The Iliad Homer (big screen ebook reader txt) 📖

While yet ’twas morn, and still the holy light
Of day was brightening, fast the weapons smote
On either side, and fast the people fell;
But at the hour when on the mountain-slope
The wood cutter makes ready his repast,
Weary with felling lofty trees, and glad
To rest, and eager for the grateful meal,
The Greeks, encouraging each other, charged
And broke the serried phalanxes of Troy.
First Agamemnon, springing forward, slew
The shepherd of his people and their chief,
Bienor, and his trusty comrade next⁠—
The charioteer Oileus, who had leaped
Down from his chariot to confront the king.
Him Agamemnon with his trenchant spear
Smote in the forehead as he came. The helm
Of massive brass was vain to stay the blow:
The weapon pierced it and the bone, and stained
The brain with blood; it felled him rushing on.
The monarch stripped the slain, and, leaving them
With their white bosoms bare, went on to slay
Isus and Antiphus, King Priam’s sons⁠—
One born in wedlock, one of baser birth⁠—
Both in one chariot. Isus held the reins
While Antiphus, the high-born brother, fought.
These had Achilles once on Ida’s height
Made prisoners, as they fed their flocks; he bound
Their limbs with osier bands, but gave them up
For ransom to the Trojans. Now the king
Of men, Atrides Agamemnon, pierced
Isus above the nipple with his spear,
And with his falchion smiting Antiphus
Beside the ear, he hurled him from his car.
Then hastening up, and stripping from the dead
Their shining mail, he knew them; he had seen
Both at the ships to which the fleet of foot,
Achilles, brought them bound from Ida’s side.
As when a lion comes upon the haunt
Of a swift hind, to make an easy prey
Of her young fawns, and, with his powerful teeth
Seizing them, takes their tender lives; while she,
Though nigh, can bring no aid but yields herself
To mortal fear, and, to escape his rage,
Flies swiftly through the wood of close-grown oaks,
With sweaty sides⁠—thus none of all the host
Of Trojans could avert from Priam’s sons
Their fate, but fled in terror from the Greeks.
Next on Pisander and Hippolochus
Atrides rushed⁠—brave warriors both, and sons
Of brave Antimachus, the chief who took
Gold and rich gifts from Paris, and refused
To let the Trojans render Helen back
To fair-haired Menelaus. His two sons,
Both in one car, and reining their fleet steeds,
Atrides intercepted; they let fall
The embroidered reins, dismayed, as, lion-like,
Forward he came; and, cowering, thus they prayed:⁠—

“Take us alive, Atrides, and accept
A worthy ransom, for Antimachus
Keeps in his halls large treasures⁠—brass and gold.
And well-wrought steel; and he will send, from these,
Large ransom, hearing we are at the fleet
Alive.” So prayed they with bland words, and met
Harsh answer: “Since ye call Antimachus
Your father, who in Trojan council once
Proposed that Menelaus, whom we sent
A legate with Ulysses the divine,
Should not return to Greece, but suffer death,
Your blood must answer for your father’s guilt.”

So spake the king, and, striking with his spear
Pisander’s breast, he dashed him from the car.
Prone on the ground he lay. Hippolochus
Leaped down and met the sword. Atrides lopped
His hands and drave the weapon through his neck,
And sent the head to roll among the crowd.
And then he left the dead, and rushed to where
The ranks were in disorder; with him went
His-well-armed Greeks; there they who fought on foot
Slaughtered the flying foot; the horsemen there
Clove horsemen down: the coursers’ trampling feet
Raised the thick dust to shadow all the plain;
While Agamemnon cheered the Achaians on,
And chased and slew the foe. As when a fire
Seizes a thick-grown forest, and the wind
Drives it along in eddies, while the trunks
Fall with the boughs amid devouring flames,
So fell the flying Trojans by the hand
Of Agamemnon. Many high-maned steeds
Dragged noisily their empty cars among
The ranks of battle, never more to bear
Their charioteers, who lay upon the earth
The vulture’s feast, a sorrow to their wives.

But Jove beyond the encountering arms, the dust,
The carnage, and the bloodshed and the din
Bore Hector, while Atrides in pursuit
Was loudly cheering the Achaians on.
Meantime the Trojans fled across the plain
Toward the wild fig-tree growing near the tomb
Of ancient Ilus, son of Dardanus⁠—
Eager to reach the town; and still the son
Of Atreus followed, shouting, and with hands
Blood-stained and dust-begrimed. And when they reached
The Scaean portals and the beechen tree,
They halted, waiting for the rear, like beeves
Chased panting by a lion who has come
At midnight on them, and has put the herd
To flight, and one of them to certain death⁠—
Whose neck he breaks with his strong teeth and then
Devours the entrails, lapping up the blood.
Thus did Atrides Agamemnon chase
The Trojans; still he slew the hindmost; still
They fled before him. Many by his hand
Fell from their chariots prone, for terrible
Beyond all others with the spear was he.
But when he now was near the city-wall,
The Father of immortals and of men
Came down from the high heaven, and took his seat
On many-fountained Ida. In his grasp
He held a thunderbolt, and this command
He gave to Iris of the golden wings:⁠—

“Haste, Iris fleet of wing, and bear my words
To Hector:⁠—While he sees the king of men,
Atrides, in the van and dealing death
Among the ranks of warriors, let him still
Give way, encouraging his men to hold
Unflinching battle with the enemy.
But when Atrides, wounded by a spear
Or arrow, shall ascend his chariot, then
Will I nerve Hector’s arm with strength to slay
Until he come to the good ships of Greece,
And the sun set, and hallowed night come down.”

He spake; and she, whose feet are like the wind
In swiftness, heeded the command, and flew
From Ida’s summit to the sacred town
Of Troy, and found the noble Hector, son
Of warlike Priam, standing mid the steeds
And the strong chariots, and, approaching, said:⁠—

“O Hector, son of Priam, and like Jove
In council! Jove the All-Father bids me say,
As long as thou shalt see