The Iliad, Homer [short books for teens TXT] 📗

shall our fates be number’d with the dead, And these, the victor’s prize, in triumph led.

Thine be the guidance, then: with spear and shield Myself will charge this terror of the field.”

 

And now both heroes mount the glittering car; The bounding coursers rush amidst the war; Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, Who thus, alarm’d, to great Tydides cried: “O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon’s line, And great AEneas, sprung from race divine!

Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car!

And save a life, the bulwark of our war.”

 

At this the hero cast a gloomy look,

Fix’d on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke: “Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight?

Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight?

Know, ‘tis not honest in my soul to fear, Nor was Tydides born to tremble here.

I hate the cumbrous chariot’s slow advance, And the long distance of the flying lance; But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire.

Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey Those threatening heroes, bear them both away; One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly.

But if she dooms, and if no god withstand, That both shall fall by one victorious hand, Then heed my words: my horses here detain, Fix’d to the chariot by the straiten’d rein; Swift to AEneas’ empty seat proceed,

And seize the coursers of ethereal breed; The race of those, which once the thundering god [106]

For ravish’d Ganymede on Tros bestow’d, The best that e’er on earth’s broad surface run, Beneath the rising or the setting sun.

Hence great Anchises stole a breed unknown, By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon:

Four of this race his ample stalls contain, And two transport AEneas o’er the plain.

These, were the rich immortal prize our own, Through the wide world should make our glory known.”

 

Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on, And stern Lycaon’s warlike race begun:

 

“Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain assail’d, The spear may enter where the arrow fail’d.”

 

He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung; On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung, Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung, “He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries,) Our triumph now, the mighty warrior lies!”

“Mistaken vaunter! (Diomed replied;)

Thy dart has erred, and now my spear be tried; Ye ‘scape not both; one, headlong from his car, With hostile blood shall glut the god of war.”

 

He spoke, and rising hurl’d his forceful dart, Which, driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part; Full in his face it enter’d, and betwixt The nose and eyeball the proud Lycian fix’d; Crash’d all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, Till the bright point look’d out beneath the chin.

Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground: Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound; The starting coursers tremble with affright; The soul indignant seeks the realms of night.

 

To guard his slaughter’d friend, AEneas flies, His spear extending where the carcase lies; Watchful he wheels, protects it every way, As the grim lion stalks around his prey.

O’er the fall’n trunk his ample shield display’d, He hides the hero with his mighty shade, And threats aloud! the Greeks with longing eyes Behold at distance, but forbear the prize.

Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields.

Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, Such men as live in these degenerate days: [107]

He swung it round; and, gathering strength to throw, Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe.

Where to the hip the inserted thigh unites, Full on the bone the pointed marble lights; Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone, And stripp’d the skin, and crack’d the solid bone.

Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains, His falling bulk his bended arm sustains; Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies;

A sudden cloud comes swimming o’er his eyes.

There the brave chief, who mighty numbers sway’d, Oppress’d had sunk to death’s eternal shade, But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love She bore Anchises in the Idaean grove,

His danger views with anguish and despair, And guards her offspring with a mother’s care.

About her much-loved son her arms she throws, Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows.

Screen’d from the foe behind her shining veil, The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail; Safe through the rushing horse, and feather’d flight Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight.

 

Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands,

Remain’d unheedful of his lord’s commands: His panting steeds, removed from out the war, He fix’d with straiten’d traces to the car, Next, rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: These in proud triumph to the fleet convey’d, No longer now a Trojan lord obey’d.

That charge to bold Deipylus he gave,

(Whom most he loved, as brave men love the brave,) Then mounting on his car, resumed the rein, And follow’d where Tydides swept the plain.

 

Meanwhile (his conquest ravished from his eyes) The raging chief in chase of Venus flies: No goddess she, commission’d to the field, Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, Or fierce Bellona thundering at the wall, While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall; He knew soft combats suit the tender dame, New to the field, and still a foe to fame.

Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends, And at the goddess his broad lance extends; Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove, The ambrosial veil which all the Graces wove; Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned, And the transparent skin with crimson stain’d, From the clear vein a stream immortal flow’d, Such stream as issues from a wounded god; [108]

Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood!

Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood: (For not the bread of man their life sustains, Nor wine’s inflaming juice supplies their veins:) With tender shrieks the goddess fill’d the place, And dropp’d her offspring from her weak embrace.

Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud around The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound.

 

Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, The king insults the goddess as she flies: “Ill with Jove’s daughter bloody fights agree, The field of combat is no scene for thee: Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair.

Taught by this stroke renounce the war’s alarms, And learn to tremble at the name of arms.”

 

Tydides thus. The goddess, seized with dread, Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled.

To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew, Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew.

The queen of love with faded charms she found.

Pale was her cheek, and livid look’d the wound.

To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way: Far, on the left, with clouds involved he lay; Beside him stood his lance, distain’d with gore, And, rein’d with gold, his foaming steeds before.

Low at his knee, she begg’d with streaming eyes Her brother’s car, to mount the distant skies, And show’d the wound by fierce Tydides given, A mortal man, who dares encounter heaven.

Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain, And to her hand commits the golden rein; She mounts the seat, oppress’d with silent woe, Driven by the goddess of the painted bow.

The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies, And in a moment scales the lofty skies: They stopp’d the car, and there the coursers stood, Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food;

Before her mother, love’s bright queen appears, O’erwhelmed with anguish, and dissolved in tears: She raised her in her arms, beheld her bleed, And ask’d what god had wrought this guilty deed?

 

{Illustration: VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS.}

 

Then she: “This insult from no god I found, An impious mortal gave the daring wound!

Behold the deed of haughty Diomed!

‘Twas in the son’s defence the mother bled.

The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage; But with the gods (the immortal gods) engage.”

 

Dione then: “Thy wrongs with patience bear, And share those griefs inferior powers must share: Unnumber’d woes mankind from us sustain, And men with woes afflict the gods again.

The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound, [109]

And lodged in brazen dungeons underground, Full thirteen moons imprison’d roar’d in vain; Otus and Ephialtes held the chain:

Perhaps had perish’d had not Hermes’ care Restored the groaning god to upper air.

Great Juno’s self has borne her weight of pain, The imperial partner of the heavenly reign; Amphitryon’s son infix’d the deadly dart, [110]

And fill’d with anguish her immortal heart.

E’en hell’s grim king Alcides’ power confess’d, The shaft found entrance in his iron breast; To Jove’s high palace for a cure he fled, Pierced in his own dominions of the dead; Where Paeon, sprinkling heavenly balm around, Assuaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound.

Rash, impious man! to stain the bless’d abodes, And drench his arrows in the blood of gods!

 

{Illustration: OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE.}

 

“But thou (though Pallas urged thy frantic deed), Whose spear ill-fated makes a goddess bleed, Know thou, whoe’er with heavenly power contends, Short is his date, and soon his glory ends; From fields of death when late he shall retire, No infant on his knees shall call him sire.

Strong as thou art, some god may yet be found, To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground; Thy distant wife, AEgiale the fair, [111]

Starting from sleep with a distracted air, Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore, The brave, the great, the glorious now no more!”

 

This said, she wiped from Venus’ wounded palm The sacred ichor, and infused the balm.

Juno and Pallas with a smile survey’d,

And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid: “Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to tell How this mischance the Cyprian queen befell, As late she tried with passion to inflame The tender bosom of a Grecian dame;

Allured the fair, with moving thoughts of joy, To quit her country for some youth of Troy; The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound.”

 

The sire of gods and men superior smiled, And, calling Venus, thus address’d his child: “Not these, O daughter are thy proper cares, Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms.”

 

Thus they in heaven: while on the plain below The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe, Flush’d with celestial blood pursued his way, And fearless dared the threatening god of day; Already in his hopes he saw him kill’d, Though screen’d behind Apollo’s mighty shield.

Thrice rushing furious, at the chief he strook; His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook: He tried the fourth: when, breaking from the cloud, A more than mortal voice was heard aloud.

 

“O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and see How vast the difference of the gods and thee; Distance immense! between the powers that shine Above, eternal, deathless, and divine,

And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth, A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth.”

 

So spoke the god who darts celestial fires: He dreads his fury, and some steps retires.

Then Phoebus bore the chief of Venus’ race To Troy’s high fane, and to his holy place; Latona there and Phoebe heal’d the wound, With vigour arm’d