Against the ring that circled him: lest, charg’d with troops alone
(Though valiant), he might be oppress’d, whom Greece so built upon.
He led, and Ajax seconded: they found their Jove-lov’d king
Circled with foes. As when a den of bloody lucerns cling
About a goodly palmed hart, hurt with an hunter’s bow,
Whose ’scape his nimble feet enforce, whilst his warm blood doth flow,
And his light knees have power to move; but (master’d of his wound,
Emboss’d within a shady hill) the lucerns charge him round,
And tear his flesh; when instantly, fortune sends in the pow’rs
Of some stern lion, with whose sight they fly, and he devours:
So charg’d the Ilians Ithacus, many and mighty men:
But then made Menelaus in, and horrid Ajax then,
Bearing a target like a tower: close was his violent stand,
And every way the foe dispers’d; when, by the royal hand,
Kind Menelaus led away the hurt Laertes’ son,
Till his fair squire had brought his horse: victorious Telamon
Still plied the foe, and put to sword a young Priamides:
Doriclus, Priam’s bastard son; then did his lance impress
Pandocus, and strong Pyrasus, Lysander and Palertes.
As when a torrent from the hills, swoln with Saturnian show’rs,
Falls on the fields, bears blasted oaks and wither’d rosy flow’rs,
Loose weeds, and all dispersed filth, into the ocean’s force:
So matchless Ajax beat the field, and slaughter’d men and horse.
Yet had not Hector heard of this, who fought on the left wing
Of all the host, near those sweet herbs Scamander’s flood doth spring:
Where many foreheads trod the ground, and where the skirmish burn’d
Near Nestor, and king Idomen; where Hector overturn’d
The Grecian squadrons, authoring high service with his lance,
And skilful manage of his horse: nor yet the discrepance
He made in death betwixt the hosts had made the Greeks retire,
If fair-hair’d Helen’s second spouse had not repress’d the fire
Of bold Machaon’s fortitude, who with a three-fork’d head
In his right shoulder wounded him: then had the Grecians dread,
Lest, in his strength declin’d, the foe should slaughter their hurt friend.
Then Crete’s king urg’d Neleides his chariot to ascend,
And getting near him, take him in, and bear him to their tents:
‘A surgeon is to be preferr’d, with physic ornaments,
Before a multitude: his life gives hurt lives native bounds,
With sweet inspersion of fit balms, and perfect search of wounds.’
Thus spake the royal Idomen: Neleides obey’d,
And to his chariot presently the wounded Greek convey’d,
The son of Aesculapius, the great physician:
To fleet they flew. Cebriones perceiv’d the slaughter done
By Ajax on the other troops, and spake to Hector thus:
‘Whiles we encounter Grecians here, stern Telamonius
Is yonder raging, turning up in heaps our horse and men:
I know him by his spacious shield; let us turn chariot then
Where both of horse and foot the fight most hotly is propos’d,
In mutual slaughters: hark, their throats from cries are never clos’d.’
This said, with his shrill scourge he struck the horse, that fast ensu’d,
Stung with his lashes, tossing shields and carcasses imbru’d.
The chariot tree was drown’d in blood, and th’ arches by the seat,
Dispurpled from the horses’ hoofs, and from the wheelbands’ beat.
Great Hector long’d to break the ranks and startle their close fight:
Who horribly amaz’d the Greeks, and plied their sudden fright
With busy weapons, ever wing’d, his lance, sword, weighty stones:
Yet charg’d he other leaders’ bands, not dreadful Telamon’s,
With whom he wisely shunn’d foul blows: but Jove (that weighs above
All human pow’rs) to Ajax’ breast divine repressions drove,
And made him shun who shunn’d himself: he ceas’d from fight amaz’d,
Cast on his back his seven-fold shield, and round about him gaz’d,
Like one turn’d wild; look’d on himself in his distract retreat;
Knee before knee did scarcely move. As when from herds of neat
Whole threaves of bores and mongrels chase a lion skulking near,
Loth he should taint the well-priz’d fat of any stall-fed steer,
Consuming all the night in watch; he (greedy of his prey)
Of thrusting on is oft thrust off, so thick the javelins play
On his bold charges, and so hot the burning fire-brands shine,
Which he (though horrible) abhors, about his glowing eyne,
And early his great heart retires: so Ajax from the foe,
For fear their fleet should be inflam’d, ’gainst his swoln heart did go.
As when a dull mill ass comes near a goodly field of corn
Kept from the birds by children’s cries, the boys are overborne
By his insensible approach, and simply he will eat;
About whom many wands are broke, and still the children beat,
And still the self-providing ass doth with their weakness bear,
Not stirring till his paunch be full, and scarcely then will steer:
So the huge son of Telamon amongst the Trojans far’d,
Bore show’rs of darts upon his shield, yet scorn’d to fly as scar’d,
And so kept softly on his way; nor would he mend his pace
For all their violent pursuits, that still did arm the chase
With singing lances: but at last, when their cur-like presumes
More urg’d the more forborne, his spirits did rarefy their fumes,
And he revok’d his active strength, turn’d head, and did repel
The horse troops that were new made in; ’twixt whom the fight grew fell,
And by degrees he stole retreat, yet with such puissant stay
That none could pass him to the fleet: in both the armies’ sway
He stood, and from strong hands receiv’d sharp javelins on his shield
Where many stuck, thrown on before; many fell short in field,
Ere the white body they could reach, and stuck, as telling how
They purpos’d to have pierc’d his flesh: his peril pierced now
The eyes of prince Eurypilus, Evemon’s famous son,
Who came close on, and with his dart struck duke Apisaon,
Whose surname was Phausiades, ev’n to the concrete blood
That makes the liver: on the earth out gush’d his vital flood.
Eurypilus made in, and eas’d his shoulders of his arms;
Which Paris seeing, he drew his bow, and wreak’d in part the harms
Of his good friend Phausiades: his arrow he let fly,
That smote Eurypilus, and brake in his attainted thigh:
Then took he troop, to shun black death, and to the fliers cried:
‘Princes, and leaders of the Greeks, stand, and repulse the tide
Of this our honour-wracking chase; Ajax is drown’d in darts,
I fear past ’scape: turn, honour’d friends, help out his vent’rous parts.’
Thus spake the wounded Greek; the sound cast on their backs their shields,
And rais’d their darts; to whose relief Ajax his person wields.
Then stood he firmly with his friends, retiring their retire,
And thus both hosts indif
f
’rent join’d, the fight grew hot as fire.
Now had Neleides’ sweating steeds brought him and his hurt friend
Amongst their fleet; Aeacides, that wishly did intend
(Standing astern his tall-neck’d ship) how deep the skirmish drew
Amongst the Greeks, and with what ruth the insecution grew,
Saw Nestor bring Machaon hurt, and from within did call
His friend Patroclus, who like Mars, in form celestial,
Came forth with first sound of his voice (first spring of his decay)
And ask’d his princely friend’s desire: ‘Dear friend,’ said he, ‘this day
I doubt not will enforce the Greeks to swarm about my knees;
I see unsuffer’d need employ’d in their extremities.
Go, sweet Patroclus, and inquire of old Neleides
Whom he brought wounded from the fight; by his back parts I guess
It is Machaon, but his face I could not well descry,
They pass’d me in such earnest speed.’ Patroclus presently
Obey’d his friend, and ran to know. They now descended were,
And Nestor’s squire Eurymedon the horses did ungear:
Themselves stood near th’ extremest shore to let the gentle air
Dry up their sweat, then to the tent; where Hecamed the fair
Set chairs, and for the wounded prince a potion did prepare.
This Hecamed, by war’s hard fate, fell to old Nestor’s share,
When Thetis’ son sack’d Tenedos. She was the princely seed
Of worthy king Arsynous, and by the Greeks decreed
The prize of Nestor, since all men in counsel he surpass’d.
First, a fair table she appos’d, of which the feet were grac’d
With bluish metal, mix’d with black: and on the same she put
A brass fruit dish, in which she serv’d a wholesome onion cut,
For pittance to the potion, and honey newly wrought,
And bread, the fruit of sacred meal: then to the board she brought
A right fair cup, with gold studs driv’n, which Nestor did transfer
From Pylos, on whose swelling sides four handles fixed were,
And upon every handle sat a pair of doves of gold,
Some billing, and some pecking meat. Two gilt feet did uphold
The antique body: and withal so weighty was the cup,
That being propos’d brimful of wine, one scarce could lift it up:
Yet Nestor drunk in it with ease, spite of his years’ respect.
In this the goddess-like fair dame a potion did confect
With gold old wine of Pramnius, and scrap’d into the wine
Cheese made of goats’ milk; and on it spers’d flour exceeding fine:
In this sort for the wounded lord the potion she prepar’d,
And bad him drink; for company, with him old Nestor shar’d.
Thus physically quench’d they thirst, and then their spirits reviv’d
With pleasant conference. And now, Patroclus being arriv’d,
Made stay at th’ entry of the tent: old Nestor seeing it,
Rose, and receiv’d him by the hand, and fain would have him sit.
He set that courtesy aside, excusing it with haste,
Since his much-to-be-rev’renced friend sent him to know who pass’d
(Wounded with him in chariot) so swiftly through the shore;
‘Whom now,’ said he, ‘I see and know, and now can stay no more:
You know, good father, our great friend is apt to take offence,
Whose fiery temper will inflame sometimes with innocence.’
He answer’d: ‘When will Peleus’ son some royal pity show
On his thus wounded countrymen? Ah, is he yet to know
How much affliction tires our host, how our especial aid
(Tainted with lances, at their tents) are miserably laid?
Ulysses, Diomed, our king, Eurypilus, Machaon:
All hurt, and all our worthiest friends, yet no compassion
Can supple thy friend’s friendless breast. Doth he reserve his eye
Till our fleet burn, and we ourselves one after other die?
Alas! My forces are not now as in my younger life.
Oh! Would to god I had that strength I used in the strife
Betwixt us and the Elians, for oxen to be driv’n,
When Itumonius’ lofty soul was by my valour giv’n
As sacrifice to destiny, Hipporocus’ strong son,
That dwelt in Elis, and fought first in our contention.
We foraged (as proclaimed foes) a wondrous wealthy boot;
And he, in rescue of his herds, fell breathless at my foot.
All the dorp bores with terror fled; our prey was rich and great,
Twice five and twenty flocks of sheep; as many herds of neat;
As many goats, and nasty swine; an hundred fifty mares,
All sorrel, most with sucking foals; and these soon-monied wares
We drave into Neleius’ town, fair Pylos, all by night.
My father’s heart was glad to see so much good fortune quite
The forward mind of his young son, that us’d my youth in deeds,
And would not smother it in moods. Now drew the sun’s bright steeds
Light from the hills; our heralds now accited all that were
Endamag’d by the Elians; our princes did appear;
Our boot was parted; many men th’ Epeians much did owe,
That (being our neighbours) they did spoil; afflictions did so flow
On us poor Pyleans though but few. In brake great Hercules
To our sad confines of late years, and wholly did suppress
Our hapless princes: twice six sons renown’d Neleius bred;
Only myself am left of all, the rest subdued and dead.
And this was it that made so proud the base Epeian bands,
On their near neighbours, being oppress’d, to lay injurious hands:
A herd of oxen for himself, a mighty flock of sheep,
My sire selected, and made choice of shepherds for their keep:
And from the general spoil he cull’d three hundred of the best:
The Elians ought him infinite, most plagued of all the rest.
Four wager-winning horse he lost, and chariots intervented,
Being led to an appointed race. The prize that was presented
Was a religious three-foot urn: Augeas was the king
That did detain them, and dismiss’d their keeper sorrowing
For his lov’d charge, lost with foul words. Then both for words and deeds
My sire being worthily incens’d, thus justly he proceeds
To satisfaction, in first choice of all our wealthy prize:
And as he shar’d much, much he left his subjects to suffice,
That none might be oppress’d with pow’r, or want his portion due:
Thus for the public good we shar’d. Then we to temples drew
Our complete city, and to heav’n we thankful rights did burn
For our rich conquest. The third day ensuing our return,
The Elians flew on us in heaps: their general leaders were