THE ARGUMENT

Jove waking, and beholding Troy in flight,
Chides Juno, and sends Iris to the fight
To charge the Sea-god to forsake the field,
And Phœbus to invade it, with his shield
Recov’ring Hector’s bruis’d and eraséd pow’rs,
To field he goes, and makes new conquerors,
The Trojans giving now the Grecians chace
Ev’n to their fleet. Then Ajax turns his face,
And feeds, with many Trojan lives, his ire;
Who then brought brands to set the fleet on fire.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

Jove sees in O his oversight,
Chides Juno, Neptune calls from fight.

The Trojans, beat past pale and dike, and numbers prostrate laid,
All got to chariot, fear-driv’n all, and fear’d as men dismay’d.
Then Jove on Ida’s top awak’d, rose from Saturnia’s side,
Stood up, and look’d upon the war; and all inverted spied
Since he had seen it; th’ Ilians now in rout, the Greeks in fight;
King Neptune, with his long sword, chief; great Hector put down quite,
Laid flat in field, and with a crown of princes compasséd
So stopp’d up that he scarce could breathe, his mind’s sound habit fled,
And he still spitting blood. Indeed, his hurt was not set on
By one that was the weakest Greek. But him Jove look’d upon
With eyes of pity; on his wife with horrible aspéct,
To whom he said: “O thou in ill most cunning architect,
All arts and comments that exceed’st! not only to enforce
Hector from fight, but, with his men, to show the Greeks a course.
I fear, as formerly, so now, these ills have with thy hands
Their first fruits sown, and therefore could load all thy limbs with bands,
Forgett’st thou, when I hang’d thee up, how to thy feet I tied
Two anvils, golden manacles on thy false wrists implied,
And let thee mercilessly hang from our refinéd heav’n
Ev’n to earth’s vapours; all the Gods in great Olympus giv’n
To mutinies about thee, yet, though all stood staring on,
None durst dissolve thee, for these hands, had they but seiz’d upon
Thy friend, had headlong thrown him off from our star-bearing round,
Till he had tumbled out his breath, and piece-meal dash’d the ground?
Nor was my angry spirit calm’d so soon, for those foul seas,
On which, inducing northern flaws, thou shipwrack’dst Hercules,
And toss’d him to the Coan shore, that thou shouldst tempt again
My wrath’s importance, when thou seest, besides, how grossly vain
My pow’rs can make thy policies; for from their utmost force
I freed my son, and set him safe in Argos, nurse of horse.
These I remember to thy thoughts, that thou may’st shun these sleights,
And know how badly bed-sports thrive, procur’d by base deceits.”
This frighted the offending queen, who with this state excus’d
Her kind unkindness: “Witness Earth, and Heav’n so far diffus’d,
Thou Flood whose silent gliding waves the under ground doth bear,
(Which is the great’st and gravest oath, that any God can swear)
Thy sacred head, those secret joys that our young bed gave forth,
By which I never rashly swore! that He who shakes the earth
Not by my counsel did this wrong to Hector and his host,
But, pitying th’ oppresséd Greeks, their fleet being nearly lost,
Reliev’d their hard conditión, yet utterly impell’d
By his free mind. Which since I see is so offensive held
To thy high pleasure, I will now advise him not to tread
But where thy tempest-raising feet, O Jupiter, shall lead.”
Jove laugh’d to hear her so submiss, and said: “My fair-ey’d love,
If still thus thou and I were one, in counsels held above,
Neptune would still in word and fact be ours, if not in heart.
If then thy tongue and heart agree, from hence to heav’n depart,
To call the excellent-in-bows, the Rain-bow, and the Sun,
That both may visit both the hosts; the Grecian army one,
And that is Iris, let her haste, and make the Sea-god cease
T’ assist the Greeks, and to his court retire from war in peace;
Let Phœbus, on the Trojan part, inspire with wonted pow’r
Great Hector’s spirits, make his thoughts forget the late stern hour,
And all his anguish, setting on his whole recover’d man
To make good his late grace in fight, and hold in constant wane
The Grecian glories, till they fall, in flight before the fleet
Of vex’d Achilles. Which extreme will prove the mean to greet
Thee with thy wish, for then the eyes of great Æacides
(Made witness of the gen’ral ill, that doth so near him prease)
Will make his own particular look out, and by degrees
Abate his wrath, that, though himself for no extremities
Will seem reflected, yet his friend may get of him the grace
To help his country in his arms; and he shall make fit place
For his full presence with his death, which shall be well fore-run;
For I will first renown his life with slaughter of my son,
Divine Sarpedon, and his death great Hector’s pow’r shall wreak,
Ending his ends. Then, at once, out shall the fury break
Of fierce Achilles, and, with that, the flight now felt shall turn,
And then last, till in wrathful flames the long-sieg’d Ilion burn.
Minerva’s counsel shall become grave mean to this my will,
Which no God shall neglect before Achilles take his fill
Of slaughter for his slaughter’d friend; ev’n Hector’s slaughter thrown
Under his anger; that these facts may then make fully known
My vow’s performance, made of late, and, with my bowéd head,
Confirm’d to Thetis, when her arms embrac’d my knees, and pray’d
That to her city-razing son I would all honour show.”
This heard, his charge she seem’d t’ intend, and to Olympus flew.
But, as the mind of such a man that hath a great way gone,
And either knowing not his way, or then would let alone
His purpos’d journey, is distract, and in his vexéd mind
Resolves now not to go, now goes, still many ways inclin’d;
So rev’rend Juno headlong flew, and ’gainst her stomach striv’d,
For, being amongst th’ immortal Gods in high heav’n soon arriv’d,
All rising, welcoming with cups her little absence thence,
She all their courtships overpass’d with solemn negligence,
Save that which fair-cheek’d Themis show’d, and her kind cup she took,
For first she ran and met with her, and ask’d: “What troubled look
She brought to heav’n? She thought, for truth, that Jove had terrified
Her spirits strangely since she went.” The fair-arm’d Queen replied:
“That truth may eas’ly be suppos’d; you, Goddess Themis, know
His old severity and pride, but you bear’t out with show,
And like the banquet’s arbiter amongst th’ Immortals’ fare,
Though well you hear amongst them all, how bad his actions are;
Nor are all here, or anywhere, mortals, nor Gods, I fear,
Entirely pleas’d with what he does, though thus ye banquet here.”
Thus took she place, displeasedly; the feast in general
Bewraying privy spleens at Jove; and then, to colour all,
She laugh’d, but merely from her lips, for over her black brows
Her still-bent forehead was not clear’d; yet this her passion’s throes
Brought forth in spite, being lately school’d: “Alas, what fools are we
That envy Jove! Or that by act, word, thought, can fantasy
Any resistance to his will! He sits far off, nor cares,
Nor moves, but says he knows his strength, to all degrees compares
His greatness past all other Gods, and that in fortitude,
And ev’ry other godlike pow’r, he reigns past all indu’d.
For which great eminence all you Gods, whatever ill he does,
Sustain with patience. Here is Mars, I think, not free from woes,
And yet he bears them like himself. The great God had a son,
Whom he himself yet justifies, one that from all men won
Just surname of their best belov’d, Ascalaphus; yet he,
By Jove’s high grace to Troy, is slain.” Mars started horribly,
As Juno knew he would, at this, beat with his hurl’d-out hands
His brawny thighs, cried out, and said: “O you that have commands
In these high temples, bear with me, if I revenge the death
Of such a son. I’ll to the fleet, and though I sink beneath
The fate of being shot to hell, by Jove’s fell thunder-stone,
And lie all grim’d amongst the dead with dust and blood, my son
Revenge shall honour.” Then he charg’d Fear and Dismay to join
His horse and chariot. He got arms, that over heav’n did shine
And then a wrath more great and grave in Jove had been prepar’d
Against the Gods than Juno caus’d, if Pallas had not car’d
More for the peace of heav’n than Mars; who leap’d out of her throne,
Rapt up her helmet, lance, and shield, and made her fane’s porch groan
With her egression to his stay, and thus his rage defers:
“Furious and foolish, th’ art undone! Hast thou for nought thine ears?
Heard’st thou not Juno being arriv’d from heav’n’s great King but now?
Or wouldst thou he himself should rise, forc’d with thy rage, to show
The dreadful pow’r she urg’d in him, so justly being stirr’d?
Know, thou most impudent and mad, thy wrath had not inferr’d
Mischief to thee, but to us all. His spirit had instantly
Left both the hosts, and turn’d his hands to uproars in the sky,
Guilty and guiltless both to wrack in his high rage had gone.
And therefore, as thou lov’st thyself, cease fury for thy son;
Another, far exceeding him in heart and strength of hand,
Or is, or will be shortly, slain. It were a work would stand
Jove in much trouble, to free all from death that would not die.”
This threat ev’n nail’d him to his throne; when heav’n’s chief Majesty
Call’d bright Apollo from his fane, and Iris that had place
Of internunciess from the Gods, to whom she did the grace
Of Jupiter, to this effect: “It is Saturnius’ will,
That both, with utmost speed, should stoop to the Idalian hill,
To know his further pleasure there. And this let me advise,
When you arrive, and are in reach of his refulgent eyes,
His pleasure heard, perform it all, of whatsoever kind.”
Thus mov’d she back, and us’d her throne. Those two outstripp’d the wind,
And Ida all-enchas’d with springs they soon attain’d, and found
Where far-discerning Jupiter, in his repose, had crown’d
The brows of Gargarus, and wrapt an odorif’rous cloud
About his bosom. Coming near, they stood. Nor now he show’d
His angry count’nance, since so soon he saw they made th’ access
That his lov’d wife enjoin’d; but first the fair ambassadress
He thus commanded: “Iris, go to Neptune, and relate
Our pleasure truly, and at large. Command him from the fate
Of human war, and either greet the Gods’ society,
Or the divine sea make his seat. If proudly he deny,
Let better counsels be his guides, than such as bid me war,
And tempt my charge, though he be strong, for I am stronger far,
And elder born. Nor let him dare, to boast even state with me
Whom all Gods else prefer in fear.” This said, down hasted she
From Ida’s top to Ilion; and like a mighty snow,
Or gelid hail, that from the clouds the northern spirit doth blow;
So fell the windy-footed dame, and found with quick repair
The wat’ry God, to whom she said: “God with the sable hair,
I came from Ægis-bearing Jove, to bid thee cease from fight,
And visit heav’n, or th’ ample seas. Which if, in his despite,
Or disobedience, thou deniest, he threatens thee to come,
In opposite fight, to field himself; and therefore warns thee home,
His hands eschewing, since his pow’r is far-superior,
His birth before thee; and affirms, thy lov’d heart should abhor
To vaunt equality with him, whom ev’ry Deity fears.”
He answer’d: “O unworthy thing! Though he be great, he bears
His tongue too proudly, that ourself, born to an equal share
Of state and freedom, he would force. Three brothers born we are
To Saturn, Rhea brought us forth, this Jupiter, and I.
And Pluto, God of under-grounds. The world indiff’rently
Dispos’d betwixt us; ev’ry one his kingdom; I the seas,
Pluto the black lot, Jupiter the principalities
Of broad heav’n, all the sky and clouds, was sorted out. The earth
And high Olympus common are, and due to either’s birth.
Why then should I be aw’d by him? Content he his great heart
With his third portion, and not think, to amplify his part,
With terrors of his stronger hands, on me, as if I were
The most ignoble of us all. Let him contain in fear
His daughters and his sons, begot by his own person, This
Holds more convenience. They must hear these violent threats of his.”
“Shall I,” said Iris, “bear from thee, an answer so austere?
Or wilt thou change it? Changing minds, all noble natures bear.
And well thou know’st, these greatest born, the Furies follow still.”
He answer’d: “Iris, thy reply keeps time, and shows thy skill.
O ’tis a most praiseworthy thing, when messengers can tell,
Besides their messages, such things, as fit th’ occasion well.
But this much grieves my heart and soul, that being in pow’r and state
All-ways his equal, and so fix’d by one decree in fate,
He should to me, as under him, ill language give, and chide.
Yet now, though still incens’d, I yield, affirming this beside,
And I enforce it with a threat: That if without consent
Of me, Minerva, Mercury, the Queen of regiment,
And Vulcan, he will either spare high Ilion, or not race
Her turrets to the lowest stone, and, with both these, not grace
The Greeks as victors absolute, inform him this from me—
His pride and my contempt shall live at endless enmity.”
This said, he left the Greeks, and rush’d into his wat’ry throne,
Much miss’d of all th’ heroic host. When Jove discern’d him gone,
Apollo’s service he employ’d, and said: “Lov’d Phœbus, go
To Hector; now th’ earth-shaking God hath taken sea, and so
Shrunk from the horrors I denounc’d; which standing, he, and all
The under-seated Deities, that circle Saturn’s fall,
Had heard of me in such a fight as had gone hard for them.
But both for them and me ’tis best, that thus they fly th’ extreme,
That had not pass’d us without sweat. Now then, in thy hands take
My adder-fring’d affrighting shield, which with such terror shake,
That fear may shake the Greeks to flight. Besides this, add thy care,
O Phœbus, far-off shooting God, that this so sickly fare
Of famous Hector be recur’d, and quickly so excite
His amplest pow’rs, that all the Greeks may grace him with their flight,
Ev’n to their ships, and Hellespont; and then will I devise
All words and facts again for Greece, that largely may suffice
To breathe them from their instant toils.” Thus from th’ Idæan height,
Like air’s swift pigeon-killer, stoop’d the far-shot God of light,
And found great Hector sitting up, not stretch’d upon his bed,
Not wheezing with a stopp’d-up spirit, not in cold sweats, but fed
With fresh and comfortable veins, but his mind all his own,
But round about him all his friends, as well as ever known.
And this was with the mind of Jove, that flew to him before
Apollo came; who, as he saw no sign of any sore,
Ask’d, like a cheerful visitant: “Why in this sickly kind,
Great Hector, sitt’st thou so apart? Can any grief of mind
Invade thy fortitude?” He spake, but with a feeble voice:
“O thou, the best of Deities! Why, since I thus rejoice
By thy so serious benefit, demand’st thou, as in mirth,
And to my face, if I were ill? For, more than what thy worth
Must needs take note of, doth not Fame from all mouths fill thine ears,
That, as my hand at th’ Achive fleet was making massacres
Of men whom valiant Ajax led, his strength strook with a stone
All pow’r of more hurt from my breast? My very soul was gone,
And once to-day I thought to see the house of Dis and Death.”
“Be strong,” said he, “for such a spirit now sends the God of breath
From airy Ida, as shall run through all Greek spirits in thee.
Apollo with the golden sword, the clear Far-seer, see,
Him, who betwixt death and thy life, ’twixt ruin and those tow’rs,
Ere this day oft hath held his shield. Come then, be all thy pow’rs
In wonted vigour, let thy knights with all their horse assay
The Grecian fleet, myself will lead, and scour so clear the way,
That flight shall leave no Greek a rub.” Thus instantly inspir’d
Were all his nerves with matchless strength; and then his friends he fir’d
Against their foes, when to his eyes his ears confirm’d the God.
Then, as a goodly-headed hart, or goat, bred in the wood,
A rout of country huntsmen chase, with all their hounds in cry,
The beast yet or the shady woods, or rocks excessive high,
Keep safe, or our unwieldy fates (that ev’n in hunters sway)
Bar them the poor beast’s pulling down; when straight the clam’rous fray
Calls out a lion, hugely-man’d, and his abhorréd view
Turns headlong in unturning flight (though vent’rous) all the crew;
So hitherto the chasing Greeks their slaughter dealt by troops;
But, after Hector was beheld range here and there, then stoops
The boldest courage, then their heels took in their drooping hearts,
And then spake Andræmonides, a man of far-best parts
Of all the Ætolians, skill’d in darts, strenuous in fights of stand,
And one of whom few of the Greeks could get the better hand
For rhetoric, when they fought with words; with all which being wise,
Thus spake he to his Grecian friends: “O mischief! Now mine eyes
Discern no little miracle; Hector escap’d from death,
And all-recover’d, when all thought his soul had sunk beneath
The hands of Ajax. But some God hath sav’d and freed again
Him that but now dissolv’d the knees of many a Grecian,
And now I fear will weaken more; for, not without the hand
Of Him that thunders, can his pow’rs thus still the forefights stand,
Thus still triumphant. Hear me then: Our troops in quick retreat
Let’s draw up to our fleet, and we, that boast ourselves the great,
Stand firm, and try if these that raise so high their charging darts
May be resisted. I believe, ev’n this great heart of hearts
Will fear himself to be too bold, in charging thorow us.”
They eas’ly heard him, and obey’d; when all the generous
They call’d t’ encounter Hector’s charge, and turn’d the common men
Back to the fleet. And these were they, that bravely furnish’d then
The fierce forefight: Th’ Ajaces both, the worthy Cretan king,
The Mars-like Meges, Merion, and Teucer. Up then bring
The Trojan chiefs their men in heaps; before whom, amply-pac’d,
March’d Hector, and in front of him Apollo, who had cast
About his bright aspect a cloud, and did before him bear
Jove’s huge and each-where-shaggy shield, which, to contain in fear
Offending men, the God-smith gave to Jove; with this he led
The Trojan forces. The Greeks stood. A fervent clamour spread
The air on both sides as they join’d. Out flew the shafts and darts,
Some falling short, but other some found butts in breasts and hearts.
As long as Phœbus held but out his horrid shield, so long
The darts flew raging either way, and death grew both ways strong;
But when the Greeks had seen his face, and, who it was that shook
The bristled targe, knew by his voice, then all their strengths forsook
Their nerves and minds. And then look how a goodly herd of neat,
Or wealthy flock of sheep, being close, and dreadless at their meet,
In some black midnight, suddenly, and not a keeper near,
A brace of horrid bears rush in, and then fly here and there
The poor affrighted flocks or herds; so ev’ry way dispers’d
The heartless Grecians, so the Sun their headstrong chace revers’d
To headlong flight, and that day rais’d, with all grace, Hector’s head.
Arcesilaus then he slew, and Stichius; Stichius led
Bœotia’s brazen-coated men; the other was the friend
Of mighty-soul’d Menestheüs. Æneas brought to end
Medon and Jasus; Medon was the brother, though but base,
Of swift Oïliades, and dwelt, far from his breeding place,
In Phylace; the other led th’ Athenian bands, his sire
Was Spelus, Bucolus’s son. Mecistheus did expire
Beneath Polydamas’s hand. Polites, Echius slew,
Just at the joining of the hosts. Agenor overthrew
Clonius. Bold Deïochus felt Alexander’s lance;
It strook his shoulder’s upper part, and did his head advance
Quite through his breast, as from the fight he turn’d him for retreat.
While these stood spoiling of the slain, the Greeks found time to get
Beyond the dike and th’ undik’d pales; all scapes they gladly gain’d,
Till all had pass’d the utmost wall; Necessity so reign’d.
Then Hector cried out: “Take no spoil, but rush on to the fleet;
From whose assault, for spoil or flight, if any man I meet,
He meets his death; nor in the fire of holy funeral
His brother’s or his sister’s hands shall cast within our wall
His loathéd body; but, without, the throats of dogs shall grave
His manless limbs.” This said, the scourge his forward horses drave
Through ev’ry order; and, with him, all whipp’d their chariots on,
All threat’ningly, out-thund’ring shouts as earth were overthrown.
Before them march’d Apollo still, and, as he march’d, digg’d down,
Without all labour, with his feet the dike, till, with his own,
He fill’d it to the top, and made way both for man and horse
As broad and long as with a lance, cast out to try one’s force,
A man could measure. Into this they pour’d whole troops as fast
As num’rous; Phœbus still, before, for all their haste,
Still shaking Jove’s unvalu’d shield, and held it up to all.
And then, as he had chok’d their dike, he tumbled down their wall.
And look how eas’ly any boy, upon the sea-ebb’d shore,
Makes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,
But as he rais’d it childishly, so in his wanton vein,
Both with his hands and feet he pulls, and spurns it down again;
So slight, O Phœbus, thy hands made of that huge Grecian toil,
And their late stand, so well-resolv’d, as eas’ly mad’st recoil.
Thus stood they driv’n up at their fleet; where each heard other’s thought,
Exhorted, passing humbly pray’d, all all the Gods besought,
With hands held up to heav’n, for help. ’Mongst all the good old man,
Grave Nestor, for his counsels call’d the Argives’ guardian,
Fell on his aged knees, and pray’d, and to the starry host
Stretch’d out his hands for aid to theirs, of all thus moving most:
“O father Jove, if ever man, of all our host, did burn
Fat thighs of oxen or of sheep, for grace of safe return,
In fruitful Argos, and obtain’d the bowing of thy head
For promise of his humble pray’rs, O now remember him,
Thou merely heav’nly, and clear up the foul brows of this dim
And cruel day; do not destroy our zeal for Trojan pride.”
He pray’d, and heav’n’s great Counsellor with store of thunder tried
His former grace good, and so heard the old man’s hearty pray’rs.
The Trojans took Jove’s sign for them, and pour’d out their affairs
In much more violence on the Greeks, and thought on nought but fight.
And as a huge wave of a sea, swoln to his rudest height,
Breaks over both sides of a ship, being all-urg’d by the wind,
For that’s it makes the wave so proud; in such a borne-up kind
The Trojans overgat the wall, and, getting in their horse,
Fought close at fleet, which now the Greeks ascended for their force.
Then from their chariots they with darts, the Greeks with bead-hooks fought,
Kept still aboard for naval fights, their heads with iron wrought
In hooks and pikes. Achilles’ friend, still while he saw the wall,
That stood without their fleet, afford employment for them all,
Was never absent from the tent of that man-loving Greek,
Late-hurt Eurypylus, but sate, and ev’ry way did seek,
To spend the sharp time of his wound, with all the ease he could
In med’cines, and in kind discourse. But when he might behold
The Trojans past the wall, the Greeks flight-driv’n, and all in cries,
Then cried he out, cast down his hands, and beat with grief his thighs,
Then, “O Eurypylus,” he cried, “now all thy need of me
Must bear my absence, now a work of more necessity
Calls hence, and I must haste to call Achilles to the field.
Who knows, but, God assisting me, my words may make him yield?
The motion of a friend is strong.” His feet thus took him thence.
The rest yet stood their enemies firm; but all their violence
(Though Troy fought there with fewer men) lack’d vigour to repell
Those fewer from their navy’s charge, and so that charge as well
Lack’d force to spoil their fleet or tents. And as a shipwright’s line
(Dispos’d by such a hand as learn’d from th’ Artizan divine
The perfect practice of his art) directs or guards so well
The naval timber then in frame, that all the laid-on steel
Can hew no further than may serve, to give the timber th’ end
Fore-purpos’d by the skilful wright; so both hosts did contend
With such a line or law applied, to what their steel would gain.
At other ships fought other men; but Hector did maintain
His quarrel firm at Ajax’ ship. And so did both employ
About one vessel all their toil; nor could the one destroy
The ship with fire, nor force the man, nor that man yet get gone
The other from so near his ship, for God had brought him on.
But now did Ajax, with a dart, wound deadly in the breast
Caletor, son of Clytius, as he with fire address’d
To burn the vessel; as he fell, the brand fell from his hand.
When Hector saw his sister’s son lie slaughter’d in the sand,
He call’d to all his friends, and pray’d they would not in that strait
Forsake his nephew, but maintain about his corse the fight,
And save it from the spoil of Greece. Then sent he out a lance
At Ajax, in his nephew’s wreak; which miss’d, but made the chance
On Lycophron Mastorides, that was the household friend
Of Ajax, born in Cythera; whom Ajax did defend,
Being fled to his protectión, for killing of a man
Amongst the god-like Cytherans. The vengeful jav’lin ran
Quite through his head, above his ear, as he was standing by
His fautour then astern his ship, from whence his soul did fly,
And to the earth his body fell. The hair stood up an end
On Ajax, who to Teucer call’d (his brother) saying: “Friend
Our lovéd consort, whom we brought from Cythera, and grac’d
So like our father, Hector’s hand hath made him breathe his last.
Where then are all thy death-borne shafts, and that unvalu’d bow
Apollo gave thee?” Tencer straight his brother’s thoughts did know,
Stood near him, and dispatch’d a shaft, amongst the Trojan fight.
It strook Pisenor’s goodly son, young Clitus, the delight
Of the renown’d Polydamus, the bridle in his hand,
As he was labouring his horse, to please the high command
Of Hector and his Trojan friends, and bring him where the fight
Made greatest tumult; but his strife, for honour in their sight,
Wrought not what sight or wishes help’d; for, turning back his look,
The hollow of his neck the shaft came singing on, and strook,
And down he fell; his horses back, and hurried through the field
The empty chariot. Panthus’ son made all haste, and withheld
Their loose career, disposing them to Protiaon’s son,
Astynous, with special charge, to keep them ever on,
And in his sight. So he again, amongst the foremost went.
At Hector then another shaft, incenséd Teucer sent,
Which, had it hit him, sure had hurt, and, had it hurt him, slain,
And, had it slain him, it had driv’n all those to Troy again.
But Jove’s mind was not sleeping now, it wak’d to Hector’s fame,
And Teucer’s infamy; himself (in Teucer’s deadly aim)
His well-wrought string dissevering, that serv’d his bravest bow;
His shaft flew quite another way, his bow the earth did strow.
At all which Teucer stood amaz’d, and to his brother cried:
“O prodigy! Without all doubt, our angel doth deride
The counsels of our fight; he brake a string my hands put on
This morning, and was newly made, and well might have set gone
A hundred arrows; and, beside, he strook out of my hand
The bow Apollo gave.” He said: “Then, good friend, do not stand
More on thy archery, since God, preventer of all grace
Desir’d by Grecians, slights it so. Take therefore in the place
A good large lance, and on thy neck a target cast as bright,
With which come fight thyself with some, and other some excite,
That without labour at the least, though we prove worser men,
Troy may not brag it took our ships. Come, mind our business, then.”
This said, he hasted to his tent, left there his shafts and bow,
And then his double double shield did on his shoulders throw;
Upon his honour’d head he plac’d his helmet thickly-plum’d,
And then his strong and well-pil’d lance in his fair hand assum’d,
Return’d; and boldly took his place, by his great brother’s side.
When Hector saw his arrows broke, out to his friends he cried:
“O friends, be yet more comforted; I saw the hands of Jove
Break the great Grecian archer’s shafts. ’Tis easy to approve
That Jove’s pow’r is direct with men; as well in those set high
Upon the sudden, as in those depress’d as suddenly,
And those not put in state at all. As now he takes away
Strength from the Greeks, and gives it us; then use it, and assay
With join’d hands this approachéd fleet. If any bravely buy
His fame or fate with wounds or death, in Jove’s name let him die.
Who for his country suffers death, sustains no shameful thing,
His wife in honour shall survive, his progeny shall spring
In endless summers, and their roofs with patrimony swell.
And all this, though, with all their freight, the Greek ships we repell.”
His friends thus cheer’d; on th’ other part, strong Ajax stirr’d his friends:
“O Greeks,” said he, “what shame is this, that no man more defends
His fame and safety, than to live, and thus be forc’d to shrink!
Now either save your fleet, or die; unless ye vainly think
That you can live and they destroy’d. Perceives not ev’ry ear
How Hector heartens up his men, and hath his fire-brands here
Now ready to inflame our fleet? He doth not bid them dance,
That you may take your ease and see, but to the fight advance.
No counsel can serve us but this: To mix both hands and hearts,
And bear up close. ’Tis better much, t’ expose our utmost parts
To one day’s certain life or death, than languish in a war
So base as this, beat to our ships by our inferiors far.”
Thus rous’d he up their spirits and strengths. To work then both sides went,
When Hector the Phocensian duke to fields of darkness sent,
Fierce Schedius, Perimedes’ son; which Ajax did requite
With slaughter of Laodamas, that led the foot to fight,
And was Antenor’s famous son. Polydamas did end
Otus, surnam’d Cyllenius, whom Phydas made his friend,
Being chief of the Epeians’ bands. Whose fall when Meges view’d,
He let fly at his feller’s life; who, shrinking in, eschew’d
The well-aim’d lance; Apollo’s will denied that Panthus’ son
Should fall amongst the foremost fights; the dart the mid-breast won
Of Crasmus; Meges won his arms. At Meges, Dolops then
Bestow’d his lance; he was the son of Lampus, best of men,
And Lampus of Laomedon, well-skill’d in strength of mind,
He strook Phylides’ shield quite through, whose curets, better lin’d,
And hollow’d fitly, sav’d his life. Phyleus left him them,
Who from Epirus brought them home, on that part where the stream
Of famous Seléés doth run; Euphetes did bestow,
Being guest with him, those well-prov’d arms, to wear against the foe,
And now they sav’d his son from death. At Dolops, Meges threw
A spear well-pil’d, that strook his casque full in the height; off flew
His purple feather, newly made, and in the dust it fell.
While these thus striv’d for victory, and either’s hope serv’d well,
Atrides came to Meges’ aid, and, hidden with his side,
Let loose a jav’lin at his foe, that through his back implied
His lusty head, ev’n past his breast; the ground receiv’d his weight.
While these made in to spoil his arms, great Hector did excite
All his allies to quick revenge; and first he wrought upon
Strong Manalippus, that was son to great Hycetaon,
With some reproof. Before these wars, he in Percote fed
Clov’n-foot’d oxen, but did since return where he was bred,
Excell’d amongst the Ilians, was much of Priam lov’d,
And in his court kept as his son. Him Hector thus reprov’d:
“Thus, Menalippus, shall our blood accuse us of neglect?
Nor moves it thy lov’d heart, thus urg’d, thy kinsman to protect?
Seest thou not how they seek his spoil? Come, follow, now no more
Our fight must stand at length, but close; nor leave the close before
We close the latest eye of them, or they the lowest stone
Tear up, and sack the citizens of lofty Ilion.”
He led; he follow’d, like a God. And then must Ajax needs,
As well as Hector, cheer his men, and thus their spirits he feeds:
“Good friends, bring but yourselves to feel the noble stings of shame
For what ye suffer, and be men. Respect each other’s fame;
For which who strives in shame’s fit fear, and puts on ne’er so far,
Comes oft’ner off. Then stick engag’d; these fugitives of war
Save neither life, nor get renown, nor bear more mind than sheep.”
This short speech fir’d them in his aid, his spirit touch’d them deep,
And turn’d them all before the fleet into a wall of brass;
To whose assault Jove stirr’d their foes, and young Atrides was
Jove’s instrument, who thus set on the young Antilochus:
“Antilochus, in all our host, there is not one of us
More young than thou, more swift of foot, nor, with both those, so strong.
O would thou wouldst then, for thou canst, one of this lusty throng,
That thus comes skipping out before (whoever, any where)
Make stick, for my sake, ’twixt both hosts, and leave his bold blood there!”
He said no sooner, and retir’d, but forth he rush’d before
The foremost fighters, yet his eye did ev’ry way explore
For doubt of odds; out flew his lance; the Trojans did abstain
While he was darting; yet his dart he cast not off in vain,
For Menalippus, that rare son of great Hycetaon,
As bravely he put forth to fight, it fiercely flew upon;
And at the nipple of his breast, his breast and life did part.
And then, much like an eager hound, cast off at some young hart
Hurt by the hunter, that had left his covert then but new,
The great-in-war Antilochus, O Menalippus, flew
On thy torn bosom for thy spoil. But thy death could not lie
Hid to great Hector; who all haste made to thee, and made fly
Antilochus, although in war he were at all parts skill’d.
But as some wild beast, having done some shrewd turn (either kill’d
The herdsman, or the herdsman’s dog) and skulks away before
The gather’d multitude makes in; so Nestor’s son forbore,
But after him, with horrid cries, both Hector and the rest
Show’rs of tear-thirsty lances pour’d; who having arm’d his breast
With all his friends, he turn’d it then. Then on the ships all Troy,
Like raw-flesh-nourish’d lions, rush’d, and knew they did employ
Their pow’rs to perfect Jove’s high will; who still their spirits enflam’d,
And quench’d the Grecians’; one renown’d, the other often sham’d.
For Hector’s glory still he stood, and ever went about
To make him cast the fleet such fire, as never should go out;
Heard Thetis’ foul petitión, and wish’d in any wise
The splendour of the burning ships might satiate his eyes.
From him yet the repulse was then to be on Troy conferr’d,
The honour of it giv’n the Greeks; which thinking on, he stirr’d,
With such addition of his spirit, the spirit Hector bore
To burn the fleet, that of itself was hot enough before.
But now he far’d like Mars himself, so brandishing his lance
As, through the deep shades of a wood, a raging fire should glance,
Held up to all eyes by a hill; about his lips a foam
Stood as when th’ ocean is enrag’d, his eyes were overcome
With fervour, and resembled flames, set off by his dark brows,
And from his temples his bright helm abhorréd lightnings throws;
For Jove, from forth the sphere of stars, to his state put his own,
And all the blaze of both the hosts confin’d in him alone.
And all this was, since after this he had not long to live,
This lightning flew before his death, which Pallas was to give
(A small time thence, and now prepar’d) beneath the violence
Of great Pelides. In mean time, his present eminence
Thought all things under it; and he, still where he saw the stands
Of greatest strength and bravest arm’d, there he would prove his hands,
Or nowhere; off’ring to break through, but that pass’d all his pow’r,
Although his will were past all theirs, they stood him like a tow’r
Conjoin’d so firm, that as a rock, exceeding high and great,
And standing near the hoary sea, bears many a boist’rous threat
Of high-voic’d winds and billows huge, belch’d on it by the storms;
So stood the Greeks great Hector’s charge, nor stirr’d their battellous forms.
He, girt in fire borne for the fleet, still rush’d at ev’ry troop,
And fell upon it like a wave, high rais’d, that then doth stoop
Out from the clouds, grows, as it stoops, with storms, then down doth come
And cuff a ship, when all her sides are hid in brackish foam,
Strong gales still raging in her sails, her sailors’ minds dismay’d,
Death being but little from their lives; so Jove-like Hector fray’d
And plied the Greeks, who knew not what would chance, for all their guards.
And as the baneful king of beasts, leapt into oxen herds
Fed in the meadows of a fen, exceeding great; the beasts
In number infinite; ’mongst whom (their herdsmen wanting breasts
To fight with lions, for the price of a black ox’s life)
He here and there jumps, first and last, in his blood-thirsty strife,
Chas’d and assaulted; and, at length, down in the midst goes one,
And all the rest spers’d through the fen; so now all Greece was gone;
So Hector, in a flight from heav’n upon the Grecians cast,
Turn’d all their backs; yet only one his deadly lance laid fast,
Brave Mycenæus Periphes, Cypræus’ dearest son,
Who of the heav’n’s-Queen-lovéd king, great Eurysthæus, won
The grace to greet in ambassy the strength of Hercules,
Was far superior to his sire in feet, fight, nobleness
Of all the virtues, and all those did such a wisdom guide
As all Mycena could not match; and this man dignified,
Still making greater his renown, the state of Priam’s son,
For his unhappy hasty foot, as he address’d to run,
Stuck in th’ extreme ring of his shield, that to his ancles reach’d,
And down he upwards fell, his fall up from the centre fetch’d
A huge sound with his head and helm; which Hector quickly spied,
Ran in, and in his worthy breast his lance’s head did hide;
And slew about him all his friends, who could not give him aid,
They griev’d, and of his god-like foe fled so extreme afraid.
And now amongst the nearest ships, that first were drawn to shore,
The Greeks were driv’n; beneath whose sides, behind them, and before,
And into them they pour’d themselves, and thence were driv’n again
Up to their tents, and there they stood; not daring to maintain
Their guards more outward, but, betwixt the bounds of fear and shame,
Cheer’d still each other; when th’ old man, that of the Grecian name
Was call’d the Pillar, ev’ry man thus by his parents pray’d:
“O friends, be men, and in your minds let others’ shames be weigh’d.
Know you have friends besides yourselves, possessions, parents, wives,
As well those that are dead to you, as those ye love with lives;
All sharing still their good, or bad, with yours. By these I pray,
That are not present (and the more should therefore make ye weigh
Their miss of you, as yours of them) that you will bravely stand,
And this forc’d flight you have sustain’d, at length yet countermand.”
Supplies of good words thus supplied the deeds and spirits of all.
And so at last Minerva clear’d, the cloud that Jove let fall
Before their eyes; a mighty light flew beaming ev’ry way,
As well about their ships, as where their darts did hottest play,
Then saw they Hector great in arms, and his associates,
As well all those that then abstain’d, as those that help’d the fates,
And all their own fight at the fleet. Nor did it now content
Ajax to keep down like the rest; he up the hatches went,
Stalk’d here and there, and in his hand a huge great bead-hook held,
Twelve cubits long, and full of iron. And as a man well-skill’d
In horse, made to the martial race, when, of a number more,
He chooseth four, and brings them forth, to run them all before
Swarms of admiring citizens, amids their town’s high way,
And, in their full career, he leaps from one to one, no stay
Enforc’d on any, nor fails he, in either seat or leap;
So Ajax with his bead-hook leap’d nimbly from ship to ship,
As actively commanding all, them in their men as well
As men in them, most terribly exhorting to repell,
To save their navy and their tents. But Hector nothing needs
To stand on exhortations now at home, he strives for deeds.
And look how Jove’s great queen of birds, sharp-set, looks out for prey,
Knows floods that nourish wild-wing’d fowls, and, from her airy way,
Beholds where cranes, swans, cormorants, have made their foody fall,
Darkens the river with her wings, and stoops amongst them all;
So Hector flew amongst the Greeks, directing his command,
In chief, against one opposite ship; Jove with a mighty hand
Still backing him and all his men. And then again there grew
A bitter conflict at the fleet. You would have said none drew
A weary breath, nor ever would, they laid so freshly on.
And this was it that fir’d them both: The Greeks did build upon
No hope but what the field would yield, flight an impossible course;
The Trojans all hope entertain’d, that sword and fire should force
Both ships and lives of all the Greeks. And thus, unlike affects
Bred like strenuity in both. Great Hector still directs
His pow’rs against the first near ship. ’Twas that fair bark that brought
Protesilaus to those wars, and now her self to nought,
With many Greek and Trojan lives, all spoil’d about her spoil.
One slew another desp’rately, and close the deadly toil
Was pitch’d on both parts. Not a shaft, nor far-off striking dart
Was us’d through all. One fight fell out, of one despiteful heart.
Sharp axes, twybills, two-hand swords, and spears with two heads borne,
Were then the weapons; fair short swords, with sanguine hilts still worn,
Had use in like sort; of which last, ye might have numbers view’d
Drop with dissolv’d arms from their hands, as many down-right hew’d
From off their shoulders as they fought, their bawdrics cut in twain.
And thus the black blood flow’d on earth, from soldiers hurt and slain.
When Hector once had seiz’d the ship, he clapt his fair broad hand
Fast on the stern, and held it there, and there gave this command:
“Bring fire, and all together shout. Now Jove hath drawn the veil
From such a day as makes amends, for all his storms of hail;
By whose blest light we take those ships, that, in despite of heav’n,
Took sea, and brought us worlds of woe, all since our peers were giv’n
To such a laziness and fear; they would not let me end
Our ling’ring banes, and charge thus home, but keep home and defend,
And so they rul’d the men I led. But though Jove then withheld
My natural spirit, now by Jove ’tis freed, and thus impell’d.”
This more inflam’d them; in so much that Ajax now no more
Kept up, he was so drown’d in darts; a little he forbore
The hatches to a seat beneath, of sev’n foot long, but thought
It was impossible to scape; he sat yet where he fought,
And hurl’d out lances thick as hail, at all men that assay’d
To fire the ship; with whom he found his hands so overlaid,
That on his soldiers thus he cried: “O friends, fight I alone?
Expect ye more walls at your backs? Towns rampir’d here are none,
No citizens to take ye in, no help of any kind.
We are, I tell you, in Troy’s fields; have nought but seas behind,
And foes before; far, far from Greece. For shame, obey commands,
There is no mercy in the wars; your healths lie in your hands.”
Thus rag’d he, and pour’d out his darts. Whoever he espied
Come near the vessel arm’d with fire, on his fierce dart he died.
All that pleas’d Hector made him mad, all that his thanks would earn;
Of which twelve men, his most resolv’d, lay dead before his stern.
THE END OF THE FIFTEENTH BOOK.