The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (59 page)

By lofty Boreas, their dams lov’d by him as they fed.

He took the brave form of a horse that shook an azure mane,

And slept with them. These twice six colts had pace so swift, they ran

Upon the top-ayles of corn-ears, nor bent them any whit.

And when the broad back of the sea their pleasure was to sit,

The superficies of his waves they slid upon, their hooves

Nor dipp’d in dank sweat of his brows. Of Ericthonius’ loves

Sprang Tros the king of Troÿans; Tros three young princes bred:

Ilus, renown’d Assaracus, and heav’nly Ganymed,

The fairest youth of all that breath’d; whom (for his beauty’s love)

The gods did ravish to their state, to bear the cup to Jove.

Ilus begot Laomedon; god-like Laomedon

Got Tithon, Priam, Clytius, Mars-like Hycetaon,

And Lampus. Great Assaracus Capys begot. And he,

Anchises. Prince Anchises, me. King Priam, Hector. We

Sprang both of one high family. Thus fortunate men give birth,

But Jove gives virtue; he augments, and he impairs the worth

Of all men; and his will, their rule; he strong’st all strength affords;

Why then paint we (like dames) the face of conflict with our words?

Both may give language that a ship driv’n with a hundred oars

Would overburthen: a man’s tongue is voluble, and pours

Words out of all sorts every way; such as you speak you hear.

What then need we vie calumnies, like women that will wear

Their tongues out, being once incens’d, and strife for strife to part

(Being on their way) they travel so. From words words may avert;

From virtue, not; it is your steel (divine Aeacides)

Must prove my proof, as mine shall yours.’ Thus amply did he ease

His great heart of his pedigree, and sharply sent away

A dart that caught Achilles’ shield, and rung so, it did fray

The son of Thetis, his fair hand far-thrusting out his shield,

For fear the long lance had driv’n through. O fool, to think ’twould yield,

And not to know the god’s firm gifts want want to yield so soon

To men’s poor pow’rs; the eager lance had only conquest won

Of two plates, and the shield had five: two forg’d of tin, two brass,

One (that was centre-plate) of gold, and that forbade the pass

Of Anchisiades his lance. Then sent Achilles forth

His lance, that through the first fold struck, where brass of little worth

And no great proof of hides was laid; through all which Pelias ran

His iron head; and after it, his ashen body wan

Pass’d to the earth, and there it stuck, his top on th’ other side,

And hung the shield up; which hard down Aeneas pluck’d to hide

His breast from sword blows, shrunk up round, and in his heavy eye

Was much grief shadow’d, much afraid that Pelias struck so nigh.

Then prompt Achilles rushing in, his sword drew, and the field

Rung with his voice. Aeneas now left and let hang his shield,

And (all distracted) up he snatch’d a two men’s strength of stone,

And either at his shield or cask he set it rudely gone,

Nor car’d where, so it struck a place that put on arms for death.

But he (Achilles came so close) had doubtless sunk beneath

His own death, had not Neptune seen and interpos’d the odds

Of his divine pow’r, uttering this to the Achaian gods:

‘I grieve for this great-hearted man; he will be sent to hell,

Ev’n instantly, by Peleus’ son, being only mov’d to deal

By Phoebus’ words. What fool is he! Phoebus did never mean

To add to his great words his guard against the ruin then

Summon’d against him: and what cause hath he to head him on

To others’ miseries, he being clear of any trespass done

Against the Grecians? Thankful gifts he oft hath given to us;

Let us then quit him, and withdraw this combat, for if thus

Achilles end him, Jove will rage, since his escape in fate

Is purpos’d – lest the progeny of Dardanus take date –

Whom Jove past all his issue lov’d, begot of mortal dames:

All Priam’s race he hates, and this must propagate the names

Of Trojans, and their sons’ sons rule, to all posterity.’

Saturnia said: ‘Make free your pleasure. Save, or let him die.

Pallas and I have taken many and most public oaths

That th’ ill day never shall avert her eye (red with our wroths)

From hated Troy: no, not when all in studied fire she flames

The Greek rage, blowing her last coal.’ This nothing turn’d his aims

From present rescue, but through all the whizzing spears he pass’d,

And came where both were combating; when instantly he cast

A mist before Achilles’ eyes, drew from the earth and shield

His lance, and laid it at his feet: and then took up and held

Aloft the light Anchises’ son, who pass’d (with Neptune’s force)

Whole orders of heroës’ heads, and many a troop of horse

Leap’d over, till the bounds he reach’d of all the fervent broil

Where all the Caucons’ quarters lay. Thus (far freed from the toil)

Neptune had time to use these words: ‘Aeneas, who was he

Of all the gods, that did so much neglect thy good, and thee,

To urge thy fight with Thetis’ son, who in immortal rates

Is better and more dear than thee? Hereafter, lest (past fates)

Hell be thy headlong home, retire; make bold stand never near

Where he advanceth: but his fate once satisfied, then bear

A free and full sail: no Greek else shall end thee.’ This reveal’d,

He left him, and dispers’d the cloud that all this act conceal’d

From vex’d Achilles: who again had clear light from the skies,

And (much disdaining the escape) said, ‘O ye gods, mine eyes

Discover miracles: my lance submitted, and he gone

At whom I sent it with desire of his confusion!

Aeneas sure was lov’d of heav’n; I thought his vaunt from thence

Had flow’d from glory. Let him go; no more experience

Will his mind long for of my hands, he flies them now so clear:

Cheer then the Greeks, and others try.’ Thus rang’d he everywhere

The Grecian orders; every man (of which the most look’d on

To see their fresh lord shake his lance) he thus put charge upon:

‘Divine Greeks, stand not thus at gaze, but man to man apply

Your several valours: ’tis a task laid too unequally

On me, left to so many men – one man oppos’d to all.

Not Mars, immortal and a god, nor war’s she-general

A field of so much fight could chase, and work it out with blows:

But what a man may execute, that all limbs will expose,

And all their strength to th’ utmost nerve – though now I lost some play

By some strange miracle, no more shall burn in vain the day

To any least beam – all this host I’ll ransack, and have hope

Of all; not one (again) will ’scape, whoever gives such scope

To his adventure, and so near dares tempt my angry lance.’

Thus he excited. Hector then as much strives to advance

The hearts of his men, adding threats, affirming he would stand

In combat with Aeacides. ‘Give fear,’ said he, ‘no hand

Of your great hearts, brave Ilians, for Peleus’ talking son;

I’ll fight with any god with words; but when their spears put on,

The work runs high, their strength exceeds mortality so far.

And they may make works crown their words, which hold not in the war

Achilles makes; his hands have bounds; this word he shall make good,

And leave another to the field: his worst shall be withstood

With sole objection of myself, though in his hands he bear

A rage like fire, though fire itself his raging fingers were

And burning steel flew in his strength.’ Thus he incited his;

And they rais’d lances, and to work with mixed courages,

And up flew Clamour; but the heat in Hector Phoebus gave

This temper: ‘Do not meet,’ said he, ‘in any single brave

The man thou threaten’st, but in press; and in thy strength impeach

His violence; for far off or near his sword or dart will reach.’

The god’s voice made a difference in Hector’s own conceit

Betwixt his and Achilles ’words, and gave such overweight

As weigh’d him back into his strength, and curb’d his flying out.

At all threw fierce Aeacides, and gave a horrid shout.

The first of all he put to dart was fierce Iphition,

Surnam’d Otryntides, whom Nais the water-nymph made son

To town-destroyer Otrynteus. Beneath the snowy hill

Of Tmolus in the wealthy town of Ide, at his will

Were many able men at arms. He, rushing in, took full

Pelides’ lance in his head’s midst, that cleft in two his skull.

Achilles knew him, one much fam’d, and thus insulted then:

‘Th’ art dead, Otryntides, though call’d the terriblest of men;

Thy race runs at Gygaeus lake, there thy inheritance lay,

Near fishy Hillus, and the gulfs of Hermus: but this day

Removes it to the fields of Troy.’ Thus left he night to seize

His closed eyes, his body laid in course of all the press,

Which Grecian horse broke with the strakes, nail’d to their chariot wheels.

Next (through the temples) the burst eyes his deadly javelin seels

Of great-in-Troy Antenor’s son, renown’d Demoleon,

A mighty turner of a field. His overthrow set gone

Hippodamas, who leap’d from horse, and as he fled before

Aeacides, his turned back he made fell Pelias gore,

And forth he puf
f
’
d his flying soul: and as a tortur’d bull

(To Neptune brought for sacrifice) a troop of youngsters pull

Down to the earth, and drag him round about the hallow’d shore

To please the wat’ry deity, with forcing him to roar,

And forth he pours his utmost throat: so bellow’d this slain friend

Of flying Ilion with the breath that gave his being end.

Then rush’d he on, and in his eye had heavenly Polydore,

Old Priam’s son; whom last of all his fruitful princess bore;

And for his youth (being dear to him) the king forbade to fight.

Yet (hot of unexperienc’d blood, to show how exquisite

He was of foot, for which of all the fifty sons he held

The special name) he flew before the first heat of the field,

Ev’n till he flew out breath and soul: which, through the back, the lance

Of swift Achilles put in air, and did his head advance

Out at his navel: on his knees the poor prince crying fell,

And gather’d with his tender hands his entrails, that did swell

Quite through the wide wound, till a cloud as black as death conceal’d

Their sight, and all the world from him. When Hector had beheld

His brother tumbled so to earth (his entrails still in hand),

Dark sorrow overcast his eyes; not far off could he stand

A minute longer, but like fire he brake out of the throng,

Shook his long lance at Thetis’ son, and then came he along

To feed th’ encounter: ‘O,’ said he, ‘here comes the man that most

Of all the world destroys my mind, the man by whom I lost

My dear Patroclus; now not long the crooked paths of war

Can yield us any privy scapes: come, keep not off so far,’

He cried to Hector. ‘Make the pain of thy sure death as short

As one so desperate of his life hath reason.’ In no sort

This frighted Hector, who bore close, and said: ‘Aeacides,

Leave threats for children; I have pow’r to thunder calumnies

As well as other, and well know thy strength superior far

To that my nerves hold, but the gods (not nerves) determine war.

And yet (for nerves) there will be found a strength of power in mine,

To drive a lance home to thy life; my lance as well as thine

Hath point and sharpness, and ’tis this. Thus brandishing his spear,

He set it flying; which a breath of Pallas back did bear

From Thetis’ son to Hector’s self, and at his feet it fell.

Achilles us’d no dart, but close flew in, and thought to deal

With no strokes but of sure dispatch; but what with all his blood

He labour’d, Phoebus clear’d with ease, as being a god, and stood

For Hector’s guard, as Pallas did, Aeacides, for thine.

He rapt him from him, and a cloud of much night cast between

His person and the point oppos’d. Achilles then exclaim’d,

‘O see yet more gods are at work; Apollo’s hand hath fram’d

(Dog that thou art) thy rescue now: to whom go pay the vows

Thy safety owes him; I shall vent in time those fatal blows

That yet beat in my heart, on thine, if any god remain

My equal fautor. In mean time, my anger must maintain

His fire on other Ilians.’ Then laid he at his feet

Great Demochus, Philetor’s son, and Dryope did greet

With like encounter. Dardanus and strong Laogonus

(Wise Byas’ sons) he hurl’d from horse, of one victorious

With his close sword, the other’s life he conquer’d with his lance.

Then Tros, Alastor’s son, made in, and sought to ’scape their chance

With free submission. Down he fell, and pray’d about his knees

He would not kill him, but take ruth, as one that destinies

Made to that purpose, being a man born in the self same year

That he himself was: O poor fool, to sue to him to bear

A ruthful mind; he well might know he could not fashion him

In ruth’s soft mould, he had no spirit to brook that interim

In his hot fury. He was none of these remorseful men,

Gentle and affable, but fierce at all times, and mad then.

He gladly would have made a pray’r, and still so hugg’d his knee