with three folds made, and sharp) the gift of Ph\u0153bus was.\nThe blow made Hector take the troop, sunk him upon his hand,\nAnd strook him blind. The king pursu\u2019d before the foremost band\nHis dart\u2019s recov\u2019ry, which he found laid on the purple plain;\nBy which time Hector was reviv\u2019d, and, taking horse again,\nWas far commix\u2019d within his strength, and fled his darksome grave.\nHe follow\u2019d with his thirsty lance, and this elusive brave:\n\u201cOnce more be thankful to thy heels, proud dog, for thy escape.\nMischief sat near thy bosom now; and now another rape\nHath thy Apollo made of thee, to whom thou well mayst pray,\nWhen through the singing of our darts thou find\u2019st such guarded way.\nBut I shall meet with thee at length, and bring thy latest hour,\nIf with like favour any God be fautour of my pow\u2019r.\nMeanwhile some other shall repay, what I suspend in thee.\u201d\nThis said, he set the wretched soul of P\u00e6on\u2019s issue free,\nWhom his late wound not fully slew. But Priam\u2019s amorous birth\nAgainst Tydides bent his bow, hid with a hill of earth,\nPart of the ruinated tomb for honour\u2019d Ilus built,\nAnd as the curace of the slain, engrav\u2019n and richly gilt,\nTydides from his breast had spoil\u2019d, and from his shoulders raft\nHis target and his solid helm, he shot, and his keen shaft\n(That never flew from him in vain) did nail unto the ground\nThe king\u2019s right foot; the spleenful knight laugh\u2019d sweetly at the\nwound,\nCrept from his covert, and triumph\u2019d: \u201cNow art thou maim\u2019d,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd would to God my happy hand had so much honour\u2019d me\nTo have infix\u2019d it in thy breast, as deep as in thy foot,\nEv\u2019n to th\u2019 expulsure of thy soul! Then blest had been my shoot\nOf all the Trojans; who had then breath\u2019d from their long unrests.\nWho fear thee, as the braying goats abhor the king of beasts.\u201d\nUndaunted Diomed replied: \u201cYou braver with your bow,\nYou slick-hair\u2019d lover, you that hunt and fleer at wenches so,\nDurst thou but stand in arms with me, thy silly archery\nWould give thee little cause to vaunt. As little suffer I\nIn this same tall exploit of thine, perform\u2019d when thou wert hid,\nAs if a woman, or a child that knew not what it did,\nHad touch\u2019d my foot. A coward\u2019s steel hath never any edge.\nBut mine, t\u2019 assure it sharp, still lays dead carcasses in pledge;\nTouch it, it renders lifeless straight, it strikes the fingers\u2019 ends\nOf hapless widows in their cheeks, and children blind of friends.\nThe subject of it makes earth red, and air with sighs inflames,\nAnd leaves limbs more embrac\u2019d with birds than with enamour\u2019d dames.\u201d\nLance-fam\u2019d Ulysses now came in, and stept before the king,\nKneel\u2019d opposite, and drew the shaft. The eager pain did sting\nThrough all his body. Straight he took his royal chariot there,\nAnd with direction to the fleet did charge his charioteer.\nNow was Ulysses desolate, fear made no friend remain,\nHe thus spake to his mighty mind: \u201cWhat doth my state sustain?\nIf I should fly this odds in fear, that thus comes clust\u2019ring on,\n\u2018Twere high dishonour; yet \u2019twere worse, to be surpris\u2019d alone.\n\u2019Tis Jove that drives the rest to fight; but that\u2019s a faint excuse.\nWhy do I tempt my mind so much? Pale cowards fight refuse.\nHe that affects renown in war must like a rock be fix\u2019d,\nWound, or be wounded. Valour\u2019s truth puts no respect betwixt.\u201d\nIn this contention with himself, in flew the shady bands\nOf targeteers, who sieg\u2019d him round with mischief-fill\u00e9d hands.\nAs when a crew of gallants watch the wild muse of a boar,\nTheir dogs put after in full cry, he rusheth on before,\nWhets, with his lather-making jaws, his crook\u00e9d tusks for blood,\nAnd, holding firm his usual haunts, breaks through the deepen\u2019d wood,\nThey charging, though his hot approach be never so abhorr\u2019d;\nSo, to assail the Jove-lov\u2019d Greek, the Ilians did accord,\nAnd he made through them. First he hurt, upon his shoulder blade,\nDeiops, a blameless man at arms; then sent to endless shade\nThoon and Eunomus; and strook the strong Chersidamas,\nAs from his chariot he leap\u2019d down, beneath his targe of brass;\nWho fell, and crawl\u2019d upon the earth with his sustaining palms,\nAnd left the fight. Nor yet his lance left dealing martial alms,\nBut Socus\u2019 brother by both sides, young Carops, did impress.\nThen princely Socus to his aid made brotherly access,\nAnd, coming near, spake in his charge: \u201cO great Laertes\u2019 son,\nInsatiate in sly stratagems, and labours never done,\nThis hour, or thou shalt boast to kill the two Hippasides\nAnd prise their arms, or fall thyself in my resolv\u2019d access.\u201d\nThis said, he threw quite through his shield his fell and well-driv\u2019n\nlance,\nWhich held way through his curaces, and on his ribs did glance,\nPlowing the flesh alongst his sides; but Pallas did repel\nAll inward passage to his life. Ulysses, knowing well\nThe wound undeadly (setting back his foot to form his stand)\nThus spake to Socus: \u201cO thou wretch, thy death is in this hand,\nThat stay\u2019st my victory on Troy, and where thy charge was made\nIn doubtful terms (or this or that) this shall thy life invade.\u201d\nThis frighted Socus to retreat, and, in his faint reverse,\nThe lance betwixt his shoulders fell, and through his breast did perse,\nDown fell he sounding, and the king thus play\u2019d with his mis-ease:\n\u201cO Socus, you that make by birth the two Hippasides,\nNow may your house and you perceive death can outfly the flyer.\nAh wretch! thou canst not \u2019scape my vows. Old Hippasus thy sire,\nNor thy well-honour\u2019d mother\u2019s hands, in both which lies thy worth,\nShall close thy wretched eyes in death, but vultures dig them forth,\nAnd hide them with their darksome wings; but when Ulysses dies,\nDivinest Greeks shall tomb my corse with all their obsequies.\u201d\nNow from his body and his shield the violent lance he drew,\nThat princely Socus had infix\u2019d; which drawn, a crimson dew\nFell from his bosom on the earth; the wound did dare him sore.\nAnd when the furious Trojans saw Ulysses\u2019 forc\u00e9d gore,\nEncouraging themselves in gross, all his destruction vow\u2019d.\nThen he retir\u2019d, and summon\u2019d aid. Thrice shouted he aloud,\nAs did denote a man engag\u2019d. Thrice Menelaus\u2019 ear\nObserv\u2019d his aid-suggesting voice, and Ajax being near,\nHe told him of Ulysses\u2019 shouts, as if he were enclos\u2019d\nFrom all assistance, and advis\u2019d their aids might be dispos\u2019d\nAgainst the ring that circled him, lest, charg\u2019d with troops alone,\n(Though valiant) he might be oppress\u2019d, whom Greece so built upon.\nHe led, and Ajax seconded. They found their Jove-lov\u2019d king\nCircled with foes. As when a den of bloody lucerns cling\nAbout a goodly-palm\u00e9d hart, hurt with a hunter\u2019s bow,\nWhose \u2019scape his nimble feet enforce, whilst his warm blood doth flow,\nAnd his light knees have pow\u2019r to move; but, master\u2019d of his wound,\nEmboss\u2019d within a shady hill, the lucerns charge him round,\nAnd tear his flesh; when instantly fortune sends in the pow\u2019rs\nOf some stern lion, with whose sight they fly, and he devours;\nSo charged the Ilians Ithacus, many and mighty men.\nBut then made Menelaus in, and horrid Ajax then,\nBearing a target like a tow\u2019r, close was his violent stand,\nAnd every way the foe dispers\u2019d, when, by the royal hand,\nKind Menelaus led away the hurt Laertes\u2019 son,\nTill his fair squire had brought his horse. Victorious Telamon\nStill plied the foe, and put to sword a young Priamides,\nDoryclus, Priam\u2019s bastard son; then did his lance impress\nPandocus, and strong Pirasus, Lysander and Palertes.\nAs when a torrent from the hills, swoln with Saturnian show\u2019rs,\nFalls on the fields, bears blasted oaks, and wither\u2019d rosin flow\u2019rs,\nLoose weeds, and all dispers\u00e9d filth, into the ocean\u2019s force;\nSo matchless Ajax beat the field, and slaughter\u2019d men and horse.\nYet had not Hector heard of this, who fought on the left wing\nOf all the host, near those sweet herbs Scamander\u2019s flood doth spring,\nWhere many foreheads trod the ground, and where the skirmish burn\u2019d\nNear Nestor and king Idomen, where Hector over turn\u2019d\nThe Grecian squadrons, authoring high service with his lance,\nAnd skilful manage of his horse. Nor yet the discrepance\nHe made in death betwixt the hosts had made the Greeks retire,\nIf fair-hair\u2019d Helen\u2019s second spouse had not repress\u2019d the fire\nOf bold Machaon\u2019s fortitude, who with a three-fork\u2019d head\nIn his right shoulder wounded him. Then had the Grecians dread.\nLest, in his strength declin\u2019d, the foe should slaughter their hurt\nfriend.\nThen Crete\u2019s king urg\u2019d Neleides his chariot to ascend,\nAnd getting near him, take him in, and bear him to their tents.\nA surgeon is to be preferr\u2019d, with physic ornaments,\nBefore a multitude; his life gives hurt lives native bounds,\nWith sweet inspersion of fit balms, and perfect search of wounds.\nThus spake the royal Idomen. Neleides obey\u2019d,\nAnd to his chariot presently the wounded Greek convey\u2019d,\nThe son of \u00c6sculapius, the great physician.\nTo fleet they flew. Cebriones perceiv\u2019d the slaughter done\nBy Ajax on the other troops, and spake to Hector thus:\n\u201cWhiles we encounter Grecians here, stern Telamonius\nIs yonder raging, turning up in heaps our horse and men;\nI know him by his spacious shield. Let us turn chariot then,\nWhere, both of horse and foot, the fight most hotly is propos\u2019d,\nIn mutual slaughters. Hark, their throats from cries are never clos\u2019d.\u201d\nThis said, with his shrill scourge he strook the horse, that fast\nensu\u2019d\nStung with his lashes, tossing shields, and carcasses imbru\u2019d.\nThe chariot tree was drown\u2019d in blood, and th\u2019 arches by the seat\nDisperpled from the horses\u2019 hoofs, and from the wheel bands beat.\nGreat Hector long\u2019d to break the ranks, and startle their close fight,\nWho horribly amaz\u2019d the Greeks, and plied their sudden fright\nWith busy weapons, ever wing\u2019d; his lance, sword, weighty stones.\nYet charg\u2019d he other leader\u2019s hands, not dreadful Telamon\u2019s;\nWith whom he wisely shunn\u2019d foul blows. But Jove (that weighs above\nAll human pow\u2019rs) to Ajax\u2019 breast divine repressions drove,\nAnd made him shun who shunn\u2019d himself; he ceas\u2019d from fight amaz\u2019d,\nCast on his back his sev\u2019n-fold shield, and round about him gaz\u2019d\nLike one turn\u2019d wild, look\u2019d on himself in his distract retreat,\nKnee before knee did scarcely move. As when from herds of neat,\nWhole threaves of boors and mongrels chase a lion skulking near,\nLoth he should taint the well-prized fat of any stall-fed steer,\nConsuming all the night in watch, he, greedy of his prey,\nOft thrusting on is oft thrust off, so thick the jav\u2019lins play\nOn his bold charges, and so hot the burning fire-brands shine,\nWhich he (though horrible) abhors, about his glowing eyne,\nAnd early his great heart retires; so Ajax from the foe,\nFor fear their fleet should be inflam\u2019d, \u2019gainst his swoln heart did\ngo.\nAs when a dull mill ass comes near a goodly field of corn,\nKept from the birds by children\u2019s cries, the boys are overborne\nBy his insensible approach, and simply he will eat;\nAbout whom many wands are broke, and still the children beat,\nAnd still the self-providing ass doth with their weakness bear,\nNot stirring till his paunch be full, and scarcely then will steer;\nSo the huge son of Telamon amongst the Trojans far\u2019d,\nBore show\u2019rs of darts upon his shield, yet scorn\u2019d to fly as scar\u2019d,\nAnd so kept softly on his way; nor would he mend his pace\nFor all their violent pursuits, that still did arm the chace\nWith singing lances. But, at last, when their cur-like presumes\nMore urg\u2019d the more forborne, his spirits did rarify their fumes,\nAnd he revok\u2019d his active strength, turn\u2019d head, and did repell\nThe horse-troops that were new made in, \u2019twixt whom the fight grew\nfell;\nAnd by degrees he stole retreat, yet with such puissant stay\nThat none could pass him to the fleet. In both the armies\u2019 sway\nHe stood, and from strong hands receiv\u2019d sharp jav\u2019lins on his shield,\nWhere many stuck, thrown on before, many fell short in field,\nEre the white body they could reach, and stuck, as telling how\nThey purpos\u2019d to have pierc\u2019d his flesh. His peril pierc\u00e9d now\nThe eyes of prince Eurypylus, Evemon\u2019s famous son,\nWho came close on, and with his dart strook duke Apisaon,\nWhose surname was Phausiades, ev\u2019n to the concrete blood\nThat makes the liver; on the earth, out gush\u2019d his vital flood.\nEurypylus made in, and eas\u2019d his shoulders of his arms;\nWhich Paris seeing, he drew his bow, and wreak\u2019d in part the harms\nOf his good friend Phausiades, his arrow he let fly\nThat smote Eurypylus, and brake in his attainted thigh;\nThen took he troop to shun black death, and to the flyers cried:\n\u201cPrinces, and leaders of the Greeks, stand, and repulse the tide\nOf this our honour-wracking chace. Ajax is drown\u2019d in darts,\nI fear past \u2019scape; turn, honour\u2019d friends, help out his vent\u2019rous\nparts.\u201d\nThus spake the wounded Greek; the sound cast on their backs their\nshields,\nAnd rais\u2019d their darts; to whose relief Ajax his person wields.\nThen stood he firmly with his friends, retiring their retire.\nAnd thus both hosts indiff\u2019rent join\u2019d, the fight grew hot as fire.\nNow had Neleides\u2019 sweating steeds brought him, and his hurt friend,\nAmongst their fleet. \u00c6acides, that wishly did intend,\nStanding astern his tall-neck\u2019d ship, how deep the skirmish drew\nAmongst the Greeks, and with what ruth the insecution grew,\nSaw Nestor bring Machaon hurt, and from within did call\nHis friend Patroclus; who, like Mars in form celestial,\nCame forth with first sound of his voice, first spring of his decay,\nAnd ask\u2019d his princely friend\u2019s desire. \u201cDear friend,\u201d said he, \u201cthis\nday\nI doubt not will enforce the Greeks, to swarm about my knees;\nI see unsuffer\u2019d need employ\u2019d in their extremities.\nGo, sweet Patroclus, and inquire of old Neleides\nWhom he brought wounded from the fight; by his back parts I guess\nIt is Machaon, but his face I could not well descry,\nThey pass\u2019d me in such earnest speed.\u201d Patroclus presently\nObey\u2019d his friend, and ran to know. They now descended were,\nAnd Nestor\u2019s squire, Eurymedon, the horses did ungear;\nThemselves stood near th\u2019 extremest shore, to let the gentle air\nDry up their sweat; then to the tent where Hecamed the fair\nSet chairs, and for the wounded prince a potion did prepare.\nThis Hecamed, by war\u2019s hard fate, fell to old Nestor\u2019s share,\nWhen Thetis\u2019 son sack\u2019d Tenedos; she was the princely seed\nOf worthy king Arsinous, and by the Greeks decreed\nThe prise of Nestor, since all men in counsel he surpass\u2019d.\nFirst, a fair table she appos\u2019d, of which the feet were grac\u2019d\nWith bluish metal mix\u2019d with black; and on the same she put\nA brass fruit-dish, in which she serv\u2019d a wholesome onion cut\nFor pittance to the potion, and honey newly wrought,\nAnd bread, the fruit of sacred meal. Then to the board she brought\nA right fair cup with gold studs driv\u2019n, which Nestor did transfer\nFrom Pylos; on whose swelling sides four handles fix\u00e9d were,\nAnd upon ev\u2019ry handle sat a pair of doves of gold,\nSome billing, and some pecking meat; two gilt feet did uphold\nThe antique body; and withal so weighty was the cup\nThat, being propos\u2019d brimful of wine, one scarce could lift it up,\nYet Nestor drunk in it with ease, spite of his years\u2019 respect.\nIn this the goddess-like fair dame a potion did confect\nWith good old wine of Pramnius, and scrap\u2019d into the wine\nCheese made of goat\u2019s milk, and on it spers\u2019d flour exceeding fine.\nIn this sort for the wounded lord the potion she prepar\u2019d,\nAnd bad him drink. For company, with him old Nestor shar\u2019d.\nThus physically quench\u2019d they thirst, and then their spirits reviv\u2019d\nWith pleasant conference. And now Patroclus, being arriv\u2019d,\nMade stay at th\u2019 entry of the tent. Old Nestor, seeing it,\nRose, and receiv\u2019d him by the hand, and fain would have him sit.\nHe set that courtesy aside, excusing it with haste,\nSince his much-to-be-rev\u2019renced friend sent him to know who past,\nWounded with him in chariot, so swiftly through the shore;\n\u201cWhom now,\u201d said he, \u201cI see and know, and now can stay no more;\nYou know, good father, our great friend is apt to take offence,\nWhose fi\u2019ry temper will inflame sometimes with innocence.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cWhen will Peleus\u2019 son some royal pity show\nOn his thus wounded countrymen? Ah! is he yet to know\nHow much affliction tires our host? How our especial aid,\nTainted with lances, at their tents are miserably laid?\nUlysses, Diomed, our king, Eurypylus, Machaon,\nAll hurt, and all our worthiest friends; yet no compassion\nCan supple thy friend\u2019s friendless breast! Doth he reserve his eye\nTill our fleet burn, and we ourselves one after other die?\nAlas, my forces are not now as in my younger life.\nOh would to God I had that strength I us\u00e9d in the strife\nBetwixt us and the Elians, for oxen to be driv\u2019n,\nWhen Itymonius\u2019 lofty soul was by my valour giv\u2019n\nAs sacrifice to destiny, Hypirochus\u2019 strong son,\nThat dwelt in Elis, and fought first in our contention!\nWe forag\u2019d, as proclaim\u00e9d foes, a wondrous wealthy boot,\nAnd he, in rescue of his herds, fell breathless at my foot.\nAll the dorp boors with terror fled. Our prey was rich and great;\nTwice five and twenty flocks of sheep; as many herds of neat;\nAs many goats, and nasty swine; an hundred fifty mares,\nAll sorrel, most with sucking foals. And these soon-monied wares\nWe drave into Neleius\u2019 town, fair Pylos, all by night.\nMy father\u2019s heart was glad to see so much good fortune quite\nThe forward mind of his young son, that us\u2019d my youth in deeds,\nAnd would not smother it in moods. Now drew the Sun\u2019s bright steeds\nLight from the hills; our heralds now accited all that were\nEndamag\u2019d by the Elians; our princes did appear;\nOur boot was parted; many men th\u2019 Epeians much did owe,\nThat, being our neighbours, they did spoil; afflictions did so flow\nOn us poor Pylians, though but few. In brake great Hercules\nTo our sad confines of late years, and wholly did suppress\nOur hapless princes. Twice-six Sons renown\u2019d Neleius bred,\nOnly myself am left of all, the rest subdu\u2019d and dead.\nAnd this was it that made so proud the base Epeian bands,\nOn their near neighbours, being oppress\u2019d, to lay injurious hands.\nA herd of oxen for himself, a mighty flock of sheep,\nMy sire selected, and made choice of shepherds for their keep;\nAnd from the gen\u2019ral spoil he cull\u2019d three hundred of the best.\nThe Elians ought him infinite, most plagu\u2019d of all the rest.\nFour wager-winning horse he lost, and chariots intervented,\nBeing led to an appointed race; the prize that was presented\nWas a religious three-foot urn; Augeas was the king\nThat did detain them, and dismiss\u2019d their keeper sorrowing\nFor his lov\u2019d charge lost with foul words. Then both for words and\ndeeds\nMy sire being worthily incens\u2019d, thus justly he proceeds\nTo satisfaction, in first choice of all our wealthy prise;\nAnd, as he shar\u2019d much, much he left his subjects to suffice,\nThat none might be oppress\u2019d with pow\u2019r, or want his portion due.\nThus for the public good we shar\u2019d. Then we to temples drew\nOur c\u00f3mplete city, and to heav\u2019n we thankful rites did burn\nFor our rich conquest. The third day ensuing our return\nThe Elians flew on us in heaps; their gen\u2019ral leaders were\nThe two Moliones, two boys, untrain\u00e9d in the fear\nOf horrid war, or use of strength. A certain city shines\nUpon a lofty prominent, and in th\u2019 extreme confines\nOf sandy Pylos, seated where Alpheus\u2019 flood doth run,\nAnd call\u2019d Thryessa; this they sieg\u2019d, and gladly would have won,\nBut, having pass\u2019d through all our fields, Minerva as our spy\nFell from Olympus in the night, and arm\u2019d us instantly;\nNor muster\u2019d she unwilling men, nor unprepar\u2019d for force.\nMy sire yet would not let me arm, but hid away my horse,\nEsteeming me no soldier yet; yet shin\u2019d I nothing less\nAmongst our gallants, though on foot; Minerva\u2019s mightiness\nLed me to fight, and made me bear a soldier\u2019s worthy name.\nThere is a flood falls into sea, and his crook\u2019d course doth frame\nClose to Arena, and is call\u2019d bright Miny\u00e6us\u2019 stream.\nThere made we halt, and there the sun cast many a glorious beam\nOn our bright armours, horse and foot insea\u2019d together there.\nThen march\u2019d we on. By fi\u2019ry noon we saw the sacred clear\nOf great Alpheus, where to Jove we did fair sacrifice;\nAnd to the azure God, that rules the under-liquid skies,\nWe offer\u2019d up a solemn bull; a bull t\u2019 Alpheus\u2019 name;\nAnd to the blue-ey\u2019d Maid we burn\u2019d a heifer never tame.\nNow was it night; we supp\u2019d and slept, about the flood, in arms.\nThe foe laid hard siege to our town, and shook it with alarms,\nBut, for prevention of their spleens, a mighty work of war\nAppear\u2019d behind them; for as soon as Ph\u0153bus\u2019 fi\u2019ry car\nCast night\u2019s foul darkness from his wheels (invoking rev\u2019rend Jove,\nAnd the unconquer\u2019d Maid his birth) we did th\u2019 event approve,\nAnd gave them battle. First of all, I slew (the army saw)\nThe mighty soldier Mulius, Augeas\u2019 son-in-law,\nAnd spoil\u2019d him of his one hoof\u2019d horse; his eldest daughter was\nBright Agamede, that for skill in simples did surpass,\nAnd knew as many kind of drugs, as earth\u2019s broad centre bred.\nHim charg\u2019d I with my brass-arm\u2019d lance, the dust receiv\u2019d him dead.\nI, leaping to his chariot, amongst the foremost press\u2019d,\nAnd the great-hearted Elians fled frighted, seeing their best\nAnd loftiest soldier taken down, the gen\u2019ral of their horse.\nI follow\u2019d like a black whirlwind, and did for prise enforce\nFull fifty chariots, ev\u2019ry one furnish\u2019d with two arm\u2019d men,\nWho ate the earth, slain with my lance. And I had slaughter\u2019d then\nThe two young boys, Moliones, if their world-circling sire,\nGreat Neptune, had not saft their lives, and cover\u2019d their retire\nWith unpierc\u2019d clouds. Then Jove bestow\u2019d a haughty victory\nUpon us Pylians; for so long we did the chace apply,\nSlaught\u2019ring and making spoil of arms, till sweet Buprasius\u2019 soil,\nAlesius, and Olenia, were fam\u2019d with our recoil;\nFor there Minerva turn\u2019d our pow\u2019r, and there the last I slew\nAs, when our battle join\u2019d, the first. The Pylians then withdrew\nTo Pylas from Buprasius. Of all th\u2019 Immortals then,\nThey most thank\u2019d Jove for victory; Nestor the most of men.\nSuch was I ever, if I were employ\u2019d with other peers,\nAnd I had honour of my youth, which dies not in my years.\nAnd great Achilles only joys hability of act\nIn his brave prime, and doth not deign t\u2019 impart it where \u2019tis lack\u2019d.\nNo doubt he will extremely mourn, long after that black hour\nWherein our ruin shall be brought, and rue his ruthless pow\u2019r,\nO friend! my memory revives the charge Men\u0153tius gave\nThy towardness, when thou sett\u2019st forth, to keep out of the grave\nOur wounded honour. I myself and wise Ulysses were\nWithin the room, where ev\u2019ry word then spoken we did hear,\nFor we were come to Peleus\u2019 court, as we did must\u2019ring pass\nThrough rich Achaia, where thy sire, Men\u0153tius, was,\nThyself and great \u00c6acides, when Pele\u00fcs the king\nTo thunder-loving Jove did burn an ox for offering,\nIn his court-yard. A cup of gold, crown\u2019d with red wine, he held\nOn th\u2019 holy incensory pour\u2019d. You, when the ox was fell\u2019d,\nWere dressing his divided limbs; we in the portal stood.\nAchilles seeing us come so near, his honourable blood\nWas strook with a respective shame, rose, took us by the hands,\nBrought us both in, and made us sit, and us\u2019d his kind commands\nFor seemly hospitable rites, which quickly were appos\u2019d.\nThen, after needfulness of food, I first of all disclos\u2019d\nThe royal cause of our repair; mov\u2019d you and your great friend\nTo consort our renown\u2019d designs; both straight did condescend.\nYour fathers knew it, gave consent, and grave instruction\nTo both your valours. Peleus charg\u2019d his most unequall\u2019d son\nTo govern his victorious strength, and shine past all the rest\nIn honour, as in mere main force. Then were thy partings blest\nWith dear advices from thy sire; \u2018My lov\u00e9d son,\u2019 said he,\n\u2018Achilles, by his grace of birth, superior is to thee,\nAnd for his force more excellent, yet thou more ripe in years;\nThen with sound counsels, age\u2019s fruits, employ his honour\u2019d years,\nCommand and overrule his moods; his nature will obey\nIn any charge discreetly giv\u2019n, that doth his good assay.\u2019\n\u201cThus charg\u2019d thy sire, which thou forgett\u2019st. Yet now at last approve,\nWith forc\u00e9d reference of these, th\u2019 attraction of his love;\nWho knows if sacred influence may bless thy good intent,\nAnd enter with thy gracious words, ev\u2019n to his full consent?\nThe admonition of a friend is sweet and vehement.\nIf any oracle he shun, or if his mother-queen\nHath brought him some instinct from Jove, that fortifies his spleen,\nLet him resign command to thee of all his Myrmidons,\nAnd yield by that means some repulse to our confusions,\nAdorning thee in his bright arms, that his resembled form\nMay haply make thee thought himself, and calm this hostile storm;\nThat so a little we may ease our overcharg\u00e9d hands,\nDraw some breath, not expire it all. The foe but faintly stands\nBeneath his labours; and your charge being fierce, and freshly giv\u2019n,\nThey eas\u2019ly from our tents and fleet may to their walls be driv\u2019n.\u201d\nThis mov\u2019d the good Patroclus\u2019 mind; who made his utmost haste\nT\u2019 inform his friend; and as the fleet of Ithacus he past,\n(At which their markets were dispos\u2019d, councils, and martial courts,\nAnd where to th\u2019 altars of the Gods they made divine resorts)\nHe met renown\u2019d Eurypylus, Evemon\u2019s noble son,\nHalting, his thigh hurt with a shaft, the liquid sweat did run\nDown from his shoulders and his brows, and from his raging wound\nForth flow\u2019d his melancholy blood, yet still his mind was sound.\nHis sight in kind Patroclus\u2019 breast to sacred pity turn\u2019d,\nAnd (nothing more immartial for true ruth) thus he mourn\u2019d:\n\u201cAh wretched progeny of Greece, princes, dejected kings,\nWas it your fates to nourish beasts, and serve the outcast wings\nOf savage vultures here in Troy? Tell me, Evemon\u2019s fame,\nDo yet the Greeks withstand his force, whom yet no force can tame?\nOr are they hopeless thrown to death by his resistless lance?\u201d\n\u201cDivine Patroclus,\u201d he replied, \u201cno more can Greece advance\nDefensive weapons, but to fleet they headlong must retire,\nFor those that to this hour have held our fleet from hostile fire,\nAnd are the bulwarks of our host, lie wounded at their tents,\nAnd Troy\u2019s unvanquishable pow\u2019r, still as it toils augments.\nBut take me to thy black-stern\u2019d ship, save me, and from my thigh\nCut out this arrow, and the blood, that is ingor\u2019d and dry,\nWash with warm water from the wound; then gentle salves apply,\nWhich thou know\u2019st best, thy princely friend hath taught thee surgery,\nWhom, of all Centaurs the most just, Chiron did institute.\nThus to thy honourable hands my ease I prosecute,\nSince our physicians cannot help. Machaon at his tent\nNeeds a physician himself, being leech and patient;\nAnd Podalirius, in the field, the sharp conflict sustains.\u201d\nStrong Men\u0153tiades replied: \u201cHow shall I ease thy pains?\nWhat shall we do, Eurypylus? I am to use all haste,\nTo signify to Thetis\u2019 son occurrents that have past,\nAt Nestor\u2019s honourable suit. But be that work achiev\u2019d\nWhen this is done, I will not leave thy torments unrelieved.\u201d\nThis said, athwart his back he cast, beneath his breast, his arm,\nAnd nobly help\u2019d him to his tent. His servants, seeing his harm,\nDispread ox-hides upon the earth, whereon Machaon lay.\nPatroclus cut out the sharp shaft, and clearly wash\u2019d away\nWith lukewarm water the black blood; then \u2019twixt his hands he bruis\u2019d\nA sharp and mitigatory root; which when he had infus\u2019d\nInto the green, well-cleansed, wound, the pains he felt before\nWere well, and instantly allay\u2019d; the wound did bleed no more.\n\nTHE END OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nThe Trojans at the trench their pow\u2019rs engage,\nThough greeted by a bird of bad presage.\nIn five parts they divide their pow\u2019r to scale,\nAnd Prince Sarpedon forceth down the pale.\nGreat Hector from the ports tears out a stone,\nAnd with so dead a strength he sets it gone\nAt those broad gates the Grecians made to guard\nTheir tents and ships, that, broken, and unbarr\u2019d,\nThey yield way to his pow\u2019r; when all contend\nTo reach the ships; which all at last ascend.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nMy works the Trojans all the grace,\nAnd doth the Grecian fort deface.\n\n\nPatroclus thus employ\u2019d in cure of hurt Eurypylus,\nBoth hosts are all for other wounds doubly contentious,\nOne always labouring to expel, the other to invade.\nNor could the broad dike of the Greeks, or that strong wall they made\nTo guard their fleet, be long unras\u2019d; because it was not rais\u2019d\nBy grave direction of the Gods, nor were their Deities prais\u2019d\n(When they begun) with hecatombs, that then they might be sure\n(Their strength being season\u2019d well with heav\u2019n\u2019s) it should have force t\u2019 endure,\nAnd so, the safeguard of their fleet, and all their treasure there,\nInfallibly had been confirm\u2019d; when, now, their bulwarks were\nNot only without pow\u2019r of check to their assaulting foe\n(Ev\u2019n now, as soon as they were built) but apt to overthrow;\nSuch as, in very little time, shall bury all their sight\nAnd thought that ever they were made. As long as the despite\nOf great \u00c6acides held up, and Hector went not down,\nAnd that by those two means stood safe king Priam\u2019s sacred town,\nSo long their rampire had some use, though now it gave some way;\nBut when Troy\u2019s best men suffer\u2019d fate, and many Greeks did pay\nDear for their suff\u2019rance, then the rest home to their country turn\u2019d,\nThe tenth year of their wars at Troy, and Troy was sack\u2019d and burn\u2019d.\nAnd then the Gods fell to their fort; then they their pow\u2019rs employ\nTo ruin their work, and left less of that than they of Troy.\nNeptune and Ph\u0153bus tumbled down, from the Idalian hills,\nAn inundation of all floods, that thence the broad sea fills\nOn their huge rampire; in one glut, all these together roar\u2019d,\nRhesus, Heptaporus, Rhodius, Scamander the ador\u2019d,\nCaresus, Simois, Grenicus, \u00c6sepus; of them all\nApollo open\u2019d the rough mouths, and made their lusty fall\nRavish the dusty champian, where many a helm and shield,\nAnd half-god race of men, were strew\u2019d. And, that all these might yield\nFull tribute to the heav\u2019nly work, Neptune and Ph\u0153bus won\nJove to unburthen the black wombs of clouds, fill\u2019d by the sun,\nAnd pour them into all their streams, that quickly they might send\nThe huge wall swimming to the sea. Nine days their lights did spend\nTo nights in tempests; and when all their utmost depth had made,\nJove, Ph\u0153bus, Neptune, all came down, and all in state did wade\nTo ruin of that impious fort. Great Neptune went before,\nWrought with his trident, and the stones, trunks, roots of trees, he tore\nOut of the rampire, toss\u2019d them all into the Hellespont,\nEv\u2019n all the proud toil of the Greeks, with which they durst confront\nThe to-be shunn\u00e9d Deities, and not a stone remain\u2019d\nOf all their huge foundations, all with the earth were plain\u2019d.\nWhich done, again the Gods turn\u2019d back the silver-flowing floods\nBy that vast channel, through whose vaults they pour\u2019d abroad their broods,\nAnd cover\u2019d all the ample shore again with dusty sand.\nAnd this the end was of that wall, where now so many a hand\nWas emptied of stones and darts, contending to invade;\nWhere Clamour spent so high a throat; and where the fell blows made\nThe new-built wooden turrets groan. And here the Greeks were pent,\nTam\u2019d with the iron whip of Jove, that terrors vehement\nShook over them by Hector\u2019s hand, who was in ev\u2019ry thought\nThe terror-master of the field, and like a whirlwind fought,\nAs fresh as in his morn\u2019s first charge. And as a savage boar,\nOr lion, hunted long, at last, with hounds\u2019 and hunters\u2019 store\nIs compass\u2019d round; they charge him close, and stand (as in a tow\u2019r\nThey had inchas\u2019d him) pouring on of darts an iron show\u2019r;\nHis glorious heart yet nought appall\u2019d, and forcing forth his way,\nHere overthrows a troop, and there a running ring doth stay\nHis utter passage; when, again, that stay he overthrows,\nAnd then the whole field frees his rage; so Hector wearies blows,\nRuns out his charge upon the fort, and all his force would force\nTo pass the dike; which, being so deep, they could not get their horse\nTo venture on, but trample, snore, and on the very brink\nTo neigh with spirit, yet still stand off. Nor would a human think\nThe passage safe; or, if it were, \u2019twas less safe for retreat;\nThe dike being ev\u2019rywhere so deep, and, where \u2019twas least deep, set\nWith stakes exceeding thick, sharp, strong, that horse could never\npass,\nMuch less their chariots after them; yet for the foot there was\nSome hopeful service, which they wish\u2019d. Polydamas then spake:\n\u201cHector, and all our friends of Troy, we indiscreetly make\nOffer of passage with our horse; ye see the stakes, the wall,\nImpossible for horse to take; nor can men fight at all,\nThe place being strait, and much more apt to let us take our bane\nThan give the enemy. And yet, if Jove decree the wane\nOf Grecian glory utterly, and so bereave their hearts\nThat we may freely charge them thus, and then will take our parts,\nI would with all speed wish th\u2019 assault, that ugly shame might shed\n(Thus far from home) these Grecians\u2019 bloods. But, if they once turn\nhead\nAnd sally on us from their fleet, when in so deep a dike\nWe shall lie struggling, not a man of all our host is like\nTo live and carry back the news. And therefore be it thus:\nHere leave we horse kept by our men, and all on foot let us\nHold close together, and attend the grace of Hector\u2019s guide,\nAnd then they shall not bear our charge, our conquest shall be dyed\nIn their lives\u2019 purples.\u201d This advice pleas\u2019d Hector, for \u2019twas sound;\nWho first obey\u2019d it, and full-arm\u2019d betook him to the ground.\nAnd then all left their chariots when he was seen to lead,\nRushing about him, and gave up each chariot and steed\nTo their directors to be kept, in all procinct of war,\nThere, and on that side of the dike. And thus the rest prepare\nTheir onset: In five regiments they all their pow\u2019r divide,\nEach regiment allow\u2019d three chiefs. Of all which ev\u2019n the pride\nServ\u2019d in great Hector\u2019s regiment; for all were set on fire\n(Their passage beaten through the wall) with hazardous desire\nThat they might once but fight at fleet. With Hector captains were\nPolydamas, and Cebriones, who was his charioteer;\nBut Hector found that place a worse. Chiefs of the second band\nWere Paris and Alcathous, Agenor. The command\nThe third strong phalanx had, was giv\u2019n to th\u2019 augur Helenus,\nDeiphobus, that god-like man, and mighty Asius,\nEv\u2019n Asius Hyrtacides, that from Arisba rode\nThe huge bay horse, and had his house where river Selle\u00ebs flow\u2019d.\nThe fourth charge good \u00c6neas led, and with him were combin\u2019d\nArchelochus, and Acamas, Antenor\u2019s dearest kind,\nAnd excellent at ev\u2019ry fight. The fifth brave company\nSarpedon had to charge, who choos\u2019d, for his command\u2019s supply,\nAsteropseus great in arms, and Glaucus; for both these\nWere best of all men but himself, but he was fellowless.\nThus fitted with their well-wrought shields, down the steep dike they\ngo,\nAnd (thirsty of the wall\u2019s assault) believe in overthrow,\nNot doubting but with headlong falls to tumble down the Greeks\nFrom their black navy. In which trust, all on; and no man seeks\nTo cross Polydamas\u2019 advice with any other course,\nBut Asius Hyrtacides, who (proud of his bay horse)\nWould not forsake them, nor his man, that was their manager,\n(Fool that he was) but all to fleet, and little knew how near\nAn ill death sat him, and a sure, and that he never more\nMust look on lofty Ilion; but looks, and all, before,\nPut on th\u2019 all-cov\u2019ring mist of fate, that then did hang upon\nThe lance of great Deucalides; he fatally rush\u2019d on\nThe left hand way, by which the Greeks, with horse and chariot,\nCame usually from field to fleet; close to the gates he got,\nWhich both unbarr\u2019d and ope he found, that so the easier might\nAn entry be for any friend that was behind in flight;\nYet not much easier for a foe, because there was a guard\nMaintain\u2019d upon it, past his thought; who still put for it hard,\nEagerly shouting; and with him were five more friends of name,\nThat would not leave him, though none else would hunt that way for fame\n(In their free choice) but he himself. Orestes, Iamenus,\nAnd Acamas Asiades, Thoon, Oenomaus,\nWere those that follow\u2019d Asius. Within the gates they found\nTwo eminently valorous, that from the race renown\u2019d\nOf the right valiant Lapithes deriv\u2019d their high descent;\nFierce Leont\u00ebus was the one, like Mars in detriment.[1]\nThe other mighty Polyp\u00e6t, the great Pirithous\u2019 son.\nThese stood within the lofty gates, and nothing more did shun\nThe charge of Asius and his friends, than two high hill-bred oaks,\nWell-rooted in the binding earth, obey the airy strokes\nOf wind and weather, standing firm \u2019gainst ev\u2019ry season\u2019s spite.\nYet they pour on continued shouts, and bear their shields upright;\nWhen in the mean space Polyp\u00e6t and Leonteus cheer\u2019d\nTheir soldiers to the fleet\u2019s defence. But when the rest had heard\nThe Trojans in attempt to scale, clamour and flight did flow\nAmongst the Grecians; and then, the rest dismay\u2019d, these two\nMet Asius ent\u2019ring, thrust him back, and fought before their doors.\nNor far\u2019d they then like oaks that stood, but as a brace of boars,\nCouch\u2019d in their own bred hill, that hear a sort of hunter\u2019s shout,\nAnd hounds in hot trail coming on, then from their dens break out,\nTraverse their force, and suffer not, in wildness of their way,\nAbout them any plant to stand, but thickets off\u2019ring stay\nBreak through, and rend up by the roots, whet gnashes into air,\nWhich Tumult fills with shouts, hounds, horns, and all the hot affair\nBeats at their bosoms; so their arms rung with assailing blows,\nAnd so they stirr\u2019d them in repulse, right well assur\u2019d that those\nWho were within, and on the wall, would add their parts, who knew\nThey now fought for their tents, fleet, lives, and fame, and therefore\nthrew\nStones from the walls and tow\u2019rs, as thick as when a drift wind shakes\nBlack clouds in pieces, and plucks snow, in great and plumy flakes,\nFrom their soft bosoms, till the ground be wholly cloth\u2019d in white;\nSo earth was hid with stones and darts, darts from the Trojan fight,\nStones from the Greeks, that on the helms and bossy Trojan shields\nKept such a rapping, it amaz\u2019d great Asius, who now yields\nSighs, beats his thighs, and in a rage his fault to Jove applies:\n\u201cO Jove,\u201d said he, \u201cnow clear thou show\u2019st thou art a friend to lies,\nPretending, in the flight of Greece, the making of it good,\nTo all their ruins, which I thought could never be withstood;\nYet they, as yellow wasps, or bees (that having made their nest[2]\nThe grasping cranny of a hill) when for a hunter\u2019s feast\nHunters come hot and hungry in, and dig for honey-combs,\nThen fly upon them, strike and sting, and from their hollow homes\nWill not be beaten, but defend their labour\u2019s fruit, and brood;\nNo more will these be from their port, but either lose their blood\n(Although but two against all us) or be our pris\u2019ners made.\u201d\nAll this, to do his action grace, could not firm Jove persuade,\nWho for the gen\u2019ral counsel stood, and \u2019gainst his singular brave,\nBestow\u2019d on Hector that day\u2019s fame. Yet he and these behave\nThemselves thus nobly at this port; but how at other ports,\nAnd all alongst the stony wall, sole force, \u2019gainst force and forts,\nRag\u2019d in contention \u2019twixt both hosts, it were no easy thing,\nHad I the bosom of a God, to tune to life and sing.\nThe Trojans fought not of themselves, a fire from heav\u2019n was thrown\nThat ran amongst them, through the wall, mere added to their own.\nThe Greeks held not their own; weak Grief went with her wither\u2019d hand,\nAnd dipp\u2019d it deeply in their spirits, since they could not command\nTheir forces to abide the field, whom harsh Necessity,\nTo save those ships should bring them home, and their good fort\u2019s\nsupply,\nDrave to th\u2019 expulsive fight they made; and this might stoop them more\nThan Need itself could elevate, for ev\u2019n Gods did deplore\nTheir dire estates, and all the Gods that were their aids in war,\nWho, though they could not clear their plights, yet were their friends\nthus far,\nStill to uphold the better sort; for then did Polyp\u00e6t pass\nA lance at Damasus, whose helm was made with cheeks of brass,\nYet had not proof enough, the pile drave through it and his skull.\nHis brain in blood drown\u2019d, and the man, so late so spiritfull,\nFell now quite spiritless to earth. So emptied he the veins\nOf Pylon, and Ormenus\u2019 lives. And then Leonte\u00fcs gains\nThe life\u2019s end of Hippomachus, Antimachus\u2019s son;\nHis lance fell at his girdle-stead, and with his end begun\nAnother end. Leonte\u00fcs left him, and through the prease\n(His keen sword drawn) ran desp\u2019rately upon Antiphates,\nAnd lifeless tumbled him to earth. Nor could all these lives quench\nHis fi\u2019ry spirit, that his flame in Menon\u2019s blood did drench,\nAnd rag\u2019d up ev\u2019n to Iamen\u2019s, and young Orestes\u2019 life;\nAll heap\u2019d together made their peace in that red field of strife.\nWhose fair arms while the victors spoil\u2019d, the youth of Ilion\n(Of which there serv\u2019d the most and best) still boldly built upon\nThe wisdom of Polydamas, and Hector\u2019s matchless strength,\nAnd follow\u2019d, fill\u2019d with wondrous spirit, with wish and hope at length,\nThe Greeks\u2019 wall won, to fire their fleet. But, having pass\u2019d the dike,\nAnd willing now to pass the wall, this prodigy did strike\nTheir hearts with some delib\u2019rate stay: A high-flown eagle soar\u2019d\nOn their troops\u2019 left hand, and sustain\u2019d a dragon, all engor\u2019d,\nIn her strong seres, of wondrous size, and yet had no such check\nIn life and spirit but still she fought, and turning back her neck\nSo stung the eagle\u2019s gorge, that down she cast her fervent prey\nAmongst the multitude, and took upon the winds her way,\nCrying with anguish. When they saw a branded serpent sprawl\nSo full amongst them from above, and from Jove\u2019s fowl let fall,\nThey took it an ostent from him, stood frighted, and their cause\nPolydamas thought just, and spake: \u201cHector, you know, applause\nOf humour hath been far from me; nor fits it, or in war,\nOr in affairs of court, a man employ\u2019d in public care\nTo blanch things further than their truth, or flatter any pow\u2019r;\nAnd therefore for that simple course your strength has oft been sour\nTo me in councils; yet again, what shows in my thoughts best,\nI must discover. Let us cease, and make their flight our rest\nFor this day\u2019s honour, and not now attempt the Grecian fleet,\nFor this, I fear, will be th\u2019 event, the prodigy doth meet\nSo full with our affair in hand. As this high-flying fowl\nUpon the left wing of our host, implying our control,\nHover\u2019d above us, and did truss within her golden seres\nA serpent so embru\u2019d and big, which yet, in all her fears,\nKept life and fervent spirit to fight, and wrought her own release,\nNor did the eagle\u2019s eyry feed; so though we thus far prease\nUpon the Grecians, and perhaps may overrun their wall,\nOur high minds aiming at their fleet, and that we much appall\nTheir truss\u00e9d spirits; yet are they so serpent-like dispos\u2019d\nThat they will fight, though in our seres, and will at length be los\u2019d\nWith all our outcries, and the life of many a Trojan breast\nShall with the eagle fly, before we carry to our nest\nThem, or their navy.\u201d Thus expounds the augur this ostent,\nWhose depth he knows, and these should fear. Hector, with count\u2019nance\nbent,\nThus answer\u2019d him: \u201cPolydamas, your depth in augury\nI like not, and know passing well thou dost not satisfy\nThyself in this opinion; or if thou think\u2019st it true,\nThy thoughts the Gods blind, to advise, and urge that as our due,\nThat breaks our duties, and to Jove, whose vow and sign to me\nIs pass\u2019d directly for our speed; yet light-wing\u2019d birds must be,\nBy thy advice, our oracles, whose feathers little stay\nMy serious actions. What care I, if this, or th\u2019 other, way\nTheir wild wings sway them; if the right, on which the sun doth rise,\nOr, to the left hand, where he sets? \u2019Tis Jove\u2019s high counsel flys\nWith those wings that shall bear up us; Jove\u2019s, that both earth and\nheav\u2019n,\nBoth men and Gods, sustains and rules. One augury is giv\u2019n\nTo order all men, best of all; Fight for thy country\u2019s right.\nBut why fear\u2019st thou our further charge? For though the dang\u2019rous fight\nStrew all men here about the fleet, yet thou need\u2019st never fear\nTo bear their fates; thy wary heart will never trust thee where\nAn enemy\u2019s look is; and yet fight, for, if thou dar\u2019st abstain,\nOr whisper into any ear an abstinence so vain\nAs thou advisest, never fear that any foe shall take\nThy life from thee, for \u2019tis this lance.\u201d This said, all forwards make,\nHimself the first; yet before him exulting Clamour flew,\nAnd thunder-loving Jupiter from lofty Ida blew\nA storm that usher\u2019d their assault, and made them charge like him.\nIt drave directly on the fleet a dust so fierce and dim\nThat it amaz\u2019d the Grecians, but was a grace divine\nTo Hector and his following troops, who wholly did incline\nTo him, being now in grace with Jove, and so put boldly on\nTo raze the rampire; in whose height they fiercely set upon\nThe parapets, and pull\u2019d them down, raz\u2019d ev\u2019ry foremost fight,\nAnd all the buttresses of stone, that held their tow\u2019rs upright,\nThey tore away with crows of iron, and hop\u2019d to ruin all.\nThe Greeks yet stood, and still repair\u2019d the fore-fights of their wall\nWith hides of oxen, and from thence, they pour\u2019d down stones in show\u2019rs\nUpon the underminer\u2019s heads. Within the foremost tow\u2019rs\nBoth the Ajaces had command, who answer\u2019d ev\u2019ry part,\nTh\u2019 assaulters, and their soldiers, repress\u2019d, and put in heart;\nRepairing valour as their wall; spake some fair, some reprov\u2019d,\nWhoever made not good his place; and thus they all sorts mov\u2019d:\n\u201cO countrymen, now need in aid would have excess be spent,\nThe excellent must be admir\u2019d, the meanest excellent,\nThe worst do well. In changing war all should not be alike,\nNor any idle; which to know fits all, lest Hector strike\nYour minds with frights, as ears with threats. Forward be all your\nhands,\nUrge one another. This doubt down, that now betwixt us stands,\nJove will go with us to their walls.\u201d To this effect aloud\nSpake both the princes; and as high, with this, th\u2019 expulsion flow\u2019d.\nAnd as in winter time, when Jove his cold sharp jav\u2019lins throws\nAmongst us mortals, and is moved to white earth with his snows,\nThe winds asleep, he freely pours, till highest prominents,\nHill tops, low meadows, and the fields that crown with most contents\nThe toils of men, seaports, and shores, are hid, and ev\u2019ry place,\nBut floods, that snow\u2019s fair tender flakes, as their own brood,\nembrace;\nSo both sides cover\u2019d earth with stones, so both for life contend,\nTo show their sharpness; through the wall uproar stood up an end.\nNor had great Hector and his friends the rampire overrun,\nIf heav\u2019n\u2019s great Counsellor, high Jove, had not inflam\u2019d his son\nSarpedon (like the forest\u2019s king when he on oxen flies)\nAgainst the Grecians; his round targe he to his arm applies,\nBrass-leav\u2019d without, and all within thick ox-hides quilted hard,\nThe verge nail\u2019d round with rods of gold; and, with two darts prepar\u2019d,\nHe leads his people. As ye see a mountain-lion fare,\nLong kept from prey, in forcing which, his high mind makes him dare\nAssault upon the whole full fold, though guarded never so\nWith well-arm\u2019d men, and eager dogs; away he will not go,\nBut venture on, and either snatch a prey, or be a prey;\nSo far\u2019d divine Sarpedon\u2019s mind, resolv\u2019d to force his way\nThrough all the fore-fights, and the wall; yet since he did not see\nOthers as great as he in name, as great in mind as he,\nHe spake to Glaucus:[3] \u201cGlaucus, say, why are we honour\u2019d more\nThan other men of Lycia, in place; with greater store\nOf meats and cups; with goodlier roofs; delightsome gardens; walks;\nMore lands and better; so much wealth, that court and country talks\nOf us and our possessions, and ev\u2019ry way we go,\nGaze on us as we were their Gods? This where we dwell is so;\nThe shores of Xanthus ring of this; and shall we not exceed\nAs much in merit as in noise? Come, be we great in deed\nAs well as look; shine not in gold, but in the flames of fight;\nThat so our neat-arm\u2019d Lycians may say: \u2018See, these are right\nOur kings, our rulers; these deserve to eat and drink the best;\nThese govern not ingloriously; these, thus exceed the rest,\nDo more than they command to do.\u2019 O friend, if keeping back\nWould keep back age from us, and death, and that we might not wrack\nIn this life\u2019s human sea at all, but that deferring now\nWe shunn\u2019d death ever, nor would I half this vain valour show,\nNor glorify a folly so, to wish thee to advance;\nBut since we must go, though not here, and that, besides the chance\nPropos\u2019d now, there are infinite fates of other sort in death,\nWhich, neither to be fled nor \u2019scaped, a man must sink beneath,\nCome, try we, if this sort be ours, and either render thus\nGlory to others, or make them resign the like to us.\u201d\nThis motion Glaucus shifted not, but without words obey\u2019d.\nForeright went both, a mighty troop of Lycians follow\u00e9d.\nWhich by Menestheus observ\u2019d, his hair stood up on end,\nFor, at the tow\u2019r where he had charge, he saw Calamity bend\nHer horrid brows in their approach. He threw his looks about\nThe whole fights near, to see what chief might help the mis\u2019ry out\nOf his poor soldiers, and beheld where both th\u2019 Ajaces fought,\nAnd Teucer newly come from fleet; whom it would profit nought\nTo call, since tumult on their helms, shields, and upon the ports,\nLaid such loud claps; for ev\u2019ry way, defences of all sorts\nWere adding, as Troy took away; and Clamour flew so high\nHer wings strook heav\u2019n, and drown\u2019d all voice. The two dukes yet so\nnigh\nAnd at the offer of assault, he to th\u2019 Ajaces sent\nThoos the herald with this charge: \u201cRun to the regiment\nOf both th\u2019 Ajaces, and call both, for both were better here,\nSince here will slaughter, instantly, be more enforc\u2019d than there.\nThe Lycian captains this way make, who in the fights of stand\nHave often show\u2019d much excellence. Yet if laborious hand\nBe there more needful than I hope, at least afford us some,\nLet Ajax Telamonius and th\u2019 archer Teucer come.\u201d\nThe herald hasted, and arriv\u2019d; and both th\u2019 Ajaces told,\nThat Peteus\u2019 noble son desir\u2019d their little labour would\nEmploy himself in succouring him. Both their supplies were best,\nSince death assail\u2019d his quarter most; for on it fiercely press\u2019d\nThe well-prov\u2019d mighty Lycian chiefs. Yet if the service there\nAllow\u2019d not both, he pray\u2019d that one part of his charge would bear,\nAnd that was Ajax Telamon, with whom he wish\u2019d would come\nThe archer Teucer. Telamon left instantly his room\nTo strong Lycomedes, and will\u2019d Ajax Oiliades\nWith him to make up his supply, and fill with courages\nThe Grecian hearts till his return; which should he instantly\nWhen he had well reliev\u2019d his friend. With this the company\nOf Teucer he took to his aid; Teucer, that did descend\n(As Ajax did) from Telamon. With these two did attend\nPandion, that bore Teucer\u2019s bow. When to Menestheus\u2019 tow\u2019r\nThey came, alongst the wall, they found him, and his hearten\u2019d pow\u2019r,\nToiling in making strong their fort. The Lycian princes set\nBlack whirlwind-like, with both their pow\u2019rs, upon the parapet.\nAjax, and all, resisted them. Clamour amongst them rose.\nThe slaughter Ajax led; who first the last dear sight did close\nOf strong Epicles, that was friend to Jove\u2019s great Lycian son.\nAmongst the high munition heap, a mighty marble stone\nLay highest, near the pinnacle, a stone of such a paise\nThat one of this time\u2019s strongest men with both hands could not raise,\nYet this did Ajax rouse and throw, and all in sherds did drive\nEpicles\u2019 four-topp\u2019d casque and skull; who (as ye see one dive\nIn some deep river) left his height; life left his bones withal.\nTeucer shot Glaucus, rushing up yet higher on the wall,\nWhere naked he discern\u2019d his arm, and made him steal retreat\nFrom that hot service, lest some Greek, with an insulting threat,\nBeholding it, might fright the rest. Sarpedon much was griev\u2019d\nAt Glaucus parting, yet fought on, and his great heart reliev\u2019d\nA little with Alcmaon\u2019s blood, surnam\u2019d Thestorides,\nWhose life he hurl\u2019d out with his lance; which following through the\nprease\nHe drew from him. Down from the tow\u2019r Alcmaon dead it strook;\nHis fair arms ringing out his death. Then fierce Sarpedon took\nIn his strong hand the battlement, and down he tore it quite,\nThe wall stripp\u2019d naked, and broad way for entry and full fight\nHe made the many. Against him Ajax and Teucer made;\nTeucer the rich belt on his breast did with a shaft invade;\nBut Jupiter averted death, who would not see his son\nDie at the tails of th\u2019 Achive ships. Ajax did fetch his run,\nAnd, with his lance, strook through the targe of that brave Lycian\nking;\nYet kept he it from further pass, nor did it anything\nDismay his mind, although his men stood off from that high way\nHis valour made them, which he kept, and hop\u2019d that stormy day\nShould ever make his glory clear. His men\u2019s fault thus he blam\u2019d:\n\u201cO Lycians, why are your hot spirits so quickly disinflam\u2019d?\nSuppose me ablest of you all, \u2019tis hard for me alone\nTo ruin such a wall as this, and make confusion\nWay to their navy. Lend your hands. What many can dispatch,\nOne cannot think. The noble work of many hath no match.\u201d\nThe wise king\u2019s just rebuke did strike a rev\u2019rence to his will\nThrough all his soldiers; all stood in, and \u2019gainst all th\u2019 Achives\nstill\nMade strong their squadrons, insomuch, that to the adverse side,\nThe work show\u2019d mighty, and the wall, when \u2019twas within descried,\nNo easy service; yet the Greeks could neither free their wall\nOf these brave Lycians, that held firm the place they first did scale;\nNor could the Lycians from their fort the sturdy Grecians drive,\nNor reach their fleet. But as two men about the limits strive\nOf land that toucheth in a field, their measures in their hands,\nThey mete their parts out curiously, and either stiffly stands\nThat so far is his right in law, both hugely set on fire\nAbout a passing-little ground; so, greedily aspire\nBoth these foes to their sev\u2019ral ends, and all exhaust their most\nAbout the very battlements (for yet no more was lost ).[4]\nWith sword and fire they vex\u2019d for them their targes hugely round,\nWith ox-hides lin\u2019d, and bucklers light; and many a ghastly wound\nThe stern steel gave for that one prise; whereof though some receiv\u2019d\nTheir portions on their naked backs, yet others were bereav\u2019d\nOf brave lives, face-turn\u2019d, through their shields; tow\u2019rs, bulwarks,\nev\u2019rywhere\nWere freckled with the blood of men. Nor yet the Greeks did bear\nBase back-turn\u2019d faces; nor their foes would therefore be out-fac\u2019d.\nBut as a spinster poor and just, ye sometimes see, straight-lac\u2019d\nAbout the weighing of her web, who, careful, having charge\nFor which she would provide some means, is loth to be too large\nIn giving or in taking weight, but ever with her hand\nIs doing with the weights and wool, till both in just paise stand;[5]\nSo ev\u2019nly stood it with these foes, till Jove to Hector gave\nThe turning of the scales; who first against the rampire drave,\nAnd spake so loud that all might hear: \u201cO stand not at the pale,\nBrave Trojan friends, but mend your hands; up, and break through the\nwall,\nAnd make a bonfire of their fleet.\u201d All heard, and all in heaps\nGot scaling-ladders, and aloft. In mean space, Hector leaps\nUpon the port, from whose out-part he tore a massy stone,\nThick downwards, upward edg\u2019d; it was so huge an one\nThat two vast yeomen of most strength, such as these times beget,[6]\nCould not from earth lift to a cart, yet he did brandish it\nAlone, Saturnius made it light; and swinging it as nought,\nHe came before the planky gates, that all for strength were wrought,\nAnd kept the port; two-fold they were, and with two rafters barr\u2019d,\nHigh, and strong-lock\u2019d; he rais\u2019d the stone, bent to the hurl so hard,\nAnd made it with so main a strength, that all the gates did crack,\nThe rafters left them, and the folds one from another brake,\nThe hinges piecemeal flew, and through the fervent little rock\nThunder\u2019d a passage; with his weight th\u2019 inwall his breast did knock,\nAnd in rush\u2019d Hector, fierce and grim as any stormy night;\nHis brass arms round about his breast reflected terrible light;\nEach arm held-up held each a dart; his presence call\u2019d up all\nThe dreadful spirits his being held, that to the threaten\u2019d wall\nNone but the Gods might check his way; his eyes were furnaces;\nAnd thus he look\u2019d back, call\u2019d in all. All fir\u2019d their courages,\nAnd in they flow\u2019d. The Grecians fled, their fleet now and their\nfreight\nAsk\u2019d all their rescue. Greece went down; Tumult was at his height.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWELFTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Such maketh Virgil Pandaras and Bitias.\n\n\n [2] Apta ad rem comparatio.\n\n\n [3] Sarpedon\u2019s speech to Glaucus, neither equalled by any (in this\n kind) of all that have written.\n\n\n [4] _Admiranda et pen\u00e8 inimitabilis comparatio_ (saith Spond.); and\n yet in the explication of it, he thinks all superfluous but three\n words, \u1f40\u03bb\u03af\u03b3\u1ff3 \u1f10\u03bd\u1f76 \u03c7\u03ce\u03c1\u1ff3, _exiguo in loco_, leaving out other words more\n expressive, with his old rule, _uno pede, etc_.\n\n\n [5] A simile superior to the other, in which, comparing mightiest\n things with meanest, and the meanest illustrating the mightiest, both\n meeting in one end of this life\u2019s preservation and credit, our Homer\n is beyond comparison and admiration.\n\n\n [6] \u0394\u03cd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5 \u03b4\u03ae\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5, Duo viri plebei.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nNeptune (in pity of the Greeks\u2019 hard plight)\nLike Calchas, both th\u2019 Ajaces doth excite,\nAnd others, to repel the charging foe.\nIdomen\u00ebus bravely doth bestow\nHis kingly forces, and doth sacrifice\nOthryon\u00ebus to the Destinies,\nWith divers others. Fair Deiphobus,\nAnd his prophetic brother Helenus,\nAre wounded. But the great Priamides.\nGath\u2019ring his forces, heartens their address\nAgainst the enemy; and then the field\nA mighty death on either side doth yield.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nThe Greeks, with Troy\u2019s bold pow\u2019r dismay\u2019d,\nAre cheer\u2019d by Neptune\u2019s secret aid.\n\n\nJove helping Hector, and his host, thus close Achive fleet,\nHe let them then their own strengths try, and season there their sweet\nWith ceaseless toils and grievances; for now he turn\u2019d his face,\nLook\u2019d down, and view\u2019d the far-off land of well-rode men in Thrace,\nOf the renown\u2019d milk-nourish\u2019d men, the Hippemolgians,\nLong-liv\u2019d, most just, and innocent, and close-fought Mysians.\nNor turn\u2019d he any more to Troy his ever-shining eyes,\nBecause he thought not any one, of all the Deities,\nWhen his care left th\u2019 indiff\u2019rent field, would aid on either side.\nBut this security in Jove the great Sea-Rector spied,\nWho sat aloft on th\u2019 utmost top of shady Samothrace,\nAnd view\u2019d the fight. His chosen seat stood in so brave a place,\nThat Priam\u2019s city, th\u2019 Achive ships, all Ida, did appear\nTo his full view; who from the sea was therefore seated there.\nHe took much ruth to see the Greeks by Troy sustain such ill,\nAnd, mightily incens\u2019d with Jove, stoop\u2019d straight from that steep\nhill,\nThat shook as he flew off, so hard his parting press\u2019d the height.\nThe woods, and all the great hills near, trembled beneath the weight\nOf his immortal moving feet. Three steps he only took,\nBefore he far-off \u00c6gas reach\u2019d, but, with the fourth, it shook\nWith his dread entry. In the depth of those seas he did hold\nHis bright and glorious palace, built of never-rusting gold;\nAnd there arriv\u2019d, he put in coach his brazen-footed steeds,\nAll golden-maned, and pac\u2019d with wings; and all in golden weeds\nHe cloth\u2019d himself. The golden scourge, most elegantly done,\nHe took, and mounted to his seat; and then the God begun\nTo drive his chariot through the waves. From whirlpits ev\u2019ry way\nThe whales exulted under him, and knew their king; the sea\nFor joy did open; and, his horse so swift and lightly flew,\nThe under axletree of brass no drop of water drew;\nAnd thus these deathless coursers brought their king to th\u2019 Achive\nships.\n\u2018Twixt th\u2019 Imber cliffs and Tenedos, a certain cavern creeps\nInto the deep sea\u2019s gulfy breast, and there th\u2019 Earth-shaker stay\u2019d\nHis forward steeds, took them from coach, and heav\u2019nly fodder laid\nIn reach before them; their brass hoves he girt with gyves of gold,\nNot to be broken, nor dissolved, to make them firmly hold\nA fit attendance on their king; who went to th\u2019 Achive host,\nWhich, like to tempests or wild flames, the clust\u2019ring Trojans tost,\nInsatiably valorous, in Hector\u2019s like command,\nHigh sounding, and resounding, shouts; for hope cheer\u2019d ev\u2019ry hand,\nTo make the Greek fleet now their prise, and all the Greeks destroy.\nBut Neptune, circler of the earth, with fresh heart did employ\nThe Grecian hands. In strength of voice and body he did take\nCalchas\u2019 resemblance, and, of all, th\u2019 Ajaces first bespake,\nWho of themselves were free enough: \u201cAjaces, you alone\nSustain the common good of Greece, in ever putting on\nThe memory of fortitude, and flying shameful flight.\nElsewhere the desp\u2019rate hands of Troy could give me no affright,\nThe brave Greeks have withstood their worst; but this our mighty wall\nBeing thus transcended by their pow\u2019r, grave fear doth much appall\nMy careful spirits, lest we feel some fatal mischief here,\nWhere Hector, raging like a flame, doth in his charge appear,\nAnd boasts himself the best God\u2019s son. Be you conceited so,\nAnd fire so, more than human spirits, that God may seem to do\nIn your deeds, and, with such thoughts cheer\u2019d, others to such exhort,\nAnd such resistance; these great minds will in as great a sort\nStrengthen your bodies, and force check to all great Hector\u2019s charge,\nThough ne\u2019er so spirit-like, and though Jove still, past himself,\nenlarge\nHis sacred actions.\u201d Thus he touched, with his fork\u2019d sceptre\u2019s point,\nThe breasts of both; fill\u2019d both their spirits, and made up ev\u2019ry joint\nWith pow\u2019r responsive; when, hawk-like, swift, and set sharp to fly,\nThat fiercely stooping from a rock, inaccessible and high,\nCuts through a field, and sets a fowl (not being of her kind)\nHard, and gets ground still; Neptune so left these two, either\u2019s mind\nBeyond themselves rais\u2019d. Of both which, O\u00efleus first discern\u2019d\nThe masking Deity, and said: \u201cAjax, some God hath warn\u2019d\nOur pow\u2019rs to fight, and save our fleet. He put on him the hue\nOf th\u2019 augur Calchas. By his pace, in leaving us, I knew,\nWithout all question, \u2019twas a God; the Gods are eas\u2019ly known;\nAnd in my tender breast I feel a greater spirit blown,\nTo execute affairs of fight; I find my hands so free\nTo all high motion, and my feet seem feather\u2019d under me,\u201d\nThis Telamonius thus receiv\u2019d: \u201cSo, to my thoughts, my hands\nBurn with desire to toss my lance; each foot beneath me stands\nBare on bright fire, to use his speed; my heart is rais\u2019d so high\nThat to encounter Hector\u2019s self, I long insatiately.\u201d\nWhile these thus talk\u2019d, as overjoy\u2019d with study for the fight,\n(Which God had stirr\u2019d up in their spirits) the same God did excite\nThe Greeks that were behind at fleet, refreshing their free hearts\nAnd joints, being ev\u2019n dissolv\u2019d with toil; and (seeing the desp\u2019rate\nparts\nPlay\u2019d by the Trojans past their wall) grief strook them, and their\neyes\nSweat tears from under their sad lids, their instant destinies\nNever supposing they could \u2019scape. But Neptune, stepping in,\nWith ease stirr\u2019d up the able troops, and did at first begin\nWith Teucer, and Penele\u00fcs, th\u2019 heroe Leitus,\nDeipyrus, Meriones, and young Antilochus,\nAll \u00e9xpert in the deeds of arms: \u201cO youths of Greece,\u201d said he,\n\u201cWhat change is this? In your brave fight, I only look\u2019d to see\nOur fleet\u2019s whole safety; and, if you neglect the harmful field,\nNow shines the day when Greece to Troy must all her honours yield.\nO grief! So great a miracle, and horrible to sight,\nAs now I see, I never thought could have profan\u2019d the light!\nThe Trojans brave us at our ships, that have been heretofore\nLike faint and fearful deer in woods, distracted evermore\nWith ev\u2019ry sound, and yet \u2019scape not, but prove the torn up fare\nOf lynces, wolves, and l\u00ebopards, as never born to war.\nNor durst these Trojans at first siege, in any least degree,\nExpect your strength, or stand one shock of Grecian chivalry;\nYet now, far from their walls, they dare fight at our fleet maintain,\nAll by our Gen\u2019ral\u2019s cowardice, that doth infect his men\nWho, still at odds with him, for that will needs themselves neglect,\nAnd suffer slaughter in their ships. Suppose there was defect\n(Beyond all question) in our king, to wrong \u00c6acides,\nAnd he, for his particular wreak, from all assistance cease;\nWe must not cease t\u2019 assist ourselves. Forgive our Gen\u2019ral then,\nAnd quickly too. Apt to forgive are all good-minded men.\nYet you, quite void of their good minds, give good, in you quite lost,\nFor ill in others, though ye be the worthiest of your host.\nAs old as I am, I would scorn, to fight with one that flies,\nOr leaves the fight as you do now. The Gen\u2019ral slothful lies,\nAnd you, though slothful too, maintain with him a fight of spleen.\nOut, out, I hate ye from my heart. Ye rotten-minded men,\nIn this ye add an ill that\u2019s worse than all your sloth\u2019s dislikes.\nBut as I know to all your hearts my reprehension strikes,\nSo thither let just shame strike too; for while you stand still here\nA mighty fight swarms at your fleet, great Hector rageth there,\nHath burst the long bar and the gates.\u201d Thus Neptune rous\u2019d these men,\nAnd round about th\u2019 Ajaces did their phalanxes maintain\nTheir station firm; whom Mars himself, had he amongst them gone,\nCould not disparage, nor Jove\u2019s Maid that sets men fiercer on;\nFor now the best were chosen out, and they receiv\u2019d th\u2019 advance\nOf Hector and his men so full, that lance was lin\u2019d with lance,\nShields thicken\u2019d with oppos\u00e9d shields, targets to targets nail\u2019d,\nHelms stuck to helms, and man to man grew, they so close assail\u2019d,\nPlum\u2019d casques were hang\u2019d in either\u2019s plumes, all join\u2019d so close\ntheir stands,\nTheir lances stood, thrust out so thick by such all-daring hands,\nAll bent their firm breasts to the point, and made sad fight their joy\nOf both. Troy all in heaps strook first, and Hector first of Troy.\nAnd as a round piece of a rock, which with a winter\u2019s flood\nIs from his top torn, when a show\u2019r, pour\u2019d from a bursten cloud,\nHath broke the natural bond it held within the rough steep rock,\nAnd, jumping, it flies down the woods, resounding ev\u2019ry shock,\nAnd on, uncheck\u2019d, it headlong leaps, till in a plain it stay,\nAnd then, though never so impell\u2019d, it stirs not any way;\nSo Hector hereto throated threats, to go to sea in blood,\nAnd reach the Grecian ships and tents, without being once withstood.\nBut when he fell into the strengths the Grecians did maintain,\nAnd that they fought upon the square, he stood as fetter\u2019d then;\nAnd so the adverse sons of Greece laid on with swords and darts,\nWhose both ends hurt, that they repell\u2019d his worst; and he converts\nHis threats, by all means, to retreats; yet made as he retir\u2019d,\nOnly t\u2019 encourage those behind; and thus those men inspir\u2019d:\n\u201cTrojans! Dardanians! Lycians! All warlike friends, stand close;\nThe Greeks can never bear me long, though tow\u2019r-like they oppose.\nThis lance, be sure, will be their spoil; if ev\u2019n the best of Gods,\nHigh thund\u2019ring Juno\u2019s husband, stirs my spirit with true abodes,\u201d\nWith this all strengths and minds he mov\u2019d; but young Deiphobus,\nOld Priam\u2019s son, amongst them all was chiefly virtuous,\nHe bore before him his round shield, tripp\u2019d lightly through the\nprease,\nAt all parts cover\u2019d with his shield; and him Meriones\nCharg\u2019d with a glitt\u2019ring dart, that took his bull-hide orby shield,\nYet pierc\u2019d it not, but in the top itself did piecemeal yield,\nDeiphobus thrust forth his targe, and fear\u2019d the broken ends\nOf strong Meriones\u2019s lance, who now turn\u2019d to his friends;\nThe great hero\u00eb scorning much by such a chance to part\nWith lance and conquest, forth he went to fetch another dart,\nLeft at his tent. The rest fought on, the clamour heighten\u2019d there\nWas most unmeasur\u2019d. Teucer first did flesh the massacre,\nAnd slew a goodly man at arms, the soldier Imbrius,\nThe son of Mentor, rich in horse; he dwelt at Pedasus\nBefore the sons of Greece sieg\u2019d Troy; from whence he married\nMedesicaste, one that sprung of Priam\u2019s bastard-bed;\nBut when the Greek ships, double-oar\u2019d, arriv\u2019d at Ilion,\nTo Ilion he return\u2019d, and prov\u2019d beyond comparison\nAmongst the Trojans; he was lodg\u2019d with Priam, who held dear\nHis natural sons no more than him; yet him, beneath the ear,\nThe son of Telamon attain\u2019d, and drew his lance. He fell,\nAs when an ash on some hill\u2019s top (itself topp\u2019d wondrous well)\nThe steel hews down, and he presents his young leaves to the soil;\nSo fell he, and his fair arms groan\u2019d, which Teucer long\u2019d to spoil,\nAnd in he ran; and Hector in, who sent a shining lance\nAt Teucer, who, beholding it, slipp\u2019d by, and gave it chance\nOn Actor\u2019s son, Amphimachus, whose breast it strook; and in\nFlew Hector, at his sounding fall, with full intent to win\nThe tempting helmet from his head; but Ajax with a dart\nReach\u2019d Hector at his rushing in, yet touch\u2019d not any part\nAbout his body; it was hid quite through with horrid brass;\nThe boss yet of his targe it took, whose firm stuff stay\u2019d the pass,\nAnd he turn\u2019d safe from both the trunks; both which the Grecians bore\nFrom off the field. Amphimachus Menestheus did restore,\nAnd Stichius, to th\u2019 Achaian strength. Th\u2019 Ajaces (that were pleas\u2019d\nStill most with most hot services) on Trojan Imbrius seiz\u2019d.\nAnd as from sharply-bitten hounds, a brace of lions force\nA new-slain goat, and through the woods bear in their jaws the corse\nAloft, lift up into the air; so, up into the skies,\nBore both th\u2019 Ajaces Imbrius, and made his arms their prise.\nYet, not content, O\u00efliades, enrag\u2019d to see there dead\nHis much-belov\u2019d Amphimachus, he hew\u2019d off Imbrius\u2019 head;\nWhich, swinging round, bowl-like he toss\u2019d amongst the Trojan prease,\nAnd full at Hector\u2019s feet it fell. Amphimachus\u2019 decease,\nBeing nephew to the God of waves, much vex\u2019d the Deity\u2019s mind,\nAnd to the ships and tents he march\u2019d, yet more to make inclin\u2019d\nThe Grecians to the Trojan bane. In hasting to which end,\nIdomen\u00ebus met with him, returning from a friend,\nWhose ham late hurt, his men brought off; and having giv\u2019n command\nTo his physicians for his cure, much fir\u2019d to put his hand\nTo Troy\u2019s repulse, he left his tent. Him (like Andremon\u2019s son,\nPrince Thoas, that in Pleuron rul\u2019d, and lofty Calydon,\nTh\u2019 \u00c6tolian pow\u2019rs, and like a God was of his subjects lov\u2019d)\nNeptune encounter\u2019d, and but thus his forward spirit mov\u2019d:\n\u201cIdomen\u00ebus, prince of Crete! O whither now are fled\nThose threats in thee, with which the rest the Trojans menac\u00e9d?\u201d\n\u201cO Thoas,\u201d he replied, \u201cno one of all our host stands now\nIn any question of reproof, as I am let to know,\nAnd why is my intelligence false? We all know how to fight,\nAnd, (fear disanimating none) all do our knowledge right.\nNor can our harms accuse our sloth, not one from work we miss.\nThe great God only works our ill, whose pleasure now it is\nThat, far from home, in hostile fields, and with inglorious fate,\nSome Greeks should perish. But do thou, O Thoas, that of late\nHast prov\u2019d a soldier, and was wont, where thou hast sloth beheld,\nTo chide it, and exhort to pains, now hate to be repell\u2019d,\nAnd set on all men.\u201d He replied, \u201cI would to heav\u2019n, that he,\nWhoever this day doth abstain from battle willingly,\nMay never turn his face from Troy, but here become the prey\nAnd scorn of dogs! Come then, take arms, and let our kind assay\nJoin both our forces. Though but two, yet, being both combin\u2019d,\nThe work of many single hands we may perform. We find,\nThat virtue co-augmented thrives in men of little mind,\nBut we have singly match\u2019d the great.\u201d Thus said, the God again,\nWith all his conflicts, visited the vent\u2019rous flight of men.\nThe king turn\u2019d to his tent; rich arms put on his breast, and took\nTwo darts in hand, and forth he flew. His haste on made him look\nMuch like a fi\u2019ry meteor, with which Jove\u2019s sulph\u2019ry hand\nOpes heav\u2019n, and hurls about the air bright flashes, showing aland\nAbodes that ever run before tempest and plagues to men:\nSo, in his swift pace, show\u2019d his arms. He was encounter\u2019d then\nBy his good friend Meriones yet near his tent; to whom\nThus spake the pow\u2019r of Idomen: \u201cWhat reason makes thee come,\nThou son of Molus, my most lov\u2019d, thus leaving fight alone?\nIs\u2019t for some wound? The jav\u2019lin\u2019s head, still sticking in the bone,\nDesir\u2019st thou ease of? Bring\u2019st thou news? Or what is it that brings\nThy presence hither? Be assur\u2019d, my spirit needs no stings\nTo this hot conflict. Of myself thou seest I come, and loth,\nFor any tent\u2019s love, to deserve the hateful taint of sloth.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: Only for a dart, he that retreat did make,\n(Were any left him at his tent) for, that he had, he brake\nOn proud Deiphobus\u2019s shield. \u201cIs one dart all?\u201d said he,\n\u201cTake one and twenty, if thou like, for in my tent they be;\nThey stand there shining by the walls. I took them as my prise\nFrom those false Trojans I have slain. And this is not the guise\nOf one that loves his tent, or fights afar off with his foe,\nBut since I love fight, therefore doth my martial star bestow,\nBesides those darts, helms, targets boss\u2019d, and corslets bright as\nday.\u201d\n\u201cSo I,\u201d said Merion, \u201cat my tent, and sable bark, may say,\nI many Trojan spoils retain, but now not near they be,\nTo serve me for my present use; and therefore ask I thee.\nNot that I lack a fortitude to store me with my own,\nFor ever in the foremost fights, that render men renown,\nI fight, when any fight doth stir. And this perhaps may well\nBe hid to others, but thou know\u2019st, and I to thee appeal.\u201d\n\u201cI know,\u201d replied the king, \u201chow much thou weigh\u2019st in ev\u2019ry worth,\nWhat need\u2019st thou therefore utter this? If we should now choose forth\nThe worthiest men for ambushes, in all our fleet and host,\n(For ambushes are services that try men\u2019s virtues most,\nSince there the fearful and the firm will, as they are, appear,\nThe fearful alt\u2019ring still his hue, and rests not anywhere,\nNor is his spirit capable of th\u2019 ambush constancy,\nBut riseth, changeth still his place, and croucheth curiously\nOn his bent haunches; half his height scarce seen above the ground,\nFor fear to be seen, yet must see; his heart, with many a bound,\nOff\u2019ring to leap out of his breast, and, ever fearing death,\nThe coldness of it makes him gnash, and half shakes out his teeth;\nWhere men of valour neither fear, nor ever change their looks,\nFrom lodging th\u2019 ambush till it rise, but, since there must be strokes,\nWish to be quickly in their midst) thy strength and hand in these\nWho should reprove? For if, far off, or fighting in the prease,\nThou shouldst be wounded, I am sure the dart that gave the wound\nShould not be drawn out of thy back, or make thy neck the ground,\nBut meet thy belly, or thy breast, in thrusting further yet\nWhen thou art furthest, till the first, and before him, thou get.\nBut on; like children let not us stand bragging thus, but do;\nLest some hear, and past measure chide, that we stand still and woo.\nGo, choose a better dart, and make Mars yield a better chance.\u201d\nThis said, Mars-swift Meriones, with haste, a brazen lance\nTook from his tent, and overtook, most careful of the wars,\nIdomen\u00ebus, And such two, in field, as harmful Mars,\nAnd Terror, his belov\u00e9d son, that without terror fights,\nAnd is of such strength that in war the frighter he affrights,\nWhen, out of Thrace, they both take arms against th\u2019 Ephyran bands,\nOr \u2019gainst the great-soul\u2019d Phlegians, nor favour their own hands,\nBut give the grace to others still; in such sort to the fight,\nMarch\u2019d these two managers of men, in armours full of light.\nAnd first spake Merion: \u201cOn which part, son of Deucalion,\nServes thy mind to invade the fight? Is\u2019t best to set upon\nThe Trojans, in our battle\u2019s aid, the right or left-hand wing,\nFor all parts I suppose employ\u2019d?\u201d To this the Cretan king\nThus answer\u2019d: \u201cIn our navy\u2019s midst are others that assist;\nThe two Ajaces; Teucer too, with shafts the expertest\nOf all the Grecians, and, though small, is great in fights of stand;\nAnd these (though huge he be of strength) will serve to fill the hand\nOf Hector\u2019s self, that Priamist, that studier for blows.\nIt shall be call\u2019d a deed of height for him (even suff\u2019ring throes\nFor knocks still) to outlabour them, and, bett\u2019ring their tough hands,\nEnflame our fleet. If Jove himself cast not his fire-brands\nAmongst our navy, that affair no man can bring to field.\nGreat Ajax Telamonius to none alive will yield\nThat yields to death, and whose life takes Ceres\u2019 nutritions,\nThat can be cut with any iron, or pash\u2019d with mighty stones;\nNot to \u00c6acides himself he yields for combats set,\nThough clear he must give place for pace and free swing of his feet.\nSince then, the battle (being our place of most care) is made good\nBy his high valour, let our aid see all pow\u2019rs be withstood\nThat charge the left wing, and to that let us direct our course,\nWhere quickly feel we this hot foe, or make him feel our force.\u201d\nThis order\u2019d, swift Meriones went, and forewent his king,\nTill both arriv\u2019d where one enjoin\u2019d. When, in the Greeks\u2019 left wing,\nThe Trojans saw the Cretan king, like fire in fortitude,\nAnd his attendant, in bright arms so gloriously indu\u2019d,\nBoth cheering the sinister troops, all at the king address\u2019d,\nAnd so the skirmish at their sterns on both parts were increas\u2019d,\nThat, as from hollow bustling winds engender\u2019d storms arise,\nWhen dust doth chiefly clog the ways which up into the skies\nThe wanton tempest ravisheth, begetting night of day;\nSo came together both the foes, both lusted to assay,\nAnd work with quick steel either\u2019s death. Man\u2019s fierce corruptress,\nFight,\nSet up her bristles in the field with lances long and light,\nWhich thick fell foul on either\u2019s face. The splendour of the steel,\nIn new-scour\u2019d curets, radiant casques, and burnish\u2019d shields, did seel\nTh\u2019 assailer\u2019s eyes up. He sustain\u2019d a huge spirit, that was glad\nTo see that labour, or in soul that stood not stricken sad.\nThus these two disagreeing Gods, old Saturn\u2019s mighty sons,\nAfflicted these heroic men with huge oppressi\u00f3ns.\nJove honouring \u00c6acides (to let the Greeks still try\nTheir want without him) would bestow, yet still, the victory\nOn Hector, and the Trojan pow\u2019r; yet for \u00c6acides,\nAnd honour of his mother-queen, great Goddess of the seas,\nHe would not let proud Ilion see the Grecians quite destroy\u2019d,\nAnd therefore from the hoary deep he suffered so employ\u2019d\nGreat Neptune in the Grecian aid; who griev\u2019d for them, and storm\u2019d\nExtremely at his brother Jove. Yet both one Goddess form\u2019d,\nAnd one soil bred, but Jupiter precedence took in birth,\nAnd had more knowledge; for which cause, the other came not forth[1]\nOf his wet kingdom, but with care of not being seen t\u2019 excite\nThe Grecian host, and like a man appear\u2019d, and made the fight.\nSo these Gods made men\u2019s valours great, but equall\u2019d them with war\nAs harmful as their hearts were good; and stretch\u2019d those chains as far\nOn both sides as their limbs could bear, in which they were involv\u2019d\nPast breach, or loosing, that their knees might therefore be dissolv\u2019d.\nThen, though a half-grey man he were, Crete\u2019s sov\u2019reign did excite\nThe Greeks to blows, and flew upon the Trojans, ev\u2019n to flight;\nFor he, in sight of all the host, Othryon\u00ebus slew,\nThat from Cabesus, with the fame of those wars, thither drew\nHis new-come forces, and requir\u2019d, without respect of dow\u2019r,\nCassandra, fair\u2019st of Priam\u2019s race; assuring with his pow\u2019r\nA mighty labour, to expell, in their despite, from Troy\nThe sons of Greece. The king did vow, that done, he should enjoy\nHis goodliest daughter. He (in trust of that fair purchase) fought;\nAnd at him threw the Cretan king a lance, that singled out\nThis great assumer, whom it strook just in his navel-stead.\nHis brazen curets helping nought, resign\u2019d him to the dead.\nThen did the conqueror exclaim, and thus insulted then:\n\u201cOthryon\u00ebus, I will praise, beyond all mortal men,\nThy living virtues, if thou wilt now perfect the brave vow\nThou mad\u2019st to Priam, for the wife he promis\u2019d to bestow.\nAnd where he should have kept his word, there we assure thee here,\nTo give thee for thy princely wife the fairest and most dear\nOf our great Gen\u2019ral\u2019s female race, which from his Argive hall\nWe all will wait upon to Troy, if, with our aids, and all,\nThou wilt but raze this well-built town. Come, therefore, follow me,\nThat in our ships we may conclude this royal match with thee.\nI\u2019ll be no jot worse than my word.\u201d With that he took his feet,\nAnd dragg\u2019d him through the fervent fight; in which did Asius meet\nThe victor, to inflict revenge. He came on foot before\nHis horse, that on his shoulders breath\u2019d; so closely evermore\nHis coachman led them to his lord; who held a huge desire\nTo strike the king, but he strook first, and underneath his chin,\nAt his throat\u2019s height, through th\u2019 other side, his eager lance drave\nin;\nAnd down he bustled like an oak, a poplar, or a pine,\nHewn down for shipwood, and so lay. His fall did so decline\nThe spirit of his charioteer, that, lest he should incense\nThe victor to impair his spoil, he durst not drive from thence\nHis horse and chariot; and so pleas\u2019d, with that respective part,\nAntilochus, that for his fear he reach\u2019d him with a dart\nAbout his belly\u2019s midst, and down his sad corse fell beneath\nThe richly builded chariot, there labouring out his breath.\nThe horse Antilochus took off; when, griev\u2019d for this event,\nDeiphobus drew passing near, and at the victor sent\nA shining jav\u2019lin; which he saw, and shunn\u2019d, with gath\u2019ring round\nHis body in his all-round shield, at whose top, with a sound,\nIt overflew; yet, seizing there, it did not idly fly\nfrom him that wing\u2019d it, his strong hand still drave it mortally\nOn Prince Hypsenor; it did pierce his liver, underneath\nThe veins it passeth; his shrunk knees submitted him to death.\nAnd then did lov\u2019d Deiphobus miraculously vaunt:\n\u201cNow Asius lies not unreveng\u2019d, nor doth his spirit want\nThe joy I wish it, though it be now ent\u2019ring the strong gate\nOf mighty Pluto, since this hand hath sent him down a mate.\u201d\nThis glory in him griev\u2019d the Greeks, and chiefly the great mind\nOf martial Antilochus, who though to grief inclin\u2019d,\nHe left not yet his friend, but ran and hid him with his shield;\nAnd to him came two lovely friends, that freed him from the field,\nMecisteus, son of Echius, and the right nobly born\nAlastor, bearing him to fleet, and did extremely mourn.\nIdomen\u00ebus sunk not yet, but held his nerves entire,\nHis mind much less deficient, being fed with firm desire\nTo hide more Trojans in dim night, or sink himself in guard\nOf his lov\u2019d countrymen. And then Alcathous prepar\u2019d\nWork for his valour, off\u2019ring fate his own destructi\u00f3n.\nA great hero\u00eb, and had grace to be the lov\u00e9d son\nOf \u00c6syetes, son-in-law to prince \u00c6neas\u2019 sire,\nHippodamia marrying; who most enflam\u2019d the fire\nOf her dear parents\u2019 love, and took precedence in her birth\nOf all their daughters, and as much exceeded in her worth\n(For beauty answer\u2019d with her mind, and both with housewif\u2019ry)\nAll the fair beauty of young dames that us\u2019d her company,\nAnd therefore, being the worthiest dame, the worthiest man did wed\nOf ample Troy. Him Neptune stoop\u2019d beneath the royal force\nOf Idomen, his sparkling eyes deluding, and the course\nOf his illustrious lineaments so out of nature bound,\nThat back nor forward he could stir, but, as he grew to ground,\nStood like a pillar, or high tree, and neither mov\u2019d, nor fear\u2019d;\nWhen straight the royal Cretan\u2019s dart in his mid breast appear\u2019d,\nIt brake the curets, that were proof to ev\u2019ry other dart,\nYet now they cleft and rung; the lance stuck shaking in his heart;\nHis heart with panting made it shake; but Mars did now remit\nThe greatness of it, and the king, now quitting the brag fit\nOf glory in Deiphobus, thus terribly exclaim\u2019d:\n\u201cDeiphobus, now may we think that we are ev\u2019nly fam\u2019d,\nThat three for one have sent to Dis. But come, change blows with me,\nThy vaunts for him thou slew\u2019st were vain. Come, wretch, that thou\nmay\u2019st see\nWhat issue Jove hath. Jove begot Minos, the strength of Crete;\nMinos begot Deucalion; Deucalion did beget\nMe Idomen, now Creta\u2019s king, that here my ships have brought\nTo bring thyself, thy father, friends, all Ilion\u2019s pomp, to nought.\u201d\nDeiphobus at two ways stood, in doubt to call some one,\nWith some retreat, to be his aid, or try the chance alone.\nAt last, the first seem\u2019d best to him, and back he went to call\nAnchises\u2019 son to friend, who stood in troop the last of all,\nWhere still he serv\u2019d; which made him still incense against the king,\nThat, being amongst his best their peer, he grac\u2019d not anything\nHis wrong\u2019d deserts. Deiphobus spake to him, standing near:\n\u201c\u00c6neas, prince of Troians, if any touch appear\nOf glory in thee, thou must now assist thy sister\u2019s lord,\nAnd one that to thy tend\u2019rest youth did careful guard afford,\nAlcathous, whom Creta\u2019s king hath chiefly slain to thee,\nHis right most challenging thy band. Come, therefore, follow me.\u201d\nThis much excited his good mind, and set his heart on fire\nAgainst the Cretan, who child-like dissolv\u2019d not in his ire,\nBut stood him firm. As when in hills a strength relying boar,\nAlone, and hearing hunters come, whom tumult flies before,\nUp-thrusts his bristles, whets his tusks, sets fire on his red eyes,\nAnd in his brave prepar\u2019d repulse doth dogs and men despise;\nSo stood the famous-for-his-lance, nor shunn\u2019d the coming charge\nThat resolute \u00c6neas brought. Yet, since the odds was large,\nHe call\u2019d with good right to his aid war-skill\u2019d Ascalaphus,\nAphare\u00fcs, Meriones, the strong Deipyrus,\nAnd Nestor\u2019s honourable son: \u201cCome near, my friends,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd add your aids to me alone. Fear taints me worthily,\nThough firm I stand, and show it not. \u00c6neas great in fight,\nAnd one that bears youth in his flow\u2019r, that bears the greatest might,\nComes on with aim direct at me. Had I his youthful limb\nTo bear my mind, he should yield fame, or I would yield it him.\u201d\nThis said, all held, in many souls, one ready helpful mind,\nClapp\u2019d shields and shoulders, and stood close.  \u00c6neas, not inclin\u2019d\nWith more presumption than the king, call\u2019d aid as well as he,\nDivine Agenor, Helen\u2019s love, who follow\u2019d instantly,\nAnd all their forces following them; as after bellwethers\nThe whole flocks follow to their drink, which sight the shepherd\ncheers.\nNor was \u00c6neas\u2019 joy less mov\u2019d to see such troops attend\nHis honour\u2019d person; and all these fought close about his friend;\nBut two of them, past all the rest, had strong desire to shed\nThe blood of either; Idomen, and Cytherea\u2019s seed.\n\u00c6neas first bestow\u2019d his lance, which th\u2019 other seeing shunn\u2019d,\nAnd that, thrown from an idle hand, stuck trembling in the ground.\nBut Idomen\u2019s, discharg\u2019d at him, had no such vain success,\nWhich \u0152nomaus\u2019 entrails found, in which it did impress\nHis sharp pile to his fall; his palms tore his returning earth.\nIdomen\u00ebus straight stepp\u2019d in, and pluck\u2019d his jav\u2019lin forth,\nBut could not spoil his goodly arms, they press\u2019d him so with darts.\nAnd now the long toil of the fight had spent his vig\u2019rous parts,\nAnd made them less apt to avoid the foe that should advance,\nOr, when himself advanc\u2019d again, to run and fetch his lance,\nAnd therefore in stiff fights of stand he spent the cruel day.\nWhen, coming softly from the slain, Deiphobus gave way\nTo his bright jav\u2019lin at the king, whom he could never brook;\nBut then he lost his envy too. His lance yet deadly took\nAscalaphus, the son of Mars; quite through his shoulder flew\nThe violent head, and down he fell. Nor yet by all means knew\nWide-throated Mars his son was fall\u2019n, but in Olympus\u2019 top\nSat canopied with golden clouds; Jove\u2019s counsel had shut up\nBoth him and all the other Gods from that time\u2019s equal task,\nWhich now, about Ascalaphus, strife set. His shining casque\nDeiphobus had forc\u2019d from him, but instantly leap\u2019d in\nMars-swift Meriones, and strook, with his long javelin,\nThe right arm of Deiphobus, which made his hand let fall\nThe sharp-topp\u2019d helmet; the press\u2019d earth resounding there withal.\nWhen, vulture-like, Meriones rush\u2019d in again and drew,\nFrom out the low part of his arm his jav\u2019lin, and then flew\nBack to his friends. Deiphobus, faint with the blood\u2019s excess\nFall\u2019n from his wound, was carefully convey\u2019d out of the press\nBy his kind brother by both sides, Polites, till they gat\nHis horse and chariot that were still set fit for his retreat,\nAnd bore him now to Ilion. The rest fought fiercely on,\nAnd set a mighty fight on foot. When next, Anchises\u2019 son\nAphareus Caletorides, that ran upon him, strook\nJust in the throat with his keen lance; and straight his head forsook\nHis upright carriage; and his shield, his helm, and all, with him\nFell to the earth; where ruinous death made prise of ev\u2019ry limb.\nAntilochus, discov\u2019ring well that Thoon\u2019s heart took check,\nLet fly, and cut the hollow vein, that runs up to his neck,\nAlong his back part, quite in twain; down in the dust he fell,\nUpwards, and, with extended hands, bade all the world farewell.\nAntilochus rush\u2019d nimbly in, and, looking round, made prise\nOf his fair arms; in which affair his round-set enemies\nLet fly their lances, thundering on his advanced targe,\nBut could not get his flesh. The God that shakes the earth took charge\nOf Nestor\u2019s son and kept him safe; who never was away,\nBut still amongst the thickest foes his busy lance did play,\nObserving ever when he might, far off, or near, offend;\nAnd watching Asius\u2019 son, in prease he spied him, and did send,\nClose coming on, a dart at him, that smote in midst his shield,\nIn which the sharp head of the lance the blue-hair\u2019d God made yield,\nNot pleas\u2019d to yield his pupil\u2019s life; in whose shield half the dart\nStuck like a truncheon burn\u2019d with fire; on earth lay th\u2019 other part.\nHe, seeing no better end of all, retir\u2019d in fear of worse\nBut him Meriones pursu\u2019d; and his lance found full course\nTo th\u2019 other\u2019s life. It wounded him betwixt the privy parts\nAnd navel, where, to wretched men that war\u2019s most violent smarts\nMust undergo, wounds chiefly vex. His dart Meriones\nPursu\u2019d, and Adamas so striv\u2019d with it, and his misease,\nAs doth a bullock puff and storm, whom in disdain\u00e9d bands\nThe upland herdsmen strive to cast; so, fall\u2019n beneath the hands\nOf his stern foe, Asiades did struggle, pant, and rave.\nBut no long time; for when the lance was pluck\u2019d out, up he gave\nHis tortur\u2019d soul. Then Troy\u2019s turn came; when with a Thracian sword\nThe temples of Deipyrus did Helenus afford\nSo huge a blow, it strook all light out of his cloudy eyes,\nAnd cleft his helmet; which a Greek, there fighting, made his prise,\nIt fell so full beneath his feet. Atrides griev\u2019d to see\nThat sight, and, threat\u2019ning, shook a lance at Helenus, and he\nA bow half drew at him; at once out flew both shaft and lance.\nThe shaft Atrides\u2019 curets strook; and far away did glance.\nAtrides\u2019 dart of Helenus the thrust out bow-hand strook,\nAnd, through the hand, stuck in the bow. Agenor\u2019s hand did pluck\nFrom forth the nail\u00e9d prisoner the jav\u2019lin quickly out;\nAnd fairly, with a little wool, enwrapping round about\nThe wounded hand, within a scarf he bore it, which his squire\nHad ready for him. Yet the wound would needs he should retire.\nPisander, to revenge his hurt, right on the king ran he.\nA bloody fate suggested him to let him run on thee,\nO Menelaus, that he might, by thee, in dang\u2019rous war\nBe done to death. Both coming on, Atrides\u2019 lance did err.\nPisander strook Atrides\u2019 shield, that brake at point the dart\nNot running through; yet he rejoic\u2019d as playing a victor\u2019s part.\nAtrides, drawing his fair sword, upon Pisander flew;\nPisander, from beneath his shield, his goodly weapon drew,\nTwo-edg\u2019d, with right sharp steel, and long, the handle olive-tree,\nWell-polish\u2019d; and to blows they go. Upon the top strook he\nAtrides\u2019 horse-hair\u2019d-feather\u2019d helm; Atrides on his brow,\nAbove th\u2019 extreme part of his nose, laid such a heavy blow\nThat all the bones crash\u2019d under it, and out his eyes did drop\nBefore his feet in bloody dust; he after, and shrunk up\nHis dying body, which the foot of his triumphing foe\nOpen\u2019d, and stood upon his breast, and off his arms did go,\nThis insultation us\u2019d the while: \u201cAt length forsake our fleet,\nThus ye false Trojans, to whom war never enough is sweet.\nNor want ye more impieties, with which ye have abus\u2019d\nMe, ye bold dogs, that your chief friends so honourably us\u2019d.\nNor fear you hospitable Jove, that lets such thunders go.\nBut build upon\u2019t, he will unbuild your tow\u2019rs that clamber so,\nFor ravishing my goods, and wife, in flow\u2019r of all her years,\nAnd without cause; nay, when that fair and lib\u2019ral hand of hers\nHad us\u2019d you so most lovingly. And now again ye would\nCast fire into our fleet, and kill our princes if ye could.\nGo to, one day you will be curb\u2019d, though never so ye thirst\nRude war, by war. O father Jove, they say thou art the first\nIn wisdom of all Gods and men, yet all this comes from thee,\nAnd still thou gratifiest these men, how lewd so e\u2019er they be,\nThough never they be cloy\u2019d with sins, nor can be satiate,\nAs good men should, with this vile war. Satiety of state,\nSatiety of sleep and love, satiety of ease,\nOf music, dancing, can find place; yet harsh war still must please\nPast all these pleasures, ev\u2019n past these. They will be cloy\u2019d with\nthese\nBefore their war joys. Never war gives Troy satieties.\u201d\nThis said, the bloody arms were oft; and to his soldiers thrown,\nHe mixing in first fight again. And then Harpalion,\nKind king Pyl\u00e6men\u2019s son, gave charge; who to those wars of Troy\nHis lov\u00e9d father follow\u00e9d, nor ever did enjoy\nHis country\u2019s sight again. He strook the targe of Atreus\u2019 son\nFull in the midst; his jav\u2019lin\u2019s steel yet had no pow\u2019r to run\nThe target through; nor had himself the heart to fetch his lance,\nBut took him to his strength, and cast on ev\u2019ry side a glance,\nLest any his dear sides should dart. But Merion, as he fled,\nSent after him a brazen lance, that ran his eager head\nThrough his right hip, and all along the bladder\u2019s regi\u00f3n\nBeneath the bone; it settled him, and set his spirit gone\nAmongst the hands of his best friends; and like a worm he lay\nStretch\u2019d on the earth, which his black blood imbru\u2019d, and flow\u2019d away.\nHis corse the Paphlagonians did sadly wait upon,\nRepos\u2019d in his rich chariot, to sacred Ilion;\nThe king his father following, dissolv\u2019d in kindly tears,\nAnd no wreak sought for his slain son. But, at his slaughterers\nIncens\u00e9d Paris spent a lance, since he had been a guest\nTo many Paphlagonians; and through the prease it press\u2019d.\nThere was a certain augur\u2019s son, that did for wealth excell,\nAnd yet was honest; he was born, and did at Corinth dwell;\nWho, though he knew his harmful fate, would needs his ship ascend.\nHis father, Polyidus, oft would tell him that his end\nWould either seize him at his house, upon a sharp disease,\nOr else among the Grecian ships by Trojans slain. Both these\nTogether he desir\u2019d to shun; but the disease, at last,\nAnd ling\u2019ring death in it, he left, and war\u2019s quick stroke embrac\u2019d.\nThe lance betwixt his ear and cheek ran in, and drave the mind\nOf both those bitter fortunes out. Night strook his whole pow\u2019rs blind.\nThus fought they, like the spirit of fire; nor Jove-lov\u2019d Hector knew\nHow in the fleet\u2019s left wing the Greeks his down-put soldiers slew\nAlmost to victory; the God that shakes the earth so well\nHelp\u2019d with his own strength, and the Greeks so fiercely did impel.\nYet Hector made the first place good, where both the ports and wall\n(The thick rank of the Greek shields broke) he enter\u2019d, and did skall,\nWhere on the gray sea\u2019s shore were drawn (the wall being there but\nslight)\nProtesilaus\u2019 ships, and those of Ajax, where the fight\nOf men and horse were sharpest set. There the B\u0153otian bands,\nLong-rob\u2019d Iaons, Locrians, and, brave men of their hands,\nThe Phthian and Epeian troops did spritefully assail\nThe god-like Hector rushing in; and yet could not prevail\nTo his repulse, though choicest men of Athens there made head;\nAmongst whom was Menestheus chief, whom Phidias follow\u00e9d,\nStichius and Bias, huge in strength. Th\u2019 Epeian troops were led\nBy Meges\u2019 and Phylides\u2019 cares, Amphion, Dracius.\nBefore the Phthians Medon march\u2019d, and Meneptolemus;\nAnd these, with the B\u0153otian pow\u2019rs, bore up the fleet\u2019s defence.\nO\u00efleus by his brother\u2019s side stood close, and would not thence\nFor any moment of that time. But, as through fallow fields\nBlack oxen draw a well-join\u2019d plough, and either ev\u2019nly yields\nHis thrifty labour, all heads couch\u2019d so close to earth they plow\nThe fallow with their horns, till out the sweat begins to flow,\nThe stretch\u2019d yokes crack, and yet at last the furrow forth is driven;\nSo toughly stood these to their task, and made their work as even.\nBut Ajax Telamonius had many helpful men\nThat, when sweat ran about his knees, and labour flow\u2019d, would then\nHelp bear his mighty sev\u2019n-fold shield; when swift O\u00efliades\nThe Locrians left, and would not make those murth\u2019rous fights of\nprease,\nBecause they wore no bright steel casques, nor bristled plumes for\nshow,\nRound shields, nor darts of solid ash, but with the trusty bow,\nAnd jacks well-quilted with soft wool, they came to Troy, and were,\nIn their fit place, as confident as those that fought so near,\nAnd reach\u2019d their foes so thick with shafts, that these were they that\nbrake\nThe Trojan orders first; and then, the brave arm\u2019d men did make\nGood work with their close fights before. Behind whom, having shot,\nThe Locrians hid still; and their foes all thought of fight forgot\nWith shows of those far-striking shafts, their eyes were troubled so.\nAnd then, assur\u2019dly, from the ships, and tents, th\u2019 insulting foe\nHad miserably fled to Troy, had not Polydamas\nThus spake to Hector: \u201cHector, still impossible \u2019tis to pass\nGood counsel upon you. But say some God prefers thy deeds,\nIn counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds.\nTo some God gives the pow\u2019r of war, to some the sleight to dance,\nTo some the art of instruments, some doth for voice advance;\nAnd that far-seeing God grants some the wisdom of the mind,\nWhich no man can keep to himself, that, though but few can find,\nDoth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state,\nAnd that, who hath, he best can prize. But, for me, I\u2019ll relate\nOnly my censure what\u2019s our best. The very crown of war\nDoth burn about thee; yet our men, when they have reach\u2019d thus far,\nSuppose their valours crown\u2019d, and cease. A few still stir their feet,\nAnd so a few with many fight, sperst thinly through the fleet.\nRetire then, leave speech to the rout, and all thy princes call,\nThat, here, in counsels of most weight, we may resolve of all,\nIf having likelihood to believe that God will conquest give,\nWe shall charge through; or with this grace, make our retreat, and\nlive.\nFor, I must needs affirm, I fear, the debt of yesterday\n(Since war is such a God of change) the Grecians now will pay.\nAnd since th\u2019 insatiate man of war remains at fleet, if there\nWe tempt his safety, no hour more his hot soul can forbear.\u201d\nThis sound stuff Hector lik\u2019d, approv\u2019d, jump\u2019d from his chariot,\nAnd said: \u201cPolydamas make good this place, and suffer not\nOne prince to pass it; I myself will there go, where you see\nThose friends in skirmish, and return (when they have heard from me\nCommand that your advice obeys) with utmost speed.\u201d This said,\nWith day-bright arms, white plume, white scarf, his goodly limbs\narray\u2019d,\nHe parted from them, like a hill, removing, all of snow,\nAnd to the Trojan peers and chiefs he flew, to let them know\nThe counsel of Polydamas. All turn\u2019d, and did rejoice,\nTo haste to Panthus\u2019 gentle son, being call\u2019d by Hector\u2019s voice;\nWho, through the forefights making way, look\u2019d for Deiphobus,\nKing Helenus, Asiades, Hyrtasian Asius,\nOf whom, some were not to be found unhurt, or undeceas\u2019d,\nSome only hurt, and gone from field. As further he address\u2019d,\nHe found within the fight\u2019s left wing the fair-hair\u2019d Helen\u2019s love\nBy all means moving men to blows; which could by no means move\nHector\u2019s forbearance, his friends\u2019 miss so put his pow\u2019rs in storm,\nBut thus in wonted terms he chid: \u201cYou with the finest form,\nImpostor, woman\u2019s man! where are, in your care mark\u2019d, all these,\nDeiphobus, King Helenus, Asius Hyrtacides,\nOthryon\u00ebus Acamas? Now haughty Ilion\nShakes to his lowest groundwork. Now just ruin falls upon\nThy head past rescue.\u201d He replied: \u201cHector, why chid\u2019st thou now,\nWhen I am guiltless? Other times, there are for ease, I know,\nThan these, for she that brought thee forth, not utterly left me\nWithout some portion of thy spirit, to make me brother thee.\nBut since thou first brought\u2019st in thy force, to this our naval fight,\nI and my friends have ceaseless fought, to do thy service right.\nBut all those friends thou seek\u2019st are slain; excepting Helenus,\nWho parted wounded in his hand, and so Deiphobus;\nJove yet averted death from them. And now lead thou as far\nAs thy great heart affects, all we will second any war\nThat thou endurest; and I hope, my own strength is not lost;\nThough least, I\u2019ll fight it to his best; nor further fights the most.\u201d\nThis calm\u2019d hot Hector\u2019s spleen; and both turn\u2019d where they saw the\nface\nOf war most fierce, and that was where their friends made good the\nplace\nAbout renown\u2019d Polydamas, and god-like Polyp\u00e6t,\nPalmus, Ascanius, Morus that Hippotion did beget,\nAnd from Ascania\u2019s wealthy fields but ev\u2019n the day before\nArriv\u2019d at Troy, that with their aid they kindly might restore\nSome kindness they receiv\u2019d from thence. And in fierce fight with\nthese,\nPhalces and tall Orth\u00e6us stood, and bold Cebriones.\nAnd then the doubt that in advice Polydamas disclos\u2019d,\nTo fight or fly, Jove took away, and all to fight dispos\u2019d.\nAnd as the floods of troubled air to pitchy storms increase\nThat after thunder sweeps the fields, and ravish up the seas,\nEncount\u2019ring with abhorr\u00e9d roars, when the engross\u00e9d waves\nBoil into foam, and endlessly one after other raves;\nSo rank\u2019d and guarded th\u2019 Ilians march\u2019d; some now, more now, and then\nMore upon more, in shining steel; now captains, then their men.\nAnd Hector, like man-killing Mars, advanc\u2019d before them all,\nHis huge round target before him, through thicken\u2019d, like a wall.\nWith hides well-couch\u2019d with store of brass; and on his temples shin\u2019d\nHis bright helm, on which danc\u2019d his plume; and in this horrid kind,\n(All hid within his world-like shield) he ev\u2019ry troop assay\u2019d\nFor entry, that in his despite stood firm and undismay\u2019d.\nWhich when he saw, and kept more off, Ajax came stalking then,\nAnd thus provok\u2019d him: \u201cO good man, why fright\u2019st thou thus our men?\nCome nearer. Not art\u2019s want in war makes us thus navy-bound,\nBut Jove\u2019s direct scourge; his arm\u2019d hand makes our hands give you\nground.\nYet thou hop\u2019st, of thyself, our spoil. But we have likewise hands\nTo hold our own, as you to spoil; and ere thy countermands\nStand good against our ransack\u2019d fleet, your hugely-peopled town\nOur hands shall take in, and her tow\u2019rs from all their heights pull\ndown.\nAnd I must tell thee, time draws on, when, flying, thou shalt cry\nTo Jove and all the Gods to make thy fair-man\u2019d horses fly\nMore swift than falcons, that their hoofs may rouse the dust, and bear\nThy body, hid, to Ilion.\u201d This said, his bold words were\nConfirm\u2019d as soon as spoke. Jove\u2019s bird, the high-flown eagle, took\nThe right hand of their host; whose wings high acclamations strook\nFrom forth the glad breasts of the Greeks. Then Hector made reply:\n\u201cVain-spoken man, and glorious, what hast thou said? Would I\nAs surely were the son of Jove, and of great Juno born,\nAdorn\u2019d like Pallas, and the God that lifts to earth the morn,\nAs this day shall bring harmful light to all your host, and thou,\nIf thou dar\u2019st stand this lance, the earth before the ships shalt\nstrow,\nThy bosom torn up, and the dogs, with all the fowl of Troy,\nBe satiate with thy fat and flesh.\u201d This said, with shouting joy\nHis first troops follow\u2019d, and the last their shouts with shouts\nrepell\u2019d.\nGreece answer\u2019d all, nor could her spirits from all show rest\nconceal\u2019d.\nAnd to so infinite a height all acclamations strove,\nThey reach\u2019d the splendours stuck about the unreach\u2019d throne of Jove.\n\nTHE END OF THE THIRTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] The empire of Jove exceeded Neptune\u2019s (saith Plut. upon this\n place) because he was more ancient, and excellent in knowledge and\n wisdom; and upon this verse, viz. \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, etc., sets down\n this his most worthy to be noted opinion: viz. I think also that the\n blessedness of eternal life, which God enjoys is this: that by any\n past time He forgets not notions presently apprehended; for otherwise,\n the knowledge and understanding of things taken away, immortality\n should not be life, but time, etc. (Plut. de Iside et Osiride).\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAtrides, to behold the skirmish, brings\nOld Nestor, and the other wounded kings.\nJuno (receiving of the Cyprian dame\nHer Ceston, whence her sweet enticements came)\nDescends to Somnus, and gets him to bind\nThe pow\u2019rs of Jove with sleep, to free her mind.\nNeptune assists the Greeks, and of the foe\nSlaughter inflicts a mighty overthrow.\nAjax so sore strikes Hector with a stone,\nIt makes him spit blood, and his sense sets gone.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn \u039e with sleep, and bed, heav\u2019n\u2019s Queen\nEv\u2019n Jove himself makes overseen.\n\n\nNot wine, nor feasts, could lay their soft chains on old Nestor\u2019s ear\nTo this high clamour, who requir\u2019d Machaon\u2019s thoughts to bear\nHis care in part, about the cause; \u201cFor, methink, still,\u201d said he,\n\u201cThe cry increases. I must needs the watchtow\u2019r mount, to see\nWhich way the flood of war doth drive. Still drink thou wine, and eat,\nTill fair-hair\u2019d Hecamed hath giv\u2019n a little water heat\nTo cleanse the quitture from thy wound.\u201d This said, the goodly shield\nOf warlike Thrasymed, his son, who had his own in field,\nHe took, snatch\u2019d up a mighty lance, and so stept forth to view\nCause of that clamour. Instantly th\u2019 unworthy cause he knew,\nThe Grecians wholly put in rout, the Trojans routing still,\nClose at the Greeks\u2019 backs, their wall raz\u2019d. The old man mourn\u2019d this\nill;\nAnd, as when with unwieldy waves the great sea fore-feels winds\nThat both ways murmur, and no way her certain current finds,\nBut pants and swells confusedly, here goes, and there will stay,\nTill on it air casts one firm wind, and then it rolls away;\nSo stood old Nestor in debate, two thoughts at once on wing\nIn his discourse, if first to take direct course to the king,\nOr to the multitude in fight. At last he did conclude\nTo visit Agamemnon first. Mean time both hosts imbrued\nTheir steel in one another\u2019s blood, nought wrought their healths but\nharms,\nSwords, huge stones, double-headed darts, still thumping on their arms.\nAnd now the Jove-kept kings, whose wounds were yet in cure, did meet\nOld Nestor, Diomed, Ithacus, and Atreus\u2019 sons, from fleet\nBent for the fight which was far off, the ships being drawn to shore\nOn heaps at first, till all their sterns a wall was rais\u2019d before,\nWhich, though not great, it yet suffic\u2019d to hide them, though their men\nWere something straited; for whose scope, in form of battle then,\nThey drew them through the spacious shore, one by another still,\nTill all the bosom of the strand their sable bulks did fill,\nEv\u2019n till they took up all the space \u2019twixt both the promont\u2019ries.\nThese kings, like Nestor, in desire to know for what those cries\nBecame so violent, came along, all leaning on their darts,\nTo see, though not of pow\u2019r to fight, sad and suspicious hearts\nDistemp\u2019ring them; and, meeting now Nestor, the king in fear\nCried out: \u201cO Nestor our renown! Why shows thy presence here,\nThe harmful fight abandoned? Now Hector will make good\nThe threat\u2019ning vow he made, I fear, that, till he had our blood,\nAnd fir\u2019d our fleet, he never more would turn to Ilion.\nNor is it long, I see, before his whole will will be done.\nO Gods! I now see all the Greeks put on Achilles\u2019 ire\nAgainst my honour; no mean left to keep our fleet from fire.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201c\u2019Tis an evident truth, not Jove himself can now,\nWith all the thunder in his hands, prevent our overthrow.\nThe wall we thought invincible, and trusted more than Jove,\nIs scal\u2019d, raz\u2019d, enter\u2019d; and our pow\u2019rs (driv\u2019n up) past breathing,\nprove\nA most inevitable fight; both slaughters so commix\u2019d,\nThat for your life you cannot put your diligent\u2019st thought betwixt\nThe Greeks and Trojans, and as close their throats cleave to the sky.\nConsult we then, if that will serve. For fight advise not I;\nIt fits not wounded men to fight.\u201d Atrides answer\u2019d him:\n\u201cIf such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tir\u00e9d limb,\nAnd such a dike be pass\u2019d, and raz\u2019d, that, as yourself said well,\nWe all esteem\u2019d invincible, and would past doubt repell\nThe world from both our fleet and us; it doth directly show\nThat here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know\nHis hand from ours when he help\u2019d us, and now I see as clear\nThat, like the bless\u00e9d Gods, he holds our hated enemies dear,\nSupports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, \u2019tis in vain\nTo strive with him. Our ships drawn up, now let us launch again,\nAnd keep at anchor till calm night, that then, perhaps, our foes\nMay calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose.\n\u2018It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night.\nKnown ill he better does that flies, than he it takes in fight.\u2019\u201d\nUlysses frown\u2019d on him, and said: \u201cAccurs\u2019d, why talk\u2019st thou thus?\nWould thou hadst led some barb\u2019rous host, and not commanded us\nWhom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly\nFrom any charge it undertakes, and ev\u2019ry dazzled eye\nThe honour\u2019d hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this\ntown,\nFor which our many mis\u2019ries felt entitle it our own?\nPeace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such;\nAs no man\u2019s palate should profane; at least that knew how much\nHis own right weigh\u2019d, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears\nRule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears,\nLet others toil in fight and cries, and we so light of heels\nUpon their very noise, and groans, to hoise away our keels.\nThus we should fit the wish of Troy, that, being something near\nThe victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear\nA slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain\nA stroke, the fleet gone, but at that, look still, and wish him slain.\nAnd therefore, prince of men, be sure, thy censure is unfit.\u201d\n\u201cO Ithacus,\u201d replied the king, \u201cthy bitter terms have smit\nMy heart in sunder. At no hand, \u2019gainst any prince\u2019s will\nDo I command this. Would to God, that any man of skill\nTo give a better counsel would, or old, or younger man!\nMy voice should gladly go with his.\u201d Then Diomed began:\n\u201cThe man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in,\nThat willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win\nFit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them,\nBeing youngest of you; since my sire, that heir\u2019d a diadem,\nMay make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he\nLies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree:\nPortheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calydon\nAnd Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitati\u00f3n;\nAgrius, Melas, and the third the horseman Oeneus,\nMy father\u2019s father, that excell\u2019d in actions generous\nThe other two. But these kept home, my father being driv\u2019n\nWith wand\u2019ring and advent\u2019rous spirits, for so the King of heav\u2019n\nAnd th\u2019 other Gods set down their wills, and he to Argos came,\nWhere he begun the world, and dwelt. There marrying a dame,\nOne of Adrastus\u2019 female race, he kept a royal house,\nFor he had great demesnes, good land, and, being industrious,\nHe planted many orchard-grounds about his house, and bred\nGreat store of sheep. Besides all this, he was well qualitied,\nAnd pass\u2019d all Argives, for his spear. And these digressive things\nAre such as you may well endure, since (being deriv\u2019d from kings,\nAnd kings not poor nor virtueless) you cannot hold me base,\nNor scorn my words, which oft, though true, in mean men meet disgrace.\nHowever, they are these in short: Let us be seen at fight,\nAnd yield to strong necessity, though wounded, that our sight\nMay set those men on that, of late, have to Achilles\u2019 spleen\nBeen too indulgent, and left blows; but be we only seen,\nNot come within the reach of darts, lest wound on wound we lay;\nWhich rev\u2019rend Nestor\u2019s speech implied, and so far him obey.\u201d\nThis counsel gladly all observ\u2019d, went on, Atrides led.\nNor Neptune this advantage lost, but closely follow\u00e9d,\nAnd like an aged man appear\u2019d t\u2019 Atrides; whose right hand\nHe seiz\u2019d, and said: \u201cAtrides, this doth passing fitly stand\nWith stern Achilles\u2019 wreakful spirit, that he can stand astern\nHis ship, and both in fight and death the Grecian bane discern,\nSince not in his breast glows one spark of any human mind.\nBut be that his own bane. Let God by that loss make him find\nHow vile a thing he is. For know, the blest Gods have not giv\u2019n\nThee ever over, but perhaps the Trojans may from heav\u2019n\nReceive that justice. Nay, \u2019tis sure, and thou shalt see their falls,\nYour fleet soon freed, and for fights here they glad to take their\nwalls.\u201d\nThis said, he made known who he was, and parted with a cry\nAs if ten thousand men had join\u2019d in battle then, so high\nHis throat flew through the host; and so this great Earth-shaking God\nCheer\u2019d up the Greek hearts, that they wish their pains no period.\nSaturnia from Olympus\u2019 top saw her great brother there,\nAnd her great husband\u2019s brother too, exciting ev\u2019rywhere\nThe glorious spirits of the Greeks; which as she joy\u2019d to see,\nSo, on the fountful Ida\u2019s top, Jove\u2019s sight did disagree\nWith her contentment, since she fear\u2019d that his hand would descend,\nAnd check the Sea-god\u2019s practices. And this she did contend\nHow to prevent, which thus seem\u2019d best: To deck her curiously,\nAnd visit the Idalian hill, that so the Lightner\u2019s eye\nShe might enamour with her looks, and his high temples steep,\nEv\u2019n to his wisdom, in the kind and golden juice of sleep.\nSo took she chamber, which her son, the God of ferrary,\nWith firm doors made, being join\u00e8d close, and with a privy key\nThat no God could command but Jove; where, enter\u2019d, she made fast\nThe shining gates, and then upon her lovely body cast\nAmbrosia, that first made it clear, and after laid on it\nAn od\u2019rous, rich, and sacred oil, that was so wond\u2019rous sweet\nThat ever, when it was but touch\u2019d, it sweeten\u2019d heav\u2019n and earth.\nHer body being cleans\u2019d with this, her tresses she let forth,\nAnd comb\u2019d, her comb dipp\u2019d in the oil, then wrapp\u2019d them up in curls;\nAnd, thus her deathless head adorn\u2019d, a heav\u2019nly veil she hurls\nOn her white shoulders, wrought by Her that rules in housewif\u2019ries,\nWho wove it full of antique works, of most divine device;\nAnd this with goodly clasps of gold she fasten\u2019d to her breast.\nThen with a girdle, whose rich sphere a hundred studs impress\u2019d,\nShe girt her small waist. In her ears, tenderly pierc\u2019d, she wore\nPearls, great and orient. On her head, a wreath not worn before\nCast beams out like the sun. At last, she to her feet did tie\nFair shoes. And thus entire attir\u2019d, she shin\u2019d in open sky,\nCall\u2019d the fair Paphian Queen apart from th\u2019 other Gods, and said:\n\u201cLov\u2019d daughter! Should I ask a grace, should I, or be obey\u2019d?\nOr wouldst thou cross me, being incens\u2019d, since I cross thee and take\nThe Greeks\u2019 part, thy hand helping Troy?\u201d She answer\u2019d, \u201cThat shall\nmake\nNo diff\u2019rence in a diff\u2019rent cause. Ask, ancient Deity,\nWhat most contents thee. My mind stands inclin\u2019d as liberally\nTo grant it as thine own to ask; provided that it be\nA favour fit and in my pow\u2019r.\u201d She, giv\u2019n deceitfully,\nThus said: \u201cThen give me those two pow\u2019rs, with which both men and Gods\nThou vanquishest, Love and Desire; for now the periods\nOf all the many-feeding earth, and the original\nOf all the Gods, Oceanus, and Thetis whom we call\nOur Mother, I am going to greet. They nurst me in their court,\nAnd brought me up, receiving me in most respectful sort\nFrom Ph\u00e6a, when Jove under earth and the unfruitful seas\nCast Saturn. These I go to see, intending to appease\nJars grown betwixt them, having long abstain\u2019d from speech and bed;\nWhich jars, could I so reconcile, that in their anger\u2019s stead\nI could place love, and so renew their first society,\nI should their best lov\u2019d be esteem\u2019d, and honour\u2019d endlessly.\u201d\nShe answer\u2019d: \u201c\u2019Tis not fit, nor just, thy will should be denied,\nWhom Jove in his embraces holds.\u201d This spoken, she untied,\nAnd from her od\u2019rous bosom took, her Ceston, in whose sphere\nWere all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,\nKind conference, fair speech, whose pow\u2019r the wisest doth inflame.\nThis she resigning to her hands, thus urg\u2019d her by her name:\n\u201cReceive this bridle, thus fair-wrought, and put it \u2019twixt thy breasts,\nWhere all things to be done are done; and whatsoever rests\nIn thy desire return with it.\u201d The great-ey\u2019d Juno smil\u2019d,\nAnd put it \u2019twixt her breasts. Love\u2019s Queen, thus cunningly beguil\u2019d,\nTo Jove\u2019s court flew. Saturnia, straight stooping from heav\u2019n\u2019s height,\nPieria and Emathia, those countries of delight,\nSoon reach\u2019d, and to the snowy mounts, where Thracian soldiers dwell,\nApproaching, pass\u2019d their tops untouch\u2019d. From Athos then she fell,\nPass\u2019d all the broad sea, and arriv\u2019d in Lemnos, at the tow\u2019rs\nOf godlike Thoas, where she met the Prince of all men\u2019s pow\u2019rs,\nDeath\u2019s brother, Sleep; whose hand she took, and said: \u201cThou king of\nmen,\nPrince of the Gods too, if before thou heard\u2019st my suits, again\nGive helpful ear, and through all times I\u2019ll offer thanks to thee.\nLay slumber on Jove\u2019s fi\u2019ry eyes, that I may comfort me\nWith his embraces; for which grace I\u2019ll grace thee with a throne\nIncorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done\nBy Mulciber, to which he forg\u2019d a footstool for the ease\nOf thy soft feet, when wine and feasts thy golden humours please.\u201d\nSweet Sleep replied: \u201cSatunia, there lives not any God,\nBesides Jove, but I would becalm; aye if it were the Flood,\nThat fathers all the Deities, the great Oceanus;\nBut Jove we dare not come more near, than he commandeth us.\nNow you command me as you did, when Jove\u2019s great-minded son,\nAlcides, having sack\u2019d the town of stubborn Ilion,\nTook sail from thence; when by your charge I pour\u2019d about Jove\u2019s mind\nA pleasing slumber, calming him, till thou drav\u2019st up the wind,\nIn all his cruelties, to sea, that set his son ashore\nIn Cous, far from all his friends. Which, waking, vex\u2019d so sore\nThe supreme Godhead, that he cast the Gods about the sky,\nAnd me, above them all, he sought, whom he had utterly\nHurl\u2019d from the sparkling firmament, if all-gods-taming Night\n(Whom, flying, I besought for aid) had suffer\u2019d his despite,\nAnd not preserv\u2019d me; but his wrath with my offence dispens\u2019d,\nFor fear t\u2019 offend her, and so ceas\u2019d, though never so incens\u2019d.\nAnd now another such escape, you wish I should prepare.\u201d\nShe answer\u2019d: \u201cWhat hath thy deep rest to do with his deep care?\nAs though Jove\u2019s love to Ilion in all degrees were such\nAs \u2019twas to Hercules his son, and so would storm as much\nFor their displeasure as for his? Away, I will remove\nThy fear with giving thee the dame, that thou didst ever love,\nOne of the fair young Graces born, divine Pasithae.\u201d\nThis started Somnus into joy, who answer\u2019d: \u201cSwear to me,\nBy those inviolable springs, that feed the Stygian lake,\nWith one hand touch the nourishing earth, and in the other take\nThe marble sea, that all the Gods, of the infernal state,\nWhich circle Saturn, may to us be witnesses, and rate\nWhat thou hast vow\u2019d; That with all truth, thou wilt bestow on me,\nThe dame I grant I ever lov\u2019d, divine Pasithae.\u201d\nShe swore, as he enjoin\u2019d, in all, and strengthen\u2019d all his joys\nBy naming all th\u2019 infernal Gods, surnam\u2019d the Titanois.\nThe oath thus taken, both took way, and made their quick repair\nTo Ida from the town, and isle, all hid in liquid air.\nAt Lecton first they left the sea, and there the land they trod;\nThe fountful nurse of savages, with all her woods, did nod\nBeneath their feet; there Somnus stay\u2019d, lest Jove\u2019s bright eye should\nsee,\nAnd yet, that he might see to Jove, he climb\u2019d the goodliest tree\nThat all th\u2019 Idalian mountain bred, and crown\u2019d her progeny,\nA fir it was, that shot past air, and kiss\u2019d the burning sky;\nThere sate he hid in his dark arms, and in the shape with all\nOf that continual prating bird, whom all the Deities call\nChalcis, but men Cymmindis name. Saturnia tripp\u2019d apace,\nUp to the top of Gargarus, and show\u2019d her heav\u2019nly face\nTo Jupiter, who saw, and lov\u2019d, and with as hot a fire,\nBeing curious in her tempting view, as when with first desire\n(The pleasure of it being stol\u2019n) they mix\u2019d in love and bed;\nAnd, gazing on her still, he said: \u201cSaturnia, what hath bred\nThis haste in thee from our high court, and whither tends thy gait,\nThat void of horse and chariot, fit for thy sov\u2019reign state,\nThou lackiest here?\u201d Her studied fraud replied: \u201cMy journey now\nLeaves state and labours to do good; and where in right I owe\nAll kindness to the Sire of Gods, and our good Mother Queen\nThat nurst and kept me curiously in court (since both have been\nLong time at discord) my desire is to atone their hearts;\nAnd therefore go I now to see those earth\u2019s extremest parts.\nFor whose far-seat I spar\u2019d my horse the scaling of this hill,\nAnd left them at the foot of it; for they must taste their fill\nOf travail with me, and must draw my coach through earth and seas,\nWhose far-intended reach, respect, and care not to displease\nThy graces, made me not attempt, without thy gracious leave.\u201d\nThe cloud-compelling God her guile in this sort did receive:\n\u201cJuno, thou shalt have after leave, but, ere so far thou stray,\nConvert we our kind thoughts to love, that now doth ev\u2019ry way\nCircle with victory my pow\u2019rs, nor yet with any dame,\nWoman, or Goddess, did his fires my bosom so inflame\nAs now with thee. Not when it lov\u2019d the parts so generous\nIxion\u2019s wife had, that brought forth the wise Pirithous;\nNor when the lovely dame Acrisius\u2019 daughter stirr\u2019d\nMy amorous pow\u2019rs, that Perseus bore to all men else preferr\u2019d;\nNor when the dame, that Phenix got, surpris\u2019d me with her sight,\nWho the divine-soul\u2019d Rhadamanth and Minos brought to light;\nNor Semele, that bore to me the joy of mortal men,\nThe sprightly Bacchus; nor the dame that Thebes renown\u00e9d then,\nAlcmena, that bore Hercules; Latona, so renown\u2019d;\nQueen Ceres, with the golden hair; nor thy fair eyes did wound\nMy entrails to such depth as now with thirst of amorous ease.\u201d\nThe cunning Dame seem\u2019d much incens\u2019d, and said: \u201cWhat words are these,\nUnsufferable Saturn\u2019s son? What! Here! In Ida\u2019s height!\nDesir\u2019st thou this? How fits it us? Or what if in the sight\nOf any God thy will were pleas\u2019d, that he the rest might bring\nTo witness thy incontinence? \u2019Twere a dishonour\u2019d thing.\nI would not show my face in heav\u2019n, and rise from such a bed.\nBut, if love be so dear to thee, thou hast a chamberstead,\nWhich Vulcan purposely contriv\u2019d with all fit secrecy;\nThere sleep at pleasure.\u201d He replied: \u201cI fear not if the eye\nOf either God or man observe, so thick a cloud of gold\nI\u2019ll cast about us that the sun, who furthest can behold,\nShall never find us.\u201d This resolv\u2019d, into his kind embrace\nHe took his wife. Beneath them both fair Tellus strew\u2019d the place\nWith fresh-sprung herbs, so soft and thick that up aloft it bore\nTheir heav\u2019nly bodies; with his leaves, did dewy lotus store\nTh\u2019 Elysian mountain; saffron flow\u2019rs and hyacinths help\u2019d make\nThe sacred bed; and there they slept. When suddenly there brake\nA golden vapour out of air, whence shining dews did fall,\nIn which they wrapt them close, and slept till Jove was tam\u2019d withal.\nMean space flew Somnus to the ships, found Neptune out, and said:\n\u201cNow cheerfully assist the Greeks; and give them glorious head,\nAt least a little, while Jove sleeps; of whom through ev\u2019ry limb\nI pour\u2019d dark sleep, Saturnia\u2019s love hath so illuded him.\u201d\nThis news made Neptune more secure in giving Grecians heart,\nAnd through the first fights thus he stirr\u2019d the men of most desert:\n\u201cYet, Grecians, shall we put our ships, and conquest, in the hands\nOf Priam\u2019s Hector by our sloth? He thinks so, and commands\nWith pride according; all because, Achilles keeps away.\nAlas, as we were nought but him! We little need to stay\nOn his assistance, if we would our own strengths call to field,\nAnd mutually maintain repulse. Come on then, all men yield\nTo what I order. We that bear best arms in all our hosts,\nWhose heads sustain the brightest helms, whose hands are bristled most\nWith longest lances, let us on. But stay, I\u2019ll lead you all;\nNor think I but great Hector\u2019s spirits will suffer some appall,\nThough they be never so inspir\u2019d. The ablest of us then,\nThat on our shoulders worst shields bear, exchange with worser men\nThat fight with better.\u201d This propos\u2019d, all heard it, and obey\u2019d.\nThe kings, ev\u2019n those that suffer\u2019d wounds, Ulysses, Diomed,\nAnd Agamemnon, helpt t\u2019 instruct the c\u00f3mplete army thus:\nTo good gave good arms, worse to worse, yet none were mutinous.\nThus, arm\u2019d with order, forth they flew; the great Earth-shaker led,\nA long sword in his sinewy hand, which when he brandish\u00e9d\nIt lighten\u2019d still, there was no law for him and it, poor men\nMust quake before them. These thus mann\u2019d, illustrious Hector then\nHis host brought up. The blue-hair\u2019d God and he stretch\u2019d through the\nprease\nA grievous fight; when to the ships and tents of Greece the seas\nBrake loose, and rag\u2019d. But when they join\u2019d, the dreadful clamour rose\nTo such a height, as not the sea, when up the North-spirit blows\nHer raging billows, bellows so against the beaten shore;\nNor such a rustling keeps a fire, driven with violent blore\nThrough woods that grow against a hill; nor so the fervent strokes\nOf almost-bursting winds resound against a grove of oaks;\nAs did the clamour of these hosts, when both the battles clos\u2019d.\nOf all which noble Hector first at Ajax\u2019 breast dispos\u2019d\nHis jav\u2019lin, since so right on him the great-soul\u2019d soldier bore;\nNor miss\u2019d it, but the bawdricks both that his broad bosom wore,\nTo hang his shield and sword, it strook; both which his flesh\npreserv\u2019d.\nHector, disdaining that his lance had thus as good as swerv\u2019d,\nTrode to his strength; but, going off, great Ajax with a stone,\nOne of the many props for ships, that there lay trampled on,\nStrook his broad breast above his shield, just underneath his throat,\nAnd shook him piecemeal; when the stone sprung back again, and smote\nEarth, like a whirlwind, gath\u2019ring dust with whirring fiercely round,\nFor fervour of his unspent strength, in settling on the ground.\nAnd as when Jove\u2019s bolt by the roots rends from the earth an oak,\nHis sulphur casting with the blow a strong unsavoury smoke,\nAnd on the fall\u2019n plant none dare look but with amaz\u00e9d eyes,\n(Jove\u2019s thunder being no laughing game) so bow\u2019d strong Hector\u2019s\nthighs,\nAnd so with tost-up heels he fell, away his lance he flung,\nHis round shield follow\u2019d, then his helm, and out his armour rung.\nThe Greeks then shouted, and ran in, and hop\u2019d to hale him off,\nAnd therefore pour\u2019d on darts in storms, to keep his aid aloof;\nBut none could hurt the people\u2019s Guide, nor stir him from his ground;\nSarpedon, prince of Lycia, and Glaucus so renown\u2019d,\nDivine Agenor, Venus\u2019 son, and wise Polydamas,\nRush\u2019d to his rescue, and the rest. No one neglective was\nOf Hector\u2019s safety. All their shields, they couch\u2019d about him close,\nRais\u2019d him from earth, and (giving him, in their kind arms, repose)\nFrom off the labour carried him, to his rich chariot,\nAnd bore him mourning towards Troy. But when the flood they got\nOf gulfy Xanthus, that was got by deathless Jupiter,\nThere took they him from chariot, and all besprinkled there\nHis temples with the stream. He breath\u2019d, look\u2019d up, assay\u2019d to rise,\nAnd on his knees stay\u2019d spitting blood. Again then clos\u2019d his eyes,\nAnd back again his body fell. The main blow had not done\nYet with his spirit. When the Greeks saw worthy Hector gone,\nThen thought they of their work, then charg\u2019d with much more cheer the\nfoe,\nAnd then, far first, O\u00efliades began the overthrow.\nHe darted Satnius Enops\u2019 son, whom famous Nais bore\nAs she was keeping Enops\u2019 flocks on Satnius\u2019 river\u2019s shore,\nAnd strook him in his belly\u2019s rim, who upwards fell, and rais\u2019d\nA mighty skirmish with his fall. And then Panth\u0153d\u00e9s seiz\u2019d\nProthenor Areilycides, with his revengeful spear,\nOn his right shoulder, strook it through, and laid him breathless there;\nFor which he insolently bragg\u2019d, and cried out: \u201cNot a dart\nFrom great-soul\u2019d Panthus\u2019 son, I think, shall ever vainlier part,\nBut some Greek\u2019s bosom it shall take, and make him give his ghost.\u201d\nThis brag the Grecians stomach\u2019d much; but Telamonius most,\nWho stood most near Prothenor\u2019s fall, and out he sent a lance,\nWhich Panthus\u2019 son, declining, \u2019scap\u2019d, yet took it to sad chance\nArchilochus, Antenor\u2019s son, whom heav\u2019n did destinate\nTo that stern end; \u2019twixt neck and head the jav\u2019lin wrought his fate,\nAnd ran in at the upper joint of all the back long bone,\nCut both the nerves; and such a load of strength laid Ajax on,\nAs that small part he seiz\u2019d outweigh\u2019d all th\u2019 under limbs, and strook\nHis heels up, so that head and face the earth\u2019s possessions took,\nWhen all the low parts sprung in air; and thus did Ajax quit\nPanth\u0153des\u2019 brave: \u201cNow, Panthus\u2019 son, let thy prophetic wit\nConsider, and disclose a truth, if this man do not weigh\nEv\u2019n with Prothenor. I conceive, no one of you will say\nThat either he was base himself, or sprung of any base;\nAntenor\u2019s brother, or his son, he should be by his face;\nOne of his race, past question, his likeness shows he is,\u201d\nThis spake he, knowing it well enough. The Trojans storm\u2019d at this,\nAnd then slew Acamas, to save his brother yet engag\u2019d,\nB\u0153otius, dragging him to spoil; and thus the Greeks enrag\u2019d:\n\u201cO Greeks, ev\u2019n born to bear our darts, yet ever breathing threats,\nNot always under tears and toils ye see our fortune sweats,\nBut sometimes you drop under death. See now your quick among\nOur dead, intranc\u2019d with my weak lance, to prove I have ere long\nReveng\u2019d my brother. \u2019Tis the wish of ev\u2019ry honest man\nHis brother, slain in Mars\u2019s field, may rest wreak\u2019d in his fane.\u201d\nThis stirr\u2019d fresh envy in the Greeks, but urg\u2019d Peneleus most,\nWho hurl\u2019d his lance at Acamas; he \u2019scap\u2019d; nor yet it lost\nThe force he gave it, for it found the flock-rich Phorbas\u2019 son,\nIlion\u00ebus, whose dear sire, past all in Ilion,\nWas lov\u2019d of Hermes, and enrich\u2019d, and to him only bore\nHis mother this now slaughter\u2019d man. The dart did undergore\nHis eye-lid, by his eye\u2019s dear roots, and out the apple fell,\nThe eye pierc\u2019d through. Nor could the nerve that stays the neck repell\nHis strong-wing\u2019d lance, but neck and all gave way, and down he\ndropp\u2019d.\nPeneleus then unsheath\u2019d his sword, and from the shoulders chopp\u2019d\nHis luckless head; which down he threw, the helm still sticking on,\nAnd still the lance fix\u2019d in his eye; which not to see alone\nContented him, but up again he snatch\u2019d, and show\u2019d it all,\nWith this stern brave: \u201cIlians, relate brave Ilion\u00ebus\u2019 fall\nTo his kind parents, that their roofs their tears may overrun;\nFor so the house of Promachus, and Alegenor\u2019s son,\nMust with his wife\u2019s eyes overflow, she never seeing more\nHer dear lord, though we tell his death, when to our native shore\nWe bring from ruin\u2019d Troy our fleet, and men so long forgone.\u201d\nThis said, and seen, pale fear possess\u2019d all those of Ilion,\nAnd ev\u2019ry man cast round his eye to see where death was not,\nThat he might fly him. Let not then his grac\u2019d hand be forgot,\nO Muses, you that dwell in heav\u2019n, that first imbru\u2019d the field\nWith Trojan spoil, when Neptune thus had made their irons yield.\nFirst Ajax Telamonius the Mysian captain slew,\nGreat Hyrtius Gyrtiades. Antilochus o\u2019erthrew\nPhalces and Mermer, to their spoil. Meriones gave end\nTo Morys and Hyppotion. Teucer to fate did send\nProthoon and Periphetes. Atrides\u2019 jav\u2019lin chac\u2019d\nDuke Hyperenor, wounding him in that part that is plac\u2019d\nBetwixt the short ribs and the bones, that to the triple gut\nHave pertinence; the jav\u2019lin\u2019s head did out his entrails cut,\nHis forc\u2019d soul breaking through the wound; night\u2019s black hand clos\u2019d\nhis eyes.\nThen Ajax, great O\u00efleus\u2019 son, had divers victories,\nFor when Saturnius suffer\u2019d flight, of all the Grecian race\nNot one with swiftness of his feet could so enrich a chace.\n\nTHE END OF THE FOURTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] This first verse (after the first four syllables) is to be read as\n one of our tens.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nJove waking, and beholding Troy in flight,\nChides Juno, and sends Iris to the fight\nTo charge the Sea-god to forsake the field,\nAnd Ph\u0153bus to invade it, with his shield\nRecov\u2019ring Hector\u2019s bruis\u2019d and eras\u00e9d pow\u2019rs,\nTo field he goes, and makes new conquerors,\nThe Trojans giving now the Grecians chace\nEv\u2019n to their fleet. Then Ajax turns his face,\nAnd feeds, with many Trojan lives, his ire;\nWho then brought brands to set the fleet on fire.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nJove sees in O his oversight,\nChides Juno, Neptune calls from fight.\n\n\nThe Trojans, beat past pale and dike, and numbers prostrate laid,\nAll got to chariot, fear-driv\u2019n all, and fear\u2019d as men dismay\u2019d.\nThen Jove on Ida\u2019s top awak\u2019d, rose from Saturnia\u2019s side,\nStood up, and look\u2019d upon the war; and all inverted spied\nSince he had seen it; th\u2019 Ilians now in rout, the Greeks in fight;\nKing Neptune, with his long sword, chief; great Hector put down quite,\nLaid flat in field, and with a crown of princes compass\u00e9d\nSo stopp\u2019d up that he scarce could breathe, his mind\u2019s sound habit\nfled,\nAnd he still spitting blood. Indeed, his hurt was not set on\nBy one that was the weakest Greek. But him Jove look\u2019d upon\nWith eyes of pity; on his wife with horrible asp\u00e9ct,\nTo whom he said: \u201cO thou in ill most cunning architect,\nAll arts and comments that exceed\u2019st! not only to enforce\nHector from fight, but, with his men, to show the Greeks a course.\nI fear, as formerly, so now, these ills have with thy hands\nTheir first fruits sown, and therefore could load all thy limbs with\nbands,\nForgett\u2019st thou, when I hang\u2019d thee up, how to thy feet I tied\nTwo anvils, golden manacles on thy false wrists implied,\nAnd let thee mercilessly hang from our refin\u00e9d heav\u2019n\nEv\u2019n to earth\u2019s vapours; all the Gods in great Olympus giv\u2019n\nTo mutinies about thee, yet, though all stood staring on,\nNone durst dissolve thee, for these hands, had they but seiz\u2019d upon\nThy friend, had headlong thrown him off from our star-bearing round,\nTill he had tumbled out his breath, and piece-meal dash\u2019d the ground?\nNor was my angry spirit calm\u2019d so soon, for those foul seas,\nOn which, inducing northern flaws, thou shipwrack\u2019dst Hercules,\nAnd toss\u2019d him to the Coan shore, that thou shouldst tempt again\nMy wrath\u2019s importance, when thou seest, besides, how grossly vain\nMy pow\u2019rs can make thy policies; for from their utmost force\nI freed my son, and set him safe in Argos, nurse of horse.\nThese I remember to thy thoughts, that thou may\u2019st shun these sleights,\nAnd know how badly bed-sports thrive, procur\u2019d by base deceits.\u201d\nThis frighted the offending queen, who with this state excus\u2019d\nHer kind unkindness: \u201cWitness Earth, and Heav\u2019n so far diffus\u2019d,\nThou Flood whose silent gliding waves the under ground doth bear,\n(Which is the great\u2019st and gravest oath, that any God can swear)\nThy sacred head, those secret joys that our young bed gave forth,\nBy which I never rashly swore! that He who shakes the earth\nNot by my counsel did this wrong to Hector and his host,\nBut, pitying th\u2019 oppress\u00e9d Greeks, their fleet being nearly lost,\nReliev\u2019d their hard conditi\u00f3n, yet utterly impell\u2019d\nBy his free mind. Which since I see is so offensive held\nTo thy high pleasure, I will now advise him not to tread\nBut where thy tempest-raising feet, O Jupiter, shall lead.\u201d\nJove laugh\u2019d to hear her so submiss, and said: \u201cMy fair-ey\u2019d love,\nIf still thus thou and I were one, in counsels held above,\nNeptune would still in word and fact be ours, if not in heart.\nIf then thy tongue and heart agree, from hence to heav\u2019n depart,\nTo call the excellent-in-bows, the Rain-bow, and the Sun,\nThat both may visit both the hosts; the Grecian army one,\nAnd that is Iris, let her haste, and make the Sea-god cease\nT\u2019 assist the Greeks, and to his court retire from war in peace;\nLet Ph\u0153bus, on the Trojan part, inspire with wonted pow\u2019r\nGreat Hector\u2019s spirits, make his thoughts forget the late stern hour,\nAnd all his anguish, setting on his whole recover\u2019d man\nTo make good his late grace in fight, and hold in constant wane\nThe Grecian glories, till they fall, in flight before the fleet\nOf vex\u2019d Achilles. Which extreme will prove the mean to greet\nThee with thy wish, for then the eyes of great \u00c6acides\n(Made witness of the gen\u2019ral ill, that doth so near him prease)\nWill make his own particular look out, and by degrees\nAbate his wrath, that, though himself for no extremities\nWill seem reflected, yet his friend may get of him the grace\nTo help his country in his arms; and he shall make fit place\nFor his full presence with his death, which shall be well fore-run;\nFor I will first renown his life with slaughter of my son,\nDivine Sarpedon, and his death great Hector\u2019s pow\u2019r shall wreak,\nEnding his ends. Then, at once, out shall the fury break\nOf fierce Achilles, and, with that, the flight now felt shall turn,\nAnd then last, till in wrathful flames the long-sieg\u2019d Ilion burn.\nMinerva\u2019s counsel shall become grave mean to this my will,\nWhich no God shall neglect before Achilles take his fill\nOf slaughter for his slaughter\u2019d friend; ev\u2019n Hector\u2019s slaughter thrown\nUnder his anger; that these facts may then make fully known\nMy vow\u2019s performance, made of late, and, with my bow\u00e9d head,\nConfirm\u2019d to Thetis, when her arms embrac\u2019d my knees, and pray\u2019d\nThat to her city-razing son I would all honour show.\u201d\nThis heard, his charge she seem\u2019d t\u2019 intend, and to Olympus flew.\nBut, as the mind of such a man that hath a great way gone,\nAnd either knowing not his way, or then would let alone\nHis purpos\u2019d journey, is distract, and in his vex\u00e9d mind\nResolves now not to go, now goes, still many ways inclin\u2019d;\nSo rev\u2019rend Juno headlong flew, and \u2019gainst her stomach striv\u2019d,\nFor, being amongst th\u2019 immortal Gods in high heav\u2019n soon arriv\u2019d,\nAll rising, welcoming with cups her little absence thence,\nShe all their courtships overpass\u2019d with solemn negligence,\nSave that which fair-cheek\u2019d Themis show\u2019d, and her kind cup she took,\nFor first she ran and met with her, and ask\u2019d: \u201cWhat troubled look\nShe brought to heav\u2019n? She thought, for truth, that Jove had terrified\nHer spirits strangely since she went.\u201d The fair-arm\u2019d Queen replied:\n\u201cThat truth may eas\u2019ly be suppos\u2019d; you, Goddess Themis, know\nHis old severity and pride, but you bear\u2019t out with show,\nAnd like the banquet\u2019s arbiter amongst th\u2019 Immortals\u2019 fare,\nThough well you hear amongst them all, how bad his actions are;\nNor are all here, or anywhere, mortals, nor Gods, I fear,\nEntirely pleas\u2019d with what he does, though thus ye banquet here.\u201d\nThus took she place, displeasedly; the feast in general\nBewraying privy spleens at Jove; and then, to colour all,\nShe laugh\u2019d, but merely from her lips, for over her black brows\nHer still-bent forehead was not clear\u2019d; yet this her passion\u2019s throes\nBrought forth in spite, being lately school\u2019d: \u201cAlas, what fools are we\nThat envy Jove! Or that by act, word, thought, can fantasy\nAny resistance to his will! He sits far off, nor cares,\nNor moves, but says he knows his strength, to all degrees compares\nHis greatness past all other Gods, and that in fortitude,\nAnd ev\u2019ry other godlike pow\u2019r, he reigns past all indu\u2019d.\nFor which great eminence all you Gods, whatever ill he does,\nSustain with patience. Here is Mars, I think, not free from woes,\nAnd yet he bears them like himself. The great God had a son,\nWhom he himself yet justifies, one that from all men won\nJust surname of their best belov\u2019d, Ascalaphus; yet he,\nBy Jove\u2019s high grace to Troy, is slain.\u201d Mars started horribly,\nAs Juno knew he would, at this, beat with his hurl\u2019d-out hands\nHis brawny thighs, cried out, and said: \u201cO you that have commands\nIn these high temples, bear with me, if I revenge the death\nOf such a son. I\u2019ll to the fleet, and though I sink beneath\nThe fate of being shot to hell, by Jove\u2019s fell thunder-stone,\nAnd lie all grim\u2019d amongst the dead with dust and blood, my son\nRevenge shall honour.\u201d Then he charg\u2019d Fear and Dismay to join\nHis horse and chariot. He got arms, that over heav\u2019n did shine\nAnd then a wrath more great and grave in Jove had been prepar\u2019d\nAgainst the Gods than Juno caus\u2019d, if Pallas had not car\u2019d\nMore for the peace of heav\u2019n than Mars; who leap\u2019d out of her throne,\nRapt up her helmet, lance, and shield, and made her fane\u2019s porch groan\nWith her egression to his stay, and thus his rage defers:\n\u201cFurious and foolish, th\u2019 art undone! Hast thou for nought thine ears?\nHeard\u2019st thou not Juno being arriv\u2019d from heav\u2019n\u2019s great  King but now?\nOr wouldst thou he himself should rise, forc\u2019d with thy rage, to show\nThe dreadful pow\u2019r she urg\u2019d in him, so justly being stirr\u2019d?\nKnow, thou most impudent and mad, thy wrath had not inferr\u2019d\nMischief to thee, but to us all. His spirit had instantly\nLeft both the hosts, and turn\u2019d his hands to uproars in the sky,\nGuilty and guiltless both to wrack in his high rage had gone.\nAnd therefore, as thou lov\u2019st thyself, cease fury for thy son;\nAnother, far exceeding him in heart and strength of hand,\nOr is, or will be shortly, slain. It were a work would stand\nJove in much trouble, to free all from death that would not die.\u201d\nThis threat ev\u2019n nail\u2019d him to his throne; when heav\u2019n\u2019s chief Majesty\nCall\u2019d bright Apollo from his fane, and Iris that had place\nOf internunciess from the Gods, to whom she did the grace\nOf Jupiter, to this effect: \u201cIt is Saturnius\u2019 will,\nThat both, with utmost speed, should stoop to the Idalian hill,\nTo know his further pleasure there. And this let me advise,\nWhen you arrive, and are in reach of his refulgent eyes,\nHis pleasure heard, perform it all, of whatsoever kind.\u201d\nThus mov\u2019d she back, and us\u2019d her throne. Those two outstripp\u2019d the\nwind,\nAnd Ida all-enchas\u2019d with springs they soon attain\u2019d, and found\nWhere far-discerning Jupiter, in his repose, had crown\u2019d\nThe brows of Gargarus, and wrapt an odorif\u2019rous cloud\nAbout his bosom. Coming near, they stood. Nor now he show\u2019d\nHis angry count\u2019nance, since so soon he saw they made th\u2019 access\nThat his lov\u2019d wife enjoin\u2019d; but first the fair ambassadress\nHe thus commanded: \u201cIris, go to Neptune, and relate\nOur pleasure truly, and at large. Command him from the fate\nOf human war, and either greet the Gods\u2019 society,\nOr the divine sea make his seat. If proudly he deny,\nLet better counsels be his guides, than such as bid me war,\nAnd tempt my charge, though he be strong, for I am stronger far,\nAnd elder born. Nor let him dare, to boast even state with me\nWhom all Gods else prefer in fear.\u201d This said, down hasted she\nFrom Ida\u2019s top to Ilion; and like a mighty snow,\nOr gelid hail, that from the clouds the northern spirit doth blow;\nSo fell the windy-footed dame, and found with quick repair\nThe wat\u2019ry God, to whom she said: \u201cGod with the sable hair,\nI came from \u00c6gis-bearing Jove, to bid thee cease from fight,\nAnd visit heav\u2019n, or th\u2019 ample seas. Which if, in his despite,\nOr disobedience, thou deniest, he threatens thee to come,\nIn opposite fight, to field himself; and therefore warns thee home,\nHis hands eschewing, since his pow\u2019r is far-superior,\nHis birth before thee; and affirms, thy lov\u2019d heart should abhor\nTo vaunt equality with him, whom ev\u2019ry Deity fears.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cO unworthy thing! Though he be great, he bears\nHis tongue too proudly, that ourself, born to an equal share\nOf state and freedom, he would force. Three brothers born we are\nTo Saturn, Rhea brought us forth, this Jupiter, and I.\nAnd Pluto, God of under-grounds. The world indiff\u2019rently\nDispos\u2019d betwixt us; ev\u2019ry one his kingdom; I the seas,\nPluto the black lot, Jupiter the principalities\nOf broad heav\u2019n, all the sky and clouds, was sorted out. The earth\nAnd high Olympus common are, and due to either\u2019s birth.\nWhy then should I be aw\u2019d by him? Content he his great heart\nWith his third portion, and not think, to amplify his part,\nWith terrors of his stronger hands, on me, as if I were\nThe most ignoble of us all. Let him contain in fear\nHis daughters and his sons, begot by his own person, This\nHolds more convenience. They must hear these violent threats of his.\u201d\n\u201cShall I,\u201d said Iris, \u201cbear from thee, an answer so austere?\nOr wilt thou change it? Changing minds, all noble natures bear.\nAnd well thou know\u2019st, these greatest born, the Furies follow still.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cIris, thy reply keeps time, and shows thy skill.\nO \u2019tis a most praiseworthy thing, when messengers can tell,\nBesides their messages, such things, as fit th\u2019 occasion well.\nBut this much grieves my heart and soul, that being in pow\u2019r and state\nAll-ways his equal, and so fix\u2019d by one decree in fate,\nHe should to me, as under him, ill language give, and chide.\nYet now, though still incens\u2019d, I yield, affirming this beside,\nAnd I enforce it with a threat: That if without consent\nOf me, Minerva, Mercury, the Queen of regiment,\nAnd Vulcan, he will either spare high Ilion, or not race\nHer turrets to the lowest stone, and, with both these, not grace\nThe Greeks as victors absolute, inform him this from me\u2014\nHis pride and my contempt shall live at endless enmity.\u201d\nThis said, he left the Greeks, and rush\u2019d into his wat\u2019ry throne,\nMuch miss\u2019d of all th\u2019 heroic host. When Jove discern\u2019d him gone,\nApollo\u2019s service he employ\u2019d, and said: \u201cLov\u2019d Ph\u0153bus, go\nTo Hector; now th\u2019 earth-shaking God hath taken sea, and so\nShrunk from the horrors I denounc\u2019d; which standing, he, and all\nThe under-seated Deities, that circle Saturn\u2019s fall,\nHad heard of me in such a fight as had gone hard for them.\nBut both for them and me \u2019tis best, that thus they fly th\u2019 extreme,\nThat had not pass\u2019d us without sweat. Now then, in thy hands take\nMy adder-fring\u2019d affrighting shield, which with such terror shake,\nThat fear may shake the Greeks to flight. Besides this, add thy care,\nO Ph\u0153bus, far-off shooting God, that this so sickly fare\nOf famous Hector be recur\u2019d, and quickly so excite\nHis amplest pow\u2019rs, that all the Greeks may grace him with their\nflight,\nEv\u2019n to their ships, and Hellespont; and then will I devise\nAll words and facts again for Greece, that largely may suffice\nTo breathe them from their instant toils.\u201d Thus from th\u2019 Id\u00e6an height,\nLike air\u2019s swift pigeon-killer, stoop\u2019d the far-shot God of light,\nAnd found great Hector sitting up, not stretch\u2019d upon his bed,\nNot wheezing with a stopp\u2019d-up spirit, not in cold sweats, but fed\nWith fresh and comfortable veins, but his mind all his own,\nBut round about him all his friends, as well as ever known.\nAnd this was with the mind of Jove, that flew to him before\nApollo came; who, as he saw no sign of any sore,\nAsk\u2019d, like a cheerful visitant: \u201cWhy in this sickly kind,\nGreat Hector, sitt\u2019st thou so apart? Can any grief of mind\nInvade thy fortitude?\u201d He spake, but with a feeble voice:\n\u201cO thou, the best of Deities! Why, since I thus rejoice\nBy thy so serious benefit, demand\u2019st thou, as in mirth,\nAnd to my face, if I were ill? For, more than what thy worth\nMust needs take note of, doth not Fame from all mouths fill thine ears,\nThat, as my hand at th\u2019 Achive fleet was making massacres\nOf men whom valiant Ajax led, his strength strook with a stone\nAll pow\u2019r of more hurt from my breast? My very soul was gone,\nAnd once to-day I thought to see the house of Dis and Death.\u201d\n\u201cBe strong,\u201d said he, \u201cfor such a spirit now sends the God of breath\nFrom airy Ida, as shall run through all Greek spirits in thee.\nApollo with the golden sword, the clear Far-seer, see,\nHim, who betwixt death and thy life, \u2019twixt ruin and those tow\u2019rs,\nEre this day oft hath held his shield. Come then, be all thy pow\u2019rs\nIn wonted vigour, let thy knights with all their horse assay\nThe Grecian fleet, myself will lead, and scour so clear the way,\nThat flight shall leave no Greek a rub.\u201d Thus instantly inspir\u2019d\nWere all his nerves with matchless strength; and then his friends he\nfir\u2019d\nAgainst their foes, when to his eyes his ears confirm\u2019d the God.\nThen, as a goodly-headed hart, or goat, bred in the wood,\nA rout of country huntsmen chase, with all their hounds in cry,\nThe beast yet or the shady woods, or rocks excessive high,\nKeep safe, or our unwieldy fates (that ev\u2019n in hunters sway)\nBar them the poor beast\u2019s pulling down; when straight the clam\u2019rous\nfray\nCalls out a lion, hugely-man\u2019d, and his abhorr\u00e9d view\nTurns headlong in unturning flight (though vent\u2019rous) all the crew;\nSo hitherto the chasing Greeks their slaughter dealt by troops;\nBut, after Hector was beheld range here and there, then stoops\nThe boldest courage, then their heels took in their drooping hearts,\nAnd then spake Andr\u00e6monides, a man of far-best parts\nOf all the \u00c6tolians, skill\u2019d in darts, strenuous in fights of stand,\nAnd one of whom few of the Greeks could get the better hand\nFor rhetoric, when they fought with words; with all which being wise,\nThus spake he to his Grecian friends: \u201cO mischief! Now mine eyes\nDiscern no little miracle; Hector escap\u2019d from death,\nAnd all-recover\u2019d, when all thought his soul had sunk beneath\nThe hands of Ajax. But some God hath sav\u2019d and freed again\nHim that but now dissolv\u2019d the knees of many a Grecian,\nAnd now I fear will weaken more; for, not without the hand\nOf Him that thunders, can his pow\u2019rs thus still the forefights stand,\nThus still triumphant. Hear me then: Our troops in quick retreat\nLet\u2019s draw up to our fleet, and we, that boast ourselves the great,\nStand firm, and try if these that raise so high their charging darts\nMay be resisted. I believe, ev\u2019n this great heart of hearts\nWill fear himself to be too bold, in charging thorow us.\u201d\nThey eas\u2019ly heard him, and obey\u2019d; when all the generous\nThey call\u2019d t\u2019 encounter Hector\u2019s charge, and turn\u2019d the common men\nBack to the fleet. And these were they, that bravely furnish\u2019d then\nThe fierce forefight: Th\u2019 Ajaces both, the worthy Cretan king,\nThe Mars-like Meges, Merion, and Teucer. Up then bring\nThe Trojan chiefs their men in heaps; before whom, amply-pac\u2019d,\nMarch\u2019d Hector, and in front of him Apollo, who had cast\nAbout his bright aspect a cloud, and did before him bear\nJove\u2019s huge and each-where-shaggy shield, which, to contain in fear\nOffending men, the God-smith gave to Jove; with this he led\nThe Trojan forces. The Greeks stood. A fervent clamour spread\nThe air on both sides as they join\u2019d. Out flew the shafts and darts,\nSome falling short, but other some found butts in breasts and hearts.\nAs long as Ph\u0153bus held but out his horrid shield, so long\nThe darts flew raging either way, and death grew both ways strong;\nBut when the Greeks had seen his face, and, who it was that shook\nThe bristled targe, knew by his voice, then all their strengths forsook\nTheir nerves and minds. And then look how a goodly herd of neat,\nOr wealthy flock of sheep, being close, and dreadless at their meet,\nIn some black midnight, suddenly, and not a keeper near,\nA brace of horrid bears rush in, and then fly here and there\nThe poor affrighted flocks or herds; so ev\u2019ry way dispers\u2019d\nThe heartless Grecians, so the Sun their headstrong chace revers\u2019d\nTo headlong flight, and that day rais\u2019d, with all grace, Hector\u2019s head.\nArcesilaus then he slew, and Stichius; Stichius led\nB\u0153otia\u2019s brazen-coated men; the other was the friend\nOf mighty-soul\u2019d Menesthe\u00fcs. \u00c6neas brought to end\nMedon and Jasus; Medon was the brother, though but base,\nOf swift O\u00efliades, and dwelt, far from his breeding place,\nIn Phylace; the other led th\u2019 Athenian bands, his sire\nWas Spelus, Bucolus\u2019s son. Mecistheus did expire\nBeneath Polydamas\u2019s hand. Polites, Echius slew,\nJust at the joining of the hosts. Agenor overthrew\nClonius. Bold De\u00efochus felt Alexander\u2019s lance;\nIt strook his shoulder\u2019s upper part, and did his head advance\nQuite through his breast, as from the fight he turn\u2019d him for retreat.\nWhile these stood spoiling of the slain, the Greeks found time to get\nBeyond the dike and th\u2019 undik\u2019d pales; all scapes they gladly gain\u2019d,\nTill all had pass\u2019d the utmost wall; Necessity so reign\u2019d.\nThen Hector cried out: \u201cTake no spoil, but rush on to the fleet;\nFrom whose assault, for spoil or flight, if any man I meet,\nHe meets his death; nor in the fire of holy funeral\nHis brother\u2019s or his sister\u2019s hands shall cast within our wall\nHis loath\u00e9d body; but, without, the throats of dogs shall grave\nHis manless limbs.\u201d This said, the scourge his forward horses drave\nThrough ev\u2019ry order; and, with him, all whipp\u2019d their chariots on,\nAll threat\u2019ningly, out-thund\u2019ring shouts as earth were overthrown.\nBefore them march\u2019d Apollo still, and, as he march\u2019d, digg\u2019d down,\nWithout all labour, with his feet the dike, till, with his own,\nHe fill\u2019d it to the top, and made way both for man and horse\nAs broad and long as with a lance, cast out to try one\u2019s force,\nA man could measure. Into this they pour\u2019d whole troops as fast\nAs num\u2019rous; Ph\u0153bus still, before, for all their haste,\nStill shaking Jove\u2019s unvalu\u2019d shield, and held it up to all.\nAnd then, as he had chok\u2019d their dike, he tumbled down their wall.\nAnd look how eas\u2019ly any boy, upon the sea-ebb\u2019d shore,\nMakes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,\nBut as he rais\u2019d it childishly, so in his wanton vein,\nBoth with his hands and feet he pulls, and spurns it down again;\nSo slight, O Ph\u0153bus, thy hands made of that huge Grecian toil,\nAnd their late stand, so well-resolv\u2019d, as eas\u2019ly mad\u2019st recoil.\nThus stood they driv\u2019n up at their fleet; where each heard other\u2019s\nthought,\nExhorted, passing humbly pray\u2019d, all all the Gods besought,\nWith hands held up to heav\u2019n, for help. \u2019Mongst all the good old man,\nGrave Nestor, for his counsels call\u2019d the Argives\u2019 guardian,\nFell on his aged knees, and pray\u2019d, and to the starry host\nStretch\u2019d out his hands for aid to theirs, of all thus moving most:\n\u201cO father Jove, if ever man, of all our host, did burn\nFat thighs of oxen or of sheep, for grace of safe return,\nIn fruitful Argos, and obtain\u2019d the bowing of thy head\nFor promise of his humble pray\u2019rs, O now remember him,\nThou merely heav\u2019nly, and clear up the foul brows of this dim\nAnd cruel day; do not destroy our zeal for Trojan pride.\u201d\nHe pray\u2019d, and heav\u2019n\u2019s great Counsellor with store of thunder tried\nHis former grace good, and so heard the old man\u2019s hearty pray\u2019rs.\nThe Trojans took Jove\u2019s sign for them, and pour\u2019d out their affairs\nIn much more violence on the Greeks, and thought on nought but fight.\nAnd as a huge wave of a sea, swoln to his rudest height,\nBreaks over both sides of a ship, being all-urg\u2019d by the wind,\nFor that\u2019s it makes the wave so proud; in such a borne-up kind\nThe Trojans overgat the wall, and, getting in their horse,\nFought close at fleet, which now the Greeks ascended for their force.\nThen from their chariots they with darts, the Greeks with bead-hooks\nfought,\nKept still aboard for naval fights, their heads with iron wrought\nIn hooks and pikes. Achilles\u2019 friend, still while he saw the wall,\nThat stood without their fleet, afford employment for them all,\nWas never absent from the tent of that man-loving Greek,\nLate-hurt Eurypylus, but sate, and ev\u2019ry way did seek,\nTo spend the sharp time of his wound, with all the ease he could\nIn med\u2019cines, and in kind discourse. But when he might behold\nThe Trojans past the wall, the Greeks flight-driv\u2019n, and all in cries,\nThen cried he out, cast down his hands, and beat with grief his thighs,\nThen, \u201cO Eurypylus,\u201d he cried, \u201cnow all thy need of me\nMust bear my absence, now a work of more necessity\nCalls hence, and I must haste to call Achilles to the field.\nWho knows, but, God assisting me, my words may make him yield?\nThe motion of a friend is strong.\u201d His feet thus took him thence.\nThe rest yet stood their enemies firm; but all their violence\n(Though Troy fought there with fewer men) lack\u2019d vigour to repell\nThose fewer from their navy\u2019s charge, and so that charge as well\nLack\u2019d force to spoil their fleet or tents. And as a shipwright\u2019s line\n(Dispos\u2019d by such a hand as learn\u2019d from th\u2019 Artizan divine\nThe perfect practice of his art) directs or guards so well\nThe naval timber then in frame, that all the laid-on steel\nCan hew no further than may serve, to give the timber th\u2019 end\nFore-purpos\u2019d by the skilful wright; so both hosts did contend\nWith such a line or law applied, to what their steel would gain.\nAt other ships fought other men; but Hector did maintain\nHis quarrel firm at Ajax\u2019 ship. And so did both employ\nAbout one vessel all their toil; nor could the one destroy\nThe ship with fire, nor force the man, nor that man yet get gone\nThe other from so near his ship, for God had brought him on.\nBut now did Ajax, with a dart, wound deadly in the breast\nCaletor, son of Clytius, as he with fire address\u2019d\nTo burn the vessel; as he fell, the brand fell from his hand.\nWhen Hector saw his sister\u2019s son lie slaughter\u2019d in the sand,\nHe call\u2019d to all his friends, and pray\u2019d they would not in that strait\nForsake his nephew, but maintain about his corse the fight,\nAnd save it from the spoil of Greece. Then sent he out a lance\nAt Ajax, in his nephew\u2019s wreak; which miss\u2019d, but made the chance\nOn Lycophron Mastorides, that was the household friend\nOf Ajax, born in Cythera; whom Ajax did defend,\nBeing fled to his protecti\u00f3n, for killing of a man\nAmongst the god-like Cytherans. The vengeful jav\u2019lin ran\nQuite through his head, above his ear, as he was standing by\nHis fautour then astern his ship, from whence his soul did fly,\nAnd to the earth his body fell. The hair stood up an end\nOn Ajax, who to Teucer call\u2019d (his brother) saying: \u201cFriend\nOur lov\u00e9d consort, whom we brought from Cythera, and grac\u2019d\nSo like our father, Hector\u2019s hand hath made him breathe his last.\nWhere then are all thy death-borne shafts, and that unvalu\u2019d bow\nApollo gave thee?\u201d Teucer straight his brother\u2019s thoughts did know,\nStood near him, and dispatch\u2019d a shaft, amongst the Trojan fight.\nIt strook Pisenor\u2019s goodly son, young Clitus, the delight\nOf the renown\u2019d Polydamas, the bridle in his hand,\nAs he was labouring his horse, to please the high command\nOf Hector and his Trojan friends, and bring him where the fight\nMade greatest tumult; but his strife, for honour in their sight,\nWrought not what sight or wishes help\u2019d; for, turning back his look,\nThe hollow of his neck the shaft came singing on, and strook,\nAnd down he fell; his horses back, and hurried through the field\nThe empty chariot. Panthus\u2019 son made all haste, and withheld\nTheir loose career, disposing them to Protiaon\u2019s son,\nAstynous, with special charge, to keep them ever on,\nAnd in his sight. So he again, amongst the foremost went.\nAt Hector then another shaft, incens\u00e9d Teucer sent,\nWhich, had it hit him, sure had hurt, and, had it hurt him, slain,\nAnd, had it slain him, it had driv\u2019n all those to Troy again.\nBut Jove\u2019s mind was not sleeping now, it wak\u2019d to Hector\u2019s fame,\nAnd Teucer\u2019s infamy; himself (in Teucer\u2019s deadly aim)\nHis well-wrought string dissevering, that serv\u2019d his bravest bow;\nHis shaft flew quite another way, his bow the earth did strow.\nAt all which Teucer stood amaz\u2019d, and to his brother cried:\n\u201cO prodigy! Without all doubt, our angel doth deride\nThe counsels of our fight; he brake a string my hands put on\nThis morning, and was newly made, and well might have set gone\nA hundred arrows; and, beside, he strook out of my hand\nThe bow Apollo gave.\u201d He said: \u201cThen, good friend, do not stand\nMore on thy archery, since God, preventer of all grace\nDesir\u2019d by Grecians, slights it so. Take therefore in the place\nA good large lance, and on thy neck a target cast as bright,\nWith which come fight thyself with some, and other some excite,\nThat without labour at the least, though we prove worser men,\nTroy may not brag it took our ships. Come, mind our business, then.\u201d\nThis said, he hasted to his tent, left there his shafts and bow,\nAnd then his double double shield did on his shoulders throw;\nUpon his honour\u2019d head he plac\u2019d his helmet thickly-plum\u2019d,\nAnd then his strong and well-pil\u2019d lance in his fair hand assum\u2019d,\nReturn\u2019d; and boldly took his place, by his great brother\u2019s side.\nWhen Hector saw his arrows broke, out to his friends he cried:\n\u201cO friends, be yet more comforted; I saw the hands of Jove\nBreak the great Grecian archer\u2019s shafts. \u2019Tis easy to approve\nThat Jove\u2019s pow\u2019r is direct with men; as well in those set high\nUpon the sudden, as in those depress\u2019d as suddenly,\nAnd those not put in state at all. As now he takes away\nStrength from the Greeks, and gives it us; then use it, and assay\nWith join\u2019d hands this approach\u00e9d fleet. If any bravely buy\nHis fame or fate with wounds or death, in Jove\u2019s name let him die.\nWho for his country suffers death, sustains no shameful thing,\nHis wife in honour shall survive, his progeny shall spring\nIn endless summers, and their roofs with patrimony swell.\nAnd all this, though, with all their freight, the Greek ships we\nrepell.\u201d\nHis friends thus cheer\u2019d; on th\u2019 other part, strong Ajax stirr\u2019d his\nfriends:\n\u201cO Greeks,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat shame is this, that no man more defends\nHis fame and safety, than to live, and thus be forc\u2019d to shrink!\nNow either save your fleet, or die; unless ye vainly think\nThat you can live and they destroy\u2019d. Perceives not ev\u2019ry ear\nHow Hector heartens up his men, and hath his fire-brands here\nNow ready to inflame our fleet? He doth not bid them dance,\nThat you may take your ease and see, but to the fight advance.\nNo counsel can serve us but this: To mix both hands and hearts,\nAnd bear up close. \u2019Tis better much, t\u2019 expose our utmost parts\nTo one day\u2019s certain life or death, than languish in a war\nSo base as this, beat to our ships by our inferiors far.\u201d\nThus rous\u2019d he up their spirits and strengths. To work then both sides\nwent,\nWhen Hector the Phocensian duke to fields of darkness sent,\nFierce Schedius, Perimedes\u2019 son; which Ajax did requite\nWith slaughter of Laodamas, that led the foot to fight,\nAnd was Antenor\u2019s famous son. Polydamas did end\nOtus, surnam\u2019d Cyllenius, whom Phydas made his friend,\nBeing chief of the Epeians\u2019 bands. Whose fall when Meges view\u2019d,\nHe let fly at his feller\u2019s life; who, shrinking in, eschew\u2019d\nThe well-aim\u2019d lance; Apollo\u2019s will denied that Panthus\u2019 son\nShould fall amongst the foremost fights; the dart the mid-breast won\nOf Crasmus; Meges won his arms. At Meges, Dolops then\nBestow\u2019d his lance; he was the son of Lampus, best of men,\nAnd Lampus of Laomedon, well-skill\u2019d in strength of mind,\nHe strook Phylides\u2019 shield quite through, whose curets, better lin\u2019d,\nAnd hollow\u2019d fitly, sav\u2019d his life. Phyleus left him them,\nWho from Epirus brought them home, on that part where the stream\nOf famous Sel\u00e9\u00e9s doth run; Euphetes did bestow,\nBeing guest with him, those well-prov\u2019d arms, to wear against the foe,\nAnd now they sav\u2019d his son from death. At Dolops, Meges threw\nA spear well-pil\u2019d, that strook his casque full in the height; off flew\nHis purple feather, newly made, and in the dust it fell.\nWhile these thus striv\u2019d for victory, and either\u2019s hope serv\u2019d well,\nAtrides came to Meges\u2019 aid, and, hidden with his side,\nLet loose a jav\u2019lin at his foe, that through his back implied\nHis lusty head, ev\u2019n past his breast; the ground receiv\u2019d his weight.\nWhile these made in to spoil his arms, great Hector did excite\nAll his allies to quick revenge; and first he wrought upon\nStrong Manalippus, that was son to great Hycetaon,\nWith some reproof. Before these wars, he in Percote fed\nClov\u2019n-foot\u2019d oxen, but did since return where he was bred,\nExcell\u2019d amongst the Ilians, was much of Priam lov\u2019d,\nAnd in his court kept as his son. Him Hector thus reprov\u2019d:\n\u201cThus, Menalippus, shall our blood accuse us of neglect?\nNor moves it thy lov\u2019d heart, thus urg\u2019d, thy kinsman to protect?\nSeest thou not how they seek his spoil? Come, follow, now no more\nOur fight must stand at length, but close; nor leave the close before\nWe close the latest eye of them, or they the lowest stone\nTear up, and sack the citizens of lofty Ilion.\u201d\nHe led; he follow\u2019d, like a God. And then must Ajax needs,\nAs well as Hector, cheer his men, and thus their spirits he feeds:\n\u201cGood friends, bring but yourselves to feel the noble stings of shame\nFor what ye suffer, and be men. Respect each other\u2019s fame;\nFor which who strives in shame\u2019s fit fear, and puts on ne\u2019er so far,\nComes oft\u2019ner off. Then stick engag\u2019d; these fugitives of war\nSave neither life, nor get renown, nor bear more mind than sheep.\u201d\nThis short speech fir\u2019d them in his aid, his spirit touch\u2019d them deep,\nAnd turn\u2019d them all before the fleet into a wall of brass;\nTo whose assault Jove stirr\u2019d their foes, and young Atrides was\nJove\u2019s instrument, who thus set on the young Antilochus:\n\u201cAntilochus, in all our host, there is not one of us\nMore young than thou, more swift of foot, nor, with both those, so\nstrong.\nO would thou wouldst then, for thou canst, one of this lusty throng,\nThat thus comes skipping out before (whoever, any where)\nMake stick, for my sake, \u2019twixt both hosts, and leave his bold blood\nthere!\u201d\nHe said no sooner, and retir\u2019d, but forth he rush\u2019d before\nThe foremost fighters, yet his eye did ev\u2019ry way explore\nFor doubt of odds; out flew his lance; the Trojans did abstain\nWhile he was darting; yet his dart he cast not off in vain,\nFor Menalippus, that rare son of great Hycetaon,\nAs bravely he put forth to fight, it fiercely flew upon;\nAnd at the nipple of his breast, his breast and life did part.\nAnd then, much like an eager hound, cast off at some young hart\nHurt by the hunter, that had left his covert then but new,\nThe great-in-war Antilochus, O Menalippus, flew\nOn thy torn bosom for thy spoil. But thy death could not lie\nHid to great Hector; who all haste made to thee, and made fly\nAntilochus, although in war he were at all parts skill\u2019d.\nBut as some wild beast, having done some shrewd turn (either kill\u2019d\nThe herdsman, or the herdsman\u2019s dog) and skulks away before\nThe gather\u2019d multitude makes in; so Nestor\u2019s son forbore,\nBut after him, with horrid cries, both Hector and the rest\nShow\u2019rs of tear-thirsty lances pour\u2019d; who having arm\u2019d his breast\nWith all his friends, he turn\u2019d it then. Then on the ships all Troy,\nLike raw-flesh-nourish\u2019d lions, rush\u2019d, and knew they did employ\nTheir pow\u2019rs to perfect Jove\u2019s high will; who still their spirits\nenflam\u2019d,\nAnd quench\u2019d the Grecians\u2019; one renown\u2019d, the other often sham\u2019d.\nFor Hector\u2019s glory still he stood, and ever went about\nTo make him cast the fleet such fire, as never should go out;\nHeard Thetis\u2019 foul petiti\u00f3n, and wish\u2019d in any wise\nThe splendour of the burning ships might satiate his eyes.\nFrom him yet the repulse was then to be on Troy conferr\u2019d,\nThe honour of it giv\u2019n the Greeks; which thinking on, he stirr\u2019d,\nWith such addition of his spirit, the spirit Hector bore\nTo burn the fleet, that of itself was hot enough before.\nBut now he far\u2019d like Mars himself, so brandishing his lance\nAs, through the deep shades of a wood, a raging fire should glance,\nHeld up to all eyes by a hill; about his lips a foam\nStood as when th\u2019 ocean is enrag\u2019d, his eyes were overcome\nWith fervour, and resembled flames, set off by his dark brows,\nAnd from his temples his bright helm abhorr\u00e9d lightnings throws;\nFor Jove, from forth the sphere of stars, to his state put his own,\nAnd all the blaze of both the hosts confin\u2019d in him alone.\nAnd all this was, since after this he had not long to live,\nThis lightning flew before his death, which Pallas was to give\n(A small time thence, and now prepar\u2019d) beneath the violence\nOf great Pelides. In mean time, his present eminence\nThought all things under it; and he, still where he saw the stands\nOf greatest strength and bravest arm\u2019d, there he would prove his hands,\nOr nowhere; off\u2019ring to break through, but that pass\u2019d all his pow\u2019r,\nAlthough his will were past all theirs, they stood him like a tow\u2019r\nConjoin\u2019d so firm, that as a rock, exceeding high and great,\nAnd standing near the hoary sea, bears many a boist\u2019rous threat\nOf high-voic\u2019d winds and billows huge, belch\u2019d on it by the storms;\nSo stood the Greeks great Hector\u2019s charge, nor stirr\u2019d their battellous\nforms.\nHe, girt in fire borne for the fleet, still rush\u2019d at ev\u2019ry troop,\nAnd fell upon it like a wave, high rais\u2019d, that then doth stoop\nOut from the clouds, grows, as it stoops, with storms, then down doth\ncome\nAnd cuff a ship, when all her sides are hid in brackish foam,\nStrong gales still raging in her sails, her sailors\u2019 minds dismay\u2019d,\nDeath being but little from their lives; so Jove-like Hector fray\u2019d\nAnd plied the Greeks, who knew not what would chance, for all their\nguards.\nAnd as the baneful king of beasts, leapt into oxen herds\nFed in the meadows of a fen, exceeding great; the beasts\nIn number infinite; \u2019mongst whom (their herdsmen wanting breasts\nTo fight with lions, for the price of a black ox\u2019s life)\nHe here and there jumps, first and last, in his blood-thirsty strife,\nChas\u2019d and assaulted; and, at length, down in the midst goes one,\nAnd all the rest spers\u2019d through the fen; so now all Greece was gone;\nSo Hector, in a flight from heav\u2019n upon the Grecians cast,\nTurn\u2019d all their backs; yet only one his deadly lance laid fast,\nBrave Mycen\u00e6us Periphes, Cypr\u00e6us\u2019 dearest son,\nWho of the heav\u2019n\u2019s-Queen-lov\u00e9d king, great Eurysth\u00e6us, won\nThe grace to greet in ambassy the strength of Hercules,\nWas far superior to his sire in feet, fight, nobleness\nOf all the virtues, and all those did such a wisdom guide\nAs all Mycena could not match; and this man dignified,\nStill making greater his renown, the state of Priam\u2019s son,\nFor his unhappy hasty foot, as he address\u2019d to run,\nStuck in th\u2019 extreme ring of his shield, that to his ancles reach\u2019d,\nAnd down he upwards fell, his fall up from the centre fetch\u2019d\nA huge sound with his head and helm; which Hector quickly spied,\nRan in, and in his worthy breast his lance\u2019s head did hide;\nAnd slew about him all his friends, who could not give him aid,\nThey griev\u2019d, and of his god-like foe fled so extreme afraid.\nAnd now amongst the nearest ships, that first were drawn to shore,\nThe Greeks were driv\u2019n; beneath whose sides, behind them, and before,\nAnd into them they pour\u2019d themselves, and thence were driv\u2019n again\nUp to their tents, and there they stood; not daring to maintain\nTheir guards more outward, but, betwixt the bounds of fear and shame,\nCheer\u2019d still each other; when th\u2019 old man, that of the Grecian name\nWas call\u2019d the Pillar, ev\u2019ry man thus by his parents pray\u2019d:\n\u201cO friends, be men, and in your minds let others\u2019 shames be weigh\u2019d.\nKnow you have friends besides yourselves, possessions, parents, wives,\nAs well those that are dead to you, as those ye love with lives;\nAll sharing still their good, or bad, with yours. By these I pray,\nThat are not present (and the more should therefore make ye weigh\nTheir miss of you, as yours of them) that you will bravely stand,\nAnd this forc\u2019d flight you have sustain\u2019d, at length yet countermand.\u201d\nSupplies of good words thus supplied the deeds and spirits of all.\nAnd so at last Minerva clear\u2019d, the cloud that Jove let fall\nBefore their eyes; a mighty light flew beaming ev\u2019ry way,\nAs well about their ships, as where their darts did hottest play,\nThen saw they Hector great in arms, and his associates,\nAs well all those that then abstain\u2019d, as those that help\u2019d the fates,\nAnd all their own fight at the fleet. Nor did it now content\nAjax to keep down like the rest; he up the hatches went,\nStalk\u2019d here and there, and in his hand a huge great bead-hook held,\nTwelve cubits long, and full of iron. And as a man well-skill\u2019d\nIn horse, made to the martial race, when, of a number more,\nHe chooseth four, and brings them forth, to run them all before\nSwarms of admiring citizens, amids their town\u2019s high way,\nAnd, in their full career, he leaps from one to one, no stay\nEnforc\u2019d on any, nor fails he, in either seat or leap;\nSo Ajax with his bead-hook leap\u2019d nimbly from ship to ship,\nAs actively commanding all, them in their men as well\nAs men in them, most terribly exhorting to repell,\nTo save their navy and their tents. But Hector nothing needs\nTo stand on exhortations now at home, he strives for deeds.\nAnd look how Jove\u2019s great queen of birds, sharp-set, looks out for\nprey,\nKnows floods that nourish wild-wing\u2019d fowls, and, from her airy way,\nBeholds where cranes, swans, cormorants, have made their foody fall,\nDarkens the river with her wings, and stoops amongst them all;\nSo Hector flew amongst the Greeks, directing his command,\nIn chief, against one opposite ship; Jove with a mighty hand\nStill backing him and all his men. And then again there grew\nA bitter conflict at the fleet. You would have said none drew\nA weary breath, nor ever would, they laid so freshly on.\nAnd this was it that fir\u2019d them both: The Greeks did build upon\nNo hope but what the field would yield, flight an impossible course;\nThe Trojans all hope entertain\u2019d, that sword and fire should force\nBoth ships and lives of all the Greeks. And thus, unlike affects\nBred like strenuity in both. Great Hector still directs\nHis pow\u2019rs against the first near ship. \u2019Twas that fair bark that\nbrought\nProtesilaus to those wars, and now her self to nought,\nWith many Greek and Trojan lives, all spoil\u2019d about her spoil.\nOne slew another desp\u2019rately, and close the deadly toil\nWas pitch\u2019d on both parts. Not a shaft, nor far-off striking dart\nWas us\u2019d through all. One fight fell out, of one despiteful heart.\nSharp axes, twybills, two-hand swords, and spears with two heads borne,\nWere then the weapons; fair short swords, with sanguine hilts still\nworn,\nHad use in like sort; of which last, ye might have numbers view\u2019d\nDrop with dissolv\u2019d arms from their hands, as many down-right hew\u2019d\nFrom off their shoulders as they fought, their bawdrics cut in twain.\nAnd thus the black blood flow\u2019d on earth, from soldiers hurt and slain.\nWhen Hector once had seiz\u2019d the ship, he clapt his fair broad hand\nFast on the stern, and held it there, and there gave this command:\n\u201cBring fire, and all together shout. Now Jove hath drawn the veil\nFrom such a day as makes amends, for all his storms of hail;\nBy whose blest light we take those ships, that, in despite of heav\u2019n,\nTook sea, and brought us worlds of woe, all since our peers were giv\u2019n\nTo such a laziness and fear; they would not let me end\nOur ling\u2019ring banes, and charge thus home, but keep home and defend,\nAnd so they rul\u2019d the men I led. But though Jove then withheld\nMy natural spirit, now by Jove \u2019tis freed, and thus impell\u2019d.\u201d\nThis more inflam\u2019d them; in so much that Ajax now no more\nKept up, he was so drown\u2019d in darts; a little he forbore\nThe hatches to a seat beneath, of sev\u2019n foot long, but thought\nIt was impossible to scape; he sat yet where he fought,\nAnd hurl\u2019d out lances thick as hail, at all men that assay\u2019d\nTo fire the ship; with whom he found his hands so overlaid,\nThat on his soldiers thus he cried: \u201cO friends, fight I alone?\nExpect ye more walls at your backs? Towns rampir\u2019d here are none,\nNo citizens to take ye in, no help of any kind.\nWe are, I tell you, in Troy\u2019s fields; have nought but seas behind,\nAnd foes before; far, far from Greece. For shame, obey commands,\nThere is no mercy in the wars; your healths lie in your hands.\u201d\nThus rag\u2019d he, and pour\u2019d out his darts. Whoever he espied\nCome near the vessel arm\u2019d with fire, on his fierce dart he died.\nAll that pleas\u2019d Hector made him mad, all that his thanks would earn;\nOf which twelve men, his most resolv\u2019d, lay dead before his stern.\n\nTHE END OF THE FIFTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAchilles, at Patroclus\u2019 suit, doth yield\nHis arms and Myrmidons; which brought to field,\nThe Trojans fly. Patroclus hath the grace\nOf great Sarpedon\u2019s death, sprung of the race\nOf Jupiter, he having slain the horse\nOf Thetis\u2019 son, fierce Pedasus. The force\nOf Hector doth revenge the much-rued end\nOf most renown\u2019d Sarpedon on the friend\nOf Thetides, first by Euphorbus harm\u2019d,\nAnd by Apollo\u2019s personal pow\u2019r disarm\u2019d.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn \u03a0\u03b9\u0311 Patroclus bears the chance\nOf death, impos\u2019d by Hector\u2019s lance.\n\n\nThus fighting for this well-built ship; Patroclus all that space\nStood by his friend, preparing words to win the Greeks his grace,\nWith pow\u2019r of uncontain\u00e9d tears; and, like a fountain pour\u2019d\nIn black streams from a lofty rock, the Greeks so plagu\u2019d deplor\u2019d.\nAchilles, ruthful for his tears, said: \u201cWherefore weeps my friend\nSo like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend\nHer childish humours, hangs on her, and would be taken up,\nStill viewing her with tear-drown\u2019d eyes, when she hath made her stoop,\nTo nothing liker I can shape thy so unseemly tears.\nWhat causeth them? Hath any ill solicited thine ears\nBefall\u2019n my Myrmidons? Or news from lov\u00e9d Phthia brought,\nTold only thee, lest I should grieve, and therefore thus hath wrought\nOn thy kind spirit? Actor\u2019s son, the good Men\u0153tius,\nThy father, lives, and Peleus, mine, great son of \u00c6acus,\nAmongst his Myrmidons; whose deaths, in duty we should mourn,\nOr is it what the Greeks sustain, that doth thy stomach turn,\nOn whom, for their injustice\u2019 sake, plagues are so justly laid?\nSpeak, man, let both know either\u2019s heart.\u201d Patroclus, sighing, said:\n\u201cO Peleus\u2019 son, thou strongest Greek by all degrees that lives,\nStill be not angry, our sad state such cause of pity gives,\nOur greatest Greeks lie at their ships sore wounded; Ithacus,\nKing Agamemnon, Diomed, and good Eurypylus;\nBut these much-med\u2019cine-knowing men, physicians, can recure,\nThou yet unmed\u2019cinable still, though thy wound all endure,\nHeav\u2019n bless my bosom from such wrath as thou sooth\u2019st as thy bliss,\nUnprofitably virtuous. How shall our progenies,\nBorn in thine age, enjoy thine aid, when these friends, in thy flow\u2019r,\nThou leav\u2019st to such unworthy death? O idle, cruel pow\u2019r!\nGreat Peleus never did beget, nor Thetis bring forth thee,\nThou from the blue sea, and her rocks, deriv\u2019st thy pedigree,\nWhat so declines thee? If thy mind shuns any augury,\nRelated by thy mother-queen from heav\u2019n\u2019s foreseeing eye,\nAnd therefore thou forsak\u2019st thy friends, let me go ease their moans\nWith those brave relics of our host, thy mighty Myrmidons,\nThat I may bring to field more light to conquest than hath been.\nTo which end grace me with thine arms, since, any shadow seen\nOf thy resemblance, all the pow\u2019r of perjur\u2019d Troy will fly,\nAnd our so-tir\u00e9d friend\u2019s will breathe; our fresh-set-on supply\nWill eas\u2019ly drive their wearied off.\u201d Thus, foolish man, he sued\nFor his sure death; of all whose speech Achilles first renew\u2019d\nThe last part thus: \u201cO worthy friend, what have thy speeches been?\nI shun the fight for oracles, or what my mother queen\nHath told from Jove? I take no care, nor note of one such thing!\nBut this fit anger stings me still, that the insulting king\nShould from his equal take his right, since he exceeds in pow\u2019r.\nThis, still his wrong, is still my grief: He took my paramour\nThat all men gave, and whom I won by virtue of my spear,\nThat, for her, overturn\u2019d a town. This rape he made of her,\nAnd used me like a fugitive, an inmate in a town,\nThat is no city libertine, nor capable of their gown.\nBut bear we this as out of date; \u2019tis past, nor must we still\nFeed anger in our noblest parts; yet thus, I have my will\nAs well as our great king of men, for I did ever vow\nNever to cast off my disdain till, as it falls out now,\nTheir miss of me knock\u2019d at my fleet, and told me in their cries\nI was reveng\u2019d, and had my wish of all my enemies.\nAnd so of this repeat enough. Take thou my fame-blaz\u2019d arms,\nAnd my fight-thirsty Myrmidons lead to these hot alarms.\nWhole clouds of Trojans circle us with hateful eminence;\nThe Greeks shut in a little shore, a sort of citizens\nSkipping upon them; all because their proud eyes do not see\nThe radiance of my helmet there, whose beams had instantly\nThrust back, and all these ditches fill\u2019d with carrion of their flesh,\nIf Agamemnon had been kind; where now they fight as fresh,\nAs thus far they had put at ease, and at our tents contend.\nAnd may; for the repulsive hand of Diomed doth not spend\nHis raging darts there, that their death could fright out of our fleet;\nNor from that head of enmity, can my poor hearers meet\nThe voice of great Atrides now. Now Hector\u2019s only voice\nBreaks all the air about both hosts, and, with the very noise\nBred by his loud encouragements, his forces fill the field,\nAnd fight the poor Achaians down. But on, put thou my shield\nBetwixt the fire-plague and our fleet. Rush bravely on, and turn\nWar\u2019s tide as headlong on their throats. No more let them ajourn\nOur sweet home-turning. But observe the charge I lay on thee\nTo each least point, that thy rul\u2019d hand may highly honour me,\nAnd get such glory from the Greeks, that they may send again\nMy most sweet wench, and gifts to boot, when thou hast cast a rein\nOn these so headstrong citizens, and forc\u2019d them from our fleet.\nWith which grace if the God of sounds thy kind egression greet;[1]\nRetire, and be not tempted on (with pride to see thy hand\nRain slaughter\u2019d carcasses on earth) to run forth thy command\nAs far as Ilion, lest the Gods, that favour Troy, come forth\nTo thy encounter, for the Sun much loves it; and my worth,\nIn what thou suffer\u2019st, will be wrong\u2019d, that I would let my friend\nAssume an action of such weight without me, and transcend\nHis friend\u2019s prescription. Do not then affect a further fight\nThan I may strengthen. Let the rest, when thou hast done this right,\nPerform the rest. O would to Jove, thou Pallas, and thou Sun,\nThat not a man hous\u2019d underneath those tow\u2019rs of Ilion,\nNor anyone of all the Greeks, how infinite a sum\nSoever all together make, might live unovercome;\nBut only we two, \u2019scaping death, might have the thund\u2019ring down\nOf ev\u2019ry stone stuck in the walls of this so sacred town!\u201d\nThus spake they only \u2019twixt themselves. And now the foe no more\nCould Ajax stand, being so oppress\u2019d with all the iron store\nThe Trojans pour\u2019d on; with whose darts, and with Jove\u2019s will beside,\nHis pow\u2019rs were cloy\u2019d, and his bright helm did deaf\u2019ning blows abide,\nHis plume, and all bead-ornaments, could never hang in rest.\nHis arm yet labour\u2019d up his shield, and having done their best,\nThey could not stir him from his stand, although he wrought it out\nWith short respirings, and with sweat, that ceaseless flow\u2019d about\nHis reeking limbs; no least time giv\u2019n to take in any breath;\nIll strengthen\u2019d ill; when one was up, another was beneath.\nNow, Muses, you that dwell in heav\u2019n, the dreadful mean inspire,\nThat first enforc\u2019d the Grecian fleet, to take in Trojan fire.\nFirst Hector, with his huge broad sword, cut off, at setting on,\nThe head of Ajax\u2019 ashen lance; which Ajax seeing gone,\nAnd that he shook a headless spear, a little while unware,\nHis wary spirits told him straight the hand of Heav\u2019n was there;\nAnd trembling under his conceit, which was that \u2019twas Jove\u2019s deed,\nWho, as be poll\u2019d off his dart\u2019s heads, so sure he had decreed\nThat all the counsels of their war, he would poll off like it,\nAnd give the Trojans victory; so trusted he his wit,\nAnd left his darts. And then the ship was heap\u2019d with horrid brands\nOf kindling fire; which instantly was seen through all the strands\nIn unextinguishable flames, that all the ship embrac\u2019d.\nAnd then Achilles beat his thighs, cried out, \u201cPatroclus, haste,\nMake way with horse. I see at fleet, a fire of fearful rage.\nArm, arm, lest all our fleet it fire, and all our pow\u2019r engage.\nArm quickly, I\u2019ll bring up the troops.\u201d To these so dreadful wars\nPatroclus, in Achilles\u2019 arms, enlighten\u2019d all with stars,\nAnd richly amell\u2019d, all haste made. He wore his sword, his shield,\nHis huge-plum\u2019d helm, and two such spears, as he could nimbly wield.\nBut the most fam\u2019d Achilles\u2019 spear, big, solid, full of weight,\nHe only left of all his arms; for that far pass\u2019d the might\nOf any Greek to shake but his; Achilles\u2019 only ire\nShook that huge weapon, that was giv\u2019n by Chiron to his sire,\nCut from the top of Pelion, to be hero\u00ebs\u2019 deaths.\nHis steeds Automedon straight join\u2019d; like whom no man that breathes,\nNext Peleus\u2019 son, Patroclus lov\u2019d; for, like him, none so great\nHe found in faith at ev\u2019ry fight, nor to out-look a threat,\nAutomedon did therefore guide for him Achilles\u2019 steeds,\nXanthius and Balius swift as wind, begotten by the seeds\nOf Zephyr, and the Harpy born, Podarge, in a mead\nClose to the wavy oce\u00e1n, where that fierce Harpy fed.\nAutomedon join\u2019d these before, and with the hindmost gears\nHe fasten\u2019d famous Pedasus, whom, from the massacres\nMade by Achilles, when he took E\u00ebtion\u2019s wealthy town,\nHe brought, and, though of mortal race, yet gave him the renown\nTo follow his immortal horse. And now, before his tents,\nHimself had seen his Myrmidons, in all habiliments\nOf dreadful war. And when ye see, upon a mountain bred,[2]\nA den of wolves, about whose hearts unmeasur\u2019d strengths are fed,\nNew come from currie of a stag, their jaws all blood-besmear\u2019d,\nAnd when from some black-water fount they all together herd,\nThere having plentifully lapp\u2019d, with thin and thrust out tongues,\nThe top and clearest of the spring, go belching from their lungs\nThe clotter\u2019d gore, look dreadfully, and entertain no dread,\nTheir bellies gaunt all taken up, with being so rawly fed;\nThen say, that such, in strength and look, were great Achilles\u2019 men\nNow order\u2019d for the dreadful fight; and so with all them then\nTheir princes and their chiefs did show, about their Gen\u2019ral\u2019s friend;\nHis friend, and all, about himself; who chiefly did intend\nTh\u2019 embattelling of horse and foot. To that siege, held so long,\nTwice-five-and-twenty sail he brought, twice-five-and-twenty strong\nOf able men was ev\u2019rv sail. Five colonels he made\nOf all those forces; trusty men, and all of pow\u2019r to lead,\nBut he of pow\u2019r beyond them all. Menesthius was one,\nThat ever wore discolour\u2019d arms; he was a river\u2019s son\nThat fell from heav\u2019n, and good to drink was his delightful stream,\nHis name unwearied Sperchius, he lov\u2019d the lovely dame\nFair Polydora, Peleus\u2019 seed, and dear in Borus\u2019 sight,\nAnd she to that celestial Flood gave this Menesthius light,\nA woman mixing with a God. Yet Borus bore the name\nOf father to Menesthius, he marrying the dame,\nAnd giving her a mighty dow\u2019r; he was the kind descent\nOf Perieres. The next man, renown\u2019d with regiment,\nWas strong Eudorus, brought to life by one suppos\u2019d a maid,\nBright Polymela, Phylas\u2019 seed, but had the wanton play\u2019d\nWith Argus-killing Mercury; who (fir\u2019d with her fair eyes,\nAs she was singing in the quire of Her that makes the cries\nIn clam\u2019rous hunting, and doth bear the crooked bow of gold)\nStole to her bed in that chaste room, that Ph\u0153be chaste did hold,\nAnd gave her that swift-warlike son, Eudorus, brought to light\nAs she was dancing; but as soon, as She that rules the plight\nOf labouring women eas\u2019d her throes, and show\u2019d her son the sun,\nStrong Echec\u00e6us, Actor\u2019s heir, woo\u2019d earnestly, and won\nHer second favour, feeing her with gifts of infinite prize;\nAnd after brought her to his house, where, in his grandsire\u2019s eyes,\nOld Phylas, Polymela\u2019s son obtain\u2019d exceeding grace,\nAnd found as careful bringing up, as of his natural race\nHe had descended. The third chief was fair M\u00e6malides\nPisandrus, who in skill of darts obtain\u2019d supremest praise\nOf all the Myrmidons, except their lord\u2019s companion.\nThe fourth charge, aged Ph\u0153nix had. The fifth, Alcimedon,\nSon of Laerces, and much fam\u2019d. All these digested thus\nIn fit place by the mighty son of royal Pele\u00fcs,\nThis stern remembrance he gave all: \u201cYou, Myrmidons,\u201d said he,\n\u201cLest any of you should forget his threat\u2019nings us\u2019d to me\nIn this place, and, through all the time, that my just anger reign\u2019d,\nAttempting me with bitter words, for being so restrain\u2019d,\nFor my hot humour, from the fight, remember them as these:\n\u2018Thou cruel son of Pele\u00fcs, whom She that rules the seas\nDid only nourish with her gall, thou dost ungently hold\nOur hands against our wills from fight. We will not be controll\u2019d,\nBut take our ships, and sail for home, before we loiter here\nAnd feed thy fury.\u2019 These high words exceeding often were\nThe threats that, in your mutinous troops, ye us\u2019d to me for wrath\nTo be detain\u2019d so from the field. Now then, your spleens may bathe\nIn sweat of those great works ye wish\u2019d; now, he that can employ\nA gen\u2019rous heart, go fight, and fright these bragging sons of Troy.\u201d\nThis set their minds and strengths on fire, the speech enforcing well,\nBeing us\u2019d in time; but, being their king\u2019s, it much more did impell,\nAnd closer rush\u2019d in all the troops. And as, for buildings high,\nThe mason lays his stones more thick, against th\u2019 extremity\nOf wind and weather, and ev\u2019n then, if any storm arise,\nHe thickens them the more for that, the present act so plies\nHis honest mind to make sure work; so, for the high estate\nThis work was brought to, these men\u2019s minds, according to the rate,\nWere rais\u2019d, and all their bodies join\u2019d; but their well-spoken king,\nWith his so timely-thought-on speech, more sharp made valour\u2019s sting,\nAnd thicken\u2019d so their targets boss\u2019d, so all their helmets then,\nThat shields propp\u2019d shields, helms helmets knock\u2019d, and men encourag\u2019d\nmen.\nPatroclus and Automedon did arm before them all,\nTwo bodies with one mind inform\u2019d; and then the General\nBetook him to his private tent, where from a coffer wrought\nMost rich and curiously, and giv\u2019n by Thetis to be brought\nIn his own ship, top-fill\u2019d with vests, warm robes to check cold wind,\nAnd tapestries all gold\u2019n-fring\u2019d, and curl\u2019d with thrumbs behind,\nHe took a most unvalu\u2019d bowl, in which none drank but he;\nNor he but to the Deities, nor any Deity\nBut Jove himself was serv\u2019d with that; and that he first did cleanse\nWith sulphur, then with fluences of sweetest water rense;\nThen wash\u2019d his hands, and drew himself a mighty bowl of wine,\nWhich (standing midst the place enclos\u2019d for services divine,\nAnd looking up to heav\u2019n and Jove, who saw him well) he pour\u2019d\nUpon the place of sacrifice, and humbly thus implor\u2019d:\n\u201cGreat Dodon\u00e6us, president of cold Dodone\u2019s tow\u2019rs,\nDivine Pelasgicus, that dwellest far hence; about whose bow\u2019rs\nTh\u2019 austere prophetic Selli dwell, that still sleep on the ground,\nGo bare, and never cleanse their feet; as I before have found\nGrace to my vows, and hurt to Greece, so now my pray\u2019rs intend.\nI still stay in the gather\u2019d fleet, but have dismiss\u2019d my friend,\nAmongst my many Myrmidons, to danger of the dart;\nO grant his valour my renown, arm with my mind his heart!\nThat Hector\u2019s self may know my friend can work in single war,\nAnd not then only show his hands, so hot and singular,\nWhen my kind presence seconds him. But, fight he ne\u2019er so well,\nNo further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repell\nClamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat\nTo him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.\u201d\nHe pray\u2019d, and heav\u2019n\u2019s great Counsellor gave satisfying ear\nTo one part of his orisons, but left the other there;\nHe let him free the fleet of foes, but safe retreat denied.\nAchilles left that utter part where he his zeal applied,\nAnd turn\u2019d into his inner tent, made fast his cup, and then\nStood forth, and with his mind beheld the foes fight; and his men,\nThat follow\u2019d his great-minded friend, embattled till they brake\nWith gallant spirit upon the foe. And as fell wasps, that make\nTheir dwellings in the broad high-way, which foolish children use\n(Their cottages being near their nests) to anger and abuse\nWith ever vexing them, and breed (to soothe their childish war)\nA common ill to many men, since if a traveller\n(That would his journey\u2019s end apply, and pass them unassay\u2019d)\nCome near and vex them, upon him the children\u2019s faults are laid,\nFor on they fly as he were such, and still defend their own;\nSo far\u2019d it with the fervent mind of ev\u2019ry Myrmidon,\nWho pour\u2019d themselves out of their fleet upon their wanton foes,\nThat needs would stir them, thrust so near, and cause the overthrows\nOf many others, that had else been never touch\u2019d by them,\nNor would have touch\u2019d. Patroclus then put his wind to the stream,\nAnd thus exhorted: \u201cNow, my friends, remember you express\nYour late-urg\u2019d virtue, and renown our great \u00c6acides.\nThat, he being strong\u2019st of all the Greeks, his eminence may dim\nAll others likewise in our strengths, that far off imitate him:\nAnd Agamemnon now may see his fault as general\nAs his place high, dishonouring him that so much honours all.\u201d\nThus made he sparkle their fresh fire, and on they rush\u2019d; the fleet\nFill\u2019d full her hollow sides with sounds, that terribly did greet\nTh\u2019 amazed Trojans; and their eyes did second their amaze\nWhen great Men\u0153tius\u2019 son they saw, and his friend\u2019s armour blaze.\nAll troops stood troubled, with conceit that Peleus\u2019 son was there,\nHis anger cast off at the ships; and each look\u2019d ev\u2019rywhere\nFor some authority to lead the then prepar\u00e9d flight.\nPatroclus greeted with a lance the region where the fight\nMade strongest tumult, near the ship Protesilaus brought,\nAnd strook Pyr\u00e6chmen; who before the fair-helmed P\u00e6ons fought,\nLed from Amydon, near whose walls the broad-stream\u2019d Axius flows.\nThrough his right shoulder flew the dart, whose blow strook all the\nblows\nIn his pow\u2019r from his pow\u2019rless arm, and down he groaning fell;\nHis men all flying, their leader fled. This one dart did repell\nThe whole guard plac\u2019d about the ship, whose fire extinct, half burn\u2019d\nThe P\u00e6ons left her, and full cry to clam\u2019rous flight return\u2019d.\nThen spread the Greeks about their ships; triumphant tumult flow\u2019d:\nAnd, as from top of some steep hill the Lightner strips a cloud,\nAnd lets a great sky out from heav\u2019n, in whose delightsome light\nAll prominent foreheads, forests, tow\u2019rs, and temples cheer the sight;\nSo clear\u2019d these Greeks this Trojan cloud, and at their ships and tents\nObtain\u2019d a little time to breathe, but found no present vents\nTo their inclusions; nor did Troy, though these P\u00e6onians fled,\nLose any ground, but from this ship they needfully turn\u2019d head.\nThen ev\u2019ry man a man subdu\u2019d. Patroclus in the thigh\nStrook Areilycus; his dart the bone did break, and fly\nQuite through, and sunk him to the earth. Good Menelaus slew\nAccomplish\u2019d Thoas, in whose breast, being nak\u2019d, his lance he threw\nAbove his shield, and freed his soul. Phylides, taking note\nThat bold Amphiclus bent at him, prevented him, and smote\nHis thigh\u2019s extreme part, where of man his fattest muscle lies,\nThe nerves torn with his lance\u2019s pile, and darkness clos\u2019d his eyes.\nAntilochus Atymnius seiz\u2019d, his steel lance did impress\nHis first three guts, and loos\u2019d his life. At young Nestorides,\nMaris, Atymnius\u2019 brother, flew; and at him Thrasymed\nThe brother to Antilochus; his eager jav\u2019lin\u2019s head\nThe muscles of his arm cut out, and shiver\u2019d all the bone;\nNight clos\u2019d his eyes, his lifeless corse his brother fell upon.\nAnd so by two kind brothers\u2019 hands, did two kind brothers bleed;\nBoth being divine Sarpedon\u2019s friends, and were the darting seed\nOf Amisodarus, that kept the bane of many men\nAbhorr\u2019d Chim\u00e6ra; and such bane now caught his childeren.\nAjax O\u00efliades did take Cleobulus alive,\nInvading him stay\u2019d by the press; and at him then let drive\nWith his short sword that cut his neck; whose blood warm\u2019d all the\nsteel,\nAnd cold Death with a violent fate his sable eyes did seel.\nPenele\u00fcs, and Lycon cast together off their darts;\nBoth miss\u2019d, and both together then went with their swords; in parts\nThe blade and hilt went, laying on upon the helmet\u2019s height.\nPeneleus\u2019 sword caught Lycon\u2019s neck, and cut it thorough quite.\nHis head hung by the very skin. The swift Meriones,\nPursuing flying Acamas, just as he got access\nTo horse and chariot overtook, and took him such a blow\nOn his right shoulder, that he left his chariot, and did strow\nThe dusty earth; life left his limbs, and night his eyes possess\u2019d.\nIdomen\u00e6us his stern dart at Erymas address\u2019d,\nAs, like to Acamas, he fled; it cut the sundry bones\nBeneath his brain, betwixt his neck, and foreparts; and so runs,\nShaking his teeth out, through his mouth, his eyes all drown\u2019d in\nblood,\nSo through his nostrils and his mouth, that now dart-open stood,\nHe breath\u2019d his spirit. Thus had death from ev\u2019ry Grecian chief\nA chief of Troy. For, as to kids, or lambs, their cruell\u2019st thief,\nThe wolf, steals in, and, when he sees that by the shepherd\u2019s sloth\nThe dams are spers\u2019d about the hills, then serves his rav\u2019nous tooth\nWith ease, because his prey is weak; so serv\u2019d the Greeks their foes,\nDiscerning well how shrieking flight did all their spirits dispose,\nTheir biding virtues quite forgot. And now the natural spleen\nThat Ajax bore to Hector still, by all means, would have been\nWithin his bosom with a dart; but he that knew the war,\nWell-cover\u2019d in a well-lin\u2019d shield, did well perceive how far\nThe arrows and the jav\u2019lins reach\u2019d, by being within their sounds\nAnd ominous singings; and observ\u2019d the there-in-clining bounds\nOf Conquest in her aid of him, and so obey\u2019d her change,\nTook safest course for him and his, and stood to her as strange.\nAnd as, when Jove intends a storm, he lets out of the stars,\nFrom steep Olympus, a black cloud, that all heav\u2019n\u2019s splendour bars\nFrom men on earth; so from the hearts of all the Trojan host\nAll comfort lately found from Jove, in flight and cries was lost.\nNor made they any fair retreat. Hector\u2019s unruly horse\nWould needs retire him, and he left engag\u2019d his Trojan force,\nForc\u2019d by the steepness of the dike, that in ill place they took,\nAnd kept them that would fain have gone. Their horses quite forsook\nA number of the Trojan kings, and left them in the dike;\nTheir chariots in their foreteams broke. Patroclus then did strike\nWhile steel was hot, and cheer\u2019d his friends; nor meant his enemies\ngood,\nWho, when they once began to fly, each way receiv\u2019d a flood,\nAnd chok\u2019d themselves with drifts of dust. And now were clouds begot\nBeneath the clouds; with flight and noise the horse neglected not\nTheir home intendments; and, where rout was busiest, there pour\u2019d on\nPatroclus most exhorts and threats; and then lay overthrown\nNumbers beneath their axle-trees; who, lying in flight\u2019s stream,\nMade th\u2019 after chariots jot and jump, in driving over them.\nTh\u2019 immortal horse Patroclus rode, did pass the dike with ease,\nAnd wish\u2019d the depth and danger more; and Men\u0153tiades\nAs great a spirit had to reach, retiring Hector\u2019s haste,\nBut his fleet horse had too much law, and fetch\u2019d him off too fast.\nAnd as in Autumn the black earth is loaden with the storms\nThat Jove in gluts of rain pours down, being angry with the forms\nOf judgment in authoriz\u2019d men, that in their courts maintain,\nWith violent office, wrested laws, and (fearing Gods, nor men)\nExile all justice; for whose fault, whole fields are overflown,\nAnd many valleys cut away with torrents headlong thrown\nFrom neighbour mountains, till the sea receive them roaring in,\nAnd judg\u2019d men\u2019s labours then are vain, plagu\u2019d for their judge\u2019s sin;\nSo now the foul defaults of some all Troy were laid upon;\nSo like those torrents roar\u2019d they back to windy Ilion;\nAnd so like tempests blew the horse with ravishing back again\nThose hot assailants, all their works at fleet now render\u2019d vain.\nPatroclus, when he had dispers\u2019d the foremost phalanxes,\nCall\u2019d back his forces to the fleet, and would not let them prease,\nAs they desir\u2019d, too near the town; but \u2019twixt the ships and flood,\nAnd their steep rampire, his hand steep\u2019d Revenge in seas of blood.\nThen Pronous was first that fell beneath his fi\u2019ry lance,\nWhich strook his bare breast, near his shield. The second Thestor\u2019s\nchance,\nOld Enops\u2019 son, did make himself; who shrinking, and set close\nIn his fair seat, ev\u2019n with th\u2019 approach Patroclus made, did lose\nAll manly courage, insomuch that from his hands his reins\nFell flowing down, and his right jaw Patroclus\u2019 lance attains,\nStrock through his teeth, and there it stuck, and by it to him drew\nDead Thestor to his chariot. It show\u2019d, as when you view\nAn angler from some prominent rock draw with his line and hook\nA mighty fish out of the sea; for so the Greek did pluck\nThe Trojan gaping from his seat, his jaws op\u2019d with the dart;\nWhich when Patroclus drew, he fell; his life and breast did part.\nThen rush\u2019d he on Erylaus; at whom he hurl\u2019d a stone,\nWhich strake his head so in the midst, that two was made of one;\nTwo ways it fell, cleft through his casque. And then Tlepolemus,\nEpaltes, Damastorides, Evippus, Echius,\nIpheas, bold Amphoterus, and valiant Erymas,\nAnd Polymelus, by his sire surnam\u2019d Argeadas,\nHe heap\u2019d upon the much-fed earth. When Jove\u2019s most worthy son,\nDivine Sarpedon, saw these friends thus stay\u2019d, and others run,\n\u201cO shame! Why fly ye?\u201d then he cried, \u201cNow show ye feet enow.\nOn, keep your way, myself will meet the man that startles you,\nTo make me understand his name that flaunts in conquest thus,\nAnd hath so many able knees so soon dissolv\u2019d to us.\u201d\nDown jump\u2019d he from his chariot; down leap\u2019d his foe as light.\nAnd as, on some far-looking rock, a cast of vultures fight,\nFly on each other, strike and truss, part, meet, and then stick by,\nTug both with crooked beaks and seres, cry, fight, and fight and cry;\nSo fiercely fought these angry kings, and show\u2019d as bitter galls.\nJove, turning eyes to this stern fight, his wife and sister calls,\nAnd much mov\u2019d for the Lycian Prince, said: \u201cO that to my son\nFate, by this day and man, should cut a thread so nobly spun!\nTwo minds distract me; if I should now ravish him from fight,\nAnd set him safe in Lycia; or give the Fates their right.\u201d\n\u201cAustere Saturnius,\u201d she replied, \u201cwhat unjust words are these?\nA mortal, long since mark\u2019d by fate, wouldst thou immortalize?\nDo, but by no God be approv\u2019d. Free him, and numbers more,\nSons of Immortals, will live free, that death must taste before\nThese gates of Ilion; ev\u2019ry God will have his son a God,\nOr storm extremely. Give him then an honest period\nIn brave fight by Patroclus\u2019 sword, if he be dear to thee,\nAnd grieves thee for his danger\u2019d life; of which when he is free,\nLet Death and Somnus bear him hence, till Lycia\u2019s natural womb\nReceive him from his brother\u2019s hands, and citizens\u2019; a tomb\nAnd column rais\u2019d to him. This is the honour of the dead.\u201d\nShe said, and her speech rul\u2019d his pow\u2019r; but in his safety\u2019s stead,\nFor sad ostent of his near death, he steep\u2019d his living name\nIn drops of blood heav\u2019n swet for him, which earth drunk to his fame.\nAnd now, as this high combat grew to this too humble end,\nSarpedon\u2019s death had this state more; \u2019twas usher\u2019d by his friend\nAnd charioteer, brave Thrasymed; whom in his belly\u2019s rim\nPatroclus wounded with his lance, and endless ended him.\nAnd then another act of name foreran his princely fate.\nHis first lance missing, he let fly a second that gave date\nOf violent death to Pedasus; who, as he joy\u2019d to die\nBy his so honourable hand, did ev\u2019n in dying neigh.\nHis ruin startled th\u2019 other steeds, the gears crack\u2019d, and the reins\nStrappled his fellows; whose misrule Automedon restrains\nBy cutting the intangling gears, and so dissund\u2019ring quite\nThe brave slain beast; when both the rest obey\u2019d, and went foreright.\nAnd then the royal combatants fought for the final stroke;\nWhen Lycia\u2019s Gen\u2019ral miss\u2019d again, his high-rais\u2019d jav\u2019lin took\nAbove his shoulder empty way. But no such speedless flight\nPatroclus let his spear perform, that on the breast did light\nOf his brave foe, where life\u2019s strings close about the solid heart,\nImpressing a recureless wound; his knees then left their part,\nAnd let him fall; when like an oak, a poplar, or a pine,\nNew fell\u2019d by arts-men on the hills, he stretch\u2019d his form divine\nBefore his horse and chariot. And as a lion leaps\nUpon a goodly yellow bull, drives all the herd in heaps,\nAnd, under his unconquer\u2019d jaws, the brave beast sighing dies;\nSo sigh\u2019d Sarpedon underneath this prince of enemies,\nCall\u2019d Glaucus to him, his dear friend, and said: \u201cNow, friend, thy\nhands\nMuch duty owe to fight and arms; now for my love it stands\nThy heart in much hand to approve that war is harmful; now\nHow active all thy forces are, this one hour\u2019s act must show.\nFirst call our Lycian captains up, look round, and bring up all,\nAnd all exhort to stand, like friends, about Sarpedon\u2019s fall,\nAnd spend thyself thy steel for me; for be assur\u2019d no day\nOf all thy life, to thy last hour, can clear thy black dismay\nIn woe and infamy for me, if I be taken hence\nSpoil\u2019d of mine arms, and thy renown despoil\u2019d of my defence.\nStand firm then, and confirm thy men.\u201d This said, the bounds of death\nConcluded all sight to his eyes, and to his nosthrils breath.\nPatroclus, though his guard was strong, forc\u2019d way through ev\u2019ry doubt,\nClimb\u2019d his high bosom with his foot, and pluck\u2019d his jav\u2019lin out,\nAnd with it drew the film and strings of his yet panting heart;\nAnd last, together with the pile, his princely soul did part.\nHis horse, spoil\u2019d both of guide and king, thick snoring and amaz\u2019d,\nAnd apt to flight, the Myrmidons made nimbly to, and seiz\u2019d.\nGlaucus, to hear his friend ask aid, of him past all the rest,\nThough well he knew his wound uncur\u2019d, confusion fill\u2019d his breast\nNot to have good in any pow\u2019r, and yet so much good will.\nAnd (laying his hand upon his wound, that pain\u2019d him sharply still,\nAnd was by Teucer\u2019s hand set on from their assail\u2019d steep wall,\nIn keeping hurt from other men) he did on Ph\u0153bus call,\nThe God of med\u2019cines, for his cure: \u201cThou King of cures,\u201d said he,\n\u201cThat art perhaps in Lycia with her rich progeny,\nOr here in Troy; but any where, since thou hast pow\u2019r to hear,\nO give a hurt and woeful man, as I am now, thine ear.\nThis arm sustains a cruel wound, whose pains shoot ev\u2019ry way,\nAfflict this shoulder, and this hand, and nothing long can stay\nA flux of blood still issuing; nor therefore can I stand\nWith any enemy in fight, nor hardly make my hand\nSupport my lance; and here lies dead the worthiest of men,\nSarpedon, worthy son to Jove, whose pow\u2019r could yet abstain\nFrom all aid in this deadly need; give thou then aid to me,\nO King of all aid to men hurt; assuage th\u2019 extremity\nOf this arm\u2019s anguish, give it strength, that by my precedent\nI may excite my men to blows, and this dead corse prevent\nOf further violence.\u201d He pray\u2019d, and kind Apollo heard,\nAllay\u2019d his anguish, and his wound of all the black blood clear\u2019d\nThat vex\u2019d it so, infus\u2019d fresh pow\u2019rs into his weaken\u2019d mind;\nAnd all his spirits flow\u2019d with joy that Ph\u0153bus stood inclin\u2019d,\nIn such quick bounty, to his pray\u2019rs. Then, as Sarpedon will\u2019d,\nHe cast about his greedy eye; and first of all instill\u2019d\nTo all his captains all the stings, that could inflame their fight\nFor good Sarpedon. And from them, he stretch\u2019d his speedy pace\nT\u2019 Agenor, Hector, Venus\u2019 son, and wise Polydamas;\nAnd (only naming Hector) said: \u201cHector, you now forget\nYour poor auxiliary friends, that in your toils have swet\nTheir friendless souls out far from home. Sarpedon, that sustain\u2019d\nWith justice, and his virtues all, broad Lycia, hath not gain\u2019d\nThe like guard for his person here; for yonder dead he lies\nBeneath the great Patroclus\u2019 lance. But come, let your supplies,\nGood friends, stand near him. O disdain to see his corse defil\u2019d\nWith Grecian fury; and his arms, by their oppressions spoil\u2019d.\nThese Myrmidons are come enrag\u2019d, that such a mighty boot\nOf Greeks Troy\u2019s darts have made at fleet.\u201d This said, from head to\nfoot\nGrief strook their pow\u2019rs past patience, and not to be restrain\u2019d,\nTo hear news of Sarpedon\u2019s death; who, though he appertain\u2019d\nTo other cities, yet to theirs he was the very fort,\nAnd led a mighty people there, of all whose better sort\nHimself was best. This made them run in flames upon the foe;\nThe first man Hector, to whose heart Sarpedon\u2019s death did go.\nPatroclus stirr\u2019d the Grecian spirits; and first th\u2019 Ajaces, thus:\n\u201cNow, brothers, be it dear to you, to fight and succour us,\nAs ever heretofore ye did, with men first excellent.\nThe man lies slain that first did scale, and raze the battlement\nThat crown\u2019d our wall, the Lycian prince. But if we now shall add\nForce to his corse, and spoil his arms, a prise may more be had\nOf many great ones, that for him will put on to the death.\u201d\nTo this work these were prompt enough; and each side ordereth\nThose phalanxes that most had rate of resolutions;\nThe Trojans and the Lycian pow\u2019rs; the Greeks and Myrmidons.\nThese ran together for the corse, and clos\u2019d with horrid cries,\nTheir armours thund\u2019ring with the claps laid on about the prise.\nAnd Jove, about th\u2019 impetuous broil, pernicious night pour\u2019d out,\nAs long as for his lov\u00e9d son, pernicious Labour fought.\nThe first of Troy the first Greeks foil\u2019d; when, not the last indeed\nAmongst the Myrmidons, was slain, the great Agacleus\u2019 seed,\nDivine Epigeus, that before had exercis\u2019d command\nIn fair Budei\u00fcs; but because he laid a bloody hand\nOn his own sister\u2019s valiant son, to Peleus and his queen\nHe came for pardon, and obtain\u2019d; his slaughter being the mean\nHe came to Troy, and so to this. He ventur\u2019d ev\u2019n to touch\nThe princely carcass; when a stone did more to him by much,\nSent out of able Hector\u2019s hand; it cut his skull in twain,\nAnd strook him dead. Patroclus, griev\u2019d to see his friend so slain,\nBefore the foremost thrust himself. And as a falcon frays\nA flock of stares or caddesses; such fear brought his assays\nAmongst the Trojans and their friends; and, angry at the heart,\nAs well as griev\u2019d, for him so slain, another stony dart\nAs good as Hector\u2019s he let fly, that dusted in the neck\nOf Sthenelaus, thrust his head to earth first, and did break\nThe nerves in sunder with his fall; off fell the Trojans too,\nEv\u2019n Hector\u2019s self, and all as far as any man can throw\n(Provok\u2019d for games, or in the wars to shed an enemy\u2019s soul)\nA light long dart. The first that turn\u2019d, was he that did control\nThe targeteers of Lycia, prince Glaucus; who to hell\nSent Bathycl\u00e6us, Chalcon\u2019s son; he did in Hellas dwell,\nAnd shin\u2019d for wealth and happiness amongst the Myrmidons;\nHis bosom\u2019s midst the jav\u2019lin strook, his fall gat earth with groans.\nThe Greeks griev\u2019d, and the Trojans joy\u2019d, for so renown\u2019d a man;\nAbout whom stood the Grecians firm. And then the death began\nOn Troy\u2019s side by Meriones; he slew one great in war,\nLaogonus, Onetor\u2019s son, the priest of Jupiter,\nCreated in th\u2019 Id\u00e6an hill. Betwixt his jaw and ear\nThe dart stuck fast, and loos\u2019d his soul; sad mists of hate and fear\nInvading him. Anchises\u2019 son despatch\u2019d a brazen lance\nAt bold Meriones; and hop\u2019d to make an equal chance\nOn him with bold Laogonus, though under his broad shield\nHe lay so close. But he discern\u2019d, and made his body yield\nSo low, that over him it flew, and trembling took the ground,\nWith which Mars made it quench his thirst; and since the head could\nwound\nNo better body, and yet thrown from ne\u2019er the worse a hand,\nIt turn\u2019d from earth, and look\u2019d awry. \u00c6neas let it stand,\nMuch angry at the vain event, and told Meriones\nHe scap\u2019d but hardly, nor had cause to hope for such success\nAnother time, though well he knew his dancing faculty,\nBy whose agility he scap\u2019d; for, had his dart gone by\nWith any least touch, instantly he had been ever slain.\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cThough thy strength be good, it cannot render vain\nThe strength of others with thy jests; nor art thou so divine,\nBut when my lance shall touch at thee, with equal speed to thine,\nDeath will share with it thy life\u2019s pow\u2019rs; thy confidence can shun\nNo more than mine what his right claims.\u201d Men\u0153tius\u2019 noble son\nRebuk\u2019d Meriones, and said: \u201cWhat need\u2019st thou use this speech?\nNor thy strength is approv\u2019d with words, good friend, nor can we reach\nThe body, nor make th\u2019 enemy yield, with these our counterbraves.\nWe must enforce the binding earth, to hold them in her graves.\nIf you will war, fight. Will you speak? Give counsel Counsel, blows,\nAre th\u2019 ends of wars and words. Talk here, the time in vain bestows.\u201d\nHe said, and led; and, nothing less for any thing he said,\n(His speech being season\u2019d with such right) the worthy seconded.\nAnd then, as in a sounding vale, near neighbour to a hill,\nWood-fellers make a far-heard noise, with chopping, chopping still,\nAnd laying on, on blocks and trees; so they on men laid load,\nAnd beat like noises into air, both as they strook and trode.\nBut, past their noise, so full of blood, of dust, of darts, lay smit\nDivine Sarpedon, that a man must have an excellent wit\nThat could but know him, and might fail, so from his utmost head,\nEv\u2019n to the low plants of his feet, his form was alter\u00e9d.\nAll thrusting near it ev\u2019ry way, as thick as flies in spring,\nThat in a sheep-cote, when new milk assembles them, make wing,\nAnd buzz about the top-full pails. Nor ever was the eye\nOf Jove averted from the fight; he view\u2019d, thought, ceaselessly\nAnd diversly upon the death of great Achilles\u2019 friend,\nIf Hector there, to wreak his son, should with his jav\u2019lin end\nHis life, and force away his arms, or still augment the field;\nHe then concluded that the flight of much more soul should yield\nAchilles\u2019 good friend more renown, and that ev\u2019n to their gates\nHe should drive Hector and his host; and so disanimates\nThe mind of Hector that he mounts his chariot, and takes Flight\nUp with him, tempting all to her; affirming his insight\nKnew evidently that the beam of Jove\u2019s all-ord\u2019ring scoles\nWas then in sinking on their side, surcharg\u2019d with flocks of souls.\nThen not the noble Lycians stay\u2019d, but left their slaughter\u2019d lord\nAmongst the corses\u2019 common heap; for many more were pour\u2019d\nAbout and on him, while Jove\u2019s hand held out the bitter broil.\nAnd now they spoil\u2019d Sarpedon\u2019s arms, and to the ships the spoil\nWas sent by Men\u0153tiades. Then Jove thus charg\u2019d the Sun:\n\u201cHaste, honour\u2019d Ph\u0153bus, let no more Greek violence be done\nTo my Sarpedon; but his corse of all the sable blood\nAnd jav\u2019lins purg\u2019d; then carry him, far hence to some clear flood,\nWith whose waves wash, and then embalm each thorough-cleans\u00e9d limb\nWith our ambrosia; which perform\u2019d, divine weeds put on him,\nAnd then to those swift mates and twins, sweet Sleep and Death, commit\nHis princely person, that with speed they both may carry it\nTo wealthy Lycia; where his friends and brothers will embrace,\nAnd tomb it in some monument, as fits a prince\u2019s place.\u201d\nThen flew Apollo to the fight, from the Idalian hill,\nAt all parts putting into act his great Commander\u2019s will;\nDrew all the darts, wash\u2019d, balm\u2019d the corse; which, deck\u2019d with\nornament,\nBy Sleep and Death, those feather\u2019d twins, he into Lycia sent.\nPatroclus then Automedon commands to give his steeds\nLarge reins, and all way to the chace; so madly he exceeds\nThe strict commission of his friend; which had he kept had kept\nA black death from him. But Jove\u2019s mind hath evermore outstept\nThe mind of man; who both affrights, and takes the victory\nFrom any hardiest hand with ease; which he can justify,\nThough he himself commands him fight, as now he put this chace\nIn Men\u0153tiades\u2019s mind. How much then weighs the grace,\nPatroclus, that Jove gives thee now, in scoles put with thy death,\nOf all these great and famous men the honourable breath!\nOf which Adrestus first he slew, and next Autonous,\nEpistora, and Perimus, Pylartes, Elasus,\nSwift Menalippus, Molius; all these were overthrown\nBy him, and all else put in rout; and then proud Ilion\nHad stoop\u2019d beneath his glorious hand, he rag\u2019d so with his lance,\nIf Ph\u0153bus had not kept the tow\u2019r, and help\u2019d the Ilians,\nSustaining ill thoughts \u2019gainst the prince. Thrice to the prominence\nOf Troy\u2019s steep wall he bravely leap\u2019d; thrice Ph\u0153bus thrust him\nthence,\nObjecting his all-dazzling shield, with his resistless hand;\nBut fourthly, when, like one of heav\u2019n, he would have stirr\u2019d his\nstand,\nApollo threaten\u2019d him, and said: \u201cCease, it exceeds thy fate,\nForward, Patroclus, to expugn with thy bold lance this state;\nNor under great Achilles\u2019 pow\u2019rs, to thine superior far,\nLies Troy\u2019s grave ruin.\u201d When he spake, Patroclus left that war,\nLeap\u2019d far back, and his anger shunn\u2019d. Hector detain\u2019d his horse\nWithin the Sc\u00e6an port, in doubt to put his personal force\nAmongst the rout, and turn their heads, or shun in Troy the storm.\nApollo, seeing his suspense, resum\u2019d the goodly form\nOf Hector\u2019s uncle, Asius; the Phrygian Dymas\u2019 son,\nWho near the deep Sangarius had habitation,\nBeing brother to the Trojan queen. His shape Apollo took,\nAnd ask\u2019d of Hector, why his spirit so clear the fight forsook?\nAffirming \u2019twas unfit for him, and wish\u2019d his forces were\nAs much above his, as they mov\u2019d in an inferior sphere.\nHe should, with shame to him, be gone; and so bade drive away\nAgainst Patroclus, to approve, if He that gave them day\nWould give the glory of his death to his preferr\u00e9d lance.\nSo left he him, and to the fight did his bright head advance,\nMix\u2019d with the multitude, and stirr\u2019d foul tumult for the foe.\nThen Hector bade Cebriones put on; himself let go\nAll other Greeks within his reach, and only gave command\nTo front Patroclus. He at him; jump\u2019d down; his strong left hand\nA jav\u2019lin held, his right a stone, a marble sharp and such\nAs his large hand had pow\u2019r to gripe, and gave it strength as much\nAs he could lie to; nor stood long, in fear of that huge man\nThat made against him, but full on with his huge stone he ran,\nDischarg\u2019d, and drave it \u2019twixt the brows of bold Cebriones.\nNor could the thick bone there prepar\u2019d extenuate so th\u2019 access,\nBut out it drave his broken eyes, which in the dust fell down,\nAnd he div\u2019d after; which conceit of diving took the son\nOf old Men\u0153tius, who thus play\u2019d upon the other\u2019s bane.\n\u201cO heav\u2019ns! For truth, this Trojan was a passing active man!\nWith what exceeding ease he dives, as if at work he were\nWithin the fishy seas! This man alone would furnish cheer\nFor twenty men, though \u2019twere a storm, to leap out of a sail,\nAnd gather oysters for them all, he does it here as well,\nAnd there are many such in Troy.\u201d Thus jested he so near\nHis own grave death; and then made in, to spoil the charioteer,\nWith such a lion\u2019s force and fate, as, often ruining\nStalls of fat oxen, gets at length a mortal wound to sting\nHis soul out of that rav\u2019nous breast, that was so insolent,\nAnd so his life\u2019s bliss proves his bane; so deadly confident\nWert thou, Patroclus, in pursuit of good Cebriones,\nTo whose defence now Hector leap\u2019d. The opposite address,\nThese masters of the cry in war now made, was of the kind\nOf two fierce kings of beasts, oppos\u2019d in strife about a hind\nSlain on the forehead of a hill, both sharp and hungry set\nAnd to the currie never came but like two deaths they met;\nNor these two entertain\u2019d less mind of mutual prejudice\nAbout the body, close to which when each had press\u2019d for prise,\nHector the head laid hand upon, which, once grip\u2019d, never could\nBe forc\u2019d from him; Patroclus then upon the feet got hold,\nAnd he pinch\u2019d with as sure a nail. So both stood tugging there,\nWhile all the rest made eager fight, and grappled ev\u2019ry where.\nAnd as the east and south winds strive, to make a lofty wood\nBow to their greatness, barky elms, wild ashes, beeches, bow\u2019d\nEv\u2019n with the earth, in whose thick arms the mighty vapours lie,\nAnd toss by turns, all, either way, their leaves at random fly,\nBoughs murmur, and their bodies crack, and with perpetual din\nThe sylvans falter, and the storms are never to begin;\nSo rag\u2019d the fight, and all from Flight pluck\u2019d her forgotten wings,\nWhile some still stuck, still new-wing\u2019d shafts flew dancing from their\nstrings,\nHuge stones sent after that did shake the shields about the corse,\nWho now, in dust\u2019s soft forehead stretch\u2019d, forgat his guiding horse.\nAs long as Ph\u0153bus turn\u2019d his wheels about the midst of heaven,\nSo long the touch of either\u2019s darts the falls of both made even;\nBut, when his wain drew near the west, the Greeks past measure were\nThe abler soldiers, and so swept the Trojan tumult clear\nFrom off the body, out of which they drew the hurl\u2019d-in darts,\nAnd from his shoulders stripp\u2019d his arms; and then to more such parts\nPatroclus turn\u2019d his striving thoughts, to do the Trojans ill.\nThrice, like the God of war, he charg\u2019d, his voice as horrible,\nAnd thrice-nine those three charges slew; but in the fourth assay,\nO then, Patroclus, show\u2019d thy last; the dreadful Sun made way\nAgainst that onset; yet the prince discern\u2019d no Deity,\nHe kept the press so, and, besides, obscur\u2019d his glorious eye\nWith such felt darkness. At his back, he made a sudden stand,\nAnd \u2019twixt his neck and shoulders laid down-right with either hand\nA blow so weighty, that his eyes a giddy darkness took,\nAnd from his head his three-plum\u2019d helm the bounding violence shook,\nThat rung beneath his horses\u2019 hooves, and, like a water-spout,\nWas crush\u2019d together with the fall; the plumes that set it out,\nAll spatter\u2019d with black blood and dust; when ever heretofore\nIt was a capital offence to have or dust or gore\nDefile a triple-feather\u2019d helm, but on the head divine\nAnd youthful temples of their prince it us\u2019d, untouch\u2019d, to shine.\nYet now Jove gave it Hector\u2019s hands, the other\u2019s death was near.\nBesides whose lost and fil\u00e9d helm his huge long weighty spear,\nWell-bound with iron, in his hand was shiver\u2019d, and his shield\nFell from his shoulders to his feet, the bawdrick strewing the field;\nHis curets left him, like the rest. And all this only done\nBy great Apollo. Then his mind took in confusion,\nThe vig\u2019rous knittings of his joints dissolv\u2019d; and, thus dismay\u2019d,\nA Dardan, one of Panthus\u2019 sons, and one that overlaid\nAll Trojans of his place with darts, swift footing, skill, and force\nIn noble horsemanship, and one that tumbled from their horse,\nOne after other, twenty men, and when he did but learn\nThe art of war; nay when he first did in the field discern\nA horse and chariot of his guide; this man, with all these parts,\n(His name Euphorbus) comes behind, and \u2019twixt the shoulders darts\nForlorn Patroclus, who yet liv\u2019d, and th\u2019 other (getting forth\nHis jav\u2019lin) took him to his strength; nor durst he stand the worth\nOf thee, Patroclus, though disarm\u2019d, who yet (discomfited\nBy Ph\u0153bus\u2019 and Euphorbus\u2019 wound) the red heap of the dead\nHe now too late shunn\u2019d, and retir\u2019d. When Hector saw him yield,\nAnd knew he yielded with a wound, he scour\u2019d the arm\u00e9d field,\nCame close up to him, and both sides strook quite through with his\nlance.\nHe fell, and his most weighty fall gave fit tune to his chance;\nFor which all Greece extremely mourn\u2019d. And as a mighty strife\nAbout a little fount begins, and riseth to the life\nOf some fell boar resolv\u2019d to drink; when likewise to the spring\nA lion comes alike dispos\u2019d, the boar thirsts, and his king,\nBoth proud, and both will first be serv\u2019d; and then the lion takes\nAdvantage of his sov\u2019reign strength, and th\u2019 other, fainting, makes\nResign his thirst up with his blood; Patroclus, so enforc\u2019d\nWhen he had forc\u2019d so much brave life, was from his own divorc\u2019d.\nAnd thus his great divorcer brav\u2019d: \u201cPatroclus, thy conceit\nGave thee th\u2019 eversion of our Troy, and to thy fleet a freight\nOf Trojan ladies, their free lives put all in bands by thee;\nBut (too much prizer of thy self) all these are propp\u2019d by me,\nFor these have my horse stretch\u2019d their hoofs to this so long a war,\nAnd I (far best of Troy in arms) keep off from Troy as far,\nEv\u2019n to the last beam of my life, their necessary day.\nAnd here, in place of us and ours, on thee shall vultures prey,\nPoor wretch; nor shall thy mighty friend afford thee any aid,\nThat gave thy parting much deep charge, and this perhaps be said:\n\u2018Martial Patroclus, turn not face, nor see my fleet before\nThe curets from great Hector\u2019s breast, all gilded with his gore,\nThou hew\u2019st in pieces.\u2019 If thus vain were his far-stretched commands,\nAs vain was thy heart to believe his words lay in thy hands.\u201d\nHe, languishing, replied: \u201cThis proves, thy glory worse than vain,\nThat when two Gods have giv\u2019n thy hands what their pow\u2019rs did obtain,\n(They conqu\u2019ring, and they spoiling me both of my arms and mind,\nIt being a work of ease for them) thy soul should be so blind\nTo oversee their evident deeds, and take their pow\u2019rs to thee;\nWhen, if the pow\u2019rs of twenty such had dar\u2019d t\u2019 encounter me,\nMy lance had strew\u2019d earth with them all. Thou only dost obtain\nA third place in my death; whom, first, a harmful hate hath slain\nEffected by Latona\u2019s son; second, and first of men,\nEuphorbus. And this one thing more concerns thee; note it then;\nThou shalt not long survive thyself; nay, now death calls for thee,\nAnd violent fate; Achilles\u2019 lance shall make this good for me.\u201d\nThus death join\u2019d to his words his end; his soul took instant wing,\nAnd to the house that hath no lights descended) sorrowing\nFor his sad fate, to leave him young, and in his ablest age.\nHe dead, yet Hector ask\u2019d him why, in that prophetic rage,\nHe so forespake him, when none knew but great Achilles might\nPrevent his death, and on his lance receive his latest light?\nThus setting on his side his foot, he drew out of his wound\nHis brazen lance, and upwards cast the body on the ground;\nWhen quickly, while the dart was hot, he charg\u2019d Automedon,\nDivine guide of Achilles\u2019 steeds, in great contention\nTo seize him too; but his so swift and deathless horse, that fetch\u2019d\nTheir gift to Peleus from the Gods, soon rapt him from his reach.\n\nTHE END OF THE SIXTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Jupiter called the God of sounds, for the chief sound his thunder.\n\n\n [2] A simile most lively expressive.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nA dreadful fight about Patroclus\u2019 corse;\nEuphorbus slain by Menelaus\u2019 force;\nHector in th\u2019 armour of \u00c6acides;\nAntilochus relating the decease\nOf slain Patroclus to fair Thetis\u2019 son;\nThe body from the striving Trojans won;\nTh\u2019 Ajaces making good the after field;\nMake all the subject that this book doth yield,\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Rho the vent\u2019rous hosts maintain\nA slaught\u2019rous conflict for the slain.\n\n\nNor could his slaughter rest conceal\u2019d from Menelaus\u2019 ear;\nWho flew amongst the foremost fights, and with his targe and spear\nCircled the body, as much griev\u2019d, and with as tender heed\nTo keep it theirs, as any dam about her first-born seed,\nNot proving what the pain of birth would make the love before,\nNor to pursue his first attaint Euphorbus\u2019 spirit forbore;[1]\nBut, seeing Menelaus chief in rescue of the dead,\nAssay\u2019d him thus: \u201cAtrides, cease, and leave the slaughter\u00e9d\nWith his embru\u2019d spoil to the man, that first, of all our state,\nAnd famous succours, in fair fight, made passage to his fate;\nAnd therefore suffer me to wear the good name I have won\nAmongst the Trojans, lest thy life repay what his hath done.\u201d\n\u201cO Jupiter,\u201d said he, incens\u2019d, \u201cthou art no honest man\nTo boast so past thy pow\u2019r to do. Not any lion can,\nNor spotted leopard, nor boar, whose mind is mightiest\nIn pouring fury from his strength, advance so proud a crest\nAs Panthus\u2019 fighting progeny. But Hyperenor\u2019s pride,\nThat joy\u2019d so little time his youth, when he so vilified\nMy force in arms, and call\u2019d me worst of all our chivalry,\nAnd stood my worst, might teach ye all to shun this surcuidrie;\nI think he came not safely home, to tell his wife his acts.\nNor less right of thy insolence my equal fate exacts,\nAnd will obtain me, if thou stay\u2019st. Retire then, take advice:\nA fool sees nought before \u2019tis done, and still too late is wise.\u201d\nThis mov\u2019d not him but to the worse, since it renew\u2019d the sting\nThat his slain brother shot in him, remember\u2019d by the king,\nTo whom he answer\u2019d: \u201cThou shalt pay, for all the pains endur\u2019d\nBy that slain brother, all the wounds sustain\u2019d for him, recur\u2019d\nWith one made in thy heart by me. \u2019Tis true thou mad\u2019st his wife\nA heavy widow, when her joys of wedlock scarce had life,\nAnd hurt\u2019st our parents with his grief; all which thou gloriest in,\nForespeaking so thy death, that now their grief\u2019s end shall begin.\nTo Panthus, and the snowy hand of Phrontes, I will bring\nThose arms, and that proud head of thine. And this laborious thing\nShall ask no long time to perform. Nor be my words alone,\nBut their performance; Strength, and Fight, and Terror thus sets on.\u201d\nThis said, he strook his all-round shield; nor shrunk that, but his\nlance\nThat turn\u2019d head in it. Then the king assay\u2019d the second chance;\nFirst praying to the King of Gods; and his dart entry got\n(The force much driving back his foe) in low part of his throat,\nAnd ran his neck through. Then fell pride, and he; and all with gore\nHis locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore\nIn gold and silver ribands wrapp\u2019d, were piteously wet.\nAnd when alone in some choice place, a husbandman hath set\nThe young plant of an olive tree, whose root being ever fed\nWith plenty of delicious springs, his branches bravely spread,\nAnd all his fresh and lovely head, grown curl\u2019d with snowy flow\u2019rs,\nThat dance and flourish with the winds, that are of gentlest pow\u2019rs;\nBut when a whirlwind, got aloft, stoops with a sudden gale,\nTears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal\nHis fix\u2019d root from his hollow mines; it well presents the force\nOf Sparta\u2019s king; and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse.\nHe slain, the king stripp\u2019d off his arms; and with their worthy prise,\nAll fearing him, had clearly pass\u2019d, if heaven\u2019s fair Eye of eyes\nHad not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr\u2019d\nThe Mars-like Hector; to whose pow\u2019rs the rescue he preferr\u2019d\nOf those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas, colonel\nOf all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell.\nLike him, he thus puts forth his voice: \u201cHector, thou scour\u2019st the\nfield\nIn headstrong p\u00farsuit of those horse, that hardly are compell\u2019d\nTo take the draught of chariots, by any mortal\u2019s hand;\nThe great grandchild of \u00c6acus hath only their command,\nWhom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend\u2019st on these,\nThe young Atrides, in defence of Men\u0153tiades,\nHath slain Euphorbus.\u201d Thus the God took troop with men again;\nAnd Hector, heartily perplex\u2019d, look\u2019d round, and saw the slain\nStill shedding rivers from his wound; and then took envious view\nOf brave Atrides with his spoil; in way to whom he flew\nLike one of Vulcan\u2019s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry\nThat ever usher\u2019d him, and sigh\u2019d, and said: \u201cO me, if I[2]\nShould leave these goodly arms, and him, that here lies dead for me,\nI fear I should offend the Greeks; if I should stay and be\nAlone with Hector and his men, I may be compass\u2019d in,\nSome sleight or other they may use, many may quickly win\nTheir wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads.\nBut why, dear mind, dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads\nAgainst the Gods, as sure they do that fight with men they love,\nStraight one or other plague ensues. It cannot therefore move\nThe grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he\nStill fighting with a spirit from heav\u2019n. And yet if I could see\nBrave Ajax, he and I would stand, though \u2019gainst a God; and sure\n\u2019Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure\nThis corse\u2019s freedom through all these. A little then let rest\nThe body, and my mind be still. Of two bads choose the best.\u201d\nIn this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he\nMade such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see\nThe royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries, and spears,\nTo clear their horn\u00e9d stall, and then the kingly heart he bears\n(With all his high disdain) falls off; so from this odds of aid\nThe golden-hair\u2019d Atrides fled, and in his strength display\u2019d\nUpon his left hand him he wish\u2019d, extremely busi\u00e9d\nAbout encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread\nApollo had infus\u2019d. The king reach\u2019d Ajax instantly,\nAnd said: \u201cCome, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny\nOf Hector free Patroclus\u2019 corse.\u201d He straight and gladly went;\nAnd then was Hector haling off the body, with intent\nTo spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest,\nHis arms he having pris\u2019d before; when Ajax brought his breast\nTo bar all further spoil. With that he had, sure Hector thought\n\u2018Twas best to satisfy his spleen; which temper Ajax wrought\nWith his mere sight, and Hector fled. The arms he sent to Troy,\nTo make his citizens admire, and pray Jove send him joy.\nThen Ajax gather\u2019d to the corse, and hid it with his targe,\nThere setting down as sure a foot, as, in the tender charge\nOf his lov\u2019d whelps, a lion doth; two hundred hunters near\nTo give him onset, their more force makes him the more austere,\nDrowns all their clamours in his roars, darts, dogs, doth all despise,\nAnd lets his rough brows down so low, they cover all his eyes;\nSo Ajax look\u2019d, and stood, and stay\u2019d for great Priamides.\nWhen Glaucus Hippolochides saw Ajax thus depress\nThe spirit of Hector, thus he chid: \u201cO goodly man at arms,\nIn fight a Paris, why should fame make thee fort \u2019gainst our harms,\nBeing such a fugitive? Now mark, how well thy boasts defend\nThy city only with her own. Be sure it shall descend\nTo that proof wholly. Not a man of any Lycian rank\nShall strike one stroke more for thy town; for no man gets a thank\nShould he eternally fight here, nor any guard of thee.\nHow wilt thou, worthless that thou art, keep off an enemy\nFrom our poor soldiers, when their prince, Sarpedon, guest and friend\nTo thee, and most deservedly, thou flew\u2019st from in his end,\nAnd left\u2019st to all the lust of Greece? O Gods, a man that was\n(In life) so huge a good to Troy, and to thee such a grace,\n(In death) not kept by thee from dogs! If my friends will do well,\nWe\u2019ll take our shoulders from your walls, and let all sink to hell;\nAs all will, were our faces turn\u2019d. Did such a spirit breathe\nIn all you Trojans, as becomes all men that fight beneath\nTheir country\u2019s standard, you would see, that such a prop your cause\nWith like exposure of their lives, have all the honour\u2019d laws\nOf such a dear confederacy kept to them to a thread,\nAs now ye might reprise the arms Sarpedon forfeited\nBy forfeit of your rights to him, would you but lend your hands,\nAnd force Patroclus to your Troy. Ye know how dear he stands\nIn his love, that of all the Greeks is, for himself, far best,\nAnd leads the best near-fighting men; and therefore would at least\nRedeem Sarpedon\u2019s arms; nay him, whom you have likewise lost.\nThis body drawn to Ilion would after draw and cost\nA greater ransom if you pleas\u2019d; but Ajax startles you;\n\u2019Tis his breast bars this right to us; his looks are darts enow\nTo mix great Hector with his men. And not to blame ye are,\nYou choose foes underneath your strengths, Ajax exceeds ye far.\u201d\nHector look\u2019d passing sour at this, and answer\u2019d: \u201cWhy dar\u2019st thou,\nSo under, talk above me so? O friend, I thought till now\nThy wisdom was superior to all th\u2019 inhabitants\nOf gleby Lycia; but now impute apparent wants\nTo that discretion thy words show, to say I lost my ground\nFor Ajax\u2019 greatness. Nor fear I the field in combats drown\u2019d,\nNor force of chariots, but I fear a Pow\u2019r much better seen\nIn right of all war than all we. That God, that holds between\nOur victory and us his shield, lets conquest come and go\nAt his free pleasure, and with fear converts her changes so\nUpon the strongest. Men must fight when his just spirit impels,\nNot their vain glories. But come on, make thy steps parallels\nTo these of mine, and then be judge, how deep the work will draw.\nIf then I spend the day in shifts, or thou canst give such law\nTo thy detractive speeches then, or if the Grecian host\nHolds any that in pride of strength holds up his spirit most,\nWhom, for the carriage of this prince, that thou enforcest so,\nI make not stoop in his defence. You, friends, ye hear and know\nHow much it fits ye to make good this Grecian I have slain,\nFor ransom of Jove\u2019s son, our friend. Play then the worthy men,\nTill I indue Achilles\u2019 arms.\u201d This said, he left the fight,\nAnd call\u2019d back those that bore the arms, not yet without his sight,\nIn convoy of them towards Troy. For them he chang\u2019d his own,\nRemov\u2019d from where it rained tears, and sent them back to town.\nThen put he on th\u2019 eternal arms, that the Celestial States\nGave Peleus; Peleus, being old, their use appropriates\nTo his Achilles, that, like him, forsook them not for age.\nWhen He, whose empire is in clouds, saw Hector bent to wage\nWar in divine Achilles\u2019 arms, he shook his head, and said:\n\u201cPoor wretch, thy thoughts are far from death, though he so near hath\nlaid\nHis ambush for thee. Thou putt\u2019st on those arms, as braving him\nWhom others fear; hast slain his friend, and from his youthful limb\nTorn rudely off his heav\u2019nly arms, himself being gentle, kind,\nAnd valiant. Equal measure then, thy life in youth must find.\nYet since the justice is so strict, that not Andromache,\nIn thy denied return from fight, must ever take of thee\nThose arms, in glory of thy acts; thou shalt have that frail blaze\nOf excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev\u2019n to amaze.\u201d\nTo this His sable brows did bow; and he made fit his limb\nTo those great arms, to fill which up the War-god enter\u2019d him\nAustere and terrible, his joints and ev\u2019ry part extends\nWith strength and fortitude; and thus to his admiring friends\nHigh Clamour brought him. He so shin\u2019d, that all could think no less\nBut he resembled ev\u2019ry way great-soul\u2019d \u00c6acides.\nThen ev\u2019ry way he scour\u2019d the field, his captains calling on;\nAsterop\u00e6us, Eunomus, that foresaw all things done,\nGlaucus, and Medon, Desinor, and strong Thersilochus,\nPhorcis, and Mesthles, Chromius, and great Hippothous;\nTo all these, and their populous troops, these his excitements were:\n\u201cHear us, innumerable friends, near-bord\u2019ring nations, hear.\nWe have not call\u2019d you from our towns, to fill our idle eye\nWith number of so many men (no such vain empery\nDid ever joy us) but to fight; and of our Trojan wives,\nWith all their children, manfully to save the innocent lives.\nIn whose cares we draw all our towns of aiding soldiers dry,\nWith gifts, guards, victual, all things fit; and hearten their  supply\nWith all like rights; and therefore now let all sides set down this,\nOr live, or perish; this of war the special secret is.\nIn which most resolute design, whoever bears to town\nPatroclus, laid dead to his hand, by winning the renown\nOf Ajax\u2019 slaughter, the half-spoil we wholly will impart\nTo his free use, and to ourself the other half convert;\nAnd so the glory shall be shar\u2019d, ourself will have no more\nThen he shall shine in.\u201d This drew all to bring abroad their store\nBefore the body. Ev\u2019ry man had hope it would be his,\nAnd forc\u2019d from Ajax. Silly fools, Ajax prevented this\nBy raising rampires to his friend with half their carcasses.\nAnd yet his humour was to roar, and fear, and now no less\nTo startle Sparta\u2019s king, to whom he cried out: \u201cO my friend!\nO Menelaus! Now no hope to get off; here\u2019s the end\nOf all our labours. Not so much I fear to lose the corse\n(For that\u2019s sure gone, the fowls of Troy and dogs will quickly force\nThat piece-meal) as I fear my head, and thine, O Atreus\u2019 son.\nHector a cloud brings will hide all. Instant destructi\u00f3n,\nGrievous and heavy, comes. O call our peers to aid us; fly.\u201d\nHe hasted, and us\u2019d all his voice, sent far and near his cry:\n\u201cO princes, chief lights of the Greeks, and you that publicly\nEat with our General and me, all men of charge, O know\nJove gives both grace and dignity to any that will show\nGood minds for only good itself, though presently the eye\nOf him that rules discern him not. \u2019Tis hard for me t\u2019espy,\nThrough all this smoke of burning fight, each captain in his place,\nAnd call assistance to our need. Be then each other\u2019s grace,\nAnd freely follow each his next. Disdain to let the joy\nOf great \u00c6acides be forc\u2019d to feed the beasts of Troy.\u201d\nHis voice was first heard and obey\u2019d by swift O\u00efliades;\nIdomen\u00ebus and his mate, renown\u2019d Meriones,\nWere seconds to O\u00efleus\u2019 son; but, of the rest, whose mind\nCan lay upon his voice the names, that after these combin\u2019d\nIn setting up this fight on end? The Trojans first gave on.\nAnd as into the sea\u2019s vast mouth, when mighty rivers run,\nTheir billows and the sea resound, and all the utter shore\nRebellows in her angry shocks the sea\u2019s repulsive roar;\nWith such sounds gave the Trojans charge, so was their charge\nrepress\u2019d.\nOne mind fill\u2019d all Greeks, good brass shields close couch\u2019d to ev\u2019ry\nbreast,\nAnd on their bright helms Jove pour\u2019d down a mighty deal of night,\nTo hide Patroclus; whom alive, and when he was the knight\nOf that grandchild of \u00c6acus, Saturnius did not hate,\nNor dead would see him dealt to dogs, and so did instigate\nHis fellows to his worthy guard. At first the Trojans drave\nThe black-ey\u2019d Grecians from the corse; but not a blow they gave\nThat came at death. Awhile they hung about the body\u2019s heels,\nThe Greeks quite gone. But all that while, did Ajax whet the steels\nOf all his forces, that cut back way to the corse again.\nBrave Ajax (that for form and fact, pass\u2019d all that did maintain\nThe Grecian fame, next Thetis\u2019 son) now flew before the first.\nAnd as a sort of dogs and youths are by a boar disperst\nAbout a mountain; so fled these from mighty Ajax, all\nThat stood in conflict for the corse, who thought no chance could fall\nBetwixt them and the prise at Troy; for both Hippothous,\nLethus\u2019 Pelasgus\u2019 famous son, was so adventurous\nThat he would stand to bore the corse about the ancle-bone,\nWhere all the nervy fibres meet and ligaments in one,\nThat make the motion of those parts; through which he did convey\nThe thong or bawdric of his shield, and so was drawing away\nAll thanks from Hector and his friends; but in their stead he drew\nAn ill that no man could avert; for Telamonius threw\nA lance that strook quite through his helm, his brain came leaping out;\nDown fell Letheides, and with him the body\u2019s hoisted foot.\nFar from Larissa\u2019s soil he fell; a little time allow\u2019d\nTo his industrious spirits to quit the benefits bestow\u2019d\nBy his kind parents. But his wreak Priamides assay\u2019d,\nAnd threw at Ajax; but his dart, discover\u2019d, pass\u2019d, and stay\u2019d\nAt Schedius, son of Iphitus, a man of ablest hand\nOf all the strong Phocensians, and liv\u2019d with great command\nIn Panop\u00ebus. The fell dart fell through his channel-bone,\nPierc\u2019d through his shoulder\u2019s upper part, and set his spirit gone.\nWhen after his another flew, the same hand giving wing\nTo martial Phorcis\u2019 startled soul, that was the after spring\nOf Ph\u00e6nops\u2019 seed. The jav\u2019lin strook his curets through, and tore\nThe bowels from the belly\u2019s midst. His fall made those before\nGive back a little, Hector\u2019s self enforc\u2019d to turn his face.\nAnd then the Greeks bestow\u2019d their shouts, took vantage of the chace,\nDrew off, and spoil\u2019d Hippothous and Phorcis of their arms.\nAnd then ascended Ilion had shaken with alarms,\nDiscov\u2019ring th\u2019 impotence of Troy, ev\u2019n past the will of Jove,\nAnd by the proper force of Greece, had Ph\u0153bus fail\u2019d to move\n\u00c6neas in similitude of Periphas (the son\nOf grave Epytes) king at arms, and had good service done\nTo old Anchises, being wise, and ev\u2019n with him in years.\nBut, like this man, the far-seen God to Venus\u2019 son appears,\nAnd ask\u2019d him how he would maintain steep Ilion in her height,\nIn spite of Gods, as he presum\u2019d; when men approv\u2019d so slight\nAll his presumptions, and all theirs that puff\u2019d him with that pride,\nBelieving in their proper strengths, and gen\u2019rally supplied\nWith such unfrighted multitudes? But he well knew that Jove,\nBesides their self-conceits, sustain\u2019d their forces with more love\nThan theirs of Greece; and yet all that lack\u2019d pow\u2019r to hearten them.\n\u00c6neas knew the God, and said: \u201cIt was a shame extreme,\nThat those of Greece should beat them so, and by their cowardice,\nNot want of man\u2019s aid nor the Gods\u2019; and this before his eyes\nA Deity stood ev\u2019n now and vouch\u2019d, affirming Jove their aid;\nAnd so bade Hector and the rest, to whom all this he said,\nTurn head, and not in that quick ease part with the corse to Greece.\u201d\nThis said, before them all he flew, and all as of a piece\nAgainst the Greeks flew. Venus\u2019 son Leocritus did end,\nSon of Arisbas, and had place of Lycomedes\u2019 friend;\nWhose fall he friendly pitied, and, in revenge, bestow\u2019d\nA lance that Apisaon strook, so sore that straight he strow\u2019d\nThe dusty centre, it did stick in that congeal\u00e9d blood\nThat forms the liver. Second man he was of all that stood\nIn name for arms amongst the troop that from P\u00e6onia came,\nAsterop\u00e6us being the first; who was in ruth the same\nThat Lycomedes was; like whom, he put forth for the wreak\nOf his slain friend; but wrought it not, because he could not break\nThat bulwark made of Grecian shields, and bristled wood of spears,\nCombin\u2019d about the body slain. Amongst whom Ajax bears\nThe greatest labour, ev\u2019ry way exhorting to abide,\nAnd no man fly the corse a foot, nor break their ranks in pride\nOf any foremost daring spirit, but each foot hold his stand,\nAnd use the closest fight they could. And this was the command\nOf mighty Ajax; which observ\u2019d, they steep\u2019d the earth in blood.\nThe Trojans and their friends fell thick. Nor all the Grecians stood\n(Though far the fewer suffer\u2019d fate) for ever they had care\nTo shun confusion, and the toil that still oppresseth there.\nSo set they all the field on fire; with which you would have thought\nThe sun and moon had been put out, in such a smoke they fought\nAbout the person of the prince. But all the field beside\nFought underneath a lightsome heav\u2019n; the sun was in his pride,\nAnd such expansure of his beams he thrust out of his throne,\nThat not a vapour durst appear in all that region,\nNo, not upon the highest hill. There fought they still, and breath\u2019d,\nShunn\u2019d danger, cast their darts aloof, and not a sword unsheath\u2019d.\nThe other plied it, and the war and night plied them as well,\nThe cruel steel afflicting all; the strongest did not dwell\nUnhurt within their iron roofs. Two men of special name.\nAntilochus and Thrasymed, were yet unserv\u2019d by Fame\nWith notice of Patroclus\u2019 death. They thought him still alive\nIn foremost tumult, and might well, for (seeing their fellows thrive\nIn no more comfortable sort than fight and death would yield)\nThey fought apart; for so their sire, old Nestor, strictly will\u2019d,\nEnjoining fight more from the fleet. War here increas\u2019d his heat\nThe whole day long, continually the labour and the sweat\nThe knees, calves, feet, hands, faces, smear\u2019d, of men that Mars\napplied\nAbout the good Achilles\u2019 friend. And as a huge ox-hide[3]\nA currier gives amongst his men, to supple and extend\nWith oil till it be drunk withall; they tug, stretch out, and spend\nTheir oil and liquor lib\u2019rally, and chafe the leather so\nThat out they make a vapour breathe, and in their oil doth go,\nA number of them set on work, and in an orb they pull,\nThat all ways all parts of the hide they may extend at full;\nSo here and there did both parts hale the corse in little place,\nAnd wrought it all ways with their sweat; the Trojans hop\u2019d for grace\nTo make it reach to Ilion, the Grecians to their fleet,\nA cruel tumult they stirr\u2019d up, and such as should Mars see\u2019t\n(That horrid hurrier of men) or She that betters him,\nMinerva, never so incens\u2019d, they could not disesteem.\nSo baneful a contention did Jove that day extend\nOf men and horse about the slain. Of whom his god-like friend\nHad no instruction, so far off, and underneath the wall\nOf Troy, that conflict was maintain\u2019d; which was not thought at all\nBy great Achilles, since he charg\u2019d, that having set his foot\nUpon the ports, he would retire, well knowing Troy no boot\nFor his assaults without himself, since not by him as well\nHe knew it was to be subdu\u2019d. His mother oft would tell\nThe mind of mighty Jove therein, oft hearing it in heav\u2019n;\nBut of that great ill to his friend was no instruction giv\u2019n\nBy careful Thetis. By degrees must ill events be known.\nThe foes cleft one to other still, about the overthrown.\nHis death with death infected both. Ev\u2019n private Greeks would say\nEither to other: \u201c\u2019Twere a shame, for us to go our way,\nAnd let the Trojans bear to Troy the praise of such a prise!\nWhich, let the black earth gasp, and drink our blood for sacrifice,\nBefore we suffer. \u2019Tis an act much less infortunate,\nAnd then would those of Troy resolve, though certainly our fate\nWill fell us altogether here. Of all not turn a face.\u201d\nThus either side his fellows\u2019 strength excited past his place,\nAnd thus through all th\u2019 unfruitful air, an iron sound ascended\nUp to the golden firmament; when strange affects contended\nIn these immortal heav\u2019n-bred horse of great \u00c6acides,\nWhom (once remov\u2019d from forth the fight) a sudden sense did seize\nOf good Patroclus\u2019 death, whose hands they oft had undergone,\nAnd bitterly they wept for him. Nor could Automedon\nWith any manage make them stir, oft use the scourge to them,\nOft use his fairest speech, as oft threats never so extreme,\nThey neither to the Hellespont would bear him, nor the fight;\nBut still as any tombstone lays his never stirr\u00e9d weight\nOn some good man or woman\u2019s grave for rites of funeral;\nSo unremov\u00e9d stood these steeds, their heads to earth let fall,\nAnd warm tears gushing from their eyes, with passionate desire\nOf their kind manager; their manes, that flourish\u2019d with the fire\nOf endless youth allotted them, fell through the yoky sphere,\nRuthfully ruffled and defil\u2019d, Jove saw their heavy cheer,\nAnd, pitying them, spake to his mind: \u201cPoor wretched beasts,\u201d said he,\n\u201cWhy gave we you t\u2019 a mortal king, when immortality\nAnd incapacity of age so dignifies your states?\nWas it to haste the miseries pour\u2019d out on human fates?\nOf all the miserablest things that breathe and creep on earth,\nNo one more wretched is than man. And for your deathless birth,\nHector must fail to make you prise. Is\u2019t not enough he wears,\nAnd glories vainly in those arms? Your chariots and rich gears,\nBesides you, are too much for him. Your knees and spirits again\nMy care of you shall fill with strength, that so ye may sustain\nAutomedon, and bear him off. To Troy I still will give\nThe grace of slaughter, till at fleet their bloody feet arrive,\nTill Ph\u0153bus drink the western sea, and sacred Darkness throws\nHer sable mantle \u2019twixt their points.\u201d Thus in the steeds he blows\nExcessive spirit; and through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt\nThe whirring chariot, shaking off the crumbled centre wrapt\nAmongst their tresses. And with them, Automedon let fly\nAmongst the Trojans, making way through all as frightfully\nAs through a jangling flock of geese a lordly vulture beats,\nGiv\u2019n way with shrikes by ev\u2019ry goose, that comes but near his threats;\nWith such state fled he through the press, pursuing as he fled;\nBut made no slaughter; nor he could, alone being carried\nUpon the sacred chariot. How could he both works do,\nDirect his jav\u2019lin, and command his fi\u2019ry horses too?\nAt length he came where he beheld his friend Alcimedon,\nThat was the good Laercius\u2019, the son of \u00c6mon\u2019s, son;\nWho close came to his chariot side, and ask\u2019d: \u201cWhat God is he\nThat hath so robb\u2019d thee of thy soul, to run thus franticly\nAmongst these fore fights, being alone; thy fighter being slain,\nAnd Hector glorying in his arms?\u201d He gave these words again:\n\u201cAlcimedon, what man is he, of all the Argive race,\nSo able as thyself to keep, in use of press and pace,\nThese deathless horse; himself being gone, that like the Gods had th\u2019\nart\nOf their high manage? Therefore take to thy command his part,\nAnd ease me of the double charge, which thou hast blam\u2019d with right.\u201d\nHe took the scourge and reins in hand, Automedon the fight.\nWhich Hector seeing, instantly, \u00c6neas standing near,\nHe told him, he discern\u2019d the horse, that mere immortal were,\nAddress\u2019d to fight with coward guides, and therefore hop\u2019d to make\nA rich prise of them, if his mind would help to undertake,\nFor those two could not stand their charge. He granted, and both cast\nDry solid hides upon their necks, exceeding soundly brast;\nAnd forth they went, associate with two more god-like men,\nAretus and bold Chromius; nor made they question then\nTo prise the goodly-crested horse, and safely send to hell\nThe souls of both their guardians. O fools, that could not tell\nThey could not work out their return from fierce Automedon\nWithout the lib\u2019ral cost of blood; who first made orison\nTo father Jove, and then was fill\u2019d with fortitude and strength;\nWhen (counselling Alcimedon to keep at no great length\nThe horse from him, but let them breathe upon his back, because\nHe saw th\u2019 advance that Hector made, whose fury had no laws\nPropos\u2019d to it, but both their lives and those horse made his prise,\nOr his life theirs) he call\u2019d to friend these well-approv\u2019d supplies,\nTh\u2019 Ajaces, and the Spartan king, and said, \u201cCome, princes, leave\nA sure guard with the corse, and then to your kind care receive\nOur threaten\u2019d safeties. I discern the two chief props of Troy\nPrepar\u2019d against us. But herein, what best men can enjoy\nLies in the free knees of the Gods. My dart shall lead ye all[4]\nThe sequel to the care of Jove I leave, whatever fall.\u201d\nAll this spake good Automedon; then, brandishing his lance,\nHe threw, and strook Aretus\u2019 shield, that gave it enterance\nThrough all the steel, and, by his belt, his belly\u2019s inmost part\nIt pierc\u2019d, and all his trembling limbs gave life up to his dart.\nThen Hector at Automedon a blazing lance let fly,\nWhose flight he saw, and falling flat, the compass was too high,\nAnd made it stick beyond in earth, th\u2019 extreme part burst, and there\nMars buried all his violence. The sword then for the spear\nHad chang\u2019d the conflict, had not haste sent both th\u2019 Ajaces in,\nBoth serving close their fellows\u2019 call, who, where they did begin,\nThere drew the end. Priamides, \u00c6neas, Chromius\n(In doubt of what such aid might work) left broken hearted thus\nAretus to Automedon, who spoil\u2019d his arms, and said:\n\u201cA little this revives my life for him so lately dead,\nThough by this nothing countervail\u2019d.\u201d And with this little vent\nOf inward grief, he took the spoil; with which he made ascent\nUp to his chariot, hands and feet of bloody stains so full\nThat lion-like he look\u2019d, new turn\u2019d from tearing up a bull.\nAnd now another bitter fight about Patroclus grew,\nTear-thirsty, and of toil enough; which Pallas did renew,\nDescending from the cope of stars, dismiss\u2019d by sharp-ey\u2019d Jove\nTo animate the Greeks; for now, inconstant change did move\nHis mind from what he held of late. And as the purple bow\nJove bends at mortals, when of war he will the signal show,\nOr make it a presage of cold, in such tempestuous sort\nThat men are of their labours eas\u2019d, but labouring cattle hurt;\nSo Pallas in a purple cloud involv\u2019d herself, and went\nAmongst the Grecians, stirr\u2019d up all; but first encouragement\nShe breath\u2019d in Atreus\u2019 younger son, and, for disguise, made choice\nOf aged Ph\u0153nix\u2019 shape, and spake with his unwearied voice:\n\u201cO Menelaus, much defame, and equal heaviness,\nWill touch at thee, if this true friend of great \u00c6acides\nDogs tear beneath the Trojan walls; and therefore bear thee well.\nToil through the host, and ev\u2019ry man with all thy spirit impell.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cO thou long-since born, O Ph\u0153nix, that hast won\nThe honour\u2019d foster-father\u2019s name of Thetis\u2019 god-like son,\nI would Minerva would but give strength to me, and but keep\nThese busy darts off; I would then make in indeed, and steep\nMy income in their bloods, in aid of good Patroclus; much\nHis death afflicts me, much. But yet, this Hector\u2019s grace is such\nWith Jove, and such a fi\u2019ry strength and spirit he has, that still\nHis steel is killing, killing still.\u201d The king\u2019s so royal will\nMinerva joy\u2019d to hear, since she did all the Gods outgo\nIn his remembrance. For which grace she kindly did bestow\nStrength on his shoulders, and did fill his knees as lib\u2019rally\nWith swiftness, breathing in his breast the courage of a fly,\nWhich loves to bite so, and doth bear man\u2019s blood so much good will,\nThat still though beaten from a man she flies upon him still;\nWith such a courage Pallas fill\u2019d the black parts near his heart,\nAnd then he hasted to the slain, cast off a shining dart,\nAnd took one Podes, that was heir to old Eetion,\nA rich man and a strenuous, and by the people done\nMuch honour, and by Hector too, being consort and his guest;\nAnd him the yellow-headed king laid hold on at his waist\nIn off\u2019ring flight, his iron pile strook through him, down he fell,\nAnd up Atrides drew his corse. Then Ph\u0153bus did impell\nThe spirit of Hector, Ph\u00e6nops like, surnam\u2019d Asiades,\nWhom Hector us\u2019d, of all his guests, with greatest friendliness,\nAnd in Abydus stood his house; in whose form thus he spake:\n\u201cHector! What man of all the Greeks will any terror make\nOf meeting thy strength any more, when thou art terrified\nBy Menelaus, who, before he slew thy friend, was tried\nA passing easy soldier, where now (besides his end\nImpos\u2019d by him) he draws him off, and not a man to friend.\nFrom all the Trojans? This friend is Podes, Eetion\u2019s son.\u201d\nThis hid him in a cloud of grief, and set him foremost on.\nAnd then Jove took his snake-fring\u2019d shield, and Ida cover\u2019d all\nWith sulphury clouds, from whence he let abhorr\u00e9d lightnings fall,\nAnd thunder\u2019d till the mountains shook; and with this dreadful state\nHe usher\u2019d victory to Troy, to Argos flight and fate.\nPenele\u00fcs B\u0153otius was he that foremost fled,\nBeing wounded in his shoulder\u2019s height; but there the lance\u2019s head\nStrook lightly, glancing to his mouth, because it strook him near,\nThrown from Polydamas. Leitus next left the fight in fear\n(Being hurt by Hector in his hand) because he doubted sore\nHis hand in wish\u00e9d fight with Troy would hold his lance no more.\nIdomen\u00ebus sent a dart at Hector (rushing in,\nAnd following Leitus) that strook his bosom near his chin,\nAnd brake at top. The Ilians for his escape did shout.\nWhen Hector at Deucalides another lance sent out,\nAs in his chariot he stood; it miss\u2019d him narrowly,\nFor, as it fell, C\u0153ranus drave his speedy chariot by,\nAnd took the Trojan lance himself; he was the charioteer\nOf stern Meriones, and first on foot did service there,\nWhich well he left to govern horse, for saving now his king,\nWith driving \u2019twixt him and his death, though thence his own did\nspring,\nWhich kept a mighty victory from Troy, in keeping death\nFrom his great sov\u2019reign. The fierce dart did enter him beneath\nHis ear, betwixt his jaw and it, drave down, cut through his tongue,\nAnd strook his teeth out; from his hands the horses\u2019 reins he flung,\nWhich now Meriones receiv\u2019d as they bestrew\u2019d the field,\nAnd bade his sov\u2019reign scourge away, he saw that day would yield\nNo hope of victory for them. He fear\u2019d the same, and fled.\nNor from the mighty-minded son of Telamon lay hid,\nFor all his clouds, high Jove himself, nor from the Spartan king.\nThey saw Him in the victory, He still was varying\nFor Troy. For which sight Ajax said: \u201cO heav\u2019ns, what fool is he\nThat sees not Jove\u2019s hand in the grace now done our enemy?\nNot any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown,\nValiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one\nWants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure.\nBut come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure\nThat lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend,\nAnd so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend\nTo fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right\nIn joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight,\nBeing kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt,\nAnd looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out\nOur pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands\nThat are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands\nBefore our fleet will be enforc\u2019d to drink our headlong death.\nWhich to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath\nOf good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were,\nBy some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger\nHath yet inform\u2019d him. But alas! I see no man to send,\nBoth men and horse are hid in mists that ev\u2019ry way descend.\nO father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release\nOf this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences;\nAnd give the eyes thou giv\u2019st, their use; destroy us in the light,\nAnd work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.\u201d\nThis spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show\u2019d,\nDispers\u2019d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud\nFrom whence it fell; the sun shin\u2019d out, and all the host appear\u2019d;\nAnd then spake Ajax, whose heard pray\u2019r his spirits highly cheer\u2019d:\n\u201cBrave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry\nNestor\u2019s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly\nTo tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.\u201d\nHe said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said,\nAs loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier\u2019s stall\nA lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all,\nNot eas\u2019ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held,\nHis teeth yet wat\u2019ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell\u2019d,\nThe adverse darts so thick are pour\u2019d before his brow-hid eyes,\nAnd burning firebrands which, for all his great heart\u2019s heat, he flies,\nAnd, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went\nAtrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement\nLest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear\nThe person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were\nTh\u2019 Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press,\nAnd thus exhort: \u201cAjaces both, and you Meriones,\nNow let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature\nOf poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev\u2019ry creature\nHis heart was living, though now dead.\u201d Thus urg\u2019d the fair-hair\u2019d\nking,\nAnd parted, casting round his eye. As when upon her wing\nAn eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight\nOf all air\u2019s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height,\nSees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid,\nA light-foot hare, which straight she stoops, trusses, and strikes her\ndead;\nSo dead thou strook\u2019st thy charge, O king, through all war\u2019s thickets\nso\nThou look\u2019dst, and swiftly found\u2019st thy man exhorting \u2019gainst the foe,\nAnd heart\u2019ning his plied men to blows us\u2019d in the war\u2019s left wing;\nTo whom thou saidst: \u201cThou god-lov\u2019d man, come here, and hear a thing\nWhich I wish never were to hear. I think ev\u2019n thy eye sees\nWhat a destruction God hath laid upon the sons of Greece,\nAnd what a conquest he gives Troy; in which the best of men,\nPatroclus, lies exanimate, whose person passing fain\nThe Greeks would rescue and bear home; and therefore give thy speed\nTo his great friend, to prove if he will do so good a deed\nTo fetch the naked person off, for Hector\u2019s shoulders wear\nHis pris\u00e9d arms.\u201d Antilochus was highly griev\u2019d to hear\nThis heavy news, and stood surpris\u2019d with stupid silence long;\nHis fair eyes standing full of tears; his voice, so sweet and strong\nStuck in his bosom; yet all this wrought in him no neglect\nOf what Atrides gave in charge, but for that quick effect\nHe gave Laodocus his arms (his friend that had the guide\nOf his swift horse) and then his knees were speedily applied\nIn his sad message, which his eyes told all the way in tears.\nNor would thy gen\u2019rous heart assist his sore charg\u2019d soldiers,\nO Menelaus, in mean time, though left in much distress;\nThou sent\u2019st them god-like Thrasymede, and mad\u2019st thy kind regress\nBack to Patroclus; where arriv\u2019d, half breathless thou didst say\nTo both th\u2019 Ajaces: \u201cI have sent this messenger away\nTo swift Achilles, who, I fear, will hardly help us now,\nThough mad with Hector; without arms he cannot fight, ye know.\nLet us then think of some best mean, both how we may remove\nThe body, and get off ourselves from this vocif\u2019rous drove,\nAnd fate of Trojans.\u201d \u201cBravely spoke at all parts,\u201d Ajax said,\n\u201cO glorious son of Atreus. Take thou then straight the dead,\nAnd thou, Meriones; we two, of one mind as one name,\nWill back ye soundly, and on us receive the wild-fire flame\nThat Hector\u2019s rage breathes after you, before it come at you.\u201d\nThis said, they took into their arms the body; all the show,\nThat might be, made to those of Troy; at arm\u2019s end bearing it.\nOut shriek\u2019d the Trojans when they saw the body borne to fleet,\nAnd rush\u2019d on. As at any boar, gash\u2019d with the hunter\u2019s wounds,\nA kennel of the sharpest set and sorest bitten hounds\nBefore their youthful huntsmen haste, and eagerly awhile\nPursue, as if they were assur\u2019d of their affected spoil;\nBut when the savage, in his strength as confident as they,\nTurns head amongst them, back they fly, and ev\u2019ry one his way;\nSo troop-meal Troy pursu\u2019d awhile, laying on with swords and darts;\nBut when th\u2019 Ajaces turn\u2019d on them, and made their stand, their hearts\nDrunk from their faces all their bloods, and not a man sustain\u2019d\nThe forechace, nor the after-fight. And thus Greece nobly gain\u2019d\nThe person towards home. But thus, the changing war was rack\u2019d\nOut to a passing bloody length; for as, once put in act,\nA fire, invading city roofs, is suddenly engrost,\nAnd made a wondrous mighty flame, in which is quickly lost\nA house long building, all the while a boist\u2019rous gust of wind\nLumb\u2019ring amongst it; so the Greeks, in bearing off their friend,\nMore and more foes drew, at their heels a tumult thund\u2019ring still\nOf horse and foot. Yet as when mules, in haling from a hill\nA beam or mast, through foul deep way, well-clapp\u2019d, and hearten\u2019d,\nclose\nLie to their labour, tug and sweat, and passing hard it goes,\nUrg\u2019d by their drivers to all haste; so dragg\u2019d they on the corse,\nStill both th\u2019 Ajaces at their backs, who back still turn\u2019d the force,\nThough after it grew still the more. Yet as a sylvan hill\nThrusts back a torrent, that hath kept a narrow channel still,\nTill at his oaken breast it beats, but there a check it takes,\nThat sends it over all the vale, with all the stir it makes,\nNor can with all the confluence break through his rooty sides;\nIn no less firm and brave repulse, th\u2019 Ajaces curb\u2019d the prides\nOf all the Trojans; yet all held the pursuit in his strength,\nTheir chiefs being Hector, and the son of Venus, who at length\nPut all the youth of Greece besides in most amazeful rout,\nForgetting all their fortitudes, distraught, and shrieking out\nA number of their rich arms lost, fall\u2019n from them here and there,\nAbout, and in the dike; and yet, the war concludes not here.\n\nTHE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] This Euphorbus was he that, in Ovid, Pythagoras saith he was in\n the wars of Troy.\n\n\n [2] Note the manly and wise discourse of Menelaus with himself seeing\n Hector advancing towards him.\n\n\n [3] An inimitable simile.\n\n\n [4] In the Greek always this phrase is used, not in the hands, but \u1f10\u03bd\n \u03b3\u03bf\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5\u1f76\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, _in the knees of the Gods lies_ our help, etc.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAchilles mourns, told of Patroclus\u2019 end;\nWhen Thetis doth from forth the sea ascend\nAnd comfort him, advising to abstain\nFrom any fight till her request could gain\nFit arms of Vulcan. Juno yet commands\nTo show himself. And at the dike he stands\nIn sight of th\u2019 enemy, who with his sight\nFlies; and a number perish in the flight.\nPatroclus\u2019 person (safe brought from the wars)\nHis soldiers wash. Vulcan the arms prepares.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nSigma continues the alarms,\nAnd fashions the renown\u00e9d arms.\n\n\nThey fought still like the rage of fire. And now Antilochus\nCame to \u00c6acides, whose mind was much solicitous\nFor that which, as he fear\u2019d, was fall\u2019n. He found him near the fleet\nWith upright sail-yards, utt\u2019ring this to his heroic conceit:\n\u201cAh me! Why see the Greeks themselves thus beaten from the field,\nAnd routed headlong to their fleet? O let not heaven yield\nEffect to what my sad soul fears, that, as I was foretold,\nThe strongest Myrmidon next me, when I should still behold\nThe sun\u2019s fair light, must part with it. Past doubt Men\u0153tius\u2019 son\nIs he on whom that fate is wrought. O wretch, to leave undone\nWhat I commanded; that, the fleet once freed of hostile fire,\nNot meeting Hector, instantly he should his pow\u2019rs retire.\u201d\nAs thus his troubled mind discours\u2019d, Antilochus appear\u2019d,\nAnd told with tears the sad news thus: \u201cMy lord, that must be heard\nWhich would to heav\u2019n I might not tell! Men\u0153tius\u2019 son lies dead,\nAnd for his naked corse (his arms already forfeited,\nAnd worn by Hector) the debate is now most vehement.\u201d\nThis said, grief darken\u2019d all his pow\u2019rs. With both his hands he rent\nThe black mould from the forc\u00e9d earth, and pour\u2019d it on his head,\nSmear\u2019d all his lovely face; his weeds, divinely fashion\u00e9d,\nAll fil\u2019d and mangled; and himself he threw upon the shore,\nLay, as laid out for funeral, then tumbled round, and tore\nHis gracious curls. His ecstasy he did so far extend,\nThat all the ladies won by him and his now slaughter\u2019d friend,\nAfflicted strangely for his plight, came shrieking from the tents,\nAnd fell about him, beat their breasts, their tender lineaments\nDissolv\u2019d with sorrow. And with them wept Nestor\u2019s warlike son,\nFell by him, holding his fair hands, in fear he would have done\nHis person violence; his heart, extremely straiten\u2019d, burn\u2019d,\nBeat, swell\u2019d, and sigh\u2019d as it would burst. So terribly he mourn\u2019d,\nThat Thetis, sitting in the deeps of her old father\u2019s seas,\nHeard, and lamented. To her plaints the bright Nereides\nFlock\u2019d all, how many those dark gulfs soever comprehend.\nThere Glauce, and Cymodoce, and Spio, did attend,\nNessea, and Cymothoe, and calm Amphithoe,\nThalia, Thoa, Panope, and swift Dynamene,\nAct\u00e6a, and Limnoria, and Halia the fair\nFam\u2019d for the beauty of her eyes, Amathia for her hair,\nI\u00e6ra, Proto, Clymene, and curl\u2019d Dexamene,\nPherusa, Doris, and with these the smooth Amphinome,\nChaste Galatea so renown\u2019d, and Callianira, came,\nWith Doto and Orythia, to cheer the mournful dame.\nApseudes likewise visited, and Callianassa gave\nHer kind attendance, and with her Agave grac\u2019d the cave,\nNemertes, M\u00e6ra, follow\u00e9d, Melita, Ianesse,\nWith Ianira, and the rest of those Nereides\nThat in the deep seas make abode; all which together beat\nTheir dewy bosoms; and to all, thus Thetis did repeat\nHer cause of mourning: \u201cSisters, hear, how much the sorrows weigh,\nWhose cries now call\u2019d ye. Hapless I brought forth unhappily\nThe best of all the sons of men; who, like a well-set plant\nIn best soils, grew and flourish\u00e9d; and when his spirit did want\nEmployment for his youth and strength, I sent him with a fleet\nTo fight at Ilion; from whence his fate-confin\u00e9d feet\nPass all my deity to retire. The court of his high birth,\nThe glorious court of Pele\u00fcs, must entertain his worth\nNever hereafter. All the life he hath to live with me\nMust waste in sorrows. And this son I now am bent to see,\nBeing now afflicted with some grief not usually grave,\nWhose knowledge and recure I seek.\u201d This said, she left her cave,\nWhich all left with her; swimming forth, the green waves, as they\nsworn,\nCleft with their bosoms, curl\u2019d, and gave quick way to Troy. Being\ncome,\nThey all ascended, two and two, and trod the honour\u2019d shore,\nTill where the fleet of Myrmidons, drawn up in heaps, it bore.\nThere stay\u2019d they at Achilles\u2019 ship; and there did Thetis lay\nHer fair hand on her son\u2019s curl\u2019d head, sigh\u2019d, wept, and bade him say\nWhat grief drew from his eyes those tears? \u201cConceal it not,\u201d said she,\n\u201cTill this hour thy uplifted hands have all things granted thee.\nThe Greeks, all thrust up at their sterns, have pour\u2019d out tears enow,\nAnd in them seen how much they miss remission of thy vow.\u201d\nHe said, \u201c\u2019Tis true, Olympius hath done me all that grace,\nBut what joy have I of it all, when thus thrusts in the place\nLoss of my whole self in my friend? Whom, when his foe had slain,\nHe spoil\u2019d of those profan\u00e9d arms, that Peleus did obtain\nFrom heav\u2019n\u2019s high Pow\u2019rs, solemnizing thy sacred nuptial bands,\nAs th\u2019 only present of them all, and fitted well their hands,\nBeing lovely, radiant, marvellous. O would to heav\u2019n thy throne,\nWith these fair Deities of the sea, thou still hadst sat upon,\nAnd Peleus had a mortal wife; since by his means is done\nSo much wrong to thy griev\u00e9d mind, my death being set so soon,\nAnd never suff\u2019ring my return to grace of Peleus\u2019 court!\nNor do I wish it; nor to live in any man\u2019s resort,\nBut only that the crying blood, for vengeance of my friend\nMangled by Hector, may be still\u2019d; his foe\u2019s death paying his end.\u201d\nShe, weeping, said: \u201cThat hour is near, and thy death\u2019s hour then nigh;\nWhich, in thy wish serv\u2019d of thy foe, succeedeth instantly.\u201d\n\u201cAnd instantly it shall succeed,\u201d he answer\u2019d \u201csince my fate\nAllow\u2019d not to my will a pow\u2019r to rescue, ere the date\nOf his late slaughter, my true friend. Far from his friends he died,\nWhose wrong therein my eyes had light and right to see denied.\nYet now I neither light myself, nor have so spent my light,\nThat either this friend or the rest (in numbers infinite\nSlaughter\u2019d by Hector) I can help, nor grace with wish\u2019d repair\nTo our dear country, but breathe here unprofitable air,\nAnd only live a load to earth with all my strength, though none\nOf all the Grecians equal it. In counsel many a one\nIs my superior; what I have, no grace gets; what I want\nDisgraceth all. How then too soon can hastiest death supplant\nMy fate-curst life? Her instrument to my indignity\nBeing that black fiend Contention; whom would to God might die\nTo Gods and men; and Anger too, that kindles tyranny\nIn men most wise, being much more sweet than liquid honey is\nTo men of pow\u2019r to satiate their watchful enmities;\nAnd like a pliant fume it spreads through all their breasts; as late\nIt stole stern passage thorough mine, which he did instigate\nThat is our Gen\u2019ral. But the fact so long past, the effect\nMust vanish with it, though both griev\u2019d; nor must we still respect\nOur sooth\u00e9d humours. Need now takes the rule of either\u2019s mind.\nAnd when the loser of my friend his death in me shall find,\nLet death take all. Send him, ye Gods, I\u2019ll give him my embrace.\nNot Hercules himself shunn\u2019d death, though dearest in the grace\nOf Jupiter; ev\u2019n him Fate stoop\u2019d, and Juno\u2019s cruelty.\nAnd if such fate expect my life, where death strikes I will lie.\nMeantime I wish a good renown that these deep breasted dames\nOf Ilion and Dardania may, for the extinguish\u2019d flames\nOf their friends\u2019 lives, with both their hands wipe miserable tears\nFrom their so-curiously-kept cheeks, and be the officers\nTo execute my sighs on Troy, when (seeing my long retreat\nBut gather\u2019d strength, and gives my charge an answerable heat)\nThey well may know \u2019twas I lay still, and that my being away\nPresented all their happiness. But any further stay\n(Which your much love perhaps may wish) assay not to persuade;\nAll vows are kept, all pray\u2019rs heard; now, free way for fight is made.\u201d\nThe silver-footed Dame replied: \u201cIt fits thee well, my son,\nTo keep destruction from thy friends; but those fair arms are won\nAnd worn by Hector, that should keep thyself in keeping them,\nThough their fruition be but short, a long death being near him,\nWhose cruel glory they are yet. By all means then forbear\nTo tread the massacres of war, till I again appear\nFrom Mulciber with fit new arms; which, when thy eye shall see\nThe sun next rise, shall enter here with his first beams and me.\u201d\nThus to her Sisters of the Sea she turn\u2019d, and bade them ope\nThe doors and deeps of Nere\u00fcs; she in Olympus\u2019 top\nMust visit Vulcan for new arms to serve her wreakful son,\nAnd bade inform her father so, with all things further done.\nThis said, they underwent the sea, herself flew up to heav\u2019n.\nIn mean space, to the Hellespont and ships the Greeks were driv\u2019n\nIn shameful rout; nor could they yet, from rage of Priam\u2019s son,\nSecure the dead of new assaults, both horse and men made on\nWith such impression. Thrice the feet the hands of Hector seiz\u2019d,\nAnd thrice th\u2019 Ajaces thump\u2019d him off. With whose repulse displeas\u2019d,\nHe wreak\u2019d his wrath upon the troops, then to the corse again\nMade horrid turnings, crying out of his repuls\u00e9d men,\nAnd would not quit him quite for death. A lion almost sterv\u2019d\nIs not by upland herdsman driv\u2019n, from urging to be serv\u2019d,\nWith more contention, than his strength by those two of a name;\nAnd had perhaps his much-prais\u2019d will, if th\u2019 airy-footed Dame,\nSwift Iris, had not stoop\u2019d in haste, ambassadress from heav\u2019n\nTo Peleus\u2019 son, to bid him arm; her message being giv\u2019n\nBy Juno, kept from all the Gods; she thus excited him:\n\u201cRise, thou most terrible of men, and save the precious limb\nOf thy belov\u2019d; in whose behalf, the conflict now runs high\nBefore the fleet, the either host fells other mutually,\nThese to retain, those to obtain. Amongst whom most of all\nIs Hector prompt, he\u2019s apt to drag thy friend home, he your pall\nWill make his shoulders; his head forc\u2019d, he\u2019ll be most famous; rise,\nNo more lie idle, set the foe a much more costly prize\nOf thy friend\u2019s value than let dogs make him a monument,\nWhere thy name will be grav\u2019n.\u201d He ask\u2019d, \u201cWhat Deity hath sent\nThy presence hither?\u201d She replied: \u201cSaturnia, she alone,\nNot high Jove knowing, nor one God that doth inhabit on\nSnowy Olympus.\u201d He again: \u201cHow shall I set upon\nThe work of slaughter, when mine arms are worn by Priam\u2019s son?\nHow will my Goddess-mother grieve, that bade I should not arm\nTill she brought arms from Mulciber! But should I do such harm\nTo her and duty, who is he, but Ajax, that can vaunt\nThe fitting my breast with his arms; and he is conversant\nAmongst the first in use of his, and rampires of the foe\nSlain near Patroclus builds to him?\u201d \u201cAll this,\u201d said she, \u201cwe know,\nAnd wish thou only wouldst but show thy person to the eyes\nOf these hot Ilians, that, afraid of further enterprise,\nThe Greeks may gain some little breath.\u201d She woo\u2019d, and he was won;\nAnd straight Minerva honour\u2019d him, who Jove\u2019s shield clapp\u2019d upon\nHis mighty shoulders, and his head girt with a cloud of gold\nThat cast beams round about his brows. And as when arms enfold\nA city in an isle, from thence a fume at first appears,\nBeing in the day, but, when the even her cloudy forehead rears,\nThick show the fires, and up they cast their splendour, that men nigh,\nSeeing their distress, perhaps may set ships out to their supply;\nSo (to show such aid) from his head a light rose, scaling heav\u2019n,\nAnd forth the wall he stept and stood, nor brake the precept giv\u2019n\nBy his great mother, mix\u2019d in fight, but sent abroad his voice;\nWhich Pallas far-off echo\u00e9d, who did betwixt them hoise\nShrill tumult to a topless height. And as a voice is heard\nWith emulous affecti\u00f3n, when any town is spher\u2019d\nWith siege of such a foe as kills men\u2019s minds, and for the town\nMakes sound his trumpet; so the voice from Thetis\u2019 issue thrown\nWon emulously th\u2019 ears of all. His brazen voice once heard,\nThe minds of all were startled so they yielded; and so fear\u2019d\nThe fair-man\u2019d horses, that they flew back, and their chariots turn\u2019d,\nPresaging in their augurous hearts the labours that they mourn\u2019d\nA little after; and their guides a repercussive dread\nTook from the horrid radiance of his refulgent head,\nWhich Pallas set on fire with grace. Thrice great Achilles spake,\nAnd thrice (in heat of all the charge) the Trojans started back.\nTwelve men, of greatest strength in Troy, left with their lives exhal\u2019d\nTheir chariots and their darts, to death with his three summons call\u2019d.\nAnd then the Grecians spritefully drew from the darts the corse,\nAnd hears\u2019d it, bearing it to fleet; his friends with all remorse\nMarching about it. His great friend dissolving then in tears\nTo see his truly-lov\u2019d return\u2019d, so hors\u2019d upon an hearse,\nWhom with such horse and chariot he set out safe and whole,\nNow wounded with unpitying steel, now sent without a soul,\nNever again to be restor\u2019d, never receiv\u2019d but so,\nHe follow\u2019d mourning bitterly. The sun (yet far to go)\nJuno commanded to go down; who, in his pow\u2019r\u2019s despite,\nSunk to the ocean, over earth dispersing sudden night.\nAnd then the Greeks and Trojans both gave up their horse and darts.\nThe Trojans all to council call\u2019d, ere they refresh\u2019d their hearts\nWith any supper, nor would sit; they grew so stiff with fear\nTo see, so long from heavy fight, \u00c6acides appear.\nPolydamas began to speak, who only could discern\nThings future by things past, and was vow\u2019d friend to Hector, born\nIn one night both. He thus advis\u2019d: \u201cConsider well, my friends,\nIn this so great and sudden change, that now itself extends,\nWhat change is best for us t\u2019 oppose. To this stands my command:\nMake now the town our strength, not here abide light\u2019s rosy hand,\nOur wall being far off, and our foe, much greater, still as near.\nTill this foe came, I well was pleas\u2019d to keep our watches here,\nMy fit hope of the fleet\u2019s surprise inclin\u2019d me so; but now\n\u2019Tis stronglier guarded, and, their strength increas\u2019d, we must allow\nOur own proportionate amends. I doubt exceedingly\nThat this indiff\u2019rency of fight \u2019twixt us and th\u2019 enemy,\nAnd these bounds we prefix to them, will nothing so confine\nTh\u2019 uncurb\u2019d mind of \u00c6acides. The height of his design\nAims at our city and our wives; and all bars in his way\n(Being back\u2019d with less than walls) his pow\u2019r will scorn to make his\nstay,\nAnd over-run, as over-seen and not his object. Then\nLet Troy be freely our retreat; lest, being enforc\u2019d, our men\n\u2018Twixt this and that be taken up by vultures, who by night\nMay safe come off, it being a time untimely for his might\nTo spend at random; that being sure. If next light show us here\nTo his assaults, each man will wish, that Troy his refuge were,\nAnd then feel what he hears not now. I would to heav\u2019n mine ear\nWere free ev\u2019n now of those complaints, that you must after hear\nIf ye remove not! If ye yield, though wearied with a fight\nSo late and long, we shall have strength in council and the night.\nAnd (where we here have no more force, than need will force us to,\nAnd which must rise out of our nerves) high ports, tow\u2019rs, walls will\ndo\nWhat wants in us; and in the morn, all arm\u2019d upon our tow\u2019rs,\nWe all will stand out to our foe. \u2019Twill trouble all his pow\u2019rs,\nTo come from fleet and give us charge, when his high-crested horse\nHis rage shall satiate with the toil of this and that way\u2019s course,\nVain entry seeking underneath our well-defended walls,\nAnd he be glad to turn to fleet, about his funerals.\nFor of his entry here at home, what mind will serve his thirst,\nOr ever feed him with sack\u2019d Troy? The dogs shall eat him first.\u201d\nAt this speech Hector bent his brows, and said: \u201cThis makes not great\nYour grace with me, Polydamas, that argue for retreat\nTo Troy\u2019s old prison. Have we not enough of those tow\u2019rs yet?\nAnd is not Troy yet charg\u2019d enough, with impositions set\nUpon her citizens, to keep our men from spoil without,\nBut still we must impose within? That houses with our rout\nAs well as purses may be plagu\u2019d? Before time, Priam\u2019s town\nTraffick\u2019d with divers-languag\u2019d men, and all gave the renown\nOf rich Troy to it, brass and gold abounding; but her store\nIs now from ev\u2019ry house exhaust; possessions evermore\nAre sold out into Phrygia and lovely M\u00e6ony;\nAnd have been ever since Jove\u2019s wrath. And now his clemency\nGives me the mean to quit our want with glory, and conclude\nThe Greeks in sea-bords and our seas, to slack it, and extrude\nHis offer\u2019d bounty by our flight. Fool that thou art, bewray\nThis counsel to no common ear, for no man shall obey;\nIf any will, I\u2019ll check his will. But what our self command,\nLet all observe. Take suppers all, keep watch of ev\u2019ry hand.\nIf any Trojan have some spoil, that takes his too much care,\nMake him dispose it publicly; \u2019tis better any fare\nThe better for him, than the Greeks. When light then decks the skies,\nLet all arm for a fierce assault. If great Achilles rise,\nAnd will enforce our greater toil, it may rise so to him.\nOn my back he shall find no wings, my spirit shall force my limb\nTo stand his worst, and give or take. Mars is our common lord,\nAnd the desirous swordsman\u2019s life he ever puts to sword.\u201d\nThis counsel gat applause of all, so much were all unwise;\nMinerva robb\u2019d them of their brains, to like the ill advice\nThe great man gave, and leave the good since by the meaner given.\nAll took their suppers; but the Greeks spent all the heavy even\nAbout Patroclus\u2019 mournful rites, Pelides leading all\nIn all the forms of heaviness. He by his side did fall,\nAnd his man-slaught\u2019ring hands impos\u2019d into his oft-kiss\u2019d breast,\nSighs blew up sighs; and lion-like, grac\u2019d with a goodly crest,\nThat in his absence being robb\u2019d by hunters of his whelps,\nReturns to his so desolate den, and, for his wanted helps,\nBeholding his unlook\u2019d-for wants, flies roaring back again,\nHunts the sly hunter, many a vale resounding his disdain;\nSo mourn\u2019d Pelides his late loss, so weighty were his moans,\nWhich, for their dumb sounds, now gave words to all his Myrmidons:\n\u201cO Gods,\u201d said he, \u201chow vain a vow I made, to cheer the mind\nOf sad Men\u0153tius, when his son his hand to mine resign\u2019d,\nThat high-tow\u2019r\u2019d Opus he should see, and leave ras\u2019d Ilion\nWith spoil and honour, ev\u2019n with me! But Jove vouchsafes to none\nWish\u2019d passages to all his vows; we both were destinate\nTo bloody one earth here in Troy; nor any more estate\nIn my return hath Pele\u00fcs or Thetis; but because\nI last must undergo the ground, I\u2019ll keep no fun\u2019ral laws,\nO my Patroclus, for thy corse, before I hither bring\nThe arms of Hector and his head to thee for offering.\nTwelve youths, the most renown\u2019d of Troy, I\u2019ll sacrifice beside,\nBefore thy heap of funeral, to thee unpacified.\nIn mean time, by our crooked sterns lie, drawing tears from me,\nAnd round about thy honour\u2019d corse, these dames of Dardanie,\nAnd Ilion, with the ample breasts (whom our long spears and pow\u2019rs\nAnd labours purchas\u2019d from the rich and by-us-ruin\u2019d tow\u2019rs,\nAnd cities strong and populous with divers-languag\u2019d men)\nShall kneel, and neither day nor night be licens\u2019d to abstain\nFrom solemn watches, their toil\u2019d eyes held ope with endless tears.\u201d\nThis passion past, he gave command to his near soldiers\nTo put a tripod to the fire, to cleanse the fester\u2019d gore\nFrom off the person. They obey\u2019d, and presently did pour\nFresh water in it, kindled wood, and with an instant flame\nThe belly of the tripod girt, till fire\u2019s hot quality came\nUp to the water. Then they wash\u2019d, and fill\u2019d the mortal wound\nWith wealthy oil of nine years old; then wrapp\u2019d the body round\nIn largeness of a fine white sheet, and put it then in bed;\nWhen all watch\u2019d all night with their lord, and spent sighs on the\ndead.\nThen Jove ask\u2019d Juno: \u201cIf at length she had sufficed her spleen,\nAchilles being won to arms? Or if she had not been\nThe natural mother of the Greeks, she did so still prefer\nTheir quarrel?\u201d She, incens\u2019d, ask\u2019d: \u201cWhy he still was taunting her,\nFor doing good to those she lov\u2019d? since man to man might show\nKind offices, though thrall to death, and though they did not know\nHalf such deep counsels as disclos\u2019d beneath her far-seeing state,\nShe, reigning queen of Goddesses, and being in generate\nOf one stock with himself, besides the state of being his wife\nAnd must her wrath, and ill to Troy, continue such a strife\nFrom time to time \u2019twixt him and her?\u201d This private speech they had.\nAnd now the Silver-footed Queen had her ascension made\nTo that incorruptible house, that starry golden court\nOf fi\u2019ry Vulcan, beautiful amongst th\u2019 immortal sort,\nWhich yet the lame God built himself. She found him in a sweat\nAbout his bellows, and in haste had twenty tripods beat.\nTo set for stools about the sides of his well-builded hall,\nTo whose feet little wheels of gold he put, to go withal,\nAnd enter his rich dining room, alone, their motion free,\nAnd back again go out alone, miraculous to see.\nAnd thus much he had done of them, yet handles were to add,\nFor which he now was making studs. And while their fashion had\nEmployment of his skilful hand, bright Thetis was come near;\nWhom first fair well-hair\u2019d Charis saw, that was the nuptial fere\nOf famous Vulcan, who the hand of Thetis took, and said:\n\u201cWhy, fair-train\u2019d, lov\u2019d, and honour\u2019d dame, are we thus visited\nBy your kind presence? You, I think, were never here before.\nCome near, that I may banquet you, and make you visit more.\u201d\nShe led her in, and in a chair of silver (being the fruit\nOf Vulcan\u2019s hand) she made her sit, a footstool of a suit\nApposing to her crystal feet; and call\u2019d the God of fire,\nFor Thetis was arriv\u2019d, she said, and entertain\u2019d desire\nOf some grace that his art might grant. \u201cThetis to me,\u201d said he,\n\u201cIs mighty, and most reverend, as one that nourish\u2019d me,\nWhen grief consum\u2019d me, being cast from heaven by want of shame\nIn my proud mother, who, because she brought me forth so lame,\nWould have me made away; and then, had I been much distress\u2019d\nHad Thetis and Eurynome in either\u2019s silver breast\nNot rescu\u2019d me; Eurynome that to her father had\nReciprocal Oceanus. Nine years with them I made\nA number of well-arted things, round bracelets, buttons brave,\nWhistles, and carquenets. My forge stood in a hollow cave,\nAbout which, murmuring with foam, th\u2019 unmeasur\u2019d ocean\nWas ever beating; my abode known nor to God nor man,\nBut Thetis and Eurynome, and they would see me still,\nThey were my loving guardians. Now then the starry hill,\nAnd our particular roof, thus grac\u2019d with bright-hair\u2019d Thetis here,\nIt fits me always to repay, a recompense as dear\nTo her thoughts, as my life to me. Haste, Charis, and appose\nSome dainty guest-rites to our friend, while I my bellows loose\nFrom fire, and lay up all my tools.\u201d Then from an anvil rose\nTh\u2019 unwieldy monster, halt\u2019d down, and all awry he went.\nHe took his bellows from the fire, and ev\u2019ry instrument\nLock\u2019d safe up in a silver chest. Then with a sponge he drest\nHis face all over, neck and hands, and all his hairy breast;\nPut on his coat, his sceptre took, and then went halting forth,\nHandmaids of gold attending him, resembling in all worth\nLiving young damsels, fill\u2019d with minds and wisdom, and were train\u2019d\nIn all immortal ministry, virtue and voice contain\u2019d,\nAnd mov\u2019d with voluntary pow\u2019rs; and these still wait\u2019d on\nTheir fi\u2019ry sov\u2019reign, who (not apt to walk) sate near the throne\nOf fair-hair\u2019d Thetis, took her hand, and thus he court\u2019d her:\n\u201cFor what affair, O fair-train\u2019d queen, rev\u2019rend to me, and dear,\nIs our court honour\u2019d with thy state, that hast not heretofore\nPerform\u2019d this kindness? Speak thy thoughts, thy suit can be no more\nThan my mind gives me charge to grant. Can my pow\u2019r get it wrought?\nOr that it have not only pow\u2019r of only act in thought?\u201d\nShe thus: \u201cO Vulcan, is there one, of all that are of heav\u2019n,\nThat in her never-quiet mind Saturnius hath giv\u2019n\nSo much affliction as to me: whom only he subjects,\nOf all the sea-nymphs, to a man; and makes me bear th\u2019 affects\nOf his frail bed; and all against the freedom of my will;\nAnd he worn to his root with age? From him another ill\nAriseth to me; Jupiter, you know, hath giv\u2019n a son,\nThe excellent\u2019st of men, to me; whose education\nOn my part well hath answered his own worth, having grown\nAs in a fruitful soil a tree, that puts not up alone\nHis body to a naked height, but jointly gives his growth\nA thousand branches; yet to him so short a life I brought,\nThat never I shall see him more return\u2019d to Peleus\u2019 court.\nAnd all that short life he hath spent in most unhappy sort;\nFor first he won a lovely dame, and had her by the hands\nOf all the Grecians, yet this dame Atrides countermands;\nFor which in much disdain he mourn\u2019d, and almost pin\u2019d away.\nAnd yet for this wrong he receiv\u2019d some honour, I must say;\nThe Greeks, being shut up at their ships, not suffer\u2019d to advance\nA head out of their batter\u2019d sterns; and mighty suppliance\nBy all their grave men hath been made, gifts, honours, all propos\u2019d\nFor his reflection; yet he still kept close, and saw enclos\u2019d\nTheir whole host in this gen\u2019ral plague. But now his friend put on\nHis arms, being sent by him to field, and many a Myrmidon\nIn conduct of him. All the day, they fought before the gates\nOf Sc\u00e6a, and, most certainly, that day had seen the dates\nOf all Troy\u2019s honours in her dust, if Ph\u0153bus (having done\nMuch mischief more) the envied life of good Men\u0153tius\u2019 son\nHad not with partial hands enforc\u2019d, and all the honour giv\u2019n\nTo Hector, who hath pris\u2019d his arms. And therefore I am driv\u2019n\nT\u2019 embrace thy knees for new defence to my lov\u2019d son. Alas!\nHis life, prefix\u2019d so short a date, had need spent that with grace.\nA shield then for him, and a helm, fair greaves, and curets, such\nAs may renown thy workmanship, and honour him as much,\nI sue for at thy famous hands.\u201d \u201cBe confident,\u201d said he,\n\u201cLet these wants breed thy thoughts no care. I would it lay in me\nTo hide him from his heavy death, when fate shall seek for him,\nAs well as with renown\u00e9d arms to fit his goodly limb;\nWhich thy hands shall convey to him; and all eyes shall admire,\nSee, and desire again to see, thy satisfied desire.\u201d\nThis said, he left her there, and forth did to his bellows go,\nAppos\u2019d them to the fire again, commanding them to blow.\nThrough twenty holes made to his hearth at once blew twenty pair,\nThat fir\u2019d his coals, sometimes with soft, sometimes with vehement,\nair,\nAs he will\u2019d, and his work requir\u2019d. Amids the flame he cast\nTin, silver, precious gold, and brass; and in a stock he plac\u2019d\nA mighty anvil; his right hand a weighty hammer held,\nHis left his tongs. And first he forg\u2019d a strong and spacious shield\nAdorn\u2019d with twenty sev\u2019ral hues; about whose verge he beat\nA ring, three-fold and radiant, and on the back he set\nA silver handle; five-fold were the equal lines he drew\nAbout the whole circumference, in which his hand did shew\n(Directed with a knowing mind) a rare variety;\nFor in it he presented Earth; in it the Sea and Sky;\nIn it the never-wearied Sun, the Moon exactly round,\nAnd all those Stars with which the brows of ample heav\u2019n are crown\u2019d,\nOrion, all the Pleiades, and those sev\u2019n Atlas got,\nThe close-beam\u2019d Hyades, the Bear, surnam\u2019d the Chariot,\nThat turns about heav\u2019n\u2019s axle-tree, holds ope a constant eye\nUpon Orion, and, of all the cressets in the sky,\nHis golden forehead never bows to th\u2019 Ocean empery.\nTwo cities in the spacious shield he built, with goodly state\nOf divers-languag\u2019d men. The one did nuptials celebrate,\nObserving at them solemn feasts, the brides from forth their bow\u2019rs\nWith torches usher\u2019d through the streets, a world of paramours\nExcited by them; youths and maids in lovely circles danc\u2019d,\nTo whom the merry pipe and harp their spritely sounds advanc\u2019d,\nThe matrons standing in their doors admiring. Other where\nA solemn court of law was kept, where throngs of people were.\nThe case in question was a fine, impos\u2019d on one that slew\nThe friend of him that follow\u2019d it, and for the fine did sue;\nWhich th\u2019 other pleaded he had paid. The adverse part denied,\nAnd openly affirm\u2019d he had no penny satisfied.\nBoth put it to arbitrement. The people cried \u2019twas best\nFor both parts, and th\u2019 assistants too gave their dooms like the rest.\nThe heralds made the people peace. The seniors then did bear\nThe voiceful heralds\u2019 sceptres, sat within a sacred sphere,\nOn polish\u2019d stones, and gave by turns their sentence. In the court\nTwo talents\u2019 gold were cast, for him that judg\u2019d in justest sort.\nThe other city other wars employ\u2019d as busily;\nTwo armies glittering in arms, of one confed\u2019racy,\nBesieg\u2019d it; and a parl\u00e8 had with those within the town.\nTwo ways they stood resolv\u2019d; to see the city overthrown,\nOr that the citizens should heap in two parts all their wealth,\nAnd give them half. They neither lik\u2019d, but arm\u2019d themselves by\nstealth,\nLeft all their old men, wives, and boys, behind to man their walls,\nAnd stole out to their enemy\u2019s town. The Queen of martials,\nAnd Mars himself, conducted them; both which, being forg\u2019d of gold,\nMust needs have golden furniture, and men might so behold\nThey were presented Deities. The people, Vulcan forg\u2019d\nOf meaner metal. When they came, where that was to be urg\u2019d\nFor which they went, within a vale close to a flood, whose stream\nUs\u2019d to give all their cattle drink, they there enambush\u2019d them,\nAnd sent two scouts out to descry, when th\u2019 enemy\u2019s herds and sheep\nWere setting out. They straight came forth, with two that us\u2019d to keep\nTheir passage always; both which pip\u2019d, and went on merrily,\nNor dream\u2019d of ambuscadoes there. The ambush then let fly,\nSlew all their white-fleec\u2019d sheep, and neat, and by them laid their\nguard.\nWhen those in siege before the town so strange an uproar heard,\nBehind, amongst their flocks and herds (being then in council set)\nThey then start up, took horse, and soon their subtle enemy met,\nFought with them on the river\u2019s shore, where both gave mutual blows\nWith well-pil\u2019d darts. Amongst them all perverse Contention rose,\nAmongst them Tumult was enrag\u2019d, amongst them ruinous Fate\nHad her red-finger; some they took in an unhurt estate,\nSome hurt yet living, some quite slain, and those they tugg\u2019d to them\nBy both the feet, stripp\u2019d off and took their weeds, with all the\nstream\nOf blood upon them that their steels had manfully let out.\nThey far\u2019d as men alive indeed drew dead indeed about.\nTo these the fi\u2019ry Artizan did add a new-ear\u2019d field,\nLarge and thrice plough\u2019d, the soil being soft, and of a wealthy yield;\nAnd many men at plough he made, that drave earth here and there,\nAnd turn\u2019d up stitches orderly; at whose end when they were,\nA fellow ever gave their hands full cups of luscious wine;\nWhich emptied, for another stitch, the earth they undermine,\nAnd long till th\u2019 utmost bound be reach\u2019d of all the ample close.\nThe soil turn\u2019d up behind the plough, all black like earth arose,\nThough forg\u2019d of nothing else but gold, and lay in show as light\nAs if it had been plough\u2019d indeed, miraculous to sight.\nThere grew by this a field of corn, high, ripe, where reapers wrought,\nAnd let thick handfuls fall to earth, for which some bought\nBands, and made sheaves. Three binders stood, and took the handfuls\nreap\u2019d\nFrom boys that gather\u2019d quickly up, and by them armfuls heap\u2019d.\nAmongst these at furrow\u2019s end, the king stood pleas\u2019d at heart,\nSaid no word, but his sceptre show\u2019d. And from him, much apart,\nHis harvest-bailiffs underneath an oak a feast prepar\u2019d\nAnd having kill\u2019d a mighty ox, stood there to see him shar\u2019d\nWhich women for their harvest folks (then come to sup) had dress\u2019d,\nAnd many white wheat-cakes bestow\u2019d, to make it up a feast.\nHe set near this a vine of gold, that crack\u2019d beneath the weight\nOf bunches black with being ripe; to keep which at the height,\nA silver rail ran all along, and round about it flow\u2019d\nAn azure moat, and to this guard, a quickset was bestow\u2019d\nOf tin, one only path to all, by which the pressmen came\nIn time of vintage. Youths and maids, that bore not yet the flame\nOf manly Hymen, baskets bore, of grapes and mellow fruit.\nA lad that sweetly touch\u2019d a harp, to which his voice did suit,\nCenter\u2019d the circles of that youth, all whose skill could not do\nThe wanton\u2019s pleasure to their minds, that danc\u2019d, sung, whistled too.\nA herd of oxen then he carv\u2019d, with high rais\u2019d heads, forg\u2019d all\nOf gold and tin, for colour mix\u2019d, and bellowing from their stall\nRush\u2019d to their pastures at a flood, that echo\u2019d all their throats,\nExceeding swift, and full of reeds; and all in yellow coats\nFour herdsmen follow\u2019d; after whom, nine mastiffs went. In head\nOf all the herd, upon a bull, that deadly bellow\u00e9d,\nTwo horrid lions rampt, and seiz\u2019d, and tugg\u2019d off bellowing still;\nBoth men and dogs came; yet they tore the hide, and lapp\u2019d their fill\nOf black blood, and the entrails ate. In vain the men assay\u2019d\nTo set their dogs on; none durst pinch, but cur-like stood and bay\u2019d\nIn both the faces of their kings, and all their onsets fled.\nThen in a passing pleasant vale, the famous Artsman fed,\nUpon a goodly pasture ground, rich flocks of white-fleec\u2019d sheep,\nBuilt stables, cottages, and cotes, that did the shepherds keep\nFrom wind and weather. Next to these, he cut a dancing place,\nAll full of turnings, that was like the admirable maze\nFor fair-hair\u2019d Ariadne made, by cunning D\u00e6dalus;\nAnd in it youths and virgins danc\u2019d, all young and beauteous,\nAnd glew\u00e9d in another\u2019s palms. Weeds that the wind did toss\nThe virgins wore; the youths wov\u2019n coats, that cast a faint dim gloss\nLike that of oil. Fresh garlands too, the virgins\u2019 temples crown\u2019d;\nThe youths gilt swords wore at their thighs, with silver bawdrics\nbound.\nSometimes all wound close in a ring, to which as fast they spun\nAs any wheel a turner makes, being tried how it will run,\nWhile he is set; and out again, as full of speed they wound,\nNot one left fast, or breaking hands. A multitude stood round,\nDelighted with their nimble sport; to end which two begun,\nMids all, a song, and turning sung the sports conclusi\u00f3n,\nAll this he circled in the shield, with pouring round about,\nIn all his rage, the Ocean, that it might never out.\nThis shield thus done, he forg\u2019d for him, such curets as outshin\u2019d\nThe blaze of fire. A helmet then (through which no steel could find\nForc\u2019d passage) he compos\u2019d, whose hue a hundred colours took,\nAnd in the crest a plume of gold, that each breath stirr\u2019d, he stuck.\nAll done, he all to Thetis brought, and held all up to her.\nShe took them all, and like t\u2019 the hawk, surnam\u2019d the osspringer,\nFrom Vulcan to her mighty son, with that so glorious show,\nStoop\u2019d from the steep Olympian hill, hid in eternal snow.\n\nTHE END OF THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINETEENTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nThetis presenting armour to her son,\nHe calls a court, with full reflection\nOf all his wrath; takes of the king of men\nFree-offer\u2019d gifts. All take their breakfast then;\nHe only fasting, arms, and brings abroad\nThe Grecian host, and (hearing the abode\nOf his near death by Xanthus prophesied)\nThe horse, for his so bold presage, doth chide.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\n\u03a4\u03b1\u03c5\u0311 gives the anger period,\nAnd great Achilles comes abroad.\n\n\nThe morn arose, and from the ocean, in her saffron robe,\nGave light to all, as well to Gods, as men of th\u2019 under globe.\nThetis stoop\u2019d home, and found the prostrate person of her son\nAbout his friend, still pouring out himself in passi\u00f3n;\nA number more being heavy consorts to him in his cares.\nAmongst them all Thetis appear\u2019d and, sacred comforters,\nMade these short words: \u201cThough we must grieve, yet bear it thus, my\nson,\nIt was no man that prostrated, in this sad fashi\u00f3n,\nThy dearest friend; it was a God that first laid on his hand,\nWhose will is law. The Gods\u2019 decrees, no human must withstand.\nDo thou embrace this fabric of a God, whose hand before\nNe\u2019er forg\u2019d the like; and such as yet, no human shoulder wore.\u201d\nThus, setting down, the precious metal of the arms was such\nThat all the room rung with the weight of every slend\u2019rest touch.\nCold tremblings took the Myrmidons; none durst sustain, all fear\u2019d\nT\u2019 oppose their eyes; Achilles yet, as soon as they appear\u2019d,\nStern Anger enter\u2019d. From his eyes, as if the day-star rose,\nA radiance terrifying men did all the state enclose.\nAt length he took into his hands the rich gift of the God,\nAnd, much pleas\u2019d to behold the art that in the shield he show\u2019d,\nHe brake forth into this applause: \u201cO mother, these right well\nShow an immortal finger\u2019s touch; man\u2019s hand must never deal\nWith arms again. Now I will arm; yet, that no honour make\nMy friend forgotten, I much fear, lest with the blows of flies\nHis brass-inflicted wounds are fil\u2019d; life gone, his person lies\nAll apt to putrefacti\u00f3n.\u201d She bade him doubt no harm\nOf those offences, she would care, to keep the petulant swarm\nOf flies, that usually taint the bodies of the slain,\nFrom his friend\u2019s person. Though a year, the earth\u2019s top should sustain\nHis slaughter\u2019d body, it should still rest sound, and rather hold\nA better state than worse, since time that death first made him cold.\nAnd so bade call a council, to dispose of new alarms,\nWhere, to the king, that was the pastor of that flock in arms,\nHe should depose all anger, and put on a fortitude\nFit for his arms. All this his pow\u2019rs with dreadful strength indued.\nShe, with her fair hand, still\u2019d into the nostrils of his friend\nRed nectar and ambrosia; with which she did defend\nThe corse from putrefacti\u00f3n. He trod along the shore,\nAnd summon\u2019d all th\u2019 heroic Greeks, with all that spent before\nThe time in exercise with him, the masters, pilots too,\nVict\u2019lers, and all. All, when they saw Achilles summon so,\nSwarm\u2019d to the council, having long left the laborious wars.\nTo all these came two halting kings, true servitors of Mars,\nTydides and wise Ithacus, both leaning on their spears,\nTheir wounds still painful; and both these sat first of all the peers.\nThe last come was the king of men, sore wounded with the lance\nOf Coon Antenorides. All set, the first in utterance\nWas Thetis\u2019 son, who rose and said: \u201cAtrides, had not this\nConferr\u2019d most profit to us both, when both our enmities\nConsum\u2019d us so, and for a wench, whom, when I choos\u2019d for prise,\nIn laying Lyrnessus\u2019 ruin\u2019d walls amongst our victories,\nI would to heav\u2019n, as first she set her dainty foot aboard,\nDiana\u2019s hand had tumbled off, and with a jav\u2019lin gor\u2019d!\nFor then th\u2019 unmeasurable earth had not so thick been gnawn,\nIn death\u2019s convulsions, by our friends, since my affects were drawn\nTo such distemper. To our foe, and to our foe\u2019s chief friend,\nOur jar brought profit; but the Greeks will never give an end\nTo thought of what it prejudic\u2019d them. Past things yet past our aid;\nFit grief for what wrath rul\u2019d in them, must make th\u2019 amends repaid\nWith that necessity of love, that now forbids our ire;\nWhich I with free affects obey. \u2019Tis for the senseless fire\nStill to be burning, having stuff; but men must curb rage still,\nBeing fram\u2019d with voluntary pow\u2019rs, as well to check the will\nAs give it reins. Give you then charge, that for our instant fight\nThe Greeks may follow me to field, to try if still the night\nWill bear out Trojans at our ships. I hope there is some one,\nAmongst their chief encouragers, will thank me to be gone,\nAnd bring his heart down to his knees in that submissi\u00f3n.\u201d\nThe Greeks rejoic\u2019d to hear the heart of Peleus\u2019 mighty son\nSo qualified. And then the king (not rising from his throne\nFor his late hurt) to get good ear, thus order\u2019d his reply:\n\u201cPrinces of Greece, your states shall suffer no indignity,\nIf, being far off, ye stand and hear; nor fits it such as stand\nAt greater distance, to disturb the council now in hand\nBy uproar, in their too much care of hearing. Some, of force,\nMust lose some words; for hard it is, in such a great concourse\n(Though hearers\u2019 ears be ne\u2019er so sharp) to touch at all things spoke;\nAnd in assemblies of such thrust, how can a man provoke\nFit pow\u2019r to hear, or leave to speak? Best auditors may there\nLose fittest words, and the most vocal orator fit ear.\nMy main end then, to satisfy Pelides with reply,\nMy words shall prosecute; to him my speech especially\nShall bear direction. Yet I wish, the court in general\nWould give fit ear; my speech shall need attenti\u00f3n of all.\nOft have our peers of Greece much blam\u2019d my forcing of the prise\nDue to Achilles; of which act, not I, but destinies,\nAnd Jove himself, and black Erinnys (that casts false mists still\nBetwixt us and our actions done, both by her pow\u2019r and will)\nAre authors. What could I do then? The very day and hour\nOf our debate, that Fury stole in that act on my pow\u2019r.\nAnd more; all things are done by strife; that ancient seed of Jove,\nAte, that hurts all, perfects all, her feet are soft, and move\nNot on the earth, they bear her still aloft men\u2019s heads, and there\nThe harmful hurts them. Nor was I alone her prisoner,\nJove, best of men and Gods, hath been; not he himself hath gone\nBeyond her fetters, no, she made a woman put them on;\nFor when Alcmena was to vent the force of Hercules\nIn well-wall\u2019d Thebes, thus Jove triumph\u2019d: \u2018Hear, Gods and Goddesses,\nThe words my joys urg\u2019d: In this day, Lucina, bringing pain\nTo labouring women, shall produce into the light of men\nA man that all his neighbour kings shall in his empire hold,\nAnd vaunt that more than manly race whose honour\u2019d veins enfold\nMy eminent blood.\u2019 Saturnia conceiv\u2019d a present sleight,\nAnd urg\u2019d confirmance of his vaunt t\u2019 infringe it; her conceit\nIn this sort urg\u2019d: \u2018Thou wilt not hold thy word with this rare man;\nOr, if thou wilt, confirm it with the oath Olympian,\nThat whosoever falls this day betwixt a woman\u2019s knees,\nOf those men\u2019s stocks that from thy blood derive their pedigrees,\nShall all his neighbour towns command.\u2019 Jove, ignorant of fraud,\nTook that great oath, which his great ill gave little cause t\u2019 \napplaud.\nDown from Olympus\u2019 top she stoop\u2019d, and quickly reach\u2019d the place\nIn Argos where the famous wife of Sthenelus, whose race\nHe fetch\u2019d from Jove by Perseus, dwelt. She was but sev\u2019n months gone\nWith issue, yet she brought it forth; Alcmena\u2019s matchless son\nDelay\u2019d from light, Saturnia repress\u2019d the teeming throes\nOf his great mother. Up to heav\u2019n she mounts again, and shows,\nIn glory, her deceit to Jove. \u2018Bright-light\u2019ning Jove,\u2019 said she,\n\u2018Now th\u2019 Argives have an emperor; a son deriv\u2019d from thee\nIs born to Persean Sthenelus, Eurystheus his name,\nNoble and worthy of the rule thou swor\u2019st to him.\u2019 This came\nClose to the heart of Jupiter; and Ate, that had wrought\nThis anger by Saturnia, by her bright hair he caught,\nHeld down her head, and over her made this infallible vow:\n\u2018That never to the cope of stars should reascend that brow,\nBeing so infortunate to all.\u2019 Thus, swinging her about,\nHe cast her from the fi\u2019ry heav\u2019n; who ever since thrust out\nHer fork\u2019d sting in th\u2019 affairs of men. Jove ever since did grieve,\nSince his dear issue Hercules did by his vow achieve\nThe unjust toils of Eurystheus. Thus fares it now with me,\nSince under Hector\u2019s violence the Grecian progeny\nFell so unfitly by my spleen; whose falls will ever stick\nIn my griev\u2019d thoughts: my weakness yet (Saturnius making sick\nThe state my mind held) now recur\u2019d, th\u2019 amends shall make ev\u2019n weight\nWith my offence. And therefore rouse thy spirits to the fight\nWith all thy forces; all the gifts, propos\u2019d thee at thy tent\nLast day by royal Ithacus, my officers shall present.\nAnd, if it like thee, strike no stroke, though never so on thorns\nThy mind stands to thy friend\u2019s revenge, till my command adorns\nThy tents and coffers with such gifts, as well may let thee know\nHow much I wish thee satisfied.\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cLet thy vow,\nRenown\u2019d Atrides, at thy will be kept, as justice would,\nOr keep thy gifts; \u2019tis all in thee. The council now we hold\nIs for repairing our main field with all our fortitude.\nMy fair show made brooks no retreat, nor must delays delude\nOur deed\u2019s expectance. Yet undone the great work is. All eyes\nMust see Achilles in first fight depeopling enemies,\nAs well as counsel it in court; that ev\u2019ry man set on\nMay choose his man to imitate my exercise upon.\u201d\nUlysses answer\u2019d: \u201cDo not yet, thou man made like the Gods,\nTake fasting men to field. Suppose, that whatsoever odds\nIt brings against them with full men, thy boundless eminence\nCan amply answer, yet refrain to tempt a violence.\nThe conflict wearing out our men was late, and held as long,\nWherein, though most Jove stood for Troy, he yet made our part strong\nTo bear that most. But \u2019twas to bear, and that breeds little heart.\nLet wine and bread then add to it; they help the twofold part,\nThe soul and body, in a man, both force and fortitude.\nAll day men cannot fight and fast, though never so indued\nWith minds to fight, for, that suppos\u2019d, there lurks yet secretly\nThirst, hunger, in th\u2019 oppress\u00e9d joints, which no mind can supply.\nThey take away a marcher\u2019s knees. Men\u2019s bodies throughly fed,\nTheir minds share with them in their strength; and, all day combated,\nOne stirs not, till you call off all. Dismiss them then to meat,\nAnd let Atrides tender here, in sight of all this seat,\nThe gifts he promis\u2019d. Let him swear before us all, and rise\nTo that oath, that he never touch\u2019d in any wanton wise\nThe lady he enforc\u2019d. Besides, that he remains in mind\nAs chastely satisfied; not touch\u2019d, or privily inclin\u2019d\nWith future vantages. And last, \u2019tis fit he should approve\nAll these rites at a solemn feast in honour of your love,\nThat so you take no mangled law for merits absolute.\nAnd thus the honours you receive, resolving the pursuit\nOf your friend\u2019s quarrel, well will quit your sorrow for your friend.\nAnd thou, Atrides, in the taste of so severe an end,\nHereafter may on others hold a juster government;\nNor will it aught impair a king, to give a sound content\nTo any subject soundly wrong\u2019d.\u201d \u201cI joy,\u201d replied the king,\n\u201cO Laertiades, to hear thy lib\u2019ral counselling;\nIn which is all decorum kept, nor any point lacks touch\nThat might be thought on to conclude a reconcilement such\nAs fits example, and us two. My mind yet makes me swear,\nNot your impulsion; and that mind shall rest so kind and clear,\nThat I will not forswear to God. Let then Achilles stay,\nThough never so inflam\u2019d for fight, and all men here I pray\nTo stay, till from my tents these gifts be brought here, and the truce\nAt all parts finish\u2019d before all. And thou of all I choose,\nDivine Ulysses, and command to choose of all your host\nYouths of most honour, to present, to him we honour most,\nThe gifts we late vow\u2019d, and the dames. Mean space about our tents\nTalthybius shall provide a boar, to crown these kind events\nWith thankful sacrifice to Jove, and to the God of Light.\u201d\nAchilles answer\u2019d: \u201cThese affairs will show more requisite,\nGreat king of men, some other time, when our more free estates\nYield fit cessation from the war, and when my spleen abates;\nBut now, to all our shames besides, our friends by Hector slain\n(And Jove to friend) lie unfetch\u2019d off. Haste, then, and meat your men;\nThough, I must still say, my command would lead them fasting forth,\nAnd all together feast at night. Meat will be something worth,\nWhen stomachs first have made it way with venting infamy,\nAnd other sorrows late sustain\u2019d, with long\u2019d-for wreaks, that lie\nHeavy upon them, for right\u2019s sake. Before which load be got\nFrom off my stomach, meat nor drink, I vow, shall down my throat,\nMy friend being dead, who digg\u2019d with wounds, and bor\u2019d through both\nhis feet,\nLies in the entry of my tent, and in the tears doth fleet\nOf his associates. Meat and drink have little merit then\nTo comfort me; but blood, and death, and deadly groans of men.\u201d\nThe great in counsels yet made good his former counsels thus:\n\u201cO Peleus\u2019 son, of all the Greeks by much most valorous,\nBetter and mightier than myself no little with thy lance\nI yield thy worth; in wisdom, yet, no less I dare advance\nMy right above thee, since above in years, and knowing more.\nLet then thy mind rest in thy words. We quickly shall have store\nAnd all satiety of fight, whose steel heaps store of straw\nAnd little corn upon a floor, when Jove, that doth withdraw\nAnd join all battles, once begins t\u2019 incline his balances,\nIn which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not press\nTo mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that\nIn healthful men that mourn for friends. His steel we stumble at,\nAnd fall at, ev\u2019ry day, you see, sufficient store, and fast.\nWhat hour is it that any breathes? We must not use; more haste,\nThan speed holds fit for our revenge. Nor should we mourn too much.\nWho dead is, must be buri\u00e9d. Men\u2019s patience should be such,\nThat one day\u2019s moan should serve one man. The dead must end with death,\nAnd life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their\nbreath\nFrom death in fight the more should eat, that so they may supply\nTheir fellows that have stuck in field, and fight incessantly.\nLet none expect reply to this, nor stay; for this shall stand\nOr fall with some offence to him that looks for new command,\nWhoever in dislike holds back. All join then, all things fit\nAllow\u2019d for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.\u201d\nThis said, he chose, for noblest youths to bear the presents, these:\nThe sons of Nestor, and with them renown\u2019d Meriones,\nPhylides, Thoas, Lycomed, and Meges, all which went,\nAnd Menalippus, following Ulysses to the tent\nOf Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed\nHad join\u2019d effect. The fitness well was answer\u2019d in the speed.\nThe presents, added to the dame the Gen\u2019ral did enforce,\nWere twenty caldrons, tripods sev\u2019n, twelve young and goodly horse;\nSev\u2019n ladies excellently seen in all Minerva\u2019s skill,\nThe eighth Briseis who had pow\u2019r to ravish ev\u2019ry will;\nTwelve talents of the finest gold, all which Ulysses weigh\u2019d\nAnd carried first; and after him, the other youths convey\u2019d\nThe other presents, tender\u2019d all in face of all the court.\nUp rose the king. Talthybius, whose voice had a report\nLike to a God, call\u2019d to the rites. There having brought the boar,\nAtrides with his knife took say upon the part before,\nAnd lifting up his sacred hands, to Jove to make his vows,\nGrave silence strook the c\u00f3mplete court; when, casting his high brows\nUp to the broad heav\u2019n, thus he spake: \u201cNow witness, Jupiter,\nFirst, highest, and thou best of Gods; thou Earth that all dost bear;\nThou Sun; ye Furies under earth that ev\u2019ry soul torment\nWhom impious perjury distains; that nought incontinent\nIn bed, or any other act to any slend\u2019rest touch\nOf my light vows, hath wrong\u2019d the dame; and, let my plagues be such\nAs are inflicted by the Gods, in all extremity\nOf whomsoever perjur\u2019d men, if godless perjury\nIn least degree dishonour me.\u201d This said, the bristled throat\nOf the submitted sacrifice, with ruthless steel he cut;\nWhich straight into the hoary sea Talthybius cast, to feed\nThe sea-born nation. Then stood up the half-celestial seed\nOf fair-hair\u2019d Thetis, strength\u2019ning thus Atrides\u2019 innocence:\n\u201cO father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence\nOf all man\u2019s ill; for now I see the mighty king of men\nAt no hand forc\u2019d away my prise, nor first inflam\u2019d my spleen\nWith any set ill in himself, but thou, the King of Gods,\nIncens\u2019d with Greece, made that the mean to all their periods.\nWhich now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages\nTo what wise Ithacus advis\u2019d; take breakfasts, and address\nFor instant conflict.\u201d Thus he rais\u2019d the court, and all took way\nTo sev\u2019ral ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convey\nT\u2019 Achilles\u2019 fleet, and in his tents dispos\u2019d them; doing grace\nOf seat and all rights to the dames; the horses put in place\nWith others of \u00c6acides. When, like love\u2019s golden Queen,\nBriseis all in ghastly wounds had dead Patroclus seen,\nShe fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore\nHer hair, breasts, radiant cheeks, and, drown\u2019d in warm tears, did\ndeplore\nHis cruel destiny. At length she gat pow\u2019r to express\nHer violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:\n\u201cO good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,\nI, wretched dame, departing hence, enforc\u2019d, and dying sad,\nLeft thee alive, when thou hadst cheer\u2019d my poor captivity,\nAnd now return\u2019d I find thee dead; misery on misery\nEver increasing with my steps. The lord to whom my sire\nAnd dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life\u2019s fire\nI saw before our city gates extinguish\u2019d: and his fate\nThree of my worthy brothers\u2019 lives, in one womb generate,\nFelt all in that black day of death. And when Achilles\u2019 hand\nHad slain all these, and ras\u2019d the town Mynetes did command,\n(All cause of never-ending griefs presented) thou took\u2019st all\nOn thy endeavour to convert to joy as general,\nAffirming, he that hurt should heal, and thou wouldst make thy friend,\nBrave captain that thou wert, supply my vow\u00e9d husband\u2019s end,\nAnd in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,\nOur nuptial banquets; for which grace, with these most worthy moans\nI never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,\nEver delightsome, one sweet grace fed still with one sweet mind.\u201d\nThus spake she weeping; and with her, did th\u2019 other ladies moan\nPatroclus\u2019 fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their own.\nAbout \u00c6acides himself the kings of Greece were plac\u2019d,\nEntreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast,\nStill intermixing words and sighs, if any friend were there\nOf all his dearest, they would cease, and offer him no cheer\nBut his due sorrows; for before the sun had left that sky\nHe would not eat, but of that day sustain th\u2019 extremity.\nThus all the kings, in res\u2019lute grief and fasting, he dismiss\u2019d;\nBut both th\u2019 Atrides, Ithacus, and war\u2019s old Martialist,\nIdomen\u00ebus and his friend, and Ph\u0153nix, these remain\u2019d\nEndeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow\u2019d woe restrain\u2019d.\nNor could, till that day\u2019s bloody fight had calm\u2019d his blood; he still\nRemember\u2019d something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.\nTheir urging meat the diligent fashion of his friend renew\u2019d\nIn that excitement: \u201cThou,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen this speed was pursued\nAgainst the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent\nA pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,\nThou mad\u2019st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe\nBut now to me; thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow;\nFor which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.\nNothing could more afflict me; Fame relating the foul deed\nOf my dear father\u2019s slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son\u2019s heart,\nNo more could wound me. Curs\u00e9d man, that in this foreign part\n(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire, and son,\nI thus should part with. Scyros now gives educati\u00f3n,[1]\nO Neoptolemus, to thee, if living yet; from whence\nI hop\u2019d, dear friend, thy longer life safely return\u2019d from hence,\nAnd my life quitting thine, had pow\u2019r to ship him home, and show\nHis young eyes Phthia, subjects, court; my father being now\nDead, or most short-liv\u2019d, troublous age oppressing him, and fear\nStill of my death\u2019s news.\u201d These sad words, he blew into the ear\nOf ev\u2019ry visitant with sighs, all echo\u2019d by the peers,\nRememb\u2019ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears\nJove pitied; and, since they all would in the good of one\nBe much reviv\u2019d, he thus bespake Minerva: \u201cThetis\u2019 son,\nNow, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles care\nExtinguish\u2019d in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare,\nHe lies before his high-sail\u2019d fleet, for his dead friend; the rest\nAre strength\u2019ning them with meat, but he lies desp\u2019rately oppress\u2019d\nWith heartless fasting. Go thy ways, and to his breast instill\nRed nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill\nTo his near enterprise.\u201d This spur he added to the free,\nAnd, like a harpy, with a voice that shrieks so dreadfully,\nAnd feathers that like needles prick\u2019d, she stoop\u2019d through all the\nstars,\nAmongst the Grecians, all whose tents were now fill\u2019d for the wars;\nHer seres strook through Achilles\u2019 tent, and closely she instill\u2019d\nHeav\u2019n\u2019s most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill\u2019d\nHis sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast\nShould creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas\u2019d.\nThe host set forth, and pour\u2019d his steel waves far out of the fleet.\nAnd as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet,\nThat dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending;\nSo thick, helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending,\nFlow\u2019d from the navy\u2019s hollow womb. Their splendours gave heav\u2019n\u2019s eye\nHis beams again. Earth laugh\u2019d to see her face so like the sky;\nArms shin\u2019d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast,\nShe thunder\u2019d, feet of men and horse importun\u2019d her so fast.\nIn midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm\u2019d,\nHis teeth gnash\u2019d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm\u2019d,\nUnsuffer\u2019d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin\u2019d.\nHis greaves first us\u2019d, his goodly curets on his bosom shin\u2019d,\nHis sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon.\nAnd as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire let run\nBy herdsmen\u2019s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrestling flame;\nWhich being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came\nTo give it quench, at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends\nDriv\u2019n off with tempests; such a fire, from his bright shield extends\nHis ominous radiance, and in heav\u2019n impress\u2019d his fervent blaze.\nHis crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place\nOn his curl\u2019d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray,\nAbout which a bright thicken\u2019d bush of golden hair did play,\nWhich Vulcan forg\u2019d him for his plume. Thus c\u00f3mplete arm\u2019d, he tried\nHow fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide\nTheir brave instruction; and so far they were from hind\u2019ring it,\nThat to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit,\nThat from the earth the princely captain they took up to air.\nThen from his armoury he drew his lance, his father\u2019s spear,\nHuge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone\nKnew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion,\nFrom wh\u00f3se height Chiron hew\u2019d it for his sire, and fatal \u2019twas\nTo great-soul\u2019d men, of Peleus and Pelion surnam\u2019d Pelias.\nThen from the stable their bright horse, Automedon withdraws\nAnd Alcymus; put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws\nTheir bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat.\nThe fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get\nTo guide the horse. The fight\u2019s seat last, Achilles took behind;\nWho look\u2019d so arm\u2019d as if the sun, there fall\u2019n from heav\u2019n, had\nshin\u2019d,\nAnd terribly thus charg\u2019d his steeds: \u201cXanthus and Balius,\nSeed of the Harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us,\nDischarge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field,\nBut, when with blood, for this day\u2019s fast observ\u2019d, revenge shall yield\nOur heart satiety, bring us off.\u201d Thus, since Achilles spake\nAs if his aw\u2019d steeds understood, \u2019twas Juno\u2019s will to make\nVocal the palate of the one; who, shaking his fair head,\n(Which in his mane, let fall to earth, he almost buried)\nThus Xanthus spake: \u201cAblest Achilles, now, at least, our care\nShall bring thee off; but not far hence the fatal minutes are\nOf thy grave ruin. Nor shall we be then to be reprov\u2019d,\nBut mightiest Fate, and the great God. Nor was thy best belov\u2019d\nSpoil\u2019d so of arms by our slow pace, or courage\u2019s impair;\nThe best of Gods, Latona\u2019s son, that wears the golden hair,\nGave him his death\u2019s wound; though the grace he gave to Hector\u2019s hand.\nWe, like the spirit of the west, that all spirits can command\nFor pow\u2019r of wing, could run him off; but thou thyself must go,\nSo fate ordains; God and a man must give thee overthrow.\u201d\nThis said, the Furies stopp\u2019d his voice. Achilles, far in rage,\nThus answer\u2019d him: \u201cIt fits not thee, thus proudly to presage\nMy overthrow. I know myself, it is my fate to fall\nThus far from Phthia; yet that fate shall fail to vent her gall,\nTill mine vent thousands.\u201d These words us\u2019d, he fell to horrid deeds,\nGave dreadful signal, and forthright made fly his one-hoof\u2019d steeds.\n\nTHE END OF THE NINETEENTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Scyros was an isle in the sea \u00c6geum, where Achilles himself was\n brought up, as well as his son.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTIETH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nBy Jove\u2019s permission, all the Gods descend\nTo aid on both parts. For the Greeks contend\nJuno, Minerva, Neptune, Mulciber,\nAnd Mercury. The Deities that prefer\nThe Trojan part are Ph\u0153bus, Cyprides,\nPh\u0153be, Latona, and the Foe to peace,\nWith bright Scamander. Neptune in a mist\nPreserves \u00c6neas daring to resist\nAchilles; by whose hand much scathe is done;\nBesides the slaughter of old Priam\u2019s son\nYoung Polydor, whose rescue Hector makes;\nHim flying, Ph\u0153bus to his rescue takes.\nThe rest, all shunning their importun\u2019d fates,\nAchilles beats even to the Ilian gates.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn Upsilon, Strife stirs in heav\u2019n;\nThe day\u2019s grace to the Greeks is giv\u2019n.\n\n\nThe Greeks thus arm\u2019d, and made insatiate with desire of fight,\nAbout thee, Peleus\u2019 son, the foe, in ground of greatest height,\nStood opposite, rang\u2019d. Then Jove charg\u2019d Themis from Olympus\u2019 top\nTo call a court. She ev\u2019ry way dispers\u2019d, and summon\u2019d up\nAll Deities; not any flood, besides Oceanus,\nBut made appearance; not a nymph (that arbours odorous,\nThe heads of floods, and flow\u2019ry meadows, make their sweet abodes)\nWas absent there; but all at his court, that is King of Gods,\nAssembled, and, in lightsome seats of admirable frame,\nPerform\u2019d for Jove by Vulcan, sat. Ev\u2019n angry Neptune came,\nNor heard the Goddess with unwilling ear, but with the rest\nMade free ascension from the sea, and did his state invest\nIn midst of all, began the council, and inquir\u2019d of Jove\nHis reason for that sessi\u00f3n, and on what point did move\nHis high intention for the foes; he thought the heat of war\nWas then near breaking out in flames? To him the Thunderer:\n\u201cThou knowest this council by the rest of those fore-purposes\nThat still inclin\u2019d me; my cares still must succour the distress\nOf Troy; though in the mouth of Fate, yet vow I not to stir\nOne step from off this top of heav\u2019n, but all th\u2019 affair refer\nTo anyone. Here I\u2019ll hold state, and freely take the joy\nOf either\u2019s fate. Help whom ye please; for \u2019tis assur\u2019d that Troy\nNot one day\u2019s conflict can sustain against \u00c6acides,\nIf Heav\u2019n oppose not. His mere looks threw darts enow t\u2019 impress\nTheir pow\u2019rs with trembling; but when blows, sent from his fi\u2019ry hand,\n(Thrice heat by slaughter of his friend) shall come and countermand\nTheir former glories, we have fear, that though Fate keep their wall,\nHe\u2019ll overturn it. Then descend; and cease not till ye all\nAdd all your aids; mix earth and heav\u2019n together with the fight\nAchilles urgeth.\u201d These his words did such a war excite\nAs no man\u2019s pow\u2019r could wrastle down; the Gods with parted hearts\nDeparted heav\u2019n, and made earth war. To guide the Grecian darts,\nJuno and Pallas, with the God that doth the earth embrace,\nAnd most-for-man\u2019s-use Mercury (whom good wise inwards grace)\nWere partially and all employ\u2019d; and with them halted down\n(Proud of his strength) lame Mulciber, his walkers quite misgrown,\nBut made him tread exceeding sure. To aid the Ilian side,\nThe changeable in arms went, Mars; and him accompanied\nDiana that delights in shafts, and Ph\u0153bus never shorn,\nAnd Aphrodite laughter-pleas\u2019d, and She of whom was born\nStill young Apollo, and the Flood that runs on golden sands\nBright Xanthus. All these aided Troy; and, till these lent their hands,\nThe Grecians triumph\u2019d in the aid \u00c6acides did add;\nThe Trojans trembling with his sight; so gloriously clad\nHe overshin\u2019d the field, and Mars no harmfuller than he,\nHe bore the iron stream on clear. But when Jove\u2019s high decree\nLet fall the Gods amongst their troops, the field swell\u2019d, and the\nfight\nGrew fierce and horrible. The Dame, that armies doth excite,\nThunder\u2019d with clamour, sometimes set at dike without the wall,\nAnd sometimes on the bellowing shore. On th\u2019 other side, the call\nOf Mars to fight was terrible, he cried out like a storm,\nSet on the city\u2019s pinnacles; and there he would inform\nSometimes his heart\u2019nings, other times where Simois pours on\nHis silver current at the foot of high Callicolon.\nAnd thus the bless\u2019d Gods both sides urg\u2019d; they all stood in the mids,\nAnd brake contention to the hosts. And over all their heads\nThe Gods\u2019 King in abhorr\u00e9d claps his thunder rattled out.\nBeneath them Neptune toss\u2019d the earth; the mountains round about\nBow\u2019d with affright and shook their heads; Jove\u2019s hill the earthquake\nfelt,\n(Steep Ida) trembling at her roots, and all her fountains spilt,\nTheir brows all crannied; Troy did nod; the Grecian navy play\u2019d\nAs on the sea; th\u2019 Infernal King, that all things frays, was fray\u2019d,\nAnd leap\u2019d affrighted from his throne, cried out, lest over him\nNeptune should rend in two the earth, and so his house, so dim,\nSo loathsome, filthy, and abhorr\u2019d of all the Gods beside,\nShould open both to Gods and men. Thus all things shook and cried,\nWhen this black battle of the Gods was joining. Thus array\u2019d\n\u2018Gainst Neptune, Ph\u0153bus with wing\u2019d shafts; \u2019gainst Mars, the blue-ey\u2019d\nMaid;\n\u2018Gainst Juno, Ph\u0153be, whose white hands bore singing darts of gold,\nHer side arm\u2019d with a sheaf of shafts, and (by the birth twofold\nOf bright Latona) sister twin to Him that shoots so far.\nAgainst Latona, Hermes stood, grave guard, in peace and war,\nOf human beings. \u2019Gainst the God, whose empire is in fire,\nThe wat\u2019ry Godhead, that great Flood, to show whose pow\u2019r entire\nIn spoil as th\u2019 other, all his stream on lurking whirlpits trod,\nXanthus by Gods, by men Scamander, call\u2019d. Thus God \u2019gainst God\nEnter\u2019d the field. \u00c6acides sustain\u2019d a fervent mind\nTo cope with Hector; past all these, his spirit stood inclin\u2019d\nTo glut Mars with the blood of him. And at \u00c6acides\nApollo sent Anchises\u2019 son; but first he did impress\nA more than natural strength in him, and made him feel th\u2019 excess\nInfus\u2019d from heav\u2019n; Lycaon\u2019s shape gave show to his address,\n(Old Priam\u2019s son) and thus he spake: \u201cThou counsellor of Troy,\nWhere now fly out those threats that late put all our peers in joy\nOf thy fight with \u00c6acides? Thy tongue once, steep\u2019d in wine,\nDurst vaunt as much.\u201d He answer\u2019d him: \u201cBut why wouldst thou incline\nMy pow\u2019rs \u2019gainst that proud enemy, and \u2019gainst my present heat?\nI mean not now to bid him blows. That fear sounds my retreat,\nThat heretofore discourag\u2019d me, when after he had ras\u2019d\nLyrnessus, and strong Pedasus, his still breath\u2019d fury chas\u2019d\nOur oxen from th\u2019 Id\u00e6an hill, and set on me; but Jove\nGave strength and knees, and bore me off, that had not walk\u2019d above\nThis centre now but propp\u2019d by him; Minerva\u2019s hand (that held\nA light to this her favourite, whose beams show\u2019d and impell\u2019d\nHis pow\u2019rs to spoil) had ruin\u2019d me, for these ears heard her cry:\n\u2018Kill, kill the seed of Ilion, kill th\u2019 Asian Lelegi.\u2019\nMere man then must not fight with him that still hath Gods to friend,\nAverting death on others\u2019 darts, and giving his no end\nBut with the ends of men. If God like fortune in the fight\nWould give my forces, not with ease wing\u2019d victory should light\nOn his proud shoulders, nor he \u2019scape, though all of brass he boasts\nHis plight consisteth.\u201d He replied: \u201cPray thou those Gods of hosts,\nWhom he implores, as well as he; and his chance may be thine;\nThou cam\u2019st of Gods like him; the Queen that reigns in Salamine\nFame sounds thy mother; he deriv\u2019d of lower Deity,\nOld Nereus\u2019 daughter bearing him. Bear then thy heart as high,\nAnd thy unwearied steel as right; nor utterly be beat\nWith only cruelty of words, not proof against a threat.\u201d\nThis strengthen\u2019d him, and forth he rush\u2019d; nor could his strength\u2019ning\nfly\nWhite-wristed Juno, nor his drifts. She ev\u2019ry Deity\nOf th\u2019 Achive faction called to her, and said: \u201cYe must have care,\nNeptune and Pallas, for the frame of this important war\nYe undertake here. Venus\u2019 son, by Ph\u0153bus being impell\u2019d,\nRuns on Achilles; turn him back, or see our friend upheld\nBy one of us. Let not the spirit of \u00c6acides\nBe over-dar\u2019d, but make him know the mightiest Deities\nStand kind to him; and that the Gods, protectors of these tow\u2019rs\nThat fight against Greece, and were here before our eminent pow\u2019rs,\nBear no importance. And besides, that all we stoop from heav\u2019n,\nTo curb this fight, that no impair be to his person giv\u2019n\nBy any Trojans, nor their aids, while this day bears the sun.\nHereafter, all things that are wrapp\u2019d in his birth-thread, and spun\nBy Parcas in that point of time his mother gave him air,\nHe must sustain. But if report perform not the repair\nOf all this to him, by the voice of some Immortal State,\nHe may be fearful (if some God should set on him) that Fate\nMakes him her minister. The Gods, when they appear to men,\nAnd manifest their proper forms, are passing dreadful then.\u201d\nNeptune replied: \u201cSaturnia, at no time let your care\nExceed your reason; \u2019tis not fit. Where only humans are,\nWe must not mix the hands of Gods, our odds is too extreme.\nSit we by, in some place of height, where we may see to them,\nAnd leave the wars of men to men. But if we see from thence\nOr Mars or Ph\u0153bus enter fight, or offer least offence\nTo Thetis\u2019 son, not giving free way to his conqu\u2019ring rage,\nThen comes the conflict to our cares; we soon shall disengage\nAchilles, and send them to heav\u2019n, to settle their abode\nWith equals, flying under-strifes.\u201d This said, the black-hair\u2019d God\nLed to the tow\u2019r of Hercules, built circular and high\nBy Pallas and the Ilians, for fit security\nTo Jove\u2019s divine son \u2019gainst the whale, that drave him from the shore\nTo th\u2019 ample field. There Neptune sat, and all the Gods that bore\nThe Greeks good meaning, casting all thick mantles made of clouds\nOn their bright shoulders. Th\u2019 oppos\u2019d Gods sat hid in other shrouds\nOn top of steep Callicolon, about thy golden sides,\nO Ph\u0153bus, brandisher of darts, and thine, whose rage abides\nNo peace in cities. In this state, these Gods in council sate,\nAll ling\u2019ring purpos\u2019d fight, to try who first would elevate\nHis heav\u2019nly weapon. High-thron\u2019d Jove cried out to set them on,\nSaid, all the field was full of men, and that the earth did groan\nWith feet of proud encounterers, burn\u2019d with the arms of men\nAnd barbed horse. Two champions for both the armies then\nMet in their midst prepar\u2019d for blows; divine \u00c6acides,\nAnd Venus\u2019 son. \u00c6neas first stepp\u2019d threat\u2019ning forth the prease,\nHis high helm nodding, and his breast barr\u2019d with a shady shield,\nAnd shook his jav\u2019lin. Thetis\u2019 son did his part to the field.\nAs when the harmful king of beasts (sore threaten\u2019d to be slain\nBy all the country up in arms) at first makes coy disdain\nPrepare resistance, but at last, when anyone hath led\nBold charge upon him with his dart, he then turns yawning head,\nFell anger lathers in his jaws, his great heart swells, his stern\nLasheth his strength up, sides and thighs waddled with stripes to learn\nTheir own pow\u2019r, his eyes glow, he roars, and in he leaps to kill,\nSecure of killing; so his pow\u2019r then rous\u2019d up to his will\nMatchless Achilles, coming on to meet Anchises\u2019 son.\nBoth near, Achilles thus inquir\u2019d: \u201cWhy stand\u2019st thou thus alone,\nThou son of Venus? Calls thy heart to change of blows with me?\nSure Troy\u2019s whole kingdom is propos\u2019d: some one hath promis\u2019d thee\nThe throne of Priam for my life; but Priam\u2019s self is wise,\nAnd, for my slaughter, not so mad to make his throne thy prise.\nPriam hath sons to second him. Is\u2019t then some piece of land,\nPast others fit to set and sow, that thy victorious hand\nThe Ilians offer for my head? I hope that prise will prove\nNo easy conquest. Once, I think, my busy jav\u2019lin drove,\nWith terror, those thoughts from your spleen. Retain\u2019st thou not the\ntime,\nWhen single on th\u2019 Id\u00e6an hill I took thee with the crime\nOf runaway, thy oxen left, and when thou hadst no face\nThat I could see; thy knees bereft it, and Lyrnessus was\nThe mask for that? Then that mask, too, I open\u2019d to the air\n(By Jove and Pallas\u2019 help) and took the free light from the fair,\nYour ladies bearing prisoners; but Jove and th\u2019 other Gods\nThen saft thee. Yet again I hope, they will not add their odds\nTo save thy wants, as thou presum\u2019st. Retire then, aim not at\nTroy\u2019s throne by me; fly ere thy soul flies; fools are wise too late.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d him: \u201cHope not that words can child-like terrify\nMy stroke-proof breast. I well could speak in this indecency,\nAnd use tart terms; but we know well what stock us both put out,\nToo gentle to bear fruits so rude. Our parents ring about\nThe world\u2019s round bosom, and by fame their dignities are blown\nTo both our knowledges, by sight neither to either known,\nThine to mine eyes, nor mine to thine. Fame sounds thy worthiness\nFrom famous Peleus; the sea-nymph, that hath the lovely tress,\nThetis, thy mother; I myself affirm my sire to be\nGreat-soul\u2019d Anchises; she that holds the Paphian Deity,\nMy mother. And of these this light is now t\u2019 exhale the tears\nFor their lov\u2019d issue; thee or me; childish, unworthy, dares\nAre not enough to part our pow\u2019rs; for if thy spirits want\nDue excitation, by distrust of that desert I vaunt,\nTo set up all rests for my life, I\u2019ll lineally prove\n(Which many will confirm) my race. First, cloud-commanding Jove\nWas sire to Dardanus, that built Dardania; for the walls\nOf sacred Ilion spread not yet these fields; those fair-built halls\nOf divers-languag\u2019d men, not rais\u2019d; all then made populous\nThe foot of Ida\u2019s fountful hill. This Jove-got Dardanus\nBegot king Erichthonius, for wealth past all compares\nOf living mortals; in his fens he fed three thousand mares,\nAll neighing by their tender foals, of which twice-six were bred\nBy lofty Boreas, their dams lov\u2019d by him as they fed,\nHe took the brave form of a horse that shook an azure mane,\nAnd slept with them. These twice-six colts had pace so swift, they ran\nUpon the top-ayles of corn-ears, nor bent them any whit;\nAnd when the broad back of the sea their pleasure was to sit,\nThe superficies of his waves they slid upon, their hoves\nNot dipp\u2019d in dank sweat of his brows. Of Erichthonius\u2019 loves\nSprang Tros, the king of Trojans. Tros three young princes bred,\nIlus, renown\u2019d Assaracus, and heav\u2019nly Ganymed\nThe fairest youth of all that breath\u2019d, whom, for his beauty\u2019s love,\nThe Gods did ravish to their state, to bear the cup to Jove.\nIlus begot Laomedon, God-like Laomedon\nGot Tithon, Priam, Clytius, Mars-like Hycetaon,\nAnd Lampus. Great Assaracus, Capys begot; and he\nAnchises. Prince Anchises, me. King Priam, Hector. We\nSprang both of one high family. Thus fortunate men give birth,\nBut Jove gives virtue; he augments, and he impairs the worth\nOf all men; and his will their rule; he, strong\u2019st, all strength\naffords.\nWhy then paint we, like dames, the face of conflict with our words?\nBoth may give language that a ship, driv\u2019n with a hundred oars,\nWould overburthen. A man\u2019s tongue is voluble, and pours\nWords out of all sorts ev\u2019ry way. Such as you speak you hear.\nWhat then need we vie calumnies, like women that will wear\nTheir tongues out, being once incens\u2019d, and strive for strife to part\n(Being on their way) they travel so? From words, words may avert;\nFrom virtue, not. It is your steel, divine \u00c6acides,\nMust prove my proof, as mine shall yours.\u201d Thus amply did he ease\nHis great heart of his pedigree; and sharply sent away\nA dart that caught Achilles\u2019 shield, and rung so it did fray\nThe son of Thetis, his fair hand far-thrusting out his shield,\nFor fear the long lance had driv\u2019n through. O fool, to think \u2019twould\nyield,\nAnd not to know the God\u2019s firm gifts want want to yield so soon\nTo men\u2019s poor pow\u2019rs. The eager lance had only conquest won\nOf two plates, and the shield had five, two forg\u2019d of tin, two brass,\nOne, that was centre-plate, of gold; and that forbad the pass\nOf Anchisiades\u2019s lance. Then sent Achilles forth\nHis lance, that through the first fold strook, where brass of little\nworth\nAnd no great proof of hides was laid; through all which Pelias ran\nHis iron head, and after it his ashen body wan\nPass to the earth, and there it stuck, his top on th\u2019 other side,\nAnd hung the shield up; which hard down \u00c6neas pluck\u2019d, to hide\nHis breast from sword blows, shrunk up round, and in his heavy eye\nWas much grief shadow\u2019d, much afraid that Pelias stuck so nigh.\nThen prompt Achilles rushing in, his sword drew; and the field\nRung with his voice. \u00c6neas now, left and let hang his shield,\nAnd all-distracted, up he snatch\u2019d a two-men\u2019s strength of stone,\nAnd either at his shield or casque he set it rudely gone,\nNor car\u2019d where, so it strook a place that put on arms for death.\nBut he (Achilles came so close) had doubtless sunk beneath\nHis own death had not Neptune seen and interpos\u2019d the odds\nOf his divine pow\u2019r, utt\u2019ring this to the Achaian Gods:\n\u201cI grieve for this great-hearted man; he will be sent to hell,\nEv\u2019n instantly, by Peleus\u2019 son, being only mov\u2019d to deal\nBy Ph\u0153bus\u2019 words. What fool is he! Ph\u0153bus did never mean\nTo add to his great words his guard against the ruin then\nSummon\u2019d against him. And what cause, hath he to head him on\nTo others\u2019 mis\u2019ries, he being clear of any trespass done\nAgainst the Grecians? Thankful gifts he oft hath giv\u2019n to us.\nLet us then quit him, and withdraw this combat; for if thus\nAchilles end him, Jove will rage; since his escape in fate\nIs purpos\u2019d, lest the progeny of Dardanus take date,\nWhom Jove, past all his issue, lov\u2019d, begot of mortal dames.\nAll Priam\u2019s race he hates; and this must propagate the names\nOf Trojans, and their sons\u2019 sons\u2019 rule, to all posterity.\u201d\nSaturnia said: \u201cMake free your pleasure. Save, or let him die.\nPallas and I have taken many, and most public, oaths,\nThat th\u2019 ill day never shall avert her eye, red with our wroths,\nFrom hated Troy; no, not when all in studied fire she flames\nThe Greek rage, blowing her last coal.\u201d This nothing turn\u2019d his aims\nFrom present rescue, but through all the whizzing spears he pass\u2019d,\nAnd came where both were combating; when instantly he cast\nA mist before Achilles\u2019 eyes, drew from the earth and shield\nHis lance, and laid it at his feet; and then took up and held\nAloft the light Anchises\u2019 son, who pass\u2019d, with Neptune\u2019s force,\nWhole orders of hero\u00ebs\u2019 heads, and many a troop of horse\nLeap\u2019d over, till the bounds he reach\u2019d of all the fervent broil,\nWhere all the Caucons\u2019 quarters lay. Thus, far freed from the toil,\nNeptune had time to use these words: \u201c\u00c6neas, who was he\nOf all the Gods, that did so much neglect thy good and thee\nTo urge thy fight with Thetis\u2019 son, who in immortal rates\nIs better and more dear than thee? Hereafter, lest, past fates,\nHell be thy headlong home, retire, make bold stand never near\nWhere he advanceth. But his fate once satisfied, then bear\nA free and full sail; no Greek else shall end thee.\u201d This reveal\u2019d,\nHe left him, and dispers\u2019d the cloud, that all this act conceal\u2019d\nFrom vex\u2019d Achilles; who again had clear light from the skies,\nAnd, much disdaining the escape, said: \u201cO ye Gods, mine eyes\nDiscover miracles! My lance submitted, and he gone\nAt whom I sent it with desire of his confusion!\n\u00c6neas sure was lov\u2019d of heav\u2019n. I thought his vaunt from thence\nHad flow\u2019d from glory. Let him go, no more experience\nWill his mind long for of my hands, he flies them now so clear.\nCheer then the Greeks, and others try.\u201d Thus rang\u2019d he ev\u2019rywhere\nThe Grecian orders; ev\u2019ry man (of which the most look\u2019d on\nTo see their fresh lord shake his lance) he thus put charge upon:\n\u201cDivine Greeks, stand not thus at gaze, but man to man apply\nYour sev\u2019ral valours. \u2019Tis a task laid too unequally\nOn me left to so many men, one man oppos\u2019d to all.\nNot Mars, immortal and a God, not war\u2019s She-General,\nA field of so much fight could chase, and work it out with blows.\nBut what a man may execute, that all limbs will expose,\nAnd all their strength to th\u2019 utmost nerve (though now I lost some play\nBy some strange miracle) no more shall burn in vain the day\nTo any least beam. All this host, I\u2019ll ransack, and have hope,\nOf all not one again will scape, whoever gives such scope\nTo his adventure, and so near dares tempt my angry lance.\u201d\nThus he excited. Hector then as much strives to advance\nThe hearts of his men, adding threats, affirming he would stand\nIn combat with \u00c6acides: \u201cGive fear,\u201d said he, \u201cno hand\nOf your great hearts, brave Ilians, for Peleus\u2019 talking son,\nI\u2019ll fight with any God with words; but when their spears put on,\nThe work runs high, their strength exceeds mortality so far,\nAnd they may make works crown their words; which holds not in the war\nAchilles makes; his hands have bounds; this word he shall make good,\nAnd leave another to the field. His worst shall be withstood\nWith sole objection of myself; though in his hands he bear\nA rage like fire, though fire itself his raging fingers were,\nAnd burning steel flew in his strength.\u201d Thus he incited his;\nAnd they rais\u2019d lances, and to work with mix\u00e9d courages;\nAnd up flew Clamour. But the heat in Hector, Ph\u0153bus gave\nThis temper: \u201cDo not meet,\u201d said he, \u201cin any single brave\nThe man thou threaten\u2019st, but in press; and in thy strength impeach\nHis violence; for, far off, or near, his sword or dart will reach.\u201d\nThe God\u2019s voice made a difference in Hector\u2019s own conceit\nBetwixt his and Achilles\u2019 words, and gave such over-weight\nAs weigh\u2019d him back into his strength, and curb\u2019d his flying out.\nAt all threw fierce \u00c6acides, and gave a horrid shout.\nThe first, of all he put to dart, was fierce Iphition,\nSurnam\u2019d Otryntides, whom Nais the water-nymph made son\nTo town-destroy\u2019r Otrynte\u00fcs. Beneath the snowy hill\nOf Tmolus, in the wealthy town of Hyda, at his will\nWere many able men at arms. He, rushing in, took full\nPelides\u2019 lance in his head\u2019s midst, that cleft in two his skull.\nAchilles knew him one much fam\u2019d, and thus insulted then:\n\u201cTh\u2019 art dead, Otryntides, though call\u2019d the terriblest of men.\nThy race runs at Gyg\u00e6us\u2019 lake, there thy inheritance lay,\nNear fishy Hyllus and the gulfs of Hermus; but this day\nRemoves it to the fields of Troy.\u201d Thus left he night to seize\nHis clos\u00e9d eyes, his body laid in course of all the prease,\nWhich Grecian horse broke with the strakes nail\u2019d to their chariot\nwheels.\nNext, through the temples, the burst eyes his deadly jav\u2019lin seels\nOf great-in-Troy Antenor\u2019s son, renown\u2019d Demoleon,\nA mighty turner of a field. His overthrow set gone\nHippodamas; who leap\u2019d from horse, and, as he fled before\n\u00c6acides\u2019s turn\u00e9d back, he made fell Pelias gore,\nAnd forth he puff\u2019d his flying soul. And as a tortur\u2019d bull,\nTo Neptune brought for sacrifice, a troop of youngsters pull\nDown to the earth, and drag him round about the hallow\u2019d shore,\nTo please the wat\u2019ry Deity with forcing him to roar,\nAnd forth he pours his utmost throat; so bellow\u2019d this slain friend\nOf flying Ilion, with the breath that gave his being end.\nThen rush\u2019d he on, and in his eye had heav\u2019nly Polydore,\nOld Priam\u2019s son, whom last of all his fruitful princess bore,\nAnd for his youth, being dear to him, the king forbad to fight.\nYet (hot of unexperienc\u2019d blood, to show how exquisite\nHe was of foot, for which of all the fifty sons he held\nThe special name) he flew before the first heat of the field,\nEv\u2019n till he flew out breath and soul; which, through the back, the\nlance\nOf swift Achilles put in air, and did his head advance\nOut at his navel. On his knees the poor prince crying fell,\nAnd gather\u2019d with his tender hands his entrails, that did swell\nQuite through the wide wound, till a cloud as black as death conceal\u2019d\nTheir sight, and all the world from him. When Hector had beheld\nHis brother tumbled so to earth, his entrails still in hand,\nDark sorrow overcast his eyes; nor far off could he stand\nA minute longer, but like fire he brake out of the throng,\nShook his long lance at Thetis\u2019 son; and then came he along\nTo feed th\u2019 encounter: \u201cO,\u201d said he, \u201chere comes the man that most\nOf all the world destroys my mind, the man by whom I lost\nMy dear Patroclus. Now not long the crooked paths of war\nCan yield us any privy scapes. \u2018Come, keep not off so far,\u2019\nHe cried to Hector, \u2018make the pain of thy sure death as short,\nAs one so desp\u2019rate of his life hath reason.\u2019\u201d In no sort\nThis frighted Hector, who bore close, and said: \u201c\u00c6acides,\nLeave threats for children. I have pow\u2019r to thunder calumnies\nAs well as others, and well know thy strength superior far\nTo that my nerves hold; but the Gods, not nerves, determine war.\nAnd yet, for nerves, there will be found a strength of pow\u2019r in mine\nTo drive a lance home to thy life. My lance as well as thine\nHath point and sharpness, and \u2019tis this.\u201d Thus brandishing his spear,\nHe set it flying; which a breath of Pallas back did bear\nFrom Thetis\u2019 son to Hector\u2019s self, and at his feet it fell.\nAchilles us\u2019d no dart, but close flew in; and thought to deal\nWith no strokes but of sure dispatch, but, what with all his blood\nHe labour\u2019d, Ph\u0153bus clear\u2019d with ease, as being a God, and stood\nFor Hector\u2019s guard, as Pallas did, \u00c6acides, for thine.\nHe rapt him from him, and a cloud of much night cast between\nHis person and the point oppos\u2019d. Achilles then exclaim\u2019d:\n\u201cO see, yet more Gods are at work. Apollo\u2019s hand hath fram\u2019d,\nDog that thou art, thy rescue now; to whom go pay thy vows\nThy safety owes him, I shall vent in time those fatal blows\nThat yet beat in my heart on thine, if any God remain\nMy equal fautor. In mean time, my anger must maintain\nHis fire on other Ilians.\u201d Then laid he at his feet\nGreat Demuchus, Philetor\u2019s son; and Dryope did greet\nWith like encounter. Dardanus and strong Laogonus,\nWise Bias\u2019 sons, he hurl\u2019d from horse; of one victorious\nWith his close sword, the other\u2019s life he conquer\u2019d with his lance.\nThen Tros, Alastor\u2019s son, made in, and sought to scape their chance\nWith free submission. Down he fell, and pray\u2019d about his knees\nHe would not kill him, but take ruth, as one that destinies\nMade to that purpose, being a man born in the self same year\nThat he himself was. O poor fool, to sue to him to bear\nA ruthful mind! He well might know, he could not fashion him\nIn ruth\u2019s soft mould, he had no spirit to brook that interim\nIn his hot fury, he was none of these remorseful men,\nGentle and affable, but fierce at all times, and mad then.\nHe gladly would have made a pray\u2019r, and still so hugg\u2019d his knee\nHe could not quit him; till at last his sword was fain to free\nHis fetter\u2019d knees, that made a vent for his white liver\u2019s blood\nThat caus\u2019d such pitiful affects; of which it pour\u2019d a flood\nAbout his bosom, which it fill\u2019d, ev\u2019n till it drown\u2019d his eyes,\nAnd all sense fail\u2019d him. Forth then flew this prince of tragedies;\nWho next stoop\u2019d Mulius ev\u2019n to death with his insatiate spear;\nOne ear it enter\u2019d, and made good his pass to th\u2019 other ear.\nEcheclus then, Agenor\u2019s son, he strook betwixt the brows;\nWhose blood set fire upon his sword, that cool\u2019d it till the throes\nOf his then labouring brain let out his soul to fix\u00e9d fate,\nAnd gave cold entry to black death. Deucalion then had state\nIn these men\u2019s beings, where the nerves about the elbow knit,\nDown to his hand his spear\u2019s steel pierc\u2019d, and brought such pain to it\nAs led death jointly; whom he saw before his fainting eyes,\nAnd in his neck felt, with a stroke, laid on so, that off flies\nHis head. One of the twice-twelve bones, that all the backbone make,\nLet out his marrow; when the head he, helm and all, did take,\nAnd hurl\u2019d amongst the Ilians; the body stretch\u2019d on earth.\nRhigmus of fruitful Thrace next fell. He was the famous birth\nOf Pire\u00fcs; his belly\u2019s midst the lance took, whose stern force\nQuite tumbled him from chariot. In turning back the horse,\nTheir guider Areithous receiv\u2019d another lance\nThat threw him to his lord. No end was put to the mischance\nAchilles enter\u2019d. But as fire, fall\u2019n in a flash from heav\u2019n,\nInflames the high woods of dry hills, and with a storm is driv\u2019n\nThrough all the sylvan deeps; and raves, till down goes ev\u2019rywhere\nThe smother\u2019d hill; so ev\u2019ry way Achilles and his spear\nConsum\u2019d the champain, the black earth flow\u2019d with the veins he tore.\nAnd look how oxen, yok\u2019d and driv\u2019n about the circular floor\nOf some fair barn, tread suddenly the thick sheaves thin of corn,\nAnd all the corn consum\u2019d with chaff; so mix\u2019d and overborne,\nBeneath Achilles\u2019 one-hoof\u2019d horse, shields, spears, and men, lay trod,\nHis axle-trees and chariot wheels, all spatter\u2019d with the blood\nHurl\u2019d from the steeds\u2019 hooves and the strakes. Thus, to be magnified,\nHis most inaccessible hands in human blood he dyed.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWENTIETH BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nIn two parts Troy\u2019s host parted; Thetis\u2019 son\nOne to Scamander, one to Ilion,\nPursues. Twelve lords he takes alive, to end\nIn sacrifice for vengeance to his friend.\nAsterop\u00e6us dies by his fierce hand,\nAnd, Priam\u2019s son, Lycaon. Over land\nThe Flood breaks where Achilles being engag\u2019d,\nVulcan preserves him, and with spirit enrag\u2019d\nSets all the champain and the floods on fire.\nContention then doth all the Gods inspire.\nApollo in Agenor\u2019s shape doth stay\nAchilles\u2019 fury, and, by giving way,\nMakes him pursue, till the deceit gives leave\nThat Troy in safety might her friends receive.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nPhy at the flood\u2019s shore doth express\nThe labours of \u00c6acides.\n\n\nAnd now they reach\u2019d the goodly swelling channel of the flood,\nGulf-eating Xanthus, whom Jove mix\u2019d with his immortal brood;\nAnd there Achilles cleft the host of Ilion; one side fell\nOn Xanthus, th\u2019 other on the town; and that did he impell\nThe same way that the last day\u2019s rage put all the Greeks in rout,\nWhen Hector\u2019s fury reign\u2019d; these now Achilles pour\u2019d about\nThe scatter\u2019d field. To stay the flight, Saturnia cast before\nTheir hasty feet a standing fog; and then flight\u2019s violence bore\nThe other half full on the flood. The silver-gulf\u00e9d deep\nReceiv\u2019d them with a mighty cry, the billows vast and steep\nRoar\u2019d at their armours, which the shores did round about resound;\nThis way and that they swum, and shriek\u2019d as in the gulfs they drown\u2019d\nAnd as in fir\u2019d fields locusts rise, as the unwearied blaze\nPlies still their rising, till in swarms all rush as in amaze,\nFor scape into some neighbour flood; so th\u2019 Achilleian stroke\nHere drave the foe, the gulfy flood with men and horse did choke.\nThen on the shore the Worthy hid and left his horrid lance\nAmids the tamarisks, and sprite-like did with his sword advance\nUp to the river; ill affairs took up his furious brain\nFor Troy\u2019s engagements; ev\u2019ry way he doubled slain on slain.\nA most unmanly noise was made, with those he put to sword,\nOf groans and outcries. The flood blush\u2019d, to be so much engor\u2019d\nWith such base souls. And as small fish the swift-finn\u2019d dolphin fly,\nFilling the deep pits in the ports, on whose close strength they lie,\nAnd there he swallows them in shoals; so here, to rocks and holes\nAbout the flood, the Trojans fled, and there most lost their souls,\nEv\u2019n till he tir\u2019d his slaught\u2019rous arm. Twelve fair young princes then\nHe chose of all to take alive, to have them freshly slain\nOn that most solemn day of wreak, resolv\u2019d on for his friend.\nThese led he trembling forth the flood, as fearful of their end\nAs any hind calves. All their hands he pinioned behind\nWith their own girdles worn upon their rich weeds, and resign\u2019d\nTheir persons to his Myrmidons to bear to fleet; and he\nPlung\u2019d in the stream again to take more work of tragedy.\nHe met, then issuing the flood with all intent of flight,\nLycaon, Dardan Priam\u2019s son; whom lately in the night\nHe had surpris\u2019d, as in a wood of Priam\u2019s he had cut\nThe green arms of a wild fig-tree, to make him spokes to put\nIn naves of his new chariot. An ill then, all unthought,\nStole on him in Achilles\u2019 shape, who took him thence, and brought\nTo well-built Lemnos, selling him to famous Jason\u2019s son.\nFrom whom a guest then in his house (Imbrius Eetion)\nRedeem\u2019d at high rate, and sent home t\u2019 Arisba, whence he fled,\nAnd saw again his father\u2019s court; elev\u2019n days banqueted\nAmongst his friends; the twelfth God thrust his hapless head again\nIn t\u2019 hands of stern \u00c6acides, who now must send him slain\nTo Pluto\u2019s court, and \u2019gainst his will. Him, when Achilles knew,\nNaked of helmet, shield, sword, lance (all which for ease he threw\nTo earth, being overcome with sweat, and labour wearying\nHis flying knees) he storm\u2019d, and said: \u201cO heav\u2019n, a wondrous thing\nInvades mine eyes! Those Ilians, that heretofore I slew,\nRise from the dark dead quick again. This man Fate makes eschew\nHer own steel fingers. He was sold in Lemnos, and the deep\nOf all seas \u2019twixt this Troy, and that (that many a man doth keep\nFrom his lov\u2019d country) bars not him. Come then, he now shall taste\nThe head of Pelias, and try if steel will down as fast\nAs other fortunes, or kind earth can any surer seize\nOn his sly person, whose strong arms have held down Hercules.\u201d\nHis thoughts thus mov\u2019d, while he stood firm, to see if he, he spied,\nWould offer flight (which first he thought) but when he had descried\nHe was descried and flight was vain, fearful, he made more nigh,\nWith purpose to embrace his knees, and now long\u2019d much to fly\nHis black fate and abhorr\u00e9d death by coming in. His foe\nObserv\u2019d all this, and up he rais\u2019d his lance as he would throw;\nAnd then Lycaon close ran in, fell on his breast, and took\nAchilles\u2019 knees; whose lance, on earth now staid, did overlook\nHis still turn\u2019d back, with thirst to glut his sharp point with the\nblood\nThat lay so ready. But that thirst Lycaon\u2019s thirst withstood\nTo save his blood; Achilles\u2019 knee in his one hand he knit,\nHis other held the long lance hard, and would not part with it,\nBut thus besought: \u201cI kiss thy knees, divine \u00c6acides!\nRespect me, and my fortunes rue. I now present th\u2019 access\nOf a poor suppliant for thy ruth; and I am one that is\nWorthy thy ruth, O Jove\u2019s belov\u2019d. First hour my miseries\nFell into any hand, \u2019twas thine. I tasted all my bread\nBy thy gift since, O since that hour that thy surprisal led\nFrom forth the fair wood my sad feet, far from my lov\u2019d allies,\nTo famous Lemnos, where I found a hundred oxen\u2019s prize\nTo make my ransom; for which now I thrice the worth will raise.\nThis day makes twelve, since I arriv\u2019d in Ilion, many days\nBeing spent before in sufferance; and now a cruel fate\nThrusts me again into thy hands. I should haunt Jove with hate,\nThat with such set malignity gives thee my life again.\nThere were but two of us for whom Laothoe suffer\u2019d pain,\nLaothoe, old Alte\u2019s seed; Alte, whose palace stood\nIn height of upper Pedasus, near Satnius\u2019 silver flood,\nAnd rul\u2019d the war-like Lelegi. Whose seed (as many more)\nKing Priam married, and begot the god-like Polydore,\nAnd me accurs\u2019d. Thou slaughter\u2019dst him; and now thy hand on me\nWill prove as mortal. I did think, when here I met with thee,\nI could not \u2019scape thee; yet give ear, and add thy mind to it:\nI told my birth to intimate, though one sire did beget\nYet one womb brought not into light Hector that slew thy friend,\nAnd me. O do not kill me then, but let the wretched end\nOf Polydore excuse my life. For half our being bred\nBrothers to Hector, he (half) paid, no more is forfeited.\u201d\nThus sued he humbly; but he heard, with this austere reply:\n\u201cFool, urge not ruth nor price to me, till that solemnity,\nResolv\u2019d on for Patroclus\u2019 death, pay all his rites to fate.\nTill his death I did grace to Troy, and many lives did rate\nAt price of ransom; but none now, of all the brood of Troy,\n(Whoever Jove throws to my hands) shall any breath enjoy\nThat death can beat out, specially that touch at Priam\u2019s race.\nDie, die, my friend. What tears are these? What sad looks spoil thy\nface?\nPatroclus died, that far pass\u2019d thee. Nay, seest thou not beside,\nMyself, ev\u2019n I, a fair young man, and rarely magnified,\nAnd, to my father being a king, a mother have that sits\nIn rank with Goddesses; and yet, when thou hast spent thy spirits,\nDeath and as violent a fate must overtake ev\u2019n me,\nBy twilight, morn-light, day, high noon, whenever destiny\nSets on her man to hurl a lance, or knit out of his string\nAn arrow that must reach my life.\u201d This said, a languishing\nLycaon\u2019s heart bent like his knees, yet left him strength t\u2019 advance\nBoth hands for mercy as he kneel\u2019d. His foe yet leaves his lance,\nAnd forth his sword flies, which he hid in furrow of a wound\nDriv\u2019n through the jointure of his neck; flat fell he on the ground,\nStretch\u2019d with death\u2019s pangs, and all the earth imbru\u2019d with timeless\nblood.\nThen gript \u00c6acides his heel, and to the lofty flood\nFlung, swinging, his unpitied corse, to see it swim, and toss\nUpon the rough waves, and said; \u201cGo, feed fat the fish with loss\nOf thy left blood, they clean will suck thy green wounds; and this\nsaves\nThy mother tears upon thy bed. Deep Xanthus on his waves\nShall hoise thee bravely to a tomb, that in her burly breast\nThe sea shall open, where great fish may keep thy fun\u2019ral feast\nWith thy white fat, and on the waves dance at thy wedding fate,\nClad in black horror, keeping close inaccessible state,\nSo perish Ilians, till we pluck the brows of Ilion\nDown to her feet, you flying still, I flying still upon\nThus in the rear, and (as my brows were fork\u2019d with rabid horns)[1]\nToss ye together. This brave flood, that strengthens and adorns\nYour city with his silver gulfs, to whom so many bulls\nYour zeal hath offer\u2019d, which blind zeal his sacred current gulls,\nWith casting chariots and horse quick to his pray\u2019d-for aid,\nShall nothing profit. Perish then, till cruell\u2019st death hath laid\nAll at the red feet of Revenge for my slain friend, and all\nWith whom the absence of my hands made yours a festival.\u201d\nThis speech great Xanthus more enrag\u2019d, and made his spirit contend\nFor means to shut up the op\u2019d vein against him, and defend\nThe Trojans in it from his plague. In mean time Peleus\u2019 son,\nAnd now with that long lance he hid, for more blood set upon\nAsterop\u00e6us, the descent of Pelegon, and he\nOf broad-stream\u2019d Axius, and the dame, of first nativity\nTo all the daughters that renown\u2019d Acesamenus\u2019 seed,\nBright Perib\u0153a, whom the Flood, arm\u2019d thick with lofty reed,\nCompress\u2019d. At her grandchild now went Thetis\u2019 great son, whose foe\nStood arm\u2019d with two darts, being set on by Xanthus anger\u2019d so\nFor those youths\u2019 blood shed in his stream by vengeful Thetis\u2019 son\nWithout all mercy. Both being near, great Thetides begun\nWith this high question; \u201cOf what race art thou that dar\u2019st oppose\nThy pow\u2019r to mine thus? Curs\u00e9d wombs they ever did disclose,\nThat stood my anger.\u201d He replied: \u201cWhat makes thy fury\u2019s heat\nTalk, and seek pedigrees? Far hence lies my innative seat,\nIn rich P\u00e6onia. My race from broad-stream\u2019d Axius runs;\nAxius, that gives earth purest drink, of all the wat\u2019ry sons\nOf great Oceanus, and got the famous for his spear,\nPelegonus, that father\u2019d me; and these P\u00e6onians here,\nArm\u2019d with long lances, here I lead; and here th\u2019 elev\u2019nth fair light\nShines on us since we enter\u2019d Troy. Come now, brave man, let\u2019s fight.\u201d\nThus spake he, threat\u2019ning; and to him Pelides made reply\nWith shaken Pelias; but his foe with two at once let fly,\nFor both his hands were dexterous. One jav\u2019lin strook the shield\nOf Thetis\u2019 son, but strook not through; the gold, God\u2019s gift, repell\u2019d\nThe eager point; the other lance fell lightly on the part\nOf his fair right hand\u2019s cubit; forth the black blood spun; the dart\nGlanc\u2019d over, fast\u2019ning on the earth, and there his spleen was spent\nThat wish\u2019d the body. With which wish Achilles his lance sent,\nThat quite miss\u2019d, and infix\u2019d itself fast in steep-up shore;\nEv\u2019n to the midst it enter\u2019d it. Himself then fiercely bore\nUpon his enemy with his sword. His foe was tugging hard\nTo get his lance out; thrice he pluck\u2019d, and thrice sure Pelias barr\u2019d\nHis wish\u2019d evulsion; the fourth pluck, he bow\u2019d and meant to break\nThe ashen plant, but, ere that act, Achilles\u2019 sword did check\nHis bent pow\u2019r, and brake out his soul. Full in the navel-stead\nHe ripp\u2019d his belly up, and out his entrails fell, and dead\nHis breathless body; whence his arms Achilles drew, and said:\n\u201cLie there, and prove it dangerous to lift up adverse head\nAgainst Jove\u2019s sons, although a Flood were ancestor to thee.\nThy vaunts urg\u2019d him, but I may vaunt a higher pedigree\nFrom Jove himself. King Pele\u00fcs was son to \u00c6acus,\nInfernal \u00c6acus to Jove, and I to Pele\u00fcs.\nThunder-voic\u2019d Jove far passeth floods, that only murmurs raise\nWith earth and water as they run with tribute to the seas;\nAnd his seed theirs exceeds as far. A Flood, a mighty Flood,\nRag\u2019d near thee now, but with no aid; Jove must not be withstood.\nKing Achelous yields to him, and great Oceanus,\nWhence all floods, all the sea, all founts, wells, all deeps humorous,\nFetch their beginnings; yet ev\u2019n he fears Jove\u2019s flash, and the crack\nHis thunder gives, when out of heav\u2019n it tears atwo his rack.\u201d[2]\nThus pluck\u2019d he from the shore his lance, and left the waves to wash\nThe wave-sprung entrails, about which fausens and other fish\nDid shoal, to nibble at the fat which his sweet kidneys hid.\nThis for himself. Now to his men, the well-rode P\u00e6ons, did\nHis rage contend, all which cold fear shook into flight, to see\nTheir captain slain. At whose maz\u2019d flight, as much enrag\u2019d, flew he.\nAnd then fell all these, Thrasius, Mydon, Astypylus,\nGreat Ophelestes, \u00c6nius, Mnesus, Thersilochus.\nAnd on these many more had fall\u2019n, unless the angry Flood\nHad took the figure of a man, and in a whirlpit stood,\nThus speaking to \u00c6acides: \u201cPast all, pow\u2019r feeds thy will,\nThou great grandchild of \u00c6acus, and, past all, th\u2019 art in ill,\nAnd Gods themselves confederates, and Jove, the best of Gods,\nAll deaths gives thee, all places not. Make my shores periods\nTo all shore service. In the field let thy field-acts run high,\nNot in my waters. My sweet streams choke with mortality\nOf men slain by thee. Carcasses so glut me, that I fail\nTo pour into the sacred sea my waves; yet still assail\nThy cruel forces. Cease, amaze affects me with thy rage,\nPrince of the people.\u201d He replied: \u201cShall thy command assuage,\nGulf-fed Scamander, my free wrath? I\u2019ll never leave pursu\u2019d\nProud Ilion\u2019s slaughters, till this hand in her fill\u2019d walls conclude\nHer flying forces, and hath tried in single fight the chance\nOf war with Hector; whose event with stark death shall advance\nOne of our conquests.\u201d Thus again he like a fury flew\nUpon the Trojans; when the flood his sad plaint did pursue\nTo bright Apollo, telling him he was too negligent\nOf Jove\u2019s high charge, importuning by all means vehement\nHis help of Troy till latest even should her black shadows pour\nOn Earth\u2019s broad breast. In all his worst, Achilles yet from shore\nLeapt to his midst. Then swell\u2019d his waves, then rag\u2019d, then boil\u2019d\nagain\nAgainst Achilles. Up flew all, and all the bodies slain\nIn all his deeps (of which the heaps made bridges to his waves)\nHe belch\u2019d out, roaring like a bull. The unslain yet he saves\nIn his black whirlpits vast and deep. A horrid billow stood\nAbout Achilles. On his shield the violence of the Flood\nBeat so, it drave him back, and took his feet up, his fair palm\nEnforc\u2019d to catch into his stay a broad and lofty elm,\nWhose roots he toss\u2019d up with his hold, and tore up all the shore.\nWith this then he repell\u2019d the waves, and those thick arms it bore\nHe made a bridge to bear him off; (for all fell in) when he\nForth from the channel threw himself. The rage did terrify[3]\nEv\u2019n his great spirit, and made him add wings to his swiftest feet,\nAnd tread the land. And yet not there the Flood left his retreat,\nBut thrust his billows after him, and black\u2019d them all at top,\nTo make him fear, and fly his charge, and set the broad field ope\nFor Troy to \u2019scape in. He sprung out a dart\u2019s cast, but came on\nAgain with a redoubled force. As when the swiftest flown,\nAnd strong\u2019st of all fowls, Jove\u2019s black hawk, the huntress, stoops\nupon\nA much lov\u2019d quarry; so charg\u2019d he; his arms with horror rung\nAgainst the black waves. Yet again he was so urg\u2019d, he flung\nHis body from the Flood, and fled; and after him again\nThe waves flew roaring. As a man that finds a water-vein,\nAnd from some black fount is to bring his streams through plants and\ngroves,\nGoes with his mattock, and all checks, set to his course, removes;\nWhen that runs freely, under it the pebbles all give way,\nAnd, where it finds a fall, runs swift; nor can the leader stay\nHis current then, before himself full-pac\u2019d it murmurs on;\nSo of Achilles evermore the strong Flood vantage won;\nThough most deliver, Gods are still above the pow\u2019rs of men.\nAs oft as th\u2019 able god-like man endeavour\u2019d to maintain\nHis charge on them that kept the flood, and charg\u2019d as he would try\nIf all the Gods inhabiting the broad unreach\u00e9d sky\nCould daunt his spirit; so oft still, the rude waves charg\u2019d him round,\nRampt on his shoulders; from whose depth his strength and spirit would\nbound\nUp to the free air, vex\u2019d in soul. And now the vehement Flood\nMade faint his knees; so overthwart his waves were, they withstood\nAll the denied dust, which he wish\u2019d, and now was fain to cry,\nCasting his eyes to that broad heav\u2019n, that late he long\u2019d to try,\nAnd said: \u201cO Jove, how am I left! No God vouchsafes to free\nMe, miserable man. Help now, and after torture me\nWith any outrage. Would to heaven, Hector, the mightiest\nBred in this region, had imbru\u2019d his jav\u2019lin in my breast,\nThat strong may fall by strong! Where now weak water\u2019s luxury\nMust make my death blush, one, heav\u2019n-born, shall like a hog-herd die,\nDrown\u2019d in a dirty torrent\u2019s rage. Yet none of you in heav\u2019n\nI blame for this, but She alone by whom this life was giv\u2019n\nThat now must die thus. She would still delude me with her tales,\nAffirming Ph\u0153bus\u2019 shafts should end within the Trojan walls\nMy curs\u2019d beginning.\u201d In this strait, Neptune and Pallas flew,\nTo fetch him off. In men\u2019s shapes both close to his danger drew,\nAnd, taking both both hands, thus spake the Shaker of the world:\n\u201cPelides, do not stir a foot, nor these waves, proudly curl\u2019d\nAgainst thy bold breast, fear a jot; thou hast us two thy friends,\nNeptune and Pallas, Jove himself approving th\u2019 aid we lend.\n\u2019Tis nothing as thou fear\u2019st with Fate; she will not see thee drown\u2019d.\nThis height shall soon down, thine own eyes shall see it set aground.\nBe rul\u2019d then, we\u2019ll advise thee well; take not thy hand away\nFrom putting all, indiff\u2019rently, to all that it can lay\nUpon the Trojans, till the walls of haughty Ilion\nConclude all in a desp\u2019rate flight. And when thou hast set gone\nThe soul of Hector, turn to fleet; our hands shall plant a wreath\nOf endless glory on thy brows.\u201d Thus to the free from death\nBoth made retreat. He, much impell\u2019d by charge the Godheads gave,\nThe field, that now was overcome with many a boundless wave,\nHe overcame. On their wild breasts they toss\u2019d the carcasses,\nAnd arms, of many a slaughter\u2019d man. And now the wing\u00e9d knees\nOf this great captain bore aloft; against the Flood he flies\nWith full assault; nor could that God make shrink his rescu\u2019d thighs.\nNor shrunk the Flood, but, as his foe grew pow\u2019rful, he grew mad,\nThrust up a billow to the sky, and crystal Simo\u00efs bad\nTo his assistance: \u201cSimo\u00efs, ho, brother,\u201d out he cried,\n\u201cCome, add thy current, and resist this man half-deified,\nOr Ilion he will pull down straight; the Trojans cannot stand\nA minute longer. Come, assist, and instantly command\nAll fountains in thy rule to rise, all torrents to make in,\nAnd stuff thy billows; with whose height, engender such a din,\nWith trees torn up and justling stones, as so immane a man\nMay shrink beneath us; whose pow\u2019r thrives do my pow\u2019r all it can;\nHe dares things fitter for a God. But, nor his form, nor force,\nNor glorious arms shall profit it; all which, and his dead corse,\nI vow to roll up in my sands, nay, bury in my mud,\nNay, in the very sinks of Troy, that, pour\u2019d into my flood,\nShall make him drowning work enough; and, being drown\u2019d, I\u2019ll set\nA fort of such strong filth on him, that Greece shall never get\nHis bones from it. There, there shall stand Achilles\u2019 sepulchre,\nAnd save a burial for his friends.\u201d This fury did transfer\nHis high-ridg\u2019d billows on the prince, roaring with blood and foam\nAnd carcasses. The crimson stream did snatch into her womb\nSurpris\u2019d Achilles; and her height stood, held up by the hand\nOf Jove himself. Then Juno cried, and call\u2019d (to countermand\nThis wat\u2019ry Deity) the God that holds command in fire,\nAfraid lest that gulf-stomach\u2019d Flood would satiate his desire\nOn great Achilles: \u201cMulciber, my best lov\u2019d son!\u201d she cried,\n\u201cRouse thee, for all the Gods conceive this Flood thus amplified\nIs rais\u2019d at thee, and shows as if his waves would drown the sky,\nAnd put out all the sphere of fire. Haste, help thy empery.\nLight flames deep as his pits. Ourself the west wind and the south\nWill call out of the sea, and breathe in either\u2019s full-charg\u2019d mouth\nA storm t\u2019 enrage thy fires \u2019gainst Troy; which shall (in one exhal\u2019d)\nBlow flames of sweat about their brows, and make their armours scald.\nGo thou then, and, \u2019gainst these winds rise, make work on Xanthus\u2019\nshore,\nWith setting all his trees on fire, and in his own breast pour\nA fervor that shall make it burn; nor let fair words or threats\nAvert thy fury till I speak, and then subdue the heats\nOf all thy blazes.\u201d Mulciber prepar\u2019d a mighty fire,\nFirst in the field us\u2019d; burning up the bodies that the ire\nOf great Achilles reft of souls; the quite-drown\u2019d field it dried,\nAnd shrunk the flood up. And as fields, that have been long time cloy\u2019d\nWith catching weather, when their corn lies on the gavel heap,\nAre with a constant north wind dried, with which for comfort leap\nTheir hearts that sow\u2019d them; so this field was dried, the bodies\nburn\u2019d,\nAnd ev\u2019n the flood into a fire as bright as day was turn\u2019d.\nElms, willows, tam\u2019risks, were inflam\u2019d; the lote trees, sea-grass\nreeds,\nAnd rushes, with the galingale roots, of which abundance breeds\nAbout the sweet flood, all were fir\u2019d; the gliding fishes flew\nUpwards in flames; the grov\u2019lling eels crept upright; all which slew\nWise Vulcan\u2019s unresisted spirit. The Flood out of a flame\nCried to him: \u201cCease, O Mulciber, no Deity can tame\nThy matchless virtue; nor would I, since thou art thus hot, strive.\nCease then thy strife; let Thetis\u2019 son, with all thy wish\u2019d haste,\ndrive\nEv\u2019n to their gates these Ilians. What toucheth me their aid,\nOr this contention?\u201d Thus in flames the burning River pray\u2019d.\nAnd as a caldron, underput with store of fire, and wrought\nWith boiling of a well-fed brawn, up leaps his wave aloft,\nBavins of sere wood urging it, and spending flames apace,\nTill all the caldron be engirt with a consuming blaze;\nSo round this Flood burn\u2019d, and so sod his sweet and tortur\u2019d streams,\nNor could flow forth, bound in the fumes of Vulcan\u2019s fi\u2019ry beams;\nWho, then not mov\u2019d, his mother\u2019s ruth by all his means he craves,\nAnd ask\u2019d, why Vulcan should invade and so torment his waves\nPast other floods, when his offence rose not to such degree\nAs that of other Gods for Troy; and that himself would free\nHer wrath to it, if she were pleas\u2019d; and pray\u2019d her, that her son\nMight be reflected; adding this, that he would ne\u2019er be won\nTo help keep off the ruinous day, in which all Troy should burn,\nFir\u2019d by the Grecians. This vow heard, she charg\u2019d her son to turn\nHis fi\u2019ry spirits to their homes, and said it was not fit\nA God should suffer so for men. Then Vulcan did remit\nHis so unmeasur\u2019d violence, and back the pleasant Flood\nRan to his channel. Thus these Gods she made friends; th\u2019 other stood\nAt weighty diff\u2019rence; both sides ran together with a sound,\nThat earth resounded, and great heav\u2019n about did surrebound,\nJove heard it, sitting on his hill, and laugh\u2019d to see the Gods\nBuckle to arms like angry men; and, he pleas\u2019d with their odds,\nThey laid it freely. Of them all, thump-buckler Mars began,\nAnd at Minerva with a lance of brass he headlong ran,\nThese vile words ushering his blows: \u201cThou dog-fly, what\u2019s the cause\nThou mak\u2019st Gods fight thus? Thy huge heart breaks all our peaceful\nlaws\nWith thy insatiate shamelessness, Rememb\u2019rest thou the hour\nWhen Diomed charg\u2019d me, and by thee, and thou with all thy pow\u2019r\nTook\u2019st lance thyself, and, in all sights, rush\u2019d on me with a wound?\nNow vengeance falls on thee for all.\u201d This said, the shield fring\u2019d\nround\nWith fighting adders, borne by Jove, that not to thunder yields,\nHe clapt his lance on; and this God, that with the blood of fields\nPollutes his godhead, that shield pierc\u2019d, and hurt the arm\u00e9d Maid,\nBut back she leapt, and with her strong hand rapt a huge stone, laid\nAbove the champain, black and sharp, that did in old time break\nPartitions to men\u2019s lands; and that she dusted in the neck\nOf that impetuous challenger. Down to the earth he sway\u2019d,\nAnd overlaid sev\u2019n acres\u2019 land. His hair was all beray\u2019d\nWith dust and blood mix\u2019d; and his arms rung out. Minerva laugh\u2019d,\nAnd thus insulted: \u201cO thou fool, yet hast thou not been taught\nTo know mine eminence? Thy strength opposest thou to mine?\nSo pay thy mother\u2019s furies then, who for these aids of thine,\n(Ever afforded perjur\u2019d Troy, Greece ever left) takes spleen,\nAnd vows thee mischief.\u201d Thus she turn\u2019d her blue eyes, when love\u2019s\nQueen\nThe hand of Mars took, and from earth rais\u2019d him with thick-drawn\nbreath,\nHis spirits not yet got up again. But from the press of death\nKind Aphrodite was his guide. Which Juno seeing, exclaim\u2019d:\n\u201cPallas, see, Mars is help\u2019d from field! Dog-fly, his rude tongue nam\u2019d\nThyself ev\u2019n now; but that his love, that dog-fly, will not leave\nHer old consort. Upon her fly.\u201d Minerva did receive\nThis excitation joyfully, and at the Cyprian flew,\nStrook with her hard hand her soft breast, a blow that overthrew\nBoth her and Mars; and there both lay together in broad field.\nWhen thus she triumph\u2019d: \u201cSo lie all, that any succours yield\nTo these false Trojans \u2019gainst the Greeks; so bold and patient\nAs Venus, shunning charge of me; and no less impotent\nBe all their aids, than hers to Mars. So short work would be made\nIn our depopulating Troy, this hardiest to invade\nOf all earth\u2019s cities.\u201d At this wish, white-wristed Juno smil\u2019d.\nNext Neptune and Apollo stood upon the point of field,\nAnd thus spake Neptune: \u201cPh\u0153bus! Come, why at the lance\u2019s end\nStand we two thus? \u2019Twill be a shame, for us to re-ascend\nJove\u2019s golden house, being thus in field and not to fight. Begin;\nFor \u2019tis no graceful work for me; thou hast the younger chin,\nI older and know more. O fool, what a forgetful heart\nThou bear\u2019st about thee, to stand here, prest to take th\u2019 Ilian part,\nAnd fight with me! Forgett\u2019st thou then, what we two, we alone\nOf all the Gods, have suffer\u2019d here, when proud Laomedon\nEnjoy\u2019d our service a whole year, for our agreed reward?\nJove in his sway would have it so; and in that year I rear\u2019d\nThis broad brave wall about this town, that (being a work of mine)\nIt might be inexpugnable. This service then was thine,\nIn Ida, that so many hills and curl\u2019d-head forests crown,\nTo feed his oxen, crooked-shank\u2019d, and headed like the moon.\nBut when the much-joy-bringing Hours brought term for our reward,\nThe terrible Laomedon dismiss\u2019d us both, and scar\u2019d\nOur high deservings, not alone to hold our promis\u2019d fee,\nBut give us threats too. Hands and feet he swore to fetter thee,\nAnd sell thee as a slave, dismiss\u2019d far hence to foreign isles.\nNay more, he would have both our ears. His vow\u2019s breach, and reviles,\nMade us part angry with him then; and dost thou gratulate now\nSuch a king\u2019s subjects? Or with us not their destruction vow,\nEv\u2019n to their chaste wives and their babes?\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cHe might\nhold,\nHis wisdom little, if with him, a God, for men he would\nMaintain contention; wretched men that flourish for a time\nLike leaves, eat some of that earth yields, and give earth in their\nprime\nTheir whole selves for it. Quickly then, let us fly fight for them,\nNor show it offer\u2019d. Let themselves bear out their own extreme.\u201d\nThus he retir\u2019d, and fear\u2019d to change blows with his uncle\u2019s hands;\nHis sister therefore chid him much, the Goddess that commands\nIn games of hunting, and thus spake: \u201cFly\u2019st thou, and leav\u2019st the\nfield\nTo Neptune\u2019s glory, and no blows? O fool, why dost thou wield\nThy idle bow? No more my ears shall hear thee vaunt in skies\nDares to meet Neptune, but I\u2019ll tell thy coward\u2019s tongue it lies.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d nothing; yet Jove\u2019s wife could put on no such reins,\nBut spake thus loosely: \u201cHow dar\u2019st thou, dog, whom no fear contains,\nEncounter me? \u2019Twill prove a match of hard conditi\u00f3n.\nThough the great Lady of the bow and Jove hath set thee down\nFor lion of thy sex, with gift to slaughter any dame\nThy proud will envies; yet some dames will prove th\u2019 had\u2019st better tame\nWild lions upon hills than them. But if this question rests\nYet under judgment in thy thoughts, and that thy mind contests,\nI\u2019ll make thee know it.\u201d Suddenly with her left hand she catch\u2019d\nBoth Cynthia\u2019s palms, lock\u2019d fingers fast, and with her right she\nsnatch\u2019d\nFrom her fair shoulders her gilt bow, and, laughing, laid it on\nAbout her ears, and ev\u2019ry way her turnings seiz\u2019d upon,\nTill all her arrows scatter\u2019d out, her quiver emptied quite.\nAnd as a dove, that, flying a hawk, takes to some rock her flight,\nAnd in his hollow breasts sits safe, her fate not yet to die;\nSo fled she mourning, and her bow left there. Then Mercury\nHis opposite thus undertook: \u201cLatona, at no hand\nWill I bide combat. \u2019Tis a work right dangerous to stand\nAt diff\u2019rence with the wives of Jove. Go, therefore, freely vaunt\nAmongst the Deities, th\u2019 hast subdu\u2019d, and made thy combatant\nYield with plain pow\u2019r.\u201d She answer\u2019d not, but gather\u2019d up the bow\nAnd shafts fall\u2019n from her daughter\u2019s side, retiring. Up did go\nDiana to Jove\u2019s starry hall, her incorrupted veil\nTrembling about her so she shook. Ph\u0153bus, lest Troy should fail\nBefore her fate, flew to her walls; the other Deities flew\nUp to Olympus, some enrag\u2019d, some glad. Achilles slew\nBoth men and horse of Ilion. And as a city fir\u2019d\nCasts up a heat that purples heav\u2019n, clamours and shrieks expir\u2019d\nIn ev\u2019ry corner, toil to all, to many misery,\nWhich fire th\u2019 incens\u00e9d Gods let fall; Achilles so let fly\nRage on the Trojans, toils and shrieks as much by him impos\u2019d.\nOld Priam in his sacred tow\u2019r stood, and the flight disclos\u2019d\nOf his forc\u2019d people, all in rout, and not a stroke return\u2019d\nBy fled resistance. His eyes saw in what a fury burn\u2019d\nThe son of Pele\u00fcs, and down went weeping from the tow\u2019r\nTo all the port-guards, and their chiefs told of his flying pow\u2019r.\nCommanding th\u2019 op\u2019ning of the ports, but not to let their hands\nStir from them, for \u00c6acides would pour in with his bands.\n\u201cDestruction comes, O shut them strait, when we are in,\u201d he pray\u2019d,\n\u201cFor not our walls I fear will check this violent man.\u201d This said,\nOff lifted they the bars, the ports hal\u2019d open, and they gave\nSafety her entry with the host; which yet they could not save,\nHad not Apollo sallied out, and strook destructi\u00f3n,\nBrought by Achilles in their necks, back; when they right upon\nThe ports bore all, dry, dusty, spent; and on their shoulders rode\nRabid Achilles with his lance, still glory being the goad\nThat prick\u2019d his fury. Then the Greeks high-ported Ilion\nHad seiz\u2019d, had not Apollo stirr\u2019d Antenor\u2019s famous son,\nDivine Agenor, and cast in an undertaking spirit\nTo his bold bosom, and himself stood by to strengthen it,\nAnd keep the heavy hand of death from breaking in. The God\nStood by him, leaning on a beech, and cover\u2019d his abode.\nWith night-like darkness; yet for all the spirit he inspir\u2019d,\nWhen that great city-razer\u2019s force his thoughts strook, he retir\u2019d,\nStood, and went on; a world of doubts still falling in his way;\nWhen, angry with himself, he said: \u201cWhy suffer I this stay\nIn this so strong need to go on? If, like the rest, I fly,\n\u2019Tis his best weapon to give chace, being swift, and I should die\nLike to a coward. If I stand, I fall too. These two ways\nPlease not my purpose; I would live. What if I suffer these\nStill to be routed, and, my feet affording further length,\nPass all these fields of Ilion, till Ida\u2019s sylvan strength\nAnd steep heights shroud me, and at even refresh me in the flood,\nAnd turn to Ilion? O my soul? why drown\u2019st thou in the blood\nOf these discourses? If this course, that talks of further flight,\nI give my feet, his feet more swift have more odds. Get he sight\nOf that pass, I pass least; for pace, and length of pace, his thighs\nWill stand out all men. Meet him then; my steel hath faculties\nOf pow\u2019r to pierce him; his great breast but one soul holds, and that\nDeath claims his right in, all men say; but he holds special state\nIn Jove\u2019s high bounty; that\u2019s past man, that ev\u2019ry way will hold,\nAnd that serves all men ev\u2019ry way.\u201d This last heart made him bold\nTo stand Achilles, and stirr\u2019d up a mighty mind to blows.\nAnd as a panther, having heard the hounds\u2019 trail, doth disclose\nHer freckled forehead, and stares forth from out some deep-grown wood\nTo try what strength dares her abroad; and when her fi\u2019ry blood\nThe hounds have kindled, no quench serves of love to live or fear,\nThough strook, though wounded, though quite through she feels the\nmortal spear,\nBut till the man\u2019s close strength she tries, or strows earth with his\ndart,\nShe puts her strength out; so it far\u2019d with brave Agenor\u2019s heart,\nAnd till Achilles he had prov\u2019d, no thoughts, no deeds, once stirr\u2019d\nHis fix\u00e9d foot. To his broad breast his round shield he preferr\u2019d,\nAnd up his arm went with his aim, his voice out with this cry:\n\u201cThy hope is too great, Peleus\u2019 son, this day to show thine eye\nTroy\u2019s Ilion at thy foot. O fool! the Greeks with much more woes,\nMore than are suffer\u2019d yet, must buy great Ilion\u2019s overthrows.\nWe are within her many strong, that for our parents\u2019 sakes,\nOur wives and children, will save Troy; and thou, though he that makes\nThy name so terrible, shalt make a sacrifice to her\nWith thine own ruins.\u201d Thus he threw, nor did his jav\u2019lin err,\nBut strook his foe\u2019s leg near his knee; the fervent steel did ring\nAgainst his tin greaves, and leapt back; the fire\u2019s strong-handed king\nGave virtue of repulse. And then \u00c6acides assail\u2019d\nDivine Agenor; but in vain, Apollo\u2019s pow\u2019r prevail\u2019d,\nAnd rapt Agenor from his reach; whom quietly he plac\u2019d\nWithout the skirmish, casting mists to save from being chac\u2019d\nHis tender\u2019d person; and (he gone) to give his soldiers \u2019scape,\nThe Deity turn\u2019d Achilles still, by putting on the shape\nOf him he thirsted; evermore he fed his eye, and fled,\nAnd he with all his knees pursu\u2019d. So cunningly he led,\nThat still he would be near his reach, to draw his rage, with hope,\nFar from the conflict; to the flood maintaining still the scope\nOf his attraction. In mean time, the other frighted pow\u2019rs\nCame to the city, comforted; when Troy and all her tow\u2019rs\nStrooted with fillers; none would stand to see who stay\u2019d without,\nWho scap\u2019d, and who came short. The ports cleft to receive the rout\nThat pour\u2019d itself in. Ev\u2019ry man was for himself. Most fleet\nMost fortunate. Whoever scap\u2019d, his head might thank his feet.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK.\n\n\n [1] The word is \u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03af\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd, which they translate _c\u00e6dens_, but properly\n signifies _dissipans, ut boves infestis cornibus_.\n\n\n [2] The rack or motion of the clouds, for the clouds.\n\n\n [3] Note the continued height and admired expression of Achilles\u2019\n glory.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAll Trojans hous\u2019d but Hector, only he\nKeeps field, and undergoes th\u2019 extremity.\n\u00c6acides assaulting, Hector flies,\nMinerva stays him, he resists, and dies.\nAchilles to his chariot doth enforce,\nAnd to the naval station drags his corse.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nHector, in Chi, to death is done,\nBy pow\u2019r of Peleus\u2019 angry son.\n\n\nThus, chas\u2019d like hinds, the Ilians took time to drink and eat,\nAnd to refresh them, getting off the mingled dust and sweat,\nAnd good strong rampires on instead. The Greeks then cast their shields\nAloft their shoulders; and now Fate their near invasion yields\nOf those tough walls, her deadly hand compelling Hector\u2019s stay\nBefore Troy at the Sc\u00e6an ports. Achilles still made way\nAt Ph\u0153bus, who his bright head turn\u2019d, and ask\u2019d: \u201cWhy, Peleus\u2019 son,\nPursu\u2019st thou, being a man, a God? Thy rage hath never done.\nAcknowledge not thine eyes my state? Esteems thy mind no more\nThy honour in the chase of Troy, but puts my chase before\nTheir utter conquest? They are all now hous\u2019d in Ilion,\nWhile thou hunt\u2019st me. What wishest thou? My blood will never run\nOn thy proud jav\u2019lin.\u201d \u201cIt is thou,\u201d replied \u00c6acides,\n\u201cThat putt\u2019st dishonour thus on me, thou worst of Deities.\nThou turn\u2019dst me from the walls, whose ports had never entertain\u2019d\nNumbers now enter\u2019d, over whom thy saving hand hath reign\u2019d,\nAnd robb\u2019d my honour; and all is, since all thy actions stand\nPast fear of reck\u2019ning. But held I the measure in my hand,\nIt should afford thee dear-bought scapes.\u201d Thus with elated spirits,\nSteed-like, that at Olympus\u2019 games wears garlands for his merits,\nAnd rattles home his chariot, extending all his pride,\nAchilles so parts with the God. When aged Priam spied\nThe great Greek come, spher\u2019d round with beams and showing as if the\nstar,\nSurnam\u2019d Orion\u2019s hound, that springs in autumn, and sends far\nHis radiance through a world of stars, of all whose beams his own\nCast greatest splendour, the midnight that renders them most shown\nThen being their foil; and on their points, cure-passing fevers then\nCome shaking down into the joints of miserable men;\nAs this were fall\u2019n to earth, and shot along the field his rays\nNow towards Priam, when he saw in great \u00c6acides,\nOut flew his tender voice in shrieks, and with rais\u2019d hands he smit\nHis rev\u2019rend head, then up to heav\u2019n he cast them, showing it\nWhat plagues it sent him, down again then threw them to his son,\nTo make him shun them. He now stood without steep Ilion,\nThirsting the combat; and to him thus miserably cried\nThe kind old king: \u201cO Hector, fly this man, this homicide,\nThat straight will stroy thee. He\u2019s too strong, and would to heav\u2019n he\nwere\nAs strong in heav\u2019n\u2019s love as in mine! Vultures and dogs should tear\nHis prostrate carcass, all my woes quench\u2019d with his bloody spirits.\nHe has robb\u2019d me of many sons and worthy, and their merits\nSold to far islands. Two of them, ah me! I miss but now,\nThey are not enter\u2019d, nor stay here. Laothoe, O \u2019twas thou,\nO queen of women, from whose womb they breath\u2019d. O did the tents\nDetain them only, brass and gold would purchase safe events\nTo their sad durance; \u2019tis within; old Altes, young in fame,\nGave plenty for his daughter\u2019s dow\u2019r; but if they fed the flame\nOf this man\u2019s fury, woe is me, woe to my wretched queen!\nBut in our state\u2019s woe their two deaths will nought at all be seen,\nSo thy life quit them. Take the town, retire, dear son, and save\nTroy\u2019s husbands and her wives, nor give thine own life to the grave\nFor this man\u2019s glory. Pity me, me, wretch, so long alive,\nWhom in the door of age Jove keeps: that so he may deprive\nMy being, in fortune\u2019s utmost curse, to see the blackest thread\nOf this life\u2019s mis\u2019ries, my sons slain, my daughters ravish\u00e9d,\nTheir resting chambers sack\u2019d, their babes, torn from them, on their\nknees\nPleading for mercy, themselves dragg\u2019d to Grecian slaveries,\nAnd all this drawn through my red eyes. Then last of all kneel I,\nAlone, all helpless at my gates, before my enemy,\nThat ruthless gives me to my dogs, all the deformity\nOf age discover\u2019d; and all this thy death, sought wilfully,\nWill pour on me. A fair young man at all parts it beseems,\nBeing bravely slain, to lie all gash\u2019d, and wear the worst extremes\nOf war\u2019s most cruelty; no wound, of whatsoever ruth,\nBut is his ornament; but I, a man so far from youth,\nWhite head, white-bearded, wrinkled, pin\u2019d, all shames must show the\neye.\nLive, prevent this then, this most shame of all man\u2019s misery.\u201d\nThus wept the old king, and tore off his white hair; yet all these\nRetir\u2019d not Hector. Hecuba then fell upon her knees,\nStripp\u2019d nak\u2019d her bosom, show\u2019d her breasts, and bad him rev\u2019rence\nthem,\nAnd pity her. If ever she had quieted his exclaim,\nHe would cease hers, and take the town, not tempting the rude field\nWhen all had left it: \u201cThink,\u201d said she, \u2018I gave thee life to yield\nMy life recomfort; thy rich wife shall have no rites of thee,\nNor do thee rites; our tears shall pay thy corse no obsequy,\nBeing ravish\u2019d from us, Grecian dogs nourish\u2019d with what I nurs\u2019d.\u201d\nThus wept both these, and to his ruth propos\u2019d the utmost worst\nOf what could chance them; yet he stay\u2019d. And now drew deadly near\nMighty Achilles; yet he still kept deadly station there.\nLook how a dragon, when she sees a traveller bent upon\nHer breeding den, her bosom fed with full contagi\u00f3n,\nGathers her forces, sits him firm, and at his nearest pace\nWraps all her cavern in her folds, and thrusts a horrid face\nOut at his entry; Hector so, with unextinguish\u2019d spirit,\nStood great Achilles, stirr\u2019d no foot, but at the prominent turret\nBent to his bright shield, and resolv\u2019d to bear fall\u2019n heav\u2019n on it.\nYet all this resolute abode did not so truly fit\nHis free election; but he felt a much more galling spur\nTo the performance, with conceit of what he should incur\nEnt\u2019ring, like others, for this cause; to which he thus gave way:\n\u201cO me, if I shall take the town, Polydamas will lay\nThis flight and all this death on me; who counsell\u2019d me to lead\nMy pow\u2019rs to Troy this last black night, when so I saw make head\nIncens\u2019d Achilles. I yet stay\u2019d, though, past all doubt, that course\nHad much more profited than mine; which; being by so much worse\nAs comes to all our flight and death, my folly now I fear\nHath bred this scandal, all our town now burns my ominous ear\nWith whisp\u2019ring: \u2018Hector\u2019s self-conceit hath cast away his host.\u2019\nAnd, this true, this extremity that I rely on most\nIs best for me: stay, and retire with this man\u2019s life; or die\nHere for our city with renown, since all else fled but I.\nAnd yet one way cuts both these ways: What if I hang my shield\nMy helm and lance here on these walls, and meet in humble field\nRenown\u2019d Achilles, off\u2019ring him Helen and all the wealth,\nWhatever in his hollow keels bore Alexander\u2019s stealth\nFor both th\u2019 Atrides? For the rest, whatever is possess\u2019d\nIn all this city, known or hid, by oath shall be confess\u2019d\nOf all our citizens; of which one half the Greeks shall have,\nOne half themselves. But why, lov\u2019d soul, would these suggestions save\nThy state still in me? I\u2019ll not sue; nor would he grant, but I,\nMine arms cast off, should be assur\u2019d a woman\u2019s death to die.\nTo men of oak and rock, no words; virgins and youths talk thus,\nVirgins and youths that love and woo; there\u2019s other war with us;\nWhat blows and conflicts urge, we cry, hates and defiances,\nAnd, with the garlands these trees bear, try which hand Jove will\nbless.\u201d\nThese thoughts employ\u2019d his stay; and now Achilles comes, now near\nHis Mars-like presence terribly came brandishing his spear,\nHis right arm shook it, his bright arms like day came glitt\u2019ring on,\nLike fire-light, or the light of heav\u2019n shot from the rising sun,\nThis sight outwrought discourse, cold fear shook Hector from his stand;\nNo more stay now; all ports were left; he fled in fear the hand\nOf that Fear-Master; who, hawk-like, air\u2019s swiftest passenger,\nThat holds a tim\u2019rous dove in chase, and with command doth bear\nHis fi\u2019ry onset, the dove hastes, the hawk comes whizzing on,\nThis way and that he turns and winds, and cuffs the pige\u00f3n,\nAnd, till he truss it, his great spirit lays hot charge on his wing;\nSo urg\u2019d Achilles Hector\u2019s flight; so still fear\u2019s point did sting\nHis troubled spirit, his knees wrought hard, along the wall he flew,\nIn that fair chariot-way that runs, beneath the tow\u2019r of view,\nAnd Troy\u2019s wild fig-tree, till they reach\u2019d where those two\nmother-springs\nOf deep Scamander pour\u2019d abroad their silver murmurings;\nOne warm and casts out fumes as fire; the other cold as snow,\nOr hail dissolv\u2019d. And when the sun made ardent summer glow,\nThere water\u2019s concrete crystal shin\u2019d; near which were cisterns made,\nAll pav\u2019d and clear, where Trojan wives and their fair daughters had\nLaundry for their fine linen weeds, in times of cleanly peace,\nBefore the Grecians brought their siege. These captains noted these,\nOne flying, th\u2019 other in pursuit; a strong man flew before,\nA stronger follow\u2019d him by far, and close up to him bore;\nBoth did their best, for neither now ran for a sacrifice,\nOr for the sacrificer\u2019s hide, our runners\u2019 usual prize;\nThese ran for tame-horse Hector\u2019s soul. And as two running steeds,\nBack\u2019d in some set race for a game, that tries their swiftest speeds,\n(A tripod, or a woman, giv\u2019n for some man\u2019s funerals)\nSuch speed made these men, and on foot ran thrice about the walls.[1]\nThe Gods beheld them, all much mov\u2019d; and Jove said: \u201cO ill sight!\nA man I love much, I see forc\u2019d in most unworthy flight\nAbout great Ilion. My heart grieves; he paid so many vows,\nWith thighs of sacrific\u00e9d beeves, both on the lofty brows\nOf Ida, and in Ilion\u2019s height. Consult we, shall we free\nHis life from death, or give it now t\u2019 Achilles\u2019 victory?\u201d\nMinerva answer\u2019d: \u201cAlter Fate? One long since mark\u2019d for death?\nNow take from death? Do thou; but know, he still shall run beneath\nOur other censures.\u201d \u201cBe it then,\u201d replied the Thunderer,\n\u201cMy lov\u2019d Tritonia, at thy will; in this I will prefer\nThy free intention, work it all.\u201d Then stoop\u2019d She from the sky\nTo this great combat. Peleus\u2019 son pursu\u2019d incessantly\nStill-flying Hector. As a hound that having rous\u2019d a hart,\nAlthough he tappish ne\u2019er so oft, and ev\u2019ry shrubby part\nAttempts for strength, and trembles in, the hound doth still pursue\nSo close that not a foot he fails, but hunts it still at view;\nSo plied Achilles Hector\u2019s steps; as oft as he assay\u2019d\nThe Dardan ports and tow\u2019rs for strength (to fetch from thence some aid\nWith wing\u00e9d shafts) so oft forc\u2019d he amends of pace, and stept\n\u2018Twixt him and all his hopes, and still upon the field he kept\nHis utmost turnings to the town. And yet, as in a dream,\nOne thinks he gives another chase, when such a fain\u2019d extreme\nPossesseth both, that he in chase the chaser cannot fly,\nNor can the chaser get to hand his flying enemy;[2]\nSo nor Achilles\u2019 chase could reach the flight of Hector\u2019s pace,\nNor Hector\u2019s flight enlarge itself of swift Achilles\u2019 chace.\nBut how chanc\u2019d this? How, all this time, could Hector bear the knees\nOf fierce Achilles with his own, and keep off destinies,\nIf Ph\u0153bus, for his last and best, through all that course had fail\u2019d\nTo add his succours to his nerves, and, as his foe assail\u2019d\nNear and within him, fed his \u2019scape? Achilles yet well knew\nHis knees would fetch him, and gave signs to some friends (making shew\nOf shooting at him) to forbear, lest they detracted so\nFrom his full glory in first wounds, and in the overthrow\nMake his hand last. But when they reach\u2019d the fourth time the two\nfounts,\nThen Jove his golden scales weigh\u2019d up, and took the last accounts\nOf fate for Hector, putting in for him and Peleus\u2019 son\nTwo fates of bitter death; of which high heav\u2019n receiv\u2019d the one,\nThe other hell; so low declin\u2019d the light of Hector\u2019s life.\nThen Ph\u0153bus left him, when war\u2019s Queen came to resolve the strife\nIn th\u2019 other\u2019s knowledge: \u201cNow,\u201d said she, \u201cJove-lov\u2019d \u00c6acides,\nI hope at last to make renown perform a brave access\nTo all the Grecians; we shall now lay low this champion\u2019s height,\nThough never so insatiate was his great heart of fight.\nNor must he \u2019scape our p\u00farsuit still, though at the feet of Jove\nApollo bows into a sphere, soliciting more love\nTo his most favour\u2019d. Breathe thee then, stand firm, myself will haste\nAnd hearten Hector to change blows.\u201d She went, and he stood fast,\nLean\u2019d on his lance, and much was joy\u2019d that single strokes should try\nThis fadging conflict. Then came close the chang\u00e9d Deity\nTo Hector, like Deiphobus in shape and voice, and said:\n\u201cO brother, thou art too much urg\u2019d to be thus combated\nAbout our own walls; let us stand, and force to a retreat\nTh\u2019 insulting chaser.\u201d Hector joy\u2019d at this so kind deceit,\nAnd said: \u201cO good Deiphobus, thy love was most before\n(Of all my brothers) dear to me, but now exceeding more\nIt costs me honour, that, thus urg\u2019d, thou com\u2019st to part the charge\nOf my last fortunes; other friends keep town, and leave at large\nMy rack\u2019d endeavours.\u201d She replied: \u201cGood brother, \u2019tis most true,\nOne after other, king and queen, and all our friends, did sue,\nEv\u2019n on their knees, to stay me there, such tremblings shake them all\nWith this man\u2019s terror; but my mind so griev\u2019d to see our wall\nGirt with thy chases, that to death I long\u2019d to urge thy stay.\nCome, fight we, thirsty of his blood; no more let\u2019s fear to lay\nCost on our lances, but approve, if, bloodied with our spoils,\nHe can bear glory to their fleet, or shut up all their toils\nIn his one suff\u2019rance on thy lance.\u201d With this deceit she led,\nAnd, both come near, thus Hector spake: \u201cThrice have I compass\u00e9d\nThis great town, Peleus\u2019 son, in flight, with aversation\nThat out of fate put off my steps; but now all flight is flown,\nThe short course set up, death or life. Our resolutions yet\nMust shun all rudeness, and the Gods before our valour set\nFor use of victory; and they being worthiest witnesses\nOf all vows, since they keep vows best, before their Deities\nLet vows of fit respect pass both, when conquest hath bestow\u2019d\nHer wreath on either. Here I vow no fury shall be show\u2019d,\nThat is not manly, on thy corse, but, having spoil\u2019d thy arms,\nResign thy person; which swear thou.\u201d These fair and temp\u2019rate terms\nFar fled Achilles; his brows bent, and out flew this reply:\n\u201cHector, thou only pestilence in all mortality\nTo my sere spirits, never set the point \u2019twixt thee and me\nAny conditions; but as far as men and lions fly\nAll terms of cov\u2019nant, lambs and wolves; in so far opposite state,\nImpossible for love t\u2019 atone, stand we, till our souls satiate\nThe God of soldiers. Do not dream that our disjunction can\nEndure condition. Therefore now, all worth that fits a man\nCall to thee, all particular parts that fit a soldier,\nAnd they all this include (besides the skill and spirit of war)\nHunger for slaughter, and a hate that eats thy heart to eat\nThy foe\u2019s heart. This stirs, this supplies in death the killing heat;\nAnd all this need\u2019st thou. No more flight. Pallas Athenia\nWill quickly cast thee to my lance. Now, now together draw\nAll griefs for vengeance, both in me, and all my friends late dead\nThat bled thee, raging with thy lance.\u201d This said, he brandish\u00e9d\nHis long lance, and away it sung; which Hector giving view,\nStoop\u2019d low, stood firm, foreseeing it best, and quite it overflew,\nFast\u2019ning on earth. Athenia drew it, and gave her friend,\nUnseen of Hector. Hector then thus spake: \u201cThou want\u2019st thy end,\nGod-like Achilles. Now I see, thou hast not learn\u2019d my fate\nOf Jove at all, as thy high words would bravely intimate.\nMuch tongue affects thee. Cunning words well serve thee to prepare\nThy blows with threats, that mine might faint with want of spirit to\ndare.\nBut my back never turns with breath; it was not born to bear\nBurthens of wounds; strike home before; drive at my breast thy spear,\nAs mine at thine shall, and try then if heav\u2019n\u2019s will favour thee\nWith scape of my lance. O would Jove would take it after me,\nAnd make thy bosom take it all! An easy end would crown\nOur difficult wars, were thy soul fled, thou most bane of our town.\u201d\nThus flew his dart, touch\u2019d at the midst of his black shield, and flew\nA huge way from it; but his heart wrath enter\u2019d with the view\nOf that hard scape, and heavy thoughts strook through him, when he\nspied\nHis brother vanish\u2019d, and no lance beside left; out he cried:\n\u201cDeiphobus, another lance.\u201d Lance nor Deiphobus\nStood near his call. And then his mind saw all things ominous,\nAnd thus suggested: \u201cWoe is me, the Gods have call\u2019d, and I\nMust meet death here! Deiphobus I well hop\u2019d had been by\nWith his white shield; but our strong walls shield him, and this deceit\nFlows from Minerva. Now, O now, ill death comes, no more flight,\nNo more recovery. O Jove, this hath been otherwise;\nThy bright son and thyself have set the Greeks a greater prize\nOf Hector\u2019s blood than now; of which, ev\u2019n jealous, you had care,\nBut Fate now conquers; I am hers; and yet not she shall share\nIn my renown; that life is left to every noble spirit,\nAnd that some great deed shall beget that all lives shall inherit.\u201d\nThus, forth his sword flew, sharp and broad, and bore a deadly weight,\nWith which he rush\u2019d in. And look how an eagle from her height\nStoops to the rapture of a lamb, or cuffs a tim\u2019rous hare;\nSo fell in Hector; and at him Achilles; his mind\u2019s fare\nWas fierce and mighty, his shield cast a sun-like radiance,\nHelm nodded, and his four plumes shook, and, when he rais\u2019d his lance,\nUp Hesp\u2019rus rose \u2019mongst th\u2019 evening stars. His bright and sparkling\neyes\nLook\u2019d through the body of his foe, and sought through all that prise\nThe next way to his thirsted life. Of all ways, only one\nAppear\u2019d to him, and that was where th\u2019 unequal winding bone,\nThat joins the shoulders and the neck, had place, and where there lay\nThe speeding way to death; and there his quick eye could display\nThe place it sought, e\u2019en through those arms his friend Patroclus wore\nWhen Hector slew him. There he aim\u2019d, and there his jav\u2019lin tore\nStern passage quite through Hector\u2019s neck; yet miss\u2019d it so his throat\nIt gave him pow\u2019r to change some words; but down to earth it got\nHis fainting body. Then triumph\u2019d divine \u00c6acides:\n\u201cHector,\u201d said he, \u201cthy heart suppos\u2019d that in my friend\u2019s decease\nThy life was safe; my absent arm not car\u2019d for. Fool! he left\nOne at the fleet that better\u2019d him, and he it is that reft\nThy strong knees thus; and now the dogs and fowls in foulest use\nShall tear thee up, thy corse expos\u2019d to all the Greeks\u2019 abuse.\u201d\nHe, fainting, said: \u201cLet me implore, ev\u2019n by thy knees and soul,\nAnd thy great parents, do not see a cruelty so foul\nInflicted on me. Brass and gold receive at any rate,\nAnd quit my person, that the peers and ladies of our state\nMay tomb it, and to sacred fire turn thy profane decrees.\u201d\n\u201cDog,\u201d he replied, \u201curge not my ruth, by parents, soul, nor knees.\nI would to God that any rage would let me eat thee raw,\nSlic\u2019d into pieces, so beyond the right of any law\nI taste thy merits! And, believe, it flies the force of man\nTo rescue thy head from the dogs. Give all the gold they can,\nIf ten or twenty times so much as friends would rate thy price\nWere tender\u2019d here, with vows of more, to buy the cruelties\nI here have vow\u2019d, and after that thy father with his gold\nWould free thyself; all that should fail to let thy mother hold\nSolemnities of death with thee, and do thee such a grace\nTo mourn thy whole corse on a bed; which piecemeal I\u2019ll deface\nWith fowls and dogs.\u201d He, dying, said: \u201cI, knowing thee well, foresaw\nThy now tried tyranny, nor hop\u2019d for any other law,\nOf nature, or of nations; and that fear forc\u2019d much more\nThan death my flight, which never touch\u2019d at Hector\u2019s foot before.\nA soul of iron informs thee. Mark, what vengeance th\u2019 equal fates\nWill give me of thee for this rage, when in the Sc\u00e6an gates\nPh\u0153bus and Paris meet with thee.\u201d Thus death\u2019s hand clos\u2019d his eyes,\nHis soul flying his fair limbs to hell, mourning his destinies,\nTo part so with his youth and strength. Thus dead, thus Thetis\u2019 son\nHis prophecy answer\u2019d: \u201cDie thou now. When my short thread is spun,\nI\u2019ll bear it as the will of Jove.\u201d This said, his brazen spear\nHe drew, and stuck by; then his arms, that all embru\u00e9d were,\nHe spoil\u2019d his shoulders of. Then all the Greeks ran in to him,\nTo see his person, and admir\u2019d his terror-stirring limb;\nYet none stood by that gave no wound to his so goodly form;\nWhen each to other said: \u201cO Jove, he is not in the storm\nHe came to fleet in with his fire, he handles now more soft.\u201d\n\u201cO friends,\u201d said stern \u00c6acides, \u201cnow that the Gods have brought\nThis man thus down, I\u2019ll freely say, he brought more bane to Greece\nThan all his aiders. Try we then, thus arm\u2019d at ev\u2019ry piece,\nAnd girding all Troy with our host, if now their hearts will leave\nTheir city clear, her clear stay slain, and all their lives receive,\nOr hold yet, Hector being no more. But why use I a word\nOf any act but what concerns my friend? Dead, undeplor\u2019d,\nUnsepulchred, he lies at fleet, unthought on! Never hour\nShall make his dead state, while the quick enjoys me, and this pow\u2019r\nTo move these movers. Though in hell, men say, that such as die\nOblivion seizeth, yet in hell in me shall Memory\nHold all her forms still of my friend. Now, youths of Greece, to fleet\nBear we this body, p\u00e6ans sing, and all our navy greet\nWith endless honour; we have slain Hector, the period\nOf all Troy\u2019s glory, to whose worth all vow\u2019d as to a God.\u201d\nThis said, a work not worthy him he set to; of both feet\nHe bor\u2019d the nerves through from the heel to th\u2019 ankle, and then knit\nBoth to his chariot with a thong of whitleather, his head[3]\nTrailing the centre. Up he got to chariot, where he laid\nThe arms repurchas\u2019d, and scourg\u2019d on his horse that freely flew.\nA whirlwind made of startled dust drave with them as they drew,\nWith which were all his black-brown curls knotted in heaps and fil\u2019d.\nAnd there lay Troy\u2019s late Gracious, by Jupiter exil\u2019d\nTo all disgrace in his own land, and by his parents seen;\nWhen, like her son\u2019s head, all with dust Troy\u2019s miserable queen\nDistain\u2019d her temples, plucking off her honour\u2019d hair, and tore\nHer royal garments, shrieking out. In like kind Priam bore\nHis sacred person, like a wretch that never saw good day,\nBroken with outcries. About both the people prostrate lay,\nHeld down with clamour; all the town veil\u2019d with a cloud of tears.\nIlion, with all his tops on fire, and all the massacres,\nLeft for the Greeks, could put on looks of no more overthrow\nThan now fraid life. And yet the king did all their looks outshow.\nThe wretched people could not bear his sov\u2019reign wretchedness,\nPlaguing himself so, thrusting out, and praying all the press\nTo open him the Dardan ports, that he alone might fetch\nHis dearest son in, and (all fil\u2019d with tumbling) did beseech\nEach man by name, thus: \u201cLov\u2019d friends, be you content, let me,\nThough much ye grieve, be that poor mean to our sad remedy\nNow in our wishes; I will go and pray this impious man,\nAuthor of horrors, making proof if age\u2019s rev\u2019rence can\nExcite his pity. His own sire is old like me; and he\nThat got him to our griefs, perhaps, may, for my likeness, be\nMean for our ruth to him. Alas, you have no cause of cares,\nCompar\u2019d with me! I many sons, grac\u2019d with their freshest years,\nHave lost by him, and all their deaths in slaughter of this one\n(Afflicted man) are doubled. This will bitterly set gone\nMy soul to hell. O would to heaven I could but hold him dead\nIn these pin\u2019d arms, then tears on tears might fall, till all were shed\nIn common fortune! Now amaze their natural course doth stop,\nAnd pricks a mad vein.\u201d Thus he mourn\u2019d, and with him all break ope\nTheir store of sorrows. The poor Queen amongst the women wept\nTurn\u2019d into anguish: \u201cO my son,\u201d she cried out, \u201cwhy still kept\nPatient of horrors is my life, when thine is vanish\u00e9d?\nMy days thou glorifi\u2019dst, my nights rung of some honour\u2019d deed\nDone by thy virtues, joy to me, profit to all our care.\nAll made a God of thee, and thou mad\u2019st them all that they are,\nNow under fate, now dead.\u201d These two thus vented as they could\nThere sorrow\u2019s furnace; Hector\u2019s wife not having yet been told\nSo much as of his stay without. She in her chamber close\nSat at her loom; a piece of work, grac\u2019d with a both sides\u2019 gloss,\nStrew\u2019d curiously with varied flowers, her pleasure was; her care,\nTo heat a caldron for her lord, to bathe him turn\u2019d from war,\nOf which she chief charge gave her maids. Poor dame, she little knew\nHow much her cares lack\u2019d of his case! But now the clamour flew\nUp to her turret; then she shook, her work fell from her hand,\nAnd up she started, call\u2019d her maids, she needs must understand\nThat ominous outcry: \u201cCome,\u201d said she, I hear through all this cry\nMy mother\u2019s voice shriek; to my throat my heart bounds; ecstasy\nUtterly alters me; some fate is near the hapless sons\nOf fading Priam. Would to God my words\u2019 suspici\u00f3ns\nNo ear had heard yet! O I fear, and that most heartily,\nThat, with some stratagem, the son of Peleus hath put by\nThe wall of Ilion my lord, and, trusty of his feet,\nObtain\u2019d the chase of him alone, and now the curious heat\nOf his still desp\u2019rate spirit is cool\u2019d. It let him never keep\nIn guard of others; before all his violent foot must step,\nOr his place forfeited he held.\u201d Thus fury-like she went,\nTwo women, as she will\u2019d, at hand; and made her quick ascent\nUp to the tow\u2019r and press of men, her spirit in uproar. Round\nShe cast her greedy eye, and saw her Hector slain, and bound\nT\u2019 Achilles\u2019 chariot, manlessly dragg\u2019d to the Grecian fleet.\nBlack night strook through her, under her trance took away her feet,\nAnd back she shrunk with such a sway that off her head-tire flew,\nHer coronet, caul, ribands, veil that golden Venus threw\nOn her white shoulders that high day when warlike Hector won\nHer hand in nuptials in the court of king Eetion,\nAnd that great dow\u2019r then giv\u2019n with her. About her, on their knees,\nHer husband\u2019s sisters, brothers\u2019 wives, fell round, and by degrees\nRecover\u2019d her. Then, when again her respirations found\nFree pass (her mind and spirit met) these thoughts her words did sound:\n\u201cO Hector, O me, curs\u00e9d dame, both born beneath one fate,\nThou here, I in Cilician Thebes, where Placus doth elate\nHis shady forehead, in the court where king Eetion,\nHapless, begot unhappy me; which would he had not done,\nTo live past thee! Thou now art div\u2019d to Pluto\u2019s gloomy throne,\nSunk through the coverts of the earth; I, in a hell of moan,\nLeft here thy widow; one poor babe born to unhappy both,\nWhom thou leav\u2019st helpless as he thee, he born to all the wroth\nOf woe and labour. Lands left him will others seize upon;\nThe orphan day of all friends\u2019 helps robs ev\u2019ry mother\u2019s son.\nAn orphan all men suffer sad; his eyes stand still with tears;\nNeed tries his father\u2019s friends, and fails; of all his favourers,\nIf one the cup gives, \u2019tis not long, the wine he finds in it\nScarce moists his palate; if he chance to gain the grace to sit,\nSurviving fathers\u2019 sons repine, use contumelies, strike,\nBid, \u2018leave us, where\u2019s thy father\u2019s place?\u2019 He, weeping with dislike,\nRetires to me, to me, alas! Astyanax is he\nBorn to these mis\u2019ries; he that late fed on his father\u2019s knee,\nTo whom all knees bow\u2019d, daintiest fare appos\u2019d him; and when sleep\nLay on his temples, his cries still\u2019d, his heart ev\u2019n laid in steep\nOf all things precious, a soft bed, a careful nurse\u2019s arms,\nTook him to guardiance. But now as huge a world of harms\nLies on his suff\u2019rance; now thou want\u2019st thy father\u2019s hand to friend,\nO my Astyanax; O my lord, thy hand that did defend\nThese gates of Ilion, these long walls by thy arm measur\u2019d still\nAmply and only. Yet at fleet thy naked corse must fill\nVile worms, when dogs are satiate, far from thy parents\u2019 care,\nFar from those fun\u2019ral ornaments that thy mind would prepare\n(So sudden being the chance of arms) ever expecting death.\nWhich task, though my heart would not serve t\u2019 employ my hands beneath,\nI made my women yet perform. Many, and much in price,\nWere those integuments they wrought t\u2019 adorn thy exsequies;\nWhich, since they fly thy use, thy corse not laid in their attire,\nThy sacrifice they shall be made; these hands in mischievous fire\nShall vent their vanities. And yet, being consecrate to thee,\nThey shall be kept for citizens, and their fair wives, to see.\u201d\nThus spake she weeping; all the dames endeavouring to cheer\nHer desert state, fearing their own, wept with her tear for tear.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Up and down the walls, it is to be understood.\n\n\n [2] A most ingenious simile, used (as all our Homer besides) by\n Virgil, but this as a translator merely.\n\n\n [3] Achilles\u2019 tyranny to Hector\u2019s person, which we lay on his fury and\n love to his slain friend, for whom himself living suffered so much.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nAchilles orders justs of exsequies\nFor his Patroclus; and doth sacrifice\nTwelve Trojan princes, most lov\u2019d hounds and horse,\nAnd other off\u2019rings, to the honour\u2019d corse.\nHe institutes, besides, a Funeral Game;\nWhere Diomed, for horse-race, wins the fame;\nFor foot, Ulysses; others otherwise\nStrive, and obtain; and end the Exsequies.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nPsi sings the rites of the decease,\nOrdain\u2019d by great \u00c6acides.\n\n\nThus mourn\u2019d all Troy. But when at fleet and Hellespontus\u2019 shore\nThe Greeks arriv\u2019d, each to his ship; only the Conqueror\nKept undispers\u2019d his Myrmidons, and said, \u201cLov\u2019d countrymen\nDisjoin not we chariots and horse, but, bearing hard our rein,\nWith state of both, march soft and close, and mourn about the corse;\n\u2019Tis proper honour to the dead. Then take we out our horse,\nWhen with our friends\u2019 kind woe our hearts have felt delight to do\nA virtuous soul right, and then sup.\u201d This said, all full of woe\nCircled the corse; Achilles led, and thrice, about him close,\nAll bore their goodly-coated horse. Amongst all Thetis rose,\nAnd stirr\u2019d up a delight in grief, till all their arms with tears,\nAnd all the sands, were wet; so much they lov\u2019d that Lord of Fears.\nThen to the centre fell the prince; and, putting in the breast\nOf his slain friend his slaught\u2019ring hands, began to all the rest\nWords to their tears: \u201cRejoice, said he, \u201cO my Patroclus, thou\nCourted by Dis now. Now I pay to thy late overthrow\nAll my revenges vow\u2019d before. Hector lies slaughter\u2019d here\nDragg\u2019d at my chariot, and our dogs shall all in pieces tear\nHis hated limbs. Twelve Trojan youths, born of their noblest strains,\nI took alive; and, yet enrag\u2019d, will empty all their veins\nOf vital spirits, sacrific\u2019d before thy heap of fire.\u201d\nThis said, a work unworthy him he put upon his ire,\nAnd trampled Hector under foot at his friend\u2019s feet. The rest\nDisarm\u2019d, took horse from chariot, and all to sleep address\u2019d\nAt his black vessel. Infinite were those that rested there.\nHimself yet sleeps not, now his spirits were wrought about the cheer\nFit for so high a funeral. About the steel us\u2019d then\nOxen in heaps lay bellowing, preparing food for men;\nBleating of sheep and goats fill\u2019d air; numbers of white-tooth\u2019d swine,\nSwimming in fat, lay singeing there. The person of the slain\nWas girt with slaughter. All this done, all the Greek kings convey\u2019d\nAchilles to the King of men; his rage not yet allay\u2019d\nFor his Patroclus. Being arriv\u2019d at Agamemnon\u2019s tent,\nHimself bade heralds put to fire a caldron, and present\nThe service of it to the prince, to try if they could win\nHis pleasure to admit their pains to cleanse the blood soak\u2019d in\nAbout his conqu\u2019ring hands and brows. \u201cNot by the King of Heav\u2019n,\u201d\nHe swore. \u201cThe laws of friendship damn this false-heart licence giv\u2019n\nTo men that lose friends. Not a drop shall touch me till I put\nPatroclus in the fun\u2019ral pile, before these curls be cut,\nHis tomb erected. \u2019Tis the last of all care I shall take,\nWhile I consort the careful. Yet, for your entreaties\u2019 sake,\nAnd though I loathe food, I will eat. But early in the morn,\nAtrides, use your strict command that loads of wood be borne\nTo our design\u2019d place, all that fits to light home such a one\nAs is to pass the shades of death, that fire enough set gone\nHis person quickly from our eyes, and our diverted men\nMay ply their business.\u201d This all ears did freely entertain,\nAnd found observance. Then they supp\u2019d with all things fit, and all\nRepair\u2019d to tents and rest. The friend the shores maritimal\nSought for his bed, and found a place, fair, and upon which play\u2019d\nThe murmuring billows. There his limbs to rest, not sleep, he laid,\nHeavily sighing. Round about, silent and not too near,\nStood all his Myrmidons; when straight, so over-labour\u2019d were\nHis goodly lineaments with chase of Hector, that, beyond\nHis resolution not to sleep, Sleep cast his sudden bond\nOver his sense, and loos\u2019d his care. Then of his wretched friend\nThe Soul appear\u2019d; at ev\u2019ry part the form did comprehend\nHis likeness; his fair eyes, his voice, his stature, ev\u2019ry weed\nHis person wore, it fantasied; and stood above his head,\nThis sad speech utt\u2019ring: \u201cDost thou sleep? \u00c6acides, am I\nForgotten of thee? Being alive, I found thy memory\nEver respectful; but now, dead, thy dying love abates.\nInter me quickly, enter me in Pluto\u2019s iron gates,\nFor now the souls (the shades) of men, fled from this being, beat\nMy spirit from rest, and stay my much-desir\u2019d receipt\nAmongst souls plac\u2019d beyond the flood. Now ev\u2019ry way I err\nAbout this broad-door\u2019d house of Dis. O help then to prefer\nMy soul yet further! Here I mourn, but, had the fun\u2019ral fire\nConsum\u2019d my body, never more my spirit should retire\nFrom hell\u2019s low regi\u00f3n; from thence souls never are retriev\u2019d\nTo talk with friends here; nor shall I; a hateful fate depriv\u2019d\nMy being here, that at my birth was fix\u2019d; and to such fate\nEv\u2019n thou, O god-like man, art mark\u2019d; the deadly Ilion gate\nMust entertain thy death. O then, I charge thee now, take care\nThat our bones part not; but as life combin\u2019d in equal fare\nOur loving beings, so let death. When from Opunta\u2019s tow\u2019rs\nMy father brought me to your roofs (since, \u2019gainst my will, my pow\u2019rs\nIncens\u2019d, and indiscreet at dice, slew fair Amphidamas)\nThen Peleus entertain\u2019d me well; then in thy charge I was\nBy his injunction and thy love; and therein let me still\nReceive protection. Both our bones, provide in thy last will,\nThat one urn may contain; and make that vessel all of gold,\nThat Thetis gave thee, that rich urn.\u201d This said, Sleep ceas\u2019d to hold\nAchilles\u2019 temples, and the Shade thus he receiv\u2019d: \u201cO friend,\nWhat needed these commands? My care, before, meant to commend\nMy bones to thine, and in that urn. Be sure thy will is done.\nA little stay yet, let\u2019s delight, with some full passi\u00f3n\nOf woe enough, either\u2019s affects; embrace we.\u201d Op\u2019ning thus\nHis greedy arms, he felt no friend; like matter vaporous\nThe Spirit vanish\u2019d under earth, and murmur\u2019d in his stoop.\nAchilles started, both his hands he clapp\u2019d, and lifted up,\nIn this sort wond\u2019ring: \u201cO ye Gods, I see we have a soul\nIn th\u2019 under-dwellings, and a kind of man-resembling idol;\nThe soul\u2019s seat yet, all matter felt, stays with the carcass here.\nO friends, hapless Patroclus\u2019 soul did all this night appear\nWeeping and making moan to me, commanding ev\u2019rything\nThat I intended towards him; so truly figuring\nHimself at all parts, as was strange.\u201d This accident did turn\nTo much more sorrow, and begat a greediness to mourn\nIn all that heard. When mourning thus, the rosy Morn arose,\nAnd Agamemnon through the tents wak\u2019d all, and did dispose\nBoth men and mules for carriage of matter for the fire;\nOf all which work Meriones, the Cretan sov\u2019reign\u2019s squire,\nWas captain; and abroad they went. Wood-cutting tools they bore\nOf all hands, and well-twisted cords. The mules march\u2019d all before.\nUphill, and down hill, overthwarts, and break-neck cliffs they pass\u2019d;\nBut, when the fountful Ida\u2019s tops they scal\u2019d with utmost haste,\nAll fell upon the high-hair\u2019d oaks, and down their curl\u00e9d brows,\nFell bustling to the earth, and up went all the boles and boughs\nBound to the mules; and back again they parted the harsh way\nAmongst them through the tangling shrubs, and long they thought the day\nTill in the plain field all arriv\u2019d, for all the woodmen bore\nLogs on their necks; Meriones would have it so. The shore\nAt last they reach\u2019d yet, and then down their carriages they cast,\nAnd sat upon them, where the son of Pele\u00fcs had plac\u2019d\nThe ground for his great sepulchre, and for his friend\u2019s, in one.\nThey rais\u2019d a huge pile, and to arms went ev\u2019ry Myrmidon,\nCharg\u2019d by Achilles; chariots and horse were harness\u00e9d.\nFighters and charioteers got up, and they the sad march led,\nA cloud of infinite foot behind. In midst of all was borne\nPatroclus\u2019 person by his peers. On him were all heads shorn,\nEv\u2019n till they cover\u2019d him with curls. Next to him march\u2019d his friend\nEmbracing his cold neck all sad, since now he was to send\nHis dearest to his endless home. Arriv\u2019d all where the wood\nWas heap\u2019d for fun\u2019ral, they set down. Apart Achilles stood,\nAnd when enough wood was heap\u2019d on, he cut his golden hair,\nLong kept for Sperchius the flood, in hope of safe repair\nTo Phthia by that river\u2019s pow\u2019r; but now left hopeless thus,\nEnrag\u2019d, and looking on the sea, he cried out: \u201cSperchius,\nIn vain my father\u2019s piety vow\u2019d, at my implor\u2019d return\nTo my lov\u2019d country, that these curls should on thy shores be shorn,\nBesides a sacred hecatomb, and sacrifice beside\nOf fifty wethers, at those founts, where men have edified\nA lofty temple, and perfum\u2019d an altar to thy name.\nThere vow\u2019d he all these offerings; but fate prevents thy fame,\nHis hopes not suff\u2019ring satisfied. And since I never more\nShall see my lov\u2019d soil, my friend\u2019s hands shall to the Stygian shore\nConvey these tresses.\u201d Thus he put in his friend\u2019s hands the hair;\nAnd this bred fresh desire of moan; and in that sad affair\nThe sun had set amongst them all, had Thetis\u2019 son not spoke\nThus to Atrides: \u201cKing of men, thy aid I still invoke,\nSince thy command all men still hear. Dismiss thy soldiers now,\nAnd let them victual; they have mourn\u2019d sufficient; \u2019tis we owe\nThe dead this honour; and with us let all the captains stay.\u201d\nThis heard, Atrides instantly the soldiers sent away;\nThe fun\u2019ral officers remain\u2019d, and heap\u2019d on matter still,\nTill of an hundred foot about they made the fun\u2019ral pile,\nIn whose hot height they cast the corse, and then they pour\u2019d on tears.\nNumbers of fat sheep, and like store of crooked-going steers,\nThey slew before the solemn fire; stripp\u2019d off their hides and dress\u2019d.\nOf which Achilles took the fat, and cover\u2019d the deceas\u2019d\nFrom head to foot; and round about he made the officers pile\nThe beasts\u2019 nak\u2019d bodies, vessels full of honey and of oil\nPour\u2019d in them, laid upon a bier, and cast into the fire.\nFour goodly horse; and of nine hounds, two most in the desire\nOf that great prince, and trencher-fed; all fed that hungry flame.\nTwelve Trojan princes last stood forth, young, and of toward fame,\nAll which (set on with wicked spirits) there strook he, there he slew,\nAnd to the iron strength of fire their noble limbs he threw.\nThen breath\u2019d his last sighs, and these words: \u201cAgain rejoice, my\nfriend,\nEv\u2019n in the joyless depth of hell. Now give I c\u00f3mplete end\nTo all my vows. Alone thy life sustain\u2019d not violence,\nTwelve Trojan princes wait on thee, and labour to incense\nThy glorious heap of funeral. Great Hector I\u2019ll excuse,\nThe dogs shall eat him.\u201d These high threats perform\u2019d not their abuse;\nJove\u2019s daughter, Venus, took the guard of noble Hector\u2019s corse,\nAnd kept the dogs off, night and day applying sov\u2019reign force\nOf rosy balms, that to the dogs were horrible in taste,\nAnd with which she the body fill\u2019d. Renown\u2019d Apollo cast\nA cloud from heav\u2019n, lest with the sun the nerves and lineaments\nMight dry and putrefy. And now some Pow\u2019rs denied consents\nTo this solemnity; the Fire (for all the oily fuel\nIt had injected) would not burn; and then the loving Cruel\nStudied for help, and, standing off, invok\u2019d the two fair Winds,\nZephyr and Boreas, to afford the rage of both their kinds\nTo aid his outrage. Precious gifts his earnest zeal did vow\nPour\u2019d from a golden bowl much wine, and pray\u2019d them both to blow,\nThat quickly his friend\u2019s corse might burn, and that heap\u2019s sturdy\nbreast\nEmbrace consumption. Iris heard. The Winds were at a feast,\nAll in the court of Zephyrus, that boist\u2019rous blowing Air,\nGather\u2019d together. She that wears the thousand-colour\u2019d hair\nFlew thither, standing in the porch. They, seeing her, all arose,\nCall\u2019d to her, ev\u2019ry one desir\u2019d she would awhile repose,\nAnd eat with them. She answer\u2019d: \u201cNo, no place of seat is here;\nRetreat calls to the Ocean and \u00c6thiopia, where\nA hecatomb is off\u2019ring now to heav\u2019n, and there must I\nPartake the feast of sacrifice. I come to signify\nThat Thetis\u2019 son implores your aids, princes of North and West,\nWith vows of much fair sacrifice, if each will set his breast\nAgainst his heap of funeral, and make it quickly burn;\nPatroclus lies there, whose decease all the Achaians mourn.\u201d\nShe said, and parted; and out rush\u2019d, with an unmeasur\u2019d roar,\nThose two Winds, tumbling clouds in heaps, ushers to either\u2019s blore,\nAnd instantly they reach\u2019d the sea; up flew the waves; the gale\nWas strong; reach\u2019d fruitful Troy; and full upon the fire they fall.\nThe huge heap thunder\u2019d. All night long from his chok\u2019d breast they\nblew\nA lib\u2019ral flame up; and all night swift-foot Achilles threw\nWine from a golden bowl on earth, and steep\u2019d the soil in wine,\nStill calling on Patroclus\u2019 soul. No father could incline\nMore to a son most dear, nor more mourn at his burn\u00e9d bones,\nThan did the great prince to his friend at his combusti\u00f3ns,\nStill creeping near and near the heap, still sighing, weeping still.\nBut when the Day-star look\u2019d abroad, and promis\u2019d from hi hill\nLight, which the saffron Morn made good, and sprinkled on the seas,\nThen languish\u2019d the great pile, then sunk the flames, and then calm\nPeace\nTurn\u2019d back the rough Winds to their homes; the Thracian billow rings.\nTheir high retreat, ruffled with cuffs of their triumphant wings.\nPelides then forsook the pile, and to his tired limb\nChoos\u2019d place of rest; where laid, sweet sleep fell to his wish on him.\nWhen all the king\u2019s guard (waiting then, perceiving will to rise\nIn that great session) hurried in, and op\u2019d again his eyes\nWith tumult of their troop, and haste. A little then he rear\u2019d\nHis troubled person, sitting up, and this affair referr\u2019d\nTo wish\u2019d commandment of the kings: \u201cAtrides, and the rest\nOf our commanders general, vouchsafe me this request\nBefore your parting: Give in charge the quenching with black wine\nOf this heap\u2019s relics, ev\u2019ry brand the yellow fire made shine;\nAnd then let search Patroclus\u2019 bones, distinguishing them well;\nAs well ye may, they kept the midst, the rest at random fell\nAbout th\u2019 extreme part of the pile; men\u2019s bones and horses\u2019 mixed.\nBeing found, I\u2019ll find an urn of gold t\u2019 enclose them, and betwixt\nThe air and them two kels of fat lay on them, and to rest\nCommit them, till mine own bones seal our love, my soul deceas\u2019d.\nThe sepulchre I have not charg\u2019d to make of too much state,\nBut of a model something mean, that you of younger fate,\nWhen I am gone, may amplify with such a breadth and height\nAs fits your judgments and our worths.\u201d This charge receiv\u2019d his weight\nIn all observance. First they quench\u2019d with sable wine the heap,\nAs far as it had fed the flame. The ash fell wondrous deep,\nIn which his consorts, that his life religiously lov\u2019d,\nSearch\u2019d, weeping, for his bones; which found, they conscionably prov\u2019d\nHis will made to \u00c6acides, and what his love did add.\nA golden vessel, double fat, contain\u2019d them. All which, clad\nIn veils of linen, pure and rich, were solemnly convey\u2019d\nT\u2019 Achilles\u2019 tent. The platform then about the pile they laid\nOf his fit sepulchre, and rais\u2019d a heap of earth, and then\nOffer\u2019d departure. But the prince retain\u2019d there still his men,\nEmploying them to fetch from fleet rich tripods for his games,\nCaldrons, horse, mules, broad-headed beeves, bright steel, and brighter\ndames,\nThe best at horse-race he ordain\u2019d a lady for his prize,\nGen\u2019rally praiseful, fair and young, and skill\u2019d in housewif\u2019ries\nOf all kinds fitting; and withal a trivet, that inclos\u2019d\nTwenty-two measures\u2019 room, with ears. The next prize he propos\u2019d\nWas (that which then had high respect) a mare of six years old,\nUnhandled, hors\u00e9d with a mule, and ready to have foal\u2019d.\nThe third game was a caldron, new, fair, bright, and could for size\nContain two measures. For the fourth, two talents\u2019 quantities\nOf finest gold. The fifth game was a great new standing bowl,\nTo set down both ways. These brought in, Achilles then stood up,\nAnd said: \u201cAtrides and my lords, chief horsemen of our host,\nThese games expect ye. If myself should interpose my most\nFor our horse-race, I make no doubt that I should take again\nThese gifts propos\u2019d. Ye all know well, of how divine a strain\nMy horse are, and how eminent. Of Neptune\u2019s gift they are\nTo Peleus, and of his to me. Myself then will not share\nIn gifts giv\u2019n others, nor my steeds breathe any spirit to shake\nTheir airy pasterns; so they mourn for their kind guider\u2019s sake,\nLate lost; that us\u2019d with humorous oil to slick their lofty manes,\nClear water having cleans\u2019d them first; and, his bane being their\nbanes,\nThose lofty manes now strew the earth, their heads held shaken down.\nYou then that trust in chariots, and hope with horse to crown\nYour conqu\u2019ring temples, gird yourselves; now, fame and prize stretch\nfor,\nAll that have spirits.\u201d This fir\u2019d all. The first competitor\nWas king Eumelus, whom the art of horsemanship did grace,\nSon to Admetus. Next to him rose Diomed to the race,\nThat under reins rul\u2019d Trojan horse, of late forc\u2019d from the son\nOf lord Anchises, himself freed of near confusion\nBy Ph\u0153bus. Next to him set forth the yellow-headed king\nOf Laced\u00e6mon, Jove\u2019s high seed; and, in his managing,\nPodargus and swift \u00c6the trod, steeds to the King of men;\n\u00c6the giv\u2019n by Echepolus, the Anchisiaden,\nAs bribe to free him from the war resolv\u2019d for Ilion;\nSo Delicacy feasted him, whom Jove bestow\u2019d upon\nA mighty wealth; his dwelling was in broad Sicyone.\nOld Nestor\u2019s son, Antilochus, was fourth for chivalry\nIn this contention; his fair horse were of the Pylian breed,\nAnd his old father, coming near, inform\u2019d him, for good speed,\nWith good race notes, in which himself could good instruction give:\n\u201cAntilochus, though young thou art, yet thy grave virtues live\nBelov\u2019d of Neptune and of Jove. Their spirits have taught thee all\nThe art of horsemanship, for which the less thy merits fall\nIn need of doctrine. Well thy skill can wield a chariot\nIn all fit turnings, yet thy horse their slow feet handle not\nAs fits thy manage, which makes me cast doubts of thy success.\nI well know all these are not seen in art of this address\nMore than thyself; their horses yet superior are to thine\nFor their parts, thine want speed to make discharge of a design\nTo please an artist. But go on, show but thy art and heart\nAt all points, and set them against their horses\u2019 heart and art;\nGood judges will not see thee lose. A carpenter\u2019s desert\nStands more in cunning than in pow\u2019r. A pilot doth avert\nHis vessel from the rock, and wrack, tost with the churlish winds,\nBy skill, not strength. So sorts it here; one charioteer that finds\nWant of another\u2019s pow\u2019r in horse must in his own skill set\nAn overplus of that to that; and so the proof will get\nSkill, that still rests within a man, more grace; than pow\u2019r without.\nHe that in horse and chariots trusts, is often hurl\u2019d about\nThis way and that, unhandsomely, all-heaven wide of his end.\nHe, better skill\u2019d, that rules worse horse, will all observance bend\nRight on the scope still of a race, bear near, know ever when to rein,\nWhen give rein, as his foe before, well noted in his vein\nOf manage and his steeds\u2019 estate, presents occasion.\nI\u2019ll give thee instance now, as plain as if thou saw\u2019st it done:\nHere stands a dry stub of some tree, a cubit from the ground;[1]\n(Suppose the stub of oak or larch, for either are so sound\nThat neither rots with wet) two stones, white (mark you), white for\nview,\nParted on either side the stub; and these lay where they drew\nThe way into a strait; the race betwixt both lying clear.\nImagine them some monument of one long since tomb\u2019d there,\nOr that they had been lists of race for men of former years,\nAs now the lists Achilles sets may serve for charioteers\nMany years hence. When near to these the race grows, then as right\nDrive on them as thy eye can judge; then lay thy bridle\u2019s weight\nMost of thy left side; thy right horse then switching, all thy throat,\nSpent in encouragements, give him, and all the rein let float\nAbout his shoulders; thy near horse will yet be he that gave\nThy skill the prize, and him rein so his head may touch the nave\nOf thy left wheel; but then take care thou runn\u2019st not on the stone\n(With wrack of horse and chariot) which so thou bear\u2019st upon.\nShipwrack within the hav\u2019n avoid, by all means; that will breed\nOthers delight, and thee a shame. Be wise then, and take heed,\nMy lov\u2019d son, get but to be first at turning in the course,\nHe lives not that can cote thee then, not if he back\u2019d the horse\nThe Gods bred, and Adrastus ow\u2019d; divine Arion\u2019s speed\nCould not outpace thee, or the horse Laomedon did breed,\nWhose race is famous, and fed here.\u201d Thus sat Neleides,\nWhen all that could be said was said. And then Meriones;[2]\nSet fifthly forth his fair-man\u2019d horse. All leap\u2019d to chariot;\nAnd ev\u2019ry man then for the start cast in his proper lot.\nAchilles drew; Antilochus the lot set foremost forth;\nEumelus next; Atrides third; Meriones the fourth;\nThe fifth and last was Diomed, far first in excellence.\nAll stood in order, and the lists Achilles fix\u2019d far thence\nIn plain field; and a seat ordain\u2019d fast by, in which he set\nRenown\u00e9d Ph\u0153nix, that in grace of Peleus was so great,\nTo see the race, and give a truth of all their passages.\nAll start together, scourg\u2019d, and cried, and gave their business\nStudy and order. Through the field they held a wing\u00e9d pace.\nBeneath the bosom of their steeds a dust so dimm\u2019d the race,\nIt stood above their heads in clouds, or like to storms amaz\u2019d.\nManes flew like ensigns with the wind. The chariots sometime graz\u2019d,\nAnd sometimes jump\u2019d up to the air; yet still sat fast the men,\nTheir spirits ev\u2019n panting in their breasts with fervour to obtain.\nBut when they turn\u2019d to fleet again, then all men\u2019s skills were tried,\nThen stretch\u2019d the pasterns of their steeds. Eumelus\u2019 horse in pride\nStill bore their sov\u2019reign. After them came Diomed\u2019s coursers close,\nStill apt to leap their chariot, and ready to repose\nUpon the shoulders of their king their heads; his back ev\u2019n burned\nWith fire that from their nostrils flew; and then their lord had turn\u2019d\nThe race for him, or giv\u2019n it doubt, if Ph\u0153bus had not smit\nThe scourge out of his hands, and tears of helpless wrath with it\nFrom forth his eyes, to see his horse for want of scourge made slow,\nAnd th\u2019 others, by Apollo\u2019s help, with much more swiftness go.\nApollo\u2019s spite Pallas discern\u2019d, and flew to Tydeus\u2019 son,\nHis scourge reach\u2019d, and his horse made fresh. Then took her angry run\nAt king Eumelus, brake his gears; his mares on both sides flew,\nHis draught-tree fell to earth, and him the toss\u2019d-up chariot threw\nDown to the earth, his elbows torn, his forehead, all his face\nStrook at the centre, his speech lost. And then the turn\u00e9d race\nFell to Tydides; before all his conqu\u2019ring horse he drave,\nAnd first he glitter\u2019d in the race; divine Athenia gave\nStrength to his horse, and fame to him. Next him drave Sparta\u2019s king.\nAntilochus his father\u2019s horse then urg\u2019d with all his sting\nOf scourge and voice: \u201cRun low,\u201d said he, \u201cstretch out your limbs, and\nfly;\nWith Diomed\u2019s horse I bid not strive, nor with himself strive I;\nAthenia wings his horse, and him renowns; Atrides\u2019 steeds\nAre they ye must not fail but reach; and soon, lest soon succeeds\nThe blot of all your fames, to yield in swiftness to a mare,\nTo female \u00c6the. What\u2019s the cause, ye best that ever were,\nThat thus ye fail us? Be assur\u2019d, that Nestor\u2019s love ye lose\nFor ever, if ye fail his son. Through both your both sides goes\nHis hot steel, if ye suffer me to bring the last prize home.\nHaste, overtake them instantly; we needs must overcome.\nThis harsh way next us, this my mind will take, this I despise\nFor peril, this I\u2019ll creep through. Hard the way to honour lies,\nAnd that take I, and that shall yield.\u201d His horse by all this knew\nHe was not pleas\u2019d, and fear\u2019d his voice, and for a while they flew.\nBut straight more clear appear\u2019d the strait Antilochus foresaw,\nIt was a gasp the earth gave, forc\u2019d by humours cold and raw,\nPour\u2019d out of Winter\u2019s wat\u2019ry breast, met there, and cleaving deep\nAll that near passage to the lists. This Nestor\u2019s son would keep,\nAnd left the roadway, being about. Atrides fear\u2019d, and cried:[3]\n\u201cAntilochus, thy course is mad; contain thy horse, we ride\nA way most dangerous; turn head, betime take larger field,\nWe shall be splitted.\u201d Nestor\u2019s son with much more scourge impell\u2019d\nHis horse for this, as if not heard; and got as far before\nAs any youth can cast a quoit. Atrides would no more;\nHe back again, for fear himself, his goodly chariot,\nAnd horse together, strew\u2019d the dust, in being so dusty hot\nOf thirsted conquest. But he chid, at parting, passing sore:\n\u201cAntilochus,\u201d said he, \u201ca worse than thee earth never bore.\nFarewell, we never thought thee wise that were wise; but not so\nWithout oaths shall the wreath, be sure, crown thy mad temples. Go.\u201d\nYet he bethought him, and went too, thus stirring up his steeds:\n\u201cLeave me not last thus, nor stand vex\u2019d. Let these fail in the speeds\nOf feet and knees, not you. Shall these, these old jades, past the\nflow\u2019r\nOf youth that you have, pass you?\u201d This the horse fear\u2019d, and more\npow\u2019r\nPut to their knees, straight getting ground. Both flew, and so the\nrest.\nAll came in smokes, like spirits. The Greeks, set, to see who did best,\nWithout the race, aloft, now made a new discovery,\nOther than that they made at first. Idomen\u00ebus\u2019 eye\nDistinguish\u2019d all, he knew the voice of Diomed, seeing a horse\nOf special mark, of colour bay, and was the first in course,\nHis forehead putting forth a star, round like the moon, and white.\nUp stood the Cretan, utt\u2019ring this: \u201cIs it alone my sight,\nPrinces and captains, that discerns another lead the race\nWith other horse than led of late? Eumelus made most pace\nWith his fleet mares, and he began the flexure as we thought;\nNow all the field I search, and find nowhere his view; hath nought\nBefall\u2019n amiss to him? Perhaps he hath not with success\nPerform\u2019d his flexure; his reins lost, or seat, or with the tress\nHis chariot fail\u2019d him, and his mares have outray\u2019d with affright.\nStand up, try you your eyes, for mine hold with the second sight;\nThis seems to me th\u2019 \u00c6tolian king, the Tydean Diomed.\u201d\n\u201cTo you it seems so,\u201d rusticly Ajax O\u00efleus said,\n\u201cYour words are suited to your eyes. Those mares lead still that led,\nEumelus owes them, and he still holds reins and place that did,\nNot fall\u2019n as you hop\u2019d. You must prate before us all, though last\nIn judgment of all. Y\u2019 are too old, your tongue goes still too fast,\nYou must not talk so. Here are those that better thee, and look\nFor first place in the censure.\u201d This Idomen\u00ebus took\nIn much disdain, and thus replied: \u201cThou best in speeches worst,\nBarbarous-languag\u2019d, others here might have reprov\u2019d me first,\nNot thou, unfitt\u2019st of all. I bold a tripod with thee here,\nOr caldron, and our Gen\u2019ral make our equal arbiter,\nThose horse are first, that when thou pay\u2019st thou then may\u2019st know.\u201d\nThis fir\u2019d\nO\u00efliades more, and more than words this quarrel had inspir\u2019d,\nHad not Achilles rose, and us\u2019d this pacifying speech:\n\u201cNo more. Away with words in war. It toucheth both with breach\nOf that which fits ye. Your deserts should others reprehend\nThat give such foul terms. Sit ye still, the men themselves will end\nThe strife betwixt you instantly, and either\u2019s own load bear\nOn his own shoulders. Then to both the first horse will appear,\nAnd which is second.\u201d These words us\u2019d, Tydides was at hand,\nHis horse ran high, glanc\u2019d on the way, and up they toss\u2019d the sand\nThick on their coachman; on their pace their chariot deck\u2019d with gold\nSwiftly attended, no wheel seen, nor wheel\u2019s print in the mould.\nImpress\u2019d behind them. These horse flew a flight, not ran a race.\nArriv\u2019d, amids the lists they stood, sweat trickling down apace\nTheir high manes and their prominent breasts; and down jumped Diomed,\nLaid up his scourge aloft the seat, and straight his prize was led\nHome to his tent. Rough Sthenelus laid quick hand on the dame,\nAnd handled trivet, and sent both home by his men. Next came\nAntilochus, that won with wiles, not swiftness of his horse,\nPrecedence of the gold-lock\u2019d king, who yet maintained the course\nSo close, that not the king\u2019s own horse gat more before the wheel\nOf his rich chariot, that might still the insecution feel\nWith the extreme hairs of his tail (and that sufficient close\nHeld to his leader, no great space it let him interpose\nConsider\u2019d in so great a field) that Nestor\u2019s wily son\nGat of the king, now at his heels, though at the breach he won\nA quoit\u2019s cast of him, which the king again at th\u2019 instant gain\u2019d.\n\u00c6the Agamemnonides, that was so richly man\u2019d,\nGat strength still as she spent; which words her worth had prov\u2019d with\ndeeds,\nHad more ground been allow\u2019d the race; and coted far his steeds,\nNo question leaving for the prize. And now Meriones\nA dart\u2019s cast came behind the king, his horse of speed much less,\nHimself less skill\u2019d t\u2019 importune them, and give a chariot wing.\nAdmetus\u2019 son was last, whose plight Achilles pitying\nThus spake: \u201cBest man comes last; yet right must see his prize not\nleast,\nThe second his deserts must bear, and Diomed the best.\u201d\nHe said, and all allow\u2019d; and sure the mare had been his own,\nHad not Antilochus stood forth, and in his answer shown\nGood reason for his interest: \u201cAchilles,\u201d he replied,\n\u201cI should be angry with you much to see this ratified.\nOught you to take from me my right, because his horse had wrong,\nHimself being good? He should have us\u2019d, as good men do, his tongue\nIn pray\u2019r to Their pow\u2019rs that bless good, not trusting to his own,\nNot to have been in this good last. His chariot overthrown\nO\u2019erthrew not me. Who\u2019s last? Who\u2019s first? Men\u2019s goodness without these\nIs not our question. If his good you pity yet, and please\nPrincely to grace it, your tents hold a goodly deal of gold,\nBrass, horse, sheep, women; out of these your bounty may be bold,\nTo take a much more worthy prize than my poor merit seeks,\nAnd give it here before my face, and all these, that the Greeks\nMay glorify your lib\u2019ral hands. This prize I will not yield.\nWho bears this, whatsoever man, he bears a tri\u00e9d field.\nHis hand and mine must change some blows.\u201d Achilles laugh\u2019d, and said:\n\u201cIf thy will be, Antilochus, I\u2019ll see Eumelus paid\nOut of my tents. I\u2019ll give him th\u2019 arms, which late I conquer\u2019d in\nAsterop\u00e6us, forg\u2019d of brass, and wav\u2019d about with tin;\n\u2018Twill be a present worthy him.\u201d This said, Automedon\nHe sent for them. He went and brought; and to Admetus\u2019 son\nAchilles gave them. He, well pleas\u2019d, receiv\u2019d them. Then arose\nWrong\u2019d Menelaus, much incens\u2019d with young Antilochus.\nHe bent to speak, a herald took his sceptre and gave charge\nOf silence to the other Greeks; then did the king enlarge\nThe spleen he prison\u2019d, utt\u2019ring this: \u201cAntilochus, till now[4]\nWe grant thee wise, but in this act what wisdom utter\u2019st thou?\nThou hast disgrac\u2019d my virtue, wrong\u2019d my horse, preferring thine\nMuch their inferiors. But go to, Princes, nor his nor mine\nJudge of with favour, him nor me; lest any Grecian use\nThis scandal: \u2018Menelaus won, with Nestor\u2019s son\u2019s abuse,\nThe prize in question, his horse worst; himself yet wan the best\nBy pow\u2019r and greatness.\u2019 Yet, because I would not thus contest\nTo make parts taking, I\u2019ll be judge; and I suppose none here\nWill blame my judgment, I\u2019ll do right: Antilochus, come near,\nCome, noble gentleman, \u2019tis your place, swear by th\u2019 earth-circling\nGod,\n(Standing before your chariot and horse, and that self rod\nWith which you scourg\u2019d them in your hand) if both with will and wile\nYou did not cross my chariot.\u201d He thus did reconcile\nGrace with his disgrace, and with wit restor\u2019d him to his wit:\n\u201cNow crave I patience. O king, whatever was unfit;[5]\nAscribe to much more youth in me than you. You, more in age\nAnd more in excellence, know well, the outrays that engage\nAll young men\u2019s actions; sharper wits, but duller wisdoms, still\nFrom us flow than from you; for which, curb, with your wisdom, will.\nThe prize I thought mine, I yield yours, and, if you please, a prize\nOf greater value to my tent I\u2019ll send for, and suffice\nYour will at full, and instantly; for, in this point of time,\nI rather wish to be enjoin\u2019d your favour\u2019s top to climb,\nThan to be falling all my time from height of such a grace.[6]\nO Jove-lov\u2019d king, and of the Gods receive a curse in place.\u201d\nThis said, he fetch\u2019d his prize to him; and it rejoic\u2019d him so,\nThat as corn-ears shine with the dew, yet having time to grow,\nWhen fields set all their bristles up; in such a ruff wert thou.[7]\nO Menelaus, answ\u2019ring thus: \u201cAntilochus, I now,\nThough I were angry, yield to thee, because I see th\u2019 hadst wit,\nWhen I thought not; thy youth hath got the mast\u2019ry of thy spirit.\nAnd yet, for all this, \u2019tis more safe not to abuse at all\nGreat men, than, vent\u2019ring, trust to wit to take up what may fall;\nFor no man in our host beside had eas\u2019ly calm\u2019d my spleen,\nStirr\u2019d with like tempest. But thyself hast a sustainer been\nOf much affliction in my cause; so thy good father too,\nAnd so thy brother; at thy suit, I therefore let all go,\nGive thee the game here, though mine own, that all these may discern\nKing Menelaus bears a mind at no part proud or stern.\u201d\nThe king thus calm\u2019d, Antilochus receiv\u2019d, and gave the steed\nTo lov\u2019d Noemon to lead thence; and then receiv\u2019d beside\nThe caldron. Next, Meriones, for fourth game, was to have\nTwo talents\u2019 gold. The fifth, unwon, renown\u2019d Achilles gave\nTo rev\u2019rend Nestor, being a bowl to set on either end;\nWhich through the press he carried him: \u201cReceive,\u201d said he, \u201cold\nfriend,\nThis gift as fun\u2019ral monument of my dear friend deceas\u2019d,\nWhom never you must see again. I make it his bequest\nTo you as, without any strife, obtaining it from all.\nYour shoulders must not undergo the churlish whoorlbat\u2019s fall,\nWrastling is past you, strife in darts, the foot\u2019s celerity;\nHarsh age in his years fetters you, and honour sets you free.\u201d\nThus gave he it. He took, and joy\u2019d; but, ere he thank\u2019d, he said:\n\u201cNow sure, my honourable son, in all points thou hast play\u2019d\nThe comely orator; no more must I contend with nerves;\nFeet fail, and hands; arms want that strength, that this and that swing\nserves\nUnder your shoulders. Would to heav\u2019n, I were so young chinn\u2019d now,\nAnd strength threw such a many of bones, to celebrate this show,\nAs when the Epians brought to fire, actively honouring thus,\nKing Amaryncea\u2019s funerals in fair Buprasius!\nHis sons put prizes down for him; where not a man match\u2019d me\nOf all the Epians, or the sons of great-soul\u2019d \u00c6tolie,\nNo, nor the Pylians themselves, my countrymen. I beat\nGreat Clytomedeus, Enops\u2019 son, at buffets. At the feat\nOf wrastling, I laid under me one that against me rose,\nAnc\u00e6us, call\u2019d Pleuronius. I made Iphiclus lose\nThe foot-game to me. At the spear, I conquer\u2019d Polydore,\nAnd strong Phyl\u00ebus. Actor\u2019s sons, of all men, only bore\nThe palm at horse-race, conquering with lashing on more horse,\nAnd envying my victory, because, before their course,\nAll the best games were gone with me. These men were twins; one was\nA most sure guide, a most sure guide; the other gave the pass\nWith rod and mettle. This was then. But now young men must wage\nThese works, and my joints undergo the sad defects of age;\nThough then I was another man. At that time I excell\u2019d[8]\nAmongst th\u2019 heroes. But forth now; let th\u2019 other rites be held\nFor thy deceas\u2019d friend; this thy gift in all kind part I take,\nAnd much it joys my heart, that still, for my true kindness\u2019 sake,\nYou give me mem\u2019ry. You perceive, in what fit grace I stand\nAmongst the Grecians; and to theirs you set your graceful hand.\nThe Gods give ample recompense of grace again to thee,\nFor this and all thy favours!\u201d Thus, back through the thrust drave he,\nWhen he had stay\u2019d out all the praise of old Neleides.[9]\nAnd now for buffets, that rough game, he order\u2019d passages;\nProposing a laborious mule, of six years old, untam\u2019d,\nAnd fierce in handling, brought, and bound, in that place where they\ngam\u2019d;\nAnd, to the conquer\u2019d, a round cup. Both which he thus proclaims:\n\u201cAtrides and all friends of Greece, two men, for these two games,\nI bid stand forth. Who best can strike, with high contracted fists,\n(Apollo giving him the wreath) know all about these lists,\nShall win a mule, patient of toil; the vanquish\u2019d, this round cup.\u201d\nThis utter\u2019d; Panop\u00ebus\u2019 son, Ep\u00ebus, straight stood up,\nA tall huge man, that to the nail knew that red sport of hand,\nAnd, seizing the tough mule, thus spake: \u201cNow let some other stand\nForth for the cup; this mule is mine, at cuffs I boast me best.\nIs\u2019t not enough I am no soldier? Who is worthiest\nAt all works? None; not possible. At this yet this I say,\nAnd will perform this: Who stands forth, I\u2019ll burst him, I will bray\nHis bones as in a mortar. Fetch surgeons enow to take[10]\nHis corse from under me.\u201d This speech did all men silent make.\nAt last stood forth Euryalus, a man god-like, and son\nTo king Mecisteus, the grandchild of honour\u2019d Talaon.\nHe was so strong that, coming once to Thebes, when \u0152dipus\nHad like rites solemniz\u2019d for him, he went victorious\nFrom all the Thebans. This rare man Tydides would prepare,\nPut on his girdle, oxhide cords, fair wrought; and spent much care\nThat he might conquer, hearten\u2019d him, and taught him tricks. Both\ndress\u2019d\nFit for th\u2019 affair, both forth were brought; then breast oppos\u2019d to\nbreast,\nFists against fists rose, and, they join\u2019d, rattling of jaws was there,\nGnashing of teeth, and heavy blows dash\u2019d blood out ev\u2019rywhere.\nAt length Ep\u00ebus spy\u2019d clear way, rush\u2019d in, and such a blow\nDrave underneath the other\u2019s ear, that his neat limbs did strow\nThe knock\u2019d earth, no more legs had he; but as a huge fish laid\nNear to the cold-weed-gath\u2019ring shore, is with a north flaw fraid.\nShoots back, and in the black deep hides; so, sent against the ground,\nWas foil\u2019d Euryalus, his strength so bid in more profound\nDeeps of Ep\u00ebus, who took up th\u2019 intranc\u2019d competitor;\nAbout whom rush\u2019d a crowd of friends, that through the clusters bore\nHis falt\u2019ring knees, he spitting up thick clods of blood, his head\nTotter\u2019d of one side, his sense gone; when, to a by-place led,\nThither they brought him the round cup. Pelides then set forth\nPrize for a wrastling; to the best a trivet, that was worth\nTwelve oxen, great and fit for fire; the conquer\u2019d was t\u2019 obtain\nA woman excellent in works; her beauty, and her gain,\nPriz\u2019d at four oxen. Up he stood, and thus proclaim\u2019d: \u201cArise,\nYou wrastlers, that will prove for these.\u201d Out stepp\u2019d the ample size\nOf mighty Ajax, huge in strength; to him Laertes\u2019 son,\nThe crafty one, as huge in sleight. Their ceremony done\nOf making ready, forth they stepp\u2019d, catch elbows with strong hands,\nAnd as the beams of some high house crack with a storm, yet stands\nThe house, being built by well-skill\u2019d men; so crack\u2019d their backbones,\nwrinch\u2019d\nWith horrid twitches; in their sides, arms, shoulders, all bepinch\u2019d,\nRan thick the wales, red with the blood, ready to start out. Both\nLong\u2019d for the conquest and the prize; yet show\u2019d no play, being loth\nTo lose both. Nor could Ithacus stir Ajax; nor could he\nHale down Ulysses, being more strong than with mere strength to be\nHurl\u2019d from all vantage of his sleight. Tir\u2019d then with tugging play,\nGreat Ajax Telamonius said: \u201cThou wisest man, or lay\nMy face up, or let me lay thine; let Jove take care for these.\u201d\nThis said, he hois\u2019d him up to air; when Laertiades\nHis wiles forgat not, Ajax\u2019 thigh he strook behind, and flat\nHe on his back fell; on his breast Ulysses. Wonder\u2019d at\nWas this of all; all stood amaz\u2019d. Then the much-suff\u2019ring man,\nDivine Ulysses, at next close the Telamonian\nA little rais\u2019d from earth, not quite, but with his knee implied\nLock\u2019d legs; and down fell both on earth, close by each other\u2019s side,\nBoth fil\u2019d with dust; but starting up, the third close they had made,\nHad not Achilles\u2019 self stood up, restraining them, and bade:\n\u201cNo more tug one another thus, nor moil yourselves; receive\nPrize equal; conquest crowns ye both; the lists to others leave.\u201d\nThey heard, and yielded willingly, brush\u2019d off the dust, and on\nPut other vests. Pelides then, to those that swiftest run,\nPropos\u2019d another prize; a bowl, beyond comparison,\nBoth for the size and workmanship, past all the bowls of earth.\nIt held six measures; silver all; but had his special worth\nFor workmanship, receiving form from those ingenious men\nOf Sidon. The Ph\u0153nicians made choice, and brought it then\nAlong the green sea, giving it to Thoas; by degrees\nIt came t\u2019 Eun\u00e6us, Jason\u2019s son, who young Priamides,\nLycaon, of Achilles\u2019 friend bought with it; and this here\nAchilles made best game for him, that best his feet could bear.\nFor second he propos\u2019d an ox, a huge one, and a fat;\nAnd half a talent gold for last. These thus he set them at:\n\u201cRise, you that will assay for these.\u201d Forth stepp\u2019d O\u00efliades;\nUlysses answer\u2019d; and the third was, one esteem\u2019d past these\nFor footmanship, Antilochus. All rank\u2019d, Achilles show\u2019d\nThe race-scope. From the start they glid. O\u00efliades bestow\u2019d\nHis feet the swiftest; close to him flew god-like Ithacus.\nAnd as a lady at her loom, being young and beauteous,\nHer silk-shuttle close to her breast, with grace that doth inflame,\nAnd her white hand, lifts quick and oft, in drawing from her frame\nHer gentle thread, which she unwinds with ever at her breast\nGracing her fair hand; so close still, and with such interest\nIn all men\u2019s likings, Ithacus unwound, and spent the race\nBy him before, took out his steps with putting in their place\nPromptly and gracefully his own, sprinkled the dust before,\nAnd clouded with his breath his head. So facilie he bore\nHis royal person, that he strook shouts from the Greeks, with thirst\nThat he should conquer, though he flew: \u201cYet come, come, O come first,\u201d\nEver they cried to him. And this ev\u2019n his wise breast did move\nTo more desire of victory; it made him pray, and prove,\nMinerva\u2019s aid, his fautress still: \u201cO Goddess, hear,\u201d said he,\n\u201cAnd to my feet stoop with thy help, now happy fautress be.\u201d\nShe was, and light made all his limbs. And now, both near their crown,\nMinerva tripp\u2019d up Ajax\u2019 heels, and headlong he fell down\nAmids the ordure of the beasts, there negligently left\nSince they were slain there; and by this, Minerva\u2019s friend bereft\nO\u00efliades of that rich bowl, and left his lips, nose, eyes,\nRuthfully smear\u2019d. The fat ox yet he seiz\u2019d for second prize,\nHeld by the horn, spit out the tail, and thus spake all-besmear\u2019d:\n\u201cO villainous chance! This Ithacus so highly is endear\u2019d\nTo his Minerva, that her hand is ever in his deeds.\nShe, like his mother, nestles him; for from her it proceeds,\nI know, that I am us\u2019d thus.\u201d This all in light laughter cast;\nAmongst whom quick Antilochus laugh\u2019d out his coming last\nThus wittily: \u201cKnow, all my friends, that all times past, and now,\nThe Gods most honour most-liv\u2019d men. O\u00efliades ye know\nMore old than I, but Ithacus is of the foremost race,\nFirst generation of men. Give the old man his grace,\nThey count him of the green-hair\u2019d eld; they may; or in his flow\u2019r;\nFor not our greatest flourisher can equal him in pow\u2019r\nOf foot-strife, but \u00c6acides.\u201d Thus sooth\u2019d he Thetis\u2019 son\nWho thus accepted it: \u201cWell, youth, your praises shall not run\nWith unrewarded feet on mine, your half a talent\u2019s prize\nI\u2019ll make a whole one. Take you, sir.\u201d He took, and joy\u2019d. Then flies\nAnother game forth. Thetis\u2019 son set in the lists a lance,\nA shield, and helmet, being th\u2019 arms Sarpedon did advance\nAgainst Patroclus, and he pris\u2019d. And thus he nam\u2019d th\u2019 address:\n\u201cStand forth two the most excellent, arm\u2019d, and before all these\nGive mutual onset to the touch and wound of either\u2019s flesh.\nWho first shall wound, through other\u2019s arms his blood appearing fresh,\nShall win this sword, silver\u2019d, and hatch\u2019d; the blade is right of\nThrace;\nAsterop\u00e6us yielded it. These arms shall part their grace\nWith either\u2019s valour; and the men I\u2019ll liberally feast\nAt my pavilion.\u201d To this game the first man that address\u2019d\nWas Ajax Telamonius; to him king Diomed.\nBoth, in oppos\u2019d parts of the press, full arm\u2019d, both enter\u00e9d\nThe lists amids the multitude, put looks on so austere,\nAnd join\u2019d so roughly, that amaze surpris\u2019d the Greeks in fear\nOf either\u2019s mischief. Thrice they threw their fierce darts, and clos\u2019d\nthrice.\nThen Ajax strook through Diomed\u2019s shield, but did no prejudice,\nHis curets saft him. Diomed\u2019s dart still over shoulders flew,\nStill mounting with the spirit it bore. And now rough Ajax grew\nSo violent, that the Greeks cried: \u201cHold, no more. Let them no more.\nGive equal prize to either.\u201d Yet the sword, propos\u2019d before\nFor him did best, Achilles gave to Diomed. Then a stone,\nIn fashion of a sphere, he show\u2019d; of no inventi\u00f3n,\nBut natural, only melted through with iron. \u2019Twas the bowl\nThat king Eetion us\u2019d to hurl; but he bereft of soul\nBy great Achilles, to the fleet, with store of other prise,\nHe brought it, and propos\u2019d it now both for the exercise\nAnd prize itself. He stood, and said: \u201cRise you that will approve\nYour arms\u2019 strengths now in this brave strife. His vigour that can move\nThis furthest, needs no game but this; for reach he ne\u2019er so far\nWith large fields of his own in Greece (and so needs for his car,\nHis plough, or other tools of thrift, much iron) I\u2019ll able this\nFor five revolv\u00e9d years; no need shall use his messages\nTo any town to furnish him, this only bowl shall yield\nIron enough for all affairs.\u201d This said; to try this field,\nFirst Polyp\u0153tes issu\u00e9d; next Leont\u00ebus; third\nGreat Ajax; huge Ep\u00ebus fourth, yet he was first that stirr\u2019d\nThat mine of iron. Up it went, and up he toss\u2019d it so,\nThat laughter took up all the field. The next man that did throw\nWas Leont\u00ebus; Ajax third, who gave it such a hand,\nThat far past both their marks it flew. But now \u2019twas to be mann\u2019d\nBy Polyp\u0153tes, and, as far as at an ox that strays\nA herdsman can swing out his goad, so far did he outraise\nThe stone past all men; all the field rose in a shout to see\u2019t;\nAbout him flock\u2019d his friends, and bore the royal game to fleet.\nFor archery he then set forth ten axes edg\u2019d two ways,\nAnd ten of one edge. On the shore, far-off, he caus\u2019d to raise\nA ship-mast; to whose top they tied a fearful dove by th\u2019 foot,\nAt which all shot, the game put thus; He that the dove could shoot,\nNor touch the string that fasten\u2019d her, the two-edg\u2019d tools should bear\nAll to the fleet. Who touch\u2019d the string, and miss\u2019d the dove, should\nshare\nThe one-edg\u2019d axes. This propos\u2019d; king Teucer\u2019s force arose,\nAnd with him rose Meriones. And now lots must dispose\nTheir shooting first; both which let fall into a helm of brass,\nFirst Teucer\u2019s came, and first he shot, and his cross fortune was\nTo shoot the string, the dove untouch\u2019d; Apollo did envy\nHis skill, since not to him he vow\u2019d, being God of archery,\nA first-fall\u2019n lamb. The bitter shaft yet cut in two the cord,\nThat down fell, and the dove aloft up to the welkin soar\u2019d.\nThe Greeks gave shouts. Meriones first made a hearty vow\nTo sacrifice a first-fall\u2019n lamb to Him that rules the bow,\nAnd then fell to his aim, his shaft being ready nock\u2019d before.\nHe spy\u2019d her in the clouds that here, there, ev\u2019rywhere, did soar,\nYet at her height he reach\u2019d her side, strook her quite through, and\ndown\nThe shaft fell at his feet; the dove the mast again did crown,\nThere hung the head, and all her plumes were ruffled, she stark dead,\nAnd there, far off from him, she fell. The people wonder\u00e9d,\nAnd stood astonish\u2019d; th\u2019 archer pleas\u2019d. \u00c6acides then shows\nA long lance, and a caldron new, engrail\u2019d with twenty hues,\nPriz\u2019d at an ox. These games were show\u2019d for men at darts; and then\nUp rose the General of all, up rose the King of men,\nUp rose late-crown\u2019d Meriones. Achilles, seeing the King\nDo him this grace, prevents more deed, his royal offering\nThus interrupting: \u201cKing of men, we well conceive how far\nThy worth superior is to all, how much most singular\nThy pow\u2019r is, and thy skill in darts! Accept then this poor prize\nWithout contention, and (your will pleas\u2019d with what I advise)\nAfford Meriones the lance.\u201d The King was nothing slow\nTo that fit grace. Achilles then the brass lance did bestow\nOn good Meriones. The King his present would not save,\nBut to renown\u2019d Talthybius the goodly caldron gave.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK.\n\n\n [1] A comment might well be bestowed upon this speech of Nestor.\n\n\n [2] _When all, etc._\u2014Nestor\u2019s aged love of speech was here briefly\n noted.\n\n\n [3] Menelaus in fear to follow Antilochus, who ye may see played upon\n him.\n\n\n [4] Note Menelaus\u2019 ridiculous speech for conclusion of his character.\n\n\n [5] Antilochus\u2019s ironical reply.\n\n\n [6] Ironic\u00e8.\n\n\n [7] This simile likewise is merely ironical.\n\n\n [8] His desire of praise pants still.\n\n\n [9] Another note of Nestor\u2019s humour, not so much being to be plainly\n observed in all these Iliads as in this book.\n\n\n [10] Note the sharpness of wit in our Homer; if where you look not for\n it you can find it.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nTHE ARGUMENT\n\n\nJove, entertaining care of Hector\u2019s corse,\nSends Thetis to her son for his remorse,\nAnd fit dismission of it. Iris then\nHe sends to Priam; willing him to gain\nHis son for ransom. He, by Hermes led,\nGets through Achilles\u2019 guards; sleeps deep and dead\nCast on them by his guide; when, with access\nAnd humble suit made to \u00c6acides,\nHe gains the body; which to Troy he bears,\nAnd buries it with feasts, buried in tears.\n\nANOTHER ARGUMENT\n\n\nOmega sings the Exsequies,\nAnd Hector\u2019s redemptory prise.\n\n\nThe games perform\u2019d; the soldiers wholly dispers\u2019d to fleet,\nSupper and sleep their only care. Constant Achilles yet\nWept for his friend, nor sleep itself, that all things doth subdue,\nCould touch at him; this way and that he turn\u2019d, and did renew\nHis friend\u2019s dear memory, his grace in managing his strength,\nAnd his strength\u2019s greatness, how life rack\u2019d into their utmost length\nGriefs, battles, and the wraths of seas, in their joint sufferance.\nEach thought of which turn\u2019d to a tear. Sometimes he would advance,\nIn tumbling on the shore, his side; sometimes his face: then turn\nFlat on his bosom; start upright. Although he saw the morn\nShow sea and shore his ecstasy, he left not, till at last\nRage varied his distraction; horse, chariot, in haste\nHe call\u2019d for; and, those join\u2019d, the corse was to his chariot tied,\nAnd thrice about the sepulchre he made his fury ride,\nDragging the person. All this past; in his pavilion\nRest seiz\u2019d him, but with Hector\u2019s corse his rage had never done,\nStill suff\u2019ring it t\u2019 oppress the dust. Apollo yet, ev\u2019n dead,\nPitied the prince, and would not see inhuman tyranny fed\nWith more pollution of his limbs; and therefore cover\u2019d round\nHis person with his golden shield, that rude dogs might not wound\nHis manly lineaments, which threat Achilles cruelly\nHad us\u2019d in fury. But now Heav\u2019n let fall a gen\u2019ral eye\nOf pity on him; the blest Gods persuaded Mercury,\nTheir good observer, to his stealth; and ev\u2019ry Deity\nStood pleas\u2019d with it; Juno except, green Neptune, and the Maid\nGrac\u2019d with the blue eyes, all their hearts stood hatefully appaid\nLong since, and held it, as at first, to Priam, Ilion,\nAnd all his subjects, for the rape of his licentious son,\nProud Paris, that despis\u2019d these Dames in their divine access\nMade to his cottage, and prais\u2019d Her that his sad wantonness\nSo costly nourish\u2019d. The twelfth morn now shin\u2019d on the delay\nOf Hector\u2019s rescue, and then spake the Deity of the Day\nThus to th\u2019 Immortals: \u201cShameless Gods, authors of ill ye are\nTo suffer ill. Hath Hector\u2019s life at all times show\u2019d his care\nOf all your rights, in burning thighs of beeves and goats to you,\nAnd are your cares no more of him? Vouchsafe ye not ev\u2019n now,\nEv\u2019n dead, to keep him, that his wife, his mother, and his son,\nFather, and subjects, may be mov\u2019d to those deeds he hath done,\nSeeing you preserve him that serv\u2019d you, and sending to their hands\nHis person for the rites of fire? Achilles, that withstands\nAll help to others, you can help; one that hath neither heart\nNor soul within him, that will move or yield to any part\nThat fits a man, but lion-like, uplandish, and mere wild,\nSlave to his pride, and all his nerves being naturally compil\u2019d\nOf eminent strength, stalks out and preys upon a silly sheep.\nAnd so fares this man, that fit ruth that now should draw so deep\nIn all the world being lost in him; and shame, a quality[1]\nOf so much weight, that both it helps and hurts excessively\nMen in their manners, is not known, nor hath the pow\u2019r to be,\nIn this man\u2019s being. Other men a greater loss than he\nHave undergone, a son, suppose, or brother of one womb;\nYet, after dues of woes and tears, they bury in his tomb\nAll their deplorings. Fates have giv\u2019n to all that are true men\nTrue manly patience; but this man so soothes his bloody vein\nThat no blood serves it, he must have divine-soul\u2019d Hector bound\nTo his proud chariot, and danc\u2019d in a most barbarous round\nAbout his lov\u2019d friend\u2019s sepulchre, when he is slain. \u2019Tis vile,\nAnd draws no profit after it. But let him now awhile\nMark but our angers; he is spent; let all his strength take heed\nIt tempts not our wraths; he begets, in this outrageous deed,\nThe dull earth with his fury\u2019s hate.\u201d White-wristed Juno said,\nBeing much incens\u2019d, \u201cThis doom is one that thou wouldst have obey\u2019d,\nThou bearer of the silver bow, that we in equal care\nAnd honour should hold Hector\u2019s worth, with him that claims a share\nIn our deservings. Hector suck\u2019d a mortal woman\u2019s breast,\n\u00c6acides a Goddess\u2019s; ourself had interest\nBoth in his infant nourishment, and bringing up with state,\nAnd to the human Pele\u00fcs we gave his bridal mate,\nBecause he had th\u2019 Immortals\u2019 love. To celebrate the feast\nOf their high nuptials, ev\u2019ry God was glad to be a guest;\nAnd thou fedd\u2019st of his father\u2019s cates, touching thy harp in grace\nOf that beginning of our friend, whom thy perfidious face,\nIn his perfection, blusheth not to match with Priam\u2019s son,\nO thou that to betray and shame art still companion!\u201d\nJove thus receiv\u2019d her: \u201cNever give these broad terms to a God.\nThose two men shall not be compar\u2019d; and yet, of all that trod\nThe well-pav\u2019d Ilion, none so dear to all the Deities\nAs Hector was; at least to me, for off\u2019rings most of prize\nHis hands would never pretermit. Our altars ever stood\nFurnish\u2019d with banquets fitting us, odours and ev\u2019ry good\nSmok\u2019d in our temples; and for this, foreseeing it, his fate\nWe mark\u2019d with honour, which must stand. But, to give stealth estate\nIn his deliv\u2019rance, shun we that; nor must we favour one\nTo shame another. Privily, with wrong to Thetis\u2019 son,\nWe must not work out Hector\u2019s right. There is a ransom due,\nAnd open course, by laws of arms; in which must humbly sue\nThe friends of Hector. Which just mean if any God would stay,\nAnd use the other, \u2019twould not serve; for Thetis night and day\nIs guardian to him. But would one call Iris hither, I\nWould give directions that for gifts the Trojan king should buy\nHis Hector\u2019s body, which the son of Thetis shall resign.\u201d\nThis said, his will was done; the Dame that doth in vapours shine,\nDewy and thin, footed with storms, jump\u2019d to the sable seas\n\u2018Twixt Samos and sharp Imber\u2019s cliffs; the lake groan\u2019d with the press\nOf her rough feet, and, plummet-like, put in an ox\u2019s horn\nThat bears death to the raw-fed fish, she div\u2019d, and found forlorn\nThetis lamenting her son\u2019s fate, who was in Troy to have,\nFar from his country, his death serv\u2019d. Close to her Iris stood,\nAnd said: \u201cRise, Thetis, prudent Jove, whose counsels thirst not blood,\nCalls for thee.\u201d Thetis answer\u2019d her with asking: \u201cWhat\u2019s the cause\nThe great God calls? My sad pow\u2019rs fear\u2019d to break th\u2019 immortal laws,\nIn going fil\u2019d with griefs to heav\u2019n. But He sets snares for none\nWith colour\u2019d counsels; not a word of him but shall be done.\u201d\nShe said, and took a sable veil (a blacker never wore\nA heav\u2019nly shoulder) and gave way. Swift Iris swum before.\nAbout both roll\u2019d the brackish waves. They took their banks, and flew\nUp to Olympus; where they found Saturnius far-of-view\nSpher\u2019d with heav\u2019n\u2019s ever-being States. Minerva rose, and gave\nHer place to Thetis near to Jove; and Juno did receive\nHer entry with a cup of gold, in which she drank to her,\nGrac\u2019d her with comfort, and the cup to her hand did refer.\nShe drank, resigning it; and then the Sire of men and Gods\nThus entertain\u2019d her: \u201cCom\u2019st thou up to these our blest abodes,\nFair Goddess Thetis, yet art sad; and that in so high kind\nAs passeth suff\u2019rance? This I know, and tried thee, and now find\nThy will by mine rul\u2019d, which is rule to all worlds\u2019 government.\nBesides this trial yet, this cause sent down for thy ascent,\nNine days\u2019 contention hath been held amongst th\u2019 Immortals here\nFor Hector\u2019s person and thy son; and some advices were\nTo have our good spy Mercury steal from thy son the corse;\nBut that reproach I kept far off, to keep in future force\nThy former love and reverence. Haste then, and tell thy son\nThe Gods are angry, and myself take that wrong he hath done\nTo Hector in worst part of all, the rather since he still\nDetains his person. Charge him then, if he respect my will\nFor any reason, to resign slain Hector. I will send\nIris to Priam to redeem his son, and recommend\nFit ransom to Achilles\u2019 grace, in which right he may joy\nAnd end his vain grief.\u201d To this charge bright Thetis did employ\nInstant endeavour. From heav\u2019n\u2019s tops she reach\u2019d Achilles\u2019 tent,\nFound him still sighing, and some friends with all their complement\nSoothing his humour; other some with all contenti\u00f3n\nDressing his dinner, all their pains and skills consum\u2019d upon\nA huge wool-bearer, slaughter\u2019d there. His rev\u2019rend mother then\nCame near, took kindly his fair hand, and ask\u2019d him: \u201cDear son, when\nWill sorrow leave thee? How long time wilt thou thus eat thy heart,\nFed with no other food, nor rest? \u2019Twere good thou wouldst divert\nThy friend\u2019s love to some lady, cheer thy spirits with such kind parts\nAs she can quit thy grace withal. The joy of thy deserts\nI shall not long have, death is near, and thy all-conqu\u2019ring fate,\nWhose haste thou must not haste with grief, but understand the state\nOf things belonging to thy life, which quickly order. I\nAm sent from Jove t\u2019 adv\u00e9rtise thee, that ev\u2019ry Deity\nIs angry with thee, himself most, that rage thus reigns in thee\nStill to keep Hector. Quit him then, and, for fit ransom, free\nHis injur\u2019d person.\u201d He replied: \u201cLet him come that shall give\nThe ransom, and the person take. Jove\u2019s pleasure must deprive\nMen of all pleasures.\u201d This good speech, and many more, the son\nAnd mother us\u2019d, in ear of all the naval stati\u00f3n.\nAnd now to holy Ilion Saturnius Iris sent:\n\u201cGo, swift-foot Iris, bid Troy\u2019s king bear fit gifts, and content\nAchilles for his son\u2019s release; but let him greet alone\nThe Grecian navy; not a man, excepting such a one\nAs may his horse and chariot guide, a herald, or one old,\nAttending him; and let him take his Hector. Be he bold,\nDiscourag\u2019d nor with death nor fear, wise Mercury shall guide\nHis passage till the prince be near; and, he gone, let him ride\nResolv\u2019d ev\u2019n in Achilles\u2019 tent. He shall not touch the state\nOf his high person, nor admit the deadliest desperate\nOf all about him; for, though fierce, he is not yet unwise,\nNor inconsid\u2019rate, nor a man past awe of Deities,\nBut passing free and curious to do a suppliant grace.\u201d\n\nThis said, the Rainbow to her feet tied whirlwinds, and the place\nReach\u2019d instantly. The heavy court Clamour and Mourning fill\u2019d;\nThe sons all set about the sire; and there stood Grief, and still\u2019d\nTears on their garments. In the midst the old king sate, his weed\nAll wrinkled, head and neck dust-fil\u2019d; the princesses his seed,\nThe princesses his sons\u2019 fair wives, all mourning by; the thought\nOf friends so many, and so good, being turn\u2019d so soon to nought\nBy Grecian hands, consum\u2019d their youth, rain\u2019d beauty from their eyes.\nIris came near the king; her sight shook all his faculties,\nAnd therefore spake she soft, and said: \u201cBe glad, Dardanides;\nOf good occurrents, and none ill, am I ambassadress.\nJove greets thee, who, in care, as much as he is distant, deigns\nEye to thy sorrows, pitying thee. My ambassy contains\nThis charge to thee from him: He wills thou shouldst redeem thy son,\nBear gifts t\u2019 Achilles, cheer him so; but visit him alone,\nNone but some herald let attend, thy mules and chariot\nTo manage for thee. Fear nor death let daunt thee, Jove hath got\nHermes to guide thee, who as near to Thetis\u2019 son as needs\nShall guard thee; and being once with him, nor his, nor others\u2019, deeds\nStand touch\u2019d with, he will all contain; nor is he mad, nor vain,\nNor impious, but with all his nerves studious to entertain\nOne that submits with all fit grace.\u201d Thus vanish\u2019d she like wind.\nHe mules and chariot calls, his sons bids see them join\u2019d, and bind\nA trunk behind it; he himself down to his wardrobe goes,\nBuilt all of cedar, highly roof\u2019d, and odoriferous,\nThat much stuff, worth the sight, contain\u2019d. To him he call\u2019d his\nqueen,\nThus greeting her: \u201cCome, hapless dame, an angel I have seen,\nSent down from Jove, that bade me free our dear son from the fleet\nWith ransom pleasing to our foe. What holds thy judgment meet?\nMy strength and spirit lays high charge on all my being to bear\nThe Greeks\u2019 worst, vent\u2019ring through their host.\u201d The queen cried out\nto hear\nHis vent\u2019rous purpose, and replied: \u201cO whither now is fled\nThe late discretion that renown\u2019d thy grave and knowing head\nIn foreign and thine own rul\u2019d realms, that thus thou dar\u2019st assay\nSight of that man, in whose brow sticks the horrible decay\nOf sons so many, and so strong? Thy heart is iron I think.\nIf this stern man, whose thirst of blood makes cruelty his drink,\nTake, or but see, thee, thou art dead. He nothing pities woe,\nNor honours age. Without his sight, we have enough to do\nTo mourn with thought of him. Keep we our palace, weep we here,\nOur son is past our helps. Those throes, that my deliv\u2019rers were\nOf his unhappy lineaments, told me they should be torn\nWith black-foot dogs. Almighty Fate, that black hour he was born,\nSpun in his springing thread that end; far from his parents\u2019 reach,\nThis bloody fellow then ordain\u2019d to be their mean, this wretch,\nWhose stony liver would to heav\u2019n I might devour, my teeth\nMy son\u2019s revengers made! Curs\u2019d Greek, he gave him not his death\nDoing an ill work; he alone fought for his country, he\nFled not, nor fear\u2019d, but stood his worst; and curs\u00e9d policy\nWas his undoing.\u201d He replied: \u201cWhatever was his end\nIs not our question, we must now use all means to defend\nHis end from scandal; from which act dissuade not my just will,\nNor let me nourish in my house a bird presaging ill\nTo my good actions; \u2019tis in vain. Had any earthly spirit\nGiv\u2019n this suggestion, if our priests, or soothsay\u2019rs, challenging\nmerit\nOf prophets, I might hold it false, and be the rather mov\u2019d\nTo keep my palace, but these ears and these self eyes approv\u2019d\nIt was a Goddess. I will go; for not a word She spake\nI know was idle. If it were, and that my fate will make\nQuick riddance of me at the fleet, kill me, Achilles; come,\nWhen getting to thee, I shall find a happy dying room\nOn Hector\u2019s bosom, when enough thirst of my tears finds there\nQuench to his fervour.\u201d This resolv\u2019d, the works most fair and dear\nOf his rich screens he brought abroad; twelve veils wrought curiously;\nTwelve plain gowns; and as many suits of wealthy tapestry;\nAs many mantles; horsemen\u2019s coats; ten talents of fine gold;\nTwo tripods; caldrons four; a bowl, whose value he did hold\nBeyond all price, presented by th\u2019 ambassadors of Thrace.\nThe old king nothing held too dear, to rescue from disgrace\nHis gracious Hector. Forth he came. At entry of his court\nThe Trojan citizens so press\u2019d, that this opprobrious sort\nOf check he us\u2019d: \u201cHence, cast-aways! Away, ye impious crew!\nAre not your griefs enough at home? What come ye here to view?\nCare ye for my griefs? Would ye see how miserable I am?\nIs\u2019t not enough, imagine ye? Ye might know, ere ye came,\nWhat such a son\u2019s loss weigh\u2019d with me. But know this for your pains,\nYour houses have the weaker doors; the Greeks will find their gains\nThe easier for his loss, be sure. But O Troy! ere I see\nThy ruin, let the doors of hell receive and ruin me!\u201d\nThus with his sceptre set he on the crowding citizens,\nWho gave back, seeing him so urge. And now he entertains\nHis sons as roughly, Helenus, Paris, Hippothous,\nPammon, divine Agathones, renown\u2019d Deiphobus,\nAgavus, and Antiphonus, and last, not least in arms,\nThe strong Polites: these nine sons the violence of his harms\nHelp\u2019d him to vent in these sharp terms: \u201cHaste, you infamous brood,\nAnd get my chariot. Would to heav\u2019n that all the abject blood\nIn all your veins had Hector \u2019scus\u2019d! O me, accurs\u00e9d man,\nAll my good sons are gone, my light the shades Cimmerian\nHave swallow\u2019d from me. I have lost Mestor, surnam\u2019d the fair;\nTroilus, that ready knight at arms, that made his field repair\nEver so prompt and joyfully; and Hector, amongst men\nEsteem\u2019d a God, not from a mortal\u2019s seed, but of th\u2019 Eternal strain,\nHe seem\u2019d to all eyes. These are gone, you that survive are base,\nLiars and common freebooters; all faulty, not a grace,\nBut in your heels, in all your parts; dancing companions\nYe all are excellent. Hence, ye brats! Love ye to hear my moans?\nWill ye not get my chariot? Command it quickly, fly,\nThat I may perfect this dear work.\u201d This all did terrify;\nAnd straight his mule-drawn chariot came, to which they fast did bind\nThe trunk with gifts. And then came forth, with an afflicted mind,\nOld Hecuba. In her right hand a bowl of gold she bore\nWith sweet wine crown\u2019d, stood near, and said: \u201cReceive this, and\nimplore,\nWith sacrificing it to Jove, thy safe return. I see\nThy mind likes still to go, though mine dislikes it utterly.\nPray to the black-cloud-gath\u2019ring God, Id\u00e6an Jove, that views\nAll Troy, and all her miseries, that he will deign to use\nHis most-lov\u2019d bird to ratify thy hopes, that, her broad wing\nSpread on thy right hand, thou mayst know thy zealous offering\nAccepted, and thy safe return confirm\u2019d; but if he fail,\nFail thy intent, though never so it labours to prevail.\u201d\n\u201cThis I refuse not,\u201d he replied, \u201cfor no faith is so great\nIn Jove\u2019s high favour, but it must with held-up hands intreat.\u201d\nThis said, the chambermaid, that held the ewer and basin by,\nHe bade pour water on his hands; when, looking to the sky,\nHe took the bowl, did sacrifice, and thus implor\u2019d: \u201cO Jove,\nFrom Ida using thy commands, in all deserts above\nAll other Gods, vouchsafe me safe, and pity in the sight\nOf great Achilles; and, for trust to that wish\u2019d grace, excite\nThy swift-wing\u2019d Messenger, most strong, most of air\u2019s region lov\u2019d,\nTo soar on my right hand; which sight may firmly see approv\u2019d\nThy former summons, and my speed.\u201d He pray\u2019d, and heav\u2019n\u2019s King heard,\nAnd instantly cast from his fist air\u2019s all-commanding bird,\nThe black-wing\u2019d huntress, perfectest of all fowls, which Gods call\nPercnos, the eagle. And how broad the chamber nuptial\nOf any mighty man hath doors, such breadth cast either wing;\nWhich now she us\u2019d, and spread them wide on right hand of the king.\nAll saw it, and rejoic\u2019d, and up to chariot he arose,\nDrave forth, the portal and the porch resounding as he goes.\nHis friends all follow\u2019d him, and mourn\u2019d as if he went to die;\nAnd bringing him past town to field, all left him; and the eye\nOf Jupiter was then his guard, who pitied him, and us\u2019d\nThese words to Hermes: \u201cMercury, thy help hath been profus\u2019d\nEver with most grace in consorts of travellers distress\u2019d,\nNow c\u00f3nsort Priam to the fleet; but so, that not the least\nSuspicion of him be attain\u2019d, till at Achilles\u2019 tent\nThe convoy hath arriv\u2019d him safe.\u201d This charge incontinent\nHe put in practice. To his feet his feather\u2019d shoes he tied,\nImmortal, and made all of gold, with which he us\u2019d to ride\nThe rough sea and th\u2019 unmeasur\u2019d earth, and equall\u2019d in his pace\nThe puffs of wind. Then took he up his rod, that hath the grace\nTo shut what eyes he lists with sleep, and open them again\nIn strongest trances. This he held, flew forth, and did attain\nTo Troy and Hellespontus straight. Then like a fair young prince,\nFirst-down-chinn\u2019d, and of such a grace as makes his looks convince\nContending eyes to view him, forth he went to meet the king.\nHe, having pass\u2019d the mighty tomb of Ilus, watering\nHis mules in Xanthus, the dark even fell on the earth; and then\nId\u00e6us (guider of the mules) discern\u2019d this grace of men,\nAnd spake afraid to Priamus: \u201cBeware, Dardanides,\nOur states ask counsel; I discern the dangerous access\nOf some man near us; now I fear we perish. Is it best\nTo fly, or kiss his knees and ask his ruth of men distress\u2019d?\u201d\nConfusion strook the king, cold fear extremely quench\u2019d his veins,\nUpright upon his languishing head his hair stood, and the chains\nOf strong amaze bound all his pow\u2019rs. To both which then came near\nThe prince turn\u2019d Deity, took his hand, and thus bespake the peer:\n\u201cTo what place, father, driv\u2019st thou out through solitary night,\nWhen others sleep? Give not the Greeks sufficient cause of fright\nTo these late travels, being so near, and such vow\u2019d enemies?\nOf all which, if with all this load any should cast his eyes\nOn thy adventures, what would then thy mind esteem thy state,\nThyself old, and thy follow\u2019r old? Resistance could not rate\nAt any value; as for me, be sure I mind no harm\nTo thy grave person, but against the hurt of others arm.\nMine own lov\u2019d father did not get a greater love in me\nTo his good, than thou dost to thine.\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cThe degree\nOf danger in my course, fair son, is nothing less than that\nThou urgest; but some God\u2019s fair hand puts in for my safe state,\nThat sends so sweet a guardian in this so stern a time\nOf night, and danger, as thyself, that all grace in his prime\nOf body and of beauty show\u2019st, all answer\u2019d with a mind\nSo knowing, that it cannot be but of some blessed kind\nThou art descended.\u201d \u201cNot untrue,\u201d said Hermes, \u201cthy conceit\nIn all this holds; but further truth relate, if of such weight\nAs I conceive thy carriage be, and that thy care conveys\nThy goods of most price to more guard; or go ye all your ways\nFrighted from holy Ilion, so excellent a son\nAs thou hadst (being your special strength) fallen to destructi\u00f3n,\nWhom no Greek better\u2019d for his fight?\u201d \u201cO, what art thou,\u201d said he,\n\u201cMost worthy youth, of what race born, that thus recount\u2019st to me\nMy wretched son\u2019s death with such truth?\u201d \u201cNow, father,\u201d he replied,\n\u201cYou tempt me far, in wond\u2019ring how the death was signified\nOf your divine son to a man so mere a stranger here\nAs you hold me; but I am one that oft have seen him bear\nHis person like a God in field; and when in heaps he slew\nThe Greeks, all routed to their fleet, his so victorious view\nMade me admire, not feel his hand; because \u00c6acides,\nIncens\u2019d, admitted not our fight, myself being of access\nTo his high person, serving him, and both to Ilion\nIn one ship sail\u2019d. Besides, by birth I breathe a Myrmidon,\nPolyctor, call\u2019d the rich, my sire, declin\u2019d with age like you.\nSix sons he hath, and me a seventh; and all those six live now\nIn Phthia, since, all casting lots, my chance did only fall\nTo follow hither. Now for walk I left my General.\nTo-morrow all the sun-burn\u2019d Greeks will circle Troy with arms,\nThe princes rage to be withheld so idly, your alarms\nNot giv\u2019n half hot enough they think, and can contain no more.\u201d\nHe answer\u2019d: \u201cIf you serve the prince, let me be bold t\u2019 implore\nThis grace of thee, and tell me true: Lies Hector here at fleet,\nOr have the dogs his flesh?\u201d He said: \u201cNor dogs nor fowl have yet\nTouch\u2019d at his person; still he lies at fleet, and in the tent\nOf our great Captain, who indeed is much too negligent\nOf his fit usage. But, though now twelve days have spent their heat\nOn his cold body, neither worms with any taint have eat,\nNor putrefaction perish\u2019d it; yet ever, when the Morn\nLifts her divine light from the sea, unmercifully borne\nAbout Patroclus\u2019 sepulchre, it bears his friend\u2019s disdain,\nBound to his chariot; but no fits of further outrage reign\nIn his distemper. You would muse to see how deep a dew\nEv\u2019n steeps the body, all the blood wash\u2019d off, no slend\u2019rest shew\nOf gore or quitture, but his wounds all clos\u2019d, though many were\nOpen\u2019d about him. Such a love the blest Immortals bear,\nEv\u2019n dead, to thy dear son, because his life show\u2019d love to them.\u201d\nHe joyful answer\u2019d: \u201cO my son, it is a grace supreme\nIn any man to serve the Gods. And I must needs say this;\nFor no cause, having season fit, my Hector\u2019s hands would miss\nAdvancement to the Gods with gifts, and therefore do not they\nMiss his remembrance after death. Now let an old man pray\nThy graces to receive this cup, and keep it for my love,\nNor leave me till the Gods and thee have made my pray\u2019rs approve\nAchilles\u2019 pity, by thy guide brought to his princely tent.\u201d\nHermes replied: \u201cYou tempt me now, old king, to a consent\nFar from me, though youth aptly errs. I secretly receive\nGifts that I cannot broadly vouch, take graces that will give\nMy lord dishonour, or what he knows not, or will esteem\nPerhaps unfit? Such briberies perhaps at first may seem\nSweet and secure; but futurely they still prove sour, and breed\nBoth fear and danger. I could wish thy grave affairs did need\nMy guide to Argos, either shipp\u2019d, or lackeying by thy side,\nAnd would be studious in thy guard, so nothing could be tried\nBut care in me to keep thee safe, for that I could excuse,\nAnd vouch to all men.\u201d These words past, he put the deeds in use\nFor which Jove sent him; up he leapt to Priam\u2019s chariot,\nTook scourge and reins, and blew in strength to his free steeds, and\ngot\nThe naval tow\u2019rs and deep dike straight. The guards were all at meat;\nThose he enslumber\u2019d, op\u2019d the ports, and in he safely let\nOld Priam with his wealthy prize. Forthwith they reach\u2019d the tent\nOf great Achilles, large and high, and in his most ascent\nA shaggy roof of seedy reeds mown from the meads; a hall\nOf state they made their king in it, and strengthen\u2019d it withall\nThick with fir rafters; whose approach was let in by a door\nThat had but one bar, but so big that three men evermore\nRais\u2019d it to shut, three fresh take down; which yet \u00c6acides\nWould shut and ope himself. And this with far more ease\nHermes set ope, ent\u2019ring the king; then leapt from horse, and said:\n\u201cNow know, old king, that Mercury, a God, hath giv\u2019n this aid\nTo thy endeavour, sent by Jove; and now away must I,\nFor men would envy thy estate to see a Deity\nAffect a man thus. Enter thou, embrace Achilles\u2019 knee,\nAnd by his sire, son, mother, pray his ruth and grace to thee.\u201d\nThis said, he high Olympus reach\u2019d. The king then left his coach\nTo grave Id\u00e6us, and went on, made his resolv\u2019d approach,\nAnd enter\u2019d in a goodly room, where with his princes sate\nJove-lov\u2019d Achilles, at their feast; two only kept the state\nOf his attendance, Alcimus, and lord Automedon,\nAt Priam\u2019s entry. A great time Achilles gaz\u2019d upon\nHis wonder\u2019d-at approach, nor ate; the rest did nothing see,\nWhile close he came up, with his hands fast holding the bent knee\nOf Hector\u2019s conqueror, and kiss\u2019d that large man-slaught\u2019ring hand\nThat much blood from his sons had drawn. And as in some strange land,\nAnd great man\u2019s house, a man is driv\u2019n (with that abhorr\u2019d dismay\nThat follows wilful bloodshed still, his fortune being to slay\nOne whose blood cries aloud for his) to plead protecti\u00f3n,\nIn such a miserable plight as frights the lookers on;\nIn such a stupefied estate Achilles sat to see\nSo unexpected, so in night, and so incredibly,\nOld Priam\u2019s entry. All his friends one on another star\u2019d\nTo see his strange looks, seeing no cause. Thus Priam then prepar\u2019d\nHis son\u2019s redemption: \u201cSee in me, O God-like Thetis\u2019 son,\nThy aged father; and perhaps ev\u2019n now being out-run\nWith some of my woes, neighbour foes (thou absent) taking time\nTo do him mischief; no mean left to terrify the crime\nOf his oppression; yet he hears thy graces still survive,\nAnd joys to hear it, hoping still to see thee safe arrive\nFrom ruin\u2019d Troy; but I, curs\u2019d man, of all my race shall live\nTo see none living. Fifty sons the Deities did give\nMy hopes to live in; all alive when near our trembling shore\nThe Greek ships harbour\u2019d, and one womb nineteen of those sons bore.\nNow Mars a number of their knees hath strength less left; and he\nThat was, of all, my only joy, and Troy\u2019s sole guard, by thee,\nLate fighting for his country, slain; whose tender\u2019d person now\nI come to ransom. Infinite is that I offer you,\nMyself conferring it, expos\u2019d alone to all your odds,\nOnly imploring right of arms. Achilles! Fear the Gods,\nPity an old man like thy sire; diff\u2019rent in only this,\nThat I am wretcheder, and bear that weight of miseries\nThat never man did, my curs\u2019d lips enforc\u2019d to kiss that hand\nThat slew my children.\u201d This mov\u2019d tears; his father\u2019s name did stand,\nMention\u2019d by Priam, in much help to his compassion,\nAnd mov\u2019d \u00c6acides so much, he could not look upon\nThe weeping father. With his hand he gently put away\nHis grave face. Calm remission now did mutually display\nHer pow\u2019r in either\u2019s heaviness. Old Priam, to record\nHis son\u2019s death and his deathsman see, his tears and bosom pour\u2019d\nBefore Achilles; at his feet he laid his rev\u2019rend head.\nAchilles\u2019 thoughts, now with his sire, now with his friend, were fed.\nBetwixt both sorrow fill\u2019d the tent. But now \u00c6acides\n(Satiate at all parts with the ruth of their calamities)\nStart up, and up he rais\u2019d the king. His milk-white head and beard\nWith pity he beheld, and said: \u201cPoor man, thy mind is scar\u2019d\nWith much afflicti\u00f3n. How durst thy person thus alone\nVenture on his sight, that hath slain so many a worthy son,\nAnd so dear to thee? Thy old heart is made of iron. Sit,\nAnd settle we our woes, though huge, for nothing profits it.\nCold mourning wastes but our lives\u2019 heats. The Gods have destinate\nThat wretched mortals must live sad; \u2019tis the Immortal State\nOf Deity that lives secure. Two tuns of gifts there lie\nIn Jove\u2019s gate, one of good, one ill, that our mortality\nMaintain, spoil, order; which when Jove doth mix to any man,\nOne while he frolics, one while mourns. If of his mournful can\nA man drinks only, only wrongs he doth expose him to,\nSad hunger in th\u2019 abundant earth doth toss him to and fro,\nRespected nor of Gods nor men. The mix\u2019d cup Peleus drank\nEv\u2019n from his birth; Heav\u2019n blest his life; he liv\u2019d not that could\nthank\nThe Gods for such rare benefits as set forth his estate.\nHe reign\u2019d among his Myrmidons most rich, most fortunate,\nAnd, though a mortal, had his bed deck\u2019d with a deathless dame.\nAnd yet, with all this good, one ill God mix\u2019d, that takes all name\nFrom all that goodness; his name now, whose preservation here\nMen count the crown of their most good, not bless\u2019d with pow\u2019r to bear\nOne blossom but myself, and I shaken as soon as blown;\nNor shall I live to cheer his age, and give nutriti\u00f3n\nTo him that nourish\u2019d me. Far off my rest is set in Troy,\nTo leave thee restless and thy seed; thyself that did enjoy,\nAs we have heard, a happy life; what Lesbos doth contain,\nIn times past being a bless\u2019d man\u2019s seat, what the unmeasur\u2019d main\nOf Hellespontus, Phrygia, holds, are all said to adorn\nThy empire, wealth and sons enow; but, when the Gods did turn\nThy blest state to partake with bane, war and the bloods of men\nCircled thy city, never clear. Sit down and suffer then;\nMourn not inevitable things; thy tears can spring no deeds\nTo help thee, nor recall thy son; impatience ever breeds\nIll upon ill, makes worst things worse, and therefore sit.\u201d He said:\n\u201cGive me no seat, great seed of Jove, when yet unransomed\nHector lies riteless in thy tents, but deign with utmost speed\nHis resignation, that these eyes may see his person freed,\nAnd thy grace satisfied with gifts. Accept what I have brought,\nAnd turn to Phthia; \u2019tis enough thy conqu\u2019ring hand hath fought\nTill Hector falter\u2019d under it, and Hector\u2019s father stood\nWith free humanity safe.\u201d He frown\u2019d and said: \u201cGive not my blood\nFresh cause of fury. I know well I must resign thy son,\nJove by my mother utter\u2019d it; and what besides is done\nI know as amply; and thyself, old Priam, I know too.\nSome God hath brought thee; for no man durst use a thought to go\nOn such a service. I have guards, and I have gates to stay\nEasy accesses; do not then presume thy will can sway,\nLike Jove\u2019s will, and incense again my quench\u2019d blood, lest nor thou\nNor Jove get the command of me.\u201d This made the old king bow,\nAnd down he sat in fear. The prince leapt like a lion forth,\nAutomedon and Alcimus attending: all the worth\nBrought for the body they took down and brought in, and with it\nId\u00e6us, herald to the king; a coat embroider\u2019d yet,\nAnd two rich cloaks, they left to hide the person. Thetis\u2019 son\nCall\u2019d out his women, to anoint and quickly overrun\nThe corse with water, lifting it in private to the coach,\nLest Priam saw, and his cold blood embrac\u2019d a fi\u2019ry touch\nOf anger at the turpitude profaning it, and blew\nAgain his wrath\u2019s fire to his death. This done, his women threw\nThe coat and cloak on; but the corse Achilles\u2019 own hand laid\nUpon a bed, and with his friends to chariot it convey\u2019d.\nFor which forc\u2019d grace, abhorring so from his free mind, he wept,\nCried out for anger, and thus pray\u2019d: \u201cO friend, do not except\nAgainst this favour to our foe, if in the deep thou hear,\nAnd that I give him to his sire; he gave fair ransom; dear\nIn my observance is Jove\u2019s will; and whatsoever part\nOf all these gifts by any mean I fitly may convert\nTo thy renown here, and will there, it shall be pour\u2019d upon\nThy honour\u2019d sepulchre. This said, he went, and what was done\nTold Priam, saying: \u201cFather, now thy will\u2019s fit rites are paid,\nThy son is giv\u2019n up; in the morn thine eyes shall see him laid\nDeck\u2019d in thy chariot on his bed; in mean space let us eat.\nThe rich-hair\u2019d Niobe found thoughts that made her take her meat,\nThough twelve dear children she saw slain, six daughters, six young\nsons.\nThe sons incens\u2019d Apollo slew; the maids\u2019 confusions\nDiana wrought; since Niobe her merits durst compare\nWith great Latona\u2019s, arguing that she did only bear\nTwo children, and herself had twelve; for which those only two\nSlew all her twelve. Nine days they lay steep\u2019d in their blood, her woe\nFound no friend to afford them fire, Saturnius had turn\u2019d\nHumans to stones. The tenth day yet, the good Celestials burn\u2019d\nThe trunks themselves, and Niobe, when she was tir\u2019d with tears,\nFell to her food, and now with rocks and wild hills mix\u2019d she bears\nIn Sipylus the Gods\u2019 wrath still, in that place where \u2019tis said\nThe Goddess Fairies use to dance about the fun\u2019ral bed\nOf Achelous, where, though turn\u2019d with cold grief to a stone,\nHeav\u2019n gives her heat enough to feel what plague comparison\nWith his pow\u2019rs made by earth deserves. Affect not then too far\nWithout grief, like a God, being a man, but for a man\u2019s life care,\nAnd take fit food; thou shalt have time beside to mourn thy son;\nHe shall be tearful, thou being full; not here, but Ilion\nShall find thee weeping-rooms enow.\u201d He said, and so arose,\nAnd caus\u2019d a silver-fleec\u2019d sheep kill\u2019d; his friends\u2019 skills did\ndispose\nThe flaying, cutting of it up, and cookly spitted it,\nRoasted, and drew it artfully. Automedon, as fit\nWas for the rev\u2019rend sewer\u2019s place; and all the brown joints serv\u2019d\nOn wicker vessel to the board; Achilles\u2019 own hands kerv\u2019d;\nAnd close they fell to. Hunger stanch\u2019d; talk, and observing time,\nWas us\u2019d of all hands. Priam sat amaz\u2019d to see the prime\nOf Thetis\u2019 son, accomplish\u2019d so with stature, looks, and grace,\nIn which the fashion of a God he thought had chang\u2019d his place.\nAchilles fell to him as fast, admir\u2019d as much his years\nTold in his grave and good aspect; his speech ev\u2019n charm\u2019d his ears,\nSo order\u2019d, so material. With this food feasted too,\nOld Priam spake thus: \u201cNow, Jove\u2019s seed, command that I may go,\nAnd add to this feast grace of rest. These lids ne\u2019er clos\u2019d mine eyes,\nSince under thy hands fled the soul of my dear son; sighs, cries,\nAnd woes, all use from food and sleep have taken; the base courts\nOf my sad palace made my beds, where all the abject sorts\nOf sorrow I have vari\u00e9d, tumbled in dust, and hid;\nNo bit, no drop, of sust\u2019nance touch\u2019d.\u201d Then did Achilles bid\nHis men and women see his bed laid down, and cover\u00e9d\nWith purple blankets, and on them an arras coverlid,\nWaistcoats of silk plush laying by. The women straight took lights,\nAnd two beds made with utmost speed, and all the other rites\nTheir lord nam\u2019d us\u2019d, who pleasantly the king in hand thus bore:\n\u201cGood father, you must sleep without; lest any counsellor\nMake his access in depth of night, as oft their industry\nBrings them t\u2019 impart our war-affairs; of whom should any eye\nDiscern your presence, his next steps to Agamemnon fly,\nAnd then shall I lose all these gifts. But go to, signify,\nAnd that with truth, how many days you mean to keep the state\nOf Hector\u2019s funerals; because so long would I rebate\nMine own edge set to sack your town, and all our host contain\nFrom interruption of your rites.\u201d He answer\u2019d: \u201cIf you mean\nTo suffer such rites to my son, you shall perform a part\nOf most grace to me. But you know with how dismay\u2019d a heart\nOur host took Troy; and how much fear will therefore apprehend\nTheir spirits to make out again, so far as we must send\nFor wood to raise our heap of death; unless I may assure\nThat this your high grace will stand good, and make their pass secure;\nWhich if you seriously confirm, nine days I mean to mourn;\nThe tenth keep funeral and feast; th\u2019 eleventh raise and adorn\nMy son\u2019s fit sepulchre; the twelfth, if we must needs, we\u2019ll fight.\u201d\n\u201cBe it,\u201d replied \u00c6acides, \u201cdo Hector all this right;\nI\u2019ll hold war back those whole twelve days; of which, to free all fear,\nTake this my right hand.\u201d This confirm\u2019d, the old king rested there;\nHis herald lodg\u2019d by him; and both in forepart of the tent;\nAchilles in an inmost room of wondrous ornament,\nWhose side bright-cheek\u2019d Briseis warm\u2019d. Soft sleep tam\u2019d Gods and\nmen,\nAll but most-useful Mercury; sleep could not lay one chain\nOn his quick temples, taking care for getting off again\nEngag\u00e9d Priam undiscern\u2019d of those that did maintain\nThe sacred watch. Above his head he stood with this demand:\n\u201cO father, sleep\u2019st thou so secure, still lying in the hand\nOf so much ill, and being dismiss\u2019d by great \u00c6acides?\n\u2019Tis true thou hast redeem\u2019d the dead; but for thy life\u2019s release,\nShould Agamemnon hear thee here, three times the price now paid\nThy sons\u2019 hands must repay for thee.\u201d This said, the king, afraid,\nStart from his sleep, Id\u00e6us call\u2019d, and, for both, Mercury\nThe horse and mules, before loos\u2019d, join\u2019d so soft and curiously\nThat no ear heard, and through the host drave; but when they drew\nTo gulfy Xanthus\u2019 bright-wav\u2019d stream, up to Olympus flew\nIndustrious Mercury. And now the saffron Morning rose,\nSpreading her white robe over all the world; when, full of woes,\nThey scourg\u2019d on with the corse to Troy, from whence no eye had seen,\nBefore Cassandra, their return. She, like love\u2019s golden Queen,\nAscending Pergamus, discern\u2019d her father\u2019s person nigh,\nHis herald, and her brother\u2019s corse; and then she cast this cry\nRound about Troy: \u201cO Trojans, if ever ye did greet\nHector return\u2019d from fight alive, now look ye out and meet\nHis ransom\u2019d person. Then his worth was all your city\u2019s joy,\nNow do it honour.\u201d Out all rush\u2019d; woman nor man in Troy\nWas left, a most unmeasur\u2019d cry took up their voices. Close\nTo Sc\u00e6a\u2019s ports they met the corse; and to it headlong goes\nThe rev\u2019rend mother, the dear wife; upon it strow their hair,\nAnd lie entranc\u00e9d. Round about the people broke the air\nIn lamentations; and all day had stay\u2019d the people there,\nIf Priam had not cried \u201cGive way, give me but leave to bear\nThe body home, and mourn your fills.\u201d Then cleft the press, and gave\nWay to the chariot. To the court herald Id\u00e6us drave\nWhere on a rich bed they bestow\u2019d the honour\u2019d person, round\nGirt it with singers that the woe with skilful voices crown\u2019d.\nA woeful elegy they sung, wept singing, and the dames\nSigh\u2019d as they sung. Andromache the downright prose exclaims\nBegan to all; she on the neck of slaughter\u2019d Hector fell,\nAnd cried out: \u201cO my husband, thou in youth bad\u2019st youth farewell,\nLeft\u2019st me a widow, thy sole son an infant; ourselves curs\u2019d\nIn our birth made him right our child: for all my care that nurs\u2019d\nHis infancy will never give life to his youth, ere that\nTroy from her top will be destroy\u2019d; thou guardian of our state,\nThou ev\u2019n of all her strength the strength, thou, that in care wert\npast\nHer careful mothers of their babes, being gone, how can she last?\nSoon will the swoln fleet fill her womb with all their servitude,\nMyself with them, and thou with me, dear son, in labours rude\nShalt be employ\u2019d, sternly survey\u2019d by cruel conquerors;\nOr, rage not suff\u2019ring life so long, some one, whose hate abhors\nThy presence (putting him in mind of his sire slain by thine,\nHis brother, son, or friend) shall work thy ruin before mine,\nToss\u2019d from some tow\u2019r, for many Greeks have ate earth from the hand\nOf thy strong father; in sad fight his spirit was too much mann\u2019d,\nAnd therefore mourn his people; we, thy parents, my dear lord,\nFor that thou mak\u2019st endure a woe, black, and to be abhorr\u2019d.\nOf all yet thou hast left me worst, not dying in thy bed,\nAnd reaching me thy last-rais\u2019d hand, in nothing counsell\u00e9d\nNothing commanded by that pow\u2019r thou hadst of me to do\nSome deed for thy sake. O for these never will end my woe,\nNever my tears cease.\u201d Thus wept she, and all the ladies clos\u2019d\nHer passion with a gen\u2019ral shriek. Then Hecuba dispos\u2019d\nHer thoughts in like words; \u201cO my son, of all mine much most dear,\nDear while thou liv\u2019dst too ev\u2019n to Gods, and after death they were\nCareful to save thee. Being best, thou most wert envied;\nMy other sons Achilles sold; but thee he left not dead.\nImber and Samos, the false ports of Lemnos entertain\u2019d\nTheir persons; thine, no port but death. Nor there in rest remain\u2019d\nThy violated corse, the tomb of his great friend was spher\u2019d\nWith thy dragg\u2019d person; yet from death he was not therefore rear\u2019d\nBut, all his rage us\u2019d, so the Gods have tender\u2019d thy dead state,\nThou liest as living, sweet and fresh, as he that felt the fate\nOf Ph\u0153bus\u2019 holy shafts.\u201d These words the queen us\u2019d for her moan,\nAnd, next her, Helen held that state of speech and passi\u00f3n:\n\u201cO Hector, all my brothers more were not so lov\u2019d of me\nAs thy most virtues. Not my lord I held so dear, as thee,\nThat brought me hither; before which I would I had been brought\nTo ruin; for what breeds that wish (which is the mischief wrought\nBy my access) yet never found one harsh taunt, one word\u2019s ill,\nFrom thy sweet carriage. Twenty years do now their circles fill\nSince my arrival; all which time thou didst not only bear\nThyself without check, but all else, that my lord\u2019s brothers were,\nTheir sisters\u2019 lords, sisters themselves, the queen my mother-in-law,\n(The king being never but most mild) when thy man\u2019s spirit saw\nSour and reproachful, it would still reprove their bitterness\nWith sweet words, and thy gentle soul. And therefore thy decease\nI truly mourn for; and myself curse as the wretched cause;\nAll broad Troy yielding me not one, that any human laws\nOf pity or forgiveness mov\u2019d t\u2019entreat me humanly,\nBut only thee, all else abhorr\u2019d me for my destiny.\u201d\nThese words made ev\u2019n the commons mourn; to whom the king said:\n\u201cFriends,\nNow fetch wood for our fun\u2019ral fire, nor fear the foe intends\nAmbush, or any violence; Achilles gave his word,\nAt my dismission, that twelve days he would keep sheath\u2019d his sword,\nAnd all men\u2019s else.\u201d Thus oxen, mules, in chariots straight they put,\nWent forth and an unmeasur\u2019d pile of sylvan matter cut;\nNine days employ\u2019d in carriage, but when the tenth morn shin\u2019d\nOn wretched mortals, then they brought the fit-to-be-divin\u2019d\nForth to be burn\u2019d. Troy swum in tears. Upon the pile\u2019s most height\nThey laid the person, and gave fire. All day it burn\u2019d, all night.\nBut when th\u2019 elev\u2019nth morn let on earth her rosy fingers shine,\nThe people flock\u2019d about the pile, and first with blackish wine\nQuench\u2019d all the flames. His brothers then, and friends, the snowy\nbones\nGather\u2019d into an urn of gold, still pouring on their moans.\nThen wrapt they in soft purple veils the rich urn, digg\u2019d a pit,\nGrav\u2019d it, ramm\u2019d up the grave with stones, and quickly built to it\nA sepulchre. But, while that work and all the fun\u2019ral rites\nWere in performance, guards were held at all parts, days and nights,\nFor fear of false surprise before they had impos\u2019d the crown\nTo these solemnities. The tomb advanc\u2019d once, all the town\nIn Jove-nurs\u2019d Priam\u2019s Court partook a passing sumptuous feast.\nAnd so horse-taming Hector\u2019s rites gave up his soul to rest.\n\nTHE END OF THE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK.\n\n\n [1] Shame a quality that hurts and helps men exceedingly.\n\n\n\n\nEPILOGUE TO HOMER\u2019S ILIADS\n\nThus far the Ilian ruins I have laid\nOpen to English eyes. In which, repaid\nWith thine own value, go, unvalued book,\nLive, and be lov\u2019d. If any envious look\nHurt thy clear fame, learn that no state more high\nAttends on virtue than pin\u2019d envy\u2019s eye.\nWould thou wert worth it that the best doth wound.\nWhich this age feeds, and which the last shall bound!\n\nThus, with labour enough, though with more comfort in the merits of my\ndivine author, I have brought my translation of his Iliads to an end.\nIf, either therein, or in the harsh utterance or matter of my Comment\nbefore, I have, for haste, scattered with my burthen (less than fifteen\nweeks being the whole time that the last Twelve Books\u2019 translation\nstood me in) I desire my present will (and I doubt not hability, if God\ngive life, to reform and perfect all hereafter) may be ingenuously\naccepted for the absolute work. The rather, considering the most\nlearned, with all their helps and time, have been so often, and\nunanswerably, miserably taken halting. In the mean time, that most\nassistful and unspeakable Spirit, by Whose thrice sacred conduct and\ninspiration I have finished this labour, diffuse the fruitful horn of\nHis blessings through these goodness-thirsting watchings; without\nwhich, utterly dry and bloodless is whatsoever mortality soweth.\n\nBut where our most diligent Spondanus ends his work with a prayer to be\ntaken out of these M\u00e6anders and Euripian rivers (as he terms them) of\nEthnic and Profane Writers (being quite contrary to himself at the\nbeginning) I thrice humbly beseech the Most Dear and Divine Mercy (ever\nmost incomparably preferring the great light of His Truth in His direct\nand infallible Scriptures) I may ever be enabled, by resting wondering\nin His right comfortable shadows in these, to magnify the clearness of\nHis Almighty apparance in the other.\n\nAnd with this salutation of Poesy given by our Spondanus in his Preface\nto these Iliads (_\u201cAll hail saint-sacred Poesy that, under so much gall\nof fiction, such abundance of honey doctrine hast hidden, not revealing\nthem to the unworthy worldly! Wouldst thou but so much make me, that\namongst thy novices I might be numbered, no time should ever come near\nmy life that could make me forsake thee.\u201d_) I will conclude with this\nmy daily and nightly prayer, learned of the most learned Simplicius;\u2014\n\n_\u201cSupplico tibi, Domine, Pater, et Dux rationis nostr\u00e6, ut nostr\u00e6\nnobilitatis recordemur qu\u00e2 Tu nos ornasti; et ut Tu nobis pr\u00e6st\u00f2 sis ut\niis qui per sese moventur; ut et \u00e0 corporis contagio brutorumque\naffectuum repurgemur, eosque superemus et regamus, et, sicut decet, pro\ninstrumentis iis utamur. Deinde ut nobis adjumento sis, ad accuratam\nrationis nostr\u00e6 correctionem, et conjunctionem cum iis qui ver\u00e8 sunt\nper lucem veritatis. Et tertium, Salvatori supplex oro, ut ab oculis\nanimorum nostrorum caliginem prorsus abstergas, ut (quod apud Homerum\nest) norimus bene qui Deus, aut mortalis, habendus. Amen._\u201d\n\n FINIS\n\n Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.","title":"The Iliads of Homer: Translated according to the Greek","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":170788}