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

Ajax Telamon to none would yield, Of mortal birth, by earthly food sustain’d, By spear or pond’rous stone assailable; In hand to hand encounter, scarce surpass’d By Peleus’ son Achilles; though with him In speed of foot he might not hope to vie.

Then on the left let us our onset make; And quickly learn if we on others’ heads Are doom’d to win renown, or they on ours.”

 

He said: and, brave as Mars, Meriones, Thither where he directed, led the way.

Now when, attended thus, Idomeneus,

Like blazing fire, in dazzling arms appear’d, Around him throng’d, with rallying cries, the Greeks, And rag’d beside the ships the balanc’d fight.

As, when the dust lies deepest on the roads, Before the boist’rous winds the storm drives fast, And high at once the whirling clouds are toss’d; So was the fight confus’d; and in the throng Each man with keen desire of slaughter burn’d.

Bristled the deadly strife with pond’rous spears, Wielded with dire intent; the brazen gleam Dazzled the sight, by flashing helmets cast, And breastplates polish’d bright, and glitt’ring shields Commingling; stern of heart indeed were he, Who on that sight with joy, not pain, could gaze.

 

Dire evil then on mortal warriors brought The diverse minds of Saturn’s mighty sons: To Hector and the Trojans Jove design’d, In honour of Achilles, swift of foot,

To give the vict’ry; yet not utterly

He will’d to slay before the walls of Troy The Grecian host; but glory to confer

On Thetis and her noble-minded son.

Neptune, on th’ other side, the Greeks inspir’d, Clandestine rising from the hoary sea; For them before the Trojan host o’erborne He saw with grief, and deeply wroth with Jove.

Equal the rank of both, their birth the same, But Jove in wisdom, as in years, the first.

Nor ventur’d Neptune openly to aid

The cause of Greece; but cloth’d in mortal form, In secret still the army’s courage rous’d.

This way and that they tugg’d of furious war And balanc’d strife, where many a warrior fell, The straining rope, which none might break or loose.

Then, though his hair was grizzl’d o’er with age, Calling the Greeks to aid, Idomeneus,

Inspiring terror, on the Trojans sprang, And slew Othryoneus, who but of late

Came from Cabesus on the alarm of war; And, welcomed as a guest in Priam’s house, The fairest of his daughters sought to wed, No portion asked, Cassandra; mighty deeds He promis’d, from before the walls of Troy In their despite to drive the sons of Greece.

The aged Priam listen’d to his snit;

And he, his promise trusting, fought for Troy.

Him, marching with proud step, Idomeneus Struck with his glitt’ring spear, nor aught avail’d His brazen breastplate; through the middle thrust, Thund’ring he fell: the victor vaunting cried: “Othryoneus, above all mortal men

I hold thee in respect, if thou indeed Wilt make thy words to aged Priam good, Who promis’d thee his daughter in return: We too would offer thee a like reward; And give thee here to wed, from Argos brought, Atrides’ fairest daughter, if with us

Thou wilt o’erthrow the well-built walls of Troy.

Come then, on board our ocean-going ships Discuss the marriage contract; nor shall we Be found illib’ral of our bridal gifts.”

 

He said, and seizing by the foot the slain, Dragg’d from the press; but to the rescue came Asius, himself on foot before his car: So close his charioteer the horses held, They breath’d upon his shoulders; eagerly He sought to reach Idomeneus; but he,

Preventing, through his gullet drove the spear, Beneath his chin; right through the weapon pass’d; He fell; as falls an oak, or poplar tall, Or lofty pine, which on the mountain top, For some proud ship, the woodman’s axe hath hewn: So he, before the car and horses stretch’d, His death-cry utt’ring, clutch’d the blood-stain’d soil; Bewilder’d, helpless, stood his charioteer; Nor dar’d, escaping from the foemen’s hands, To turn his horses: him, Antilochus

Beneath the waistband struck; nor aught avail’d His brazen breastplate; through the middle thrust, He, from the well-wrought chariot, gasping, fell.

Antilochus, the noble Nestor’s son,

The horses seiz’d, and from the Trojan ranks Drove to the Grecian camp. For Asius’ death Deep griev’d, Deiphobus, approaching, hurl’d Against Idomeneus his glitt’ring spear: The coming weapon he beheld, and shunn’d: Beneath the ample circle of his shield, With hides and brazen plates encircled round, And by two rods sustain’d, conceal’d he stood: Beneath he crouch’d, and o’er him flew the spear: Yet harsh it grated, glancing from the shield; Nor bootless from that stalwart hand it flew, But through the midriff, close below the heart, Hypsenor, son of Hippasus, it struck,

And straight relax’d his limbs; then shouting loud, In boastful tone, Deiphobus exclaim’d: “Not unaveng’d lies Asius; he, methinks, As I have found him fellowship, with joy Thro’ Hades’ strongly-guarded gates may pass.”

He said; the Greeks, indignant, heard his boast; Chief, of Antilochus the manly soul

Was stirr’d within him; yet amid his grief His comrade not forgetting, up he ran, And o’er him spread the cover of his shield.

Meanwhile, two trusty friends, Mecistheus, son Of Echius, and Alastor, rais’d the slain, And deeply groaning bore him to the ships.

Nor did Idomeneus his noble rage

Abate; still burning o’er some Trojan soul To draw the gloomy veil of night and death; Or, having sav’d the Greeks, himself to fall.

Then highborn AEsuetes’ son he slew,

Alcathous; he, Anchises’ son-in-law,

The eldest of his daughters had to wife, Hippodamia; by her parents both,

O’er all, belov’d; in beauty, skill, and mind, All her compeers surpassing; wife of one, The noblest man through all the breadth of Troy.

Him Neptune by Idomeneus subdued;

Seal’d his quick eyes, his active limbs restrain’d, Without the pow’r to fly, or shun the spear; Fix’d as a pillar, or a lofty tree,

He stood, while through his breast Idomeneus His weapon drove; the brazen mail it broke, Which oft had turn’d aside the stroke of death; Harshly it grated, sever’d by the spear: He fell; the spear-point quiv’ring in his heart, Which with convulsive throbbings shook the shaft.

There Mars its course arrested. Then with shouts Of triumph, vaunting, thus Idomeneus:

 

“How now, Deiphobus? are three for one An equal balance? where are now thy boasts?

Come forth, my friend, thyself to me oppos’d; And learn, if here, unworthy my descent From Jove, my great progenitor, I stand.

He Minos, guardian chief of Crete, begot; Noble Deucalion was to Minos born,

I to Deucalion; far extends my rule

In wide-spread Crete; whom now our ships have brought, A bane to thee, thy sire, and Trojans all.”

 

He said; and doubtful stood Deiphobus, Or to retreat, and summon to his aid

The Trojans, or alone the venture try.

Thus as he mus’d, the wiser course appear’d To seek AEneas; him he found apart,

Behind the crowd; for he was still at feud With godlike Priam, who, he thought, withheld The public honour to his valour due.

To whom Deiphobus, approaching, thus:

 

“AEneas, sagest councillor of Troy,

Behoves thee now, if rev’rence for the dead Can move thy soul, thy sister’s husband aid: Haste we to save Alcathous; who of old, When thou wast little, in thy father’s house, Nurs’d thee with tender care; for him, but now, The spear-renown’d Idomeneus hath slain.”

 

He said; AEneas’ spirit was rous’d, and fill’d With martial rage he sought Idomeneus.

Nor, cowardlike, did he th’ encounter shun; But firmly stood, as stands a mountain-boar Self-confident, that in some lonely spot Awaits the clam’rous chase; bristles his back; His eyes with fire are flashing; and his tusks He whets, on men and dogs prepar’d to rush: So stood the spear-renown’d Idomeneus, The onset of AEneas, swift in fight,

Awaiting; and the friends he saw around He summon’d to his aid; Ascalaphus,

Deipyrus, and brave Meriones,

Antilochus and Aphareus; to these,

Tried warriors all, he thus addressed his speech: “Aid me, my friends! alone I stand, and dread The onset of AEneas, swift of foot.

Mighty to slay in battle; and the bloom Of youth is his, the crown of human strength; If, as our spirit, our years were but the same, Great glory now should he, or I, obtain.”

He said; and, one in heart, their bucklers slop’d Upon their shoulders, all beside him stood.

 

On th’ other side, AEneas to his aid

Summon’d his brother chiefs, Deiphobus, And Paris, and Agenor; following whom

Came on the gen’ral crowd; as flocks of sheep From pasture follow to their drinking-place The lordly ram; well pleas’d the shepherd sees; So pleas’d, AEneas saw the gath’ring crowd.

Then o’er Alcathous hand to hand was wag’d The war of spears; dire was the clash of brass Upon the heroes’ breasts, as ‘mid the press Each aim’d at other; proudly eminent

Stood forth two mighty warriors, terrible As Mars, AEneas and Idomeneus,

Their sharp spears wielding each at other’s life.

First at Idomeneus AEneas threw

His spear; he saw, and shunn’d the brazen point; And vainly from his stalwart hand dismiss’d, AEneas’ spear stood quiv’ring in the ground.

Idomeneus in front, below the waist,

OEnomaus struck; the weighty spear broke through The hollow breastplate, and th’ intestines tore; Prone in the dust he fell, and clutch’d the ground.

Forthwith Idomeneus from out the corpse The pond’rous spear withdrew; yet could not strip His armour off; so thickly flew the spears.

Nor did his feet retain their youthful force, His weapon to regain, or back to spring.

Skill’d in the standing fight his life to guard, He lack’d the active pow’r of swift retreat.

At him, retiring slow, Deiphobus,

Still fill’d with anger, threw his glitt’ring spear: His aim he miss’d; but through the shoulder pierc’d Ascalaphus, a valiant son of Mars;

Prone in the dust he fell, and clutch’d the ground.

Nor knew the loud-voic’d, mighty God of War That in the stubborn fight his son had fall’n; On high Olympus, girt with golden clouds, He sat, amid th’ Immortals all, restrain’d, By Jove’s commands, from mingling in the war.

How hand to hand around Ascalaphus

Rag’d the fierce conflict: first Deiphobus From off his head the glitt’ring helmet tore; But, terrible as Mars, Meriones

Sprang forth, and pierc’d his arm; and from his hand With hollow sound the crested helmet fell.

On, like a vulture, sprang Meriones,

And from his arm the sturdy spear withdrew; Then backward leap’d amid his comrades’ ranks; While round his brother’s waist Polites threw His arms, and led him from the battle-field To where, with charioteer and rich-wrought car, Beyond the fight, his flying coursers stood.

Him, rack’d with pain, and groaning, while the blood Stream’d down his wounded arm, to Troy they bore.

The rest fought on, and loud the tumult rose.

 

AEneas through the throat of Aphareus, Caletor’s son, turn’d sideways tow’rds him, drove His glitt’ring spear; and down on th’ other side, His shield and helmet following, sank his head; And o’er his eyes were cast the shades of death.

As Thoon turn’d, Antilochus, who watch’d Th’ occasion, forward sprang, and with his spear Ripp’d all the flesh that lay along the spine Up to the neck; he backward fell, with hands Uplifted calling for his comrades’ aid: But forward sprang Antilochus, and tore His armour from his breast, while round he cast His watchful glances; for on ev’ry side On his broad shield the Trojans show’r’d their blows, But touch’d him not; for Neptune, ‘mid the throng Of weapons, threw his guard o’er Nestor’s son.

Yet not aloof he stood, but in their midst, Commingled; nor held motionless his spear; But ever threat’ning, turn’d from side to side, Prepar’d to hurl, or hand to hand engage.

Him Adamas, the son of Asius, marked,

As o’er the crowd he glanc’d; and springing forth, Struck with his