THE ARGUMENT

A dreadful fight about Patroclus’ corse;
Euphorbus slain by Menelaus’ force;
Hector in th’ armour of Æacides;
Antilochus relating the decease
Of slain Patroclus to fair Thetis’ son;
The body from the striving Trojans won;
Th’ Ajaces making good the after field;
Make all the subject that this book doth yield,

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

In Rho the vent’rous hosts maintain
A slaught’rous conflict for the slain.

Nor could his slaughter rest conceal’d from Menelaus’ ear;
Who flew amongst the foremost fights, and with his targe and spear
Circled the body, as much griev’d, and with as tender heed
To keep it theirs, as any dam about her first-born seed,
Not proving what the pain of birth would make the love before,
Nor to pursue his first attaint Euphorbus’ spirit forbore;1
But, seeing Menelaus chief in rescue of the dead,
Assay’d him thus: “Atrides, cease, and leave the slaughteréd
With his embru’d spoil to the man, that first, of all our state,
And famous succours, in fair fight, made passage to his fate;
And therefore suffer me to wear the good name I have won
Amongst the Trojans, lest thy life repay what his hath done.”
“O Jupiter,” said he, incens’d, “thou art no honest man
To boast so past thy pow’r to do. Not any lion can,
Nor spotted leopard, nor boar, whose mind is mightiest
In pouring fury from his strength, advance so proud a crest
As Panthus’ fighting progeny. But Hyperenor’s pride,
That joy’d so little time his youth, when he so vilified
My force in arms, and call’d me worst of all our chivalry,
And stood my worst, might teach ye all to shun this surcuidrie;
I think he came not safely home, to tell his wife his acts.
Nor less right of thy insolence my equal fate exacts,
And will obtain me, if thou stay’st. Retire then, take advice:
A fool sees nought before ’tis done, and still too late is wise.”
This mov’d not him but to the worse, since it renew’d the sting
That his slain brother shot in him, remember’d by the king,
To whom he answer’d: “Thou shalt pay, for all the pains endur’d
By that slain brother, all the wounds sustain’d for him, recur’d
With one made in thy heart by me. ’Tis true thou mad’st his wife
A heavy widow, when her joys of wedlock scarce had life,
And hurt’st our parents with his grief; all which thou gloriest in,
Forespeaking so thy death, that now their grief’s end shall begin.
To Panthus, and the snowy hand of Phrontes, I will bring
Those arms, and that proud head of thine. And this laborious thing
Shall ask no long time to perform. Nor be my words alone,
But their performance; Strength, and Fight, and Terror thus sets on.”
This said, he strook his all-round shield; nor shrunk that, but his lance
That turn’d head in it. Then the king assay’d the second chance;
First praying to the King of Gods; and his dart entry got
(The force much driving back his foe) in low part of his throat,
And ran his neck through. Then fell pride, and he; and all with gore
His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore
In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.
And when alone in some choice place, a husbandman hath set
The young plant of an olive tree, whose root being ever fed
With plenty of delicious springs, his branches bravely spread,
And all his fresh and lovely head, grown curl’d with snowy flow’rs,
That dance and flourish with the winds, that are of gentlest pow’rs;
But when a whirlwind, got aloft, stoops with a sudden gale,
Tears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal
His fix’d root from his hollow mines; it well presents the force
Of Sparta’s king; and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse.
He slain, the king stripp’d off his arms; and with their worthy prise,
All fearing him, had clearly pass’d, if heaven’s fair Eye of eyes
Had not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr’d
The Mars-like Hector; to whose pow’rs the rescue he preferr’d
Of those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas, colonel
Of all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell.
Like him, he thus puts forth his voice: “Hector, thou scour’st the field
In headstrong púrsuit of those horse, that hardly are compell’d
To take the draught of chariots, by any mortal’s hand;
The great grandchild of Æacus hath only their command,
Whom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend’st on these,
The young Atrides, in defence of Menœtiades,
Hath slain Euphorbus.” Thus the God took troop with men again;
And Hector, heartily perplex’d, look’d round, and saw the slain
Still shedding rivers from his wound; and then took envious view
Of brave Atrides with his spoil; in way to whom he flew
Like one of Vulcan’s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry
That ever usher’d him, and sigh’d, and said: “O me, if I2
Should leave these goodly arms, and him, that here lies dead for me,
I fear I should offend the Greeks; if I should stay and be
Alone with Hector and his men, I may be compass’d in,
Some sleight or other they may use, many may quickly win
Their wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads.
But why, dear mind, dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads
Against the Gods, as sure they do that fight with men they love,
Straight one or other plague ensues. It cannot therefore move
The grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he
Still fighting with a spirit from heav’n. And yet if I could see
Brave Ajax, he and I would stand, though ’gainst a God; and sure
’Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure
This corse’s freedom through all these. A little then let rest
The body, and my mind be still. Of two bads choose the best.”
In this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he
Made such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see
The royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries, and spears,
To clear their hornéd stall, and then the kingly heart he bears
(With all his high disdain) falls off; so from this odds of aid
The golden-hair’d Atrides fled, and in his strength display’d
Upon his left hand him he wish’d, extremely busiéd
About encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread
Apollo had infus’d. The king reach’d Ajax instantly,
And said: “Come, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny
Of Hector free Patroclus’ corse.” He straight and gladly went;
And then was Hector haling off the body, with intent
To spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest,
His arms he having pris’d before; when Ajax brought his breast
To bar all further spoil. With that he had, sure Hector thought
‘Twas best to satisfy his spleen; which temper Ajax wrought
With his mere sight, and Hector fled. The arms he sent to Troy,
To make his citizens admire, and pray Jove send him joy.
Then Ajax gather’d to the corse, and hid it with his targe,
There setting down as sure a foot, as, in the tender charge
Of his lov’d whelps, a lion doth; two hundred hunters near
To give him onset, their more force makes him the more austere,
Drowns all their clamours in his roars, darts, dogs, doth all despise,
And lets his rough brows down so low, they cover all his eyes;
So Ajax look’d, and stood, and stay’d for great Priamides.
When Glaucus Hippolochides saw Ajax thus depress
The spirit of Hector, thus he chid: “O goodly man at arms,
In fight a Paris, why should fame make thee fort ’gainst our harms,
Being such a fugitive? Now mark, how well thy boasts defend
Thy city only with her own. Be sure it shall descend
To that proof wholly. Not a man of any Lycian rank
Shall strike one stroke more for thy town; for no man gets a thank
Should he eternally fight here, nor any guard of thee.
How wilt thou, worthless that thou art, keep off an enemy
From our poor soldiers, when their prince, Sarpedon, guest and friend
To thee, and most deservedly, thou flew’st from in his end,
And left’st to all the lust of Greece? O Gods, a man that was
(In life) so huge a good to Troy, and to thee such a grace,
(In death) not kept by thee from dogs! If my friends will do well,
We’ll take our shoulders from your walls, and let all sink to hell;
As all will, were our faces turn’d. Did such a spirit breathe
In all you Trojans, as becomes all men that fight beneath
Their country’s standard, you would see, that such a prop your cause
With like exposure of their lives, have all the honour’d laws
Of such a dear confederacy kept to them to a thread,
As now ye might reprise the arms Sarpedon forfeited
By forfeit of your rights to him, would you but lend your hands,
And force Patroclus to your Troy. Ye know how dear he stands
In his love, that of all the Greeks is, for himself, far best,
And leads the best near-fighting men; and therefore would at least
Redeem Sarpedon’s arms; nay him, whom you have likewise lost.
This body drawn to Ilion would after draw and cost
A greater ransom if you pleas’d; but Ajax startles you;
’Tis his breast bars this right to us; his looks are darts enow
To mix great Hector with his men. And not to blame ye are,
You choose foes underneath your strengths, Ajax exceeds ye far.”
Hector look’d passing sour at this, and answer’d: “Why dar’st thou,
So under, talk above me so? O friend, I thought till now
Thy wisdom was superior to all th’ inhabitants
Of gleby Lycia; but now impute apparent wants
To that discretion thy words show, to say I lost my ground
For Ajax’ greatness. Nor fear I the field in combats drown’d,
Nor force of chariots, but I fear a Pow’r much better seen
In right of all war than all we. That God, that holds between
Our victory and us his shield, lets conquest come and go
At his free pleasure, and with fear converts her changes so
Upon the strongest. Men must fight when his just spirit impels,
Not their vain glories. But come on, make thy steps parallels
To these of mine, and then be judge, how deep the work will draw.
If then I spend the day in shifts, or thou canst give such law
To thy detractive speeches then, or if the Grecian host
Holds any that in pride of strength holds up his spirit most,
Whom, for the carriage of this prince, that thou enforcest so,
I make not stoop in his defence. You, friends, ye hear and know
How much it fits ye to make good this Grecian I have slain,
For ransom of Jove’s son, our friend. Play then the worthy men,
Till I indue Achilles’ arms.” This said, he left the fight,
And call’d back those that bore the arms, not yet without his sight,
In convoy of them towards Troy. For them he chang’d his own,
Remov’d from where it rained tears, and sent them back to town.
Then put he on th’ eternal arms, that the Celestial States
Gave Peleus; Peleus, being old, their use appropriates
To his Achilles, that, like him, forsook them not for age.
When He, whose empire is in clouds, saw Hector bent to wage
War in divine Achilles’ arms, he shook his head, and said:
“Poor wretch, thy thoughts are far from death, though he so near hath laid
His ambush for thee. Thou putt’st on those arms, as braving him
Whom others fear; hast slain his friend, and from his youthful limb
Torn rudely off his heav’nly arms, himself being gentle, kind,
And valiant. Equal measure then, thy life in youth must find.
Yet since the justice is so strict, that not Andromache,
In thy denied return from fight, must ever take of thee
Those arms, in glory of thy acts; thou shalt have that frail blaze
Of excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev’n to amaze.”
To this His sable brows did bow; and he made fit his limb
To those great arms, to fill which up the War-god enter’d him
Austere and terrible, his joints and ev’ry part extends
With strength and fortitude; and thus to his admiring friends
High Clamour brought him. He so shin’d, that all could think no less
But he resembled ev’ry way great-soul’d Æacides.
Then ev’ry way he scour’d the field, his captains calling on;
Asteropæus, Eunomus, that foresaw all things done,
Glaucus, and Medon, Desinor, and strong Thersilochus,
Phorcis, and Mesthles, Chromius, and great Hippothous;
To all these, and their populous troops, these his excitements were:
“Hear us, innumerable friends, near-bord’ring nations, hear.
We have not call’d you from our towns, to fill our idle eye
With number of so many men (no such vain empery
Did ever joy us) but to fight; and of our Trojan wives,
With all their children, manfully to save the innocent lives.
In whose cares we draw all our towns of aiding soldiers dry,
With gifts, guards, victual, all things fit; and hearten their supply
With all like rights; and therefore now let all sides set down this,
Or live, or perish; this of war the special secret is.
In which most resolute design, whoever bears to town
Patroclus, laid dead to his hand, by winning the renown
Of Ajax’ slaughter, the half-spoil we wholly will impart
To his free use, and to ourself the other half convert;
And so the glory shall be shar’d, ourself will have no more
Then he shall shine in.” This drew all to bring abroad their store
Before the body. Ev’ry man had hope it would be his,
And forc’d from Ajax. Silly fools, Ajax prevented this
By raising rampires to his friend with half their carcasses.
And yet his humour was to roar, and fear, and now no less
To startle Sparta’s king, to whom he cried out: “O my friend!
O Menelaus! Now no hope to get off; here’s the end
Of all our labours. Not so much I fear to lose the corse
(For that’s sure gone, the fowls of Troy and dogs will quickly force
That piece-meal) as I fear my head, and thine, O Atreus’ son.
Hector a cloud brings will hide all. Instant destructión,
Grievous and heavy, comes. O call our peers to aid us; fly.”
He hasted, and us’d all his voice, sent far and near his cry:
“O princes, chief lights of the Greeks, and you that publicly
Eat with our General and me, all men of charge, O know
Jove gives both grace and dignity to any that will show
Good minds for only good itself, though presently the eye
Of him that rules discern him not. ’Tis hard for me t’espy,
Through all this smoke of burning fight, each captain in his place,
And call assistance to our need. Be then each other’s grace,
And freely follow each his next. Disdain to let the joy
Of great Æacides be forc’d to feed the beasts of Troy.”
His voice was first heard and obey’d by swift Oïliades;
Idomenëus and his mate, renown’d Meriones,
Were seconds to Oïleus’ son; but, of the rest, whose mind
Can lay upon his voice the names, that after these combin’d
In setting up this fight on end? The Trojans first gave on.
And as into the sea’s vast mouth, when mighty rivers run,
Their billows and the sea resound, and all the utter shore
Rebellows in her angry shocks the sea’s repulsive roar;
With such sounds gave the Trojans charge, so was their charge repress’d.
One mind fill’d all Greeks, good brass shields close couch’d to ev’ry breast,
And on their bright helms Jove pour’d down a mighty deal of night,
To hide Patroclus; whom alive, and when he was the knight
Of that grandchild of Æacus, Saturnius did not hate,
Nor dead would see him dealt to dogs, and so did instigate
His fellows to his worthy guard. At first the Trojans drave
The black-ey’d Grecians from the corse; but not a blow they gave
That came at death. Awhile they hung about the body’s heels,
The Greeks quite gone. But all that while, did Ajax whet the steels
Of all his forces, that cut back way to the corse again.
Brave Ajax (that for form and fact, pass’d all that did maintain
The Grecian fame, next Thetis’ son) now flew before the first.
And as a sort of dogs and youths are by a boar disperst
About a mountain; so fled these from mighty Ajax, all
That stood in conflict for the corse, who thought no chance could fall
Betwixt them and the prise at Troy; for both Hippothous,
Lethus’ Pelasgus’ famous son, was so adventurous
That he would stand to bore the corse about the ancle-bone,
Where all the nervy fibres meet and ligaments in one,
That make the motion of those parts; through which he did convey
The thong or bawdric of his shield, and so was drawing away
All thanks from Hector and his friends; but in their stead he drew
An ill that no man could avert; for Telamonius threw
A lance that strook quite through his helm, his brain came leaping out;
Down fell Letheides, and with him the body’s hoisted foot.
Far from Larissa’s soil he fell; a little time allow’d
To his industrious spirits to quit the benefits bestow’d
By his kind parents. But his wreak Priamides assay’d,
And threw at Ajax; but his dart, discover’d, pass’d, and stay’d
At Schedius, son of Iphitus, a man of ablest hand
Of all the strong Phocensians, and liv’d with great command
In Panopëus. The fell dart fell through his channel-bone,
Pierc’d through his shoulder’s upper part, and set his spirit gone.
When after his another flew, the same hand giving wing
To martial Phorcis’ startled soul, that was the after spring
Of Phænops’ seed. The jav’lin strook his curets through, and tore
The bowels from the belly’s midst. His fall made those before
Give back a little, Hector’s self enforc’d to turn his face.
And then the Greeks bestow’d their shouts, took vantage of the chace,
Drew off, and spoil’d Hippothous and Phorcis of their arms.
And then ascended Ilion had shaken with alarms,
Discov’ring th’ impotence of Troy, ev’n past the will of Jove,
And by the proper force of Greece, had Phœbus fail’d to move
Æneas in similitude of Periphas (the son
Of grave Epytes) king at arms, and had good service done
To old Anchises, being wise, and ev’n with him in years.
But, like this man, the far-seen God to Venus’ son appears,
And ask’d him how he would maintain steep Ilion in her height,
In spite of Gods, as he presum’d; when men approv’d so slight
All his presumptions, and all theirs that puff’d him with that pride,
Believing in their proper strengths, and gen’rally supplied
With such unfrighted multitudes? But he well knew that Jove,
Besides their self-conceits, sustain’d their forces with more love
Than theirs of Greece; and yet all that lack’d pow’r to hearten them.
Æneas knew the God, and said: “It was a shame extreme,
That those of Greece should beat them so, and by their cowardice,
Not want of man’s aid nor the Gods’; and this before his eyes
A Deity stood ev’n now and vouch’d, affirming Jove their aid;
And so bade Hector and the rest, to whom all this he said,
Turn head, and not in that quick ease part with the corse to Greece.”
This said, before them all he flew, and all as of a piece
Against the Greeks flew. Venus’ son Leocritus did end,
Son of Arisbas, and had place of Lycomedes’ friend;
Whose fall he friendly pitied, and, in revenge, bestow’d
A lance that Apisaon strook, so sore that straight he strow’d
The dusty centre, it did stick in that congealéd blood
That forms the liver. Second man he was of all that stood
In name for arms amongst the troop that from Pæonia came,
Asteropæus being the first; who was in ruth the same
That Lycomedes was; like whom, he put forth for the wreak
Of his slain friend; but wrought it not, because he could not break
That bulwark made of Grecian shields, and bristled wood of spears,
Combin’d about the body slain. Amongst whom Ajax bears
The greatest labour, ev’ry way exhorting to abide,
And no man fly the corse a foot, nor break their ranks in pride
Of any foremost daring spirit, but each foot hold his stand,
And use the closest fight they could. And this was the command
Of mighty Ajax; which observ’d, they steep’d the earth in blood.
The Trojans and their friends fell thick. Nor all the Grecians stood
(Though far the fewer suffer’d fate) for ever they had care
To shun confusion, and the toil that still oppresseth there.
So set they all the field on fire; with which you would have thought
The sun and moon had been put out, in such a smoke they fought
About the person of the prince. But all the field beside
Fought underneath a lightsome heav’n; the sun was in his pride,
And such expansure of his beams he thrust out of his throne,
That not a vapour durst appear in all that region,
No, not upon the highest hill. There fought they still, and breath’d,
Shunn’d danger, cast their darts aloof, and not a sword unsheath’d.
The other plied it, and the war and night plied them as well,
The cruel steel afflicting all; the strongest did not dwell
Unhurt within their iron roofs. Two men of special name.
Antilochus and Thrasymed, were yet unserv’d by Fame
With notice of Patroclus’ death. They thought him still alive
In foremost tumult, and might well, for (seeing their fellows thrive
In no more comfortable sort than fight and death would yield)
They fought apart; for so their sire, old Nestor, strictly will’d,
Enjoining fight more from the fleet. War here increas’d his heat
The whole day long, continually the labour and the sweat
The knees, calves, feet, hands, faces, smear’d, of men that Mars applied
About the good Achilles’ friend. And as a huge ox-hide3
A currier gives amongst his men, to supple and extend
With oil till it be drunk withall; they tug, stretch out, and spend
Their oil and liquor lib’rally, and chafe the leather so
That out they make a vapour breathe, and in their oil doth go,
A number of them set on work, and in an orb they pull,
That all ways all parts of the hide they may extend at full;
So here and there did both parts hale the corse in little place,
And wrought it all ways with their sweat; the Trojans hop’d for grace
To make it reach to Ilion, the Grecians to their fleet,
A cruel tumult they stirr’d up, and such as should Mars see’t
(That horrid hurrier of men) or She that betters him,
Minerva, never so incens’d, they could not disesteem.
So baneful a contention did Jove that day extend
Of men and horse about the slain. Of whom his god-like friend
Had no instruction, so far off, and underneath the wall
Of Troy, that conflict was maintain’d; which was not thought at all
By great Achilles, since he charg’d, that having set his foot
Upon the ports, he would retire, well knowing Troy no boot
For his assaults without himself, since not by him as well
He knew it was to be subdu’d. His mother oft would tell
The mind of mighty Jove therein, oft hearing it in heav’n;
But of that great ill to his friend was no instruction giv’n
By careful Thetis. By degrees must ill events be known.
The foes cleft one to other still, about the overthrown.
His death with death infected both. Ev’n private Greeks would say
Either to other: “’Twere a shame, for us to go our way,
And let the Trojans bear to Troy the praise of such a prise!
Which, let the black earth gasp, and drink our blood for sacrifice,
Before we suffer. ’Tis an act much less infortunate,
And then would those of Troy resolve, though certainly our fate
Will fell us altogether here. Of all not turn a face.”
Thus either side his fellows’ strength excited past his place,
And thus through all th’ unfruitful air, an iron sound ascended
Up to the golden firmament; when strange affects contended
In these immortal heav’n-bred horse of great Æacides,
Whom (once remov’d from forth the fight) a sudden sense did seize
Of good Patroclus’ death, whose hands they oft had undergone,
And bitterly they wept for him. Nor could Automedon
With any manage make them stir, oft use the scourge to them,
Oft use his fairest speech, as oft threats never so extreme,
They neither to the Hellespont would bear him, nor the fight;
But still as any tombstone lays his never stirréd weight
On some good man or woman’s grave for rites of funeral;
So unremovéd stood these steeds, their heads to earth let fall,
And warm tears gushing from their eyes, with passionate desire
Of their kind manager; their manes, that flourish’d with the fire
Of endless youth allotted them, fell through the yoky sphere,
Ruthfully ruffled and defil’d, Jove saw their heavy cheer,
And, pitying them, spake to his mind: “Poor wretched beasts,” said he,
“Why gave we you t’ a mortal king, when immortality
And incapacity of age so dignifies your states?
Was it to haste the miseries pour’d out on human fates?
Of all the miserablest things that breathe and creep on earth,
No one more wretched is than man. And for your deathless birth,
Hector must fail to make you prise. Is’t not enough he wears,
And glories vainly in those arms? Your chariots and rich gears,
Besides you, are too much for him. Your knees and spirits again
My care of you shall fill with strength, that so ye may sustain
Automedon, and bear him off. To Troy I still will give
The grace of slaughter, till at fleet their bloody feet arrive,
Till Phœbus drink the western sea, and sacred Darkness throws
Her sable mantle ’twixt their points.” Thus in the steeds he blows
Excessive spirit; and through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt
The whirring chariot, shaking off the crumbled centre wrapt
Amongst their tresses. And with them, Automedon let fly
Amongst the Trojans, making way through all as frightfully
As through a jangling flock of geese a lordly vulture beats,
Giv’n way with shrikes by ev’ry goose, that comes but near his threats;
With such state fled he through the press, pursuing as he fled;
But made no slaughter; nor he could, alone being carried
Upon the sacred chariot. How could he both works do,
Direct his jav’lin, and command his fi’ry horses too?
At length he came where he beheld his friend Alcimedon,
That was the good Laercius’, the son of Æmon’s, son;
Who close came to his chariot side, and ask’d: “What God is he
That hath so robb’d thee of thy soul, to run thus franticly
Amongst these fore fights, being alone; thy fighter being slain,
And Hector glorying in his arms?” He gave these words again:
“Alcimedon, what man is he, of all the Argive race,
So able as thyself to keep, in use of press and pace,
These deathless horse; himself being gone, that like the Gods had th’ art
Of their high manage? Therefore take to thy command his part,
And ease me of the double charge, which thou hast blam’d with right.”
He took the scourge and reins in hand, Automedon the fight.
Which Hector seeing, instantly, Æneas standing near,
He told him, he discern’d the horse, that mere immortal were,
Address’d to fight with coward guides, and therefore hop’d to make
A rich prise of them, if his mind would help to undertake,
For those two could not stand their charge. He granted, and both cast
Dry solid hides upon their necks, exceeding soundly brast;
And forth they went, associate with two more god-like men,
Aretus and bold Chromius; nor made they question then
To prise the goodly-crested horse, and safely send to hell
The souls of both their guardians. O fools, that could not tell
They could not work out their return from fierce Automedon
Without the lib’ral cost of blood; who first made orison
To father Jove, and then was fill’d with fortitude and strength;
When (counselling Alcimedon to keep at no great length
The horse from him, but let them breathe upon his back, because
He saw th’ advance that Hector made, whose fury had no laws
Propos’d to it, but both their lives and those horse made his prise,
Or his life theirs) he call’d to friend these well-approv’d supplies,
Th’ Ajaces, and the Spartan king, and said, “Come, princes, leave
A sure guard with the corse, and then to your kind care receive
Our threaten’d safeties. I discern the two chief props of Troy
Prepar’d against us. But herein, what best men can enjoy
Lies in the free knees of the Gods. My dart shall lead ye all4
The sequel to the care of Jove I leave, whatever fall.”
All this spake good Automedon; then, brandishing his lance,
He threw, and strook Aretus’ shield, that gave it enterance
Through all the steel, and, by his belt, his belly’s inmost part
It pierc’d, and all his trembling limbs gave life up to his dart.
Then Hector at Automedon a blazing lance let fly,
Whose flight he saw, and falling flat, the compass was too high,
And made it stick beyond in earth, th’ extreme part burst, and there
Mars buried all his violence. The sword then for the spear
Had chang’d the conflict, had not haste sent both th’ Ajaces in,
Both serving close their fellows’ call, who, where they did begin,
There drew the end. Priamides, Æneas, Chromius
(In doubt of what such aid might work) left broken hearted thus
Aretus to Automedon, who spoil’d his arms, and said:
“A little this revives my life for him so lately dead,
Though by this nothing countervail’d.” And with this little vent
Of inward grief, he took the spoil; with which he made ascent
Up to his chariot, hands and feet of bloody stains so full
That lion-like he look’d, new turn’d from tearing up a bull.
And now another bitter fight about Patroclus grew,
Tear-thirsty, and of toil enough; which Pallas did renew,
Descending from the cope of stars, dismiss’d by sharp-ey’d Jove
To animate the Greeks; for now, inconstant change did move
His mind from what he held of late. And as the purple bow
Jove bends at mortals, when of war he will the signal show,
Or make it a presage of cold, in such tempestuous sort
That men are of their labours eas’d, but labouring cattle hurt;
So Pallas in a purple cloud involv’d herself, and went
Amongst the Grecians, stirr’d up all; but first encouragement
She breath’d in Atreus’ younger son, and, for disguise, made choice
Of aged Phœnix’ shape, and spake with his unwearied voice:
“O Menelaus, much defame, and equal heaviness,
Will touch at thee, if this true friend of great Æacides
Dogs tear beneath the Trojan walls; and therefore bear thee well.
Toil through the host, and ev’ry man with all thy spirit impell.”
He answer’d: “O thou long-since born, O Phœnix, that hast won
The honour’d foster-father’s name of Thetis’ god-like son,
I would Minerva would but give strength to me, and but keep
These busy darts off; I would then make in indeed, and steep
My income in their bloods, in aid of good Patroclus; much
His death afflicts me, much. But yet, this Hector’s grace is such
With Jove, and such a fi’ry strength and spirit he has, that still
His steel is killing, killing still.” The king’s so royal will
Minerva joy’d to hear, since she did all the Gods outgo
In his remembrance. For which grace she kindly did bestow
Strength on his shoulders, and did fill his knees as lib’rally
With swiftness, breathing in his breast the courage of a fly,
Which loves to bite so, and doth bear man’s blood so much good will,
That still though beaten from a man she flies upon him still;
With such a courage Pallas fill’d the black parts near his heart,
And then he hasted to the slain, cast off a shining dart,
And took one Podes, that was heir to old Eetion,
A rich man and a strenuous, and by the people done
Much honour, and by Hector too, being consort and his guest;
And him the yellow-headed king laid hold on at his waist
In off’ring flight, his iron pile strook through him, down he fell,
And up Atrides drew his corse. Then Phœbus did impell
The spirit of Hector, Phænops like, surnam’d Asiades,
Whom Hector us’d, of all his guests, with greatest friendliness,
And in Abydus stood his house; in whose form thus he spake:
“Hector! What man of all the Greeks will any terror make
Of meeting thy strength any more, when thou art terrified
By Menelaus, who, before he slew thy friend, was tried
A passing easy soldier, where now (besides his end
Impos’d by him) he draws him off, and not a man to friend.
From all the Trojans? This friend is Podes, Eetion’s son.”
This hid him in a cloud of grief, and set him foremost on.
And then Jove took his snake-fring’d shield, and Ida cover’d all
With sulphury clouds, from whence he let abhorréd lightnings fall,
And thunder’d till the mountains shook; and with this dreadful state
He usher’d victory to Troy, to Argos flight and fate.
Peneleüs Bœotius was he that foremost fled,
Being wounded in his shoulder’s height; but there the lance’s head
Strook lightly, glancing to his mouth, because it strook him near,
Thrown from Polydamas. Leitus next left the fight in fear
(Being hurt by Hector in his hand) because he doubted sore
His hand in wishéd fight with Troy would hold his lance no more.
Idomenëus sent a dart at Hector (rushing in,
And following Leitus) that strook his bosom near his chin,
And brake at top. The Ilians for his escape did shout.
When Hector at Deucalides another lance sent out,
As in his chariot he stood; it miss’d him narrowly,
For, as it fell, Cœranus drave his speedy chariot by,
And took the Trojan lance himself; he was the charioteer
Of stern Meriones, and first on foot did service there,
Which well he left to govern horse, for saving now his king,
With driving ’twixt him and his death, though thence his own did spring,
Which kept a mighty victory from Troy, in keeping death
From his great sov’reign. The fierce dart did enter him beneath
His ear, betwixt his jaw and it, drave down, cut through his tongue,
And strook his teeth out; from his hands the horses’ reins he flung,
Which now Meriones receiv’d as they bestrew’d the field,
And bade his sov’reign scourge away, he saw that day would yield
No hope of victory for them. He fear’d the same, and fled.
Nor from the mighty-minded son of Telamon lay hid,
For all his clouds, high Jove himself, nor from the Spartan king.
They saw Him in the victory, He still was varying
For Troy. For which sight Ajax said: “O heav’ns, what fool is he
That sees not Jove’s hand in the grace now done our enemy?
Not any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown,
Valiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one
Wants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure.
But come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure
That lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend,
And so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend
To fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right
In joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight,
Being kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt,
And looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out
Our pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands
That are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands
Before our fleet will be enforc’d to drink our headlong death.
Which to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath
Of good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were,
By some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger
Hath yet inform’d him. But alas! I see no man to send,
Both men and horse are hid in mists that ev’ry way descend.
O father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release
Of this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences;
And give the eyes thou giv’st, their use; destroy us in the light,
And work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.”
This spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show’d,
Dispers’d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud
From whence it fell; the sun shin’d out, and all the host appear’d;
And then spake Ajax, whose heard pray’r his spirits highly cheer’d:
“Brave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry
Nestor’s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly
To tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.”
He said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said,
As loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier’s stall
A lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all,
Not eas’ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held,
His teeth yet wat’ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell’d,
The adverse darts so thick are pour’d before his brow-hid eyes,
And burning firebrands which, for all his great heart’s heat, he flies,
And, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went
Atrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement
Lest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear
The person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were
Th’ Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press,
And thus exhort: “Ajaces both, and you Meriones,
Now let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature
Of poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev’ry creature
His heart was living, though now dead.” Thus urg’d the fair-hair’d king,
And parted, casting round his eye. As when upon her wing
An eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight
Of all air’s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height,
Sees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid,
A light-foot hare, which straight she stoops, trusses, and strikes her dead;
So dead thou strook’st thy charge, O king, through all war’s thickets so
Thou look’dst, and swiftly found’st thy man exhorting ’gainst the foe,
And heart’ning his plied men to blows us’d in the war’s left wing;
To whom thou saidst: “Thou god-lov’d man, come here, and hear a thing
Which I wish never were to hear. I think ev’n thy eye sees
What a destruction God hath laid upon the sons of Greece,
And what a conquest he gives Troy; in which the best of men,
Patroclus, lies exanimate, whose person passing fain
The Greeks would rescue and bear home; and therefore give thy speed
To his great friend, to prove if he will do so good a deed
To fetch the naked person off, for Hector’s shoulders wear
His priséd arms.” Antilochus was highly griev’d to hear
This heavy news, and stood surpris’d with stupid silence long;
His fair eyes standing full of tears; his voice, so sweet and strong
Stuck in his bosom; yet all this wrought in him no neglect
Of what Atrides gave in charge, but for that quick effect
He gave Laodocus his arms (his friend that had the guide
Of his swift horse) and then his knees were speedily applied
In his sad message, which his eyes told all the way in tears.
Nor would thy gen’rous heart assist his sore charg’d soldiers,
O Menelaus, in mean time, though left in much distress;
Thou sent’st them god-like Thrasymede, and mad’st thy kind regress
Back to Patroclus; where arriv’d, half breathless thou didst say
To both th’ Ajaces: “I have sent this messenger away
To swift Achilles, who, I fear, will hardly help us now,
Though mad with Hector; without arms he cannot fight, ye know.
Let us then think of some best mean, both how we may remove
The body, and get off ourselves from this vocif’rous drove,
And fate of Trojans.” “Bravely spoke at all parts,” Ajax said,
“O glorious son of Atreus. Take thou then straight the dead,
And thou, Meriones; we two, of one mind as one name,
Will back ye soundly, and on us receive the wild-fire flame
That Hector’s rage breathes after you, before it come at you.”
This said, they took into their arms the body; all the show,
That might be, made to those of Troy; at arm’s end bearing it.
Out shriek’d the Trojans when they saw the body borne to fleet,
And rush’d on. As at any boar, gash’d with the hunter’s wounds,
A kennel of the sharpest set and sorest bitten hounds
Before their youthful huntsmen haste, and eagerly awhile
Pursue, as if they were assur’d of their affected spoil;
But when the savage, in his strength as confident as they,
Turns head amongst them, back they fly, and ev’ry one his way;
So troop-meal Troy pursu’d awhile, laying on with swords and darts;
But when th’ Ajaces turn’d on them, and made their stand, their hearts
Drunk from their faces all their bloods, and not a man sustain’d
The forechace, nor the after-fight. And thus Greece nobly gain’d
The person towards home. But thus, the changing war was rack’d
Out to a passing bloody length; for as, once put in act,
A fire, invading city roofs, is suddenly engrost,
And made a wondrous mighty flame, in which is quickly lost
A house long building, all the while a boist’rous gust of wind
Lumb’ring amongst it; so the Greeks, in bearing off their friend,
More and more foes drew, at their heels a tumult thund’ring still
Of horse and foot. Yet as when mules, in haling from a hill
A beam or mast, through foul deep way, well-clapp’d, and hearten’d, close
Lie to their labour, tug and sweat, and passing hard it goes,
Urg’d by their drivers to all haste; so dragg’d they on the corse,
Still both th’ Ajaces at their backs, who back still turn’d the force,
Though after it grew still the more. Yet as a sylvan hill
Thrusts back a torrent, that hath kept a narrow channel still,
Till at his oaken breast it beats, but there a check it takes,
That sends it over all the vale, with all the stir it makes,
Nor can with all the confluence break through his rooty sides;
In no less firm and brave repulse, th’ Ajaces curb’d the prides
Of all the Trojans; yet all held the pursuit in his strength,
Their chiefs being Hector, and the son of Venus, who at length
Put all the youth of Greece besides in most amazeful rout,
Forgetting all their fortitudes, distraught, and shrieking out
A number of their rich arms lost, fall’n from them here and there,
About, and in the dike; and yet, the war concludes not here.
THE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK.

1 This Euphorbus was he that, in Ovid, Pythagoras saith he was in the wars of Troy.
2 Note the manly and wise discourse of Menelaus with himself seeing Hector advancing towards him.
3 An inimitable simile.
4 In the Greek always this phrase is used, not in the hands, but ἐν γούνασι κεὶται, in the knees of the Gods lies our help, etc.