Iliad on Courage

Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, The valiant leader of the Cretan band; And Mars-like Meges: these the chiefs excite, Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight. Behind, unnumber’d multitudes attend, To flank the navy, and the shores defend. Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, And Hector first came towering to the war. Phœbus himself the rushing battle led; A veil of clouds involved his radiant head: High held before him, Jove’s enormous shield Portentous shone, and shaded all the field; Vulcan to Jove the immortal gift consign’d, To scatter hosts and terrify mankind, The Greeks expect the shock, the clamours rise From different parts, and mingle in the skies. Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; These drink the life of generous warriors slain: Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain. As long as Phœbus bore unmoved the shield, Sat doubtful conquest hovering o’er the field; But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, Deep horror seizes every Grecian breast, Their force is humbled, and their fear confess’d. So flies a herd of oxen, scatter’d wide, No swain to guard them, and no day to guide, When two fell lions from the mountain come, And spread the carnage through the shady gloom. Impending Phœbus pours around them fear, And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear. Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads, First great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; One to the bold Bœotians ever dear, And one Menestheus’ friend and famed compeer. Medon and Iasus, Æneas sped; This sprang from Phelus, and the Athenians led; But hapless Medon from Oïleus came; Him Ajax honour’d with a brother’s name, Though born of lawless love: from home expell’d, A banish’d man, in Phylacè he dwell’d, Press’d by the vengeance of an angry wife; Troy ends at last his labours and his life. Mecystes next Polydamas o’erthrew; And thee, brave Clonius, great Agenor slew.

“Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone; Hector! my loved, my dearest, bravest son! Methinks already I behold thee slain, And stretch’d beneath that fury of the plain. Implacable Achilles! might’st thou be To all the gods no dearer than to me! Thee, vultures wild should scatter round the shore, And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore. How many valiant sons I late enjoy’d, Valiant in vain! by thy cursed arm destroy’d: Or, worse than slaughtered, sold in distant isles To shameful bondage, and unworthy toils. Two, while I speak, my eyes in vain explore, Two from one mother sprung, my Polydore, And loved Lycaon; now perhaps no more! Oh! if in yonder hostile camp they live, What heaps of gold, what treasures would I give! (Their grandsire’s wealth, by right of birth their own, Consign’d his daughter with Lelegia’s throne:) But if (which Heaven forbid) already lost, All pale they wander on the Stygian coast; What sorrows then must their sad mother know, What anguish I? unutterable woe! Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me, Less to all Troy, if not deprived of thee. Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall; And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all! Save thy dear life; or, if a soul so brave Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; While yet thy father feels the woes he bears, Yet cursed with sense! a wretch, whom in his rage (All trembling on the verge of helpless age) Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain! The bitter dregs of fortune’s cup to drain: To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes, And number all his days by miseries! My heroes slain, my bridal bed o’erturn’d, My daughters ravish’d, and my city burn’d, My bleeding infants dash’d against the floor; These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more! Perhaps even I, reserved by angry fate, The last sad relic of my ruin’d state, (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness!)

These words scarce spoke, with generous ardour press’d, His manly limbs in azure arms he dress’d. That day, Atrides! a superior hand Had stretch’d thee breathless on the hostile strand; But all at once, thy fury to compose, The kings of Greece, an awful band, arose; Even he their chief, great Agamemnon, press’d Thy daring hand, and this advice address’d: “Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun? Grieved though thou art, forbear the rash design; Great Hector’s arm is mightier far than thine: Even fierce Achilles learn’d its force to fear, And trembling met this dreadful son of war. Sit thou secure, amidst thy social band; Greece in our cause shall arm some powerful hand. The mightiest warrior of the Achaian name, Though bold and burning with desire of fame, Content the doubtful honour might forego, So great the danger, and so brave the foe.”

This said, the hero o’er his shoulders flung A lion’s spoils, that to his ankles hung; Then seized his ponderous lance, and strode along. Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed, The warrior roused, and to the entrenchments lead.

As Hector follow’d, Idomen address’d The flaming javelin to his manly breast; The brittle point before his corslet yields; Exulting Troy with clamour fills the fields: High on his chariots the Cretan stood, The son of Priam whirl’d the massive wood. But erring from its aim, the impetuous spear Struck to the dust the squire and charioteer Of martial Merion: Coeranus his name, Who left fair Lyctus for the fields of fame. On foot bold Merion fought; and now laid low, Had graced the triumphs of his Trojan foe, But the brave squire the ready coursers brought, And with his life his master’s safety bought. Between his cheek and ear the weapon went, The teeth it shatter’d, and the tongue it rent. Prone from the seat he tumbles to the plain; His dying hand forgets the falling rein: This Merion reaches, bending from the car, And urges to desert the hopeless war: Idomeneus consents; the lash applies; And the swift chariot to the navy flies.

Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, Calls on his host; his host obey the call; With ardour follow where their leader flies: Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, And gives great Hector the predestined day. Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, Close to the works their rigid siege they laid. In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, While these they undermine, and those they rend; Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall. Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce alarms; The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving arms, Shield touching shield, a long refulgent row; Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain below. The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian power. The generous impulse every Greek obeys; Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, praise.

While round the prince the Greeks employ their care, The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; Once more they glitter in refulgent arms, Once more the fields are fill’d with dire alarms. Nor had you seen the king of men appear Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear; But fond of glory, with severe delight, His beating bosom claim’d the rising fight. No longer with his warlike steeds he stay’d, Or press’d the car with polish’d brass inlaid But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; The fiery coursers snorted at his side. On foot through all the martial ranks he moves And these encourages, and those reproves. “Brave men!” he cries, (to such who boldly dare Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war), “Your ancient valour on the foes approve; Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove. ’Tis not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head; Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains, And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains.”

Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside; The fourfold buckler o’er his shoulder tied; On his brave head a crested helm he placed, With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines, The warrior wields; and his great brother joins.

“This pest he slaughter’d, (for he read the skies, And trusted heaven’s informing prodigies,) Then met in arms the Solymæan crew,[169] (Fiercest of men,) and those the warrior slew; Next the bold Amazons’ whole force defied; And conquer’d still, for heaven was on his side.

High in the midst the great Achilles stands, Directs their order, and the war commands. He, loved of Jove, had launch’d for Ilion’s shores Full fifty vessels, mann’d with fifty oars: Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey, Himself supreme in valour, as in sway.

“O warriors, partners of Achilles’ praise! Be mindful of your deeds in ancient days; Your godlike master let your acts proclaim, And add new glories to his mighty name. Think your Achilles sees you fight: be brave, And humble the proud monarch whom you save.”

He spoke, and foremost to the combat flew: The bold example all his hosts pursue. Then, first, Leocritus beneath him bled, In vain beloved by valiant Lycomede; Who view’d his fall, and, grieving at the chance, Swift to revenge it sent his angry lance; The whirling lance, with vigorous force address’d, Descends, and pants in Apisaon’s breast; From rich Paeonia’s vales the warrior came, Next thee, Asteropeus! in place and fame. Asteropeus with grief beheld the slain, And rush’d to combat, but he rush’d in vain: Indissolubly firm, around the dead, Rank within rank, on buckler buckler spread, And hemm’d with bristled spears, the Grecians stood, A brazen bulwark, and an iron wood. Great Ajax eyes them with incessant care, And in an orb contracts the crowded war, Close in their ranks commands to fight or fall, And stands the centre and the soul of all: Fix’d on the spot they war, and wounded, wound; A sanguine torrent steeps the reeking ground: On heaps the Greeks, on heaps the Trojans bled, And, thickening round them, rise the hills of dead.

Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld, By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; Might darts be bid to turn their points away, And swords around him innocently play; The war’s whole art with wonder had he seen, And counted heroes where he counted men.

“Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: While we from interdicted fields retire, Nor tempt the wrath of heaven’s avenging sire.”

“Not yet, my brave companions of the war, Release your smoking coursers from the car; But, with his chariot each in order led, Perform due honours to Patroclus dead. Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief, Some rites remain, to glut our rage of grief.”

This said, he stalk’d with ample strides along, To Crete’s brave monarch and his martial throng; High at their head he saw the chief appear, And bold Meriones excite the rear. At this the king his generous joy express’d, And clasp’d the warrior to his armed breast. “Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow? To thee the foremost honours are decreed, First in the fight and every graceful deed. For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls Restore our blood, and raise the warriors’ souls, Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, Unmix’d, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown’d. Be still thyself, in arms a mighty name; Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.” To whom the Cretan thus his speech address’d: “Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest. Fix’d to thy side, in every toil I share, Thy firm associate in the day of war. But let the signal be this moment given; To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven. The field shall prove how perjuries succeed, And chains or death avenge the impious deed.”

“Thy want of arms (said Iris) well we know; But though unarm’d, yet clad in terrors, go! Let but Achilles o’er yon trench appear, Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to fear; Greece from one glance of that tremendous eye Shall take new courage, and disdain to fly.”

“Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme, O king of nations! all thy Greeks proclaim; In every martial game thy worth attest, And know thee both their greatest and their best. Take then the prize, but let brave Merion bear This beamy javelin in thy brother’s war.”

“Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought! What fruits his conduct and his courage yield! Great in the council, glorious in the field. Generous he rises in the crown’s defence, To curb the factious tongue of insolence, Such just examples on offenders shown, Sedition silence, and assert the throne.”

A thousand cares his labouring breast revolves; To seek sage Nestor now the chief resolves, With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate What yet remains to save the afflicted state. He rose, and first he cast his mantle round, Next on his feet the shining sandals bound; A lion’s yellow spoils his back conceal’d; His warlike hand a pointed javelin held. Meanwhile his brother, press’d with equal woes, Alike denied the gifts of soft repose, Laments for Greece, that in his cause before So much had suffer’d and must suffer more. A leopard’s spotted hide his shoulders spread: A brazen helmet glitter’d on his head: Thus (with a javelin in his hand) he went To wake Atrides in the royal tent. Already waked, Atrides he descried, His armour buckling at his vessel’s side. Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: “Why puts my brother his bright armour on? Sends he some spy, amidst these silent hours, To try yon camp, and watch the Trojan powers? But say, what hero shall sustain that task? Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask; Guideless, alone, through night’s dark shade to go, And midst a hostile camp explore the foe.”

“O friend (Menoetius’ son this answer gave) With words to combat, ill befits the brave; Not empty boasts the sons of Troy repel, Your swords must plunge them to the shades of hell. To speak, beseems the council; but to dare In glorious action, is the task of war.”

He said; and backward to the lines retired; Forth rush’d the youth with martial fury fired, Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw, And round the black battalions cast his view. The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear, While the swift javelin hiss’d along in air. Advancing Melanippus met the dart With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart: Thundering he falls; his falling arms resound, And his broad buckler rings against the ground. The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize: Thus on a roe the well-breath’d beagle flies, And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart The distant hunter sent into his heart. Observing Hector to the rescue flew; Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew. So when a savage, ranging o’er the plain, Has torn the shepherd’s dog, or shepherd’s swain, While conscious of the deed, he glares around, And hears the gathering multitude resound, Timely he flies the yet-untasted food, And gains the friendly shelter of the wood: So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue, While stones and darts in mingled tempest flew; But enter’d in the Grecian ranks, he turns His manly breast, and with new fury burns.

“O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon’s line, And great Æneas, sprung from race divine! Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car! And save a life, the bulwark of our war.”

“Now, Neptune! now, the important hour employ, To check a while the haughty hopes of Troy: While Jove yet rests, while yet my vapours shed The golden vision round his sacred head; For Juno’s love, and Somnus’ pleasing ties, Have closed those awful and eternal eyes.” Thus having said, the power of slumber flew, On human lids to drop the balmy dew. Neptune, with zeal increased, renews his care, And towering in the foremost ranks of war, Indignant thus—“Oh once of martial fame! O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name! This half-recover’d day shall Troy obtain? Shall Hector thunder at your ships again? Lo! still he vaunts, and threats the fleet with fires, While stern Achilles in his wrath retires. One hero’s loss too tamely you deplore, Be still yourselves, and ye shall need no more. Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms, Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms: His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield, Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield; Let to the weak the lighter arms belong, The ponderous targe be wielded by the strong. Thus arm’d, not Hector shall our presence stay; Myself, ye Greeks! myself will lead the way.”

She said: the cloud-compeller, overcome, Assents to fate, and ratifies the doom. Then touch’d with grief, the weeping heavens distill’d A shower of blood o’er all the fatal field: The god, his eyes averting from the plain, Laments his son, predestined to be slain, Far from the Lycian shores, his happy native reign. Now met in arms, the combatants appear; Each heaved the shield, and poised the lifted spear; From strong Patroclus’ hand the javelin fled, And pass’d the groin of valiant Thrasymed; The nerves unbraced no more his bulk sustain, He falls, and falling bites the bloody plain. Two sounding darts the Lycian leader threw: The first aloof with erring fury flew, The next transpierced Achilles’ mortal steed, The generous Pedasus of Theban breed: Fix’d in the shoulder’s joint, he reel’d around, Roll’d in the bloody dust, and paw’d the slippery ground. His sudden fall the entangled harness broke; Each axle crackled, and the chariot shook: When bold Automedon, to disengage The starting coursers, and restrain their rage, Divides the traces with his sword, and freed The encumbered chariot from the dying steed: The rest move on, obedient to the rein: The car rolls slowly o’er the dusty plain.

“What art thou, boldest of the race of man? Our eyes till now that aspect ne’er beheld, Where fame is reap’d amid the embattled field; Yet far before the troops thou dar’st appear, And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires, Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires! But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend, Know with immortals we no more contend. Not long Lycurgus view’d the golden light, That daring man who mix’d with gods in fight. Bacchus, and Bacchus’ votaries, he drove, With brandish’d steel, from Nyssa’s sacred grove: Their consecrated spears lay scatter’d round, With curling vines and twisted ivy bound; While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, And Thetis’ arms received the trembling god. Nor fail’d the crime the immortals’ wrath to move; (The immortals bless’d with endless ease above;) Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, Cheerless he breathed, and wander’d in the gloom, Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, A wretch accursed, and hated by the gods! I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath, Approach, and enter the dark gates of death.”

He spoke, and transport fill’d Tydides’ heart; In earth the generous warrior fix’d his dart, Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address’d: “Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old; Œneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold: Our ancient seat his honour’d presence graced, Where twenty days in genial rites he pass’d. The parting heroes mutual presents left; A golden goblet was thy grandsire’s gift; Œneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow’d. (This from his pledge I learn’d, which, safely stored Among my treasures, still adorns my board: For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe’s wall Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.) Mindful of this, in friendship let us join; If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline, My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, In the full harvest of yon ample field; Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; But thou and Diomed be foes no more. Now change we arms, and prove to either host We guard the friendship of the line we boast.”

Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the fortification forced by Hector, (who had entered the gate near the station of the Ajaces,) assumes the shape of Calchas, and inspires those heroes to oppose him: then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other Greeks who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaces form their troops in a close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of valour are performed; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus: this occasions a conversation between those two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus signalizes his courage above the rest; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and Alcathous: Deiphobus and Æneas march against him, and at length Idomeneus retires. Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are repulsed on the left wing; Hector still keeps his ground against the Ajaces, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas advises to call a council of war: Hector approves of his advice, but goes first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax again, and renews the attack. The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the Grecian wall and the sea-shore.

Then trembled Greece: the flight Peneleus led; For as the brave Bœotian turn’d his head To face the foe, Polydamas drew near, And razed his shoulder with a shorten’d spear: By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the plain, Pierced through the wrist; and raging with the pain, Grasps his once formidable lance in vain.

Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain, Of those Calydnæ’s sea-girt isles contain; With them the youth of Nisyrus repair, Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair; Cos, where Eurypylus possess’d the sway, Till great Alcides made the realms obey: These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring, Sprung from the god by Thessalus the king.

“O first of Greeks, (Ulysses thus rejoin’d,) The best and bravest of the warrior kind! Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine, But old experience and calm wisdom mine. Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield, The bravest soon are satiate of the field; Though vast the heaps that strow the crimson plain, The bloody harvest brings but little gain: The scale of conquest ever wavering lies, Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies! The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall, And endless were the grief, to weep for all. Eternal sorrows what avails to shed? Greece honours not with solemn fasts the dead: Enough, when death demands the brave, to pay The tribute of a melancholy day. One chief with patience to the grave resign’d, Our care devolves on others left behind. Let generous food supplies of strength produce, Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice, Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow, And pour new furies on the feebler foe. Yet a short interval, and none shall dare Expect a second summons to the war; Who waits for that, the dire effects shall find, If trembling in the ships he lags behind. Embodied, to the battle let us bend, And all at once on haughty Troy descend.”

“Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, What moves the great Atrides to complain? ’Tis thine whate’er the warrior’s breast inflames, The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o’erflow. Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll’d, What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? Say, shall we march with our unconquer’d powers (The Greeks and I) to Ilion’s hostile towers, And bring the race of royal bastards here, For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? But safer plunder thy own host supplies; Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader’s prize? Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? Whate’er our master craves submit we must, Plagued with his pride, or punish’d for his lust. Oh women of Achaia; men no more! Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. We may be wanted on some busy day, When Hector comes: so great Achilles may: From him he forced the prize we jointly gave, From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave: And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.”

The men who Glaphyra’s fair soil partake, Where hills incircle Bœbe’s lowly lake, Where Phære hears the neighbouring waters fall, Or proud Iölcus lifts her airy wall, In ten black ships embark’d for Ilion’s shore, With bold Eumelus, whom Alcestè bore: All Pelias’ race Alcestè far outshined, The grace and glory of the beauteous kind,

Beneath a beech, Jove’s consecrated shade, His mournful friends divine Sarpedon laid: Brave Pelagon, his favourite chief, was nigh, Who wrench’d the javelin from his sinewy thigh. The fainting soul stood ready wing’d for flight, And o’er his eye-balls swam the shades of night; But Boreas rising fresh, with gentle breath, Recall’d his spirit from the gates of death.

Then thus Minerva:—“Brave Tydides, hear! Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal, fear. Full on the god impel thy foaming horse: Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force. Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he flies, And every side of wavering combat tries; Large promise makes, and breaks the promise made: Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans aid.”[159]

“Then none (said Nestor) shall his rule withstand, For great examples justify command.” With that, the venerable warrior rose; The shining greaves his manly legs enclose; His purple mantle golden buckles join’d, Warm with the softest wool, and doubly lined. Then rushing from his tent, he snatch’d in haste His steely lance, that lighten’d as he pass’d. The camp he traversed through the sleeping crowd, Stopp’d at Ulysses’ tent, and call’d aloud. Ulysses, sudden as the voice was sent, Awakes, starts up, and issues from his tent. “What new distress, what sudden cause of fright, Thus leads you wandering in the silent night?” “O prudent chief! (the Pylian sage replied) Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: Whatever means of safety can be sought, Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, Whatever methods, or to fly or fight; All, all depend on this important night!” He heard, return’d, and took his painted shield; Then join’d the chiefs, and follow’d through the field. Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, All sheathed in arms, his brave companions round: Each sunk in sleep, extended on the field, His head reclining on his bossy shield. A wood of spears stood by, that, fix’d upright, Shot from their flashing points a quivering light. A bull’s black hide composed the hero’s bed; A splendid carpet roll’d beneath his head. Then, with his foot, old Nestor gently shakes The slumbering chief, and in these words awakes:

Nor knew great Hector how his legions yield, (Wrapp’d in the cloud and tumult of the field:) Wide on the left the force of Greece commands, And conquest hovers o’er th’ Achaian bands; With such a tide superior virtue sway’d, And he that shakes the solid earth gave aid. But in the centre Hector fix’d remain’d, Where first the gates were forced, and bulwarks gain’d; There, on the margin of the hoary deep, (Their naval station where the Ajaces keep. And where low walls confine the beating tides, Whose humble barrier scarce the foe divides; Where late in fight both foot and horse engaged, And all the thunder of the battle raged,) There join’d, the whole Bœotian strength remains, The proud Iaonians with their sweeping trains, Locrians and Phthians, and th’ Epaean force; But join’d, repel not Hector’s fiery course. The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas, led; Bias and great Menestheus at their head: Meges the strong the Epaean bands controll’d, And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold: The Phthians, Medon, famed for martial might, And brave Podarces, active in the fight. This drew from Phylacus his noble line; Iphiclus’ son: and that (Oïleus) thine: (Young Ajax’ brother, by a stolen embrace; He dwelt far distant from his native place, By his fierce step-dame from his father’s reign Expell’d and exiled for her brother slain:) These rule the Phthians, and their arms employ, Mix’d with Bœotians, on the shores of Troy.

Pensive he said; then pressing as he lay His breathless bosom, tore the lance away; And upwards cast the corse: the reeking spear He shakes, and charges the bold charioteer. But swift Automedon with loosen’d reins Rapt in the chariot o’er the distant plains, Far from his rage the immortal coursers drove; The immortal coursers were the gift of Jove.

The son of Venus to the counsel yields; Then o’er their backs they spread their solid shields: With brass refulgent the broad surface shined, And thick bull-hides the spacious concave lined. Them Chromius follows, Aretus succeeds; Each hopes the conquest of the lofty steeds: In vain, brave youths, with glorious hopes ye burn, In vain advance! not fated to return.

Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight, Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight; Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign’d, (Jove warm’d his bosom, and enlarged his mind,) For Diomed’s brass arms, of mean device, For which nine oxen paid, (a vulgar price,) He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,[171] A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.

“What further subterfuge, what hopes remain? What shame, inglorious if I quit the plain? What danger, singly if I stand the ground, My friends all scatter’d, all the foes around? Yet wherefore doubtful? let this truth suffice, The brave meets danger, and the coward flies. To die or conquer, proves a hero’s heart; And, knowing this, I know a soldier’s part.”

To him Apollo: “Be no more dismay’d; See, and be strong! the Thunderer sends thee aid. Behold! thy Phœbus shall his arms employ, Phœbus, propitious still to thee and Troy. Inspire thy warriors then with manly force, And to the ships impel thy rapid horse: Even I will make thy fiery coursers way, And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea.”

When now Sarpedon his brave friends beheld Grovelling in dust, and gasping on the field, With this reproach his flying host he warms: “Oh stain to honour! oh disgrace to arms! Forsake, inglorious, the contended plain; This hand unaided shall the war sustain: The task be mine this hero’s strength to try, Who mows whole troops, and makes an army fly.”

“In happy time (the charioteer replies) The bold Alcimedon now greets my eyes; No Greek like him the heavenly steeds restrains, Or holds their fury in suspended reins: Patroclus, while he lived, their rage could tame, But now Patroclus is an empty name! To thee I yield the seat, to thee resign The ruling charge: the task of fight be mine.”

The youthful warrior heard with silent woe, From his fair eyes the tears began to flow: Big with the mighty grief, he strove to say What sorrow dictates, but no word found way. To brave Laodocus his arms he flung, Who, near him wheeling, drove his steeds along; Then ran the mournful message to impart, With tearful eyes, and with dejected heart.

This hear observant, and the gods obey!’ The vision spoke, and pass’d in air away. Now, valiant chiefs! since heaven itself alarms, Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms. But first, with caution, try what yet they dare, Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war. To move the troops to measure back the main, Be mine; and yours the province to detain.”

So spoke the master of the martial art, And touch’d with transport great Atrides’ heart. “Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires, And nerves to second what thy soul inspires! But wasting years, that wither human race, Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. What once thou wert, oh ever mightst thou be! And age the lot of any chief but thee.”

“A city stands on Argos’ utmost bound, (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown’d,) Æolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless’d, In ancient time the happy wall possess’d, Then call’d Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, Who o’er the sons of men in beauty shined, Loved for that valour which preserves mankind. Then mighty Praetus Argos’ sceptre sway’d, Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey’d. With direful jealousy the monarch raged, And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. For him Antaea burn’d with lawless flame, And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: In vain she tempted the relentless youth, Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled, And begg’d revenge for her insulted bed: Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate; But hospitable laws restrain’d his hate: To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, With tablets seal’d, that told his dire intent.[168] Now bless’d by every power who guards the good, The chief arrived at Xanthus’ silver flood: There Lycia’s monarch paid him honours due, Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. But when the tenth bright morning orient glow’d, The faithful youth his monarch’s mandate show’d: The fatal tablets, till that instant seal’d, The deathful secret to the king reveal’d. First, dire Chimaera’s conquest was enjoin’d; A mingled monster of no mortal kind! Behind, a dragon’s fiery tail was spread; A goat’s rough body bore a lion’s head; Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.

Raging he spoke; nor further wastes his breath, But turns his javelin to the work of death. Whate’er bold Trojan arm’d his daring hands, Against the sable ships, with flaming brands, So well the chief his naval weapon sped, The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead: Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell, Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell.

The Phocians next in forty barks repair; Epistrophus and Schedius head the war: From those rich regions where Cephisus leads His silver current through the flowery meads; From Panopëa, Chrysa the divine, Where Anemoria’s stately turrets shine, Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood, And fair Lilæ views the rising flood. These, ranged in order on the floating tide, Close, on the left, the bold Bœotians’ side.

“Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall; Who bathest in blood, and shakest the embattled wall, Rise in thy wrath! to hell’s abhorr’d abodes Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the gods. First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage; Me next he charged, and dares all heaven engage: The wretch would brave high heaven’s immortal sire, His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire.”

“O first of mortals! (for the gods are thine) In valour matchless, and in force divine! If Jove have given thee every Trojan head, ’Tis not on me thy rage should heap the dead. See! my choked streams no more their course can keep, Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. Turn then, impetuous! from our injured flood; Content, thy slaughters could amaze a god.”

To these succeed Aspledon’s martial train, Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain. Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng, Iälmen and Ascalaphus the strong: Sons of Astyochè, the heavenly fair, Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war: (In Actor’s court as she retired to rest, The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress’d) Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep, With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep.

“O valiant leader of the Dardan host! (Insulted Merion thus retorts the boast) Strong as you are, ’tis mortal force you trust, An arm as strong may stretch thee in the dust. And if to this my lance thy fate be given, Vain are thy vaunts; success is still from heaven: This, instant, sends thee down to Pluto’s coast; Mine is the glory, his thy parting ghost.”

With that they stepp’d aside, and stoop’d their head, (As Dolon pass’d,) behind a heap of dead: Along the path the spy unwary flew; Soft, at just distance, both the chiefs pursue. So distant they, and such the space between, As when two teams of mules divide the green, (To whom the hind like shares of land allows,) When now new furrows part the approaching ploughs. Now Dolon, listening, heard them as they pass’d; Hector (he thought) had sent, and check’d his haste, Till scarce at distance of a javelin’s throw, No voice succeeding, he perceived the foe. As when two skilful hounds the leveret wind; Or chase through woods obscure the trembling hind; Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way, And from the herd still turn the flying prey: So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan flew; So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pursue. Now almost on the fleet the dastard falls, And mingles with the guards that watch the walls; When brave Tydides stopp’d; a gen’rous thought (Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought, Lest on the foe some forward Greek advance, And snatch the glory from his lifted lance. Then thus aloud: “Whoe’er thou art, remain; This javelin else shall fix thee to the plain.” He said, and high in air the weapon cast, Which wilful err’d, and o’er his shoulder pass’d; Then fix’d in earth. Against the trembling wood The wretch stood propp’d, and quiver’d as he stood; A sudden palsy seized his turning head; His loose teeth chatter’d, and his colour fled; The panting warriors seize him as he stands, And with unmanly tears his life demands.

To whom Ulysses made this wise reply: “Whoe’er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die. What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed the sight, To roam the silent fields in dead of night? Cam’st thou the secrets of our camp to find, By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind? Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led, Through heaps of carnage, to despoil the dead?”

With words like these the fiery chief alarms His fainting host, and every bosom warms. As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to tear The brindled lion, or the tusky bear: With voice and hand provokes their doubting heart, And springs the foremost with his lifted dart: So godlike Hector prompts his troops to dare; Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the war. On the black body of the foe he pours; As from the cloud’s deep bosom, swell’d with showers, A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps, Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the deeps. Say, Muse! when Jove the Trojan’s glory crown’d, Beneath his arm what heroes bit the ground? Assaeus, Dolops, and Autonous died, Opites next was added to their side; Then brave Hipponous, famed in many a fight, Opheltius, Orus, sunk to endless night; Æsymnus, Agelaus; all chiefs of name; The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame. As when a western whirlwind, charged with storms, Dispels the gather’d clouds that Notus forms: The gust continued, violent and strong, Rolls sable clouds in heaps on heaps along; Now to the skies the foaming billows rears, Now breaks the surge, and wide the bottom bares: Thus, raging Hector, with resistless hands, O’erturns, confounds, and scatters all their bands. Now the last ruin the whole host appals; Now Greece had trembled in her wooden walls; But wise Ulysses call’d Tydides forth, His soul rekindled, and awaked his worth. “And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! Till Hector’s arm involve the ships in flame? Haste, let us join, and combat side by side.” The warrior thus, and thus the friend replied:

Who first, brave hero! by that arm was slain, Who last beneath thy vengeance press’d the plain; When heaven itself thy fatal fury led, And call’d to fill the number of the dead? Adrestus first; Autonous then succeeds; Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds, Epistor, Melanippus, bite the ground; The slaughter, Elasus and Mulius crown’d: Then sunk Pylartes to eternal night; The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to flight.

Another part (a prospect differing far)[255] Glow’d with refulgent arms, and horrid war. Two mighty hosts a leaguer’d town embrace, And one would pillage, one would burn the place. Meantime the townsmen, arm’d with silent care, A secret ambush on the foe prepare: Their wives, their children, and the watchful band Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand. They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold: Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, And gold their armour: these the squadron led, August, divine, superior by the head! A place for ambush fit they found, and stood, Cover’d with shields, beside a silver flood. Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream. Soon the white flocks proceeded o’er the plains, And steers slow-moving, and two shepherd swains; Behind them piping on their reeds they go, Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. In arms the glittering squadron rising round Rush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the ground; Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains, And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains! The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear; They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war, They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood; The waving silver seem’d to blush with blood. There Tumult, there Contention stood confess’d; One rear’d a dagger at a captive’s breast; One held a living foe, that freshly bled With new-made wounds; another dragg’d a dead; Now here, now there, the carcases they tore: Fate stalk’d amidst them, grim with human gore. And the whole war came out, and met the eye; And each bold figure seem’d to live or die.

Thoas came next, Andræmon’s valiant son, From Pleuron’s walls, and chalky Calydon, And rough Pylene, and the Olenian steep, And Chalcis, beaten by the rolling deep. He led the warriors from the Ætolian shore, For now the sons of Œneus were no more! The glories of the mighty race were fled! Œneus himself, and Meleager dead! To Thoas’ care now trust the martial train, His forty vessels follow through the main.