Part 26

Jove helping Hector, and his host, thus close Achive fleet, He let them then their own strengths try, and season there their sweet With ceaseless toils and grievances; for now he turn’d his face, Look’d down, and view’d the far-off land of well-rode men in Thrace, Of the renown’d milk-nourish’d men, the Hippemolgians, Long-liv’d, most just, and innocent, and close-fought Mysians. Nor turn’d he any more to Troy his ever-shining eyes, Because he thought not any one, of all the Deities, When his care left th’ indiff’rent field, would aid on either side. But this security in Jove the great Sea-Rector spied, Who sat aloft on th’ utmost top of shady Samothrace, And view’d the fight. His chosen seat stood in so brave a place, That Priam’s city, th’ Achive ships, all Ida, did appear To his full view; who from the sea was therefore seated there. He took much ruth to see the Greeks by Troy sustain such ill, And, mightily incens’d with Jove, stoop’d straight from that steep hill, That shook as he flew off, so hard his parting press’d the height. The woods, and all the great hills near, trembled beneath the weight Of his immortal moving feet. Three steps he only took, Before he far-off Ægas reach’d, but, with the fourth, it shook With his dread entry. In the depth of those seas he did hold His bright and glorious palace, built of never-rusting gold; And there arriv’d, he put in coach his brazen-footed steeds, All golden-maned, and pac’d with wings; and all in golden weeds He cloth’d himself. The golden scourge, most elegantly done, He took, and mounted to his seat; and then the God begun To drive his chariot through the waves. From whirlpits ev’ry way The whales exulted under him, and knew their king; the sea For joy did open; and, his horse so swift and lightly flew, The under axletree of brass no drop of water drew; And thus these deathless coursers brought their king to th’ Achive ships. ‘Twixt th’ Imber cliffs and Tenedos, a certain cavern creeps Into the deep sea’s gulfy breast, and there th’ Earth-shaker stay’d His forward steeds, took them from coach, and heav’nly fodder laid In reach before them; their brass hoves he girt with gyves of gold, Not to be broken, nor dissolved, to make them firmly hold A fit attendance on their king; who went to th’ Achive host, Which, like to tempests or wild flames, the clust’ring Trojans tost, Insatiably valorous, in Hector’s like command, High sounding, and resounding, shouts; for hope cheer’d ev’ry hand, To make the Greek fleet now their prise, and all the Greeks destroy. But Neptune, circler of the earth, with fresh heart did employ The Grecian hands. In strength of voice and body he did take Calchas’ resemblance, and, of all, th’ Ajaces first bespake, Who of themselves were free enough: “Ajaces, you alone Sustain the common good of Greece, in ever putting on The memory of fortitude, and flying shameful flight. Elsewhere the desp’rate hands of Troy could give me no affright, The brave Greeks have withstood their worst; but this our mighty wall Being thus transcended by their pow’r, grave fear doth much appall My careful spirits, lest we feel some fatal mischief here, Where Hector, raging like a flame, doth in his charge appear, And boasts himself the best God’s son. Be you conceited so, And fire so, more than human spirits, that God may seem to do In your deeds, and, with such thoughts cheer’d, others to such exhort, And such resistance; these great minds will in as great a sort Strengthen your bodies, and force check to all great Hector’s charge, Though ne’er so spirit-like, and though Jove still, past himself, enlarge His sacred actions.” Thus he touched, with his fork’d sceptre’s point, The breasts of both; fill’d both their spirits, and made up ev’ry joint With pow’r responsive; when, hawk-like, swift, and set sharp to fly, That fiercely stooping from a rock, inaccessible and high, Cuts through a field, and sets a fowl (not being of her kind) Hard, and gets ground still; Neptune so left these two, either’s mind Beyond themselves rais’d. Of both which, Oïleus first discern’d The masking Deity, and said: “Ajax, some God hath warn’d Our pow’rs to fight, and save our fleet. He put on him the hue Of th’ augur Calchas. By his pace, in leaving us, I knew, Without all question, ’twas a God; the Gods are eas’ly known; And in my tender breast I feel a greater spirit blown, To execute affairs of fight; I find my hands so free To all high motion, and my feet seem feather’d under me,” This Telamonius thus receiv’d: “So, to my thoughts, my hands Burn with desire to toss my lance; each foot beneath me stands Bare on bright fire, to use his speed; my heart is rais’d so high That to encounter Hector’s self, I long insatiately.” While these thus talk’d, as overjoy’d with study for the fight, (Which God had stirr’d up in their spirits) the same God did excite The Greeks that were behind at fleet, refreshing their free hearts And joints, being ev’n dissolv’d with toil; and (seeing the desp’rate parts Play’d by the Trojans past their wall) grief strook them, and their eyes Sweat tears from under their sad lids, their instant destinies Never supposing they could ’scape. But Neptune, stepping in, With ease stirr’d up the able troops, and did at first begin With Teucer, and Peneleüs, th’ heroe Leitus, Deipyrus, Meriones, and young Antilochus, All éxpert in the deeds of arms: “O youths of Greece,” said he, “What change is this? In your brave fight, I only look’d to see Our fleet’s whole safety; and, if you neglect the harmful field, Now shines the day when Greece to Troy must all her honours yield. O grief! So great a miracle, and horrible to sight, As now I see, I never thought could have profan’d the light! The Trojans brave us at our ships, that have been heretofore Like faint and fearful deer in woods, distracted evermore With ev’ry sound, and yet ’scape not, but prove the torn up fare Of lynces, wolves, and lëopards, as never born to war. Nor durst these Trojans at first siege, in any least degree, Expect your strength, or stand one shock of Grecian chivalry; Yet now, far from their walls, they dare fight at our fleet maintain, All by our Gen’ral’s cowardice, that doth infect his men Who, still at odds with him, for that will needs themselves neglect, And suffer slaughter in their ships. Suppose there was defect (Beyond all question) in our king, to wrong Æacides, And he, for his particular wreak, from all assistance cease; We must not cease t’ assist ourselves. Forgive our Gen’ral then, And quickly too. Apt to forgive are all good-minded men. Yet you, quite void of their good minds, give good, in you quite lost, For ill in others, though ye be the worthiest of your host. As old as I am, I would scorn, to fight with one that flies, Or leaves the fight as you do now. The Gen’ral slothful lies, And you, though slothful too, maintain with him a fight of spleen. Out, out, I hate ye from my heart. Ye rotten-minded men, In this ye add an ill that’s worse than all your sloth’s dislikes. But as I know to all your hearts my reprehension strikes, So thither let just shame strike too; for while you stand still here A mighty fight swarms at your fleet, great Hector rageth there, Hath burst the long bar and the gates.” Thus Neptune rous’d these men, And round about th’ Ajaces did their phalanxes maintain Their station firm; whom Mars himself, had he amongst them gone, Could not disparage, nor Jove’s Maid that sets men fiercer on; For now the best were chosen out, and they receiv’d th’ advance Of Hector and his men so full, that lance was lin’d with lance, Shields thicken’d with opposéd shields, targets to targets nail’d, Helms stuck to helms, and man to man grew, they so close assail’d, Plum’d casques were hang’d in either’s plumes, all join’d so close their stands, Their lances stood, thrust out so thick by such all-daring hands, All bent their firm breasts to the point, and made sad fight their joy Of both. Troy all in heaps strook first, and Hector first of Troy. And as a round piece of a rock, which with a winter’s flood Is from his top torn, when a show’r, pour’d from a bursten cloud, Hath broke the natural bond it held within the rough steep rock, And, jumping, it flies down the woods, resounding ev’ry shock, And on, uncheck’d, it headlong leaps, till in a plain it stay, And then, though never so impell’d, it stirs not any way; So Hector hereto throated threats, to go to sea in blood, And reach the Grecian ships and tents, without being once withstood. But when he fell into the strengths the Grecians did maintain, And that they fought upon the square, he stood as fetter’d then; And so the adverse sons of Greece laid on with swords and darts, Whose both ends hurt, that they repell’d his worst; and he converts His threats, by all means, to retreats; yet made as he retir’d, Only t’ encourage those behind; and thus those men inspir’d: “Trojans! Dardanians! Lycians! All warlike friends, stand close; The Greeks can never bear me long, though tow’r-like they oppose. This lance, be sure, will be their spoil; if ev’n the best of Gods, High thund’ring Juno’s husband, stirs my spirit with true abodes,” With this all strengths and minds he mov’d; but young Deiphobus, Old Priam’s son, amongst them all was chiefly virtuous, He bore before him his round shield, tripp’d lightly through the prease, At all parts cover’d with his shield; and him Meriones Charg’d with a glitt’ring dart, that took his bull-hide orby shield, Yet pierc’d it not, but in the top itself did piecemeal yield, Deiphobus thrust forth his targe, and fear’d the broken ends Of strong Meriones’s lance, who now turn’d to his friends; The great heroë scorning much by such a chance to part With lance and conquest, forth he went to fetch another dart, Left at his tent. The rest fought on, the clamour heighten’d there Was most unmeasur’d. Teucer first did flesh the massacre, And slew a goodly man at arms, the soldier Imbrius, The son of Mentor, rich in horse; he dwelt at Pedasus Before the sons of Greece sieg’d Troy; from whence he married Medesicaste, one that sprung of Priam’s bastard-bed; But when the Greek ships, double-oar’d, arriv’d at Ilion, To Ilion he return’d, and prov’d beyond comparison Amongst the Trojans; he was lodg’d with Priam, who held dear His natural sons no more than him; yet him, beneath the ear, The son of Telamon attain’d, and drew his lance. He fell, As when an ash on some hill’s top (itself topp’d wondrous well) The steel hews down, and he presents his young leaves to the soil; So fell he, and his fair arms groan’d, which Teucer long’d to spoil, And in he ran; and Hector in, who sent a shining lance At Teucer, who, beholding it, slipp’d by, and gave it chance On Actor’s son, Amphimachus, whose breast it strook; and in Flew Hector, at his sounding fall, with full intent to win The tempting helmet from his head; but Ajax with a dart Reach’d Hector at his rushing in, yet touch’d not any part About his body; it was hid quite through with horrid brass; The boss yet of his targe it took, whose firm stuff stay’d the pass, And he turn’d safe from both the trunks; both which the Grecians bore From off the field. Amphimachus Menestheus did restore, And Stichius, to th’ Achaian strength. Th’ Ajaces (that were pleas’d Still most with most hot services) on Trojan Imbrius seiz’d. And as from sharply-bitten hounds, a brace of lions force A new-slain goat, and through the woods bear in their jaws the corse Aloft, lift up into the air; so, up into the skies, Bore both th’ Ajaces Imbrius, and made his arms their prise. Yet, not content, Oïliades, enrag’d to see there dead His much-belov’d Amphimachus, he hew’d off Imbrius’ head; Which, swinging round, bowl-like he toss’d amongst the Trojan prease, And full at Hector’s feet it fell. Amphimachus’ decease, Being nephew to the God of waves, much vex’d the Deity’s mind, And to the ships and tents he march’d, yet more to make inclin’d The Grecians to the Trojan bane. In hasting to which end, Idomenëus met with him, returning from a friend, Whose ham late hurt, his men brought off; and having giv’n command To his physicians for his cure, much fir’d to put his hand To Troy’s repulse, he left his tent. Him (like Andremon’s son, Prince Thoas, that in Pleuron rul’d, and lofty Calydon, Th’ Ætolian pow’rs, and like a God was of his subjects lov’d) Neptune encounter’d, and but thus his forward spirit mov’d: “Idomenëus, prince of Crete! O whither now are fled Those threats in thee, with which the rest the Trojans menacéd?” “O Thoas,” he replied, “no one of all our host stands now In any question of reproof, as I am let to know, And why is my intelligence false? We all know how to fight, And, (fear disanimating none) all do our knowledge right. Nor can our harms accuse our sloth, not one from work we miss. The great God only works our ill, whose pleasure now it is That, far from home, in hostile fields, and with inglorious fate, Some Greeks should perish. But do thou, O Thoas, that of late Hast prov’d a soldier, and was wont, where thou hast sloth beheld, To chide it, and exhort to pains, now hate to be repell’d, And set on all men.” He replied, “I would to heav’n, that he, Whoever this day doth abstain from battle willingly, May never turn his face from Troy, but here become the prey And scorn of dogs! Come then, take arms, and let our kind assay Join both our forces. Though but two, yet, being both combin’d, The work of many single hands we may perform. We find, That virtue co-augmented thrives in men of little mind, But we have singly match’d the great.” Thus said, the God again, With all his conflicts, visited the vent’rous flight of men. The king turn’d to his tent; rich arms put on his breast, and took Two darts in hand, and forth he flew. His haste on made him look Much like a fi’ry meteor, with which Jove’s sulph’ry hand Opes heav’n, and hurls about the air bright flashes, showing aland Abodes that ever run before tempest and plagues to men: So, in his swift pace, show’d his arms. He was encounter’d then By his good friend Meriones yet near his tent; to whom Thus spake the pow’r of Idomen: “What reason makes thee come, Thou son of Molus, my most lov’d, thus leaving fight alone? Is’t for some wound? The jav’lin’s head, still sticking in the bone, Desir’st thou ease of? Bring’st thou news? Or what is it that brings Thy presence hither? Be assur’d, my spirit needs no stings To this hot conflict. Of myself thou seest I come, and loth, For any tent’s love, to deserve the hateful taint of sloth.” He answer’d: Only for a dart, he that retreat did make, (Were any left him at his tent) for, that he had, he brake On proud Deiphobus’s shield. “Is one dart all?” said he, “Take one and twenty, if thou like, for in my tent they be; They stand there shining by the walls. I took them as my prise From those false Trojans I have slain. And this is not the guise Of one that loves his tent, or fights afar off with his foe, But since I love fight, therefore doth my martial star bestow, Besides those darts, helms, targets boss’d, and corslets bright as day.” “So I,” said Merion, “at my tent, and sable bark, may say, I many Trojan spoils retain, but now not near they be, To serve me for my present use; and therefore ask I thee. Not that I lack a fortitude to store me with my own, For ever in the foremost fights, that render men renown, I fight, when any fight doth stir. And this perhaps may well Be hid to others, but thou know’st, and I to thee appeal.” “I know,” replied the king, “how much thou weigh’st in ev’ry worth, What need’st thou therefore utter this? If we should now choose forth The worthiest men for ambushes, in all our fleet and host, (For ambushes are services that try men’s virtues most, Since there the fearful and the firm will, as they are, appear, The fearful alt’ring still his hue, and rests not anywhere, Nor is his spirit capable of th’ ambush constancy, But riseth, changeth still his place, and croucheth curiously On his bent haunches; half his height scarce seen above the ground, For fear to be seen, yet must see; his heart, with many a bound, Off’ring to leap out of his breast, and, ever fearing death, The coldness of it makes him gnash, and half shakes out his teeth; Where men of valour neither fear, nor ever change their looks, From lodging th’ ambush till it rise, but, since there must be strokes, Wish to be quickly in their midst) thy strength and hand in these Who should reprove? For if, far off, or fighting in the prease, Thou shouldst be wounded, I am sure the dart that gave the wound Should not be drawn out of thy back, or make thy neck the ground, But meet thy belly, or thy breast, in thrusting further yet When thou art furthest, till the first, and before him, thou get. But on; like children let not us stand bragging thus, but do; Lest some hear, and past measure chide, that we stand still and woo. Go, choose a better dart, and make Mars yield a better chance.” This said, Mars-swift Meriones, with haste, a brazen lance Took from his tent, and overtook, most careful of the wars, Idomenëus, And such two, in field, as harmful Mars, And Terror, his belovéd son, that without terror fights, And is of such strength that in war the frighter he affrights, When, out of Thrace, they both take arms against th’ Ephyran bands, Or ’gainst the great-soul’d Phlegians, nor favour their own hands, But give the grace to others still; in such sort to the fight, March’d these two managers of men, in armours full of light. And first spake Merion: “On which part, son of Deucalion, Serves thy mind to invade the fight? Is’t best to set upon The Trojans, in our battle’s aid, the right or left-hand wing, For all parts I suppose employ’d?” To this the Cretan king Thus answer’d: “In our navy’s midst are others that assist; The two Ajaces; Teucer too, with shafts the expertest Of all the Grecians, and, though small, is great in fights of stand; And these (though huge he be of strength) will serve to fill the hand Of Hector’s self, that Priamist, that studier for blows. It shall be call’d a deed of height for him (even suff’ring throes For knocks still) to outlabour them, and, bett’ring their tough hands, Enflame our fleet. If Jove himself cast not his fire-brands Amongst our navy, that affair no man can bring to field. Great Ajax Telamonius to none alive will yield That yields to death, and whose life takes Ceres’ nutritions, That can be cut with any iron, or pash’d with mighty stones; Not to Æacides himself he yields for combats set, Though clear he must give place for pace and free swing of his feet. Since then, the battle (being our place of most care) is made good By his high valour, let our aid see all pow’rs be withstood That charge the left wing, and to that let us direct our course, Where quickly feel we this hot foe, or make him feel our force.” This order’d, swift Meriones went, and forewent his king, Till both arriv’d where one enjoin’d. When, in the Greeks’ left wing, The Trojans saw the Cretan king, like fire in fortitude, And his attendant, in bright arms so gloriously indu’d, Both cheering the sinister troops, all at the king address’d, And so the skirmish at their sterns on both parts were increas’d, That, as from hollow bustling winds engender’d storms arise, When dust doth chiefly clog the ways which up into the skies The wanton tempest ravisheth, begetting night of day; So came together both the foes, both lusted to assay, And work with quick steel either’s death. Man’s fierce corruptress, Fight, Set up her bristles in the field with lances long and light, Which thick fell foul on either’s face. The splendour of the steel, In new-scour’d curets, radiant casques, and burnish’d shields, did seel Th’ assailer’s eyes up. He sustain’d a huge spirit, that was glad To see that labour, or in soul that stood not stricken sad. Thus these two disagreeing Gods, old Saturn’s mighty sons, Afflicted these heroic men with huge oppressións. Jove honouring Æacides (to let the Greeks still try Their want without him) would bestow, yet still, the victory On Hector, and the Trojan pow’r; yet for Æacides, And honour of his mother-queen, great Goddess of the seas, He would not let proud Ilion see the Grecians quite destroy’d, And therefore from the hoary deep he suffered so employ’d Great Neptune in the Grecian aid; who griev’d for them, and storm’d Extremely at his brother Jove. Yet both one Goddess form’d, And one soil bred, but Jupiter precedence took in birth, And had more knowledge; for which cause, the other came not forth[1] Of his wet kingdom, but with care of not being seen t’ excite The Grecian host, and like a man appear’d, and made the fight. So these Gods made men’s valours great, but equall’d them with war As harmful as their hearts were good; and stretch’d those chains as far On both sides as their limbs could bear, in which they were involv’d Past breach, or loosing, that their knees might therefore be dissolv’d. Then, though a half-grey man he were, Crete’s sov’reign did excite The Greeks to blows, and flew upon the Trojans, ev’n to flight; For he, in sight of all the host, Othryonëus slew, That from Cabesus, with the fame of those wars, thither drew His new-come forces, and requir’d, without respect of dow’r, Cassandra, fair’st of Priam’s race; assuring with his pow’r A mighty labour, to expell, in their despite, from Troy The sons of Greece. The king did vow, that done, he should enjoy His goodliest daughter. He (in trust of that fair purchase) fought; And at him threw the Cretan king a lance, that singled out This great assumer, whom it strook just in his navel-stead. His brazen curets helping nought, resign’d him to the dead. Then did the conqueror exclaim, and thus insulted then: “Othryonëus, I will praise, beyond all mortal men, Thy living virtues, if thou wilt now perfect the brave vow Thou mad’st to Priam, for the wife he promis’d to bestow. And where he should have kept his word, there we assure thee here, To give thee for thy princely wife the fairest and most dear Of our great Gen’ral’s female race, which from his Argive hall We all will wait upon to Troy, if, with our aids, and all, Thou wilt but raze this well-built town. Come, therefore, follow me, That in our ships we may conclude this royal match with thee. I’ll be no jot worse than my word.” With that he took his feet, And dragg’d him through the fervent fight; in which did Asius meet The victor, to inflict revenge. He came on foot before His horse, that on his shoulders breath’d; so closely evermore His coachman led them to his lord; who held a huge desire To strike the king, but he strook first, and underneath his chin, At his throat’s height, through th’ other side, his eager lance drave in; And down he bustled like an oak, a poplar, or a pine, Hewn down for shipwood, and so lay. His fall did so decline The spirit of his charioteer, that, lest he should incense The victor to impair his spoil, he durst not drive from thence His horse and chariot; and so pleas’d, with that respective part, Antilochus, that for his fear he reach’d him with a dart About his belly’s midst, and down his sad corse fell beneath The richly builded chariot, there labouring out his breath. The horse Antilochus took off; when, griev’d for this event, Deiphobus drew passing near, and at the victor sent A shining jav’lin; which he saw, and shunn’d, with gath’ring round His body in his all-round shield, at whose top, with a sound, It overflew; yet, seizing there, it did not idly fly from him that wing’d it, his strong hand still drave it mortally On Prince Hypsenor; it did pierce his liver, underneath The veins it passeth; his shrunk knees submitted him to death. And then did lov’d Deiphobus miraculously vaunt: “Now Asius lies not unreveng’d, nor doth his spirit want The joy I wish it, though it be now ent’ring the strong gate Of mighty Pluto, since this hand hath sent him down a mate.” This glory in him griev’d the Greeks, and chiefly the great mind Of martial Antilochus, who though to grief inclin’d, He left not yet his friend, but ran and hid him with his shield; And to him came two lovely friends, that freed him from the field, Mecisteus, son of Echius, and the right nobly born Alastor, bearing him to fleet, and did extremely mourn. Idomenëus sunk not yet, but held his nerves entire, His mind much less deficient, being fed with firm desire To hide more Trojans in dim night, or sink himself in guard Of his lov’d countrymen. And then Alcathous prepar’d Work for his valour, off’ring fate his own destructión. A great heroë, and had grace to be the lovéd son Of Æsyetes, son-in-law to prince Æneas’ sire, Hippodamia marrying; who most enflam’d the fire Of her dear parents’ love, and took precedence in her birth Of all their daughters, and as much exceeded in her worth (For beauty answer’d with her mind, and both with housewif’ry) All the fair beauty of young dames that us’d her company, And therefore, being the worthiest dame, the worthiest man did wed Of ample Troy. Him Neptune stoop’d beneath the royal force Of Idomen, his sparkling eyes deluding, and the course Of his illustrious lineaments so out of nature bound, That back nor forward he could stir, but, as he grew to ground, Stood like a pillar, or high tree, and neither mov’d, nor fear’d; When straight the royal Cretan’s dart in his mid breast appear’d, It brake the curets, that were proof to ev’ry other dart, Yet now they cleft and rung; the lance stuck shaking in his heart; His heart with panting made it shake; but Mars did now remit The greatness of it, and the king, now quitting the brag fit Of glory in Deiphobus, thus terribly exclaim’d: “Deiphobus, now may we think that we are ev’nly fam’d, That three for one have sent to Dis. But come, change blows with me, Thy vaunts for him thou slew’st were vain. Come, wretch, that thou may’st see What issue Jove hath. Jove begot Minos, the strength of Crete; Minos begot Deucalion; Deucalion did beget Me Idomen, now Creta’s king, that here my ships have brought To bring thyself, thy father, friends, all Ilion’s pomp, to nought.” Deiphobus at two ways stood, in doubt to call some one, With some retreat, to be his aid, or try the chance alone. At last, the first seem’d best to him, and back he went to call Anchises’ son to friend, who stood in troop the last of all, Where still he serv’d; which made him still incense against the king, That, being amongst his best their peer, he grac’d not anything His wrong’d deserts. Deiphobus spake to him, standing near: “Æneas, prince of Troians, if any touch appear Of glory in thee, thou must now assist thy sister’s lord, And one that to thy tend’rest youth did careful guard afford, Alcathous, whom Creta’s king hath chiefly slain to thee, His right most challenging thy band. Come, therefore, follow me.” This much excited his good mind, and set his heart on fire Against the Cretan, who child-like dissolv’d not in his ire, But stood him firm. As when in hills a strength relying boar, Alone, and hearing hunters come, whom tumult flies before, Up-thrusts his bristles, whets his tusks, sets fire on his red eyes, And in his brave prepar’d repulse doth dogs and men despise; So stood the famous-for-his-lance, nor shunn’d the coming charge That resolute Æneas brought. Yet, since the odds was large, He call’d with good right to his aid war-skill’d Ascalaphus, Aphareüs, Meriones, the strong Deipyrus, And Nestor’s honourable son: “Come near, my friends,” said he, “And add your aids to me alone. Fear taints me worthily, Though firm I stand, and show it not. Æneas great in fight, And one that bears youth in his flow’r, that bears the greatest might, Comes on with aim direct at me. Had I his youthful limb To bear my mind, he should yield fame, or I would yield it him.” This said, all held, in many souls, one ready helpful mind, Clapp’d shields and shoulders, and stood close. Æneas, not inclin’d With more presumption than the king, call’d aid as well as he, Divine Agenor, Helen’s love, who follow’d instantly, And all their forces following them; as after bellwethers The whole flocks follow to their drink, which sight the shepherd cheers. Nor was Æneas’ joy less mov’d to see such troops attend His honour’d person; and all these fought close about his friend; But two of them, past all the rest, had strong desire to shed The blood of either; Idomen, and Cytherea’s seed. Æneas first bestow’d his lance, which th’ other seeing shunn’d, And that, thrown from an idle hand, stuck trembling in the ground. But Idomen’s, discharg’d at him, had no such vain success, Which Œnomaus’ entrails found, in which it did impress His sharp pile to his fall; his palms tore his returning earth. Idomenëus straight stepp’d in, and pluck’d his jav’lin forth, But could not spoil his goodly arms, they press’d him so with darts. And now the long toil of the fight had spent his vig’rous parts, And made them less apt to avoid the foe that should advance, Or, when himself advanc’d again, to run and fetch his lance, And therefore in stiff fights of stand he spent the cruel day. When, coming softly from the slain, Deiphobus gave way To his bright jav’lin at the king, whom he could never brook; But then he lost his envy too. His lance yet deadly took Ascalaphus, the son of Mars; quite through his shoulder flew The violent head, and down he fell. Nor yet by all means knew Wide-throated Mars his son was fall’n, but in Olympus’ top Sat canopied with golden clouds; Jove’s counsel had shut up Both him and all the other Gods from that time’s equal task, Which now, about Ascalaphus, strife set. His shining casque Deiphobus had forc’d from him, but instantly leap’d in Mars-swift Meriones, and strook, with his long javelin, The right arm of Deiphobus, which made his hand let fall The sharp-topp’d helmet; the press’d earth resounding there withal. When, vulture-like, Meriones rush’d in again and drew, From out the low part of his arm his jav’lin, and then flew Back to his friends. Deiphobus, faint with the blood’s excess Fall’n from his wound, was carefully convey’d out of the press By his kind brother by both sides, Polites, till they gat His horse and chariot that were still set fit for his retreat, And bore him now to Ilion. The rest fought fiercely on, And set a mighty fight on foot. When next, Anchises’ son Aphareus Caletorides, that ran upon him, strook Just in the throat with his keen lance; and straight his head forsook His upright carriage; and his shield, his helm, and all, with him Fell to the earth; where ruinous death made prise of ev’ry limb. Antilochus, discov’ring well that Thoon’s heart took check, Let fly, and cut the hollow vein, that runs up to his neck, Along his back part, quite in twain; down in the dust he fell, Upwards, and, with extended hands, bade all the world farewell. Antilochus rush’d nimbly in, and, looking round, made prise Of his fair arms; in which affair his round-set enemies Let fly their lances, thundering on his advanced targe, But could not get his flesh. The God that shakes the earth took charge Of Nestor’s son and kept him safe; who never was away, But still amongst the thickest foes his busy lance did play, Observing ever when he might, far off, or near, offend; And watching Asius’ son, in prease he spied him, and did send, Close coming on, a dart at him, that smote in midst his shield, In which the sharp head of the lance the blue-hair’d God made yield, Not pleas’d to yield his pupil’s life; in whose shield half the dart Stuck like a truncheon burn’d with fire; on earth lay th’ other part. He, seeing no better end of all, retir’d in fear of worse But him Meriones pursu’d; and his lance found full course To th’ other’s life. It wounded him betwixt the privy parts And navel, where, to wretched men that war’s most violent smarts Must undergo, wounds chiefly vex. His dart Meriones Pursu’d, and Adamas so striv’d with it, and his misease, As doth a bullock puff and storm, whom in disdainéd bands The upland herdsmen strive to cast; so, fall’n beneath the hands Of his stern foe, Asiades did struggle, pant, and rave. But no long time; for when the lance was pluck’d out, up he gave His tortur’d soul. Then Troy’s turn came; when with a Thracian sword The temples of Deipyrus did Helenus afford So huge a blow, it strook all light out of his cloudy eyes, And cleft his helmet; which a Greek, there fighting, made his prise, It fell so full beneath his feet. Atrides griev’d to see That sight, and, threat’ning, shook a lance at Helenus, and he A bow half drew at him; at once out flew both shaft and lance. The shaft Atrides’ curets strook; and far away did glance. Atrides’ dart of Helenus the thrust out bow-hand strook, And, through the hand, stuck in the bow. Agenor’s hand did pluck From forth the nailéd prisoner the jav’lin quickly out; And fairly, with a little wool, enwrapping round about The wounded hand, within a scarf he bore it, which his squire Had ready for him. Yet the wound would needs he should retire. Pisander, to revenge his hurt, right on the king ran he. A bloody fate suggested him to let him run on thee, O Menelaus, that he might, by thee, in dang’rous war Be done to death. Both coming on, Atrides’ lance did err. Pisander strook Atrides’ shield, that brake at point the dart Not running through; yet he rejoic’d as playing a victor’s part. Atrides, drawing his fair sword, upon Pisander flew; Pisander, from beneath his shield, his goodly weapon drew, Two-edg’d, with right sharp steel, and long, the handle olive-tree, Well-polish’d; and to blows they go. Upon the top strook he Atrides’ horse-hair’d-feather’d helm; Atrides on his brow, Above th’ extreme part of his nose, laid such a heavy blow That all the bones crash’d under it, and out his eyes did drop Before his feet in bloody dust; he after, and shrunk up His dying body, which the foot of his triumphing foe Open’d, and stood upon his breast, and off his arms did go, This insultation us’d the while: “At length forsake our fleet, Thus ye false Trojans, to whom war never enough is sweet. Nor want ye more impieties, with which ye have abus’d Me, ye bold dogs, that your chief friends so honourably us’d. Nor fear you hospitable Jove, that lets such thunders go. But build upon’t, he will unbuild your tow’rs that clamber so, For ravishing my goods, and wife, in flow’r of all her years, And without cause; nay, when that fair and lib’ral hand of hers Had us’d you so most lovingly. And now again ye would Cast fire into our fleet, and kill our princes if ye could. Go to, one day you will be curb’d, though never so ye thirst Rude war, by war. O father Jove, they say thou art the first In wisdom of all Gods and men, yet all this comes from thee, And still thou gratifiest these men, how lewd so e’er they be, Though never they be cloy’d with sins, nor can be satiate, As good men should, with this vile war. Satiety of state, Satiety of sleep and love, satiety of ease, Of music, dancing, can find place; yet harsh war still must please Past all these pleasures, ev’n past these. They will be cloy’d with these Before their war joys. Never war gives Troy satieties.” This said, the bloody arms were oft; and to his soldiers thrown, He mixing in first fight again. And then Harpalion, Kind king Pylæmen’s son, gave charge; who to those wars of Troy His lovéd father followéd, nor ever did enjoy His country’s sight again. He strook the targe of Atreus’ son Full in the midst; his jav’lin’s steel yet had no pow’r to run The target through; nor had himself the heart to fetch his lance, But took him to his strength, and cast on ev’ry side a glance, Lest any his dear sides should dart. But Merion, as he fled, Sent after him a brazen lance, that ran his eager head Through his right hip, and all along the bladder’s región Beneath the bone; it settled him, and set his spirit gone Amongst the hands of his best friends; and like a worm he lay Stretch’d on the earth, which his black blood imbru’d, and flow’d away. His corse the Paphlagonians did sadly wait upon, Repos’d in his rich chariot, to sacred Ilion; The king his father following, dissolv’d in kindly tears, And no wreak sought for his slain son. But, at his slaughterers Incenséd Paris spent a lance, since he had been a guest To many Paphlagonians; and through the prease it press’d. There was a certain augur’s son, that did for wealth excell, And yet was honest; he was born, and did at Corinth dwell; Who, though he knew his harmful fate, would needs his ship ascend. His father, Polyidus, oft would tell him that his end Would either seize him at his house, upon a sharp disease, Or else among the Grecian ships by Trojans slain. Both these Together he desir’d to shun; but the disease, at last, And ling’ring death in it, he left, and war’s quick stroke embrac’d. The lance betwixt his ear and cheek ran in, and drave the mind Of both those bitter fortunes out. Night strook his whole pow’rs blind. Thus fought they, like the spirit of fire; nor Jove-lov’d Hector knew How in the fleet’s left wing the Greeks his down-put soldiers slew Almost to victory; the God that shakes the earth so well Help’d with his own strength, and the Greeks so fiercely did impel. Yet Hector made the first place good, where both the ports and wall (The thick rank of the Greek shields broke) he enter’d, and did skall, Where on the gray sea’s shore were drawn (the wall being there but slight) Protesilaus’ ships, and those of Ajax, where the fight Of men and horse were sharpest set. There the Bœotian bands, Long-rob’d Iaons, Locrians, and, brave men of their hands, The Phthian and Epeian troops did spritefully assail The god-like Hector rushing in; and yet could not prevail To his repulse, though choicest men of Athens there made head; Amongst whom was Menestheus chief, whom Phidias followéd, Stichius and Bias, huge in strength. Th’ Epeian troops were led By Meges’ and Phylides’ cares, Amphion, Dracius. Before the Phthians Medon march’d, and Meneptolemus; And these, with the Bœotian pow’rs, bore up the fleet’s defence. Oïleus by his brother’s side stood close, and would not thence For any moment of that time. But, as through fallow fields Black oxen draw a well-join’d plough, and either ev’nly yields His thrifty labour, all heads couch’d so close to earth they plow The fallow with their horns, till out the sweat begins to flow, The stretch’d yokes crack, and yet at last the furrow forth is driven; So toughly stood these to their task, and made their work as even. But Ajax Telamonius had many helpful men That, when sweat ran about his knees, and labour flow’d, would then Help bear his mighty sev’n-fold shield; when swift Oïliades The Locrians left, and would not make those murth’rous fights of prease, Because they wore no bright steel casques, nor bristled plumes for show, Round shields, nor darts of solid ash, but with the trusty bow, And jacks well-quilted with soft wool, they came to Troy, and were, In their fit place, as confident as those that fought so near, And reach’d their foes so thick with shafts, that these were they that brake The Trojan orders first; and then, the brave arm’d men did make Good work with their close fights before. Behind whom, having shot, The Locrians hid still; and their foes all thought of fight forgot With shows of those far-striking shafts, their eyes were troubled so. And then, assur’dly, from the ships, and tents, th’ insulting foe Had miserably fled to Troy, had not Polydamas Thus spake to Hector: “Hector, still impossible ’tis to pass Good counsel upon you. But say some God prefers thy deeds, In counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds. To some God gives the pow’r of war, to some the sleight to dance, To some the art of instruments, some doth for voice advance; And that far-seeing God grants some the wisdom of the mind, Which no man can keep to himself, that, though but few can find, Doth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state, And that, who hath, he best can prize. But, for me, I’ll relate Only my censure what’s our best. The very crown of war Doth burn about thee; yet our men, when they have reach’d thus far, Suppose their valours crown’d, and cease. A few still stir their feet, And so a few with many fight, sperst thinly through the fleet. Retire then, leave speech to the rout, and all thy princes call, That, here, in counsels of most weight, we may resolve of all, If having likelihood to believe that God will conquest give, We shall charge through; or with this grace, make our retreat, and live. For, I must needs affirm, I fear, the debt of yesterday (Since war is such a God of change) the Grecians now will pay. And since th’ insatiate man of war remains at fleet, if there We tempt his safety, no hour more his hot soul can forbear.” This sound stuff Hector lik’d, approv’d, jump’d from his chariot, And said: “Polydamas make good this place, and suffer not One prince to pass it; I myself will there go, where you see Those friends in skirmish, and return (when they have heard from me Command that your advice obeys) with utmost speed.” This said, With day-bright arms, white plume, white scarf, his goodly limbs array’d, He parted from them, like a hill, removing, all of snow, And to the Trojan peers and chiefs he flew, to let them know The counsel of Polydamas. All turn’d, and did rejoice, To haste to Panthus’ gentle son, being call’d by Hector’s voice; Who, through the forefights making way, look’d for Deiphobus, King Helenus, Asiades, Hyrtasian Asius, Of whom, some were not to be found unhurt, or undeceas’d, Some only hurt, and gone from field. As further he address’d, He found within the fight’s left wing the fair-hair’d Helen’s love By all means moving men to blows; which could by no means move Hector’s forbearance, his friends’ miss so put his pow’rs in storm, But thus in wonted terms he chid: “You with the finest form, Impostor, woman’s man! where are, in your care mark’d, all these, Deiphobus, King Helenus, Asius Hyrtacides, Othryonëus Acamas? Now haughty Ilion Shakes to his lowest groundwork. Now just ruin falls upon Thy head past rescue.” He replied: “Hector, why chid’st thou now, When I am guiltless? Other times, there are for ease, I know, Than these, for she that brought thee forth, not utterly left me Without some portion of thy spirit, to make me brother thee. But since thou first brought’st in thy force, to this our naval fight, I and my friends have ceaseless fought, to do thy service right. But all those friends thou seek’st are slain; excepting Helenus, Who parted wounded in his hand, and so Deiphobus; Jove yet averted death from them. And now lead thou as far As thy great heart affects, all we will second any war That thou endurest; and I hope, my own strength is not lost; Though least, I’ll fight it to his best; nor further fights the most.” This calm’d hot Hector’s spleen; and both turn’d where they saw the face Of war most fierce, and that was where their friends made good the place About renown’d Polydamas, and god-like Polypæt, Palmus, Ascanius, Morus that Hippotion did beget, And from Ascania’s wealthy fields but ev’n the day before Arriv’d at Troy, that with their aid they kindly might restore Some kindness they receiv’d from thence. And in fierce fight with these, Phalces and tall Orthæus stood, and bold Cebriones. And then the doubt that in advice Polydamas disclos’d, To fight or fly, Jove took away, and all to fight dispos’d. And as the floods of troubled air to pitchy storms increase That after thunder sweeps the fields, and ravish up the seas, Encount’ring with abhorréd roars, when the engrosséd waves Boil into foam, and endlessly one after other raves; So rank’d and guarded th’ Ilians march’d; some now, more now, and then More upon more, in shining steel; now captains, then their men. And Hector, like man-killing Mars, advanc’d before them all, His huge round target before him, through thicken’d, like a wall. With hides well-couch’d with store of brass; and on his temples shin’d His bright helm, on which danc’d his plume; and in this horrid kind, (All hid within his world-like shield) he ev’ry troop assay’d For entry, that in his despite stood firm and undismay’d. Which when he saw, and kept more off, Ajax came stalking then, And thus provok’d him: “O good man, why fright’st thou thus our men? Come nearer. Not art’s want in war makes us thus navy-bound, But Jove’s direct scourge; his arm’d hand makes our hands give you ground. Yet thou hop’st, of thyself, our spoil. But we have likewise hands To hold our own, as you to spoil; and ere thy countermands Stand good against our ransack’d fleet, your hugely-peopled town Our hands shall take in, and her tow’rs from all their heights pull down. And I must tell thee, time draws on, when, flying, thou shalt cry To Jove and all the Gods to make thy fair-man’d horses fly More swift than falcons, that their hoofs may rouse the dust, and bear Thy body, hid, to Ilion.” This said, his bold words were Confirm’d as soon as spoke. Jove’s bird, the high-flown eagle, took The right hand of their host; whose wings high acclamations strook From forth the glad breasts of the Greeks. Then Hector made reply: “Vain-spoken man, and glorious, what hast thou said? Would I As surely were the son of Jove, and of great Juno born, Adorn’d like Pallas, and the God that lifts to earth the morn, As this day shall bring harmful light to all your host, and thou, If thou dar’st stand this lance, the earth before the ships shalt strow, Thy bosom torn up, and the dogs, with all the fowl of Troy, Be satiate with thy fat and flesh.” This said, with shouting joy His first troops follow’d, and the last their shouts with shouts repell’d. Greece answer’d all, nor could her spirits from all show rest conceal’d. And to so infinite a height all acclamations strove, They reach’d the splendours stuck about the unreach’d throne of Jove.