The Iliad - Homer (read more books TXT) 📗

thy comrades, and sit down.
The Greeks will send some other champion forth
Against him; and though fearless, and athirst
For combat, he, I deem, will gladly bend
His weary knees to rest should he escape
From that fierce conflict in the lists alive.”

With words like these the Grecian hero changed
The purpose of his brother, who obeyed
The prudent counsel; and with great delight
The attendants stripped the armor from his breast.
Then Nestor rose amid the Greeks and said:⁠—

“Ye gods! A great calamity hath fallen
Upon Achaia. How the aged chief
Peleus, the illustrious counsellor and sage,
Who rules the Myrmidons, will now lament!⁠—
He who once gladly in his palace-home
Inquired of me the race and pedigree
Of the Greek warriors. Were he but to know
That all of them are basely cowering now
In Hector’s presence, how would he uplift
His hands and pray the gods that from his limbs
The parted soul might pass to the abode
Of Pluto! Would to Father Jupiter
And Pallas and Apollo that again
I were as young as when the Pylian host
And the Arcadians, mighty with the spear,
Fought on the banks of rapid Celadon
And near to Phaea and Iardan’s streams.
There godlike Ereuthalion stood among
Our foremost foes, and on his shoulders bore
The armor of King Areïthoüs⁠—
The noble Areïthoüs, whom men
And graceful women called the Mace-bearer;
For not with bow he fought, nor ponderous lance,
But broke the phalanxes with iron mace.
Lycurgus slew him, but by stratagem,
And not by strength; he from a narrow way,
Where was no room to wield the iron mace,
Through Areïthoüs thrust the spear: he fell
Backward; the victor took his arms, which Mars
The war-god gave, and which in after-time
Lycurgus wore on many a battle-field.
And when within his palace he grew old,
He gave them to be worn by one he loved⁠—
To Ereuthalion, who attended him
In battle, and who, wearing them, defied
The bravest of our host. All trembled; all
Held back in fear, nor dared encounter him.
But me a daring trust in my own strength
Impelled to meet him. I was youngest then
Of all the chiefs; I fought, and Pallas gave
The victory over him, and thus I slew
The hugest and most strong of men; he lay
Extended in vast bulk upon the ground.
Would I were young as then, my frame unworn
By years! And Hector of the beamy helm
Should meet an adversary soon; but now
No one of all the chieftains here, renowned
To be the bravest of the Achaian race,
Hastens to meet in arms the Trojan chief.”

Thus with upbraiding words the old man spake;
And straight arose nine warriors from their seats.
The first was Agamemnon, king of men;
The second, brave Tydides Diomed;
And then the chieftains Ajax, bold and strong;
And then Idomeneus, with whom arose
Meriones, his armor-bearer, great
As Mars himself in battle. After them,
Eurypylus, Evaemon’s valiant son,
And Thoas, offspring of Androemon, rose,
And the divine Ulysses⁠—claiming all
To encounter noble Hector in the lists.
But then spake Nestor the Gerenian knight:⁠—

“Now let us cast the lot for all, and see
To whom it falls; for greatly will he aid
The nobly-armed Achaians, and as great
Will be his share of honor should he come
Alive from the hard trial of the fight.”

Then each one marked his lot, and all were cast
Into the helm of Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus. All the people lifted up
Their hands in prayer to the ever-living gods,
And turned their eyes to the broad heaven, and said:

“Grant, Father Jove, that Ajax, or the son
Of Tydeus, or the monarch who bears rule
In rich Mycenae may obtain the lot.”

Such was their prayer, while the Gerenian knight,
Old Nestor, shook the lots; and from the helm
Leaped forth the lot of Ajax, as they wished.
A herald took it, and from right to left
Bore it through all the assembly, showing it
To all the leaders of the Greeks. No one
Knew it, and all disclaimed it. When at last,
Carried through all the multitude, it came
To Ajax the renowned, who had inscribed
And laid it in the helmet, he stretched forth
His hand, while at his side the herald stood,
And took and looked upon it, knew his sign,
And gloried as he looked, and cast it down
Upon the ground before his feet, and said:⁠—

“O friends! The lot is mine, and I rejoice
Heartily, for I think to overcome
The noble Hector. Now, while I put on
My armor for the fight, pray ye to Jove,
The mighty son of Saturn, silently,
Unheard by them of Troy, or else aloud,
Since we fear no one. None by strength of arm
Shall vanquish me, or find me inexpert
In battle, nor was I to that degree
Ill-trained in Salamis, where I was born.”

He spake; and they to Saturn’s monarch-son
Prayed, looking up to the broad heaven, and said:⁠—

“O Father Jove! Most mighty, most august!
Who rulest from the Idaean mount, vouchsafe
That Ajax bear away the victory
And everlasting honor; but if thou
Dost cherish Hector and protect his life,
Give equal strength to both, and equal fame.”

Such were their words, while Ajax armed himself
In glittering brass; and, when about his limbs
The mail was buckled, forward rushed the chief.
As moves the mighty Mars to war among
The heroes whom the son of Saturn sends
To struggle on the field in murderous strife,
So the great Ajax, bulwark of the Greeks,
With a grim smile came forward, and with strides
Firm-set and long, and shook his ponderous spear.
The Greeks exulted at the sight; dismay
Seized every Trojan: even Hector’s heart
Quailed in his bosom; yet he might not now
Withdraw through fear, nor seek to hide among
The throng of people, since himself had given
The challenge. Ajax, drawing near, upheld
A buckler like a rampart, bright with brass,
And strong with ox-hides seven. The cunning hand
Of Tychius, skilled beyond all other men
In leather-work, had wrought it at his home
In Hyla. He for Ajax framed the shield
With hides of pampered bullocks in seven folds,
And an eighth fold of brass⁠—the outside fold.
This Telamonian Ajax held before
His breast, as he approached, and threatening said:⁠—

“Now shalt thou, Hector, singly matched with me,
Learn by what chiefs the Achaian host is led
Besides Achilles, mighty though he be to
To break through squadrons, and of lion-heart
Still in the beaked ships in which he crossed
The sea he cherishes his wrath against
The shepherd of the people⁠—Atreus’ son.
But we have those that dare defy thee yet,
And they are many. Let the fight begin.”

Then answered Hector of the plumèd helm:⁠—
“O