Complete works of homer, p.354
Complete Works of Homer, page 354
The arrows keen were scatter'd on the ground:
Weeping, the Goddess fled; as flies a dove
The hawk's pursuit, and in a hollow rock
Finds refuge, doom'd not yet to fall a prey;
So, weeping, Dian fled, and left her bow.
Them Hermes to Latona thus: "With thee
I strive not; shame it were to meet in fight
A consort of the cloud-compelling Jove.
Freely amid th' Immortals make thy boast,
That by thy prowess thou hast vanquish'd me."
Thus he: Latona gather'd up the bow,
And fallen arrows, scatter'd here and there
Amid the whirling dust; then, these regain'd,
Following her daughter, from the field withdrew.
Meanwhile to high Olympus fled the Maid,
And to the brazen-floor'd abode of Jove.
There, weeping, on her father's knees she sat,
While quiver'd round her form th' ambrosial robe.
The son of Saturn tow'rds him drew his child,
And thus, with gracious smile, enquiry made:
"Which of the heav'nly pow'rs hath wrong'd thee thus
My child, as guilty of some open shame?"
To whom the bright-crown'd Goddess of the chase:
"Thy wife, my father, white-arm'd Juno; she
Hath dealt thus rudely with me; she, from whom
All jars and strife among the Gods proceed."
Such converse while they held, the gates of Troy
Apollo enter'd, for the well-built wall
Alarm'd, lest e'en against the will of fate
The Greeks that day should raze it to the ground.
The other Gods were to Olympus gone,
Triumphant these, and those in angry mood,
And took their seats before the cloud-girt Sire.
But on the Trojans pressing, Peleus' son
Horses and men alike, promiscuous, slew.
As in a city, which the Gods in wrath
Have fir'd, whose volleying smoke ascends to Heav'n,
On all her people grievous toil is cast,
On many, harm and loss; such toil, such loss
Achilles wrought amid the Trojan host.
Upon a lofty tow'r, the work of Gods,
The aged Priam stood, and thence beheld
By fierce Achilles driven in flight confused,
Their courage quite subdued, the Trojan host:
Then, groaning, from the tow'r he hasten'd down,
And to the warders cried along the wall:
"Stand to the gates, and hold them open'd wide,
That in the crowd of fugitives may pour,
And refuge find; for close upon their flight
Achilles hangs; disaster now is near.
But while our friends, receiv'd within the walls,
Find time to breathe again, replace in haste
The closely-fitting portals; for I fear
That man of blood may e'en the city storm."
He said; the gates they open'd, and drew back
The solid bars; the portals, op'ning wide,
Let in the light; but in the vacant space
Apollo stood, the Trojan host to save.
The flyers, parch'd with thirst and dust-begrim'd,
Straight for the city and the lofty wall
Made from the plain; Achilles, spear in hand,
Press'd hotly on the rearmost; for his soul
With rage was fill'd, and madd'ning lust of fame.
And now the lofty-gated city of Troy
The sons of Greece had won; but Phoebus rous'd
Agenor's spirit, a valiant youth and strong,
Son of Antenor; he his bosom fill'd
With dauntless courage, and beside him stood
To turn aside the heavy hand of death,
As, veil'd in cloud, against the oak he lean'd.
He, when Achilles' awful form he knew,
Yet firmly stood, though much perplex'd in mind,
As thus he commun'd with his mighty heart:
"Oh woe is me! should I attempt to fly
Before Achilles' might, where fly the rest
Across the plain, disorder'd, he would soon
O'ertake me, and in flight ignoble slay.
Or should I leave the others to their fate,
Scatter'd by Peleus' son; and from the wall
And o'er the plain of Troy direct my flight,
Far as the foot of Ida's hill, and there
Lie hid in thickest covert; and at eve,
Refresh'd by bathing in the cooling stream,
And purg'd the sweat, retrace my steps to Troy?
Yet why, my soul, admit such thoughts as these?
For should he mark me flying from the town,
And overtake me by his speed of foot,
No hope were left me of escape from death.
So far his strength exceeds the strength of man.
But how if boldly I await him here
Before the wall? his flesh is not to wounds
Impervious: but a single life is his,
Nor is he more, they say, than mortal man,
Though Jove assists him, and his triumph wills."
He said, and stood collected, to await
Achilles' onset; and his manly heart,
With courage fill'd, was eager for the fray.
As when a panther from the thicket's depth
Comes forth to meet the hunter, undismay'd,
Nor turn'd to flight by baying of the hounds;
Nor, wounded or by jav'lin or by sword,
Or by the spear transfix'd, remits her rage,
But fights, until she reach her foe, or die;
Agenor so, Antenor's godlike son,
Disdain'd to fly, ere prove Achilles' might.
Before his breast his shield's broad orb he bore,
And pois'd his spear, as thus he call'd aloud:
"Thy hope, renown'd Achilles, was this day
The valiant Trojans' city to destroy;
Unconscious of the toils, the woes, that ye
Around her walls await ye! for within
Are warriors brave and num'rous, who will fight
In her defence, for parents, children, wives.
Thou too, Achilles, here shalt meet thy doom,
All-pow'rful as thou art, and warrior bold."
He said, and threw with stalwart hand the spear;
Achilles' leg he struck, below the knee,
Nor miss'd his aim; and loudly rang the greaves
Of new-wrought tin; but back the brazen point
Rebounded, nor the heav'nly armour pierc'd.
In turn Achilles on Agenor sprang:
But Phoebus robb'd him of his hop'd-for prize,
Who, veil'd in thickest cloud, convey'd away
Antenor's son, and from the battle bore
To rest in peace; while he by guile withdrew
The son of Peleus from the flying crowd:
For in Agenor's very likeness clad,
Before him stood the far-destroying King:
Then fled, Achilles hast'ning in pursuit.
He o'er the fertile plain with flying foot
Pursu'd; beside Scamander's eddying stream
Apollo turn'd, and still but little space
Before him flying, subtly lur'd him on,
Each moment hoping to attain his prize.
Meantime the gen'ral crowd, in panic flight,
With eager haste the city's refuge sought,
And all the town with fugitives was fill'd.
Nor did they dare without the walls to stand
For mutual aid; nor halt to know what friends
Were safe, who left upon the battle-field;
But through the gates pour'd in the hurrying mass
Who to their active limbs their safety ow'd.
ARGUMENT.
THE DEATH OF HECTOR.
The Trojans being safe within the walls, Hector only stays to oppose Achilles. Priam is struck at his approach, and tries to persuade his son to re-enter the town. Hecuba joins his entreaties, but in vain. Hector consults within himself what measures to take; but, at the advance of Achilles, his resolution fails him, and he flies: Achilles pursues him thrice round the walls of Troy. The gods debate concerning the fate of Hector; at length Minerva descends to the aid of Achilles. She deludes Hector in the shape of Deiphobus; he stands the combat, and is slain. Achilles drags the dead body at his chariot, in the sight of Priam and Hecuba. Their lamentations, tears, and despair. Their cries reach the ears of Andromache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of the palace; she mounts up to the walls, and beholds her dead husband. She swoons at the spectacle. Her excess of grief and lamentation.
The thirtieth day still continues. The scene lies under the walls, and on the battlements of Troy.
BOOK XXII.
Thus they from panic flight, like timorous fawns.
Within the walls escaping, dried their sweat,
And drank, and quench'd their thirst, reclining safe
On the fair battlements; but nearer drew,
With slanted shields, the Greeks; yet Hector still
In front of Ilium and the Scaean gate,
Stay'd by his evil doom, remain'd without;
Then Phoebus thus to Peleus' godlike son:
"Achilles, why with active feet pursue,
Thou mortal, me Immortal? know'st thou not
My Godhead, that so hot thy fury burns?
Or heed'st thou not that all the Trojan host
Whom thou hast scar'd, while thou art here withdrawn,
Within the walls a refuge safe have found?
On me thy sword is vain! I know not death!"
Enrag'd, Achilles, swift of foot, replied:
"Deep is the injury, far-darting King,
Most hostile of the Gods, that at thy hand
I bear, who here hast lur'd me from the walls,
Which many a Trojan else had fail'd to reach,
Ere by my hand they bit the bloody dust.
Me of immortal honour thou hast robb'd,
And them, thyself from vengeance safe, hast sav'd.
Had I the pow'r, that vengeance thou shouldst feel."
Thus saying, and on mightiest deeds intent,
He turn'd him city-ward, with fiery speed;
As when a horse, contending for the prize,
Whirls the swift car, and stretches o'er the plain,
E'en so, with active limbs, Achilles rac'd.
Him first the aged Priam's eyes discern'd,
Scouring the plain, in arms all dazzling bright,
Like to th' autumnal star, whose brilliant ray
Shines eminent amid the depth of night,
Whom men the dog-star of Orion call;
The brightest he, but sign to mortal man
Of evil augury, and fiery heat:
So shone the brass upon the warrior's breast.
The old man groan'd aloud, and lifting high
His hands, he beat his head, and with loud voice
Call'd on his son, imploring; he, unmov'd,
Held post before the gates, awaiting there
Achilles' fierce encounter; him his sire,
With hands outstretch'd and piteous tone, address'd:
"Hector, my son, await not here alone
That warrior's charge, lest thou to fate succumb,
Beneath Pelides' arm, thy better far!
Accurs'd be he! would that th' immortal Gods
So favour'd him as I! then should his corpse
Soon to the vultures and the dogs be giv'n!
(So should my heart a load of anguish lose)
By whom I am of many sons bereav'd,
Many and brave, whom he has slain, or sold
To distant isles in slav'ry; and e'en now,
Within the city walls I look in vain
For two, Lycaon brave, and Polydore,
My gallant sons, by fair Laothoe:
If haply yet they live, with brass and gold
Their ransom shall be paid; good store of these
We can command; for with his daughter fair
A wealthy dowry aged Altes gave.
But to the viewless shades should they have gone,
Deep were their mother's sorrow and my own;
But of the gen'ral public, well I know
Far lighter were the grief, than if they heard
That thou hadst fall'n beneath Achilles' hand.
Then enter now, my son, the city gates,
And of the women and the men of Troy,
Be still the guardian; nor to Peleus' son,
With thine own life, immortal glory give.
Look too on me with pity; me, on whom,
E'en on the threshold of mine age, hath Jove
A bitter burthen cast, condemn'd to see
My sons struck down, my daughters dragg'd away
In servile bonds; our chambers' sanctity
Invaded; and our babes by hostile hands
Dash'd to the ground; and by ferocious Greeks
Enslav'd the widows of my slaughter'd sons.
On me at last the rav'ning dogs shall feed,
When by some foeman's hand, by sword or lance,
My soul shall from my body be divorc'd;
Those very dogs which I myself have bred,
Fed at my table, guardians of my gate,
Shall lap my blood, and over-gorg'd shall lie
E'en on my threshold. That a youth should fall
Victim, to Mars, beneath a foeman's spear,
May well beseem his years; and if he fall
With honour, though he die, yet glorious he!
But when the hoary head and hoary beard,
And naked corpse to rav'ning dogs are giv'n,
No sadder sight can wretched mortals see."
The old man spoke, and from, his head he tore
The hoary hair; yet Hector firm remain'd.
Then to the front his mother rush'd, in tears,
Her bosom bare, with either hand her breast
Sustaining, and with tears address'd him thus:
"Hector, my child, thy mother's breast revere;
And on this bosom if thine infant woes
Have e'er been hush'd, bear now in mind, dear child,
The debt thou ow'st; and from within the walls
Ward off this fearful man, nor in the field
Encounter; curs'd be he! should he prevail,
And slay thee, not upon the fun'ral bed,
My child, my own, the offspring of my womb,
Shall I deplore thee, nor thy widow'd wife,
But far away, beside the Grecian ships,
Thy corpse shall to the rav'ning dogs be giv'n."
Thus they, with tears and earnest pray'rs imploring,
Address'd their son; yet Hector firm remain'd,
Waiting th' approach of Peleus' godlike son.
As when a snake upon the mountain side,
With deadly venom charg'd, beside his hole,
Awaits the traveller, and fill'd with rage,
Coil'd round his hole, his baleful glances darts;
So fill'd with dauntless courage Hector stood,
Scorning retreat, his gleaming buckler propp'd
Against the jutting tow'r; then, deeply mov'd,
Thus with his warlike soul communion held:
"Oh woe is me! if I should enter now
The city gates, I should the just reproach
Encounter of Polydamas, who first
His counsel gave within the walls to lead
The Trojan forces, on that fatal night
When great Achilles in the field appear'd.
I heeded not his counsel; would I had!
Now, since my folly hath the people slain,
I well might blush to meet the Trojan men,
And long-rob'd dames of Troy, lest some might say,
To me inferior far, 'This woful loss
To Hector's blind self-confidence we owe.'
Thus shall they say; for me, 'twere better far,
Or from Achilles, slain in open fight,
Back to return in triumph, or myself
To perish nobly in my country's cause.
What if my bossy shield I lay aside,
And stubborn helmet, and my pond'rous spear
Propping against the wall, go forth to meet
Th' unmatch'd Achilles? What if I engage
That Helen's self, and with her all the spoil,
And all that Paris in his hollow ships
Brought here to Troy, whence first this war arose,
Should be restor'd; and to the Greeks be paid
An ample tribute from the city's stores,
Her secret treasures; and hereafter bind
The Trojans by their Elders' solemn oaths
Nought to withhold, but fairly to divide
Whate'er of wealth our much-loved city holds?
But wherefore entertain such thoughts, my soul?
Should I so meet him, what if he should show
Nor pity nor remorse, but slay me there,
Defenceless as a woman, and unarm'd?
Not this the time, nor he the man, with whom
By forest oak or rock, like youth and maid,
To hold light talk, as youth and maid might hold.
Better to dare the fight, and know at once
To whom the vict'ry is decreed by Heav'n."
Thus, as he stood, he mus'd; but near approach'd
Achilles, terrible as plumed Mars;
From his right shoulder brandishing aloft
The ashen spear of Peleus, while around
Flash'd his bright armour, dazzling as the glare
Of burning fire, or of the rising sun.
Hector beheld, and trembled at the sight;
Nor dar'd he there await th' attack, but left
The gates behind, and, terror-stricken, fled.
Forward, with flying foot, Pelides rush'd.
As when a falcon, bird of swiftest flight,
From some high mountain-top, on tim'rous dove
Swoops fiercely down; she, from beneath, in fear,
Evades the stroke; he, dashing through the brake,
Shrill-shrieking, pounces on his destin'd prey;
So, wing'd with desp'rate hate, Achilles flew,
So Hector, flying from his keen pursuit,
Beneath the walls his active sinews plied.
They by the watch-tow'r, and beneath the wall
Where stood the wind-beat fig-tree, rac'd amain
Along the public road, until they reach'd
The fairly-flowing fount whence issu'd forth,
From double source, Scamander's eddying streams.
One with hot current flows, and from beneath,
