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

Hector meantime the Trojan troops array’d.

Then fiercer grew, and more intense the strain Of furious fight, when Ocean’s dark-hair’d King And Priam’s noble son were met in arms, And aided, this the Trojans, that the Greeks.

High tow’rd the tents uprose the surging sea, As with loud clamour met th’ opposing hosts.

Less loud the roar of Ocean’s wave, that driv’n By stormy Boreas, breaks upon the beach; Less loud the crackling of the flames that rage In the deep forest of some mountain glen; Less loud the wind, to wildest fury rous’d, Howls in the branches of the lofty oaks; Than rose the cry of Trojans and of Greeks, As each, with furious shout, encounter’d each.

At Ajax first, who straight before him stood, Great Hector threw his spear, nor miss’d his aim, Where the two belts, the one which bore his shield, His silver-studded sword the other, met Across his breast; these two his life preserv’d.

Hector was wroth, that from his stalwart hand The spear had flown in vain; and back he sprang For safety to his comrades’ shelt’ring ranks: But mighty Ajax Telamon upheav’d

A pond’rous stone, of many, all around That scatter’d lay beneath the warriors’ feet, And serv’d to prop the ships; with one of these, As Hector backward stepp’d, above the shield He smote him on the breast, below the throat.

With whirling motion, circling as it flew, The mass he hurl’d. As by the bolt of Heav’n Uprooted, prostrate lies some forest oak; The sulph’rous vapour taints the air; appall’d, Bereft of strength, the near beholder stands, And awestruck hears the thunder-peal of Jove; So in the dust the might of Hector lay: Dropp’d from his hand the spear; the shield and helm Fell with him; loud his polished armour rang.

On rush’d, with joyous shout, the sons of Greece, In hope to seize the spoil; thick flew the spears: Yet none might reach or wound the fallen chief; For gather’d close around, the bravest all, Valiant AEneas, and Polydamas,

Godlike Agenor, and the Lycian chief

Sarpedon, and the noble Glaucus stood.

Nor did the rest not aid; their shields’ broad orbs Before him still they held, while in their arms His comrades bore him from the battle-field, To where, with charioteer and well-wrought car, Beyond the fight, his flying coursers stood, Which bore him, deeply groaning, tow’rd the town.

But when the ford was reach’d of Xanthus’ stream, Broad-flowing, eddying, by immortal Jove Begotten, on the ground they laid him down, And dash’d the cooling water on his brow: Reviv’d, he lifted up awhile his eyes; Then on his knees half rising, he disgorg’d The clotted blood; but backward to the earth, Still by the blow subdu’d, again he fell, And darkling shades of night his eyes o’erspread.

Onward, with zeal redoubled, press’d the Greeks, When Hector from the field they saw withdrawn.

Foremost of all, Oileus’ active son,

With sudden spring assailing, Satnius slew: Him a fair Naiad nymph to OEnops bore, Who by the banks of Satnois kept his herds.

Him then, approaching near, Oileus’ son Thrust through the flank: he fell, and o’er his corpse Trojans and Greeks in stubborn fight engag’d.

But Panthous’ son a swift avenger came, Polydamas, with brandish’d spear, and struck Through the right shoulder Prothoenor, son Of Areilycus; right through was driv’n The sturdy spear; he, rolling in the dust, Clutch’d with his palms the ground; then, shouting loud, Thus with triumphant boast Polydamas:

“From the strong hand of Panthous’ noble son Methinks that not in vain the spear has flown: A Greek now bears it off; and he, perchance, May use it as a staff to Pluto’s realm.”

Thus he; the Greeks with pain his vaunting heard; But chief it rous’d the spirit within the breast Of Ajax Telamon, whom close beside

The dead had fall’n; he at Polydamas,

Retreating, hurl’d in haste his glitt’ring spear; He, springing sideways, ‘scap’d the stroke of fate; But young Archilochus, Antenor’s son,

Receiv’d the spear, for Heav’n had will’d his death: The spine it struck, the topmost joint, where met The head and neck, and both the tendons broke; Forward he fell; and ere or knee or leg, His head, and mouth, and nostrils struck the ground.

Then Ajax, in his turn, exulting, thus: “Say now, Polydamas, and tell me true, May this be deem’d for Prothoenor’s death A full equivalent? no common man

He seems, and born of no ignoble race; Valiant Antenor’s brother, or perchance His son; the likeness speaks him near akin.”

Thus he, though well he knew; then bitter grief Possess’d the Trojans’ souls; but Acamas, Guarding his brother’s body, with his spear Slew the Boeotian Promachus, who fain

Would by the feet have drawn away the dead: Then Acamas, exulting, cried aloud:

“Ye wretched Greeks, in boasting measureless!

Not ours alone the labour and the loss Of battle; ye too have your share of death.

Behold where lies your Promachus, subdued Beneath my spear; not long unpaid the debt Due for my brother’s blood! ‘Tis well for him Who leaves a brother to avenge his fate.”

Thus he; the Greeks with pain his vaunting heard; But chief it rous’d the spirit within the breast Of Peneleus; on Acamas he sprang,

Who waited not th’ encounter; next he slew Ilioneus, the son of Phorbas, Lord

Of num’rous flocks, of all the Trojans most Belov’d of Hermes, who his wealth increas’d.

To him Ilioneus, an only son,

His mother bore; who now, beneath the brow And through the socket of the eye was struck, Thrusting the eyeball out; for through the eye, And backward through the head, the spear was driv’n: With hands extended, down to earth he sank; But Peneleus his weighty sword let fall Full on his neck; the sever’d head and helm Together fell, remaining still infix’d The sturdy spear; then he, the gory head Uplifting, to the Trojans vaunting cried: “Go now, ye Trojans! bid that in the house Of brave Ilioneus his parents raise

The voice of wailing for their gallant son; As neither shall the wife of Promachus, The son of Alegenor, with glad smile

Her husband’s coming hail, when home from Troy We sons of Greece, with vict’ry crown’d, return.”

Thus as he spoke, pale fear possess’d them all, Each looking round to seek escape from death.

Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell, Who, when th’ Earth-shaker turn’d the tide of war, First bore away his foeman’s bloody spoils?

Great Ajax Telamon first Hyrtius smote, The son of Gyrtius, who to battle led

The warlike Mysians; next Antilochus

From Mermerus and Phalces stripp’d their arms; Meriones Hippotion gave to death,

And Morys; Teucer Periphetes slew,

And Prothoon; Menelaus, through the flank Smote Hyperenor; as the grinding spear Drain’d all his vitals, through the gaping wound His spirit escap’d, and darkness clos’d his eyes.

But chiefest slaughter of the Trojans wrought Oileus’ active son; of all the Greeks

No foot so swift as his, when Jove had fill’d Their souls with fear, to chase the flying foe.

ARGUMENT.

THE FIFTH BATTLE, AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX.

Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector in a swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks; he is highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions; she is then sent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts with extraordinary address to incense them against Jupiter; in particular she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he is ready to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after much reluctance and passion, he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him back to the battle, marches before him with his aegis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He breaks down the first part of the Grecian wall; the Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are yet repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter.

BOOK XV.

Now when the Trojans had recross’d the trench And palisades, and in their headlong flight Many had fall’n by Grecian swords, the rest, Routed, and pale with fear, made head awhile Beside their cars; then Jove on Ida’s height At golden-throned Juno’s side awoke;

Rising, he saw the Trojans and the Greeks, Those in confusion, while behind them press’d The Greeks, triumphant, Neptune in their midst: He saw too Hector stretch’d upon the plain, His comrades standing round; senseless he lay, Drawing short breath, blood gushing from his mouth; For by no feeble hand the blow was dealt.

Pitying, the Sire of Gods and men beheld, And thus, with sternest glance, to Juno spoke: “This, Juno, is thy work! thy wicked wiles Have Hector quell’d, and Trojans driv’n to flight: Nor know I but thyself mayst reap the fruit, By shameful scourging, of thy vile deceit.

Hast thou forgotten how in former times I hung thee from on high, and to thy feet Attach’d two pond’rous anvils, and thy hands With golden fetters bound, which none might break?

There didst thou hang amid the clouds of Heav’n; Through all Olympus’ breadth the Gods were wroth; Yet dar’d not one approach to set thee free.

If any so had ventur’d, him had I

Hurl’d from Heav’n’s threshold till to earth he fell, With little left of life. Yet was not quench’d My wrath on godlike Hercules’ account, Whom thou, with Boreas, o’er the wat’ry waste With fell intent didst send; and tempest-toss’d, Cast him ashore on Coos’ fruitful isle.

I rescued him from thence, and brought him back, After long toil, to Argos’ grassy plains.

This to thy mind I bring, that thou mayst learn To cease thy treach’rous wiles, nor hope to gain By all thy lavish’d blandishments of love, Wherewith thou hast deceived me, and betray’d.”

He said; and terror seiz’d the stag-ey’d Queen; Who thus with winged words address’d her Lord: “By Earth I swear, and yon broad Heav’n above, And Stygian stream beneath, the weightiest oath Of solemn pow’r to bind the blessed Gods; By thine own sacred head, our nuptial bed, Whose holy tie I never could forswear; That not by my suggestion and advice

Earth-shaking Neptune on the Trojan host, And Hector, pours his wrath, and aids the Greeks; In this he but obeys his own desire,

Who looks with pity on the Grecian host Beside their ships o’erborne; and could my words Prevail, my counsel were to shape his course, O cloud-girt King, obedient to thy will.”

She said; the Sire of Gods and men, well pleas’d, Her answer heard, and thus with gracious smile: “If, stag-ey’d Queen, in synod of the Gods Thy counsels shall indeed with mine agree, Neptune, how strong soe’er his wish, must change His course, obedient to thy will and mine; And if in all sincerity thou speak,

Go to th’ assembled Gods, and hither send Iris, and Phoebus of the silver bow;

That she may to the Grecian camp repair, And bid that Neptune from the battle-field Withdraw, and to his own domain retire; While Phoebus Hector to the fight restores, Inspiring new-born vigour, and allaying The mortal pains which bow his spirit down: Then, heartless fear infusing in the Greeks, Put them to flight, that flying they may fall Beside Achilles’ ships; his comrade then, Patroclus, he shall send to battle forth To be by Hector slain, in front of Troy; Yet not to fall till many valiant youths Have felt his prowess; and, amid the rest, My son, Sarpedon; by