By Meges’ and Philides’ cares, Amphion, Dracius.
Before the Phthians Medon march’d, and Meneptolemus;
And these, with the Boeotian pow’rs, bore up the fleet’s defence.
Oïleus, by his brother’s side, stood close, and would not thence
For any moment of that time: but as through fallow fields
Black oxen draw a well-join’d plough, and either ev’nly yields
His thrifty labour; all heads couch’d so close to earth, they plow
The fallow with their horns, till out the sweat begins to flow,
The stretch’d yokes crack, and yet at last the furrow forth is driv’n:
So toughly stood these to their task, and made their work as ev’n.
But Ajax Telamonius had many helpful men,
That when sweat ran about his knees, and labour flow’d, would then
Help bear his mighty seven-fold shield: when swift Oïleades
The Locrians left, and would not make those murthrous fights of prease,
Because they wore no bright steel casks, nor bristled plumes for show,
Round shields, nor darts of solid ash, but with the trusty bow,
And jacks well quilted with soft wool, they came to Troy, and were,
In their fit place, as confident as those that fought so near,
And reach’d their foes so thick with shafts, that these were they that brake
The Trojan orders first, and then the brave-arm’d men did make
Good work with their close fights before. Behind whom, having shot,
The Locrians hid still; and their foes all thought of fight forgot
With shows of those far-striking shafts, their eyes were troubled so:
And then, assur’dly, from the ships and tents th’ insulting foe
Had miserably fled to Troy, had not Polydamas
Thus spake to Hector: ‘Hector, still impossible ’tis to pass
Good counsel upon you: but say some god prefers thy deeds,
In counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds.
To some god gives the power of war; to some the sleight to dance;
To some the art of instruments; some doth for voice advance:
And that far-seeing god grants some the wisdom of the mind,
Which no man can keep to himself: that, though but few can find,
Doth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state,
And that, who hath, he best can prize: but, for me, I’ll relate
Only my censure what’s our best. The very crown of war
Doth burn about thee; yet our men, when they have reach’d thus far,
Suppose their valours crown’d, and cease. A few still stir their feet,
And so a few with many fight, spers’d thinly through the fleet.
Retire then, leave speech to the rout, and all thy princes call,
That here in counsels of most weight, we may resolve of all –
If having likelihood to believe that god will conquest give,
We shall charge through, or with this grace, make our retreat, and live:
For I must needs affirm, I fear the debt of yesterday
(Since war is such a god of change) the Grecians now will pay.
And since th’ insatiate man of war remains at fleet, if there
We tempt his safety, no hour more his hot soul can forbear.’
This sound stuff Hector lik’d, approv’d, jump’d from his chariot,
And said: ‘Polydamas, make good this place, and suffer not
One prince to pass it; I myself will there go, where you see
Those friends in skirmish, and return (when they have heard from me
Command that your advice obeys) with utmost speed.’ This said,
With day-bright arms, white plume, white scarf, his goodly limbs array’d,
He parted from them, like a hill removing, all of snow:
And to the Trojan peers and chiefs he flew, to let them know
The counsel of Polydamas. All turn’d, and did rejoice,
To haste to Panthus’ gentle son, being call’d by Hector’s voice.
Who, through the forefights making way, look’d for Deiphobus,
King Hellenus, Asiades, Hyrtasian Asius:
Of whom, some were not to be found unhurt, or undeceas’d,
Some only hurt, and gone from field. As further he address’d,
He found within the fight’s left wing the fair-hair’d Helen’s love,
By all means moving men to blows; which could by no means move
Hector’s forbearance, his friends’ miss so put his pow’rs in storm,
But thus in wonted terms he chid: ‘You with the finest form,
Impostor, woman’s man, where are (in your care mark’d) all these?
Deiphobus, King Hellenus, Asius Hyrtacides,
Othryoneus, Acamas? Now haughty Ilion
Shakes to his lowest groundwork: now just ruin falls upon
Thy head. past rescue.’ He replied: ‘Hector, why chid’st thou now
When I am guiltless? Other times there are for ease, I know,
Than these: for she that brought thee forth not utterly left me
Without some portion of thy spirit, to make me brother thee.
But since thou first brought’st in thy force to this our naval fight,
I and my friends have ceaseless fought, to do thy service right.
But all those friends thou seek’st are slain, excepting Hellenus,
(Who parted wounded in his hand) and so Deiphobus;
Jove yet averted death from them. And now lead thou as far
As thy great heart affects; all we will second any war
That thou endurest. And I hope my own strength is not lost;
Though least, I’ll fight it to his best; not further fights the most.’
This calm’d hot Hector’s spleen; and both turn’d where they saw the face
Of war most fierce: and that was where their friends made good the place
About renown’d Polydamas and god-like Polyphet,
Palmus, Ascanius, Morus, that Hippotion did beget,
And from Ascania’s wealthy fields but even the day before
Arriv’d at Troy, that with their aid they kindly might restore
Some kindness they receiv’d from thence: and in fierce fight with these
Phalces and tall Orthaeus stood, and bold Cebriones.
And then the doubt that in advice Polydamas disclos’d,
To fight or fly, Jove took away, and all to fight dispos’d.
And as the floods of troubled air to pitchy storms increase
That after thunder sweeps the fields, and ravish up the seas,
Encount’ring with abhorred roars, when the engrossed waves
Boil into foam, and endlessly one after other raves:
So rank’d and guarded th’ Ilians march’d, some now, more now, and then
More upon more, in shining steel; now captains, then their men.
And Hector, like man-killing Mars, advanc’d before them all,
His huge round target before him, through thicken’d like a wall,
With hides well couch’d, with store of brass; and on his temples shin’d
His bright helm, on which danc’d his plume: and in this horrid kind,
All hid within his world-like shield, he every troop assay’d
For entry, that in his despite stood firm and undismay’d.
Which when he saw, and kept more off, Ajax came stalking then,
And thus provok’d him: ‘O good man, why fright’st thou thus our men?
Come nearer; not art’s want in war makes us thus navy-bound,
But Jove’s direct scourge; his arm’d hand makes our hands give you ground:
Yet thou hop’st, of thyself, our spoil: but we have likewise hands
To hold our own, as you to spoil: and ere thy countermands
Stand good against our ransack’d fleet, your hugely-peopled town
Our hands shall take in, and her tow’rs from all their heights pull down.
And I must tell thee, time draws on, when flying thou shalt cry
To Jove and all the gods to make thy fair-man’d horses fly
More swift than falcons, that their hoofs may rouse the dust, and bear
Thy body, hid, to Ilion.’ This said, his bold words were
Confirm’d as soon as spoke; Jove’s bird, the high-flown eagle, took
The right hand of their host, whose wings high acclamations strook
From forth the glad breasts of the Greeks. Then Hector made reply:
‘Vain-spoken man, and glorious, what hast thou said? Would I
As surely were the son of Jove, and of great Juno born,
Adorn’d like Pallas, and the god that lifts to earth the morn,
As this day shall bring harmful light to all your host; and thou
(If thou dar’st stand this lance) the earth before the ships shalt strow,
Thy bosom torn up; and the dogs, with all the fowl of Troy,
Be satiate with thy fat and flesh.’ This said, with shouting joy
His first troops follow’d, and the last their shouts with shouts repell’d:
Greece answer’d all, nor could her spirits from all show rest conceal’d.
And to so infinite a height all acclamations strove,
They reach’d the splendours stuck about the unreach’d throne of Jove.
The end of the thirteenth book
Book 14
The Argument
Atrides, to behold the skirmish, brings
Old Nestor, and the other wounded kings.
Juno (receiving of the Cyprian dame
Her Cestus, whence her sweet enticements came)
Descends to Somnus, and gets him to bind
The pow’rs of Jove with sleep, to free her mind.
Neptune assists the Greeks, and of the foe
Slaughter inflicts a mighty overthrow.
Ajax so sore strikes Hector with a stone,
It makes him spit blood, and his sense sets gone.
Another Argument
In
Xi
with sleep and bed, heav’n’s queen
Ev’n Jove himself makes overseen.
Book 14
Nor wine
,
nor feasts, could lay their soft chains on old Nestor’s ear
To this high clamour: who requir’d Machaon’s thoughts to bear
His care in part, about the cause: ‘For methink still,’ said he,
‘The cry increases. I must needs the watchtow’r mount to see
Which way the flood of war doth drive. Still drink thou wine, and eat
Till fair-hair’d Hecamed hath giv’n a little water heat,
To cleanse the quitture from thy wound.’ This said, the goodly shield
Of warlike Thrasimed his son (who had his own in field)
He took, snatch’d up a mighty lance, and so stept forth to view
Cause of that clamour. Instantly, th’ unworthy cause he knew –
The Grecians wholly put in rout, the Trojans routing still,
Close at the Greeks’ backs, their wall raz’d: the old man mourn’d this ill.
And as when with unwieldy waves the great sea forefeels winds,
That both ways murmur, and no way her certain current finds,
But pants and swells confusedly, here goes, and there will stay,
Till on it air casts one firm wind, and then it rolls away:
So stood old Nestor in debate, two thoughts at once on wing
In his discourse, if first to take direct course to the king,
Or to the multitude in fight. At last he did conclude
To visit Agamemnon first: mean time both hosts imbru’d
Their steel in one another’s blood, nought wrought their healths but harms,
Swords, huge stones, double-headed darts, still thumping on their arms.
And now the Jove-kept kings, whose wounds were yet in cure, did meet
Old Nestor: Diomed, Ithacus, and Atreus’ son from fleet,
Bent for the fight, which was far off, the ships being drawn to shore
On heaps at first, till all their sterns a wall was rais’d before;
Which (though not great) it yet sufficed to hide them, though their men
Were something straited; for whose scope, in form of battle then,
They drew them through the spacious shore, one by another still,
Till all the bosom of the strand their sable bulks did fill,
Ev’n till they took up all the space ’twixt both the promontories.
These kings, like Nestor, in desire to know for what those cries
Became so violent, came along (all leaning on their darts)
To see, though not of power to fight; sad and suspicious hearts
Distemp’ring them, and (meeting now Nestor) the king in fear
Cried out: ‘O Nestor our renown! Why shows thy presence here,
The harmful fight abandoned? Now Hector will make good
The threatening vow he made (I fear) that, till he had our blood,
And fir’d our fleet, he never more would turn to Ilion.
Nor is it long, I see, before his whole will will be done.
O gods, I now see all the Greeks put on Achilles’ ire
Against my honour: no mean left to keep our fleet from fire.’
He answer’d: ‘Tis an evident truth, not Jove himself can now
(With all the thunder in his hands) prevent our overthrow.
The wall we thought invincible, and trusted more than Jove,
Is scal’d, raz’d, enter’d, and our pow’rs (driven up) past breathing, prove
A most inevitable fight, both slaughters so commix’d,
That for your life you cannot put your diligent’st thought betwixt
The Greeks and Trojans; and as close their throats cleave to the sky.
Consult we then (if that will serve), for fight advise not I;
It fits not wounded men to fight.’ Atrides answer’d him:
‘If such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tired limb,
And such a dike be past, and raz’d, that (as yourself said well)
We all esteem’d invincible, and would past doubt repell
The world from both our fleet and us, it doth directly show
That here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know
His hand from ours, when he help’d us: and now I see as clear
That (like the blessed gods) he holds our hated enemies dear,
Supports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, ’tis in vain
To strive with him. Our ships drawn up now let us launch again,
And keep at anchor till calm night; that then, perhaps, our foes
May calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose:
“It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night:
Known ill, he better does that flies than he it takes in fight.” ’
Ulysses frown’d on him, and said: ‘Accurst, why talk’st thou thus?
Would thou hadst led some barbarous host, and not commanded us
Whom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly
From any charge it undertakes, and every dazzled eye
The honour’d hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this town
For which our many miseries felt entitle it our own?
Peace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such
As no man’s palate should profane – at least that knew how much
His own right weigh’d, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears
Rule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears –
Let others toil in light and cries, and we so light of heels
Upon their very noise and groans to hoise away our keels.
Thus we should fit the wish of Troy, that being something near
The victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear
A slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain
A stroke, the fleet gone, but at that look still, and wish him slain:
And therefore (prince of men) be sure, thy censure is unfit.’
‘O Ithacus!’ replied the king, ‘thy bitter terms have smit
My heart in sunder. At no hand, ’gainst any prince’s will
Do I command this; would to god that any man of skill
To give a better counsel would, or old or younger man;
My voice should gladly go with his.’ Then Diomed began:
‘The man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in,
That willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win
Fit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them,
Being youngest of you – since my sire that heir’d a diadem
May make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he
Lies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree:
Portheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calidon
And Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitation.
Agrius, Melus, and the third, the horseman Oeneus,
My father’s father, that excell’d in actions generous
The other two; but these kept home, my father being driv’n
With wand’ring and advent’rous spirits; for so the king of heav’n
And th’ other gods set down their wills: and he to Argos came,
Where he began the world, and dwelt; there marrying a dame,
One of Adrastus’ female race, he kept a royal house,
For he had great demesnes, good land, and being industrious,
He planted many orchard-grounds about his house, and bred
Great store of sheep. Besides all this, he was well qualitied,
And past all Argives for his spear: and these digressive things
Are such as you may well endure, since (being derived from kings,
And kings not poor, nor virtueless) you cannot hold me base,
Nor scorn my words: which oft, though true, in mean men meet disgrace.
However, they are these in short. Let us he seen at fight,
And yield to strong necessity, though wounded, that our sight
May set those men on, that of late have to Achilles’ spleen
Been too indulgent, and left blows: but be we only seen,
Not come within the reach of darts, lest wound on wound we lay
(Which reverend Nestor’s speech implied), and so far him obey.
This counsel gladly all observ’d, went on, Atrides led.
Nor Neptune this advantage lost, but closely followed,
And like an aged man appear’d t’ Atrides, whose right hand
He seiz’d, and said: ‘Atrides, this doth passing fitly stand
With stern Achilles’ wreakful spirit, that he can stand astern
His ship, and both in fight and death the Grecian bane discern,
Since not in his breast glows one spark of any human mind:
But be that his own bane; let god by that loss make him find
How vile a thing he is; for know, the blest gods have not giv’n
Thee ever over, but perhaps the Trojans may from heav’n
Receive that justice. Nay, ’tis sure, and thou shalt see their falls,
Your fleet soon freed, and for fights here, they glad to take their walls.’
This said, he made known who he was, and parted with a cry,
As if ten thousand men had join’d in battle then, so high
His throat flew through the host: and so this great Earth-shaking god
Cheer’d up the Greek hearts, that they wish their pains no period.
Saturnia from Olympus’ top saw her great brother there,
And her great husband’s brother, too, exciting everywhere
The glorious spirits of the Greeks, which as she joy’d to see,
So, on the fountful Ida’s top, Jove’s sight did disagree
With her contentment, since she fear’d that his hand would descend,
And check the Sea-god’s practices. And this she did contend
How to prevent, which thus seem’d best: to deck her curiously,
And visit the Idalian hill, so that the Lightner’s eye
She might enamour with her looks, and his high temples steep
(Even to his wisdom) in the kind and golden juice of sleep.
So took she chamber which her son, the god of ferrary,
With firm doors made, being joined close, and with a privy key
That no god could command but Jove, where, enter’d, she made fast
The shining gates, and then upon her lovely body cast
Ambrosia, that first made it clear, and after laid on it
An odorous, rich and sacred oil, that was so wondrous sweet
That ever, when it was but touch’d, it sweeten’d heav’n and earth.
Her body being cleans’d with this, her tresses she let forth,
And comb’d (her comb dipp’d in the oil), then wrapp’d them up in curls:
And thus, her deathless head adorn’d, a heavenly veil she hurls
On her white shoulders, wrought by her that rules in housewi
f
’
ries,
Who wove it full of antique works, of most divine device.
And this with goodly clasps of gold she fasten’d to her breast,
Then with a girdle, whose rich sphere a hundred studs impress’d,
She girt her small waist. In her ears, tenderly pierc’d, she wore
Pearls, great and orient: on her head, a wreath not worn before
Cast beams out like the sun. At last, she to her feet did tie
Fair shoes, and thus entire attir’d she shin’d in open sky,
Call’d the fair Paphian queen apart from th’ other gods, and said:
‘Lov’d daughter, should I ask a grace, should I or be obey’d
Or wouldst thou cross me, being incens’d, since I cross thee, and take
The Greeks’ part, thy hand helping Troy?’ She answer’d, ‘That shall make
No difference in a different cause: ask, ancient deity,
What most contents thee; my mind stands inclin’d as liberally
To grant it as thine own to ask, provided that it be
A favour fit and in my pow’r.’ She, giv’n deceitfully,
Thus said: ‘Then give me those two pow’rs, with which both men and gods
Thou vanquishest, Love and Desire. For now the periods
Of all the many-feeding earth, and the original
Of all the gods, Oceanus, and Thetis, whom we call
Our mother, I am going to greet: they nurst me in their court,
And brought me up, receiving me in most respectful sort
From Phaea, when Jove under earth and the unfruitful seas
Cast Saturn. These I go to see, intending to appease
Jars grown betwixt them, having long abstain’d from speech and bed.
Which jars could I so reconcile, that in their anger’s stead
I could place love, and so renew their first society,
I should their best lov’d be esteem’d, and honour’d endlessly.’
She answer’d: ‘Tis not fit nor just thy will should be denied,
Whom Jove in his embraces holds.’ This spoken, she untied
And from her odorous bosom took her Ceston, in whose sphere
Were all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,
Kind conference, fair speech, whose pow’r the wisest doth inflame:
This, she resigning to her hands, thus urg’d her by her name:
‘Receive this bridle, thus fair wrought, and put it ’twixt thy breasts,
Where all things to be done are done; and whatsoever rests
In thy desire, return with it.’ The great-ey’d Juno smil’d,
And put it ’twixt her breasts. Love’s queen, thus cunningly beguil’d,
To Jove’s court flew. Saturnia (straight stooping from heaven height)
Pieria and Emathia (those countries of delight)
Soon reach’d, and to the snowy mounts where Thracian soldiers dwell
Approaching, pass’d their tops untouch’d. From Athos then she fell,
Pass’d all the broad sea, and arriv’d in Lemnos, at the tow’rs
Of godlike Thoas; where she met the prince of all men’s pow’rs,
Death’s brother Sleep, whose hand she took, and said: ‘Thou king of men,
Prince of the gods too, if before thou heard’st my suits, again
Give helpful ear, and through all times I’ll offer thanks to thee.
Lay slumber on Jove’s fiery eyes, that I may comfort me
With his embraces: for which grace I’ll grace thee with a throne
Incorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done
By Mulciber, to which he forg’d a footstool for the ease
Of thy soft feet, when wine and feasts thy golden humours please.’
Sweet Sleep replied: ‘Saturnia, there lives not any god
(Besides Jove) but I would becalm: ay, if it were the flood