This said, as that brave king, her knight, with his horse-guiding friend,
Were set before the chariot, for sign he should descend,
That she might serve for waggoness, she pluck’d the wagg’ner back,
And up into his seat she mounts: the beechen tree did crack
Beneath the burthen; and good cause, it bore so large a thing:
A goddess so replete with power, and such a puissant king.
She snatch’d the scourge up and the reins, and shut her heavenly look
In Hell’s vast helm, from Mars’s eyes; and full career she took
At him, who then had newly slain the mighty Periphas,
Renown’d son to Ochesius, and far the strongest was
Of all th’ Aetolians; to whose spoil the bloody god was run.
But when this man-plague saw th’ approach of god-like Tydeus’ son,
He let his mighty Periphas lie, and in full charge he ran
At Diomed, and he at him; both near, the god began,
And (thirsty of his blood) he throws a brazen lance, that bears
Full on the breast of Diomed, above the reins and gears;
But Pallas took it on her hand, and struck the eager lance
Beneath the chariot. Then the knight of Pallas doth advance,
And cast a javelin off at Mars; Minerva sent it on,
That (where his arming girdle girt) his belly graz’d upon,
Just at the rim, and ranch’d the flesh: the lance again he got,
But left the wound; that stung him so, lie laid out such a throat
As if nine or ten thousand men had bray’d out all their breaths
In one confusion, having felt as many sudden deaths.
The roar made both the hosts amaz’d. Up flew the god to heav’n,
And with him was through all the air as black a tincture driv’n
To Diomed’s eyes, as when the earth half chok’d with smoking heat
Of gloomy clouds, that stifle men, and pitchy tempests’ threat,
Usher’d with horrid gusts of wind: with such black vapours plum’d,
Mars flew t’ Olympus, and broad heav’n, and there his place resum’d.
Sadly he went and sat by Jove, show’d his immortal blood,
That from a mortal-man-made wound pour’d such an impious flood;
And weeping pour’d out these complaints: ‘O Father, storm’st thou not
To see us take these wrongs from men? Extreme griefs we have got
Ev’n by our own deep counsels held, for gratifying them;
And thou, our council’s president, conclud’st in this extreme
Of fighting ever: being rul’d by one that thou hast bred –
One never well, but doing ill, a girl so full of head
That though all other gods obey, her mad moods must command
By thy indulgence, nor by word nor any touch of hand
Correcting her; thy reason is, she is a spark of thee
And therefore she may kindle rage in men ’gainst gods, and she
May make men hurt gods, and those gods that are besides thy seed:
First in the palm’s height Cyprides; then runs the impious deed
On my hurt person; and could life give way to death in me,
Or had my feet not fetch’d me off, heaps of mortality
Had kept me consort.’
Jupiter, with a contracted brow,
Thus answer’d Mars: ‘Thou many minds, inconstant changeling thou,
Sit not complaining thus by me, whom most of all the gods
Inhabiting the starry hill I hate: no periods
Being set to thy contentions, brawls, fights, and pitching fields –
Just of thy mother Juno’s moods: stiff-neck’d, and never yields,
Though I correct her still, and chide; nor can forbear offence,
Though to her son; this wound I know tastes of her insolence.
But I will prove more natural; thou shalt be cur’d because
Thou com’st of me: but hadst thou been so cross to sacred laws,
Being born to any other god, thou hadst been thrown from heav’n
Long since, as low as Tartarus, beneath the giants driv’n.’
This said, he gave his wound in charge to Paeon, who applied
Such sov’reign medicines, that as soon the pain was qualified,
And he recur’d: as nourishing milk, when runnet is put in,
Runs all in heaps of tough thick curd, though in his nature thin:
Even so soon his wound’s parted sides ran close in his recure;
For he – all deathless – could not long the parts of death endure.
Then Hebe bath’d, and put on him fresh garments, and he sate
Exulting by his sire again, in top of all his state;
So, having from the spoils of men made his desir’d remove,
Juno and Pallas reascend the starry court of Jove.
The end of the fifth book
Book 6
The Argument
The gods now leaving an indifferent field,
The Greeks prevail, the slaughter’d Trojans yield:
Hector, by Helenus’ advice, retires
In haste to Troy, and Hecuba desires
To pray Minerva to remove from fight
The son of Tydeus, her affected knight;
And vow to her for favour of such price
Twelve oxen should be slain in sacrifice.
In mean space Glaucus and Tydides meet
And either other with remembrance greet
Of old love ’twixt their fathers, which inclines
Their hearts to friendship; who change arms for signs
Of a continued love for either’s life.
Hector, in his return, meets with his wife,
And taking in his armed arms his son,
He prophesies the fall of Ilion.
Another Argument
In
Zeta
, Hector prophesies;
Prays for his son; wills sacrifice.
Book 6
T
he stern fight freed of all the gods, conquest with doubtful wings
Flew on their lances: every way the restless field she flings
Betwixt the floods of Symois and Xanthus, that confin’d
All their affairs at Ilion, and round about them shin’d.
The first that weigh’d down all the field of one particular side
Was Ajax, son of Telamon, who like a bulwark plied
The Greeks protection, and of Troy the knotty orders brake;
Held out a light to all the rest, and show’d them how to make
Way to their conquest. He did wound the strongest man of Thrace,
The tallest and the biggest set, Eussorian Acamas:
His lance fell on his casque’s plum’d top in stooping; the fell head
Drove through his forehead to his jaws; his eyes night shadowed.
Tydides slew Teuthranides Axilus, that did dwell
In fair Arisba’s well-built tow’rs: he had of wealth a well,
And yet was kind and bountiful; he would a traveller pray
To be his guest; his friendly house stood in the broad highway,
In which he all sorts nobly us’d; yet none of them would stand
’Twixt him and death, but both himself and he that had command
Of his fair horse, Calisius, fell lifeless on the ground.
Euryalus Opheltius and Dresus dead did wound,
Nor ended there his fiery course, which he again begins,
And ran to it successfully, upon a pair of twins,
Aesepus and bold Pedasus, whom good Bucolion,
That first call’d father (though base born) renown’d Laomedon,
On Nais
Abarbaraea
got, a nymph that as she fed
Her curled flocks Bucolion woo’d, and mix’d in love and bed.
Both these were spoil’d of arms and life by Mecistiades.
Then Polypaetes for stern death Astialus did seize.
Ulysses slew Percosius; Teucer, Aretaön;
Antilochus (old Nestor’s joy) Ablerus; the great son
Of Atreus, and king of men, Elatus, whose abode
He held at upper Pedasus, where Satnius’ river flow’d.
The great heroë Leïtus stay’d Philacus in flight
From further life: Eurypilus Melanthius reft of light.
The brother to the king of men Adrestus took alive,
Whose horse, affrighted with the flight, their driver now did drive
Amongst the low-grown tamarisk trees, and at an arm of one
The chariot in the draught-tree brake, the horse brake loose, and ron
The same way other fliers fled, contending all to town:
Himself close at the chariot wheel upon his face was thrown,
And there lay flat, roll’d up in dust. Atrides inwards drave,
And holding at his breast his lance, Adrestus sought to save
His head by losing of his feet and trusting to his knees:
On which the same parts of the king he hugs, and offers fees
Of worthy value for his life, and thus pleads their receipt:
‘Take me alive, O Atreus’ son, and take a worthy weight
Of brass, elaborate iron, and gold: a heap of precious things
Are in my father’s riches hid, which when your servant brings
News of my safety to his ears, he largely will divide
With your rare bounties.’ Atreus’ son thought this the better side,
And meant to take it, being about to send him safe to fleet:
Which when, far off, his brother saw, he wing’d his royal feet,
And came in threat’ning, crying out: ‘O soft heart! What’s the cause
Thou spar’st these men thus? Have not they observ’d these gentle laws
Of mild humanity to thee, with mighty argument
Why thou shouldst deal thus, in thy house, and with all precedent
Of honour’d guest rites entertain’d? Not one of them shall fly
A bitter end for it from heav’n, and much less (dotingly)
’Scape our revengeful fingers: all, ev’n th’ infant in the womb,
Shall taste of what they merited, and have no other tomb
Than raz’d Ilion, nor their race have more fruit than the dust.’
This just cause turn’d his brother’s mind, who violently thrust
The prisoner from him; in whose guts the king of men impress’d
His ashen lance; which (pitching down his foot upon the breast
Of him that upwards fell) he drew; then Nestor spake to all:
‘O friends, and household men of Mars, let not your pursuit fall
With those ye fell, for present spoil; nor, like the king of men,
Let any ’scape unfell’d; but on, dispatch them all, and then
Ye shall have time enough to spoil.’ This made so strong their chace
That all the Trojans had been hous’d, and never turn’d a face,
Had not the Priamist Helenus (an augur most of name)
Will’d Hector and Aeneas thus: ‘Hector! Anchises’ fame!
Since on your shoulders, with good cause, the weighty burden lies
Of Troy and Lycia, being both of noblest faculties,
For counsel, strength of hand, and apt to take chance at her best
In every turn she makes, stand fast, and suffer not the rest,
By any way search’d out for ’scape, to come within the ports,
Lest, fled into their wives’ kind arms, they there be made the sports
Of the pursuing enemy: exhort and force your bands
To turn their faces; and while we employ our ventur’d hands,
Though in a hard condition, to make the other stay,
Hector, go thou to Ilion, and our queen mother pray,
To take the richest robe she hath, the same that’s chiefly dear
To her court fancy; with which gem, assembling more to her
Of Troy’s chief matrons, let all go (for fear of all our fates)
To Pallas’ temple; take the key, unlock the heavy gates,
Enter, and reach the highest tow’r, where her Palladium stands,
And on it put the precious veil, with pure and rev’rend hands,
And vow to her, besides the gift, a sacrificing stroke
Of twelve fat heifers of a year, that never felt the yoke
(Most answering to her maiden state), if she will pity us,
Our town, our wives, our youngest joys; and him that plagues them thus
Take from the conflict, Diomed, that fury in a fight,
That true son of great Tydeus, that cunning lord of flight;
Whom I esteem the strongest Greek, for we have never fled
Achilles (that is prince of men, and whom a goddess bred)
Like him, his fury flies so high, and all men’s wraths commands.’
Hector intends his brother’s will, but first through all his bands
He made quick way, encouraging; and all, to fear afraid,
All turn’d their heads, and made Greece turn. Slaughter stood still dismay’d
On their parts, for they thought some god, fall’n from the vault of stars,
Was rush’d into the Ilians’ aid, they made such dreadful wars.
Thus Hector, toiling in the waves, and thrusting back the flood
Of his ebb’d forces, thus takes leave: ‘So, so, now runs your blood
In his right current: forwards now, Trojans, and far-call’d friends;
Awhile hold out, till for success to this your brave amends
I haste to Ilion, and procure our counsellors and wives
To pray, and offer hecatombs, for their states in our lives.’
Then fair-helm’d Hector turn’d to Troy, and as he trod the field,
The black bull’s hide that at his back he wore about his shield
(In the extreme circumference) was with his gait so rock’d
That, being large, it both at once his neck and ankles knock’d.
And now betwixt the hosts were met Hippolochus’ brave son
Glaucus, who in his very look hope of some wonder won,
And little Tydeus’ mighty heir, who seeing such a man
Offer the field (for usual blows), with wondrous words began:
What art thou, strong’st of mortal men, that putt’st so far before,
Whom these fights never show’d mine eyes? They have been evermore
Sons of unhappy parents born, that came within the length
Of this Minerva-guided lance, and durst close with the strength
That she inspires in me. If heav’n be thy divine abode,
And thou a deity thus inform’d, no more with any god
Will I change lances; the strong son of Drius did not live
Long after such a conflict dar’d, who godlessly did drive
Nisaeus’ nurses through the hill made sacred to his name,
And called Nisseius: with a goad he punch’d each furious dame,
And made them every one cast down their green and leafy spears.
This th’ homicide Lycurgus did; and those ungodly fears
He put the froes in seized their god. Even Bacchus he did drive
From his Nisseius, who was fain, with huge exclaims, to dive
Into the ocean: Thetis there in her bright bosom took
The flying deity, who so fear’d Lycurgus’ threats, he shook.
For which the freely living gods so highly were incens’d
That Saturn’s great son struck him blind, and with his life dispens’d
But small time after: all because th’ immortals lov’d him not
Nor lov’d him since he striv’d with them: and this end hath begot
Fear in my powers to fight with heaven. But if the fruits of earth
Nourish thy body, and thy life be of our human birth,
Come near, that thou mayst soon arrive on that life-bounding shore,
To which I see thee hoist such sail.’ ‘Why dost thou so explore,’
Said Glaucus, ‘of what race I am? When like the race of leaves
The race of man is, that deserves no question, nor receives
My being any other breath. The wind in autumn strows
The earth with old leaves, then the spring the woods with new endows,
And so death scatters men on earth, so life puts out again
Man’s heavy issue. But my race, if (like the course of men)
Thou seek’st in more particular terms, ’tis this (to many known):
In midst of Argos, nurse of horse, there stands a walled town,
Ephyre, where the mansion-house of Sysiphus did stand –
Of Sysiphus Aeölides, most wise of all the land.
Glaucus was son to him, and he begat Bellerophon,
Whose body heaven indued with strength, and put a beauty on,
Exceeding lovely. Praetus yet his cause of love did hate,
And banish’d him the town; (he might – he rul’d the Argive state;
The virtue of the one Jove plac’d beneath the others pow’r.)
His exile grew since he denied to be the paramour
Of fair Anteia, Praetus’ wife, who felt a raging fire
Of secret love to him; but he, whom wisdom did inspire
As well as prudence (one of them advising him to shun
The danger of a princess’ love, the other not to run
Within the danger of the gods, the act being simply ill),
Still entertaining thoughts divine, subdu’d the earthly still.
She, rul’d by neither of his wits, preferr’d her lust to both;
And, false to Praetus, would seem true, with this abhorr’d untroth:
‘Praetus, or die thyself,’ said she, ‘or let Bellerophon die;
He urg’d dishonour to thy bed: which since I did deny,
He thought his violence should grant, and sought thy shame by force.’
The king, incens’d with her report, resolv’d upon her course,
But doubted how it should be run: he shunn’d his death direct,
Holding a way so near not safe, and plotted the effect
By sending him with letters seal’d (that, opened, touch his life)
To Rheuns king of Lycia, and father to his wife.
He went, and happily he went: the gods walk’d all his way.
And being arriv’d in Lycia, where Xanthus doth display
The silver ensigns of his waves, the king of that broad land
Receiv’d him with a wondrous free and honourable hand.
Nine days he feasted him, and kill’d an ox in every day,
In thankful sacrifice to heaven, for his fair guest; whose stay,
With rosy fingers brought the world the tenth well-welcom’d morn:
And then the king did move to see the letters he had borne
From his lov’d son-in-law; which seen, he wrought thus their contents.
Chymaera, the invincible, he sent him to convince,
Sprung from no man, but mere divine; a lion’s shape before,
Behind a dragon’s, in the midst a goat’s shagg’d form she bore,
And flames of deadly fervency flew from her breath and eyes:
Yet her he slew; his confidence in sacred prodigies
Render’d him victor. Then he gave his second conquest way,
Against the famous Solymi, when (he himself would say
Reporting it) he enter’d on a passing vigorous fight.
His third huge labour he approv’d against a woman’s spite,
That fill’d a field of Amazons: he overcame them all.
Then set they on him sly Deceit, when Force had such a fall:
An ambush of the strongest men that spacious Lycia bred,
Was lodg’d for him; whom he lodg’d sure: they never rais’d a head.
His deeds thus showing him deriv’d from some celestial race,
The king detain’d, and made amends, with doing him the grace
Of his fair daughter’s princely gift; and with her, for a dow’r,
Gave half his kingdom; and to this, the Lycians on did pour
More than was given to any king: a goodly planted field,
In some parts thick of groves and woods; the rest rich crops did yield.
This field, the Lycians futurely (of future wand’rings there
And other errors of their prince, in the unhappy rear
Of his sad life) the Errant call’d. The princess brought him forth
Three children (whose ends griev’d him more, the more they were of worth):
Isander, and Hippolochus, and fair Laodomy,
With whom ev’n Jupiter himself left heav’n itself to lie,
And had by her the man at arms, Sarpedon, call’d divine.
The gods then left him, lest a man should in their glories shine,
And set against him; for his son, Isandrus, in a strife