The Iliad by Homer (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

>To each and all in cheering tones he spoke, Mesthles and Glaucus and Thersilochus, Asteropaeus and Hippothous,

Medon, Deisenor, Phoreys, Chromius,

And Ennomus the seer: to all of these

His winged words he cheeringly address’d: “Hear me, ye countless tribes, that dwelling round Assist our cause! You from your sev’ral homes Not for display of numbers have I call’d, But that with willing hearts ye should defend Our wives and infants from the warlike Greeks: For this I drain my people’s stores, for food And gifts for you, exalting your estate; Then, who will boldly onward, he may fall, Or safe escape, such is the chance of war; But who within our valiant Trojans’ ranks Shall but the body of Patroclus bring, Despite the might of Ajax; half the spoils To him I give, the other half myself

Retaining; and his praise shall equal mine.”

 

He said; and onward, with uplifted spears, They march’d upon the Greeks; high rose their hopes From Ajax Telamon to snatch the dead;

Vain hopes, which cost them many a life! Then thus To valiant Menelaus Ajax spoke;

 

“O Heav’n-born Menelaus, noble friend, For safe return I dare no longer hope: Not for Patroclus’ corpse so much I fear, Which soon will glut the dogs and birds of Troy, As for my life and thine I tremble now: For, like a war-cloud, Hector’s might I see O’ershadowing all around; now is our doom Apparent; but do thou for succour call On all the chiefs, if haply they may hear.”

Thus Ajax spoke: obedient to his word, On all the chiefs Atrides call’d aloud: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, All ye that banquet at the gen’ral cost With Atreus’ sons, and o’er your sev’ral states Dominion hold; whose honour is of Jove; ‘Twere hard to call by name each single man, So fierce the combat rages; but let each And all their aid afford, and deem, it shame Patroclus’ corpse should glut the dogs of Troy.”

 

He said: first heard Oileus’ active son, And hast’ning through the fray, beside him stood.

Next him Idomeneus, with whom there came, Valiant as Mars, his friend Meriones.

But who can know or tell the names of all, Who, following, swell’d the battle of the Greeks?

Onward the Trojans press’d, by Hector led: With such a sound, as when the ocean wave Meets on the beach th’ outpouring of a stream, Swoll’n by the rains of Heav’n: the lofty cliffs Resound, and bellows the big sea without; With such a sound advanc’d the Trojan host: While round Patroclus, with one heart and mind, The Greeks a fence of brass-clad bucklers rais’d.

O’er their bright helms the son of Saturn shed A veil of darkness; for Menoetius’ son, Achilles’ faithful friend, while yet he liv’d Jove hated not, nor would that now his corpse Should to the dogs of Troy remain a prey, But to the rescue all his comrades stirr’d.

At first the Trojans drove the keen-ey’d Greeks; Leaving the corpse, they fled; nor with their spears The valiant Trojans reach’d a single Greek; But on the dead they seiz’d; yet not for long Endur’d their flight; them Ajax rallied soon, In form pre-eminent, and deeds of arms, O’er all the Greeks, save Peleus’ matchless son.

Onward he sprang, as springs a mountain boar, Which, turning in the forest glade to bay, Scatters with ease both dogs and stalwart youths; So Ajax scatter’d soon the Trojan ranks, That round Patroclus closing, hop’d to bear, With glory to themselves, his corpse to Troy.

Hippothous, Pelasgian Lethus’ son,

Was dragging by the feet the noble dead, A leathern belt around his ancles bound, Seeking the favour of the men of Troy; But on himself he brought destruction down, Which none might turn aside; for from the crowd Outsprang the son of Telamon, and struck, In close encounter, on the brass-cheek’d helm; The plumed helm was shiver’d by the blow, Dealt by a weighty spear and stalwart hand; Gush’d from the wound the mingled blood and brain, His vital spirit quench’d; and on the ground Fell from his pow’rless grasp Patroclus’ foot; While he himself lay stretch’d beside the dead, Far from his own Larissa’s teeming soil: Not destin’d he his parents to repay

Their early care; for short his term of life, By godlike Ajax’ mighty spear subdu’d.

 

At Ajax Hector threw his glitt’ring spear: He saw, and narrowly the brazen death

Escap’d; but Schedius, son of Iphitus, (The bravest of the Phocian chiefs, who dwelt In far-fam’d Panopeus, the mighty Lord Of num’rous hosts,) below the collar-bone It struck, and passing through, the brazen point Came forth again beneath his shoulder-blade: Thund’ring he fell, and loud his armour rang.

 

As Phorcys, son of Phaenops, kept his watch O’er slain Hippothous, him Ajax smote

Below the waist; the weighty spear broke through The hollow breastplate, and th’ intestines tore; Prone in the dust he fell, and clutch’d the ground.

At this the Trojan chiefs and Hector’s self ‘Gan to give way; the Greeks, with joyful shouts, Seiz’d both the dead, and stripp’d their armour off.

To Ilium now, before the warlike Greeks, O’ercome by panic, had the Trojans fled; And now had Greeks, despite the will of Jove, By their own strength and courage, won the day, Had not Apollo’s self AEneas rous’d,

In likeness of a herald, Periphas,

The son of Epytus, now aged grown

In service of AEneas’ aged sire,

A man of kindliest soul: his form assum’d Apollo, and AEneas thus address’d:

 

“AEneas, how, against the will of Heav’n, Could ye defend your city, as others now In their own strength and courage confident, Their numbers, and their troops’ undaunted hearts, I see their cause maintaining; if when Jove Rather to us than them the vict’ry wills, With fear unspeakable ye shun the fight?”

 

He said: the presence of the Archer-God AEneas knew, and loud to Hector call’d: “Hector, and all ye other chiefs of Troy, And brave Allies, foul shame it were that we, O’ercome by panic, should to Ilium now In flight be driv’n before the warlike Greeks; And by my side, but now, some God there stood, And told how Jove, the sov’reign arbiter Of battle, on our side bestow’d his aid; On then! nor undisturbed allow the Greeks To bear Patroclus’ body to their ships.”

 

He said, and far before the ranks advanc’d; They rallying turn’d, and fac’d again the Greeks.

Then first AEneas’ spear the comrade brave Of Lycomedes struck, Laocritus,

Son of Arisbas; Lycomedes saw

With pitying eyes his gallant comrade’s fall; And standing near, his glitt’ring spear he threw, And through the midriff Apisaon struck, His people’s guardian chief, the valiant son Of Hippasus, and slack’d his limbs in death.

He from Paeonia’s fertile fields had come, O’er all his comrades eminent in fight, All save Asteropaeus, who with eyes

Of pity saw his gallant comrade’s fall, And forward sprang to battle with the Greeks; Yet could not force his way; for all around Patroclus rose a fence of serried shields, And spears projecting: such the orders giv’n By Ajax, and with earnest care enforc’d; That from around the dead should none retire, Nor any to the front advance alone

Before his fellows; but their steady guard Maintain, and hand to hand the battle wage.

So order’d Ajax; then with crimson blood The earth was wet; and hand to hand they fell, Trojans alike, and brave Allies, and Greeks; For neither these a bloodless fight sustain’d, Though fewer far their losses; for they stood Of mutual succour mindful, and support.

Thus, furious as the rage of fire, they fought; Nor might ye deem the glorious sun himself Nor moon was safe; for darkest clouds of night O’erspread the warriors, who the battle wag’d Around the body of Menoetius’ son:

Elsewhere the Trojans and the well-greav’d Greeks Fought, undisturb’d, in the clear light of day; The sun’s bright beams were shed abroad; no cloud Lay on the face of earth or mountain tops; They but by fits, at distant intervals, And far apart, each seeking to avoid

The hostile missiles, fought; but in the midst The bravest all, in darkness and in strife Sore press’d, toil’d on beneath their armour’s weight.

 

As yet no tidings of Patroclus’ fall

Had reach’d two valiant chiefs, Antilochus And Thrasymedes; but they deem’d him still Alive, and fighting in the foremost ranks.

They, witnessing their comrades’ flight and death, Fought on apart, by Nestor so enjoin’d, When from the ships he bade them join the fray.

Great was meanwhile their labour, who sustain’d, Throughout the livelong day, that weary fight; Reek’d with continuous toil and sweat, the knees, And legs and feet, the arms, and eyes, of all Who round Achilles’ faithful comrade fought.

As when a chief his people bids to stretch A huge bull’s hide, all drench’d and soak’d with grease; They in a circle rang’d, this way and that, Pull the tough hide, till ent’ring in, the grease Is all absorb’d; and dragg’d by num’rous hands The supple skin to th’ utmost length is stretch’d; So these in narrow space this way and that The body dragg’d; and high the hopes of each To bear it off in triumph; to their ships The Greeks, to Troy the Trojans; fiercely rag’d The struggle; spirit-stirring Mars himself, Or Pallas to her utmost fury rous’d,

Had not that struggle with contempt beheld: Such grievous labour o’er Patroclus’ corpse Had Jove to horses and to men decreed.

 

But of Patroclus’ fall no tidings yet

Had reach’d Achilles; for the war was wag’d Far from the ships, beneath the walls of Troy; Nor look’d he of his death to hear, but deem’d That when the Trojans to their gates were driv’n, He would return in safety; for no hope Had he of taking by assault the town,

With, or without, his aid; for oft apart His Goddess-mother had his doom, foretold, Revealing to her son the mind of Jove; Yet ne’er had warn’d him of such grief as this, Which now befell, his dearest comrade’s loss.

 

Still round the dead they held their pointed spears, Fought hand to hand, and mutual slaughter dealt; And thus perchance some brass-clad Greek would say: “O friends, ‘twere shameful should we to the ships Ingloriously return; ere that should be, Let earth engulph us all; so better far Than let these Trojans to their city bear Our dead, and boast them of their triumph gain’d.”

On th’ other hand some valiant Trojan thus Would shout: “O friends, tho’ fate decreed that here We all should die, yet let not one give way.”

 

Thus, cheering each his comrades, would they speak, And thus they fought; the iron clangour pierc’d The empty air, and brazen vault of Heav’n.

But, from the fight withdrawn, Achilles’ steeds Wept, as they heard how in the dust was laid Their charioteer, by Hector’s murd’rous hand.

Automedon, Diores’ valiant son,

Essay’d in vain to rouse them with the lash, In vain with honey’d words, in vain with threats; Nor to the ships would they return again By the broad Hellespont, nor join the fray; But as a column stands, which marks the tomb Of man or woman, so immovable

Beneath the splendid car they stood, their heads Down-drooping to the ground, while scalding tears Dropp’d earthward from their eyelids, as they mourn’d Their charioteer; and o’er the yokeband shed Down stream’d their ample manes, with dust defil’d.

The son of Saturn pitying saw their grief, And sorrowing shook his head, as thus he mus’d: “Ah, hapless horses! wherefore gave we you To royal Peleus, to a mortal man,

You that from age and death are both exempt!

Was it that you the miseries might share Of wretched mortals? for of all that breathe, And walk upon the earth, or creep, is nought More wretched than