The Iliad Part 16

Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage; The joy and hope of Phaenops' feeble age: Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs Of all his labours and a life of cares.

Cold death o'ertakes them in their blooming years, And leaves the father unavailing tears: To strangers now descends his heapy store, The race forgotten, and the name no more.

Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride, Glittering in arms, and combat side by side.

As when the lordly lion seeks his food Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood, He leaps amidst them with a furious bound, Bends their strong necks, and tears them to the ground: So from their seats the brother chiefs are torn, Their steeds and chariot to the navy borne.

With deep concern divine aeneas view'd The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued; Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies, Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes.

At length he found Lycaon's mighty son; To whom the chief of Venus' race begun:

"Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd fame, And boasted glory of the Lycian name?

O pierce that mortal! if we mortal call That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; Or G.o.d incensed, who quits the distant skies To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; (Which, oh avert from our unhappy state!

For what so dreadful as celestial hate)?

Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; If man, destroy; if G.o.d, entreat to spare."

To him the Lycian: "Whom your eyes behold, If right I judge, is Diomed the bold: Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty field, So towers his helmet, and so flames his s.h.i.+eld.

If 'tis a G.o.d, he wears that chief's disguise: Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies, Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray, And turns unseen the frustrate dart away.

I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell, The stroke had fix'd him to the gates of h.e.l.l; And, but some G.o.d, some angry G.o.d withstands, His fate was due to these unerring hands.

Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car.

Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at home, And still they grace Lycaon's princely dome: There veil'd in s.p.a.cious coverlets they stand; And twice ten coursers wait their lord's command.

The good old warrior bade me trust to these, When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred seas; In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, And through the ranks of death triumphant ride.

But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclined, I heard his counsels with unheedful mind, And thought the steeds (your large supplies unknown) Might fail of forage in the straiten'd town; So took my bow and pointed darts in hand And left the chariots in my native land.

"Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore; These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more.

Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found, And undissembled gore pursued the wound.

In vain they bleed: this unavailing bow Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe.

In evil hour these bended horns I strung, And seized the quiver where it idly hung.

Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field Without a warrior's arms, the spear and s.h.i.+eld!

If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain, If e'er I see my spouse and sire again, This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims, Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames."

To whom the leader of the Dardan race: "Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift disgrace.

The distant dart be praised, though here we need The rus.h.i.+ng chariot and the bounding steed.

Against yon hero let us bend our course, And, hand to hand, encounter force with force.

Now mount my seat, and from the chariot's height Observe my father's steeds, renown'd in fight; Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; Or safe to Troy, if Jove a.s.sist the foe.

Haste, seize the whip, and s.n.a.t.c.h the guiding rein; The warrior's fury let this arm sustain; Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be mine."

"O prince! (Lycaon's valiant son replied) As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide.

The horses, practised to their lord's command, Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy hand; But, if, unhappy, we desert the fight, Thy voice alone can animate their flight; Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead, And these, the victor's prize, in triumph led.

Thine be the guidance, then: with spear and s.h.i.+eld Myself will charge this terror of the field."

And now both heroes mount the glittering car; The bounding coursers rush amidst the war; Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, Who thus, alarm'd, to great Tydides cried:

"O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line, And great aeneas, sprung from race divine!

Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car!

And save a life, the bulwark of our war."

At this the hero cast a gloomy look, Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke:

"Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight?

Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight?

Know, 'tis not honest in my soul to fear, Nor was Tydides born to tremble here.

I hate the c.u.mbrous chariot's slow advance, And the long distance of the flying lance; But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire.

Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey Those threatening heroes, bear them both away; One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly.

But if she dooms, and if no G.o.d withstand, That both shall fall by one victorious hand, Then heed my words: my horses here detain, Fix'd to the chariot by the straiten'd rein; Swift to aeneas' empty seat proceed, And seize the coursers of ethereal breed; The race of those, which once the thundering G.o.d(146) For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd, The best that e'er on earth's broad surface run, Beneath the rising or the setting sun.

Hence great Anchises stole a breed unknown, By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon: Four of this race his ample stalls contain, And two transport aeneas o'er the plain.

These, were the rich immortal prize our own, Through the wide world should make our glory known."

Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on, And stern Lycaon's warlike race begun:

"Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain a.s.sail'd, The spear may enter where the arrow fail'd."

He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung; On his broad s.h.i.+eld the sounding weapon rung, Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuira.s.s hung, "He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries,) Our triumph now, the mighty warrior lies!"

"Mistaken vaunter! (Diomed replied;) Thy dart has erred, and now my spear be tried; Ye 'scape not both; one, headlong from his car, With hostile blood shall glut the G.o.d of war."

He spoke, and rising hurl'd his forceful dart, Which, driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part; Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt The nose and eye-ball the proud Lycian fix'd; Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, Till the bright point look'd out beneath the chin.

Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground: Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound; The starting coursers tremble with affright; The soul indignant seeks the realms of night.

To guard his slaughter'd friend, aeneas flies, His spear extending where the carcase lies; Watchful he wheels, protects it every way, As the grim lion stalks around his prey.

O'er the fall'n trunk his ample s.h.i.+eld display'd, He hides the hero with his mighty shade, And threats aloud! the Greeks with longing eyes Behold at distance, but forbear the prize.

Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields.

Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, Such men as live in these degenerate days:(147) He swung it round; and, gathering strength to throw, Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe.

Where to the hip the inserted thigh unites, Full on the bone the pointed marble lights; Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone, And stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the solid bone.

Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains, His falling bulk his bended arm sustains; Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies; A sudden cloud comes swimming o'er his eyes.

There the brave chief, who mighty numbers sway'd, Oppress'd had sunk to death's eternal shade, But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love She bore Anchises in the Idaean grove, His danger views with anguish and despair, And guards her offspring with a mother's care.

About her much-loved son her arms she throws, Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows.

Screen'd from the foe behind her s.h.i.+ning veil, The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail; Safe through the rus.h.i.+ng horse, and feather'd flight Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight.

Nor Sthenelus, with una.s.sisting hands, Remain'd unheedful of his lord's commands: His panting steeds, removed from out the war, He fix'd with straiten'd traces to the car, Next, rus.h.i.+ng to the Dardan spoil, detains The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: These in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd, No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd.

That charge to bold Deipylus he gave, (Whom most he loved, as brave men love the brave,) Then mounting on his car, resumed the rein, And follow'd where Tydides swept the plain.

Meanwhile (his conquest ravished from his eyes) The raging chief in chase of Venus flies: No G.o.ddess she, commission'd to the field, Like Pallas dreadful with her sable s.h.i.+eld, Or fierce Bellona thundering at the wall, While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall; He knew soft combats suit the tender dame, New to the field, and still a foe to fame.

Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends, And at the G.o.ddess his broad lance extends; Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove, The ambrosial veil which all the Graces wove; Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned, And the transparent skin with crimson stain'd, From the clear vein a stream immortal flow'd, Such stream as issues from a wounded G.o.d;(148) Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood!

Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood: (For not the bread of man their life sustains, Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their veins:) With tender shrieks the G.o.ddess fill'd the place, And dropp'd her offspring from her weak embrace.

Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud around The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound.

Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, The king insults the G.o.ddess as she flies: "Ill with Jove's daughter b.l.o.o.d.y fights agree, The field of combat is no scene for thee: Go, let thy own soft s.e.x employ thy care, Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair.

Taught by this stroke renounce the war's alarms, And learn to tremble at the name of arms."

Tydides thus. The G.o.ddess, seized with dread, Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled.

To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew, Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew.

The queen of love with faded charms she found.

Pale was her cheek, and livid look'd the wound.

To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way: Far, on the left, with clouds involved he lay; Beside him stood his lance, distain'd with gore, And, rein'd with gold, his foaming steeds before.

Low at his knee, she begg'd with streaming eyes Her brother's car, to mount the distant skies, And show'd the wound by fierce Tydides given, A mortal man, who dares encounter heaven.

Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain, And to her hand commits the golden rein; She mounts the seat, oppress'd with silent woe, Driven by the G.o.ddess of the painted bow.

The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies, And in a moment scales the lofty skies: They stopp'd the car, and there the coursers stood, Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food; Before her mother, love's bright queen appears, O'erwhelmed with anguish, and dissolved in tears: She raised her in her arms, beheld her bleed, And ask'd what G.o.d had wrought this guilty deed?

[Ill.u.s.tration: VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS.]

VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS.