The Iliad by Homer (book club recommendations txt) 📕

reared
To mark a man’s or woman’s tomb. So stood
The coursers yoked to that magnificent car,
With drooping heads, and tears that from their lids
Flowed hot, for sorrow at the loss of him
Who was their charioteer, and their fair manes,
Sweeping the yoke below, were foul with dust.
The son of Saturn saw their grief, and shook
His head in pity, saying to himself:⁠—

“Why did the gods bestow you, luckless pair,
On Peleus⁠—on a king of mortal birth⁠—
You who shall never feel old age or death?
Was it that ye might share with human-kind
Their sorrows? for the race of mortal men
Of all that breathe and move upon the earth
Is the most wretched. Yet of this be sure⁠—
That ye shall never in that sumptuous car
Bear Hector. Is it not enough that he
Should wear that armor, uttering idle boasts?
And now will I infuse into your limbs
Spirit and strength, that ye may safely bear
Automedon across the battle-field
To where the roomy galleys lie. I yet
Must give more glory to the men of Troy,
And they must slay until they come again
To the good ships of Greece⁠—until the sun
Goes down and sacred darkness covers all.”

So spake the god, and breathed into the steeds
New life and vigor. From their manes they shook
The dust, and flew with that swift car among
The Greeks and Trojans. With the Trojan throng,
Automedon, though mourning his slain friend,
Maintained the fight; he rushed upon their ranks,
A vulture pouncing on a flock of geese.
Swiftly he passed from out the Trojan throng;
Swiftly again he charged their phalanxes
In fierce pursuit. Yet slew he none of those
Whom he pursued; he could not guide at once
The steeds and cast the spear, when seated thus
Alone within that sacred car. At last
A friend, the valorous Alcimedon,
Laërces’ son, of Aemon’s line, beheld
His plight, and, standing near his chariot, said:⁠—

“What god, Automedon, hath prompted thee
To these mad acts, and stolen thy better sense,
Fighting alone among the foremost ranks
Of Trojan warriors, thy companion slain,
And Hector in the field, who boastfully
Stalks in the armor of Aeacides?”

And thus Automedon, Diores’ son,
Made answer: “Who is there among the Greeks
Able like thee, Alcimedon, to rein
And curb the spirit of immortal steeds?
None were there save Patroclus while he lived,
Wise as a god in council. Death and fate
Now hold him. To thy hand I give the lash
And shining reins, while I descend and fight.”

He spake, and into his swift chariot sprang
Alcimedon, and took the lash and reins.
Automedon leaped down. As Hector saw,
He thus bespake Aeneas at his side:⁠—

“Aeneas, leader of the men of Troy,
Equipped in brazen armor, I have seen
Those coursers of the swift Aeacides
Driven through the battle by unwarlike hands,
And ’tis my hope, if thou wilt give thine aid,
To seize them. They who guide them will not dare
To stand and face us when we make the charge.”

He spake; Anchises’ valiant son complied,
And, sheltered by their shields of tough ox-hide,
Well dried and firm, and strong with plates of brass,
The twain went forward. With them at their side
Went Chromius and Aretus, nobly formed,
In hope to lead away the high-necked steeds,
Their guardians slain. Vain dreamers! They were doomed
Not without bloody penance to return
From that encounter with Automedon,
Who prayed to Father Jove, and whose faint heart
Was strengthened and made bold. And thus the chief
Said to his faithful friend Alcimedon:⁠—

“Keep not the steeds thou guidest far from me,
Alcimedon, but let them ever breathe
Upon my shoulders. Hector, Priam’s son,
I think, will not give over this assault
Before he either slays us, and ascends
The car to which these steeds with flowing manes
Are yoked, and puts to flight the phalanxes
Of Argive warriors, or himself is slain.”

He spake, and called to both the Ajaxes
And Menelaus: “Ye who lead the Greeks,”
He said, and named the chieftains, “give in charge
The dead to your best warriors, to surround
And guard the corpse, and drive away the foe;
But hasten to avert the evil day
From us who are alive. For even now
Hector comes rushing through the deadly fight,
And brings Aeneas; these are the most brave
Of all the Trojan army. On the knees
Of the great gods the issue rests. I too
Will cast the spear, and leave the rest to Jove.”

He spake, and lifting his huge spear he smote
The round shield of Aretus. There the blade
Stopped not, but, entering, pierced him through the belt.
As, when a vigorous youth with a keen axe
Strikes a wild bull behind the horns, and there
Severs the sinews, forward leaps the beast
And falls⁠—Aretus, springing forward thus,
Fell headlong. In the Trojan’s entrails still
Quivered the spear, and life forsook his limbs.

Then Hector aimed, to smite Automedon,
His shining spear. The Greek beheld and stooped,
And shunned the brazen weapon. Down it came,
And plunged into the earth, and stood, its stem
Still shaken with the blow, and spent its force.
Now would the twain have turned, and hand to hand
Fought with their swords, when suddenly came up
The warriors Ajax, hastening, at the call
Of their companion, through the crowd, and stayed
The combat. Hector and Aeneas then,
And Chromius, of the godlike form, withdrew
Through caution, leaving on the battle-field
Aretus lying mangled. The fierce chief
Automedon despoiled the dead, and spake
Boastfully: “Somewhat lighter on my heart
Lies now my grief for Menoetiades,
Though I have slain a man of meaner note.”

As thus he spake, he threw the bloody spoils
Into his chariot, mounting to the seat,
His feet and hands all crimson with the blood,
As when a lion has devoured an ox.
Then round Patroclus raged the strife again,
Murderous and sad to see; for Pallas there
Inflamed the strife, sent down from heaven by Jove,
To rouse the courage of the Greeks, since such
Was now his will. As when the god displays
To men a purple rainbow in the skies,
A sign of war or of a bitter storm,
Which drives the laborer from his task, and makes
The cattle droop, so, in a purple cloud
Concealed, she went among the Greeks, and filled
Their hearts with valor. Taking first the form
Of Phoenix, and his clear, unwearied voice,
She spake in stirring words to Atreus’ son,
The gallant Menelaus, standing near:
“Shame and dishonor will it be to thee,
O Menelaus, if, beneath the walls
Of Troy, the hungry dogs should tear the corpse
Of him who was in life the faithful friend
Of great Achilles. Fight thou therefore on
Bravely, and bid