His prize upon Anchises’ son, though well he did perceive
The Sun himself protected him: but his desires (enflam’d
With that great Trojan prince’s blood, and arms so highly fam’d)
Not that great god did reverence. Thrice rush’d he rudely on,
And thrice betwixt his darts and death the Sun’s bright target shone:
But when upon the fourth assault (much like a spirit) he flew,
The far-off working deity exceeding wrathful grew,
And ask’d him: ‘What! Not yield to gods? Thy equals learn to know:
The race of gods is far above men creeping here below.’
This drave him to some small retreat: he would not tempt more near
The wrath of him that struck so far, whose power had now set clear
Aeneas from the stormy field, within the holy place
Of Pergamus; where, to the hope of his so sovereign grace,
A goodly temple was advanc’d, in whose large inmost part
He left him, and to his supply inclin’d his mother’s heart
(Latona) and the dart-pleas’d queen, who cur’d and made him strong.
The silver-bow’d-fair god then threw in the tumultuous throng
An image, that in stature, look and arms he did create
Like Venus’ son; for which the Greeks and Trojans made debate,
Laid loud strokes on their ox-hide shields and bucklers easily borne –
Which error Phoebus pleas’d to urge on Mars himself in scorn:
‘Mars, Mars,’ said he, ‘thou plague of men, smear’d with the dust and blood
Of humans and their ruin’d walls, yet thinks thy godhead good
To fright this fury from the field, who next will fight with Jove?
First, in a bold approach he hurt the moist palm of thy love:
And next (as if he did affect to have a deity’s pow’r)
He held out his assault on me.’
This said, the lofty tow’r
Of Pergamus he made his seat; and Mars did now excite
The Trojan forces, in the form of him that led to fight
The Thracian troops, swift Acamas. ‘O Priam’s sons,’ said he,
‘How long the slaughter of your men can ye sustain to see?
Even till they brave you at your gates? Ye suffer beaten down
Aeneas, great Anchises’ son, whose prowess we renown
As much as Hector’s: fetch him off from this contentious prease.’
With this, the strength and spirits of all his courage did increase:
And yet Sarpedon seconds him, with this particular taunt
Of noble Hector: ‘Hector, where is thy unthankful vaunt,
And that huge strength on which it built? That thou, and thy allies,
With all thy brothers (without aid of us or our supplies,
And troubling not a citizen) the city safe would hold ?
In all which friends’ and brothers’ helps, I see not, nor am told,
Of any one of their exploits; but – all held in dismay
Of Diomed, like a sort of dogs that at a lion bay,
And entertain no spirit to pinch – we, your assistants here,
Fight for the town as you help’d us; and I (an aiding peer,
No citizen) even out of care that doth become a man
For men and children’s liberties, add all the aid
I
can –
Not out of my particular cause; far hence my profit grows,
For far hence Asian Lycia lies, where gulfy Xanthus flows
And where my lov’d wife, infant son, and treasure nothing scant,
I left behind me (which I see those men would have, that want:
And therefore they that have, would keep) yet I – as I would lose
Their sure fruition – cheer my troops, and with their lives propose
Mine own life, both to general fight, and to particular cope
With this great soldier, though I say I entertain no hope
To have such gettings as the Greeks, nor fear to lose like Troy.
Yet thou (even Hector) deedless stand’st, and car’st not to employ
Thy town-born friends, to bid them stand, to fight and save their wives,
Lest as a fowler casts his nets upon the silly lives
Of birds of all sorts, so the foe your walls and houses hales,
One with another, on all heads; or such as ’scape their falls
Be made the prey and prize of them (as willing overthrown,
That holp not for you with their force) and so this brave-built town
Will prove a chaos. That deserves in thee so hot a care
As should consume thy days and nights, to hearten and prepare
Th’ assistant princes: pray their minds to bear their fat-brought toils,
To give them worth with worthy fight, in victories and foils
Still to be equal, and thyself, exampling them in all,
Need no reproofs nor spurs. All this in thy free choice should fall.’
This stung great Hector’s heart; and yet, as every generous mind
Should silent bear a just reproof, and show what good they find
In worthy counsels, by their ends put into present deeds,
Not stomach nor be vainly sham’d, so Hector’s spirit proceeds
And from his chariot, wholly arm’d, he jump’d upon the sand,
On foot so toiling through the host, a dart in either hand,
And all hands turn’d against the Greeks; the Greeks despis’d their worst,
And, thick’ning their instructed powers, expected all they durst.
Then with the feet of horse and foot the dust in clouds did rise:
And as in sacred floors of barns, upon corn-winnowers flies
The chaff, driven with an opposite wind, when yellow Ceres dites,
Which all the diters’ feet, legs, arms, their heads and shoulders whites:
So look’d the Grecians gray with dust, that struck the solid heav’n,
Rais’d from returning chariots and troops together driv’n.
Each side stood to their labours firm: fierce Mars flew through the air,
And gather’d darkness from the fight, and with his best affair
Obey’d the pleasure of the Sun, that wears the golden sword,
Who bade him raise the spirits of Troy, when Pallas ceas’d t’ afford
Her helping office to the Greeks. And then his own hands wrought,
Which (from his fane’s rich chancel, cur’d) the true Aeneas brought,
And plac’d him by his peers in field, who did with joy admire
To see him both alive and safe, and all his pow’rs entire,
Yet stood not sifting how it chanc’d: another sort of task,
Then stirring th’ idle sieve of news, did all their forces ask,
Inflam’d by Phoebus, harmful Mars, and Eris, eag’rer far.
The Greeks had none to hearten them; their hearts rose with the war,
But chiefly Diomed, Ithacus, and both th’ Ajaces us’d
Stirring examples and good words: their own fames had infus’d
Spirit enough into their bloods to make them neither fear
The Trojans force nor Fate itself, but still expecting were
When most was done, what would be more; their ground they still made good.
And in their silence and set pow’rs, like fair still clouds they stood,
With which Jove crowns the tops of hills in any quiet day,
When Boreas and the ruder winds (that use to drive away
Air’s dusky vapours, being loose, in many a whistling gale)
Are pleasingly bound up and calm, and not a breath exhale:
So firmly stood the Greeks, nor fled, for all the Ilions’ aid.
Atrides yet coasts through the troops, confirming men so staid:
‘O friends,’ said he, ‘hold up your minds; strength is but strength of will;
Rev’rence each other’s good in fight, and shame at things done ill.
Where soldiers show an honest shame, and love of honour lives
That ranks men with the first in fight, death fewer liveries gives
Than life, or than where Fame’s neglect makes cowards fight at length;
Flight neither doth the body grace, nor shows the mind hath strength.’
He said, and swiftly through the troops a mortal lance did send,
That reft a standard-bearer’s life, renown’d Aeneas’ friend,
Deicoön Pergasides, whom all the Trojans lov’d
As he were one of Priam’s sons, his mind was so approv’d
In always fighting with the first. The lance his target took,
Which could not interrupt the blow that through it clearly strook,
And in his belly’s rim was sheath’d, beneath his girdle-stead.
He sounded, falling – and his arms with him resounded – dead.
Then fell two princes of the Greeks by great Aeneas’ ire,
Diocleus’ sons, Orsilochus and Crethon, whose kind sire
In bravely-builded Phaera dwelt, rich, and of sacred blood;
He was descended lineally from great Alphaeus flood,
That broadly flows through Pylos fields: Alphaeus did beget
Orsilochus, who in the rule of many men was set,
And that Orsilochus begat the rich Diocleus:
Diocleus sire to Crethon was, and this Orsilochus.
Both these, arriv’d at man’s estate, with both th’ Atrides went,
To honour them in th’ Ilion wars; and both were one way sent,
To death as well as Troy, for death hid both in one black hour.
As two young lions (with their dam sustain’d but to devour)
Bred on the tops of some steep hill, and in the gloomy deep
Of an inaccessible wood, rush out, and prey on sheep,
Steers, oxen, and destroy men’s stalls so long that they come short,
And by the owners’ steel are slain: in such unhappy sort
Fell these beneath Aeneas’ power. When Menelaus view’d
Like two tall fir-trees these two fall, their timeless falls he rued
And to the first fight, where they lay, a vengeful force he took;
His arms beat back the sun in flames, a dreadful lance he shook:
Mars put the fury in his mind, that by Aeneas’ hands
(Who was to make the slaughter good) he might have strew’d the sands.
Antilochus (old Nestor’s son) observing he was bent
To urge a combat of such odds, and knowing – the event
Being ill on his part – all their pains (alone sustain’d for him)
Err’d from their end, made after hard, and took them in the trim
Of an encounter; both their hands and darts advanc’d, and shook,
And both pitch’d in full stand of charge; when suddenly the look
Of Anchisiades took note of Nestor’s valiant son,
In full charge too; which two to one made Venus’ issue shun
The hot adventure, though he were a soldier well approv’d.
Then drew they off their slaughter’d friends; who given to their belov’d,
They turn’d where fight show’d deadliest hate, and there mix’d with the dead
Pylemen, that the targeteers of Paphlagonia led,
A man like Mars; and with him fell good Mydon that did guide
His chariot, Atymnus’ son. The prince Pylemen died
By Menelaus, Nestor’s joy slew Mydon; one before,
The other in the chariot: Atrides’ lance did gore
Pylemen’s shoulder in the blade: Antilochus did force
A mighty stone up from the earth, and, as he turn’d his horse,
Struck Mydon’s elbow in the midst: the reins of ivory
Fell from his hands into the dust: Antilochus let fly
His sword withal, and rushing in a blow so deadly laid
Upon his temples, that he groan’d, tumbled to earth, and stay’d
A mighty while preposterously (because the dust was deep)
Upon his neck and shoulders there, even till his foe took keep
Of his priz’d horse, and made them stir; and then he prostrate fell:
His horse Antilochus took home. When Hector had heard tell
(Amongst the uproar) of their deaths, he laid out all his voice,
And ran upon the Greeks: behind came many men of choice,
Before him march’d great Mars himself, match’d with his female mate,
The dread Bellona: she brought on (to fight for mutual fate)
A tumult that was wild and mad: he shook a horrid lance,
And now led Hector, and anon, behind would make the chance.
This sight when great Tydides saw, his hair stood up on end:
And him, whom all the skill and power of arms did late attend,
Now like a man in counsel poor, that travelling goes amiss,
And having pass’d a boundless plain, not knowing where he is,
Comes on the sudden where he sees a river rough, and raves,
With his own billows ravished into the king of waves,
Murmurs with foam, and frights him back: so he, amaz’d, retir’d,
And thus would make good his amaze: ‘O friends, we all admir’d
Great Hector as one of himself well-darting, bold in war
When some god guards him still from death, and makes him dare so far;
Now Mars himself, form’d like a man, is present in his rage;
And therefore, whatsoever cause importunes you to wage
War with these Trojans, never strive, but gently take your rod,
Lest in your bosoms for a man ye ever find a god.’
As Greece retir’d, the pow’r of Troy did much more forward press;
And Hector two brave men of war sent to the fields of peace:
Menesthes, and Anchialus; one chariot bare them both.
Their fall made Ajax Telamon ruthful of heart, and wroth;
Who light’ned out a lance that smote Amphius Selages,
That dwelt in Paedos, rich in lands, and did huge goods possess:
But Fate to Priam and his sons conducted his supply.
The javelin on his girdle struck, and pierced mortally
His belly’s lower part; he fell; his arms had looks so trim
That Ajax needs would prove their spoil; the Trojans pour’d on him
Whole storms of lances, large and sharp, of which a number stuck
In his rough shield; yet from the slain he did his javelin pluck,
But could not from his shoulders force the arms he did affect,
The Trojans with such drifts of darts the body did protect,
And wisely Telamonius fear’d their valorous defence,
So many, and so strong of hand, stood in with such expense
Of deadly prowess; who repell’d (though big, strong, bold he were)
The famous Ajax, and their friend did from his rapture bear.