The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (42 page)

When straight the royal Cretan’s dart in his mid breast appear’d;

It brake the curets that were proof to every other dart,

Yet now they cleft and rung, the lance stuck shaking in his heart:

His heart with panting made it shake. But Mars did now remit

The greatness of it, and the king, now quitting the brag fit

Of glory in Deiphobus, thus terribly exclaim’d:

‘Deiphobus, now may we think that we are evenly fam’d,

That three for one have sent to Dis. But come, change blows with me;

Thy vaunts for him thou slew’st were vain. Come, wretch, that thou may’st see

What issue Jove hath; Jove begot Minos, the strength of Crete;

Minos begot Deucalion; Deucalion did beget

Me Idomen, now Creta’s king, that here my ships have brought,

To bring thyself, thy father, friends, all Ilion’s pomp to nought.’

Deiphobus at two ways stood, in doubt to call some one

(With some retreat) to be his aid, or try the chance alone.

At last, the first seem’d best to him, and back he went to call

Anchises’ son to friend; who stood in troop the last of all,

Where still he serv’d: which made him still incense against the king,

That being amongst his best their peer, he grac’d not anything

His wrong’d deserts. Deiphobus spake to him, standing near:

‘Aeneas, prince of Troÿans, if any touch appear

Of glory in thee, thou must now assist thy sister’s lord,

And one that to thy tend’rest youth did careful guard afford,

Alcathous, whom Creta’s king hath chiefly slain to thee,

His right most challenging thy hand: come, therefore, follow me.’

This much excited his good mind, and set his heart on fire,

Against the Cretan: who, child-like, dissolv’d not in his ire,

But stood him firm; as when in hills a strength-relying boar,

Alone and hearing hunters come, whom tumult flies before,

Up thrusts his bristles, whets his tusks, sets fire on his red eyes,

And in his brave prepar’d repulse doth dogs and men despise:

So stood the famous-for-his-lance, nor shunn’d the coming charge

That resolute Aeneas brought; yet since the odds was large,

He call’d with good right to his aid war-skill’d Ascalaphus,

Aphareus, Meriones, the strong Deipyrus,

And Nestor’s honourable son: ‘Come near, my friends,’ said he,

‘And add your aids to me alone. Fear taints me worthily,

Though firm I stand, and show it not: Aeneas great in fight,

And one that bears youth in his flow’r (that bears the greatest might)

Comes on, with aim direct at me: had I his youthful limb

To bear my mind, he should yield fame, or I would yield it him.’

This said, all held, in many souls, one ready helpful mind,

Clapp’d shields and shoulders, and stood close. Aeneas (not inclin’d

With more presumption than the king) call’d aid as well as he –

Divine Agenor, Helen’s love, who follow’d instantly,

And all their forces following them, as after bell-wethers

The whole flocks follow to their drink; which sight the shepherd cheers:

Nor was Aeneas’ joy less mov’d to see such troops attend

His honour’d person; and all these fought close about his friend.

But two of them, past all the rest, had strong desire to shed

The blood of either: Idomen, and Cytherea’s seed.

Aeneas first bestow’d his lance, which th’ other seeing shunn’d,

And that, thrown from an idle hand, stuck trembling in the ground.

But Idomen’s, discharg’d at him, had no such vain success,

Which Oemomaus’ entrails found, in which it did impress

His sharp pile to his fall: his palms tore his returning earth.

Idomeneus straight stepp’d in, and pluck’d his javelin forth,

But could not spoil his goodly arms, they press’d him so with darts.

And now the long toil of the fight had spent his vigorous parts,

And made them less apt to avoid the foe that should advance,

Or (when himself advanc’d again) to run and fetch his lance.

And therefore in stiff fights of stand he spent the cruel day:

When coming softly from the slain Deiphobus gave way

To his bright javelin at the king, whom he could never brook,

But then he lost his envy too: his lance yet deadly took

Ascalaphus, the son of Mars; quite through his shoulder flew

The violent head, and down he fell. Nor yet by all means knew

Wide-throated Mars his son was fall’n, but in Olympus’ top

Sat canopied with golden clouds. Jove’s counsel had shut up

Both him and all the other gods from that time’s equal task,

Which now about Ascalaphus Strife set: his shining casque

Deiphobus had forc’d from him, but instantly leap’d in

Mars-swift Meriones, and struck, with his long javelin,

The right arm of Deiphobus, which made his hand let fall

The sharp-topp’d helmet, the press’d earth resounding therewithal.

When, vulture-like, Meriones rush’d in again and drew,

From out the low parts of his arm his javelin, and then flew

Back to his friends. Deiphobus (faint with the blood’s excess

Fall’n from his wound) was carefully convey’d out of the press,

By his kind brother by both sides, Polites, till they gat

Hi
s horse and chariot, that were still set fit for his retreat

And bore him now to Ilion. The rest fought fiercely on,

And set a mighty fight on foot. When next Anchises’ son

Aphareus Caletorides (that ran upon him) strook

Just in the throat with his keen lance, and straight his head forsook

His upright carriage, and his shield, his helm, and all with him

Fell to the earth, where ruinous death made prize of every limb.

Antilochus (discovering well that Thoön’s heart took check)

Let fly, and cut the hollow vein that runs up to his neck

Along his back part, quite in twain: down in the dust he fell,

Upwards, and, with extended hands, bade all the world farewell.

Antilochus rush’d nimbly in, and, looking round, made prize

Of his fair arms; in which affair his round-set enemies

Let fly their lances, thundering on his advanced targe,

But could not get his flesh: the god that shakes the earth took charge

Of Nestor’s son and kept him safe: who never was away,

But still amongst the thickest foes his busy lance did play,

Observing ever when he might, far off or near, offend.

And watching Asius’ son, in prease, he spied him, and did send

(Close coming on) a dart at him, that smote in midst his shield,

In which the sharp head of the lance the blue-hair’d god made yield,

Not pleas’d to yield his pupil’s life, in whose shield half the dart

Stuck like a truncheon burn’d with fire; on earth lay th’ other part.

He, seeing no better end of all, retir’d in fear of worse;

But him Meriones pursu’d, and his lance found full course

To th’ other’s life: it wounded him betwixt the privy parts

And navel, where (to wretched men, that war’s most violent smarts

Must undergo) wounds chiefly vex. His dart Meriones

Pursu’d, and Adamas so striv’d with it, and his misease,

As doth a bullock puff and storm, whom in disdained bands

The upland herdsmen strive to cast: so, fall’n beneath the hands

Of his stern foe, Asiades did struggle, pant, and rave,

But no long time; for when the lance was pluck’d out, up he gave

His tortur’d soul. Then Troy’s turn came, when with a Thracian sword

The temples of Deipyrus did Hellenus afford

So huge a blow, it struck all light out of his cloudy eyes,

And cleft his helmet; which a Greek, there fighting, made his prize

(It fell so full beneath his feet). Atrides griev’d to see

That sight; and, threat’ning, shook a lance at Hellenus, and he

A bow half drew at him; at once out flew both shaft and lance:

The shaft Atrides’ curets struck, and far away did glance:

Atrides’ dart of Hellenus the thrust-out bow-hand struck,

And through the hand stuck in the bow; Agenor’s hand did pluck

From forth the nailed prisoner the javelin quickly out,

And fairly with a little wool, enwrapping round about

The wounded hand, within a scarf he bore it, which his squire

Had ready for him: yet the wound would need he should retire.

Pisander, to revenge his hurt, right on the king ran he.

A bloody fate suggested him, to let him run on thee,

O Menelaus, that he might, by thee, in dangerous war

Be done to death. Both coming on, Atrides’ lance did err:

Pisander struck Atrides’ shield, that brake at point the dart,

Not running through, yet he rejoic’d as playing a victor’s part:

Atrides, drawing his fair sword, upon Pisander flew;

Pisander from beneath his shield his goodly weapon drew –

Two-edg’d, with right sharp steel, and long, the handle olive-tree,

Well polish’d – and to blows they go; upon the top struck he

Atrides’ horse-hair’d feather’d helm; Atrides on his brow

(Above th’ extreme part of the nose) laid such a heavy blow

That all the bones crash’d under it, and out his eyes did drop

Before his feet in bloody dust; he after, and shrunk up

His dying body: which the foot of his triumphing foe

Opened, and stood upon his breast, and off his arms did go,

This insultation us’d the while: ‘At length forsake our fleet

Thus (ye false Trojans) to whom war never enough is sweet:

Nor want ye more impieties, with which ye have abus’d

Me, ye bold dogs, that your chief friends so honourably us’d:

Nor fear you hospitable Jove that lets such thunders go:

But build upon’t, he will unbuild your tow’rs, that clamber so,

For ravishing my goods and wife, in flow’r of all her years,

And without cause; nay, when that fair and liberal hand of hers

Had us’d you so most lovingly; and now again ye would

Cast fire into our fleet, and kill our princes if ye could.

Go to, one day you will be curb’d (though never so ye thirst

Rude war) by war. O father Jove, they say thou art the first

In wisdom of all gods and men; yet all this comes from thee,

And still thou gratifiest these men, how lewd so e’er they be,

Though never they be cloy’d with sins, nor can be satiate,

As good men should, with this vile war. Satiety of state,

Satiety of sleep and love, satiety of ease,

Of music, dancing, can find place; yet harsh war still must please

Past all these pleasures, even past these. They will be cloy’d with these

Before their war joys: never war gives Troy satieties.’

This said, the bloody arms were off, and to his soldiers thrown,

He mixing in first fight again: and then Harpalion,

Kind king Pylemen’s son, gave charge; who to those wars of Troy

His loved father followed, nor ever did enjoy

His country’s sight again; he struck the targe of Atreus’ son

Full in the midst; his javelin’s steel yet had no power to run

The target through, nor had himself the heart to fetch his lance,

But took him to his strength, and cast on every side a glance,

Lest any his dear sides should dart: but Merion, as he fled,

Sent after him a brazen lance that ran his eager head

Through his right hip, and all along the bladder’s region

Beneath the bone; it settled him, and set his spirit gone

Amongst the hands of his best friends; and like a worm he lay

Stretch’d on the earth, with his black blood imbrued and flow’d away.

His corse the Paphlagonians did sadly wait upon

(Repos’d in his rich chariot) to sacred Ilion,

The king his father following, dissolv’d in kindly tears,

And no wreak sought for his slain son. But at his slaughterers

Incensed Paris spent a lance (since he had been a guest

To many Paphlagonians) and through the press it press’d.

There was a certain augur’s son, that did for wealth excel,

And yet was honest; he was born and did at Corinth dwell:

Who (though he knew his harmful fate) would needs his ship ascend:

His father, Polyidus, oft would tell him that his end

Would either seize him at his house, upon a sharp disease,

Or else amongst the Grecian ships, by Trojans slain. Both these

Together he desir’d to shun; but the disease (at last,

And ling’ring death in it) he left, and war’s quick stroke embrac’d:

The lance betwixt his ear and cheek ran in, and drave the mind

Of both those bitter fortunes out. Night struck his whole pow’rs blind.

Thus fought they like the spirit of fire, nor Jove-lov’d Hector knew

How in the fleet’s left wing the Greeks his down-put soldiers slew

Almost to victory: the god that shakes the earth so well

Help’d with his own strength, and the Greeks so fiercely did impell.

Yet Hector made the first place good, where both the ports and wall,

The thick rank of the Greek shields broke, he enter’d, and did skall,

Where on the gray sea’s shore were drawn (the wall being there but slight)

Protesilaus’ ships, and those of Ajax, where the fight

Of men and horse were sharpest set. There the Boeotian bands,

Long-rob’d Iaons, Locrians, and (brave men of their hands)

The Phthian and Epeian troops did spritefully assail

The god-like Hector rushing in, and yet could not prevail

To his repulse, though choicest men of Athens there made head:

Amongst whom was Menestheus chief, whom Phidias followed,

Stichius and Bias, huge in strength. Th’ Epeian troops were led