Back Aa

Iliad of Homer, Rendered into English Blank Verse

<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3> THE ACTS OF DIOMED. Diomed, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day’s battle. Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables him to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any of the former, excepting Venus. Æneas joins Pandarus to oppose him, Pandarus is killed, and Æneas in great danger but for the assistance of Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded on the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and, at length, carries off Æneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the mean time Æneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that god; he wounds him, and sends him groaning to heaven. The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in the former. <h2>BOOK V.</h2> Such strength, and courage then to Diomed, The son of Tydeus, Pallas gave, as rais’d, ’Mid all the Greeks, the glory of his name. Forth from his helm and shield a fiery light There flash’d, like autumn’s star, that brightest shines When newly risen from his ocean bath. So from the warrior’s head and shoulders flash’d That fiery light, as to the midst he urg’d His furious course, where densest masses fought. There was one Dares ’mid the Trojan host, The priest of Vulcan, rich, of blameless life; Two gallant sons he had, Idaeus nam’d, And Phegeus, skill’d in all the points of war. These, parted from the throng, the warrior met; They on their car, while he on foot advanc’d. When near they came, first Phegeus threw his spear; O’er the left shoulder of Tydides pass’d The erring weapon’s point, and miss’d its mark. His pond’rous spear in turn Tydides threw, And not in vain; on Phegeus’ breast it struck, Full in the midst, and hurl’d him from the car. Idaeus from the well-wrought chariot sprang, And fled, nor durst his brother’s corpse defend. Nor had he so escap’d the doom of death, But Vulcan bore him safely from the field, In darkness shrouded, that his aged sire Might not be wholly of his sons bereav’d. The car Tydides to his comrades gave, And bade them to the ships the horses drive. Now when the Trojans Dares’ sons beheld, The one in flight, the other stretch’d in death, Their spirits within them quail’d; but Pallas took The hand of Mars, and thus address’d the God: “Mars, Mars, thou bane of mortals, blood-stain’d Lord, Razer of cities, wherefore leave we not The Greeks and Trojans to contend, and see To which the sire of all will vict’ry give; While we retire, and shun the wrath of Jove?” Thus saying, from the battle Mars she led, And plac’d him on Scamander’s steepy banks. The Greeks drove back the Trojan host; the chiefs Slew each his victim; Agamemnon first, The mighty monarch, from his chariot hurl’d Hodius, the sturdy Halizonian chief, Him, as he turn’d, between the shoulder-blades The jav’lin struck, and through his chest was driv’n; Thund’ring he fell, and loud his armour rang. On Phaestus, Borus’ son, Maeonian chief, Who from the fertile plains of Tarna came, Then sprang Idomeneus; and as he sought To mount upon his car, the Cretan King Through his right shoulder drove the pointed spear; He fell; the shades of death his eyes o’erspread, And of his arms the followers stripp’d his corpse. The son of Atreus, Menelaus, slew Scamandrius, son of Strophius, sportsman keen, In woodcraft skilful; for his practis’d hand Had by Diana’s self been taught to slay Each beast of chase the mountain forest holds. But nought avail’d him then the Archer-Queen Diana’s counsels, nor his boasted art Of distant aim; for as he fled, the lance Of Menelaus, Atreus’ warlike son, Behind his neck, between the shoulder-blades, His flight arresting, through his chest was driv’n. Headlong he fell, and loud his armour rang. Phereclus by Meriones was slain, Son of Harmonides, whose practis’d hand Knew well to fashion many a work of art; By Pallas highly favour’d; he the ships For Paris built, first origin of ill, Freighted with evil to the men of Troy, And to himself, who knew not Heav’n’s decrees. Him, in his headlong flight, in hot pursuit Meriones o’ertook, and thrust his lance Through his right flank; beneath the bone was driv’n The spear, and pierc’d him through: prone on his knees, Groaning, he fell, and death his eyelids clos’d. Meges Pedaeus slew, Antenor’s son, A bastard born, but by Theano rear’d With tender care, and nurtur’d as her son, With her own children, for her husband’s sake. Him, Phyleus’ warrior son, approaching near, Thrust through the junction of the head and neck; Crash’d through his teeth the spear beneath the tongue; Prone in the dust he gnash’d the brazen point. Eurypylus, Euaemon’s noble son, Hypsenor slew, the worthy progeny Of Dolopion brave; Scamander’s priest, And by the people as a God rever’d: Him, as he fled before him, from behind Eurypylus, Euaemon’s noble son, Smote with the sword; and from the shoulder-point The brawny arm he sever’d; to the ground Down fell the gory hand; the darkling shades Of death, and rig’rous doom, his eyelids clos’d. Thus labour’d they amid the stubborn fight; But of Tydides none might say to whom His arm belong’d, or whether with the hosts Of Troy or Greece he mingled in the fight: Hither and thither o’er the plain he rush’d, Like to a wintry stream, that brimming o’er Breaks down its barriers in its rapid course; Nor well-built bridge can stem the flood, nor fence guards the fertile fields, as down it pours Its sudden torrent, swoll’n with rain from Heav’n, And many a goodly work of man destroys: So back were borne before Tydides’ might The serried ranks of Troy, nor dar’d await, Despite their numbers, his impetuous charge. Him when Lycaon’s noble son beheld Careering o’er the plain, the serried ranks Driving before him, quick at Tydeus’ son He bent his bow; and onward as he rush’d, On the right shoulder, near the breastplate’s joint, The stinging arrow struck; right through it pass’d, And held its way, that blood the breastplate stain’d. Then shouted loud Lycaon’s noble son: “Arouse ye, valiant Trojans, ye who goad Your flying steeds; the bravest of the Greeks Is wounded, nor, I deem, can long withstand My weapon, if indeed from Lycia’s shore By Phoebus’ counsel sent I join’d the war.” Thus he, vain-glorious; but not so was quell’d The godlike chief; back he withdrew, and stood Beside his car, and thus to Sthenelus, The son of Capaneus, his speech address’d: “Up, gentle son of Capaneus, descend From off the car, and from my shoulder draw This stinging arrow forth.” He said, and down Leap’d from the chariot Sthenelus, and stood Beside him; and as forth he drew the shaft, Gush’d out the blood, and dyed the twisted mail. Then thus the valiant son of Tydeus pray’d: “Hear me, thou child of aegis-bearing Jove, Unconquer’d! if amid the deadly fight Thy friendly aid my father e’er sustain’d, Let me in turn thy favour find; and grant Within my reach and compass of my spear That man may find himself, who unawares Hath wounded me, and vainly boasting deems I shall not long behold the light of day.” Thus pray’d the chief, and Pallas heard his pray’r; To all his limbs, to feet and hands alike, She gave fresh vigour; and with winged words, Beside him as she stood, address’d him thus: “Go fearless onward, Diomed, to meet The Trojan hosts; for I within thy breast Thy father’s dauntless courage have infus’d, Such as of old in Tydeus’ bosom dwelt, Bold horseman, buckler-clad; and from thine eyes The film that dimm’d them I have purg’d away, That thou mayst well ’twixt Gods and men discern. If then some God make trial of thy force, With other of th’ Immortals fight thou not; But should Jove’s daughter Venus dare the fray Thou needst not shun at her to cast thy spear.” This said, the blue-ey’d Goddess disappear’d. Forthwith again amid the foremost ranks Tydides mingled; keenly as before His spirit against the Trojans burn’d to fight, With threefold fury now he sought the fray. As when a hungry lion has o’erleap’d The sheepfold; him the guardian of the flock Has wounded, not disabled; by his wound To rage excited, but not forc’d to fly, The fold he enters, scares the trembling sheep, That, closely huddled, each on other press, Then pounces on his prey, and leaps the fence: So pounc’d Tydides on the Trojan host. Astynous and Hypeiron then he slew, His people’s guardian; through the breast of one He drove his spear, and with his mighty sword He smote the other on the collar-bone, The shoulder sev’ring from the neck and back. Them left he there to lie; of Abas then And Polyeidus went in hot pursuit, Sons of Eurydamas, an aged seer, Whose visions stay’d them not; but both were doom’d A prey to valiant Diomed to fall. Xanthus and Thoon then the hero slew, The sons of Phaenops, children of his age: He, worn with years, no other sons begot, Heirs of his wealth; they two together fell, And to their father left a load of grief, That from the battle they return’d not home, And distant kindred all his substance shar’d. On Chromius and Echemon next he fell, Two sons of Priam on one chariot borne; And as a lion springs upon a herd, And breaks the neck of heifer or of steer, Feeding in woodland glade; with such a spring These two, in vain resisting, from their car Tydides hurl’d; then stripp’d their arms, and bade His followers lead their horses to the ships. Him when Æneas saw amid the ranks Dealing destruction, through the fight and throng Of spears he plung’d, if haply he might find The godlike Pandarus; Lycaon’s son He found, of noble birth and stalwart form, And stood before him, and address’d him thus: “Where, Pandarus, are now thy winged shafts, Thy bow, and well-known skill, wherein with thee Can no man here contend? nor Lycia boasts, Through all her wide-spread plains, a truer aim; Then raise to Jove thy hands, and with thy shaft Strike down this chief, whoe’er he be, that thus Is making fearful havoc in our host, Relaxing many a warrior’s limbs in death: If he be not indeed a God, incens’d Against the Trojans for neglected rites; For fearful is the vengeance of a God.” Whom answer’d thus Lycaon’s noble son: “Æneas, chief and councillor of Troy, Most like in all respects to Tydeus’ son He seems; his shield I know, and visor’d helm, And horses; whether he himself be God, I cannot tell; but if he be indeed The man I think him, Tydeus’ valiant son, He fights not thus without the aid of Heav’n; But by his side, his shoulders veiled in cloud, Some God attends his steps, and turns away The shaft that just hath reach’d him; for ev’n now A shaft I shot, which by the breastplate’s joint Pierc’d his right shoulder through: full sure I deem’d That shaft had sent him to the shades, and yet It slew him not; ’tis sure some angry God. Nor horse have I, nor car on which to mount; But in my sire Lycaon’s wealthy house Elev’n fair chariots stand, all newly built, Each with its cover; by the side of each Two steeds on rye and barley white are fed; And in his well-built house, when here I came, Lycaon, aged warrior, urg’d me oft With horses and with chariots high upborne, To lead the Trojans in the stubborn fight; I hearken’d not—’twere better if I had— Yet fear’d I lest my horses, wont to feed In plenty unstinted, by the soldiers’ wants Might of their custom’d forage be depriv’d; I left them there, and hither came on foot, And trusting to my bow: vain trust, it seems; Two chiefs already have I struck, the sons Of Tydeus and of Atreus; with true aim Drawn blood from both, yet but increas’d their rage. Sad was the hour when down from where it hung I took my bow, and hasting to the aid Of godlike Hector, hither led my troops; But should I e’er return, and see again My native land, my wife, my lofty hall, Then may a stranger’s sword cut off my head, If with these hands I shatter not, and burn, The bow that thus hath fail’d me at my need.” 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.” Whom answer’d thus Lycaon’s noble son: “Æneas, of thy horses and thy car Take thou the charge; beneath th’ accustomed hand, With more assurance would they draw the car, If we from Tydeus’ son be forced to fly; Nor, struck with panic, and thy voice unheard, Refuse to bear us from the battle-field; So should ourselves be slain, and Tydeus’ son In triumph drive thy horses to the ships. But thou thy horses and thy chariot guide, While I his onset with my lance receive.” Thus saying, on the car they mounted both, And tow’rd Tydides urg’d their eager steeds. Them Sthenelus beheld, the noble son Of Capaneus, and to Tydides cried: “Oh son of Tydeus, dearest to my soul, Two men I see, of might invincible, Impatient to engage thee; Pandarus, Well skill’d in archery, Lycaon’s son; With him, Æneas, great Anchises’ son, Who from immortal Venus boasts his birth. Then let us timely to the car retreat, Lest, moving thus amid the foremost ranks, Thy daring pay the forfeit of thy life.” To whom brave Diomed with stern regard: “Talk not to me of flight! I heed thee not! It is not in my nature so to fight With skulking artifice and faint retreat; My strength is yet unbroken; I should shame To mount the car; but forward will I go To meet these chiefs’ encounter; for my soul Pallas forbids the touch of fear to know. Nor shall their horses’ speed procure for both A safe return, though one escape my arm. This too I say, and bear my words in mind; By Pallas’ counsel if my hap should be To slay them both, leave thou my horses here, The reins attaching to the chariot-rail, And seize, and from the Trojans to the ships Drive off the horses in Æneas’ car; From those descended, which all-seeing Jove On Tros, for Ganymede his son, bestow’d: With these may none beneath the sun compare. Anchises, King of men, the breed obtain’d By cunning, to the horses sending mares Without the knowledge of Laomedon. Six colts were thus engender’d: four of these In his own stalls he rear’d; the other two Gave to Æneas, fear-inspiring chief: These could we win, our praise were great indeed.” Such converse while they held, the twain approach’d, Their horses urg’d to speed; then thus began, To Diomed, Lycaon’s noble son: “Great son of Tydeus, warrior brave and skill’d, My shaft, it seems, has fail’d to reach thy life; Try we then now what hap attends my spear.” He said; and, poising, hurl’d his pond’rous spear, And struck Tydides’ shield; right through the shield Drove the keen weapon, and the breastplate reach’d. Then shouted loud Lycaon’s noble son: “Thou hast it through the flank, nor canst thou long Survive the blow; great glory now is mine.” To whom, unmov’d, the valiant Diomed: “Thine aim hath failed, I am not touch’d; and now I deem we part not hence till one of ye Glut with his blood th’ insatiate Lord of War.” He said: the spear, by Pallas guided, struck Beside the nostril, underneath the eye; Crash’d thro’ the teeth, and cutting thro’ the tongue Beneath the angle of the jaw came forth: Down from the car he fell; and loudly rang His glitt’ring arms: aside the startled steeds Sprang devious: from his limbs the spirit fled. Down leap’d Æneas, spear and shield in hand, Against the Greeks to guard the valiant dead; And like a lion, fearless in his strength, Around the corpse he stalk’d, this way and that, His spear and buckler round before him held, To all who dar’d approach him threat’ning death, With fearful shouts; a rocky fragment then Tydides lifted up, a mighty mass, Which scarce two men could raise, as men are now: But he, unaided, lifted it with ease. With this he smote Æneas near the groin, Where the thigh-bone, inserted in the hip, Turns in the socket-joint; the rugged mass The socket crush’d, and both the tendons broke, And tore away the flesh: down on his knees, Yet resting on his hand, the hero fell; And o’er his eyes the shades of darkness spread. Then had Æneas, King of men, been slain, Had not his mother, Venus, child of Jove, Who to Anchises, where he fed his flocks, The hero bore, his peril quickly seen: Around her son she threw her snowy arms, And with a veil, thick-folded, wrapt him round, From hostile spears to guard him, lest some Greek Should pierce his breast, and rob him of his life. She from the battle thus her son removed; Nor did the son of Capaneus neglect The strict injunction by Tydides giv’n; His reins attaching to the chariot-rail, Far from the battle-din he check’d, and left, His own fleet steeds; then rushing forward, seiz’d, And from the Trojans tow’rd the camp drove off, The sleek-skinn’d horses of Æneas’ car. These to Deipylus, his chosen friend, He gave, of all his comrades best esteem’d, Of soundest judgment, tow’rd the ships to drive. Then, his own car remounting, seiz’d the reins, And urg’d with eager haste his fiery steeds, Seeking Tydides; he, meanwhile, press’d on In keen pursuit of Venus; her he knew A weak, unwarlike Goddess, not of those That like Bellona fierce, or Pallas, range Exulting through the blood-stain’d fields of war. Her, searching thro’ the crowd, at length he found, And springing forward, with his pointed spear A wound inflicted on her tender hand. Piercing th’ ambrosial veil, the Graces’ work, The sharp spear graz’d her palm below the wrist. Forth from the wound th’ immortal current flow’d, Pure ichor, life-stream of the blessed Gods; They eat no bread, they drink no ruddy wine, And bloodless thence and deathless they become. The Goddess shriek’d aloud, and dropp’d her son; But in his arms Apollo bore him off In a thick cloud envelop’d, lest some Greek Might pierce his breast, and rob him of his life. Loud shouted brave Tydides, as she fled: “Daughter of Jove, from battle-fields retire; Enough for thee weak woman to delude; If war thou seek’st, the lesson thou shalt learn Shall cause thee shudder but to hear it nam’d.” Thus he; but ill at ease, and sorely pain’d, The Goddess fled: her, Iris, swift as wind, Caught up, and from the tumult bore away, Weeping with pain, her fair skin soil’d with blood. Mars on the left hand of the battle-field She found, his spear reclining by his side, And, veil’d in cloud, his car and flying steeds. Kneeling, her brother she besought to lend The flying steeds, with golden frontlets crown’d: “Dear brother, aid me hence, and lend thy car To bear me to Olympus, seat of Gods; Great is the pain I suffer from a wound Receiv’d from Diomed, a mortal man, Who now would dare with Jove himself to fight.” He lent the steeds, with golden frontlets crown’d; In deep distress she mounted on the car: Beside her Iris stood, and took the reins, And urg’d the coursers; nothing loth they flew, And soon to high Olympus, seat of Gods, They came: swift Iris there the coursers stay’d, Loos’d from the chariot, and before them plac’d Ambrosial forage: on her mother’s lap, Dione, Venus fell; she in her arms Embrac’d, and sooth’d her with her hand, and said: “Which of the heav’nly pow’rs hath wrong’d thee thus, My child, as guilty of some open shame?” Whom answer’d thus the laughter-loving Queen; “The haughty son of Tydeus, Diomed, Hath wounded me, because my dearest son, Æneas, from the field I bore away. No more ’twixt Greeks and Trojans is the fight, But with the Gods themselves the Greeks contend.” To whom Dione, heav’nly Goddess, thus: “Have patience, dearest child; though much enforc’d, Restrain thine anger: we, in Heav’n who dwell, Have much to bear from mortals; and ourselves Too oft upon each other suff’rings lay. Mars had his suff’rings; by Aloeus’ sons, Otus and Ephialtes, strongly bound, He thirteen months in brazen fetters lay: And there had pin’d away the God of War, Insatiate Mars, had not their step-mother, The beauteous Eriboea, sought the aid Of Hermes; he by stealth releas’d the God, Sore worn and wasted by his galling chains. Juno too suffer’d, when Amphitryon’s son Through her right breast a three-barb’d arrow sent: Dire, and unheard of, were the pangs she bore. Great Pluto’s self the stinging arrow felt, When that same son of aegis-bearing Jove Assail’d him in the very gates of hell, And wrought him keenest anguish; pierc’d with pain To high Olympus, to the courts of Jove, Groaning, he came; the bitter shaft remain’d Deep in his shoulder fix’d, and griev’d his soul. But soon with soothing ointments Paeon’s hand (For death on him was powerless) heal’d the wound. Accurs’d was he, of daring over-bold, Reckless of evil deeds, who with his bow Assail’d the Gods, who on Olympus dwell. The blue-ey’d Pallas, well I know, has urg’d Tydides to assail thee; fool and blind! Unknowing he how short his term of life Who fights against the Gods! for him no child Upon his knees shall lisp a father’s name, Safe from the war and battle-field return’d. Brave as he is, let Diomed beware He meet not some more dangerous foe than thee. Then fair Ægiale, Adrastus’ child, The noble wife of valiant Diomed, Shall long, with lamentations loud, disturb The slumbers of her house, and vainly mourn Her youthful Lord, the bravest of the Greeks.” She said; and wip’d the ichor from the wound; The hand was heal’d, the grievous pains allay’d. But Juno and Minerva, looking on, With words of bitter mock’ry Saturn’s son Provok’d: and thus the blue-ey’d Goddess spoke: “O Father! may I speak without offence? Venus, it seems, has sought to lead astray Some Grecian woman, and persuade to join Those Trojans, whom she holds in high esteem; And, as her hand the gentle dame caress’d, A golden clasp has scratched her slender arm.” Thus she: and smil’d the Sire of Gods and men; He call’d the golden Venus to his side, And, “Not to thee, my child,” he said, “belong The deeds of war; do thou bestow thy care On deeds of love, and tender marriage ties; But leave to Mars and Pallas feats of arms.” Such converse while they held, brave Diomed Again assail’d Æneas; well he knew Apollo’s guardian hand around him thrown; Yet by the God undaunted, on he press’d To slay Æneas, and his arms obtain. Thrice was his onset made, with murd’rous aim; And thrice Apollo struck his glitt’ring shield; But when, with godlike force, he sought to make His fourth attempt, the Far-destroyer spoke In terms of awful menace: “Be advis’d, Tydides, and retire; nor as a God Esteem thyself; since not alike the race Of Gods immortal and of earth-born men.” He said; and Diomed a little space Before the Far-destroyer’s wrath retir’d: Apollo then Æneas bore away Far from the tumult; and in Pergamus, Where stood his sacred shrine, bestow’d him safe. Latona there, and Dian, Archer-Queen, In the great temple’s innermost recess, Gave to his wounds their care, and sooth’d his pride. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.