Homer

“ Against yon hero let us bend our course, And, hand to hand, encounter force with force. Now mount my seat, and from the chariot’s height Observe my father’s steeds, renown’d in fight; Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe. Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein; The warrior’s fury let this arm sustain; Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, Take thou the spear, the chariot’s care be mine. ”

“ This Ajax bore before his manly breast, And, threatening, thus his adverse chief address’d:
“Hector! approach my arm, and singly know What strength thou hast, and what the Grecian foe. Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there are, Not void of soul, and not unskill’d in war: Let him, unactive on the sea-beat shore, Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no more; Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boast, And sends thee one, a sample of her host, Such as I am, I come to prove thy might; No more—be sudden, and begin the fight.” ”

“ O monarch! better far had been the fate Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state, If (ere the day when by mad passion sway’d, Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid) Preventing Dian had despatch’d her dart, And shot the shining mischief to the heart! Then many a hero had not press’d the shore, Nor Troy’s glad fields been fatten’d with our gore. Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail, And sad posterity repeat the tale. But this, no more the subject of debate, Is past, forgotten, and resign’d to fate. Why should, alas, a mortal man, as I, Burn with a fury that can never die? ”

“ To meet Pelides you persuade in vain: Already have I met, nor void of fear Observed the fury of his flying spear; From Ida’s woods he chased us to the field, Our force he scattered, and our herds he kill’d; Lyrnessus, Pedasus in ashes lay; But (Jove assisting) I survived the day: Else had I sunk oppress’d in fatal fight By fierce Achilles and Minerva’s might. Where’er he moved, the goddess shone before, And bathed his brazen lance in hostile gore. What mortal man Achilles can sustain? The immortals guard him through the dreadful plain, And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. ”

“ Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain, What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?”
To this the king: “Fly, mighty warrior! fly; Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy. There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, And Jove himself shall guard a monarch’s right. Of all the kings (the god’s distinguish’d care) To power superior none such hatred bear: Strife and debate thy restless soul employ, And wars and horrors are thy savage joy, If thou hast strength, ’twas Heaven that strength bestow’d; For know, vain man! thy valour is from God. Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away ”

“ All this from Jove’s afflictive hand we bear, Who, far from Argos, wills our ruin here. Past are the days when happier Greece was blest, And all his favour, all his aid confess’d; Now heaven averse, our hands from battle ties, And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. Cease we at length to waste our blood in vain, And launch what ships lie nearest to the main; Leave these at anchor, till the coming night: Then, if impetuous Troy forbear the fight, Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for flight. Better from evils, well foreseen, to run, Than perish in the danger we may shun. ”

“ Turn thee, ah turn thee to the field of fame, And in Patroclus’ blood efface thy shame. Perhaps Apollo shall thy arms succeed, And heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed.”
So spoke the inspiring god; then took his flight, And plunged amidst the tumult of the fight. He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car; The lash resounds, the coursers rush to war. The god the Grecians’ sinking souls depress’d, And pour’d swift spirits through each Trojan breast. Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; A spear his left, a stone employs his right: With all his nerves he drives it at the foe. ”

“ To great Achilles at his ships she came, And thus began the many-colour’d dame:
“Rise, son of Peleus! rise, divinely brave! Assist the combat, and Patroclus save: For him the slaughter to the fleet they spread, And fall by mutual wounds around the dead. To drag him back to Troy the foe contends: Nor with his death the rage of Hector ends: A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, And marks the place to fix his head on high. Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) Thy friend’s disgrace, thy own eternal shame!”
“Who sends thee, goddess, from the ethereal skies?” Achilles thus. ”

“ Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy! Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame, And spread your glory with the navy’s flame. Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now, From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow: Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours shine, When happy nations bear the marks divine! How easy then, to see the sinking state Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate! Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; And for our country, ’tis a bliss to die. ”

“ Is there no god Achilles to befriend, No power to avert his miserable end? Prevent, O Jove! this ignominious date, [271] And make my future life the sport of fate. Of all heaven’s oracles believed in vain, But most of Thetis must her son complain; By Phœbus’ darts she prophesied my fall, In glorious arms before the Trojan wall. Oh! had I died in fields of battle warm, Stretch’d like a hero, by a hero’s arm! Might Hector’s spear this dauntless bosom rend, And my swift soul o’ertake my slaughter’d friend. Ah no! Achilles meets a shameful fate, Oh how unworthy of the brave and great! ”

“ What heaps of Argives then shall load the plain, Those radiant eyes shall view, and view in vain. Nor shall great Hector cease the rage of fight, The navy flaming, and thy Greeks in flight, Even till the day when certain fates ordain That stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain) Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste the plain. For such is fate, nor canst thou turn its course With all thy rage, with all thy rebel force. Fly, if thy wilt, to earth’s remotest bound, Where on her utmost verge the seas resound; Where cursed Iapetus and Saturn dwell, Fast by the brink, within the streams of hell ”

“ Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run, Since first the labours of this war begun: Our cordage torn, decay’d our vessels lie, And scarce insure the wretched power to fly. Haste, then, for ever leave the Trojan wall! Our weeping wives, our tender children call: Love, duty, safety, summon us away, ’Tis nature’s voice, and nature we obey. Our shatter’d barks may yet transport us o’er, Safe and inglorious, to our native shore. Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ, And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy.”
His deep design unknown, the hosts approve Atrides’ speech. ”

“ That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave: Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride; Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside. Thee, the first honours of the war adorn, Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born; Him, awful majesty exalts above The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove. Let both unite with well-consenting mind, So shall authority with strength be join’d. Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles’ rage; Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age. Forbid it, gods! Achilles should be lost, The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host. ”

“ The all-wise disposer of the fates of men (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands; Nor was such glory due to Teucer’s hands. At its full stretch as the tough string he drew, Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two; Down dropp’d the bow: the shaft with brazen head Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead. The astonish’d archer to great Ajax cries; “Some god prevents our destined enterprise: Some god, propitious to the Trojan foe, Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the bow, And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.” ”

“ Hector, whose zeal whole hecatombs has slain, Whose grateful fumes the gods received with joy, From Ida’s summits, and the towers of Troy: Now see him flying; to his fears resign’d, And fate, and fierce Achilles, close behind. Consult, ye powers! (’tis worthy your debate) Whether to snatch him from impending fate, Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain, (Good as he is) the lot imposed on man.”
Then Pallas thus: “Shall he whose vengeance forms The forky bolt, and blackens heaven with storms, Shall he prolong one Trojan’s forfeit breath? A man, a mortal, pre-ordain’d to death! ”

“ So not a leader shall our conduct blame, Or judge me envious of a rival’s fame. But shall not we, ourselves, the truth maintain? What needs appealing in a fact so plain? What Greek shall blame me, if I bid thee rise, And vindicate by oath th’ ill-gotten prize? Rise if thou darest, before thy chariot stand, The driving scourge high-lifted in thy hand; And touch thy steeds, and swear thy whole intent Was but to conquer, not to circumvent. Swear by that god whose liquid arms surround The globe, and whose dread earthquakes heave the ground! ”

“ Shall I my prize resign With tame content, and thou possess’d of thine? Great as thou art, and like a god in fight, Think not to rob me of a soldier’s right. At thy demand shall I restore the maid? First let the just equivalent be paid; Such as a king might ask; and let it be A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. Or grant me this, or with a monarch’s claim This hand shall seize some other captive dame. The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign; [55] Ulysses’ spoils, or even thy own, be mine. The man who suffers, loudly may complain; And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. ”

“ Stretch’d in the dust the unhappy warrior lies, And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes. Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain! Thy country’s friend; and virtuous, though in vain! No more the youth shall join his consort’s side, At once a virgin, and at once a bride! No more with presents her embraces meet, Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet, On whom his passion, lavish of his store, Bestow’d so much, and vainly promised more! Unwept, uncover’d, on the plain he lay, While the proud victor bore his arms away. ”

“ So throng’d, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood. Each leader now his scatter’d force conjoins In close array, and forms the deepening lines. Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain. The king of kings, majestically tall, Towers o’er his armies, and outshines them all; Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads His subject herds, the monarch of the meads, Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen, His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien ”

“ Let Hector come; I wait his fury here. But Jove with conquest crowns the Trojan train: And, Jove our foe, all human force is vain.”
He sigh’d; but, sighing, raised his vengeful steel, And from his car the proud Thymbraeus fell: Molion, the charioteer, pursued his lord, His death ennobled by Ulysses’ sword. There slain, they left them in eternal night, Then plunged amidst the thickest ranks of fight. So two wild boars outstrip the following hounds, Then swift revert, and wounds return for wounds. Stern Hector’s conquests in the middle plain Stood check’d awhile, and Greece respired again. ”

“ High-throned amidst the great Olympian hall, On golden clouds th’ immortal synod sate; Detain’d from bloody war by Jove and Fate.
Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay, For slain Ascalaphus commenced the fray, Deiphobus to seize his helmet flies, And from his temples rends the glittering prize; Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near, And on his loaded arm discharged his spear: He drops the weight, disabled with the pain; The hollow helmet rings against the plain. Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey, From his torn arm the Grecian rent away The reeking javelin, and rejoin’d his friends. ”

“ At length he found Lycaon’s mighty son; To whom the chief of Venus’ race begun:
“Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall’d fame, And boasted glory of the Lycian name? O pierce that mortal! if we mortal call That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; Or god incensed, who quits the distant skies To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; (Which, oh avert from our unhappy state! For what so dreadful as celestial hate) ? Whoe’er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; If man, destroy; if god, entreat to spare.” ”

“ My glory ravish’d, and my people slain! To thee my vows were breathed from every shore; What altar smoked not with our victims’ gore? With fat of bulls I fed the constant flame, And ask’d destruction to the Trojan name. Now, gracious god! far humbler our demand; Give these at least to ’scape from Hector’s hand, And save the relics of the Grecian land!”
Thus pray’d the king, and heaven’s great father heard His vows, in bitterness of soul preferr’d: The wrath appeased, by happy signs declares, And gives the people to their monarch’s prayers. ”

“ Shall Jove for one extend the narrow span, Whose bounds were fix’d before his race began? How many sons of gods, foredoom’d to death, Before proud Ilion must resign their breath! Were thine exempt, debate would rise above, And murmuring powers condemn their partial Jove. Give the bold chief a glorious fate in fight; And when the ascending soul has wing’d her flight, Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy command, The breathless body to his native land. His friends and people, to his future praise, A marble tomb and pyramid shall raise, And lasting honours to his ashes give ”

“ Thus they above: while, swiftly gliding down, Apollo enters Ilion’s sacred town; The guardian-god now trembled for her wall, And fear’d the Greeks, though fate forbade her fall. Back to Olympus, from the war’s alarms, Return the shining bands of gods in arms; Some proud in triumph, some with rage on fire; And take their thrones around the ethereal sire.
Through blood, through death, Achilles still proceeds, O’er slaughter’d heroes, and o’er rolling steeds. As when avenging flames with fury driven On guilty towns exert the wrath of heaven; The pale inhabitants, some fall, some fly ”

“ Deserted of the god, yet let us try What human strength and prudence can supply; If yet this honour’d corse, in triumph borne, May glad the fleets that hope not our return, Who tremble yet, scarce rescued from their fates, And still hear Hector thundering at their gates. Some hero too must be despatch’d to bear The mournful message to Pelides’ ear; For sure he knows not, distant on the shore, His friend, his loved Patroclus, is no more. But such a chief I spy not through the host: The men, the steeds, the armies, all are lost In general darkness—Lord of earth and air! ”

“ This day we call the council of the skies In care of human race; even Jove’s own eye Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. Far on Olympus’ top in secret state Ourself will sit, and see the hand of fate Work out our will. Celestial powers! descend, And as your minds direct, your succour lend To either host. Troy soon must lie o’erthrown, If uncontroll’d Achilles fights alone: Their troops but lately durst not meet his eyes; What can they now, if in his rage he rise? Assist them, gods! or Ilion’s sacred wall May fall this day, though fate forbids the fall. ”

“ Fast by his side the generous Spartan glows With great revenge, and feeds his inward woes.
But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian aids, On Hector frowning, thus his flight upbraids:
“Where now in Hector shall we Hector find? A manly form, without a manly mind. Is this, O chief! a hero’s boasted fame? How vain, without the merit, is the name! Since battle is renounced, thy thoughts employ What other methods may preserve thy Troy: ’Tis time to try if Ilion’s state can stand By thee alone, nor ask a foreign hand: Mean, empty boast! but shall the Lycians stake Their lives for you? ”

“ Still his bold arms determined to employ, The guardian still of long-defended Troy.
Apollo now to tired Achilles turns: (The power confess’d in all his glory burns:) “And what (he cries) has Peleus’ son in view, With mortal speed a godhead to pursue? For not to thee to know the gods is given, Unskill’d to trace the latent marks of heaven. What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the plain? Vain thy past labour, and thy present vain: Safe in their walls are now her troops bestow’d, While here thy frantic rage attacks a god.” ”

“ He stoop’d, while o’er his head the flying spear Sang innocent, and spent its force in air. Minerva watch’d it falling on the land, Then drew, and gave to great Achilles’ hand, Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy, Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy.
“The life you boasted to that javelin given, Prince! you have miss’d. My fate depends on Heaven, To thee, presumptuous as thou art, unknown, Or what must prove my fortune, or thy own. Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind, And with false terrors sink another’s mind. ”

“ Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain, And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign. Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host, The man who acts the least, upbraids the most? Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring, Nor let those lips profane the name of king. For our return we trust the heavenly powers; Be that their care; to fight like men be ours. But grant the host with wealth the general load, Except detraction, what hast thou bestow’d? Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine? Gods! ”

“ The noblest power that might the world control They gave thee not—a brave and virtuous soul. Is this a general’s voice, that would suggest Fears like his own to every Grecian breast? Confiding in our want of worth, he stands; And if we fly, ’tis what our king commands. Go thou, inglorious! from the embattled plain; Ships thou hast store, and nearest to the main; A noble care the Grecians shall employ, To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy. Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, Myself shall stay, till Troy or I expire; Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame ”

“ But who like thee can boast a soul sedate, So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate? Thy force, like steel, a temper’d hardness shows, Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows, Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain, With falling woods to strew the wasted plain. Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms With which a lover golden Venus arms; Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show, No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow. Yet, would’st thou have the proffer’d combat stand, The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand ”

“ And, but some god, some angry god withstands, His fate was due to these unerring hands. Skill’d in the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor join’d swift horses to the rapid car. Ten polish’d chariots I possess’d at home, And still they grace Lycaon’s princely dome: There veil’d in spacious coverlets they stand; And twice ten coursers wait their lord’s command. The good old warrior bade me trust to these, When first for Troy I sail’d the sacred seas; In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, And through the ranks of death triumphant ride. ”

“ Great Ajax mark’d the growing storm from far, And thus bespoke his brother of the war: “Our fatal day, alas! is come, my friend; And all our wars and glories at an end! ’Tis not this corse alone we guard in vain, Condemn’d to vultures on the Trojan plain; We too must yield: the same sad fate must fall On thee, on me, perhaps, my friend, on all. See what a tempest direful Hector spreads, And lo! it bursts, it thunders on our heads! Call on our Greeks, if any hear the call, The bravest Greeks: this hour demands them all.” ”

“ Now give thy hand; for to the farther shore When once we pass, the soul returns no more: When once the last funereal flames ascend, No more shall meet Achilles and his friend; No more our thoughts to those we loved make known; Or quit the dearest, to converse alone. Me fate has sever’d from the sons of earth, The fate fore-doom’d that waited from my birth: Thee too it waits; before the Trojan wall Even great and godlike thou art doom’d to fall. Hear then; and as in fate and love we join, Ah suffer that my bones may rest with thine! Together have we lived ”

“ Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, Directs in council, and in war presides; To whom its safety a whole people owes, To waste long nights in indolent repose. Monarch, awake! ’tis Jove’s command I bear, Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care. In just array draw forth the embattled train, And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain; E’en now, O king! ’tis given thee to destroy The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. For now no more the gods with fate contend, At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end. Destruction hangs o’er yon devoted wall, And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. ”

“ Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but Heaven. Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts, To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts. Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall, Your boasted city, and your god-built wall, Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground; And spread a long unmeasured ruin round. The time shall come, when, chased along the plain, Even thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain; Even thou shalt wish, to aid thy desperate course, The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior’s fame, While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame. ”

“ Who hastes to murder with a savage joy, Invades around, and breathes but to destroy! Shame is not of his soul; nor understood, The greatest evil and the greatest good. Still for one loss he rages unresign’d, Repugnant to the lot of all mankind; To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, Heaven dooms each mortal, and its will is done: Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. But this insatiate, the commission given By fate exceeds, and tempts the wrath of heaven: Lo, how his rage dishonest drags along Hector’s dead earth, insensible of wrong! ”

“ Flight, more than shameful, is destructive here. On other works though Troy with fury fall, And pour her armies o’er our batter’d wall: There Greece has strength: but this, this part o’erthrown, Her strength were vain; I dread for you alone: Here Hector rages like the force of fire, Vaunts of his gods, and calls high Jove his sire: If yet some heavenly power your breast excite, Breathe in your hearts, and string your arms to fight, Greece yet may live, her threaten’d fleet maintain: And Hector’s force, and Jove’s own aid, be vain. ”

“ Loud flash the waters to the rushing fall Of the thick foliage. The large trunk display’d Bridged the rough flood across: the hero stay’d On this his weight, and raised upon his hand, Leap’d from the channel, and regain’d the land. Then blacken’d the wild waves: the murmur rose: The god pursues, a huger billow throws, And bursts the bank, ambitious to destroy The man whose fury is the fate of Troy. He like the warlike eagle speeds his pace (Swiftest and strongest of the aerial race) ; Far as a spear can fly, Achilles springs ”

“ He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name. Heavens! how my country’s woes distract my mind, Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design’d! And must we, gods! our heads inglorious lay In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day? Return, Achilles: oh return, though late, To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate; If in that heart or grief or courage lies, Rise to redeem; ah, yet to conquer, rise! The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain: Regard in time, O prince divinely brave! ”

“ The man, that slew Achilles, is his friend! No more shall Hector’s and Pelides’ spear Turn from each other in the walks of war.”— Then with revengeful eyes he scann’d him o’er: “Come, and receive thy fate!” He spake no more.
Hector, undaunted, thus: “Such words employ To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike boy: Such we could give, defying and defied, Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride! I know thy force to mine superior far; But heaven alone confers success in war: Mean as I am, the gods may guide my dart, And give it entrance in a braver heart.” ”

“ Or singly, Hector and his troops attend? Sure where such partial favour heaven bestow’d, To brave the hero were to brave the god: Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field; ’Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield. Yet, nor the god, nor heaven, should give me fear, Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: Still would we turn, still battle on the plains, And give Achilles all that yet remains Of his and our Patroclus—” This, no more The time allow’d: Troy thicken’d on the shore. A sable scene! The terrors Hector led. Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead. ”