The Iliad Part 17

Then she: "This insult from no G.o.d I found, An impious mortal gave the daring wound!

Behold the deed of haughty Diomed!

'Twas in the son's defence the mother bled.

The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage; But with the G.o.ds (the immortal G.o.ds) engage."

Dione then: "Thy wrongs with patience bear, And share those griefs inferior powers must share: Unnumber'd woes mankind from us sustain, And men with woes afflict the G.o.ds again.

The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound,(149) And lodged in brazen dungeons underground, Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd in vain; Otus and Ephialtes held the chain: Perhaps had perish'd had not Hermes' care Restored the groaning G.o.d to upper air.

Great Juno's self has borne her weight of pain, The imperial partner of the heavenly reign; Amphitryon's son infix'd the deadly dart,(150) And fill'd with anguish her immortal heart.

E'en h.e.l.l's grim king Alcides' power confess'd, The shaft found entrance in his iron breast; To Jove's high palace for a cure he fled, Pierced in his own dominions of the dead; Where Paeon, sprinkling heavenly balm around, a.s.suaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound.

Rash, impious man! to stain the bless'd abodes, And drench his arrows in the blood of G.o.ds!

[Ill.u.s.tration: OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE.]

OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE.

"But thou (though Pallas urged thy frantic deed), Whose spear ill-fated makes a G.o.ddess bleed, Know thou, whoe'er with heavenly power contends, Short is his date, and soon his glory ends; From fields of death when late he shall retire, No infant on his knees shall call him sire.

Strong as thou art, some G.o.d may yet be found, To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground; Thy distant wife, aegiale the fair,(151) Starting from sleep with a distracted air, Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore, The brave, the great, the glorious now no more!"

This said, she wiped from Venus' wounded palm The sacred ichor, and infused the balm.

Juno and Pallas with a smile survey'd, And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid:

"Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to tell How this mischance the Cyprian queen befell, As late she tried with pa.s.sion to inflame The tender bosom of a Grecian dame; Allured the fair, with moving thoughts of joy, To quit her country for some youth of Troy; The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound."

The sire of G.o.ds and men superior smiled, And, calling Venus, thus address'd his child: "Not these, O daughter are thy proper cares, Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms."

Thus they in heaven: while on the plain below The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe, Flush'd with celestial blood pursued his way, And fearless dared the threatening G.o.d of day; Already in his hopes he saw him kill'd, Though screen'd behind Apollo's mighty s.h.i.+eld.

Thrice rus.h.i.+ng furious, at the chief he strook; His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook: He tried the fourth: when, breaking from the cloud, A more than mortal voice was heard aloud.

"O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and see How vast the difference of the G.o.ds and thee; Distance immense! between the powers that s.h.i.+ne Above, eternal, deathless, and divine, And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth, A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth."

So spoke the G.o.d who darts celestial fires: He dreads his fury, and some steps retires.

Then Phoebus bore the chief of Venus' race To Troy's high fane, and to his holy place; Latona there and Phoebe heal'd the wound, With vigour arm'd him, and with glory crown'd.

This done, the patron of the silver bow A phantom raised, the same in shape and show With great aeneas; such the form he bore, And such in fight the radiant arms he wore.

Around the spectre b.l.o.o.d.y wars are waged, And Greece and Troy with clas.h.i.+ng s.h.i.+elds engaged.

Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood, And calling Mars, thus urged the raging G.o.d:

"Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall; Who bathest in blood, and shakest the embattled wall, Rise in thy wrath! to h.e.l.l's abhorr'd abodes Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the G.o.ds.

First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage; Me next he charged, and dares all heaven engage: The wretch would brave high heaven's immortal sire, His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire."

The G.o.d of battle issues on the plain, Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train; In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide, Enraged to Troy's retiring chiefs he cried:

"How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly, And unrevenged see Priam's people die?

Still unresisted shall the foe destroy, And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy?

Lo, brave aeneas sinks beneath his wound, Not G.o.dlike Hector more in arms renown'd: Haste all, and take the generous warrior's part.

He said;--new courage swell'd each hero's heart.

Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd, And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words address'd:

"Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost?

Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious boast, That propp'd alone by Priam's race should stand Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand?

Now, now thy country calls her wonted friends, And the proud vaunt in just derision ends.

Remote they stand while alien troops engage, Like trembling hounds before the lion's rage.

Far distant hence I held my wide command, Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land; With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) bless'd, A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast; With those I left whatever dear could be: Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me; Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer, And long to meet this mighty man ye fear; While Hector idle stands, nor bids the brave Their wives, their infants, and their altars save.

Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd state, Or one vast burst of all-involving fate Full o'er your towers shall fall, and sweep away Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd prey.

Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight; These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by night; With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose; Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes."

Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears, But just reproof with decent silence bears.

From his proud car the prince impetuous springs, On earth he leaps, his brazen armour rings.

Two s.h.i.+ning spears are brandish'd in his hands; Thus arm'd, he animates his drooping bands, Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.

They turn, they stand; the Greeks their fury dare, Condense their powers, and wait the growing war.

As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the swain Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain, And the light chaff, before the breezes borne, Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn; The grey dust, rising with collected winds, Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the hinds: So white with dust the Grecian host appears.

From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers; The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise, And roll in smoking volumes to the skies.

Mars hovers o'er them with his sable s.h.i.+eld, And adds new horrors to the darken'd field: Pleased with his charge, and ardent to fulfil, In Troy's defence, Apollo's heavenly will: Soon as from fight the blue-eyed maid retires, Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires.

And now the G.o.d, from forth his sacred fane, Produced aeneas to the shouting train; Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around, Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound: Inquiries none they made; the dreadful day No pause of words admits, no dull delay; Fierce Discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims, Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field's in flames.

Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile blood.

Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain.

Unmoved and silent, the whole war they wait Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as fate.

So when the embattled clouds in dark array, Along the skies their gloomy lines display; When now the North his boisterous rage has spent, And peaceful sleeps the liquid element: The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, Rest on the summits of the shaded hill; Till the ma.s.s scatters as the winds arise, Dispersed and broken through the ruffled skies.

Nor was the general wanting to his train; From troop to troop he toils through all the plain, "Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear; Your brave a.s.sociates and yourselves revere!

Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire, And catch from breast to breast the n.o.ble fire!

On valour's side the odds of combat lie, The brave live glorious, or lamented die; The wretch who trembles in the field of fame, Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame!"

These words he seconds with his flying lance, To meet whose point was strong Deic.o.o.n's chance: aeneas' friend, and in his native place Honour'd and loved like Priam's royal race: Long had he fought the foremost in the field, But now the monarch's lance transpierced his s.h.i.+eld: His s.h.i.+eld too weak the furious dart to stay, Through his broad belt the weapon forced its way: The grisly wound dismiss'd his soul to h.e.l.l, His arms around him rattled as he fell.

Then fierce aeneas, brandis.h.i.+ng his blade, In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave and great, In well-built Pherae held his lofty seat:(152) Sprung from Alpheus' plenteous stream, that yields Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields.

He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, And these descended in the third degree.

Too early expert in the martial toil, In sable s.h.i.+ps they left their native soil, To avenge Atrides: now, untimely slain, They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain.

So two young mountain lions, nursed with blood In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontroll'd Depopulate the stalls and waste the fold: Till pierced at distance from their native den, O'erpowered they fall beneath the force of men.

Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies lay, Like mountain firs, as tall and straight as they.

Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes, Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor flies; Mars urged him on; yet, ruthless in his hate, The G.o.d but urged him to provoke his fate.

He thus advancing, Nestor's valiant son Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own; Struck with the thought, should Helen's lord be slain, And all his country's glorious labours vain.

Already met, the threatening heroes stand; The spears already tremble in their hand: In rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring, And fall or conquer by the Spartan king.

These seen, the Dardan backward turn'd his course, Brave as he was, and shunn'd unequal force.

The breathless bodies to the Greeks they drew, Then mix in combat, and their toils renew.

First, Pylaemenes, great in battle, bled, Who sheathed in bra.s.s the Paphlagonians led.

Atrides mark'd him where sublime he stood; Fix'd in his throat the javelin drank his blood.

The faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from fight His flying coursers, sunk to endless night; A broken rock by Nestor's son was thrown: His bended arm received the falling stone; From his numb'd hand the ivory-studded reins, Dropp'd in the dust, are trail'd along the plains: Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly wound; He groans in death, and ponderous sinks to ground: Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and there The head stood fix'd, the quivering legs in air, Till trampled flat beneath the coursers' feet: The youthful victor mounts his empty seat, And bears the prize in triumph to the fleet.

Great Hector saw, and, raging at the view, Pours on the Greeks: the Trojan troops pursue: He fires his host with animating cries, And brings along the furies of the skies, Mars, stern destroyer! and Bellona dread, Flame in the front, and thunder at their head: This swells the tumult and the rage of fight; That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful light.

Where Hector march'd, the G.o.d of battles s.h.i.+ned, Now storm'd before him, and now raged behind.

Tydides paused amidst his full career; Then first the hero's manly breast knew fear.

As when some simple swain his cot forsakes, And wide through fens an unknown journey takes: If chance a swelling brook his pa.s.sage stay, And foam impervious 'cross the wanderer's way, Confused he stops, a length of country pa.s.s'd, Eyes the rough waves, and tired, returns at last.

Amazed no less the great Tydides stands: He stay'd, and turning thus address'd his bands: