The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) 📗

DISTRESS OF THE GREEKS.

 

Jupiter assembles a council of the deities, and threatens them with the pains of Tartarus, if they assist either side: Minerva only obtains of him that she may direct the Greeks by her counsels. The armies join battle; Jupiter on Mount Ida weighs in his balances the fates of both, and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightnings. Nestor alone continues in the field in great danger; Diomed relieves him; whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector continues in the field, (the Greeks being driven to their fortifications before the ships,) and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the camp, to prevent the enemy from re-embarking and escaping by flight. They kindle fires through all the field, and pass the night under arms.

 

The time of seven-and-twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines) lies in the field toward the seashore.

 

BOOK VIII.

 

Now morn, in saffron robe, the earth o’erspread; And Jove, the lightning’s Lord, of all the Gods A council held upon the highest peak

Of many-ridg’d Olympus; he himself

Address’d them; they his speech attentive heard.

 

“Hear, all ye Gods, and all ye Goddesses, The words I speak, the promptings of my soul.

Let none among you, male or female, dare To thwart my counsels: rather all concur, That so these matters I may soon conclude.

If, from the rest apart, one God I find Presuming or to Trojans or to Greeks

To give his aid, with ignominious stripes Back to Olympus shall that God be driv’n; Or to the gloom of Tartarus profound,

Far off, the lowest abyss beneath the earth, With, gates of iron, and with floor of brass, Beneath the shades as far as earth from Heav’n, There will I hurl him, and ye all shall know In strength how greatly I surpass you all.

Make trial if ye will, that all may know.

A golden cord let down from Heav’n, and all, Both Gods and Goddesses, your strength, apply: Yet would ye fail to drag from Heav’n to earth, Strive as ye may, your mighty master, Jove; But if I choose to make my pow’r be known, The earth itself, and ocean, I could raise, And binding round Olympus’ ridge the cord, Leave them suspended so in middle air: So far supreme my pow’r o’er Gods and men.”

 

He said, and they, confounded by his words, In silence sat; so sternly did he speak.

At length the blue-ey’d Goddess, Pallas, said: “O Father, Son of Saturn, King of Kings, Well do we know thy pow’r invincible;

Yet deeply grieve we for the warlike Greeks, Condemn’d to hopeless ruin; from the fight, Since such is thy command, we stand aloof; But yet some saving counsel may we give, Lest in thine anger thou destroy them quite.”

 

To whom the Cloud-compeller, smiling, thus: “Be of good cheer, my child; unwillingly I speak, yet will not thwart thee of thy wish.”

 

He said, and straight the brazen-footed steeds, Of swiftest flight, with manes of flowing gold, He harness’d to his chariot; all in gold Himself array’d, the golden lash he grasp’d, Of curious work; and mounting on his car, Urg’d the fleet coursers; nothing loth, they flew Midway betwixt the earth and starry heav’n.

To Ida’s spring-abounding hill he came, And to the crest of Gargarus, wild nurse Of mountain beasts; a sacred plot was there, Whereon his incense-honour’d altar stood: There stay’d his steeds the Sire of Gods and men Loos’d from the car, and veil’d with clouds around.

Then on the topmost ridge he sat, in pride Of conscious strength; and looking down, survey’d The Trojan city, and the ships of Greece.

 

Meantime, the Greeks throughout their tents in haste Despatch’d their meal, and arm’d them for the fight; On th’ other side the Trojans donn’d their arms, In numbers fewer, but with stern resolve, By hard necessity constrain’d, to strive, For wives and children, in the stubborn fight.

The gates all open’d wide, forth pour’d the crowd Of horse and foot; and loud the clamour rose.

When in the midst they met, together rush’d Bucklers and lances, and the furious might Of mail-clad warriors; bossy shield on shield Clatter’d in conflict; loud the clamour rose: Then rose too mingled shouts and groans of men Slaying and slain; the earth ran red with blood.

While yet ‘twas morn, and wax’d the youthful day, Thick flew the shafts, and fast the people fell On either side; but when the sun had reach’d The middle Heav’n, th’ Eternal Father hung His golden scales aloft, and plac’d in each The fatal death-lot: for the sons of Troy The one, the other for the brass-clad Greeks; Then held them by the midst; down sank the lot Of Greece, down to the ground, while high aloft Mounted the Trojan scale, and rose to Heav’n. [2]

Then loud he bade the volleying thunder peal From Ida’s heights; and ‘mid the Grecian ranks He hurl’d his flashing lightning; at the sight Amaz’d they stood, and pale with terror shook.

 

Then not Idomeneus, nor Atreus’ son,

The mighty Agamemnon, kept their ground, Nor either Ajax, ministers of Mars;

Gerenian Nestor, aged prop of Greece,

Alone remain’d, and he against his will, His horse sore wounded by an arrow shot By godlike Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord: Just on the crown, where close behind the head First springs the mane, the deadliest spot of all, The arrow struck him; madden’d with the pain He rear’d, then plunging forward, with the shaft Fix’d in his brain, and rolling in the dust, The other steeds in dire confusion threw; And while old Nestor with his sword essay’d To cut the reins, and free the struggling horse, Amid the rout down came the flying steeds Of Hector, guided by no timid hand,

By Hector’s self; then had the old man paid The forfeit of his life, but, good at need, The valiant Diomed his peril saw,

And loudly shouting, on Ulysses call’d: “Ulysses sage, Laertes’ godlike son,

Why fliest thou, cowardlike, amid the throng, And in thy flight to the aim of hostile spears Thy back presenting? stay, and here with me From this fierce warrior guard the good old man.”

 

He said; but stout Ulysses heard him not, And to the ships pursued his hurried way.

But in the front, Tydides, though alone, Remain’d undaunted; by old Nester’s car He stood, and thus the aged chief address’d: “Old man, these youthful warriors press thee sore, Thy vigour spent, and with the weight of years Oppress’d; and helpless too thy charioteer, And slow thy horses; mount my car, and prove How swift my steeds, or in pursuit or flight, From those of Tros descended, scour the plain; My noble prize from great AEneas won.

Leave to th’ attendants these; while mine we launch Against the Trojan host, that Hector’s self May know how strong my hand can hurl the spear.”

 

He said; and Nestor his advice obey’d: The two attendants, valiant Sthenelus, And good Eurymedon, his horses took,

While on Tydides’ car they mounted both.

The aged Nestor took the glitt’ring reins, And urg’d the horses; Hector soon they met: As on he came, his spear Tydides threw, Yet struck not Hector; but his charioteer, Who held the reins, the brave Thebaeus’ son, Eniopeus, through the breast transfix’d, Beside the nipple; from the car he fell, The startled horses swerving at the sound; And from his limbs the vital spirit fled.

Deep, for his comrade slain, was Hector’s grief; Yet him, though griev’d, perforce he left to seek A charioteer; nor wanted long his steeds A guiding hand; for Archeptolemus,

Brave son of Iphitus, he quickly found, And bade him mount his swiftly-flying car, And to his hands the glitt’ring reins transferr’d.

 

Then fearful ruin had been wrought, and deeds Untold achiev’d, and like a flock of lambs, The adverse hosts been coop’d beneath the walls, Had not the Sire of Gods and men beheld, And with an awful peal of thunder hurl’d His vivid lightning down; the fiery bolt Before Tydides’ chariot plough’d the ground.

Fierce flash’d the sulph’rous flame, and whirling round Beneath the yoke th’ affrighted horses quailed.

 

From Nestor’s hand escap’d the glitt’ring reins, And, trembling, thus to Diomed he spoke: “Turn we to flight, Tydides; see’st thou not, That Jove from us his aiding hand withholds?

This day to Hector Saturn’s son decrees The meed of vict’ry; on some future day, If so he will, the triumph may be ours; For man, how brave soe’er, cannot o’errule The will of Jove, so much the mightier he.”

 

Whom answer’d thus the valiant Diomed: “Truly, old man, and wisely dost thou speak; But this the bitter grief that wrings my soul: Some day, amid the councillors of Troy Hector may say, ‘Before my presence scar’d Tydides sought the shelter of the ships.’

Thus when he boasts, gape earth, and hide my shame!”

 

To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:

“Great son of Tydeus, oh what words are these!

Should Hector brand thee with a coward’s name, No credence would he gain from Trojan men, Or Dardan, or from Trojan warriors’ wives, Whose husbands in the dust thy hand hath laid.”

 

He said, and ‘mid the general rout, to flight He turn’d his horses; on the flying crowd, With shouts of triumph, Hector at their head, The men of Troy their murd’rous weapons show’r’d.

Loud shouted Hector of the glancing helm: “Tydides, heretofore the warrior Greeks Have held thee in much honour; plac’d on high At banquets, and with lib’ral portions grac’d, And flowing cups: but thou, from this day forth, Shalt be their scorn! a woman’s soul is thine!

Out on thee, frighten’d girl! thou ne’er shalt scale Our Trojan tow’rs, and see me basely fly; Nor in thy ships our women bear away:

Ere such thy boast, my hand shall work thy doom.”

 

Thus he; and greatly was Tydides mov’d To turn his horses, and confront his foe: Thrice thus he doubted; thrice, at Jove’s command, From Ida’s height the thunder peal’d, in sign Of vict’ry swaying to the Trojan side.

Then to the Trojans Hector call’d aloud: “Trojans, and Lycians, and ye Dardans, fam’d In close encounter, quit ye now like men; Put forth your wonted valour; for I know That in his secret counsels Jove designs Glory to me, disaster to the Greeks.

Fools, in those wretched walls that put their trust, Scarce worthy notice, hopeless to withstand My onset; and the trench that they have dug, Our horses easily can overleap;

And when I reach the ships, be mindful ye, To have at hand the fire, wherewith the ships We may destroy, while they themselves shall fall An easy prey, bewilder’d by the smoke.”

 

He said, and thus with cheering words address’d His horses: “Xanthus, and, Podargus, thou, AEthon and Lampus, now repay the care

On you bestow’d by fair Andromache,

Eetion’s royal daughter; bear in mind

How she with ample store of provender

Your mangers still supplied, before e’en I, Her husband, from her hands the wine-cup took.

Put forth your speed, that we may make our prize Of Nestor’s shield, whose praise extends to Heav’n, Its handles, and itself, of solid gold; And from the shoulders of Tydides strip His gorgeous breastplate, work of Vulcan’s hand: These could we take, methinks this very night Would see the Greeks embarking on their