Ulysses waited on his sword, and ever as he slew,
He drew them by their strengthless heels out of the horses’ sight,
That when he was to lead them forth, they should not with affright
Boggle, nor snore, in treading on the bloody carcasses;
For being new come, they were unus’d to such stern sights as these.
Through four ranks now did Diomed the king himself attain;
Who (snoring in his sweetest sleep) was like his soldiers slain.
An ill dream, by Minerva sent, that night stood by his head
(Which was Oenides’ royal son) – unconquer’d Diomed.
Meanwhile Ulysses loos’d his horse, took all their reins in hand,
And led them forth: but Tydeus’ son did in contention stand
With his great mind, to do some deed of more audacity,
If he should take the chariot, where his rich arms did lie
And draw it by the beam away, or bear it on his back,
Or if of more dull Thracian lives he should their bosoms sack.
In this contention with himself, Minerva did suggest
And bade him think of his retreat, lest from their tempted rest
Some other god should stir the foe, and send him back dismay’d.
He knew the voice; took horse, and fled; the Trojans’ heavenly aid
(Apollo with the silver bow) stood no blind sentinel
To their secure and drowsy host, but did discover well
Minerva following Diomed; and angry with his act,
The mighty host of Ilion he enter’d, and awak’d
The cousin german of the king, a counsellor of Thrace,
Hypocoön; who when he rose, and saw the desert place
Where Rhesus’ horse did use to stand, and th’ other dismal harms,
Men struggling with the pangs of death, he shriek’d out thick alarms,
Call’d ‘Rhesus! Rhesus!’ but in vain; then still, ‘Arm, arm,’ he cried.
The noise and tumult was extreme on every startled side
Of Troy’s huge host, from whence in throngs all gather’d, and admir’d,
Who could perform such harmful facts, and yet be safe retir’d.
Now, coming where they slew the scout, Ulysses stay’d the steeds;
Tydides lighted, and the spoils (hung on the tamrick reeds)
He took and gave to Ithacus, and up he got again;
Then flew they joyful to their fleet: Nestor did first attain
The sounds the horse-hoofs struck through air, and said: ‘My royal peers!
Do I but dote, or say I true? Methinks about mine ears
The sounds of running horses beat. O would to god they were
Our friends thus soon return’d with spoils: but I have hearty fear,
Lest this high tumult of the foe doth their distress intend.’
He scarce had spoke, when they were come: both did from horse descend.
All, with embraces and sweet words, to heaven their worth did raise.
Then Nestor spake: ‘Great Ithacus, ev’n heap’d with Grecian praise,
How have you made these horse your prize? Pierc’d you the dangerous host,
Where such gems stand? Or did some god your high attempts accost,
And honour’d you with this reward? Why, they be like the rays
The sun effuseth. I have mix’d with Trojans all my days;
And now, I hope you will not say I always lie abord,
Though an old soldier I confess: yet did all Troy afford
Never the like to any sense that ever I possess’d,
But some good god, no doubt, hath met, and your high valours bless’d.
For he that shadows heaven with clouds loves both as his delights,
And she that supples earth with blood cannot forbear your sights.’
Ulysses answer’d: ‘Honour’d sire, the willing gods can give
Horse much more worth than these men yield, since in more power they live:
These horse are of the Thracian breed; their king Tydides slew,
And twelve of his most trusted guard: and of that meaner crew
A scout for thirteenth man we kill’d, whom Hector sent to spy
The whole estate of our designs, if bent to fight or fly.’
Thus, follow’d with whole troops of friends, they with applauses pass’d
The spacious dike, and in the tent of Diomed they plac’d
The horse without contention, as his deserving’s meed:
Which, with his other horse set up, on yellow wheat did feed.
Poor Dolon’s spoils Ulysses had; who shrin’d them on his stern,
As trophies vow’d to her that sent the good-aboding hern.
Then enter’d they the mere main sea, to cleanse their honour’d sweat
From off their feet, their thighs and necks: and when their vehement heat
Was calm’d, and their swoln hearts refresh’d, more curious baths they us’d,
Where odorous and dissolving oils they through their limbs diffus’d.
Then, taking breakfast, a big bowl fill’d with the purest wine,
They offer’d to the maiden Queen, that hath the azure eyne.
The end of the tenth book
Book 11
The Argument
Atrides and his other peers of name
Lead forth their men; whom Eris doth inflame.
Hector (by Iris’ charge) takes deedless breath,
Whiles Agamemnon plies the work of death,
Who with the first bears his imperial head.
Himself, Ulysses, and king Diomed,
Euripylus, and Aesculapius’ son,
(Enforc’d with wounds) the furious skirmish shun.
Which martial sight, when great Achilles views,
A little his desire of fight renews:
And forth he sends his friend, to bring him word
From old Neleides, what wounded lord
He in his chariot from the skirmish brought:
Which was Machaon. Nestor then besought
He would persuade his friend to wreak their harms,
Or come himself, deck’d in his dreadful arms.
Another Argument
Lamda
presents the general
In fight the worthiest man of all.
Book 11
Aurora, out of restful bed, did from bright Tython rise,
To bring each deathless essence light and use to mortal eyes;
When Jove sent Eris to the Greeks, sustaining in her hand
Stern signs of her designs for war: she took her horrid stand
Upon Ulysses’ huge black bark that did at anchor ride
Amidst the fleet, from whence her sounds might ring on every side,
Both to the tents of Telamon, and th’ authors of their smarts,
Who held, for fortitude and force, the navy’s utmost parts.
The red-ey’d goddess seated there thunder’d th’ Orthian song,
High, and with horror, through the ears of all the Grecian throng;
Her verse with spirits invincible did all their breasts inspire,
Blew out all darkness from their limbs, and set their hearts on fire;
And presently was bitter war more sweet a thousand times
Than any choice in hollow keels to greet their native climes.
Atrides summon’d all to arms, to arms himself dispos’d:
First on his legs he put bright greaves with silver buttons clos’d,
Then with rich cuirass arm’d his breast, which Cyniras bestow’d
To gratify his royal guest; for even to Cyprus flow’d
Th’ unbounded fame of those designs the Greeks propos’d for Troy,
And therefore gave he him those arms, and wish’d his purpose joy.
Ten rows of azure mix’d with black, twelve golden like the sun,
Twice ten of tin, in beaten paths, did through this armour run.
Three serpents to the gorget crept, that like three rainbows shin’d,
Such as by Jove are fix’d in clouds, when wonders are divin’d.
About his shoulders hung his sword, whereof the hollow hilt
Was fashion’d all with shining bars, exceeding richly gilt;
The scabbard was of silver plate, with golden hangers grac’d;
Then took he up his weighty shield, that round about him cast
Defensive shadows: ten bright zones of gold-affecting brass
Were driven about it; and of tin (as full of gloss as glass)
Swell’d twenty bosses out of it: in centre of them all
One of black metal had engraven (full of extreme appal)
An ugly gorgon, compassed with terror and with fear:
At it a silver bawdrick hung, with which he us’d to bear
(Wound on his arm) his ample shield, and in it there was wov’n
An azure dragon, curl’d in folds, from whose one neck was clov’n
Three heads contorted in an orb: then plac’d he on his head
His four-plum’d casque, and in his hands two darts he managed,
Arm’d with bright steel that blaz’d to heaven: then Juno and the Maid
That conquers empires trumpets serv’d to summon out their aid,
In honour of the general, and on a sable cloud,
To bring them furious to the field, sate thund’ring out aloud.
Then all enjoin’d their charioteers to rank their chariot horse
Close to the dike: forth march’d the foot, whose front they did reinforce
With some horse troops: the battle then was all of charioteers,
Lin’d with light horse: but Jupiter disturb’d this form with fears,
And from air’s upper region did bloody vapours rain,
For sad ostent much noble life should ere their times be slain.
The Trojan host at Ilus’ tomb was in battalia led
By Hector and Polydamas; and old Anchises’ seed,
Who god-like was esteem’d in Troy; by grave Antenor’s race,
Divine Agenor, Polybus, unmarried Acamas,
Proportion’d like the states of heaven: in front of all the field,
Troy’s great Priamides did bear his always-equal shield,
Still plying th’ ordering of his power. And as amid the sky
We sometimes see an ominous star blaze clear and dreadfully,
Then run his golden head in clouds, and straight appear again:
So Hector otherwhiles did grace the vanguard, shining plain,
Then in the rearguard hid himself, and labour’d everywhere
To order and encourage all: his armour was so clear,
And he applied each place so fast, that, like a lightning thrown
Out of the shield of Jupiter, in every eye he shone.
And as upon a rich man’s crop of barley or of wheat
(Oppos’d for swiftness at their work), a sort of reapers sweat,
Bear down the furrows speedily, and thick their handfuls fall:
So at the joining of the hosts ran slaughter through them all;
None stoop’d to any fainting thought of foul inglorious flight,
But equal bore they up their heads, and far’d like wolves in fight:
Stern Eris, with such weeping sights, rejoic’d to feed her eyes,
Who only show’d herself in field of all the deities.
The other in Olympus tops sate silent, and repin’d,
That Jove to do the Trojans grace should bear so fix’d a mind.
He car’d not, but, enthron’d apart, triumphant sat in sway
Of his free pow’r, and from his seat took pleasure to display
The city so adorn’d with tow’rs, the sea with vessels fill’d,
The splendour of refulgent arms, the killer and the kill’d.
As long as bright Aurora rul’d, and sacred day increas’d,
So long their darts made mutual wounds, and neither had the best:
But when in hill-environ’d vales the timber-feller takes
A sharp-set stomach to his meat, and dinner ready makes,
His sinews fainting, and his spirits become surcharg’d and dull,
Time of accustom’d ease arriv’d, his hands with labour full:
Then by their valours Greeks brake through the Trojan ranks, and cheer’d
Their general squadrons through the host; then first of all appear’d
The person of the king himself, and then the Trojans lost
Byanor, by his royal charge, a leader in the host:
Who being slain, his charioteer, Oïleus, did alight,
And stood in skirmish with the king; the king did deadly smite
His forehead with his eager lance, and through his helm it ran,
Enforcing passage to his brain quite through the harden’d pan;
His brain mix’d with his clotter’d blood, his body strew’d the ground.
There left he them, and presently he other objects found:
Isus and Antiphus, two sons king Priam did beget,
One lawful, th’ other wantonly; both in one chariot met
Their royal foe; the baser born, Isus, was charioteer,
And famous Antiphus did fight: both which king Peleus’ heir,
Whilom in Ida keeping flocks, did deprehend and bind
With pliant osiers, and for prize, them to their sire resign’d.
Atrides with his well-aim’d lance smote Isus on the breast
Above the nipple, and his sword a mortal wound impress’d
Beneath the ear of Antiphus; down from their horse they fell.
The king had seen the youths before, and now did know them well,
Rememb’ring them the prisoners of swift Aeacides,
Who brought them to the sable fleet from Ida’s foody leas.
And as a lion having found the furrow of a hind,
Where she hath calv’d two little twins, at will and ease doth grind
Their joints snatch’d in his solid jaws, and crusheth into mist
Their tender lives, their dam, though near, not able to resist,
But shook with vehement fear herself, flies through the oaken chase
From that fell savage, drown’d in sweat, and seeks some covert place:
So when with most unmatched strength the Grecian general bent
’Gainst these two princes, none durst aid their native king’s descent,
But fled themselves before the Greeks, and where these two were slain,
Pisander and Hippolochus, not able to restrain
Their headstrong horse, the silken reins being from their hands let fall,
Were brought by their unruly guides before the general.
Antimachus begat them both – Antimachus that took
Rich gifts, and gold of Helen’s love, and would by no means brook
Just restitution should be made of Menelaus’ wealth,
Bereft him, with his ravish’d queen, by Alexander’s stealth.
Atrides, lion-like, did charge his sons, who on their knees
Fell from their chariot, and besought regard to their degrees,
Who being Antimachus his sons, their father would afford
A worthy ranson for their lives; who in his house did hoard
Much hidden treasure, brass and gold, and steel wrought wondrous choice.
Thus wept they, using smoothing terms, and heard this rugged voice
Breath’d from the unrelenting king: ‘If you be of the breed
Of stout Antimachus, that stay’d the honourable deed
The other peers of Ilion in counsel had decreed,
To render Helen and her wealth, and would have basely slain
My brother and wise Ithacus, ambassadors t’ attain
The most due motion, now receive wreak for his shameful part.’
This said, in poor Pisander’s breast he fix’d his wreakful dart,
Who upward spread th’ oppressed earth: his brother crouch’d for dread,
And, as he lay, the angry king cut off his arms and head,
And let him like a football lie for every man to spurn.
Then to th’ extremest heat of fight he did his valour turn,
And led a multitude of Greeks; where foot did foot subdue,
Horse slaughter’d horse, Need feather’d flight, the batter’d centre flew
In clouds of dust about their ears, rais’d from the horses’ hooves,
That beat a thunder out of earth, as horrible as Jove’s.
The king (persuading speedy chace) gave his persuasions way
With his own valour, slaught’ring still; as in a stormy day
In thick-set woods a ravenous fire wraps in his fierce repair
The shaken trees, and by the roots doth toss them into air:
Even so beneath Atrides’ sword flew up Troy’s flying heels;
Their horse drew empty chariots, and sought their thund’ring wheels
Some fresh directions through the field, where least the pursuit drives:
Thick fell the Trojans, much more sweet to vultures than their wives.
Then Jove drew Hector from the darts, from dust, from death and blood,
And from the tumult: still the king firm to the pursuit stood
Till at old Ilus’ monument, in midst of all the field,
They reach’d the wild fig-tree, and long’d to make their town their shield.
Yet there they rested not, the king still cried, ‘Pursue, pursue’,
And all his unreproved hands did blood and dust imbrue.
But when they came to Scaea’s ports, and to the beech of Jove,
There made they stand; there every eye, fix’d on each other, strove
Who should outlook his mate amaz’d: through all the field they fled.
And as a lion, when the night becomes most deaf and dead,
Invades ox-herds, affrighting all, that he of one may wreak
His dreadful hunger, and his neck he first of all doth break,
Then laps his blood and entrails up: so Agamemnon plied
The manage of the Trojan chace, and still the last man died,
The other fled, a number fell by his imperial hand,
Some grovelling downwards from their horse, some upwards strew’d the sand.
High was the fury of his lance: but having beat them close
Beneath their walls, the both-worlds Sire did now again repose
On fountain-flowing Ida’s tops, being newly slid from heav’n,
And held a lightning in his hand: from thence his charge was giv’n
To Iris with the golden wings: ‘Thaumantia, fly,’ said he,
And tell Troy’s Hector, that as long as he enrag’d shall see
The soldier-loving Atreus’ son amongst the foremost fight,
Depopulating troops of men, so long he must excite
Some other to resist the foe, and he no arms advance.
But when he wounded takes his horse, attain’d with shaft or lance,
Then will I fill his arm with death, even till he reach the fleet,
And peaceful night treads busy day beneath her sacred feet.’
The wind-foot-swift Thaumantia obey’d, and us’d her wings
To famous Ilion, from the mount enchas’d with silver springs;
And found in his bright chariot the hardy Trojan knight,
To whom she spake the words of Jove, and vanish’d from his sight.
He leap’d upon the sounding earth, and shook his lengthful dart,
And everywhere he breath’d exhorts, and stirr’d up every heart:
A dreadful fight he set on foot, his soldiers straight turn’d head:
The Greeks stood firm, in both the hosts the field was perfected.
But Agamemnon foremost still did all his side exceed,
And would not be the first in name unless the first in deed.
Now sing, fair presidents of verse, that in the heavens embow’r,
Who first encounter’d with the king, of all the adverse pow’r.
Iphidamas, Antenor’s son, ample and bigly set,
Brought up in pasture-springing Thrace, that doth soft sheep beget;
In grave Cissaeus’ noble house, that was his mother’s sire
(Fair Theano), and when his breast was height’ned with the fire
Of gaysome youth, his grandsire gave his daughter to his love,
Who straight his bridal-chamber left; fame with affection strove,
And made him furnish twelve fair ships to lend fair Troy his hand.
His ships he in Percope left, and came to Troy by land:
And now he tried the fame of Greece, encount’ring with the king,
Who threw his royal lance and miss’d. Iphidamas did fling,
And struck him on the arming waist, beneath his coat of brass,
Which forc’d him stay upon his arm, so violent it was;
Yet pierc’d it not his well-wrought zone, but when the lazy head
Tried hardness with his silver waist, it turn’d again like lead.
He follow’d, grasping the ground end: but with a lion’s wile,
That wrests away a hunter’s staff, he caught it by the pile,
And pluck’d it from the caster’s hands, whom with his sword he strook
Beneath the ear, and with his wound his timeless death he took: