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Iliad of Homer, Rendered into English Blank Verse

Meanwhile Apollo of the silver bow A phantom form prepar’d, the counterpart Of great Æneas, and alike in arms: Around the form, of Trojans and of Greeks, Loud was the din of battle; fierce the strokes That fell on rounded shield of tough bull’s-hide, And lighter targe, before each warrior’s breast. Then thus Apollo to the God of War: “Mars! Mars! thou bane of mortals, blood-stain’d Lord, Razer of cities, wer’t not well thyself To interpose, and from the battle-field Withdraw this chief, Tydides? such his pride, He now would dare with Jove himself to fight. Venus, of late, he wounded in the wrist; And, like a God, but now confronted me.” He said, and sat on Ilium’s topmost height: While Mars, in likeness of the Thracian chief, Swift Acamas, amid the Trojan ranks Mov’d to and fro, and urg’d them to the fight. To Priam’s Heav’n-descended sons he call’d; “Ye sons of Priam, Heav’n-descended King, How long will ye behold your people slain? Till to your very doors the war be brought? Æneas, noble-soul’d Anchises’ son, In like esteem with Hector held, is down; On to his aid! our gallant comrade save!” He said; his words fresh courage gave to all: Then thus Sarpedon, in reproachful tone, Address’d the godlike Hector; “Where is now, Hector, the spirit that heretofore was thine? ’Twas once thy boast that ev’n without allies Thyself, thy brethren, and thy house, alone The city could defend: for all of these I look in vain, and see not one; they all, As curs around a lion, cow’r and crouch: We, strangers and allies, maintain the fight. I to your aid, from lands afar remote, From Lycia came, by Xanthus’ eddying stream; There left a cherish’d wife, and infant son, And rich possessions, which might envy move; Yet I my troops encourage; and myself Have play’d my part, though nought have I to lose, Nought that the Greeks could drive or bear away; But thou stand’st idly by; nor bidd’st the rest Maintain their ground, and guard their wives and homes. Beware lest ye, as in the meshes caught Of some wide-sweeping net, become the prey And booty of your foes, who soon shall lay Your prosp’rous city level with the dust. By day and night should this thy thoughts engage, With constant pray’r to all thy brave allies, Firmly to stand, and wipe this shame away.” He said; and Hector felt the biting speech; Down from his car he leap’d; and through the ranks, Two jav’lins brandishing, he pass’d, to arms Exciting all, and rais’d his battle-cry. The tide was turn’d; again they fac’d the Greeks: 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. Thus he of Phoebus of the golden sword Obey’d th’ injunction, bidding him arouse The courage of the Trojans, when he saw Pallas approaching to support the Greeks. Then from the wealthy shrine Apollo’s self Æneas brought, and vigour fresh infus’d: Amid his comrades once again he stood; They joy’d to see him yet alive, and sound, And full of vigour; yet no question ask’d: No time for question then, amid the toils Impos’d by Phoebus of the silver bow, And blood-stain’d Mars, and Discord unappeas’d. Meanwhile Ulysses, and th’ Ajaces both, And Diomed, with courage for the fight The Grecian force inspir’d; they undismay’d Shrank not before the Trojans’ rush and charge; In masses firm they stood, as when the clouds Are gather’d round the misty mountain top By Saturn’s son, in breathless calm, while sleep The force of Boreas and the stormy winds, That with their breath the shadowy clouds disperse; So stood the Greeks, nor shunn’d the Trojans’ charge. Through all the army Agamemnon pass’d, And cried, “Brave comrades, quit ye now like men; Bear a stout heart; and in the stubborn fight, Let each to other mutual succour give; By mutual succour more are sav’d than fall; In timid flight nor fame nor safety lies.” Thus he: and straight his jav’lin threw, and struck A man of mark, Æneas’ faithful friend, Deicoon, the son of Pergasus, By Troy, as ever foremost in the field, In equal honour held with Priam’s sons. His shield the monarch Agamemnon struck; The shield’s defence was vain; the spear pass’d through Beneath the belt, and in his groin was lodg’d; Thund’ring he fell, and loud his armour rang. On th’ other side, Æneas slew two chiefs, The bravest of the Greeks, Orsilochus And Crethon, sons of Diocles, who dwelt In thriving Phera; rich in substance he, And from the mighty River Alpheus trac’d His high descent, who through the Pylian land His copious waters pours; to him was born Orsilochus, of num’rous tribes the chief; To him succeeded valiant Diocles; To whom were born twin sons, Orsilochus And Crethon, skill’d in ev’ry point of war. They, in the vigour of their youth, to Troy Had sail’d amid the dark-ribb’d ships of Greece, Of Atreus’ sons the quarrel to uphold; But o’er them both the shades of death were spread. As two young lions, by their tawny dam Nurs’d in the mountain forest’s deep recess, On flocks and herds their youthful fury pour, With havoc to the sheepfolds, till themselves Succumb, o’ermaster’d by the hand of man: So fell these two beneath Æneas’ hand, And like two lofty pines in death they lay. The warlike Menelaus saw their fall With pitying eye; and through the foremost ranks With brandish’d spear advanc’d, by Mars impell’d, Who hop’d his death by great Æneas’ hand. Him Nestor’s son, Antilochus, beheld, And hasten’d to his aid; for much he fear’d Lest ill befall the monarch, and his death Deprive them of their warlike labours’ fruit. They two, with force combined of hand and spear, Press’d onward to the fight; Antilochus His station keeping close beside the King. Before the two combined, Æneas fear’d, Bold warrior as he was, to hold his ground. The slain they drew within the Grecian lines, Placed in their comrades’ hands, and turning back Amid the foremost mingled in the fray. Then, brave as Mars, Pylaemenes they slew, The buckler’d Paphlagonians’ warlike chief; Him Menelaus, hand to hand engag’d, Pierc’d with a spear-thrust through the collar-bone; While, with a pond’rous stone, Antilochus Full on the elbow smote Atymnius’ son, Mydon, his charioteer, in act to turn His fiery steeds to flight; down from his hands Fell to the ground the iv’ry-mounted reins. On rush’d Antilochus, and with his sword Across the temples smote him; gasping, he Upon his neck and shoulders from the car Pitch’d headlong; and (for there the sand was deep) Awhile stood balanc’d, till the horses’ feet Dash’d him upon the ground; Antilochus, The horses seizing, drove them to the ships. Hector beheld athwart the ranks, and rush’d, Loud shouting, to th’ encounter; at his back Follow’d the thronging bands of Troy, by Mars And fierce Bellona led; she by the hand Wild Uproar held; while Mars a giant spear Brandish’d aloft: and stalking now before, Now following after Hector, urg’d them on. Quail’d at the sight the valiant Diomed: As when a man, long journeying o’er the plain, All unprepar’d, stands sudden on the brink Of a swift stream, down rushing to the sea, Boiling with foam, and back recoils; so then Recoil’d Tydides, and address’d the crowd: “O friends, we marvel at the might display’d By Hector, spearman skill’d and warrior bold; But still some guardian God his steps attends, And shields from danger; now beside him stands, In likeness of a mortal, Mars himself. Then turning still your faces to your foes, Retire, nor venture with the Gods to fight.” He said; the Trojans now were close at hand, And, mounted both upon a single car, Two chiefs, Menesthes and Anchialus, Well skill’d in war, by Hector’s hand were slain. With pitying eyes great Ajax Telamon Beheld their fall; advancing close, he threw His glitt’ring spear; the son of Selagus It struck, Amphius, who in Paesus dwelt, In land and substance rich; by evil fate Impell’d, to Priam’s house he brought his aid. Below the belt the spear of Ajax struck, And in his groin the point was buried deep; Thund’ring he fell; then forward Ajax sprang To seize the spoils of war; but fast and fierce The Trojans show’r’d their weapons bright and keen, And many a lance the mighty shield receiv’d. Ajax, his foot firm planted on the slain, Withdrew the brazen spear; yet could not strip His armour off, so galling flew the shafts; And much he fear’d his foes might hem him in, Who closely press’d upon him, many and brave; And, valiant as he was, and tall, and strong, Still drove him backward; he perforce retired. Thus labour’d they amid the stubborn fight. Then evil fate induc’d Tlepolemus, Valiant and strong, the son of Hercules, Heav’n-born Sarpedon to confront in fight. When near they came, of cloud-compelling Jove Grandson and son, Tlepolemus began: “Sarpedon, Lycian chief, what brings thee here, Trembling and crouching, all unskill’d in war? Falsely they speak who fable thee the son Of aegis-bearing Jove; so far art thou Beneath their mark who claim’d in elder days That royal lineage: such my father was, Of courage resolute, of lion heart. With but six ships, and with a scanty band, The horses by Laomedon withheld Avenging, he o’erthrew this city, Troy, And made her streets a desert; but thy soul Is poor, thy troops are wasting fast away; Nor deem I that the Trojans will in thee (Ev’n were thy valour more) and Lycia’s aid Their safeguard find; but vanquish’d by my hand, This day the gates of Hades thou shalt pass.” To whom the Lycian chief, Sarpedon, thus: “Tlepolemus, the sacred walls of Troy Thy sire o’erthrew, by folly of one man, Laomedon, who with injurious words His noble service recompens’d; nor gave The promis’d steeds, for which he came from far. For thee, I deem thou now shalt meet thy doom Here, at my hand; on thee my spear shall win Renown for me, thy soul to Hades send.” Thus as Sarpedon spoke, Tlepolemus Uprais’d his ashen spear; from both their hands The pond’rous weapons simultaneous flew. Full in the throat Tlepolemus receiv’d Sarpedon’s spear; right through the neck it pass’d, And o’er his eyes the shades of death were spread. On th’ other side his spear Sarpedon struck On the left thigh; the eager weapon pass’d Right through the flesh, and in the bone was fix’d; The stroke of death his father turn’d aside. Sarpedon from the field his comrades bore, Weigh’d down and tortured by the trailing spear, For, in their haste to bear him to his car, Not one bethought him from his thigh to draw The weapon forth; so sorely were they press’d. The Greeks too from the battle-field convey’d The slain Tlepolemus; Ulysses saw, Patient of spirit, but deeply mov’d at heart; And with conflicting thoughts his breast was torn, If first he should pursue the Thund’rer’s son, Or deal destruction on the Lycian host. But fate had not decreed the valiant son Of Jove to fall beneath Ulysses’ hand; So on the Lycians Pallas turn’d his wrath. Alastor then, and Coeranus he slew, Chromius, Alcander, Halius, Prytanis, Noemon; nor had ended then the list Of Lycian warriors by Ulysses slain; But Hector of the glancing helm beheld; Through the front ranks he rush’d, with burnish’d crest Resplendent, flashing terror on the Greeks; With joy Sarpedon saw his near approach, And with imploring tones address’d him thus: “Hector, thou son of Priam, leave me not A victim to the Greeks, but lend thine aid: Then in your city let me end my days. For not to me is giv’n again to see My native land; or, safe returning home, To glad my sorrowing wife and infant child.” Thus he; but Hector, answ’ring not a word, Pass’d on in silence, hasting to pursue The Greeks, and pour destruction on their host. Beneath the oak of aegis-bearing Jove His faithful comrades laid Sarpedon down, And from his thigh the valiant Pelagon, His lov’d companion, drew the ashen spear. He swoon’d, and giddy mists o’erspread his eyes: But soon reviv’d, as on his forehead blew, While yet he gasp’d for breath, the cooling breeze. By Mars and Hector of the brazen helm The Greeks hard-press’d, yet fled not to their ships, Nor yet sustain’d the fight; but back retir’d Soon as they learned the presence of the God. Say then who first, who last, the prowess felt Of Hector, Priam’s son, and mail-clad Mars? The godlike Teuthras first, Orestes next, Bold charioteer; th’ Ætolian spearman skill’d, Trechus, Œnomaus, and Helenus, The son of Œnops; and Oresbius, girt With sparkling girdle; he in Hyla dwelt, The careful Lord of boundless wealth, beside Cephisus’ marshy banks; Bœotia’s chiefs Around him dwelt, on fat and fertile soil. Juno, the white-arm’d Queen, who saw these two The Greeks destroying in the stubborn fight, To Pallas thus her winged words address’d: “O Heav’n! brave child of aegis-bearing Jove, Vain was our word to Menelaus giv’n. That he the well-built walls of Troy should raze, And safe return, if unrestrain’d we leave Ferocious Mars to urge his mad career. Come then; let us too mingle in the fray.” She said: and Pallas, blue-ey’d Maid, complied. Offspring of Saturn, Juno, heav’nly Queen, Herself th’ immortal steeds caparison’d, Adorn’d with golden frontlets: to the car Hebe the circling wheels of brass attach’d, Eight-spok’d, that on an iron axle turn’d; The felloes were of gold, and fitted round With brazen tires, a marvel to behold; The naves were silver, rounded every way: The chariot-board on gold and silver bands Was hung, and round it ran a double rail: The pole was all of silver; at the end A golden yoke, with golden yoke-bands fair: And Juno, all on fire to join the fray, Beneath the yoke the flying coursers led. Pallas, the child of aegis-bearing Jove, Within her father’s threshold dropp’d her veil, Of airy texture, work of her own hands; The cuirass donn’d of cloud-compelling Jove, And stood accoutred for the bloody fray. Her tassell’d aegis round her shoulders next She threw, with Terror circled all around; And on its face were figur’d deeds of arms, And Strife, and Courage high, and panic Rout; There too a Gorgon’s head, of monstrous size, Frown’d terrible, portent of angry Jove: And on her head a golden helm she plac’d, Four-crested, double-peak’d, whose ample verge A hundred cities’ champions might suffice: Her fiery car she mounted: in her hand A spear she bore, long, weighty, tough; wherewith The mighty daughter of a mighty sire Sweeps down the ranks of those her hate pursues. Then Juno sharply touch’d the flying steeds: Forthwith spontaneous opening, grated harsh The heavenly portals, guarded by the Hours, Who Heav’n and high Olympus have in charge To roll aside, or draw the veil of cloud. Through these th’ excited horses held their way. They found the son of Saturn, from the Gods Sitting apart, upon the highest crest Of many-ridg’d Olympus; there arriv’d, The white-arm’d Goddess Juno stay’d her steeds, And thus address’d the Sov’reign Lord of Heav’n: “O Father Jove! canst thou behold unmov’d The violence of Mars? how many Greeks, Reckless and uncontroll’d, he hath destroy’d; To me a source of bitter grief; meanwhile Venus and Phoebus of the silver bow Look on, well pleas’d, who sent this madman forth, To whom both law and justice are unknown. Say, Father Jove, shall I thine anger move, If with disgrace I drive him from the field?” To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Go, send against him Pallas; she, I know, Hath oft inflicted on him grievous pain.”. He said: the white-arm’d Queen with joy obey’d; She urg’d her horses; nothing loth, they flew Midway between the earth, and starry Heav’n: Far as his sight extends, who from on high Looks from his watch-tow’r o’er the dark-blue sea, So far at once the neighing horses bound. But when to Troy they came, beside the streams Where Simois’ and Scamander’s waters meet, The white-arm’d Goddess stay’d her flying steeds, Loos’d from the car, and veil’d in densest cloud. For them, at bidding of the river-God, Ambrosial forage grew: the Goddesses, Swift as the wild wood-pigeon’s rapid flight, Sped to the battle-field to aid the Greeks. But when they reach’d the thickest of the fray, Where throng’d around the might of Diomed The bravest and the best, as lions fierce, Or forest-boars, the mightiest of their kind, There stood the white-arm’d Queen, and call’d aloud, In form of Stentor, of the brazen voice, Whose shout was as the shout of fifty men: “Shame on ye, Greeks, base cowards! brave alone In outward semblance; while Achilles yet Went forth to battle, from the Dardan gates The Trojans never ventur’d to advance, So dreaded they his pond’rous spear; but now Far from the walls, beside your ships, they fight.” She said: her words their drooping courage rous’d. Meanwhile the blue-ey’d Pallas went in haste In search of Tydeus’ son; beside his car She found the King, in act to cool the wound Inflicted by the shaft of Pandarus: Beneath his shield’s broad belt the clogging sweat Oppress’d him, and his arm was faint with toil; The belt was lifted up, and from the wound He wip’d the clotted blood: beside the car The Goddess stood, and touch’d the yoke, and said: “Little like Tydeus’ self is Tydeus’ son: Low was his stature, but his spirit was high: And ev’n when I from combat rashly wag’d Would fain have kept him back, what time in Thebes He found himself, an envoy and alone, Without support, among the Thebans all, I counsell’d him in peace to share the feast: But by his own impetuous courage led, He challenged all the Thebans to contend With him in wrestling, and o’erthrew them all With ease; so mighty was the aid I gave. Thee now I stand beside, and guard from harm, And bid thee boldly with the Trojans fight. But, if the labours of the battle-field O’ertask thy limbs, or heartless fear restrain, No issue thou of valiant Tydeus’ loins.” Whom answer’d thus the valiant Diomed: “I know thee, Goddess, who thou art; the child Of aegis-bearing Jove: to thee my mind I freely speak, nor aught will I conceal. Nor heartless fear, nor hesitating doubt, Restrain me; but I bear thy words in mind, With other of th’ Immortals not to fight: But should Jove’s daughter, Venus, dare the fray, At her I need not shun to throw my spear. Therefore I thus withdrew, and others too Exhorted to retire, since Mars himself I saw careering o’er the battle-field.” To whom the blue-ey’d Goddess, Pallas, thus: “Thou son of Tydeus, dearest to my soul, Fear now no more with Mars himself to fight, Nor other God; such aid will I bestow. Come then; at him the first direct thy car; Encounter with him hand to hand; nor fear To strike this madman, this incarnate curse, This shameless renegade; who late agreed With Juno and with me to combat Troy, And aid the Grecian cause; who now appears, The Greeks deserting, in the Trojan ranks.” Thus Pallas spoke, and stretching forth her hand Backward his comrade Sthenelus she drew From off the chariot; down in haste he sprang. His place beside the valiant Diomed The eager Goddess took; beneath the weight Loud groan’d the oaken axle; for the car A mighty Goddess and a Hero bore. Then Pallas took the whip and reins, and urg’d Direct at Mars the fiery coursers’ speed. The bravest of th’ Ætolians, Periphas, Ochesius’ stalwart son, he just had slain, And stood in act to strip him of his arms. The helmet then of Darkness Pallas donn’d, To hide her presence from the sight of Mars: But when the blood-stain’d God of War beheld Advancing tow’rd him godlike Diomed, The corpse of stalwart Periphas he left, There where he fell, to lie; while he himself Of valiant Diomed th’ encounter met. When near they came, first Mars his pond’rous spear Advanc’d beyond the yoke and horses’ reins, With murd’rous aim; but Pallas from the car Turn’d it aside, and foil’d the vain attempt. Then Diomed thrust forward in his turn His pond’rous spear; low on the flank of Mars, Guided by Pallas, with successful aim, Just where the belt was girt, the weapon struck: It pierc’d the flesh, and straight was back withdrawn: Then Mars cried out aloud, with such a shout As if nine thousand or ten thousand men Should simultaneous raise their battle-cry: Trojans and Greeks alike in terror heard, Trembling; so fearful was the cry of Mars. As black with clouds appears the darken’d air, When after heat the blust’ring winds arise, So Mars to valiant Diomed appear’d, As in thick clouds he took his heav’nward flight. With speed he came to great Olympus’ heights, Th’ abode of Gods; and sitting by the throne Of Saturn’s son, with anguish torn, he show’d Th’ immortal stream that trickled from the wound, And thus to Jove his piteous words address’d: “O Father Jove, canst thou behold unmov’d These acts of violence? the greatest ills We Gods endure, we each to other owe Who still in human quarrels interpose. Of thee we all complain; thy senseless child Is ever on some evil deed intent. The other Gods, who on Olympus dwell, Are all to thee obedient and submiss; But thy pernicious daughter, nor by word Nor deed dost thou restrain; who now excites Th’ o’erbearing son of Tydeus, Diomed, Upon th’ immortal Gods to vent his rage. Venus of late he wounded in the wrist, And, as a God, but now encounter’d me: Barely I ’scap’d by swiftness of my feet; Else, ’mid a ghastly heap of corpses slain, In anguish had I lain; and, if alive, Yet liv’d disabl’d by his weapon’s stroke.” Whom answer’d thus the Cloud-compeller, Jove, With look indignant: “Come no more to me, Thou wav’ring turncoat, with thy whining pray’rs: Of all the Gods who on Olympus dwell I hate thee most; for thou delight’st in nought But strife and war; thou hast inherited Thy mother, Juno’s, proud, unbending mood, Whom I can scarce control; and thou, methinks, To her suggestions ow’st thy present plight. Yet since thou art my offspring, and to me Thy mother bore thee, I must not permit That thou should’st long be doom’d to suffer pain; But had thy birth been other than it is, For thy misdoings thou hadst long ere now Been banish’d from the Gods’ companionship.” He said: and straight to Paeon gave command To heal the wound; with soothing anodynes He heal’d it quickly; soon as liquid milk Is curdled by the fig-tree’s juice, and turns In whirling flakes, so soon was heal’d the wound. By Hebe bath’d, and rob’d afresh, he sat In health and strength restor’d, by Saturn’s son. Mars thus arrested in his murd’rous course, Together to th’ abode of Jove return’d The Queen of Argos and the blue-ey’d Maid. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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