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

on hostile heads The might of Hector. Now had fearful deeds Been done, and Greeks beside their ships had fall’n In shameful rout, had not Ulysses thus To Diomed, the son of Tydeus, call’d:

 

“Why, son of Tydeus, should we thus relax Our warlike courage? come, stand by me now, True friend! if Hector of the glancing helm Our ships should capture, great were our disgrace.”

 

Whom answer’d thus the valiant Diomed: “Beside thee will I stand, and still endure; But brief will be the term of our success, Since Jove, the Cloud-compeller, not to us, But to the Trojans, wills the victory.”

 

He said, and from his car Thymbraeus hurl’d, Through the left breast transfix’d: Ulysses’ hand His charioteer, the brave Molion, slew.

These left they there, no more to share the fight; Then turning, spread confusion ‘mid the crowd: As turn two boars upon the hunter’s pack With desp’rate courage, turning so to bay, Those two, the Trojans scatt’ring, gave the Greeks, From Hector flying, time again to breathe.

A car they seiz’d which bore two valiant chiefs, Sons of Percotian Merops; he, o’er all In lore prophetic skill’d, would fain at home Have kept them from the life-destroying war: But they, by adverse fate impell’d to seek Their doom of death, his warning voice despis’d.

These two, of strength and life at once bereft, The son of Tydeus, valiant Diomed,

Stripp’d of their armour; while Ulysses slew Hippodamus, and bold Hyperochus.

Thus Jove, from Ida’s height beholding, held His even scale, each party slaught’ring each.

Then with his spear Tydides through the loins Agastrophus, the son of Paeon, smote;

No car had he at hand, whereto to fly: But, ill-advis’d, had in th’ attendants’ charge His horses left far off; while he himself Rush’d ‘mid the throng on foot, and met his doom.

Hector’s quick glance athwart the files beheld, And to the rescue, with a shout, he sprang, The Trojan columns following; not unmov’d The valiant Diomed his coming saw,

And thus bespoke Ulysses at his side:

“On us this plague, this mighty Hector, falls: Yet stand we firm, and boldly meet the shock.”

He said, and, poising, hurl’d his pond’rous spear, And not in vain; on Hector’s head it struck His helmet’s crest, but, brass encount’ring brass, Himself it reach’d not; for the visor’d helm, Apollo’s gift, three-plated, stay’d its force.

Yet backward Hector sprang amid the crowd, And on his knees he dropp’d, his stalwart hand Propp’d on the ground; while darkness veil’d his eyes.

But ere Tydides, following up his spear, Attain’d from far the spot whereon he fell, Hector reviv’d, and mounting quick his car, Drove ‘mid the crowd, and ‘scap’d the doom of death Then thus, with threat’ning spear, Tydides cried: “Yet once again, vile hound, hast thou escap’d; Thy doom was nigh; but thee thy God hath sav’d, Phoebus, to whom, amid the clash of spears, Well mayst thou pray! We yet shall meet again; When I shall end thee, if a guardian God I too may claim; meanwhile from thee I turn, And others seek on whom my hap may light.”

 

He said, and turn’d him of his arms to strip The son of Paeon; but beside the stone That mark’d where men of old had rais’d a mound To Ilus, Dardan’s son, the ancient chief, There crouching, Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord, Against the son of Tydeus bent his bow.

He from the breast of brave Agastrophus Had stripp’d the corslet; from his shoulders broad The buckler, and the helmet from his head, When Paris bent his bow, and not in vain His arrow launch’d; Tydides’ dexter foot Right through it pierc’d, and pinn’d it to the ground.

Joyous he laugh’d, and from his hiding place Sprang forth, and thus in tones of triumph cried: “Thou hast it! not in vain my shaft hath flown!

Would that, deep buried in thy flank, it touch’d Thy very life! so should our Trojans lose Their panic fear, who now on thee with dread, As bleating goats upon a lion, look.”

 

To whom, unmov’d, the valiant Diomed:

“Poor archer, trusting to thy bow alone, Vile sland’rer and seducer! if indeed

Thou durst in arms oppos’d to me to stand, Nought would avail thy arrows and thy bow: And now, because thy shaft hath graz’d my foot, Thou mak’st thine empty boast: I heed thee not, More than a woman or a puny child:

A worthless coward’s weapon hath no point.

‘Tis diff’rent far with me! though light it fall, My spear is sharp, and whom it strikes, it slays.

His widow’s cheeks are mark’d with scars of grief, His children orphans; rotting on the ground, Red with his blood, he lies, his fun’ral rites By carrion birds, and not by women paid.”

 

Thus while he spoke, Ulysses, spearman bold, Drew near, and stood before him; he, behind, Sat down protected, and from out his foot The arrow drew; whereat sharp anguish shot Through all his flesh; and mounting on his car He bade his faithful charioteer in haste Drive to the ships, for pain weigh’d down his soul.

Alone Ulysses stood; of all the Greeks Not one beside him; all were panic-struck: Then with his spirit, perturb’d, he commun’d thus: “Me miserable! which way shall I choose?

‘Twere ill indeed that I should turn to flight By hostile numbers daunted; yet ‘twere worse Here to be caught alone; and Saturn’s son With panic fear the other Greeks hath fill’d.

Yet why, my soul, admit such thoughts as these?

I know that cowards from the battle fly; But he who boasts a warrior’s name, must learn, Wounded or wounding, firmly still to stand.”

 

While in his mind and spirit thus he mus’d, Onward the buckler’d ranks of Trojans came, And, to their harm, encircled him around.

As when a boar, by dogs and stalwart youths Attack’d, the shelt’ring thicket leaves, and whets The tusks that gleam between his curved jaws; They crowd around, though ring his clatt’ring tusks, And, fearful though it be, await his rush: So crowded round Ulysses, dear to Jove, The Trojans; he, with brandish’d spear aloft, Sprang forth, and through the shoulder, from above, Deiopites wounded: Thoon next

He slew, and Ennomus; then with his spear Chersidamas, in act to quit his car,

Thrust through the loins below his bossy shield: Prone in the dust, he clutch’d the blood-stain’d soil.

From these he turn’d; and wounded with his spear Charops, the highborn Socus’ brother, son Of Hippasus; then forward sprang, to aid His brother, godlike Socus; close he stood Before Ulysses, and address’d him thus: “Far-fam’d Ulysses, as in arms, in wiles Unwearied, thou this day o’er both the sons Of Hippasus, two mighty warriors slain, And of their armour spoil’d, shalt make thy boast, Or by my spear thyself shalt lose thy life.”

He said, and on the shield’s broad circle struck: Through the bright shield the sturdy weapon drove, And through the rich-wrought baldrick, from the ribs Tearing the flesh away; but Pallas seiz’d, And turn’d it from the vital parts aside.

The wound, Ulysses knew, was not to death, And back he drew, and thus to Socus cried: “Ill-fated thou! thy doom hath found thee now; Me hast thou hinder’d from the war awhile; But thee to swift destruction and dark death, This day I doom: great glory, of thee subdued, Shall I obtain, and Hades take thy soul.”

 

Thus he: and Socus, turning, sought to fly; But as he turn’d him round, Ulysses’ spear Behind his neck, between the shoulder blades Was driv’n, and through his chest; thund’ring he fell, And o’er his fall Ulysses, vaunting, thus: “Socus, thou son of warlike Hippasus,

Here hast thou found, nor couldst escape, thy doom.

Ill-fated thou! nor sire’s nor mother’s hand Shall gather up thy bones, but carrion birds O’er thee shall flap their baleful wings, and tear Thy mangled flesh; for me, whene’er I die The sons of Greece will build my fun’ral pile.”

From out his flesh, and from the bossy shield, The spear of Socus, as he spoke, he drew; And as he drew it forth, out gush’d his blood, With anguish keen. The Trojans, when they saw Ulysses’ blood, with clam’rous shouts advanc’d Promiscuous; he, retiring, shouted loud To call his comrades; loud as head of man Could bear, he shouted thrice; and thrice his shout The warlike Menelaus heard, and thus

To Ajax, standing by his side, he spoke: “Ajax, thou Heav’n-born son of Telamon, Great chief of men, methinks I hear the voice Of stout Ulysses, as though left alone, And in the stubborn fight cut off from aid, By Trojans overmaster’d. Haste we then, For so ‘twere best, to give him present aid.

Brave though he be, yet left alone, I fear Great cause we Greeks may have to mourn his loss.”

 

He spoke, and led the way; the godlike chief Follow’d his steps: Ulysses, dear to Jove, Surrounded by the Trojan host they found, As hungry jackals on the mountain side Around a stag, that from an archer’s hand Hath taken hurt, yet while his blood was warm And limbs yet serv’d, has baffled his pursuit; But when the fatal shaft has drain’d his strength, Thirsting for blood, beneath the forest shade, The jackals seize their victim; then if chance A hungry lion pass, the jackals shrink In terror back, while he devours the prey; So round Ulysses, sage in council, press’d The Trojans, many and brave, yet nobly he Averted, spear in hand, the fatal hour; Till, with his tow’r-like shield before him borne, Appear’d great Ajax, and beside him stood.

Hither and thither then the Trojans fled; While with supporting arm from out the crowd The warlike Menelaus led him forth,

Till his attendant with his car drew near.

Then Ajax, on the Trojans springing, slew Doryclus, royal Priam’s bastard son;

Next Pyrasus he smote, and Pandocus,

Lysander, and Pylartes; as a stream,

Swoll’n by the rains of Heav’n, that from the hills Pours down its wintry torrent on the plain; And many a blighted oak, and many a pine It bears, with piles of drift-wood, to the sea So swept illustrious Ajax o’er the plain, O’erthrowing men and horses; though unknown To Hector; he, upon Scamander’s banks

Was warring on the field’s extremest left, Where round great Nestor and the warlike King Idomeneus, while men were falling fast, Rose, irrepressible, the battle cry.

Hector, ‘mid these, was working wondrous deeds, With spear and car, routing th’ opposed youth; Yet had the Greeks ev’n so their ground maintain’d, But godlike Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord, Through the right shoulder, with a three-barb’d shaft, As in the front he fought, Machaon quell’d: For him the warrior Greeks were sore afraid Lest he, as back the line of battle roll’d, Might to the foe be left; to Nestor then Idomeneus address’d his speech, and said: “O Nestor, son of Neleus, pride of Greece, Haste thee to mount thy car, and with thee take Machaon; tow’rd the vessels urge with speed The flying steeds; worth many a life is his, The skilful leech, who knows, with practis’d hand, T’ extract the shaft, and healing drugs apply.”

 

He said: Gerenian Nestor at the word

Mounted his car, Machaon at his side,

The skilful leech, sage AEsculapius’ son: He touch’d his horses; tow’rd the Grecian ships, As was his purpose, nothing loth, they flew.

 

To Hector then Cebriones, who saw

Confus’d the Trojans’ right, drew near, and said: “Hector, we here, on th’ outskirts of the field, O’erpow’r the Greeks; on th’ other side, our friends In strange confusion mingled, horse and man, Are driv’n; among them Ajax spreads dismay, The son of Telamon; I know him well,

And the broad shield that o’er his shoulders hangs; Thither direct we then our car, where most In mutual slaughter horse and foot engage,