Book II: The Trial of the Army, and Catalogue of the Forces

All other deities, all mortal men,Tamers of war-steeds, slept the whole night through;But no sweet slumber came to Jove; his thoughtsWere ever busy with the anxious careTo crown with honor Peleus’ son, and causeMyriads to perish at the Grecian fleet.At last, this counsel seemed the best—to sendA treacherous dream to Agamemnon, sonOf Atreus. Then he called a Dream, and thusAddressing it with wingèd words, he said:—

“Go, fatal Vision, to the Grecian fleet,And, entering Agamemnon’s tent, declareFaithfully what I bid thee. Give commandThat now he arm, with all the array of war,The long-haired Greeks, for lo, the hour is comeThat gives into his hands the city of TroyWith all its spacious streets. The powers who dwellIn the celestial mansions are no moreAt variance; Juno’s prayers have moved them all,And o’er the Trojans hangs a fearful doom.”

So spake the God; the Vision heard, and wentAt once to where the Grecian barques were moored,And entered Agamemnon’s tent and foundThe king reposing, with the balm of sleepPoured all around him. At his head the DreamTook station in the form of Neleus’ son,Nestor, whom Agamemnon honored mostOf all the aged men. In such a shapeThe heaven-sent Dream to Agamemnon spake:—

“O warrior-son of Atreus, sleepest thou?Tamer of steeds! It ill becomes a chief,Who has the charge of nations and sustainsSuch mighty cares, to sleep the livelong night.Give earnest heed to me, for I am comeA messenger from Jove, who, though far off,Takes part in thy concerns and pities thee.He bids thee arm, with all the array of war,The long-haired Greeks, for now the hour is comeWhich gives into thy hands the city of TroyWith all its spacious streets. The powers that dwellIn the celestial mansions are no moreAt variance; Juno’s prayers have moved them all,And o’er the Trojans hangs a fearful doom,Decreed by Jove. Bear what I say in mind,And when thy sleep departs forget it not.”

He spake, and, disappearing, left the kingMusing on things that never were to be;For on that very day he thought to takeThe city of Priam. Fool! who little knewWhat Jupiter designed should come to pass,And little thought by his own act to bringGreat woe and grief on Greeks and Trojans bothIn hard-fought battles. From his sleep he woke,The heavenly voice still sounding in his ears,And sat upright, and put his tunic on,Soft, fair, and new, and over that he castHis ample cloak, and round his shapely feetLaced the becoming sandals. Next, he hungUpon his shoulders and his side the swordWith silver studs, and took into his handThe ancestral sceptre, old, but undecayed,And with it turned his footsteps toward the fleetOf the Achaian warriors brazen-mailed.

Now Dawn, the goddess, climbed the Olympian height,Foretelling Day to Jupiter and allThe immortal gods, when Agamemnon badeThe shrill-voiced heralds call the long-haired GreeksTogether; they proclaimed his will, and straightThe warriors came in throngs. But first he badeA council of large-minded elders meetOn Pylian Nestor’s royal barque, and thereLaid his well-pondered thought before them:—

“My friends, give ear: a Vision from aboveCame to me sleeping in the balmy night;Most like to noble Nestor was its look,Its face, its stature, and its garb. It stoodBeside me at my head, and thus it spake:—

“O warrior-son of Atreus, sleepest thou?Tamer of steeds! It ill becomes a chief,Who has the charge of nations and sustainsSuch mighty cares, to sleep the livelong night.Give earnest heed to me, for I am comeA messenger from Jove, who, though far off,Takes part in thy concerns and pities thee.He bids thee arm, with all the array of war,The long-haired Greeks, for now the hour is comeWhich gives into thy hands the city of TroyWith all its spacious streets. The powers who dwellIn the celestial mansions are no moreAt variance; Juno’s prayers have moved them all,And o’er the Trojans hangs a fearful doom,Decreed by Jove. Bear what I say in mind.”

“It spake and passed away, and with it fledMy slumbers. Now must we devise a wayTo bring into the field the sons of Greece.I first will try, as best I may, with words,And counsel flight from Troy with all our ships.Ye each, with different counsels, do your part.”

He spake, and took his seat, and after himNestor, the king of sandy Pylus, rose,With well-considered words. “O friends,” he said,“Leaders and princes of the Grecian race,Had any other of the Argive hostRelated such a dream, we should have saidThe tale is false, and spurned the counsel given,But he has seen it who in rank and powerTranscends us all, and ours it is to seeHow we may arm for war the sons of Greece.”

He spake, and left the council, and the rest,All sceptred kings, arose, prepared to obeyThe shepherd of the people. All the GreeksMeanwhile came thronging to the appointed place.As, swarming forth from cells within the rock,Coming and coming still, the tribe of beesFly in a cluster o’er the flowers of spring,And some are darting out to right and left,So from the ships and tents a multitudeAlong the spacious beach, in mighty throngs,Moved toward the assembly. Rumor went with them,The messenger of Jove, and urged them on.And now, when they were met, the place was stunnedWith clamor; earth, as the great crowd sat down,Groaned under them; a din of mingled criesArose; nine shouting heralds strove to hushThe noisy crowd to silence, that at lengthThe heaven-descended monarchs might be heard.

And when the crowd was seated and had pausedFrom clamor, Agamemnon rose. He heldThe sceptre; Vulcan’s skill had fashioned it,And Vulcan gave it to Saturnian Jove,And Jove bestowed it on his messenger,The Argus-queller Hermes. He in turnGave it to Pelops, great in horsemanship;And Pelops passed the gift to Atreus next,The people’s shepherd. Atreus, when he died,Bequeathed it to Thyestes, rich in flocks;And last, Thyestes left it to be borneBy Agamemnon, symbol of his ruleO’er many isles and all the Argive realm.Leaning on this, he spake these wingèd words:—

“Friends, Grecian heroes, ministers of Mars,Saturnian Jove hath in an evil netEntangled me most cruelly. He gaveHis promise and his nod, that, having razedTroy with her strong defences, I should seeMy home again; but now he meditatesTo wrong me, and commands me to return,With lessened glory and much people lost,To Argos. Thus hath it seemed good to JoveThe mighty, who hath overthrown the towersOf many a city, and will yet o’erthrow.The ages yet to come will hear with shameThat such a mighty army of the GreeksHave waged a fruitless war, and fought in vainA foe less numerous; yet no end appearsTo this long strife. Should Greeks and Trojans makeA treaty, faithfully to number each,And should the Trojans count their citizens,And we the Greeks, disposed in rows of tens,Should call the Trojans singly to pour outThe wine for us, full many a companyOf ten would lack its cup-bearer; so far,I judge, the sons of Greece outnumber thoseWho dwell in Troy. But they have yet alliesFrom many a city, men who wield the spear,Withstanding my attempt to overthrowThat populous town. Nine years of mighty JoveHave passed already, and the planks that formOur barques are mouldering, and the cables dropIn pieces, and our wives within their homes,With their young children, sit expecting us;Yet is the enterprise for which we cameStill unperformed. Now let us all obeyThe mandate I reveal, and hasten hence,With all our fleet, to our beloved homes;For Troy with her broad streets we cannot take.”

He spake, and in the bosoms of the crowdStirred every heart; even those who heard him notWere moved: the assembly wavered to and froLike the long billows of the Icarian Sea,Roused by the East wind and the South, that rushForth from the cloudy seat of Father Jove;Or like the harvest-field, when west winds stoopSuddenly from above, and toss the wheat.So was the whole assembly swayed; they ranWith tumult to the ships; beneath their feetRose clouds of dust, and each exhorted eachTo seize the ships and drag them to the deep.They cleared the channels mid the clamorous criesOf multitudes, who hastened to return,And drew the props from underneath their barques.

Then had the Greeks returned before their timeIf Juno had not to Minerva said:—

“Unconquerable child of Jove! What changeIs this? Shall then the Argive army thusFlee to their homes across the deep and leaveGlory to Priam, and to Ilium’s sonsThe Argive Helen, for whose sake have diedSo many Greeks upon the Trojan strand,Far from the land they loved? But hasten thouTo the host of Argive warriors mailed in brass,And with persuasive words restrain their men.Nor let them launch their barques upon the sea.”

She spake; nor did the blue-eyed Pallas failTo heed the mandate, but with quick descentShe left the Olympian height and suddenlyStood by the swift ships of the Grecian host.She found Ulysses there, the man endowedWith wisdom like to Jove’s; he had not touchedHis well-appointed barque, for grief had seizedThe hero’s heart. The blue-eyed goddess tookHer place beside him, and addressed him thus:—

“Son of Laertes, nobly born and sageUlysses, will ye, entering your good ships,Return in flight to your own land and leaveGlory to Priam, and to Ilium’s sonsThe Argive Helen, for whose sake have diedSo many Greeks upon the Trojan strand,Far from the land they loved? Go thou at onceAnd seek the Argive warriors and restrainWith thy persuasive words the impatient men,Nor let them launch their well-appointed ships.”

She spake; Ulysses knew the heavenly voice,And hastened back, and as he ran cast byHis cloak. Eurybates of Ithaca,The herald, caught it as he followed him.And now before Atrides, king of men,The warrior stood, and from his hand receivedThe ancestral sceptre, old, but undecayed;And bearing this, he went among the shipsWhich brought the Achaian army, mailed in brass;And whomsoe’er he met upon his way,Monarch or eminent among the host,He stopped him, and addressed him blandly, thus:—

“Good friend, this eager haste as if from fearBefits thee not. Sit down, and cause the restTo sit. What Agamemnon’s will may beThou canst not yet be certain; he intendsTo try the Greeks, and soon will punish thoseWho act amiss. We cannot all have heardWhat he has said; beware, then, lest his wrathFall heavily upon the sons of Greece.The monarch, foster-child of Jupiter,Is terrible enraged. AuthorityIs given by Jove, all-wise, who loves the king.”

But when he found one of the lower sortShouting and brawling, with the royal wandHe smote him, and reproved him sharply, thus:—

“Friend, take thy seat in quiet, and attendTo what thy betters say; thou art not strongNor valiant, and thou art of mean reputeIn combat and in council. We, the Greeks,Cannot be all supreme in power. The ruleOf the many is not well. One must be chiefIn war, and one the king, to whom the sonOf Saturn gives the sceptre, making himThe lawgiver, that he may rule the rest.”

Thus did he act the chief, and make the hostObey his word; they to the council groundCame rushing back from all the ships and tentsWith tumult, as, on the long-stretching shoreOf ocean many-voiced, his billows flingThemselves in fury, and the deep resounds.

All others took their seats and kept their place;Thersites only, clamorous of tongue,Kept brawling. He, with many insolent words,Was wont to seek unseemly strife with kings,Uttering whate’er it seemed to him might moveThe Greeks to laughter. Of the multitudeWho came to Ilium, none so base as he—Squint-eyed, with one lame foot, and on his backA lump, and shoulders curving towards the chest;His head was sharp, and over it the hairsWere thinly scattered. Hateful to the chiefsAchilles and Ulysses, he would oftRevile them. He to Agamemnon nowCalled with shrill voice and taunting words. The GreeksHeard him impatiently, with strong disgustAnd vehement anger, yet he shouted stillTo Agamemnon, and kept railing on:—

“Of what dost thou complain; what wouldst thou more,Atrides? In thy tents are heaps of gold;Thy tents are full of chosen damsels, givenTo thee before all others, by the Greeks,Whene’er we take a city. Dost thou yetHanker for gold, brought by some Trojan knight,A ransom for his son, whom I shall lead—I, or some other Greek—a captive bound?Or dost thou wish, for thy more idle hours,Some maiden, whom thou mayst detain apart?Ill it beseems a prince like thee to leadThe sons of Greece, for such a cause as this,Into new perils. O ye coward race!Ye abject Greeklings, Greeks no longer, hasteHomeward with all the fleet, and let us leaveThis man at Troy to win his trophies here,That he may learn whether the aid we giveAvails him aught or not, since he insultsAchilles, a far braver man than he,And takes from him by force and holds his prize.And yet, Achilles is not moved by thisTo anger: he is spiritless, or else,Atrides, this injustice were thy last.”

Taunting the shepherd of the people thus,Thersites shouted to the king of men.But great Ulysses, coming quickly up,Rebuked him with a frown: “Thou garrulous wretch!Glib as thou art of tongue, Thersites, cease,Nor singly dare to seek dispute with kings.There came, I deem, no viler wretch than thouTo Troy with Agamemnon. Prate no moreOf kings, reviling them, and keeping watchFor pretexts to return. We know not yetWhether to go or to remain were best.Thou railest at the shepherd of the host,Atrides Agamemnon, for thou seestThe Grecian heroes load him with rewards,While thou insultest him with scurrilous words.I tell thee now—and I shall keep my word—If e’er again I find thee railing on,As now thou dost, then let Ulysses wearHis head no longer, let me not be calledThe father of Telemachus, if IShall fail to seize thee, and to strip thee bareOf cloak and tunic, and whatever elseCovers thy carcass, and to send thee forth,Howling, to our swift barques upon the shore,Scourged from the council with a storm of blows.”

He spake, and with his sceptre smote the backAnd shoulders of the scoffer, who crouched lowAnd shed a shower of tears. A bloody whelkRose where the golden sceptre fell. He tookHis seat, dismayed, and still in pain wiped offThe tears from his smutched face. The multitudeAround him, though in anxious mood, were movedTo smiles, and one addressed his neighbor thus:—

“Strange that Ulysses does a thousand thingsSo well—so wise in council, and in warSo brave; and for the Grecian army nowHe does the best of all, in silencingThe chatter of this saucy slanderer,Whose acrid temper will not soon againMove him to rail with insolent speech at kings.”

So talked the multitude. Ulysses then,Holding the sceptre, rose, and by his sideThe blue-eyed Pallas, in a herald’s form,Commanded silence, that the Argive host—The mightiest and the meanest—might attendTo what should now be said, and calmly weighThe counsel given them. With a prudent artUlysses framed his speech, and thus he spake:—

“The Greeks, O Atreus’ son, would bring on theeDishonor in the eyes and speech of men,Breaking the promise made when first they cameFrom Argos, famed for steeds, that, having spoiledThis well-defended Troy, thou shouldst returnA conqueror. And now, like tender boysOr widowed women, all give way to griefAnd languish to return. ’Twere hard to bearIf, after all our sufferings and our toils,We go back now. And yet, whoe’er remainsA single month away from wife and homeChafes if the winter storms and angry seaDetain him still on board his well-oared barque;And we have seen the ninth full year roll roundSince we came hither. Therefore blame I notThe Greeks if they in their beaked ships repineAt this delay. But then it were disgraceTo linger here so long and journey homeWith empty hands. Bear with us yet, and waitTill it be certain whether Calchas speaksTruly or not. For we remember well,And all of you whom cruel death has sparedAre witnesses with me, that when the shipsOf Greece—it seems as if but yesterday—Mustered in Aulis on their way to bringWoe upon Priam and the town of Troy,And we, beside a fountain, offered upOn sacred altars chosen hecatombs,Under a shapely plane-tree, from whose rootFlowed the clear water, there appeared to usA wondrous sign. A frightful serpent, markedWith crimson spots, which Jupiter sent forthTo daylight from beneath the altar-stone,Came swiftly gliding toward the tree, whereonA sparrow had her young—eight unfledged birds—Upon the topmost bough and screened by leaves;The mother was the ninth. The serpent seizedThe helpless brood and midst their piteous criesDevoured them, while the mother fluttered round,Lamenting, till he caught her by the wing;And when he had destroyed the parent birdAnd all her brood, the god who sent him forthMade him a greater marvel still. The sonOf crafty Saturn changed the snake to stone;And we who stood around were sore amazed.Such was the awful portent which the godsShowed at that sacrifice. But Calchas thusInstantly spake, interpreting the sign:—“ ‘O long haired Greeks,’ he said, ‘why stand ye thusIn silence? All-foreseeing JupiterHath sent this mighty omen; late it comesAnd late will be fulfilled, yet gloriously,And with a fame that never shall decay.For as the snake devoured the sparrow’s brood,Eight nestlings, and the mother-bird the ninth—So many years the war shall last; the tenthShall give into our hands the stately Troy.’

“So spake the seer; thus far his words are true.Bide ye then here, ye well-greaved sons of Greece,Until the city of Priam shall be ours.”

He spake, and loud applause thereon ensuedFrom all the Greeks, and fearfully the shipsRang with the clamorous voices utteringThe praises of Ulysses and his words.Then Nestor, the Gerenian knight, aroseAnd thus addressed them: “Strangely ye behave,Like boys unwonted to the tasks of war.Where now are all your promises and oaths?Shall all our counselings and all our cares,Leagues made with wine, religiously outpoured,And plightings of the strong right hand, be castInto the flames? Idly we keep aliveA strife of words, which serves no end though longWe loiter here! But thou, Atrides, firmOf purpose, give command that now the GreeksMove to the war, and leave to meet their fateThose—one or more—who, parting from our host,Meditate—but I deem in vain—to fleeHomeward to Argos ere they are assuredWhether the word of Jove omnipotentBe false or true. For when the Greeks embarkedIn their swift ships, to carry death and fateTo Ilium’s sons, almighty JupiterFlung down his lightnings on the right and gavePropitious omens. Therefore let no GreekGo home till he possess a Trojan wifeAnd ye have signally avenged the wrongsAnd griefs of Helen. Yet, if one be hereWho longs to go, let him but lay his handOn his black ship, prepared to cross the deep,And he shall die before the rest. But thou,O king, be wisely counselled, lend an earTo others, nor neglect what I propose.Marshal the Greeks by tribes and brotherhoods,That tribe may stand by tribe, and brotherhoodsSuccor each other; if thou thus commandAnd they obey, thou shalt discern which chiefOr soldier is faint-hearted, which is brave,For each will fight his best, and thou shalt knowWhether through favor of the gods to Troy,Or our own cowardice and shameful lackOf skill in war, the town is not o’erthrown.”

In turn the monarch Agamemnon spake:—“O aged warrior, thou excellest allThe Greeks in council. Would to Jupiter,To Pallas and Apollo, that with meThere were but ten such comrades. Priam’s townWould quickly fall before us and be madeA desolation. But the god who bearsThe aegis, Saturn’s son, hath cast on meMuch grief, entangling me in idle strifesAnd angry broils. Achilles and myselfHave quarrelled for a maid with bitter words,And I was first incensed. But if againWe meet and act as friends, the overthrowThat threatens Ilium will not be delayed—Not for an hour. Now all to your repast!And then prepare for battle. First let eachSee that his spear be sharp, and put his shieldIn order, give to his swift-footed steedsTheir ample forage, and o’erlook his carThat it be strong for war; for all the dayShall we maintain the stubborn fight, nor ceaseEven for a moment, till the night come downTo part the wrathful combatants. The bandOf each broad buckler shall be moist with sweatOn every breast, and weary every armThat wields the spear, and every horse that dragsThe polished chariot o’er the field shall smokeWith sweat. But whosoever shall be foundBy the beaked ships and skulking from the frayShall be the feast of birds of prey and dogs!”

He spake; the Argives raised a mighty shout,Loud as when billows lash the beetling shore,Rolled by the south-wind toward some jutting rockOn which the waves, whatever wind may blow,Beat ceaselessly. In haste the people roseAnd went among the ships, and kindled firesWithin their tents and took their meal. And oneMade offerings to one god; another paidVows to another of the immortal race;And all implored deliverance from deathAnd danger. Agamemnon, king of men,Offered a fatted ox of five years oldTo Jupiter Almighty, summoningThe elder princes of the Grecian host—Nestor the first, the king Idomeneus,And then the warriors Ajax and the sonOf Tydeus, with Ulysses, like to JoveIn council, sixth and last. Unbidden cameThe valiant Menelaus, for he knewThe cares that weighed upon his brother’s heart.Then, as they stood around the fatted oxAnd took in hand the salted barley-meal,King Agamemnon in the circle prayed:—

“O Jove, most great and glorious! who dost ruleThe tempest—dweller of the ethereal space!Let not the sun go down and night come onEre I shall lay the halls of Priam wasteWith fire, and give their portals to the flames,And hew away the coat of mail that shieldsThe breast of Hector, splitting it with steel.And may his fellow-warriors, many a one,Fall round him to the earth and bite the dust.”

He spake; the son of Saturn hearkened not,But took the sacrifice and made more hardThe toils of war. And now when they had prayed,And strown the salted meal, they drew the neckOf the victim back and cut the throat and flayedThe carcass, hewed away the thighs and laidThe fat upon them in a double fold,On which they placed raw strips of flesh, and theseThey burned with leafless billets. Then they fixedThe entrails on the spits and held them forthAbove the flames, and when the thighs were burnedAnd entrails tasted, all the rest was carvedInto small portions and transfixed with spitsAnd roasted carefully and drawn away.And when these tasks were finished and the boardWas spread, they feasted; from that equal feastNone went unsated. When they had appeasedTheir thirst and hunger, the Gerenian knightNestor stood forth and spake: “Most glorious sonOf Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men!Waste we no time in prattle, nor delayThe work appointed by the gods, but sendThe heralds of the Achaians, brazen-mailed,To call the people to the fleet, while wePass in a body through their vast arrayAnd wake the martial spirit in their breasts.”

He spake, and Agamemnon, king of men,Followed the counsel. Instantly he badeThe loud-voiced herald summon to the warThe long-haired Argives. At the call they came,Quickly they came together, and the kings,Nurslings of Jupiter, who stood besideAtrides, hastened through the crowd to formThe army into ranks. Among them walkedThe blue-eyed Pallas, bearing on her armThe priceless aegis, ever fair and new,And undecaying; from its edge there hungA hundred golden fringes, fairly wrought,And every fringe might buy a hecatomb.With this and fierce, defiant looks she passedThrough all the Achaian host, and made their heartsImpatient for the march and strong to endureThe combat without pause—for now the warSeemed to them dearer than the wished return,In their good galleys, to the land they loved.

As when a forest on the mountaintopIs in a blaze with the devouring flameAnd shines afar, so, while the warriors marched,The brightness of their burnished weapons flashedOn every side and upward to the sky.

And as when water-fowl of many tribes—Geese, cranes, and long-necked swans—disport themselvesIn Asia’s fields beside Cayster’s streams,And to and fro they fly with screams, and light,Flock after flock, and all the fields resound;So poured, from ships and tents, the swarming tribesInto Scamander’s plain, where fearful’yEarth echoed to the tramp of steeds and men;And there they mustered on the river’s side,Numberless as the flowers and leaves of spring,And as when flies in swarming myriads hauntThe herdsman’s stalls in spring-time, when new milkHas filled the pails—in such vast multitudesMustered the long-haired Greeks upon the plain,Impatient to destroy the Trojan race.

Then, as the goatherds, when their mingled flocksAre in the pastures, know and set apartEach his own scattered charge, so did the chiefs,Moving among them, marshal each his men.There walked King Agamemnon, like to JoveIn eye and forehead, with the loins of Mars,And ample chest like him who rules the sea.And as a bull amid the horned herdStands eminent and nobler than the rest,So Jove to Agamemnon on that dayGave to surpass the chiefs in port and mien.

O Muses, goddesses who dwell on high,Tell me—for all things ye behold and know,While we know nothing and may only hearThe random tales of rumor—tell me whoWere chiefs and princes of the Greeks; for IShould fail to number and to name them all—Had I ten tongues, ten throats, a voice unaptTo weary, uttered from a heart of brass—Unless the Muses aided me. I nowWill sing of the commanders and the ships.

Peneleus, Prothoenor, Leitus,And Clonius, and Arcesilaus ledThe warriors of Boeotia, all who dweltIn Hyria and in rocky Aulis, allFrom Schoenus and from Scolus and the hillOf Eteonus and Thespeia’s fields,And Graia and the Mycalesian plain,All who from Herma and Ilesius came,And Erythrae, and those who had their homesIn Eleon, Hyla, and Ocalea,And Peteona, and the stately streetsOf Medeon, Copae, Thisbè full of doves,And those whose dwelling-place was Eutresis,And Coronaea, and the grassy lawnsOf Haliartus, all the men who heldPlataea, or in Glissa tilled the soil,Or dwelt in Hypothebae nobly built,Or in Onchestus with its temple-wallsSacred to Neptune, or inhabitedArnè with fruitful vineyards, MideaAnd Nyssa the divine, and AnthedonThe distant—fifty were their barques, and eachHeld sixscore youths of the Boeotian race.

Next, over those who came from AspledonAnd from Orchomenus in MinyasAscalaphus ruled with his brother chiefIalmenus—two sons of mighty Mars.These, in the halls of Actor, Azis’ son,Astyoche bore to the god of war,Who met by stealth the bashful maid, as onceShe sought the upper palace-rooms. Their shipsWere thirty, ranged in order on the shore.

Then Schedius and Epistrophus, two chiefsBorn to Iphitus, son of NaubolusThe large of soul, led the Phocean host,Those who in Cyparissus had their homes,In Panopè and Crissa the divineAnd Daulis, or about HyampolisAnemoreia, and upon the banks of broadCephissus, and with them the raceWho held Lilaea by Cephissus’ springs.With these came forty ships. Their leaders wentAmong them, ranging them in due arrayAnd close to the Boeotians on the left.

Ajax the swift of foot, Oileus’ son,Was leader of the Locrians—less in limbAnd stature than the other Ajax—nay,Much smaller than that son of Telamon,Wearing a linen corselet; but to wieldThe spear he far excelled all other menOf Hellas and Achaia. Those who dweltIn Cynus, Opus, Bessa, and the fieldsOf Scarpha and Calliarus and greenAugeia, Tarpha, and the meadows whereBoagrius waters Thronium, followed himWith forty dark-hulled Locrian barques, that cameFrom coasts beyond Eubrea’s sacred isle.

The Euboeans breathing valor, they who heldChalcis, Eretria, and the vineyard slopesOf Histiaea, and the lofty wallsOf Dium and Cerinthus by the sea,And Styra, and Earystus; these obeyedElphenor of the line of Mars, and sonOf the large-souled Chalcodon ruler o’erThe Abantes. Him with loosely flowing locksThe Abantes followed, swift of foot and fierceIn combat, and expert to break the mailUpon the enemies’ breasts with ashen spears;With forty dark-hulled barques they followed him.

Next they who came from Athens nobly built,The city of Erechtheus, great of soul,Son of the teeming Earth, whom Pallas reared,That daughter of the Highest, and withinHer sumptuous temple placed him, where the sonsOf Athens, with the circling year’s return,Paid worship at her altars, bringing bullsAnd lambs to lay upon them; these obeyedMenestheus, son of Peteus, whom no chiefOn earth could equal in the art to placeSquadrons of men and horse in due arrayFor battle. Nestor only sought to shareThis praise, but Nestor was the elder chief.Fifty dark galleys with Menestheus came.

Ajax had brought twelve ships from Salamis,And these he stationed near the Athenian host.

But they who dwelt in Argos, or withinThe strong-walled Tiryns, or HermioneAnd Asine with their deep, sheltering bays,Troezenè and Eïonae, and hillsOf Epidaurus planted o’er with vines,And they who tilled Aeigina and the coastOf Mases—Grecian warriors—over theseBrave Diomed bore sway, with Sthenelus,Beloved son of far-famed Campaneus,And, third in rule, Euryalus, who seemedLike to a god, Mecisteus’ royal sonWho sprung from Talaus; yet the chief commandWas given to Diomed, the great in war.A fleet of eighty galleys came with them.

The dwellers of Mycenae nobly built,Of Corinth famed for riches, and the townOf beautiful Cleonae, they who tilledOrneia, Araethyrea’s pleasant land,And Sicyon, where of yore Adrastus reigned,And Hyperesia and the airy heightsOf Gonoessa, and Pellene’s fields,And they who came from Aegium and the shoresAround it, and broad lands of Helicè—These had a hundred barques, and over themAtrides Agamemnon bore command;And with him came the largest train of troopsAnd bravest. He was cased in gleaming mail,And his heart gloried when he thought how highHe stood among the heroes—mightier farIn power, and leader of a mightier host.

Then they who dwelt within the hollow valeOf queenly Lacedsemon, they who heldPhare and Sparta, Messa full of doves,Bryseiae, and Augeia’s rich domain,Amyclae and the town of Helos, builtClose to the sea, and those who had their homesIn Laäs and the fields of Oetylus;All these obeyed the brother of the king,The valiant Menelaus. Sixty shipsThey brought, but these he ranged apart from thoseOf Agamemnon. Through the ranks he went,And, trusting in his valor, quickened theirsFor battle; for his heart within him burnedTo avenge the wrongs of Helen and her tears.

Then came the men who tilled the Pylean coastAnd sweet Arenè, Thrya at the fordsOf Alpheus, and the stately palace homesOf Aepy, or in Cyparissus dwelt,Or in Amphigeneia, Pteleum,Helos and Dorium, where the Muses onceMet, journeying from Oecalian Eurytus,The Thracian Thamyris, and took from himHis power of voice. For he had made his boastTo overcome in song the daughters nineOf Jove the Aegis-bearer. They in wrathSmote him with blindness, took the heavenly giftOf song away, and made his hand forgetIts cunning with the harp. All those were ledBy Nestor, the Gerenian knight, who cameTo war on Troy with fourscore ships and ten.

The Arcadians, dwelling by the lofty mountCyllene, near the tomb of Epytus,Warriors who combat hand to hand, and theyWho tilled the fields of Pheneus and possessedOrchomenus with all its flocks, or dweltIn Ripa and in Stratia, and the bleakEnispe, beaten with perpetual winds,And in Tegea, and the lovely landOf Mantinea, and in StymphalusAnd in Parrhasia, came in sixty shipsTo Troy, with Agapenor for their chief,Son of Ancaeus. Every ship was throngedWith warriors of Arcadia, for the kingOf men, Atrides, gave them well-oared barquesTo cross the dark blue deep, since not to themPertained the cares and labors of the sea.

Then from Buprasium and the sacred coastOf Elis, from Hyrmine and remoteMyrsinus and the Olenian precipice,And from Alisium came, with chieftains four,The warriors, ten swift galleys followingEach chieftain, crowded with Epean troops.And part obeyed Amphimacus, the sonOf Cteatus, and part with Thalpius came,The son of Eurytus Actorides,And part with brave Diores, of the lineOf Amarynceus. Last, Polyxenus,The godlike offspring of Agasthenes,Whose father was Augeias, led the rest.

They from Dulichium and the Echinades,Those holy isles descried from Elis o’erThe waters, had for leader Megas, braveAs Mars—the son of Phyleus, dearly lovedBy Jove. He left his father’s house in wrathAnd dwelt within Dulichium. With the troopsOf Megas came a fleet of forty ships.

Ulysses led the Cephallenian men,Who dwelt in Ithaca, or whose abodeWas leafy Neritus, and those who cameFrom Crocyleia, and from AegilipsThe craggy, and Zacynthus, and the isleOf Samos, and Epirus, and from allThe bordering lands. O’er these Ulysses ruled,A chief like Jove in council, and with himThere came twelve galleys with their scarlet prows.

Then with the Aetolians came Andraemon’s sonThoas, their leader. With him were the menOf Pleuron and Pylene, Olenus,And Chalcis on the sea-coast and the rocksOf Calydon; for now no more the sonsOf large-souled Oeneus were alive on earth,Nor lived the chief himself, and in his tombWas Meleager of the golden hair;And thus the Aetolian rule to Thoas came.A fleet of fourscore galleys followed him.

Idomeneus, expert to wield the spear,Commanded those of Crete, the men who dweltIn Cnosus or Gortyna, strongly walledLyctus, Miletus, and the glimmeringLycastus, Phaestus, Rhytium’s populous town,And all the warrior train inhabitingThe hundred towns of Crete. IdomeneusThe mighty spearman, and Meriones,Fierce as the god of war, commanded these,And came to Troy with eighty dark-ribbed barques.

Tlepolemus, a warrior of the stockOf Hercules, was leader of the troopsOf Rhodes, and brought nine vessels to the war,Manned with the haughty Rhodians. These were rangedIn threefold order: those of Lindus, thoseWho dwell in white Camirus, lastly thoseOf Ialassa. These Tlepolemus,The valiant spearman, ruled. AstyocheBore him to mighty Hercules, who ledThe maid from Ephyra, upon the banksOf Selleis, to be his wife, what timeHis valor had o’erthrown and made a spoilOf many a city full of noble youths.Tlepolemus, when in the palace-hallsHe grew to manhood, slew an aged man,An uncle of his father, whom he loved,Lycimnius, of the line of Mars, and straightHe rigged a fleet of ships and led on boardA numerous host and fled across the sea.For fearful were the threats of other sonsAnd grandsons of the mighty Hercules.In Rhodes they landed after wanderings longAnd many hardships. There they dwelt in tribes,Three tribes—and were beloved of Jupiter,The ruler over gods and men, who pouredAbundant riches on their new abode.

Nireus with three good ships from Syma came,Nireus, Aglaia’s son by CharopusThe monarch—Nireus who in comelinessSurpassed all Greeks that came to Ilium, saveThe faultless son of Peleus. Yet was heUnwarlike and few people followed him.

The dwellers of Nisyrus, Crapathus,And Cos, the city of Eurypylus,Casus, and the Calydnian isles, obeyedPhidippus and his brother Antiphus,Sons of the monarch Thessalus, who sprangFrom Hercules. With thirty ships they came.

But those who held Pelasgian Argos, thoseWho dwelt in Alos, Trachys, Alope,Phthia, and Hellas full of lovely dames—Named Myrmidons, Achaians, Hellenes,Achilles led their fifty ships; but theyNow heeded not the summons to the war,For there was none to form their ranks for fight.The great Achilles, swift of foot, remainedWithin his ships, indignant for the sakeOf the fair-haired Briscis, whom he broughtA captive from Lyrnessus after toilsAnd dangers many. He had sacked and spoiledLyrnessus, and o’erthrown the walls of ThebesAnd smitten Mynes and Epistrophus,The warlike sons of King Evenus, sprungFrom old Selapius. For this cause he keptWithin his ships, full soon to issue forth.

The men of Phylacè, of Pyrasus—Sacred to Ceres and o’erspread with flowers,And of Itona, mother of white flocks,Antrona on the sea, and Pteleum greenWith herbage—over these while yet he livedThe brave Protesilaüs ruled; but nowThe dark earth covered him, and for his sakeHis consort, desolate in Phylacè,Tore her fair cheeks, and all unfinished stoodHis palace, for a Dardan warrior slewHer husband as he leaped upon the land,The foremost of the Achaians. Yet his troopsWere not without a leader, though they mournedTheir brave old chief. Podarces, loved by Mars—Son of Iphiclus, rich in flocks, who sprangFrom Phylacus—led them and formed their ranks.A younger brother of the slain was he.The slain was braver. Though the warriors grievedTo lose their glorious chief, they did not lackA general. Forty dark ships followed him.

Then they who dwelt in Pherae, by the lakeBoebeis, and in Boebe, Glaphyrae,And nobly built Iolchos, came to Troy,Filling eleven galleys, and obeyedEumelus, whom Alcestis the divineBore to Admetus—fairest, she, of allThe house of Pelias and of womankind.

Those from Methone and Olizon’s rocks,And Meliboea and Thaumacia, filledSeven ships, with Philoctetes for their chief,A warrior skilled to bend the bow. Each barqueHeld fifty rowers, bowmen all, and armedFor stubborn battle. But their leader layFar in an island, suffering grievous pangs—The hallowed isle of Lemnos. There the GreeksLeft him, in torture from a venomed woundMade by a serpent’s fangs. He lay and pined.Yet was the moment near when they who thusForsook their king should think of him again.Meantime his troops were not without a chief;Though greatly they desired their ancient lord,For now the base-born Medon marshalled them,Son of Oileus. Rhene brought him forthTo that destroyer of strong fortresses.

The men of Tricca and Ithome’s hills,And they who held Oechalia and the townOf Eurytus the Aechalian, had for chiefs twosons of Aesculapius, healers both,And skilful—Podalirius one, and oneMachaon. Thirty hollow barques were theirs.

The dwellers of Ormenium, they whose homesWere by the Hyperian fount, and theyWho held Asterium and the snowy peaksOf Titanus, obeyed Eurypylus,Evaemon’s son, and far renowned. A fleetOf forty dark-ribbed vessels followed him.

Those who possessed Argissa, those who heldGyrtonè, Orthè, and Helonè, thoseWho dwelt in Oloösson with white walls,The sturdy warrior Polypoetes led,Son of Pirithoüs, who derived his birthFrom deathless Jove. Hippodameia boreThe warrior to Pirithoüs on the dayWhen he took vengeance on the shaggy broodOf Centaurs, and from Pelion drove them forthTo Aethicae. Yet not alone in ruleWas Polypoetes, for Leonteus, sprungFrom the large-souled Coronus, Caeneus’ son,Shared with him the command. With them a fleetOf forty dark-hulled vessels came to Troy.

Then Guneus came, with two and twenty shipsFrom Cythus. Under his command he heldThe Enienes, and that sturdy race,The Periboean warriors, and the menWho built on cold Dodona, or who tilledThe fields where pleasant Titaresius flowsAnd into Peneus pours his gentle stream,Yet with its silver eddies mingles not,But floats upon the current’s face like oil—A Stygian stream by which the immortals swear.

With Prothous, Tenthredon’s son, there cameThe warriors of Magnesia, who abodeBy Peneus, and by Pelion hung with woods;Swift-footed Prothous led these. They cameWith forty dark-hulled galleys to the war.

These were the chiefs and princes of the Greeks.Say, Muse, who most excelled among the kings,And which the noblest steeds, of all that cameWith the two sons of Atreus to the war?The noblest steeds were those in Pherae bred,That, guided by Eumelus, flew like birds—Alike in hue and age; the plummet showedTheir height the same, and both were mares, and, rearedBy Phoebus of the silver bow amongThe meadows of Pieria, they becameThe terror of the bloody battle-field.The mightiest of the chiefs, while yet in wrathAchilles kept aloof, was Ajax, sonOf Telamon; yet was Pelides farThe greater warrior, and the steeds which boreThat perfect hero were of noblest breed.In his beaked galleys, swift to cut the sea,Achilles lay, meanwhile, and nursed the wrathHe bore to Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,The shepherd of the people. On the beachHis warriors took their sport with javelinsAnd quoits and bows, while near the chariots tiedThe horses, standing, browsed on lotus-leavesAnd parsley from the marshes. But beneathThe tents the closely covered chariots stood,While idly through the camp the charioteers,Hither and thither sauntering, missed the sightOf their brave lord and went not to the field.

The army swept the earth as when a fireDevours the herbage of the plains. The groundGroaned under them as when the Thunderer JoveIn anger with his lightnings smites the earthAbout Typhosus—where they say he lies—In Arimi. So fearfully the groundGroaned under that swift army as it moved.

Now to the Trojans the swift Iris cameA messenger from aegis-bearing Jove,Tidings of bale she brought. They all had met—Old men and youths—in council at the gatesOf Priam’s mansion. There did Iris takeHer station near the multitude, and spake,In voice and gesture like Polites, sonOf Priam, who, confiding in his speed,Had stood a watcher for the sons of TroyOn aged Aesyeta’s lofty tomb,To give them warning when the Achaian hostShould issue from their galleys. Thus disguised,Swift Iris spake her message from the skies:—

“Father! Thou art delighted with much speech,As once in time of peace, but now’t is war,Inevitable war, and close at hand.I have seen many battles, yet have ne’erBeheld such armies, and so vast as these—In number like the sands and summer leaves.They march across the plain, prepared to giveBattle beneath the city walls. To thee,O Hector, it belongs to heed my voiceAnd counsel. Many are the allies withinThe walls of this great town of Priam, menOf diverse race and speech. Let every chiefOf these array his countrymen for war,And give them orders for the coming fight.”

She spake, and Hector heeded and obeyedThe counsel of the goddess; he dismissedThe assembly; all the Trojans rushed to arms,And all the gates were opened. Horse and footPoured forth together in tumultuous haste.

In the great plain before the city standsA mound of steep ascent on every side;Men named it Batiea, but the godsCalled it the swift Myrinna’s tomb; and hereMustered the sons of Troy and their allies.

Great Hector of the beamy helm, the sonOf Priam, led the Trojan race. The hostOf greatest multitude was marshalled there,And there the bravest, mighty with the spear.

Aeneas marshalled the Dardanian troops—The brave son of Anchises. Venus boreThe warrior to Anchises on the heightsOf Ida, where the mortal lover metThe goddess. Yet he ruled them not alone;Two chiefs, Antenor’s sons ArchelochusAnd Acamas, were with him in command,Expert in all the many arts of war.

The Trojans from Zeleia, opulent men,Who drank the dark Aesepus—over theseRuled Pandarus, Lycaon’s valiant son,To whom the god Apollo gave his bow.

The troops from Adrasteia, they who dweltWithin Apaesus’ walls, or tilled the soilOf Pityeia and Tereia’s heights,Were led by Amphius and Adrastus, cladIn linen corselets for the war, the sonsOf Merops the Percosian, skilled beyondAll other men in the diviner’s art.Nor would he that his sons should seek the fieldOf slaughter. They obeyed him not; the fatesDecreed their early death and urged them on.

The dwellers of Percote, Practium,And Sestus, and Abydus, and divineArisba, followed Asius, great amongThe heroes and the son of Hyrtacus—Asius, who came with strong and fiery steeds,Borne from Arisba and from Selleis’ banks.

Hippothoüs over the Pelasgian tribes—Skilled spearman, who abode among the fieldsOf the deep-soiled Larissa—bore command—Hippothoüs with Pyteus, who derivedTheir race from Mars, and for their father claimedPelasgian Lethus, son of Teutamus.

And Acamas, and Peiroüs, valiant chief,Were captains of the Thracian men, whose fieldsWere bounded by the rushing Hellespont.Euphemus led the Cicones, expertTo wield the spear in fight. The nobly-bornTroezenus was his father. Ceas’ sonPyraechmes with Paeonia’s archers cameFrom the broad Axius in far Amydon—Axius, the fairest river of the earth.

Pytamenes, a chief of fearless heart,Led from the region of the Eneti,Where first the stubborn race of mules was bred,The Paphlagonian warriors, they who heldCytorus, Sesamus, and fair abodesBuilt where Parthenius wanders on, and thoseWho dwelt in Cromna and Aegialus,And on the lofty Erythinian heights.

And Hodius and Epistrophus led onThe Halezonians from the distant landOf Alyba, where ores of silver lie.And Chromis and the augur EnnomusWere leaders of the Mysians; but his skillSaved not the augur from the doom of death,Slain by the swift of foot, Aeacides,With other men of Troy where Xanthus flows.And Phorcys and Ascanius, who was likeA god in beauty, led the Phrygian troopsFrom far Ascania, eager for the fray.And Antiphus and Mesthles were the chiefsOf the Maeonian warriors, reared besideThe ships of Tmolus. There Gygaea’s lakeBrought forth both chieftains to Pylsemenes.

Nastes was leader of the Carian troops,Who spake in barbarous accents and possessedMiletus and the leafy mountain heightsWhere dwell the Phthirians, and Maeauder’s stream,And airy peaks of Mycalè. O’er theseAmphimachus and Nastes held command—Amphimachus and Nastes, far renownedSons of Nomion, him who, madly vain,Went to the battle pranked like a young girlIn golden ornaments. They spared him notThe bitter doom of death; he fell beneathThe hand of swift Aeacides withinThe river’s channel. There the great in war,Achilles, spoiled Nomion of his gold.

Sarpedon and the noble Glaucus boreRule o’er the Eycians coming from afar,Where eddying Xanthus runs through Lycia’s meads.