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Iliad of Homer, Rendered into English Blank Verse

<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3> THE FIFTH BATTLE, AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX. Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector in a swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks; he is highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions; she is then sent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts with extraordinary address to incense them against Jupiter; in particular she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he is ready to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after much reluctance and passion, he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him back to the battle, marches before him with his aegis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He breaks down the first part of the Grecian wall; the Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are yet repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter. <h2>BOOK XV.</h2> Now when the Trojans had recross’d the trench And palisades, and in their headlong flight Many had fall’n by Grecian swords, the rest, Routed, and pale with fear, made head awhile Beside their cars; then Jove on Ida’s height At golden-throned Juno’s side awoke; Rising, he saw the Trojans and the Greeks, Those in confusion, while behind them press’d The Greeks, triumphant, Neptune in their midst: He saw too Hector stretch’d upon the plain, His comrades standing round; senseless he lay, Drawing short breath, blood gushing from his mouth; For by no feeble hand the blow was dealt. Pitying, the Sire of Gods and men beheld, And thus, with sternest glance, to Juno spoke: “This, Juno, is thy work! thy wicked wiles Have Hector quell’d, and Trojans driv’n to flight: Nor know I but thyself mayst reap the fruit, By shameful scourging, of thy vile deceit. Hast thou forgotten how in former times I hung thee from on high, and to thy feet Attach’d two pond’rous anvils, and thy hands With golden fetters bound, which none might break? There didst thou hang amid the clouds of Heav’n; Through all Olympus’ breadth the Gods were wroth; Yet dar’d not one approach to set thee free. If any so had ventur’d, him had I Hurl’d from Heav’n’s threshold till to earth he fell, With little left of life. Yet was not quench’d My wrath on godlike Hercules’ account, Whom thou, with Boreas, o’er the wat’ry waste With fell intent didst send; and tempest-toss’d, Cast him ashore on Coos’ fruitful isle. I rescued him from thence, and brought him back, After long toil, to Argos’ grassy plains. This to thy mind I bring, that thou mayst learn To cease thy treach’rous wiles, nor hope to gain By all thy lavish’d blandishments of love, Wherewith thou hast deceived me, and betray’d.” He said; and terror seiz’d the stag-ey’d Queen; Who thus with winged words address’d her Lord: “By Earth I swear, and yon broad Heav’n above, And Stygian stream beneath, the weightiest oath Of solemn pow’r to bind the blessed Gods; By thine own sacred head, our nuptial bed, Whose holy tie I never could forswear; That not by my suggestion and advice Earth-shaking Neptune on the Trojan host, And Hector, pours his wrath, and aids the Greeks; In this he but obeys his own desire, Who looks with pity on the Grecian host Beside their ships o’erborne; and could my words Prevail, my counsel were to shape his course, O cloud-girt King, obedient to thy will.” She said; the Sire of Gods and men, well pleas’d, Her answer heard, and thus with gracious smile: “If, stag-ey’d Queen, in synod of the Gods Thy counsels shall indeed with mine agree, Neptune, how strong soe’er his wish, must change His course, obedient to thy will and mine; And if in all sincerity thou speak, Go to th’ assembled Gods, and hither send Iris, and Phoebus of the silver bow; That she may to the Grecian camp repair, And bid that Neptune from the battle-field Withdraw, and to his own domain retire; While Phoebus Hector to the fight restores, Inspiring new-born vigour, and allaying The mortal pains which bow his spirit down: Then, heartless fear infusing in the Greeks, Put them to flight, that flying they may fall Beside Achilles’ ships; his comrade then, Patroclus, he shall send to battle forth To be by Hector slain, in front of Troy; Yet not to fall till many valiant youths Have felt his prowess; and, amid the rest, My son, Sarpedon; by his comrade’s death Enrag’d, Achilles Hector shall subdue; Thenceforth my counsel is, that from the ships The Trojan force shall still be backward driv’n, Until at length, by Pallas’ deep designs, The Greeks possess the lofty walls of Troy. Yet will not I my anger intermit, Nor suffer other of th’ immortal Gods To aid the Greeks, till Peleus’ son behold His wish accomplish’d, and the boon obtain’d I promis’d once, and with a nod confirm’d, That day when sea-born Thetis clasp’d my knees, And pray’d me to avenge her warrior son.” Thus he; the white-arm’d Queen of Heav’n submiss His mandate heard; and from th’ Idaean mount With rapid flight to high Olympus sped. Swift as the mind of man, who many a land Hath travell’d o’er, and with reflective thought Recalls, “here was I such a day, or here,” And in a moment many a scene surveys; So Juno sped o’er intervening space; Olympus’ heights she reach’d, and in the house Of Jove appear’d amid th’ assembled Gods. They at her coming rose, with golden cups Greeting their Queen’s approach; the rest she pass’d, And from the hand of fair-fac’d Themis took The proffer’d cup, who first had run to meet, And thus with winged words address’d the Queen: “Juno, why com’st thou hither? and with looks Of one distraught with, fear? hath Saturn’s son, Thy mighty Lord, thus sore affrighted thee?” To whom the white-arm’d Goddess, Juno, thus: “Forbear thy questions, Themis; well thou know’st How haughty and imperious is his mind; Thou for the Gods in haste prepare the feast; Then shalt thou learn, amid th’ Immortals all, What evil he designs; nor all, I ween, His counsels will approve, or men, or Gods, Though now in blissful ignorance they feast.” She said, and sat; the Gods, oppress’d with care, Her farther speech awaited; on her lips There dwelt indeed a smile, but not a ray Pass’d o’er her dark’ning brow, as thus her wrath Amid th’ assembled Gods found vent in words: “Fools are we all, who madly strive with Jove, Or hope, by access to his throne, to sway, By word or deed, his course; from all apart, He all our counsels heeds not, but derides; And boasts o’er all th’ immortal Gods to reign In unapproach’d pre-eminence of pow’r. Prepare then each his sev’ral woe to bear; On Mars e’en now, methinks, the blow hath fall’n; Since in the fight, the man he loves the best, And boasts his son, Ascalaphus, is slain.” She said; and Mars, enrag’d, his brawny thigh Smote with his hands, and thus, lamenting, spoke: “Blame not, ye Gods, who on Olympus dwell, That to the Grecian ships I haste, to avenge My slaughter’d son, though blasted by Heav’n’s fire ’Twere mine ’mid corpses, blood, and dust to lie.” He said, and gave command to Fear and Flight To yoke his car; and donn’d his glitt’ring arms. Then from the throne of Jove had heavier wrath And deeper vengeance on th’ Immortals fall’n, But Pallas, in alarm for all the Gods, Quitting in haste the throne whereon she sat, Sprang past the vestibule, and from his head The helmet lifted, from his arm the shield; Took from his sturdy hand, and rear’d upright, The brazen spear; then with reproachful words She thus assail’d th’ impetuous God of War; “Frantic, and passion-maddened, thou art lost! Hast thou no ears to hear! or are thy mind And sense of rev’rence utterly destroyed? Or heard’st thou not what white-arm’d Juno spoke, Fresh from the presence of Olympian Jove? Wouldst thou, thine evil destiny fulfill’d, By hard constraint, despite thy grief, be driv’n Back to Olympus; and to all the rest Confusion and disaster with thee bring? At once from valiant Trojans and from Greeks His thoughts would be diverted, and his wrath Embroil Olympus, and on all alike, Guilty or not, his anger would be pour’d. Waive then thy vengeance for thy gallant son; Others as brave of heart, as strong of arm, Have fall’n, and yet must fall; and vain th’ attempt To watch at once o’er all the race of men.” Thus saying, to his seat again she forc’d Th’ impetuous Mars: meanwhile, without the house, Juno, by Jove’s command, Apollo call’d, And Iris, messenger from God to God; And thus to both her winged words address’d: “Jove bids you with all speed to Ida haste; And when, arriv’d, before his face ye stand, Whate’er he orders, that observe and do.” Thus Juno spoke, and to her throne return’d; While they to spring-abounding Ida’s heights, Wild nurse of forest beasts, pursued their way; Th’ all-seeing son of Saturn there they found Upon the topmost crag of Gargarus, An incense-breathing cloud around him spread. Before the face of cloud-compelling Jove They stood; well-pleas’d he witness’d their approach In swift obedience to his consort’s words, And thus to Iris first his speech address’d: “Haste thee, swift Iris, and to Ocean’s King My message bear, nor misreporting aught, Nor aught omitting; from the battle-field Bid him retire, and join th’ assembled Gods, Or to his own domain of sea withdraw. If my commands he heed not, nor obey, Let him consider in his inmost soul If, mighty though he be, he dare await My hostile coming; mightier far than him, His elder born; nor may his spirit aspire To rival me, whom all regard with awe.” He said; swift-footed Iris, at the word, From Ida’s heights to sacred Ilium sped. Swift as the snow-flakes from the clouds descend, Or wintry hail before the driving blast Of Boreas, ether-born; so swift to Earth Descended Iris; by his side she stood, And with these words th’ Earth-shaking God address’d: “A message, dark-hair’d Circler of the Earth, To thee I bring from Ægis-bearing Jove. He bids thee straightway from the battle-field Retire, and either join th’ assembled Gods, Or to thine own domain of sea withdraw. If his commands thou heed not, nor obey, Hither he menaces himself to come, And fight against thee; but he warns thee first, Beware his arm, as mightier far than thee, Thine elder born; nor may thy spirit aspire To rival him, whom all regard with awe.” To whom in tow’ring wrath th’ Earth-shaking God: “By Heav’n, though great he be, he yet presumes Somewhat too far, if me, his equal born, He seeks by force to baffle of my will. We were three brethren, all of Rhaea born To Saturn; Jove and I, and Pluto third, Who o’er the nether regions holds his sway. Threefold was our partition; each obtain’d His meed of honour due; the hoary Sea By lot my habitation was assign’d; The realms of Darkness fell to Pluto’s share; Broad Heav’n, amid the sky and clouds, to Jove; But Earth, and high Olympus, are to all A common heritage; nor will I walk To please the will of Jove; though great he be, With his own third contented let him rest: Nor let him think that I, as wholly vile, Shall quail before his arm; his lofty words Were better to his daughters and his sons Address’d, his own begotten; who perforce Must listen to his mandates, and obey.” To whom swift-footed Iris thus replied: “Is this, then, dark-hair’d Circler of the Earth, The message, stern and haughty, which to Jove Thou bidd’st me bear? perchance thine angry mood May bend to better counsels; noblest minds Are easiest bent; and o’er superior age Thou know’st th’ avenging Furies ever watch.” To whom Earth-shaking Neptune thus replied: “Immortal Iris, weighty are thy words, And in good season spoken; and ’tis well When envoys are by sound discretion led. Yet are my heart and mind with grief oppress’d, When me, his equal both by birth and fate, He seeks with haughty words to overbear. I yield, but with indignant sense of wrong. This too I say, nor shall my threat be vain: Let him remember, if in my despite, ’Gainst Pallas’, Juno’s, Hermes’, Vulcan’s will, He spare to overthrow proud Ilium’s tow’rs, And crown with victory the Grecian arms, The feud between us never can be heal’d.” Th’ Earth-shaker said, and from the field withdrew Beneath the ocean wave, the warrior Greeks His loss deploring; to Apollo then The Cloud-compeller thus his speech address’d: “Go straight to Hector of the brazen helm, Good Phoebus; for beneath the ocean wave Th’ Earth-shaker hath withdrawn, escaping thus My high displeasure; had he dar’d resist, The tumult of our strife had reach’d the Gods Who in the nether realms with Saturn dwell. Yet thus ’tis better, both for me and him, That, though indignant, to my will he yields; For to compel him were no easy task. Take thou, and wave on high thy tassell’d shield, The Grecian warriors daunting: thou thyself, Far-darting King, thy special care bestow On noble Hector; so restore his strength And vigour, that in panic to their ships, And the broad Hellespont, the Greeks be driv’n. Then will I so by word and deed contrive That they may gain fresh respite from their toil.” He said, nor did Apollo not obey His Sire’s commands; from Ida’s heights he flew, Like to a falcon, swooping on a dove, Swiftest of birds; then Priam’s son he found, The godlike Hector, stretch’d at length no more, But sitting, now to consciousness restor’d, With recognition looking on his friends; The cold sweat dried, nor gasping now for breath, Since by the will of Ægis-bearing Jove To life new waken’d; close beside him stood The Far-destroyer, and address’d him thus: “Hector, thou son of Priam, why apart From all thy comrades art thou sitting here, Feeble and faint? What trouble weighs thee down?” To whom thus Hector of the glancing helm With falt’ring voice: “Who art thou, Prince of Gods, Who thus enquirest of me? know’st thou not How a huge stone, by mighty Ajax hurl’d, As on his comrades by the Grecian ships I dealt destruction, struck me on the breast, Dash’d to the earth, and all my vigour quell’d? I deem’d in sooth this day my soul, expir’d, Should see the dead, and Pluto’s shadowy realm.” To whom again the far-destroying King: “Be of good cheer; from Saturn’s son I come From Ida’s height to be thy guide and guard; Phoebus Apollo, of the golden sword, I, who of old have thy protector been, Thee and thy city guarding. Rise then straight; Summon thy num’rous horsemen; bid them drive Their flying cars to assail the Grecian ships: I go before: and will thy horses’ way Make plain and smooth, and daunt the warrior Greeks.” His words fresh vigour in the chief infus’d. As some proud steed, at well-fill’d manger fed, His halter broken, neighing, scours the plain, And revels in the widely-flowing stream To bathe his sides; then tossing high his head, While o’er his shoulders streams his ample mane, Light-borne on active limbs, in conscious pride, To the wide pastures of the mares he flies; So vig’rous, Hector plied his active limbs, His horsemen summoning at Heav’n’s command. As when a rustic crowd of men and dogs Have chas’d an antler’d stag, or mountain goat, That ’mid the crags and thick o’ershadowing wood Hath refuge found, and baffled their pursuit: If, by the tumult rous’d, a lion stand, With bristling mane, before them, back they turn, Check’d in their mid career; ev’n so the Greeks, Who late in eager throngs were pressing on, Thrusting with swords and double-pointed spears, When Hector moving through the ranks they saw, Recoil’d, and to their feet their courage fell. To whom thus Thoas spoke, Andraemon’s son, Ætolia’s bravest warrior, skill’d to throw The jav’lin, dauntless in the stubborn fight; By few surpass’d in speech, when in debate In full assembly Grecian youths contend. He thus with prudent speech began, and said: “Great is the marvel which our eyes behold, That Hector see again to life restor’d, Escap’d the death we hop’d him to have met Beneath the hands of Ajax Telamon. Some God hath been his guard, and Hector sav’d, Whose arm hath slack’d the knees of many a Greek: So will he now; for not without the aid Of Jove, the Lord of thunder, doth he stand So boldly forth, so eager for the fight. Hear, then, and all by my advice be rul’d: Back to the ships dismiss the gen’ral crowd; While of our army we, the foremost men, Stand fast, and meeting him with levell’d spears, Hold him in check; and he, though brave, may fear To throw himself amid our serried ranks.” He said: they heard, and all obey’d his words: The mighty Ajax, and Idomeneus The King, and Teucer, and Meriones, And Meges, bold as Mars, with all their best, Their stedfast battle rang’d, to wait th’ assault Of Hector and his Trojans; while behind, Th’ unwarlike many to the ships retir’d. The Trojan mass came on, by Hector led With haughty stride; before him Phoebus went, His shoulders veil’d in cloud; his arm sustain’d The awful Ægis, dread to look on, hung With shaggy tassels round and dazzling bright; Which Vulcan, skilful workman, gave to Jove, To scatter terror ’mid the souls of men. This on his arm, the Trojan troops he led. Firm stood the mass of Greeks; from either side Shrill clamours rose; and fast from many a string The arrows flew, and many a jav’lin, hurl’d By vig’rous arms; some buried in the flesh Of stalwart youths, and many, ere they reach’d Their living mark, fell midway on the plain, Fix’d in the ground, in vain athirst for blood. While Phoebus motionless his Ægis held, Thick flew the shafts, and fast the people fell On either side; but when he turn’d its flash Full in the faces of the astonish’d Greeks, And shouted loud, their spirits within them quail’d, Their fiery courage borne in mind no more. As when two beasts of prey, at dead of night. With sudden onset scatter wide a herd Of oxen, or a num’rous flock of sheep, Their keepers absent; so unnerv’d by fear The Greeks dispers’d; such panic ’mid their ranks, That vict’ry so might crown the Trojan arms, Apollo sent; and as the masses broke, Each Trojan slew his man; by Hector’s hand Fell Stichius and Arcesilas; the one, The leader of Bœotia’s brass-clad host, The other, brave Menestheus’ trusted friend. Æneas Medon slew, and Iasus; Medon, the great Oileus’ bastard son, Brother of Ajax; he in Phylace, Far from his native home, was driv’n to dwell; Since one to Eriopis near akin, His sire Oileus’ wife, his hand had slain: And Iasus, th’ Athenian chief, was deem’d The son of Sphelus, son of Bucolus. Polydamas amid the foremost ranks Mecistes slew, Polites Echius, Agenor Olonius; while from Paris’ hand An arrow, ’mid the crowd of fugitives Shot from behind, beneath the shoulder struck Deiocus, and through his chest was driv’n: These while the Trojans of their arms despoil’d, Through ditch and palisades promiscuous dash’d The flying Greeks, and gain’d, hard-press’d, the wall; While loudly Hector to the Trojans call’d To assail the ships, and leave the bloody spoils: “Whom I elsewhere, and from the ships aloof Shall find, my hand shall doom him on the spot; For him no fun’ral pyre his kin shall light, Or male or female; but before the wall Our city’s dogs his mangled flesh shall tear.” He said; and on his horses’ shoulder point Let fall the lash, and loudly through the ranks Call’d on the Trojans; they, with answ’ring shout And noise unspeakable, urg’d on with him Their harness’d steeds; Apollo, in the van, Trod down with ease th’ embankment of the ditch, And fill’d it in; and o’er it bridg’d a way Level and wide, far as a jav’lin’s flight Hurl’d by an arm that proves its utmost strength. O’er this their columns pass’d; Apollo bore His Ægis o’er them, and cast down the wall; Easy, as when a child upon the beach, In wanton play, with hands and feet o’erthrows The mound of sand, which late in play he rais’d; So, Phoebus, thou, the Grecian toil and pains Confounding, sentest panic through their souls. Thus hemm’d beside the ships they made their stand, While each exhorted each, and all, with hands Outstretch’d, to ev’ry God address’d their pray’r: And chief, Gerenian Nestor, prop of Greece, With hands uplifted tow’rd the starry Heav’n: “O Father Jove! if any e’er to Thee On corn-clad plains of Argos burnt the fat Of bulls and sheep, and offer’d up his pray’r For safe return; and thine assenting nod Confirm’d thy promise; O remember now His pray’r; stave off the pitiless day of doom, Nor let the Greeks to Trojan arms succumb.” Thus Nestor pray’d; loud thunder’d from on high The Lord of counsel, as he heard the pray’r Of Neleus’ aged son; with double zeal, The Trojans, as the mind of Jove they knew, Press’d on the Greeks, with warlike ardour fir’d. As o’er the bulwarks of a ship pour down The mighty billows of the wide-path’d sea, Driv’n by the blast, that tosses high the waves, So down the wall, with shouts, the Trojans pour’d; The cars admitted, by the ships they fought With double-pointed spears, and hand to hand; These on their chariots, on the lofty decks Of their dark vessels those, with pond’rous spars Which on the ships were stor’d for naval war, Compact and strong, their heads encas’d in brass. While yet beyond the ships, about the wall The Greeks and Trojans fought, Patroclus still Within the tent of brave Eurypylus Remaining, with his converse sooth’d the chief, And healing unguents to his wound applied, Of pow’r to charm away the bitter pains; But when the Trojans pouring o’er the wall, And routed Greeks in panic flight he saw, Deeply he groan’d, and smiting on his thigh With either palm, in anguish thus he spoke: “Eurypylus, how great soe’er thy need, I can no longer stay; so fierce the storm Of battle rages; but th’ attendants’ care Will all thy wants supply; while I in haste Achilles seek, and urge him to the war; Who knows but Heav’n may grant me to succeed? For great is oft a friend’s persuasive pow’r.” He said, and quickly on his errand sped. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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