Complete works of homer, p.38
Complete Works of Homer, page 38
All comfort lately found from Jove in flight and cries was lost.
Nor made they any fair retreat. Hector's unruly horse
Would needs retire him, and he left engaged his Trojan force,
Forced by the steepness of the dike, that in ill place they took,
And kept them that would fain have gone. Their horses quite forsook
A number of the Trojan kings, and left them in the dike;
Their chariots in their foreteams broke. Patroclus then did strike
While steel was hot, and cheered his friends, nor meant his enemies good;
Who, when they once began to fly, each way received a flood,
And choked themselves with drifts of dust. And now were clouds begot
Beneath the clouds, with fright and noise the horse neglected not
Their home intendments, and, where rout was busiest, there poured on
Patroclus most exhorts and threats; and then lay overthrown
Numbers beneath their axle-trees, who, lying in flight's stream,
Made th' after chariots jolt and jump in driving over them.
Th' immortal horse Patroclus rode did pass the dike with ease,
And wished the depth and danger more; and Menoetiades
As great a spirit had to reach, retiring Hector's haste,
But his fleet horse had too much law, and fetched him off too fast.
And as in Autumn the black earth is loaden with the storms
That Jove in gluts of rain pours down, being angry with the forms
Of judgment in authorized men, that in their courts maintain,
With violent office, wrested laws, and (fearing Gods, nor men)
Exile all justice, for whose fault whole fields are overflown,
And many valleys cut away with torrents headlong thrown
From neighbour mountains till the sea receive them roaring in,
And judged men's labours then are vain, plagued for their judge's sin;
So now the foul defaults of some all Troy were laid upon,
So like those torrents roared they back to windy Ilion,
And so like tempests blew the horse with ravishing back again
Those hot assailants, all their works at fleet now rendered vain.
Patroclus, when he had dispersed the foremost phalanxes,
Called back his forces to the fleet, and would not let them prease,
As they desired, too near the town, but 'twixt the ships and flood
And their steep rampire, his hand steeped Revenge in seas of blood.
Then Pronous was first that fell beneath his fiery lance,
Which struck his bare breast, near his shield. The second Thestor's chance,
Old Enops' son, did make himself, who shrinking, and set close
In his fair seat, even with th' approach Patroclus made, did lose
All manly courage, in so much that from his hands his reins
Fell flowing down, and his right jaw Patroclus' lance attains,
Struck through his teeth, and there it stuck, and by it to him drew
Dead Thestor to his chariot. It showed, as when you view
An angler from some prominent rock draw with his line and hook
A mighty fish out of the sea; for so the Greek did pluck
The Trojan gaping from his seat, his jaws oped with the dart;
Which when Patroclus drew, he fell; his life and breast did part.
Then rushed he on Erylaus, at whom he hurled a stone,
Which strake his head so in the midst that two was made of one;
Two ways it fell, cleft through his casque. And then Tlepolemus,
Epaltes, Damastorides, Evippus, Echius,
Ipheas, bold Amphoterus, and valiant Erymas,
And Polymelus, by his sire surnamed Argeadas,
He heaped upon the much-fed earth. When Jove's most worthy son,
Divine Sarpedon, saw these friends thus stayed, and others run,
“O shame! Why fly ye?" then he cried, " Now show ye feet enow.
On, keep your way, myself will meet the man that startles you,
To make me understand his name that flaunts in conquest thus,
And hath so many able knees so soon dissolved to us."
Down jumped he from his chariot, down leaped his foe as light.
And as, on some far-looking rock, a cast of vultures fight,
Fly on each other, strike and truss, part, meet, and then stick by,
Tug both with crooked beaks, and seres, cry, fight, and fight and cry;
So fiercely fought these angry kings, and showed as bitter galls.
Jove, turning eyes to this stern fight, his wife and sister calls,
And much moved for the Lycian prince, said : " O that to my son
Fate, by this day and man, should cut a thread so nobly spun!
Two minds distract me; if I should now ravish him from fight
And set him safe in Lycia, or give the Fates their right."
“Austere Saturnius," she replied, " what unjust words are these?
A mortal long since marked by fate wouldst thou immortalize?
Do, but by no God be approved. Free him, and numbers more,
Sons of Immortals, will live free that death must taste before
These gates of Ilion; every God will have his son a God,
Or storm extremely. Give him then an honest period
In brave fight by Patroclus' sword, if he be dear to thee,
And grieves thee by his dangered life; of which when he is free,
Let Death and Somnus bear him hence, till Lycia's natural womb
Receive him from his brother's hands, and citizens'; a tomb
And column raised to him. This is the honour of the dead."
She said, and her speech ruled his pow'r : but in his safety's stead,
For sad ostent of his near death, he steeped his living name
In drops of blood heaven swet for him, which earth drunk to his fame.
And now, as this high combat grew to this too humble end,
Sarpedon's death had this state more; 'twas ushered by his friend
And charioteer, brave Thrasymed, whom in his belly's rim
Patroclus wounded with his lance, and endless ended him.
And then another act of name foreran his princely fate.
His first lance missing, he let fly a second that gave date
Of violent death to Pedasus, who, as he joyed to die
By his so honourable hand, did even in dying neigh.
His ruin startled th' other steeds, the gears cracked, and the reins
Strappled his fellows : whose misrule Automedon restrains
By cutting the entangling gears, and so dissundering quite
The brave slain beast, when both the rest obeyed, and went foreright.
And then the royal combatants fought for the final stroke,
When Lycia's General missed again, his high-raised javelin took
Above his shoulder empty way. But no such speedless flight
Patroclus let his spear perform, that on the breast did light
Of his brave foe, where life's strings close about the solid heart,
Impressing a recureless wound, his knees then left their part,
And let him fall; when like an oak, a poplar, or a pine,
New felled by arts-men on the hills, he stretched his form divine
Before his horse and chariot. And as a lion leaps
Upon a goodly yellow bull, drives all the herd in heaps,
And under his unconquered jaws the brave beast sighing dies;
So sighed Sarpedon underneath this prince of enemies,
Called Glaucus to him, his dear friend, and said:" Now, friend, thy hands
Much duty owe to fight and arms, now for my love it stands
Thy heart in much hand to approve that war is harmful, now
How active all thy forces are this one hour's act must show.
First call our Lycian captains up, look round, and bring up all,
And all exhort to stand like friends about Sarpedon's fall,
And spend thyself thy steel for me; for be assured no day
Of all thy life, to thy last hour, can clear thy black dismay
In woe and infamy for me, if I be taken hence
Spoiled of mine arms, and thy renown despoiled of my defence.
Stand firm then, and confirm thy men." This said, the bounds of death
Concluded all sight to his eyes, and to his nostrils breath.
Patroclus, though his guard was strong, forced way through every doubt,
Climbed his high bosom with his foot, and plucked his javelin out,
And with it drew the film and strings of his yet-panting heart;
And last, together with the pile, his princely soul did part.
His horse, spoiled both of guide and king, thick-snoring and amazed,
And apt to flight, the Myrmidons made nimbly to, and seized.
Glaucus, to hear his friend ask aid of him past all the rest,
Though well he knew his wound uncured, confusion filled his breast
Not to have good in any power, and yet so much good will.
And (laying his hand upon his wound, that pained him sharply still,
And was by Teucer's hand set on from their assailed steep wall,
In keeping hurt from other men) he did on Phoebus call,
The God of med'cines, for his cure : " Thou Bang of cures," said he,
“That art perhaps in Lycia with her rich progeny,
Or here in Troy, but any where, since thou hast pow'r to hear,
O give a hurt and woeful man, as I, am now, thine ear.
This arm sustains a cruel wound, whose pains shoot every way,
Afflict this shoulder, and this hand, and nothing long can stay
A flux of blood still issuing; nor therefore can I stand
With any enemy in fight, nor hardly make my hand
Support my lance; and here lies dead the worthiest of men,
Sarpedon, worthy son to Jove, whose pow'r could yet abstain
From all aid in this deadly need; give thou then aid to me,
O King of all aid to men hurt, assuage th' extremity
Of this arm's anguish, give it strength, that by my precedent
1 may excite my men to blows, and this dead corse prevent
Of further violence." He prayed, and kind Apollo heard,
Allayed his anguish, and his wound of all the black blood cleared
That vexed it so, infused fresh pow'rs into his weakened mind,
And all his spirits flowed with joy that Phcebus stood inclined,
In such quick bounty, to his prayers. Then, as Sarpedon willed,
He cast about his greedy eye, and first of all instilled
To all his captains all the stings that could inflame their fight
For good Sarpedon. And from them he stretched his speedy pace
T' Agenor, Hector, Venus' son, and wise Polydamas,
And (only naming Hector) said : " Hector, you now forget
Your poor auxiliary friends that in your toils have swet
Their friendless souls out far from home. Sarpedon, that sustained
With justice, and his virtues all, broad Lycia, hath not gained
The like guard for his person here, for yonder dead he lies
Beneath the great Patroclus' lance. But come, let your supplies,
Good friends, stand near him. O disdain to see his corse defiled
With Grecian fury; and his arms by their oppressions spoiled.
The Myrmidons are come enraged that such a mighty boot
Of Greeks Troy's darts have made at fleet." This said, from head to foot
Grief struck their pow'rs past patience and not to be restrained,
To hear news of Sarpedon's death, who, though he appertained
To other cities, yet to theirs he was the very fort,
And led a mighty people there, of all whose better sort
Himself was best. This made them run in flames upon the foe;
The first man Hector, to whose heart Sarpedon's death did go.
Patroclus stirred the Grecian spirits; and first th' Ajaces, thus :
“Now, brothers, be it dear to you to fight and succour us,
As ever heretofore ye did with men first excellent.
The man lies slain that first did scale and raze the battlement
That crowned our wall, the Lycian prince. But if we now shall add
Force to his corse, and spoil his arms, a prise may more be had
Of many great ones that for him will put on to the death."
To this work these were prompt enough, and each side ordereth
Those phalanxes that most had rate of resolutions,
The Trojans and the Lycian pow'rs, the Greeks and Myrmidons.
These ran together for the corse,-and closed with horrid cries,
Their armours thund'ring with the claps laid on about the prise.
And Jove about th' impetuous broil pernicious night poured out,
As long as for his loved son pernicious Labour fought.
The first of Troy the first Greeks foiled, when, not the last indeed
Amongst the Myrmidons, was slain, the great Agacleus' seed,
Divine Epigeus, that before had exercised command
In fair Budei'us; but because he laid a bloody hand
On his own sister's valiant son, to Peleus and his queen
He came for pardon, and obtained; his slaughter being the mean
He came to Troy, and so to this. He ventured even to touch
The princely carcass, when a stone did more to him by much,
Sent out of able Hector's hand; it cut his skull in twain,
And strook him dead. Patroclus, grieved to see his friend so slain,
Before the foremost thrust himself. And as a falcon frays
A flock of stares or caddesses; such fear brought his assays
Amongst the Trojans and their friends; and, angry at the heart,
As well as grieved, for him so slain, another stony dart
As good as Hector's he let fly, that dusted in the neck
Of Sthenelaus, thrust his head to earth first, and did break
The nerves in sunder with his fall; off fell the Trojans too,
Even Hector's self, and all as far as any man can throw
(Provoked for games, or in the wars to shed an enemy's soul)
A light long dart. The first that turned was he that did control
The targeteers of Lycia, prince Glaucus, who to hell
Sent Bathyclseus, Chalcon's son; he did in Hellas dwell,
And shined for wealth and happiness amongst the Myrmidons;
His bosom's midst the javelin struck, his fall gat earth with groans.
The Greeks grieved, and the Trojans joyed, for so renowned a man;
About whom stood the Grecians firm. And then the death began
On Troy's side by Meriones; he slew one great in war,
Laogonus, Onetor's son, the priest of Jupiter,
Created in th' Idsean hill. Betwixt his jaw and ear
The dart stuck fast, and loosed his soul, sad mists of hate and fear
Invading him. Anchises' son dispatched a brazen lance
At bold Meriones; and hoped to make an equal chance
On him with bold Laogonus, though under his broad shield
He lay so close. But he discerned, and made his body yield
So low, that over him it flew, and trembhng took the ground,
With which Mars made it quench his thirst, and since the head could wound
No better body, and yet thrown from ne'er the worse a hand,
It turned- from earth, and looked awry. iEneas let it stand,
Much angry at the vain event, and told Meriones
He 'scaped but hardly, nor had cause to hope for such success
Another time, though well he knew his dancing faculty,
By whose agility he. 'scaped, for, had his dart gone by
With any least touch, instantly he had been ever slain.
He answered : " Though my strength be good, it cannot render vain
The strength of others with thy jests; nor art thou so divine,
But when my lance shall touch at thee, with equal speed to thine,
Death will share with it thy life's pow'rs; thy confidence can shun
No more than mine what his right claims." Menoetius' nohle son
Rebuked Meriones, and said : " What need'st thou use this speech?
Nor thy strength is approved with words, good friend, nor can we reach
The body, nor make th' enemy yield, with these our counterbraves.
We must enforce the binding earth to hold them in her graves.
If you will war, fight. Will you speak? Give counsel. Counsel, blows,
Are th' ends of wars and words. Talk here the time in vain bestows."
He said, and led, and, nothing less for anything he said,
His speech being seasoned with such right, the worthy seconded.
And then, as in a sounding vale, near neighbour to a hill,
Wood-fellers make a far-heard noise with chopping, chopping still,
And laying on, on blocks and trees; so they on men laid load,
And beat like noises into air, both as they struck and trode.
But, past their noise, so full of blood, of dust, of darts, lay smit
Divine Sarpedon, that a man must have an excellent wit
That could but know him, and might fail, so from his utmost head,
Even to the low plants of his feet, his form was altered,
All thrusting near it every way, as thick as flies in spring
That in a sheep-cote, when new milk assembles them, make wing,
And buzz about the top-full pails. Nor ever was the eye
Of Jove averted from the fight; he Viewed, thought, ceaselessly
And diversely upon the death of great Achilles' friend,
If Hector there, to wreak his son, should with his javelin end
His life, and force away his arms, or still augment the field;
He then concluded that the flight of much more soul should yield
Achilles' good friend more renown, and that even to their gates
He should drive Hector and his host; and so disanimates
The mind of Hector that he mounts his chariot, and takes Flight
Up with him, tempting all to her, affirming his insight
Knew evidently that the beam of Jove's all-ordering scoles
Was then in sinking- on their side, surcharged with flocks of souls.
