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Iliad of Homer, Rendered into English Blank Verse

<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3> THE THIRD BATTLE, AND THE ACTS OF AGAMEMNON. Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle; Hector prepares the Trojans to receive them; while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him; and Hector is commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the engagement, till the king should be wounded, and retire from the field. He then makes a great slaughter of the enemy; Ulysses and Diomed put a stop to him for a time; but the latter, being wounded by Paris, is obliged to desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax, but that hero alone opposes multitudes and rallies the Greeks. In the meantime Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor’s chariot. Achilles (who overlooked the action from his ship) sends Patroclus to inquire which of the Greeks was wounded in that manner. Nestor entertains him in his tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of some former wars which he had remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to permit him to do it clad in Achilles’ armour. Patroclus in his return meets Eurypylus also wounded, and assists in that distress. This book opens with the eight-and-twentieth day of the poem; and the same day, with its various actions and adventures, is extended through the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field near the monument of Ilus. <h2>BOOK XI.</h2> Now rose Aurora from Tithonus’ bed, To mortals and Immortals bringing light; When to the ships of Greece came Discord down, Despatch’d from Jove, with dire portents of war. Upon Ulysses’ lofty ship she stood, The midmost, thence to shout to either side, Or to the tents of Ajax Telamon, Or of Achilles, who at each extreme, Confiding in their strength, had moor’d their ships. There stood the Goddess, and in accents loud And dread she call’d, and fix’d in ev’ry breast The fierce resolve to wage unwearied war; And dearer to their hearts than thoughts of home Or wish’d return, became the battle-field. Atrides, loudly shouting, call’d the Greeks To arms: himself his flashing armour donn’d. First on his legs the well-wrought greaves he fix’d, Fasten’d with silver clasps; his ample chest A breastplate guarded, giv’n by Cinyras In pledge of friendship; for in Cyprus’ isle He heard the rumour of the glorious fleet About to sail for Troy; and sought with gifts To win the favour of the mighty King. Ten bands were there inwrought of dusky bronze, Twelve of pure gold, twice ten of shining tin: Of bronze six dragons upwards tow’rds the neck Their length extended, three on either side: In colour like the bow, which Saturn’s son Plac’d in the clouds, a sign to mortal men: Then o’er his shoulder threw his sword; bright flash’d The golden studs; the silver scabbard shone, With golden baldrick fitted; next his shield He took, full-siz’d, well-wrought, well-prov’d in fight; Around it ran ten circling rims of brass; With twenty bosses round of burnish’d tin, And, in the centre, one of dusky bronze. A Gorgon’s head, with aspect terrible, Was wrought, with Fear and Flight encircled round: Depending from a silver belt it hung; And on the belt a dragon, wrought in bronze, Twin’d his lithe folds, and turn’d on ev’ry side, Sprung from a single neck, his triple head. Then on his brow his lofty helm he plac’d, Four-crested, double-peak’d, with horsehair plumes, That nodded,-fearful, from the warrior’s head. Then took two weighty lances, tipp’d with brass, Which fiercely flash’d against the face of Heav’n: Pallas and Juno thund’ring from on high In honour of Mycenæ’s wealthy lord. Forthwith they order’d, each his charioteer, To stay his car beside the ditch; themselves, On foot, in arms accoutred, sallied forth, And loud, ere early dawn, the clamour rose. Advanc’d before the cars, they lin’d the ditch; Follow’d the cars, a little space between: But Jove with dire confusion fill’d their ranks, Who sent from Heav’n a show’r of blood-stain’d rain. In sign of many a warrior’s coming doom, Soon to the viewless shades untimely sent. Meanwhile upon the slope, beneath the plain, The Trojan chiefs were gather’d; Hector’s self, Polydamas, Æneas, as a God In rev’rence held; Antenor’s three brave sons, Agenor’s godlike presence, Polybus, And, heav’nly fair, the youthful Acamas. In front was seen the broad circumference Of Hector’s shield; and as amid the clouds Shines forth the fiery dog-star, bright and clear, Anon beneath the cloudy veil conceal’d; So now in front was Hector seen, and now Pass’d to the rear, exhorting; all in brass, His burnish’d arms like Jove’s own lightning flash’d. As in the corn-land of some wealthy Lord The rival bands of reapers mow the swathe, Barley or wheat; and fast the trusses fall; So Greeks and Trojans mow’d th’ opposing ranks; Nor these admitted thought of faint retreat, But still made even head; while those, like wolves, Rush’d to the onset; Discord, Goddess dire, Beheld, rejoicing; of the heav’nly pow’rs She only mingled with the combatants; The others all were absent; they, serene, Repos’d in gorgeous palaces, for each Amid Olympus’ deep recesses built. Yet all the cloud-girt son of Saturn blam’d, Who will’d the vict’ry to the arms of Troy. He heeded not their anger; but withdrawn Apart from all, in pride of conscious strength, Survey’d the walls of Troy, the ships of Greece, The flash of arms, the slayers and the slain. While yet ’twas morn, and wax’d the youthful day, Thick flew the shafts, and fast the people fell On either side: but when the hour was come When woodmen, in the forest’s deep recess, Prepare their food, and wearied with the toil Of felling loftiest trees, with aching arms Turn with keen relish to their midday meal; Then Grecian valour broke th’ opposing ranks, As each along the line encourag’d each; First sprang the monarch Agamemnon forth, And brave Bienor slew, his people’s guard; And, with the chief, his friend and charioteer, Oileus; he, down-leaping from the car, Stood forth defiant; but between his brows The monarch’s spear was thrust; nor aught avail’d The brass-bound helm, to stay the weapon’s point; Through helm and bone it pass’d, and all the brain Was shatter’d; forward as he rush’d, he fell. Them left he there, their bare breasts gleaming white, Stripp’d of their arms; and hasten’d in pursuit Of Antiphus and Isus, Priam’s sons, A bastard one, and one legitimate, Both on one car; the bastard held the reins: Beside him stood the gallant Antiphus. Them, as they fed their flocks on Ida’s heights, Achilles once had captive made, and bound With willow saplings, till for ransom freed. The mighty monarch, Agamemnon, drove Through Isus’ breast his spear; his weighty sword Descended on the head of Antiphus Beside the ear, and hurl’d him from his car; These of their armour he despoil’d in haste, Known to him both; for he had seen them oft Beside the ships, when thither captive brought From Ida by Achilles, swift of foot. As when a lion in their lair hath seiz’d The helpless offspring of a mountain doe, And breaks their bones with ease, and with strong teeth Crushes their tender life; nor can their dam, Though close at hand she be, avail them aught; For she herself by deadly terror seiz’d, Through the thick coppice and the forest flies, Panting, and bath’d in sweat, the monster’s rush; So dar’d no Trojan give those brethren aid, Themselves in terror of the warlike Greeks. Peisander next, and bold Hippolochus, Sons of Antimachus (’twas he who chief, Seduc’d by Paris’ gold and splendid gifts, Advis’d the restitution to refuse Of Helen to her Lord), the King assail’d; Both on one car; but from their hands had dropp’d The broider’d reins; bewilder’d there they stood; While, with a lion’s bound, upon them sprang The son of Atreus; suppliant, in the car, They clasp’d his knees; “Give quarter, Atreus’ son, Redeem our lives; our sire Antimachus Possesses goodly store of brass and gold, And well-wrought iron; and of these he fain Would pay a noble ransom, could he hear That in the Grecian ships we yet surviv’d.” Thus they, with gentle words, and tears, imploring; But all ungentle was the voice they heard In answer; “If indeed ye be the sons Of that Antimachus, who counsel gave, When noble Menelaus came to Troy With sage Ulysses, as ambassadors, To slay them both, nor suffer their return, Pay now the forfeit of your father’s guilt.” He said, and with a spear-thrust through his breast Peisander dash’d to earth; backward he fell. Down leap’d Hippolochus; but Atreus’ son Severing his hands and neck, amid the throng Sent whirling like a bowl the gory head. These left he there; and where the thickest throng Maintain’d the tug of war, thither he flew, And with him eager hosts of well-greav’d Greeks. Soon on the Trojans’ flight enforc’d they hung, Destroying; foot on foot, and horse on horse; While from the plain thick clouds of dust arose Beneath the armed hoofs of clatt’ring steeds; And on the monarch Agamemnon press’d, Still slaying, urging still the Greeks to arms. As when amid a densely timber’d wood Light the devouring flames, by eddying winds Hither and thither borne, fast falls the copse Prostrate beneath the fire’s impetuous course; So thickly fell the flying Trojans’ heads Beneath the might of Agamemnon’s arm; And here and there, athwart the pass of war, Was many an empty car at random whirl’d By strong-neck’d steeds, of guiding hands bereft; Stretch’d on the plain they lay, more welcome sight To carrion birds than to their widow’d wives. But Hector, from the fray and din of war, And dust, and blood, and carnage, Jove withdrew. Still on Atrides press’d, the Greek pursuit With eager shouts exciting; past the tomb Of Ilus, ancient son of Dardanus, And tow’rd the fig-tree, midway o’er the plain, Straining to gain the town, the Trojans fled; While loudly shouting, his unconquer’d hands With carnage dyed, Atrides urg’d their flight. But when the Scaean gates and oak were reach’d, They made a stand, and fac’d the foe’s assault. Some o’er the open plain were yet dispers’d; As heifers, by a lion scatter’d wide, At dead of night; all fly; on one descends The doom of death; her with his pow’rful teeth He seizes, and, her neck first broken, rends, And on her entrails gorging, laps her blood. So these the monarch Agamemnon chas’d, Slaying the hindmost; they in terror fled: Some headlong, backward some, Atrides’ hand Hurl’d from their chariot many a warrior bold; So forward and so fierce he bore his spear. But as he near’d the city, and stood beneath The lofty wall, the Sire of Gods and men From Heav’n descended; on the topmost height Of Ida’s spring-abounding hill he sat: And while his hand the lightning grasp’d, he thus To golden-winged Iris gave command: “Haste thee, swift Iris, and to Hector bear From me this message; bid him, that as long As Agamemnon in the van appears, Raging, and dealing death among the ranks, He from the battle keep himself aloof, But urge the rest undaunted to maintain The stubborn fight; but should Atrides, struck By spear or arrow, to his car withdraw, He shall from me receive such pow’r to slay, As to the ships shall bear him, ere the sun Decline, and Darkness spread her hallowing shade.” Thus he; to Troy, obedient to his word, From Ida’s heights swift-footed Iris sped: Amid the horses and the well-fram’d cars The godlike Hector, Priam’s son, she found, And stood beside him, and address’d him thus: “Hector, thou son of Priam, sage as Jove In council, he the Universal Lord Sends thee by me this message; that as long As Agamemnon in the van appears, Raging, and dealing death amid the ranks, Thou from the battle keep thyself aloof, But urge the rest undaunted to maintain The stubborn fight; but should Atrides, struck By spear or arrow, to his car withdraw, Thou shalt from him receive such pow’r to slay As to the ships shall bear thee, ere the sun Decline, and Darkness spread her hallowing shade.” Swift-footed Iris said, and disappear’d; But from his chariot Hector leap’d to earth, Hither and thither passing through the ranks, With brandish’d jav’lins urging to the fight. Loud, at his bidding, rose the battle-cry; Back roll’d the tide; again they fac’d the Greeks: On th’ other side the Greeks their masses form’d, In line of battle rang’d; opposed they stood; And in the front, to none content to cede The foremost place, was Agamemnon seen. Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell, Of all the Trojans and their fam’d Allies, Who first oppos’d to Agamemnon stood. Iphidamas, Antenor’s gallant son, Stalwart and brave; in fertile Thracia bred, Mother of flocks; him, in his infant years, His grandsire Cisseus, fair Theano’s sire, In his own palace rear’d; and when he reach’d The perfect measure of his glorious youth, Still in his house retain’d him, and to wife Gave him his daughter; but when tidings came Of Grecian warfare, from the marriage straight Embarking, with twelve beaked ships he sailed, That owned his sway; these on Percote’s shore He left; and came himself on foot to Troy; Who now confronted Atreus’ godlike son. When near they drew, Atrides miss’d his aim, His spear diverging; then Iphidamas Beneath the breastplate, striking on his belt, Strove with strong hand to drive the weapon home: Yet could not pierce the belt’s close-plaited work; The point, encounter’d by the silver fold, Was bent, like lead; then with his pow’rful hand The monarch Agamemnon seiz’d the spear, And tow’rd him drew, and with a lion’s strength Wrench’d from his foeman’s grasp; then on his neck Let fall his sword, and slack’d his limbs in death. There, falling in his country’s cause, he slept The iron sleep of death; unhappy he, Far from his virgin-bride, yet unpossess’d, Though bought with costly presents; first he gave A hundred steers; and promis’d thousands more Of sheep and goats from out his countless flocks. Him Agamemnon of his arms despoil’d, And to the crowd of Greeks the trophies bore. But when Antenor’s eldest-born beheld, Coon, th’ observ’d of all men, bitt’rest grief His eyes o’ershadow’d, for his brother’s fate; And, unperceiv’d by Atreus’ godlike son, Standing aside, he struck him with his spear, Through the mid arm, beneath the elbow’s bend; And drove right through the weapon’s glitt’ring point. Writh’d with the pain the mighty King of men; Yet from the combat flinch’d he not, nor quail’d: But grasping firm his weather-toughen’d spear On Coon rush’d, as by the feet he drew His father’s son, Iphidamas, away, Invoking all the bravest to his aid; And as he drew the body tow’rd the crowd, Beneath the bossy shield the monarch thrust His brass-clad spear, and slack’d his limbs in death; Then near approaching, ev’n upon the corpse Of dead Iphidamas, struck off his head: So by Atrides’ hand, Antenor’s sons, Their doom accomplish’d, to the shades were sent. Then through the crowded ranks, with spear and sword, And massive stones, he held his furious course, While the hot blood was welling from his arm; But when the wound was dry, and stanch’d the blood, Keen anguish then Atrides’ might subdued. As when a woman in her labour-throes Sharp pangs encompass, by Lucina sent, Who rules o’er child-birth travail, ev’n so keen The pangs that then Atrides’ might subdued. Mounting his car he bade his charioteer Drive to the ships; for sore his spirit was pain’d; But loud and clear he shouted to the Greeks: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, Yours be it now our sea-borne ships to guard: Since Jove, the Lord of counsel, through the day Wills not that I the battle should maintain.” He said: and swiftly to the ships were driv’n His sleek-skinn’d coursers; nothing loth they flew; With foam their chests were fleck’d, with dust their flanks, As from the field their wounded Lord they bore: But Hector, as he saw the King retire, To Trojans and to Lycians call’d aloud: “Trojans and Lycians, and ye Dardans fam’d In close encounter, quit ye now like men; Put forth your wonted valour; from the field Their bravest has withdrawn, and Jove on me Great glory hath shed; now headlong on the Greeks Urge your swift steeds, and endless honour gain.” His words fresh courage rous’d in ev’ry breast: And as a hunter cheers his sharp-fang’d hounds On forest boar or lion; on the Greeks So cheer’d the valiant Trojans Priam’s son, Illustrious Hector, stern as blood-stain’d Mars. Bent on high deeds, himself in front advanc’d, Fell on the masses as a whirlwind falls, Lashing with furious sweep the dark-blue sea. Say then, who first, who last, by Hector’s hand, Whom Jove had will’d to crown with honour, died. Assaeus first, and then Autonous, Opites, and Opheltius, Dolops, son Of Clytus, and Æsumnus, Agelas And Orus, and brave Hipponous; All these the chiefs of Greece; the nameless crowd He scatter’d next; as when the west wind drives The clouds, and battles with the hurricane, Before the clearing blast of Notus driv’n; The big waves heave and roll, and high aloft, The gale, careering, flings the ocean spray; So thick and furious fell on hostile heads The might of Hector. Now had fearful deeds Been done, and Greeks beside their ships had fall’n In shameful rout, had not Ulysses thus To Diomed, the son of Tydeus, call’d: “Why, son of Tydeus, should we thus relax Our warlike courage? come, stand by me now, True friend! if Hector of the glancing helm Our ships should capture, great were our disgrace.” Whom answer’d thus the valiant Diomed: “Beside thee will I stand, and still endure; But brief will be the term of our success, Since Jove, the Cloud-compeller, not to us, But to the Trojans, wills the victory.” He said, and from his car Thymbraeus hurl’d, Through the left breast transfix’d: Ulysses’ hand His charioteer, the brave Molion, slew. These left they there, no more to share the fight; Then turning, spread confusion ’mid the crowd: As turn two boars upon the hunter’s pack With desp’rate courage, turning so to bay, Those two, the Trojans scatt’ring, gave the Greeks, From Hector flying, time again to breathe. A car they seiz’d which bore two valiant chiefs, Sons of Percotian Merops; he, o’er all In lore prophetic skill’d, would fain at home Have kept them from the life-destroying war: But they, by adverse fate impell’d to seek Their doom of death, his warning voice despis’d. These two, of strength and life at once bereft, The son of Tydeus, valiant Diomed, Stripp’d of their armour; while Ulysses slew Hippodamus, and bold Hyperochus. Thus Jove, from Ida’s height beholding, held His even scale, each party slaught’ring each. Then with his spear Tydides through the loins Agastrophus, the son of Paeon, smote; No car had he at hand, whereto to fly: But, ill-advis’d, had in th’ attendants’ charge His horses left far off; while he himself Rush’d ’mid the throng on foot, and met his doom. Hector’s quick glance athwart the files beheld, And to the rescue, with a shout, he sprang, The Trojan columns following; not unmov’d The valiant Diomed his coming saw, And thus bespoke Ulysses at his side: “On us this plague, this mighty Hector, falls: Yet stand we firm, and boldly meet the shock.” He said, and, poising, hurl’d his pond’rous spear, And not in vain; on Hector’s head it struck His helmet’s crest, but, brass encount’ring brass, Himself it reach’d not; for the visor’d helm, Apollo’s gift, three-plated, stay’d its force. Yet backward Hector sprang amid the crowd, And on his knees he dropp’d, his stalwart hand Propp’d on the ground; while darkness veil’d his eyes. But ere Tydides, following up his spear, Attain’d from far the spot whereon he fell, Hector reviv’d, and mounting quick his car, Drove ’mid the crowd, and ’scap’d the doom of death Then thus, with threat’ning spear, Tydides cried: “Yet once again, vile hound, hast thou escap’d; Thy doom was nigh; but thee thy God hath sav’d, Phoebus, to whom, amid the clash of spears, Well mayst thou pray! We yet shall meet again; When I shall end thee, if a guardian God I too may claim; meanwhile from thee I turn, And others seek on whom my hap may light.” He said, and turn’d him of his arms to strip The son of Paeon; but beside the stone That mark’d where men of old had rais’d a mound To Ilus, Dardan’s son, the ancient chief, There crouching, Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord, Against the son of Tydeus bent his bow. He from the breast of brave Agastrophus Had stripp’d the corslet; from his shoulders broad The buckler, and the helmet from his head, When Paris bent his bow, and not in vain His arrow launch’d; Tydides’ dexter foot Right through it pierc’d, and pinn’d it to the ground. Joyous he laugh’d, and from his hiding place Sprang forth, and thus in tones of triumph cried: “Thou hast it! not in vain my shaft hath flown! Would that, deep buried in thy flank, it touch’d Thy very life! so should our Trojans lose Their panic fear, who now on thee with dread, As bleating goats upon a lion, look.” To whom, unmov’d, the valiant Diomed: “Poor archer, trusting to thy bow alone, Vile sland’rer and seducer! if indeed Thou durst in arms oppos’d to me to stand, Nought would avail thy arrows and thy bow: And now, because thy shaft hath graz’d my foot, Thou mak’st thine empty boast: I heed thee not, More than a woman or a puny child: A worthless coward’s weapon hath no point. ’Tis diff’rent far with me! though light it fall, My spear is sharp, and whom it strikes, it slays. His widow’s cheeks are mark’d with scars of grief, His children orphans; rotting on the ground, Red with his blood, he lies, his fun’ral rites By carrion birds, and not by women paid.” Thus while he spoke, Ulysses, spearman bold, Drew near, and stood before him; he, behind, Sat down protected, and from out his foot The arrow drew; whereat sharp anguish shot Through all his flesh; and mounting on his car He bade his faithful charioteer in haste Drive to the ships, for pain weigh’d down his soul. Alone Ulysses stood; of all the Greeks Not one beside him; all were panic-struck: Then with his spirit, perturb’d, he commun’d thus: “Me miserable! which way shall I choose? ’Twere ill indeed that I should turn to flight By hostile numbers daunted; yet ’twere worse Here to be caught alone; and Saturn’s son With panic fear the other Greeks hath fill’d. Yet why, my soul, admit such thoughts as these? I know that cowards from the battle fly; But he who boasts a warrior’s name, must learn, Wounded or wounding, firmly still to stand.” While in his mind and spirit thus he mus’d, Onward the buckler’d ranks of Trojans came, And, to their harm, encircled him around. As when a boar, by dogs and stalwart youths Attack’d, the shelt’ring thicket leaves, and whets The tusks that gleam between his curved jaws; They crowd around, though ring his clatt’ring tusks, And, fearful though it be, await his rush: So crowded round Ulysses, dear to Jove, The Trojans; he, with brandish’d spear aloft, Sprang forth, and through the shoulder, from above, Deiopites wounded: Thoon next He slew, and Ennomus; then with his spear Chersidamas, in act to quit his car, Thrust through the loins below his bossy shield: Prone in the dust, he clutch’d the blood-stain’d soil. From these he turn’d; and wounded with his spear Charops, the high-born Socus’ brother, son Of Hippasus; then forward sprang, to aid His brother, godlike Socus; close he stood Before Ulysses, and address’d him thus: “Far-fam’d Ulysses, as in arms, in wiles Unwearied, thou this day o’er both the sons Of Hippasus, two mighty warriors slain, And of their armour spoil’d, shalt make thy boast, Or by my spear thyself shalt lose thy life.” He said, and on the shield’s broad circle struck: Through the bright shield the sturdy weapon drove, And through the rich-wrought baldrick, from the ribs Tearing the flesh away; but Pallas seiz’d, And turn’d it from the vital parts aside. The wound, Ulysses knew, was not to death, And back he drew, and thus to Socus cried: “Ill-fated thou! thy doom hath found thee now; Me hast thou hinder’d from the war awhile; But thee to swift destruction and dark death, This day I doom: great glory, of thee subdued, Shall I obtain, and Hades take thy soul.” Thus he: and Socus, turning, sought to fly; But as he turn’d him round, Ulysses’ spear Behind his neck, between the shoulder blades Was driv’n, and through his chest; thund’ring he fell, And o’er his fall Ulysses, vaunting, thus: “Socus, thou son of warlike Hippasus, Here hast thou found, nor couldst escape, thy doom. Ill-fated thou! nor sire’s nor mother’s hand Shall gather up thy bones, but carrion birds O’er thee shall flap their baleful wings, and tear Thy mangled flesh; for me, whene’er I die The sons of Greece will build my fun’ral pile.” From out his flesh, and from the bossy shield, The spear of Socus, as he spoke, he drew; And as he drew it forth, out gush’d his blood, With anguish keen. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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