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

th’ unhappy race of man.

Yet shall not ye, nor shall your well-wrought car, By Hector, son of Priam, be controll’d; I will not suffer it; enough for him

To hold, with vaunting boast, Achilles’ arms; But to your limbs and spirits will I impart Such strength, that from the battle to the ships Ye shall in safety bear Automedon;

For yet I will the Trojans shall prevail, And slay, until they reach the well-mann’d ships, Till sets the sun, and darkness shrouds the earth.”

 

He said, and in their breasts fresh spirit infus’d; They, shaking from their manes the dust, the car Amid the Greeks and Trojans lightly bore.

Then, as a vulture ‘mid a flock of geese, Amid the battle rush’d Automedon,

His horses’ course directing, and their speed Exciting, though he mourn’d his comrade slain.

Swiftly he fled from out the Trojan host; Swiftly again assail’d them in pursuit; Yet, speedy to pursue, he could not slay; Nor, in the car alone, had pow’r at once To guide the flying steeds, and hurl the spear.

At length a comrade brave, Alcimedon,

Laerces’ son, beheld; behind the car

He stood, and thus Automedon address’d: “Automedon, what God has fill’d thy mind With counsels vain, and thee of sense bereft?

That with the Trojans, in the foremost ranks, Thou fain wouldst fight alone, thy comrade slain, While Hector proudly on his breast displays The glorious arms of great AEacides.”

 

To whom Automedon, Diores’ son:

“Alcimedon, since none of all the Greeks May vie with thee, the mettle to control Of these immortal horses, save indeed, While yet he liv’d, Patroclus, godlike chief; But him stern death and fate have overta’en; Take thon the whip and shining reins, while I, Descending from the car, engage in fight.”

 

He said; and, mounting on the war-car straight, Alcimedon the whip and reins assum’d;

Down leap’d Automedon; great Hector saw, And thus address’d AEneas at his side: “AEneas, prince and counsellor of Troy, I see, committed to unskilful hands,

Achilles’ horses on the battle-field:

These we may hope to take, if such thy will; For they, methinks, will scarcely stand oppos’d, Or dare th’ encounter of our joint assault.”

 

He said; Anchises’ valiant son complied; Forward they went, their shoulders cover’d o’er With stout bull’s-hide, thick overlaid with brass.

With them both Chromius and Aretus went; And high their hopes were rais’d, the warriors both To slay, and make the strong-neck’d steeds their prize: Blind fools! nor destin’d scatheless to escape Automedon’s encounter; he his pray’r

To Jove address’d, and straight with added strength His soul was fill’d; and to Alcimedon, His trusty friend and comrade, thus he spoke: “Alcimedon, do thou the horses keep

Not far away, but breathing on my neck; For Hector’s might will not, I deem, be stay’d, Ere us he slay, and mount Achilles’ car, And carry terror ‘mid the Grecian host, Or in the foremost ranks himself be slain.”

 

Thus spoke Automedon, and loudly call’d On Menelaus and th’ Ajaces both:

“Ye two Ajaces, leaders of the host,

And, Menelaus, with our bravest all,

Ye on the dead alone your care bestow, To guard him, and stave off the hostile ranks; But haste, and us, the living, save from death; For Hector and AEneas hitherward,

With weight o’erpow’ring, through the bloody press, The bravest of the Trojans, force their way: Yet is the issue in the hands of Heav’n; I hurl the spear, but Jove directs the blow.”

 

He said, and, poising, hurl’d the pond’rous spear; Full on Aretus’ broad-orb’d shield it struck; Nor stay’d the shield its course; the brazen point Drove through the belt, and in his body lodg’d.

As with sharp axe in hand a stalwart man, Striking behind the horns a sturdy bull, Severs the neck; he, forward, plunging, falls; So forward first he sprang, then backwards fell: And quiv’ring, in his vitals deep infix’d, The sharp spear soon relax’d his limbs in death.

Then at Automedon great Hector threw

His glitt’ring spear; he saw, and forward stoop’d, And shunn’d the brazen death; behind him far Deep in the soil infix’d, with quiv’ring shaft The weapon stood; there Mars its impulse stay’d.

And now with swords, and hand to hand, the fight Had been renew’d; but at their comrade’s call The two Ajaces, pressing through the throng, Between the warriors interpos’d in haste.

Before them Hector and AEneas both,

And godlike Chromius, in alarm recoil’d; Pierc’d through the heart, Aretus there they left; And, terrible as Mars, Automedon

Stripp’d off his arms, and thus exulting cried: “Of some small portion of its load of grief, For slain Patroclus, is my heart reliev’d, In slaying thee, all worthless as thou art.”

 

Then, throwing on the car the bloody spoils, He mounted, hands and feet imbrued with blood, As ‘twere a lion, fresh from his repast Upon the carcase of a slaughter’d bull.

 

Again around Patroclus’ body rag’d

The stubborn conflict, direful, sorrow-fraught: From Heav’n descending, Pallas stirr’d the strife, Sent by all-seeing Jove to stimulate

The warlike Greeks; so changed was now his will.

As o’er the face of Heav’n when Jove extends His bright-hued bow, a sign to mortal men Of war, or wintry storms, which bid surcease The rural works of man, and pinch the flocks; So Pallas, in a bright-hued cloud array’d, Pass’d through the ranks, and rous’d each sev’ral man.

To noble Menelaus, Atreus’ son,

Who close beside her stood, the Goddess first, The form of Phoenix and his pow’rful voice Assuming, thus her stirring words address’d: “On thee, O Menelaus, foul reproach

Will fasten, if Achilles’ faithful friend The dogs devour beneath the walls of Troy; Then hold thou firm, and all the host inspire.”

 

To whom thus Menelaus, good in fight:

“O Phoenix, aged warrior, honour’d sire, If Pallas would the needful pow’r impart, And o’er me spread her aegis, then would I Undaunted for Patroclus’ rescue fight, For deeply by his death my heart is touch’d; But valiant Hector, with the strength of fire Still rages, and destruction deals around: For Jove is with him, and his triumph wills.”

 

He said: the blue-ey’d Goddess heard with joy That, chief of all the Gods, her aid he sought.

She gave fresh vigour to his arms and knees, And to his breast the boldness of the fly, Which, oft repell’d by man, renews th’ assault Incessant, lur’d by taste of human blood; Such boldness in Atrides’ manly breast Pallas inspir’d: beside Patroclus’ corpse Again he stood, and pois’d his glitt’ring spear.

 

There was one Podes in the Trojan ranks, Son of Eetion, rich, of blameless life, Of all the people most to Hector dear, And at his table oft a welcome guest:

Him, as he turn’d to fly, beneath the waist Atrides struck; right through the spear was driv’n; Thund’ring he fell; and Atreus’ son the corpse Dragg’d from the Trojans ‘mid the ranks of Greece.

 

Then close at Hector’s side Apollo stood, Clad in the form of Phaenops, Asius’ son, Who in Abydos dwelt; of all th’ Allies Honour’d of Hector most, and best belov’d; Clad in his form, the Far-destroyer spoke: “Hector, what other Greek will scare thee next?

Who shrink’st from Menelaus, heretofore A warrior deem’d of no repute; but now, Alone, he robs our Trojans of their dead; And in the foremost ranks e’en now hath slain Podes, thine own good friend, Eetion’s son.”

 

He said; dark grief o’erclouded Hector’s brow, As to the front in dazzling arms he sprang.

Then Saturn’s son his tassell’d aegis wav’d, All glitt’ring bright; and Ida’s lofty head In clouds and darkness shrouded; then he bade His lightning flash, his volleying thunder roar, That shook the mountain; and with vict’ry crown’d The Trojan arms, and panic-struck the Greeks.

 

The first who turn’d to fly was Peneleus, Boeotian chief; him, facing still the foe, A spear had slightly on the shoulder struck, The bone just grazing: by Polydamas,

Who close before him stood, the spear was thrown.

Then Hector Leitus, Aloctryon’s son,

Thrust thro’ the wrist, and quell’d his warlike might; Trembling, he look’d around, nor hop’d again The Trojans, spear in hand, to meet in fight; But, onward as he rush’d on Leitus,

Idomeneus at Hector threw his spear:

Full on his breast it struck; but near the head The sturdy shaft was on the breastplate snapp’d: Loud was the Trojans’ shout; and he in turn Aim’d at Idomeneus, Deucalion’s son,

Upstanding on his car; his mark he miss’d, But Coeranus he struck, the charioteer And faithful follower of Meriones,

Who with him came from Lyctus’ thriving town: The chief had left on foot the well-trimm’d ships; And, had not Coeranus his car in haste Driv’n to the rescue, by his fall had giv’n A Trojan triumph; to his Lord he brought Safety, and rescue from unsparing death; But fell, himself, by Hector’s murd’rous hand.

Him Hector struck between the cheek and ear, Crashing the teeth, and cutting through the tongue.

Headlong he fell to earth, and dropp’d the reins: These, stooping from the car, Meriones Caught up, and thus Idomeneus address’d: “Ply now the lash, until thou reach the ships: Thyself must see how crush’d the strength of Greece.”

 

He said; and tow’rd the ships Idomeneus Urg’d his fleet steeds; for fear was on his soul.

Nor did not Ajax and Atrides see

How in the Trojans’ favour Saturn’s son The wav’ring scale of vict’ry turn’d; and thus Great Ajax Telamon his grief express’d: “O Heav’n! the veriest child might plainly see That Jove the Trojans’ triumph has decreed: Their weapons all, by whomsoever thrown, Or weak, or strong, attain their mark; for Jove Directs their course; while ours upon the plain Innocuous fall. But take we counsel now How from the fray to bear away our dead, And by our own return rejoice those friends Who look with sorrow on our plight, and deem That we, all pow’rless to resist the might Of Hector’s arm, beside the ships must fall.

Would that some comrade were at hand, to bear A message to Achilles; him, I ween,

As yet the mournful tidings have not reach’d, That on the field his dearest friend lies dead.

But such I see not; for a veil of cloud O’er men and horses all around is spread.

O Father Jove, from, o’er the sons of Greece Remove this cloudy darkness; clear the sky, That we may see our fate, and die at least, If such thy will, in th’ open light of day.”

 

He said, and, pitying, Jove beheld his tears; The clouds he scatter’d, and the mist dispers’d; The sun shone forth, and all the field was clear; Then Ajax thus to Menelaus spoke:

 

“Now, Heav’n-born Menelaus, look around If haply ‘mid the living thou mayst see Antilochus, the noble Nester’s son;

And bid him to Achilles bear in haste

The tidings, that his dearest friend lies dead.”

 

He said, nor did Atrides not comply;

But slow as moves a lion from the fold, Which dogs and youths with ceaseless toil hath worn, Who all night long have kept their watch, to guard From his assault the choicest of the herd; He, hunger-pinch’d, hath oft th’ attempt renew’d, But nought prevail’d; by spears on ev’ry side, And jav’lins met, wielded by stalwart hands, And blazing torches, which his courage daunt; Till with the morn he sullenly withdraws; So from Patroclus, with reluctant step Atrides mov’d; for much he fear’d the Greeks Might to the Trojans, panic-struck, the dead Abandon; and departing, he besought

The two Ajaces and Meriones:

“Ye two Ajaces, leaders of the Greeks, And thou, Meriones, remember now

Our lost Patroclus’ gentle courtesy,

How kind and genial was his soul to all, While yet he liv’d—now sunk, alas! in death.”

 

Thus saying, Menelaus took his way,

Casting his glance around on