Twice twenty jetty sails with him the swelling stream did take.
But those that did in Pheres dwell at the Baebreian lake
In Baebe, and in Glaphira, Iaolcus builded fair;
In thrice six ships to Pergamus did through the seas repair,
With old Admetes’ tender son, Eumelus, whom he bred
Of Alceste, Pelius’ fairest child of all his female seed.
The soldiers that before the siege Methone’s vales did hold,
Thaumaciae, flow’ry Melibae, and Olison the cold,
Duke Philoctetes governed (in darts, of finest sleight);
Seven vessels in his charge convey’d their honourable freight,
By fifty rowers in a bark, most expert in the bow:
But he in sacred Lemnos lay, brought miserably low
By torment of an ulcer grown with Hydra’s poison’d blood;
Whose sting was such, Greece left him there in most impatient mood:
Yet thought they on him at his ship, and choos’d to head his men
Medon, Oïleus’ bastard son, brought forth to him by Rhen.
From Thricce, bleak Ithomen’s cliffs, and hapless Oechaly –
Euritus’ city rul’d by him in wilful tyranny –
In charge of Aesculapius’ sons (physician highly prais’d)
Machaon, Podalirius, were thirty vessels rais’d.
Who near Hiperia’s fountain dwelt, and in Ormenius,
The snowy tops of Titannus, and in Asterius,
Evemon’s son, Euripilus, did lead into the field:
Whose towns did forty black-sail’d ships to that encounter yield.
Who Gyrton and Argissa held, Orthen and Elon’s seat,
And chalky Oloössine, were led by Polypete,
The issue of Perithous, the son of Jupiter.
Him the Athenian Theseus’ friend, Hypodamy did bear,
When he the bristled savages did give Ramnusia,
And drove them out of Pelius, as far as Athica.
He came not single, but with him, Leonteus Coron’s son,
An arm of Mars: and Coron’s life Ceneus’ seed begun.
Twice twenty ships attended these.
Guneus next did bring
From Cyphus twenty sail and two, the Enians following,
And fierce Peraebi, that about Dodone’s frozen mould
Did plant their houses; and the men that did the meadows hold,
Which Titoresius decks with flowers, and his sweet current leads
Into the bright Peneius, that hath the silver heads;
Yet with his admirable stream doth not his waves commix,
But glides aloft on it like oil: for ’tis the flood of Styx,
By which th’ immortal gods do swear. Teuthredon’s honour’d birth,
Prothous, led the Magnets forth, who near the shady earth
Of Pelius and Peneion dwelt; forty revengeful sail
Did follow him. These were the dukes and princes of avail
That came from Greece. But now the man that overshin’d them all,
Sing, muse, and their most famous steeds to my recital call,
That both th’ Atrides followed; fair Pheretiedes
The bravest mares did bring by much; Eumelius manag’d these:
Swift of their feet as birds of wings, both of one hair did shine,
Both of an age, both of a height, as measur’d by a line:
Whom silver-bow’d Apollo bred in the Pierean mead,
Both slick and dainty, yet were both in war of wondrous dread.
Great Ajax Telamon for strength past all the peers of war,
While vex’d Achilles was away; but he surpass’d him far.
The horse that bore that faultless man were likewise past compare:
Yet lay he at the crook’d-stern’d ships, and fury was his fare,
For Atreus’ son’s ungracious deed: his men yet pleas’d their hearts
With throwing of the holed stone, with hurling of their darts,
And shooting fairly on the shore. Their horse at chariots fed
On greatest parsley, and on sedge that in the fens is bred.
His princes’ tents their chariots held, that richly cover’d were.
His princes, amorous of their chief, walk’d storming here and there
About the host, and scorn’d to fight: their breaths as they did pass
Before them flew as if a fire fed on the trembling grass:
Earth under-groan’d their high-rais’d feet, as when offended Jove,
In Arime, Typhoeius with rattling thunder drove
Beneath the earth: (in Arime men say the grave is still,
Where thunder tomb’d Typhoeius, and is a monstrous hill:)
And as that thunder made earth groan, so groan’d it as they past,
They trod with such hard-set-down steps, and so exceeding fast.
To Troy, the rainbow-girded dame right heavy news relates
From Jove, as all to council drew in Priam’s palace-gates,
Resembling Priam’s son in voice, Polytes, swift of feet –
In trust whereof as sentinel, to see when from the fleet
The Grecians sallied, he was set upon the lofty brow
Of aged Esietes’ tomb – and this did Iris show:
‘O Priam, thou art always pleas’d with indiscreet advice,
And fram’st thy life to times of peace, when such a war doth rise
As threats inevitable spoil; I never did behold
Such and so mighty troops of men, who trample on the mould
In number like Autumnus’ leaves, or like the marine sand,
All ready round about the walls to use a ruining hand.
Hector, I therefore charge thee most, this charge to undertake:
A multitude remain in Troy will fight for Priam’s sake,
Of other lands and languages; let every leader then
Bring forth well arm’d into the field his several bands of men.’
Strong Hector knew a deity gave charge to this assay,
Dismiss’d the council straight; like waves, clusters to arms do sway,
The ports are all wide open set, out rush’d the troops in swarms,
Both horse and foot; the city rung with sudden-cried alarms.
A column stands without the town, that high his head doth raise,
A little distant, in a plain trod down with divers ways;
Which men do Batieia call, but the immortals name
Myrinne’s famous sepulchre (the wondrous active dame):
Here were th’ auxiliary bands that came in Troy’s defence,
Distinguish’d under several guides of special excellence.
The duke of all the Trojan power great helm-deck’d Hector was,
Which stood of many mighty men, well skill’d in darts of brass.
Aeneas of commixed seed (a goddess with a man,
Anchises with the queen of love) the troops Dardanian
Led to the field; (his lovely sire in Ida’s lower shade
Begat him of sweet Cypridis;) he solely was not made
Chief leader of the Dardan powers; Antenor’s valiant sons,
Archilochus and Acamas, were join’d companions.
Who in Zelia dwelt beneath the sacred foot of Ide –
That drank of black Aesepus stream, and wealth made full of pride –
The Aphnii, Lycaon’s son, whom Phoebus gave his bow,
Prince Pandarus did lead to field.
Who Adrestinus owe,
Apesus’ city, Pitaei, and mount Tereiës,
Adrestus and stout Amphius led, who did their sire displease
(Merops Percosius), that excell’d all Troy in heavenly skill
Of future-searching prophecy: for much against his will
His sons were agents in those arms: whom since they disobey’d,
The fates, in letting slip their threads, their hasty valours stay’d.
Who in Percotes, Practius, Arisba, did abide,
Who Sestus and Abydus bred, Hyrtacides did guide,
Prince Asius Hyrtacides, that through great Selees’ force,
Brought from Arisba to that fight the great and fiery horse.
Pyleus and Hypothous the stout Pelasgians led,
Of them Larissa’s fruitful soil before had nourished:
These were Pelasgian Pithus’ sons, son of Teutamidas.
The Thracian guides were Pyrous, and valiant Acamas,
Of all that the impetuous flood of Hellespont enclos’d.
Euphemus the Ciconian troops in his command dispos’d,
Who from Trezenias Ceades right nobly did descend.
Pyrechmes did the Peons rule that crooked bows do bend:
From Axius out of Amidon, he had them in command,
From Axius, whose most beauteous stream still overflows the land.
Pylemen with the well arm’d heart the Paphlagonians led,
From Enes, where the race of mules fit for the plough is bred;
The men that broad Cytorus’ bounds, and Sesamus enfold,
About Parthenius’ lofty flood (in houses much extoll’d),
From Cromna and Aegialus, the men that arms did bear,
And Eurithymus situate high, Pylemen’s soldiers were.
Epistrophus and Dius did the Halizonians guide,
Far-fetch’d from Alybe, where first the silver mines were tried.
Chronius and Augur Eunomus the Mysians did command,
Who could not with his auguries the strength of death withstand,
But suffer’d it beneath the stroke of great Aeacides,
In Xanthus, where he made more souls dive to the Stygian seas.
Phorcys, and fair Ascanius, the Phrygians brought to war,
Well train’d for battle, and were come out of Ascania far.
With Methles, and with Antiphus (Pylemen’s sons) did fight
The men of Mezon, whom the fen Gygaea brought to light;
And those Maeonians that beneath the mountain Tmolus sprung.
The rude unletter’d Caribae, that barbarous were of tongue,
Did under Naustes’ colours march, and young Amphimachus
(Nomyon’s famous sons); to whom the mountain Phthirorus,
That with the famous wood is crown’d, Miletus, Micales
That hath so many lofty marks for men that love the seas,
The crooked arms Meander bow’d with his so snaky flood,
Resign’d for conduct the choice youth of all their martial brood.
The fool Amphimachus, to field, brought gold to be his wrack,
Proud-girl-like that doth ever bear her dower upon her back,
Which wise Achilles mark’d, slew him, and took his gold, in strife
At Xanthus’ flood; so little Death did fear his golden life.
Sarpedon led the Lycians, and Glaucus unreprov’d,
From Lycia, and the gulfy flood of Xanthus far remov’d.
The end of the second book
Book 3
The Argument
Paris, betwixt the hosts, to single fight
Of all the Greeks, dares the most hardy knight:
King Menelaus doth accept his brave,
Conditioning that he again should have
Fair Helena, with all she brought to Troy,
If he subdu’d; else Paris should enjoy
Her, and her wealth, in peace. Conquest doth grant
Her dear wreath to the Grecian combatant:
But Venus to her champion’s life doth yield
Safe rescue, and conveys him from the field
Into his chamber, and for Helen sends;
Whom much her lover’s foul disgrace offends.
Yet Venus still for him makes good her charms,
And ends the second combat in his arms.
Another Argument
Gamma
the single fight doth sing
’Twixt Paris and the Spartan king.
Book 3
When every least commander’s will best soldiers had obey’d,
And both the hosts were rang’d for fight, the Trojans would have fray’d
The Greeks with noises, crying out, in coming rudely on
At all parts, like the cranes that fill with harsh confusion
Of brutish clangour all the air, and in ridiculous war
(Eschewing the unsuffer’d storms shot from the winter’s star)
Visit the ocean, and confer the pigmy soldiers death.
The Greeks charg’d silent, and like men, bestow’d their thrifty breath
In strength of far-resounding blows, still entertaining care
Of either’s rescue, when their strength did their engagements dare.
And as upon a hill’s steep top, the south wind pours a cloud,
To shepherds thankless, but by thieves that love the night, allow’d,
A darkness letting down, that blinds a stone’s cast off men’s eyes,
Such darkness from the Greeks’ swift feet (made all of dust) did rise.
But ere stern conflict mix’d both strengths, fair Paris stept before
The Trojan host: athwart his back a panther’s hide he wore,
A crooked bow, and sword, and shook two brazen-headed darts,
With which well arm’d, his tongue provok’d the best of Grecian hearts
To stand with him in single fight. Whom, when the man wrong’d most
Of all the Greeks, so gloriously saw stalk before the host,
As when a lion is rejoic’d, with hunger half forlorn,
That finds some sweet prey (as a hart, whose grace lies in his horn,
Or sylvan goat) which he devours, though never so pursu’d
With dogs and men: so Sparta’s king exulted when he view’d
The fair-faced Paris so expos’d to his so thirsted wreak –
Whereof his good cause made him sure – the Grecian front did break,
And forth he rush’d, at all parts arm’d; leapt from his chariot,
And royally prepar’d for charge. Which seen, cold terror shot
The heart of Paris, who retir’d as headlong from the king,
As in him he had shunn’d his death; and as a hilly spring
Presents a serpent to a man, full underneath his feet,
Her blue neck, swoln with poison, rais’d, and her sting out, to greet
His heedless entry; suddenly his walk he altereth,
Starts back amaz’d, is shook with fear, and looks as pale as death:
So Menelaus Paris scar’d; so that divine-fac’d foe
Shrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go
This bitter check at him. ‘Accurs’d! Made but in beauty’s scorn,
Impostor, woman’s man! O heav’n, that thou hadst ne’er been born!
Or, being so manless, never liv’d to bear man’s noblest state,
The nuptial honour; which I wish, because it were a fate
Much better for thee than this shame; this spectacle doth make
A man a monster. Hark! How loud the Greeks laugh, who did take
Thy fair form for a continent of parts as fair; a rape
Thou mad’st of nature, like their queen. No soul, an empty shape
Takes up thy being: yet how spite to every shade of good
Fills it with ill: for as thou art, thou couldst collect a brood
Of others like thee, and far hence fetch’d ill enough to us,
Even to thy father: all these friends make those foes mock them thus,
In thee; for whose ridiculous sake, so seriously they lay
All Greece and fate upon their necks. O wretch! Not dare to stay
Weak Menelaus! But ’twas well, for in him thou hadst tried
What strength lost beauty can infuse; and with the more grief died,
To feel thou robb’st a worthier man, to wrong a soldier’s right.
Your harp’s sweet touch, curl’d locks, fine shape, and gifts so exquisite,
Giv’n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good,
When blood and dust had ruffled them; and had as little stood
Thyself in stead; but what thy care of all these in thee flies,
We should inflict on thee ourselves; infectious cowardice
In thee hath terrified our host; for which thou well deserv’st
A coat of tombstone, not of steel, in which for form thou serv’st.
To this thus Paris spake (for form, that might inhabit heav’n):
‘Hector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv’n,
I take it well: but though thy heart, inur’d to these affrights,
Cuts through them as an axe through oak, that more us’d more excites
The workman’s faculty, whose art can make the edge go far;
Yet I, less practis’d than thyself in these extremes of war,
May well be pardon’d, though less bold: in these your worth exceeds,
In others, mine: nor is my mind of less force to the deeds
Requir’d in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace.
Reproach not therefore the kind gifts of golden Cyprides;
All heaven’s gifts have their worthy price, as little to be scorn’d,
As to be won with strength, wealth, state; with which to be adorn’d,
Some men would change state, wealth or strength. But if your martial heart
Wish me to make my challenge good, and hold it such a part
Of shame to give it over thus, cause all the rest to rest;
And ’twixt both hosts, let Sparta’s king and me perform our best
For Helen and the wealth she brought: and he that overcomes,
Or proves superior any way, in all your equal dooms,
Let him enjoy her utmost wealth, keep her, or take her home;
The rest strike leagues of endless date, and hearty friends become:
You dwelling safe in gleby Troy, the Greeks retire their force
T’ Achaia, that breeds fairest dames, and Argos, fairest horse.’
He said, and his amendful words did Hector highly please,
Who rush’d betwixt the fighting hosts, and made the Trojans cease,
By holding up in midst his lance: the Grecians noted not
The signal he for parley used, but at him fiercely shot,
Hurl’d stones, and still were levelling darts. At last the king of men,
Great Agamemnon, cried aloud: ‘Argives! For shame, contain;
Youths of Achaia, shoot no more: the fair-helm’d Hector shows
As he desir’d to treat with us.’ This said, all ceas’d from blows,
And Hector spake to both the hosts: ‘Trojans, and hardy Greeks,
Hear now what he that stirr’d these wars for their cessation seeks;
He bids us all, and you, disarm, that he alone may fight
With Menelaus, for us all; for Helen and her right,
With all the dow’r she brought to Troy; and he that wins the day,
Or is in all the art of arms superior any way,
The queen, and all her sorts of wealth, let him at will enjoy;
The rest strike truce, and let love seal firm leagues ’twixt Greece and Troy.’
The Greek host wonder’d at this brave; silence flew everywhere;
At last spake Sparta’s warlike king: ‘Now also give me ear,
Whom grief gives most cause of reply; I now have hope to free
The Greeks and Trojans of all ills they have sustain’d for me
And Alexander, that was cause I stretch’d my spleen so far:
Of both then, which is nearest fate, let his death end the war;
The rest immediately retire, and greet all homes in peace.
Go then (to bless your champion, and give his powers success),
Fetch for the earth, and for the sun (the gods on whom ye call)
Two lambs, a black one and a white, a female and a male;
And we another for ourselves will fetch, and kill to Jove:
To sign which rites bring Priam’s force, because we well approve
His sons perfidious, envious (and out of practis’d bane
To faith, when she believes in them) Jove’s high truce may profane;
All young men’s hearts are still unstaid; but in those well-weigh’d deeds
An old man will consent to pass things past, and what succeeds
He looks into, that he may know how best to make his way
Through both the fortunes of a fact – and will the worst obey.’
This granted, a delightful hope both Greeks and Trojans fed
Of long’d-for rest from those long toils their tedious war had bred.
Their horses then in rank they set, drawn from their chariots round,
Descend themselves, took off their arms, and plac’d them on the ground,
Near one another; for the space ’twixt both the hosts was small.
Hector two heralds sent to Troy, that they from thence might call
King Priam; and to bring the lambs, to rate the truce they swore.
But Agamemnon to the fleet Talthibius sent before,
To fetch their lamb, who nothing slackt the royal charge was given.
Iris, the rainbow, then came down, ambassadress from heaven,
To white-arm’d Helen: she assum’d at every part the grace
Of Helen’s last love’s sister’s shape, who had the highest place
In Helen’s love; and had to name, Laodice, most fair
Of all the daughters Priam had; and made the nuptial pair,
With Helicaon, royal sprout of old Antenor’s seed.
She found queen Helena at home, at work about a weed,
Wov’n for herself: it shin’d like fire, was rich, and full of size,
The work of both sides being alike, in which she did comprise
The many labours warlike Troy and brass-arm’d Greece endur’d
For her fair sake, by cruel Mars and his stern friends procur’d.
Iris came in in joyful haste, and said, ‘O come with me,
Lov’d nymph, and an admired sight of Greeks and Trojans see,
Who first on one another brought a war so full of tears:
Even thirsty of contentious war now every man forbears,
And friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield,
Their long and shining lances pitch’d fast by them in the field.
Paris and Sparta’s king alone must take up all the strife,
And he that conquers only call fair Helena his wife.’
Thus spake the thousand-colour’d dame; and to her mind commends
The joy to see her first espous’d, her native tow’rs and friends,
Which stirr’d a sweet desire in her, to serve the which she hied:
Shadow’d her graces with white veils, and (though she took a pride
To set her thoughts at gaze, and see in her clear beauty’s flood,
What choice of glory swam to her), yet tender womanhood
Season’d with tears her joys to see more joys the more offence,
And that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence.
Thus went she forth, and took with her her women most of name,
Aethra (Pitthaeus’ lovely birth) and Clymene, whom fame
Hath for her fair eyes memoris’d. They reach’d the Scaean tow’rs,
Where Priam sat to see the fight, with all his counsellors;
Panthous, Larnpus, Clitius, and stout Hycetaon,
Thimaetes, wise Antenor, and profound Ucalegon:
All grave old men, and soldiers they had been, but for age
Now left the wars; yet counsellors they were exceeding sage.
And as in well grown woods, on trees, cold spiny grasshoppers
Sit chirping, and send voices out that scarce can pierce our ears
For softness, and their weak faint sounds, so talking on the tow’r,
These seniors of the people sat: who when they saw the pow’r
Of beauty in the queen ascend, ev’n those cold-spirited peers,
Those wise and almost wither’d men found this heat in their years,
That they were forc’d (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greeks and Trojans to endure for so admir’d a dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Looks like the goddesses: and yet (though never so divine)
Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prize,
And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,
Labour and ruin, let her go: the profit of our land
Must pass the beauty.’ Thus, though these could bear so fit a hand
On their affections, yet when all their gravest powers were us’d,
They could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus’d
The gods than beauty; for thus spake the most fam’d king of Troy:
‘Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy
Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends and Princes near allied;
And name me some of these brave Greeks, so manly beautified.
Come: do not think I lay the wars endur’d by us on thee –
The gods have sent them, and the tears in which they swam to me.
Sit then, and name this goodly Greek, so tall, and broadly spread,
Who than the rest, that stand by him, is higher by the head;
The bravest man I ever saw, and most majestical:
His only presence makes me think him king amongst them all.’
The fairest of her sex replied: ‘Most rev’rend father-in-law,
Most lov’d, most fear’d, would some ill death had seiz’d me, when I saw
The first mean, why I wrong’d you thus; that I had never lost
The sight of these my ancient friends; of him that lov’d me most,
Of my sole daughter, brothers both; with all those kindly mates,
Of one soil, one age borne with me, though under different fates:
But these boons envious stars deny; the memory of these
In sorrow pines those beauties now, that then did too much please;
Nor satisfy they your demand, to which I thus reply:
That’s Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, the great in empery;
A king, whom double royalty doth crown, being great and good,
And one that was my brother-in-law, when I contain’d my blood,
And was more worthy, if at all I might be said to be,
My being being lost so soon, in all that honour’d me.’
The good old king admir’d, and said: ‘O Atreus’ blessed son!
Born unto joyful destinies, that hast the empire won
Of such a world of Grecian youths as I discover here.
I once march’d into Phrygia, that many vines doth bear,
Where many Phrygians I beheld, well skill’d in use of horse,