The Iliad Part 61

Here Neptune and the G.o.ds of Greece repair, With clouds encompa.s.s'd, and a veil of air: The adverse powers, around Apollo laid, Crown the fair hills that silver Simois shade.

In circle close each heavenly party sat, Intent to form the future scheme of fate; But mix not yet in fight, though Jove on high Gives the loud signal, and the heavens reply.

Meanwhile the rus.h.i.+ng armies hide the ground; The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: Steeds cased in mail, and chiefs in armour bright, The gleaming champaign glows with brazen light.

Amid both hosts (a dreadful s.p.a.ce) appear, There great Achilles; bold aeneas, here.

With towering strides Aeneas first advanced; The nodding plumage on his helmet danced: Spread o'er his breast the fencing s.h.i.+eld he bore, And, so he moved, his javelin flamed before.

Not so Pelides; furious to engage, He rush'd impetuous. Such the lion's rage, Who viewing first his foes with scornful eyes, Though all in arms the peopled city rise, Stalks careless on, with unregarding pride; Till at the length, by some brave youth defied, To his bold spear the savage turns alone, He murmurs fury with a hollow groan; He grins, he foams, he rolls his eyes around Lash'd by his tail his heaving sides resound; He calls up all his rage; he grinds his teeth, Resolved on vengeance, or resolved on death.

So fierce Achilles on aeneas flies; So stands aeneas, and his force defies.

Ere yet the stern encounter join'd, begun The seed of Thetis thus to Venus' son:

"Why comes aeneas through the ranks so far?

Seeks he to meet Achilles' arm in war, In hope the realms of Priam to enjoy, And prove his merits to the throne of Troy?

Grant that beneath thy lance Achilles dies, The partial monarch may refuse the prize; Sons he has many; those thy pride may quell: And 'tis his fault to love those sons too well, Or, in reward of thy victorious hand, Has Troy proposed some s.p.a.cious tract of land An ample forest, or a fair domain, Of hills for vines, and arable for grain?

Even this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy lot.

But can Achilles be so soon forgot?

Once (as I think) you saw this brandish'd spear And then the great aeneas seem'd to fear: With hearty haste from Ida's mount he fled, Nor, till he reach'd Lyrnessus, turn'd his head.

Her lofty walls not long our progress stay'd; Those, Pallas, Jove, and we, in ruins laid: In Grecian chains her captive race were cast; 'Tis true, the great Aeneas fled too fast.

Defrauded of my conquest once before, What then I lost, the G.o.ds this day restore.

Go; while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd fate; Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late."

To this Anchises' son: "Such words employ To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy; Such we disdain; the best may be defied With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride; Unworthy the high race from which we came Proclaim'd so loudly by the voice of fame: Each from ill.u.s.trious fathers draws his line; Each G.o.ddess-born; half human, half divine.

Thetis' this day, or Venus' offspring dies, And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: For when two heroes, thus derived, contend, 'Tis not in words the glorious strife can end.

If yet thou further seek to learn my birth (A tale resounded through the s.p.a.cious earth) Hear how the glorious origin we prove From ancient Darda.n.u.s, the first from Jove: Dardania's walls he raised; for Ilion, then, (The city since of many-languaged men,) Was not. The natives were content to till The shady foot of Ida's fountful hill.(264) From Darda.n.u.s great Erichthonius springs, The richest, once, of Asia's wealthy kings; Three thousand mares his s.p.a.cious pastures bred, Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed.

Boreas, enamour'd of the sprightly train, Conceal'd his G.o.dhead in a flowing mane, With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh'd, And coursed the dappled beauties o'er the mead: Hence sprung twelve others of unrivall'd kind, Swift as their mother mares, and father wind.

These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain, Nor plied the gra.s.s, nor bent the tender grain; And when along the level seas they flew,(265) Scarce on the surface curl'd the briny dew.

Such Erichthonius was: from him there came The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name.

Three sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial bed, Ilus, a.s.saracus, and Ganymed: The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, Whom heaven, enamour'd, s.n.a.t.c.h'd to upper air, To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, The grace and glory of the ambrosial feast).

The two remaining sons the line divide: First rose Laomedon from Ilus' side; From him t.i.thonus, now in cares grown old, And Priam, bless'd with Hector, brave and bold; Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd pair; And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war.

From great a.s.saracus sprang Capys, he Begat Anchises, and Anchises me.

Such is our race: 'tis fortune gives us birth, But Jove alone endues the soul with worth: He, source of power and might! with boundless sway, All human courage gives, or takes away.

Long in the field of words we may contend, Reproach is infinite, and knows no end, Arm'd or with truth or falsehood, right or wrong; So voluble a weapon is the tongue; Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail, For every man has equal strength to rail: Women alone, when in the streets they jar, Perhaps excel us in this wordy war; Like us they stand, encompa.s.s'd with the crowd, And vent their anger impotent and loud.

Cease then--Our business in the field of fight Is not to question, but to prove our might.

To all those insults thou hast offer'd here, Receive this answer: 'tis my flying spear."

He spoke. With all his force the javelin flung, Fix'd deep, and loudly in the buckler rung.

Far on his outstretch'd arm, Pelides held (To meet the thundering lance) his dreadful s.h.i.+eld, That trembled as it stuck; nor void of fear Saw, ere it fell, the immeasurable spear.

His fears were vain; impenetrable charms Secured the temper of the ethereal arms.

Through two strong plates the point its pa.s.sage held, But stopp'd, and rested, by the third repell'd.

Five plates of various metal, various mould, Composed the s.h.i.+eld; of bra.s.s each outward fold, Of tin each inward, and the middle gold: There stuck the lance. Then rising ere he threw, The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, And pierced the Dardan s.h.i.+eld's extremest bound, Where the shrill bra.s.s return'd a sharper sound: Through the thin verge the Pelean weapon glides, And the slight covering of expanded hides.

aeneas his contracted body bends, And o'er him high the riven targe extends, Sees, through its parting plates, the upper air, And at his back perceives the quivering spear: A fate so near him, chills his soul with fright; And swims before his eyes the many-colour'd light.

Achilles, rus.h.i.+ng in with dreadful cries, Draws his broad blade, and at aeneas flies: aeneas rousing as the foe came on, With force collected, heaves a mighty stone: A ma.s.s enormous! which in modern days No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise.

But ocean's G.o.d, whose earthquakes rock the ground.

Saw the distress, and moved the powers around:

"Lo! on the brink of fate aeneas stands, An instant victim to Achilles' hands; By Phoebus urged; but Phoebus has bestow'd His aid in vain: the man o'erpowers the G.o.d.

And can ye see this righteous chief atone With guiltless blood for vices not his own?

To all the G.o.ds his constant vows were paid; Sure, though he wars for Troy, he claims our aid.

Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove resign The future father of the Dardan line:(266) The first great ancestor obtain'd his grace, And still his love descends on all the race: For Priam now, and Priam's faithless kind, At length are odious to the all-seeing mind; On great aeneas shall devolve the reign, And sons succeeding sons the lasting line sustain."

The great earth-shaker thus: to whom replies The imperial G.o.ddess with the radiant eyes: "Good as he is, to immolate or spare The Dardan prince, O Neptune! be thy care; Pallas and I, by all that G.o.ds can bind, Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind; Not even an instant to protract their fate, Or save one member of the sinking state; Till her last flame be quench'd with her last gore, And even her crumbling ruins are no more."

The king of ocean to the fight descends, Through all the whistling darts his course he bends, Swift interposed between the warrior flies, And casts thick darkness o'er Achilles' eyes.(267) From great aeneas' s.h.i.+eld the spear he drew, And at his master's feet the weapon threw.

That done, with force divine he s.n.a.t.c.h'd on high The Dardan prince, and bore him through the sky, Smooth-gliding without step, above the heads Of warring heroes, and of bounding steeds: Till at the battle's utmost verge they light, Where the slow Caucans close the rear of fight.

The G.o.dhead there (his heavenly form confess'd) With words like these the panting chief address'd:

"What power, O prince! with force inferior far, Urged thee to meet Achilles' arm in war?

Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, Defrauding fate of all thy fame to come.

But when the day decreed (for come it must) Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, Let then the furies of that arm be known, Secure no Grecian force transcends thy own."

With that, he left him wondering as he lay, Then from Achilles chased the mist away: Sudden, returning with a stream of light, The scene of war came rus.h.i.+ng on his sight.

Then thus, amazed; "What wonders strike my mind!

My spear, that parted on the wings of wind, Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord, That fell this instant, vanish'd from my sword!

I thought alone with mortals to contend, But powers celestial sure this foe defend.

Great as he is, our arms he scarce will try, Content for once, with all his G.o.ds, to fly.

Now then let others bleed." This said, aloud He vents his fury and inflames the crowd: "O Greeks! (he cries, and every rank alarms) Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms!

'Tis not in me, though favour'd by the sky, To mow whole troops, and make whole armies fly: No G.o.d can singly such a host engage, Not Mars himself, nor great Minerva's rage.

But whatsoe'er Achilles can inspire, Whate'er of active force, or acting fire; Whate'er this heart can prompt, or hand obey; All, all Achilles, Greeks! is yours to-day.

Through yon wide host this arm shall scatter fear, And thin the squadrons with my single spear."

He said: nor less elate with martial joy, The G.o.dlike Hector warm'd the troops of Troy: "Trojans, to war! Think, Hector leads you on; Nor dread the vaunts of Peleus' haughty son.

Deeds must decide our fate. E'en these with words Insult the brave, who tremble at their swords: The weakest atheist-wretch all heaven defies, But shrinks and shudders when the thunder flies.

Nor from yon boaster shall your chief retire, Not though his heart were steel, his hands were fire; That fire, that steel, your Hector should withstand, And brave that vengeful heart, that dreadful hand."

Thus (breathing rage through all) the hero said; A wood of lances rises round his head, Clamours on clamours tempest all the air, They join, they throng, they thicken to the war.

But Phoebus warns him from high heaven to shun The single fight with Thetis' G.o.dlike son; More safe to combat in the mingled band, Nor tempt too near the terrors of his hand.

He hears, obedient to the G.o.d of light, And, plunged within the ranks, awaits the fight.

Then fierce Achilles, shouting to the skies, On Troy's whole force with boundless fury flies.

First falls Iphytion, at his army's head; Brave was the chief, and brave the host he led; From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, His mother was a Nais, of the flood; Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crown'd with snow, From Hyde's walls he ruled the lands below.

Fierce as he springs, the sword his head divides: The parted visage falls on equal sides: With loud-resounding arms he strikes the plain; While thus Achilles glories o'er the slain:

"Lie there, Otryntides! the Trojan earth Receives thee dead, though Gygae boast thy birth; Those beauteous fields where Hyllus' waves are roll'd, And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of gold, Are thine no more."--The insulting hero said, And left him sleeping in eternal shade.

The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, And dash'd their axles with no vulgar gore.

Demoleon next, Antenor's offspring, laid Breathless in dust, the price of rashness paid.

The impatient steel with full-descending sway Forced through his brazen helm its furious way, Resistless drove the batter'd skull before, And dash'd and mingled all the brains with gore.

This sees Hippodamas, and seized with fright, Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: The lance arrests him: an ign.o.ble wound The panting Trojan rivets to the ground.

He groans away his soul: not louder roars, At Neptune's shrine on Helice's high sh.o.r.es, The victim bull; the rocks re-bellow round, And ocean listens to the grateful sound.

Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage,(268) The youngest hope of Priam's stooping age: (Whose feet for swiftness in the race surpa.s.s'd:) Of all his sons, the dearest, and the last.

To the forbidden field he takes his flight, In the first folly of a youthful knight, To vaunt his swiftness wheels around the plain, But vaunts not long, with all his swiftness slain: Struck where the crossing belts unite behind, And golden rings the double back-plate join'd Forth through the navel burst the thrilling steel; And on his knees with piercing shrieks he fell; The rus.h.i.+ng entrails pour'd upon the ground His hands collect; and darkness wraps him round.

When Hector view'd, all ghastly in his gore, Thus sadly slain the unhappy Polydore, A cloud of sorrow overcast his sight, His soul no longer brook'd the distant fight: Full in Achilles' dreadful front he came, And shook his javelin like a waving flame.

The son of Peleus sees, with joy possess'd, His heart high-bounding in his rising breast.

"And, lo! the man on whom black fates attend; The man, that slew Achilles, is his friend!

No more shall Hector's and Pelides' spear Turn from each other in the walks of war."-- Then with revengeful eyes he scann'd him o'er: "Come, and receive thy fate!" He spake no more.

Hector, undaunted, thus: "Such words employ To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike boy: Such we could give, defying and defied, Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride!

I know thy force to mine superior far; But heaven alone confers success in war: Mean as I am, the G.o.ds may guide my dart, And give it entrance in a braver heart."

Then parts the lance: but Pallas' heavenly breath Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: The bidden dart again to Hector flies, And at the feet of its great master lies.