Book XV: The Fifth Battle at the Ships

Now when the Trojans in their flight had crossedRampart and trench, and many had been slainBy the pursuing Greeks, they made a haltBeside their chariots, in despair and paleWith terror. Meanwhile Jupiter awoke,On Ida’s height, from slumber by the sideOf Juno, goddess of the golden throne.At once he rose and saw the Trojan hostRouted, and, following close upon their flight,The Argive warriors putting them to rout,Aided by Neptune, sovereign of the sea,And Hector lying on the field amongHis fellow-warriors, breathing painfully,Vomiting blood, and senseless, for the armThat smote was not the feeblest of the Greeks.The Father of immortals and of menBeheld and pitied him, and terriblyFrowned upon Juno, and bespake her thus:—

“O evil minded Juno, full of guile!Thy arts have made the noble Hector leaveThe combat, and have forced his troops to flee.I know not whether’t were not well that thouShouldst taste the fruit of thy pernicious wiles,Chastised by me with stripes. Dost thou forgetWhen thou didst swing suspended, and I tiedTwo anvils to thy feet, and bound a chainOf gold that none could break around thy wrists?Then didst thou hang in air amid the clouds,And all the gods of high Olympus sawWith pity. They stood near, but none of themWere able to release thee. Whoso cameWithin my reach I seized, and hurled him o’erHeaven’s threshold, and he fell upon the earthScarce breathing. Yet the passion of my wrath,Caused by the wrongs of godlike Hercules,Was not to be so calmed; for craftilyHadst thou called up the violent northern blast,To chase him far across the barren deep,And drive him from his course to populous Cos.I rescued him at length, and brought him backTo Argos famed for steeds, though after longAnd many hardships. I remind thee nowOf this, that thou mayst see of what availHereafter thy dissembled love and allThy cunning strategies will be to thee.”

He spake, and Juno, large-eyed and august,Shuddered, and answered Jove with wingèd words:—

“Be witness, Earth, and the great Heavens above,And waters of the Styx that glide beneath—That dreadful oath which most the blessed godsRevere—be witness, too, that sacred headOf thine, and our own nuptial couch, by whichI would not rashly swear at any time,That not by my persuasion Neptune went—The shaker of the shores—to harass TroyAnd Hector, and to aid the cause of Greece.He went self-counselled; he had seen the GreeksPressed grievously beside their fleet, and tookCompassion on them. Yet would I adviseThat he obey thy word, and take his placeWhere thou, the Cloud compeller, bid’st him go.”

She ended, and the Father of the godsAnd mortals smiled, and said, in wingèd words:—

“Large-eyed, imperial Juno, wouldst thou sitIn council with the immortals, and assistMy purposes, then Neptune, though at heartHe were averse, would yet conform his willTo mine and thine. If thou dost truly speak,And from thy heart, go now to where the godsAssemble, summon Iris, and with herThe archer-god Apollo. Give in chargeTo Iris that she hasten to the hostOf the mailed Greeks, and bid king Neptune leave,The battle for his palace. Let the godPhoebus, preparing Hector for the fight,Breathe strength into his frame, that so he loseThe sense of pain which bows his spirit now,And he shall force the Greeks again to fleeIn craven fear. Then shall their flying hostFall back upon the galleys of the sonOf Peleus, who shall send into the fightHis friend Patroclus. Him the mighty spearOf Hector shall o’erthrow before the wallsOf Ilium, after many a Trojan youthShall by his hand have fallen, and with themMy noble son, Sarpedon. Roused to rage,Then shall the great Achilles take the lifeOf Hector. Be it from this time my careThat all the assaults of Trojans in the fleetBe beaten back, till by Minerva’s aidThe Greeks possess the lofty town of Troy.Still am I angry, nor will I allowOne of the ever-living gods to aidThe Greeks, until the prayer of Peleus’ sonShall fully be accomplished, as my wordAnd nod were given, when Thetis clasped my knees,Entreating me to honor, signally,Her son, Achilles, spoiler of walled towns.”

He spake; the white-armed goddess willinglyObeyed him, and from Ida’s summit flewTo high Olympus. As the thought of manFlies rapidly, when, having travelled far,He thinks, “Here would I be, I would be there,”And flits from place to place, so swiftly flewImperial Juno to the Olympian mount,And there she found the ever-living godsAssembled in the halls of Jupiter.These, as they saw her, starting from their seats,Reached forth their cups to greet her. All the restShe overlooked, and took the beaker heldBy blooming Themis, who in haste had runTo meet her, and in wingèd accents said:—

“Why comest thou, O Juno! with the lookOf one o’ercome with fear. Hath Saturn’s son,Thy lord, disquieted thy soul with threats?”

The white-armed goddess Juno answered her:—“Ask me not, heavenly Themis—thou dost knowThe cruel, arrogant temper that is his—But sit presiding at the common feast,In this fair palace of the gods, and thouAnd all in heaven shall hear what evils JoveHas threatened. All, I think, will not rejoiceTo hear the tidings, be they gods or men,Though some contentedly are feasting now.”

Thus having said, imperial Juno tookHer place, and all the gods within the hallsOf Jupiter were grieved. The goddess smiled,But only with the lips; her forehead woreAbove the jetty brows no sign of joy,While thus she spake in anger to the rest:—

“Vainly, and in our madness, do we striveWith Father Jove. We come and seek by craftOr force to move his stubborn will; he sitsApart, unyielding, unregarding, proudOf the vast strength and power in which he standsAbove all other of the deathless gods.Bear therefore patiently whatever illHe sends to each. Already, as I learn,Hath Mars his share of sorrow. In the warAscalaphus hath perished, whom he lovedDearly, beyond all other men, and whomThe fiery god acknowledged as his son.”

As thus she spake, Mars smote his sinewy thighsWith his dropped hands, and sorrowfully said:—

“Be not offended with me, ye who makeYour dwelling on Olympus, if I goDown to the Achaian fleet, and there avengeThe slaughter of my son, though I be doomedTo fall before the thunderbolt of Jove,And lie in blood and dust among the dead.”

He spake, and summoned Fear and Flight to yokeHis steeds, and put his glorious armor on.Then greater and more terrible had beenThe avenging wrath of Jupiter inflamedAgainst the gods, if Pallas in her fearFor all the heavenly dwellers had not leftHer throne, and, rushing through the portals, snatchedThe helmet from his head, and from his armThe shield, and from his brawny hand the spear,And laid the brazen weapon by, and thusRebuked the fiery temper of the god:—

“Thou madman, thou art frantic, thou art lost!Hast thou not ears to hear, nor any shameNor reason left? Hast thou not heard the wordsOf white-armed Juno, who so lately leftOlympian Jupiter? Wouldst thou returnIn pain and sorrow to the Olympian heights,Driven back ingloriously, and made the causeOf many miseries to all the gods?—For Jove would leave the Trojans and their foes,The gallant Greeks, and turn on us, and bringRuin upon Olympus. He would seizeGuilty and guiltless in his rage alike.Wherefore I counsel thee to lay asideResentment for the slaughter of thy son,Since braver men and stronger have been slain,And will be slain hereafter. Vain it wereTo seek from death to save the race of man.”

She said, and, leading back the fiery Mars,Seated him on his throne, while Juno calledApollo forth, with Iris, messengerOf heaven, and thus in wingèd accents spake:—

“Jove calls you both to Ida. When ye reachIts heights, and look upon his countenance,Receive his sovereign mandate and obey.”

So spake imperial Juno, and withdrewAnd took her seat again, while they in hasteFlew toward the mount of Ida, seamed with rillsAnd nurse of savage beasts. Upon the topOf Gargarus they found the Thunderer,The son of Saturn, sitting. In a cloudOf fragrant haze he sat concealed; the twainEntered and stood before the God of Storms,Who saw them not displeased, so speedilyHad they obeyed his consort. First he turnedTo Iris, and in wingèd accents said:—

“Haste thee, swift Iris, and report my wordsTo royal Neptune, and report them right.Bid him, withdrawing from the battle-field,Repair to the assembly of the gods,Or the great ocean. If he disobey,Contemning my command, then bid him thinkMaturely, whether, mighty though he be,He can withstand when I put forth my powerAgainst him. Greater is my strength than his,And elder-born am I. Yet in his prideOf heart he dares to call himself my peer,Though all the others look on me with awe.”

Thus spake the god, and Iris, whose swift feetAre like the wind, obeyed, and downward plungedFrom Ida’s height to sacred Troy. As whenSnow-flakes or icy hail are dropped to earthFrom clouds before the north wind when it sweepsThe sky, so darted Iris to the ground,And stood by mighty Neptune’s side, and said:—

“O dark-haired shaker of the shores, I bringA message from the Aegis-bearer, Jove,That thou, withdrawing from the battle-field,Repair to the assembly of the gods,Or the great ocean. If thou disobey,Contemning his command, then hear his threat:He will come hither and put forth his powerAgainst thee, and he warns thee not to temptThe strife; for greater is his power than thine,And he is elder-born, though in thy prideOf heart thou dost declare thyself the peerOf him whom all the rest regard with awe.”

Illustrious Neptune answered with disdain:—“In truth an arrogant speech; he seeks by forceTo bar me from my purpose, who can claimRights equal to his own, though great his power.We are three brothers—Rhea brought us forth—The sons of Saturn—Jupiter, and I,And Pluto, regent of the realm below.Three parts were made of all existing things,And each of us received his heritage.The lots were shaken; and to me it fellTo dwell forever in the hoary deep,And Pluto took the gloomy realm of night,And, lastly, Jupiter the ample heavenAnd air and clouds. Yet doth the earth remain,With high Olympus, common to us all.Therefore I yield me not to do his will,Great as he is; and let him be contentWith his third part. He cannot frighten meWith gestures of his arm. Let him insultWith menaces the daughters and the sonsOf his own loves, and give them law, since theyPerforce must hear, and patiently submit.”

Then the fleet-footed Iris spake again:—“O dark-haired Neptune, shall I bear from theeThis harsh, defiant answer back to Jove,Or shall it yet be changed? The prudent mindYields to the occasion, and thou knowest wellThe Furies wait upon the elder-born.”

Then spake in turn the god who shakes the shores:—“O goddess Iris, thou hast wisely said.An excellent thing it is when messengersKnow how to counsel well. But in my heartAnd soul a wrathful sense of injuryArises when he chides with insolent wordsMe, who was equal with him in my lot,And born to equal destinies. Yet now,Although offended, I give way; but thisI tell thee, and ’tis from my heart—if he,In spite of me and Pallas, spoiler-queen,And Juno, Mercury, and Vulcan, spareThe towers of Troy—if he refuse to bringRuin on her, and glory on the Greeks,Then let him know that hatred without endOr intermission is between us two.”

As thus he spake, the shaker of the shoresQuitted the Grecian army, took his waySeaward, and plunged into the deep. The hostPerceived their loss. Then Cloud-compelling JoveTurned to Apollo and addressed him thus:—

“Now go at once to Hector, mailed in brass,Beloved Phoebus, for the god who shakesThe earth, departing to the ocean-deeps,Avoids our wrath; else had the other gods,Even they who far beneath the earth surroundOld Saturn, heard our quarrel. Well it isFor both of us that he, although enraged,Braved not my arm, for otherwise the strifeHad not been ended without sweat. Now takeThe fringèd aegis in thy hands, and shakeIts orb before the warrior Greeks, to fillTheir hearts with fear. I give, O archer-god,Illustrious Hector to thy charge. ReviveThe might that dwelt within him, till the GreeksReach, in their flight, the fleet and Hellespont;Then shall it be my care, by word and deed,To give them rest and respite from their toils.”

He spake: Apollo hearkened and obeyedHis father, darting down from Ida’s heightLike the fleet falcon, chaser of the dove,And swiftest of the race of birds. He foundHector, the warlike Priam’s noble son,No longer on his bed. He sat upright;The life was coming back; he knew againHis friends; the heavy breathing ceased; the sweatWas stanched; the will of aegis-bearing JoveRevived the warrior’s strength. The archer-god,Phoebus, approached, and, standing by him, said:—

“Why, Hector, son of Priam, dost thou sitLanguishing thus, apart from all the host?Has aught of evil overtaken thee?”

And then the crested Hector feebly said:“Who mayst thou be, O kindest of the gods,That thus dost question me? Hast thou not heardThat the great warrior Ajax, with a stone,Smote me upon the breast, and made me leaveThe battle-field, where I o’ertook and slewHis comrades by the galleys of the Greeks?I thought to be this day among the deadIn Pluto’s mansion; even now it seemedThat I was breathing my dear life away.”

Then spake again Apollo, archer-god:—“Take courage, for the son of Saturn sendsFrom Ida’s summit one who will attendAnd aid thee—Phoebus of the golden sword,Long practised to defend thy Troy and thee.Rise now, encouraging thy numerous hostOf charioteers to press with their swift steedsStraight toward the roomy galleys of the Greeks,I go before to smooth for them the way,And turn the Achaian bands, and make them flee.”

He spake, and into the great ruler’s breastBreathed strength and courage. As a stabled horse,Fed at his crib with barley, breaks the thongThat fastened him, and, issuing, scours the plainWhere he was wont in some smooth-flowing streamTo bathe his sides—he holds his head aloftProudly, and o’er his shoulders streams the mane—Consciously beautiful, he darts awayOn nimble knees, that bear him to the fieldsHe knows so well, and pastures of the mares;—So after he had hearkened to the godMoved the swift feet of Hector, and he flewTo cheer his horsemen on. As peasant menRush with their dogs in chase of horned stagOr mountain goat, whose refuge is amongThickets and lofty rocks, nor can they takeTheir prey, for at their clamor there appearsA maned lion in the way, and turnsThe chasers back, although in hot pursuit—Thus did the Greeks embattled close pursueThe men of Ilium, striking with their swordsAnd two-edged spears; but when at length they sawHector among the ranks of armèd men,Their hearts were troubled, and their courage sank.

Thoas, Andrannon’s son, the bravest farAmong the Aetolians, skilled to cast the spearAnd combat hand to hand, addressed the Greeks.In council few excelled him, when the youthsAssembled for debate. With prudent speechThoas bespake his fellow-warriors thus:—“Gods! What a marvel do mine eyes behold;Hector has risen from death! We fully thought,Each one of us, that, smitten by the handOf Telamonian Ajax, he had died.Some god hath rescued and restored to strengthThis Hector who hath slain, and yet will slay,I fear, so many Greeks. He comes not thusLeading the charge without the aid of Jove,The God of Thunders. Now let all of usFollow this counsel: bid the multitudeRetreat upon the ships, and let the rest,Who boast ourselves the bravest of the host,Stand firm and breast his onset, and so breakIts fury with our lifted spears. I think,With all his rage, he will be slow to flingHimself into a band of armèd Greeks.”

He spake; they hearkened and at once complied;The Ajaxes, the Prince Idomeneus,Teucer, Meriones, and Meges, peerOf Mars, assembled all the chiefs, and rankedTheir files to encounter Hector and his bandOf Trojans, while the multitude fell backTo the Greek galleys. Then, in close array,The Trojan host moved forward. Hector ledThe van in rapid march. Before him walkedPhoebus, the terrible aegis in his handsDazzlingly bright within its shaggy fringe,By Vulcan forged, the great artificer,And given to Jupiter, with which to routArmies of men. With this in hand he ledThe assailants on. The Achaians kept their groundIn serried ranks, and a sharp yell aroseFrom Greeks and Trojans. Arrows from the stringFlew through the air, and spears from valiant hands.Some pierced the breasts of warrior-youths, but moreFell half-way ere they reached their aim, and plungedInto the ground, still hungering for their prey.As long as Phoebus held the aegis still,The weapons reached and wounded equallyBoth armies, and in both the people fell;But ever when the god looked face to faceOn the Greek knights, and shook the orb, and gaveA mighty shout, he made their hearts to sinkWithin their bosoms, and their courage fled.As when two beasts of prey at dead of nightSuddenly, while their keeper is away,Scatter a herd of beeves or flock of sheep,So the disheartened Greeks were put to routFor Phoebus sent among them fear, and gaveVictory to Hector and the men of Troy.

Then, as the lines were broken, man slew man.First Stichius fell by Hector’s hand, and nextArcesilaus; one was chief amongThe mailed Boeotians, one the trusty friendOf brave Menestheus. Medon fell beforeAeneas, and with him Iasus died.Medon was great Otleus’ base-born son,And Ajax was his brother, and he dweltIn Phylacè, an exile, for his handHad slain the brother of his father’s wife,The step-dame Eriopis, late espoused.Iasus was appointed to commandThe warriors sent from Athens, and he claimedHis birth from Sphelus, son of Bucolus.Mecistes fell before Polydamas.Polites struck down Echius in the van,And Clonius died by great Agenor’s hand;And Paris, when Deiochus had turnedTo flee, among the foremost combatants,Smote him upon the shoulder from behind,And drave the brazen weapon through his heart.

Then, while the Trojans stripped the dead, the GreeksFled every way, and, falling as they ranInto the trench and on the stakes, were drivenBack o’er the rampart. Hector lifted upHis mighty voice, and bade the Trojans leaveThe bloody spoil and hasten to the ships.“And whomsoever I shall find apartIn any place, at distance from the ships,There will I slay him. None of all his kin,Women or men, shall build his funeral pile,But dogs shall tear his limbs in sight of Troy.”

He spake; and on the shoulders of his steedsHe laid the lash, and urged them toward the foe,And cheered the Trojans on. They joined their shoutsTo his, and charged with all their steeds and cars;And fearful was the din. Apollo marchedBefore them, treading down with mighty feetThe banks of the deep ditch, and casting themBack to the middle, till a causey rose,Broad, and of length like that to which a spearReaches when thrown by one who tries his strength.O’er this the Trojans poured into the campBy squadrons, with Apollo still in front,Holding the marvellous aegis. He with easeO’erthrew the rampart. As a boy at playAmong the sea-shore sands in childish sportScatters with feet and hands the little moundsHe reared, thus didst thou cause the mighty work,O archer Phoebus, which the Greeks had rearedWith so much toil, to crumble. Thou didst fillTheir hearts with eager thoughts of flight, till, hemmedBetween the assailants and their ships, they stoppedAnd bade each other stand, and raised their handsTo all the gods, and offered vows aloud.Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,With arms extended toward the starry skies,Prayed earnestly: “O Father Jove, if e’erIn fruitful Argos there were burned to theeThe thighs of fattened oxen or of sheep,By one who asked a safe return to Greece,And thou didst promise it, remember him,God of Olympus, and avert from usThe day of evil. Suffer not the GreeksTo perish, slaughtered by the sons of Troy.”

So spake he supplicating. JupiterThe All-disposer thundered as he heardThe old man’s prayer. The Trojans by that voiceOf aegis-bearing Jove were moved to pressThe Greeks more resolutely, and were filledWith fiercer valor. As a mighty waveOn the great ocean, driven before a galeSuch as rolls up the hugest billow, sweepsO’er the ship’s side, so swept the Trojan hostWith dreadful tumult o’er the wall. They draveTheir steeds into the camp, and there they foughtBeside the galley-sterns, and hand to hand,With two-edged spears—they from their cars, the GreeksFrom their black ships on high with long-stemmed polesWhich lay upon the decks, prepared for fightAt sea, and strongly joined to blades of brass.

Patroclus, while the Greeks and Trojans foughtAround the wall, at distance from the fleetSat with the brave Eurypylus in his tent,Amusing him with pleasant talk, and dressedHis wound with balms that calmed the bitter pain.But when he saw the Trojans bursting inOver the wall, and heard the din, and sawThe Achaians put to rout, he gave a cryOf sudden grief, and with his open handsSmote both his thighs, and sorrowfully said:—

“Eurypylus, I cannot stay with thee,Much as thou needest me, for desperate growsThe struggle. Now let thine attendant takeThe charge of thee. I hasten to persuadeAchilles to the field. Who knows but I,With Jove’s good help, may change his purpose yet?For potent are the counsels of a friend.”

The hero spake, and instantly his feetBore him away. Meanwhile the Achaian hostFirmly withstood the onset of their foes.And yet, though greater was their multitude,They could not drive the Trojans from the fleet,Nor could the Trojans break, with all their power,The serried lines, and reach the tents and ships.As when a plumb-line, in the skilful handsOf shipwright well instructed in his artBy Pallas, squares the beam that builds a barque,So even was the fortune of the fray.

While some beside one galley waged the war,And others round another, Hector cameTo encounter Ajax the renowned, and bothFought for one ship. The Trojan could not driveThe Greek away, and burn his ship with fire,Nor the Greek drive the Trojan, for a godHad brought him thither. Then did Ajax smiteCaletor, son of Clytius, with his spearUpon the breast, as he was bringing fireTo burn the ship; he dropped the torch, and fell,With clashing armor. Hector, as he sawHis kinsman lying slain amid the dustBy the black galley, raised his voice, and thusCalled to the Lycians and the men of Troy:—

“Hear, men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sonsOf Dardanus, who combat hand to hand,Stand firm, and never yield this narrow ground.Rescue the son of Clytius, who has fallenBefore the ships, nor let the Achaians makeHis arms their spoil.” The hero spake, and aimedHis shining spear at Ajax, whom it missed,But smote Lycophron, Master’s son, who servedAjax, and dwelt with him, for he had leftHis native land, Cythera, having slainOne of the gallant Cytherean race.Him Hector smote upon the head beneathThe ear with his keen weapon, as he stoodNear Ajax; from the galley’s stern he fellHeadlong upon the ground, with lifeless limbs.Then to his brother Teucer Ajax spake:—

“Dear Teucer, see, our faithful friend is gone,The son of Mastor, from Cythera’s isle,Whom we had learned to honor equallyWith our own parents in our palaces.He falls before the great-souled Hector’s hand.Where, then, are now thy shafts that carry death,And where the bow that Phoebus gave to thee?”

He spake, and Teucer, hearkening, came in haste,With his bent bow, and quiver full of shafts,And, standing near him, sent his arrows forthAmong the Trojan warriors. There he smoteClitus, Pisenor’s eminent son, the friendOf the renowned Polydamas, who claimedHis birth from Panthoüs. Clitus held the reins,Guiding the coursers of PolydamasWhere most the crowded Grecian phalanxesWavered and broke, that so he might supportHector and his companions. Soon he met,Brave as he was, disaster which no handHad power to avert: the bitter arrow struckHis neck behind, and from the chariot-seatHe fell to earth; the startled steeds sprang back;The empty chariot rattled. This the kingPolydamas perceived, and came to meetHis steeds, and gave them to Astinous,The son of Protiaon, charging himTo keep them ever near, and in his sight,While he, returning, mingled with the throngThat struggled in the van. Then Teucer aimedAnother shaft at Hector mailed in brass,Which, had it reached him fighting gallantly,Had made him leave the battle, for his lifeHad ended there. The act was not unseenBy All-disposing Jupiter, whose powerProtected Hector, and denied the GreekThe glory hoped for; for he snapped in twainThe firmly twisted cord as Teucer drewThat perfect bow; the brazen arrow flewAside; the warrior’s hands let fall the bow,And, shuddering, he bespake his brother thus:—

“Now woe is me! Some deity, no doubt,Brings all our plans to nought. ’Tis he whose touchStrikes from my hand the bow, and snaps in twainThe cord just twisted, which I bound myselfThis morning to the bow, that it might bearThe frequent arrow bounding toward the foe.”

He spake, and thus replied the man of might,The Telamonian Ajax: “Lay asideThy bow, my brother, and thy store of shafts,Since, in displeasure with the Greeks, a godHas made them useless. Haste to arm thy handWith a long spear, and on thy shoulders layA buckler, and with these attack the foe,And bid thy fellows stand. Let Trojans seeThat, even though the day thus far be theirs,They cannot lay their hands on our good shipsWithout a mighty struggle. Let us allBe mindful of our fame for gallant deeds.”

He spake, and Teucer went to place the bowWithin the tents, and on his shoulders hungA fourfold shield, and placed on his grand browsA stately helmet with a horse-hair crestThat nodded fearfully. He took in handA ponderous spear with brazen blade, and sprangForward with hasty steps, and stood besideHis brother Ajax. Hector, when he sawThat Teucer’s shafts had failed him, called aloudUpon the men of Lycia and of Troy:—

“Ye men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sonsOf Dardanus who combat hand to hand,Acquit yourselves like men, my friends, and proveYour fiery valor by these roomy ships;For I have seen with mine own eyes the shaftsOf their chief warrior rendered impotentBy Jupiter. His hand is plainly seenAmong the sons of men; to some he givesGlory above the rest; from some he takesThe glory, and withdraws from their defence.He withers now the courage of the Greeks,And succors us. Press closely round the fleet,And combat. Whosoe’er among you all,Wounded or beaten down, shall meet his death,So let him die; ’tis no inglorious fateTo perish fighting in his country’s cause;And he shall leave his wife and children safe,His home and household store inviolate,If now the Greeks depart to their own land.”

With words like these he filled their hearts anewWith strength and courage. On the other sideAjax exhorted thus his warrior friends:—

“Shame on you, Greeks! We perish here, unlessWe rescue with strong arms our host and fleet.Think ye that, should the crested Hector seizeOur galleys, ye may reach your homes on foot?Hear ye not Hector’s voice, who, fiercely bentTo burn our ships with fire, is cheering onHis warriors? To no dance he summons them,But to the battle. Nought is left for us,And other counsel there is none, save this:Close with the foe; let every hand put forthIts strength; far better’t were to die at once,Or make at once our safety sure, than thusTo waste away, in lingering fight, besideOur ships, destroyed by weaker arms than ours.”

So spake the chief, and all who heard receivedCourage and strength. Then Hector put to deathSchedius, the son of Perimedes, princeOf the Phocaeans. Ajax also slewLaodamas, Antenor’s honored son,A chief of infantry. PolydamasStruck down Cyllenian Otus, who had come,The comrade of Phylides, at the headOf the high-souled Epeians. Meges saw,And rushed upon Polydamas, who sprangAside unharmed, for Phoebus suffered notThe son of Panthoüs thus to be o’erthrown,Fighting among the foremost. But the spearOf Meges wounded Croesmus in the breast;He fell with clanging arms. The slayer strippedThe corpse; but Dolops, son of Lampus, skilledTo wield the spear, leaped on him in the act.Lampus, the father, best of men, was sonOf king Laomedon, and eminentFor warlike prowess. Dolops struck the shieldOf Meges in the midst; the corselet stayedThe blade with its close jointed plates, and savedThe warrior’s life. That corselet Phyleus broughtFrom Ephyrè, beside the Selleis,Given by his host, Euphetes, king of men,For his defence in battle, and it nowPreserved his son from death. Then Meges smoteWith his sharp spear the helm that Dolops wore,And from its summit struck the horse-hair crest,New-tinged with purple, and the cone entireFell midst the dust. While Meges, standing firm,Fought thus, and hoped the victory, to his aidCame warlike Menelaus, unobserved,And, standing near, smote Dolops from behind,Beneath the shoulder, and drave through the spearTill it appeared beyond. The Trojan fellUpon his face, and both the Greeks rushed onTo wrench the brazen armor from his limbs,When Hector saw his fall and called aloudUpon the kindred of the slain. He firstRebuked the valiant Melanippus, sonOf Hicetaon, who but lately fedHis slow-paced beeves at Percote, while yetThe enemy was far from Troy; but whenThe Achaians landed from their well-oared barques,He came to Troy, and took an eminent placeAmong the Trojans. Near to Priam’s hallsHe had his dwelling, honored equallyWith Priam’s sons. Him Hector thus rebuked:—

“Why, Melanippus, are we loitering thus?Grievest thou not to see thy kinsman slain?And see’st thou not how eagerly the GreeksAre spoiling Dolops of his arms? Come onWith me. No time is this for distant fight,But either we must rout the Greeks, or theyWill level to the ground the lofty towersOf Ilium, and will slay its citizens.”

He spake, and led the way; his godlike friendFollowed him, while the son of Telamon,Ajax, exhorted thus the sons of Greece:—

“Be men, my friends, and let a noble dreadOf shame possess your hearts, and jealouslyLook to each other’s honor in the heatOf battle; for to men who flee there comesNo glory, and that way no safety lies.”

He spake, and all were eager to drive backThe assaulting foe; they heeded well his words,And drew around their barques a fence of mail,While Jove urged on the Trojans. Then it wasThat Menelaus, brave in battle, spakeTo rouse the courage of Antilochus:—

“Antilochus, there is no other GreekYounger than thou, or fleeter; none so strongFor combat. Would that, springing on the foe,Thou mightest strike some Trojan warrior down.”

So speaking, he drew back; but he had rousedThe courage of his friend, who, springing forthFrom midst the foremost combatants, took aim,First looking keenly round, with his bright spear,From which the Trojans shrank as they beheldThe hero cast it. Not in vain he threwThe weapon, for it struck upon the breastBrave Melanippus, Hicetaon’s son;Beneath the pap it smote him as he came.He fell with ringing arms; AntilochusSprang toward him like a hound that springs to seizeA wounded fawn, which, leaping from its lair,Is stretched disabled by the hunter’s dart.So sprang the stout Antilochus on thee,O Melanippus!—sprang to spoil thy limbsOf armor; but the noble Hector saw,And, hastening through the thick of battle, cameAgainst him. Mighty as he was in war,Yet ventured not Antilochus to waitHis coming; but as flees a savage beast,Conscious of guilty deed, when, having slainHerdsman or hound, that kept the pastured kine,He steals away before a crowd of men,So fled the son of Nestor. On his rearThe Trojans under Hector poured a stormOf weapons, and the din was terrible.Yet when he reached the serried ranks of GreeceHe turned and stood. Meanwhile the Trojan host,Like ravening lions, fiercely rushed againstThe galleys, that the will of JupiterMight be fulfilled; for now he nerved their limbsWith vigor ever new, while he deniedStout hearts and victory to the Greeks, and cheeredTheir foes with hope. His purpose was to giveThe victory to Hector, Priam’s son,Till he should cast upon the beaked shipsThe fierce, devouring fire, and bring to passThe end for which the cruel Thetis prayed.

Therefore did Jove the All-disposer waitTill from a burning galley he should seeThe flames arise. Then must the Trojan host—Such was his will—retreating from the fleet,Yield to the Greeks the glory of the day.For this he moved the already eager heartOf Hector, son of Priam, to attackThe roomy ships. The hero was arousedTo fury fierce as Mars when brandishingHis spear, or as a desolating flameThat rages on a mountain-side amongThe thickets of a close-grown wood. His lipsWere white with foam; his eyes from underneathHis frowning brows streamed fire; and as he fought,Upon the hero’s temples fearfullyThe helmet nodded. Jupiter himselfSent aid from his high seat, and heaped on himHonor and fame beyond the other chiefs—And they were many—for his term of lifeWas to be short. Minerva even nowWas planning to bring on its closing day,Made fatal by the might of Peleus’ son.And now he strove to break the Grecian ranks,Assaulting where he saw the thickest crowdAnd the best weapons; yet in vain he stroveWith all his valor. Through the serried linesHe could not break; the Greeks in solid squaresResisted, like a rock that huge and highBy the gray deep abides the buffetingsOf the shrill winds and swollen waves that beatAgainst it. Firmly thus the Greeks withstoodThe Trojan host, and fled not. In a blazeOf armor, Hector, rushing toward their ranks,Fell on them like a mighty billow raisedBy the strong cloud-born winds, that flings itselfOn a swift ship, and whelms it in its spray,While fearfully among the cordage howlsThe blast; the sailors tremble and are faintWith fear, as men who deem their death-hour nigh.So the Greek warriors were dismayed at heart.

As when a hungry lion suddenlySprings on a herd of kine that crop the grassBy hundreds in the broad moist meadow-grounds,Beneath the eye of one who never learnedTo guard his hornèd charge from beasts of prey,But ever walks before them or behind,While the grim spoiler bounds into the midstAnd makes a prey of one, and all the restAre scattered in affright, so all the GreeksWere scattered by the will of heaven beforeHector and Father Jove. Yet only one,Young Periphoetes of Mycenae, fell,The son of Copreus. Once his father wentAn envoy from Eurystheus to the courtOf mighty Hercules. The son excelledThe father in all gifts of form and mind,In speed, in war, in council eminentAmong the noblest of his land. His deathBrought Hector new renown; for as he turned,Stepping by chance upon his buckler’s rim,That reached the ground—the buckler which had beenHis fence against the enemy’s darts—he fellBackward, his helmet clashing fearfullyAround his temples. Hector saw, and cameIn haste, and pierced his bosom with his spear,Among his fellow-warriors, who with griefBeheld, yet dared not aid him, such their aweOf noble Hector. Now the Greeks retiredAmong that row of galleys which were firstDrawn up the beach; the foe poured after them,In hot pursuit; again the Greeks fell back,Constrained, and left that foremost row behind,And stood beside their tents in close array,And not dispersed throughout the camp, for shameAnd fear restrained them, and unceasinglyWith shouts they bade each other bravely stand.Chiefly Gerenian Nestor, wise to guideThe counsels of the Greeks, adjured them all,And in their parents’ name, to keep their ground.

“O friends, be men; so act that none may feelAshamed to meet the eyes of other men.Think each one of his children and his wife,His home, his parents, living yet or dead.For them, the absent ones, I supplicate,And bid you rally here, and scorn to fly.”

He spake, and his brave words to every heartCarried new strength and courage. Pallas thenLifted the heaven-sent cloud that veiled the fight,And all things in the clear full light were seenOn either side, both where the galleys layAnd where the warriors struggled. They beheldHector the great in war, and all his host,Both those who formed the rear and wielded notTheir arms, and those who combated in frontBeside the ships. And now it pleased no moreThe soul of valiant Ajax to remainIn the thick squadrons with the other Greeks,But, striding on the galley-decks, he boreA sea-pike two and twenty cubits long,Huge, and beset with iron nails. As whenOne who is skilled to vault on running steedsChooses four horses from a numerous herd,And on the highway to a populous townDrives them, while men and women in a crowdBehold his feats with wonder, as he leapsBoldly, without a fall, from steed to steed,And back again, and all the while they run,So on the lofty decks of those good shipsFrom ship to ship flew Ajax, lifting upHis mighty voice—a shout that reached to heaven—And bade the Greeks defend their fleet and tents.Nor loitered Hector in those armèd throngsOf Troy, but as a tawny eagle swoopsUpon a flock of birds that seek their foodAlong a river’s border—geese or cranes,Or long-necked swans—so Hector in hot hasteSprang toward a galley with an azure prow,While mightily the power of Jove impelledThe hero onward, and inflamed his trainWith courage. Fiercely then around the shipsThe struggle was renewed. Thou wouldst have saidNo toils of war could tire those resolute arms,So stubbornly they fought. In every mindThe thought was this: the Greeks were in despairOf rescue, and believed their hour had comeTo perish; every Trojan hoped to giveThe fleet to flames, and slay the sons of Greece.With thoughts like these the hostile warriors closed.

Then Hector laid his hand upon the sternOf a stanch galley, beautiful and swift,In which Protesilaüs came to Troy—It never bore him back. Around its keelThe Trojans and the Greeks fought hand to hand,And slew each other. For no more they sentThe arrow or the javelin from afar,Waiting to see the wound it gave, but eachWith equal fury pressed upon his foeWith halberd and with trenchant battle-axe,Huge sword and two-edged spear. Upon the groundHad fallen many a fair black-hilted swordWith solid handles, some from slain men’s hands,Some from lopped arms of warriors; the dark earthRan red with blood. But Hector, having laidHis hand upon the galley’s stern, held fastTo the carved point, and called upon his men:—

“Bring fire, and press in throngs upon the foe;For now doth Jove vouchsafe to us a dayWorth all the past—a day on which we makeThe ships our prey. Against the will of HeavenThey landed on our coast, and brought on usDisasters many, through the coward fearsOf our own elders, who denied my wishTo combat at the galleys, and held backThe people. But if then the ThundererDarkened our minds, his spirit moves us nowIn what we do, and we obey his will.”

He spake; and they with fiercer valor fellUpon the Greeks. Even Ajax could no moreWithstand the charge, but, fearing to be slain,Amid a storm of darts withdrew a space,To where the seven-foot bench of rowers lay,And left the galley’s stern. There, as he stood,He watched the assailants keenly, and beat backWith thrusts of his long spear whoever broughtThe firebrand. With terrific shouts he calledUpon the Greeks to combat manfully:—

“O friends, Achaian heroes, ministersOf Mars, be men, be mindful of your fameFor valor. Do ye dream that in your rearAre succors waiting us, or firmer wallsThat may protect us yet? Nay, no fenced townHave we for refuge, flanked with towers from whichFresh troops may take our place. Between the seaAnd country of the well-armed Trojans lieOur tents; our native land is far away;And now our only hope of safety leftIs in our weapons: there is no retreat.”

He spake, and mightily with his sharp spearThrust at whoever of the men of TroyAt Hector’s bidding came with fire to burnThe galleys. On the blade of that long spearThe hero took them as they came, and slewIn close encounter twelve before the fleet.