Book VII: The Combat of Hector and Ajax

The illustrious Hector spake, and rapidlyPassed through the gate, and with him issued forthHis brother Alexander—eager, both,For war and combat. As when God bestows,To glad the long-expecting mariners,A favorable wind while wearilyThey beat the ocean with their polished oars,Their arms all nerveless with their length of toil,Such to the expecting Trojans was the sightOf the two chiefs. First Alexander slewMenesthius, who in Arnè had his home,A son of Areïthoüs the king.Large-eyed Philomedusa brought him forthTo the mace-bearer Areïthoüs.And Hector smote Eïoneus, the spearPiercing his neck beneath the brazen casque,And straightway he dropped lifeless. Glaucus thenSon of Hippolochus, and chief amongThe Lycians—in that fiery onset slewIphinous, son of Dexius, with his spear.It pierced the warrior’s shoulder as he sprangTo mount his rapid car, and from the placeHe fell to earth, his limbs relaxed in deathNow when Minerva of the azure eyesBeheld them in the furious combat thusWasting the Grecian host, she left the peaksOf high Olympus, and came down in hasteTo sacred Ilium. Straight Apollo flewTo meet her, for he marked from PergamusHer coming, and he greatly longed to giveThe victory to the Trojans. As they metBeside the beechen tree, the son of Jove,The king Apollo, spake to Pallas thus:—

“Why hast thou, daughter of imperial Jove,Thus left Olympus in thine eager haste?Seek’st thou to turn in favor of the GreeksWar’s wavering chances?—for I know too wellThou hast no pity when the men of TroyAre perishing. But, if thou wilt give earTo me, I shall propose a better way.Cause we the conflict for this day to cease,And be it afterward renewed untilAn end be made of Troy, since it hath pleasedYou, goddesses, to lay the city waste.”

And blue-eyed Pallas answered: “Be it so,O mighty Archer. With a like intentI left Olympus for this battle-fieldOf Greeks and Trojans. But by what deviceThink’st thou to bring the combat to a pause?”

Then spake the king Apollo, son of Jove,In turn to Pallas: “Let us seek to rouseThe fiery spirit of the Trojan knightHector, that he may challenge in the fieldSome Greek to meet him, singly and alone,In mortal combat. Then the well-armed Greeks,Stung by the bold defiance, will send forthA champion against Priam’s noble son.”

He spake. The blue-eyed goddess gave assentAnd straightway Helenus, beloved sonOf Priam, in his secret mind perceivedThe purpose of the gods consulting thus,And came and stood by Hector’s side and said:—

“O Hector, son of Priam, and like JoveIn council, wilt thou hearken to my wordsWho am thy brother? Cause the Trojans allAnd all the Greeks to sit, while thou shall standProclaiming challenge to the bravest manAmong the Achaians to contend with theeIn mortal combat. It is not thy fateTo fall and perish yet, for thus have saidThe ever-living gods, whose voice I heard.”

He spake; and Hector, hearing him, rejoiced,And went between the hosts. He bore his spear,Holding it in the middle, and pressed backThe ranks of Trojans, and they all sat down.And Agamemnon caused the well-armed GreeksTo sit down also. Meantime Pallas sat,With Phoebus of the silver bow, in shapeLike vultures, on the boughs of the tall beech—The tree of Father Jupiter who bearsThe aegis—and they looked with great delightUpon the array of warriors in thick rows,Horrid with shields and helm and bristling spears.As when the west wind, rising fresh, breathes o’erThe deep, and darkens all its face with waves,So seemed the Greeks and Trojans as they satIn ranks upon the field, while Hector stoodBetween the armies and bespake them thus:—

“Ye Trojans, and ye well-armed Greeks, give earTo what my spirit bids me speak. The sonOf Saturn, throned on high, hath not vouchsafedTo ratify the treaty we have made,But meditates new miseries for us both,Till ye possess the towery city of Troy,Or, vanquished, yield yourselves beside the barquesThat brought you o’er the sea. With you are foundThe bravest sons of Greece. If one of theseIs moved to encounter me, let him stand forthAnd fight with noble Hector. I propose,And call on Jove to witness, that if heShall slay me with the long blade of his spear,My arms are his to spoil and to bestowAmong the hollow ships; but he must sendMy body home, that there the sons of TroyAnd Trojan dames may burn it on the pyre.But if I take his life, and Phoebus crownMy combat with that glory, I will stripHis armor off and carry it awayTo hallowed Ilium, there to hang it highWithin the temple of the archer-godApollo; but his body I will sendBack to the well-oared ships, that on the beachThe long-haired Greeks may hold his funeral rites,And rear his tomb by the wide Hellespont.And then, in time to come, shall someone say,Sailing in his good ship the dark-blue deep,‘This is the sepulchre of one who diedLong since, and whom, though fighting gallantly,Illustrious Hector slew.’ So shall he sayHereafter, and my fame shall never die.”

He spake; but utter silence held them all—Ashamed to shun the encounter, yet afraidTo meet it—till at length, with heavy heart,Rose Menelaus from his seat, and thusBespake the army with reproachful words:—

“O boastful ones, no longer to be calledGreek warriors, but Greek women! A disgraceGrievous beyond all others will be ours,If none be found in all the Achaian hostTo meet this Hector. May you, every one,There where ye now are sitting, turn to earthAnd water, craven as ye are, and lostTo sense of glory! I will arm myselfFor this encounter. With the immortal godsAlone it rests to give the victory.”

He spake, and put his glorious armor on.Then, Menelaus, had the Trojan’s handEnded thy life, for he was mightier farThan thou, had not the Achaian kings at onceUprisen to hold thee back, while Atreus’ son,Wide-ruling Agamemnon, took thy handIn his, and made thee listen while he spake:—

“Sure, noble Menelaus, thou art mad.Such frenzied daring suits not with the time.Restrain thyself, though thou hast cause for wrath;Nor in thy pride of courage meet in armsOne so much mightier—Hector, Priam’s son,Whom every other chief regards with fear,Whom even Achilles, braver far than thou,Dreads to encounter in the glorious fight.Withdraw, then, to thy comrades, and sit down.The Greeks will send some other champion forthAgainst him; and though fearless, and athirstFor combat, he, I deem, will gladly bendHis weary knees to rest should he escapeFrom that fierce conflict in the lists alive.”

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

“Ye gods! A great calamity hath fallenUpon Achaia. How the aged chiefPeleus, the illustrious counsellor and sage,Who rules the Myrmidons, will now lament!—He who once gladly in his palace-homeInquired of me the race and pedigreeOf the Greek warriors. Were he but to knowThat all of them are basely cowering nowIn Hector’s presence, how would he upliftHis hands and pray the gods that from his limbsThe parted soul might pass to the abodeOf Pluto! Would to Father JupiterAnd Pallas and Apollo that againI were as young as when the Pylian hostAnd the Arcadians, mighty with the spear,Fought on the banks of rapid CeladonAnd near to Phaea and Iardan’s streams.There godlike Ereuthalion stood amongOur foremost foes, and on his shoulders boreThe armor of King Areïthoüs—The noble Areïthoüs, whom menAnd graceful women called the Mace-bearer;For not with bow he fought, nor ponderous lance,But broke the phalanxes with iron mace.Lycurgus slew him, but by stratagem,And not by strength; he from a narrow way,Where was no room to wield the iron mace,Through Areïthoüs thrust the spear: he fellBackward; the victor took his arms, which MarsThe war-god gave, and which in after-timeLycurgus wore on many a battle-field.And when within his palace he grew old,He gave them to be worn by one he loved—To Ereuthalion, who attended himIn battle, and who, wearing them, defiedThe bravest of our host. All trembled; allHeld back in fear, nor dared encounter him.But me a daring trust in my own strengthImpelled to meet him. I was youngest thenOf all the chiefs; I fought, and Pallas gaveThe victory over him, and thus I slewThe hugest and most strong of men; he layExtended in vast bulk upon the ground.Would I were young as then, my frame unwornBy years! And Hector of the beamy helmShould meet an adversary soon; but nowNo one of all the chieftains here, renownedTo be the bravest of the Achaian race,Hastens to meet in arms the Trojan chief.”

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

“Now let us cast the lot for all, and seeTo whom it falls; for greatly will he aidThe nobly-armed Achaians, and as greatWill be his share of honor should he comeAlive from the hard trial of the fight.”

Then each one marked his lot, and all were castInto the helm of Agamemnon, sonOf Atreus. All the people lifted upTheir hands in prayer to the ever-living gods,And turned their eyes to the broad heaven, and said:

“Grant, Father Jove, that Ajax, or the sonOf Tydeus, or the monarch who bears ruleIn rich Mycenae may obtain the lot.”

Such was their prayer, while the Gerenian knight,Old Nestor, shook the lots; and from the helmLeaped forth the lot of Ajax, as they wished.A herald took it, and from right to leftBore it through all the assembly, showing itTo all the leaders of the Greeks. No oneKnew it, and all disclaimed it. When at last,Carried through all the multitude, it cameTo Ajax the renowned, who had inscribedAnd laid it in the helmet, he stretched forthHis hand, while at his side the herald stood,And took and looked upon it, knew his sign,And gloried as he looked, and cast it downUpon the ground before his feet, and said:—

“O friends! The lot is mine, and I rejoiceHeartily, for I think to overcomeThe noble Hector. Now, while I put onMy armor for the fight, pray ye to Jove,The mighty son of Saturn, silently,Unheard by them of Troy, or else aloud,Since we fear no one. None by strength of armShall vanquish me, or find me inexpertIn battle, nor was I to that degreeIll-trained in Salamis, where I was born.”

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

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

Such were their words, while Ajax armed himselfIn glittering brass; and, when about his limbsThe mail was buckled, forward rushed the chief.As moves the mighty Mars to war amongThe heroes whom the son of Saturn sendsTo struggle on the field in murderous strife,So the great Ajax, bulwark of the Greeks,With a grim smile came forward, and with stridesFirm-set and long, and shook his ponderous spear.The Greeks exulted at the sight; dismaySeized every Trojan: even Hector’s heartQuailed in his bosom; yet he might not nowWithdraw through fear, nor seek to hide amongThe throng of people, since himself had givenThe challenge. Ajax, drawing near, upheldA buckler like a rampart, bright with brass,And strong with ox-hides seven. The cunning handOf Tychius, skilled beyond all other menIn leather-work, had wrought it at his homeIn Hyla. He for Ajax framed the shieldWith hides of pampered bullocks in seven folds,And an eighth fold of brass—the outside fold.This Telamonian Ajax held beforeHis breast, as he approached, and threatening said:—

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

Then answered Hector of the plumèd helm:—“O high-born Ajax, son of Telamon,And prince among thy people, think thou notTo treat me like a stripling weak of arm,Or woman all untrained to tasks of war.I know what battles are and bloody frays,And how to shift to right and left the shield.Of seasoned hide, and, unfatigued, maintainThe combat; how on foot to charge the foeWith steps that move to martial airs, and howTo leap into the chariot and pursueThe war with rushing steeds. Yet not by stealthSeek I to smite thee, valiant as thou art,But in fair open battle, if I may.”

He spake, and, brandishing his ponderous lance,Hurled it; and on the outer plate of brass,Which covered the seven bullock-hides, it struckThe shield of Ajax. Through the brass and throughSix folds of hides the irresistible spearCut its swift way, and at the seventh was stopped.Then high-born Ajax cast his massive spearIn turn, and drove it through the fair, round shieldOf Priam’s son. Through that bright buckler wentThe rapid weapon, pierced the well-wrought mail,And tore the linen tunic at the flank.But Hector stooped and thus avoided death.They took their spears again, and, coming close,Like lions in their hunger, or wild boarsOf fearful strength, joined battle. Priam’s sonSent his spear forward, striking in the midstThe shield of Ajax, but it broke not throughThe brass; the metal turned the weapon’s point.While Ajax, springing onward, smote the shieldOf Hector, drave his weapon through, and checkedHis enemy’s swift advance, and wounded himUpon the shoulder, and the black blood flowed.Yet not for this did plumèd Hector ceaseFrom combat, but went back, and, lifting upA huge, black, craggy stone that near him lay,Flung it with force against the middle bossOf the broad sevenfold shield that Ajax bore.The brass rang with the blow. Then Ajax raisedA heavier stone, and whirled it, putting forthHis arm’s immeasurable strength; it brakeThrough Hector’s shield as if a millstone’s weightHad fallen. His knees gave way; he fell to earthHeadlong; yet still he kept his shield. At onceApollo raised him up; and now with swords,Encountering hand to hand, they both had flownTo wound each other, if the heralds sentAs messengers from Jupiter and menHad not approached—Idaeus from the sideOf Troy, Talthybius from the Grecian host—Wise ancients both. Betwixt the twain they heldTheir sceptres, and the sage Idaeus spake:—

“Cease to contend, dear sons, in deadly fray;Ye both are loved by cloud-compelling Jove,And both are great in war, as all men know.The night is come; be then the night obeyed.”

And Telamonian Ajax answered thus:—“Idaeus, first let Hector speak of this,For he it was who challenged to the fieldThe bravest of the Grecian host, and IShall willingly obey if he obeys.”

To him in turn the plumèd Hector said:—“Ajax, although God gave thee bulk and strengthAnd prudence, and in mastery of the spearThou dost excel the other Greeks, yet nowPause we from battle and the rivalryOf prowess for this day. Another timeWe haply may renew the fight till fateShall part us and bestow the victoryOn one of us. But now the night is here,And it is good to obey the night, that thouMayst gladden at the fleet the Greeks and allThy friends and comrades, and that I in turnMay give the Trojan men and long-robed dames,In the great city where King Priam reigns,Cause to rejoice—the dames who pray for me,Thronging the hallowed temple. Let us nowEach with the other leave some noble gift,That all men, Greek or Trojan, thus may say:‘They fought indeed in bitterness of heart,But they were reconciled, and parted friends.’ ”

He spake, and gave a silver-studded swordAnd scabbard with its fair embroidered belt;And Ajax gave a girdle brightly dyedWith purple. Then they both departed—oneTo join the Grecian host, and one to meetThe Trojan people, who rejoiced to seeHector alive, unwounded, and now safeFrom the great might and irresistible armOf Ajax. Straightway to the town they ledHim for whose life they scarce had dared to hope.And Ajax also by the well-armed Greeks,Exulting in his feats of arms, was broughtTo noble Agamemnon. When the chiefsWere in his tents, the monarch sacrificedA bullock of five summers to the sonOf Saturn, sovereign Jupiter. They flayedThe carcass, dressed it, carved away the limbs,Divided into smaller parts the flesh,Fixed them on spits, and roasted them with care,And drew them from the fire. And when the taskWas finished, and the banquet all prepared,They feasted, and there was no guest who lackedHis equal part in that repast. The sonOf Atreus, Agamemnon, brave, and lordOf wide dominions, gave the chine entireTo Ajax as his due. Now when the callsOf thirst and hunger ceased, the aged chiefNestor, whose words had ever seemed most wise,Opened the council with this prudent speech:—

“Atrides, and ye other chiefs of Greece!Full many a long-haired warrior of our hostHath perished. Cruel Mars hath spilt their bloodBeside Scamander’s gentle stream; their soulsHave gone to Hades. Give thou, then, command,That all the Greeks tomorrow pause from war,And come together at the early dawn,And bring the dead in chariots drawn by mulesAnd oxen, and consume them near our fleetWith fire, that we, when we return from war,May carry to our native land the bones,And give them to the children of the slain.And then will we go forth and heap from earth,Upon the plain, a common tomb for allAround the funeral pile, and build high towersWith speed beside it, which shall be alikeA bulwark for our navy and our host.And let the entrance be a massive gate,Through which shall pass an ample chariot-way.And in a circle on its outer edgeSink we a trench so deep that neither steedsNor men may pass, if these proud Trojans yetShould, in the coming battles, press us sore.”

He spake; the princes all approved his words.Meanwhile, beside the lofty citadelOf Ilium and at Priam’s palace-gatesIn turbulence and fear the Trojans heldA council, and the wise Antenor spake:—

“Hearken, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies,To what my sober judgment bids me speak.Send we the Argive Helen back with allHer treasures; let the sons of Atreus leadThe dame away; for now we wage the warAfter our faith is broken, and I deemWe cannot prosper till we make amends.”

He spake, and sat him down. The noble chiefParis, the fair-haired Helen’s husband, roseTo answer him, and spake this wingèd speech:—

“Thy words, Antenor, please me not. Thy skillCould offer better counsels. If those wordsWere gravely meant, the gods have made thee mad.But let me here, amid these knights of Troy,Speak openly my mind. Give up my wifeI never will; but all the wealth I broughtWith her from Argos I most willinglyRestore, with added treasures of my own.”

He said, and took his seat, and in the midstDardanian Priam rose, a counsellorOf godlike wisdom, and thus sagely spake:—

“Hear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies!I speak the thought that rises in my breast.Take now, as ye are wont, your evening mealAnd set a watch and keep upon your guard;But let Idaeus to the hollow shipsRepair at morning, and to Atreus’ sons—To Agamemnon and his brother king—Make known what Paris, author of this strife,Proposes, and with fairly ordered speechAsk further if they will consent to pauseFrom cruel battle till we burn the dead:Then be the war renewed till fate shall partThe hosts and give to one the victory.”

He spake. The assembly listened and obeyed;All through the camp in groups they took their meal.But with the morn Idaeus visitedThe hollow ships, and found the Achaian chiefs,Followers of Mars, in council near the prowOf Agamemnon’s barque; and, standing there,The loud-voiced herald spake his message thus:—

“Ye sons of Atreus, and ye other chiefsOf all the tribes of Greece, I come to youFrom Priam and the eminent men of Troy,To say, if it be pleasing to your ears,What Alexander, author of the war,Proposes. All the wealth which in his shipsHe brought to Troy—would he had perished first!—He will, with added treasures of his own,Freely restore; but her who was the wifeOf gallant Menelaus he deniesTo render back, though all who dwell in TroyJoin to demand it. I am furthermoreBidden to ask if you consent to pauseFrom cruel battle till we burn our dead:Then be the war renewed till fate shall partThe hosts and give to one the victory.”

He spake; and all were silent for a space.Then spake at length the valiant Diomed:—

“Let none consent to take the Trojan’s goods,Nor even Helen; for a child may seeThe utter ruin hanging over Troy.”

He spake. The admiring Greeks confirmed with shoutsThe words of Diomed the knight, and thusKing Agamemnon to Idaeus said:—

“Idaeus, thou thyself hast heard the GreeksPronounce their answer. What to them seems goodPleases me also. For the slain, I giveConsent to burn them; to the dead we bearNo hatred; when they fall the rite of fireShould soon be paid. Let Juno’s husband, JoveThe Thunderer, bear witness to our truce.”

The monarch spake, and raised to all the godsHis sceptre, while Idaeus took his wayTo hallowed Ilium. There in council satTrojans and Dardans, waiting his return.He came, and standing in the midst declaredHis message. Then they all went forth in haste,Some to collect the slain and some to fellTrees in the forest. From their well-benched shipsThe Achaians also issued, some to bringThe dead together, some to gather wood.

Now from the smooth deep ocean-stream the sunBegan to climb the heavens, and with new raysSmote the surrounding fields. The Trojans met,But found it hard to know their dead again.They washed away the clotted blood, and laid—Shedding hot tears—the bodies on the cars.And since the mighty Priam’s word forbadeAll wailing, silently they bore awayTheir slaughtered friends, and heaped them on the pyreWith aching hearts, and, when they had consumedThe dead with fire, returned to hallowed Troy.The nobly-armed Achaians also heapedTheir slaughtered warriors on the funeral pileWith aching hearts; and when they had consumedTheir dead with fire they sought their hollow ships.

And ere the morning came, while earth was grayWith twilight, by the funeral pile aroseA chosen band of Greeks, who, going forth,Heaped round it from the earth a common tombFor all, and built a wall and lofty towersNear it—a bulwark for the fleet and host.And in the wall they fitted massive gates,Through which there passed an ample chariot-way;And on its outer edge they sank a trench—Broad, deep—and planted it with pointed stakes.So labored through the night the long-haired Greeks.

The gods who sat beside the Thunderer JoveAdmired the mighty labor of the Greeks;But Neptune, he who shakes the earth, began:—

“O Father Jove, henceforth will any oneOf mortal men consult the immortal gods?Seest thou not how the long-haired Greeks have rearedA wall before their navy, and have drawnA trench around it, yet have brought the godsNo liberal hecatombs? Now will the fameOf this their work go forth wherever shinesThe light of day, and men will quite forgetThe wall which once we built with toiling hands—Phoebus Apollo and myself—aroundThe city of renowned Laomedon.”

And cloud-compelling Jove in wrath replied:—“Earth-shaking power! What words are these? Some godOf meaner rank and feebler arm than thouMight haply dread the work the Greeks have planned.But as for thee, thy glory shall be knownWherever shines the day; and when at lastThe crested Greeks, departing in their ships,Shall seek their native coasts, do thou o’erthrowThe wall they built, and sink it in the deep,And cover the great shore again with sand.Thus shall their bulwark vanish from the plain.”

So talked they with each other while the sunWas setting. But the Achaians now had broughtTheir labors to an end; they slew their steersBeside the tents and shared the evening meal,While many ships had come to land with storeOf wine from Lemnos, which Euneüs sent—Euneüs whom Hypsipyle brought forthTo Jason, shepherd of the people. TheseBrought wine, a thousand measures, as a giftTo Agamemnon and his brother king,The sons of Atreus. But the long-haired GreeksBought for themselves their wines; some gave their brass,And others shining steel; some bought with hides,And some with steers, and some with slaves, and thusPrepared an ample banquet. Through the nightFeasted the long-haired Greeks. The Trojan hostAnd their auxiliar warriors banquetedWithin the city-walls. Through all that nightThe Great Disposer, Jove, portended woeTo both with fearful thunderings. All were paleWith terror; from their beakers all poured wineUpon the ground, and no man dared to drinkWho had not paid to Saturn’s mighty sonThe due libation. Then they laid them downTo rest, and so received the balm of sleep.