The Iliad - Homer (ebook reader library .txt) đ
- Author: Homer
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He judgâd it best at length, that once again The gallant follower of Peleusâ son
Should towârd the town with fearful slaughter drive The Trojans, and their brazen-helmed chief.
First Hectorâs soul with panic fear he fillâd; Mounting his car, he fled, and urgâd to flight The Trojans; for he saw the scales of Jove.
Then nor the valiant Lycians held their ground; All fled in terror, as they saw their King Piercâd through the heart, amid a pile of dead; For oâer his body many a warrior fell, When Saturnâs son the conflict fierce inflamâd.
Then from Sarpedonâs breast they strippâd his arms, Of brass refulgent; these Menoetiusâ son Sent by his comrades to the ships of Greece.
To Phoebus then the Cloud-compeller thus: âHie thee, good Phoebus, from amid the spears Withdraw Sarpedon, and from all his wounds Cleanse the dark gore; then bear him far away, And lave his body in the flowing stream; Then with divine ambrosia all his limbs Anointing, clothe him in immortal robes.
To two swift bearers give him then in charge, To Sleep and Death, twin brothers, in their arms To bear him safe to Lyciaâs wide-spread plains: There shall his brethren and his friends perform His funâral rites, and mound and column raise, The fitting tribute to the mighty dead.â
He said; obedient to his fatherâs words, Down to the battle-field Apollo sped
From Idaâs height; and from amid the spears Withdrawn, he bore Sarpedon far away,
And lavâd his body in the flowing stream; Then with divine ambrosia all his limbs Anointing, clothâd him in immortal robes; To two swift bearers gave him then in charge, To Sleep and Death, twin brothers; in their arms They bore him safe to Lyciaâs wide-spread plains.
Then to Automedon Patroclus gave
His orders, and the flying foe pursued.
Oh much deceivâd, insensate! had he now But borne in mind the words of Peleusâ son, He might have âscapâd the bitter doom of death.
But still Joveâs will the will of man oâerrules: Who strikes with panic, and of victâry robs The bravest; and anon excites to war;
Who now Patroclusâ breast with fury fillâd.
Whom then, Patroclus, first, whom slewâst thou last, When summonâd by the Gods to meet thy doom?
Adrastus, and Autonous, Perimus
The son of Meges, and Echeclus next;
Epistor, Melanippus, Elasus,
And Mulius, and Pylartes; these he slew; The others all in flight their safety found.
Then had the Greeks the lofty-gated town Of Priam capturâd by Patroclusâ hand,
So forward and so fierce he bore his spear; But on the well-built towâr Apollo stood, On his destruction bent, and Troyâs defence The jutting angle of the lofty wall
Patroclus thrice assailâd; his onset thrice Apollo, with his own immortal hands
Repelling, backward thrust his glittâring shield.
But when again, with more than mortal force He made his fourth attempt, with awful mien And threatâning voice the Far-destroyer spoke: âBack, Heavân-born chief, Patroclus! not to thee Hath fate decreed the triumph to destroy The warlike Trojansâ city; no, nor yet To great Achilles, mightier far than thou.â
Thus as he spoke, Patroclus backward steppâd, Shrinking before the Far-destroyerâs wrath.
Still Hector kept before the Scaean gates His coursers; doubtful, if again to dare The battle-throng, or summon all the host To seek the friendly shelter of the wall.
Thus as he musâd, beside him Phoebus stood, In likeness of a warrior stout and brave, Brother of Hecuba, the uncle thence
Of noble Hector, Asius, Dymasâ son;
Who dwelt in Phrygia, by Saugariusâ stream; His form assuming, thus Apollo spoke:
âHector, why shrinkâst thou from the battle thus?
It ill beseems thee! Would to Heavân that I So far thy greater were, as thou art mine; Then sorely shouldst thou rue this abstinence.
But, forward thou! against Patroclus urge Thy fiery steeds, so haply by his death Apollo thee with endless fame may crown.â
This said, the God rejoinâd the strife of men; And noble Hector bade Cebriones
Drive âmid the fight his car; before him movâd Apollo, scattâring terror âmid the Greeks, And lustre adding to the arms of Troy.
All others Hector passâd unnoticâd by, Nor stayâd to slay; Patroclus was the mark At which his coursersâ clattâring hoofs he drove.
On thâ other side, Patroclus from his car Leapâd to the ground: his left hand held his spear; And in the right a pondârous mass he bore Of rugged stone, that fillâd his ample grasp: The stone he hurlâd; not far it missâd its mark, Nor bootless flew; but Hectorâs charioteer It struck, Cebriones, a bastard son
Of royal Priam, as the reins he held.
Full on his temples fell the jagged mass, Drove both his eyebrows in, and crushâd the bone; Before him in the dust his eyeballs fell; And, like a diver, from the well-wrought car Headlong he plungâd; and life forsook his limbs.
Oâer whom Patroclus thus with bitter jest: âHeavân! what agility! how deftly thrown That somersault! if only in the sea
Such feats he wrought, with him might few compete, Diving for oysters, if with such a plunge He left his boat, how rough soeâer the waves, As from his car he plunges to the ground: Troy can, it seems, accomplishâd tumblers boast.â
Thus saying, on Cebriones he sprang,
As springs a lion, through the breast transfixâd, In act the sheepfold to despoil, and dies The victim of his courage; so didst thou Upon Cebriones, Patroclus, spring.
Down from his car too Hector leapâd to earth.
So, oâer Cebriones, opposâd they stood; As on the mountain, oâer a slaughterâd stag, Both hunger-pinchâd, two lions fiercely fight, So oâer Cebriones two mighty chiefs,
Menoetiusâ son and noble Hector, strove, Each in the other bent to plunge his spear.
The head, with grasp unyielding, Hector held; Patroclus seizâd the foot; and, crowding round, Trojans and Greeks in stubborn conflict closâd.
As when, encountâring in some mountain-glen, Eurus and Notus shake the forest deep, Of oak, or ash, or slender cornel-tree, Whose tapâring branches are together thrown, With fearful din, and crash of broke a boughs; So mixâd confusâdly, Greeks and Trojans fought, No thought of flight by either entertainâd.
Thick oâer Cebriones the javâlins flew, And featherâd arrows, bounding from the string; And pondârous stones that on the bucklers rang, As round the dead they fought; amid the dust That eddying rose, his art forgotten all, A mighty warrior, mightily he lay.
While in mid Heavân the sun pursued his course, Thick flew the shafts, and fast the people fell On either side; but when declining day Brought on the hour that sees the loosenâd steers, The Greeks were stronger far; and from the darts And Trojan battle-cry Cebriones
They drew, and from his breast his armour strippâd.
Fiercely Patroclus on the Trojans fell: Thrice he assailâd them, terrible as Mars, With fearful shouts; and thrice nine foes he slew: But when again, with more than mortal force His fourth assault he made, thy term of life, Patroclus, then approachâd its final close; For Phoebusâ awful self encounterâd thee, Amid the battle-throng, of thee unseen, For thickest darkness shrouded all his form: He stood behind, and with extended palm Dealt on Patroclusâ neck and shoulders broad A mighty buffet; dizzy swam his eyes,
And from his head Apollo snatchâd the helm; Clankâd, as it rollâd beneath the horsesâ feet, The visorâd helm; the horsehair plume with blood And dust polluted; never till that day Was that proud helmet so with dust defilâd, That wont to deck a godlike chief, and guard Achillesâ noble head, and graceful brow: Now by the will of Jove to Hector givân.
Now death was near at hand; and in his grasp His spear was shiverâd, pondârous, long, and tough, Brass-pointed; with its belt, the ample shield Fell from his shoulders; and Apolloâs hand, The royal son of Jove, his corslet loosâd.
Then was his mind bewilderâd; and his limbs Gave way beneath him; all aghast he stood: Him, from behind, a Dardan, Panthousâ son, Euphorbus, peerless âmid the Trojan youth, To hurl the spear, to run, to drive the car, Approaching close, between the shoulders stabbâd; He, trainâd to warfare, from his car, ere this A score of Greeks had from their chariots hurlâd: Such was the man who thee, Patroclus, first Wounded, but not subdued; the ashen spear He, in all haste, withdrew; nor darâd confront Patroclus, though disarmâd, in deadly strife.
Back to his comradesâ sheltâring ranks retirâd, From certain death, Patroclus: by the stroke Of Phoebus vanquishâd, and Euphorbusâ spear: But Hector, when Patroclus from the fight He saw retreating, wounded, through the ranks Advancing, smote him through the flank; right through The brazen spear was drivân; thundâring he fell; And deeply mournâd his fall the Grecian host.
As when a lion hath in fight oâerborne A tusked boar, when on the mountain top They two have met, in all their pride of strength, Both parchâd with thirst, around a scanty spring; And vanquishâd by the lionâs force, the boar Hath yielded, gasping; so Menoetiusâ son, Great deeds achievâd, at length beneath the spear Of noble Hector yielded up his life;
Who oâer the vanquishâd, thus exulting, spoke: âPatroclus, but of late thou madâst thy boast To raze our city walls, and in your ships To bear away to your far-distant land, Their days of freedom lost, our Trojan dames: Fool that thou wast! nor knewâst, in their defence, That Hectorâs flying coursers scourâd the plain; From them, the bravest of the Trojans, I Avert the day of doom; while on our shores Thy flesh shall glut the carrion birds of Troy.
Poor wretch! though brave he be, yet Peleusâ son Availâd thee nought, when, hanging back himself, With sage advice he sent thee forth to fight: âCome not to me, Patroclus, car-borne chief, Nor to the ships return, until thou bear The warrior-slayer Hectorâs bloody spoils, Torn from his body;â such were, I suppose, His counsels; thou, poor fool, becamâst his dupe.â
To whom Patroclus thus in accents faint: âHector, thou boastest loudly now, that Jove, With Phoebus joinâd, hath thee with victâry crownâd: They wrought my death, who strippâd me of my arms.
Had I to deal with twenty such as thee, They all should perish, vanquishâd by my spear: Me fate hath slain, and Phoebus; and, of men, Euphorbus; thou wast but the third to strike.
This too I say, and bear it in thy mind; Not long shalt thou survive me; death eâen now And final doom hangs oâer thee, by the hand Of great Achilles, Peleusâ matchless son.â
Thus as he spoke, the gloom of death his eyes Oâerspread, and to the shades his spirit fled, Mourning his fate, his youth and strength cut off.
To whom, though dead, the noble Hector thus: âPatroclus, why predict my coming fate?
Or who can say but fair-hairâd Thetisâ son, Achilles, by my spear may first be slain?â
He said, and planting firm his foot, withdrew The brazen spear, and backward drove the dead From off the weaponâs point; then, spear in hand, Intent to slay, Automedon pursued,
The godlike follower of AEacides:
But him in safety bore thâ immortal steeds, The noble prize the Gods to Peleus gave.
ARGUMENT.
THE SEVENTH BATTLE, FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS.âTHE ACTS OF MENELAUS.
Menelaus, upon the death of Patroclus, defends his body from the enemy; Euphorbus, who attempts it, is slain.
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