The Iliad by Homer (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📕

him the guardian of the flock Has wounded, not disabled; by his wound To rage excited, but not forc’d to fly, The fold he enters, scares the trembling sheep, That, closely huddled, each on other press, Then pounces on his prey, and leaps the fence: So pounc’d Tydides on the Trojan host.

Astynous and Hypeiron then he slew,

His people’s guardian; through the breast of one He drove his spear, and with his mighty sword He smote the other on the collar-bone, The shoulder sev’ring from the neck and back.

Them left he there to lie; of Abas then And Polyeidus went in hot pursuit,

Sons of Eurydamas, an aged seer,

Whose visions stay’d them not; but both were doom’d A prey to valiant Diomed to fall.

Xanthus and Thoon then the hero slew,

The sons of Phaenops, children of his age: He, worn with years, no other sons begot, Heirs of his wealth; they two together fell, And to their father left a load of grief, That from the battle they return’d not home, And distant kindred all his substance shar’d.

On Chromius and Echemon next he fell,

Two sons of Priam on one chariot borne; And as a lion springs upon a herd,

And breaks the neck of heifer or of steer, Feeding in woodland glade; with such a spring These two, in vain resisting, from their car Tydides hurl’d; then stripp’d their arms, and bade His followers lead their horses to the ships.

 

Him when AEneas saw amid the ranks

Dealing destruction, through the fight and throng Of spears he plung’d, if haply he might find The godlike Pandarus; Lycaon’s son

He found, of noble birth and stalwart form, And stood before him, and address’d him thus: “Where, Pandarus, are now thy winged shafts, Thy bow, and well-known skill, wherein with thee Can no man here contend? nor Lycia boasts, Through all her wide-spread plains, a truer aim; Then raise to Jove thy hands, and with thy shaft Strike down this chief, whoe’er he be, that thus Is making fearful havoc in our host,

Relaxing many a warrior’s limbs in death: If he be not indeed a God, incens’d

Against the Trojans for neglected rites; For fearful is the vengeance of a God.”

 

Whom answer’d thus Lycaon’s noble son: “AEneas, chief and councillor of Troy, Most like in all respects to Tydeus’ son He seems; his shield I know, and visor’d helm, And horses; whether he himself be God, I cannot tell; but if he be indeed

The man I think him, Tydeus’ valiant son, He fights not thus without the aid of Heav’n; But by his side, his shoulders veiled in cloud, Some God attends his steps, and turns away The shaft that just hath reach’d him; for ev’n now A shaft I shot, which by the breastplate’s joint Pierc’d his right shoulder through: full sure I deem’d That shaft had sent him to the shades, and yet It slew him not; ‘tis sure some angry God.

Nor horse have I, nor car on which to mount; But in my sire Lycaon’s wealthy house

Elev’n fair chariots stand, all newly built, Each with its cover; by the side of each Two steeds on rye and barley white are fed; And in his well-built house, when here I came, Lycaon, aged warrior, urg’d me oft

With horses and with chariots high upborne, To lead the Trojans in the stubborn fight; I hearken’d not—‘twere better if I had—

Yet fear’d I lest my horses, wont to feed In plenty unstinted, by the soldiers’ wants Might of their custom’d forage be depriv’d; I left them there, and hither came on foot, And trusting to my bow: vain trust, it seems; Two chiefs already have I struck, the sons Of Tydeus and of Atreus; with true aim Drawn blood from both, yet but increas’d their rage.

Sad was the hour when down from where it hung I took my bow, and hasting to the aid

Of godlike Hector, hither led my troops; But should I e’er return, and see again My native land, my wife, my lofty hall, Then may a stranger’s sword cut off my head, If with these hands I shatter not, and burn, The bow that thus hath fail’d me at my need.”

 

Him answer’d thus AEneas, chief of Troy: “Speak thou not thus; our fortunes shall not change Till thou and I, with chariot and with horse, This chief encounter, and his prowess prove; Then mount my car, and see how swift my steeds.

Hither and thither, in pursuit or flight, From those of Tros descended, scour the plain.

So if the victory to Diomed,

The son of Tydeus, should by Jove be giv’n, We yet may safely reach the walls of Troy.

Take thou the whip and reins, while I descend To fight on foot; or thou the chief engage, And leave to me the conduct of the car.”

 

Whom answer’d thus Lycaon’s noble son: “AEneas, of thy horses and thy car

Take thou the charge; beneath th’ accustomed hand, With more assurance would they draw the car, If we from Tydeus’ son be forced to fly; Nor, struck with panic, and thy voice unheard, Refuse to bear us from the battle-field; So should ourselves be slain, and Tydeus’ son In triumph drive thy horses to the ships.

But thou thy horses and thy chariot guide, While I his onset with my lance receive.”

 

Thus saying, on the car they mounted both, And tow’rd Tydides urg’d their eager steeds.

Them Sthenelus beheld, the noble son

Of Capaneus, and to Tydides cried:

“Oh son of Tydeus, dearest to my soul, Two men I see, of might invincible,

Impatient to engage thee; Pandarus,

Well skill’d in archery, Lycaon’s son; With him. AEneas, great Anchises’ son, Who from immortal Venus boasts his birth.

Then let us timely to the car retreat, Lest, moving thus amid the foremost ranks, Thy daring pay the forfeit of thy life.”

 

To whom brave Diomed with stern regard: “Talk not to me of flight! I heed thee not!

It is not in my nature so to fight

With skulking artifice and faint retreat; My strength is yet unbroken; I should shame To mount the car; but forward will I go To meet these chiefs’ encounter; for my soul Pallas forbids the touch of fear to know.

Nor shall their horses’ speed procure for both A safe return, though one escape my arm.

This too I say, and bear my words in mind; By Pallas’ counsel if my hap should be To slay them both, leave thou my horses here, The reins attaching to the chariot-rail, And seize, and from the Trojans to the ships Drive off the horses in AEneas’ car;

From those descended, which all-seeing Jove On Tros, for Ganymede his son, bestow’d: With these may none beneath the sun compare.

Anchises, King of men, the breed obtain’d By cunning, to the horses sending mares Without the knowledge of Laomedon.

Six colts were thus engender’d: four of these In his own stalls he rear’d; the other two Gave to AEneas, fear-inspiring chief:

These could we win, our praise were great indeed.”

 

Such converse while they held, the twain approach’d, Their horses urg’d to speed; then thus began, To Diomed, Lycaon’s noble son:

 

“Great son of Tydeus, warrior brave and skill’d, My shaft, it seems, has fail’d to reach thy life; Try we then now what hap attends my spear.”

He said; and, poising, hurl’d his pond’rous spear, And struck Tydides’ shield; right through the shield Drove the keen weapon, and the breastplate reach’d.

Then shouted loud Lycaon’s noble son:

“Thou hast it through the flank, nor canst thou long Survive the blow; great glory now is mine.”

 

To whom, unmov’d, the valiant Diomed:

“Thine aim hath failed, I am not touch’d; and now I deem we part not hence till one of ye Glut with his blood th’ insatiate Lord of War.”

 

He said: the spear, by Pallas guided, struck Beside the nostril, underneath the eye; Crash’d thro’ the teeth, and cutting thro’ the tongue Beneath the angle of the jaw came forth: Down from the car he fell; and loudly rang His glitt’ring arms: aside the startled steeds Sprang devious: from his limbs the spirit fled.

Down leap’d AEneas, spear and shield in hand, Against the Greeks to guard the valiant dead; And like a lion, fearless in his strength, Around the corpse he stalk’d, this way and that, His spear and buckler round before him held, To all who dar’d approach him threat’ning death, With fearful shouts; a rocky fragment then Tydides lifted up, a mighty mass,

Which scarce two men could raise, as men are now: But he, unaided, lifted it with ease.

With this he smote AEneas near the groin, Where the thigh-bone, inserted in the hip, Turns in the socket-joint; the rugged mass The socket crush’d, and both the tendons broke, And tore away the flesh: down on his knees, Yet resting on his hand, the hero fell; And o’er his eyes the shades of darkness spread.

Then had AEneas, King of men, been slain, Had not his mother, Venus, child of Jove, Who to Anchises, where he fed his flocks, The hero bore, his peril quickly seen: Around her son she threw her snowy arms, And with a veil, thick-folded, wrapt him round, From hostile spears to guard him, lest some Greek Should pierce his breast, and rob him of his life.

 

She from the battle thus her son removed; Nor did the son of Capaneus neglect

The strict injunction by Tydides giv’n; His reins attaching to the chariot-rail, Far from the battle-din he check’d, and left, His own fleet steeds; then rushing forward, seiz’d, And from the Trojans tow’rd the camp drove off, The sleek-skinn’d horses of AEneas’ car.

These to Deipylus, his chosen friend,

He gave, of all his comrades best esteem’d, Of soundest judgment, tow’rd the ships to drive.

Then, his own car remounting, seiz’d the reins, And urg’d with eager haste his fiery steeds, Seeking Tydides; he, meanwhile, press’d on In keen pursuit of Venus; her he knew

A weak, unwarlike Goddess, not of those That like Bellona fierce, or Pallas, range Exulting through the blood-stain’d fields of war.

 

Her, searching thro’ the crowd, at length he found, And springing forward, with his pointed spear A wound inflicted on her tender hand.

Piercing th’ ambrosial veil, the Graces’ work, The sharp spear graz’d her palm below the wrist.

Forth from the wound th’ immortal current flow’d, Pure ichor, life-stream of the blessed Gods; They eat no bread, they drink no ruddy wine, And bloodless thence and deathless they become.

The Goddess shriek’d aloud, and dropp’d her son; But in his arms Apollo bore him off

In a thick cloud envelop’d, lest some Greek Might pierce his breast, and rob him of his life.

Loud shouted brave Tydides, as she fled: “Daughter of Jove, from battle-fields retire; Enough for thee weak woman to delude;

If war thou seek’st, the lesson thou shalt learn Shall cause thee shudder but to hear it nam’d.”

Thus he; but ill at ease, and sorely pain’d, The Goddess fled: her, Iris, swift as wind, Caught up, and from the tumult bore away, Weeping with pain, her fair skin soil’d with blood.

 

Mars on the left hand of the battle-field She found, his spear reclining by his side, And, veil’d in cloud, his car and flying steeds.

Kneeling, her brother she besought to lend The flying steeds, with golden frontlets crown’d: “Dear brother, aid me hence, and lend thy car To bear me to Olympus, seat of Gods;

Great is the pain I suffer from a wound Receiv’d from Diomed, a mortal man,

Who now would dare with Jove himself to fight.”

 

He lent the steeds, with golden frontlets crown’d; In deep distress she mounted