Homer

“ Once more Sarpedon hurl’d his glitt’ring spear
In vain; above Patroclus’ shoulder flew
The point, innocuous; from his hand in turn
The spear not vainly thrown, Sarpedon struck
Where lies the diaphragm, below the heart.
He fell; as falls an oak, or poplar tall,
Or lofty pine, which on the mountain top
For some proud ship the woodman’s axe hath hewn:
So he, with death-cry sharp, before his car
Extended lay, and clutch’d the blood-stain’d soil.
As when a lion on the herd has sprung,
And, ’mid the heifers seiz’d, the lordly bull
Lies bellowing, crush’d between the lion’s jaws ”

“ In serried ranks the Greeks, undaunted, stood.
As when the wind from off a threshing-floor,
Where men are winnowing, blows the chaff away;
When yellow Ceres with the breeze divides
The corn and chaff, which lies in whit’ning heaps;
So thick the Greeks were whiten’d o’er with dust,
Which to the brazen vault of Heav’n arose
Beneath the horses’ feet, that with the crowd
Were mingled, by their drivers turn’d to flight.
Unwearied still, they bore the brunt; but Mars
The Trojans succouring, the battle-field
Veil’d in thick clouds, from ev’ry quarter brought. ”

“ Him answer’d thus Æneas, chief of Troy:
“Speak thou not thus; our fortunes shall not change
Till thou and I, with chariot and with horse,
This chief encounter, and his prowess prove;
Then mount my car, and see how swift my steeds.
Hither and thither, in pursuit or flight,
From those of Tros descended, scour the plain.
So if the victory to Diomed,
The son of Tydeus, should by Jove be giv’n,
We yet may safely reach the walls of Troy.
Take thou the whip and reins, while I descend
To fight on foot; or thou the chief engage,
And leave to me the conduct of the car.” ”

“ Achilles, swift of foot, excites my fear.
His proud, impetuous spirit will spurn the plain,
Where Greeks and Trojans oft in warlike strife
Their balanc’d strength exert; if he come forth,
Our fight will be to guard our homes and wives.
Gain we the city; trust me, so ’twere best.
Now, for a while, ambrosial night detains
The son of Peleus; but at early morn
If issuing forth in arms he find us here,
His prowess we shall know; and happy he
Who, flying, shall in safety reach the walls
Of sacred Troy; for many a Trojan slain
Shall feed the vultures; Heav’n avert such fate! ”

“ Would the same god had fix’d it in his heart!
So Troy, relieved from that wide-wasting hand,
Should breathe from slaughter and in combat stand:
Whose sons now tremble at his darted spear,
As scatter’d lambs the rushing lion fear.”
He dauntless thus: “Thou conqueror of the fair,
Thou woman-warrior with the curling hair;
Vain archer! trusting to the distant dart,
Unskill’d in arms to act a manly part!
Thou hast but done what boys or women can;
Such hands may wound, but not incense a man.
Nor boast the scratch thy feeble arrow gave,
A coward’s weapon never hurts the brave. ”

“ Roll’d the large orbs of her majestic eyes,
And thus return’d:—“Austere Saturnius, say,
From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway?
Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force,
And all thy counsels take the destined course.
But ’tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen,
In close consult, the silver-footed queen.
Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny,
Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky.
What fatal favour has the goddess won,
To grace her fierce, inexorable son?
Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,
And glut his vengeance with my people slain.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.
But know, whatever fate I am to try,
By no dishonest wound shall Hector die.
I shall not fall a fugitive at least,
My soul shall bravely issue from my breast.
But first, try thou my arm; and may this dart
End all my country’s woes, deep buried in thy heart.” ”

“ See’st thou unmov’d the ruin of the Greeks?
Yet they in Ægae and in Helice,
With grateful off’rings rich thine altars crown;
Then give we them the vict’ry; if we all
Who favour Greece, together should combine
To put to flight the Trojans, and restrain
All-seeing Jove, he might be left alone,
On Ida’s summit to digest his wrath.”
To whom, in anger, Neptune thus replied:
“O Juno, rash of speech, what words are these!
I dare not counsel that we all should join
’Gainst Saturn’s son; so much the stronger he.” ”

“ And from Olympus’ heights in haste she sped;
Like to a meteor, that, of grave portent
To warring armies or sea-faring men,
The son of deep-designing Saturn sends,
Bright-flashing, scatt’ring fiery sparks around,
The blue-ey’d Goddess darted down to earth,
And lighted in the midst; amazement held
The Trojan warriors and the well-greav’d Greeks;
And one to other look’d and said, “What means
This sign? Must fearful battle rage again,
Or may we hope for gentle peace from Jove,
Who to mankind dispenses peace and war?”
Such was the converse Greeks and Trojans held. ”

“ His shatter’d helm, and stretch’d him o’er the slain.
Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus came,
And, like an eagle darting at his game,
Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band.
What grief thy heart, what fury urged thy hand,
O generous Greek! when with full vigour thrown,
At Sthenelaus flew the weighty stone,
Which sunk him to the dead: when Troy, too near
That arm, drew back; and Hector learn’d to fear.
Far as an able hand a lance can throw,
Or at the lists, or at the fighting foe;
So far the Trojans from their lines retired;
Till Glaucus, turning, all the rest inspired. ”

“ High o’er the dusky whirlwind scales the heaven.
Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes,
There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods,
Show’d the celestial blood, and with a groan
Thus pour’d his plaints before the immortal throne:
“Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey,
And brook the furies of this daring day?
For mortal men celestial powers engage,
And gods on gods exert eternal rage:
From thee, O father! all these ills we bear,
And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear;
Thou gavest that fury to the realms of light,
Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right. ”

“ The day shall come when this imperial Troy,
And Priam’s race, and Priam’s royal self,
Shall in one common ruin be o’erthrown;
And Saturn’s son himself, high-throned Jove,
Who dwells in Heav’n, shall in their faces flash
His aegis dark and dread, this treach’rous deed
Avenging; this shall surely come to pass.
But, Menelaus, deep will be my grief,
If thou shouldst perish, meeting thus thy fate.
To thirsty Argos should I then return
By foul disgrace o’erwhelm’d; for, with thy fall,
The Greeks will mind them of their native land ”