The Iliad, Homer [librera reader .TXT] 📗

with me to fight?

Perchance expecting that the throne of Troy And Priam’s royal honours may be thine.

E’en if thou slay me, deem not to obtain Such boon from Priam; valiant sons are his, And he not weak, but bears a constant mind.

Or have the Trojans set apart for thee Some favour’d spot, the fairest of the land, Orchard or corn-land, shouldst thou work my death; Which thou shalt find, I trust, too hard a task?

Already hast thou fled before my spear; Hast thou forgotten how amid thy herds Alone I found thee, and with flying foot Pursued thee down the steep of Ida’s hill?

Nor didst thou dare to turn, or pause in flight.

Thou to Lyrnessus fledd’st; Lyrnessus I, With Pallas’ aid and Jove’s, assail’d and took: Their women thence, their days of freedom lost, I bore away, my captives; thee from death, Jove and the other Gods defended then; But will not now bestow, though such thy hope, Their succour; then I warn thee, while ‘tis time, Ere ill betide thee, to the gen’ral throng That thou withdraw, nor stand to me oppos’d: After th’ event may e’en a fool be wise.”

 

To whom in answer thus AEneas spoke:

“Achilles, think not me, as though a fool, To daunt with lofty speech; I too could well With cutting words, and insult, answer thee.

Each other’s race and parents well we know From tales of ancient days; although by sight Nor mine to thee, nor thine to me are known.

To noble Peleus thou, ‘tis said, wast born Of Thetis, fair-hair’d daughter of the sea; Of great Anchises, Heav’n-descended chief, I boast me sprung, to him by Venus borne.

Of these shall one or other have this day To mourn their son; since not with empty words Shall thou and I from mortal combat part.

But if thou farther wouldst enquire, and learn The race I spring from, not unknown to men, By Dardanus, of cloud-compelling Jove

Begotten, was Dardania peopled first,

Ere sacred Ilium, populous city of men, Was founded on the plain; as yet they dwelt On spring-abounding Ida’s lowest spurs.

To Dardanus was Erichthonius born,

Great King, the wealthiest of the sons of men; For him were pastur’d in the marshy mead, Rejoicing with their foals, three thousand mares; Them Boreas, in the pasture where they fed, Beheld, enamour’d; and amid the herd

In likeness of a coal-black steed appear’d; Twelve foals, by him conceiving, they produc’d.

These, o’er the teeming corn-fields as they flew, Skimm’d o’er the standing ears, nor broke the haulm; And, o’er wide Ocean’s bosom as they flew, Skimm’d o’er the topmost spray of th’ hoary sea Again, to Erichthonius Tros was born,

The King of Troy; three noble sons were his, Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymede;

The fairest he of all the sons of men; Him, for his beauty, bore the Gods away, To minister as cupbearer to Jove,

And dwell amid th’ Immortals: Ilus next Begot a noble son, Laomedon;

Tithonus he, and Priam; Clytius,

Lampus and Icetaon, plant of Mars;

Capys, begotten of Assaracus,

Begot Anchises, and Anchises me:

To Priam godlike Hector owes his birth.

Such is my race, and such the blood I boast; But Jove, at will, to mortals valour gives Or minishes; for he is Lord of all.

Then cease we now, like babbling fools, to prate Here in the centre of the coming fight.

Terms of reproach we both might find, whose weight Would sink a galley of a hundred oars; For glibly runs the tongue, and can at will Give utt’rance to discourse in ev’ry vein; Wide is the range of language; and such words As one may speak, another may return.

What need that we should insults interchange?

Like women, who some paltry quarrel wage, Scolding and brawling in the public street, And in opprobrious terms their anger vent, Some true, some false; for so their rage suggests.

With words thou shalt not turn me from the field, Till we have met in arms; then try we now Each other’s prowess with our brazen spears.”

 

He said, and hurl’d against the mighty shield His brazen spear; loud rang the weapon’s point; And at arm’s length Achilles held the shield With his broad hand, in fear that through its folds AEneas’ spear would easy passage find; Blind fool! forgetful that the glorious gifts Bestow’d by Gods, are not with ease o’ercome, Nor yield before th’ assaults of mortal men.

 

So broke not through AEneas’ sturdy spear, Stay’d by the golden plate, the gift of Heav’n; Yet through two plates it pass’d, but three remain’d, For five were in the shield by Vulcan wrought; Two were of brass, the inner two of tin, And one of gold, which stay’d the brazen spear.

 

Achilles threw in turn his pond’rous spear.

And struck the circle of AEneas’ shield Near the first rim, where thinnest lay the brass, And thinnest too th’ o’erlying hide; right through The Pelian shaft was driv’n; wide gap’d the shield.

AEneas crouch’d, in fear, as o’er his head He held his shield; the eager weapon pass’d Through both the circles of his ample shield, And in the ground, behind him, quiv’ring, stood.

Escap’d the pond’rous weapon, sharpest pain Flashing across his eyes, in fear he stood, So close the spear had pass’d him; onward then, Drawing his trenchant blade, Achilles rush’d, With fearful shout; a rocky fragment then AEneas lifted up, a mighty mass,

Which scarce two men, as men are now, could bear, But he, unaided, lifted it with ease.

Then had AEneas, with the massive stone, Or on the helmet, or the shield, his death Averting, struck Achilles; and himself Had by the sword of Peleus’ son been slain, Had not th’ Earth-shaking God his peril seen, And to th’ Immortals thus address’d his speech: “Oh, woe is me for great AEneas’ sake, Who, by Achilles slain, must visit soon The viewless shades; insensate, who relied On Phoebus’ words; yet nought shall he avail From death to save him. Yet oh why should he, Blameless himself, the guilt of others rue?

Who still his grateful sacrifice hath paid To all the Gods in wide-spread Heav’n who dwell.

Let us then interpose to guard his life; Lest, if Achilles slay him, Saturn’s son Be mov’d to anger; for his destiny

Would have him live; lest, heirless, from the earth Should perish quite the race of Dardanus; By Saturn’s son the best-belov’d of all His sons, to him by mortal women born.

For Jove the race of Priam hath abhorr’d; But o’er the Trojans shall AEneas reign, And his sons’ sons, through ages yet unborn.”

 

Whom answer’d thus the stag-ey’d Queen of Heav’n: “Neptune, do thou determine for thyself AEneas to withdraw, or leave to fall,

Good as he is, beneath Achilles’ sword; But we before th’ immortal Gods are bound, Both I and Pallas, by repeated oaths,

Ne’er from his doom one Trojan life to save, Though to devouring flames a prey, all Troy Were blazing, kindled by the valiant Greeks.”

 

Th’ Earth-shaker heard; and thro’ the fight he pass’d, And through the throng of spears, until he came Where great Achilles and AEneas stood.

Around the eyes of Peleus’ son he spread A veil of mist; then from AEneas’ shield The brass-tipp’d spear withdrawing, laid it down Before Achilles’ feet; and lifting up

AEneas, bore him high above the ground.

O’er many a rank of warriors and of cars AEneas flew, supported by the God;

Till to the field’s extremest verge he came, Where stood the Caucons, arming for the war.

There to AEneas, standing by his side, Th’ Earth-shaker thus his winged words address’d: “AEneas, say what God has mov’d thee thus Against Achilles, reckless, to contend, Thy stronger far, and dearer to the Gods?

If e’er he cross thy path, do thou retire, Lest, e’en despite of fate, thou find thy death.

But when Achilles hath to fate succumb’d, Then, fearless, with the foremost join the fray: No other Greek shall bear away thy spoils.”

 

Thus plainly warn’d, AEneas there he left.

Then from Achilles’ eyes he purg’d the film: Astonish’d, he with eyes wide open gaz’d, As thus he commun’d with his mighty heart: “O Heav’n, what marvel do mine eyes behold?

My spear before me laid, and vanish’d he At whom I hurl’d it with intent to slay!

Then is AEneas of th’ immortal Gods

In truth belov’d, though vain I deem’d his boast.

A curse go with him! yet methinks not soon Will he again presume to prove my might, Who gladly now in flight escapes from death.

Then, to the valiant Greeks my orders giv’n.

Let me some other Trojan’s mettle prove.”

Then tow’rd the ranks he sprang, each sev’ral man Exhorting: “From the Trojans, valiant Greeks, No longer stand aloof; but man to man

Confront the foe, and nobly dare the fight.

‘Twere hard for me, brave warrior though I be, To face such numbers, and to fight with all: Not Mars, nor Pallas, though immortal Gods, Could face, and vanquish, such a mighty mass.

But what my single arm, and feet, and strength May profit, not a jot will I relax;

Right through the ranks I mean to force my way; And small shall be that Trojan’s cause for joy, Who comes within the compass of my spear.”

 

Thus he, exhorting; Hector cheering on Meanwhile the Trojans, with assurance giv’n That he himself Achilles would confront.

 

“Ye valiant Trojans, fear not Peleus’ son; I too in words could with the Gods contend, Though not in arms; so much the stronger they.

Not all his words Achilles shall make good; Fulfilling some, in others he shall fail, His course midway arrested. Him will I Encounter, though his hands were hands of fire, Of fire his hands, his strength as burnish’d steel.”

 

Thus he, exhorting; with uplifted spears Advanc’d the Trojans; from the mingling hosts Loud rose the clamour; then at Hector’s side Apollo stood, and thus address’d the chief: “Hector, forbear Achilles to defy;

And ‘mid the crowd withdraw thee from the fray; Lest with the spear he slay thee, thrown from far, Or with the sword in combat hand to hand.”

 

He said; and troubled by the heav’nly voice, Hector amid the throng of men withdrew.

 

Then, girt with might, amid the Trojans sprang, With fearful shouts, Achilles; first he slew Otryntes’ son, Iphition, valiant chief Of num’rous warriors; him a Naiad nymph, In Hyde’s fertile vale, beneath the feet Of snow-clad Tmolus, to Otryntes bore; At him, as on he rush’d, Achilles hurl’d, And through his forehead drove his glitt’ring spear; The head was cleft in twain; thund’ring he fell, And o’er him thus Achilles made his boast: “Son of Otryntes, lie thou there, of men The most vain-glorious; here thou find’st thy death, Far from thy place of birth, beside the lake Gygaean; there hadst thou thine heritage Of old, beside the fish-abounding stream Of Hyllus, and by Hermus’ eddying flood.”

 

Thus he, exulting: o’er Iphition’s eyes Were spread the shades of death; his mangled corpse Was crush’d beneath the Grecian chariot wheels, In the first shock. Demoleon next he smote, A helpful aid in war, Antenor’s son,

Pierc’d thro’ the temples, thro’ the brass-bound helm; Nor check’d the brazen helm the spear, whose point Went crashing through the bone, that all the brain Was shatter’d; onward as he rush’d, he fell.

Then through the neck Hippodamas he smote, Flying before him, mounted on his car.

Deep groan’d he, breathing out his soul, as groans A bull, by sturdy youths to th’ altar dragg’d Of Neptune, King divine of Helice;

Th’ Earth-shaking God, well pleas’d, the gift receives; E’en with such groans his noble spirit fled.

The godlike Polydore he next assail’d, The son of Priam; him his aged sire

Would fain have kept